52Hey, everyone! So, I've been having all these little ideas lately, and they won't leave me alone: it's like having a bunch goldfish that want to be fed all the time -_- It's annoying! Therefore, I've decided to "feed the goldfish" and write down these ideas for all my readers to enjoy! ^^ These will be little drabbles/one-shots that probably won't be anything more than just that (i.e. not full-length stories). Red and Black will continue to be updated until its completion, but until then, I wanted to write stuff with Wesker in them; we all love him after all ^^. Hopefully these will keep you entertained between updates of R and B. Enjoy! ^^
Italics for flashbacks/thoughts.
Alpha vs. Bravo
Today was the day—the STARS Baseball game between the Alpha and Bravo team, taking place a few blocks down from the RPD at a Little League field. It couldn't have come sooner for Chris. A few weeks back, he had talked to Forest about getting the teams together to play for fun—just something to break the monotony at work—thinking it would give everyone a chance to let loose. Enrico seemed pleased with the idea, seeing as how hard Bravo had been working lately, and agreed to put aside a Saturday to join his team. Now that Bravo was all in, Chris had to be the one (under a unanimous vote) to invite Wesker, which, normally, wouldn't be such a bother if his dear captain's black storm cloud hadn't ruined everybody's mood.
Wesker placed his weight on his palms as he leaned forward on his desk, his face rippling in anger as he argued with Chief Irons. "You don't need STARS to do a drug bust, Irons. Why don't you send out your expendables instead? I'm sure they'd be more than happy to do something."
Irons wiped the sweat off his brows with a handkerchief, scrunching his tomato red face into a scowl. "I suggest you watch that tone of yours, Captain, before I suspend you for insubordination." Wesker's nails dug into the wooden desk, but Irons ignored it and continued. "You don't have the authority to override my orders, so don't waste your energy telling me what I don't need. You always seem to think the department hierarchy doesn't apply to you. I warn you that if you can't keep tabs on that slippery mind of yours, I'll have you discharged and replaced within the week. It's as simple as that."
Wesker stood to his full height, relaxing his facial muscles just a tad. "Really? Then you'll have to forgive me, as my mind tends to slip when confronted with bull-shit. As for the matter at hand, I refuse to send my teams to do a job that involves arresting a bunch of teenagers, who are too high to know their own names. A lot of effort went into putting this team together, and I'm not going to embarrass them by executing such a ridiculous order. It insults them as officers and insults me as their captain. STARS wasn't created to be abused, Irons; it was created for special operations deemed too dangerous for your expendables to handle." Wesker crossed his arms and leaned forward, dangerously crossing into Irons' personal space. "If you want to fire me, do it."
It came out sounding like a dare for Irons to try, but the chief made no effort to call Wesker's bluff. He simply stared, long and hard, into the captain's black lenses, staring into oblivion as his expression became neutral. He knew he couldn't fire Wesker; threats did nothing but amuse him and did little to bend him to Irons' will. As chief, he took pride in making sure all personnel—officers and staff alike—knew he ran the show; he had the power and everyone submitted to him…everyone but Albert Wesker.
Irons scoffed and backed away from Wesker, stopping when he reached the exit. "I do hope you treat the heads of Umbrella with more respect." He looked over his shoulder, a fox-like grin on his face. "I would simply hate to see anything happen to you if they found out how disobedient you are. Perhaps you should put more effort into staying on my good side."
Wesker smirked. "On the contrary, I think it would be in your best interest to stay on my good side. You're nothing more than Umbrella's doormat. On a whim, I can have you removed from this building and disposed of without a second thought. All it takes is one phone call." Irons' face became hard, inevitable defeat sinking into his mind. "The ball is in your court."
Having heard enough, Irons opened the door and left Wesker's office without another word. The Alpha captain stood in his doorway and—along with his team—watched as Irons nearly stomped his way out, not bothering to close the office door. Several RPD officers walked by and peeked in with confused expressions, wondering what the hell had set their chief on fire.
Chris stood and made his way to the door. "Alright, guys, back up. Nothing to see here," he shooed and shut the door, despite their curiosity. "Buncha nosey bastards."
"I'll say," Jill said as she typed away on her computer. "They've got nothing better to do, I guess."
"No kidding," Barry agreed without looking up from his work.
Chris crossed his arms as he settled back against the door, looking over at his captain still standing in the doorway. Wesker didn't seem to be fuming, so that was a good sign. He usually slammed his door and stayed in his office for the remainder of the day, and if he did come out, it was to use the restroom or refill his coffee.
