The Devil's Bargain

Two:

Bullseye

Raccoon City, 1997

Chris Redfield pretty much became her best friend after that night.

They were inseparable after that. They put their desks together at the station. They were always calling each other. They rode bikes in the dead of winter over the next few weeks and found different places to eat together. Chris was a foodie and so was Jill. They loved to drive to obscure hole in the walls and try the cuisine.

Working with Wesker wasn't as bad as it should have been. He was still odd but less creepy. He had them patrolling and cleaning up after drunks and breaking up fights. They worked in conjunction with regular police to assist on drug raids and things that required tactical assistance. They did a lot of paperwork. TONS. TONS AND TONS. It was so boring it was like being punched in the face with boring.

They were put in training simulations constantly. He pitted them against each other on the mat and on the range. She couldn't top Chris on the range and he couldn't beat her on the mat, so it was a good friendship. They ended up in Alpha team together instead of Bravo. What was the distinction? Apparently nothing in terms of skill set. It just distributed the various attributes of the respective members of STARS more equally.

She showed up at Chris' place at odd hours. She always had something stupid to tell him. Did he know that if you poked the sculpture in the RPD lobby that the mermaid turned? Did he know that if you swiped the card key from Betty at reception that you could get into that locked room outside the bullpen?

"What in there?" Chris queried over beers and pork steaks one night.

"That's the thing; nothing. It was empty. Just a desk with a stupid raven hanging over it and a tiger with missing eyes. Creepy. And dumb."

"Seriously. What a joke."

"No lie."

"Where's the stupid boyfriend?"

"Working. Where else?"

The stupid boyfriend was a constant ass pain. He was never around. He'd met Chris once and been totally ambivalent about his woman running around with another guy. Chris wasn't a jealous guy either, so that part was fine. But he didn't even give a shit when Chris put his arm around Jill at lunch that day to test him and kept it there. Greg was a super douche and a loser.

He figured she'd eventually wise up and cut him loose.

One night, they went about an hour away to Turtle Creek to try the "best chicken wings in three states". They were sitting on barstools, enjoying some pretty good wings, in a little sports bar called the Home Run when Jill saw Greg with his band. She was surprised. She hadn't known he was playing tonight. He'd said he was working. But maybe that meant playing.

He was finishing up a set on stage. He was all long hair and tattoos and tank tops with ragged jeans. Chris eyed him with the sense of a guy. He knew the dude was bad news. But Jill was all about him. And Jill was pretty much his best friend.

So he kept his peace on it.

Greg jumped down from the stage, Jill rose to go to talk to him…and Greg stopped, caught some running little thing with blonde hair and a thong sticking out the back of her jeans, and sucked her face. Jill froze, froze, and sat back down on the stool.

She was pale beneath her beautiful short hair cut. It made her gorgeous face shine. But Greg was sucking the face of some bleach blonde skank with a tramp stamp.

Jill was in a soft blue sweater and little black pants. Chris, in his gray RPD hoodie and jeans that were pretty much rags with stitching missing, rose from his stool. He wiped his mouth with the napkin and ran his tongue around his teeth. No hope for it now, it had to go down this way. His mom wouldn't have had it any other way.

Jill kept sitting there staring. She didn't even move.

Chris rolled his left arm, rolled his right and walked across the bar. He popped his neck as he moved and pushed up his sleeves. Greg with his skinny face and all that greasy hair, stopped sucking face, saw him and froze.

"Shit." Said the stupid boyfriend.

"Yeah, ass face, you're done now. Boo." He didn't just throw the punch, he turned his hip and drove it. The power of it rang down his arm as it hit that startled face. The girl still stuck to him barely had time to scream and scramble out of the way. His arm went numb from fingers to elbow. He shook his hand as Greg went backward, hit the table behind him, and took it down in a spill of glass and booze. The people at the table leapt up in surprise and to avoid disaster.

The other band members came running. Greg, meanwhile, was on his ass on the floor knocked cold. Chris pushed his sleeves up again to face the rest of the motley crew he ran with. "Who's next?"

The other band guys weren't stupid. They didn't want to fight. They kept lifting their hands. Which sucked for him. Because Chris loved the fight. It was what he lived for. And he was so mad for Jill, so angry, that he wanted to kick everyone's ass in that place.

Greg was stirring on the floor. Chris knelt down and grabbed a handful of his shirt. "Who the fuck cheats on a girl like that? You look at her again, I'm going to stuff my fist down your throat, unscrew that two watt bulb that barely powers your brain, and cram it up your ass. You're done with her now."

