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Albert was starting to get really frustrated with how the R.P.D was being run lately. The inherent favoritism between departments was bad enough on a normal day, but this was ridiculous. The upper offices were a sweltering hot box of misery in the middle of summer, and Chief Irons' had repeatedly declined getting a proper maintenance team to fix the air conditioning units that were broken yet again, but just this morning he noticed while the second floor West Wing was neglected, the East Wing had priority. Not just priority, but the projected time frame for when said maintenance crew was scheduled to come back in to fix the West Wing most likely wouldn't be until mid Autumn at the earliest.
It was infuriating to say the least, but while the maintenance crews were present today, Chief Irons' was conveniently out of the building dealing with some ‘important business’ at Town Hall. Hiding was a more apt description for the day, between Albert's anger and Lieutenant Branagh’s deep displeasure. While the lower floors could get some kind of reprieve with the pathetic squeaky metal fans they had strategically placed around the rooms of their offices, S.T.A.R.S had no such luck for reprieve. With no windows in their office to draw airflow from, and a stagnant stifling heat that permeated every inch of the upper floors, they would only succeed in turning every fan into a furnace blowing hot stale air around.
The computers weren't helping but unfortunately for them, most of their work relied on using them. They hummed noisily, exuding their own streams of hot air as they struggled to function for basic tasks, steadily adding to the building sauna inside the office space. Even Albert was feeling the harsher sides of the heat as he loosened his collar and drained another bottle of water from their rapidly depleting mini fridge.
Jill and Joseph were out running a call to assist with a domestic situation, something to do with a fist fight at a family cookout. Marvin was short handed and requested a little extra help to assist Officer Ford. Barry was at his desk fixing a janky trigger on one of Bravo team’s rifles. Forest had noticed the problem with his rifle during range training the other day, and needed it looked over. Barry found the problem pretty quickly and got the replacement parts ordered right away.
Brad was seated at his own desk going over a stack of papers, his vest discarded over the back of his chair and his hair drawn back into a mess of fidgeting earlier. He had a handkerchief he typically kept tucked in his pocket resting at his side to mop up the beads of sweat starting to accumulate on his brow while he worked at his struggling computer. Chris was sitting at his own desk between the two men's work spaces. Albert was starting to get worried about his point man. While the paperwork started to pile up in Chris’ task tray, not a single finished form had been submitted in days. Not to say that Chris was slacking off. Not in the slightest. He had seen his subordinate sitting at his desk every single day with those forms laid out before him, his eyes fixed firmly on the task but progress never seemed to get very far throughout the day. Maybe an additional two or three lines of completed writing and then it was back to the grind the next day with very little progress.
Chris was dressed down in a similar state to Brad. Occasionally he would fidget with the sweat soaked white T-shirt to find comfort only to discover it was futile in the end. He couldn't escape the way his clothes clung to him in this sweltering heat. His desk was covered in the fallen victims of his stress habit of chewing on everything. Pen caps, pencils, more than a dozen coffee stirrers chewed to plastic splinters that filled his trash bin. Their coffee pot hadn't seen any use in weeks yet the box of stirrers suffered catastrophic losses until it had been depleted entirely. Earlier this morning he had noticed Chris had resorted to chewing up the plastic cap to his water bottle until it was a folded and flattened unrecognizable chunk peeking past his lips. It too had found its way to the trash bin beside the coffee stirrers.
Albert was worried about his subordinate and the lack of progress he was making. He knew Chris didn't do well in temperatures like this and feared the man would stress himself out to the point of heat sickness, again. As he approached the man at his desk, he noticed Chris' anxious knee bobbing had picked up pace with Albert's encroaching presence. He was hunched over his desk, one hand firmly pressed against his left temple to support his head while his right hand anxiously flicked his tooth mark riddled pen next to the same paper he had been working on filling out since this morning. Albert recognized it as also being the same form from last night when they left for the day. Chris had been hunched over it for hours right up until the clock struck six, signaling the end of his shift.
‘I think he might need a break.’ The younger man was clearly struggling and it was extremely unusual for Chris to have such a hard time like this. Sure, he despised the tedium of paperwork, most officers did, but Albert knew Chris had a little more of a unique way of how he dealt with things, and tasks like doing paperwork were an uphill battle on the regular. He had made adjustments over time so Chris had other ways to help him focus on unpleasant tasks, like using a clipboard and actively pacing as he worked. Unfortunately it was far too hot to entertain all that anxious motion, and now Chris was stuck and struggling worse than before with all his usual tricks now made useless to him if he wanted to avoid passing out from the absurd heat in this building.
