Author's Note: Hi, and welcome to 'Layers,' a two-chaptered journey into the progression of the relationship between our two favorite Resident Evil men, Piers Nivans and Chris Redfield. If I have any faithful readers from other fandoms who have happened to stumble across this, know that it's not my most clever story, nor is it my fluffiest, nor is it my funniest. It's just a thought that popped into my head after replaying Resident Evil 6, as a ways to get a bit of romance into a relationship that was cut tragically short in-game. I hope you get some enjoyment out of it.

Warnings: A/U, M/M romance

19 August 2010 : 1904 hours

"Jill, I really don't think you're ready to get back out there," he said frankly, strongly, trying to use his large stature to intimidate her into agreeing with him - all in vain, he knew, because he was dealing with the most stubborn woman to have ever graced God's green Earth.

She raised her eyebrows at him, a laugh starting to bubble in her throat as her deep, red lips flipped upward into an open-mouthed smile. He saw her ample chest heaving before he heard her masculine guffaw. She wasn't just laughing. She was laughing at him, mocking him, because she knew what he had just tried to do, and the thought of Chris Redfield trying to intimidate her was the funniest thing she had ever experienced.

Chris's stony facade slowly slipped off his face. Her uninhibited laughter was contagious, and although he managed to stay at least somewhat reserved, he couldn't control the laugh/sigh that escaped his lips.

"Oh Chris, I don't care what Alpha team says. You're hilarious," she said, trying to catch her breath and simultaneously wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Well thanks, I guess?" he questioned, before he shook his head. "Wait a second... What has Alpha team been saying?" He frowned deeply. "They don't think I'm funny?"

Jill collapsed onto the comfortable, brown leather sofa that adorned the living room of Chris's home in the finally rebuilt city of Raccoon. Or rather, just north of it, where the BSAA was planning to establish a military base once the government approved the funding ("Bureaucratic shit," as Jill called it).

"Just Marco," she said, kicking off her flats and putting her feet on his coffee table. She looked up at him with a smile and patted the seat next to her.

He continued to glare at her, his pride deeply wounded with the knowledge that his soldiers didn't appreciate his jokes. He put some good stuff out there. Mostly stolen from the Internet, granted, but he still took credit for delivery.

"Oh don't give me that face, and don't pout," she said harshly, flipping her hair dramatically. "I'm only kidding. You know everyone loves you."

He continued to gaze at her skeptically, until he finally gave in. "You're the one whose jokes aren't funny."

She snorted, as if the mere thought was preposterous.

"And why is your hair still blonde?" he asked scathingly.

"I like it blonde," she said, flippantly dismissing his dig. "And guys like it blonde, too."

Chris groaned. "I don't want to hear about you whoring your way through STARS, or the BSAA, or any other government agency, Jill."

She smiled, still unfazed. "I haven't gone all the way through. There's still Leon."

"Good luck with that one," he said, highly doubting she stood a shot in hell with Leon Kennedy.

"That's what they said about you," she said, flipping on the TV and starting to channel surf.

Chris pursed his lips, grabbed the remote from her hand, and turned the TV off. "Yeah, that was one time, because I was relatively sure neither one of us would make it out alive, and I hadn't had sex in six months. And I didn't invite you here to talk about any of this."

"You're moody," she said, turning to face him.

"I don't want you to go out there yet, Jill," he said desperately.

"You were being serious just now," she said, taken aback, having genuinely thought he was joking. She blinked a few times and took a deep breath in. "Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, it's unnecessary. I'm ready to come back."

"Your body isn't ready yet," he said, shaking his head firmly.

After the confrontation with Wesker, neither Jill or Chris had realized how badly injured Jill was until they were safely back in the US. Purging the virus out of her body had wiped out her immune system. She became weak, susceptible to illnesses of all sorts, because of that, the physicians in charge of her care didn't trust her body to make it through the operations she required. It had been a year since they'd gotten back, and Jill had just started training with the BSAA again. Because of how long she'd been bedridden, her muscles had atrophied, and she couldn't even keep up on their warm-up runs during PT without being fatigued. She was improving steadily, but she wasn't ready to deploy with any unit yet, let alone his Alpha team, which took the most dangerous and most difficult missions.