He tossed him back on the floor and turned back to Jill.

Her eyes were so wide it was like looking at a little anime girl.

He walked toward her, pulled out some cash to toss on the table, grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him. She moved, saying nothing, still wide eyed. She grabbed her coat as she went but didn't put it on.

They left the bar to silence. Admittedly, it had been a helluva show. He had hoped for a better fight, of course, but there wasn't any hope when you were up against a dick with no balls.

They pushed out into the cold air. He could see his breath. Jill said, softly, "You need a coat."

"I'm not cold."

"Chris…"

"Hang on. I'm trying to figure this out."

"What?"

He turned to her. He grabbed her by the front of her shirt and threw her against the wall beside the bar. She gasped and let him. His hands planted beside her face on the wall. And he stood there for a moment.

Oh, she thought, of course. That was always under the surface. That attraction. It was very real and layered in friendship and laughter. And there was THIS, she thought, just there waiting. This thing about him that tempted her. That spill of power or something that beckoned at her like a demon, tempting her to sell her soul for a taste of him. Such a calm man, his rivers ran deep and ragged beneath the surface. He was all physical, all skin and touch. He was always touching her. Little ways, big ways. She liked it. She felt it in her bones when he touched her. And the way he looked at her left her breathless.

She studied the tilt of his face in the moonlight. It was handsome without being annoying. He was so funny. He never let her dwell for long in the bad stuff. He was always doing stupid stuff at work to make her laugh. The whoopee cushion situation was getting out of control of course but that was her own fault. She needed to start checking seats before she sat down.

She whispered, "You big hero."

He laughed a little and looked down at her face. He tilted his head one way, tilted it back the other. He kept looking at her mouth. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" It was surreal in the cold air and the sounds of the music in the bar still muffled behind them. "For what?"

"He was your guy."

"No." She shook her head, her hands slid up under his sweatshirt and touched his bare skin. She felt the goosebumps on him. "No. You're my guy. You just proved that."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. What now, big hero?"

"I think I'm kinda into you, Jill Valentine."

"So what are you gonna do about that?"

"Damnit." He cupped her head and neck in one hand and kissed her. Jill looped her arms around him and pulled him closer. His other arm moved right down her back and cupped her ass. The top of her head blew off and landed somewhere out in the snow. He kissed like he meant business. The bottom of her stomach filled with warm and willing want. She slid her hands around his back and into the top of his pants.

He pressed her back into the brick and they tried to eat each other. He lifted her against the brick wall enough that her feet dangled. After a few moments, they both came up for air. "Oh," She said softly, "Oh."

Chris laughed a little, "Yeah..oh is about right."

"Chris…" She caught his face, "This is going to sound crazy. But I don't want to lose you."

"I'm so hard right now I'm about to fuck you through both ours pants. I don't feel very lost."

Jill laughed, loving him, "If we go home and do this, we're gonna fall in love."

"Yeah," he angled her face up and kissed her mouth, soft, "Yeah. Probably. Definitely. Hell."

He kissed her. It was heavy and hot and very sweaty. Freezing cold outside and they were in a bubble of it, protected. Jill leaned back, panting. "Ok..haha…oy. Just…let's look at this objectively."

"Let's look at it naked. Things are better naked."

The hands under his sweatshirt agreed. So she took them off him. "Ok. So maybe you go over there." She signaled to the other wall.

Chris snorted out a laugh and stepped back. "Ok. There. Talk."

"You like one word commands. Eat. Pray. Love."

He laughed again, "Out with it, Jill. What's the dealio?"

"Maybe we go back to your place and we do it."

"Yes. Let's go."

"Chris, be serious." But she laughed.

"I am. Let's go do that. I like you, Jill. I'm not playing games here. I just want to go home, bounce on you naked, and wake up tomorrow for coffee…and do it again. Let's go do that."

"I want to. I want to do all that. But I know what happens after that. We do it. We do it again. We end up in love. Somebody fucks up and gets hurt. And we work together. How does that go down? Awkward and weird and uncomfortable. It all goes bad."

Chris thought about it for minute. "Ok. So I agree…to a point. But why does it go bad? I'm not like other guys, Jill. I'm not asking you to marry me or have my babies or do anything you don't want to do. You don't need to be my girlfriend. You're already kinda my girlfriend anyway. We just don't fuck. So..let's add the fucking to it and go from there."

Jill looked at him in the cold air. "Did you just ask me to go steady?"

