Chris Redfield x Reader

Sixteen

"No!", the answer slipped from your tongue without your brains permission.

Surprised by the sudden outburst, his eyebrows rose.

"No need to yell at me.", he commented in a dry manner, obviously overwhelmed by the harsh reaction.

You blushed, embarrassed by your own incapability to keep your emotions in check.

Why now?

Why, out of all the moments you and Chris had, did you have to react this emotional?

A simple no would have been enough, denying his expectations in any would have been fine. Instead, you had to scream it into his face like an idiot.

Ashamed, you squeezed your eyes shut and took a few deep breaths before looking him in the eyes again.

"That's not what I meant.", you mumbled. "I- ugh... How do I even start? The dreams are... different. No dream is like the other but they all have things in common."

"Want to talk to me?"

You sighed.

"No. I don't want to. But I want you to know that you are the only good thing in those dreams."

Now, he seemed surprised.

"You- You dream about me?", he asked, baffled.

The top of his cigarette calmly continued to burn as he leaned further towards your direction, so he was able to see your face better.

But it wasn't the entire face he had to see in order to tell if you were messing with him. For some reason, your eyes were enough to tell. The emotions he was able to see in them were always so strong, so pure as if they came from the bottom of your heart.

He wasn't able to read other people through their eyes, but whenever he looked into your (E/C) orbs, he just knew.

You blushed, looking away. You knew exactly what he was trying but didn't want to tell him to stop.

"Would you hate me if I did?", you asked.

A soft breath escaped his lips.

"No.", he hesitated. "I dream of you too."

Surprised, your head turned around. With wide eyes, you looked at him.

"You do?"

He nodded.

A thin shimmer of red spread on his face. Maybe it was the heat in the car or the frosty wind outside, but there was red spreading over his face.

"It's nothing... dirty or anything...", he tried to explain himself. "It's just... Sometimes I fall asleep and your face lights up the dark. It happens... more often than I want to admit. I can't control it."

You leaned forwards, your head already inside the car again.

"I- I can't control it either. I've read a bit about it. Some psychological books say it's a trauma response. Our brains hold onto the one stable thing we had, back in those difficult times. Like a lighthouse in the dark."

He lowered his head, laughing. But actually, he just tried to escape your eyes. The sight made him nervous, for whatever reason.

Your eyes wandered through the car, catching a glimpse at the tip of his cigarette, which was dangling between his fingers.

The weight of the growing ash was already causing it to bend. A few minutes more and it would fall off.

"I'm glad.", he suddenly said and looked back at you again.

Your eyes snapped back to him, locking with his.

"About what?"

"That you are my lighthouse in the dark."

You snorted, placing a knee on the passenger seat to support you. Your eyes jumped to the cigarette again, only to return to him.

"I am a terrible choice, Redfield.", you said, slipping back into the warm car. "I'd cause all the ships to sink in the dark."

He smiled mildly, tilting his head so that he was able to have a better look at your face.

He had missed the sight of it, he noticed. All those years he had seen this face in his dreams, but now that you were here, right in front of him, he couldn't believe that it was the same.

You had grown up, he figured. Not that he was complaining. Now, he was able to enjoy your company even more. Maybe even a bit too much.

His lips parted as he took a deep breath in. He could feel your warm breath stroking over his face whenever you breathed out.

"You're not a worse choice than I am.", he whispered, suddenly caught up in the sight of your face. "I- at least I have a nice view and a comforting hand that holds onto me before I sink."

The tip of his cigarette bend even further. The ash threatened to fall into the ground, spreading through the entire car.

Out of reflex, your hand reached out, causing you to jerk forward with your entire body. Your fingers wrapped around the cigarette, just at the right time to catch the ash. It wasn't burning, not even warm, but felt weirdly scratchy on your skin.

Struck by surprise, Chris's eyes stared at your hand, before meeting yours again.

"You're so nervous.", he laughed, still a bit surprised. "Maybe you should try smoking as well. Keeps the nerves calm."

He was joking, but you could see how awkward he felt.

Your face was so close to his now, you cold smell the smoke in his breath. Somehow, it wasn't as unpleasant as the smell of cigarette itself. The scent of smoke mixed with his cologne. It smelled a bit spicy, almost like the taste of whiskey.

"Yeah...", you mumbled, leaning towards him. "Maybe I should..."

Without warning, you pressed your lips onto his.

At first, he was surprised but closed his eyes and leaned into it after a moment. His free hand moved to the back of your head, not allowing you to slip away. With his tongue gently sliding along you lips, he asked for permission to enter.

You allowed him, taking in the taste of smoke and a bit of blood.

"Chris...", you whispered as he separated from you to catch his breath.

His breath was shaking. He wanted to say something. But as he leaned in for another kiss a loud sound filled the heated silence.

"Captain.", a male voice suddenly sounded.

Frightened, the both of you flinched.

"Hm...", he growled, grabbing his communicator. "What is it?"

"I've confirmed the death of Ethan Winters. I wasn't able to retrieve the body, but I've recorded evidence."