She looked away, her eyes glazing over in a way that was all too familiar to him. Jill was the most upbeat person he knew, but sometimes the flashbacks of what she went through hit her worse than any BOW ever could. She tried to shake it off, but during moments like this, the bitterness tried to battle its way through.

"I'm not a paper pusher, Chris. I don't like sitting at HQ, watching satellite feed of you getting your ass kicked, all because I'm not there to save it," she said, a small smile starting to tug at her lips again as she finished the thought.

"I know, I know," he said, putting his arm around her and ruffling her hair. "I don't like you not being there to save my ass either. There's no one on Alpha team who's even half as good with a firearm as you are, and believe me, I'm counting down the days until you're back, at full capacity, because anything less would be an insult to both of us."

He smiled genially at her, knowing from the look on her face that he'd worn her down, that he'd won this round. This was better for her and better for the organization in the long run. Jill Valentine at full capacity was better than any army of BOWs deployed by any terrorist organization. He knew it to be true.

"This one really will be tough without a weapons expert, though," Chris said with a sigh, having temporarily forgotten he'd come to talk her out of a mission they would be deployed on in three weeks' time.

They were going to South America, where word reached back to them that some of Wesker's research had been leaked and new BOWs were being developed, not by some miniscule small-cell terrorist group, but by a group of power-hungry politicians looking to purge a country or two to gain control of more land. They didn't know how dangerous what they were dealing with was. Or at least he hoped they didn't. The alternative was the evil of humanity. Again.

They'd been sitting on this information for some time now, the US having sent special agents to gather more intel, to gain concrete evidence, so that the BSAA could intervene. But as it stood, they were careful, and all they had were whisperings that an attack was scheduled. It was incredibly frustrating to know an attack was imminent but be unable to do anything about it until it happened, because of political ropes and hoops to jump through.

Jill, seemingly unable to cope with any more sadness for the day, opted instead to leap off the couch like a hyperactive puppy, and wag her tail madly, a glint of something in her eye.

"I know!" she exclaimed, sticking her pointer finger in the air. She put on her shoes, grabbed her purse, and sprinted for the door.

"Uhhh?" Chris asked, confused as ever.

She ignored him completely, and instead swept through the door, exiting as if she'd never been there at all, only leaving him with a deep feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, like he always had when Jill had an epiphany.

20 August 2010 : 1400 hours

"Dismissed," he bellowed and watched with a smile on his face as five defeated soldiers slumped their shoulders and began to drag ass - muddy, sweaty, and thoroughly exhausted ass - back to the locker room.

They were off for a seldom-received three-day weekend. He'd given them that much, not knowing how long they'd be in South America or whether they'd come out of it unscathed. Giving them three-day weekends for two weeks before they began the process of getting ready to go was the least he could do. And even if they weren't set to deploy at the end of the month, he'd probably still have given them the extra break because of the sheer brutality of what he'd put them through today. He knew it was hard, because it was even difficult for him, he had to admit, but he was doing it for them. They knew it, too, and that's why there was no complaining when they didn't get a lunch break and instead were drilled up and down the side of a mountain with equipment that weighed as much as another human being strapped to their backs. Conditions were worse in hostile territory, and the better shape they were in, both mentally and physically, the better off they'd be.

"Coming, Captain?" Jeff asked, as the rest of the team paused to turn and look at him.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," Chris said with a soft smile. "I've just got a call to make first."

The exhausted soldiers didn't need to be told twice, and they began walking toward the showers again, eager for the warm water to soothe their sore muscles. Chris desperately wanted to get out of his drenched clothes as much as they did, but unlike them, his day wasn't over yet. He was catching a plane to Washington, where he'd spend the next three days in meetings with various government bodies. Hopefully the CIA would send Leon to fill him in on the new intel. At least he'd get a few beers in him then instead of having to look pretty in a suit for some stiffs he couldn't care less about.