He looked confused. "Did I?"

"I don't know? You're so weird."

Chris laughed again, "Jill, I want to see you naked. I wanted that two seconds after I met you. I'm a guy, I pretty much picture everyone naked. You don't want that, no problem. Seriously. I dig you. We're friends. And I don't want to do anything but be friends. You want to add the benefits, I'm down with that too."

"Then what was that kiss?"

"That was adrenaline coupled with being hard up. I haven't gotten laid in months. I need five minutes on the floor with a willing woman. It doesn't have to be you."

"Chris Redfield, you are the least romantic person I've ever met."

"That is unfair. I just punched that dude in there for you."

"You did. That's true." She studied him in the cold air. He lifted a brow at her. She laughed a little.

"Let's go, you weirdo. Take me home."

"Yes, ma'am. I live to serve."

She laughed and sighed at the same time. She'd sorta just broken up with her cheating boyfriend and made out with her best friend. It was an odd day even for Jill Valentine.

They moved to his car and climb in. He fired up the furnace while they shivered. The engine groaned angrily at them. She lifted her brows. Chris' "car" was an old Ford Bronco. It needed help.

"This thing needs shot and put out of its misery."

Chris chuckled and cruised down the road toward Raccoon City. "It's good man. I keep her tuned up."

"She sounds awful. When did you change her oil last?"

He thought about it for a minute. Jill lifted her brows. "Chris Redfield…do you know anything about car maintenance?"

"Some. Mostly my Dad handled that stuff."

"You spoiled little brat!" She laughed so loud it hurt, "I will help you. I will teach you all I know."

"Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

"Clearly. A guy who can't change his own oil…the mythical beast."

Chris shrugged, unconcerned. "They make auto clubs for that shit."

"Can you change a tire?"

Chris pursed his lips and considered. "Probably."

"Oh my god," Jill grabbed his arm and laughed for a long moment. He grinned and grabbed her knee, squeezing.

"Watch it Valentine. You're hurting my ego."

"There is SOOOO much to hurt too. You need help. I am here to save you. Don't you worry."

He idled up in front of her building and parked. "Here ya go, Obi-Wan. You're home."

She turned to look at him in the semi-darkness. He grinned at her. She liked his profile. It was doing strange things to her belly. It made her feel funny in her pants too.

"Thanks for punching Greg."

"Yup. He had it coming."

"He did."

"Enlighten me. Skinny, tattooed, and plays the guitar…that flips your switch huh?"

"Sometimes. I like music. It's my thing. The skinny thing is neither here nor there. The tattoos though? Yeah that does it for me."

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

He pulled off the hoodie. Across the top of his chest were the names of his parents. They were woven through the celtic infinity symbol inside of a dreamcatcher and the date of their death was woven along the bottom with feathers to represent, she was sure, the native American heritage and the irish. It was beautiful and told the story of a boy who'd loved his parents. And lost them too soon.

Objectively, he was in good shape. He was lean but edging toward muscle with the right amount of definition in his stomach and arms. The under side of his left wrist said CLAIRE in a rolling scrawl. His sister. He had his sister tattooed on him. He was just that guy.

Jill said, "Well shit."

He lifted his brows at her. "What?"

"You get what matters to you tattooed on your body."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're THAT guy."

"Which guy is that?"

"The one that loves forever."

He met her eyes in the flicker of streetlight. "When you earn it, yeah."

"Shit. And double shit."

"Is that a spell or something?"

Jill chuckled. She touched the tattoo on his chest and she shook her head. Click click click. And yet a little scary. Because he flipped so many switches and usually with that much instant clicking, the fall to the death was that much harder. Admittedly, she'd never hit on so many levels with a guy before. But she wanted to see him naked now and feel that freight train he'd promised. But she was kinda afraid to see the friendship end. Maybe there was a way to have both.

"No strings?"

"With what?"

She climbed over and straddled him, just like that. His hands slid up her back. Hers cupped his face. "Oh..." he grinned at her in the semi-darkness, "yeah, no strings, Jill. Just us. Why do we have to be anything other than that?"

"Yeah. Why?" She lowered her mouth to kiss him. It was hot and wet and full of tongue. She put her hands on him under his shirt and added some nails. He liked it, grunting, and rubbed her over him.

A long moment passed and she leaned back to look at him, "You want to come upstairs?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I want to come upstairs."

Apparently, they were about to become the thing most men spent a life time chasing. The illustrious gold star of all friendships...fuck buddies.