Forward:
The Kiss Me collection started out as a one-shot Valentine's gift-fic for Jess Angel in 2004. It was written before this author had knowledge of the Compilation, also to be taken as a possible epilogue for my story To Know You (though they can easily stand alone), and is therefore in line with the original game canon. Since the creation of Kiss Me, new scenarios (or possible epilogues) have been added; there is a marked difference between the writing in the first scenario and those which follow it, as my writing has evolved and improved over time, and there was a three-year gap between the first and second installments (likewise, To Know You reflects this against my other more recent works). I have decided not to rewrite or change anything in the first chapter; it was a gift, and I enjoyed making it just as much as, if not moreso than, the rest of these. Please keep this in mind if you are starting from the beginning.
Thank you, and a Happy Valentine's Day to you all. Kind words are better than chocolate or roses.
These are for Jess Angel.
Kiss Me
For Jess Angel
(-2004-)
It was a calm and peaceful night in the city of Junon. The entire seafront was quiet, and the citizens were scarce. The fog hung so thickly over the ocean that anyone roaming the beach that evening could easily get lost, not to mention emerge from the shore with damp clothes and hair from the condensation. Those who had to travel over the bridges in their vehicles were cautioned to drive slowly; it was difficult for the operations team to see oncoming ships through the dense mist. All that could be heard from the mainland was the clanging of the buoys in the water, and the gentle waves lapping at the shoreline.
Several blocks from the pier, a warm light beckoned townspeople and travelers alike to a toasty fire, a hot meal, and perhaps a drink or two. A small chorus of voices could be heard from the entrance whenever the doors would swing open as sailors, fishermen, tourists and townies were gathered together at the bar. There was a deep clunking of the mugs as they hit the wooden surface of the tables, and loud laughter filled the room. The fog crept up around the building from outside and left its mark on the windows, but inside it was warm and inviting.
It was to this atmosphere that he entered, bringing with him the dampness in his clothing, and the smell of the sea in his hair. He paused in his stride and glanced up to take in the familiar decorum of the bar. He had been there so many times, but something told him that he should want to take in everything around him that night. His gaze fell on the set of shark jaws hanging on the wall above the dry-erase board that held the specials of the day, and he was vaguely reminded of something- someone- else that was beautiful but deadly, peaceful yet a force to be reckoned with.
He walked casually up to the bar and sat at one of the barstools, pulling off his coat first and laying it across the counter next to him. He stayed there with his head down and his fingers laced, his eyes tracing patterns in the varnished wood until she appeared before him with her hands on her hips, that golden smile of hers as white as ever and as precious as the rarest seashell, a vision that only she had, and something that only she could give.
"Vincent..." came the soft voice, "you came to see me."
Still shy around him, even after all they had been through. Something told him that she still couldn't believe she had forced her way into his life without even trying, all because she couldn't stand to lose him as her friend. Of course he had come to see her. Didn't he always? There had been no set day and time that he had marked for the usual occasion, but he did make the effort.
"...I do. I have," he replied, his eyes glinting in the dim lighting above them, his line of vision slowly waltzing from the countertop to her face and back again.
She smiled warmly at him. "What'll it be?"
He made like he was about to answer, then paused, thinking it over in his head. "...That drink you make...the one with the blended juices." He swirled his finger idly on the surface of the shining wood, a subconscious visualization of his request. "Just put a shot of rum in that and I will be satisfied."
"Just one?" she asked.
"...Just one," he replied.
Tifa retreated from the front of the bar and turned on her heel, grabbing the best selection she could find, a thin bottle of dark, full-bodied liquid that was brewed and bottled right there in the harbor and known the whole planet over for its quality. She set it next to the slicing board and pulled some fruit out of the ice chest and began to cut it.
"...There is some ready in that pitcher over there," came the quiet voice from the counter.
"I know," came her answer, "but I'd rather make it fresh." She continued to slice the fruit and juice it, and when she was finished she poured the mix into the blender with a cup of ice chips, and she grabbed a shot glass from the shelf. She measured out exactly one shot, and threw it in with the rest before tightening the lid and flicking the switch. The blades whirred to life and ground the ice to bits, leaving a cold, thick froth in their wake.
