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Ada slips through the door, her heels scuffing against the wooden floor as she turns to lock it. From deeper inside the apartment, the familiar rhythm of rapid typing reaches her. Ada sighs, her lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.
She shrugs out of her coat, hanging it carefully on the rack, and lets her heels drop to the floor with a soft tap. Ada moves toward the bedroom with quiet steps, not announcing herself.
She pauses in the doorway.
Claire isn’t perched at the desk the way Ada left her. Instead, she’s on the bed, legs crossed, shoulders angled toward the harsh glow of her laptop. The screen casts a pale wash of light across her face, catching on her red glasses where they sit low on her nose, the lens reflecting columns of notes that her eyes track steadily.
There’s a faint crease between her brows. A loose strand of hair has slipped free from her ponytail and fallen forward, and she nudges it back absently with her fingers, never once looking away from the screen. A worn tank top drapes lazily over her frame, the fabric slightly rumpled from hours spent in the same position, paired with worn plaid boxer shorts.
Ada leans her shoulder against the doorframe, folding her arms loosely as she watches. Every time her fingers hesitate, they return to the keys sharper and faster than before.
"You're going to burn a hole straight through that screen,” Ada says at last.
Claire startles, her shoulders jerk as her hands freeze mid-keystroke. She blinks up at Ada, the tension in her posture melting the instant she realizes who’s there.
“Jesus—” Claire exhales, pushing her glasses up with one finger. “You’re home? I didn’t even hear you come in.”
Ada arches her brow, amused. “Clearly.” She straightens from the doorframe and steps inside. “How long have you been at it this time?”
Claire hesitates, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “Not… that long.”
A scoff leaves Ada as she reaches the foot of the bed. “You were working before I left, Claire,” she says lightly. “That was nearly three hours ago.”
Claire opens her mouth, then closes it. “…I might’ve lost track of time.”
“Mhm.” Ada hums, eyes flicking to the laptop balanced on Claire’s thighs. “You always do this when you’re onto something.”
Before Claire can even respond, Ada reaches out and lifts the laptop.
“Ada—hey—”
Too late. Ada lifts the laptop, shutting it with a soft click before setting it on the mattress. The harsh glow fades, leaving the room bathed in the soft, amber light from the bedside lamp.
Claire looks up, lips pressing into a small pout, “I wasn’t done yet.”
“I know,” Ada says easily, leaning in.
One finger slips beneath Claire’s chin, tilting her face upward. She presses a brief, teasing kiss to her lips. A startled gasp escapes Claire, quickly swallowed by the warmth pressing against her. Her hands find Ada’s waist, holding her close instead of pushing away.
Ada smirks against Claire’s lips before pulling back, lingering just long enough to catch the shiver that runs through her.
“That’s not fair,” Claire mutters.
“Fair?” Ada echoes, thumb tracing her lower lip. “You want fair, or do you want a break?”
Claire exhales, caught between irritation and the sudden warmth spreading through her chest. “You’re… distracting me,” she murmurs, voice tight. Her hands drop to the mattress, palms pressing into the sheets as she props herself up.
“Obviously.” Ada slides onto the edge of the bed, her hand drifting from Claire’s jaw to rest at her waist. She catches the corner of Claire’s mouth with a soft press of her lips. “But since I’m here… why don’t you tell me about it?”
Claire lets out a shaky sigh, her fingers twisting in the sheets as Ada’s mouth traces a slow path from her lips to the line of her jaw.
“Ada…” Claire warns, though there's no real bite behind it.
“Run it by me,” Ada murmurs, her teeth grazing lightly at her neck in a playful drag that makes Claire squirm.
“Okay—okay,” Claire laughs under her breath, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“Come on, Red,” Ada whispers, her hands reaching up to slide Claire’s glasses off her face. She sets them carefully on the nightstand before returning to Claire, settling her hands at her waist.
Claire swallows, trying to gather the scattered threads of her thoughts, “...Okay, well… there was this incident at the docks…”
Ada doesn’t respond immediately; instead, her fingertips trace slowly up Claire’s sides. The warmth of her hands seeps gently through the thin fabric of her top.
