Chapter Text
Another Monday morning had crept up on Racoon City. The October sun had only just risen, but already the City hummed with the noise of people. Cars sped down the street and subway trains passed on lines overhead, rumbling as they went.
Chris Redfield was listening to this as he stood outside his apartment block. A glance down to his watch revealed the time; 7:48. His ride was late. Under normal circumstances, Chris would drive himself into work, or walk if he had to. The Police station was only thirty minutes away from his apartment, but the weather had been getting worse recently. The cold of autumn didn't bother Chris, he rarely felt it, but it was always raining in Racoon City, and getting soaked down to his underwear bothered him.
Driving had stopped being an option since Chris’s jeep had broken down. He’d spent hours bent over the hood trying to fix it himself, eventually finding that the car's spark plugs were damaged. Though it could drive if it felt like it, and Chris had tried time and time again, he’d been banned from touching his car. The last time he'd attempted to commute to work, his car misfired just as he pulled into the RPD parking garage, and wouldn’t start back up. It blocked the entrance for at least twenty minutes until Barry, Brad, and himself could push it to one side.
Jill had been driving him to work for the past two weeks, and she liked to pick him up early. She always made time to pull in somewhere for coffee, then get to the station with ten minutes to spare before Wesker made his morning announcements at 8. Chris checked his watch again; 7:50. ‘Shit,’ he thought. Jill hadn’t called him to confirm she was definitely coming this morning, but she never did. She just gave him a big smile and a ‘See you tomorrow!’ as Chris left her car on an evening, then he would wake up to honking from outside his bedroom window at 7:30.
Chris felt anxiety starting to build in his chest, as thoughts of potential worst-case scenarios began forming in his brain. Had she slept in? No, he didn’t think Jill was the type to wake up late. Oh god had something happened? Did she get into an accident on her drive over? Had some dick in a HGV ploughed into her little city car? Was she hurt? Had she fallen into an open manhole? Chris admitted to himself that his last thought was pretty funny, but still, there was a chance Jill was hurt. He began to feel nauseous.
‘Fuck this’ He thought to himself as he headed back into his building, fighting with the dodgy lobby door to get inside. He’d just have to call her, chances were that she’d just forgotten, and was already sipping a latte and chatting to Brad in the office. If that was the case, Chris would hold it over her for the rest of her life. Slightly out of spite, mostly because it would be funny to pretend to be upset with her for that long.
He went to open the door to his apartment, seeing it already unlocked. For a second he tensed up, before checking his pockets and finding that the keys he’d shoved in there were for his car, not his place. He’d never locked the door. He sighed at himself before moving inside to his wall phone, flipping through his stained phonebook looking for Jill's desk number. He punched it in and waited. It only took two rings for her to answer.
‘Jill Valentine, R.P.D, S.T.A.R.S. Who is this?’ Her voice sounded professional and clear on the phone.
‘Hi. I’d like to file a complaint about your neglectful behaviour this morning.” Chris joked, trying to make his tone as sarcastic as possible.
‘Chris!’ Jill let out a sigh of relief which the receiver picked up, ‘’Shit I totally forgot to tell you!’
‘Jill Valentine, how could you forget about my little old me?” Chris chuckled down the phone.
‘No I didn’t forget that. My car’s in the shop. Got a flat. I’m not coming for you today, ' she replied.
‘Jill I could’ve fixed that for you,’ Chris felt a little crestfallen. He liked doing a little mechanical work and wondered why Jill hadn’t come to him.
‘I know I know. But you're busy enough, and I’ve seen the state of your car Redfield.’ She teased.
‘So what’s happening exactly?’ Chris heard laughing down the phone, and the sound of Jill mumbling to someone, though he couldn’t make it out.
‘I’ve arranged a lift for you-’ Jill had moved back to the receiver, ‘-Since I’m such a good friend.’
Chris smiled softly to himself, though, depending on who was going to pull up outside his apartment, he may not agree with that statement.
‘I’ll leave you to it, ok?’ Jill said, she was still talking to someone in the room, ‘I’ll see you soon, if you live of course.’
‘What?’ Chris asked in surprise, ‘Jill, who the hell did you send for me?’
