Unaware of the virus-enhanced Russian jock was on a search for him, Stein sat in the lab he had carved out as his own since moving in, leaning back in his chair and considering his latest piece of work.
Virology wasn't his speciality, but nevertheless, he was busy 'improving' a stray cat he'd found outside the complex. The cat wasn't doing too well, though. Its fur was coming out in patches and its teeth were lengthening, and Stein turned the bolt thoughtfully as he watched the changes the virus wrought on the animal.
It was sealed up tight in a glass cage. Couldn't be too careful.
Krauser didn't take long finding him - there were only so many labs that Birkin hadn't taped off as hazardous for one reason or another. Though he had to admit, he was almost surprised Birkin wasn't right next to him hovering around like an annoying mosquito.
"Where's your pillow-munching little bitch?" He was never really the type to exchange niceties. Especially when he was out of his element. These labs were Birkin's element, Stein's element, and to an extent Wesker's element. To Krauser, they were too small, too choked full of stuff he couldn't understand, and had one too many crazies who had no real purpose here.
Plus, that cat-thing was fucking freaky looking and anything freaky looking put him on edge since he got back from Spain.
Stein sensed Krauser's approach long before he got there, and he only looked around when he addressed him. He shifted in his chair, swinging his leg around so he was straddling the back and looking up at the Russian.
He beamed innocently, and reached out to drop the cover over the cage with the cat in it. He'd have to record his observations later. "If you mean Birkin, he's upstairs. Are you looking for him?"
It wasn't often that Krauser even talked to him - coming to find him was unprecedented - so it was a pretty safe assumption that he wasn't here for Stein.
Krauser rolled his eyes. Of course I don't mean Birkin. 'Pillow-munching little bitch' clearly refers to Wesker. Dumbass. "Tch. I was looking for you." He drew his knife slowly and started idly flipping it in the air. A not-so-subtle threat, but then subtlety was hardly his cup of tea. If there was one thing he did not have time for, it was dancing with words with some otherworldly son of a bitch that invaded their inner sanctum and was a danger to them all. It wasn't anyone's fault that Birkin was a fucking retard and could fall head over heels for anyone who shows him the slightest bit of interest, but it was still something that needed to be fixed sooner than later. For now, though, Krauser would just have to deal with the stem of the problem rather than the roots.
"I think you and I need to have a talk." He caught his knife expertly, holding it just in case this ended up turning into a fight. "About Birkin."
Stein's smile vanished when Krauser drew the knife. He got slowly to his feet, planting his foot on the rolling chair and pushing it back under his desk, then taking a slow step towards Krauser with his hands casually in his pockets.
It gave him a bit of room to manoeuvre if the man decided to come at him. The lab wasn't exactly the ideal place for a battle, but it was also Stein's turf. He didn't want to fight Krauser bare handed, but there were half a dozen things within reach he could use in a pinch.
"Okay," he said, withdrawing a hand from his pocket with a battered - and almost empty - packet of his favourite brand of cigarettes, and shaking one free. He put it between his mouth, but didn't light it. "Let's chat."
Krauser resisted the urge to tell the scientist to sit the fuck back down or at least back off, but he knew it was a pointless argument and would probably end badly. "You light that thing and we're going to have another problem." Birkin might have bitched about it for health reasons, but Krauser was mostly concerned with the fact that it smelled fucking terrible.
"I'm pretty damn sure you're killing him." Even though no Birkin would mean a significantly quieter, more peaceful life, dealing with Wesker alone and after failing to protect him... Well, Birkin's death meant his death.
"I'm not killing him," Stein said, calmly. "Don't worry."
He was tempted to light up, anyway, but he didn't really want to. He wanted the cigarette between his lips - it was a bit of a battle accessory for him. If he lit up, it'd burn down, and he had so few of his favourite brand left.
"If that's all you have to say, you can leave now. I have work to do," he added, half-turning as if to resume his seat.
Krauser couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Really? Then explain why the stupid fucker's been stumbling uselessly around like some kind of retarded anemic if it hasn't been you." He was no where near in the right mood for Stein's bullshit, flippant attitude right now. Or ever. And telling him not to worry was utterly ridiculous, considering Krauser was absolutely not worried.
He'd never been the type to enjoy taking "no" for an answer and getting ushered out of the lab so Stein could work wasn't winning him any points. "Tch. If you actually 'loved' Birkin, you'd care a bit more."
And Stein didn't give a crap about Krauser's bullshit, either. He didn't care about Birkin - he cared about his job, or his life, or about Wesker's regard. And frankly, Stein thought Wesker was an asshole, too. Anyone who followed him - other than Birkin - automatically lost a few points in his books. Birkin just made up for it with other qualities.
