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God, Vince felt like shit. His vision was blurry, his head was screaming, and nothing was going right. Five fucking customers had left already includuing the Lafayette family, who were their best paying clients. The chefs were fucking up the food, making it all cold and mushy, and the waiter?! Don’t even get him started on the waiter! He was prancing around like he owned the place, serving cold meals to potential customers like it was no one's business, and on top of that, he had the audacity to show up late--again, mind you--and then ask for a raise! A raise for goodness sake!
Ugh. Rody.
Said waiter was now yapping his ear off, probably about that goddamn girl like so much. What was her name again?
Right. Manon.
Vince didnt even know her, and yet he still resented the woman. It was obvious that she was over Rody--which in itself was ridiculous. How could one be ‘over’ Rody? He had the most amazing smile- did Manon not notice how easily he lit up every room? Or his effortless beauty? Or the way you could see his defined muscles even under his waiter uniform? Did her heart not skip a beat at every smile he shot her way--
That was off topic, Vince.
He shook himself, trying to get increasingly eluring images of the other man out of his head, trying to ignore the way he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, betraying him.
What was he thinking about again?
Oh, right. Manon. How could she hate such a..uhm… incredible, handsome--man! How could she hurt him like that?
…
Rody had stopped talking beside him. It was… oddly quiet without his voice, like a warmth that Vince didn’t know he was clinging to had been taken away from him. What a weird sensation. His headache came back at full force, his vision blurring slightly. Ugh. He did not have time to deal with…whatever weird sensation Rody was giving him. Not now, when he felt like he was going to pass out.
Was he sick, perhaps? That would be highly inconvenient, especially on a Friday, during rush hour…No. He wasn’t sick; he couldn’t be. He was just tired, surely.
“Uh…Vince? You right? I, uh, I asked you a question?” God, Rody's voice was nice. He wasn’t saying anything specifically endearing, but just the sweet, caring tone of his voice was enough. Vince didn’t deserve to be spoken to in that way. He was insane, bad. He had never felt love in his life; all his dishes lacked the ability to make the everyday person smile. All his cooks bowing there heads to him like he was some fucking god, every other waiter he’d had treating him with utmost respect.
Rody was different. He spoke to Vince like he was just a regular person, he smiled to the chef, and offered him a light when Vince’s ran out. He…talked to Vince as if the raven-haired man was just his friend. As if he couldn’t fire Rody as soon as he got the chance, as if this job wasn’t the only thing stopping him from going bankrupt.
As if Vince was worth his time. As if Vince deserved his heart-warming smiles and witty jokes, the way his hair floated in the breeze, the way--
Oh god he was staring. And Rody had asked him a question. And Rody was waiting for an answer.
Fuck.
~-R-~
Vince had been acting…weird today. Well. Vince was always acting weird, but he was acting extra weird today. He hadn’t told Rody to get back to work, even though his break ended about 30 minutes ago; he hadn’t yelled at the chefs for making food that even Rody could tell was not on par. And as for what he had done? Well. He had not paid attention to what Rody was saying at all; he could tell that much. The chef was just…staring at him, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes half lidded.
It was…odly confronting, really. His hair was all messy, his eye bags bigger than usual, his clothes wrinkled in a way that seemed so, so off for the normally well put together man. Not that Rody was looking at him like that. Vince had just been…standing in his line of sight a lot in the past week.
Which was why the ginger had noticed it so quickly that Vince was not up to his own standards. What his first thought should have been was that Vince looked sick. He should be resting, maybe taking some medicine. The last thing the chef should be doing is smoking thats for sure. Rody should’ve been offering to help him, get him through whatever virus had decided to latch itself onto his boss.
Instead, all the ginger could think about was: Damn, Vince looked hot today.
Wow, Rody. One week after your girl broke up with you, and you're already falling for someone else. Good going. And not just anyone, either--his fucking boss of all people. Manon had accidentally ripped his heart in two, shattering him for what he thought would be forever--only for him to turn around a week later and subconsciously start looking for someone else to fill that gaping hole inside him, the one that yearned for affection and love.
Enter stage right, Vince fucking Charbonneau. About the hardest-to-get person his heart could’ve possibly latched onto. Oh, and on top of that, he was Rody’s boss. Talk about potential abusive relationships.
Well. The point still stands that Vince looked undeniably hot right now. So weak and helpless, so unaware, it made Rody want to--NOPE! NUHUH NOT GOING THERE! LADADADA I CAN'T HEAR YOU, INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS!