Jill laughed again, before ending the call with a long, ‘bye!’
Chris sighed, putting his phone back on the hook and walking to his window. Still no one outside. He didn’t want to stand back out there. He didn’t live in the nicest neighbourhood and was worried about the looks he’d get standing on a street corner here. A few seconds later, Chris heard the revving of a loud engine, before it slowed to a gentle hum. Glancing outside he saw a car pulled up to the curb. A black 1987 Chevy Camaro. The car was gorgeous, to say the least, shiny and completely spotless. It looked like it could’ve been fresh out the showroom. The car's brake lights were still glowing red.
‘Fuck, that's a nice car,’ Chris thought to himself, then the realisation hit him. ‘Oh fuck. That's a nice car.’
Although he had to admit he’d never seen the Camaro parked at the station, he could make a pretty good guess as to who it belonged to, and he didn’t want to make them wait.
He rushed out his door, pausing for a second to lock it, before throwing his keys haphazardly into his jacket pocket. He glanced at the elevator, but changed his mind. He'd gotten stuck in the damn thing for two hours last time and had to pretend sheepishly that he didn't know the officers who came to rescue him. Chris’s apartment was on the fifth floor, but he made good time on his way down to the lobby by skipping multiple steps at a time.
The front door had decided to cooperate this time, something Chris didn't account for as he shoved his entire body weight into it. The door flung open and hit an outside wall with a thud. Chris’s momentum made him stumble forward, and he had to catch himself before he face-planted the concrete. With no time to recover, he ran on and stopped just shy of the driver's side window.
The windows were tinted black, and all Chris could see was his dishevelled reflection. For what seemed like an eternity Chris stood there, suddenly becoming very aware this may not be his ride at all. He cringed at himself for potentially making himself look like a dick in front of a stranger for no reason. In reality, Chris had only stood there for a few seconds, and as if they had heard Chris’s thoughts, the driver rolled their window down. It moved electronically with a quiet whir until it was low enough for Chris to see inside. He saw exactly who he’d expected.
‘Redfield. You’re late.’ Chris was met with the unmistakable voice of his captain, Albert Wesker, who sat with one hand resting on the wheel. Chris had to bite his tongue to stop himself from arguing back.
‘I was stood here for 20 minutes asshole.’ Is what he wanted to say, and would have said if it was anyone else, but Wesker was different. Instead, all Chris could muster was a quick, ‘Sorry sir.’
‘Get in my car, Chris.’ Wesker had a way of speaking that made every statement sound like an urgent command. Chris moved to the passenger side, opened the door and slid in.
The seat had been pushed back all the way, which Chris liked, it gave him legroom. He wondered who had sat here before him, if anyone ever had. The car's interior looked just as new as its outside. It was pristine, with grey leather seats, a black dash, and a cassette player with different sliders. Chris thought it looked pretty advanced for something to have in a car, his jeep had an FM radio that didn’t work.
The air inside smelt of leather and the cologne Wesker was wearing, it was strong but not overpowering. He didn’t smell like he’d sprayed himself with whatever cheap aftershave he could find like Chris did every morning. Wesker just smelt, good. Chris had never noticed how Wesker smelt before, he wasn’t sure he liked that he was noticing now. Chris had zoned out, he didn’t realise Wesker had started driving until a sharp turn caused him to slide into Wesker's arm which was resting over the centre console.
‘Chris.’ Wesker's single utterance of his name sounded like a threat. Chris adjusted himself in his seat and belted up. He felt embarrassment spread on his face and tried to distract himself from the building feeling of awkwardness in the car by looking out the window.
The city outside was moving fast, too fast for the domestic area they were currently driving through. Apartment blocks and stores blurred past the windows as they travelled. Out of curiosity, Chris glanced over to check Wesker's speed. Sixty. His captain was doing sixty in downtown Racoon City. If the tint on his windows paired with the shades he always wore wasn’t illegal, that certainly was. Chris wasn’t about to narc on his captain, after all, there were many illegal things he’d done in his time, and he knew the irony of that considering what his job was. He just didn't think breaking the law was something his captain was capable of.
Wesker braked, and Chris jolted forward with the force of the sudden stop. They had pulled up to a red light, and Chris’s body let out a heavy breath on its own.
