Chapter 2: Blue Jacket

Lance had chosen to sit at the back of the bus for the sole purpose of watching his fellow contestants. He'd managed to get a pretty good handle on their general vibes, figure out who was worth aligning with, and determine who his biggest competition would be. Mostly, Lance had paid attention to the men since they would be his team in the Blue Kitchen, but that didn't mean he was blind to the ladies present.

He'd counted eight women and seven men, plus himself, for a total of sixteen chefs. Some of them were executive chefs, others were sous chefs, there was the odd line cook, and one girl was a bartender turned culinary student. She was his favourite, all long blonde hair, big doe eyes with kissably pouty pink lips, and a bubbling laugh. He'd be spending the next five weeks with her if all went well, and Lance sincerely hoped to make more than Chef call out his name during that time.

Aside from his future Mrs. McClain, there was a big guy sweating nervously beside him, an arrogant "my daddy will hear about this'' looking country club kid flirting with a pretty brunette girl, a strikingly handsome Asian dude scowling at everyone, a super skinny guy with patchy facial hair that kinda looked like ginger pubes surrounding his face, a terrifyingly large Amazonian warrior woman that he was ninety percent certain was a lesbian based on how into the chick next to her she was, and even more people that Lance couldn't get a good angle on.

One of the individuals on their bus was going to win this competition and Lance was dead set on that person being him.

It had been a few weeks now and he'd managed to spend some quality "get to know each other" time with each of the other chefs on his team, as well as a few from the Red Kitchen. So far Hunk and Nyma were his favourites by a long shot, for very different reasons. While Nyma was hot and kinda slutty (which Lance was super into), Hunk was just a giant cinnamon roll of a human.

They had instantly become mejor amigos and had bonded over their mutual love of food and video games. It didn't take long for him to realize the big guy was the softest, squishiest, ball of love in the whole universe and the very best friend Lance could hope for.

But for every Ying there is a yang and Hunk's opposite came in the form of a grumpy, prickly, mullet-haired emo boy hotty. If Hunk was a cinnamon bun, Keith was a cactus; inedible and spikey. He was the bane of Lance's existence and the worst part was that his skills were undeniable. He was a damn good chef and the Red Team wouldn't be kicking him out anytime soon.

It had only been two weeks and Keith had already cockblocked him, showed him up in a competition, hit him in the face with a pillow for talking at night, and even sabotaged his chances with Samantha. Okay, so that last one he couldn't prove, but it was totally true. One minute Lance was getting his flirt on and the next, Keith was leaning over the back of the couch to whisper in Samantha's ear. She'd turned back to Lance, smiled, winked, and left. LEFT . As in gone, adios , buenas noches ! And Keith, the smug asshole, hadn't even looked sorry. He'd just smiled at Lance, climbed over the back of the couch to sit down, and offered him more wine.

Tonight, they failed. Tonight, they lost a teammate. Tonight, they drank.

The entire Blue team sat together on the back patio with bottles of hard liquor in the center of the table. Simon poured a shot for each of them (terrible off-brand fireball) and one to the ground for their "fallen" teammate. The Red team joined after a few rounds and were immediately bombarded with the details of what had transpired in the blue kitchen.

Most of the details were hazy to him. Some people say situations like that tend to slow down, time reduces to a crawl, and all the intricate details stand out clear as a bell in your memory. But for Lance, the details seemed to blur into one red-stained moment of indecipherable chaos.

Lance had missed the rest of the challenge, given that he'd had to accompany Carrie in the ambulance, and luckily did not return in time to participate in their subsequent punishment. Yet, even though he hadn't spent the afternoon shucking an entire service worth of oysters, he was just as sore and exhausted as the rest of his team.

He had spent the remainder of the day at the hospital, having left in the same ambulance as his much more injured teammate. While Lance had only needed two measly stitches on his hand, Carrie had lost a whole finger; chopped off just below the middle knuckle. Never in his life had Lance heard such a scream as the blood-curdling sound that emanated from her tiny frame. He'd been witness to quite a few injuries during his time working in kitchens but never had he watched a body part be amputated. A shiver ran down his spine as his mind flashed the whole gruesome scene before him once again.