“Chris.” Albert spoke firmly to get the man's attention as he placed a hand on his subordinate’s shoulder. His fingers no sooner settled against the hard curve of the younger man's collarbone when Chris’ head snapped to the side and suddenly Albert felt a sharp pain in his wrist. It took a few seconds for him to even register the little growl of agitation that ripped out of Chris shortly before the younger man's teeth met the Captain's skin. The firm pressure was a warning, lingering on the very edge of going further if it wasn't heeded. Albert refrained from the sudden alarming urge to yank his arm away from Chris’ mouth, well aware that it would only increase the risk of breaking skin. He stomped down the initial shock of this bewildering situation, and caught the sudden rise of Barry’s figure jerking to his feet. His mouth opened, clearly intent on intervening when Albert shot him a sharp reprimanding look.
The man looked to be at a loss of words, his worried eyes darting between his Captain's stern gaze and Chris’ tense posture where he was still seated. Eventually conceding to the silent command. Albert didn't miss the nervous glances Brad was shooting the pair from behind his monitor.
With the utmost care and patience, Albert spoke calmly to his point man. “Christopher.” He slowly lifted his fingers away from the man's shoulder so his palm was hovering without pulling against the firm vice of the man's teeth. “Let go of me, please.”
It took a few seconds for Albert’s words to really sink in as Chris’ eyes burned hot with clear frustration. He could feel the lock jawed pressure of Chris' mounting aggression start to alleviate a little.
“Christopher.” He measured every syllable with care, while simultaneously keeping his tone neutral so as not to rile his best man up anymore than he already was. Albert was aware this was very much a mistake on his own part. He didn't heed the very obvious warning signs that told him, now in hindsight, that Chris very likely did not want to be touched. He was just accustomed to the usual friendly tactile nature of his subordinate under more positive circumstances.
“Please, may I have my hand back?” The soldier’s strong hold eventually released him, permitting Albert to withdraw his wrist from the curled lips of his subordinate. There were dual crescent shaped marks clamped over his wrist in bright scarlet that were sure to bruise, but appeared to have broken no skin in the process. Relieved that he had one less concern to pile on his plate, Albert proceeded.
“Christopher.” The younger man lifted his eyes to meet Albert’s. The Captain could see the worst of the heat in those brown eyes start to melt away and soften with the trickling realization accompanied by guilt and shame. “Go to the locker room and take a cold shower. Take as long as you need until you feel better. Understood?”
There was a flicker of confusion then a hesitant rise as the man climbed unsteadily to his feet. His tooth mark riddled pen abandoned to the desk in the process. As Chris stepped past Albert, the Captain caused him to pause briefly as he called. “When you're done, come see me.”
Albert received the briefest nod from the younger man in acknowledgement of the order, before Chris lurked off out of the office with that stone faced look about him. Once Chris was gone, Albert made his way to his office to dig out his first aid kit from his desk. He no sooner got the antiseptic wipes out of their pouch when the heavy thump of knuckles rapping at his door alerted him to Barry’s presence.
“Come in.” Albert permitted as he meticulously unfolded the little wipe to clean the red crescent marks now blooming purple in delicate arches from Chris’ teeth. He was relieved that there didn't appear to be any permanent damage to the area, but the Captain wasn't going to take any chances just in case, and cleaned the spots just to be certain there was no risk of infection in the future. Barry stepped into the room and closed the office door at his back, the silent warning that a private discussion was being requested now. “What can I do for you, Barry?”
Brown eyes turned their gaze towards the white hard shell case of the medical kit laid out on the desk. The furrow of Barry’s brows deepened. “Sir, I'd like to speak to you on Chris’ behalf.”
Albert’s brow crooked a fraction higher in surprise as he placed the used antiseptic wipe in the trash beside his desk. He was intrigued by this sudden turn of events. While he knew Barry and Chris had extensive history together since their years spent serving side by side in the Air Force, and Barry had consistently stepped up to Chris’ defense for his past rebellious behavior, this was an unusual situation all around. Yet Barry appeared to be less surprised by it than either the Captain himself or Brad had been.
“Go on.” Albert permitted, curious to see where this was going. Barry took a small breath in preparation, the words already poised on the man's tongue as he began.
“I understand that Chris can be a handful at times, and that his behavior can toe the line of going too far, but I implore you to be lenient on him in this particular case-” Albert held up his hand to pause Barry’s presumed speech, causing the larger man to fall suddenly silent.
“I’m not upset with Chris.” The Captain stated bluntly.
Barry could only gape in surprise for a few seconds before blurting, incredulously. “You're not?”
“I presume this has happened before?” Albert asked for clarification to which Barry nodded in answer.
The man nervously wet his dry lips before elaborating further. “A couple times. Once in the Air Force, and another time with me.”
“I assume both instances were triggered by unwanted physical contact?” Albert went on to ask. Barry nodded.
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Yeah, Chris was- he wasn't doing so well and he had gone all quiet. He kept to himself which we should have taken the hint but we didn't.”