‘Everything ok Redfield?’ Wesker asked, though he didn’t sound concerned.
‘You drive fast.’ Chris said, trying to make his tone sound playful.
Wesker smirked, that dam smirk Chris was all too familiar with. Where Wesker's thin mouth twitched upwards at its ends. It was one of only three expressions Chris had seen Wesker with.
‘We have somewhere to be, don’t we?’ Wesker asked rhetorically. He was revving his car's engine, Chris watched the rev counter go from zero to eight with each light tap of Wesker's foot on the pedal.
‘Jesus,’ he thought.
As soon as the light changed to orange, Wesker sped off, clearing the junction they were sitting at in less than a second. Chris glanced over to see Wesker was already pushing fifty. He was impressed by the power Wesker’s car had, though he couldn’t help feeling mildly terrified in the passenger seat. Before Chris knew it, Wesker had driven onto the freeway, immediately merging across into the fast lane; he didn’t signal. Chris felt the car picking up speed, everything outside became a blur of colour through the window, and Chris felt sick.
Two cars were up in front of them, causing Wesker to slow down. In response, he pulled into the middle lane, pausing for a second behind a truck before pulling in front of a car in the right lane. He picked up speed, undertaking the truck before pulling back in front of it without slowing down. He accelerated again, getting very close to a van chugging away in the middle lane. Chris closed his eyes instinctively, but a loud rev from Wesker caused him to open them again as if he’d been commanded to. He saw that Wesker had pulled back into the fast lane.
Chris’s curiosity got the better of him, he glanced over at the speedometer. One thirty. Chris felt his stomach drop, all the colour had run from his face by that point, something Wesker noticed.
‘Do you need to listen to something?’ he asked, his smirk growing wider on his face. He moved his arm from the wheel towards the centre console.
‘No!’ Chris shouted to stop him, resulting in a glare from Wesker. ‘I’ll do it, please keep your hands on the wheel. Captain- Wesker- Sir.’
Wesker chuckled, and to Chris’s surprise, he moved his arm back to the wheel and returned his gaze to the road.
A leather armrest sat just behind the handbrake, and Chris lifted it to reveal a small compartment inside with a collection of cassettes. He picked one up and shoved it into the player without looking, turning the volume knob up. Chris wasn’t sure what he was expecting, something classical, maybe even jazz, fuck it, why not. However, that wasn’t what he got. The cassette must’ve been listened to recently, as it was halfway through a song that consisted of fast, harsh-sounding drums, guitar, and a man scream-singing. Chris felt his mouth open in shock, and he heard another chuckle from Wesker.
He knew this song, it was ‘March of the Pigs’, this was a Nine-inch Fucking Nails song. His captain had been listening to Nine-Inch fucking Nails. Although that did explain his driving style, Chris refused to believe that Wesker actually listened to them. Chris was sure he must've just found the first rock album he could at a music store and planted it in his car to mess with him
Chris let himself breathe, trying to relax to the familiar but unwelcome sound of industrial rock. He closed his eyes for a second, but that made the feeling of speed churn his stomach. He opened his eyes and let them rest on Wesker. His captain had stopped smirking and was looking ahead with his usual flat expression. Whilst Wesker swerved through traffic, Chris took in the details of his captain's face. The faint lines on his forehead, his straight, long nose, strong chin, and high cheekbones. He'd never been able to stare at Wesker uninterrupted for so long before and hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted to.
His captain's blond hair was slicked back as always, and Chris wondered how the hell he kept it so perfect. What product was he using for it? What did his hair look like down? Or when it was freshly wet from a shower?
In a profile angle, Wesker's signature black shades hid less of his face. Although they still cast a slight shadow over his eyes, preventing Chris from seeing them. Some part of him wanted to reach over and snatch the glasses from him. He imagined he’d get his wrist broken, or his quick movement would bash into the wheel, making the car swerve, and then they’d both end up as crumpled corpses in a ditch off the road.