The only silver lining was that Jill hadn't come. She'd faithfully been attending camps, drills, and PT sessions with the Alpha team, instead of training with the Air Force whose base they were utilizing, where the drills would surely be more forgiving. He'd come up with today's brutality in case he couldn't convince her not to go on the upcoming mission with reason. It would be proof staring her in the face that she wasn't ready physically. He guessed he didn't need it after all.

He took out his phone smugly and dialed her number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Chris," she said enthusiastically. "You look like ass. Why don't you grab a shower?"

He spun on his heel and began looking around him in search of her. "Yeah, I was going to after I called you..." There was nothing in sight. "Where are you?"

"Watching you," she said playfully yet mysteriously, in a way that only Jill Valentine could.

"I gathered that," he said gruffly. "Where from?"

"Washington," she said teasingly. "Watched the base's satellite feed for a bit. You really put them through the ringer, didn't you?"

"Washington?" he asked, ignoring her following statement. "Why are you in Washington?"

"Business," she said cryptically, in a sing-song voice. "I'll fill you in when you get here. I've got a surprise for you."

"Every time you say that, I get this stabbing feeling in my gut like I'm going to wake up with no eyebrows... again."

She laughed maniacally over the phone. "Valid fears normally, but in this instance, the surprise is good. See you tonight!"

"Yeah, sure," he mumbled, "tonight," and he hung up the phone.

This had to be the same thing that made her bolt out of his house yesterday. Curiosity was killing him. Trying to figure out what would be waiting for him in DC, he trudged to the showers, mindful of the fact that he was being watched and should wait to scratch his itchy balls when he had a roof over his head. The last thing he needed was to have a welcome party for him at the nation's capital that included a loop of him fondling himself.

20 August 2010 : 2243 hours

Despite his exhaustion, he managed to make it through various meetings, where he was told in not so many words to shut up and pretend that what he was about to do never happened and would never happen. The US was not sending any military personnel into another country without the knowledge of that country's leadership and/or the UN. The US minded its own business. That was the official stance they would be taking.

He felt like he was being told "don't get caught, but if you do, you're on your own, unless it goes well, in which case we're taking credit." He wasn't terribly concerned about this display of selfishness and general asshole-ish-ness. He'd heard it before, and he was used to it. Furthermore, they were only telling him this because they still weren't convinced that there was something foul afoot. They were afraid of being caught in another country which was doing nothing wrong, thereby starting a conflict which didn't previously exist.

Chris believed in the intel his men had gathered, and he was sure that when he met with Leon tomorrow, Leon would confirm his beliefs.

Ready to go to bed, Chris forced himself to plod to the bar where Jill said she was. He hadn't heard from or seen her since he'd arrived several hours ago, and that was strange for her. She usually nosed her way in. She must have been preoccupied with whatever secret she was hiding.

A short walk from his hotel, where he'd changed from his suit to a more relaxed jeans and plain grey t-shirt, he found himself at the bar. He'd already texted Jill saying that he was on his way, and she'd told him where she was. Fighting his way through the Friday night crowd, he finally spotted her at the bar, yelling a drink order at the bartender.

"Jill!" he bellowed, waving to her.

She turned around suddenly and beamed at him, before turning to the bartender and amending her order. She was a simple person with simple tastes when it came to her alcohol. She liked beer, beer, and more beer, and Chris was much the same way. When he made it over to her, he was surprised when she thrust a beer into his hands, still holding two in her own.

"Two at once, Jill?" he asked, raising his eyebrow in question. "I already know what kind of night this is going to be. If you vomit in my hotel room, you can explain to accounting why they didn't get their deposit back."

She laughed at the memory but shook her head. "No, this other one isn't for me. I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Who?" he asked, squeezing his large body into tiny openings of people, following her lead to a corner of the room.

She didn't explain however until they got to their table, where a man who looked to be just about freshly out of high school, his cheeks flushed slightly, bright green eyes focused on his phone screen, his brown hair sticking vertically upward due to a copious amount of mousse or gel. He was wearing a simple black v-neck and jeans, which fit his sculpted young body fairly well.

