Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s not like anyone forced Leon to do this, only that maybe they kind of did.
He was the New Guy. And he had already weaseled his way out of drinks with the team twice, claiming prior engagements – of which only one had been a real lie.
So tonight Leon had closed his locker with the gravitas of a man meant for the gallows of forced socialization.
He had endured dinner in some hip franchise spot not that far from the precinct, the burgers over-priced and the drinks even more so.
But at least the team had kept the ribbing down to a minimum over dinner, only needling him a bit over the transfer that he refused to talk about in detail.
And Leon had even cracked a joke or two aside from that, that had gotten some laughs.

“Let’s grab some drinks somewhere else,” Chloe said after they’d gotten their bill, everyone pulling their jackets on.
“Somewhere we can smoke,” Terry said and Marc nodded in agreement.
Leon tried to think of a reason to leave, but it would look bad, if the New Guy was the first one to leave.
And everybody seemed happy to find some smoky bar to drink the night away in.
“I know a place,” Toni piped up, for just about the first time that night. Quiet type.
General consensus was that he should lead the way and Leon slipped his fists into his jacket’s pockets and tried not to fall to the rear of the group.
Tried to engage in the conversation, listen actively at least, but the sidewalks were crowded and well.

Leon was the last to file through the glass door of the “Rosinante Bar”, the team already sitting down as he still took in the room.
Decently small, a long bar across from the windowed front, chairs and tables on the floor. Real wooden floor.
Leon scuffed his boot over it appreciatively, making his way over to his team.
A bit more than half the tables were occupied, people sitting and smoking, sipping drinks, snacking away on colourful plates of colourful food.
“This is nice,” Chloe was just saying as Leon draped his jacket over the back of the last free chair.

A hand ghosted over his back, a man squeezing past him to fall dramatically to one knee next to Chloe.
Toni laughed, everyone else blinking in mild to severe confusion.

“Princesa, that is the single most nicest thing anyone has ever had the decency to say about my poor little bar, your first drink is on the house! What can I get you?”
Chloe flushed, laughed, tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Oh! Erm, do you have a house cocktail, or something like that?”
“Tinto de Verano, then, Princesa,” the man said with a wink and rose from his kneel.
Leon sat down.

“Señores, what can I get you?” A slender hand rested on the back of Leon’s chair, pressing the collar of his jacket up against his back.
The man smelled like cigarette smoke and some kind of cologne or aftershave.
“I’ll have one of those Tintos, too,” Terry decided, blowing a plume of smoke at the ceiling.
A beer for Marc, Toni wanted a glass of red wine, knew the name for it and everything, which earned him an appreciative little laugh from the man.
The owner, or barkeeper at least, Leon thought.
“And for you, handsome?” A thumb pressing to Leon’s shoulderblade.

He looked up at the man, was met with a wink, grey eyes sparkling with a joke that wouldn’t be shared.
“A beer, please,” Leon said, because he knew nothing about wine and beer was easy.
The thumb slid from his shoulderblade down to his spine, inducing a tingle that Leon suppressed neatly, and the man half-bowed with a flourish before making his way to the bar.
His boots had little heels that clicked on the floor, like cowboy boots, but different, somehow.
European.

“Oh my God, who was that?” Chloe’s whole face was flushed, which looked good on her.
“Luis,” Toni said, taking a lit cigarette from Marc. “He’s the owner and only guy who I’ve ever seen work here. One man show, the whole thing.”
He moved his hand in a slow circle, indicating the whole bar.
“Must be tough,” Leon said, looking around the room again. And sure enough, there seemed to be no wait-staff, no one bussing tables, no one taking orders, because Luis was behind the bar.

“Music’s a bit so-so.”
“Terry, not everything has to be playing the Top-40 on a loop.”
“I think it’s nice. Fits the atmosphere,” Leon said, turning back to the table. Toni looked at him with a little smile, nodding.
“Makes it feel like a little vacation,” Marc agreed, ashing his cigarette.
“I guess. Pretentious vacation, though.”
Chloe laughed, conversation drifting to vacations. Nothing where Leon could really contribute, so he occupied himself with studying the bar.

There were photographs on the walls, most of them in black and white. Those artistic close-ups of dancing couples that made the human body seem incomprehensible, more like modern art than flesh and bone.
Some landscapes too, little villages, a man on a horse.
Leon’s eye was drawn to a photograph behind the bar, a dancing man, face obscured by the movement, his own hair sticking to his skin.
The only other thing that was really noticeable about it was the curve of the dancer’s spine.
It drew Leon’s eye.

“And here is your Tinto de Verano, Princesa,” crooned the owner all of a sudden, setting a large glass of wine down in front of Chloe. Lemon slices and ice cubes bobbed around in it and Chloe smiled at the man, her hair behind her ears again.
“Thanks.”
A wink made her flush again.
“Your beer,” he said by Leon’s ear and Leon fought the urge to clear his dry throat.
The man’s voice was very smooth.

The way he stepped around the table to deposit the rest of the drinks was very smooth too.
The click click of his heels, the relaxed poise of the empty tray resting against his hip by the end of the round.
He snapped his fingers, rings glinting, as if he’d just remembered something.
“My, where are my manners? Any tapas with your drinks?” Winning smile.
“A mixed platter for five, then, maybe?”
Toni’s suggestion was met with nods and Luis inclined his head, winking at Leon, before he made a detour around the room on his way to the bar, picking up more orders.

Leon wrapped both hands around the beer, the condensation keeping his focus tight for now.
Lifted the bottle to his mouth with his left.
The first sip was divine.
Cold and almost sweet, better than any beer he’d had so far.

Marc’s bottle looked different, another label on it, and he sipped it indifferently, laughing at one of Terry’s stories. Which were endless, the supply never running out, much like his cigarettes.
“How’s your beer?” Chloe pointed at it, lips already stained by her wine.
“Really fucking good, honestly.”
She laughed, twirling her glass by the stem. “This is the best cocktail I’ve had in a while, too! What a place, huh?”
Leon could only nod, distracted by a peal of laughter from a table closer by the bar, Luis with his head thrown back, one hand on his chest, the other on the shoulder of a beautiful woman.
He bent low, said something to the woman and they laughed again, both tossing their hair, wiping at their eyes.
Leon busied himself with his beer, as Luis turned, didn’t want to get caught staring.

Did find himself staring again, when Luis set down a platter of mixed tapas on the table, loose shirt falling away from his chest as he bent over for that.
A toned, tan chest, hair on it.
Mesmerizing.
Toni made a bit of conversation with the man and Leon hoped that he would get to hear and see that laugh from up close.
He drained his beer in a long pull as they talked and Luis pointed at the empty bottle, not even pausing in his chat with Toni, before Leon had even set it down again.
He pointed at Chloe’s glass with it instead and Luis grinned easy, blowing a lock of hair out of his face as he nodded.
There was a roll to his step, a tilt and swing to his hips that forced Leon to become interested in whatever Marc was saying, because the wooden grain of the table was not going to cut it.
And he hadn’t really caught the vibe of his team enough yet, to feel comfortable staring openly at a man’s ass.
He didn’t need that kind of machismo and attention, really.
The Army had been bad enough with that.

So Leon fished a piece of bread out of the tapas platter, swiped it through one of the colourful cream cheeses and was rewarded with such a burst of flavour that he almost choked.
“Wow, fuck,” he mumbled, going back for more.
Chloe pierced an olive with one of the little pokers and daintily popped it in her mouth. Pulled a face a second later and Toni laughed at her.
“They got the stones in them, Chloe, wanna be careful with that.”
“Tell me next time,” she mumbled behind her hand, trying to get the olive flesh off the pit and then not spit it out too obviously.
Leon smiled, handing her a napkin.

“Tinto de Verano, handsome,” Luis said softly by Leon’s shoulder and swapped his empty beer bottle for the full glass.
“Jesus,” Terry spooked, one hand over his heart. “You’re awful sneaky! And with those shoes, man!”
A grin that almost made Terry shrink back, so sharp was it.
A hand on the hip and then there was the quick tap-tap-tap of one boot, while Luis’ torso stayed absolutely still.
“Years of training, amigo.” He turned his attention back to the whole table with a wink, a hand on Leon’s chair again. “Any more drinks for anybody?”
Toni got himself another wine, Marc more beer and Leon took a tentative first sip of his wine, while Luis’ thumb stroked past his spine again.

Once was accidental.
This wasn’t accidental anymore, Leon feared.
Hoped.
Feared.

The wine was amazing. Fruity and fresh, it was unlike any wine Leon had had before.
“Hey,” he said, tapping Luis’ wrist just as the man turned to leave.
“Sí, vaquero?”
“Sorry, but what’s in this? It’s amazing.”
There was a spark in those grey eyes, an easy smile, that suited him way too much.
Leon already regretted speaking up.
“It’s red wine, any red wine works, really, with Gaseosa, which is a spanish lemonade. Some ice, lemon slices and you’ve got the drink of the summer, no?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Chloe inserted herself into the conversation and Luis smiled at her, but his hand stayed on Leon’s chair, his hip very close to Leon’s shoulder.

Leon drank more of his wine, Chloe trying her best to keep Luis’ attention.
Enviable, how open she could be with that, flirting just because she wanted to.
And Luis obviously liked the attention, liked talking to her.
Who didn’t like talking to a pretty woman, really?
With a sigh Leon picked a red pepper of some sort from the tapas platter and suddenly Luis’ face was next to his.
His hair tickled Leon’s ear.

“Careful, handsome, those are spicy. Wouldn’t want you to burn your tongue, no?”
“I can handle a bit of spice,” Leon shot back, biting down on it.
Spicy, yeah, but nice. Creamy and almost sweet, too.
“Ay, I see, vaquero, very nice.” The hand on Leon’s chair slipped on his shoulder proper and Luis gave it a squeeze.
And another one, whistling loudly.
A few people turned their heads towards them, laughing and turning away again when they saw what they saw.
Whatever that was.

“Someone works out, so let me guess, Policía, like Toni?”
“Yeah, whole team, actually.”
“My, let’s hope it’s tonight someone tries to rob the bar then!” Luis laughed at his own joke, winked at Leon with that smile on his face and wow.
The wine sloshed in Leon’s belly, colour in his cheeks.

“Ah, excuse me, I’m needed over there,” Luis said a second before Leon could muster up the courage to say anything at all and let go of his shoulder. “I’ll be back,” he promised and then he left in a flurry of shirt sleeves and that cologne smell.
He walked in time with the music, steps purposeful and elegant.
It was hard not to follow his way through the room, the butterfly darting from flower to flower.

