Chapter Text
The sunlight leaking through the curtains hits Chris squarely in the face, and he groans, rolling over in an attempt to block it out. His head is pounding, but clearly past Chris, or past someone, was prepared for this, because there's water and a bottle of painkillers on his bedside table and - his phone is actually plugged into the charger? Okay, not past Chris, then. He doesn't remember to plug his phone in fully sober, let alone in whatever state he was last night.
Once he manages to drag himself upright enough to drink the water and take the painkillers, he clicks his phone on to several messages, but nothing urgent enough that he cares to respond. He's preparing to lay back down and try to sleep this off when he hears a knock on the door and a yell.
"Chris, I'm coming in, don't shoot me! And don't be naked!" Claire calls from the entryway. She has a key - the lease technically belongs to Chris and Jill, but Claire might as well be on it too - but they have a firm rule against entering anyone's house without prior announcement in non-emergency situations. The rule makes perfect sense due to the nature of all of their professions and the amount of lethal weaponry around at any given time, but it actually came about as a result of Chris walking in on Claire and Jill one time. He's still absolutely resolute in saying that he'd rather fight twelve tyrants at once than see his little sister and best friend like that.
"Ugh." Chris sits up more, rubbing a hand over his face. "Why are you here."
"Nice to see you too! I see you forgot I told you I'd come by." Claire chirps. "Glad to see you're alive. We would've stayed over here instead, but…" She trails off, faintly blushing, and Chris can read between the lines. The entire reason they'd gone out the night before was to celebrate all being in the same city for the first time in weeks, so he can't begrudge her having her girlfriend to herself.
"Okay, I'm alive, can you go away now?" Chris whines. His head hurts, and it's not fair how alcohol-proof Claire is. He can count on one hand the times he's seen her hungover, and even then she's always fine with a couple ibuprofen and a breakfast sandwich.
"No can do, I'm afraid. I'm in charge of getting you to brunch, or did you forget that too?"
He definitely did forget that too. He actually remembers very little of the night, other than - well.
It's a rare treat for their little group to even be in the same city, let alone have free time to meet up. When Chris and Jill had found out that BSAA wanted them in DC for a gala, they'd been initially reluctant. Then they'd discovered that Rebecca had already been set to go and that Claire and Leon would also be attending. One night of sucking up to donors and being paraded around in uncomfortable outfits is well worth it for a few days off and getting to see them, even if it meant being shipped straight there from a mission in Europe. They ended up finishing the mission early, so they're in town with time to kill, and Claire's cleared her schedule for the occasion, dragging all of them out to a bar, including Sherry, Jake, and Leon.
Leon.
Chris feels his face redden as he remembers why he was drinking so much.
THE PREVIOUS NIGHT
Chris is immediately overstimulated by the loud music and chatter at the bar, but he tucks himself into the edge of the booth Jill has claimed and sips his beer, unable to turn off the part of his brain that's categorizing exit routes and keeping track of where all of his people are. Claire brings over a tray of little glasses holding liquid that is a scarily neon shade of blue and starts passing them out with a grin that spells trouble.
It's loud, and still overwhelming, but as everyone sits down and starts chattering away, Chris relaxes a little. Claire's pressed up against his side comfortingly, with Jill on her other side, both of them yelling as they conduct a drinking game of some kind with Rebecca, her boyfriend, whose name Chris didn't catch, Sherry, and Jake. Chris even accepts one of the horrible blue drinks, refusing out of a sort of pride to make any expression as he tips it back, much to Claire's amusement. He's sipping a second beer and laughing at the girls' tipsy charades when the door opens and -
Every time he sees Leon it's like a gut punch. He's so pretty and confident and capable and honestly, everything about him just lights something up inside of Chris. Even if Leon is into men - and Chris doesn't know if he is, the only person he's ever known Leon to be romantically involved with was Ada, and that's been years - he doesn't think there's a chance in hell Leon would want him. And he's made his peace with that. The fact that they've remained (or re-become) friends after everything they've been through is more than enough. But god, Leon's very presence feels magnetic. It always has.
"Leon!" Claire waves him over excitedly. "You made it just in time!"
"Oh?" Leon joins them next to the table, accepting one of Claire's poisonous drink orders with a grin. "Have I? Or am I about to regret getting here?"
"Chris, make room for Leon." Claire orders, cutting off any argument with a sharp glare, and Chris obediently starts to scoot over, but Claire only lets him move a few inches before she levels him with a challenging smirk. "Oops, looks like we're all out of room here. Hope you two are fine getting cozy!"
Chris starts to protest, but Leon laughs, dropping down onto the bench seat and half into Chris's lap. "We're good. That," He gestures at Claire's offered drink, "is not. Get me something else?" The second part is directed at Sherry, who tosses finger guns at her sort-of-dad on her way to the bar.
When she returns with shots and something whiskey-based for Leon, Chris snatches two of them and downs them in quick succession. He doesn't usually drink heavily, never has, but he absolutely cannot sit here with Leon half on top of him and act normal without the assistance of alcohol. Claire starts another round of some kind of game, and Chris joins in, squished between his favorite people and happily buzzed.
