Chapter Text
Jake had learned long ago to be dubious of people. People were rarely what they presented themselves as and too many times Jake had learned the lesson the hard way. It seemed like today with Sherry would be no different.
When Sherry had assured Jake that she would ‘take care of any BSAA soldiers’ they came across, he had to admit he assumed she had something planned. Perhaps more sophisticated than just running into the midst of a squad screaming about how she was an agent for national security.
“Sherry Birkin, National Security!”
Jake rolls his eyes so hard he feels the beginning of a headache.
As bewildered BSAA members watch Sherry stomp past, Jake hangs back trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. He’s seriously going to count it a win if he makes it out alive now that he has both sides of the conflict out for his blood, literally, and the world’s most incompetent agent protecting him.
Not to mention his own personal cybernetic-enhanced B.O.W. stalker.
His life really is all rainbows and sunshine.
Whatever though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining too heavily. He’s about to get fifty million for a pint of his blood which is, bar none, the best thing to happen to him, ever. All Jake needs to do is stay alive, get his money and disappear. Not that he needs the money anymore, hasn’t for a long time. His mother’s… gone, and her poor health had been the driving force behind his mercenary career. Now he doesn’t know any different.
He’ll get his money and come right back here, doing what he knows best. The skills of a mercenary aren’t easily transferred into a desk job.
“Captain, that man is a wanted insurgent.”
Jake drags his blank stare away from the building opposite him, already done with this exchange. He’s not sure how long Sherry’s planning on hanging around the BSAA, but he hopes it’s only long enough to make it through their barricades.
Judging by her buddy-buddy exchange with the one in charge, he guesses his hopes are futile.
Thankfully, Sherry saves him from having to speak, as his mouth has gone as dry as sandpaper. “He’s under the protection of the US government. He’s not a threat.”
“Unless someone pays me to be,” Jake mutters under his breath dismissively, still not completely sure about the whole ‘we’ll pay any amount for a drop of your blood thing’. When something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. That’s been his experience anyway.
“What did you just say?”
His eyes meet the distrustful eyes of the soldier who spoke up, and Jake inhales sharply. His heart turns over like an engine starting, thudding painfully in his chest and his eyes widen as he meets the gaze of the man who spoke.
Yeah, he and Sherry cannot stick around these guys, he thinks furiously, unable to form rational thoughts other than ‘abort! Abort mission!’
With everyone’s eyes on him now, he draws himself up to his full height. “What?” he asks belligerently.
The response is lost as the attention is dragged away from Jake and put on the more pressing matter of a gigantic B.O.W. being airlifted into the conflict. Jake takes a couple steps back as it lands on the ground behind him, because seriously, what the fuck, and distantly hears Sherry volunteer them to help.
I’m so unbelievably fucked, he thinks in disgust as he readies his weapons at his side in preparation to fight.
Jake feels irritation snake along his spine as he sits forgotten, listening Chris and Sherry compare notes on Chris' sister Claire. She apparently did something for Sherry back in some town, not that Jake cares enough to pay real close attention to the details. He couldn’t care less about Chris, Claire or Sherry.
Jake slowly disassembles his pistol to clean it, drawing out the task as long as he can to keep his mind and hands occupied. He’s already bored, impatient and irritated having to sit here and do nothing while BSAA soldiers clear the area. Jake’s itching to get out there and join them because that’s something he can do, something he’s good at. He doesn’t have it in him to make mindless chit-chat and he can’t afford to care about anyone around him. Especially not anyone around him here, since after they eliminate the bio-terrorism threat, the soldiers will just pull back to the states and he’ll still be here, fighting the government in Edonia’s civil war.
He’s better off strangling the soldier next to himself, than befriending him from a personal stand point, though Jake doubts that would go over well, under the protection of the US government or not.
There’s a click as the BSAA operative next to Jake slides his scope back onto his sniper rifle, and makes the necessary adjustments. His shoulders are tense as he hunches over the weapon, a sullen expression on his face. Jake suspects the squad drew straws as to who would watch him and marksman next to him had lost.
Jake doesn’t know why they bother. He’s an ally of theirs, as long as the US government is the one offering the most amount of cash.
After all, never hurts to keep your options open.
They’re all sitting inside of the destroyed buildings in the city square, cramped like sardines in can, which isn’t helping Jake’s sense of total confinement. BSAA soldiers are running around outside of the dilapidated building, setting up camp and new headquarters, preparing to spend the night in what Jake can only hope is secured territory.