"I don't," he said frankly, pushing his glasses up a little, so they flashed in the lights overhead. "I'm as incapable of loving Birkin as you are, Krauser. Or as Wesker is. So let's cut the bullshit, all right?"
Well, that shocked him a bit. Krauser blinked stupidly, trying to come up with something he could say back to that. And hell were those glasses creepy when you couldn't see Stein's eyes. "Glad that's settled." Though Birkin definitely had a very different opinion than that so what was even going on...? Did he even want to know?
Well, probably not, but damn if he wasn't extremely curious. "So, what, you're leading him on for shits and giggles? You're disgusting." Not that Krauser could really talk; he himself used much of the same method through college and whenever some bitch in a bar was asking for it. But damn it, no one was bleeding and he fucked them once rather than dragging them along for months for no damn reason.
Stein sighed irritably. The last thing he wanted to do was go into depth about the nature of his feelings for Birkin, or the details of their relationship. But Krauser had made it his business, and if he didn't go away either cowed or happy, he'd probably go to Wesker or make trouble for them later.
"Listen," he said. "I'm not leading him on. He knows who and what I am, and it's not my fault that he likes me anyway."
Of course, Birkin seemed to like to indulge in the illusion that Stein loved him, and Stein didn't mind indulging him, either. Those smiles Birkin gave him were worth it, though he worried about how much Birkin was deluding himself at times.
He lifted his hand to the bolt and began to turn it. "But you're not worried about me breaking Birkin's heart, so what's your issue, Krauser? Are you that frustrated to have to live with a pair of fags? Because I know for a fact that Birkin is healthy and safe. I make sure of it, myself, and I do a hell of a lot better job of that than you."
"He seems to think you started his infatuation with you by getting him drunk, actually," Krauser said with a glare. It was almost one thing for Stein to tell him to fuck off, it was another for the lunatic to start lying to him about shit Birkin already confessed to him the morning after.
Oh Jesus Christ that thing in his head actually moved! Holy shit Krauser was not expecting that. He stared dumbly for a few seconds before letting it sink in that Stein just insulted him. "Really?" If Stein did a better job protecting Birkin than the person who was paid to do it, there was a serious problem. For the person being paid; Krauser did not need to be out of a job because of some gray-haired asshole who liked fucking Birkin.
"Who helped him during that zombie outbreak? Who was watching your every move after you came back here crazy?" He pointed his knife at Stein's throat. "And I'll give you a hint, it wasn't you."
Stein rolled his eyes. "Which time?" he demanded. "I got him drunk the first time we had sex, yes. And many times after. But I've never lied to him about how I feel - which is none of your business."
He glared, the bolt clicking into place with a thunk. He lowered his hand, but his body was settling carefully into a battle-ready stance. He didn't like the way Krauser was pointing that knife at him like he intended to use it.
"I never said you did nothing," he said coldly. "What is this really about, Jack? Worried about keeping your job?"
Krauser's lips turned upward into a bit of a smirk. "If he only likes you when he's drunk, there might be a problem with this relationship." He chuckled darkly. "None of my business? Sounds like I hit a nerve. What's the matter? Wish you could switch off the crazy so you actually could love him?"
Up until now, Jack Krauser thought no one could possibly get dumber than Leon. Once he saw Stein looking like he was ready to start fighting, he was forced to amend this idea. As a result though, his knife didn't budge an inch.
How does he always know this shit? "Tch. Wesker needs me for more things than just playing babysitter. You, on the other hand, really only matter to Birkin, and considering his ability to jump from Annette, to the whore, to you in a matter of months... I doubt you'd be missed."
"I'm not discussing that with you," Stein said evenly. "I've humoured you long enough. Birkin's a big boy, and he can let me fuck him - or dissect him - if he wants."
He tilted his head to one side, and bones crackled in his neck. "Seems to me," he said, his voice beginning to grow strangely eager. "That you didn't come here about Birkin at all. I think you just want me to kick your ass."
Krauser rolled his eyes. Tempted as he was to mention that Birkin's constant need for attention and approval and god only knows what else would probably lead to him agreeing to close to anything, if Stein was not discussing that, he was not discussing that. Though that answer sure as hell sounded like a very roundabout 'yes' to him... "Just admit it. I might like you more if you do."
Fuck no that wasn't why he was here. And being here seemed to move from bad idea to worse idea. "You're too fucking cocky. I'd crush you." Sure Birkin might rant about how damn strong Stein was, but he was in awe of the guy and a complete damn wimp.
Virology wasn't his speciality, but nevertheless, he was busy 'improving' a stray cat he'd found outside the complex. The cat wasn't doing too well, though. Its fur was coming out in patches and its teeth were lengthening, and Stein turned the bolt thoughtfully as he watched the changes the virus wrought on the animal.
It was sealed up tight in a glass cage. Couldn't be too careful.