Just as Wesker was about to retreat into his office…
"Uh, Captain?" Chris asked with uncertainty, fearful that Wesker would start to shout. He was put at ease when Wesker remained in his position, attention on Chris. "I was just wondering-well, we were wondering if you had any plans on the 24th?"
Wesker's brows furrowed at the question. "That's two weeks from now, Chris. How would I know?"
Chris pressed his lips together, trying to ignore Joseph's snickering in the corner. He pressed on. "Well, it's just that we—"
"And just who is this 'we' you keep referring to?"
"Uh, Bravo and Alpha—"
Wesker crossed his arms, impatience searing his every word. "—and what about Bravo and Alpha?"
"Well, if you would let me finish my damn sentence, I'll tell you," Chris said, impatience easily turning into anger. Wesker took a deep breath, calming his boiling temper. He gave a nod to Chris. "Alright…now Bravo and Alpha—the 'we' in this conversation—were talking about having a baseball game between both teams on the 24th. So far, all of Bravo and most of Alpha are in…"
The word 'most' stuck out to Wesker, and immediately, he knew where this conversation was going. He shook his head, stopping Chris from continuing. "I'm sorry, I don't play baseball."
Chris mouth fell open. "But you didn't even let me finish!"
"You said 'most of Alpha,' which tells me that the only person left to make it all of Alpha is myself, right?" Chris said nothing. Wesker dipped his head. "I must respectfully decline."
"But Wesker—"
"I said I don't play baseball, Chris," Wesker retorted, causing everyone but Chris to flinch at the amplified volume of his voice. "Now get back to work before I lose my temper." He slammed the door behind him without another word.
"Looks like Bravo's early," Barry said to the Alpha occupants as he parked the minivan next to Forest's truck and Enrico's Camaro. "Alright, kiddies—out." The minivan quickly emptied. Chris moved around to the back of the van and opened the rear door, grabbing the equipment bag and a faded navy blue baseball cap, before closing the door. He threw on his hat and made his way to the field.
Forest was hitting fly balls to Richard, Edward, and Kenneth in the outfield; Enrico was sitting in the dugout lacing up his cleats and looked up when the Alphas entered the field.
"Glad you guys could make it." Enrico stood and gave Barry a handshake. "I just wanna tell you, if there's any consolation you'll need after losing this game—"
Barry laughed and pushed Enrico away. "Don't be so sure of yourself. You're playing against the elite, remember."
"Right. And who's your best player, Jill?"
Jill's grip on the bat tightened as she smiled playfully at the Bravo captain. "Watch it, Enrico. I have a mean swing."
Enrico chuckled, pulling the bill of her cap down. "Easy, little tiger."
Forest meowed as he neared the group, giving Jill a toothy grin.
"Tigers don't meow, idiot," she said, pushing the bill upwards, and raising a brow at Forest's choice of attire. "A muscle shirt? You're gonna fry out here. It's, like, 90 degrees."
Forest smoothed over his mullet, sticking his chest out purposely. "I could take my shirt off completely if that will make you feel better, Jill." He gave a wink that made Jill roll her eyes and turn away. Everyone erupted into a fit of laughter as Jill picked up her cleats.
"I'll be in the winner's dugout," she called over her shoulder, spitting her tongue out at Forest.
"Oh, guys, I almost forgot something," Chris said as he finished unpacking the equipment. "Lend me the keys real quick, Barry." Barry tossed the keys to Chris. He left for the van and returned with a cardboard box. He gave Barry his keys and sat the box on the ground. Opening it, he pulled out red and blue shirts, each numbered with the last names of everyone on the team; printed on the front were the team names according to their color—Alpha was red, Bravo was blue. He handed a blue shirt numbered 1 with Marini on the back and a "C" on the right breast to Enrico.
"My sister Claire had these made for us." He handed a red shirt numbered 2 with Burton on the back to Barry. "Guess she thought we should play in style."
"Dude, props to your sister," Forest said as he grazed his fingers over the letters of his last name. "These are awesome."
"Look, they even have the STARS logo on the sleeve," Jill added as she rubbed the material between her fingers. "She really outdid herself, Chris."
"She's a Redfield, what do you expect?" Chris removed his white tee and replaced it with his red Alpha one. He picked up the box, ready to toss it in the dumpster, and stopped. There was a red shirt inside. Chris held in a sigh. Wesker. Claire had made one for him, too. It was too bad he wasn't here to join the festivities.
When everyone had geared up, Richard flipped a coin to see who would bat first. It landed tails, in favor of Bravo, and the Alphas took to the field.
