Work Text:
It started with a phone call.
Albert Wesker had been at home, sleeves rolled, cutting bell peppers for his dinner when the landline rang. He stared at it for a long second before drying his hands on his kitchen towel and answering.
"Hello?"
"Albert." William Birkin's tragically recognizable voice said on the other line. Wesker had been trying to buy himself some distance- some space. He was tired of the balancing act- of being the other man in a relationship that was rightfully his in the first place. He let a deep sigh out.
"William." Wesker greeted, flat. "What?"
"Next Tuesday is Sherry's tenth birthday." Birkin said.
"I'm aware. I've put a card in the mail." Wesker replied. "There's a twenty dollar bill enclosed."
"A card- Al, we live five minutes…" Birkin's voice trailed off for a moment. Wesker could practically hear his brows furrowing in confusion. "Whatever, I'll make sure she gets it. She measured in at forty-eight inches tall today."
"Is that where we are now? Your excuse to interrupt my dinner this evening was a height update?" Wesker asked in sheer disbelief. He pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder and continued cutting the peppers, irritated.
"Somebody's Uncle Al promised her that when she hit four feet tall, he'd take her to the amusement park."
Wesker cursed under his breath.
Had he said that?
"Well, I am one of Spencer's boys. False promises are a second language to me. Let it be a lesson to her." Wesker said. No way was he going on a family outing with the Birkins. "I've got work Tuesday."
"No, you don't." Will replied. "I just got off the phone with Chief Irons. He said you haven't used PTO since starting there, Al. You're coming with us."
"You called my boss? You fucking rat, I swear to God-"
"You're forgetting who built Umbrella's relationship with R.P.D. in the first place." Birkin hissed in reproach.
"Oh yes, it was so kind of you to get me reassigned to Raccoon City. Truly, you're a saint! We both know I love it here. " Wesker replied with terse ferocity. Will had thrown his own weight around when Wesker had completed his enlistment with the Army to bring him home, which only served to re-open the William Birkin shaped wound Wesker had been spending years trying to close.
"Are you going to break my daughter's heart, Al, really? She's looking forward to seeing you, you've really made yourself scarce." Birkin continued, voice soft and pleading in a way that never failed to get under Wesker's skin.
"I'll be there." Wesker conceded finally. "For her. Don't get any ideas."
"Thank you." Birkin said, sounding pleased. "Annette and I look forward to seeing you. Meet at our place, I'll drive."
And that's how he landed here, at the amusement park, holding cotton candy in his right hand and Sherry Birkin's sticky hand and a helium balloon in his left.
A few feet ahead, William and Annette were walking hand in hand- or, attempting to. Annette was repeatedly grabbing his hand and he was repeatedly pulling it away and worrying the hem of his jacket instead. Wesker tilted his head, squinting slightly.
"Will." He barked.
Will turned on his heel, stopping and catching Wesker's gaze with wide, shaking eyes.
Oh.
It was only then that Al actually looked at him. They'd been in the park for six hours and, at Annette's insistence, had been following a schedule of rides and shows with military precision. Annette stopped walking after a moment, realizing that Will had fallen behind her.
"Come on, guys." She said, clipped. "We're heading to the carousel."
The carousel was only a few yards ahead.
"One second, Annette." Wesker said. He stepped forward, pulling Sherry with him, and took a good look at Will.
His shoulders were drawn in tight, his eyes wide and unfocused, his face flushed.
"Albert, what?" Will asked, his tone angry.
So that's what this was.
"You feeling okay?" Wesker asked, one eyebrow cocked over his dark sunglasses.
Will just tensed further.
Annette grabbed his wrist and dragged him forward.
"Come on, quit acting like this is an execution march, Will." She snapped, pulling him forward. Will followed, body tense, trying to make himself small. His jaw was so tense Wesker could practically hear his teeth grinding from where he and Sherry stood.
"Sorry, dear." Will said, quiet, starting to shuffle his feet.
Wesker was watching Will lose emotional footing in real time, arms wrapped tight around his own body, neck snapping around every time somebody in the crowd brushed him or a rollercoaster car full of screaming park-goers passed.
"You're always so dramatic. What is it this time, do your feet hurt?" Annette asked.
"Sorry, dear." Will just repeated, more sheepish than before. "Just a little tired, I think."
"Well, you can rest when we get home. It's your daughter's birthday." Annette pushed Will's shoulder slightly- it was intended as a flirtatious, playful gesture but it very nearly knocked him off balance.
