I was shocked by the review, and number of views to this story, so I will continue it. I'm debating whether or not make them their actual species. So bear with me on that.

Thank you Promocat for you review. I can't wait to really start this fire, and you'll catch a little bit of Claude's dominance in the kitchen. As well as Ciel's tendency to make everyone miserable.

I also want to Thank the following for adding this piece to their Alerts: Promocat, 08GeishaGirl, KxZ fan girl and CrimsonRosexx.

Enjoy,

Kuro.

Chapter 3: Desert 2: Une Tranche de l' Enfer

It was early that morning, the sun hadn't even touched the horizon, and the sound of water falling onto the cold floor of a shower could be heard. The flat was very small with a large room which doubled for a living room when the futon was put away, a kitchen and a bathroom. It was cramped, poorly insulated, and the windows leaked when it rained. Yet it was home, well to Sebastian, it was. He had lived in dorms for years as he studied in Paris, his room was actually a little larger than, not by much though. Sebastian slipped his fingers through his black hair to rinse the soap away; his eyes were closed as he tipped his head back and hummed. Today was his first day working under C. Faustus, he still didn't know much about the man but figured it was a good idea to get there early and familiarize himself with the layout of the kitchen so he didn't get lost once again. It was bad enough the day before he had relied on the chef to show him where everything was.

Sebastian's slender hands slipped down his body as he finished washing away the body wash he had used. The water ran over his toned back and hips, he wasn't the most muscular of men but he was stronger than he looked. He hummed as he turned the shower off and slicked his hair back, before slipping out of the shower. The owner wasn't the nicest either; fortunately he would only have to face the head chef, as long as he didn't mess up. Ciel didn't seem to care that he had offended Sebastian, in fact he didn't even seem to notice that he had. He proceeded to wrapping a fluffy white towel which smelled of lavender around his waist and drying the rest of his body with the second one which was beside it on the towel bar. The bathroom mirror was fogged and he groaned before swiping his hand across it and looking at his reflection. "Relax it's just a kitchen, if you can survive Chef Ramsay you can survive Faustus," he muttered to himself before continuing his morning ritual.

Like clockwork he was dressed in a pair of sauté pants, his chef's coat, carrying his bag, with his bike over his shoulder and out the door in under half an hour. By the time he reached the bottom of the steps his bicycle was on the sidewalk, he was fortunate to have his Linus Roadster 8. It was old and had been painted twice; he had to do the brake cables a few times, and had whipped out more than once when learning how to deal with Parisian traffic. He looked at the bright red bicycle and chuckled, he had purchased it from a man claiming it was French made; clearly he had missed the insignia stating it was made in China. His hair was still damp; he had managed to get it dry enough to clip back to keep his bangs from getting in his eyes. Sebastian looked up at the sky and noticed the sun was out, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, "A sunny day in London, I must be in for a good day," he mused as he.

He slowly rolled the bike down the sidewalk and swung his leg over the seat. The wind was cool, and the street lamps were slowly going out as the sun slipped over the horizon. London wasn't as beautiful as Paris, however it was spectacular in it's own way. He jumped off the sidewalk and into the road to get through the traffic circle. His arm held out in the direction he was turning, and he waited patiently as he got off. Cycling on the wrong side of the road still scared the daylights out of him. Sebastian had nearly been hit by a car on day one, fortunately the car's owner was nice enough to tell him about the position at Ciel after learning he was a pastry chef. Oddly he was a rather old-looking man in what appeared to be the dress of a footman. He had a pair of circular glasses and spoke French, which made the experience a little easier to remember. He was handed Ciel's card and told to try his hand there, perhaps he would be the chef for the job.

