Work Text:
Chris had spent the past two days trying to discreetly figure out how the organization handled civilian contractors, consultants, and other agencies, having had only very limited direct experience with the matter. He pulled in a favor and had an off-the-record chat with someone who could help him understand what the official BSAA's stance on collaborating with an ex-enemy-turned-asset might be.
He did not particularly like what he heard, but he dutifully compiled every shred of rumor, off-handed comment, and internal policy on the topic that he could find, so that he had something grounded to present to Albert as a starting point before he even thought of mentioning something official.
So far, everything they had worked on together had been off the books and guaranteed by Chris's good faith, and he absolutely did not mind, since it meant that he was the only tie Wesker had to the BSAA. And vice versa, the BSAA had to go through him to get to Wesker and Zeno.
Jill asked Chris if he wanted to go out for a drink after work, since it was Friday, but he declined.
"I think I'll go talk to him later," Chris told her as they were leaving the gym together, heading towards the garage. Jill knew who Chris meant.
And she absolutely would not let him get away with it. "Is this your third date, Redfield?" she joked, trying to turn his pensive frown into a smile.
"Nah, I think I'll go after he puts the kid down to sleep so we can be alone." Jill raised an eyebrow at him. "To talk!" he added, quickly.
"Would dinner be too romantic?" she teased him still.
Chris rolled his eyes and pushed his dirty towel further into his bag. "I don't think showing up for dinner empty-handed and uninvited is romantic."
Jill seemed to think about it. "Who knows. But maybe get changed first."
Chris looked down at his second-favorite shirt, left open on top of a fitted tee. "Why, what's wrong with this?"
"You don't remember him telling you to 'take it off' over the phone?"
Chris looked down and realized that it was the same Hawaiian shirt that had offended Wesker's eyes. "So what if he hates it? He's not my boss. Not anymore."
Jill just held onto his arm while they walked to their cars. "So are you just gonna show up—?" she started asking, and answered herself when Chris took out his phone to ask Wesker if he was free to talk in person, perhaps after dinner. The man replied immediately.
Jill leaned closer to read his screen. "Good, you have a date."
Chris nudged her with his elbow playfully. "Not a date," he insisted.
"Bring wine, it might become one." They laughed at the idea.
When nine o'clock came along, Chris was already at Wesker's front door, his Jeep was parked in the driveway, but the quiet neighbourhood was silent and already starting to go dark for the night, so no one would pay it any attention.
Chris knocked lightly on the wood, hoping that it would be enough to call Wesker's attention.
Wesker must have been expecting him, because he opened the door a moment later.
"Chris, come in," he greeted, quietly stepping to the side to let him take off his shoes and put on his slippers before he could follow inside. Albert closed the door with a quiet click, without locking it.
"Is Zeno asleep?" Chris whispered, and Wesker nodded, gesturing at him to follow.
"Can I offer you anything?" he asked, uncharacteristically polite.
"Maybe some water?"
They walked into the kitchen, and Wesker filled a glass for him with cold water from a pitcher with some cucumber slices that he kept in the fridge. He half expected a piece of lime to be dropped into his glass at some point, but Wesker just handed him the glass, holding it from the top with his elegant fingers.
The glass was cold, and the water was very refreshing when he took a sip, making him shiver from the sudden chill. Wesker's air conditioning, unlike the one in his apartment, worked perfectly, and Chris immediately regretted chickening out and leaving his Hawaiian shirt in the Jeep. His pride had won out in the parking lot, but now, sitting in just his fitted tee, he desperately wished he had that extra layer.
They were still standing in the kitchen, and an invitation to sit hadn't been extended this time. Chris had the impression that something had shifted in the past two days, but it had gone the opposite way from what he would have expected. He thought taking care of Zeno's injury and sharing a drink on the couch would have brought them closer, not further apart.
Unless Wesker had felt too vulnerable, too exposed, and was trying to put some distance back between them.
He studied Albert's face, but didn't have enough frame of reference to judge that expression.
"Al," he started, snapping them both out of their thoughts. Wesker frowned at the too-familiar nickname.
"What did you want to talk about?"
Chris regretted not having been more forthcoming via text. "I asked around the office, discreetly of course, and I wanted to tell you about it."
Wesker stared at him, a little too intensely for comfort, expecting him to go on.
"Why don't we sit down?" Chris proposed, knowing it was rude to invite himself, but he was weirded out by the strange atmosphere between them. Albert huffed, but gestured at the couch.