"Miss Sherry-" Al said suddenly, loud enough to pull Will and Annette's attention. He turned to Sherry and squatted to her level, not letting go of her hand. "-you said you wanted some ice cream earlier, did you not?"
"Yeah, but Mom said-"
"It's not Mom's birthday, is it?" Wesker asked, smiling, letting his sunglasses fall just far enough down his nose that Sherry could see his eyes. She grinned.
"No, it's mine!" She confirmed
"Correct. And ten is a big one, so let's get you some ice cream."
Wesker stepped forward and thrust the cotton candy into Annette's hands, and gently put a hand on Will's back, herding him closer.
"Annette, stay right here, I'll be back." Wesker said.
Her brows pulled together in frustration.
"The carousel-"
"Will still be here in a half hour." Wesker finished for her. "Stay put."
Annette crossed her arms, but Wesker turned away, not watching- or listening- as she attempted to protest. He led Sherry and Will to an ice cream parlor with indoor seating, setting them both down in a booth in the far back corner.
"You keep an eye on him, okay?" Wesker said to Sherry, pointing at Will, who seemed like he was barely even aware of what was going on. It was a joke, mostly- a job to give Sherry so she didn't run off, but he also sort of meant it. Will was the type to just… disappear if he got too overwhelmed, but Sherry was the type to hold her father's sleeve so tightly he couldn't move.
"Al." Will said- and Wesker was sure it was intended to be a warning, but it came off far too shaky for that. He leant in close, an elbow on the table, speaking in a harsh whisper almost directly into Will's ear.
"This is still a problem?" Wesker asked, a low whisper, eyes narrow.
He didn't mean the overwhelm- that was something he was near certain would never go away. Will had always been that way. He meant Annette.
"Yeah." Will admitted.
Spineless fool.
Annette, with her entire heart, adored William Birkin. It was actually moving how badly she adored him- and tragic, in a sense, because he absolutely did not deserve that kind of devotion.
Not from Annette, at least.
And she put up with most of his idiosyncrasies with ease and attention- sure she was making more complicated lunches for her elementary-aged daughter than she was for her husband, but she found it endearing. For the most part she loved him for his strange quirks, and not in spite of them.
With one unfortunate oversight.
Annette Birkin was deeply extroverted. She liked parties, she liked amusement parks, she liked concerts, she liked long wine nights with coworkers and girlfriends who had a million questions for Will that he didn't know how to answer.
William Birkin, among other things, was intensely introverted. He liked quiet days in the lab and not much else. He loved his work. He put up with very few people, and he preferred the people he did put up with to orbit his work intimately so they understood when he prattled on about it for hours.
He hated large group settings, hated loud noises, and hated messes that he didn't personally make.
And Annette wholeheartedly believed that if she could just drag him out often enough, he'd get used to it and grow to love it- and around four years into their marriage she'd started to get irritated that it hadn't happened yet, that she hadn't flipped the magical switch that would turn the awkward genius William Birkin into a people person.
And the longer the pattern continued, the less patience she had for it.
Annette and William refused to put a label on it- Annette because she refused to face the facts, and William because the label itself, for some reason, brought him a great deal of shame and frustration.
Albert Wesker didn't care.
The man was autistic.
Wesker absorbed Will's small and shaky answer and then stood, spine straight. He plastered on a smile before looking to Sherry.
"What kind of ice cream does the birthday girl want?" He asked.
"Pink." Sherry said confidently.
"Strawberry?" Wesker asked, brows pulling together in amused confusion. Sherry simply shrugged, but then looked at him with the utmost seriousness.
"With sprinkles." She finished, her face pulled into a ten year old's approximation of sternness.
"You got it, kiddo." Wesker said smoothly. "Pink with sprinkles."
Will opened his mouth to speak, but Wesker didn't let him.
"I know what you like." He said, emotionless despite the weight of the statement. He turned on his heel then and approached the counter. He stepped into line and kept his spine straight and his face composed as he waited. The teenage amusement park employees worked at a snail's pace behind the glass serving the patrons ahead of him, and the air smelled like sugar and fryer oil.
He didn't really register any of it, though. He was lost in thought.
They'd been married over eleven years now. Eleven fucking years.
And Annette still believed firmly that she could use sheer persistence to sand the brilliant William Birkin into a shape that suited her better.
And bless him, despite his other misgivings, he still tried.