"Remember, Redfield, each team pitches to their own," Enrico called as the Alphas jogged to the mound for a huddle.
"Got it!" Chris joined the huddle. "We're short a man, so I'll cover shortstop and second. Jill will get third, Barry's got first, Brad's catcher, and Frost will cover the outfield."
"Why do I have to be catcher?" Brad asked, slightly irritated that he was forced to wear that uncomfortable gear.
"'Cause you can't run," Joseph jabbed.
"Everyone has to rotate, Brad. You'll only be catcher for an inning or two. Now let's get out there and beat some Bravos!"
The score was 6-7 with Bravo leading, top of the 9th inning, with two outs. Enrico was up to bat. He gave the bat a few swings before stepping up to the plate. "This one's going to you, Frost!" He yelled, receiving a thumbs-up from Joseph in center field.
"Here it comes, Captain," Richard said as he tossed the ball to Enrico. A resonant cling noise rang out as the ball collided with the aluminum bat, sending the ball just over Chris' head and into center field. Enrico took off to first, and Joseph extended his glove forward and dove, catching the ball within the webbed part of his mit.
"You got lucky, Frost!" Enrico said as he made his way for the dugout.
"We're up!" Chris yelled and motioned for the team to bring it in. He used the back of his hand to wipe the dripping sweat off his forehead as he jogged to the dugout. He slowed to a stop when he saw his captain seated at the bench, one leg crossed over the other, wearing a black tee that looked as though it was about to rip from the protruding muscles underneath, and shorts—
Chris had to do a double-take. Yup—shorts. Cargo shorts, to be more precise, and surprisingly tanned, muscular legs.
I'll be damned.
"Get a load of the captain," Barry huffed as he stopped next to Chris. Wesker's flat-lined lips curved into smirk as his team entered the dugout.
"My, what a lovely day to play baseball," he mused as Chris grabbed a Gatorade out of the ice chest.
"I guess you wouldn't know, huh?" Chris took a gulp of his drink and released a refreshing 'ahh.' "You don't play baseball."
Wesker raised his brows in question. "Who said I was going to play?"
Chris closed the cap to his drink and slammed it on the bench. He reached into the cardboard box and pulled out Wesker's shirt. "Here," he said bitterly, throwing it at Wesker's chest.
Wesker didn't bother to look at it. "I believe I'm already wearing a shirt, Chris, but thanks."
Chris tightened his fists and grinded his teeth together. "You ungrateful—"
"C'mon, pal," Barry said as he pulled Chris to the side. "You're on deck." Jill took a seat next to Wesker on the bench, throwing a glance at her captain and wondering why he was behaving like that. Everyone was having fun and with a few words, Wesker had managed to put Chris in a bad mood…over a shirt. Nonetheless, it wasn't like Wesker to instigate and prod Chris for no reason. If and when the two got into an argument, it was for a legitimate reason and Wesker certainly wasn't the one to start it; if anything, he always avoided a confrontation unless he had no choice but to engage in one.
"It's rude to stare, Jill." Wesker kept his eyes on Brad—a swing and a miss. Strike two.
Jill pretended she didn't hear her captain and reached into her gym bag for sunflower seeds. She popped a few in her mouth and offered the bag to Wesker. "Want some?"
Wesker turned slightly and eyed the bag for a second, before cupping a hand towards Jill. She poured until he nodded for her to stop. He popped a handful in his mouth, cracking and spitting the shells off to the side.
"Aren't you going to put your shirt on? I mean, even if you don't play, I'm sure it would mean a lot to the team, especially to Chris. We could use the support."
Wesker seemed irritated about the whole shirt ordeal and decided to humor her and Chris for the sake of shutting their mouths. He finished off the rest of his seeds and unfolded the shirt. He looked slightly taken aback when he saw his last name in bold, white letters across the back, and the number 1 just below it. He turned it over and saw the word ALPHA in cursive, white letters and a capital "C" on the right breast. A thumb grazed over the fresh lettering and lingered on the "C" for a moment longer than it should have.
"Chris made these?"
"Claire did, but Chris brought them for all of us to play in. Such a nice gesture…" Jill put the bag of seeds aside and made way for the ice chest. Brad entered the dugout, a hint of disappointment on his face as he planted himself on the bench with a sigh. The blond looked over at Chris as he stepped up to the plate, a burning flame in his eyes as he swung and missed his first pitch.
"Strike one, Chris," Kenneth said as he tossed the ball to Joseph on the mound.