It was just the standard noise of a kitchen, pans clanging, food sizzling, people yelling as they rushed through their challenge. They'd all had to butcher their own meat from the whole side of beef brought in off the truck. Carrie's grip on her cleaver had slipped, bringing down the full force of the blade on her hand instead of the cow, and severing her finger.

Lance had tried to rush to her aid, picking up the finger and wrapping it in a paper towel. He tried to soothe her, calm her down a little as Hunk screamed for a medic, but in her panic, she gripped his arm too tightly and Lance lost his balance. He slipped on the bloody tiles and on instinct reached out to brace his fall, grabbing the edge of the blade sitting on the counter with one hand and landing with his full weight on the other.

"You okay?" Keith asked, leaning in close, breath smelling heavily of cheap cinnamon whiskey. "You look a little -" he didn't finish his thoughts with actual words, instead choosing to flip his hand around vaguely and scrunch up his face in confusion. It was such a casual response as if he hadn't given any thought to what he would say, just that he felt he should say something. And hey, maybe it was the shitty alcohol talking but dammit if Lance didn't find that stupidly endearing. Keith's pretty eyes didn't hurt either.

Lance smiled back at him, earning a shy smile in return. "Yeah, I'm good," he reassured, "just, I don't know, having flashbacks I guess." He gave a weak laugh, hoping to play it off, but Keith just stared at him, purple-grey eyes piercing into his soul.

"Hmmm," Keith hummed, "bet it hurt." His words and detached tone took Lance by surprise. Keith was staring down at his bandaged hand with a deep furrow on his brow. "I think you're really brave for coming back despite being injured too."

"Ahh, it's nothing," he said, still playing off the injury, "just a few stitches nothing to be -"

"And a sprained wrist," Keith cut in, taking the bottle of cheap whiskey still being passed around the table and throwing back a mouthful, letting out a loud cinnamony burp as he passed the bottle to Lance.

"Well, yeah, but I'm fine. Gonna take a lot more than this to knock me out of the competition."

Keith didn't say anything to that, he merely hummed and looked back to his glass of wine in front of him. He pulled a face as he took a small sip, the Malbec clearly not pairing well with the off-brand fireball, and mulled over whatever was going through his mind. After a moment's pause, he turned his head back to their conversation, and though he now faced Lance, his eyes were trained across the table.

"You might not want to say that too loud, the rest of your 'team' may take it as a challenge."

Keith's voice was quiet and his tone dark, the sudden change left Lance reeling. He stared at Keith, slightly stunned, and studied his face. What was Keith saying? Was it intended as the warning Lance seemed to hear? Or was he just trying to get under Lance's skin, unnerve him and throw him off his game? Was Lance reading too far into it?

No, Keith was a prickly asshole with a general lack of social skills, but he wasn't manipulative or sneaky like that. He may be a blunt dickhead at times but, at the very least, he's an incredibly honest and straightforward person. Lance was certain that if Keith were to be suspicious of someone's motives, it was most likely because his instincts were right. It would probably be prudent to be warier of his teammates, ' Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer' and all that.

He hummed in response to Keith's warning and continued to watch his face. The man's eyes eventually turned back to him, locking on his as Keith caught him staring. "What?" he asked and Lance didn't answer, just stared back at him, wondering what Keith was playing at. If he was warning him (which he most likely was) then what would he gain from that? They were on different teams and they weren't even friends!

Keith blushed under his scrutiny. "Seriously, what?" He asked, face scrunching up again. "Is there something on my face?"

Like a dumbass, Lance searched his face just in case and got a first-hand view of Keith licking his lips. He had nice lips, very soft looking, pinker tonight than usual due to the alcohol. WOW, okay, Lance needed to chill the fuck out. He couldn't let the cheap booze take away his sense of judgement and lead him to make a stupid move by hitting on his straight rival.