Albert himself had only promised to take Sherry to the amusement park because he'd had the distinct thought that Will would fucking hate it here now. It had grown quite a bit since the last time Will had visited it, and it would be a lot more difficult to take breaks with an excited child in tow.
If he'd just been reminded with a bit more time he would've taken her on his own.
Because he was right- he was honestly impressed Will had lasted this long.
Wesker blinked hard and stretched his jaw, realizing he'd been holding it far too tightly, and stepped forward as the queue inched closer to the counter.
He glanced to the corner booth and saw Will folded inward with wide eyes and his jaw locked tight, his hands tucked close to his body as Sherry spoke animatedly about something.
Albert Wesker loved that man so much it was ugly. Loved his brilliance. Loved the way he could be positively consumed by his work. Loved that he could be unapologetically difficult. Loved that Will trusted so few people and selfishly loved that he was one of them. He loved his blue eyes, and his thick, soft thighs and-
Focus, Albert.
That was the problem, wasn't it?
That he knew William Birkin so intimately that caring for him seemed like common sense. He knew before even Will did the signs that he was getting overstimulated. The clipped responses, the slight flush in his face, the way he sought out soft leather or linen to worry in his fingers as he tried to pull himself together.
He knew how to calm him- to pull him somewhere quiet and redirect and stand close enough that the rest of the world couldn't touch him.
The really sick truth was that Will could enjoy concerts and bars and clubs. He had before. The two men had spent many an ill-advised night dancing to too-loud music, far too close, in the middle of dance floors that would make even the social butterfly Annette blush.
Wesker just knew when and how and where to take breaks, and how to strategically frame those breaks to make Will feel like they were a part of the night and not accommodations. Cigarette breaks, fresh air, snacks, falsified headaches.
And yes, Will was smart enough to know what they really were, but he was also sensitive enough to be deeply touched and appreciative that Wesker had managed to work them in.
And so now, as Wesker ordered ice cream, he found himself sitting inside one of those manufactured breaks realizing that it truly wasn't difficult. It didn't take anything away from the day, and yet Annette couldn't be bothered to do anything but be deeply irritated that her husband needed them.
Two scoops of strawberry ice cream with extra rainbow sprinkles (because it was her birthday after all) for Sherry.
And one scoop of chocolate ice cream with peanut butter topping served on the side, because William didn't want it just on the top, he wanted to portion it himself so that every bite would taste exactly the same.
An absurd, stupid request that took up more time than it was worth.
Yet Wesker ordered it without hesitation.
He paid the extortionate amusement park prices without complaint- the simple order totaling well over the $20 he had planned to spend on Sherry's birthday- and returned to the table, easily balancing the cups, spoons, and napkins all without dropping Sherry's balloon.
Sherry's eyes went wide as she saw him approach.
"TWO scoops?" She asked, grinning.
"Oh, Annette's going to kill both of us. Great." Will said, voice still a bit hollow but certainly better than before. "Was bound to happen eventually."
Wesker chuckled despite himself and set the two cups in front of Will, one of them a singular scoop of chocolate ice cream, the other a small cup of peanut butter topping.
Will swallowed hard and looked at the ice cream like it had hurt him.
"You remembered." He said, still just staring at the two cups with blue eyes that both Wesker and Will would insist were not slightly watery.
"Mom says getting two cups like that is bad for the planet. A waste of paper." Sherry said, matter-of-fact, her mouth full of ice cream.
Your mother personally facilitated the dumping of pharmaceutical waste into the waterways of Raccoon City.
He didn't say that out loud, instead, he just pressed his lips into a tight line for a moment, watching Will's shoulders fall slightly as he took his first bite of ice cream.
"Sometimes," Wesker started. He paused, trying to find the words that would absolve Will but not undermine Annette. "It's okay to be selfish."
"Cool." Sherry said.
Wesker blinked slowly. Children.
"You two enjoy, okay? I'll come get you soon." Wesker said. He took the balloon in his hand and leant forward, gently tying it around Will's wrist- not too tight, just enough that it wouldn't fly away.
As Wesker tied the knot (and let his fingers linger a tad too long at the inside of Will's wrist), Will leant forward slightly.
"Thanks, Al." He said, a faint whisper.
Wesker just nodded before straightening up and taking his leave, ruffling a hand through Sherry's hair as he passed.
The soft sounds and air conditioning in the ice cream parlor dissipated into oppressive Midwestern heat and the all-encompassing noise of the amusement park as he stepped out, and he inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower.
