RE: Confidence
"No soul is desolate as long as there is a human being for whom it can feel trust and reverence." – T.S. Eliot
August 2, 1998
Even though he had invited her, Chris felt awkward. Mickey's was his bar in a way. He used to go there with Kenneth, Enrico, and Frost… when he could stand Frost. It was a usual hang out of almost the whole S.T.A.R.S. unit, on both sides… But as soon as he got there, he realized that they'd never brought Jill along. Or at least he'd never seen her there with any of them. Once or twice with some guy… but… Not with the co-workers.
One of the things he often disagreed with Frost about… their new female team members. Frost thought it would be better if Jill went back to the Air Force, 'where she belonged'. Chris didn't like that, and Kenneth and Enrico had to pull the two of them apart once when Frost was mouthing off while they were drunk.
Lucky for Frost, Chris hit softer when he was drunk.
Enrico thought he and Frost were like siblings. Chris, he pointed out whenever asked (often by Kenneth), was the older of the two.
The only S.T.A.R.S. member who knew the reason behind the big-brother tendency was Barry. Chris was… disinclined to mention his baby sister to the rest of them. Not Kenneth because that would just be weird – Sullivan was a nice guy, but not the type to pass hitting on someone cute; and not Enrico because… well. If Enrico got curious about Chris's little sister, in a way it would be worse than Frost doing it. Enrico was an ok guy, just way too old for her. Not that he bet Enrico was liable to go for someone that young (he didn't seem inclined toward Rebecca, after all), but Chris was an over-protective big brother.
Least of all Frost because he'd have to clean a room with him if he ever said things about Claire the way he did about other women in rooms and in his acquaintance.
It was like the man was missing some primary, normal brain function. Jill was a worthwhile co-worker. She was good with her hands, she was strong for her size, and she was a pretty damn crack shot.
Of course, she did have the drawback of being hot. Not that it was a drawback. No, it was an asset, but it didn't help Frost that he had exactly two brain cells about women, and neither of them were liable to attract one like Jill. To prove the point, and to keep from getting into another fight with him, which would keep Enrico from teasing him about how much he doted on his little brother, Chris was polite to Jill, but waited for her to make friends, if she wanted.
It worked ok in the office, but she'd proved herself the first month on the field, and Chris could be a bit too chummy out there, when the mission was going well. She probably thought he had multiple personalities or something.
But now with Frost gone… and no Enrico to tease him about how much of a gentleman he was…
Chris needed a damn drink. And he needed it where he would feel at least a little safe. But then he'd gotten to the bar first, and didn't quite know what to do except start a tab. So he had, ordering his usual. The bar tender gave him a look. "Yeah, Moses, shut up."
"Don't call me Moses," Mo replied, narrowing his eyes at Chris as he placed the shot glass in front of him and poured the whiskey. "And I'll give you whatever look I want. It's not even after happy hour, Chris."
Smoothing his own brow, Chris knew that his bartender friend had a good point. Usually Chris at least waited until after dinner to go knock back the Jack, but… freedom had already taken him to Emmy's, and he didn't want to go be inside anymore.
"What am I gonna tell Claire, you drinkin' alone at dinner?"
"Tell her I'm not, though you keep your damn hands off my sister," Chris said, lifting the glass. "She's underage."
"It was your barbecue," Mo replied with a smirk.
"She was seventeen, prick," Chris replied, narrowing his eyes.
"She didn't look seventeen," Mo replied.
"Do any of "them" "look" seventeen?" Chris replied, his narrowed eyes turning into a glare easily. He liked Mo when Mo had nothing to do with women. If he'd known it was Mo's night on he might have suggested a different bar because…
Mo's eyes shifted to the door as it opened, and Chris knew from the look on the man's face that Jill had entered the bar. "Now now," Mo said with a grin.
"Keep it to yourself," Chris ground out.
Jill crossed to where he was sitting, patting him on the arm, and tapped the glass. "I'll have one of those," she said, sliding onto the stool next to his.
"Are you sure you want whiskey, sweetheart?"