Another soldier, Jake guesses a rookie by the way the guy shies away from his own shadow, steps in through the missing living room wall and hands out blankets and rations before running out to get more. The soldiers who have their rations dig in eagerly, ravenous after a long day.
Jake reassembles his pistol and then eyes his SMG wondering how long he’ll be able to drag that task out. He casts a side-long glance to where Chris and Sherry are sitting; they’re deeply engrossed in conversation and, judging by their now serious faces, they’re probably discussing him. That, and Sherry keeps glancing his way every so often.
Good thing she’s a special agent and not a secret agent he thinks surlily. With a grunt, he picks up the assault rifle and begins the mundane task of taking it apart.
Rookie returns, fresh supplies in his arms. He marches quickly over to where Jake and his very own personal warden are sitting. "Lieutenant Nivans, would you care for a blanket and provisions, sir?" he asks hesitantly, holding out his bundle of goods like an offering.
Jake raises an eyebrow, and examines his guard a little closer. Lieutenant? Jake noticed the guy before, when he and Sherry had stumbled across the BSAA before all the shit went down with the two giant B.O.W.s; though not just because the guy recognized Jake an insurgent, Jake grudgingly admits to himself.
It might have something to do with the fact that his pulse is jumping erratically from the proximity, and he’s glad for his jacket’s collar otherwise everyone would be able to see the perpetual flush that’s spread over the back of his neck.
It’s been a long time since Jake’s felt any sort of attraction to anyone, and he’s not happy that it comes in the form of a member of the BSAA. Jake hates the feelings, like his stomach’s turned to soup and he can’t breathe properly. It makes him a liability. Nothing good comes from caring, especially not here. All he wants to do is the job, get his money and move the fuck on. He knows getting the job done won’t involve making good on a wish to press their bodies together.
Jake straightens his back abruptly as the last thought dawns on him, his spine cracking in protest. He’d shuffle further away from Nivans, if it wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Instead Jake leans as far away from the sniper as he can, and pointedly avoids eye contact.
At least the sniper won’t bother him if he thinks that Jake has an aversion to his presence, and that’s what Jake needs. Needs the BSAA soldier to leave him alone, and if the only way to get him to do that is to feign distaste then Jake’s more than willing to do that.
It shouldn’t be too hard, when he’s already irritated with the situation and with himself.
"Finn, we aren't in boot camp. You can call me Piers. And thank you," Piers says, accepting the food and blanket.
Finn looks uncertain but nods jerkily before he turns to Jake and recoils a tad from the open animosity on Jake’s face. Good, Jake thinks churlishly as he snaps the sights back on the rifle. Jake accepts the bundle Finn gives him, before the latter hightails away from Jake as fast as he can without breaking into a run.
Sherry says something and Chris lets out a guffaw of laughter, almost tumbling off his stool in the process. Jake grinds his teeth together. Jake doesn’t know why, just that the good Captain rubs him the wrong way and if he has to stay cramped in this building in close proximity for one more minute he’s going to lose his shit. He shoves his pistol back in his thigh holster, shoulders his assault rifle and his pack and strides out of the building and down the street.
Jake hears Piers curse from behind him as he struggles to gather up all his equipment and follow. Jake tries not to make it look like he’s fleeing, but he’s not going to give Piers a chance to catch up, taking advantage of his long legs and lengthening his stride. He’s halfway down the block, before Piers catches up to him. "What the hell are you doing?" he demands.
"Taking a walk," Jake drawls, sparing a scathing look over his shoulder at Piers. Disdain has always been the best way in the past to prevent unwanted attention. "Didn't know you were interested in joining."
"I'm more interested in eating my food," Piers corrects, staring icily back. "Perhaps we could go back and do that."
Jake turns back around and resumes his pace, waving Piers off dismissively. He hopes the gesture will aggravate him. "Like I said, I'm going for a walk. You don't need to follow me around like a puppy."
He can’t see the look Piers is giving him, but he can feel the glare trained on the back of his head. To Piers' credit though, and to Jake’s irritation, he remains silent, seeming to realize that Jake wants a fight.
Scowl firmly in place, Jake walks down the road a few minutes until he reaches the block they had fought the super-sized B.O.W. a few hours ago. BSAA members are still torching the remains of the corpse, and several squads are littered about on the road, helping evacuate the last remaining citizens out of the city.