He could still feel the ghost of a familiar pulse at the pads of his fingers, could still see deep blue eyes going soft and wet at such a basic act of care. He worked his jaw hard enough that he felt it pop and click as he walked towards the carousel with harsh, purposeful strides.
He was trying desperately to calm himself before he said something unfortunate.
Because as badly as he'd like to publicly dress down Annette Birkin for her misgivings, for her poor parenting, for her mistreatment of William, for her last-fucking-name-god-fucking-damnit- that would accomplish nothing but ruining Sherry's birthday and making Will feel guilty.
And he would feel guilty. He would feel broken and frustrated and blame himself for needing a break in the first place.
Moreover, Annette didn't like Al as it was, which was well within her rights and deserved, but if he said what he felt like saying? If he chewed her out like she was a poorly behaved member of S.T.A.R.S.? He risked losing more access, and despite the fact that that would be immensely helpful to his emotional health, he couldn't bear the thought.
The worst part was that Annette probably genuinely thought the day was going great. She was probably genuinely impressed that it had taken Will six whole hours to break- she probably viewed that as progress. She loved William- deeply and earnestly. She was probably, in her own wrong way, proud of him.
Wesker stepped around a group of teens arguing about a carnival game prize in the middle of the path and found his way to the carousel, where Annette stood with her arms crossed, tapping her feet like the ice cream break was a major problem and not, at worst, a minor inconvenience. He slowed his pace slightly, grinding his teeth.
That's why this got under his skin so badly.
She had something Wesker wanted with humiliating intensity, and this is what she did with it. Stood in the middle of an amusement park like a small break to regulate was worth being red-faced and visibly impatient over. She had William Birkin and she handled him so poorly that Wesker wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.
You have something rare. Something precious. Something far more intelligent than the two of us combined. Something funny and soft and beautiful. And you're annoyed he needs breaks?
The moment he was within earshot, Annette started speaking- her tone exasperated and sympathy-seeking.
"I don't know what his problem is today." She bemoaned, rolling her eyes. "This is an amusement park, not a warzone."
Wesker stopped in front of her and said nothing.
"He's been like this all morning- you know him, he always gets like this. Sulking, dragging his feet, pulling holes in his clothes." She scoffed lightly, speaking as if she wholeheartedly expected commiseration. "I swear, Al, sometimes I think he just enjoys being difficult."
Sometimes, under the right contexts, he did. Wesker didn't say that though, just kept staring at her through dark sunglasses in complete and utter silence. He ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip in thought- he could still see Will staring at that stupid side cup of peanut butter like it was something truly and utterly precious.
Annette frowned slightly.
"What?" She asked, clearly offended on principle that Wesker hadn't joined her in lambasting her husband without him present.
Wesker inhaled, and when he finally spoke he did so with terrifying calm- the exact Captain Wesker cadence he used prior to reaming Chris Redfield in front of the entire precinct.
"Annette, may I ask a question?" He asked carefully.
Annette didn't respond, she just pulled her brows together in impatient intrigue.
"You're a doctor, correct?"
"Yes. We all are." Annette replied, as if it were obvious.
"Let me rephrase, then. You're an M.D.- yes?" Wesker asked.
"Where are you going with this?" Annette asked. "Yes, I'm an M.D., but I don't practice- not like William."
Wesker bit the inside of his cheeks. He would hardly call experimenting on human subjects practicing medicine, but he held that thought. He hummed thoughtfully for a moment.
"Right. You work primarily in research- so perhaps your bedside manner is rusty." He said.
"Albert-" Annette started, her tone warning.
"Let me ask a different question." He said. "Say you were practicing, if somebody came into your office flushed, visibly distressed, struggling with auditory processing, and demonstrating escalating irritability, would you classify that as theatrics?"
"Hypoglycemia." She answered, flat.
Wesker barked a humorless laugh.
"Hysterical." He managed, flat. "Say you'd seen them stress-eat two churros in the last hour?"
"Albert, can you stop pathologizing him?" She asked with a bitter, nervous laugh. "He's just-" She waved her hand vaguely. "-quirky."
She paused.
"And dramatic and self-centered to boot." She finished.
Wesker stared at her, glad he was wearing his sunglasses so she couldn't see the way his left eye was twitching.
"Annette." He said, flat disbelief dripping through his voice. "He graduated medical school at fifteen years of age."
Annette opened her mouth, but didn't say anything.
"He purchased a stockpile of lab coats in every size when his favorite supplier went under just in case, as if he'll ever be an extra small or a 2XL." Wesker continued.
