If You Can't Stand the Heat IX
Title: If You Can't Stand the Heat
Part(s): 9/?
Pairings: Monaboyd
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU
Disclaimers: I don't know them and I'm not affiliated with them.
Feedback: I love feedback of all kinds.
Bang, clang, clatter. It’s lovely to make a ruckus in the kitchen; it all feels so organic and creative. And here I am again, back at work, another day in close proximity to my beloved, another day of frustration. If only it could be as easy as Elijah wants it to be. I have my doubts.
And so, here I stand, knife in hand, hacking away at carrots and celery and thinking of green eyes and pointy teeth. Good job, I didn’t cut my finger off there, what with being distracted by thoughts of a lovely Scotsman.
“Being a bit enthusiastic with the knife there, aren’t you, Monaghan?”
Oh, sweet Jesus!
“Bills, don’t sneak up on a guy like that. I am holding a knife, you know. So, what are you doing back here, in the bowels of the kitchen?”
Oh, who cares? He’s here and I’m enjoying every minute of it. And just look at Elijah over there. Little bastard can’t keep the smirk off his face. God, please let him keep his mouth shut.
“Oh, I don’t know. I just thought that I’d come see what you get up to back here. What have you got there?”
And then he’s moving and before I know it, he’s standing beside me. Oh, be still my heart.
“Billy, you can’t come back here! Not behind the line! Look, on the floor over there. There’s a line.”
“No there’s not.”
“Ok, it’s an invisible line, but you can’t cross it.”
“I can and have. I’m here, aren’t I?”
And bless him for that. God, but he smells good.
“So, give me a little nibble, yeah?”
And then he’s reaching for a scrap of carrot, smiling and daring me to stop him.
“Oi Boyd! Get your hands out of the food. That’s not sanitary, mate.”
“Well, I’m hungry. Couldn’t you just feed me a little bit? Then I wouldn’t have to touch it, you see?”
And oh, the look in his eyes is too much for me. What would it hurt? Just a little bite.
“Ok, but I’ll still have to wash my hands after, you sod. The things I do for you. I hope you appreciate this.”
And then he’s nibbling the carrot from my fingertips, just a hint of lips and was that his tongue ghosting over the sensitive pads of my fingers? Oh my God.
“Dominic!”
The roar coming from the depths of the kitchen fills me with dread. It’s Him. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to meet Him.
“Bills, look, you’ve got to go! Really. I’m sorry, it’s just that He won’t take kindly to me letting you back here. He’ll flay me and serve me up en brochette. Go! Now!”
“Um. Sure Dom. See you later then.”
Bill is walking away uncertainly and looking a little confused. God, what rotten timing, and all I can think about it is what I might have done to attract His attention. My heart is hammering. Oh God, oh God. What have I screwed up now? I’m always doing something to get myself into a spot of trouble. A visit from Him is never good.
“Dominic! There you are!”
It’s said as a heavy hand is clapped onto my shoulder and it’s all that I can do not to jump out of my skin. Elijah’s eyes, peeking at me from behind the steam kettle, are as wide as saucers, his mouth open in a round, little oh.
“Chef! Look, whatever Sean may have told you about the cooler, I didn’t….”
“The cooler? Is it the proper temperature? Is everything labeled and dated? If so, I don’t give a damn about the cooler! Let’s step into my office, shall we?”
And then that hand is guiding me back through the kitchen, past Astin, at his mixer, past Sean, who is smirking gleefully at me, past Cate, who could care less, down the back hall and into his office.
I haven’t been in here since I was hired and it gives me the willies. It’s nothing like the rest of the place. It’s all big wooden desk and dark carpet and shelf upon shelf of texts. I don’t even think they’re books on cooking. Who knows what the hell He gets up to in here? I mean, I know that He’s in charge and that the recipes are all His, but we never see Him.
“Have a seat my boy. Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”
“Yes Chef.”
“No need to be so formal when we’re not in the kitchen, Dominic; we’re comrades here. Please, call me Mr. Lee.”
Er. Not formal? What are we chatting about?
“It’s about your lamb shanks, Mr. Monaghan.”
“Look Chef, I mean Mr. Lee, whatever it is that I did, I’m sure that I can work on it. I mean, I’m willing to learn and do whatever need be to fix it....”
“Fix it? Why ever would you want to do that?”
“What?”
I’m sure I look like a codfish, mouth hanging all agape.