She chuckled and nodded. Mo relented, getting her a glass. "Been here long?"
That nearly made Mo drop the glass. Chris chuckled. "No, I just got here." Mo narrowed his eyes across the bar, setting the glass down.
"Well aren't I lucky then?" Jill took the shot glass and lifted it to the two of them before knocking it back in a gulp.
"Moses Jones, Jill Valentine. She's…" Chris considered that for a moment, "she's my partner from work."
Jill lifted her brows at that, one finger against her lower lip to catch some of the whiskey that had escaped the shot glass rim.
Mo refilled her glass and hovered for a few moments before another of the bar patrons, a much younger one with a lower cut shirt than Jill's man-cut t-shirt, leaned up for his attention. Chris chuckled at that, shaking his head.
"Partner?" Jill asked when they were alone, voice pitched to be below the conversation and the television screens that were showing the MSU game.
Chris turned his eyes to hers, and was caught. It wasn't hard to have that happen, but he wasn't used to it nearly enough to be comfortable. Another reason he tried to be polite but distant with her. Especially on a day that he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin anyway. Distance wouldn't work now, though, and he knew it. He needed someone to be familiar, needed someone to drink and not ask why he was drinking…
Barry was MIA, having taken the family 'camping'. Brad was drinking alone these days.
Jill was all there was left.
He moved a hand from his glass and nudged her hand towards hers a little. "It's easier than explaining the whole of the S.T.A.R.S. deployment strategy. Besides… after…" Chris trailed off, glancing around the bar. "After last week, I guess… that's just how I feel about it."
She was quiet at that, and then she knocked the whole glass back.
If he hadn't known Jill could drink several of the other S.T.A.R.S. members stupid and then some, he might have had a stupid, Mo-like comment. Instead he just smiled.
It wasn't that Jill never went out drinking with them, just that usually it was office drinking. It sounded worse than it was. He, Forrest and Dewey had a monthly meeting after target practice. The meeting involved alcohol, and the reigning King of the Meeting was Chris. The losers had to supply the next months' alcohol, and in the running, of the fourteen meetings they had, Chris had bought only three times.
He knew Jill could out-drink at least Forrest, because when she'd been in the office after one of his triumphant returns, working on paperwork or something, he'd invited her to join them.
Thank god Frost wasn't with them.
It was a bit too friendly, perhaps, for Frost to see him like. Chris was feeling the camaraderie of the field, though, and so he'd extended the invitation. Jill's response was an amused grin, and then she and Chris had proceeded to drink Forrest and Dewey into oblivion.
That evening had started rumors. Both about the two of them, the improved alcohol tolerance of Alpha Team, and whether it was a prerequisite for working so closely with Wesker that you could handle your liquor in a serious way.
It was strange to think that he and Jill were so similar.
"Hope that's ok."
Jill grinned, tipping her head to one side to look at him. "Chris, everyone's entitled to their feelings."
"Right," Chris said, lifting his whiskey to his lips.
Her hand snaked out quickly, and she basically poured the whiskey into his mouth by smacking the underside of his glass as he took the sip. Chris did his best not to choke on it, but he didn't manage to taste any of it as it burned its way down his throat.
Glaring, he narrowed his eyes at her.
"Oh come on, I know you can take it. Neither of us are driving," she reminded him. Then she grinned. "Partner."
"We're going to get written up tomorrow, aren't we?" Chris asked.
Jill's expression shifted, and Chris thought he knew why. She probably needed the drink as much as he did. "If we get that drunk, remind me to thank you."
August 3, 1998
10:15 am ...
........................ Monday
They got more than that drunk. Chris hadn't bothered to slow down much, but by the time happy hour had passed farther towards last call, he knew they needed to eat something and sleep some off. Jill seemed to be of the sleeping persuasion. His 'partner' got chummy when drunk, the same way he got chummy on missions… maybe worse. It had started with her arm against his as they leaned on the bar, talking in hushed tones, and had moved on to her arm around his neck.
Mo gave Chris a look about that, and Chris glared.