“I see.” It was a lot like Albert’s situation then. With a hum of acknowledgement, the Captain stated. “Everyone has their own ways of dealing with stress and reacting to it when overwhelmed. There were warning signs and I only have myself to blame for overlooking them.”
“So Chris is….” Barry asked for clarification.
“Chris is not in trouble. I asked him to decompress in a way that'll help and come speak with me when he's ready. I only mean to ask him if he's feeling well.” Albert assured Barry with a phantom of a reassuring smile gracing his lips. The Captain glanced down to address his first aid kit, ensuring everything was put away before folding it closed. He didn't think a bandage was necessary for what is essentially just going to be a bruise so he didn't bother with it.
“Is that all, Barry?”
“Uh, yes sir.” The larger man assured him stoutly. With that, Albert dismissed him with a nod. Barry looked relieved as he vacated the office. The tension he carried in with him had visibly crumbled which eased Albert’s own worries knowing there was one less potential conflict to deal with. Brad and Barry were good men who both deeply respected Chris. He can understand their worries over their friend, especially when Chris seemed to be so distressed earlier. Albert had no intention of punishing his best man, or reprimanding his behavior. While the occasional stint of rebelliousness deserved a stern talking to from time to time, this instance was not one of those times. He shared his subordinates' concerns and hoped Chris would be alright.
In the meantime, Albert put his attention into a more effective distraction such as composing a strongly worded letter to Chief Irons', and another copy to be submitted when he reports the hazardous work environment the Chief has fostered for the health and safety of his officers by being neglectful in his position and his priorities regarding the budget. It was now a detriment to his men's health, both mental and physical, which had gone a step too far. Albert’s tolerance for this absurdity had reached a breaking point, so if the egotistical swine wanted to maintain his hold on this precinct he had better start making the correct changes in a more timely fashion.
The Captain had nearly finished his rough draft of the letter -at three pages long so far- when he heard the soft rap of knuckles knocking upon his door.
“Come in.” He didn't even need to look up to know who those timid taps belonged to. Chris stepped hesitantly through the doorway in the clean white t-shirt the soldier often kept in his locker as a spare change for sparring days along with the pair of black basketball shorts. For the moment, Albert wasn't going to hold the lack of decorum against his subordinate. Yes, wearing the proper uniform was important but given Chris’ earlier state, he doubted he'd feel any comfort sending the younger man out on any actual calls today. He had a damp hand towel draped around the back of his neck, his wet hair was spiked and messy where he had clearly run his fingers through it before coming back into the office. Instead of his usual boots, Chris had his running shoes on as an extra layer of comfort. Albert found he enjoyed the slightly messy relaxed look of his point man. This was furthered by the far more aware and relaxed demeanor accompanied by the light shining in the younger man's eyes. Chris looked uncertain of himself as he shut the door at his back, looking like a chastened child entering the Principal’s office.
Those soft melted chocolate eyes studied Albert with wariness. The hesitant steps shuffled closer to the Captain's desk in increments until he was just far enough in the office to no longer be crowding the door. His shoulders were already hunched a fraction in preparation for a scolding. The defeated ashamed look on the younger man's face was only further punctuated by the way Chris folded his hands behind his back, the small jerky twitches of motion in his forearms from where Albert could still see them, told the older man all he needed to know. The soldier wrung his fingers together anxiously as he presented himself for whatever punishment he perceived himself receiving for his behavior. There was no protests. No attempts to defend himself. Chris was a man who always owned up to his actions and never once made excuses to shove off blame or downplay the seriousness of their consequences. He understood and he stood by it regardless, just as he'd stand by and accept whatever consequences that would inevitably follow.
That was something Albert had always respected in the man, despite his rebellious playful nature.
“Christopher.” Albert set his pen neatly aside and permitted the drafted letters to rest while the newest lines of ink dried. He sank back in the comfortable caress of his leather chair, both to give his aching back a reprieve but also to express a more relaxed meeting than Chris had initially psyched himself up for. He kept his voice soft with a friendlier expression than his normal stoicism. “How are you feeling?”
The soldier looked to be at a loss at first, his lips pursed in thought as those soft warm eyes widened for a few seconds. He quickly schooled his composure and answered the Captain quietly. “Better.” It was unusually timid for the younger man as hopeful eyes briefly searched his Captain's face, most likely looking for hints of anger or displeasure.
“I'm pleased to hear that.” Albert reassured him with a more prominent smile spread upon his face. “Are you feeling ill or weak at all?”
“No sir.” Chris shook his head after a second. His eyes dropped momentarily to find the bruising on Albert’s forearm. A dark purple ring bisected by pale skin had stolen the man's attention. A pained look flashed in Chris’ eyes. “I'm sorry.”
“It's not your fault, Christopher.” Albert assured him with the same measured calm he used when Chris first snapped at him. “I shouldn't have touched you without permission first. I had noticed you seemed distressed and shouldn't have done what I did. That's on me. I’m sorry.”