Jake's mood darkens. Death is no stranger to Jake, given his occupation, but these were unarmed civilians. They hadn't even been given opportunity to evacuate before the J'avo descended upon them.
Jake tightens his jaw grimly, turns on his heel and stalks back past a confused Piers. He turns right at the first intersection and sits down on the curb, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He opens the MRE package and digs in. The beef teriyaki, if nothing else, fills the void.
After a couple moments of tense silence Piers sits down near him, casting Jake a wary glance. He slowly opens his own meal and follows suit. They eat without speaking, the only sounds of their spoons scraping the plastic packaging amplified in the silence.
Uncomfortable though Jake is, sitting on this curb next to a man who makes Jake feel like there’s not enough air and his heart pound in his chest, it’s far preferable to listening to Chris and Sherry prattle.
He finishes eating too quickly, the food barely filling the gnawing emptiness. He stuffs all the garbage back in the original packaging, licking his fingers and brushing his hands off on his pants. He steals a glance over at Piers who is still eating and staring off in to space. Jake wants to be asshole, and walk away leaving Piers to scramble to finish his food and follow; he wouldn’t be acting out of character, and Piers would be pissed.
He also wants to sit here in this moment, suspended in time. It’s not altogether comfortable, and the silence is brimming with tension but, ironically enough, it’s also the most relaxed Jake has felt in months. This is exactly why he needs to stand up and get away, find Sherry and demand that they get a move on. He doesn’t have the luxury of being relaxed. Being too comfortable in the past contributed to the scar that’s marred the left side of his face.
Jake’s body doesn’t obey him when he asks it to move though. The plastic of the MRE package creaks as he squeezes it in his fist, but he stays put otherwise.
Piers crumples up his garbage and takes a swig from his canteen. He offers it to Jake, and Jake polishes off the rest of the water before handing it back. Piers cocks an eyebrow at him, but screws the lid back on and then stands, throwing his rifle over his shoulder. "I need to find a place to fill up canteens with more water."
Jake stands, and rolls his shoulders. "I know a place that has clean water; unless you enjoy the runs." He turns and walks away, before turning back to Piers and patting his leg. "Here puppy," he goads, smirking.
Piers is so fast, he barely sees the solider wind up before the canteen ricochets off his nose. The impact makes his eyes water, a fact he successfully hides as he bends to retrieve the offending object. He probably deserves that and more for being a first-rate asshole, but it doesn’t diminish the pain. Jakes straightens and blindly throws the canteen back in Piers' direction, not really caring if he hits Piers or not, and stalks off.
Foot falls sound behind him as Piers follows.
Jake’s been in this city a couple of times before and therefore only vaguely knows the location of the few stores in the area that stock imported bottled water. Back before he was worth fifty million dollars, he didn’t really give a damn as it was a luxury he couldn’t afford and take care of his mother at the same time. Edonia’s water isn’t bad, per say, but it tastes foul due to the high mineral content. Occasionally though, the water wasn’t as clean as it should be.
Problem was, the shops were a little outside the secured zone the BSAA had set up. A couple soldiers try to stop him, but back off when they see Lieutenant Nivans with him. Jake’s fairly certain he hears the rookie, Lynn or Finn mutter something about Piers’ pretty-boy, resting bitchface and something else entitled jackasses. He laughs, watching the other soldier’s eyes bug out and his face turn red, while Piers regards him oddly, clearly not having heard the comment. Jake’s willing to bet money Piers would’ve kicked his subordinate’s ass if he had.
“All of a sudden I like you a whole lot better!” Jake calls, cackling as the rookie salutes and hightails it as far away from Jake as he can.
“Okay…” Piers says, trailing off as he watches the exchange, his brow furrowed in suspicion.
“Rookie and I have more in common than I thought,” Jake comments flippantly, removing his pistol from his holster and continuing down the abandoned street. Piers follows suit, close on his heels.
"How much farther?" Piers asks a couple minutes later. They’d spoken the bare minimum to each other, after Piers' water bottle had rocketed off of Jake's face. Jake doesn’t want to admit it, but his nose is still tender; he won’t be surprised if he ends up with a bruise under one or both eyes tomorrow. Not feeling up to speaking, Jake points at the blinking neon purple sign about fifty feet away.