Lance cleared his throat and leaned back, adding some much-needed breathing room between them. This was Keith he was talking to, not Nyma, not Samantha; Keith. Sure the mullet-haired ball of angst was hot, like super hot - Lance would have to be blind not to notice, but he was also his rival. And while it was unlikely Mullet was playing him, he was still a fellow competitor vying for the same coveted position he was. Lance needed to keep his head in the game.

Keith blinked, seemingly stunned, then scowled deeply at him. Rolling his pretty eyes, he got up from the table, two steps away - turned back - picked up his wine glass - then stormed off back inside.

What's his problem? Lance thought to himself. The sloshing sound of the bottle of not-fireball pulled his attention back to the group and he accepted it quickly, taking another swig and passing it on.

"- that's when I said ' you shouldn't yokeabout stuff like that' get it, Lance? Yoke? Lance? Buddy? Are you even listening to me," Hunk asked from the other side of the hot tub, pulling Lance's attention back to the conversation he was supposedly having.

" Qué ?" he asked, still not devoting his full attention to Hunk. How could he? Keith was over his shoulder sitting on a couch chatting it up with some girl from his team. It was infuriating. How dare he block Lance's advances and kill his shot with not one, but two separate ladies, then turn around and get his flirt on. ¡puaj! Keith was such a hypocrite.

"I was telling you my joke that made Shay laugh," Hunk explained, still starry-eyed when he talked about the "girl of his dreams" as he put it. "What's on your mind, buddy?"

"Oh, nothing, just Keith being a jerk. So the usual," he smirked, turning his attention back to Hunk and blocking out the scene behind him. Lance actively held his friend's gaze, refusing to let his eyes drift over Hunk's shoulder to watch the mullet-haired bastard flirt up a storm.

The girl he was hitting on was way taller than him, like almost half a foot taller, and looked like she could bench press three Keiths without breaking a sweat. Her dark hair was cut into a short, stylish bob with solid, straight bangs that covered her forehead. She wore large, thick, gold hooped earrings and a deep plum lipstick that suited her skin tone really well.

Keith must have said something funny because she threw her head back giggling, knees coming up to her chest, and arms clutched around her stomach as she laughed. Keith was smirking down at her, stifling a laugh of his own. It made Lance fume with a rage that took him wholly by surprise. What did he care what Keith did?

"- just the best, you know? Like, she's really sweet, and super funny, and just, like, completely awesome. I hope she makes it to the final three with us, you know,"

"Who? Shay?"

"Yeah, dude. You're not listening to me are you?"

"No, no, I am! Shay is wonderful blah, blah, blah, see? Totally heard you," Lance grinned back at Hunk, pulling his eyes away from where the girl now had her head resting on Keith's shoulder, his arm stretched across the back of the wicker loveseat.

He'd looked back just in time to see Hunk roll his eyes, shaking his head with a fond smile. "I'm going to get another beer, want one?"

Lance nodded, sinking lower into the water to avoid outright staring at the " happy couple" in Hunk's absence.

A few more beers down the hatch and Lance was feeling pretty good. His skin had a nice tingle and his head felt all light and carefree. The jets of the hot tub were slowly working out the knots and tension in his back that had built up from all the stress of the past two weeks, and he was doing a pretty good job of keeping his stitches out of the water. Lance sighed as he settled into the warm water.

Some of the girls had joined them for a bit, Nyma's sexy ass being one of them, but they'd all since left, leaving Hunk and Lance to their idle chit-chat. It was nice, Hunk was good company, the beers were refreshing, and Lance hadn't felt this relaxed since arriving in Hell's Kitchen.

Naturally, Keith had to go and ruin it all.

Lance had been minding his own business, sipping away at his beer when Keith's new girlfriend came and kicked off her shoes, taking a seat on the edge of the hot tub beside Hunk and slipping her feet into the water. She smiled at them and Hunk's face exploded into a large grin.