She pulled a chilled glass from the oversized freezer and poured the mix into the glass, topped it off with a cherry and a wedge of lime, and slid it across the counter to Vincent. She waited patiently on the other side of the bar for him to take a sip and tell her how it was. After a few moments of silence, he took the glass and did taste it.
"...Well?" she asked, resting both of her elbows on the counter and letting her chin rest in them, bringing herself to his eye level. He stared down into the drink in his hand for a few seconds more, and then he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. One side of his mouth quirked slightly upwards.
"Not bad."
Tifa pursed her lips in mock frustration. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said, and she turned quickly away in a mild huff meant more or less out of humor, and began to check on the other customers. Just then, an energetic young redhead rushed out of the kitchen door and gave Tifa a giant hug. "Karlie, it was really no big deal," Tifa said to the girl.
"No, really," Karlie said, "thank you so much for letting me go early tonight. I can spend the evening with Travis. I really can't thank you enough!"
"Nonsense," Tifa replied as the girl headed for the door, her voice rising in volume as she departed, "It's Valentine's Day! You should be with him!"
Karlie grinned widely once more and called back to her as she opened the door, "I left something for you on the counter in the back! It's the least I could do! Have a great night!" Karlie then disappeared out onto the street, and she was enveloped by the fog and disappeared from view.
Tifa sighed and returned to her spot behind the counter, and she began to wipe down the dirty glasses. As soon as she had started, a couple entered the tavern and sat themselves at a table by the fire. Tifa dropped her dish rag and went over to greet them and take their drink order. She walked quickly over to the table, put on her cheeriest smile, and asked the two, "How are you doing this evening?"
The reply was deadpan and honest, though it wasn't what she was expecting. The woman was the one to answer, and she was very clear with her words. "Dreadful," she said, "Absolutely dreadful. The fog was so thick that we wasted half an hour getting here, and I'd just gotten my hair done and now it's all wet. I'm tired and I'm hungry, so I expect some good service."
Tifa blinked for a moment, then mustered up the last bit of courage and energy she had and said to her with all sincerity, "Well, I will do the best I can. What can I get you?"
"I hope that's enough, then," the woman retorted, "and I'll have a glass of your Junon Harbor Iced Tea."
Tifa nodded respectfully. "Coming right up," she finished with a smile and returned to the bar, her eyes wide with the unasked question, 'What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?'
She grabbed a cold glass from the freezer and set it under the cooling machine that held the tea, and she released the valve and let it pour into the glass. She went and sliced up an orange and juiced it, and she washed some strawberries and sliced off the ends. She quickly threw the contents into the blender and mixed it all together, and she grabbed another shot glass from the shelf. She measured exactly one shot of whiskey and stopped the blender long enough to pour it in with the rest of the concoction, and she tightened the lid soon after and mixed it all together. She then filled the glass she had used for the tea with ice, and poured the mix over it, topping it off with a small slice of kiwi fruit.
As Tifa exited the bar and headed towards their table, she realized that in her sudden bout of flusteredness, she had forgotten to ask what the woman's husband had wanted. She picked up her pace and set the drink down in front of the woman, and turned to the man. "I'm sorry," she said, "is there something I can get you to drink?"
"Scotch on the rocks," was all he said, and she let out a small sigh of relief as she left, grateful to have been given a more simple request. She made her way back around to the other side of the bar and grabbed the bottle of scotch off of the shelf, and she took a shorter, thicker glass from the stacks to her right and filled it with ice. She then began to pour the liquor over the ice when she heard the door open again, and she saw another couple enter the tavern and seat themselves.
Tifa hurried back to the table and set the drink down next to the man. He took it and immediately began to sip from it, and she was about to rush off to greet her new patrons when the woman cut in. "I know what I want." Tifa stopped and nodded, then produced a pen and a small notepad from her waist-apron and began to jot down the table number. "I'll have the grilled fish fillet with the diver's salad, the dressing on the side now, I don't want the lettuce getting soggy." Tifa was nodding the entire time she was writing this down, and she turned to the man that was sitting with her.
"And what can I get for you?" she asked.
"I want a burger with home-fries."
Why couldn't everyone be as simple as this man? "All right, I'll put your order in and bring it out to you as soon as it's ready." Tifa put the pad in the pocket of her apron and went over to the next table. "How are you doing tonight?" she asked.
