The Devil's Bargain

Four:

BFF's Forever

Raccoon City, 1997

She should have known, before she'd even sat down, that she was going to sit down on a whoopee cushion. It was the entire nature of her relationship with him. He was jokes guy. She sat down in her chair, the sound of flatulence split the air, and Brad Vickers let out a giggle.

Jill wasn't sure how she felt about Vickers. He was a wienie. Worse than a wienie, he was a spaz. He panicked about everything. He panicked about being late, about being on time, about worrying about being late when he was on time. He was a mess. How had he gotten into STARS? It was insane.

He was a skinny guy with a sallow complexion and brown eyes that reminded her a hound dog. He always looked either sad or confused. It was odd that the man who'd hired them, digging through their myriad of skills and attributes, had hired such a coward.

The other guy in the room was Barry Burton. Burton was handsome and rough around the edges. He was the oldest of their crew and had a wife and a couple of rugrats to boot. Barry was a good dude. He was funny and sharp and clearly dedicated. If a little bit stuff shirt sometimes during missions. He was their weapons guy. You needed advice on guns or grenades, you went to Barry.

Brad was their pilot. He was good at that. Honestly. But Chris could have flown the damn plane or the chopper too. What did they need him for?

Joseph Frost was their maintenance supervisor. What did that mean? It meant if it was broke, Joe fixed it. He just fixed it. Like MacGuyer. Or Batman. He was something. He was tall, skinny, and had the longest nose on the team. Which is why they called him Pinocchio. Or, affectionately, the Nose for News as he was also a terrible gossip.

Jill was the breaking and entering specialist and also known for her rear defense. She was pretty good with a gun but hell on wheels with hand to hand. She got them in, got them out, and opened anything along the way. She was sneaky, quick, and moved like a shadow.

Chris, clearly, was the point man. The door needed kicked in, he kicked it in. He was aces with a gun. She'd never seen anyone better. Not once. Well maybe once. She'd gone down to watch the rookies training once during their interviews to join the RPD. There was one kid that didn't just hit it, he hit three times in the same damn hole. Clearly he was getting the job.

Chris was stoic to the point of being called anything from a stick in the mud to being ribbed constantly about being as boring as a robot. But Jill liked it. She liked his shift from professional to personal too. He was her best friend. And was always doing stupid shit to make her laugh.

On this particular day, they were being trained on computer simulations. Totally boring shit. It consisted of using the crotchety old equipment in the office to pretend to do the stuff and really just play Pong. Or Tetris.

Jill had mistakenly gone to the bathroom and come back to find out she'd been whoopied…again. Of course.

She gave Chris bland eyes from across the desk.

He coughed and sipped his coffee.

She said, "Red, I swear to god. If I see this thing under my ass one more time…I'm gonna cram it up yours."

"I didn't do it."

"You liar. You're a terrible liar."

"I have my moments."

Brad, watching the television close to them, said, "You guys seeing this shit? What's the deal man?"

Chris glanced over, tossing the little hackey sack in his hand up and down. "What?"

"People dying like flies. They're saying eaten or something. Gross."

"Cannibalism in Raccoon. Awesome."

Jill leaned forward and said, softly, "It's probably Wesker eating them."

Chris snorted. "No doubt. Creep."

They were trying to find Wesker less creepy. They were. But his intensity was frightening. He was impressive on the mat and clearly knew his shit about tactics. He kept them on their toes and didn't let them slack off. The only reason they were goofing off today was that he was out of town for the day to Wombat Junction interviewing candidates for the police force with Chief Irons. They respected him, you couldn't NOT respect him, he was the most stand up person you could ever meet. He didn't lie, didn't bullshit, and didn't bother to pretend if he didn't like you. He didn't like Brad…so why was he still here!? It was a mystery. Jill wasn't a hundred percent sure that he actually LIKED anyone. Truth be told.

He was an odd man. His dedication to his team was unquestionable though. He wouldn't let them fail, she was sure of that. She just wasn't sure why he had to be so creepy.

Joe was trying to finish the simulation. The computer kept dropping dead on him. "This thing is a piece of shit dude."

"Seriously."

"I'd like to see Umbrella drop some money on it. Instead of making fountains that squirt water out of a mermaid's twat."

Chris chuckled. "Speak for yourself. I'd pay good money to see that."

Jill said, "You'd pay good money to see anybody's twat."

Brad guffawed. Barry shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"It's my prerogative for having a penis."

"Pfft."

Barry queried, "Do mermaids have twats?"

Chris said, "They must. That's the tuna reference right? It comes from mermaid twats."