"Hey, Shay," he greeted, pruney hand coming up from the water to give a shy wave. The girl giggled at him, waving in return and smiling wide. While Lance had taken the time to get to know each and every one of his teammates in the Blue Kitchen, he was still learning who was who in the Red Kitchen. Some of the girls he knew, like Samantha and Nyma, from late nights in the hot tub, but others kept more to themself and he hadn't gotten to spend any quality socializing time with them.

The guys, on the other hand, he knew. They all shared a room so it was hard not to get to know them. The only one he didn't have a very good handle on was Keith, but that was because the Mullet was some sort of sneaky ninja who moved silently through the dorms. Lance could never quite catch him and he never hung out with the rest of them, preferring to be alone.

Even now, as he slid up behind Shay, his face morphed into its signature scowl. It was a stark contrast to the easy laughter that had floated between him and Shay on the loveseat.

"Hey, Mullet," Lance teased, keeping his tone light and playful. Keith rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Loser," he replied, his lip twitching up at the corner as he clearly tried to suppress a smile.

They had an early challenge again today. These were the worst, it meant getting up at stupid O'clock and being barely awake as Chef put them to the test.

Lance stood in line with the rest of his team and the Red team lined up beside them. It was 4:30 am and he was still buttoning up his chef's jacket as he yawned, running his hand through his hair to try and look somewhat presentable. Luckily for him, Lance was one of the taller members of the Blue team, which meant he was able to hide his dishevelled appearance in the back row.

"Good Morning, trust you all got plenty of sleep?" Chef asked as he walked in to greet them. "Today we have an extra special challenge for you all. No matter what you're trade, we all have special skills that separate the professionals from the amateurs. In a kitchen, it's your palate. The blind taste test challenge is one of my all-time favourites, and a staple of Hell's Kitchen. It's time to separate the chefs from the cooks."

Two at a time they were called up, one from the Red Kitchen and one from the Blue, to face off against one another in a head-to-head battle to see which team could correctly guess the most ingredients.

The Red team had five members left (Shay, Nyma, Samantha, Emily, and Keith), while the Blue team had six (Candace, Bonnie, Simon, Ben, Hunk, and Lance). This meant that someone on the Red team would need to go twice, and that person would be Shay.

The Red team had huddled up to make the decision and it looked to Lance like it was Keith and Shay against the rest of the team, the both of them backing Shay as their choice. Somehow they'd managed to convince the others.

The first pair up was Shay and Candy, with Red getting 4 points and Blue getting 1 point. Next was Nyma (2 points) vs Bonnie (2 points), followed by Samantha (1 point) vs Simon (2 points), then Emily (1 point) vs Ben (2 points). Finally, it was Lance's turn and a quick process of elimination meant he was going up against … yup! Keith!

"Oh you're going down, Mullet," he teased as they walked up, "I'm about to blow you out of the water."

Keith scoffed at him, smirking slightly as he replied, "Whatever you say, Lance."

"Alright, a slight edge for the Red team right now with a score of 8-7. Are we ready?" Chef asked, and both of them nodded in response. "Good, let's go then yeah? Blindfolds in place, headphones on …"

At once Lance's senses were assaulted by loud, terrible music and unsettling darkness. It was odd, not being able to see or hear any of what was going on around him, despite knowing that both teams were present and all the lights were on. He didn't like this, it was enhancing his already high anxiety.

This was an important challenge, past competitors who did well in it went on to do well in the rest of the competition. Most of the previous winners had been the chefs with the highest scores for the taste test in their season. He had to do well, his future was riding on this.

A light tap to his shoulder told him Chef was there and he opened his mouth wide. A cold, slimy grossness landed on his tongue and Lance slid it around his mouth, being sure to coat every surface with the nasty slime for maximum tasting. It didn't taste bad per se, just odd and the texture was incredibly off-putting.

The taste was slightly bitter but still pretty bland, and though it was slimy, Lance suspected that was due to the cooking method rather than the item itself. He tasted it in his mouth a bit more, smacking his lips to add oxygen, and called out "Boiled Spinach?".

"Correct," Chef replied, replacing the headphone over his ear and blocking out the dining room once again.