The two that were sitting there were quite calm and didn't give her any trouble at all. In fact, she was rather relieved. "We're doing fine, and yourself?" the man asked her.
Tifa ran the back of her hand over her head. "I guess I'm okay. What'll it be to drink?"
"I'll have a water with lemon," said the woman.
"And I'll have an iced tea," said the man.
Tifa couldn't help but smile when she heard this, and she replied with, "Coming right up!"
Tifa hustled back to the bar and poured a tall glass of water from one of the fountains, and she poured another glass of iced tea from the same unit as she had used to make the other woman's Junon tea. She sliced two wedges of lemon and topped the glasses with them, and she set them side by side on the counter. She pulled the food order from the first table out of her pocket and went through the kitchen door to see the cook, and let him know what they wanted.
"Orlando!" she called, amidst the steam from the open dishwashers and the sizzling of the fryer. "Orlando, I've got a food ticket for you!"
"Yeah?" he called back. "Bring it over!"
Tifa walked over to him, winding around metal counters and trying not to slip on the slick floors and land herself onto something that would burn her. She followed the sound of his voice and found him in the back, chopping onions. "Here," she said. "This is for table thirteen." Orlando took the ticket and nodded, and went back to chopping onions. Tifa backed away and carefully made her way back out to the bar area, feeling almost refreshed by the thick, fog-laden air that drifted in from outside after being in the hot kitchen. She stopped to pick up the drinks she had just made, and turned to take them to the table. And she froze.
There were now three new couples sitting in the tavern, none of them having been met yet or offered drinks. Why oh why was it that the restaurant was dead all day until Karlie left? Tifa felt her heart sink, and she was at a loss for what to do. She knew she would have to handle this on her own, and poor Orlando was all alone in the kitchen. She was afraid that some of the people would leave out of annoyance at the slowness of her service, but if that happened, there was nothing she could do about it.
Taking a deep breath, Tifa walked out with the drinks and placed them in front of her guests, and took out her pen and pad and took their orders. She calmly made her way over to the next table that she had seen; she didn't know who had sat down first or how long any of them had been sitting there, but she would have to take it all one step at a time. She stopped by the table and greeted the couple and took their drink orders. This time, however, she moved on to the next table and took their drink orders as well, and the next also. She figured she could make all six drinks at once, and then deliver them together.
This she did with no difficulty, but she had to stop as a result and explain that she would be right back to take their food orders as she had to drop off some other drinks. She then made her rounds again and picked up the food orders and then ran them back to the kitchen and gave them to Orlando, who seemed like his spirits had fallen a little too low and a little too quickly for someone who was going to spend his evening whipping up confections for other people. Tifa, however, was going to have a hard time keeping up her friendly demeanor as well.
She exited the kitchen to find that another couple had settled into the tavern for the evening. It wasn't as bad as having three at once, but it was still not a break, which she had been hoping for. She needed time to collect her thoughts and form some sort of strategy, so that she didn't break down. She looked at the clock on the wall and found that it had only been seventeen minutes since Karlie had left. The restaurant would be open for another three and a half hours.
Tifa looked around her and saw that there were dishes that needed to be taken care of, and tables that needed to be wiped off. She realized that Orlando wouldn't be able to take care of all the dishes by himself, because he was busy cooking food for ten other people, and there were still two more to be counted for. She would have to wipe them down herself and take the dishes to the kitchen, and hopefully if he had some time where he only had to wait for water to boil or meat to finish browning, then maybe he would have time to send a load through.
If it really came down to it, she supposed she could lock the doors. Then again, she hadn't given anyone advanced warning that they would be closed, and there were some people who visited the place regularly. She sighed heavily and turned to exit the bar. As she was passing the counter, she felt a hand reach out and hold her back.
Tifa turned her head to see Vincent turned slightly in his chair, her arm firmly held in his grasp. "Vincent," she said, "I would really love to stop and talk with you, but I'm sure you can understand that I'm quite-"
"Tell me what to do," he told her, his voice low and firm in the obvious implication.
"What...Vincent, you know I could never ask you to-"
"I will clean tables," he intoned softly, "if that will help you."