He also hefted her up against him as the taxi pulled up outside, keeping an arm around her waist.
They made it to Jill's apartment, and he got her inside before the rush of all that whiskey caught up with him like it had caught up to her. He'd had every intention of putting her to bed, getting a bagel to force her to choke down, and heading to his apartment. But the minute he got the door open, the room started to shift. Whether this was her plan or not, it fell out pretty simple. Jill slammed the door behind them, and they stumbled to her room and fell into bed.
Chris couldn't say he'd ever been that close to someone that hot… at least while being that drunk. They fell asleep fully clothed, guns still in holsters.
In the morning, he woke to her cursing loudly, the sensation of his gun digging painfully into his back, and a warm feeling all over. "GODDAMMIT!"
The shout hurt Chris's head, just like the light that was coming in through the blinds, and he started to move, to get the window, to cover his head up, when he realized that he couldn't.
Oh he could move. He just didn't want to.
The hangover was disorienting, of course, but the way they were laying was more powerfully interesting than the force of his disorientation. Sometime in the night they'd shifted from their sprawl. Chris was lying against Jill, and she had her legs parted so he was flat against her. Her arms wrapped around him.
His brain was just catching up to that, but his body had been where his brain was going for at least an hour. Pleasant warmth, a soft body cradling him… it was just the right conditions for an instant hard on.
Jill's arms hugged him like there was nothing the world the matter with having an adult man clutched to her. Like he was a comfort item…
Strange, Chris hadn't known that whiskey turned him into a teddy bear.
"Fuck, Redfield!" Jill cursed again, shoving at him. Her grip had been strong, her shove was stronger.
She would have to use that word. Chris dragged himself off her, checking to be sure they were still dressed – somehow both glad and annoyed that they were – and flopped back against the other pillow. Being dressed didn't stop his body from reacting to the warmth he'd just been pressed against. Had she noticed that-?
"I warned you we'd get reprimanded today," he said in a low voice, trying not to aggravate the throbbing in his head that she seemed not to care about at all.
Beside him, Jill giggled. Chris's head threatened to split open at the noise. More than just the hangover… Jill Valentine did not giggle. "…you're not a pod person, are you?"
"No," she replied, settling down, one arm over her eyes to block the sun. "I'm not… but damn. I haven't been that drunk since graduation."
"Warned you," Chris reminded her, pulling the pillow over his head. It helped the sun problem, but not the other one. The pillow smelled like Jill. Hell, the whole bed… the whole room smelled like Jill. His head pounded, and he swallowed against the dry feeling in his throat, the way it felt like the room shifted when his eyes were closed like they were.
He tried not to think about Jill naked.
Jill made an amused noise that was somewhat muffled by the pillow. Chris tried very hard not to think about waking up with her beneath him. Hangovers were supposed to kill morning wood, weren't they?
"Water time, ain't it, boyscout?" Jill asked.
"Yeah," Chris grumbled, stubbornly tightening his grip on the pillow over his head. If she wasn't going to bring it up… neither was he. A strong tug on the pillow yanked it from his hands, and the sunlight assaulted Chris. "Dammit!"
Her hand covered his eyes, and the smell of her hit him stronger than before. Like the bed… the pillow… and the apartment were all some stale version of the way she really smelled.
"No suffocating yourself. I like this pillow."
His assessment of the scent thing wasn't out of the question. Neither of them had been home in almost a week.
"I'm going to move my hand. Keep your eyes closed."
He nodded, a little dumb. He was afraid to nod too much, or to move too much. It might clue her in to… what she'd done.
The bed shifted, Jill fell against it beside him.
They lay there in silence for a while. Chris didn't know what she was thinking about. He knew the light against his eyelids was less painful, and he knew that his body was attuned to the fact that she was barely six inches from him.
She let out a sigh, and Chris cut himself off from either asking anything or rolling on top of her.
This is your partner! his mind snapped at him.
She sighed again.
"Jill?" he asked gently.
"Thanks," she said, swallowing. "I really needed that."