The next spoonful was crunchy. It took him a moment to figure out what it was but the minute it came to mind, Lance knew he was right. Confidently he announced "Toasted Almond", earning another point for his team.

He tried not to get too excited with his success so far, it was easy to become overconfident and make critical mistakes. Another tap to the shoulder signalled the third tasting item and Lance opened wide. This one was a protein, he could tell by the taste and chewiness, but also by the texture. Based on the subtle flavour he was guessing it was a white meat of some kind, maybe chicken? Or turkey? Perhaps a sneaky cut of pork? Mierda, this was a hard one.

White meat covers so many things, it could be anything! Trying to think, Lance considered where they were; Hell's Kitchen. Chef loved throwing curveballs, and adding in some random meat-like, say, alligator, was a great way to throw them off. But this was a challenge all about being able to know simple ingredients - so a curveball like that defeated the purpose. But that didn't necessarily mean it was the obvious choice though, so likely it wasn't chicken. Sure tasted like chicken. Maybe turkey then?

The tap on his shoulder was more insistent than the others, which led him to believe he'd missed Chef's first cue. "Uhh," he eloquently began, "is it, um, No sé, turkey Chef?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Um, telling - it's turkey."

"Wrong. Chicken." Ughhhhhh, CHICKEN? ¿bromeas? - he should have known better, he should have trusted his gut! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The next and final item was some sort of cheese. It was firm, with a sharpness that was all too familiar. He racked his brain for the association, knowing exactly what it was but unable to place it while on the spot. He sifted through the hard cheeses that were commonplace in most fine-dining kitchens and ruled them all out. The tap on his shoulder said time was up.

Deciding to trust in his gut, Lance spat out the first thing that came to mind "Cheddar" and was unbelievably relieved when Chef confirmed he'd been right.

"Well done, both of you, that's 11-10 for the Red team. Shay and Hunk, let's go"

The Red team won. Hunk had gotten a perfect score of 4/4 items but it didn't matter because Shay had pulled another perfect score. So the Red team beat them by a single point and were now off to enjoy the Voie Spa at the Paris hotel. Keith and the ladies got a full day at the luxury spa and Lance had to build some stupid stage. It was some-ass-bullshit.

He was carrying in one of the large, heavy pieces when the Red team walked by on their way to enjoy their prize. Emily, Nyma, and Samantha taunted them as they passed, but Shay smiled and waved to Hunk, blushing when he grinned back. It was all very sweet.

"Wow, that looks heavy, hope your noodle arms don't snap in half," a condescending voice called from WAY too close. Lance snapped his head around to find Keith's smug face smirking back at him.

"Oh, bite me," Lance replied, incredibly annoyed. Keith, on the other hand, just smirked even larger, something flashing in those purple-grey eyes of his.

"Another time," he winked, expertly playing off Lance's comeback and walking away to join the ladies of the Red team.

It took hours to complete the stage and when they were finished Sous Chef Sal came out to inform them they also had to prep for tonight's dinner service … for both kitchens. Losing challenges in Hell's Kitchen suuuuuuucked!

Dinner service Suuuuuuuucked! At Least tonight it did. Their entire team was distracted by the models strutting down the catwalk in the dining room. The catwalk Lance had helped build earlier that morning. Hunk, Ben, Simon, Candy, and himself were burning dishes, dropping pans, not listening to Chef calling out tickets, and generally bombing in the kitchen. The only one still focusing was Bonnie and he was 100% certain it was because none of the models were male. Not that that would have helped Lance's cause at all, he'd be doomed either way.

As would Candy apparently. One of the models had dipped into a bow at the end of the runway, revealing a little more of her chest than she'd probably intended, causing Candy to gasp and absent-mindedly add her handful of raw noodles to the frying pan instead of the water. Bonnie had freaked on her and Simon was quick to call her out, always looking for a chance to shine.

Not that he was faring any better. So far he'd burnt 3 flatbreads, dropped an entire container of mushrooms on the floor, literally walked right into Chef, and even poured his cup of water on himself when he tried taking a sip.

