Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil, Capcom, or any of the used characters.

Author's Note: It seems you guys want it longer. Unfortunately, I'll be keeping it the length I expected to because I've already started another story and I didn't expect to do that so soon. Also, I don't want to stretch it and the kill the story.

Besides that, I have edited the previous chapters because quite a few words seemed to vanish from the document. All should be fixed and hopefully the problem goes away assuming that I dealt with the issue.

Chapter 4:

While You're Still in the Pink

Chris awoke to loud ringing sounds. His first thought was his phone but he vaguely recalled the item no longer existed in one piece so that was far from possible. When loud knocking followed by the sound of a female voice shouting incoherently joined the loud ringing, Chris realized it was the door. Chris looked beside him, unsurprised to see the spot empty, before stumbling from bed. He didn't bother pulling on pants over his boxers as he rushed out of his bedroom and down his stairs. He stumbled towards the door, unlocking it (something he would question later) before swinging it open.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"Asleep. Here."

"You were supposed to be at work hours ago, Chris! You have a job and I don't give a shit how angry you are at me, you should be—"

"There was no point in coming into the office. I was waiting for you to call," Chris grumbled.

"I did call!"

"Right, it's broken," Chris muttered as he mentally remembered the device breaking for the second time.

"Just because you aren't being deployed yet doesn't mean I don't need the help!"

"You'll have to do it without me," Chris stated simply. "I'm there as an agent to help people. I'm not trained to do anything else and I'm not obliged to do anything else. Do it yourself, Jill."

With that, Chris closed the door.

Jill shouted and knocked on his door for at least another thirty minutes after that but eventually gave in when he showed no signs of reopening the door. By the time she was gone, Chris was beginning to feel the events of the previous night and could barely move from the couch once he had sat down. He pulled his laptop into his lap and opened it, waking it from its sleep-mode.

It took several hours but after browsing recent news for signs of Wesker, he decided to try African news and, well, there was quite a bit occurring there. A multi-industry conglomerate, Tricell, was on the rise. There had been a recent change and Excella Gionne, whose family owned Tricell, was the new CEO.

Chris was in the middle of reading the article when a window popped up, covering the text. Chris looked at the video in confusion before sighing as Jill's face came into view in the window that popped up.

"At least you're doing something productive while ignoring me," Jill stated as Chris eyed the tiny green light beside his own camera at the top of his screen to show that she could now see him as well.

"If you aren't going to tell me then I'll have to find out myself. What do you want?"

"I dispatched the team this morning. Their doing a scouting before I send you in. It should take about a week, at most."

"Is that all? I was actually in the middle of something," Chris stated anxiously, eyeing the story that sat on the window behind Jill's video.

"Tricell isn't a secret Umbrella, Chris. They help fund the B.S.A.A so whatever you think you're on to, you're not."

"That would make it a very good candidate to be the next Umbrella, don't you think? Corruption within the organization that is sworn to help; remind you of anything?"

"Goodbye, Chris."

Chris growled and shut his laptop a bit too forcefully.

Several hours went by and Chris took the time away from work to trade in his phone for another. Chris returned to his flat, set the new phone on the table, and made his way into the kitchen where he began making himself something to eat.

He was halfway through his sandwich before sighing.

"Should I make you one, too?"

"Might as well."

"You should learn how to knock," Chris stated, pulling out another two pieces of bread.

"Why bother?" the blond asked, entering the kitchen.

"What if I was having a meeting with Jill?" Chris asked as he began smearing mayonnaise and mustard onto the bread.

"That would mean, of course, that you two were on speaking terms and I don't believe you are."

"We have to be, she's my boss."

"You cannot remain friends with someone above you. It simply never works," Wesker stated as the blond slowly made his way around the kitchen, observing the room.

"You said that in S.T.A.R.S. often enough," Chris reminded him before slapping on whatever meat he had near him and pushed the two pieces of bread together.

"I certainly couldn't grow attached to any of you. It might have made my betrayal more enjoyable."

"Get the fuck out, Wesker," Chris growled, tossing the sandwich angrily in the blonde's direction before leaving the room in haste, his own sandwich left behind.

"Someone's touchy," Chris heard behind him causing him to stop and spin on his heel, throwing a punch backwards.

The blond, however, wasn't there which made Chris trip forward. A second later, his torso was pressed against the right side of the hallway wall. Chris felt Wesker's weight against his back after a second and realized the blond had grabbed both of his hands, managing to pin them behind Chris's back in the nonexistent struggle.

