Work Text:
yuzu crush
‘You need to find a bartender.’
Andrea's words echo through Leslie’s head like the lingering ring of a siren. He’s found one, she’s standing in front of him. While Seventh Heaven didn’t have the most original name, that was made up by the owner that ran the joint. He heard her name roll off the local’s’ tongues when he walked through the slum. Tifa Lockhart. Sure, it had a cute ring to it, but once he met the infamous bar maiden he could easily see how she had everyone hooked .
“Another round?” she asks.
Lockhart is gorgeous, has a heart of gold and can make a damn good drink. The bar itself is welcoming, warm and cozy, the opposite of Wall Market's chaos, something Leslie could get used to.
“A Da-chao Spritz,” He thinks of a drink that may throw her off. If she can nail this cocktail the gig is hers.
Tifa’s eyes narrow, picking up on such an exotic choice. “You’re not from around here, what’s your name?”
“Leslie.”
“Well Leslie, you’re in luck, I stock a small amount of Fort Tamblin Gin.” She smiles, extending her hand to him. “Nice to meet you, I’m Tifa Lockhart.”
Curious crimson eyes look at him with a mix of delight and wonder. It’s late in the evening on a weeknight, and he’s one of her last customers. Leslie’s on his third drink and she’s made each one better than the last. He should just ask her already, she could decline the offer. Ifrit’s Inferno is the brainchild of him and Andrea. An underground club that Leslie managed and Andrea supplied the honeybees for, with a clientele of wealthy individuals looking for all the racy trouble that Wall offers except out of sight. It was profitable, and one of the few enterprises that the Don didn't have his grimy hands on. The only problem was their last bartender quit.
“Hope you like this one, Leslie.” She slides the tumbler across the bar, a sunny smile beaming at him.
She's perfect, and maybe that’s why Leslie is having trouble with her. He can’t let history repeat itself again, getting caught up in the moment, mixing business and pleasure. He can’t carry that kind of weight, it nearly broke him a few months ago.
“So where are you from?” Tifa asks.
“Wutai originally, but I live in Wall Market,” Leslie replies.
“That’s where all the action is!” Tifa exclaims. “What brings you here?”
“I got lost looking for…” he pauses, cautious to say the next word. “Someone.”
He’s looking for more than a bartender. He’s looking for the one that got away, the one he was ready to give his name to. Merle. She went for that audition, got herself in all kinds of trouble and then walked away. Leslie can’t figure out why , the events still don’t add up, but one thing does. She left him.
“Something on your mind?” Tifa questions, reading him like a book. Has he really gone this soft? No, there is something different about her .
She’s Wutaian gardens at dawn, blackberry roses and wildflowers in the wind.
“You,” he answers, gold eyes focused on hers as he swirls the lemon around with the pick.
Tifa blushes, fidgeting with the bar towel waiting for him to elaborate. She’s nervous and it’s cute. Leslie’s lips twitch into a crooked smile before savoring the last of his drink, orange bitters contrasting with sweet yuzu lemon linger on his tongue. “How long have you been running this place?”
“Two years now.” Tifa waves goodbye to the last patron in the bar outside of him. “So what do you do?”
Leslie could tell her he works in entertainment or that he manages an underground materia and weapons ring. A series of gigs he juggles around to make a gil, but it all leads to the dark truth of what he really does...
“Consider me a jack of all trades.”
“That sounds vague for a reason,” she retorts.
“It is,” Leslie doesn’t like how much she’s digging in deep. “Look, I don’t like what I do, and my past is best left unsaid.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, reaching over the bar with his drink. “I know what it's like to have a past that hurts. I don’t get a lot of new faces here, so I was curious about you.”
“Maybe it’s time to move on, Les.”
Reno’s words echo in Leslie’s head, and there's truth to it. He shouldn’t keep his guard up like this. There’s a bombshell standing in front of him that's caught his attention, she’s curious about him too. Reno is right, it’s time to put himself out there.
“Wait...” he catches her wrist before she turns around. Leslie removes his hat in a gesture of chivalry, running his free hand through messy silver locks. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “Sorry, I’m not good at this…have a drink with me.”
Feather light fingertips brush against his cheek making his deadpan face soften. “Well it's a good thing you’re easy on the eyes or I would have kicked you out a while ago,” Tifa quips. “Are you hungry?”
Leslie shakes his head along with the lingering warmth from her skin. He’s in deep , enamored already.
“Wall Market has some of the best food in Midgar,” Tifa chimes, mixing their cocktails before coming to the other side of the bar in the stool next to Leslie. “I love the sushi and street food trucks. I actually used to make steamed buns in Sector Eight, but the ones in Wall are the best I ever had.”
Midnight jasmine lingers between them. The scent of her perfume is more intoxicating than her drinks. Leslie takes it in with a deep inhale.
“If you like sushi, you need to try my buddy’s place,” Leslie interjects between sips of his drink. “It’s tucked away, but he has the freshest fish imported from Costa del Sol. You can taste the salt water and feel the ocean breeze…I’ll take you if you want.”
“Sounds like a date,” Tifa beams, raising her glass to his. “Cheers! I’ve never actually been to Costa del Sol, but I want to go someday.”
“It’s nice for what it is, sun, sand and the water, but after a few days I just want to be back in the city.” Leslie shrugs, “I’m not exactly a beach guy.”
Tifa laughs at his comment. The sound is wholesome and infectious, echoing around him. It’s soothing, airy and free, what he imagines her kiss would be like.
“I could never leave Midgar,” Leslie adds, inching closer to her.
“Exactly, everything is here. I’d feel like I’d be…” Tifa stops, struggling with what to say next.
“Missing out on something?” Leslie asks, finishing her sentence. His hand slides across the bar over hers. She welcomes his touch, and doesn’t hesitate interlacing her fingers with his.
“Yeah, a chance at something…or someone.” Tifa answers, squeezing his hand a little.
Her porcelain face is inches from his. Leslie leans in, hovering close enough to feel her breath. She bites the bottom of her cherry lips nervously, as burgundy eyes flutter lower…
A repetitive rumble on the table interrupts their gaze followed by a loud PHS jingle. Leslie quickly silences his phone before it can continue. Half past midnight, how did he lose track of time?
“It’s getting late, I didn’t realize the time.” Leslie apologizes, standing up as he gathers his belongings. He slides a hundred gil over to the register more than double the tab. “Thanks again, hope to see you around.”
“Wait!” She calls out, rushing over. Tifa’s hand catches his forearm as she blocks the door. Her cashmere silk body presses against his for a moment, sending chills down Leslie’s spine. Tifa takes a deep breath before she steps back and hands him a bar napkin. “No one would have requested the drinks that you did. If you are looking for a bartender, here's my number.”
She’s razor sharp. Maybe he has met his match after all.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Leslie acknowledges after a pause. His hat blocks her vision to the glow in his gold eyes and the edge of his mouth curving into a smirk.
“Why?” Tifa asks.
He doesn't answer her and claims the part between her lips, his tongue intertwining with hers in a slow rhythm that intensifies. Her honey-laced mouth presses into his harder, discovering each corner of his. Leslie pulls her closer, taking in her warmth and the scent of flowers that lingers on her skin.
“Because now I’m gonna call you,” he whispers before taking a second taste of her lips.
-xx-