“Hm?” Ada prompts softly, lips hovering just beneath Claire’s ear.
“TerraSave thought it was a chemical spill,” Claire says, but her voice thins as Ada’s hands slip beneath the loose edge of her tank top. She inhales sharply as Ada’s knuckles drift along the underside of her ribs.
“A chemical spill,” Ada repeats, her lips grazing Claire’s jaw. “And you disagree?”
“Yes,” Claire nods. “Three employees fell sick, but their symptoms didn’t match chemical inhalation." Her fingers twist tighter into the sheets as Ada’s thumb drifts in a slow arc over her waist. “No respiratory damage.”
“What are their symptoms?” Ada asks, the words ghosting along the column of Claire’s throat.
Claire’s head tips back before she can stop herself. Ada takes advantage of it immediately, brushing her lips along the exposed curve of Claire’s neck.
“Rapid fever,” Claire manages. “Elevated white blood cell count. Their—,” her breath hitches. “Their immune systems were reacting like they were fighting something.”
Ada’s fingers splay lightly over the soft curve of Claire’s stomach, steadying her there. “Something alive,” she finishes Claire's thought.
Claire nods. “Yes. Viral behavior.”
Ada shifts closer, her thighs pressing against Claire’s hips. Her fingertips drift lower, grazing the line of Claire’s shorts, then back up again in a lazy rhythm.
“But—only the cargo intake workers were affected,” Claire says, trying to keep her focus. “Second shift was unaffected. So it wasn’t airborne.”
Ada’s hands pause, taking in Claire’s careful observation. “And the water?”
“Normal pH. No chemical contamination,” Claire says, though her words falter slightly as Ada’s thumb drags at her hip, sending a shiver along her spine. “Which means it has to be contact-based.”
Ada leans back just enough to take her in, hands resting lightly at Claire’s hips. She catches the flicker of concentration in her eyes, the way she’s trying to hold herself together even as her resolve crumbles.
“You’re doing very well,” Ada says quietly, and the praise lands heavier than any tease.
Claire swallows. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Ada’s hands slide lower, dipping just barely into the waistband of her shorts. “Encourage you?”
Claire’s breath hitches. Her hands lift from the sheets to rest against Ada’s hips, her fingertips pressing into the fabric of her top as if to anchor herself.
“If it wasn’t the water,” Ada murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of her jaw, “and it wasn’t airborne…” Her finger traces lightly along Claire’s waist. “Then someone had to bring it in,” she adds, her voice steady.
“Yes.” Claire nods, her hips tilting against Ada before she even realizes it. “The intake crew was unloading a shipment. Industrial medical supplies—at least that’s how it was documented.”
Ada lifts a brow, a flicker of amusement crossing her features. “Convenient.”
Claire hums, trying to ignore the pressure of Ada’s thumb resting at her waistband.
“It was labeled as standard medical freight,” she continues, voice tight with concentration. “Bandages. IV kits. Saline. All properly documented, but—”
“You think a virus was hidden inside the shipment,” Ada finishes for her, a knowing lilt in her tone.
“Yes,” Claire breathes. “If one cracked during unloading, fluid exposure could explain the viral infection.”
Ada leans in, “Could.”
Claire narrows her eyes faintly, catching the edge in Ada’s tone. “You don’t agree?”
Ada smiles slowly, “I didn’t say that.”
Her hand slides down lower.
“But you’re missing something,” Ada murmurs.
Claire’s fingers tighten against Ada's waist. “Then tell me.”
"After your break,” Ada whispers against the shell of her ear.
Claire huffs weakly. “I’m never briefing you agai—” The words die in her throat as Ada’s thumb presses to her clit, her lips parting as the jolt courses through her. Ada settles into a slow, teasing rhythm.
“God…Ada…” Claire hissed.
"That's it..." Ada murmurs.
Ada kisses her again, and Claire melts into it despite herself. Her shoulders ease as the sharp edges of her mind soften beneath the warmth of Ada’s hands, guiding her back against the bed.