This service was a disaster. Hunk, Ben, and Simon were straight boy disasters, and Lance and Candy were bi disasters. The point was: the Blue Kitchen was a disaster.

Which is why Lance wasn't at all surprised when the Red team was brought over to finish their service for them. The women of the Red team, and Bonnie, worked hard to finish the Blue Kitchen's remaining tickets while they simply cleared out of the way. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

Lance cleaned some of his used pans away from the hotplate to make room for his replacement, only to find Keith sliding in front of his grill. Confidently, he rearranged the meat station to his liking and easily took over where Lance had failed miserably. A round of applause pulled Lance's attention to the dining room where he saw a row of models standing in swimwear.

"-ance, LANCE!" Keith called, his voice cutting the haze of hormones in Lance's mind. "Get the fuck out of the way if you're just going to stand there," he grumbled, shoving Lance out of the way.

As predicted, dinner service had been a disaster. They'd lost, no surprise there, and Chef had asked Bonnie to choose two members of their team to nominate for elimination. The walk of shame back to the dorms had been a hard one, the entirety of the Blue team feeling very nervous about their standing.

Bonnie was hard to read. Sometimes she seemed like a super chill chick, other times there was a giant stick up her ass. You never knew which version you were going to get. But this new overly cocky and smug version was definitely his least favourite.

She sat poised and judgy on the wicker patio furniture, letting her eyes condescending roam over the rest of her team. "Okay, tell me why you think you should stay."

Ughhh, she was enjoying this far too much.

In the end, it was Ben who'd been sent home, having gone up against Candy for elimination. Lance was glad to see him go, not because he didn't like Ben, but because he didn't want to see Candy leave.

"I'm surprised you didn't get put up," Keith said matter-of-factly as he stepped into the hot tub. "You're clearly the better competitor and we're getting closer to those black jackets."

"Umm, thanks? I guess?"

Keith didn't answer, he simply nodded as he took a sip of his wine, passing Lance the glass in his other hand. "It's not like I wanna see you go, I'm just noting that it would have been a good strategy," he slipped on the step and tumbled into a seat, impressively managing to save his glass of wine from flooding. "But I'm glad you're still here, even though you were shit at service tonight," he smirked up at Lance, smiling into his wine glass and avoiding the kick Lance shot his way under the water.

"The real question is how were you not shit tonight with all those pretty ladies,"

"Not my type," Keith shrugged.

"Not your type? They were, like, next-level gorgeous, dude."

"Like I said, not my type," he shrugged again and took another sip of his wine, looking up at Lance over the glass and blushing slightly when their eyes locked.

"Not your type," Lance whispered in understanding and Keith nodded across from him. "That's cool," he said, "I'm bi so I would have been screwed either way."

Keith choked on his sip of wine, his cheeks painting a pretty shade of rose as he coughed. "Oh, uh, that sucks?"

He laughed at the skeptical tone in Keith's voice but before he could say something witty, several bodies joined them, forcing the two young men to slide closer together. The conversation quickly shifted to Bonnie bragging about how well she did at service, and Keith cutting her off saying she was merely the best of the worst.

Lance had snorted at that, earning a glare from Bonnie and a nudge from Hunk. Shay was stifling a laugh beside him, and Nyma was quickly refilling everyone's glasses with more wine. They drank the rest of the bottle between the six of them and Lance volunteered to grab another, dragging Hunk with him.

They grabbed three bottles for good measure and made their way back in record time. He was just rounding the corner when he caught the voices and overheard his name. Lance reached out an arm to stop Hunk and put a finger to his mouth to silence him as they both leaned in to listen.

"- ance, marry Hunk, kill Simon." That was Nyma's voice! He heard the laughter of the others followed by Shay announcing she would fuck Hunk, marry Hunk, and kill Simon. Keith called her out saying you can't pick the same person twice. The voices mingled together too much after that, talking over one another in half-hearted attempts to whisper and ultimately being lost to the din of conversation. Lance was just about to give up and join them when Nyma spoke again.

