Blood

Author's Note: Should be researching my Master's dissertation but the forces of procrastination are far stronger than me. Enjoy!

August 17th 1979

"Argh, damn it!"

Birkin smirked at his colleague's cursing, "Don't worry about it Al, all you need to do is track down that coffee machine's family and execute them like the big, bad guy you are."

Wesker diverted his attention briefly from the task he had assigned himself to deliver his irritating co-worker a withering glance, "If I find out that you're the one who broke this machine Birkin, I'm going to crush your skull." He frowned and retracted his hand from the rebelling device, shaking his hand lightly, "There's a lot of moving parts in there and I think it's possible one of the gears has sheared in half."

"Aww did you pinch your handy-wandy, do you want me to get you a plaster?"

"No Birkin, I want you to confess that you broke it and then I want you to fix it." Truth be told, Wesker was doubtful that Birkin had anything to do with the demise of the blond's primary source of caffeine. His manic energy appeared to be conjured up from the netherworld and so he had less need for coffee. At the disdainful eye-rolling of his lab partner, he continued. "Only a total moron would have continued trying to use the coffee machine when it was obvious it was about to break and now it's completely…"

"Fucked?" Birkin supplied helpfully. "I know you're desperate to pin this one on me but I promise you I had nothing to do with it, and even if I did I wouldn't tell you… watching you try to do manual labour brings me more joy than you can possibly imagine."

Wesker frowned. "If I had any time available today, I would systematically take this damned thing to pieces and figure out what precisely is wrong but considering my project deadline is this evening, I really do not have any option but to…"

"Wiggle your arm around inside it? Listen, just because it worked on the girls in your high school, doesn't mean it'll work here."

"Doctor Birkin." The honorific before his surname immediately made Will's sense of danger flash a warning inside his skull. "As always, your input is both unsolicited and entirely useless. Please shut your mouth before I use your femur to unclog this infernal device."

Birkin mimed zipping his lips shut, causing his tall companion to roll his eyes but continue delving within the depths of the coffee machine. For a while, the laboratory was entirely silent aside from the occasional dark utterance from Wesker and the quiet clanking of metal being shifted upon metal until…

"Shit!" Wesker cursed loudly and whipped his hand out of his coffee-making nemesis. A thick band of crimson was now adorning his wrist and palm and showing no signs of stopping, a snarl was adorning the lips of the taller scientist as he examined the depth of his wound. "To hell with his machine! Why would a coffee machine have what feels like a damned razor blade inside it?" After a few conspicuous seconds of tense silence, he turned to Birkin. "Nothing to say? No quip about how you're surprised I bleed red blood? Maybe a little joke about…" He stopped in his tracks at the look upon Will's face, he had gone completely white and was staring at the deep cut upon Wesker's wrist with abject horror. "What on earth is your problem Birkin? Are you going to gawk at me or are you going to help me find some bandages?"

"I guh." Birkin shuddered and attempted once more to compose a sentence. "I'm not guh…" He swallowed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed, "I'm not so good with blood…"

Wesker arched an eyebrow, momentarily forgetting the stream cascading down his arm. "Don't you mean not so 'guh' with blood?" At the severely unamused look from his colleague, he continued. "Also, you must be joking. Does Marcus know that his hand-picked student to work upon B.O.W.s has a problem looking at bodily fluids? The youngest researcher in Umbrella history can't research blood?"

Birkin attempted to bite back with a retort but the queasiness pervading his entire being made that very difficult so he settled for a very shaky middle finger while composing himself. "It's different when it's coming out of living, breathing person…" He paused, taking deep steadying breaths, "or you know… you."

"Very amusing Doctor Birkin." Wesker took a step towards him, enjoying the spectacle of his irritating lab partner scrambling to his feet and taking several shaky steps away from his bleeding agitator. "Could you perhaps direct me towards the first aid box? I appear to be leaking vital fluid via a flesh wound located upon my upper arm."

"Get away from me with that!"

"But Doctor Birkin, there is a substantial volume of ichor permeating through my skin and spilling out onto the office floor. There is no danger of biological contamination risk but it is unseemly nonetheless."

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Stop waving your shitty blood-arm at me, you maniac!"

"But Doctor Birkin, all your scientific knowledge is needed at this precise moment to stem the blood flow."

"Do it yourself! You're a grown man, you don't need my help."

Wesker sighed, "I don't know where the first aid box is, you do because you're the one who installed it. Tell me where it is."

"I can't remember, you've freaked me the fuck out!"

"Then I have no choice but to utilise my 'shitty blood-arm' to help you remember."

"Stop!"

30 minutes later

"Doctor Wesker. Please can you restate what precisely happened." Spencer's voice was low and even but there was an unwritten addendum to what he was saying that specified 'and you had better have been joking when you told me last time'.

An awkward cough from the tall blond was his initial response as he formulated his thoughts. "My initial report was correct, sir. My injury from attempting to fix the coffee machine and ultimately…" He paused, radiating calmness and composure but pointedly not making eye contact with his superior. "Doctor Birkin fainting." A bandaged hand pushed his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose as he concluded.

Spencer drummed his fingers on his desk as he looked between his two head researchers, one wounded and the other haggard and recently awoken from passing out in the middle of an office. "I almost miss the days you were punching each other in the face."

"Actually, sir, I didn't do any punchi…" Birkin immediately fell silent at the look upon his bosses' face.

"I have absolutely no patience for your semantics Doctor Birkin. Though it's not you that I'm necessarily blaming for this debacle." He turned his gaze towards the tall blond. "I would understand childish behaviour from this one." He gestured towards Birkin, who looked momentarily outraged but had the survival instincts to keep his mouth firmly closed. "But I thought you were above this kind of petty nonsense. Normally I don't care what you get up to in your laboratory if you get results but one of my head researchers falling unconscious due to the actions of his colleague for the second time in four months is NOT productive." He pointed an accusatory finger at Wesker. "If I don't get your project report before the deadline tonight, there'll be hell to pay." He moved the finger in the direction of Birkin. "You'll help him."

The smug smile the brunette had been wearing vanished. "Sir?"

"I'm holding the two of you equally culpable. That is the vision I have of your role in this company. You succeed together, you fail together. The sooner you realise that, the sooner you can put your ridiculous arguments aside and start achieving what you're truly capable of." Spencer gestured towards his office door. "Get out of my sight, the two of you have a lot of work to do."

The two sighed in unison once they were on the other side of the door. They exchanged a silent glance.

It was Birkin who spoke first. "Shall I buy some coffee and bring it into the office, Al?"

Wesker offered the ghost of a smile. "Sounds like a plan, Will."