Chapter Text
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It was raining.
Of course it was.
Should Rody expect anything else? Damn it all, why didn’t he have enough money for a car?
Nonetheless, he had to ride through the rain on his bike- Thinking, oh, if I go fast then less raindrops will hit, right?
No.
No, he was horribly wrong.
If anything, it just soaked him faster.
Damn it all, now he stood in front of La Gueule de Saturne, dripping with rainwater, soaked to his core. How was he supposed to explain this to Vincent? How was he supposed to say “Hey, sorry, Boss, I totally thought it was smart to ride on my bike in the rain to get here, and then ended up soaked, and still have to serve your customers?”
Damn it, damn it, damn it-
The door opened.
Why.
Whywhywhy-
“...Rody?”
“A-Ah, Vincent- Uh, I mean, Boss- Shit, Chef Sir! Sorry-”
“...you are... Wet.” Vince tilted his head, exhaling through his nose, his eyes fluttering closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Y-yes, I am.” Rody chuckled nervously.
“...why? Did you not... Drive here?”
“I don’t own a car,” Rody mumbled, scratching the back of his neck, so self-conscious.
“...what.”
“...I ride my bike to work.”
“...it is your second day.” Vincent tilted his head once more, and Rody had to keep his small chuckle from bubbling out- his boss was so much like a cat.
“I-It... Uh, yeah, it is.”
“...Come in before you get a cold,”
“... Ah, yeah, of course.”
Setting his bike in the small area where he let it rest for the day, he clicks the lock into place before striding inside, shivering. Vince is nowhere to be seen, so Rody just stands there, unsure what to do.
The restaurant wasn’t open yet- It'd open in thirty or so minutes, so hopefully he can dry. His clothes will probably still be damp, but nonetheless alright. Hopefully. Taking this rare moment of not rushing around and serving people, he observes the interior of this restaurant he works at now.
When he’d first applied, he had doubted he’d get chosen; he was a fresh college dropout and was going through a rough patch in his relationship with Manon. He barely had thirty bucks to his name, rode a bicycle everywhere, and had a pretty shitty apartment that was basically just 400 square feet.
So, imagine his surprise when he came in and found out he’d been chosen out of all the other applicants, that he was now on his second day of working at this top-notch job that gave him more pay than he’d had in a year with his part time jobs- several of them in fact- and landed this position.
But he’d already fucked up, he was soaking wet on his second day of work, and Vincent, his boss, had caught him outside like a wet cat. Damn it.
Glancing around, his gaze lands on several of the different styles in the restaurant, onyx floors with like, two gold chandeliers, and a red carpet that trailed throughout the serving areas. It was a little weird that Rody was the only waiter, but there weren’t that many tables, and the crowd was usually manageable for him.
And of course, the freaking air conditioner turned on- and the coldness of it caressed his sides, making him shiver further. He rubbed his hands together, teeth clattering as he tried for friction warmth.
“D-Dammit, this is what I get for not buying an umbrella-” Rody mutters.
Warmth.
Warmth surrounded him.
“-?!”
A warm towel wrapped around him, and gently hands drying him. Tenderly moving back and forth, the towel is nice and soft and warm and perfect-
It takes Rody a moment to realize who the hands belong to.
Vincent.
Vincent, his boss, is drying him off with a warm towel.
Whaaaaaaaaat?
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Vincent glances away, not willing to look his newest employee in the eyes. Stupid- So stupid, he was. Both Vince and Rody. Damn his stupid, cold, dead heart that couldn’t stand to see Rody standing in the rain, dripping wet and shivering. Damn Rody, for not having an umbrella.
“You don’t have an umbrella, do you? Take mine for the ride home.” Vince finally mutters.
“Y-Yours...?” Rody mumbles, his eyes wide as he looks at Vincent. He would never, could never admit this, but the ginger was adorable, and Vince’s heart couldn’t take that adorable expression.
“Yes,” He answers flatly, moving onto the other’s hair and drying that too.
“But how will you get home, not soaked?”
“I live here.”
“...In the restaurant?!”
“Above it, idiot. Now get to work.” Vincent rolls his eyes before shoving the other away gently. Rody stumbles for a moment before righting himself; he glances back and grins before saluting.
“Thanks Boss!”
Vincent just sighs before folding the dirtied towel and strolling through the restaurant- His restaurant and making his way to the laundry room. He sets it in the dirty basket before stepping out. 15 minutes and the doors would open, patrons pouring in.
Taking his place in the back of the kitchen, he barks orders to the many, many chefs that all stand straight, ready for orders. Obedience, just how he likes it.
He smirks and the doors open once more.
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Rody thought... Well, less than he thought, more that he was still roiling from his encounter with Vincent. His boss helped him! HIM! He had a goofy little smile on his face as the doors opened, and a pair of two strolled in.