"Now, Chris, is that any way to—"

"Shut up. I'm not going to—AH!" Wesker's grip tightened causing Chris to stop talking. "That hurts," Chris warned when he felt pressure on his joint.

"I will release you when you cease taking shots at me," Wesker explained simply.

"Fine."

Wesker released Chris, stepping from him before walking to the living room. Chris stretched his arm, rubbing his shoulder as he followed the blond. Wesker sat on the couch but Chris stood, eyeing him dangerously.

"Do you recall the mission-"

"Not this again," Chris groaned, sitting on the nearby stairs.

"Amuse me."

"Yes, I remember the mission. You called in the middle of the night telling me to get ready. We completed a drug bust with just the two of us," Chris stated almost robotically.

"Do you recall what I asked when you got into the car?" Wesker asked casually causing Chris to roll his eyes.

"Yes," Chris hissed.

"And what was that?"

"You asked me if I trusted you."

"And what did you say?"

"Wesker, this really isn't—" Chris began quietly.

"Amuse me, Chris," the blond repeated.

"Of course, Captain," Chris said distantly.

Wesker chuckled at the dead panned tone in Chris's voice. Chris flinched slightly when the blond was suddenly in front of him, hovering dangerously above him, his gloved hand holding Chris's jaw in place.

"Do you trust me?"

"Never." Chris's response was backed by a powerful gaze and clenched jaw that made Wesker smile.

"Good," he growled before connecting their lips.

Chris really hadn't expected to have sex with the blond again… But he did. And then did it again.

And neither men could really care they hadn't even made it to the bedroom before the second time and ended up on the couch and several other places around the house. The two had grabbed anxiously at each other; biting and licking, growling and moaning, pulling and scratching… It was pure lust, just what the two wanted. More damage was done, though Chris's phone was spared, many other items were not; tables were pushed over, more items were knocked from the walls including the mirror Jill bought for him, they narrowly missed the television, pulled down the curtains around the windows and were both now currently wrapped in said curtains on the glass splattered floor.

Chris was panting heavily and Wesker was even quietly breathing heavily. Chris groaned, sitting up slowly to look around his destroyed apartment.

"I can't just keep getting new furniture," Chris stated, kicking a table leg with emphasis.

"Perhaps next time we can make it to the bed," Wesker suggested, cupping the back of his head in his right palm as he relaxed.

"I'm surprised we made it the first time," Christ muttered honestly receiving a chuckle from the blond.

"I was leading then so it isn't all that surprisingly. This, however, is all your doing."

"If I'm the one being fucked, how am I supposed to direct where we go? That is automatically your job," Chris shot back, lying back beside the blond. "It's not like any of this matters, anyway. I'll be in Africa by this time next week."

"Jill decided to send you after your dispute?"

"I'm deployed in a few days. I assumed you knew; you tend to know everything," Chris muttered in almost annoyance.

"That I do. I question why you bother working with the B.S.A.A when-"

"They don't mistreat me."

"Jill seems to," Wesker stated simply.

"She's being a boss."

"Perhaps she's taking the term a bit too literal. If you wish, I can-"

"Don't you dare even suggest it," Chris growled, quickly sitting up and taking the curtain with him as he began standing.

"It's just an option," Wesker pointed out as Chris grabbed his pants from the television before pulling them on.

"That's an option for you. Not for me and as long as we do whatever this is that we do, you will not threaten her or anyone I know or we are done, Wesker."

"Come, Pet, I was jok-" Wesker began, chuckling as he sat up to watch Chris toss the curtains back towards the window.

"You weren't, actually. Don't even attempt that," Chris growled, throwing Wesker's pants forcefully at him.

"Finished already? I thought we could go a few more times," Wesker sighed, pulling on his pants from under the curtain-turned-blanket.

"Yeah, we're finished, Wesker," Chris growled, kicking aside pieces of glass with his bare foot before strutting angrily across the living room. "Let yourself out."

The following day, Chris was woken by the sound of his name being called. Groaning, Chris sat up before hearing the sound of his front door closing.

"Chris? Are you okay?" called Jill's worried voice coupled by the sound of her readying her handgun.

"I'm up here, Jill," Chris called before hearing hurried footsteps.

"What the hell happened down there?" Jill gasped as she saw a small trail of blood on the wooden floor and then saw the blood stained sheets at the foot of Chris's bed. "Chris!"

"I'm fine. Glass got in my foot, that's all."

"How did all that happen?" Jill asked as she rushed to Chris's side, pulling back the sheets to examine his feet.