Sebastian turned down an ally to cross the block until he found himself gliding to the back entrance of the restaurant. He was an hour early, yet, the kitchen wasn't empty. He spotted a black sports car parked in the parking lot in the back. He stared at the glossy Jaguar and sighed, "In my dreams," he whispered before dismounting the bicycle and carrying it up the back steps. Once he had managed to do so he opened the doors to the wondrous kitchen. It was spotless, not a crumb on the counters, nor stain on the floor. Every pot was hanging on the rack and glistened in the morning light. His eyes glided over to the industrial ovens and the doors to the walk ins. Even the door to the pantry was closed, he hummed as he continued his journey. His fingers trailed against the counters as he walked through the kitchen, "Heaven, this must be it," he whispered as he looked around the warm kitchen.

The door of the walk in opened as Faustus stepped out, several buttons of his coat were unfastened, and his hat was gone. His silver rimmed glasses were resting on the top of his head and he was looking at a clip board, "Onions," he muttered as he swiftly wrote something down. "Good morning," said Sebastian softly which caused the chef's head to snap up and look at him. Those golden eyes seemed to find their target and narrowed before he slipped his glasses over his nose. "Ah, Michaelis I didn't see you there," he stated. Of course Sebastian was hoping they would have a normal relationship, however, that didn't seem to be in the cards. Faustus was already calling him Michaelis, in that cool and clipped tone. "You're early, no matter, I'll show you where you will be working," he stated as he slipped the clipboard under his arm and gestured for the chef to follow. "You will be working away from the rest of us, for two reasons. The first being that pastries require a great deal of precious counter space and oven space, and the second we usually farm out the chef and have him take catering jobs such as wedding cakes," he stated.

Sebastian stared in confusion, "It's just me?" he asked after a moment and gaped at Claude. That was an impossibly tall order to fill, "Yes, if you can't do it I suggest you quit now and spare us all the embarrassment," Faustus stated coldly. Sebastian grit his teeth, he wasn't about to lose face to this man, "No I will do it," he responded. A smirk curved the golden eyed chef's lips as he grew uncomfortably closer to Sebastian. "Good to hear, just remember our reputation is at stake here," he said flatly as he looked directly at Sebastian. The raven haired chef simply nodded and made a mental note to not irritated the head chef. "Claude?" called a curious voice, Sebastian was confused for a moment. Faustus backed away and pivoted on his heel, his long fingers swept through his hair as he did so to put it back in place. "Yes Finnian, I was speaking to our newest member of the crew," he stated as he walked into the main section of the kitchen. Sebastian paused, the man's name was Claude, Claude Faustus. He paused and looked at him, "It can't be," he whispered as he watched the broad-shouldered head chef stand before the small boy. The boy had short blond hair which was clipped in place with red pins, a broad brimmed straw sun hat resting on his back and a pair of stained work gloves on his hands. His eyes were wide and seemed to sparkle as he told Claude about the produce.

Sebastian's mind slipped into overdrive, he knew the name, yet he couldn't seem to place it. It was so familiar, "Meet Pastry Chef, Sebastian Michaelis," said Claude loudly as he gestured to Sebastian. He snapped out of it and slowly approached the short gardener, "Oh how wonderful! A new cook!" the boy exclaimed. Claude sighed in exasperation and shook his head, "No chef, not cook," he corrected the young man. It was quite clear this young man had called everyone in the kitchen a cook. Part of Sebastian could understand Claude's irritation when it came to formalities, it made a massive difference when talking about the pecking order of a kitchen. The back doors opened again and Sebastian stared in shock at a woman dress in tight black leather with long white hair and violet eyes. She had a motorcycle helmet under her arm and a knife bag in her free hand.

"Good morning," she commented with a quick nod before wandering into the locker room. "Good Morning, Hannah," Claude said sternly. Sebastian's eyes wandered over her, he could see her wide hips, large bust and trim waste had been encased in leather. It was apparent she wasn't wearing a stitch under them except panties and a tanktop. She gave him a sideways glance as she walked by, he had the feeling he wasn't welcome here. Sebastian shuddered violently at the thought of the woman working with him, "Good Morning," Sebastian added with a polite smile. She sighed and glanced over her shoulder at Claude, "How long is this useless Patisserie Cook going to stay?" Sebastian's eyes widened, she certainly was dripping in sensuality, however her disposition was repulsive. "Until he decides to quit or Ciel fires him," replied Claude with a shrug, once this was in the air he turned his attention to the Grower with the list.