Jill thought: life working with men. One half sexual harassment, one half sexism. She went about trying to get the programming on her computer to run the simulation. Admittedly, it was a piece of shit.

Brad was still watching the news. "Dude! This guy has no FACE. That's sick."

Chris had started to take a nap in his seat. Jill waited for the right opportunity and kicked his chair. He spiraled his arms and down he went, clattering to the floor and bringing the laughter with him. He gave her a look from the floor and she twitched her lips.

"It's like that huh?"

"Oh yeah."

"Ok Valentine. Game on."

They set about trying to out prank each other. The whoopie cushion was everywhere. She couldn't escape it. He froze her stapler. She put super glue on his phone. The next time she opened her drawer, it burst with confetti and scared the shit out of her. She put peanut butter in his shoes. He emptied her gas tank on her bike and she had to walk home. She stole his car battery. He wrote her phone number on the bathroom stall in the men's room of the RPD. She couldn't shake the phone calls for weeks. She changed his screen saver on his computer to gay porn.

He was so amused, while everyone laughed, that he said, "Keeping it."

She loved him a little.

The first date she went on after Greg, he showed up and crashed it. He hung out, embarrassed her date, and ruined it. She sat there after the date had flown the coop and looked at him.

"Why?"

"Why not? Besides, that dude? Turd."

She laughed and they ate pizza.

He had a date with Cindy from the bar. Jill showed up and did karaoke. She made out at the table with some guy. Cindy was amused. Chris was…kinda. He was also kinda jealous. But this went against the rules so he said nothing.

He said, "Why?"

"Why not?"

She put his picture on all the RPD practice targets. Barry blasted the shit out of his face. Chris said, "Really?"

Barry was grinning, "RIP Red."

Chris had a singing telegram show up while they were training. It sang a horrible song to her about her tits and her blue eyes. In front of Wesker. In front of Albert Wesker.

Everyone laughed. Except for her of course. And Wesker.

Wesker never laughed. He was stoic to the point of being scary. He smiled all the time, sure, but it was…odd. He was a great leader. Hands down, he knew his shit. He was commanding and supportive and encouraging. He was hell on wheels at hand to hand combat.

One day, he finally went up against Jill.

Everyone from Bravo to Alpha came in to see it. It was well known that Jill was the master of the mat. She kicked everyone's ass on it. Chris stuck his fingers in his mouth to whistle for her. She laughed.

Wesker circled her, in full uniform of course. Jill was wearing her grey RPD sweats. She had two stubby ponytails and a headband on. Wesker stopped and beckoned.

She moved, snake quick. They slapped shins, grabbed forearms, and she spun left. She rolled his shoulder, rotated his arm, and cocked it over her shoulder. Her foot came down, drove into his knee, and put her hip into him. She tossed him.

There was cheering from around the room.

Wesker rolled through it and was on his feet…smiling.

Jill smiled back.

She rushed him again and he spun right, hooked arms with her, rolled her over his back and flipped. She would have gone down on her face but she hooked up under him, hit one knee, and swept her leg back to take his out from under him. He answered it by rolling across her back and leveraging both her arms up behind her shoulders.

There was booing now. Jill chuckled and threw a reverse head butt at him. He feinted back and she broke the hold, spinning out and down. She foot swept him again and grabbed his arm, rolling back and putting her feet into his stomach.

She flipped him up and out. He did a fancy spin in the air and landed in a crouch. And apparently he'd had enough playing around. He rushed her now and drove her back with a series of short arm jabs, punches, and a series of kicks. She pivoted, blocked, and spun a second ahead but kept on the defensive.

Jill finally went into a double back flip and had the room roaring with delight. She landed, went into a cartwheel, and came out in a reverse roundhouse. He blocked, caught her leg, and dropped an elbow into her thigh. She relented, avoiding the blow but losing her feet.

She went down, came up in an uppercut, and he blocked it. He jerked her arm, delivered two insulting slaps to her face, and threw her away kicking her in the ass as she went. More booing and Jill could feel the fire of embarrassment. The bastard.

She'd never live it down if she lost here. She glanced at Chris who winked at her. Amused, she faced her Captain.

"Is that all, Jill? Surely not."

Jill rushed him. She went into a front tuck, spun low, swept his feet out and buffalo kicked him from one hand. He went over onto his back. She straddled him, rolled him over and put him on his face. She jerked his arm up behind his back.

The stomping of feet and cheering was loud in the gymnasium. Really loud. Apparently beating up your boss was popular in Raccoon City.

Wesker smiled from the floor. How easy, he thought with amusement, to lead the rats to the feeder bar and give them what they wanted. Earning their respect and trust came at so little a cost for what would come next. To follow him, they had to trust him. Letting Jill Valentine win was an easy loss for him to absorb. If they underestimated him, he would be able to destroy them so easily.