PRESENT DAY
Chris groans. It all gets too blurry after that, but it's his own damn fault. Well, he blames Claire a little. For the seat situation and from her well-known diabolical truth-or-dares, which he's sure came into play at some point.
"Soooo." Claire raises an eyebrow at him. "Are you actually naked under there? If not, I'm dragging you out of bed."
"I'd like to see you try." Chris rolls his eyes at her, but reluctantly moves the pile of comfy blankets and stands up.
"Great! Wear something cute, Leon's coming."
"Fuck off." Chris says, but there's no heat behind the words, and Claire just laughs, finally leaving him to get ready in peace. She teases him about Leon regularly, but he's kept the extent of his feelings from her. Teasing about a crush, he can handle. Everyone thinks Leon is attractive. Just like everything else Chris does, though, it's all or nothing, and if he's being honest with himself, Leon's had his heart for the better part of a decade. Chris sighs and goes to take a rapid and cold shower, attempting to distract himself and shake off the hangover, but all it really does is make him cold and grumpy.
When he emerges from the bedroom, it's to the delicious smell of coffee, and he accepts the cup Claire hands over with a happy hum. She's the only one of them who understands how to work the stupidly expensive espresso machine Jill had bought on a whim, and Chris has a not-so-secret weakness for fancy little coffee drinks.
"Brown sugar cinnamon, I've been experimenting." Claire indicates the drink with a little smile, and then promptly ruins her kind gesture by looking him up and down. "I said wear something cute!"
"This is cute!" Chris protests. His jeans are dark and don't have any holes or even worn out spots, and his t-shirt is soft and solid dark green.
"Oh, you're hopeless." Claire finishes her own coffee and drops the mug in the sink with a shake of her head. "We don't have time to teach you about fashion. I can only hope you've understood the dress code for tonight. Come on, we're already about to be late."
Chris hurriedly drinks the rest of his latte, which is delicious, thankfully avoiding burning his tongue. He feels a little more human, but not quite to the point where he wants to go to brunch. Actually, he's not sure he's ever chosen to go to brunch in his entire life. He already has to go to the stupid gala tonight, isn't one social event in a day enough? And, he thinks rather petulantly, yes, he understands what formalwear is.
Claire's little car chirps at them as they approach, and there's a brief and silent Redfield standoff until she sighs and turns towards Chris's jeep instead, evidently feeling kind enough to not make him fold himself into her passenger seat. She does, however, win the keys, in part because Chris's head hurts and in part because he doesn't actually know where they're going.
Thankfully, Chris finds that he's not the only one who woke up hungover, and he slides into the booth next to Jill, who silently pushes the coffee pot toward him while she drops her head onto Claire's shoulder. Across from them, Sherry's wearing a hat, Jake has sunglasses on indoors, and Rebecca and her boyfriend are nowhere to be seen.
Of course, Leon, like Claire, looks cheerful and unaffected, dropping down into the seat next to Sherry, who leans into his one-armed hug with a soft noise. "So! How's everyone doing?" He asks brightly, and the chorus of groans that echoes around the group is comical. Highly trained and lethally competent agents, taken out by one night at a bar. Chris kicks Leon under the table.
The waiter arrives with a knowing grin, taking their orders for an absurd amount of food that gets piled in the center of the table to share. There are few things that eggs and bacon can't fix, in Chris's professional opinion. He pushes Leon's favorite breakfast potatoes in his direction and accepts sausage patties in return, and he's turning to take the plate of eggs from Jill when he catches Claire giving him an odd look. "Hm? Eggs?" He asks, confused, and Claire blinks several times rapidly and then stares intently at Leon. "What's wrong with her?" He asks nobody in particular.
Claire seems to attempt a silent conversation with Leon from across the table, making gestures that he doesn't understand, and Leon just rolls his eyes back at her and starts in on his potatoes. He looks around the table, but nobody even seems to notice what's going on. Jill's set about eating another pile of eggs and Sherry's half asleep leaning on Jake, who's on his third cup of coffee. Chris turns his attention back to Claire and Leon just in case they're about to start fighting or something, but Leon just looks a little exasperated and Claire's either gotten her message across or given up on her brief stint at telepathy, so he chalks it up to them both being weird and goes back to his breakfast.
"What was that about?" Chris asks when they're back in the car. "With Leon?" He adds, when Claire doesn't respond.
"Nothing you need to worry about." She says, but there's a hint of a smirk on her face, which scares Chris more than it has any right to. "Jill asked me to grab her clothes for tonight from her room and then I'm headed back home. Can I count on you actually wearing something appropriate?"
"Oh, you know, I was actually thinking of wearing a hawaiian shirt." Chris rolls his eyes. "Yes, you can ask Jill, she's seen me in my suit."
Claire punches him in the arm as she puts the jeep in park and heads back up to the house. "You want us to pick you up? God knows what traffic will look like."
"Yeah, sure, but I'm not sitting in the backseat like an oversized toddler." Chris stretches and yawns, already planning on a nap before he has to get ready and use all of his energy being polite and social.
"Mm. Sure." Claire collects a garment bag and jokingly salutes him. "See you tonight."