Chapter Text
"Ow– that hurts you bastard!" You hiss, glaring down at Albert. He kisses the side of your knee as an apology, his hands gentle as he adjusts your ankle on the pillows.
A week ago you'd decided to go rollerskating with your friends for fun. Unbeknownst to you, fate would be against you and you'd fall, eating absolute shit. Your ankle had twisted in an unnatural way and at first you believed you'd only twisted it, that was until you couldn't get up. You'd called Albert in a frenzy– your voice shaking and your breathing shallow as you explained you couldn't get up. He had to drive all the way to the bowl & skate to carry you out.
You wound up with 3 fractures, and soon you'd be receiving surgery to put them back together. Of course, you cried when you found out.
"Sorry, darling, but you have to keep it elevated to prevent more swelling." Wesker says oddly soft. Despite being a figure of domination and stoicism, he'd been nothing but a sweetheart once he took you to the hospital. He runs a gloved hand over your splint covered shin, careful not to touch your broken ankle, and the hand slowly slides up your thigh to give it a reassuring squeeze.
"But it hurts."
"I know, dear, I know, but I want you to heal properly. We want you to be able to rollerskate again, don't we?"
"Fuck no. I'm not doing anything that stats or ends with the word 'skate'." At that he chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter for a moment. He always had such a smooth, sexy laugh, as strange as that sounds.
"Do you need anything, dear? Something to eat or drink? I'll grab you an ice back in a moment." He moves his hand to your head, caressing your cheek with his thumb.The leather is cool and soft. "Some painkillers? It will only be Tylenol though– the doctor said no aspirin so your blood doesn't get thinned out before your surgery."
"Dick."
"Pardon?"
"Dick? You know, like cock? Penis? Schlong? Meat–" He cuts you off with the raise of his hand, he pinches the bridge of his nose with a cross between a chuckle and sigh.
"Dear, I don't need to hear your dictionary of every slang term for male genitalia."
"Alright, suit yourself. So...about that dick?" You wiggle your eyebrows with a smirk, and he lets out another laugh.
"As tempting as you are my little minx, if just adjusting your ankle hurt then I believe making love to you would be even more painful." He kisses your temple softly and his lips linger for a moment.
"Sex is a natural painkiller though! And it's exercise, which is also something I should do to stay in shape since I can't move much at the moment!"
"My love..." He raises an eyebrow at you– letting you know that at the moment it's a firm no, and you deflate. "Perhaps later in the week, love, when you're feeling a little better. And don't forget...good things come to those who wait." He kisses your lips softly.
"Alright, alright, fine. Can we settle for cuddling instead?" You ask, leaning back and onto the silk pillows of his bed. You hear him hum a yes before he leaves the room.
He returns after a few moments with a soda, a bottle of Tylenol and an ice pack. You grit your teeth as he gently grabs your knee, lifting it up just high enough to slide the ice pack underneath it. He kisses your knee cap before crawling into bed beside you. He takes off the lid to the pills and grabs two, bringing one to your lips.
"Albert– my arms work, I can do it myself." You raise an eyebrow, but he doesn't pull away, and he presses his thumb on your bottom lip. Instinctively you open up and he pushes the pill in. Before the nasty medicine taste start to kick in he cracks open the soda and brings it to your mouth, allowing you to drink. You don't feel it slide down your throat. He repeats the process once more for the other painkiller and you sigh when you're done.
"Very good. Now..." He scoots close to you, gently grabbing the side of your head so he can bring it into his pecs.
"Mmm...boobies." You murmur quietly, burying your face into his chest. His shirt smells like clean laundry, tobacco, and his cologne. His chest moves when he sighs.
"They're pecs. Muscles. They are not breasts."
"Boobies." You insist, and he doesn't fight you further. He carefully pulls the duvet over your bodies and scoots even closer to you until he's pressed firmly to your side. One arm is slung around your abdomen while the other remains resting just above your head. He lovingly strokes your side with one hand, playing with your hair with the other.
"You're touchy." You mumble, your own hands finding purchase on his chest.
"Do you want me to stop then?"
"No." You answer almost immediately, and he nods. There's a comfortable silence, and eventually he reaches behind him to turn off his lamp, leaving the room in darkness. It was only the afternoon– but it appeared bedtime would come early.
"Rest, dear. I'll take care if you, alright? You're in good hands." He assures, kissing your cheek, then moving his head so he can kiss your lips. You say nothing in reply and shut your eyes.
This was going to be a long 3 months.