“Outstanding, my boy. Viggo and I had the leftovers for a late supper last night. They were delicious: succulent, moist, and perfectly seasoned. I couldn’t have made them better myself. Good show.”
“Well, thank you, Sir. I never see you in the kitchen. It’s a comfort to know that I’m staying on track.”
“Oh, I’m there, Dominic. Always watching, always tasting. Never fear.”
The man must move like a shadow. How does he do that, being such a great hulking thing?
“Tell me. Have you thought any more about formal training?”
“Yes Sir, but I really can’t afford school right now.”
“What you can not afford is to miss it! There is immeasurable value in being shaped, molded and forged in the fires of academia! Just look at Ms. Blanchett. Her works is precise and yet artistic. She worked hard and has earned the title of Chef, even if she is a damned cake maker. It would behoove you to do likewise, my boy.”
“Yes Sir. I’ll continue to plan for it.”
“You do that. Well, have a pleasant day.”
And I’m dismissed as fast as that. Crazy, old coot.
And so, I’m back to my station and all is well. Hello. Astin really does look quite agitated.
“Everything ok here, Sean?”
“Yes. No. No, it isn’t. I can’t find my rolling pin, Dom. I’ve looked everywhere for it.”
“Why don’t you use one of those? You’ve got two right there.”
“I don’t want those. I want the wooden one. It’s been missing for three days now.”
No need to tell him that it’s underneath the line and that I’ve been using it to hammer dents out of the sauté pans. Wouldn’t want to give the poor guy a coronary.
“Ok, well, I’ll keep an eye out for it and if I find it, I’ll make sure to return it to you.”
“Thanks Dom. You’re a pal.”
Where was I? Oh yes, chopping veg. It’s not too much longer now before closing. Elijah is working the line himself tonight, with a little support from me, and I’ve been doing mostly prep work. He’ll be able to take over on my nights off, with no problem at all. We’re not a huge place here, just a few tables, but the food is good and the atmosphere is pleasant.
So, a little detour into the cooler for peppers and I’ll go back to work for a bit.
It’s cool in here and I’m so intent on my task that I don’t hear the quite whoosh of the door opening behind me. I don't realize that I’m not alone, until I’m pressed face-first into the romaine, a honeyed voice purring in my ear.
“Dommie.”
Part(s): 9/?
Pairings: Monaboyd
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU
Disclaimers: I don't know them and I'm not affiliated with them.
Feedback: I love feedback of all kinds.
Bang, clang, clatter. It’s lovely to make a ruckus in the kitchen; it all feels so organic and creative. And here I am again, back at work, another day in close proximity to my beloved, another day of frustration. If only it could be as easy as Elijah wants it to be. I have my doubts.
And so, here I stand, knife in hand, hacking away at carrots and celery and thinking of green eyes and pointy teeth. Good job, I didn’t cut my finger off there, what with being distracted by thoughts of a lovely Scotsman.
“Being a bit enthusiastic with the knife there, aren’t you, Monaghan?”
Oh, sweet Jesus!
“Bills, don’t sneak up on a guy like that. I am holding a knife, you know. So, what are you doing back here, in the bowels of the kitchen?”
Oh, who cares? He’s here and I’m enjoying every minute of it. And just look at Elijah over there. Little bastard can’t keep the smirk off his face. God, please let him keep his mouth shut.
“Oh, I don’t know. I just thought that I’d come see what you get up to back here. What have you got there?”
And then he’s moving and before I know it, he’s standing beside me. Oh, be still my heart.
“Billy, you can’t come back here! Not behind the line! Look, on the floor over there. There’s a line.”
“No there’s not.”
“Ok, it’s an invisible line, but you can’t cross it.”
“I can and have. I’m here, aren’t I?”
And bless him for that. God, but he smells good.
“So, give me a little nibble, yeah?”
And then he’s reaching for a scrap of carrot, smiling and daring me to stop him.
“Oi Boyd! Get your hands out of the food. That’s not sanitary, mate.”
“Well, I’m hungry. Couldn’t you just feed me a little bit? Then I wouldn’t have to touch it, you see?”
And oh, the look in his eyes is too much for me. What would it hurt? Just a little bite.
“Ok, but I’ll still have to wash my hands after, you sod. The things I do for you. I hope you appreciate this.”
And then he’s nibbling the carrot from my fingertips, just a hint of lips and was that his tongue ghosting over the sensitive pads of my fingers? Oh my God.