He needed to get his heart out of his head and focus on the problem at hand-- Vince was clearly unwell. He should help him. Maybe bring him up to his house and care for him, let one of the many cooks have a crack at serving. Obviously, because he needed to make sure Vince was ok. It wasn’t like the image of Vince sick in his arms, face flushed, completely helpless, was alluring to Rody. Not at all.
…
God, he was so screwed.
Well, if he had to be in love with the most judgmental person on Earth, he may as well make an effort to get with him. That was how you did this whole ‘love’ thing, right? It-it had been awhile sinse he had gone chasing the desires of his foolish heart. He and Manon had been together for…while. Long enough that Rody had dared to believe that they would be forever, long enough to let him ignore all the red flags. How she started ignoring him. How she struggled to meet his eyes. How she had become more…distant.
Ten years. Ten fucking years they had dated. Ten years of smiling, saving money, and being the best person he could be, all for her to walk out on him for ‘loving too much’. Ugh. Why did he have to go and ruin the one good thing in his life? Why did he--
Oh.
Vince was not looking too good anymore. He had gone from hot mess to ‘actually I should do something about this.’
Right Rody. Stop getting distracted. Get to work.
-~V~-
Holy shit. He needed to get out of here. He was going to pass out. There was no denying it anymore--he felt as though he was on the brink of unconsciousness, his brain barely even processing Rody standing in front of him anymore. His thoughts were thick, his breathing stuttered. He would pass out right there and then, and then who knows what would happen. Who would run the restaurant? Who would--
Oh.
Oh.
Rody’s-he had-
Rody had grabbed his hand.
Vincents breath hitched as he felt warm fingers swallow his in their grasp, sending a rush of warmth through his body.
Holy shit.
He wanted to stay like this forever, surrounded by Rody’s warmth; he never wanted to go back--
No Vincent. You’re not dating, he’s just…holding your hand. Calm. The fuck. Down.
“Hey, sweetheart. Are you with me?” Rody said softly, gazing at Vince with caring eyes.
…
Oh my god.
S-sweet heart? Rody had called him sweetheart?
Vincent felt the blood rush to his cheeks, eyes widening, and breathing escalating.
Rody squeezed his hand
“Oh? Yes..I’m...fine…why--”
God.
Rodys eyes were so beautiful, like a million different shades of green and blue, fluttering around with each other. The ginger was looking right at him, gaze piercing through Vince’s heart.
“Vince. I need you to focus on me, ok?” Another squeeze on his hand.
How the fuck did Rody expect him to focus when he was--he was…UGH.
A sharp pang went through his head, causing him to wince his eyes shut.
When he opened them, Rody was looking at him. He looked worried. Like extremely worried. Vince did not deserve someone to be that worried over him.
Rody squeezed his hand again, making the raven-haired gaze up at him with hazey eyes.
“Vince. Are you okay?... Just...please be honest. I want to help you.”
…
Vince wasn’t going to tell Rody. He wasn’t. Rody would want to help, and then he might bring Rody to his room, and then Rody might lay Vince in his bed, and then--
…Vince felt himself heat up suddenly.
What did the ginger get out of this, anyway? How did this benefit him? Because there was no way that Vince would tell Rody that he--
“I-I feel like I’m going to pass out..”
Rody took in a sharp breath, grabbing Vince's other hand, cigarette falling to the floor with a soft ‘thunk’.
“Shit--Ok, I need you to stay with me, Ok? Focus on the sound of my voice…uh…I should get you inside, right? Oh! Don’t you live, like upstairs?”
Just focus on his voice…The only word Vince could use to describe Rody’s voice was…warm. That in itself was stupid--he knew, logically, that voices cannot be ‘warm’.
And yet here Rody was, voice laced with the finest maple syrup and honey, filling Vince with such an amazing warm feeling. He wondered what Rody's voice would taste like--no, that was stupid. Voices didn’t have tastes…
He wondered what Rody would taste like…
His head began to feel more and more cloudy, until the only thing he could see was Rodys concerned eyes looking at his midnight ones, the only thing that he could feel was Rodys fingers around his.
“Ok, we’re just going to walk inside now, squeeze my hand if you feel like you're gonna pass out, ok?”
“...mmk…”
With a sigh, the ginger moved forward, brushing a strand of hair away from Vince's eyes. All the chef could do was hold back from falling into his warm touch, as his pale cheeks flushed red.
“Hey…” Rody whispered, his face barely 10 centimeters from Vince's.
The chef’s breath hitched. Rody was…very close to him. Rody’s lips were…very close to his.