"Well with the way he's been packing on the-"
"Annette!" Wesker snapped, fingers curling painfully around nothing.
Of course she'd shame him about his weight too. Of course she'd think that was funny. Something just short of homicidal rage flickered in Wesker's chest, accompanied by an undercurrent of intense jealousy.
When your body was never yours to own, you learned to appreciate softer, more human shapes, but of course Annette wouldn't know anything about that.
"You chose him." Wesker said, well aware that his face was red and his posture was ramrod straight and intimidating. "You cannot pick and choose the pieces of him you get to keep. It doesn't work that way."
Spoken like a man fed scraps of pieces and parts.
A man who treasured the small parts he got to hold for moments at a time when he longed to keep them and cherish them.
"I don't care if the word scares you." Wesker spat. He wanted desperately to reach out and grasp her shoulders and beg her to understand what she had- to beg her to at least treat him with kindness. If Will was going to so stubbornly cling to the concept of being a family man- to the social acceptability of a wife and a child and a house with a backyard- he deserved to at least be comfortable in that lie. "You can use whatever word you like, quirky, eccentric, unorthodox- I don't care."
Wesker paused, watching Annette's face cycle between different levels of rage and frustration. This was going in one ear and out the other, he knew, but he was going to say it anyway.
"But to use your own diminutive language, you cannot adore the fun quirks and expect him to grow out of the ones that bother you."
"Oh, like you'd know." Annette said, waving dismissively.
Wesker took a deep breath, offense and frustration settling deep behind his sternum.
He would know, actually, and though he knew on some level she knew that, he didn't dare speak it into existence in the middle of an amusement park. He didn't dare tell her that actually, the minute his plane had landed in Raccoon City, he'd been practically jumped by her husband in an airport bathroom.
He didn't tell her how touched he was that Will had even gone into the airport, because airports were a unique kind of sensory hell in and of themselves.
He didn't tell her that he kept peanut butter in the fridge of his office at R.P.D. despite Chris Redfield's peanut allergy because when the lab got crowded and loud Will liked to head to the station for his lunch breaks.
He didn't tell her that he'd had dimmers installed over the lightswitches in his apartment specifically to make it a safer place for Will to crash after long weeks of holding it together and performing a life he desperately thought he was supposed to want.
"Here's what's going to happen." He said, instead of any of that. "I'm going to go collect Sherry and Will. You are going to take Sherry on the carousel, and I'm going to take Will over to the designated smoking area. And then we will all meet up and continue celebrating Sherry- because it's her birthday- which you seem to have forgotten in your haste to erase your husband's disability."
"Oh, amazing." Annette said, the words sharp. "Even at my daughter's birthday party, you've still manufactured a way to get him alone."
Her gaze dragged over Wesker from his boots to the crown of his head, disgusted and knowing.
Wesker watched as she did, the loud band organ soundtrack of the carousel grating on the both of them.
"You really can't help yourself, can you?" Annette went on, no less furious.
Wesker closed his eyes for a long moment, letting out a dragging breath. There it was.
"I simply don't want Sherry exposed to all that secondhand smoke." He said, which was a half-truth. Will needed a cigarette, and dragging a ten year old away from the carousel to sit in a cloud of cigarette smoke would be ridiculous.
But also, Annette was correct. Wesker had worked hard to build distance, and yet here he stood in the middle of an amusement park playing the role of doting uncle between William and Annette. He wanted to steal just a few moments alone. A few moments to pretend.
"Would you rather I take her on the carousel and you take Will?" He finished, the words smooth.
Annette seemed slightly disarmed by the alternative offer, and deflated a bit.
"No, no- she's going to want me there." Annette said.
Wesker nodded slowly, simultaneously relieved that Annette was giving him ground, and disgusted that after he'd just wasted breath begging her to choose Will for once in her life, she still wouldn't.
Wesker turned then, but stopped, and before he could think better of it, he spoke.
"I tried to stay far away." He said, the words just barely audible over the buzz of the crowd.
He had. He had beseeched to Umbrella that if they insisted on entrenching him into government and law enforcement that a small metropolitan police department wasn't the place to do it- he'd even offered to reenlist in the military. But Birkin and Irons had had some kind of lucrative idea, and Wesker was, evidently, the only man for the job.
Or at least the only man for the job that knew how Will took his coffee, what brand of cigarettes he smoked, and exactly where he liked to be touched.
Annette breathed a frustrated exhale, carding hair from her face with manicured fingernails.