Claire sinks back as Ada’s tongue glides along the seam of her lips, coaxing them apart. The soft gasp that escaped Claire dissolves into the kiss as their tongues meet in a slow dance. Claire’s fingers curl tighter into Ada’s top, pulling her closer.
A whimper slips from Claire as Ada’s touch dips lower, skimming through slick heat without giving her what she craves just yet.
Ada stills.
She takes in the way Claire’s lips part around a breathless plea, the way her fingers claw helplessly at her waist. There’s still lingering tension clinging stubbornly to her frame. She shifts a little too eagerly beneath Ada’s palm, chasing the warmth instead of settling into it, and Ada tuts softly.
“Claire...”
Claire’s dazed eyes flutter open, and Ada holds her gaze, pressing her thumb in slow circles over her sensitive bud. “You’re not letting me take care of you,” she murmurs against her jaw. Claire shudders, nails biting into Ada's hips.
Ada hovers there, breath warm at her lips. “Let me show you…” The words dissolve into a kiss as she finally sinks a finger into her. Claire gasps, her hips tilting upward, but Ada holds her down with a palm splayed over her stomach, pressing her firmly into the sheets. Her finger curls leisurely, grazing that sweet spot just enough to make Claire’s thighs quiver.
Ada withdraws almost completely, savoring the broken noise that spills from Claire’s lips, and the slick sound of her own finger pushing back in, deeper this time. “…How good it feels…” Her palm grinds against Claire’s clit, “...to slow down.”
Claire’s breathing grows ragged, her hips meeting each slow thrust of Ada’s hand. Ada rewards her with a second finger, pressing alongside the first. Claire’s body stiffens briefly at the delicious stretch before melting into it with a moan.
“Fuck—” Claire’s voice cracked.
“Easy,” Ada murmured against her flushed skin, lips trailing a burning path down Claire’s neck.
Claire’s hands rose, fingers gliding slowly up the curve of Ada’s waist. “Ada…”
Ada stiffened as Claire’s palms slid higher, tracing the arch of her ribs. “Claire—” She warned, but her voice faltered as Claire’s hands cupped the underside of her breasts. Ada arches into the touch, her careful composure cracking as Claire’s thumbs brush over her peaked nipples through the fabric of her shirt.
“You’re impatient today.” Ada sighed, voice catching slightly on her words.
Claire’s breath hitched. “I can’t—”
Then, Ada shifts.
Her palm lifts just enough for her wrist to tilt inward, replacing the broad pressure with her thumb, tracing tantalizing circles around Claire’s clit. The contact is electric, and Claire’s head snaps back against the pillows.
“You can,” Ada says.
Her fingers move faster now, deeper, each thrust meeting the desperate snap of Claire’s hips. Broken moans spilled from Claire’s lips as her movements grew languid. Her rhythm faltering as pleasure coiled tighter inside her.
Ada’s free hand tightened around Claire’s waist, guiding her down on each stroke. “That’s it," she says, her own breath growing ragged. "Take it.”
Claire’s back arched, her entire body trembling as Ada’s relentless fingers drove her higher.
Then, Claire’s cry echoed through the room as her hips jerked uncontrollably against Ada’s hand. Ada didn’t let up, slowing only slightly to draw out every last tremor until Claire fell slack against the sheets.
Ada drank in the sight of Claire, utterly wrecked beneath her, and she couldn’t help the smug smirk that curled at her lip. She threaded her fingers through Claire’s sweat-damp hair. “Took it so well,” Ada murmured, pressing a kiss to Claire’s temple.
Claire answered with a short huff, a lazy smile tugging at her mouth.
Then, Ada straightened and reached into her back pocket.
“Ready for your missing piece?” she asked lightly.
She dangled a small plastic bag in front of Claire’s face.
Claire’s eyes widened, and she pushed herself up on shaking arms as she snatched it from Ada’s grasp. She held the bag up to the dim light.
A vial cap.
“You—” Claire’s voice cracked with disbelief.