“You’re gonna be fine, ok? I just need you to hold on for just a second longer, can you do that for me?”
“Y-yes, I--mm!”
Vince gasped, as Rody-- as he--
Rody was kissing him.
Oh shit.
They were in the open. Was he trying to get arrested? He knew that they shouldn’t be doing that kind of thing, that it wasn’t accepted in the world they lived in--
Oh my god, it felt so good.
Rodys lips were rough and definitely not soft, and yet he made Vince melt so easily. They felt warm against his, a contact point bringing him back down to reality. Was this what love was meant to feel like? Was this why every dish he made tasted bitter?
Why hadn’t he felt this way before? With…anyone?
One tan arm snaked around Vince's waist. He should pull away. It was wrong. He shouldn’t feel this way.
Rody’s other hand made its way up to Vince’s hair and began to pet it. Half of Vince’s brain was offended at being pet like he was some sort of dog, but the other half of his brain was screaming that ‘oh my god, it felt so good’.
Everything felt so good, everything felt so right. He wanted to almost completely deny that he was sick, and that it wasn’t a very good idea to kiss someone when he was sick, only pulling back when his lungs screamed for air. Rody stared back at him, eyes wide in surprise, as if the ginger himself had lost the battle for control to temptation.
“,,,!”
Hazel eyes scanned his, the worry melting off them once he was seemingly sure that yes, Vince had in fact enjoyed that kiss, and no, he was not going to jail.
Vince’s head was still reeling, playing back that moment again and again, trying to capture the heavenly sensation forever.
“,,,,?”
“So, should we get you inside?”
“...yeah…”
-~R~-
...
...
...
Holy shit, Vince tasted good. It made every fiber in Rodys body light up in fire, it made him want to devour Vince right there and then, against the wall of the alley, he tasted better than any food that Rody had ever eaten before, he wanted to see what every inch of Vince tasted like, from his neck to his--
AHEM. Your boyfriend boss is currently sick and about to pass out; now is not the time to be thinking that way! Come on, Rody! Focus for 10 goddamn minutes!
Right.
Because Vince had taken his hand again, and was staring at Rody with those big, irresistible dark eyes, his hair disheveled and ruined. If just a simple kiss ruined the raven-haired so much, he wondered how he would look on his knees--
FOCUS. RODY.
...Right. Vince was sick, so he had to be the responsible adult for once.
It was kinda backwards, to the point of it being almost humorous.
"Come on...are you still alright to walk?"
"Uhm. I think so..."
"K, good. Don't make me carry you up the stairs-" Rody jested, a big grin on his face. He hadn’t thought much about those words. He had said them as a joke.
He did not miss the bright flush that plastered itself onto Vince's pale cheeks. And such a beautiful pale cheek he had. Red suited him.
"Heh," Vince mumbled, turning his still blushing face away from Rody's.
...
STAY. FOCUSED. RODY.
If the cooks noticed or cared about Rody holding their boss by the hand and half-dragging him to his room, they didn't show it; their heads were diligently down, working on some meal. One of them raised her eyebrows at Rody and gestured to the customers still waiting for their food to be delivered, before gesturing to herself. Rody nodded. Hopefully, she would make a half-decent waiter.
Vince shuffled beside him, a stable reminder that he was still holding on.
...
Rody's breath stuttered at that thought. Vince's hand was…in his. It was cold, like Vince, but not in a discomforting way. In the kind of way that grounded Rodys hot chaos, that leveled him out. Aside from the fact that Vince could pass out at any second now, it felt...good to be walking like this, hand in hand. He remembered all the days walking like this with Manon, how he had thought that nothing could ever be better than the feeling, how he wanted to reside in her smooth and warm hands forever. Vince was the polar opposite. He had liked Manon because they would almost always see eye to eye, because she was the only one in a long time that he had felt comfortable actually talking with.
He liked Vincent because... because...well, if he was being honest, he didn't really know why he liked Vince.
He just liked...little things.
How he did his hair all neat and proper, even when it looked better messy, how he dried Rody's hair 'cos the customers wouldn't like it.
It would keep Rody up at night, wondering if Vince really meant to treat him better than his other employees, if Vince meant it in any other way than just friendship.
He was a big old mystery, a puzzle to solve. And Rody really liked puzzles.
He…just liked Vince.
They were halfway up the stairs now, the carpet almost as cold as Vince's hand in his.
Was everything in Vince's house this cold?
His door was made of birch wood, like the fine polished type that Rody couldn't afford.
And with a huff, he opened the door to Vince's apartment.