"Wouldn't have changed much." She sighed out with a helpless shrug.
Wesker nodded once.
William Birkin was intelligent, sensitive, and had an incredible capacity for attention and care once you got onto his good side.
He was also one crafty son of a bitch.
Wesker often wondered, during his deployment in Edonia, if Will would find some kind of halfcocked excuse to find him there.
Wesker set off then towards the ice cream parlor, irritation still lingering, keeping his shoulder tight and his teeth clamped, though it had dulled to some extent. The moment he stepped through the door and the cool, conditioned air settled over him, his posture dropped into something a bit more casual.
His eyes found the corner booth he'd left them in immediately, and Sherry was now sitting next to Will on his side of the table, ice cream abandoned, asleep.
Wesker stopped in his tracks, just staring for a moment at Will, who was clearly breathing a bit easier now, and Sherry, who had a smile on her face even in her sleep.
She didn't get a lot of time with either of her parents, but especially not her father. Wesker felt something cold in his chest get just a bit warmer as he continued his approach, and cursed himself for it even as a smile tugged at the corner of his thin lips.
"The second scoop did her in." Will said, shaking his head. Wesker chuckled quietly and crossed his arms, taking in the scene. It was rare to see Will so peaceful. His mind was always moving, always running too fast, which usually translated to his body as well.
After a moment's silence he slid into the booth across the table from Sherry and Will, careful not to wake her, and didn't move when his long legs tangled with Will's under the table. After all, it was a tiny booth, and Albert Wesker was not a short man. It couldn't be helped. It didn't mean anything.
Will's eyes met Wesker's sunglasses and he shrank a bit.
"Sorry." He said quietly.
"For what?" Wesker asked.
"For the whole… production. For dragging you here- for… for everything." Will murmured, his voice low and impossibly sincere.
He didn't move his legs, if anything he rooted them in place.
"Did you think I was angry at you?" Wesker asked, the question coming out much softer than he'd intended.
Will shrugged the shoulder that Sherry wasn't sleeping against.
"Annette wants-"
"Annette and I are very similar people." Wesker said.
Will gave him a wide eyed, baffled look.
"She and I both want things that we cannot have." Wesker continued.
"Al-" Will started, straightening slightly.
"And she wants a husband who isn't-"
"Don't say it."
Wesker sighed. Which one was he not supposed to say? A queer? Autistic? A workaholic? Desperately and inextricably connected to his first flame?
"Yeah." Wesker agreed. He let one slender finger lazily point vaguely in Sherry's direction. "Little ears."
Will nodded, grateful.
"Wake her up, I think if Annette doesn't get on that carousel in the next five minutes she's going to have a cardiac event." Wesker said.
A half-cocked smile grew slowly and mischievously on Will's face before he spoke.
"Think if we wait it out long enough she'll get mad enough to kick me out for a night?"
Wesker swatted his hand playfully.
"William." He chided. He wiped the smile off his face quickly and then gently pushed on Sherry's shoulder.
Sherry lifted her head and blinked a few times, clearly disoriented, but then her face locked on Wesker's and her smile widened.
"Uncle Al!" She said. "You're back!"
Wesker gave a single nod.
"You ready for the carousel, kiddo?"
She nodded enthusiastically.
"What do you say to Al?" Will asked, one eyebrow lifted as he looked at Sherry.
Sherry gasped like she'd forgotten something important and scrambled quickly out of the booth, stepping around the table and throwing herself into Wesker's booth knees first. She wrapped both her arms around him enthusiastically.
"Thank you for the ice cream!" She shouted, eager. Wesker smiled and caught her with a one armed embrace in return. "We both feel a lot better."
Will straightened up immediately, shock taking over his face. He moved so quickly the balloon around his wrist bobbed through the air.
"What do you mean by that?" Will asked, face twisted in something akin to horror.
Sherry just shrugged and hugged Wesker a bit tighter for a moment before jumping out of the booth and grabbing Will's hand.
"C'mon. Carousel!" She urged, tugging.
Will went along for a moment, but stopped once he was at his feet.
"Princess." He said.
She blinked up at him impatiently.
"What?"
Wesker watched with interest, letting his chin rest in his hand, trapped at the table by Sherry standing in the way.
"What do you mean we both felt better?" Will asked, the question slow and almost unsure.
Sherry scoffed like the answer was obvious- like Will was silly for even asking, which he was. Anybody with eyes could tell he was struggling.