"It's… complicated," Chris muttered receiving a dangerous glance from the opposite brunet.

"Chris, you should get these cleaned up," she sighed. "I'll do it."

"You don't have to, Jill, really. Maybe you should…"

"I should what? Wait around for your feet to get infected effectively endangering the entire African operation? I really don't think I can do that."

"What did you come here for?" Chris asked through gritted teeth as she turned on her heel and disappeared into his bathroom.

"I just thought I'd come by and see how you're feeling. We left on a sour note the other day and you wouldn't see me yesterday so I figured you were over the situation by now. I wanted to make sure you were preparing properly because we really don't know when we'll be sending you out. It could be sooner than expected," Jill explained, reappearing with a handful of gauze, antibacterial spray, and towel.

"Yeah, I'm prepared."

"Obviously not by the looks of it," Jill muttered as she began spraying the wounds with the antibacterial spray.

Chris hissed, wincing as Jill dabbed the now bleeding wounds with the towel. She began slowly wrapping it, lifting the right foot carefully before repeating the process with the left.

"The next time you decide to have a party or whatever the hell happened down there, try not to make it dangerous," she warned as she stood. "I should get back to work," she stated, dropping the towel on the floor to begin wiping the stains from the wood.

"Don't bother, I'll get it. You should get back to work… they need you," Chris muttered, sitting up fully. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, physically stopping her from cleaning the floor.

"Oh fine but if that living room isn't clean by the time you go to Africa, I'm cleaning it myself."

"What else would you be doing during that time?" Chris muttered sarcastically standing and wincing at the suddenly sensitivity in his feet. Now that Jill had cleaned them, they were reopened and sending waves of pain in each step.

"So you aren't over it, then," Jill stated, referring to comment that she wasn't meant to hear.

"Now probably isn't the time to talk about it. I have work to do," Chris lied, gesturing to the living room as he watched Jill walk down the stairs with no intention of following her.

"Well, whatever you do you might want to stop leaving your door unlocked."

And that was the end of the conversation.

Jill left with no goodbye and Chris watched her leave with no intention of speaking to her until he was officially deployed. Sighing, the brunet leaned on the balcony that overlooked his living room, his forehead resting on his arm as he realized just how out of control everything seemed to be.

Maybe Wesker was right, in a way. Was the B.S.A.A the right place for Chris?

It took a few hours for the throbbing in his feet to stop but once they did, Chris began cleaning. He managed to push all the glass and broken pieces of furniture into its own pile and even had the curtains replaced with some extras from his linen closet, another extra item courtesy of Jill.

Once mostly finished with the living room, Chris made his way upstairs and began preparing for the trip. Without any need for a bag, he didn't have to pack but he did have to lay out some of his needed items; His gun, ammunition, a carrying case to hold extra items, his B.S.A.A outfit, his knife, and whatever the hell else he might possibly need and was able to carry without a bag.

Chris had just laid out his holster when he heard his front door open and close quietly. When nobody called, Chris grabbed his gun and called out;

"Jill?"

"You've cleaned the place. Why bother?" Wesker's voice stated. Chris groaned but didn't drop the handgun.

"Learn to knock."

"Expecting the boss, are you?" the blond asked, eyeing the gun as Chris rolled his eyes and tucked it neatly beside the holster.

"She came by earlier to talk. She ended up tending to my foot."

Chris felt Wesker's eyes fall on the brunette's feet and he heard a quiet hum from the blond in response. Wesker responded with a question soon after but Chris didn't actually hear it through his musings on the items that were laid out in front of him.

"What?" Chris asked causing Wesker to raise his eyebrows and give him an odd look.

"How did you get the wounds?"

"You pissed me off," Chris grumbled as he turned from the small pile of items to look at Wesker.

"You cannot possibly blame me for that," the blond chuckled darkly.

"The glass I kicked last night cut me and I was too pissed off to notice."

"Your anger is far from my fault," the blond stated, one hand around his back while the other was raised and moving animatedly as he spoke.

"You made my anger by offering to kill Jill or do you not remember?" Chris asked challengingly.

"I recall joking about it, yes."

"That's all it is to you, isn't it? Just another dead person- just another fucking joke. You can't understand why this is an issue, can you?" Chris growled as he stepped away from the foot of his bed and towards Wesker.

"Why not explain it to me?" Wesker smirked.

Wesker smirked.