“Well, Kennedy, seems you meet European standards, with your pretty face,” needled Terry immediately.
“Come on, T,” Marc said with an eyeroll. “Not like Leon chose to be a pretty boy, you know.”
“Think I’d rather be called pretty, than,” Leon eyeballed Terry and Marc with his eyebrows drawn, shrugged, “Than, you know.”
He sipped his wine and Terry leaned closer. “Than what?”
“Look like you, buddy.”
Chloe burst into laughter, Toni shaking his hand like he touched something hot and toasting Leon. Marc laughed too, slapping Terry’s shoulder hard.
“Oh, he got you there, man, ain’t no one ever call you pretty, huh?”
“Probably not even handsome.”
“Well, maybe his grandma.”
Leon chuckled, fist-bumped Chloe when she offered and leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine with a little smile.

Maybe it hadn’t been the worst decision to finally go out for dinner and drinks with the team.
Maybe this would finally be a precinct where he would feel at home.
A city he could call home.
Across the room Luis said goodbye to a couple by the door, holding it open for them.
His eyes met Leon’s and he smiled, winking at him.
Leon smiled back.

Terry was the first to go, a one-armed hug for everyone, bolstered by wine and beer and a belly full of delicious tapas.
Then Toni, half an hour later, promising to get coffee for everyone on his way to the precinct tomorrow morning.
Chloe was picked up by her roommate on her way home from work not long after.
Marc and Leon finished the plate of tapas, shoving all the empty glasses and bottles to one side of the table.
Marc had just finished retelling a football game of his youngest son, when there came the click-click of heeled boots.

“Anything else, Señores?” Luis leaned between them, one hand on each chair.
Leon leaned back a bit, smiling up at him.
All the wine and beer made him loose and warm and Luis smelled good.
“Not for me,” Marc sighed, “I have to get home, sorry, guys. Can I get my check?”
“Sure, you can pay at the bar. You, vaquero?”
Leon swallowed, inhaled the faint scent of Luis’ cologne.
He didn’t really want to go home, wanted to keep riding the buzz of drinks and food and good company.
“Maybe a last one for the way?”
“At the bar?”
“Sure,” he agreed easily and the three of them made their way over there, Marc pulling his jacket on.

The bar was mostly deserted by now, only a handful of other patrons still nursing drinks, saying their goodbyes.
With a little sigh Leon heaved himself up on one of the barstools and Luis touched his shoulder as he walked past, behind the bar, to pull up Marc’s tab for him.
Sitting here Leon was awfully close to the photograph of the young dancer and he couldn’t keep his eyes averted.
It showed the young man from the hips up, his torso twisted with movement, spine arched as his arms swooped dramatically.
The suit or costume he was wearing was tight, showing off a trim waist perfectly.

“An old thing,” Luis said suddenly, leaning against the bar, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers, distractingly elegant.
“Sorry?”
He pointed at the photograph with his cigarette. “The photo.”
His Spanish accent was more pronounced now than it had been earlier. Maybe the late night was getting to him.
“I don’t know, ten years old now? Nine, maybe.”
“It’s good. Very...” Leon trailed off, gesturing vaguely and Luis laughed, nodding.
“I know! The Photographer did such a good job capturing the dance, it makes me hear the music again!”
There was a spark in Luis’ eyes, an animated flair to his movements and even the way he stood that made Leon feel like a deer in the headlights.
He nodded now, playing with a coaster on the bartop.

The door opened and a man called “Good night, Luis,” making Luis divert his attention for a moment that gave Leon the opportunity to actually look at the bottles lined up behind the bar to decide what he wanted his night cap to be.
There were a few familair labels, the usual bar stuff, but after tonight Leon didn’t want something usual.
He wanted something new, something that fit the whole atmosphere of the place.
“So, vaquero, you wanted a last one for the night,” Luis said conversationally after the patrons had left, leaning a hip against the bar, drawing from his cigarette with a soft expression.

Leon swallowed.
He felt ten years younger, stupid.
Might be the alcohol in his veins.
Might be the devastatingly handsome man looking at him through his dark lashes.
“I’ll take your recommendations. Give me something I’ve never had before.”
Luis’ eyes narrowed a bit, looking Leon up and down where he sat.
His skin prickled with sweat under the scrutiny.
But Leon didn’t look away, didn’t squirm.

In the end it was Luis who turned away, walking along his bar shelf, until he came to the bottle he had been looking for.
The light glinted off the rings he wore on his right hand for a moment and then he was tossing the bottle to his other hand behind his back, fishing two shot glasses out from somewhere that Leon couldn’t see.
They weren’t there one second and the next they were.
“Orujo envejecido,” Luis said, as he poured Leon a shot and then one for himself. It had a gorgeous amber colour and Leon looked up at Luis.
“What is it?”
“A brandy, basically, aged in the barrel, so it gets that nice colour. Try it.” Luis moved one of the glasses towards Leon at the same moment that Leon reached for it.
Their hands touched, Leon sucking a breath in through his nose.

Luis winked at him and extracted his hand from under Leon’s.
He kept the eye contact as he lifted his own shot glass and tapped it to Leon’s.
“Salud,” Luis said.
“Cheers,” Leon managed and pressed the glass to his lips.
He only drank when Luis tipped his head back and took his shot.
There was no way he would survive tonight if he watched Luis’ throat work through that swallow.
Flavour burst on Leon’s tongue, sun and grapes and something warm and round.
It was pretty perfect.
“Wow.”
Luis laughed, pouring them more. “Pretty good, no? I prefer this one to the plain or hierbas myself.”
Leon grinned, chin in his hand and took more time with this shot, really savouring the taste and smooth mouthfeel.

“You’re police, yes? I know Toni is, but he’s never brought colleagues before.”
“We wanted a place the smokers can smoke and the rest can get good drinks at, so Toni suggested,” Leon gestured at the room and Luis smiled, stubbing the butt of his cigarette casually.
There was elegance to every single one of his fucking movements and it drove Leon crazy, buzzed as he was.
“Always happy to be suggested.” Another wink and Leon was sure that was flirtatious, but maybe that was just the Spanish way.
“Did you enjoy your evening?”, Luis added, pouring the third shot for them both.
“Wouldn’t still be here, if I hadn’t.”
“Good.”

Luis’ smile crinkled the corners of his eyes handsomely and Leon sipped his orujo, sweat sliding down his spine.
“Can I pay, Luis?”, a woman asked suddenly from his left and fuck. Leon had absolutely forgotten there were other people here.
Luis smiled at the woman, set his glass down and walked her to the register. They made conversation while she payed and Leon took that as his cue to slide off the barstool and wrestle his jacket into submission.

“Leaving then?”
Luis was back across the bar, fingering his own shot glass, an easy smile hung on his face like a forgotten shirt on a laundry line.
Leon slipped his hands into his pockets, nodding. “Still gotta get home.”
“Hmm. Work tomorrow? Well, later today, I guess.”
“That late, huh?”
“Sí, vaquero, that late. Cash or card?”
“Card, I think.” Leon fumbled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed Luis his card, finding exactly seven dollars in his wallet.
“Gracias,” he looked down at it and then up at Leon with a quick smile, “Leon.”
He pronounced it funny, European, and Leon liked it.

Luis tapped away at the register and then handed Leon his card and receipt back. He stuffed both in his wallet, pocketed that.
“Thanks. Have a good night, Luis.”
“You too, Leon, do come back, no?”
He nodded, smiling at Luis, before turning to the door and making his way across the wooden floor at a wobbly pace.
There was no one at the tables anymore. Huh, really that late.
“Be safe, vaquero!”

Leon turned over his shoulder at the door, looked at Luis’ worried face and revelled in the rush of warmth in his chest.
“Will do, thanks. See ya.”
Luis did a little finger wave, still that concern in his eyes.
Was he that unsteady?
Leon smiled, opened the door and was hit with the wet, cold night air.
And fuck.
He was drunk.
Work tomorrow was going to be fucking rough, but Leon didn’t think he would regret tonight anytime soon, or at all.
It had been too much fun for that.
He couldn’t get Luis smiling face out of his head for the whole way home and fell asleep with it still on his mind.

And then work kept Leon so tied up that he didn’t even have time to think about going out for a drink for the next weeks.

It took a multi-car-pile-up and six hours of his ten hour shift spent in the pouring rain for his boss to send the team home early and Leon back to the Rosinante Bar.
He really needed a fucking drink, and he wouldn’t mind being served it with a wink and a warm hand on his shoulder, really.
It was already past nine when Leon shouldered the door open and shook the rain out of his hair.
Could have saved time with missing that shower at the precinct, he was just as wet and cold as he had been before it.

The bar was still fairly full, about the same number of tables occupied as last time that Leon had been here, Luis polishing glasses behind the bar, cigarette dangling from his lip.
Their eyes met across the room and Leon sighed, shoulders dropping.
Luis’ eyes crinkled as he smiled, setting down the glass and towel, ashing his cigarette.
Then he used it to point at the bar stool Leon had sat in last time.
Leon took his wet jacket off on his way over and draped it over the stool next to his spot, where it would hopefully dry a bit before he went home again.

“Leon,” Luis said in greeting, holding out a fresh towel over the bar. “You’re dripping.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed,” Leon grumbled good-natured and took the towel, fingers brushing over Luis’.
“Want me to hang up your jacket before you ruin my floors?”
“Didn’t see a coat rack.”
“Well, I find it ruins the aesthetics, vaquero, excuse me.”
Leon chuckled, rubbing the towel through his hair as Luis walked around the bar and collected Leon’s wet jacket from its stool.
He vanished into a back room with it, the golden sign on it spelling out “Private” in swirly letters. Leon hadn’t even noticed it last time.
Wondered what was behind it, because he couldn’t really imagine Luis spending time in a break room or something like that.
Maybe it was storage, or a kitchen for the tapas plates.

Luis came out with empty hands and a little grin on his face.
“Lambskin, no?”
Leon nodded. “First real paycheck went into that. Always wanted one.”
“It’s very nice. I have a few leather jackets myself, nothing quite like it.”
That’s a thought.
One that made Leon swallow for some reason, shifting his weight in his seat.

“What would you like to drink? Beer, wine, orujo? Something else? I can make you coffee, if you’d prefer something warm in this weather.”
The wind took that moment to really hammer the rain against the glass front and Luis whistled.
“Glass of wine would be nice, I think.”
“Preferences? Dry, sweet? Tapas with that?”
“No, I don’t know, yes,” Leon answered in order, pursing his lips to hide a smile. As if Luis’ honestly thought he knew anything about wine.
“Oye, vaquero,” he sighed softly, hands on his hips. “What will we do with you, eh?”
“Just get me your favourite, I’ll try it.”

Apparently that was exactly the right thing to say, judging from the excited little gasp and the hurried demeanor Luis showed all of a sudden.
He had to be wearing the same boots as last time, because Leon could clearly hear the click-click-click of the little heels as Luis fetched a glass and a bottle of wine from under the bar.
“This is from the region in Spain where I grew up, one of the best wines you’ll ever have, and I don’t say that lightly.”
Leon smiled, took the glass by the stem and had a little sip.
Fruity and rich, velvety on his tongue.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, looked at Luis who grinned, lighting a new cigarette.
“Told you, no? You like it?”
“It’s really good."
“Good,” there was such a warmth to Luis’ voice, to his little smile, that Leon forgot the cold in his bones. “I’ll get you some tapas, be right back, vaquero.”
Leon nodded, watched Luis walk back into the private area behind the door and was, once again, caught in his study of the young dancer in the photograph.
He thought he could make out a laughing mouth behind the smear of hair in the image.
The shape of an arm through the white of the sleeve, toned, Leon mused.
Dancers were always so toned and lean, long limbs and flexible joints.