Jake walks up to the door, opens it and steps inside, scanning the room for any signs of J'avo or other fucking weird creatures. He raises his gun and starts around the left side of the room, Piers taking the right. The store's lights are out, like the rest of the city, but the backup generator powering the coolers casts an ambient light.
They check under desks and counter tops, carefully clearing the room. Piers opens the door to the alley and pokes his head out. "Clear," he calls to Jake as he closes the door and walks over to the coolers. He opens a couple bottles of water and refills his canteen. Jake grabs a bottle for himself.
He still can’t shake the feeling of uneasiness that had settled over him though. Jake knows they’re in occupied enemy territory, and that there’s bound to be some tension regardless of the situation. But, he can’t shake the thought that something’s out of place, something’s wrong. Jake’s sorely tempted to brush the feeling off as paranoia, but he hasn’t lived this long by ignoring his instincts.
His eyes scan the room again, checking for anything out of the ordinary, and out through the windows onto the street. Nothing.
He still has the feeling that this had been a terrible mistake.
"We need to leave," he whispers to Piers. "Now."
Piers' spine straightens. "What's wrong?" he whispers back, turning the safety off on his assault rifle.
Jake follows Piers’ example with his handgun. "Something’s wrong." He says, moving slowly and as silently as possible back across the store.
“Oh,” Piers’ tone is sarcastic, but he still keeps his voice low. “I was hoping for something a little more, hmm, concrete.”
Jake shoulders the door open and stops to make a face at Piers. “I’ll introduce your face to something a little more concrete next time,” he hisses, moving out into the street, holding his handgun in both hands for better accuracy.
Piers flips him off before raising his rifle. Jake gestures for him to follow and he waits for Piers’ slow nod before jogging back down the street the way they came.
Without warning, big-undead-and-ugly lands in the middle of the street in front of them, the asphalt breaking apart and shooting up into the air like fireworks. Jake skids to a stop, his boots squeaking in protest and catches Piers around the bicep. He uses the momentum Piers already has going and shoves him down the alleyway to the right.
Piers stumbles over his own feet for a few steps, like a baby deer attempting to run for the first time before he catches his balance and matches Jake’s flat out run. No words are wasted between the two of them as Ugly pounds the pavement behind them, buildings trembling in his wake.
Piers tackles him through an open back door, and they land in a pile of limbs as Ugly continues on past, but Jake can hear him slowing and turning back around. Piers is on his feet in a couple seconds, Jake jumping to his feet and flying through the house on the sniper’s heels.
They burst through the front door and fly across the road and through the front door opposite when there’s a boom from down the block and Ugly emerges from another abandoned house, timber and bits of plaster skidding across the road. He roars as Jake disappears through the door, and even though Jake can’t see him anymore, he feels the earth tremble beneath his feet and knows that Ugly’s closing in for the kill.
He’s not going to stand around and wait for the end though. He’s going out guns blazing.
As Jake flies around the corner into a dilapidated kitchen, a hand ducks out and grips his bicep. He’s dragged through an open doorway before he can leave out the back door. He throws out a punch instinctively and connects solidly with someone’s ribs. His captor curses but doesn’t let go, and Jake’s dragged down a flight of stairs.
“This way, asshole,” Piers hisses from the darkness ahead of him.
Piers skips the last few steps, dragging Jake with him and they land awkwardly on heavily packed dirt. The impact jars them both, and Piers hauls him up from the grip he still has around Jake’s bicep. He has half a mind to tell the solider to keep his hands to himself, but Piers lets go as they scramble across the floor of the cellar, their movements and breaths echoing too loudly in Jake’s wired state.
They hit the far wall hard, unable to see anything as Ugly bursts through the house above them, ripping through support beams and walls, the floors creaking under his massive weight and shaking loose dust and plaster to land on them. Jake will never admit to it, but he crowds into Piers’ personal space, pressing up against him and the earthen wall behind them feeling dread settle thickly in his belly.
He feels a little better when he feels Piers leaning right back into him, his breath coming in short pants.
More crashing about overhead before, all at once, it stops.
In the darkness, the only sounds Jake can hear are their mingled breaths. He closes his eyes to try and concentrate on the floor above them. After a few moments straining to hear anything, Piers shifts and the squeak of his gear sounds like a scream in the darkness. He feels Piers’ hot breath ghost over the shell of his ear and he yanks his head back as heat spreads through his body, suddenly thankful for the darkness because he’s sure the flush has spread over his face and neck. Damn redhead coloring. He slaps a hand over what he presumes is Piers’ mouth, to prevent whatever the solider is about to say from broaching the silence.