“Dominic!”
The roar coming from the depths of the kitchen fills me with dread. It’s Him. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to meet Him.
“Bills, look, you’ve got to go! Really. I’m sorry, it’s just that He won’t take kindly to me letting you back here. He’ll flay me and serve me up en brochette. Go! Now!”
“Um. Sure Dom. See you later then.”
Bill is walking away uncertainly and looking a little confused. God, what rotten timing, and all I can think about it is what I might have done to attract His attention. My heart is hammering. Oh God, oh God. What have I screwed up now? I’m always doing something to get myself into a spot of trouble. A visit from Him is never good.
“Dominic! There you are!”
It’s said as a heavy hand is clapped onto my shoulder and it’s all that I can do not to jump out of my skin. Elijah’s eyes, peeking at me from behind the steam kettle, are as wide as saucers, his mouth open in a round, little oh.
“Chef! Look, whatever Sean may have told you about the cooler, I didn’t….”
“The cooler? Is it the proper temperature? Is everything labeled and dated? If so, I don’t give a damn about the cooler! Let’s step into my office, shall we?”
And then that hand is guiding me back through the kitchen, past Astin, at his mixer, past Sean, who is smirking gleefully at me, past Cate, who could care less, down the back hall and into his office.
I haven’t been in here since I was hired and it gives me the willies. It’s nothing like the rest of the place. It’s all big wooden desk and dark carpet and shelf upon shelf of texts. I don’t even think they’re books on cooking. Who knows what the hell He gets up to in here? I mean, I know that He’s in charge and that the recipes are all His, but we never see Him.
“Have a seat my boy. Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”
“Yes Chef.”
“No need to be so formal when we’re not in the kitchen, Dominic; we’re comrades here. Please, call me Mr. Lee.”
Er. Not formal? What are we chatting about?
“It’s about your lamb shanks, Mr. Monaghan.”
“Look Chef, I mean Mr. Lee, whatever it is that I did, I’m sure that I can work on it. I mean, I’m willing to learn and do whatever need be to fix it....”
“Fix it? Why ever would you want to do that?”
“What?”
I’m sure I look like a codfish, mouth hanging all agape.
“Outstanding, my boy. Viggo and I had the leftovers for a late supper last night. They were delicious: succulent, moist, and perfectly seasoned. I couldn’t have made them better myself. Good show.”
“Well, thank you, Sir. I never see you in the kitchen. It’s a comfort to know that I’m staying on track.”
“Oh, I’m there, Dominic. Always watching, always tasting. Never fear.”
The man must move like a shadow. How does he do that, being such a great hulking thing?
“Tell me. Have you thought any more about formal training?”
“Yes Sir, but I really can’t afford school right now.”
“What you can not afford is to miss it! There is immeasurable value in being shaped, molded and forged in the fires of academia! Just look at Ms. Blanchett. Her works is precise and yet artistic. She worked hard and has earned the title of Chef, even if she is a damned cake maker. It would behoove you to do likewise, my boy.”
“Yes Sir. I’ll continue to plan for it.”
“You do that. Well, have a pleasant day.”
And I’m dismissed as fast as that. Crazy, old coot.
And so, I’m back to my station and all is well. Hello. Astin really does look quite agitated.
“Everything ok here, Sean?”
“Yes. No. No, it isn’t. I can’t find my rolling pin, Dom. I’ve looked everywhere for it.”
“Why don’t you use one of those? You’ve got two right there.”
“I don’t want those. I want the wooden one. It’s been missing for three days now.”
No need to tell him that it’s underneath the line and that I’ve been using it to hammer dents out of the sauté pans. Wouldn’t want to give the poor guy a coronary.
“Ok, well, I’ll keep an eye out for it and if I find it, I’ll make sure to return it to you.”
“Thanks Dom. You’re a pal.”
Where was I? Oh yes, chopping veg. It’s not too much longer now before closing. Elijah is working the line himself tonight, with a little support from me, and I’ve been doing mostly prep work. He’ll be able to take over on my nights off, with no problem at all. We’re not a huge place here, just a few tables, but the food is good and the atmosphere is pleasant.
So, a little detour into the cooler for peppers and I’ll go back to work for a bit.
It’s cool in here and I’m so intent on my task that I don’t hear the quite whoosh of the door opening behind me. I don't realize that I’m not alone, until I’m pressed face-first into the romaine, a honeyed voice purring in my ear.
“Dommie.”