Three chefs who looked identical entered as well, each of them had a different color armband on. Sebastian rubbed his eyes unconsciously, he didn't remember drinking anything and he wasn't hung over. It wasn't until they stopped before Claude that he realized they were real. "Color coded for convenience," commented Sebastian as he looked at the three purple haired chefs. Each of them had amber brown eyes and were relatively short. "Morning boss," said the one with a green band. "Good Morning Head Chef," rang the second, there was a red band around his arm. Even their voices were similar, it was slightly unnerving. "Your glasses are dirty," said the third as he pointed at the silver rimmed frames on Claude's face. Claude plucked the glasses from his nose and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe them. "Thank you, Thompson," he remarked as he cleaned them and then placed them on his nose.

Thompson nodded and shuffled away, "Canterbury, Timber, check and see if Alistair is here. I need to know what's in le Cave, we have VIPs coming and they have specific favorites," he stated. Sebastian paused and looked at Claude; he was talking about a wine cellar and using the proper French name for it. Perhaps this man did know his stuff. "Right away," said one of them before vanishing. "Michaelis! Ciel wants to see you," called a familiar voice. It was the short blond with sky blue eyes from the day before. "Alois, he's still prepping," commented Claude as he looked up from the list. Alois shrugged and responded, "It's Ciel, since when is he reasonable?" he asked sarcastically.

Claude groaned and nodded, "Go Michaelis," he breathed before turning back to Finnian. Sebastian nodded as he walked over to Alois and followed the young man. "Ciel is being a bit difficult, just hand in there," said Alois after a moment. His hands were behind his back as he walked and oddly he hips swayed in a way which, reminded Sebastian of a French prostitute. "Is he always difficult?" asked Sebastian after a moment as he looked at the blond. Alois sighed and shrugged, "He's been like that for a while, he's busy proving himself to Vincent. He's always been like that," he commented. Sebastian hummed after a moment, he didn't know he had a father until recently when debt collectors came knocking on his door. "Always?' he asked hesitantly as he followed Alois across the dining room. "Pretty much, I've known him since High School," responded the bubbly bartender as he stopped before a large wooden door. "This is his office," he commented before knocking on the door.

"Enter," called a cool voice before Sebastian could open the door. Sitting in a large chair in front of a window behind a massive mahogany desk was Ciel Phantomhive. "You wanted to see me," said Sebastian nervously as he heard the door latch behind him. The vague parallel of goliath being tossed into the lion's den came to him. He wasn't interested in seeing the nasty streak in his employer. "Yes," he said smoothly as he placed the pages he had been reading flat on the desk and clasped his hands together. The bright blue gem in his thumb ring which represented the family crest glistened in the light as a smirk curved his lips. "I would like to introduce you to the dinners through a special dish," he said stated as his sapphire blue eyes were locked on Sebastian. He really didn't have anywhere to run, "What kind of dish?" asked the chef after a moment. Before he thought Ciel would rip him a new one, now he simply seemed interested in showing off his newest employee. "A cake, as for the type and taste you figure that out. You have all day before opening to decide on what to make and execute it in time for the dinner rush," he stated.

Sebastian nodded in acknowledgement, he was about to walk out when Ciel cleared his throat and continued, "If you don't do well tonight, I will fire you," he stated bluntly. He knew that clause had to be thrown in there, burgundy red eyes glanced back at a pair of dancing saphire's. This man wasn't joking, "Unless you can't do it," said Ciel with a broad grin. Sebastian shook his head as he mustered up what little confidence he had left and responded, "That's not an issue. I will make it a beautiful desert. Just for you," he said with a smile. Ciel nodded and waved his hand to dismiss the chef, "Little Master," muttered Sebastian as he left Ciel's office. His request was unreasonable, in such a short period he was expected to come up with something extravagant. Something which would reflect who he was as a chef, and potentially put Ciel, back on the map.