Ada leaned in close, her tone casual. “Thought I’d swing by the docks. See for myself what got you so wound up.”
Claire’s brow furrowed as the pieces fell into place. “So it wasn’t fluid exposure,” she said slowly. “Someone injected them with the virus.”
“Looks that way,” Ada hummed as she swung her leg over the side of the bed, already stepping back. “You should check it out for yourself.”
Her other foot met the floor—but Claire moved faster.
Her hand closed around Ada’s wrist.
Ada barely had time to glance back before Claire tugged her off balance, pulling her down onto the bed. A surprised laugh slipped past Ada’s lips.
Claire rolled smoothly, bracing herself over Ada, one hand pinning her wrist to the mattress—the roles shifting now. “Not so fast.”
Ada’s laughter softened, fading into a pleased, indulgent smile. She offered no resistance to the reversal, her eyes darkening as Claire hovered over her.
Claire leaned in, “You don’t get to disappear when you drop something like that,” she murmured, before drawing Ada in against the heat of her mouth.
The vial cap sat forgotten on the nightstand.
Whatever waited at the docks could be dealt with later.
The dock is deserted at this hour. Fog curls low along the water's surface as the harbor breathes in slow tides. Overhead, lamps buzz and flicker, leaving long shadows between the stacked shipping containers.
Claire's flashlight beam cut through the mist as she moved past the rows of steel, walking further down the narrow pier. She tapped the comms device, bringing it to life with a soft crackle
“Ada,” Claire murmurs. “You said you found the cap near intake. Where exactly?”
Ada was perched on a crane, high above the pier. From her vantage, she watched Claire move between the containers through the dense fog.
“Little further,” Ada replies, her voice smooth in Claire’s ear. “You’re close.”
Claire exhales, “That’s not an answer.”
“Warmer,” her voice teasing over the static.
Claire’s jaw tightened as she continued, her light sweeping over rusted steel and peeling shipping labels. The beam caught on something ahead, a container that stood apart from the others, its door hung slightly open.
Claire slowed, shifting her grip on the flashlight as she approached. She nudged the door open with her boot.
Her flashlight swept the interior, illuminating stacks of sealed products, their wrappings intact. Then her eyes landed on one crate tucked in the back, the plastic torn completely open. Claire stepped closer, her pulse ticking louder in her ears.
There it was.
Property of Umbrella stamped across the packaging.
Claire went still, letting the light linger over the unmistakable red and white symbol.
She pulls the torn wrapping aside, and it reveals empty casings where vials should've been, all gone now.
“Ada… It’s an Umbrella shipment.”
“Hm. Not surprising.” Ada replied.
Claire lowered the beam, scanning the floor around the crate. She searched for broken glass, residue, anything, but she found nothing; it all felt too clean.
Her light drifted higher, tracing the container’s inner wall.
She froze.
Bolted into the metal walls were fold-down seats, harnesses still clipped in place, the kind designed to hold bodies upright during transport.
Claire swallowed as the realization dawned on her.
“Claire,” Ada's voice whispered in her ear.
“They weren’t just shipping cargo—they sent someone to administer the virus,” she said sharply.
Ada didn’t answer right away.
“That would explain the precision,” she said finally.
Claire pulled her camera from her back pocket, snapping photos of the crate and the container’s interior.
“Think we got enough,” she said, tucking the camera away and heading out.
Ada swung down from the crane with her hookshot, her heels landing lightly against the damp wood. She fell into step beside Claire as they followed the path up the pier.
At the lot where Claire’s motorcycle waited, Claire was fastening her helmet, tossing Ada's to her.
Claire mounted first, and Ada followed, slipping onto the seat behind her. Her arms wrapped tightly around Claire’s torso, fingers brushing the leather straps of her jacket.
“Good work, Red,” Ada murmured, her voice low against Claire’s back.
Claire glanced over her shoulder, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” Her hands settled on the throttle, and the engine roared to life beneath them.
Claire eased forward, tires hissing over the wet asphalt. The dock fell away behind them, fog swallowing the harbor completely as they hit the open road.