Tifa stopped and stared at Vincent in bewilderment as he loosened his grip on her arm and rose from his seat. He picked up his coat and hung it on one of the hooks in the wall where the waist-aprons were hanging. Her gaze didn't let up as she saw him roll up the sleeves of his black, button-down dress shirt and tie one of those aprons around his waist. He promptly made his way from the place where he stood and walked out into the dining area, where he picked a table, stacked its dirty dishes, and returned with them, disappearing through the kitchen door.
Tifa stood there for a few more seconds in a bit of shock before she realized that if she only stood there, then she was wasting the time he was trying to buy her. She hurried away from the bar area and out to the couple that had just sat themselves at a table. She took their drink order quickly, and she returned to the bar to make them. She eyed the first couple that she'd greeted since Karlie had left, and the woman seemed a bit upset over something. Tifa looked at the clock again and realized that it had probably been about twenty minutes since the two had ordered their food, and the woman was most likely getting impatient.
Tifa rushed from the bar and served the two new guests their drinks. On her way back, she was stopped by the woman, just as she feared and knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she would be. "Miss, we've been waiting half an hour," the woman complained. "What is taking so long?" Tifa opened her mouth to reply, but she was stopped short by the clinking of a stand dropping down next to her. Her head turned sharply, and she saw none other than Vincent, balancing a large tray on his shoulder and crouching down to set it on the stand, and she noticed that his left arm was covered in a long black rubber glove from the kitchen. She watched in surprise, her mouth still open, as he passed the food out to the two, lifting each item one by one with his right hand, and then as he picked the tray back up, folded the stand, and nodded before going back to the kitchen.
"...Well, I hope you enjoy your dinner," was all that Tifa could say.
"What's wrong with him?" asked the woman. "He didn't say a thing. How did he know this was mine and not his?" she asked, pointing to the man across from her.
"Eh...lucky guess?" Tifa said, unsure of what else there really was to reply with. The woman blinked at her, also unsure of what would be an adequate return, and Tifa used the opportunity to rush off into the kitchen. When she got there, she found herself watching a perplexed Vincent as he stared at the dishwasher.
"...I do not believe I know how to use such a thing," he stated matter-of-factly.
Tifa quickly showed him what to do, told him what dials to turn, what buttons to push, and where was the most convenient section in which to place certain articles of dishware, so that the most efficient use of the machine could be made. When she'd finished, she said, "That woman out there asked me why you didn't say anything to her. What should I tell her?"
"You can tell her that I am mute."
"Lie to her? Vincent," she continued, shaking her head with a joking expression on her face, mocking his usually somber attitude towards the things which he deemed sinful, "that would be wrong."
"You may add it to my list."
"Vincent!" Tifa punched his shoulder lightly, and as soon as she had made contact with his arm, she found herself staring down the head of the kitchen hose, Vincent's trigger finger playing on the release valve. She backed away cautiously. "You wouldn't..."
"...No. I would not. You still have guests to attend to. However, you should be careful later on this evening," he warned. For some reason, Tifa took this quite seriously, and she couldn't tell if he was joking or if he was upset with her for mocking him. Either way, she decided it was best that she take his advice, and she went back out into the restaurant, ready to meet the many guests that would enter that evening.
Orlando came up behind Vincent as he loaded the dishes into the washer. He clapped one hand down on his back rather roughly, and Vincent flinched at the contact. Vincent backed out of his grasp, and Orlando shook his head slowly and laughed. Vincent watched the man, clueless as to the source of his mirth, but Orlando just waved his hand and retreated back to his pots and pans and began to stir away at the contents within. Vincent watched him for a while, and then he went back to taking care of the dishes.
·¤·
Tifa sat at one end of the bar, staring Vincent down. "Vincent, please stop. We can do this later; Orlando has gone home already. Just sit down and relax for one minute."
"...I have almost finished." Vincent finished wiping down the last table and he picked up the chairs and flipped them over, setting them up on top of the wooden surface. He then disappeared into the kitchen once more, and Tifa put her chin down to rest on her folded arms. He emerged from the back again, his glove gone and his golden appendage visible once more. He stopped at the spot on the wall where his coat was hanging, and he untied the apron from his waist and replaced it on the hook. Once he had done that, he abruptly sank into the nearest booth.