"Chris, this is Piers Nivans, your new weapons expert. Piers, meet your new CO, Chris Redfield," Jill said casually.

"Captain," Piers said, saluting him. "It's an honor to have the opportunity to work with you, Sir."

Chris looked at Jill blankly, then turned back to the nervous but respectful young man and clasped his hand in a firm handshake.

"It's nice to meet you, Piers. We're not in a formal setting, so you don't have to salute, and you can call me Chris," he said with amusement, noticing the man's cheeks grow almost imperceptibly more red. He turned back to Jill. "I didn't know my team had 'help wanted' ads plastered on notice boards around the nation, Jill. Your doing?"

Jill laughed and opened her mouth to speak, but Piers beat her to it. "With all due respect, I have a military background, Sir. I'm the top-ranked army sniper in the nation, and I have extensive training in both special weaponry and linguistics. Again, I don't mean to speak out of line, Captain, but I'm not a random."

Chris could see the amusement building in Jill's eyes and the fiery passion in Piers's. He chuckled and shook his head, sitting down on one of the stools. He didn't bother correcting Piers again. He thought that forcing the young man to address him informally would make him so uncomfortable he might spontaneously combust in flames of insubordination and awkward youth.

"You're sort of young to be a vet, aren't you?" Chris asked, cocking his head to the side, impressed nevertheless with his accomplishments.

"I'm active duty, Sir," Piers clarified.

"You're still under contract with the army?" Chris furrowed his brow in confusion and turned to Jill for an explanation.

"That's what I've been doing here for the past two days. You need someone on Alpha team who fills in the gaps you have, the gaps yours truly leaves, and I've had my eye on Piers here for a while. I managed to make, let's just say, a deal with the army in exchange for Piers's transfer of branches," she explained, taking a swig of her beer.

"I didn't know that was possible," Chris said, still trying to size up Piers.

"It's not," she said nonchalantly. "But that just made it all the more fun."

Chris chuckled and rubbed his forehead in defeat. There was no point in arguing. When Jill wanted something, she got it. Furthermore, he didn't really want to argue. They did have holes in the team, and Jill was the most shrewd person in the world, so if he was up to snuff with her, he was the best of the best.

He made a mental note to ask her later what she'd exchanged that would be worth letting one of their best soldiers go.

"How much do you know about the BSAA, Piers?" Chris asked curiously. It was still so new that most people weren't quite sure what the point of them was.

Piers, however, didn't have any such problem. He repeated the full mission statement and founding principles back to him without a hint of hesitation.

Chris smiled warmly at him. The kid was bright, talented, earnest, and unafraid. He could tell that just from spending five minutes from him.

"When are you joining us in Raccoon City for training?" Chris asked.

"Tuesday 0600, Sir. I've received orders to deploy with you on the next mission," Piers said, surprising Chris.

"So soon?" he asked, slightly concerned. Was he really ready to dive in without more training?

"I've filled him in on the mission. You need a second-in-command, Chris, and if it can't be me, fine, but it has to be someone," Jill said firmly. "Besides, we watched a satellite feed of your PT this morning, and the kid thinks he can keep up."

Chris saw confidence in Piers's eyes, affirming what Jill had just said. He couldn't help but smile.

"What'd you think?" Chris asked curiously.

"I'm impressed that no one fell behind," Piers said truthfully.

Chris took a drink of his beer and smiled at the man sitting next to him. "No man is ever left behind on Alpha team. We all go, or we all die trying. All my soldiers know that, and every single one of them is specially selected and trained for my team, not only physically, but mentally as well."

"As it should be, Sir," Piers said, his eyes glowing brightly.

Chris clasped Piers's shoulder and squeezed firmly. "Drink your beer tonight, Piers. And welcome to the BSAA's North American Alpha team."

"I'll drink to that!" Jill exclaimed, clanking her beer eagerly with the two men before downing it all in one giant gulp.

