Chapter Text
So far, they were 3 hours into dinner service. It’s the 4th service of the season. It has been an absolute hell. Horrific. JP has been yelled at by 7 different customers who then left the restaurant, 1 waitress has left, 1 chef has walked out, and 3 have been kicked out. It was the worst service that JP had ever experienced in his whole career.
Due to this, Jean-Philippe has decided to fight back.
A man with an earring in his left ear and a fedora has called JP over to his table. He was sitting with 2 lovely, but hungry-looking, ladies.
“Yeah, uh, hi, sorry what’s your name?” The man said,
“My name is Jean-Philippe.”
“Okay, ‘John,’ listen; we have been waiting for 2 hours now and we’re fucking starving. Not only that, but we are trying to have a nice conversation and I can barely hear myself over the Chef.” The man gestured to the ladies next to him, and then up to Gordon Ramsay who was yelling about lamb sauce. Why was it JPs fault that they were sitting right next to the fucking kitchen? He didn’t seat them. Most people want this table so they can hear Gordon. What is wrong with this pea-brained twerp?
“Yes, I understand. We are doing everything we can in the dining area and the kitchen to try to get everyone’s food out–” JP was cut off,
“Listen, man, I can barely understand you. I just want my food! Okay? English, please. Less accent, yeah? Did that make sense?” The man interrupted, raising his volume higher than needed.
Good Lord, this idiot actually wants to get beat up by him.
“Sir, I can assure you that I am speaking English. I also understand English very well. A hell of a lot better than you can dress, yes?”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” The man slid the chair out from under the 4 top table but didn’t get up. “I want my food. I am expecting my food. I don’t need you making me look like a fucking dickwad in front of my guests.” The man waved his hands around, creating a scene for all to see, even Ramsay.
“Monsieur, I am doing all I can. Can you not use your eyes and see what the kitchen is doing? You are so close to the chef, maybe if you squinted it would help, Oui?” JP deflected. The man was becoming more aggressive. He stood up from his chair. This scene caused Ramsay to look over in their direction and listen in to the argument.
“Do not fucking speak to me like that. I am a customer, you are a waitress. What happened to the customers always right?” He spat in Jean-Philippe's face,
“If your earring is supposed to distract from your horrible personality then it’s not working.” Jean-Philippe retorted, loudly. He was sick of this man with his stupid hat and his women who probably hated him.
“Holy shit!” Gordon exclaimed, “Jean-Philippe! Bloody Hell get up here. I need some tickets.” Gordon has a shit-eating grin on his face.
Oh god, JP didn’t realize that Gordon could hear him. He looked over to Gordon, his face was red from laughing so hard. He's going to be so pissed with him. He’s been mad at him for much less before. JPs cheeks flushed, nothing could be so embarrassing.
Jean-Philippe looked back to the man whom he was yelling at. He was being ‘politely’ escorted out of the restaurant. However, the ladies he was with, hadn’t moved. JP moved to apologize to the women sitting at the table, but Ramsay had other plans.
“JP! Get up here. My god.”
“Oui Chef.” He threw an apologetic gesture and murmured an apology to the women he was headed for, and turned on his heel to speak with the chef calling his name.
“JP what are you doing?” He said, laughing, “Christ, you’re going to scare the other customers away! They’re scared you’re going to roast them alive! Leave some for me.”
“I’m sorry Gordon, he was annoying me.”
“Clearly, you ripped him to fucking shreds, good God!” He grinned, Jean-Philippe didn’t understand why he didn’t seem very upset.
“Chef, Je suis désolé.” JP pleaded,
“JP? What’s going on?” Gordon asked and gestured for him to come around to the side of the kitchen. He sighed and followed.
“Hey? Love, why are you breaking down? I mean, hell it was a damn good insult but I haven’t heard you insult a customer in a while. What’s up?”
“Je ne sais pas, the night is odd.”
“I hear that, fucking contestants can’t cook either. Maybe something’s in the air.” He joked, they both laughed and smiled at each other. This was nice, they hadn’t been able to mess around in a while. Gordons' eyes lingered on Jean-Philippes' frame for longer than necessary.
“Listen, uh, JP.” He crossed his arms over his chest and scratched his ear, “You want to grab a drink after this living nightmare?”
Jean-Philippe couldn’t contain his grin, he was ecstatic.
“Bien sûr, mon amour.” JP agreed, Gordon let out a breath
“Bloody hell–”
“Chef!” Gordon looked away and put a hand up to the sous chef. He glanced back to JP,
“I’ve got to help, yeah? See you later.”
“Au revoir.”