Without a warning, Chris lunged at the blond, the two of them colliding into the opposite wall beside the doorway. In the collision, Chris released any sort of hold he had on Wesker making him swing into a punch once he found his bearings. Wesker dodged it with ease, chuckling darkly as Chris punched again and again across the room. The two ended up in a dance of dodging, Chris turning on his heel to kick at the blond, only for Wesker to smirk, catch the leg and spin Chris off balance causing pain to the base of his foot.

"Lay it all on me," Wesker smirked. "That's my Pet."

"I'm not your pet," Chris growled, ignoring the pain in his foot as he stood. "You have no right to own me. You don't have a soul. There is nothing good or clean inside of you."

This struck a nerve in Wesker and the blond was suddenly charging. Chris wasn't able to block the charge and, instead, got sent flying into the wall opposite of the bed. His lower back stung as he stood, again, unready for the attacks that ensued. A punch flew at him, hitting him in the jaw then another on the opposite side forcing his face down. Wesker completed the assault by forcing Chris's face down and colliding it with his knee, sending Chris reeling backwards into his bedside table.

"You cannot blame me simply because you are making decisions that you deem as mistakes over and over again," Wesker hissed before lunging again.

Chris stopped him this time by catching the blond by the shoulders. This turned out to be rather useless as the blond clutched at Chris's shoulders as well and, instead, sent him flying back first onto the bed. He sat up, his legs bent over the edge of the bed and his arms keeping himself steady despite his lightheadedness.

"You are dead inside. That's what Spencer told you, wasn't it? You were made to be like this. You were made to be Umbrella's tool," Chris looked up when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple.

"What file did you read that out of?" Wesker growled as his eyes met Chris's from behind slightly glowing shades as his anger was beginning to dark red glow would be threatening to most but Chris Redfield would never fear Albert Wesker.

"Umbrella wasn't exactly ashamed of what they were doing. It wasn't difficult to find the journals and reports scattered everywhere," Chris said challengingly, his eyes unmoving from the powerful gaze.

Wesker's face remained inches from Chris's. The brunet could feel every angry breath of air that Wesker released from his gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Chris challenged Wesker in every way to pull the trigger that his finger so desperately wanted to squeeze. Chris's eyes practically begged Wesker to shoot, hit, or fuck him; neither really knew but it was a challenge nonetheless and the blond was trying significantly harder than he should have to try and figure out which he should do.

"Kill me," Chris growled quietly. "You keep claiming I'm different because I can tell you that you're a cold heartless bastard and you'll still come back. Just like the game you have set up where you get to fuck me to your heart's content as long as I'm pissed off enough. I even fucked you when I wanted to kill you; Hell, I always want to kill you."

Wesker's clenched jaw slowly closed and the left side of his mouth raised into a smirk. The smirk grew and soon he was chuckling his slow, dark, dry laugh.

"Chris, you really don't understand it? Where do you think all the wanton lust comes from? The anger is a rather large supplier but what really fuels it? The hatred; The absolute need to kill each other makes it all the more dangerous and you can't get enough of it. The astonishing part of this is you know I'm playing a game but when I kiss you, you'll kiss me back. I'll then fuck you until you can't walk and you'll moan out my name like you never have before because you'll enjoy every second of it," Wesker hissed and Chris suddenly realized the cold metal was no longer pressed to his head and was, instead, already put away inside Wesker's jacket.

As if on clockwork, their lips pressed roughly together. Chris parted his lips, if not only to relieve the sudden pressure on his lips, and allowed Wesker to dominate his mouth. Chris let out a low growl when he was suddenly pulled from the bed by the hips and thrown to the ground, breaking the kiss and effectively causing Chris to become more aware of the ache in his back. Wesker was crawling over the brunet moments after not even allowing Chris to get his bearings back as he was suddenly being pushed down and sat comfortably on Chris's stomach a leg on either side of him and his hands under the fabric of the brunette's shirt, rubbing at the warm skin there and teasing him with lips on lips.

Quite a few harsh kisses, deep moans, and dark threats later, they were right back to how they began; Chris in deep regret but uncaring of it and Wesker far too smug for his own good.

Whatever the fuck it was they did-whether it was a game, simply out of anger, or they just wanted sex- it worked.

For now, anyway, it worked.

I'll be checking in a day or two to make sure all the words got transferred just to make sure the issue is fixed. I suppose we'll see.

Sorry the chapter took forever to get up but I just went on break and I've been enjoying it far too much. Within three weeks, I've finished the first three Assassin's Creed games and Resident Evil 5. Lazing around is nice. Hope everyone had nice holidays and I look forward to what you guys think.

~Raven