He assumes Piers is glaring at him by the way the skin under his fingertips tighten, dragging slight stubble across the pads of his fingers. Jake glares back into the darkness, ignoring his rational side that informs him how childish he’s being. His heart beats out an annoying, irregular rhythm as air from Piers’ inhales and exhales warms his fingers. He stubbornly refuses to move his hand though.
Above them begins some shuffling and a foot fall shakes more plaster loose above them. Piers abruptly stops breathing and they both remain stock-still. Even though the darkness is impenetrable, and he can barely see his own hand in front of his face, Jake turns his gaze to the ceiling. His eyes strain through the darkness as though, if he concentrates hard enough, he’ll be able to see through the floor to the rooms above to track the movement of his stalker.
Another foot fall shatters the silence as Ugly makes his way back through the house. While Jake’s not religious in any sense of the word, he finds himself praying that the main structure of the house remains intact long enough for them to get the hell outta dodge.
The floor above them quiets as Ugly makes his way back into the street, but Jake can still hear the B.O.W. through the earth that trembles behind him and Piers. He waits until he thinks Ugly’s far enough way before his attention returns to the man next to him.
Just to realize his hand is still covering most of the sniper’s face.
Jake jerks his hand back as though he’s been scalded.
“I assume that means I’m allowed to speak now,” Piers mutters under his breath, and without really knowing the guy, Jake knows he’s irritated. “Asshole.”
Jake forms a fist and punches himself in the thigh, to avoid punching the guy’s pretty face.
“I’m calling for back up,” Piers says lowly, his gear creaking like he’s reaching for his radio. “We need to get out of here now.”
“No!” Jake hisses, shooting out a hand out to land on what he hopes is Piers’ chest. “You call for back up, they’re all going to die. Sherry and I barely escaped that thing before; he’s smart, he’s fast, and he’ll kill anything in his path. He’s hunting me, probably the same reason Sherry’s so keen on delivering me to the United States.”
There’s a beat of silence while Piers must be considering everything Jake has said. “Alright,” he finally agrees, “I’ll get you out of here. I need to check in with my squad before we move though, and they come looking for me.”
“You and I are going nowhere. I, however, am leaving now.” Jake straightens from his crouch and promptly bashes his head into the floor above them. Biting back a curse and rubbing his head, he shuffles as quietly as he can towards the stairs.
“Fuck that,” Piers says lowly from behind him. “I’m in charge of protecting you and we will leave together.”
“I don’t need your help or your protection. I can take care of myself.”
Piers locks onto him from behind, far more quick and quiet than Jake expects, and hauls Jake bodily off his feet turning them both around. He releases Jake and shoves him off balance back into the cellar.
“Stop trying to be a hero,” Piers barks.
They both freeze, waiting to for any indication they were heard. Moments later, Piers blessedly lowers his voice and continues. “I have my orders whether or not they offend your delicate sensibilities. So I will radio Captain Redfield and then we will discuss how best to escort you out of Edonia.”
“You’re a dickhead,” Jake snaps, brushing the dirt from his hands onto his pants.
Piers clearly chooses to ignore that comment as his radio comes to life, static humming in the air. “This is Lieutenant Nivans. I need to speak with Captain Redfield.”
It only takes a couple seconds, before Chris’ voice breaks the silence. “Piers!” The captain exclaims, then continues more quietly as though Piers has hustled to turn the volume lower. “Where the hell are you? Why haven’t you reported in?”
“Captain,” Piers says, dropping the pissy tone he’d been using with Jake. Jake rolls his eyes. “Sherry’s protective detail and I ran into some trouble. A giant B.O.W. closed in on us, but we took cover in a cellar.”
Sherry’s voice floods the line, a note of desperation in her voice. “Is Jake alive? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine,” Piers replies flatly. “Charming as ever.”
“Jake?” Sherry asks, ignoring Piers.
The radio hits him in the chest and remains there until Jake takes it from Piers’ grip. “Right here sunshine.” Jake drawls.
“Jake!” Sherry exclaims, and Jake would almost be touched by her relief if he didn’t already know she was more concerned if his heart was still pumping his blood through his veins than any real concern for his well-being. “Thank God.”