"Don't choke up, Redfield!" Enrico called from first.
"Watch out, it's little Chrissy Redfield up to bat!" Forest yelled from third, causing all the Bravos to laugh.
"Keep on laughing, girls," Chris mumbled to himself. Joseph threw the pitch. Chris swung and made contact, but fouled it away. Strike two. "Fuck."
"Don't listen to them, pal, especially the chunky captain on first," Barry said with a laugh and clapped his hands. "C'mon, Chris."
Just as Joseph was about to pitch, Wesker stepped on deck. "Time out!"
"Uh-oh," Forest yelled, "big bad captain on the field!"
"What are you doing?" Chris growled as Wesker stepped over to him. "We're in the middle of the game. Spectators must sit in the—"
"Chris, don't make this difficult—"
"—You're not wearing a uniform. Get off the field, Wesker." Chris held the bat close with one hand.
"Oh, you want me to wear this?" He took the shirt hanging from his back pocket and waved it in Chris face. "Fine." He shoved his glasses into Chris' palm, and pulled his black tee over his head. Snickers and whistles from the field sounded and Wesker shrugged them off with a roll of his eyes. He tossed the black tee to Barry and smoothed out his Alpha one, tugging it down over his abs. "There. I'm playing now. Satisfied?" Chris didn't know if he should laugh or continue to argue with Wesker. "Now choke up on the bat. For God's sakes, Chris, you swing like Enrico."
"Ooooh, did you hear that, Enrico?" Joseph called over his shoulder. "The captain says you hit like a bitch." The Alpha dugout exploded with laughter, and even the members of Bravo couldn't help but join in.
"A what?!"
Wesker opened his mouth to clarify, but decided against it. Whatever riled up the other team would be to the Alpha's advantage. And as much as Wesker opposed using expletives, there was some truth to the insult, so he might as well let it be. It put everyone in a better mood.
"Well it's a good thing you told me, Wesker," Chris began. "I don't wanna hit like that pansy." He gave his captain a smile that earned him a trademark smirk.
He took his glasses from Chris and placed them over his nose. "Then hit the ball and get on base." He indicated for Joseph to resume with a wave-like gesture and stood next to Barry behind the chain-linked fence.
"I thought you didn't play baseball, Captain?" Barry couldn't help but grin as he nudged Wesker in the shoulder. Wesker kept his eyes on Chris, smirk still plastered on his face.
"I don't—"
Joseph pitched the ball.
"—But what kind of captain would I be if I didn't back my team up?"
Chris made contact and swung with all his might. The ball went airborne and sailed right over Richard's head in the outfield.
"Go Chris!" Jill screamed from the dugout. Chris passed first, looking back and forth between second and Richard, who scooped the ball up and launched it to Edward. Chris rounded second, pushing himself to beat the ball to third.
"Throw it!" Forest held out his mit, and just by a hair Chris touched third base before he was tagged.
"Yeah!" Barry clapped and gave Chris a nod of approval. "Good hustle!" He turned to Wesker. "You're up, Captain."
Wesker's brows furrowed, almost forgetting that he agreed to play the game, and picked up a bat leaning against the fence. He took a couple practice swings and stepped up to the plate.
"Well, wouldja look at those legs!" Enrico threw back a laugh. "You should wear shorts more often, Wesker."
"Wesker's got nice legs, Enrico. You're just jealous," Jill said playfully.
"Ready, Captain?" Joseph asked as he readied his pitch. Wesker gave a nod and tightened his hold on the bat.
"Fly's open, Captain," Kenneth said, trying to contain his laughter as he waited for the ball. Wesker shot a glance downwards and looked up in time to barely miss the ball, frowning when he heard it smack into the mit. Kenneth stood and took a few steps away from the plate, laughing to himself. The blond slowly brought down the bat and stared daggers at the Bravo member.
"What was that, Wesker?!" Chris cupped his hands to amplify his voice. "That ball was good!"
"Ha! Wrong balls to keep your eyes on, Wesker!" Enrico was slowly inching his way over Wesker's patience line; he hadn't kept his mouth shut since he arrived. If he had known Enrico personally before his induction into STARS as the Bravo team captain, Wesker never would've brought him aboard. Having Chris and Joseph on his team was more than enough trouble, but to have a captain acting just as foolish, if not worse, was something Wesker could not and would not tolerate.
"Why don't you keep that shit to yourself?" Joseph jabbed back. "We all know you have a ball fetish, but you don't need to make Captain Wesker uncomfortable!"