He sipped his wine, absentmindedly wiped a drop of water from his face, hair still wet.
Luis set down a plate of bread and cheeses, a handful of olives, by his elbow and ashed his cigarette.
“This again?”
“Not much else to look at here, Luis.”
A chuckle. Leon looked at him, found Luis looking at the photo himself.
“And I like it.”
A smile curled Luis’ mouth.
“If I didn’t like it so much myself I’d let you take it home.”
“Wouldn’t know where to hang it in the first place, my flat’s not that big.”
“Ah, well, the salary of a public servant.” Luis turned his head to look at him, grinned and stole an olive from Leon’s plate. “Excuse me for a moment, Señora Ortega needs a top up.”

With a bottle of wine in hand Luis made his way across the bar and Leon watched him.
Again that poise, the straight back and easy roll of the shoulders, heels clicking on the floor.
He walked perfectly in time to the music, Leon noticed when Luis did a sort of two step, a half-turn to arrive at the table in question with a flourish, arms sweeping outward.
The man at the table clapped with a smile, used to the antics, it seemed, and the woman held out her glass, high heel rubbing against the back of Luis’ calf.
The stem of the wineglass pressed hard into Leon’s palm.
Luis poured wine, extracted himself from the table with a smile and an elegant turn.

“Married women,” he said conspiratorily to Leon when he was back, one hand on the middle of Leon’s back. “They always want what they cannot have.”
He winked at Leon, thumb rubbing over the edge of Leon’s shoulder blade.
Leon suppressed a shiver.
“Enough of that, though, pray tell, what had you looking like a drowned dog on my doorstep?”
Leon turned to look at the window, the sheets of rain outside.
“Aside from the weather?”

He got another olive stolen for that and Luis rolled his eyes at him as he chewed. “Yes, aside from the weather, Leon. It was more of a spiritual wetness that I percieved.”
“Spiritual wetness. That’s the first time I hear anything like that.”
Luis laughed, topped Leon’s wine off and made himself a cup of coffee. “Then you’re lucky to not have been accosted by a horde of esoterics who have percieved your spiritual ripeness, or some such thing, and thus want you to join their community to the benefit of all.”
He waved his hand like it wasn’t all that and Leon blinked. “Elaborate?”
A pained look over the rim of the coffee cup. “Do I have to? It’s really quite boring, but the weekend was fun.”
“You went with them?”
“I was young and bored.”
“This happened in Spain?”
“Yes, officer, and I was of age,” Luis quipped, winking, leaned in over the bar, his voice a warm rumble in the air between them.
The guitar music was soft and yearning and Leon just knew he was blushing, could feel the heat in his cheeks.
“Sorry, just interested.”

Luis leaned back, laughed and waved the apology off, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you another time, okay? Now, what had you looking like that, then?”
“Rough shift. Was stuck in the weather for the best part of it and just, yeah. Had me soggy.”
“No umbrellas on duty?”
“Hah, with that wind? And we get rain coats and hats, no umbrellas issued, far as I know. Hard to redirect traffic when you have a hand full.”
Recognition flitted over Luis’ face. “That pile up? I heard on the radio.”
Leon nodded, turning the glass on the bartop. He took a big sip and broke a piece of bread in half, chewing.
“Can’t have been pretty.”
“Well, no one dead.”
“That’s a relief,” Luis breathed, patting Leon’s wrist and moving the plate a bit closer to him. “Still, that was a long day then, no?”
“Yeah, and we were even allowed to leave earlier. Normally I would have gotten off at ten thirty, earliest.”

Luis cursed in Spanish, a sympathetic draw to his face. “Better than night shift?”
Leon laughed and shook his head, swallowing a sip of wine. “Absolutely not, night shift you have more of your day than late shift, I swear. And it’s easier to catch up on sleep. Sure, day shift is the best, but late shift is the worst, I always try to get out of those.”
“I used to work nights sometimes, before I started the bar, and I hated that,” Luis offered, stirring his coffee.
“What kind of job was it?” At the risk of looking overly eager Leon leaned in, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth.
Luis smiled.
“I studied pharmaceuticals and microbiology in Spain, was offered a good job here – “ He gestured, wrists flicking, fingers flaring, encompassing America as a whole “ – and worked it for a while. The money was good, but the work was monotonous and the company, well. Shady.”
“That’s American pharma for you.”
Luis laughed a jaded laugh, tipping his coffee mug against Leon’s wine. “I know that now, but young Luis was naive and idealistic. Got out while I could, with a good amount of savings and well. The rest you see here.”

There was such a warmth in Luis’ expression when he looked around the bar, taking it all in; the patrons and the photographs, the bottles behind the bar, that Leon reached out, covering his hand for a moment.
He squeezed softly, smiling at Luis.
“Turned out good, I’d say,” he murmured, pulling his hand back.
Luis looked at him for a moment, calculating, almost and then he winked, blowing Leon a little kiss.
“Gracias, guapo. Drink your wine.”

He topped Leon up again and then swooped to the door to say goodbye to two men.
Kisses on the cheeks, hugs and laughter.
Most people seemed to keep a running tab, Leon mused, since almost no one ever came to the bar to pay for their drinks and food when they left.
Not that he was complaining, it meant when Luis leaned against the bar right next to Leon, his knee brushing against Leon, that no one would come up to disturb the moment, in high likelihood.
Luis talked a bit more about coming to the States, the culture shocks, the new experiences.
It was fun to see the country Leon had never left in his life be described so different, so vivid, through Luis’ eyes.

“And, well,” Luis said, blowing smoke to the side, “I try to travel every year, to see all the states, eventually, but boy, do they make it expensive!”
“Cheaper, if you drive, but it takes way longer that way.”
“And I don’t enjoy those long car rides. A train, Leon, I would love to ride a train out west, like back then, you know! Look out the window and see the landscape change with the chugging of it all.” Luis sighed, dreamy, an imploring hand on Leon’s arm, shaking him slightly.
“Sounds nice. Maybe there’ll be a train robbery.”
“Oh, now you’re threatening me with a good time!”
Leon did a quick double take, emptied his glass and cleared his throat. “Sorry?”
“Train robbery! Always looks fun in the western movies, so I wouldn’t mind too much, I think.”
“Being robbed is not fun, Luis.”
“It’s not like they’re going to do anything, Leon. I’ll give them my hard earned dollars, hide my rings and pray and beg, and two days later it’ll all be a grand adventure I’ll tell my new acquaintances in the saloon.”
“Better be quick with those rings, then, or you’ll be picking your fingers up from the floor, too.”
“No romance in your head at all, vaquero, I see.”
Leon scoffed, and sure. Maybe he was unromantic, jaded. But as a cop he’d seen enough robberies gone awry, ending in funerals.
Luis sighed, flicking hair away from his brow. “Alas, no trains in America, no robberies to endure. More wine?”

Leon should say no, thanks, should pay and go home and get some sleep and think about Luis’ cologne haunting him.
But he didn’t.
He nodded and smiled as Luis poured for him.
The Rosinante Bar was way more comfortable than his own living room either way, and the company better, too.
A handful of people called good night from the door and then, after a wave from Luis, hurried into the windy night, rain still coming in sheets.

“What a weather,” Luis said with a shudder. “I’ll put on brighter music, we need it, I think.”
Leon watched him weasel around, tapping on a tablet under the bar shelf and a second later bright, sunny guitars filled the room.
A woman’s clear voice rose above the rythmic playing and Luis lifted his arms with a happy noise, making a movement with his hands that Leon had no words to describe.
With a satisfying clack-clack of his boots Luis danced back to the spot across from Leon and winked at him. His arms came down in a swooping bow and Leon’s throat clicked as he swallowed dry.

“Erm,” he croaked, cleared his throat and nodded in awkward amazement.
“Oh, vaquero,” Luis crooned, tapping the rythm of the song against the polished top of the bar.
Leon looked at his hands, twisted together around his wine glass and his heart thumped in his ears.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the music.
Maybe it was Luis.
His warm eyes, the way his hands moved, the way his jeans fit, the little heels on his boots, the two buttons at the top of his shirt always undone.
Leon felt out of his depth, tilted, somehow, like the ground was askew under his stool.
Another woman said her goodbye from the door.

Luis pointed at Leon’s picked at plate, said “Eat,” and then click-clicked his way through the room.
He collected plates and glasses, empty bottles on his tray while Leon mopped up oil from his plate with the crusty, airy bread and drank his wine too fast.

“You know,” he said out of nowhere, surprising himself, but Luis looked at him with an encouraging smile. “I always wanted to be a cop, long as I can remember, but it’s way different from what I thought it would be, really.”
“Yes, how so?”
Leon shrugged, Luis coming back to the bar with his loaded tray.
“Been doing this for six, seven years now and I just thought I’d feel... Accomplished, you know. Like I’m helping people.”
Luis looked at him, paused in loading his dish washer for a moment.
“And don’t get me wrong, I do help people, and I love it, but sometimes there’s just nothing we can do and it just...”
“Doesn’t feel good, no?”

Leon smiled without joy. “Not great, yeah.”
“In danger of sounding patronising, my friend, I fear that’s what growing up does to us. We have to come to terms with the fact that our childhood dreams were only ever seen through a child’s eyes, no? That the world isn’t the ideal place we wished it were and now we have to muddle through.”
Luis, as he spoke, had made his way back around the bar, sitting down on the stool next to Leon. His hand was warm on the back of Leon’s arm, thumb rubbing a soothing circle over it.
Leon’s eyes burned and he looked at his empty glass, the photograph, anywhere but Luis.
“It doesn’t mean we have to feel bad about it, though. We can still dream, we can still do our best to make the little Leons and Luis’ of this world happy. Do what we can.”
The last part came with a little shrug, a wry smile, Luis’ hand rubbing over Leon’s shoulder now.

He blinked the nonsense tears away and put an awkward, half-drunk arm around Luis’ shoulders in a sideways hug.
“Bit much sometimes, sorry.”
“It’s okay, we all get down in our wine sometimes,” Luis joked warmly, sliding his arm over Leon’s back, pulling him a bit closer. “And you’re always welcome to ride your blues out here, rather than at home alone, Leon, okay?”
“Don’t even know where all that came from,” Leon mumbled, wiping at his cheek with shaking fingers.
“Weather, maybe, the rain and all that.”
Leon looked over at Luis from the corner of his eyes and found Luis already looking at him.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, squeezing Luis’ lean shoulder in his hand.
“Don’t mention it, vaquero,” Luis told him, rubbing his hand over Leon’s back in slow, sure strokes.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“We don’t even know each other that well.”
“Eh, the fate of the bar keeper, and I like to help where I can. See, my childhood dream wasn’t owning a tapas bar in the United States, but I’m very happy where I’m right now.”