21 August 2010 : 0203 hours

"I've now been awake for twenty-four hours, and I have to wake up at 0800," Chris murmured, not pleased at all with the very drunk Jill Valentine he was now escorting back to his hotel on the still crowded streets of Washington DC, where young partygoers were continuing their drinking out on the streets now that the bars had booted them out.

Jill burped in response, letting Chris pull her into the hotel lobby and toward the nearest elevator.

He couldn't be too angry with her, really, since he could have gone at any time. He should have gone. Jill had been absent a large portion of the night, having made it her goal to befriend every single person in the bar, and largely succeeding, as they didn't have to pay for a single drink the entire night. Instead he stayed and chatted with his new recruit, who opened up in direct relation to the number of drinks he'd had. It was a difficult task to get him to drink, as he was determined to stay in control and professional despite his young age, but Jill resorted to pulling rank on him and making him down a shot or a bottle of beer every time she floated back to their table.

He'd never seen anyone look so uncomfortable and fiercely determined to not show it before. It was rather endearing to see a kid these days that was confident yet reserved. Once his shell started peeling back, Chris was treated to the company of an interesting young man who had been offered scholarships to the world's best universities but opted instead to enlist in the military because of his strong sense of justice.

Piers was an only child who found brotherhood with his comrades and advanced ranks faster than should have been possible, but he was humble about this, saying that he would do whatever his chain of command thought would best utilize his skills - wherever he would do the most good in the world. This humanitarian drive led him to train in a myriad of different fields, including bomb disposal, weaponry, linguistics, and interrogation - all in four years' time. It was incredible.

Chris thought he had been a natural, but this kid would be better than him in five years, tops.

And he had a wonderful sense of humor. Despite his determination to do good for humankind, he could be cynical and was easily annoyed by people who he deemed behaved inappropriately. The more drinks Chris and Jill got in him, the more he couldn't resist the urge to comment on the other patrons of the bar, some of whom were a bit sleazy, he had to admit. Piers's comments were clever, comparing them to politicians and characters from literature. He wasn't all pop culture, this kid. He had substance.

And before Chris knew it, he was telling the kid all about his family, his sister, and intimate details of his personal life that people usually had to fight out of him. Piers, for his part, responded enthusiastically and shared information about himself as well. He was easy to talk to.

The elevator dinged, and the doors closed.

"What'd you think of the kid?" Jill slurred.

"He's a bit stiff, but we'll loosen him up, I'm sure," Chris said with a grin.

"He's a little spitfire, but he works hard to keep the beast chained up. He's perfect for you," Jill said confidently.

"I agree," Chris said with a laugh. "He seems like a good kid."

"And he's incredibly attractive," Jill said, once the elevator dinged again, and they walked to Chris's room.

Chris pulled the card out of his back pocket, leaving Jill temporarily unsupported on the door's frame. She took the opportunity to fall through the door once he'd opened it. He barely caught her, unable to hold back his laughter. He dragged her in, shutting the door behind him, and placed her on the couch in the living area.

Once safely seated, Chris walked to the kitchenette and poured two glasses of water. He downed his own and brought the other over to Jill. She took it clumsily.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked. "The kid's hot, don't you think?"

"I heard what you said," Chris said, shaking his head, "but I chose to ignore it."

"I was flirting with him all night, but he wouldn't so much as dance with me," she complained, kicking off her shoes and taking a sip.

"I don't think he's the type for dancing," Chris said frankly, trying his best to suppress his snort of laughter.

"I think you're more likely to get a shot with him than I am, if you know what I mean," she said, eyeing him meaningfully.

This time Chris couldn't hold down the snort. "Just because a guy knows better than to be interested in one of his bosses doesn't mean he's gay. Leon Kennedy isn't going to bed you either, but he's clearly not gay."

"He didn't look at a single woman the entire night," Jill said, ignoring his dig.

"Was he ogling every man that walked by him then?" Chris asked skeptically.

"No," Jill said, furrowing her brow. "Just the one he was doe-eyed for - the one right in front of him."