He led them to their table, two appetizers, and two glasses of bubbly wine. He does it all with a smile on his face, putting the orders in and watching the chefs in the back skillfully make the dishes. He delivers the wine before waiting for where the plated food will be ready soon.
In his singular day of working here, he’d found a rhythm. Put the orders in, deliver the drinks, then wait until the food is ready before it is delivered. When there were other customers, he’d attend to them before checking if the food was ready once more before delivering it.
He’d seen Vince in the back of the kitchens, watching his chefs with cold indifference, and the chefs always seemed on edge and stumbly whenever Vincent watched them.
But that was normal; who wouldn’t be afraid of your boss watching your every move? He chuckled to himself before seeing the meals were ready. He skillfully delivered them before waiting for the couple to order once more.
It’d be a good day, and he’d meet his quota.
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Vincent snarled at the chef who stupidly- So, so, fucking stupidly turned off the stove to clean a bit of flour that spilled onto the counter, does the idiot not know to never turn off the stove? That halts the assembling of meals, arresting the flow through the room, causing everyone to stop what they’re doing!
Stupid, stupid, fucking idiot!
“You,” He growls, voice a low sound that stops everyone else in the room. The chefs all halt, freezing in place thinking they did something wrong. It was only the one though, and he’d be sure to punish them thoroughly.
The chef who messed up freezes alongside the others before Vincent stalks forward, and the head chef grabs the other by his hair before turning the stove on highest setting. He shoves the other’s face right above that burning hot surface.
“You, naive, fucking idiot.” He snarls, face contorted in fury, “Why?”
“I-I’m s-sorry, Chef-”
“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it,”
“I-I was just cleaning up the f-flour-”
“And turned off the stove? If you want to be a good fucking chef, you never turn the stove off, idiot!” He shoves the chef’s face a little closer to the stove, and the other whimpers pitifully.
“I-I’m sorry, Chef-”
“You will be-”
The doors swing open, and Rody strolls in, whistling a soft tune until he finally sees what was happening. The other chefs froze in place, Vincent holding an almost sobbing chef over a stove forcefully, and Vince looks up, fury twisting his features.
Something akin to horror takes root deep in Rody as he glances between Vincent and the trash. Ah, was he taking out the trash? It was full, after all. Thoughtful, little waiter.
Upon blinking twice, Vincent abruptly let's go of the near-crying chef as they mumble apologies. He stands up straighter before smoothing out his hair; his pupils razor thing as he glares at the chef.
“Do it again, and you’re fired.” Then Vince strides back to his corner, watching the chefs resume their cooking, chopping and frying. The scent fills the room, and it’s the closest thing Vincent will ever get to tasting again.
Rody blinks rapidly before scurrying past and taking out the trash. Did he frighten the little waiter? Adorable.
The chefs cook, with Vincent behind them watching carefully.
A stormy, grey, rainy day indeed.
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“...” Throwing the bulging bag over his shoulder, Rody grimaces as he steps out of the restaurant. What was that he just saw? Why had Vincent been so... Harsh?
He shivered, from both the rain and that expression on his boss’s face. It was... terrifying.
Quietly, he chucks the bag into the dumpster before slinking back inside. He sticks to the shadows, warily watching Vince as the head chef observes all his employees with cold indifference.
Freaky.
Really, really fucking scary. The look on his face- like a murderer.
Shaking his head, he steps back into the dining room, plastering a much less enthusiastic smile on his face. He begins his shift once more.
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It was cute to see little Rody scurrying around like a mouse with Vince, a cat trapping the other beneath his paw. Adorable.
The sun was setting and a dusk, orange glow drifted over the restaurant, a pretty color. Similar to blood.
The sky was still grey and still poured outside. His chefs had all left for the day, eager to get out of La Gueule de Saturne, and only Rody and Vincent remained. The former unlocking his bike to ride home. The little waiter was so, so tense. Pretty.
Vince regarded the other with a curious gaze, taking in every detail of his new employee. His messy, auburn hair, and pale green eyes. His untied tie lay limp around his neck, and the broad outline of his chest, muscles straining beneath the outfit that the waiter wore. All the way down... To that V-shape in the other’s pants.
Vincent quickly looks away, muttering curses before disappearing in the back, finding his umbrella. When he returns, Rody stands there, glancing warily at Vince. Was the little waiter afraid of him now? Hm, good.
“Here,” He shoves the umbrella into Rody’s hands, eyes cold and voice flat and distant.
“O-Oh, I thought you’d forgotten-”
“I don’t forget.”
“...Ah... Alright then. Good... goodnight, Vincent. I’ll see you tomorrow."
“Goodnight, Rody. I will see you tomorrow as well.”
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