“In my arm?”, Leon asked, before his brain caught up with his fucking tongue.
Which he promptly bit.

Luis laughed, leaned in a bit closer, his foot on the bottom rung of Leon’s bar stool and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his beard rasping against Leon's evening stubble.
He smelled like cigarettes and faded cologne, coffee.
“Maybe,” Luis said against his skin, pressed another kiss there and then he was behind the bar before Leon’s brain had finished rebooting.

Luis let him sit in it, finished clearing the tables and loading his dishwasher. Then he wiped the tables, put the chairs up and made coffee for them both, sitting back down next to Leon.
He bumped shoulders with Leon casually and Leon leaned into it.
Sure, his team was cool, and there was the occasional clap on the back after a job well done or a joke well told, but that was about it.
Leon hadn’t gotten around to go out there and look for hook-ups, really, and he hadn’t re-downloaded tinder yet.
And he had no friends in the city, so he wasn’t angry about physical contact.
Quite the opposite, really.

“You okay?”
Leon took the cup of coffee with a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just...”
“My time to say sorry?”
Luis looked at him through the curtain of his hair, a little self-conscious grin perched in the corner of his mouth.
His throat was too tight to say anything. Leon reached over instead, put his hand on Luis’ thigh, just behind his knee and squeezed softly.
He shook his head.
“Sure?”
“Absolutely positive.”
Luis’ hand was narrow atop Leon’s, fingers long, a bit damp from when he wiped down the tables.
“Thank you, my friend.”

Leon squeezed his leg again and Luis squeezed his hand in turn, before they slowly let go and each grabbed their mugs with both hands.
Quiet they listened to the music still playing, to the rain slowing down outside.
Leon finished his coffee first and Luis fetched his jacket for him, picking lint out of the collar.

Leon asked after the bill and Luis said “Don’t worry about it,” with a smile, pressing the jacket into Leon’s chest.
It was the first time they were really standing next to each other, and Leon had to look up at Luis the slightest amount to catch his gaze.
It made something warm and liquid trickle down in his spine.
“My treat,” Luis added when Leon didn’t say anything.
“My treat, next time, then.”
“You’ll have to take me somewhere for that, vaquero.”
“I think I’ll manage,” Leon said, shrugging into his jacket. It was warm, like it had been hung by a radiator, cozy and dry.
“Manage to get home first, alright?”
“The busses still go, don’t worry about me.”
“That’s easy to say,” Luis sighed, walking Leon to the door.
Where he switched off the overhead lights, only the lights by the bar shedding a warm glow across the empty room.

Leon’s heart stuttered somewhere in his stomach and he put his hands in his pockets to keep them from grabbing for Luis.
He didn’t even know to which end, just that he wouldn’t mind touching him again.
“Good night, then.”
“Good night.”
There was a smile in Luis’ eyes that didn’t touch his lips and Leon wondered, for a second, if a kiss would make it spill.
But he just flipped his collar up, smiled and stepped out.

Luis locked the door behind him, waved through the glass and Leon nodded as he zipped his jacket up and trecked through the drizzle to the bus stop at the corner of the next block.
When he looked back once he could still see Luis’ silhouette against the dim lights of the bar.
He smiled to himself the whole way home, even with the wind biting at his ears and nose.

The next time Leon slipped into the bar wasn’t even a week later.
And he stopped in his tracks immediately.
Luis was, in the walkway between the seats at the bar and the tables, for lack of a better word, rocking Leon’s world.
Or dancing.
If one preferred that as an assessment of what Leon was witnessing.
The music was louder than usual, the patrons looking on with rapt attention, cigarettes forgotten in ash trays, drinks dangling from hands.

Luis had his eyes closed, arms moving almost languid above his head, as his feet worked so fast and precise that Leon couldn’t even comprehend what was percussion in the song and what was the clack of Luis’ boots on the hardwood.
Sometimes he brought his hands together for a sharp clap, his hips rolling as his torso stayed as still as humanly possible.
Mesmerizing was too soft a word for it.

Leon almost didn’t breathe, until the song ended in a crescendo that had Luis’ legs blurring with speed, almost.
He held his pose, arms across his face, one leg stretched back, completing the elegant line of his arched spine.
The harsh rise and fall of his chest was the only movement in the room for a loaded second or two and then applause and cheers tore through the gathered patrons.
More people than usual, Leon noticed now that the spell was broken and he could breathe again, fast and hard, like he’d been running.

Luis came out of his pose, swooped his hair back from his sweaty face and bowed deeply.
Dropped to one knee and slid over the floor to an old woman seated front and center.
He kissed her right hand, her left stroking his cheek as Luis looked up at her, smiling, out of breath.
He was gorgeous.

Leon’s eyes were drawn to the photograph of the young dancer behind the bar and suddenly it was clear to him.
It was Luis in the image, ten years younger, or thereabouts.
No wonder Leon could hardly keep his eyes off of it.

The applause continued as Luis rose to his feet, but he waved it off, laughing, cheeks red, hair curling more with the sweat.
“No, stop, everyone, get back to your drinks, that was it! No more, I’m out of practice!”
Laughter and a few taunts, but Luis stayed adamant and bowed a last time, before fleeing behind the bar.
It was then that he looked in Leon’s direction, their eyes meeting.
The blush deepened, Leon thought and he smiled, lifting his hand in an awkward half-wave.

“Susana’s birthday,” Luis offered as an explanation, when Leon leaned against the bar. “Her husband used to dance for her every year, so she asked if I would, in his stead, to the same song he always chose.”
“Didn’t ask.”
Luis leveled him with a stare, one eyebrow lifted to his sweaty hairline. “Alright, vaquero, but I saw your eyes bugging out your head, so.”
“They did no such thing.” Now it was Leon’s turn to blush.
“Sure,” Luis smirked, pouring himself a glass of water that he drained in one long pull.
Leon watched his adam’s apple work through the swallow and fisted his hands tighter in his pockets.

“Take a seat, have a drink,” Luis said after, wiping a bit of water from the corner of his mouth.
“Can’t stay actually, just wanted to drop by and ask you, if you’re free tomorrow night. I know the bar’s closed then, and figured I’d keep my promise.”
Luis looked at him, eyes wide, mouth half-open. He was still breathing hard, sweat on his chest, curling even that hair more.
Leon tried to keep his eyes on Luis’ face best he could.
“Treat you, you remember?”

“Oh, I remember, Leon,” Luis croaked, pouring another glass of water. He drank this one a bit slower, studying Leon’s face as he did so.
“Figured we could grab dinner and a beer somewhere, if you’d like. Or next week, if it’s a bad time for this.”
Leon looked over his shoulder, feeling a thousand eyes on him, but none of the people celebrating where paying him any mind.
Luis put his glass down, pushed his hair back from his face and reached over the bar to put a hand on Leon’s shoulder.
He squeezed, a smile finally lighting his face up.
“I’d love that, actually,” he said, thumb rubbing along Leon’s collarbone. “Should I pick you up from work? Since I don’t have any plans for the day at all.”
“I- Sure?”

Leon was losing the plot of this, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he supposed to pick Luis up, when he invited him out to dinner?
“So, Leon, which precinct should I save you from, for a night spent in good company?” Luis winked at him, let go of his shoulder and pulled a note pad and pen from somewhere, poised and ready.
“I have a card I can leave with you,” Leon interjected, pulling one of his business cards from his pocket, prepared for just that.
The corners were fingered round by his nervous hands, but Luis took it like it was made of gold.
He read it, thumb swiping over the police logo at the top.

“So, Mr Kennedy, is this your desk’s phone number? Where I can reach you personally, should I – “ Luis looked at him, a smirk on his face that made Leon tense every muscle in his body, “ – have need of your expertise?”
Leon swallowed audibly, suddenly regretting not taking off his jacket, sweat prickling under his sweater something fierce.
“Uh, yeah.”
And that made Luis laugh, head thrown back, hand still on Leon’s shoulder, laughing like that had been the joke of the century.

He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye when he had himself under control again and looked at Leon with such a fond expression that Leon would really like to leave now, thank you very much.
No one had ever looked at him like that, he thought.
“I’ll remember that, my friend. And I’ll see you tomorrow then, I don’t want to keep you, if you can’t stay.”
Leon swallowed, nodded, and took a half step back, Luis’ hand sliding off his shoulder.
“When should I be there?”
“I get off work at around six tomorrow.”
Luis winked at him again, waving with the business card. “See you at around six tomorrow then, Officer Leon S Kennedy.”
“Luis,” Leon said as way of goodbye and the only thing that kept him from properly fleeing the premises where his simultaneously stiff and wobbly knees.

“Kennedy, there’s someone here to see you!”
Leon looked up from filing the last report of the day and caught the clock on the wall in the corner of his eye.
Quarter past six. Fuck.
“Fuck. Erm. Tell him to hold on, I’ll be right there?”
Jameson, who was on front desk duty today looked at him, chewed her gum and nodded. “Sure. Friend of yours?”
“Yeah, I lost track of time.”
“Don’t sweat it, he looks happy to wait.” And with that vaguely cryptic comment Jameson left again.

Leon raced through his report, mentally prepared himself for having to fix that up tomorrow, and shut his computer off.
“See you,” he told Marc, patted his shoulder and practically ran to the changing rooms.
What a bad fucking move to have Luis pick him up for their first date and then be fucking late.
Leon stripped out of his uniform in record time and pulled his sweater and jeans on, slamming his locker closed.
He didn’t even take care to give a cursory glance at himself in the mirror. Just grabbed his jacket and was out of there.
Jameson didn’t look up from her book, but said “Have fun on your date, Kennedy” and Leon almost missed the step down from the precinct floor to the entrance way.
“See you, Jameson,” he answered diplomatically and finally finished wrestling his jacket on.

Luis was looking at the magazine rack of pamphlets, hands playing with his lighter.
“Hey,” Leon said softly, landing a slightly lingering, awkward slap on Luis’ shoulder. “Sorry for the wait, I got caught up in work.”
Luis looked at him, already smiling. He put a hand on Leon’s back, just under his shoulderblade.
“Hey, yourself. I was studying the extremely interesting display of mind-boggling community education you’ve got set up here.”
Leon snorted, gently steering Luis towards the door, before the usual suspects of the night started being brought in for another stint in the drunk tank.
“All for the community, you know how it is.”
The leather of Luis’ jacket was soft and supple under Leon’s hand, a warm brown that suited him well.

“Sure, the police, your friend and helper, no?”
“Ideally, yeah.”
Now it was Luis that snorted a laugh and rubbed his hand over Leon’s back. “My idealist, don’t be like that! Not all cops, no?”
“Hey,” Leon protested weakly, but he knew that there were more bad than good apples in the barrel.
“Anyway, let’s not talk shop, you promised me a treat.”
Luis looked at him from the corner of his eye, tucking his hair behind his ear. Leon had to look away, his ears were already red.
“Only if you behave yourself,” he grumbled.