He spent the rest of the afternoon making pastry dough, fillings and prepping for the rush. He could hear the other chefs conversing in the other section of the kitchen, "Did you see the newPậtissier?" asked Canterbury. Sebastian walked through the kitchen and entered the walk in to grab another carton of heavy cream. "Oh you mean pretty boy?" asked a new voice. It was rather loud and slightly irritating, "He's super young to be working here, I mean hell Claude is what 35?" he asked. Sebastian was carrying the carton, he stared at the gentleman leaning against the counter. He had dark brown hair which was parted and combed back. His green eyes pierced through a pair of rectangular black metal frames, "I'm 25 and one of the top Sommeliers in London," he commented as he adjusted his glasses with his black gloved fingers. Standing next to him was a rather tall man with long red hair that was tied into a pony tail with a ribbon, he was wearing a pair of heels, tight pants and a bright red vest. There was a set of red glasses on his nose, and he smiled brightly. "Well he looks delicious, but I wonder if he can really cook," commented the red head. The Sommelier shot him a dirty look, "Sutcliff, do you have to flirt with everything?" he asked as he crossed his arms and glared.

Sutcliff huffed and looked at him before fixing his hair, "Oh come on, he is delicious looking. I wouldn't mind tasting him," he gushed. Sebastian involuntarily shivered; the red-head was starting to frighten him. He had met plenty of gays before, but transvestites were a different story. One too many of them had tried to get him to screw them. The kitchen fell silent when the door closed and there was a loud snap. "Back to work we open in a few hours and I want this place ready to go," barked a familiar voice. His tone was ice cold, and Sebastian stared at Claude. He was dressed in his black jacket with his hat on. He looked stunning in black; his golden eyes pierced each and every one of the chefs, a silent threat to those who weren't working. "Spears, I'd like to look at the wine selections for the evening, we have several specials to be served," Claude commented as Ronald followed the head chef.

Sebastian returned to his preparations, it sounded like a mad dash in the rest of the kitchen. As they created rues, sliced veritable and began basting meets, Sebastian was making a variety of cakes and bases. His oven was roaring as he continued to bake each sheet and pop them out. He could feel a cold gaze on him from time to time. He figured the Head Chef would simply observe. "A Raspberry Tranche?" asked a familiar velvety voice, Sebastian looked up to see a look of genuine curiosity on Claude's face. His eyes were locked on the raspberry filling Sebastian was using to put the stripes down the cake. "Yes," responded Sebastian as he finished the stripe and turned his attention to the icing. "You didn't tell me you were going to make this," Claude stated, his voice gained a cool edge, which cut through the pastry chef like a knife. "I was asked to by the owner," he stammered in confusion.

Claude blanched and stared at Sebastian, "That was why he called you to his office?" he asked angrily. His golden eyes flickered dangerously as they narrowed, his gaze was heavy and he felt as though he were going to be stabbed with a knife. "Yes," responded Sebastian slowly. The golden eyed chef drew a deep breath and looked at the rest of the staff, "Why must he do this, he should have informed me, and you know better," spat Claude, his words were dripping with venom as he thought of a way to execute this. "Knox! I need Spears, now! We need a list of coffees and teas to be pared with the owner's whim!" he barked. It looked as though the Head Chef were going to kill the pastry chef.

His eyes floated over the bench, and he noticed five cakes completed, "That's not merely enough," he stated bluntly. Something flickered in Claude's eyes for a moment he looked panicked and then it slowly vanished as that cool façade returned. Chefs clamored to prepare what they had to, "Get the ovens lit!" he called. "Yes chef!" called a young woman. He turned to Sebastian and hissed, "Pull it together, or I will kick you out personally." Sebastian shuttered as he watched the man walk away, it was clear that this place was far from heaven, it was hell with a beautiful façade.