"You know the way," he mocked, but led him to sit anyway.
Chris took another sip of water, then tried to put his glass down on the coffee table, only to find Albert's strong grip around his wrist, stopping his hand in the air. Wesker fished out a coaster from somewhere under the coffee table surface and placed it directly under Chris's glass before he let go.
"Manners, Redfield," he quietly reprimanded.
Chris stared at the coaster and at the condensation droplets slowly sliding down the outside of his glass, dropping safely onto the octagonal stone. "Sorry," he murmured, putting the glass down with a clink.
Wesker stared at him intently, and Chris finally remembered that he had come over to talk to him about work. He cleared his throat.
"So, I spent the past two days trying not to be too obvious, but asking around. You know that after the restructuring in the wake of Terragrigia and the Queen Zenobia incident…" he trailed off. It was well known that the BSAA's reputation had taken a hit, and it was common knowledge that director O'Brian had recently resigned. The new guy in charge was still an unknown to Chris.
"I am aware of publicly available information, Redfield, come to the point," Wesker told him, but without the usual sharp edge in his voice.
"So far, basically, I've been taking direct responsibility for your contributions, for every file declassified and handed to you, and for every piece of information you relayed to us," Chris explained. "This has allowed us to close an eye, or both, to the fact that you are—well—you."
Wesker kept looking at him, unimpressed.
"And this extends to the fact that basically the only form of surveillance you have is me texting you back at one in the morning and checking Zeno's attendance record at school. If you want a little more agency, you'll have to sign a contract, commit to providing us access to whatever undisclosed data you are still holding onto, and agree to a stricter degree of supervision."
Wesker nodded calmly, since he had probably expected the conversation to go along these lines. "By supervision, do you mean that all my digital footprints will be tracked, or do you mean personal surveillance?" He asked, simply seeking clarification.
"Both," Chris told him, grimacing because he didn't like that prospect any more than Wesker probably did.
"Around my person and Zeno too, I presume."
Chris hated having to confirm his assumption. He braced himself for when Wesker's frustration would turn to indignation or anger, but it never did. Wesker let out a deep sigh and relaxed his shoulders, resting his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands.
"Unacceptable," Wesker said quietly.
Chris studied his face, but Wesker didn't look angry or surprised. There was a dignified air of quiet resignation about him.
"Of course, this is all unofficial, and if you wanted to know something for sure—"
Wesker shook his head and held up a hand to stop him. "While you've been asking around, I have been doing some thinking. About what is of utmost importance to me at the moment. And while I would not be happy to have bugs planted in my office or have my every keystroke tracked by one of your IT guys, I could consider it." He took a deep breath, as if confessing all of this was taking a physical toll on him. "But I could not tolerate endangering Zeno or exposing him to such scrutiny."
Chris hoped that he was not included in the package.
"I'll have to learn to live with not knowing what's going on," Wesker finished, simply.
"You are giving up?" Chris asked, incredulous.
Albert stared back at him and nodded. "Zeno's stability is more important than my pride or ambition." Wesker's voice was calm and deliberate, and he looked absolutely sincere.
The silence that followed felt heavy, and Chris's world shrank to the two of them on Wesker's couch.
This statement completely destabilized Chris and finally completely cracked open the mental image that he had of Wesker. When he looked at him, he didn't see his demanding ex-Captain anymore. He couldn't recognize the ambitious villain, nor the ambiguous ally of the past few months. In that instant, Wesker completely stopped existing in his mind, and he really only saw Albert. Not just a glimpse past the façade, not just a temporary mask to charm the neighbors, but the deepest, truest part of what he'd become in the past year.
Chris shifted closer, almost unconsciously, and his thigh touched Albert's, drawing his attention down to the singular point of contact between them. But he wasn't done, Chris hesitantly reached with his hand and rested his fingers lightly on Albert's cheek, earning him a confused look, but Albert didn't stop his hand this time, didn't flinch away yet.
Chris hesitantly reached for Wesker’s dark glasses, the tip of his index finger barely making contact with the arm. Wesker's hand snapped up out of pure instinct, fingers locking around Chris’s wrist again with a firm, warning pressure that stopped the gesture before he could execute it. "What do you think you are doing?" Wesker asked, his voice steady and still calm.