Chris shook his head. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Jill."

"Don't ignore what I say, Chris!" she exclaimed, but it was too late. Chris had shut the door to his room and was falling into a dreamless sleep before she'd finished her whining.

21 August 2010 : 0759 hours

"Chris."

Chris heard the familiar rumble of a voice in a slightly higher pitch than his own but lacking none of the gruffness. He immediately turned and loosened the tie around his neck.

Thank God.

"Leon," he said gratefully, extending his hand and grasping the blond man's.

"Happy to see me?" Leon asked with a chuckle.

"You have no idea," he said with a laugh of his own.

"I overheard what some of the suits were telling you yesterday. If I hadn't had other things to attend to with the president, I would have come in to save you," Leon said sympathetically, seating himself at the round conference room table.

Chris followed suit and shook his head, groaning at the memory. "Those are the moments when I'm glad I'm in my thirties. If I'd had to sit through five hours of that bullshit ten years ago, I would've opened fire."

"Ten years ago, I did open fire at my boss for pissing me off," Leon said, a wry smile on his face.

The two exchanged an inappropriately amused glance before shifting their guilty faces to the table, struggling to contain their smiles, as the door to the conference room opened.

"I don't know what you two were just laughing about, and I don't want to know," said a surprisingly high voice from the doorway.

"Claire," Chris said in surprise, standing up and enveloping his sister in an immediate hug. He let go of her and examined her, dressed in combat clothing, a gun holstered to her waist. "What are you doing here?"

"Chris, I'll explain, but you've got to move out of the doorway. We still have one more," she said, smiling sweetly at her brother.

Chris nodded his head deftly and looked curiously behind her, surprised to see the new recruit that Jill had been so engrossed with. "This morning is getting more and more interesting by the second. First Leon, then Claire, and now the rookie."

Chris clasped Piers on the shoulder roughly, and instead of stumbling from the harder-than-intended tap, the man hunkered his feet into the ground, shifting his weight to one side. Like he was bearing the weight of a gun. How interesting.

"Captain," he greeted respectfully, bringing his slim hands to his throat and loosening the mesh scarf around his neck that Chris hadn't even noticed was there.

He looked the younger man up and down blatantly, noticing that he was wearing camouflaged uniform pants, heavy work boots, and the army's standard PT shirt. He was in combat gear, Claire was in combat gear, Leon was in jeans and a canvas jacket, and Chris was in a suit. What the hell?

Chris sat back down at the table, as Claire pulled the tablet at the end of the table toward her, ushering Piers to sit down next to her without even looking at him. She typed, pointed, and projected a satellite image in the air above the table. She pulled up a few other windows, doing technological wizardry that Chris had never bothered with. Once she set up what she had meant to, she turned to Chris and sighed, smiling in a relaxed way.

"So, an explanation, right?" she asked her brother, waiting for him to nod before she continued. "Here's the short version. About six months ago, TerraSave was requested by the UN to provide aid to people in Iceland that had been injured by the rogue BOW that'd been launched by a small group of terrorists. Do you remember that incident?"

"Yeah, we dispatched Delta team to deal with it, but it was already downed by the time they got there," Chris said, nodding as he remembered the tiny incident that had been overshadowed by more significant outbreaks in the months that followed.

"Sergeant Nivans was the one responsible. He had his team lure it into a cave where explosives had been set up around the perimeter. He then used his sniper to blind it, causing it to stumble backward long enough for his team to escape, and then set off the charges, causing the cave to implode, killing the BOW," Claire explained. "Thanks to his swift action, no civilians were hurt, and no damage was caused to nearby towns or cities. And that's where I met him."

So the kid was not only familiar with BOWs, which made Chris sigh an internal breath of relief, but he'd actually downed one.

"To think that I'd almost let Jill take credit for finding you," Chris said with a smile, causing the boy's cheeks to flush in embarrassment. "I'm guessing she got his name from you."

