Chapter Text
"Wait, hold on, you're telling me you just snuck out of that women's house through the window?"
Leon shrugged, knocking back the last of a Knob Creek triple that should have been a double, but he tipped so well that you didn't mind giving away a few over pours now and then for him. Well, that and he had a habit of nonchalantly dropping just the most insane, quietly compelling anecdotes that you actually looked forward to your midweek closing shifts at the bar when he was in town.
"She had a roommate. I didn’t want it to be awkward."
"At least tell me it was on the first floor?" You had stopped pretending to even be working at this point, the wash cloth in your hand having long since gone dry and useless against the still sticky spot on the bar top.
He hesitated a moment, a cute flush creeping on his cheeks as he scratched the back of his head. "Uh, third floor. It was fine though, the apartment had a fire escape."
You let out the laugh you’d been holding in since you’d finally nagged loose the story behind his latest romantic excursion with the last person you’d observed him leaving the bar with. You couldn’t help but flash him a smile as you heard his answering self deprecating chuckle. “You certainly are an interesting man. Need a refill?” you asked, half turned to go fetch the bottle again from the counter behind you.
“Nah, I should probably call it. I’m actually traveling out of town for work tomorrow morning and I’ll hate myself later if I don’t hit the hay soon.”
“Fair enough, I’ll cash you out.” As you moved to close his tab at the register, you were practically vibrating with the need to ask. Nearly an entire year had passed since Leon had first visited your bar and while you wouldn’t hesitate to call him a friend, he played everything so close to the vest that you had no idea what the hell he did for a living, other than it seemed to pay decently and he’d disappear for weeks at a time, often coming back with a hitch in his step or a new kaleidoscope of bruises. It worried you, not that he didn’t seem capable of protecting himself, you’d caught peaks at the piece he kept in a holster under the jacket he always wore.
But it made your friendship seem oddly lopsided with how often he’d lend an understanding ear to your troubles taking over the family bar after your dad died or your less than successful efforts with the local dating pool. You were an open book, a heart on your sleeve kind of soul.
You could only guess where the man across from you would keep his own heart. In that holster perhaps, nestled behind his gun. Or maybe off his person completely, tucked away in a footlocker somewhere. Hidden in the dark and solitude, not out of nature or preference, but out of survival. His life had to have been lonely, you’d never seen him leave with the same person twice and there was never any mention of even a coworker, let alone a friend or any family. In your experience, most people drinking alone after midnight on a Wednesday didn’t have anyone waiting up at home.
If they had a home to go back to at all.
“Don’t bother, this should cover it.” While you were embarrassingly lost in thought, Leon had fished a couple of bills out of his wallet and slid them across the bar. You grabbed them as he turned, stretching his back out before turning for the door. “Have a nice night.”
“You too, have a safe trip!” But you couldn’t keep back a shout when you opened the till to complete the transaction, finally counting the money. He’d given you $200 for two middle shelf drinks.
“Wait, Leon! You gave me too much.” You waived the money back to him, attempting to beckon him back over with a smile. “Should I be worried about how much you’ve had to drink, giving me a 500% tip?”
“I’m not drunk, and it wasn’t a mistake.” He paused, flipping his collar up in preparation for stepping outside into the cold. “Save that stool for me until I get back.”
With that, and a quick head pat for your dad’s old bar dog Max, Leon stepped out into the night, leaving you with a giddy pit in your stomach.
Someone was pounding on the door downstairs.
You had dismissed it at first, chalking it up to just another sound from the storm raging outside and trying to fall back asleep, but then Max started growling from his orthopedic dog bed by the radiator, heaving his old bones up to howl at the window. Heart pounding, you gingerly pulled back a sliver of the curtain, catching sight of a familiar motorcycle parked crookedly on the sidewalk outside.
You didn’t think twice, throwing on a robe over your pajamas and flying down the stairs to the private side door of your apartment over the bar, flipping the multiple deadlocks and stepping out into the freezing rain to find Leon soaked to the bone, leaning up against the front door to the bar like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“Leon,” you called out over the sudden lump in your throat. He’d been gone for almost a month and you’d been lowkey terrified that he wasn’t coming back this time. No matter how confused you were at his reappearance, you felt tears sting your eyes with relief.
You watched as he started, wheeling around and squinting through the rain and darkness. He mouthed your name before moving towards you, limping so alarmingly that you lunged forward to grab him before he could fall. He was heavier than he looked, body shaking with the cold or something else you couldn't tell. “Just my luck, you wouldn’t be open tonight, huh.”
“You know we always close early on Sundays. C’mon, you’ll catch your death out here.” You were both soaking wet and dripping onto the threadbare welcome mat when you finally managed to coax him inside your apartment, just as another huge clap of thunder vibrated the windows of the old building. “You rode here in all that?”
“M sorry, didn’t know where else to go. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the storm blows over, I promise.”
“No, it’s fine, really. I’ll put on some tea.” You froze as your sock gave a nasty, wet squelch as you made a step towards the stairs. “Shit.”
The storm raged for hours, but neither of you seemed to notice once you finally convinced Leon to stop apologizing for ruining your night. You’d found some of your dad’s old clothes in your closet for him while his own were tumbling away in your ancient dryer. After you both were warm and dry, you made some black tea for the two of you, splashing in a bit of whiskey and some fresh lemon to fight off the chill from the rain.
He didn’t explain where he had been and you didn’t ask, content to sit with him quietly as he sipped his tea and absentmindedly pet Max, the dog leaning happily against his legs.
“So this is where you grew up, huh?” You startled a bit at the sound of his voice cutting through the comfortable silence, looking up from your mug of tea to find Leon staring up at the old photos on the fireplace mantel across the room, the smallest smile twisting up the corner of his lips.
You tried not to focus on the new scar that marred his smooth cheek, positive he hadn’t had it last you saw him, and tucked your feet up under you on the couch. “Yep, my dad too. My grandfather bought the bar off a guy when he got home from World War II. Almost ran it right into the ground too, until he hired my grandmother to do the bookkeeping. They got married after less than a year and my family has lived here since. The portrait in the middle is from their wedding.”
To your surprise, Leon stood up, poorly hiding a pained grimace as he limped to the mantle, picking up the picture in question. “You look just like her.” The charming smile he sent you over his shoulder gave you butterflies. Until he replaced the frame and instead of returning to the couch, started perusing your other family pictures, much to your horror.
“I guess so, but hey-” You jumped up, latching onto his arm and applying gentle pressure until he turned his attention back to you. “Don’t look so hard at all those, I’m not sure I’m ready for you to see my awkward highschool phase.”
“Aw come one, I’m sure you were cute.” He winked and his eyes looked so much bluer up close in the low light of your living room.
“Yeah, well maybe I’ll let you see them if you tell me what’s going on with you,” your words gradually dropped in volume until you ended on a whisper. You could feel Leon stiffen. “You can’t just show up like you did at someone’s doorstep and not offer any explanation.”
“It’s not a very nice story,” he replied softly, reaching out to touch the necklace at your throat. You held your breath as he turned it over, righting the chain you hadn’t noticed was twisted.
“I’m a bartender, more than half the stories I hear aren’t very nice. Try me.”
Leon heaved a sigh, scrubbing a palm over his face before nodding. “One condition: got any more of that whiskey up here?”