"You just seemed like you needed some ice cream." She said, eyes bright and innocent. "Now, c'mon!"
She successfully pulled Will towards the exit.
Wesker stood and followed, laughing, eyes on the balloon tied loosely to Will's wrist bouncing in the air as he was pulled along.
It didn't take them long to make it to the carousel, where Annette immediately softened when she saw Sherry pulling Will along. Wesker walked a comfortable distance behind them, watching. Sherry let her father go and ran to her mother with open arms before looking up at her, wide-eyed.
"Mama!" She said excitedly. "Uncle Al gave me TWO scoops of ice cream!"
Annette looked to Wesker immediately.
"Is that so? Before we've even had lunch?" She asked, voice too chipper- kind enough to fool Sherry, so kind that both Will and Wesker knew they were in trouble.
"It's her birthday." Wesker defended, putting both palms up in resignation.
Annette forced a smile that looked more like a pained grimace.
"Sweetheart-" Annette started smoothly, glaring daggers at Will as she crouched slightly to Sherry's level. "-Dad and Uncle Al are going to take a walk while you and I ride the carousel, is that alright?"
Sherry gasped.
"Gosh." She said.
All three adults froze in their places, staring at her with varying degrees of intrigue. Sherry looked to Wesker, and then to her father, face inquisitive and intent.
"You guys really like going on walks together." She said, as if she were just now realizing it. "You should be on like… the Olympic walking team."
Wesker made a noise that he smoothly covered with a cough, eyes wide behind dark sunglasses.
Annette let her head fall slack on her shoulders, looking straight up like she was asking God directly for patience and strength and maybe a new husband.
Will chuckled.
"Goodness, Sherry. That's a great idea." He said, a smirk pulling one side of his lips. "We could wear matching tracksuits."
MATCHING TRACKSUITS?
Sherry giggled, eyes bright, and opened her mouth to continue speaking. Before she could, Wesker moved, closing the distance between himself and William with long, quick strides.
"Right." He said, a bit tense, before catching Will firmly by his wrist and pulling him away. "Enjoy the carousel!" He called behind him.
"Okay!" Sherry called back, with a dramatic wave of her arm.
Will dissolved into silent, breathless laughter the moment he wasn't facing Annette, face going red with it as he was pulled along at a speed closer to a jog than it was a walk. The balloon bobbed desperately behind him as he tried to fall into step with Wesker.
"Matching tracksuits?" Wesker hissed. "And here I thought you married a woman because you didn't want to look gay."
Will let out a noise that was somewhere between a desperate laugh and a wolf's howl, completely losing composure.
Wesker didn't let himself laugh, despite the fact that Will's laughter tended to be almost as contagious as the things he worked on in his lab.
"Jesus, Al. Not pulling any punches today, are you?" Will asked, wheezing.
"What is wrong with you?" Wesker inquired, finally slowing as they approached a semicircle of benches, each with a standing ash tray between them.
Will managed to get his laughter under control enough to fish a crumpled pack of Camels from the breast pocket of his jacket, and pulled one loose, sliding it between his lips as they approached the smoking section.
Wesker crossed his arms, watching.
As had happened probably thousands of times before, Will held the pack out, offering a cigarette to Wesker. Wesker waved dismissively, and Will put the pack back into his pocket silently, still fighting the remnants of laughter as he fished out his lighter.
"What's wrong with me?" Will asked, the words coming out slightly muffled by the cigarette between his lips as he lit it. He took a pull from the cigarette and visibly loosened as he exhaled. "Interesting question- let's try the Socratic method. Why haven't you called since coming home?"
Home.
Home.
The word hit Wesker like a bullet, landing cleanly in the right side of his chest and lodging there instead of exiting. He bit the inside of his mouth a moment, throat tightening as he tried to find a clean answer.
"William-"
"No, seriously." Will interrupted, pinching the cigarette between two fingers and knocking it lightly against the ashtray. "You don't call, you barely answer the phone when I call. Even Annette has been asking where the hell you've gone. I keep having to hunt you down."
Wesker looked away, jaw tightening.
Above them, a wooden rollercoaster creaked as a car full of screaming passengers rolled over the tracks.
"I can show up at the station, I can show up at your place, but you never call." Will finished. The words weren't venomous, they were stated plainly- simple facts.
The smoking area sat empty around them, providing relative privacy, and it was taking everything in both men not to take advantage of that privacy.
"I cannot keep doing this." Wesker said finally. This was it. It was time for the house of cards to come down.