"Do you need to wear these?" Chris asked back, and didn't wait for an answer he knew wasn't coming. "One second," he pleaded.
A tense, heavy moment stretched between them. Wesker searched his face, looking for the catch, but finding only an unnerving, raw sincerity. Slowly, the tension left Wesker's shoulders, and his grip relented, his hand dropping back down.
Chris reached with both hands then, and carefully lifted the glasses, setting them aside on the coffee table. He leaned in, looking directly into Wesker's eyes. In the ambient light of the room, they were still that sharp, unnatural amber rather than the light gray he remembered from their S.T.A.R.S. days. It was a physical reminder of everything that had happened since then, and of Wesker's new biology, but despite the unearthly color, Chris could still see the humanity in them, not the monster.
Wesker indulged his curiosity, patiently letting him stare into his eyes for what felt like a long time to Chris. He didn't try to retrieve his glasses, he didn't remind Chris that 'one second' had come and gone many times, he just patiently waited for Chris to come to his realization that he didn't care that Wesker had injected himself with the virus. That none of it mattered when Albert had found a scared child and was doing his absolute best to keep him safe and happy, up to the point of accepting to put aside his pride, his ambition, and his patience.
Chris thought that he should have felt more conflicted about Wesker, given their long, complicated history, but he felt the knot of emotion in his chest loosen, replaced with absolute clarity. What he felt was incredibly simple.
"I am going to kiss you," Chris warned, giving him just a fraction of a second to react and use his superhuman reflexes to escape if he chose. He leaned forward, his breath was warm against Wesker's lips, he closed his eyes, and finally pressed his mouth against Albert's for a charged, lingering kiss.
Albert let him, too stunned to move for a few seconds, but as soon as Chris gently parted his lips to ask for more, the spell broke. Wesker put a hand on the middle of his chest and stopped him, pulling back just enough to be able to speak.
“No,” Albert stated, quietly, but absolutely, his single word dousing the atmosphere like a bucket of cold water.
“No?” Chris echoed, his voice rough, needing more than a simple monosyllable as explanation.
Wesker let his hand drop down, then shifted away from him on the cushions, carving enough distance between them to cease all physical contact at once. The sudden space between them felt insurmountable again. “No. You’re making a mistake, Chris.” His voice was firm, low, but Chris thought he caught a faint trace of uncertainty beneath the surface. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking.
“I don’t think I am,” he disagreed calmly. Going for the kiss had been an impromptu decision, but as he looked into Wesker’s eyes, seeing a flicker of doubt in them, he was sure it wasn’t unjustified.
Wesker’s expression hardened a little, but there was no hiding without his sunglasses. “Then you are more stupid than you are impulsive,” Wesker told him, his mouth in a thin line, but no real bite behind his words.
Chris let out a small huff that was almost a laugh. “I’ve always been like this. It used to drive you crazy, back in the day.”
But Wesker didn’t rise to the bait, he crossed his arms defensively and stood his ground. “I think you should go,” he said quietly.
Perhaps Albert was right, and he should sleep on it, instead of being impulsive, for once. But as he walked back to the door, he knew there was no going back, really. He had kissed Albert Wesker, and he could never undo that.
He traded the slippers for his boots, but before he opened the door, he looked back into the dim living room one last time. "Sleep on this," he couldn't help but say, aware that the advice applied just as much to himself.
Wesker remained a fixed point on the couch, a silent statue wrapped in an artificial coldness, and didn't answer.
Chris let himself out, closing the front door with a soft, careful click to avoid waking Zeno. He climbed into his Jeep, but he didn't turn the key right away. He sat in the car for a long time, the silence pressing in on him. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a cold wave of reality: he hadn't thought this through at all. What if Wesker hadn't stopped him? He had absolutely no plan.
Finally, he started the engine, backed out of the driveway, and looked at the house, straining to see if he could glimpse Wesker through the windows.
Chris's mind was caught in a recursive loop—the softness of his lips, the vulnerability in Albert's voice, the coldness of the rejection—for the entire drive. He guided the car through the quiet streets on pure autopilot. By the time the haze cleared, he was standing in front of his own apartment door with absolutely no recollection of how he had gotten there.
Chris walked inside, bypassing the light switches entirely, and sat heavily on the edge of his unmade bed in the dark. He pulled off his boots and tossed them in the general direction of the closet to sort out later. He unlocked his phone, the screen casting a harsh blue glow over his face, and texted Jill.