Mock-offended Luis let go of Leon and danced backwards in front of him, both hands clasped to his chest.
“Leon, amigo, vaquero, have I not always been on my best behaviour? Have I not slaved away to make your nights comfortable,” – A misplaced wink here that had Leon reeling – “and have I not met your standards at every turn?”
Leon stopped walking, before Luis could run backwards into someone and grabbed both his wrists in a loose grip. Slender.
“Stop, you’re making a fool of yourself.”
“And you haven’t already made a fool of me? Cruel, but alas, I shall endure!”
“Now you’re really overreacting.”
Luis sighed heavily, shook his head and took his spot by Leon’s side again with another one of those nimble turns that were more dance than any other movement.
“I shall endure,” he repeated to himself and then hooked his arm under Leon’s, so they walked like a pair from an old movie.

Leon rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the thudding of his heart, and gently steered their progress into the right direction.
Hoped it wouldn’t get any colder, Luis hardly looked like he was dressed for the weather, not even a scarf or warm collar on his jacket.
“Say, Leon, where are you taking me?”
“For a treat.”
Luis shoved him playfully, Leon grinning at their boots. Luis’ were different from the ones he usually wore at the bar.
These ones were brown, practical, the heel shorter. He was still taller than Leon.

“For how long have you been in the city now?”, Luis asked, as they waited for a traffic light to turn green.
“Bit less than half a year, I’d say? You?”
“Five years I think? Rosinante is four now, so five years is probably it. Not the worst place I’ve ever lived in.”
“You opened a bar here, one would hope so.”
Luis laughed and squeezed Leon’s arm a bit. “The building was for sale cheap and what was I supposed to do with my savings? Keep them? No. But any other city would have been good with me too.”

Luis pulled a stalling Leon along as the light turned and it took a small stumble over the curb for Leon to find his voice again.
“Hold on a sec, you own the building?”
“Hmm, Rosinante on the ground floor, me on the first floor, another tenant above that, but she’s quiet. An artist, she paints a lot, but it’s not my taste. Oherwise I’d put her pictures on the walls.”
The last bit Luis said leaned in, right against Leon’s ear, as if it was a secret.
Leon wanted him to do that never again, the effect it had on him was scary, to say the least.

“How old are you?”, Leon asked, trying to keep the conversation on track.
“Never ask an unmarried man his age, vaquero, that’s rude.”
“Don’t play coy, no one thinks you’re a maiden either way.”
“Your treatment of me is appalling, I must protest.” A haughty sniff and then Luis laughed, lighting himself a cigarette. “I’m 29 now, be nice about it.”
Leon smiled at the vanity and pulled them down the right street for the little Thai restaurant he had picked out. It was one of his favourite spots to eat at, and not too far from work or his flat.
“Pretty decent, owning that building and everything else, at 29, you know.”
“Keep going, vaquero, flattery will get you everywhere.” And there was the wink again.
Leon was glad they were still next to each other, so he didn’t have to bear the full brunt of that.
Was dreading sitting across from Luis for dinner partly because of that and partly because it was always awkward to watch someone else chew.

“It is impressive, though, I hope you know that. Rosinante is all you, right? No background staff?”
Luis smiled, rubbing shoulders with Leon, he exhaled a plume of smoke that rose above their heads and was torn apart by the cold wind. “Just me, it keeps costs low, you know. And I like the work, being aorund people all night.”
Leon stopped them close to the door of the restaurant, sliding his hand out of his pocket, brushing palms with Luis.
“This is us. I hope you like Thai.” Maybe the next ventilation shaft would be so kind as to swallow him whole.

“I don’t have it often enough for how much I like it! Let’s see what they can offer us,” Luis said with fervour and jumped to hold the door for Leon.
“Goofball,” Leon mumbled, blushing like a school girl, as he stepped past Luis into the restaurant.
It was busy, but Leon just caught the eye of the owner’s daughter and she pointed at a table tucked away between a divider and a huge plant.
“A regular, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s a good place, and I’m not a good cook.”
Luis laughed, patted Leon’s back and left it at that. It had Leon wondering if Luis was a good cook.
He looked like someone who was good at everything he set his mind to for longer than ten minutes, but well.
Leon might be biased in his assessment of the man.

They hung their jackets over the back of their chairs and Leon had to swallow, had to study the table setting, because Luis was wearing some kind of creamy, tight knitwear that looked incredibly soft to the touch and made him look amazing.
A sweater, Leon thought, but like. The platonic ideal of a sweater.
He felt underdressed in his sweatshirt, that probably had a stain somewhere he just didn’t know of yet.
But Luis made an appreciative noise and sat down with a smile.
Leon sat down too, and with some effort didn’t even sit on his hands. He wasn’t a fucking boy anymore, summoned to the headmaster’s office.
He was on a date that Luis had agreed to, and he had to get his head out of his ass, before Luis decided that maybe he wasn’t worth the trouble after all.

A waiter brought them their menus, pouring water for them both.
Luis thanked him quietly, before flipping his menu open.
Leon opened his too, but he already knew what he’d get. Creature comforts and regular food orders, two things he was secretely made of.
“So, Leon, how old are you? To pick up the thread of that conversation.” Luis looked at him over the edge of the menu and fuck.
That shouldn’t be so hot.

“Almost 28.”
“So you’re 27. High School and then Police Academy?”
“I did a stint with the army, but left as soon as I could. Not my cup of tea.”
Luis lifted both eyebrows and pursed his lips. “Wow, I hear they make it hard for those who want to leave.”
“Not more than any other cult,” Leon quipped, sipping his water.
That had Luis laughing, shaking his head a bit.
Leon liked the fuzzy warmth in his chest whenever he made Luis laugh like that.

“All American Boy and he calls the military a cult. Vaquero, you’re a delight! Never change, alright?”
“Only if you never change either.”
Luis smiled at him, a slight flush on his cheeks and Leon wanted to feel that warmth on his hands.
He looked at the menu, letters nothing but wriggles on the paper, his vision swimming with the throb of his heart.

For a moment they studied their menus in silence, the buzz of the full restaurant filling the silence between them.
“Anything you can recommend?”, Luis asked, flipping from the beef to the chicken options in the menu.
“The soups are great, if you like soups. Or the mango curry with duck, if you don’t like soups.”
“Yeah? What do you usually get?”
“Tom Kha Gai soup,” Leon answered truthfully.
Sure, maybe a basic choice, but a good staple.
“Want to share a plate of starters before that, then?” Luis closed his menu, elegant fingers interlaced atop it.

“Sounds nice,” Leon said, unsure what Luis had asked exactly. His hands were distracting. They were well tended to, nails in good shape, skin looking supple and soft, those two silver rings on the first and second finger of his right hand just always drawing Leon’s eyes.

Luis flagged their waiter down with a practised wave and smiled at Leon as the boy approached.
“Another drink than water?”
“A beer?”
“Sure,” and then Luis turned to the waiter and ordered two beers, a plate of starters for them to share and two bowls of Tom Kha Gai soup.
Fuck, Leon should have done that, right? It had been his idea to go out for dinner, it was his treat, after all.
He was leaving an awesome impression here.

“Say, Leon, did we get the table by sheer luck or had there been more planning than you barging into the bar last night and telling me to meet you for dinner?”
Leon cringed a bit, taking a big drink of his water, stalling.
Luis watched him, smiling slightly, a predator waiting for the prey to walk into his claws.
And Leon was ready to feel them close around him.
“I reserved the table last week.”

“And still you only tell me a night before, amigo? Risky, I could have been priorly engaged.” Luis’ smile morphed into a grin, one hand cradling his chin as he leaned forward a bit.
Leon scrunched his nose at him. “I was too chickenshit to tell you before, okay? Literally had to force myself to go last night.”
Luis pouted like a particularly bad actor, whining. “Aww, so you don’t really want to do this? Should I leave?”
“Stop that, you clown, it’s my fault I’m a coward, doesn’t reflect on you at all.”

Luis laughed, leaned forward and touched one of Leon’s sweaty hands warmly, squeezing it a bit in his grip.
“Just teasing, guapo, don’t be like that. I think it’s very brave to invite someone out to dinner, I’ve never done it.”
He said that with such ease, and a little shrug, that Leon couldn’t help but laugh a little, awed.
“Fuck, you’re really cool, you know that, right?”
Luis smiled at him, eyes crinkling, cheeks flushing. “You think it’s cool I’ve never invited anyone out for dinner? That’s a first, really.”
“No, not that. You. You’re cool. Man, I don’t know anyone who would just, like, readily admit to that with such swag.”
“I don’t think the kids say swag anymore.”
“We’re not kids anymore, so.”
“Ouch, thanks for rubbing that in.”

Leon laughed turning his hand around, so he could lace fingers with Luis in a slightly risky move.
“You’re a successful business owner, it’s okay you’re not a kid anymore.”
“Successful, I don’t know.”
“You keep the lights on and there’s people there every night.”
“Touché,” Luis said with a chuckle and the waiter set down their beers.
Leon jumped, almost pulled his hand away from Luis’, but didn’t.
Not like it was anything to be ashamed of.
Luis gave his fingers a little squeeze and Leon dared to rub the side of Luis’ thumb gently.
It made something in Luis’ gaze go so soft that Leon was glad for the chair under his ass.
His knees would have given out on him.

“You’re probably someone who’s not afraid to be the first one on the dance floor,” Leon mused, idly rubbing over the plainer of Luis’ rings, the one on his first finger.
Luis smiled around the rim of his beer bottle and swallowed, licking his lips, before he pointed at Leon with one finger.
“I am almost always the first one on the dance floor, vaquero! Are you trying to tell me you’re not?”
“As if you hadn’t gathered that yourself.”
“I thought there was hope for you.”
Leon chuckled wrily and peeled at a corner of the label on his beer bottle. “Never one for the spotlight. And not much of a dancer to begin with.”
Luis made a soft sound, almost chastising, almost pitying.

“And,” Leon went on, “After seeing you dance like that last night? Don’t think I’m ever gonna dance in your presence. Or in general.”
“No, don’t say that. That was Flamenco, that’s different. I’ve been studying and training that since I was a boy, used to compete sometimes, so don’t compare that. That would be like comparing, say, your driving skills to Fernando Alonso’s.”
“I drive like shit.”
“Most Americans do, think nothing of it,” Luis said with a quick twist of his wrist and a smile. “What I’m saying is: Don’t be so hard on yourself, amigo, no?”

“Sorry, not really doing much for the mood here, am I? I didn’t invite you out for dinner to get a fucking pep talk from you, sorry man.” Leon squeezed Luis’ hand, let go of it to run it through his hair while he drank deeply from his beer. He set it down square on his coaster and looked Luis straight in the eyes.
“I’m just fucking nervous and I guess that brings it out in me.”