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"Where's your pillow-munching little bitch?" He was never really the type to exchange niceties. Especially when he was out of his element. These labs were Birkin's element, Stein's element, and to an extent Wesker's element. To Krauser, they were too small, too choked full of stuff he couldn't understand, and had one too many crazies who had no real purpose here.
Plus, that cat-thing was fucking freaky looking and anything freaky looking put him on edge since he got back from Spain.
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He beamed innocently, and reached out to drop the cover over the cage with the cat in it. He'd have to record his observations later. "If you mean Birkin, he's upstairs. Are you looking for him?"
It wasn't often that Krauser even talked to him - coming to find him was unprecedented - so it was a pretty safe assumption that he wasn't here for Stein.
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"I think you and I need to have a talk." He caught his knife expertly, holding it just in case this ended up turning into a fight. "About Birkin."
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It gave him a bit of room to manoeuvre if the man decided to come at him. The lab wasn't exactly the ideal place for a battle, but it was also Stein's turf. He didn't want to fight Krauser bare handed, but there were half a dozen things within reach he could use in a pinch.
"Okay," he said, withdrawing a hand from his pocket with a battered - and almost empty - packet of his favourite brand of cigarettes, and shaking one free. He put it between his mouth, but didn't light it. "Let's chat."
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"I'm pretty damn sure you're killing him." Even though no Birkin would mean a significantly quieter, more peaceful life, dealing with Wesker alone and after failing to protect him... Well, Birkin's death meant his death.
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He was tempted to light up, anyway, but he didn't really want to. He wanted the cigarette between his lips - it was a bit of a battle accessory for him. If he lit up, it'd burn down, and he had so few of his favourite brand left.
"If that's all you have to say, you can leave now. I have work to do," he added, half-turning as if to resume his seat.
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He'd never been the type to enjoy taking "no" for an answer and getting ushered out of the lab so Stein could work wasn't winning him any points. "Tch. If you actually 'loved' Birkin, you'd care a bit more."
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"I don't," he said frankly, pushing his glasses up a little, so they flashed in the lights overhead. "I'm as incapable of loving Birkin as you are, Krauser. Or as Wesker is. So let's cut the bullshit, all right?"
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Well, probably not, but damn if he wasn't extremely curious. "So, what, you're leading him on for shits and giggles? You're disgusting." Not that Krauser could really talk; he himself used much of the same method through college and whenever some bitch in a bar was asking for it. But damn it, no one was bleeding and he fucked them once rather than dragging them along for months for no damn reason.
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"Listen," he said. "I'm not leading him on. He knows who and what I am, and it's not my fault that he likes me anyway."
Of course, Birkin seemed to like to indulge in the illusion that Stein loved him, and Stein didn't mind indulging him, either. Those smiles Birkin gave him were worth it, though he worried about how much Birkin was deluding himself at times.
He lifted his hand to the bolt and began to turn it. "But you're not worried about me breaking Birkin's heart, so what's your issue, Krauser? Are you that frustrated to have to live with a pair of fags? Because I know for a fact that Birkin is healthy and safe. I make sure of it, myself, and I do a hell of a lot better job of that than you."
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Oh Jesus Christ that thing in his head actually moved! Holy shit Krauser was not expecting that. He stared dumbly for a few seconds before letting it sink in that Stein just insulted him. "Really?" If Stein did a better job protecting Birkin than the person who was paid to do it, there was a serious problem. For the person being paid; Krauser did not need to be out of a job because of some gray-haired asshole who liked fucking Birkin.
"Who helped him during that zombie outbreak? Who was watching your every move after you came back here crazy?" He pointed his knife at Stein's throat. "And I'll give you a hint, it wasn't you."
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He glared, the bolt clicking into place with a thunk. He lowered his hand, but his body was settling carefully into a battle-ready stance. He didn't like the way Krauser was pointing that knife at him like he intended to use it.
"I never said you did nothing," he said coldly. "What is this really about, Jack? Worried about keeping your job?"
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Up until now, Jack Krauser thought no one could possibly get dumber than Leon. Once he saw Stein looking like he was ready to start fighting, he was forced to amend this idea. As a result though, his knife didn't budge an inch.
How does he always know this shit? "Tch. Wesker needs me for more things than just playing babysitter. You, on the other hand, really only matter to Birkin, and considering his ability to jump from Annette, to the whore, to you in a matter of months... I doubt you'd be missed."
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He tilted his head to one side, and bones crackled in his neck. "Seems to me," he said, his voice beginning to grow strangely eager. "That you didn't come here about Birkin at all. I think you just want me to kick your ass."
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Fuck no that wasn't why he was here. And being here seemed to move from bad idea to worse idea. "You're too fucking cocky. I'd crush you." Sure Birkin might rant about how damn strong Stein was, but he was in awe of the guy and a complete damn wimp.
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