Chapter Text
Barry Burton was tired of watching Jill and Chris behave like a pair of clueless teenagers. He’d seen the sidelong glances when the other wasn’t looking. The conversations that stretched just a little too long. Chris bringing Jill a coffee “because he had an extra anyway.” Jill quietly sliding some of Chris’s paperwork onto her own pile to lighten his workload. Beneath their easy, friendly banter, Barry could practically feel the tension humming.
But they were both completely oblivious. Painfully so. At this point, it was almost comical.
The moment that finally pushed Barry into action was when he caught them glancing at each other no fewer than fifty times in a single hour. Enough was enough. He had to do something about these two idiots.
He slipped the first photo into the pocket of Chris’s jacket—the same one Chris always forgot and left hanging by his desk. The second went into a locker along the wall, one Jill used often.
It was a scavenger hunt. Surely two highly trained officers could manage a little detective work.
Chris sat at the desk beside Jill, his foot drumming incessantly against the linoleum floor. A pen spun restlessly between his fingers—clear evidence he was long past the point of getting any actual work done. He leaned back in his chair, trying to catch Joseph Frost’s attention across the room.
Jill scoffed quietly and turned back to her paperwork.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chris crumple a sheet of paper and lob it at Joseph’s head. Joseph responded with an exaggerated gasp before dramatically toppling out of his chair and collapsing onto the floor like he’d been mortally wounded.
Captain Wesker was on the phone in his office, blissfully oblivious. Barry, however, was not. He shot them all a look.
Brad Vickers grinned from his desk, clearly enjoying the show.
Jill pinched the bridge of her nose. At least Bravo Team wasn’t in today. She didn’t think she could deal with this lot and Forest Speyer’s antics thrown into the mix. Not for the first time, she wondered why she’d chosen a career in such a male-dominated field.
Eventually Wesker finished his call. One icy glare from the captain was enough to bring the room to order, and Chris finally settled down.
Later, as Jill pulled her bag from her locker, something slipped out and fluttered to the floor—a photograph. She frowned and picked it up, turning it over in confusion.
Chris appeared beside her like he’d materialised out of thin air, holding a similar photo.
“What the hell?” Jill muttered, flipping the picture over.
You kids have fun solving this one! – Barry
“Jill, I found one too!” Chris said, holding his up. “Looks like Barry’s set us up on a scavenger hunt. You in?”
Jill looked at him carefully, trying to decide if he was serious.
“What are you talking about, Chris? Is this another one of your schemes to get out of paperwork?”
“What? No!” he said, looking scandalised—though the grin tugging at his mouth gave him away. “It’s legitimate. I’m serious. It’s just… a bonus that we get out of work for a bit. It’s almost the end of the shift anyway. Come on.”
That grin.
She really couldn’t say no to that grin.
“Fine,” she sighed. “Let me see.”
Chris handed over his photo. It was the same place as hers, but zoomed farther out.
Jill examined them both with a skeptical frown.
“Why is Barry setting up a scavenger hunt?” she muttered. “Did he forget we’re not his daughter’s age? What’s next, a princess birthday party?”
“Jill, focus,” Chris said, leaning over her shoulder. “I thought you were the smart one. Where’s the treasure?”
She ignored the jab and studied the photos more closely. A chalkboard. A ceiling-mounted television.
Recognition dawned.
“It’s the ops room,” she said. “Looks like it, anyway.”
Chris’s grin widened.
“Then let’s go check.”
Almost comically, Jill and Chris tore down the hallway toward the Operations room, weaving around desks and officers as they went. Jill elbowed him playfully to keep her lead.
“If it’s there, then I’m right,” she said smugly. “I win.”
“Careful, Valentine,” Chris shot back. “Don’t get too cocky. You might be wrong.”
They burst into the Operations room, earning a few confused looks from nearby officers before people quietly returned to their work. Neither of them noticed. They were far too invested in the game—both too competitive for their own good.
“This is the place, right?” Jill asked, scanning the room. “So where is it?”
Chris studied his zoomed-out photo for a moment before his face split into a grin.
“You’re too short to see it, Valentine. Looks like you needed me after all.”
Before she could protest, he leaned over her and reached up to the ceiling-mounted television, plucking a small key from where it had been taped to the back.
He grinned triumphantly and held it above her head, just out of reach.
“You’re an idiot, Redfield,” Jill said dryly. “I solved the puzzle. Now you get to figure out what the key unlocks.”
Chris examined the key. The small label attached to it read JoJo, which wasn’t exactly helpful.
It took them nearly half an hour to find the right locker—and that included a fair amount of arguing, complaining, and at least three threats from Jill to simply pick every single lock in the building.
In the end, Chris turned out to be right. The key fit a locker in the West office.
He opened it with dramatic flair and pulled out two tickets.
“To the Raccoon City Zoo,” he read aloud.
Honestly… what the hell was going on?
A note was clipped to the tickets. Barry’s handwriting was unmistakable.
Enjoy! And don’t say I never gave you anything!
Jill groaned. “That smug son of a bitch.”
Chris stared at the tickets. “Did Barry just… get us tickets to the zoo?”
“What? Why?” Jill asked flatly.
Chris thought about it for a moment.
“…I think he’s trying to set us up.”
“Oh,” Jill said after a beat. “That’s a little weird.”
Chris shrugged, suddenly brightening.
“Oh, come on. Let’s go. It’ll be fun. We’re friends. It’s not weird at all.”
That’s how Jill found herself on a subway platform on Saturday morning, dressed for the uncharacteristically nice weather in shorts, a T-shirt, and a blue cap. Chris was already there, waving when he spotted her approaching, the prized tickets clutched in his hand.
She couldn’t help grinning back at him, tucking her hair behind her ears as the wind from a passing train whipped around the platform.
“Not a date, right?” Chris said, giving her a quick wink. God, he was always so damn cheerful.
“Not a date,” Jill agreed, brushing past him toward the platform.
A little while later they were standing at the entrance to the zoo, the tickets Barry had bought held awkwardly between them.
Neither of them knew what to say.
Chris—normally talkative—was unusually quiet. Jill, on the other hand, was quiet by default.
Finally Chris rubbed the back of his neck and spoke up.
“…So. Penguins?”
Jill nodded, still trying to figure out how exactly to navigate their not-date.
“Penguins.”
They immediately walked off in the wrong direction.