AN: This is a new story about one of my favorite pairings Sephight (Sephiroth x Lightning). I swear, I think I got a fetish for it and Sephiroth... Do not ask why. This is also a humor/romance fic so understand that it's an alternative universe and the characters and situations are going to be out of character without going overboard. Ever since I've reached the middle of Song for the Broken, that story has made me feeling depressed. I do well with writing fluff of those two... XD So this fic here is a cure to distract me from the angst/tragedy story every now and then so I can continue that and this (only if this chapter got any readers interested in it). If not, well, I understand. Most of this is based on role play with my boyfriend and boy, I feel bad for him because he hates Sephy.
Chapter 1: Fated
"So how did it go with D.A. Dashing last night?"
"Eh? Horrible! He acted like he was in a hurry and said he'll call me."
"I'm sure that he'll call – his job as a district attorney is a demanding one so stop looking at your phone every fifteen seconds and eat something. Break is almost over."
This was one of the kind of conversations carried about that Claire Farron hears every day in the staff lounge, thirty minutes to eat lunch and fifteen minutes break in the middle of shifts and the women here have nothing more to talk about than men. Her co-workers always seem to follow the woman everywhere she goes. Show some common courtesy for the ones that could care any less.
She would have never envisioned herself in such a working environment after serving three years on the Guardian Corps Bodhum Security Regiment as a Sergeant straight after graduating high school. Now she was given leave in her situation to help her younger sister, Serah, pay off college, but many jobs that pay higher wages to employees require degrees beyond a high school diploma. The ex-sergeant of the Cocoon military was fortunate to have found temporary side work doing unusual tasks and part-time as a waitress/hostess.
No luxury to go to college when her time and energy are directed on her jobs and bills at home. Her benefits from the military have yet to be found fulfilled at the Veteran Affairs Office unless should Claire die and her sister would receive survivor benefits. That gil would have been resourceful to have as there have been close calls in losing the Farron home and she came up short in mailing her sister tuition money.
It was just the older Farron alone that currently lives at the peanut-shaped abode over the water and it always had been the two sisters ever since their parents died when they were younger. Thankfully, Serah lives in the residential areas close to the university in Eden so she doesn't witness her sister struggling with money and trying to break even for the end of every month to maintain that stability for when she comes home.
It should be all worth it in the end, right? For Serah's education and to do something she really loves with her knack of history.
But again, look where she ended up in, blocking pointless makes-you-want-punch-someone-or-worse conversations from vain painted women eager and desperate to attain a romantic with men and failing at it, in fact. Military life seemed more glamorous in comparison. Serah has been always the source of her main goals in life so it was worth the jobs.
They are the prime example why men look down on us.
Claire sighed, interrupting their vivid yet lively conversation. "You two should stop going to those types of bars. You get picked up by strangers and it's rather pathetic how you display yourselves like that, forget cheap thrills – it's dangerous. In reality, men are just really a pain in the ass."
"Now just wait a minute!" The first woman spoke up, Claire never did cared to learn any of their names unless it's necessary. "You don't have any right to say that to us! I wouldn't mind if you're speaking from bitter experience," she accused, pointing a finger at her, "but you never had a boyfriend in your life!"
"Your point?" Claire raised an eyebrow at the accusation. While it's true that in her twenty-one years of life that she never had a boyfriend nor been in an intimate relationship with a man, she wasn't going to be interested now. What is wrong with just staying single? She had no time to waste pinning her affections on a man that wouldn't appreciate her efforts. Women don't need men to be taken care of so that they never have to lift a finger ever again. "Both of you have your fairy tale complex searching for Mr. Right every day when you should be focused on work. They would want to stay with a smart, independent woman that doesn't constantly pamper herself or rely fully on them." When not lashed out by any of their responses, Claire rose to dispose her lunch. She had initially lost her appetite because even though she followed the recipes to the letter, the meals never turn out nearly as delicious as Serah would make them, but these two women even increased her desire to toss it away. She'll have to find another time and place to eat in peace.
"Farron! High class customer at your table, so be on your best behavior!"
Ah, work, finally. Like I need to be reminded to be polite and courteous.
In a mirror, Claire fixated a practiced, confident smile just for this job on her face. All she needed to do was dress well, strut in heels, watch for a strand of hair out of place under the frilly headband or a smudge of make-up left undetected and not bring any drama outside of work with her. In this somewhat appealing establishment, the Farron has grown a reputation of having violent tendencies when her temper cannot be controlled, unbecoming of a waitress but her appearances and hard-working personally is what has kept her secured in the restaurant.