Sebastian finished making several batches of ice cream and fillings. His eyes widened as the orders flew in, each chef worked with expert speed and skill, "Hot Pan!" shouted one loudly as they dashed across the room behind another chef. Each one of them worked like a well oiled Swiss clock, with Claude as it's keeper. He floated from station to station nit-picking, adjusting, demanding and more often than not attempting to save something. "This is shit, throw it out and start again," he stated angrily, his voice would be heard through the kitchen which made Sebastian jump. His red eyes fluttered over to the violet haired chef, he was yelling at the woman who had come in decked in leather. There was a golden spoon in his hands, and he was glaring at the pot of what looked like a reduction of some kind.

"The consistency is wrong, and you've burned the bottom. Start again, this time watch what you're doing," he stated as he rinsed the golden spoon in the sink and slipped it back into his pocket. Hannah glared at him before dumping it and beginning again, "Fucking Spider," she hissed. Claude didn't stop however his eyes shifted to the side, Sebastian was beginning to wonder if he had superhuman hearing. He sighed and shook his head, "You called?" asked a stiff voice from before, standing in a brilliant three-piece suit with an aqua tie was Spears. He was standing before Claude and seemed to have very little interest in being called on. Once a restaurant was open the front of the house was expected to stay there, it was clear not many people were ordering wine or asked for the assistance of the Sommelier.

Claude snapped his fingers and jabbed his finger at Sebastian, "Work your magic," he grunted before returning to his tirade on the poor performance of chefs. William hummed and nodded, he had a beautiful stride and seemed to dominate the floor as he moved, he wasn't as intimidating as Claude who towered over the others and had a gaze which froze kings, but close. The slender man came to a stop before Sebastian's table, his eyes glided over the deserts which had been made, "A Raspberry Tranche, I haven't seen one of those served here in a long time," he mused. Sebastian looked up for a moment and nodded, "William T. Spears, Sommelier," he stated firmly, it was as though they were at a business meeting and he was meeting the other party for the first time. "Sebastian Michaelis, the new Pậtissier," he responded with a nod.

William picked up a knife, there was a plate in his hand which he had lifted from the drain, and asked, "Which one may I sample?" He looked at the beautiful cream colored bar like cake. There were two bright red stripes down the top edged with butter cream icing. He had coated the sides in toasted almonds to accent the flavor and added a touch of lemon to the batter to bring out the tartness of the berries to contrast the sweetness of the butter cream. Sebastian paused and picked up his edge in moments one of the cakes was sliced into a thin piece, "I didn't think you wanted a full serving," he commented. He watched the man nodded and slowly pull a silver fork, part of Sebastian wondered if everyone in this establishment walked around with forks or spoons in their pockets. He didn't put it past Claude though, being Head Chef meant he had to taste every dish before it left his kitchen. The Sommelier slipped the fork between his lips and stared at the cake, a low groan left his lips as a smiled curved his lips. Sebastian picked up the pastry bag again and continued to ice a cake. "So this was what he was raving about," muttered William as he placed the fork down and looked at Sebastian. "I know what to pair it with, I'll tell the head chef to relax," he responded before walking away with the plate and fork in hand.

An hour passed, and the kitchen was filled with the clamor of chefs dashing about, making last-minute orders and compensating for something going wrong. Plating, cooking, slicing and dicing all seemed to happen at the same time as Sebastian worked the dough for another desert. There was a pause as the Head Waiter called, "Chef!" Claude's head snapped in his direction, and he continued, "Angelina Durless, the food critic is out there," he stated. The kitchen stilled and Claude walked over to him, it was as though he had seen a ghost. He approached the doors and looked out to the crowd, sure enough she was perched in one of the chairs. "What does she want?" asked the golden eyed head chef hesitantly. The blond head waiter sighed and responded, "Something different for dessert." There was a pause, she must have heard the rumor about the new pastry chef.