"What about you Keith? Who would you pick?"

"Well, since apparently, we're okay with cheating, fuck Lance, marry Lance, kill Lance."

"Wow, kill him too? Just gonna do him dirty like that?"

"Oh, I'll do him dirty alright …." Keith's voice was drowned out by the laughter and Lance was not impressed that he missed the rest of that.

He and Hunk joined the hot tub, pouring the wine out amongst the group, and settling back into their same spots between Keith and Shay. It didn't take too long before the girls called it quits, Hunk following shortly after, which left just himself and Keith in the hot tub with two and a half-empty bottles of wine.

"Whaddaya say? We finish this then call it a night?" Keith slurred, wiggling the half-empty bottle between them.

"Sounds like you're trying to get me drunk," Lance teased and Keith shifted closer, moving between his knees.

He shrugged nonchalantly and smirked up through his lashes, "So what if I am," he asked, resting a hand on Lance's exposed knee. It was too hot in the water so Lance had jumped up to sit on the edge, and the change of position made everything about this highly suggestive. Lance gulped and suddenly found his mouth going dry, unable to form a response.

Keith took a sip straight from the bottle, throwing his head back and exposing his pale, slender neck. Lance's eyes roamed over his wet skin glistening in the patio lights and watched his adam's apple bob as he drank. Carajo! He was suddenly overheating.

Keith passed him the bottle and gave it a little wiggle, "your turn," he said, earning no response from Lance. Instead of pressing it, Keith shrugged and poured the remaining contents into Lance's glass, licking the runaway droplets off the lip of the bottle while holding their intense eye contact.

"You know, Lance," he began, confidence wavering in his voice slightly as he placed the now empty bottle down with the others. "I think everyone's in bed."

"Oh?" He finally managed, breath hitching as a second hand coming to rest on his other knee.

"Mmm," Keith hummed, pulling himself up onto his knees and running his hands up Lance's thighs, "I think we might be alone … for once," his eyes looked up through thick lashes and he smiled at Lance.

"You're forgetting about the cameras." Lance corrected, pointing over his shoulder at the camera he knew was aimed at the hot tub.

Keith immediately pulled back, his advances stopping as his hands left Lance's thighs where they had been steadily travelling. In less than two seconds, Keith was climbing out of the hot tub and picking up the empty wine bottles.

"Wait," Lance called, desperately trying to figure out what happened, they were on such a good trajectory, why did it stop?

"Shut off the jets when you go to bed," Keith's strained voice answered as he disappeared back inside the dorms.

Well shit!

Ughhhhhh, Lance was dying. His head hadn't hurt this bad in a LONG time. Today's challenge was another loss, and their punishment was almost as shitty as Lance felt. The Red team got to go off and do something cool while they sifted the recycling.

After another gruelling day they had service, which they lost, no surprise there. Simon went home and, though Lance was sad to see their numbers dwindle, he wasn't sorry to see him go. They were down to four chefs on the Blue team and five on the Red team. With fewer chefs in the kitchens, it meant more work for those remaining, and more stress added to each service.

The black jackets were so close Lance could almost taste them! Only two more chefs needed to go home before they'd be awarded and he desperately hoped both would come from the Red team. Just not Keith, or Shay … but mostly Keith. Lance needed to capture lightning in a bottle a second time and see where the other night could have gone. That would never happen if Keith got eliminated.

For once the universe was on his side. The Blue team managed a win, getting to spend the day, and two thousand dollars each, at a popular kitchen supply store. Hunk bought Shay a Vitamix blender even though she was on the Red Team and Lance teased him for it all afternoon. But the look on her face when he gave it to her proved Hunk had made the right call.

That night, it was the beautiful Samantha that was sent home from the Red kitchen, followed by Emily after the next service. They were now down to seven remaining and when Chef called them to the dining room, unveiling a table with seven domes on it, Lance knew he'd made it to the Black jacket round.

Now the competition really began. Now, it was every man for himself.