She strolled on her way without glancing at her co-workers and the silence she created and saw her customer buried his head into the menu booklet. Other waitresses were whispering in hushed excited voices over him. He has yet to turn his head at her incoming presence and Claire couldn't resist intrigue towards his appearance. He sat patiently with perfected posture in a wrinkle void business suit and his long platinum hair cascaded down to his lower back with his bangs parted to either side of his face. Whoever this man is, he is definitely out of place here.
"Good evening, sir," Claire chirped with veiled enthusiasm to save face. "Would you like a drink or start off with an appetizer first?" She took out a pad of paper from the apron's front pocket to sketch on.
The silver haired man didn't respond right away nor look her way at first that gave the strawberry blond the impression that he didn't hear her or he wasn't ready to order. She opened her mouth to repeat herself but he set down the menu. "You aren't serious, are you?"
"What?" Claire asked, curious about the sudden statement by the calm low voice that took her by surprise. "Serious about what?"
"This must be their latest scheme to get consumers…" His piercing cat-like green eyes examined Claire's outfit from head to toe before shaking his head disapprovingly. "Seriously? A waitress outfit?"
She suddenly felt uncomfortable by his stares but not willing to visibly show that to him though her cheerful façade of a smile became wan as she tried to regain her composure and keep her hands from shaking. "It's standard Seaside Bodhum uniform…" She muttered that part quickly, not to draw more unwanted attention to them while knowing full well how much she detested the outfit. The waitress outfit was mainly a modified black and white French maid's uniform with the hem stopping at the knees and white fabric expanded loosely at the bosom with a corset at the waist. It never escaped the male customers in this restaurant and maids are popular ideas. "But shouldn't you order something than just ogle me? I have too much of that here without your help."
The man reached into his pocket and produced a checkbook. "Your name? It's degrading enough that you work in such a lowly occupation, selling your body for gil, so let me get you out of this hole, Ms….?" He tapped his pen impatiently against the book.
"The name's Claire." The young waitress managed to gasp out, appalled at what he's trying to do. High class customer, my ass! "Do you think that you can just buy me? I'm working here, making an honest living!" This wouldn't be the first time that customers would assume her as an easy woman and pay for other unwarranted services that get their asses personally handed out of here. Besides, nothing ever comes for free, especially handouts and everyone expects something in return for their 'generosity'.
"I can see why you work here, you can't even properly give your name…" He rolled his eyes, mocking her. "I've paid for enough of these services over the years and they never permit a refund option. As for an honest living, I desperately hope any young ones you have living with you don't seek to follow your example," he paused to scan her appearance again, stopping to stare at her bosom, "or rather display."
"How dare you?" She barked back harshly as her control on her anger slipped farther every second with conversing with him. Her anger got the best of her when she reached over to the nearby table to grab a glass of water, ignoring the complaints to the drinker, and splashes it at the man's face. Everyone was now staring at the two of them and dared not to make a sound or an intervention. "I despise men that think they could talk down others like that! You look like those snooty spoiled types that never had to work a day in his life!"
"Clearly, I am not your stereotypical male customer." Spitting the water out of the sides of his mouth, standing up to tower Claire, her aqua colored eyes followed up to his eye level glaring down at her. He stood at least six feet tall, taller than Claire, who only stood at five foot seven naturally even with her heels that give her a couple more inches. Water dripped steadily down from his frame. "I wear clothes for one and two, I have more money than you, your parents, or ancestors could ever have dreamed of having. Who says money only buys things?"
She couldn't believe people like him exist, glaring at the man. "You have no right to ridicule me! Why, you chauvinistic son of a—"
"Hold on just a minute!" The boss of Seaside Bodhum Restaurant stepped between the customer and waitress, giving Claire a dark look. "Clairebear, don't you think you should head to the kitchen this instant?"
"But he—"
"Now." Her boss turned to the man, smiling and apologizing profusely every second per every word he spoke. Claire left, the retaliating look in her eyes never seems to be leaving his. "I'm extremely sorry for my waitress, sir. She's a bit headstrong for her own good. How about a free meal and a new waitress to serve you?"
"How about 'no' or does your workforce represent their management and I need to break out a sock puppet." The man walked past the boss and exited the building. "Worst whore house ever."
So Claire was fired that day. All because of a mishap with a condescending customer, screw 'the customer's always right', it was not even close to justified to what she could've done to the man. Which was fine, she was only there because it was the only job she could attain mainly for the tips for the good service and she had much to express on how she felt by being 'fired' before being escorted out. She never understood what made this guy any more different than the ones she depended herself against.