“Yeah, well, I managed just fine before the US government decided to poke their nose into my business. Don’t know why it’s all that surprising that I’m alive after an hour of not being in your presence-“
“Listen to me!” Sherry snaps. “The B.O.W. that was tracking us has been spotted in your vicinity. I had Finn look up some particulars on it… and let’s just say, you need to get out of there. Now! Before he realizes you’re there –“
“That’s a really nice warning, but just a little too late.” Jake cuts in. “Tall, Ugly and Bitchy already found us. We managed to lose him, but I’m sure he’s just outside taking a tour of the block.”
There’s silence over the comm, that lasts long enough to make Jake wonder whether Sherry just said ‘fuck it’ and left Piers and him to their own devices.
“Sherry?”
It wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t find him worth the risk.
“Give the comm back to Piers.” It’s Redfield again, and Jake thrusts the radio out into the darkness blindly. He makes contact with some part of Piers, a little forcefully judging by the muffled curse, and then the comm is taken from him.
“Captain.”
“Piers. We’ve managed to locate your position and we’re sending a chopper over to you for evac. It’ll land to the south of you,” Chris rattles off the coordinates quickly and Piers repeats them aloud as though he’s trying to commit them to memory. “You’re to escort Jake to Finland, out of the war zone, where we will rendezvous with you at the base there.”
“That’s a shitty idea, considering Ugly is right outside.” Jake says, reaching out to grab the radio away from Piers. “He’s a lot of things, but deaf isn’t one of them.”
Piers manages to fend him off though, Jake reeling back and away when an elbow catches him in the eye. “Yes, sir. Though wouldn’t it make sense to just fly us back to you? I think we’re only a kilometer or so out.” Piers responds, as close to questioning the Captain as he’s likely to get.
“You have orders, soldier.” Chris snaps.
Jake’s eyebrows fly up as Sherry cuts in. “I’m so sorry, Piers,” she says regretfully. “I underestimated the lengths that Neo-Umbrella would go to in order to retrieve Jake.”
Jake wishes he had the comm to tell her off, for not being fully equipped to handle the situation.
“We don’t have time to discuss that now,” Piers says, and Jake feels a little bit of grudging respect for the guy for not immediately hopping to attention to reassure Sherry. “I’ll radio in when we get on the heli, Captain.”
“See that you do.”
Then the line goes dead as Piers turns off the radio.
“Let’s get moving, asshole.” Piers says before Jake can remark on the fine Captain’s attitude change.
“I have a name you know,” Jake replies hotly, not sure why he’s bothering. “It’s Jake.”
“Asshole suits you better.”
Jake settles for a rude gesture even though Piers can’t see, and follows as the sharpshooter ascends the stairs. The staircase remains sturdy under their combined weigh, surprisingly, but as they emerge out of the dark, the main floor is another matter entirely.
Jake has no idea how the second floor is remaining suspended above the first. The main support beams are all but non-existent and certain areas of the ceiling are bowed down. It would seem like the only thing keeping it from crushing Jake and Piers into pancakes is the prayer Jake sent up earlier. They rush out the back door into a, thankfully abandoned alley, as the house creaks alarmingly behind them.
Piers raises his gun and settles the butt into the crook of his shoulder, and does a quick sweep of the alley to make sure everything is all clear. The roar of the helicopter can be heard in the distance, and even though it sounds far off, Jake knows if they don’t hustle to get to the rendezvous they’re going to miss their ride. Jake frowns and glances behind checking the house for one last time, and when he swings his gaze back around his eyes lock with Piers’.
Jake knows without looking in a mirror that the expression on his face does nothing to enhance his appearance, just serves to make him look more threatening and aggressive. On the other hand, even with his brows knitted, tension evident in the tightness of his shoulders and plaster turning his dark hair gray, Piers is still strikingly good-looking.
It annoys him how attractive he finds the dickhead.
He rubs a hand over his head, hoping to get rid of the dust on himself, even though being presentable should be the least of his worries.
Jake turns on his heel and marches in the direction Chris rattled off on the radio, soft footfalls behind him signaling that Piers is with him.
He doesn’t look though. Not when his head is determined to fuck with him and dwell on how Piers’ shoulders fill out his uniform, or how soft his mouth looks. He shouldn’t be focusing on any of those things. Instead, he should be focused on staying alive and finding the fucking chopper.