Luis smiled at him, a bit crooked, a bit sly, but like someone had just told him all he had ever wished for was waiting curbside.
“My, vaquero, that was fucking sexy.” He fanned his throat, drawing Leon’s eye to the neckline of his sweater.
Usually, as far as Leon knew, Luis’ shirts showed chest, tastefully, but they did.
So this? The regular neckline of a soft knit sweater? It was a lot to bear.
Knowing, but not seeing.
“Uh,” Leon said intelligently and was saved by their plate of starters arriving.

Luis picked a spring roll and dipped it, before using it to point at Leon. “I like it when you’re direct, just so you know.”
And then he started eating.
“I’ll keep it in mind next time someone asks me if I want to be the oracle of Delphi.”
“Pretty enough for it,” Luis said as he chewed and Leon blushed, picking a fried wantan up by the fringe.

For a moment they ate quietly, fingers sometimes brushing over the spring rolls, grease and crumbs between them.
They smiled at each other when that happened, Luis with a slightly tilted head, hair falling away from his face. Leon did want to run his hands through it.
Maybe he’d get to do so someday.
Maybe soon.
He hoped Luis liked having his hair played with.

“Say,” Luis said apropos nothing, licking his fingers clean after the last wan-tan had gone to Leon.
“Yeah?”
“This your first date with another man?” Chin in his hand, sly smile again.
Leon chewed slowly, heat rising in his cheeks.
“Is it yours?”
Luis laughed, head tossed back, keeping his eyes on Leon. “By far not, guapo! Too many beautiful men and women out there for me to keep my dating pool limited.”
“Yeah, you look it,” Leon said in an undertone, smiling to himself.

“Sorry?”
“No, forget it.” Leon grinned at Luis, was met with a squint and a wagging finger. “And to answer your question: I’ve been on dates with men before. Guys, whatever.”
Luis gestured for him to continue as he sipped his beer.
“Not much to tell, really. Coffee dates and gym dates and that’s about it. Same as any date with a girl.”
“You really think so?”
“Pretty much,” Leon lied. “Bit easier to talk to sometimes, I guess, but yeah. Pretty much the same.”

Thank the Lord, Luis didn’t prod. Just smiled and nodded and leaned back a bit in his chair.
It made his feet bump Leon’s under the table, slotting neatly between them. One of Luis’s shoes rubbed Leon’s calf and there was just no way that had been accidental.

The waiter collected the empty plates, refilled their water glasses.
They sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other, their feet gently leaned together.
“Thank you for inviting me out, Leon.”
Luis’ voice was so soft that Leon had to strain to pick it up over the din of the restaurant.
“I don’t get out as often as I should, when I’m not on vacation. So I’m really appreciating this.”
Leon’s pulse throbbed down to his fingertips.
His smile felt wobbly and uncertain, but he was almost bursting with something.

“Sure, don’t mention it. I’m glad you said yes, when I ambushed you.”
Luis made a nonsense Karate move and Leon laughed, shaking his head at Luis, who grinned back at him.
“We can definitely do this regularly, or semi-regularly, if you want to,” Leon offered, before his confidence ran out.
“I’d like that,” Luis said warmly, rubbing his foot against Leon’s leg again. His smile was like a soft touch to Leon’s cheek.
Even if he only got a good friend out of this all, Leon thought, even then it was worth it, if that friend was Luis.

Their soup came, Luis regaled Leon with tales as they ate, from his university times, back in Spain, of nights spent partying before exams and still passing.
Leon in turn told him about High School baseball games and homecoming parties, boyscout trips.
Those had Luis hanging from his lips.
“Boyscouts... Please tell me there are pictures you can show me, vaquero, I bet you were the cutest in your little uniform!”
Leon squinted at Luis, hands wrapped around his third beer. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Not right now,” Luis reassured him, patting Leon’s wrist. “Just wishful thinking.”
“I was twelve.”
“Cute.”
“I hate having my picture taken.”
Luis laughed, nodding. “I do not doubt that for a second, guapo!” Then he leveled a look at Leon that could only be described as “smouldering”.
It made Leon’s skin prickle under his arms and under his collar.

“Shame, though, since you’re so handsome.” Luis licked his lips, eyes trailing over Leon’s face and chest. “Pretty, even.”
“Luis,” Leon mumbled, beet red, probably.
“No, no, you are.” Luis looked at him like that again. Grinned. “If the police thing doesn’t work out for you you could always become a model.”
“Stop it.”
Both hands lifted in that southern European gesture of begrudging acquiescence that was mostly for the benefit of not having a fight Luis leaned back in his chair.
“Fine, excuse me then, I’ll go have a cigarette, guapo.” He winked at Leon, stood smoothly and pulled his jacket on.

Leon didn’t want him to leave, not even for the five minutes of one cigarette.
“If you don’t want another drink we could pay and walk somewhere?” He was half out of his chair, like an idiot.
Luis blinked at him, bewildered, a slow smile cresting.
“Sure, that sounds good.”
“Awesome!” Leon pulled his own jacket on and briskly walked to the front desk of the restaurant, settling the bill before Luis had caught up with him.

Luis pulled a fortune cookie from the big bowl by the cash register and winked at Leon again when he caught up with him.
“Seriously?”
“Always great fun, if you ask me.”
“I’m not getting one.”
Luis picked another one out of the bowl and kindly said good night to the lady who’d settled the bill with Leon.
Luis held the door for Leon again and they both immediately zipped up their jackets.
The wind had died down, but it was bitingly cold.

“Not too long a walk, eh, vaquero?”
“God, yeah, that’s nasty weather. Snow soon, I think.”
Luis lit a cigarette next to Leon, sighed happily as he inhaled the first drag of it and Leon watched him for a moment.
“You know,” he mused, “For something that kills you slowly that looks way too good on you.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Nope, and I’m not starting now.”
“Good, it’s a terrible habit to break, but what can I do? It tastes so good.” Luis shrugged and pocketed his lighter again. “Which way are we going?”
It dawned on Leon then that he didn’t really know anywhere to go that was still open at this hour and a short walk away.
It was too cold for a casual stroll through a park.
He blanked.

“This way,” he said, his feet taking the lead.
Luis slipped his hand into Leon’s, interlacing their fingers loosely.
Leon’s heart skipped a beat or two.
“Just so I don’t lose my way,” Luis explained with a wink, exhaling smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“Right. Sure.” He cleared his throat and held on tight to Luis’ hand.
“Such a good boyscout,” Luis ribbed gently, rubbing the back of Leon’s hand to let him know he didn’t mean the teasing.
“Wayfinder badge and all.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I would never kid about boyscout-business, Luis.”
“Oh, I am in the best hands then!”
“The absolute best. Boyscout’s honor.”

Leon loved Luis’ laugh.
Loud and full-bellied and so warm, so mirthful, that the night seemed a bit less cold, when he rubbed shoulders with Leon, laughing like that.
And the gentle way Luis kept rubbing Leon’s hand as they walked, chatting about nothing just wore a hole into Leon’s heart.
He was seriously in deep with this guy.

In deep enough to apparently take Luis to his place without even being really aware of it until they rounded the corner to Leon’s street.
Leon’s steps faltered for a second, making Luis stop in the middle of his story about a keg of beer, a chicken and two beautiful goats. Leon had already forgotten why Luis was telling the story or what the point was.
“You alright, vaquero?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry, just... Nightcap at mine?” Leon pointed at the building halfway down the street and shrugged.

Luis looked at him with a tiny little smirk, one eyebrow poised like a snake for the strike. “Is that why you lead us this way, Leon? For a nightcap?”
Leon could hear the air quotes around the last word and clicked his tongue at Luis, ignoring the flush creeping up the back of his neck.
“Wasn’t doing it on purpose, idiot.”
“Sure, sure, not saying you did, don’t worry about it,” Luis teased, knocking their shoulders together before he started walking again, pulling Leon along. “You’ve basically seen my place, so I do think it’s fair I see yours, too.”
“I was in your bar a few times, that’s not the same as seeing your place, Luis.”
“Eh, I spend most of my time down there anyway, so I think it is.”
“Work-life-balance not your thing?”
Luis laughed, letting go of Leon’s hand only to loop his arm around the back of Leon’s neck and pull him into a goofy headlock.
“I do not want an American of all people telling me that! You people love to work unpaid overtime!”
“Hey, it’s not like we love doing that!”
“Don’t do it then,” Luis insisted.
“You tell my boss that,” Leon shot back and easily slid out of Luis’ hold, getting him up against the closest wall with a little grin.

Luis exhaled sharply, hands going up, eyes wide. “Give me his number and I’ll happily call him, guapo,” he said breathlessly.
Leon pressed in, until he could smell Luis’ cologne perfectly, the scent of his skin.
Locked eyes with him and the smart quip died on his tongue.
They were very, very close.

Close enough for Leon to see the little freckles on Luis’ skin, the specks of green and brown in his eyes. And the way his pupils blew.
Close enough to feel Luis’ breath shudder on his skin.
Leon swallowed.
“Leon,” Luis murmured and licked his lips.
Leon’s hands curled around Luis’ shoulders, the supple leather of his jacket whispering against his palms.

Luis’ hands dropped and he gently touched the back of his fingers to the side of Leon’s face.
He leaned into it, breath stuck in his throat, right next to his heart.
“Leon, can I kiss you?”
If they hadn’t been standing so close that their breath mingled into one cloud then Leon couldn’t have heard Luis, so soft was his voice, so trembling.
“Thought I was gonna kiss you,” Leon answered and leaned in.

Luis laughed against his mouth, still smiling when their lips touched.
And wasn’t that nice?
The hand at the side of his face threaded into his hair and Leon opened his lips against Luis’, sighing.
The barest hint of the tip of a tongue to the inside of his lip and Leon pressed closer.
Luis hummed into the kiss, his other hand pulling Leon even closer by the hip.

The tongue was definitely inside of his mouth now.
And Luis absolutely knew what he was doing with it.
Aside from making Leon weak in the knees.

The hand on his hip became an arm around his waist, while Leon snaked his own hand from Luis’ shoulder into his hair.
And fuck, that was entirely too soft and silky to the touch.
“Luis,” he breathed into the kiss and Luis nuzzled their noses together, kissed the corner of Leon’s mouth, the hand in his hair softly stroking.
“Hey, Leon.”
“Fuck, erm.”
“Not on the first date, guapo, but I do appreciate the enthusiasm.”

Leon sputtered at that, leaning back, but Luis’ didn’t let him get far, the arm around Leon’s waist quite sturdy.
“Do you want to come up? Just for a drink? Or coffee, or something?”
“You’re cute when you blush, anybody ever tell you that?”
“You might be the first,” Leon admitted, probably red like a tomato by now. “Upstairs? Yes or no?”
“Sí, lead the way, I do want to kiss you on your couch.”
“Jesus, Luis,” Leon rasped and pushed away from the wall, away from where he had Luis pinned against it.

Luis took his hand again, kissing the knuckles, winking at Leon over the back of it. “My abuelo always said I should be honest with my feelings, so here we are.”
“Bet he didn’t blush when you were honest with him, though.”
“Ha, probably not.” Luis chuckled and Leon pulled him across the quiet road and into the doorway of his building.

