Work Text:
The music is blasting at ear-splitting levels throughout the entire lab as per usual when Wesker walks into what has become your personal space ever since you joined Umbrella and started working with him more closely. He eyes the dirty beakers left lying around without care and the mess of boxes overflowing with things you should have put away but never got round to with a raised eyebrow and wonders how you can even do your work with all this… pollution surrounding you at all hours of the day. It baffles him every time he enters your workspace.
Further into the lab, you're sitting hunched over your desk, your computer open on one side while a bunch of scattered papers sit on the other. You keep scribbling things down, rifling through the papers and making an even bigger mess of them, clicking something on the Excel sheet on your computer screen, then going back to the papers with a frown on your face. You groan and grip your hair in clear frustration just as he finally steps up to your desk and regards you with cool, curious eyes.
“What has you looking so erratic?”
You snap your eyes up towards him and seem surprised to find him there to begin with. With how absorbed you were in your work – and with how loud the music is – it looks like you didn't even notice his presence. The carelessness makes him frown, but he doesn't comment on it right now. If you want to continue helping him with his plans against Umbrella, he'll have to teach you some situational awareness and give you some combat skills, though. Lord knows you're all brains, no brawn. ‘No street smarts,’ is what you said, actually, if he isn't mistaken. And he has no need for a partner who'll get themselves killed by being too absent minded to notice when a threat is coming.
“Wesker!” you greet, exhausted and frazzled. “Hi. Jesus, you scared me.”
“I could tell,” he remarks dryly. He leans closer towards your desk with a raised eyebrow and uses your discarded pen to lift up some of the papers strewn everywhere to take a better look at the writing. Looks like you're working on that project you were telling him about a few weeks ago. “Surely something like this shouldn't have you looking so overwhelmed. You sounded quite excited about it the last time you brought it up.”
You huff out a tired sigh and rub a hand over your face in frustration before bringing both of your palms down and slapping at the desk to emphasise your point.
“I was! And I know! It shouldn't be so hard, I literally studied for this! For years! But I don't know…”
Wesker frowns further at your uncharacteristic display of defeat so he pulls your head towards him and lifts your face up by gripping your chin until your eyes meet his. The way he looms over you – looking much taller than usual with you sitting in a chair while he stands tall right in front of you – flusters you visibly and it does make Wesker smug to see the effect he has on you, but he has more pressing matters to focus on at present than how hot and bothered his height makes you.
“You've hit a roadblock then?”
“A big one,” you admit quietly, despondently, as you look up at him with eyes that are shining with frustration that is dangerously close to bubbling over into tears and hysterics. Maybe. He doesn’t quite know you well enough to tell but Wesker doesn't want to find out which way it'll go, nor is he willing to admit why that might matter to him. “I feel so stupid. Literally nothing I'm doing is working and I've been wasting days on this and I feel like I'm about to go insane. Maybe I'm just not as smart as I thought I was.”
Wesker tuts at you in displeasure and leans down until you almost go cross-eyed trying to keep eye contact with him. His grip on your chin is unyielding, almost painful, but all you do is stare up at him in breathless anticipation.
“I don't tend to associate myself with stupid people. So listen closely and listen well, for I will not repeat myself again: you are a brilliant scientist and are more than capable of this undertaking. I would not have encouraged you if I had thought otherwise. Now, you will take a walk with me, get something to eat, get some fresh air, then I will help you look over your papers and see if I can help you find whatever sleep-deprived error you made without realising. Understood?”
You swallow dryly, pupils dilated rather obviously, but manage to nod in understanding once Wesker loosens his grip on your face. He steps back, satisfied, and waits for you to scramble to your feet and pull your lab coat back on once you untangle it from the back of your chair where you carelessly draped it over earlier in the day.
“You can be really nice in a very mean way sometimes, did you know that?” you bring up once you've both exited the lab and are walking side by side towards the exit. Wesker isn't planning on eating what Umbrella has to offer – he learned that lesson the hard way in his first year of working here – so he firmly guides you outside when you make as if to head towards the cafeteria on instinct.
“I wasn't being nice,” he protests, feeling downright offended, while you wait for the elevator to take you up to ground level. “I was being practical. I have no need for an insecure partner who will crack at the first bump in the road they encounter.”
“Uh-huh,” you mutter and don't sound very convinced by his protests. It makes him furrow his brows in displeasure – he can't have you growing too comfortable around him to the point where you feel like you can tease him, so he'll have to work on that more. But that can wait till later. “I'll pretend I believe you. But, you know. Thanks. For that. Kinda needed to hear it.”
Wesker looks down at you – you barely reach his chest with how short you are – and shrugs without saying anything more in response. The elevator doors finally open, allowing you to climb inside and select the button for the ground floor, and Wesker just lets you ramble on about your plans for your project once you figure out what went wrong and how to move forward, oddly happy that he managed to restore your confidence and that you're back to your talkative self.
He refuses to examine the feeling further, but he does file it away for later. In the meantime, he carefully steers you towards the deli he usually gets his food from this late at night and lets you talk his ear off, only occasionally chiming in with his own input. He'd find you more annoying if he didn't like you so damn much. Fuck knows why he does, though.
But with or without that mystery, you happily buy him a sandwich to show your thanks for his oddly kind words and the help he offered, and Wesker takes it from you with a curt nod while a tiny kernel of fondness grows in his chest at your smile and frantically gesticulating hands as you speak. Maybe you're not just a means to an end when it comes to his plans for Umbrella. Just maybe. He doesn't have all the necessary data yet, though, so he'll just have to wait and see what happens next. That's perfectly fine by him.