"Yeah, Enrico! I've seen the way you looked at Wesker during our briefings!" Chris added, Forest laughing uncontrollably right beside him.
"You go to hell, Redfield! Everyone knows about your obsession with him!"
"Calling the kettle black, aren't we? You're the one who keeps staring at his balls!"
Wesker removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes in frustration as Enrico and Chris continued to argue. "Oh, the primitive minds on this squad..." He said to himself, slipping on his glasses and taking his stance. "…Like two monkeys fighting over a banana…" He whistled to Joseph. "Pitch the ball, Frost."
Joseph readied his pitch once more and threw the ball at Wesker. The cling brought everyone's attention back to the game as the ball soared far into the outfield. Richard whipped around and started after it as Wesker booked it for first.
"Move your ass, Chris!" The edge in Wesker's voice forced Chris to stop watching Richard scramble for the ball and run to home. By the time the marksman had crossed home, Wesker had rounded second. Deciding to bypass Edward, Richard took a few hops forward and launched his arm, catapulting the ball towards home, hoping it would reach Kenneth at the plate.
"Go, Wesker, go!" Jill shouted as she ran up alongside Barry, clapping in excitement.
Wesker touched third, and pushed himself down the homestretch. As he neared, the shouting amplified ten-fold. That meant the ball was near its destination. Wesker wanted to look up and see just how far along it was, but it would ruin the momentum he had going and he just couldn't afford to be distracted twice.
"Slide, Wesker!" Wesker put his weight on his right leg and slid, skin grinding against the brick. The moment his heel made contact with the plate, Wesker felt Kenneth's glove pressed against his ankle.
"Safe!" Joseph screamed at the top of his lungs and charged Wesker, who winced slightly as he stood, pain traveling up the side of his leg, burning like someone had set it on fire; blood trickled from the wound down to his ankle, fading into his black sock.
Joseph gave Wesker a quick squeeze around his shoulders and pulled back just as fast, knowing he could be sentenced to death row any moment. Wesker clenched his jaw and stiffened like a board upon contact. "We won, Captain! We won! Woooo! In your face, Bravo!" He removed his bandana and ran the bases, waving it in the air in victory. Barry gave Wesker's shoulder a slap that caused him to jerk forward, to which he growled in return.
"No, don't worry about me bleeding out over here," Wesker said sarcastically over his shoulder and raised a brow when he saw Jill approach from behind, wrapping her arms around his middle and smashing her face into his back.
"Jill," he warned and wrapped his calloused hands around her delicate wrists, slowing prying them from his body. "Let go, Jill." She gripped tighter. Chris joined her side and wrapped an arm around Wesker's neck, pulling him close and—doing the unthinkable—rubbing his fist across Wesker's scalp, ruffling golden locks out of place and ruining his once impeccable hairstyle.
A noogie.
Chris had given Wesker a noogie.
The Alpha captain took a deep breath, calming his rising anger as Chris' smile widened. "Chris, I'm going to kill—"
Splash!
It happened faster than anyone anticipated. After passing home, Joseph quickly ran for Bravo's small ice chest and dumped the remaining glacier cold water over Wesker's body, drenching Chris and Jill along with him.
"Oh shit!" Forest put a hand to his mouth in surprise, keeping his eyes glued to the scene before him.
Wesker licked the water from his lips, wearing a hard expression as he kept his eyes on Chris. Blond hair pooled over Wesker's forehead down to his brows, from the sides of his temples and just barely grazing the tops of his ears. His red shirt clung to his body, neatly outlining the corded muscle against the fabric. He slowly brought his hand up to remove his glasses; cold blue eyes narrowed in on Chris, chilling his body more than the freezing water could.
We're dead.
Wesker blinked a few times out of reflex when drops passed through his lashes, and swept his hair back into its usual style with one motion, eyes never leaving Chris. Wesker sighed. "And here I assumed that you were the only one capable of making my blood boil, and miraculously, walking away unscathed," he said firmly, and then looked around at the other members of the team. "How foolish I was to assume incorrectly." He slipped his lenses on and planted his hands on his hips, earning a few smiles back at him. "I suppose I will let this go for now—granted we aren't in uniform, so I won't be able to punish you until Monday." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Fifty laps around the track should suffice. Wouldn't you all agree?" There was that smirk; that "entitled, superior-being smirk."
"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Chris blurted out, clenching his fists at his sides. "Just for that?"
"What do you mean 'just for that'? You're at my mercy, but again, it's never enough for you, is it, Chris? Sixty laps."