He said, "I concede."

And the room went wild.

Jill was slapped on the back and punched in the arm. She laughed, loving the attention. Who was the little wall flower now, she mused? The girl no one had paid attention to all her life was getting it all now. It felt good and rewarding.

She shook hands with Wesker. And again, she felt him study her. She felt like she'd let him learn her somehow. And she was both impressed with the intelligence on his face and a little uneasy.

She went to shower off. And her soap was hanging from the ceiling fan in the locker room.

She twisted her lips to the side and chortled.

She cut holes in all of Chris' RPD sweats. He came out to practice one day with a giant hole in his crotch. At least he was wearing underwear, she mused. Or the whole station would know all about Mr. Cocky. He'd probably like that though, the dirty pervert. He wasn't embarrassed at all by it. He winked at her and had her laughing.

He was a terrible lecher. And she kinda loved him.

Ok she really loved him. He was her best friend. The brightest spot in a bad day. He kept her laughing.

She was sitting on the bleachers one day and a couple of the female officers sat down with her. The tallest one, Heather, was pretty and model slim. She said, no bullshit, "You mind if I ask him out?"

And Jill said, "Nope."

"Cool."

She kinda did. Which bothered her.

She got evicted one day. Which sucked. And he let her move in. No questions asked. She took over his second bedroom in the tiny house he was renting. It was set up for Claire obviously when she was home from school.

"This ok?"

"Yep. She's never here anyway. Breezes in and breezes out. You gonna pay half the rent?"

"Of course."

"It's yours."

She was a total mess to live with. But he tolerated it. He was bad, Jill was awful. She dropped clothes everywhere. She never cared. She didn't rinse the sink after she brushed her teeth. Somewhere in the great beyond, his mother was dying. She was disorganized on a good day and a right mess on a bad one. She was always losing her keys. He found them in the freezer and once in the toilet.

He held them up to her with the tongs from the barbecue pit.

"What?"

"Really?"

"I dropped them I guess shaving my legs this morning."

"Why were you holding them when shaving?"

"So I didn't lose them."

"…how'd that work out for you?"

"Clearly I had to walk to work."

Chris snorted and dropped the keys in soapy water to disinfect them. He was the only person that cleaned. Ever. She was lazy and sloppy and didn't care. She left dishes in the sink soaking in water. She never made her bed. The army guy in him was appalled.

She fixed stuff like a champ though. Nothing stayed broke with Jill Valentine around. She was Mrs. Fix it. Leaks, cracks, lumps and bumps she was a wizard with a toolbox. She taught him to change his oil and his tire. He taught her how to tackle and bake a cake.

She kept buying girly shit and leaving it places though. He came in the bathroom one day to her bras hanging over the shower door. It was the pink one with the frills that set him off.

He came out of the bathroom with it.

She glanced up, painting her toe nails. "What?"

"What's this?"

"…that is a brassiere Christopher. It's meant to contain your breasts."

"Smartass. Seriously. When do you wear stuff like this?"

"…I feel like I'm missing something here. I wear it under my clothes. Obviously."

"No. You don't wear girly stuff Jill. You have three bras and they are all sports bras. What's this for?"

"Oh. OH. That's my date night bra. I have a date tonight." She went back to painting her toe nails.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Kevin Ryman? You know him. He's taking me out."

"Oh." Hmm. He thought about that for a minute. It was interesting that he didn't like it. Jill was his dude with tits friend. They'd only fucked around that one time and she hadn't come running back for more. So he was figuring there was somebody else but she was always with him too. So he just figured she wasn't dating.

Jill glanced up at him. "Is he a turd?"

"Nah. He's ok. Stupid hair though. Girly."

"Pfft. You always say that."

"You always date skinny girls with stupid hair. It's your thing."

"My thing?"

"Yeah. You know…floofy guys."

"What is "floofy"?"

"Pretty boys. It's your thing."

He carried the bra back into the bathroom and hung it back up. It was lacy and clearly a push up bra. He didn't like it. But he did. He did like it. He didn't like Kevin Ryman seeing her in it though.

Jill came down the hallway. "Expound on pretty boys."

"You know. The type that have hair like Ryman. And play guitar. And talk fancy. It's your thing."

"…I don't have a thing, Red. Seriously?"

"You do. A type. You always date the same type. It's your thing." He went into his bedroom to gather up his laundry.

"I don't. I really don't."

"Sure, Jilly Bean. If you say so. I'm surprised you don't like Wesker. He's your type."

"Now you're just being mean. How is that even true?"