...
Woah.
If Rody had thought Vince's door was expensive, his apartment was like a fucking museum!
"You live here!"
"Hm? Yes."
"AND YOU STILL COULDN'T AFFORD TO GIVE ME A FUCKING RAISE?!"
...
"Rody, could you shut the fuck up about your raise for one second? I feel like I am going to pass out-"
"Right, shit, sorry!"
"Ugh."
Vince took a stuttering breath, his fingers loosening in Rody’s grasp.
Suddenly, Rody felt Vince squeeze his hand. Sharp
Shit.
…
The raven-haired lost his balance, falling down into…into.
Oh. Shit. Vince had...Vince had fallen into his arms.
~-V-~
The lights above him seemed blurred and unstable, the sounds of the streets blurring into meaningless white noise. He was sweating, panting, and yet freezing cold, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. Everything felt foggy, his brain felt foggy, his legs like jelly beneath him. Rody was talking, but even his bittersweet honey voice was barely audible, every blink Vince took making it harder and harder to keep his eyes open.
Come on, Vince. You have to hold on. Rody said you could...
He wanted to please Rody, wanted to make him happy more than anything. But his body wasn't listening to his pleas.
Rody had said to squeeze his hand when he was gonna pass out.
It shouldn't take him that much effort to simply squeeze Rody's hand. He felt like giving up, succumbing to the tempting darkness of sleep. But he did want to please Rody.
So.
Rody's hand was soft and warm, like a comforting blanket that he wanted to lean into. It felt nice to be here walking with him. Vince didn't want to dwell on the fact that they weren't a couple yet or the fact that the first person Vince had fallen for was a guy. They would talk about it later, maybe when the chef wasn't on the edge of unconsciousness.
He sighed, a scary, stuttering breath.
Vince really didn't want to talk about it, though. Because if they talked, then Rody would realize that it was a bad idea--that Vince was a bad idea. He would run away and yell at Vince. The raven-haired didn't deserve love. He didn't deserve the wonderful feeling of Rodys lips against his own; he didn't deserve the soft but firm voice that Rody used. He didn't deserve the caring looks that made Vince want to melt. He didn't deserve…love.
It was simply better to just enjoy it while Rody was still here.
After all, he would not be ‘here’ for very long.
He collapsed.
The world crashed around the chef as he let out a shaky breath, eyes watering up slightly. He could feel the contact of Rodys arms around him, so warm and loving cradeling Vince like he was the most precious thing in the whole world. He could feel the waiter's strong, defined muscles through his clothes, his mind too numb to stop himself thinking crudely about Rody's arms caging him, about what Rody would look like without his clothes on. He could hear the gingers voice, so soft and caring that it made Vince want to melt in his arms.
"Shit--Hey, you're gonna be fine, Ok? I got you."
Part of him wanted to retain some of his dignity, to stand up straight and tell Rody that it wasn't appropriate to be doing this. He should fire him, yell at him for treating Vince like he was a fucking 5-year-old that had a nightmare. He should put on the stern expression he used for work, put Rody in his place.
"I'mma get you to your bed, mmk?" Strong, tan arms tightened around Vince.
But maybe, just this once, it was OK to let his mask down. To be vunrable. It wasn't like Rody would stay for long; no one did. But maybe it was better to just enjoy this feeling of utter warmth and comfort. Just this once.
That decision was very carefully calculated and definitely not based on the fact that just the thought of the other man tucking him into bed was enough to make him feel even more lightheaded. Definitely not.
He dropped his head loose, no longer having the energy to hold it up, shortly after feeling the comfort of Rody's big hand supporting him.
It was embarrassing, frankly, so thank god Rody remained mostly silent.
Embarrassing that the 'immovable' Vincent Chanedhwdw was now being cradled by some broke guy that he hired, embarrassing that he was barly consious and yet still trusted Rody like this, the fact that he allowed Rody to gentley wring his hands through the chefs dark hair, making the 'impossible' chef want to kiss his stupid fucking lips, to feel Rodys hands explore his body, to feel his d--
What was embarrassing, really, was the fact that Vince was enjoying it.
Alot.
The chef could feel the wind gently brush against his forehead as Rody stumbled his way to the dark-haired man's room, moving past cold hallways and covered-up windows.
Vincent hated his house. Always had; always would. It was cold, empty, like his heart, the furniture being stiff and just for display, the smell of smoke lining the halls. It was a mirror of Vince himself, in a way; it was done up to look expensive, prim, and proper, and it had cost Vince a good amount of money. But it still felt...wrong. Out of place, like it was made to impress, not to live in.