He lay there for a few minutes to catch his breath, staring at the ceiling of the room and the dim lights that hung down from it. They were a common light to be found in a restaurant, the kind that had bulbs made to look like candle flames. They seemed to give a cozier feeling to the place, whether they were real or not.
Tifa watched his unmoving knees and shins as they stuck out from the side of the booth with utter amusement, since this was the only part of his body that she could actually see. "Vincent..." she called softly.
Vincent sighed from his spot on the cushioned bench and rose from his position, placing one arm to rest over the back of the seat. Blood red eyes peeked over a wood backing to a deep green cushion, hair black as night falling over the side. "Yes?"
"...I want to thank you for everything that you did tonight." Tifa's fingers played at each other and rubbed at the counter. "I would never have been able to do it without you. You...you really did a big favor for me tonight, Vincent. I don't know if you realize how much trouble you've saved me."
"You are welcome. But you must know what I am going to ask you."
"Vincent, it was dead all day!" Tifa exclaimed. "I sent everyone home because I didn't think we were going to get any business. How was I supposed to know that we would pick up so quickly?"
One side of his mouth tugged upwards, and he let a small laugh escape through his nose before falling back down into the booth. He stayed there for some time, relaxing as she had suggested, until he heard a soft crinkling of plastic coming from her side of the room. He rose from his position once more to watch her. She was sitting at the bar, playing with a package that was set in front of her. She looked over at him as she had been doing quite periodically without his knowing, and when he caught her eye, he raised one of his eyebrows in question.
Tifa smiled. "Karlie left them for me." She shook her head and laughed a bit inside, sure that Vincent would think it silly. "We used to play with these things all the time back when I was little."
Vincent frowned in confusion. "...What are they?"
Tifa's smile grew wider. "They're little candy hearts. They started printing them when I was a kid. They were all the rage...they have little sayings on them, and we'd give them to one another. I guess it was supposed to be for hinting sweet nothings, but they were so common that no one really took it seriously." She felt a bit ridiculous explaining this, but Vincent only tilted his head and sighed.
She watched him tentatively, and then busied herself with opening the package. She was suddenly struck with the thought of him standing there in the kitchen with the nozzle of the hose in his hand, and either out of sheer determination to continue their short banter, or perhaps exhaustion from the day and just not giving a phrack about what he would do to her, she flicked the first piece that fell out of the bag at him. She had positioned it on the countertop and lined it up with his head like she would have a paper football, and sure enough, it thwacked him on the side of his cranium.
Vincent ducked down into the booth a bit late, and she put a hand to her mouth, hoping that she didn't knock him too hard. She paused, wincing as she awaited his reaction, but she didn't foresee one. Just as she was beginning to get a bit worried, her thoughts were interrupted by a soft yet very short laugh from his direction. Tifa dismounted from the chair she had set up at her end of the bar and started to walk cautiously towards his booth. "What's so funny?" she asked.
"...Nothing." Quiet, undisturbed and smooth came the reply.
"It didn't sound like nothing." The skepticism rang true in her voice.
"Perhaps I am lying again."
"Is it because I hit you in the head with a piece of candy?" She laughed at this, because it did sound rather silly. She came upon him as he lay in the booth, his back curled up against the wall and his shoulders hunched up next to his neck. His legs were bent up at the knee, and he was holding something in his hand. Tifa immediately recognized it as the piece of candy that she had thrown at him.
Vincent was looking at the candy, examining it in his hand. He paused in his appraisal of the thing and looked up at Tifa, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. She could tell this by the way he pressed his mouth firmly together, tightening his lips, only to have to resort to letting his upper lip fall over his lower one as he bit down on it.
"...What?" she asked.
Vincent looked at her with an expression that said, 'You know what...or maybe you don't. But it doesn't matter, because I'm not telling,' and then he returned his gaze to the small piece in his hand. He did finally let the left side of his mouth rise in a small grin, and Tifa continued to beg him with her varied expressions to tell her what was so funny. She began to grow hot in the face, and then it became worse when she realized that it was obviously because of whatever was printed on the piece that he was eyeing her with such a regard.
Tifa's eyes went wide with fear and possibly a bit of embarrassment, as she felt her stomach twist in knots. "What did it say?" she asked him. He only looked up at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, the grin actually growing on his face. "...Vincent?"