Will stilled, cigarette halfway to his lips, burning uselessly between his fingers.
Wesker let out a slow breath, eyes fixed on the cigarette instead of Will's face as he continued.
"You made your choices a long time ago. It's about time we both move on. I am here today for Sherry's benefit. Not yours and not mine."
The lie landed gracelessly between them, like some kind of heavy dead thing set before the two men on the ground, twitching. Wesker let his eyes follow the cigarette as it was finally pulled to Will's lips.
Mistake. He was now staring at his lips. He closed his eyes and physically turned his head away.
"You were gone." Will said. There was no heat to his tone, just something exhausted and sincere and a little embarrassed. "For so long. Years."
"Mmhm." Wesker confirmed idly.
"Not a day went by that you weren't on my mind." Will admitted. "Not one."
Wesker's throat tightened hard and he looked back to Will. There was a kind of pained smile on his face as he smoked, and he shook his head softly like he, too, knew how ridiculous he sounded. He scrubbed a hand down his face, cigarette still trapped between his index and middle fingers.
The same was, unfortunately, true for Albert Wesker.
He was a much colder man than he'd been when he and Will met all those years ago. One jaded by time and institutional abuse and now the horrors of war. He had a vision for his life, and it wasn't one that love slotted into neatly. Even the brief tryst he'd shared with a woman in Edonia had been flat and deeply unfulfilling, which only served to reinforce that view.
And then mail call would come and he'd get a letter with a postmark from Raccoon City, written in chicken-scratch prescription pad cursive he'd learned to read years ago, and his self-image and long-term plans would be shattered for the ten minutes it took to read and burn the letter.
"Yeah." Was all Wesker could manage in reply. An acknowledgment. It was all he had in him.
Will laughed softly at that, leaving the cigarette parked between his lips a moment as he cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit he'd developed young.
"If guilt alone could've fixed this, we both would've been free years ago, Al." He said, something almost wistful in his tone. The balloon moving above his head caught Wesker's eye as Will pulled the cigarette from his lips and ashed it. He pushed a few stray hairs behind his ear and put the cigarette back between his lips, leaving it there. "But every time I try to let go it feels like losing a limb."
"Goddamnit, Will." Wesker said, eyes- burning as they were- still fixed on the balloon.
He stepped forward, closing some of the distance between them, and took the cigarette directly from Will's mouth. He put it to his own lips, taking a harsh lung-burning drag, the nicotine headrush hitting him hard immediately. He blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth in a frustrated huff and put the cigarette back into Will's mouth, letting his thumb linger against the man's bottom lip just a half-second too long.
He swallowed hard, revolted by the smoky taste lingering in his mouth, and stared up at the balloon being pushed around by the wind.
In 1977, the first and only amusement park in Arklay County opened. A small family owned park with one rollercoaster, a ferris wheel, and a few carnival games.
Two teenage boys snuck away from their obligations on a warm summer day shortly after it opened, determined to share a day that didn't revolve solely around evolution, rebirth, and propaganda.
They were caught, of course, because they'd thoughtlessly brought back a single souvenir.
A red helium balloon, tied around a wrist and forgotten entirely by the end of the day. They'd intended to pop it or let it go before getting back, and despite the immense intelligence between them, had entirely forgotten.
The ramifications had been intense, though try as he might, Wesker couldn't remember what they actually were. He only remembered the day, and of course the balloon itself.
"Tell me to leave." Wesker said suddenly, prying his eyes from the balloon and letting them land on Will's face. "Right now. Mean it. Please."
Will looked at him for a long moment before taking one last pull from his cigarette and putting it out on the standing ash tray. His eyes flickered up above his head to Sherry's shiny red balloon, and then to the gingerly tied knot at his wrist.
"You know, Al." Will started, eyes still cast downward, a small and helpless smile pulling at his lips. "We kept reminding ourselves to pop it… but I think you would've had to cut my hand off at the wrist to get rid of that damned balloon."
Wesker laughed, eyes closing softly- it was an involuntary shake of his shoulders that came with a strangled, desperate noise, high pitched and more painful than it was joyous.
"That so?" Wesker asked, incredulous, chest still trembling with laughter, eyes wet with what was almost certainly seasonal allergies, or maybe a bad reaction to the cigarette- nothing more.
Will laughed too now, the absurdity of the situation dawning on him all at once. They stood just inches apart now, but neither man moved to initiate touch.
"Yeah." Will confirmed through laughter. "Too late to cut the string now."