"I'm glad she managed to work it out. I was worried about you with this mission coming up," Claire said, her voice deepening with concern. "It's a big one, Chris. My entire team will be on stand-by in Central America should we be needed to aid the injured. I've even been refreshing my fighting skills, in case you need more than just a healing hand."

That explained their gear. They must have been out before the sun had even come up, which surprised Chris considering that Piers was out with him last night.

"Hopefully it won't have to come to that," Chris said. "What'd you find out, Leon?"

"It's not great news, Chris," Leon said, shaking his head, as he and Claire started talking him through the latest news of the trouble that was brewing.

Chris was glad he was getting this information transferred onto his phone as well, as he had trouble focusing on their words. He found his eyes drifting to the young ace sitting across from him. He was listening intently to the information, absorbing it like a sponge. Chris could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes darkening to the shade of a forest at sunset. He knew that look. He wasn't just taking the information in. He was making a battle plan, each new piece of the puzzle causing a recalculation. Every now and then, the space below his cheekbones ticked. He was gritting his teeth, frustrated.

He wanted to speak up. He wanted to give input. It wasn't in his nature to not contribute, and he was fighting the urge with each passing minute. The only reason he wasn't was his respect for the chain of command and his willingness to take whatever lead Chris presented him with - which was none at the moment, as the older man was too busy observing his new partner squirm to contribute. The more fidgety Piers became, the more Chris liked him.

He knew it'd be temporary. Once they worked together and Piers realized the sort of guy Chris was, he was sure that he'd be questioning his every move, thinking he could do better. He was cocky and impatient. It came with youth, and Chris appreciated that. It would add life back to the horrible job they were tasked with.

Piers crossed one, muscular arm across his lean body and rested the other on top of it, bringing his hand up to his chin, running his pointer finger in the dip between his chin and pouty, pink lips. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Chris found himself briefly mesmerized by the action of him wetting his lips. He then moved the hand on his chin back down to his scarf and loosened it some more, showing off the irritated, pink flesh on his neck.

Chris never got the point of the mesh scarves that snipers wore, but he respected their dedication to staying undetected. Right now, however, his mind was less on the point of them and more on making a mental note to get Piers a softer one, one more appropriate for the sensitive, smooth skin on his neck.

He was distracted from his thoughts as Piers brought the same hand to lay flat on top of the other one for a moment, before he started scratching his arm. He doubted his arm was itchy. He was getting more fidgety by the second. They'd been sitting there, listening to Leon and Claire give report like a well-oiled machine for nearly an hour, and he was already growing impatient.

Chris's lips curved upward into a smile subconsciously, seeing why Jill had grown smitten with the boy. He was talented, humble, good-natured, and behind his polite exterior, clear as day for anyone with an eye for people to see, a spitfire, just like Jill had said. In addition to his personality, he was quite good-looking, with his perfect, symmetrical bone structure, his lean body just as well-maintained as Chris's but in a different way. Chris's was sheer mass, stumbling around and overpowering who he needed to, while Piers's was lithe, limber, and strong - perfect for espionage, perfect for sneaking about and taking out his target without anyone knowing he'd ever been there. And those lips of his...

"This isn't funny, Chris," Claire's shrill voice interrupted.

Chris had completely tuned her out for a moment, losing himself in thoughts that he'd have to evaluate further when he was alone, because the last he checked, he was straight. Respecting a man and being envious of his youth was one thing, but wishing he could caress the irritated skin around his neck and noticing his supple pink lips was another.

"Sorry Claire," Chris apologized half-heartedly, unable to wipe the smile off his face. "I got distracted."

A tut from across the room caught Chris's attention, and he knew immediately where the sound of disapproval had come from. The twitchy, judgmental rookie was not impressed. This caused Chris's smile to grow even wider, aggravating the kid as well as his sister.

"Why don't we take a break and get breakfast," Leon suggested amicably, used to being the mediator in these familial squabbles. "Have you eaten yet, Chris?"

"I haven't, and I'm starving," Chris said, standing up from his chair and tossing his jacket on the back of his seat along with his tie. "Got anything decent to eat in this place?"