The Head Chef looked like a deer caught at the head lights, "How on earth did she?" he paused and came to the realization that Ciel had probably invited her to dinner. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, he hadn't even had a chance to taste Sebastian's desert. He always checked every dish, "What did you tell her?" he asked after a moment. Ronald groaned and responded, "I told her I would ask you!" Claude hissed as he looked at Sebastian, his eyes were locked on the cake, "Serve the Raspberry Tranche, and tell William to serve the wine he chose," replied Claude after a moment. He felt insecure about allowing it to leave the kitchen without a proper taste.

Sebastian was in his own world preparing two orders of Petit Fours. "Okay go," barked Sebastian to the waiters, he watched them twist and leave the kitchen it was as though they had Apperated, he was quite impressed. Oddly the crazy red head was set in work mode and hadn't made any other off the walls comments about his looks. "Dessert order!" cried a blond waiter, he had a pair of glasses on his nose he looked young energetic but serious about his work. "I need 2 orders of the Raspberry Tranche Cake!" he called. Sebastian dashed off and lifted one of the glass domes, he was glad to have had the time to ice the cake and make sure it set correctly. In moments it was on a tranche board and being sliced, he plated it with a beautiful raspberry streak on the bottom of the plate and nodded to the Head Waiter. Sebastian looked up to see how Claude's eyes were locked on the waiter as he vanished. He was standing at the door looking out the window, he was thankful the chef hadn't caught him ogling.

After a moment the waiter returned and turned his attention to Claude, Sebastian couldn't make out what was being said, he simply hoped he hadn't messed up. He had altered the recipe to suit his taste and who he was as a chef. The waiter was beaming with satisfaction and returned to the floor, Sebastian's hands stopped moving as his eyes fell on Claude. He seemed confident and returned to his post, it was odd for a moment he could have sworn he had seen the man actually smile. "Let's go Pâttisier! I don't have all day!" called the very same loud and obnoxious voice from that morning. The redhead was standing before him and glaring, "You know you're hot but slow," he commented and hummed as he watched Sebastian finish plating. This place was hell, hot, fast paced and demanding. "Yes sorry! Go!" he shouted as he shooed the waiter away.

The night was hell, ovens roaring, chefs running and Sebastian felt as though he were going to collapse. It was only now he realized he hadn't eaten anything since that morning, he had snuck an egg in and a little toast. In all honesty he didn't want to see food at this moment, he simply wanted to find a place to crash. He was still upset about being screamed at by Claude. He knew he was bound to make a few mistakes, however, that was a large one. One which he should have never made. His shoulders dropped as he sighed, all the other chefs had left, asking one another out for late drinks and going to enjoy the night. He was standing alone in an empty kitchen, "Who knew what looked like heaven on the outside was actually hell," he commented as he slipped the rest of his tools in his bag. They were clean and he had finally finished cleaning his station and cleaning his scales.

He paused and laughed, he knew better, "No, everyday is hell, even in the kitchen," he whispered as he remembered the reason he was up early in the mornings. He knew that, he drew a deep breath and rolled his sleeves down to leave. "Heaven is an illusion," he whispered, "As is happiness." His voice seemed to hover in the air as he left the kitchen, perhaps tomorrow would be better.

Terms:

Pậtissier: The French name for a Pastry Chef

Sommelier: A specialist trained in wine pairing, they know everything about the bottle from the range of prices per bottle to the finest pairings and reasons behind them. These guys are highly trained and spend years learning about different wines and pairings as well as experimenting with combinations of flavors.

Petit Fours: Small treats which are made for the change in seasons. They vary in color combination and style, they are rather fashionable and enjoyable to both eat and give.

Tranche: Meaning Slice in French or in this case a type of cake which is in the shape of a bar and perfect for slicing.

The title: "A Slice of Hell"