“I’m on the sixth floor and there’s no elevator,” Leon explained as he unlocked the front door and ushered Luis inside.
“Oh, well, nothing I can’t deal with, guapo. I’ll be right behind you on the stairs.”
Leon shot him a look and Luis licked his lips, pointedly looking at Leon’s ass already.
“Oh my god,” Leon breathed, a sudden realization making his knees weak. “You’ve been holding back so far.”
“Yeah, didn’t want to scare off the little police officer.”

That smirk Luis levelled at Leon should be outlawed. Way too fucking handsome and suave and just too much.
“I don’t scare easy,” Leon told Luis and then started the long way up the stairs, just so that he didn’t have to look at Luis’ disbelieving face.
“That’s good, I’ll make sure to lean against your strong shoulder then, should we, say, watch a horror movie together.”
Leon looked at Luis over his shoulder, was met with a little smile, a purse of lips that made him want to get his hands back in his hair and lick into his mouth.
“Just keep walking,” he rasped instead, facing forward again.

The way up to his flat had never seemed so torturously long before.
So when they finally made it up to Leon’s landing he already had his key in hand and Luis’ hands on his waist.
The door slammed shut behind them and Leon sucked a bruise into Luis’ neck in the hallway.

“Fuck, Leon, slow down,” Luis keened, head thrown back and hands shoving at Leon’s shoulders.
He let go with a pop of his mouth, swiping a thumb over his handiwork. It looked gorgeous on Luis’ tan skin.
“Sorry, getting carried away.”
“No shit, vaquero! Keep your horses in check, okay? A drink, no sex.”
Luis’ pecked Leon on the tip of his nose, his blown pupils and the ragged breathing belying his words, but Leon wouldn’t press the matter.

“Sorry,” he said again, taking a step back. “Coffee or a drink?”
“Coffee is probably best.”
“Sure, sure. Uh. Make yourself at home? It’s not much, but...”
Luis shrugged his jacket off, took the few steps into Leon’s dim living room. The lights from the city mapped the outlines of furniture through the windows.

It took Leon another moment to start moving, caught up in the way Luis moved through his space.
He hung his jacket in the hallway closet and turned the light over his stove on to make some coffee.
“Sugar or cream for your coffee, Luis?”
“Oh no, thank you.”
“Tough guy, huh?”
“What, you don’t have your coffee black, boyscout?”
Leon scoffed and fired the coffee maker up, the gurgle somehow even louder now than in the mornings.
“Nah, I only really have it for the caffeine, the taste is not my favourite.”
“Never had good coffee then,” Luis surmised and rounded the edge of the kitchen island, coming to a smooth stop next to Leon.
“Probably not,” Leon shrugged and took Luis’ sweater in again. Rubbed a curious thumb over the sleeve, the knit so unbelievably soft under his hands.
“What is that?”
“A sweater. Or jumper, whichever word you prefer, Leon. Pullover, even.”
“Oh, haha,” Leon rolled his eyes and punched Luis gently in the shoulder. “The material.”
“Cashmere, guapo. Good, no?”
“That’s cashmere?” Leon moved his hand up from Luis’ forearm to his shoulder.
“Sí.” Luis’ expression shifted a bit, like he was guessing Leon had an ulterior motive here.
Well.
He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Fascinating,” Leon whispered against Luis’ lips and kissed him. In his kitchen, while the coffee slowly dripped into the pot.
Luis smiled against Leon’s mouth again and then pulled him closer, arms wrapped around his waist.
It was slow, a soft kiss.
Different from the almost frantic press of their bodies outside, but Leon liked it just as much.
Luis was warm against him, solid in a way that was hard to compare to anything else and so comfortable.

And then there was a hand under his sweater, suddenly.
Just the press of a warm palm against his spine, the subtle stretch and dig of fingertips and Leon had to break the kiss.
“Who needs to slow down now, huh?”
Luis chuckled, cheeks a bit flushed, lips red and wet. “Sorry,” he whispered into the space between them and kissed Leon’s cheekbone.
The coffee machine gave its last gurgle and they both looked at the pot. Luis’ hand was still under Leon’s sweater.
“Coffee on the couch?”
“Yes please.”
They seperated slowly, gently, eyes lingering, hands trailing.

Leon poured two mugs, added sugar and cream to his and Luis followed him to the couch.
They sat down closely together, thighs touching, hands too, as Luis took his mug.
“Gracias, guapo.”
“What does that mean? My spanish isn’t all that.”
Luis laughed, sipped his coffee and turned the mug in his hands. “It means handsome, guapo. Like a compliment.”
He winked at Leon then, tongue between his lips.
“Jesus, Luis.” It came out breezy, Luis laughing at Leon’s expression.

His hand was gentle as he tucked Leon’s hair behind his ear, his knuckles lingering against Leon’s cheek.
“You are handsome, guapo, so it only felt appropriate.”
“Fuck, you’re way too good at this.”
“At what?”
Leon made an aborted little gesture between them, had a gulp of his coffee and set the mug down.
“All this. The.. The flirting, I guess, the charme. Is that a Luis thing or a Spanish thing?”
“I’d like to think it’s a Luis thing, but well. Lots of Americans think people from southern Europe are particularly charming, vaquero, don’t ask me why.”
“Well. You are.”

Luis winked at him again, leaning in to press a little kiss to the corner of Leon’s mouth, his stubbly beard rasping over Leon’s evening stubble.
“You are making it hard to stick to my principles, Leon,” Luis murmured against his skin and Leon did his best to suppress the full-body shudder that elicited in him.
“Uh,” he croaked.
That had gone straight past his brain and directly to his groin, Luis’ voice like velvet.

But Luis was already back to leaning against the couch cushions, just their legs pressed together.
His smiling mouth was wrapped around the rim of his coffe mug and Leon had to control his breathing.
It took him until Luis had drunk his coffee, eagle eyes on Leon the whole time.

“Give me your number,” he said then, setting his mug aside on Leon’s cluttered couch table. “So I can call you.”
“Don’t send me any weird pictures when I’m at work.”
Luis laughed, flipped Leon off and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Do I look like somone who sends dick pics?”
“Yeah, no offense.”
“None taken,” he laughed still, shaking his head as he handed Leon his phone.
Leon took it with shaky hands and added his number to it, saving it simply under his name before giving Luis his phone back.
Luis blew him a kiss and snapped a picture of his blushing face in the same second.

“For my caller ID, you know.”
“Luis! As if you know another Leon.”
“You don’t know that.” He dialed Leon’s number, phone to his ear.
Leon’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

Luis mouthed “Pick up,” at him and Leon complied with an eyeroll.
“Hello?”
It was weird to hear himself say it and in the same second the slightly tinny echo from Luis’ phone.
“Hola, Leon. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Luis,” Leon sighed.
“Let’s have dinner again soon, no? I really enjoyed myself. And next time we’ll have a nightcap at my place, alright?”
The last thing was underlined with a wink again and Leon didn’t know what made him blush more.
The fucking wink or Luis’ voice in his ear and across his couch.

“Sure,” he managed with a shaky smile. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Talk to you soon then, vaquero.”
“Yeah, soon, Luis.”
Luis hung up and kissed Leon on the lips. Gentle, short.
“I’ll be going home then, alright? Call me. Or I’ll call you first.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you to the door.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
“I do try.”

Luis shrugged into his jacket, kissed Leon again by the door and then he was gone. No lingering by the door, or on the landing.
Just the quiet sound of his footsteps on the stairs and then the click of the front door.
Leon closed the door to his flat and rested his forehead against it for a while.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Luis’ mouth against his.
“Shouldn’t text him until tomorrow,” Leon told himself and sighed.
Tomorrow was a long long time away.

And aside from text messages and a few phone calls life kept them apart for the better part of another week.
It had Leon chewing his lips almost every waking moment, trying to remember the feeling of Luis’ mouth against them.
Amused his team to no end, bunch of assholes.
So, when, finally, Leon was able to snatch a day shift, meaning he got off work before the day was over, he made sure to smile sweetly at them all on his way out.
The pointed little “Have fun with your boyfriend,” from Marc was easily ignored.

Leon rode his bike over to Luis’ bar a bit above the speed limit and happily bounded into the room and straight to the bar, where Luis was chatting with a pair of patrons.
It was good to see him so in his element, laughing, with a dish towel over his shoulder.
Leon wanted to drag him over the bar and kiss him silly.
Instead he just leaned against the far corner, waiting for Luis to finish his conversation.
It caught Luis’ eye, the little wink and half-smile in Leon’s direction making him shift his weight against the bar to make sure the floor wasn’t moving under his feet.

He had to do it again when Luis finally made his way down the bar, fingers dancing along the edge.
“Hola, Leon,” he said softly, smile so warm that Leon felt like he was melting.
“Hey,” he greeted back, carefully lacing his fingers through Luis’ hand. “Good to see you.”
“Mhm, missed you, guapo.”
“We spoke everyday,” Leon reminded him, even though he’d missed Luis just as much.
“Not the same as seeing your handsome face, now, is it?”
Luis lifted Leon’s hand from the bartop and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. His beard whispered against Leon’s skin, making his knees weak.
“Shit, Luis,” Leon breathed and Luis laughed a little, straightening up again.

“A drink? Afraid I can’t close the bar down quite yet.”
“Drink would be good. I have a day off tomorrow either way.”
Luis’ eyes lit up at that, mouth quirking into a grin that Leon would be hard pressed to describe as anything other than lecherous.
“Do you now?”
Leon squinted at him and extracted his hand from Luis’ gentle hold. “Yeah, I do.”
“Beer or wine, then, vaquero? Something stronger, orujo? Coffee? Soda?”
“Glass of wine, Luis, thanks.”
Luis winked and poured Leon a glass of wine, a rich red that made Leon’s mouth water almost immediately.
He was really getting a taste for it.

“Sit down, make yourself at home! Want me to take your jacket?”
“It’s okay, thanks.” Leon lifted his glass to his lips and immediately set it down again. “Do you have a parking spot ‘round back though, or something? I’m here with my bike and I don’t really like leaving it by the road.”
“For sure! If you come around the corner there’s a black gate.” Luis pulled a key ring out of his pocket, indicating a silver key on it. “This one unlocks that gate, you can park by the bench, alright?”
Leon snatched the key and pressed a kiss to Luis’ cheek. “Thanks, be right back!”
“You can come in through the back, door’s open, guapo.” There was a fetching little blush on Luis’ cheeks, his smile rather on the shy side.
It suited him just as much as the lecherous one from before.
“Thanks,” Leon repeated and this time he winked at Luis. Fun, just to see him splutter a bit.

It was a quick roll around the corner of the street and Leon had quickly located the gate, the silver key fitting perfectly.
Behind the gate there was a little courtyard that was obviously shared with the other buildings, but in good condition.
Leon parked his bike by the little bench against the wall of Luis’ building locking his helmet up with it.
The backdoor was unlocked and unlatched and he shook his head a bit when it opened just like Luis had said.
“Safety concerns much, huh?”, he said to himself and made his way down the narrow hallway.