Before she had time to ask him again, he'd flattened his knees and reached out to grab her arm. He pulled her down with him, and without her knowing what had happened, she found herself lip-locked with him, his hand threading through her hair, holding her close to him by the back of her head. Her eyes went wide when she realized she was in his arms, realized her own forearms were resting against his chest, realized her knee had almost landed somewhere that would have been quite painful for him, and even more when she realized that he probably wouldn't have cared.
Vincent stroked the spot at the nape of her neck softly, and savored the moment for just a bit longer, and then he pulled back. Tifa was staring at him in shock, but she didn't run away. He reached down and took her hand up in his, and folded it, pushing it towards her. When he let go, she realized he had left something in it, and when she opened it, she found the candy heart. She looked at him, wondering what the meaning of this was, but then she read it, and it made perfect sense.
'Kiss me', it said.
Vincent's eyes searched Tifa's face as she read the inscription, her eyes going wide again, but then softening a bit. She slipped the piece of candy into a pocket in her skirt and stayed there watching him for a bit, wondering if he was going to say anything. But to him, his actions were self-explanatory, and nothing else needed to be said.
Tifa gazed down into his bright red eyes, watching as they caught the light given by the false chandeliers and reflected it a million times over, shooting it back and forth like a bullet trapped in an unbreakable prism. She felt his hand snake down from her neck and wind itself around a lower portion of her hair, pulling the heavy strands from her back and keeping them out of their way.
Vincent kept his gaze locked on her eyes, but then his expression softened further, and his gaze started to shift to her mouth, then back up into her eyes, and then to her mouth again. Tifa felt the pace of her heart quicken, and she inched forward ever so slowly. She was a fingertip's width away from his mouth when she began to feel her hands trembling, and he shifted beneath her and brought his left arm up to grasp her hand. He hesitated for a moment, but she saw his intention and placed her hand in his.
Vincent heard her heartbeat race and felt her breathing become heavy. "...There is no reason to be afraid," he whispered.
"I know," she replied in a shaking, barely audible voice. She leaned forward and felt the skin of her lips brush up against his; her sudden impulse overcame her fear, and she claimed his lower lip between her own. Vincent wound her hair up and released it, moving his hand to caress her jawline. He stroked her skin with his fingers, and brought his hand down to her chin, his thumb coming to rest underneath of her lip. He gently fit his thumb up onto the edge of her bottom lip, and he guided her mouth a bit higher, nudging her off his own lower lip, and he tilted his head to the side, softly prying her own mouth open with his.
Tifa sighed as she felt the force of the kiss die away, and she was left with light brushings of his mouth against hers. He teased her, lingering there longer at some times than others. Soon enough, he pulled her close again with his hand, and he was trailing her top lip with his tongue. She ran her hand through his hair, and he brought his hand up to her chin again, and he entered her mouth. His touch wasn't rough or hungry, but soft and gentle. His tongue massaged hers as lightly as his thumb stroked the soft skin between her jaw and her neck, and when he finally pulled back, she didn't want him to stop.
Vincent stared up at Tifa, adoration in his eyes. She'd never seen that look in him in all the time they'd spent together. He had looked at her with care a few times, even with humor once or twice, and she knew that he had eventually come to consider her as his friend. But she had never witnessed this. He adored her.
Tifa reached out and tugged playfully on one of his dark strands. "You should come to rescue me more often."
Vincent smirked at her. "If you send everyone home, it should work."
Tifa was about to defend herself again for her poor planning, but then she stopped to think about all the possible implications in that sentence. She cast a knowing look at Vincent and couldn't help but smile when she saw the other side of his mouth start to rise as well. "Vincent, I'd never have thought you would make a joke like that." She pinched him in the side and speedily backed up with glee as he jolted into a sitting position.
Tifa laughed as he quickly retaliated by pinching her in the side as well. She tried to stop him from doing it again, but he was quite fast, even for her. She finally got a hold on his hand with both of hers and refused to let go, and so he twisted his arm in her grip and grabbed a hold of her left wrist. She whimpered in mock fear as he drew her close once more...
...and claimed her mouth again.
·¤·
Final Fantasy VII and its characters © 1997, Square Enix Co., Ltd.