"Just shut your mouth, Chris," Joseph whispered at his side, already pissed off about having to run a damn marathon.
"Why?! That's bull-shit!"
"As is your pathetic excuse for an argument." Wesker couldn't help but find amusement in Chris' petty rebellion. "Therefore, everyone will run sixty laps, and upon the completion of yours, you will join me in the office—once everyone has gone home to rest—and sit by me until I've signed off every report that's sitting on my desk. And," he rolled his shoulders, "since I've been rather tired lately, I had decided to skip a few days of paperwork; as captain, I receive twice as much as any of you." A devilish smile formed as Chris bit his lips in anger. "So I'd imagine the stack is pretty high by now."
Chris was about to open his mouth to continue his vain attempt at defying Wesker, but closed it as soon as he laid eyes on the members of his team. Physically, each of them look like they were bracing whatever Wesker wanted to hit them with next; their eyes, however, pleaded, almost begged Chris to say no more. As a unit, they were forced to endure the punishment they were given, be it from the mistake of a single member or the whole group. Regardless, it was all for one.
"Ok, Wesker," Chris replied after some time, nodding in reverence to his captain. "Sixty laps and babysitting in the office. Got it."
"A very wise choice, Chris." Wesker couldn't help but smirk as he wrung the hem of his tee. "Now that we've settled this pointless dispute, I think I'm ready for some nourishment. After winning the game, I've become rather famished." He started for the dugout to retrieve his black tee in exchange for the soaking red one. When he realized no one had followed, he turned to his side, regarding the team with narrowed eyes. "I take it none of you are hungry?"
"Uh-yeah, yeah! Where to, Wesker?" Enrico jogged towards the Alpha, pulling his keys from his gym shorts. "The diner on Fourth?"
Wesker pulled the wet shirt over his head, wringing it dry with a twist of his hands. "I need a scotch and a good steak. How about The Cattle Drive down Blue View Boulevard?"
Enrico scoffed. "Hey, we have decent salaries, but we're not rich, alright? Let's keep it real. What about Charlie's in downtown? They've got a mean cut of beef."
"As long as I can have my steak and scotch…I'll see you there." He slipped his black tee on and held the wet one firmly in his hand.
"You got it." Enrico turned to the rest of the team. "We're going to Charlie's! Whoever wants to go, meet us there and grab a table!" The Bravo captain grabbed his gym bag and started for his Camaro.
Forest came up behind Chris, who hadn't moved from home plate and gave him a firm pat on the back. "See you there, man." Chris gave a nod of acknowledgement and watched Forest pack all of Bravo's equipment into the back of his truck. Kenneth and Edward took the back and passenger seats, securing themselves with seatbelts, before Forest started the engine and drove off.
While the rest of Alpha began loading their gym bags and ice chest into the minivan, Chris found himself moving towards his captain until they stood side by side. He peered over at Wesker and noticed his lingering gaze on the bold letters of his last name printed on his Alpha shirt.
"So, uh…y-you don't have to hold onto that, Wesker." Chris held his hand out. "I'm sure you don't want it—"
"It's quite an unusual shade of red, don't you think?" He turned to Chris casually, holding the shirt aloft.
"Well…I guess—"
A few honks sounded from the lot. "C'mon, Chris!" Joseph shouted from the passenger seat.
"Go on," Wesker said and threw the shirt over his shoulder.
"Aren't you coming?"
Wesker gave Chris a long look before nodding towards the minivan. "Go. I'll be along as soon I clean up." He gestured to his leg. When Chris didn't budge, Wesker sighed. "Honestly, Chris…"
"Fine…but I'm saving you a seat," Chris said as he was walking away. Wesker watched the minivan pull out of the parking lot and out of sight. He pulled the Alpha shirt from his shoulders and gripped it tightly in his hand, smirking to himself as he headed for his car.
So, this is my first RE drabble. I didn't like it as much as I thought, but maybe you guys think differently :p I wanted to show the STARS members outside the RPD, and how they reacted to each other off duty…sadly, Wesker was in for it haha I wanted this drabble to portray Wesker, not only as the leader of Alpha, but one who's included with his team no matter what. Could you tell he didn't want to give up the shirt, or why he couldn't take his eyes off his own name? He even wanted to go eat with them afterwards lol He wouldn't admit it, but he felt appreciated, even if it was a measly shirt that made him feel so haha Reviews are appreciated but not required :D Requests/ideas are accepted, so don't be shy to PM me or Facebook me :D Head to my profile! :D Thanks a bunch! – Lil V.