Rody stuck out like a sore thumb, being all smiles and worried glances, one of the most amazing people Vince knew, and yet still somehow ended up dirt poor. Manon probably did that. Used him, used his money only to leave. Rody seemed like the kind of person to put himself aside from relationships; he probably spent all his money on her. God, Vince hated Manon.
...
What was he thinking about again? Oh. Right. Rody stuck out in his house, in a way that would normally have Vince's OCD screaming. He was poor, dirty, and uncontrollable.
But where Vince and his house had no soul, just reflections of money and cold power, Rody was alive.
Vince feared he was getting addicted to Rody's lively sensation.
His breath hitched as he felt the shorter man's arms shift around him, gently lying him down on his bed. Vince sighed as the cold sensation crept its way back into his limbs and made the mistake of flicking his eyes open to get a better look at Rody. It was cold without him, Vince wanted to pull his warmth close and fall asle--
Holy shit.
He leaned over Vince, hazel eyes so big, beautiful, and concerned, like Vince was the most precious thing in the world. The intimacy of the position made the blood rush to his face--Rody leaned over him, strong, defined muscles prominent under his loose clothes, hair disheveled and messy like always. Vince had his back against the bed, staring up at Rody like he was some kind of god.
Maybe he was, actually.
Vince wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
Goddamn, Rody was hot.
~-R-~
Vince's face suddenly went red. Like really red. Had he done something wrong? Vince had consistently been a subtle shade of pink this whole time, his sentences slurred and his limbs like jelly in Rody’s arms. But this shade of red was bold, purposeful, deliberate. It wasn’t simply a side effect on what ever disease Vince had.
It was only then that Rody realised the… position that they were in. Rody leaning over Vince, staring wide-eyed back at him.
…shit.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean-uh-I” He spluttered, face glowing red as he hurriedly backed off, trying to get the image of Vince weak and ruined (BY SICKNESS) under him out of his mind.
He should probably get going. Vincent wouldn’t want him sleeping here, after all--
“Mm, can you stay?”
Rody froze. …Could he stay? Like, sleep with Vince? Could he cuddle him under the covers, telling him that everything was going to be ok? Well who was he to refuse an offer like that?
“Of course, baby,” he spoke with a sickly sweet voice, and was rewarded with Vince’s breath hitching.
“Means nothing, I’m just cold…”
Well, that much was true. Vince was always cold.
Slipping himself under the covers, encasing Vince's small body within his arms, burying his head into the back of Vince’s neck.
“How are you feeling?”
“Mm…cold…”
Rody could help with that. He had been told by almost every partner he had had that he was warm, like a heat pack warming them up at night.
With a small smile, he wrapped his arms around Vince’s waist, bringing the covers up to completely encase Vince in warmth. The chef curled up, sighing in relief. “Thanks…”
He wondered if he would like praise?
“Youre so beautiful, Vinecent.”
He moved his right hand to play with his dark hair, pulling his light body just a little bit closer.
Vince visibly shuddered.
“I’m not though…”
“Not what?”
“Not beautiful. I'm ugly. Cold. boring.”
Oh. So he was going to be like this. Rody could help with that…
He ghosted his lips just above his boss's ear, whispering in the most seductive voice he could muster.
“Vincent. You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen. You seem bitter on the outside, but your soul is so amazingly incredible. I would die for you, Vince.”
The other man's breath catches in his throat, cold hands placing themselves over Rody’s
“Why would you say that? Why would you stay?”
Should he say it? Should he give his heart away to the man that could so easily shatter it, shatter him? Manon had left him so broken and dead that he couldn’t imagine a second heartbreak and the consequences of it.
But the sight of Vince curled up to him, cold and comforting, was almost enough for Rody to completely throw all his concerns away.
Ah, fuck it. He had nothing to lose.
“Because I love you, Vince. I love the way you take care of me, I love the way you act tough when your cleary struggling. I want to be there for you when you feel like everything has betrayed you. I, Rody Lamore, love you.”
Vince froze. Completely and utterly, his chest barely even moving up and down against Rodys arms.
For a second, Rody thought he was going to walk away. Tell Rody to get out of his bed. To say that it was ridiculous, that everything he had felt had been a lie.
But Vince only rolled over, so Vince could see him with midnight eyes, tears pricking the edges.
“Why?”
“Becuase your you! And I would never want anyone else!”
Vince buried himself further into Rodys chest, sighing.
“I-i love you too, Rody Lamore.”