Work Text:
They had been texting more than occasionally since their meeting at the coffee shop. Mostly discussing how Wesker could be willing to collaborate with the BSAA, occasionally on trivial things. Just that morning Chris had sent him a photo of the coffee run he did for himself and Jill, telling him that Jill’s venti blonde americano was possibly stronger than Wesker’s quad, and they had bantered a bit about caffeine with levity. So Chris wasn’t all that surprised when his phone vibrated with a new message late at night, and when he went to check it, he found that the notification came from his chat with Wesker.
Chris had sent the last reply after a quick Google search.
When it took Wesker too long to reply, Chris said, "Fuck it," and hit dial.
Wesker picked up immediately. "What the fuck, Redfield, it’s 1 am." Wesker hissed into the receiver, clearly trying to keep his voice down.
"I was worried," Chris told him. "You usually answer fast."
He heard a deep sigh, a rustle of fabric and steps, and then a door click. "It’s still rude to call at this time. That’s why I sent a text. I just got him back to sleep." Wesker’s voice was now a normal volume, so Chris guessed he must have stepped into another room.
"Is he ok?" Chris asked, because, voluntarily or not, Wesker had involved him too.
"Yes, half of his class is home with the flu. I think he caught it too." He sounded surprised and a little scared that such a weak virus could incapacitate his child.
Chris reflected that it must have been a long time since the last time Wesker had been sick with something. Chris figured that would make him more worried than usual. "He’ll get better in no time. He just needs some rest and medicine." Chris told him patiently. "Have you got any?"
"Yes. I gave him some already."
There was a moment of silence. "You sound worried, don’t be. I’m just a plain human too, and I got through a lot worse." Some of it courtesy of Wesker, but that was in the past. "Zeno will be fine in a few days, and he’ll demand that you pick up all the plans you dropped when he was sick. Ask me how I know," Chris told him with a grin at the fond memories of young Claire.
Wesker made a noise that could almost be a laugh. Another lull in the conversation, but a comfortable one. "Did you check out the lab?" He asked, all pretense of speaking in code dropped because he either didn’t care that he could be recorded or was just too distracted by his sick child to think about it, so Chris replied to him plainly too.
"Yes, and what you gave us was solid intel. I can’t tell you much." He did sound sorry that he couldn’t share more details since it had been Wesker who gave them the info in the first place, but rules were rules. Even if they could be bent a little. "But you can relax. We didn’t find any more experiments that shared your DNA."
"Good," Wesker replied, letting out a little sigh of relief.
"We shut it down for good," Chris confirmed. "Listen, if you have more data that you recovered, I’d like our analysts to take a look at it."
"I told you, I am not working with the BSAA."
Chris took a deep breath and tried to practice patience. "But you’re willing to work with me. Who do you think I’ll turn to when I cannot understand anything past the pictures?"
Wesker chuckled, "Don’t sell yourself short. You are not that dumb."
Chris smiled at that. "That almost sounded like a compliment, Wesker."
"Don’t get used to it." The words lacked their usual bite, and the tone was almost friendly.
"Just call me if you want to play nice. Any time. You also have my work extension number." Not that he ever called Chris at work; he only sent messages and called on Chris’s private number.
"While it is more fun to bother you at odd hours, I think I’ll be going back to bed now." Chris heard a door click again and a whispered "fuck." He waited for Wesker to elaborate, which he did a moment later in a whisper. "He’s asleep in my bed. Sideways. How can such a small child take up most of a king-sized bed?" Wesker sounded astounded by his discovery, and Chris couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
"See, even if he’s not augmented in any way, Zeno still has a superpower. Resign yourself, the bed is not yours anymore. You can move him, but he’ll move back."
Wesker grunted. "I see."
"Good luck sleeping, Wesker." He paused before adding, more seriously, "Update me tomorrow."
"Good night, Chris. Try not to die of sentimentality before morning." Wesker replied good-naturedly before hanging up on him.
The following morning Chris’s chat with Wesker lit up again with a series of texts in very quick succession.
Chris read the updates and tried to imagine the scene, amused. Since he was in the condition to, he decided to help him out and replied to his texts.
Chris opened Wesker’s file on his computer and looked at the address they had gotten from the school files. They had only met in public spaces before, like the park and the café, and it felt a little intrusive to just assume he’d be welcome in his home. None of these thoughts would have occurred to him just a year earlier, and that was probably the scariest part, that he’d want to respect the privacy of a possibly reformed bioterrorist.