Chris pushed that intrusive thought out of his head by trying to think of something nicer. Like how Wesker's slender fingers moved over the leather wheel, caressing the material as they went. He wondered what those fingers would feel moving over his bare skin. Chris wasn’t sure if it was the life-or-death situation his body felt like he was in that made him notice this, but Wesker was hot. Of course, Chris knew that conventionally, Albert Wesker was an attractive man, but in that moment, as he stared at his captain whilst thinking about his hands, he felt that attraction himself. Chris felt himself blush, and he shot his gaze away to look out through the windscreen.
‘Jesus Christ what the fuck?’ he thought to himself. Why the hell was he thinking about his captain like that? Chris had never thought about a guy in that way before. Of course, he’d noticed when other men looked good, he'd admired their physiques in the gym, or whilst changing at work. But to become so distracted by another man like that, to notice small details he’d usually skip over, to feel his body physically react to it, that was new.
By the time Chris had calmed himself down with some deep breathing, Wesker was pulling off the freeway. It wouldn’t be long until they arrived at the station. Chris checked his watch again, 7:58. How the hell had Wesker managed that?
***
Chris stepped out of the passenger side door and couldn’t feel his legs. He placed a hand on the car to steady himself, feeling a wave of intense nausea hit him. He had a sheen of sweat covering his body, it showed on his glistening forehead. His skin was pale, and his eyes were wide.
‘Chris!’ Jill's voice rang out in the parking garage, she sounded cheerful. Chris was too busy trying not to vomit onto himself to notice she’d walked up to him.
‘Wow you look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ she stated, laughing to herself a little, ‘You made it in one piece though!’
‘No I think I lost some organs on the freeway,’ Chris half joked. A small part of him was mad at Jill for arranging his lift, but surely she couldn’t have known how Wesker drove.
‘We can go back for ‘em!’ Jill laughed, ‘last time I rode with Wesker, I wrote my will afterwards.’
Suddenly, Chris felt all his restraint and respect for social decency slip away.
‘Jill you fucking knew about this?’ Chris raised his voice, ‘You knew he drove like a suicidal maniac and you asked him to pick me up?’
‘I didn’t think anyone else would get you here on time,’ Jill reached an arm out to grab Chris’s shoulder. This calmed him a little, but just a little.
‘I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you,’ Jill sighed. She sounded genuinely apologetic. ‘I thought it would be funny to surprise you. I guess I shocked you too much.’
Chris let out a deep breath. Seeing Jill look so guilty was making him feel disgusting. He knew if he were in Jill’s shoes, he would have done the same thing to her. Pranking Jill had become one of his favourite pastimes, and she seemed to feel the same way about him.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Chris tried to speak as softly as he could, ‘was seeing me like this worth it?’
Jill smiled up at him,
‘Oh fuck yeah it was, you look like shit!’ She laughed again.
Chris liked Jill's laugh. Usually, she just let out a soft chuckle if something amused her, but if she found something really funny, she’d wheeze and crinkle her eyes shut. Despite the awful feeling in Chris’s stomach, getting to see Jill laugh like that was worth it, even if it was at his expense.
‘You’re getting nothing in my will.’ Chris teased, and Jill punched his arm in response.
‘Wouldn’t want any of your old shit anyway.’ Jill replied, and the two laughed together for a moment before the sound of Wesker clearing his throat interrupted them.
They both looked over to see him standing by an exit door that led up to the police station. Chris hadn’t heard him get out of the car. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Chris found himself staring at Wesker's well-defined, slightly veiny forearms, and he noticed how his hands gripped his muscular biceps.
‘We’re late.’ Wesker spoke calmly.
Chris couldn’t believe how composed Wesker was compared to himself. He didn’t like the idea that Wesker was used to driving that way. Chris looked at his watch to see that it was now exactly eight o'clock, by Wesker's standards, that was very late.
Wesker said nothing else, he turned and pushed the door open, signalling for Jill and Chris to go through ahead of him. They both obeyed, thanking Wesker as he held the door. Jill went straight to the stairs to start the long climb into the station, but Chris paused, glancing back to see Wesker facing away from him, shutting the exit door. Chris felt his gaze travel downwards, his eyes quickly stealing a look at Wesker's ass. Chris felt his body flood with embarrassment as colour returned to his face. He straightened himself up and bolted up the stairs after Jill. Fuck, today was going to be a long one.