Passed a set of stairs and then came face to face with a door that had the logo of the Rosinante bar painted on it.
He could dimly hear the music playing, the occasional laugh filtering through the wood and the clink of glasses.
Leon had his hand on the doorknob and just soaked in that feeling for a while.
It was nice to know that someone was waiting for him on the other side of the door.

He turned the doorknob, stepped into the back of the bar.
Tiny kitchen, yep.
A passage that was barely a hallway and then Leon found himself behind the bar.
“Hey,” Luis said over his shoulder, not even lloking as he poured a drink. “Thought you’d gotten lost, vaquero.”
“Just admiring the place.”
“Drink your wine and admire from there, can’t have you snoop,” Luis joked, setting a few drinks on his tray and stroking Leon’s waist as he passed him. “I’ll be right back.”
“Jesus.”
Luis laughed as he rounded the corner of the bar and sauntered his way over the floor.
He was wearing his clicky boots again. And this time Leon was definitely allowed to look at his ass right?
Because it looked absolutely divine in those tight dark jeans paired with those short heels.

“Fucking hell,” Leon whispered to himself and finally made his way back to his glass of wine.
He sat down with his back to the bar, glass of wine dangling from his fingertips, just watching Luis weave his way through the tables, dropping off drinks and chatting left and right.
It was a delight to watch him.
The fact that Leon knew now what it was like to be kissed by Luis, to be held close against him and feel his breath against his face made it a more visceral experience, somehow.
The inherent elegance of his movements touched something soft under Leon’s ribcage, made him throw a small smile at the photograph of young Luis behind the bar.

“You’re not drinking your wine, vaquero,” Luis whispered into Leon’s hair, one hand on his shoulder.
Their eyes met and Leon leaned in a bit, until he could lean against Luis’ hip, chin tilted back.
“Was waiting for you.”
“Oh, Leon.” Luis sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of Leon’s head. “Let’s have a glass together then, no?”
“Sure, I’d love that.”
Luis smiled at him and joined him at the bar with his own glass of wine.
They clinked their glasses, shoulders leaned together, Luis with one hand on Leon’s thigh.
The wine was good, the company better and Leon was having such a good time.

Sure, Luis had to get up sometimes, to serve more drinks and tapas, to settle bills and open the door for regulars, but he always came back, always with a little kiss or a touch to Leon’s shoulder and another story to tell.
It was so comfortable.
Leon faintly thought, while he listened to Luis laugh at the cash register, that he could do this forever, maybe.

So by the time the last people were leaving, Leon was behind the counter washing wine glasses, while Luis wiped tables and set the chairs up.
The music was a low warbling in the background, the wine a gentle buzz under Leon’s skin and Luis smiled at him from all the way across the bar, singing along to the music.
And fuck, Leon was pretty sure this was what movies always tried to show in those soft-coloured montages where beautiful people did mundane things.
Something like love, maybe.

Luis danced his way over to the bar and Leon’s heart throbbed, arms up to the elbows in the suds.
“Hey,” he greeted and Luis slid up next to him, one arm around Leon’s back.
“Hey yourself. Thanks for the help, you really don’t have to do that.”
“No, it’s fine, I really don’t mind,” Leon said, turning his head to press a kiss to Luis’ cheek.
“Boyscout to the core, my dear vaquero.”
“Leave off it.”
Luis laughed a bit and pressed a kiss to Leon’s temple. “Never, Leon, it’s too good.” He started tidying away the glasses, wiping down counters, still whistling along to the music.

Together clean up didn’t even take that long and a thrill shot through Leon, head to toe, as Luis turned off the lights and music.
There was only the low gleam of the bar lights, the illuminated doorway to the kitchen that painted Luis into a silhouette.
“Coming up with me?”, Luis asked, voice low, but carrying. He turned sideways, so that the light from the doorway cast him into profile, opening a path for Leon to take.
“Always so dramatic,” he sighed and followed. The only reason his knees weren’t wobbling out under him was willpower.

Luis looped him in by the wrist, kissed the corner of his jaw and pulled him through into the tiny kitchen.
“Up the stairs, you’ve seen them, let me turn off the lights.”
Leon just nodded, making his way back into the hallway and up the first few steps.
The click of Luis’ heels followed soon.
Leon counted 18 steps and then he came onto a landing.
A purplish plant on a little stool by the door, a welcome mat that said “No warrant: No entrance” and the brown boots Luis had worn for their dinner by that.

“It’s open, go right in,” Luis called from three steps behind Leon and he looked at him over his shoulder.
“Seriously? Backdoor open, frontdoor open? Next you’ll leave the bar unlocked.”
“Eh, don’t be like that.”
Luis reached past Leon and opened the door, letting it swing wide open.
“Get in, por favor, and spare me the lecture, no?”
“Lights?”
“Directly to the left of the door. Shoes off, Leon, if you’d be so kind.”
“Ohh, very continental of you.”
Luis muttered something in Spanish that Leon didn’t catch and slapped his backside playfully.
One way to make Leon stumble into his flat for sure.

Boots off and lights on Leon took a quick glance around the hallway.
More photographs, some paintings and so many shoes. Most of them had that elegant short heel that looked so good on Luis.
“Come on, let’s get you a drink, vaquero, you can snoop later,” Luis needled, sliding a warm hand over the back of Leon’s arm.
“As if you didn’t snoop around my place.”
“Not much to look at in your place, I sadly must say. Decoration not your thing, Leon?”
The last thing was shot over Luis’ shoulder, little grin to go with it.
“Jerk,” Leon muttered and slowly followed him down the hallway and into the living room.

Thick rugs on the floor, a heavy leather couch across from a TV and bookshelves everywhere.
I smelled like Luis’ cigarettes and his cologne.
“Take a seat, I’ll put some music on, sí?”
Leon just nodded, sinking into the plush pillows and blankets atop the couch.
He caught Luis’ eye and was met with a soft smile that made Leon curl his toes against the rug.
“More wine, or something stronger?”
“Whatever you’re having, really.”

Soft classical music rose from Luis’ speakers and Leon stretched his legs out. The couch was very comfortable.
He watched Luis open a cabinet, pulling two crystal glasses from the shimmering vault of it and then he poured them drinks.
It was a delight to watch Luis in his own flat, even more so than in the bar.
There was a more casual air to his movements, the elegant step still there, but softer, less controlled, maybe.

With a sigh he sat down next to Leon and handed him his glass.
“Cheers, Leon, thanks for being here.”
“Thanks for the invite,” Leon answered, tipping his glass against Luis’. The ring of it was goosebump inducing.
The kiss Luis laid against Leon’s lips even more so.
Hand in Luis’ hair Leon surged forward, blindly setting his glass down on the couch table and taking Luis’ from his hand to do the same.
“Wanted to,” Luis said into Leon’s mouth, “kiss you since you walked into the bar.”
“Fuck,” was all Leon managed in return, tongue in Luis’ mouth immediately.

Luis moaned, pulled Leon half on top of him, pressed hard against the back of the couch.
“Luis,” Leon groaned, one hand under his shirt, warm skin, the quiet whisper of body hair.
Luis sighed, gently eased both hands under Leon’s shirt, against his back, holding him.
They rested their foreheads together for a moment, just sharing breath. Leon felt a bit stupid, looking at Luis all cross-eyed, but it was worth it for that smile.
“I missed you, you know.”
“You’ve said.”
“Have I? Well, let me show you,” Luis murmured and rolled his hips up, against Leon.
Molten heat down his spine.
“Fuck! Luis!”

Luis chuckled, kissed Leon’s gasping mouth and did it again.
Leon’s eyes rolled back and he rutted back against Luis’, caught up in the sensation immediately. It had been too long and now his skin was pulling tight with pleasure already.
Luis was rock hard against him, straining against his zipper and Leon wanted him still closer.
They kissed, messy, more tongue than lips, panting into each other’s mouths, hands grabbing and pulling, until Leon was shirtless in Luis’ lap and their zippers were open.
Leon rolled his hips, dick twitching in his briefs.

Luis hissed in relief, one hand tight on Leon’s waist, the other cupping his own straining dick.
“Mierda, Leon, can I touch you?”
“If you don’t I’ll do it myself,” Leon pressed out between his teeth, fighting with the buttons of Luis’ shirt.
Luis’ warm hand on his dick punched all breath out of Leon’s lungs.
He whimpered, pressing into his hand, the angle awkward, the jeans in the way, his hands still tangled in Luis’ shirt.
It was more than perfect.

Luis leaned his face against the crook of Leon’s neck and inhaled deeply.
“Not gonna last long,” Leon whispered into his hair.
“Me neither, guapo. You should see yourself.”
His voice was wet and hot against Leon’s skin, making him shudder.
“Let me,” Leon mumbled, pulled himself out of his fly and then fumbled Luis’ dick out of his underwear.
It was silken hot under Leon’s touch, the skin smooth with all the blood filling it.

He ran a gentle hand over it and Luis gasped, head thrown back, eyes half-lidded.
“Don’t stop,” he begged and Leon shifted his weight, got a grip around them both with a grunt and a curse.
His lungs burned with the short breaths he was sucking in through clenched teeth.

The difference between them was divine. Where Leon’s dick was tapered, cut, Luis’ was thick, uncut. Unshaven.
The sensation of pubes against the back of Leon’s hand whenever he had them by the base sent shivers down his spine.
“Luis,” he moaned, smearing a kiss along Luis’ jawline.
“More, Leon,” Luis insisted, one hand on Leon’s wrist, the other pressing warmly over their tips.

Their precome smeared together, the slide of Leon’s fist slicker and slicker with every pass, while his focus narrowed in on the way Luis’ eyes were glued to his face, the feeling of his breath and the hammering of blood in his dick.
“I love you,” Leon breathed, pushed Luis’ sweaty hair back from his face and came so hard he saw white.

He heard Luis’ surprised gasp, felt him shudder and when Leon blinked himself out of his orgasmic stupor the mess on his hand, over their laps, was doubled.
Luis shuddered under him, legs shaking, both hands like steel on Leon’s hips.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he rasped and Leon leaned in for a breathless, shaky kiss.
It made him curl his toes again, heart thudding heavy and warm in his chest.

“Did you mean that?”, Luis failed to ask conversationally after the kiss and Leon felt himself flush from the navel up.
“Uh,” he settled on after a moment of frantic thought.
The smile Luis gifted him with was just as warm as always, that cheeky edge to it making Leon lean in and kiss him again.
“Maybe you can tell me again after a shower, no?”
“Maybe,” Leon admitted, rubbing his nose along Luis’. “I think I’d like to.”
“I won’t be the man who stops you.”
Leon laughed and leaned his weight against Luis, believing that with every fibre of his heart.

He was so damn glad he hadn’t skipped dinner with the team a third time.