Wesker typed for a long time, but finally another message popped up.
Chris looked at his work calendar, blocked off some time after lunch, and sent a print command on some of the most recently declassified reports. He stretched his back and then went up to collect the papers from the printer so he could organize them into files, adding his own notes to them.
When he took his lunch break, he grabbed the files, his car keys, and his phone, then drove to the address he had for Wesker, making only a quick stop on the way.
Chris parked, grabbed his bag, and walked up to Wesker’s door, feeling very self-conscious in the unassuming suburban neighborhood. He hesitated with his finger on the doorbell and typed another quick message on his phone.
There was no reply, but the door was opened a moment later by Wesker, in house slippers, suit pants and a plain shirt with sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows. They stared at each other for a moment, then Wesker moved to the side to let him in. "I was not expecting you so soon. I thought you might stop by after work."
Chris shrugged and followed him inside to a tidy kitchen, where a table was set up for two. The delicious aroma of chicken soup brought his attention to a covered pot on the stove, and his stomach grumbled in response; he covered it up by clearing his throat. "I decided that I needed some fresh air during my lunch break." He couldn’t help but look around, trying to drink in every detail. What he could see was spotless, all clean lines and natural colors, except for the touches that clearly indicated Zeno also lived there. A sleek high chair almost blended in with the others at the table, allowing a child to reach comfortably. Magnets on the fridge held colorful child drawings and a school events calendar.
He followed Wesker’s gaze and saw a colorful bundle on the couch. A second look revealed it was Zeno napping all wrapped up in a blanket. His head was on a pillow that Chris was ready to bet had been Wesker’s lap until he got up to open the door for him. A well-read book—presumably The Gruffalo—was on the coffee table in front of the child, and more colorful books were in a box on the floor beside it. A series of brightly colored bins that he guessed were full of toys were to the side, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf brimming with books took up the far wall.
The doors to the other rooms were closed, blocking his view, and a part of Chris wondered what the rest of the house looked like.
"Thanks for not waking him up," Wesker said to him, still looking at the sleeping child. His body language was even more tense than the other times they had met after their makeshift truce, betraying his unease at having to give yet another peek at his private life to Chris.
Chris was also a little ill at ease, and he just stood where he was, an arm’s length apart from Wesker. "It was the least I could do. You sounded desperate in your messages."
Wesker glared at him. "You cannot sound like anything in a message, let alone desperate," he said, vaguely offended.
Chris just raised his eyebrows in silent disagreement. "Anyway, I brought the files for you, and I took the liberty of getting some LEGOs for Zeno, so you each have something new to entertain yourselves." He took the folders from the bag he was holding and put them on the counter, then handed the box of LEGOs directly to Wesker. Their fingers touched briefly when Wesker took the box, and Chris’s brain definitely noticed. He cleared his throat again. "I hope it’s not too complicated, but he seems like a very smart child, and I’m sure you two will figure it out," Chris said, pointing to the 7+ sign on the box as he let go.
Wesker was stunned into silence. He studied the box and Chris’s face, who looked quite proud of himself. "He’s not just smart, he’s exceptional. He’s my clone, after all," Wesker told him as soon as he recovered from the surprise. "But, thank you," he added, eventually.
Chris had no reason to look so pleased. "Happy to help."
Wesker turned the box around in his hands, then put it down out of the way. "Have you eaten?" he asked, catching the way Chris was sneaking glances at the plates and pot.
"No, I’m gonna grab a sandwich on my way back to the office. I should probably go if I want to make it back in time for my next meeting," Chris told him, checking his watch. He wasn’t really in a hurry, but Wesker’s question wasn’t an invitation. Or at least he didn’t think so.
"Did you just waste your whole lunch break to come over?" Wesker asked him, his tone giving Chris a distinct feeling of déjà vu of when he was his captain in S.T.A.R.S. It was that particular mix of disbelief, disappointment, and a hint of barely concealed amusement.
"Worth it," Chris replied, just like he used to, with a smartass grin on his face. "I’ll let myself out. Text me if you think of something. Or if you are desperate for some adult conversation."
"If I wanted an adult to talk to, I wouldn’t call you," Wesker replied, making Chris laugh.