"Not bad," Leon answered, leading him out of the room.

They were at a buffet table down the hall in a room swarming with more suits than he wanted to see.

"You look like shit, by the way," Leon said, grabbing himself a muffin.

"Gee, thanks," he replied sarcastically. "I'd like to see you after you've slept six hours in the past forty-eight."

"You should sleep more," Leon suggested, like the smart ass he was. Before Chris had the chance to reply, Leon turned on his heel, having spotted Claire, and said, "we'll be back in a bit."

Unable to argue, as the man had already started to walk off, Chris grabbed a plate, a few slices of toast, and some muffins. What he really wanted was some protein, but the meat looked disgustingly fatty. So he settled and walked back down the hall and around the corner, wondering if Claire and Leon would be gone long enough for him to take a short nap. Probably not. But the quiet of the conference room still beat the unmistakable sound of asskissing that was going on out here.

He opened the door, unsurprised to see the kid still in his seat, albeit reading dossiers via the screen projected in the air. He didn't look up when Chris came in, too engrossed in the file. The only sign of acknowledgment was the clenching of his jaw.

Chris sat down across from him and leaned back in the leather swivel chair he'd previously occupied, munching on his breakfast. It wasn't particularly satisfying, but he took what he got. It was still better than the shit he got to eat while on field missions. It also gave him more of an opportunity to study the kid and think about his previous thoughts.

Chris had found himself drawn to men before, he had to admit, but he'd suppressed those urges and justified the attraction by saying the men in question had feminine features - delicate bodies in slender frames, soft-spoken voices, long hair, gentle demeanors. None of those qualities were applicable here. The only things feminine about the man across the table were his long eyelashes, full lips, and flushed skin. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked. His hands were rough, but that was to be expected from his line of work. The rest of his body looked much more supple.

Chris snapped himself away from this train of thought and shoved the paper plate to the man in question. "Eat."

"I've eaten, Captain, but thank you," he replied cordially, pushing the plate back.

Chris shrugged and took one of the pieces of toast, slathered jam across it, and devoured it. Once finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat up, a smile on his face.

"So how long are you going to keep your thoughts to yourself?" Chris asked, one of the corners of his mouth lifting up.

"What do you mean, Sir?" Piers asked, still distracted by his reading.

"You're more fidgety than a lab rat on cocaine," Chris pointed out bluntly. "The more you want to say something, the more fidgety you become."

His words momentarily caught Piers by surprise. There was just a hint of the emotion before he minimized the screen between them and faced his new captain with a neutral expression. "It's not my operation, Sir. It's not in my place to impose."

"I want you to," Chris said, regarding him seriously. "The Alpha team is a team. Yes, I take responsibility for the calls that I have to make at the end of the day, but that doesn't mean my way is always the best way. If another way has less casualties, less damage, less danger, then I'm not one to let my ego get in the way of that."

Piers's emerald eyes peered into his, as if trying to gauge whether his words had any meaning. He was used to falling into line and respecting the chain of command.

"Say what's on your mind, Piers," Chris urged. "I don't care what it is. Just say what you're thinking."

"I don't think you were paying attention at the briefing at all," Piers said frankly, his stony face regarding Chris with a bit of that petulance he knew was hidden away.

"I didn't notice you watching me," he admitted with a smile, "but you're right. I wasn't."

"You were watching me," he pointed out bluntly. "Why?"

Chris thought about this for a moment, deciding his progressively more inappropriate thoughts weren't the ones he would voice. Instead, he answered with the next best thing. "I think you're fun to watch."

Anyone else would have asked for clarification, but Piers either didn't want it or didn't need it. His choice of next words resonated deeply with Chris.

"Just know that I know when you're watching me, Captain," he said quietly. "There isn't a lot that slips by me. It's my job to notice things. And people. And I'm excellent at what I do."

"Good," Chris said without hesitation. "Now let me tell you how I'm running this operation, and you can tell me what you would do instead."

A/N: Any feedback is appreciated.