"He's fancy. And smart. And probably went to an Ivy League school or something. You like to date guys that come from or have money usually. Or the alternative to that is you date ones that are in a rock band and look like Axel Rose. It's your thing. I bet you'd date some kid with a roman number after his name. John Washington the fourth. Or something. You like preppy, girly, and pretty. It's your thing."

"….I feel vaguely insulted."

"Don't. It's your thing."

"What's your thing then?"

"You tell me."

"More boobs than brains."

He lifted a brow at her and shrugged. "Male prerogative. Depends on what I'm looking for in you. You click on multiple levels, we're going out. You don't? I'll let you take a ride on the freight train anyway. I'm a generous man."

"Lecher."

Chris chuckled and went down to the laundry room in the basement to wash clothes. He didn't want her dating. It was a hard pill to swallow. And went against the rules. He was into her, always had been. She was the coolest chic he'd ever met.

He started the washer and changed loads into the dryer. The basement was musty and smelled like it might be leaking somewhere. He'd have Jill come down and find the problem later.

He came back upstairs to find her coming out of her bedroom. And she was in date mode, clearly. He stopped and had to adjust his brain from his dick.

She was gorgeous. She was always gorgeous. But she was dread dead dressed up. She was in some little blue thing that might have been a dress if it didn't look like underwear. Strapless, tight, and silky looking. She had on little knee high boots with it and her hair was sleek around her face. She was smearing on eyeliner.

She glanced at him. "Good?"

Nope...incredible.

He spun her around and put her against the wall of the bathroom. She made some sound and he speared his tongue into her mouth. She gasped and opened for him. He tilted her head back, driving his tongue into her mouth until she was breathless.

Freight train, she thought desperately, good lord.

He hooked an arm around her waist and threw her on the sink. She gasped, knocking bottles and toothpaste around. His hands were under her skirt and pulling her panties off. She kicked her legs, fast and laughing.

She tried to find something to grab onto as he filled her full of his driving fingers. She made little mewling cries and grabbed his shoulders. He sent her over the edge humping and gasping. He pulled her over his shoulder and carried her out of the bathroom. He gave her a hard smack on the ass and stole her breath before he dumped her on the couch in the living room. She scrambled her legs open.

Chris ripped open the condom in his hand, slipped it on, and pushed into her. She screamed, a little madly, and bucked toward him. Jesus, he thought, she was all he'd thought about for weeks now. That desperate fucking of hers. It was his poltergeist. He kept picturing eating her out under the desk at work. It was driving him insane.

He wasn't as hard this time. Not like the first time. He was smoother now and gentler. He wanted her but he didn't want to hurt her. He grabbed her hips under that little excuse for a dress and angled her up to him.

Oh, she thought desperately, it was different this time. He rolled in her, he rolled inside of her. The big was still something to hold inside of her but it was smoother, wetter, and deeper. He didn't hurt her, he filled her up. She balled her fists in his sweatshirt and held on to him. He rolled in, he rolled out and she was nearly insane from it. He started throwing it down to her faster and harder. She was open and ready for him. Her body milked him, begging for more.

She felt him thumb the apex of her body and she went around him, gasping, and jerking. He hooked a hand around the back of her neck and dragged her up to his mouth. They kissed, wet, tongues and sucking. She pulled him down, pushed him over, and climbed onto his lap. He wanted to warn her about this angle and the pain of it but she didn't look like she was in pain. She sunk down on him and blew the top of his head off.

Jill fucked like she fought, all skill and movement. She rode fast and hard and crazy on him. He didn't last long enough to give a shit and grunted, shoving her down on him. She grabbed his face to kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

He laughed, breathless.

She fell to the side, legs splayed. He sat on the couch and laughed. Jill echoed it.

"What the fuck?"

"Sorry. It's the dress, kid. The dress did it. I was already half up your ass this morning in that nightgown you weren't really wearing."

"You not getting any?"

"Nope."

"Why didn't you just say something?"

He glanced at her. "Is that part of the rules?"

"It's part of the deal, Red. I'm not in a relationship. Come get some."

"Yeah?"

"Sure."

"Cool." He rose and pulled up his pants.

She twisted her lips to the side and sat up. "You usually run around the house without underwear on, big guy?"

"Sometimes. Who cares? I'm at home."

He left the living room. She sat there, shivering. And she was pretty sure she was going to spend the rest of the night thinking about him without anything on under those three hundred year old sweats. Soft. They were soft and smooth. Her body told her that he was NOT soft and smooth.

It ached in that way she liked.

She was a little afraid she might start to crave him a little. But really? It was harmless. After all, they were buddies.

What was the danger in that?