Chris gave Albert a nervous glance, his gaze rising to meet the Captain's eyes briefly. Albert met him with an encouraging smile. His shoulders gave a little dismissive bounce as he admitted. “It's alright. Shit happens, Captain.”
With a nod, Albert proceeded. “If you're feeling up to it, you're more than welcome to stay and continue your work. If you feel unwell, just let me know. I don't want you pushing yourself to the extreme again and risking your personal safety and health for a bit of paperwork, Christopher. Am I understood?”
Chris straightened with a little more of his old self slowly coming back as he nodded. “Yes sir.”
“If you need to cool off or take a break to calm down, you don't need to ask. This goes for any day from this point forward. You do whatever you need to in order to help yourself stay safe.” Albert explained succinctly, hoping to drive that point forward, though he knew he'd have to regularly remind the younger man to heed the advice from time to time. Chris was a stubborn man who didn't know his own limits nearly as well as he knew the limits of his comrades. Feeling comfortable that he got his point across, Albert waved the younger man off to return to his duties. Chris smiled back at him before slipping through the door to the office to return to his desk.
It was another hot sweltering day at the latter end of the week. Albert had already had one meeting with Chief Irons regarding his letter. The Chief took it as the threat it was and arranged a little bit of leeway in the budget to fit the West Offices in ahead of schedule. It would still take a few days to get the proper crews in to do the work, as they were on the cusp of a busy holiday weekend, but it was a start. Albert did his rounds to check on his team to ensure they were staying adequately hydrated in this horrid heat, while praying the thunderstorm that was reported over the radio all day would finally wet the worst of it down. Barry and Jill had stepped out to retrieve lunch for everyone while Joseph and Brad busied themselves with sorting through a box of spare electronic parts to see what was actually usable in their little tinkering project with an old weather scanner.
Chris was back at his desk making slow but seemingly steady progress on his tasks. His vest was tossed over the back of his seat to alleviate the discomfort of the heat. The soldier had a cold bottle of water sitting next to his mousepad, the hard plastic was sweating profusely in the heat of the room. The condensation gathered on the wooden coaster stained with coffee rings from past encounters with Chris’ mug. Draped around the back of the soldier's neck was a half frozen washcloth he had wet and placed in a plastic bag in the break room freezer. It thawed quickly against his hot skin, but Albert was pleased to see Chris utilizing some new methods to help himself stay comfortable as he worked.
When the younger man grew agitated or caught himself stressing too much over his tasks, he'd lean back in his chair to bully the bear shaped gray foam stress toy that once had the Arklay Mountain Park Rangers’ contact information advertised on the belly of. It was faded and well worn out from how much Chris already abused it while letting his brain roam a bit. Some days he'd play his guitar which was propped near his desk to pass the time on slow days, and other days he just wanted to listen to the radio while zoning out at the wall for an hour. Albert let him because he knew Chris would shake himself out of his bad mood in time and dutifully return to his work when he was ready. The Captain had to remind himself to take a more lenient stance towards his team, and had attempted to make those necessary allowances to ensure everyone could work at their best cohesively.
Today, he noticed Chris had been sparse in his distracted breaks. He was hunched over his desk more than usual as he worked determinedly on his tasks. Albert noticed a handful of new pens were added to his collection, these ones were untouched by the anxious biting habits of his subordinate. Chris' left hand fidgeted absently with the cool thawing corner of the cloth where it dangled close to his ear. His right hand gripped the pen tightly as he scratched information into the necessary boxes.
“Christopher.” Albert called softly to his best man to announce his presence at the younger man's side. The impulse to provide the usual familiar pat to Chris’ shoulder had Albert freezing as his hand stilled, hovering an inch above the younger man's shirt. It was a habit the Captain would need to train himself back out of. Chris’ hand stopped it's progress with the pen before the warmest brown eyes Albert had found himself enjoying the tender gaze of turned towards him. Chris’ smile was an immediate relief as he greeted the older man with mirth.
“Captain.” His attention flickered to the hand near his shoulder. Chris lifted his arm a little to encourage the contact. Albert let his palm come to rest there as Chris’ smile grew until he was beaming back at the man.
“Good work today, Chris.” Albert praised easily, letting those words slip from his tongue with all the affection Chris rightfully deserved for his progress.
“Thanks Captain.” His point man grinned as he seized the paper in front of himself to declare. “Just gotta finish this and I'm all caught up.”
“Then I’ll let you get back to that.” Albert purred with approval. He let his hand linger on Chris’ shoulder a moment more than he really should have, as he admired the relaxed set of Chris' posture. Even with the stuffy discomfort of the office, a problem soon to be rectified, Albert found himself able to bear the misery of it all as long as he had that smile to look forward to throughout the day.