Author's Note: I want to aplogize in advance for not postig sooner, I got wrapped up in college and life, as well as met a litle snag wiht thi chapter. For thos of you who don't know, I acutally makeeach of the desserts I mention in this piece and the one in this chapter required PAMA, Pomagranet Liquor. The problem is that I'm 20 and I live in New York, meaning I couldn't purchase it and I had to have my father do so. Anyway I wanted to get the process right so I waited until I ade the dert. Since it took so long to do I wrote a very long chapter. I know it's dense but the dessert wasn't simple.
I hope you enjoy. Thos wo are looking forthis recipie, it's not ine by the way, I will b posting a chpter at the end with the names of the recipies and thier proprer owners. It's easierhan PMing them. For those who hav been reviewing without accounts your replies are at the end.
Chapter 48: Noir: The New Standard
Black boxes are supposed to assist those in understanding what had occurred, they hold secrets and often valuable information. Resting on the wooden bar counter of Noir was a very confusing black box, this box was absolutely and completely useless. Blue eyes narrowed as they looked at the box, "Alois, it's not going to tell you the secrets of the universe if you keep staring at it!" barked Phipps who was leaning on the table top, Alois waved his hand, "You can go now," he said simply as he picked up Phipps' mobile and began to examine it more closely. His fingers swept over the black screen of the mobile as he pressed the side button to turn it on. He heard a sigh and the faint sound of tapping, which caused the bartender to look up and asked, "What?"
Phipps thrust his hand forward and wagged his fingers in the air; "Hand over my mobile," he commanded, his voice was cold and from what Alois could tell it wasn't a request. The bartender shook his head and opened the message to examine it again, the tone was formal, distant and left no room for disagreement, which did follow a bulk of Vincent's texts. "No, I'm thinking," he stated as he began running a list of name through his head of people who could have sent the text. "Alois, I have to go to work, hand it over," he said again. Alois groaned and was about to say something when he noticed a little handset icon. His eyes widened as he looked at the little image next to the mystery number.
"Phipps, I think I know how to figure out who has been texting you," he said after a moment, Alois didn't understand why but the whole notion of simply calling it had slipped his mind. "How?" asked Phipps after a moment, he was looking rather skeptical and Alois grinned. He held the phone in his hands and tipped it toward the man, "Easy call them," he said smugly. The constable blanched his eyes widened as he stared at Alois, he looked rather uneasy at that moment. "No," he stated firmly and leaned over the bar, "We have no fucking clue who is on the other end Alois!" The bartender stared at the man and sighed, he had placed the phone on the counter and crossed his arms. He hated it when Phipps was being overly dramatic, that was his occupation. He pointed at the mobile with his chin and stated briskly, "Exactly! How else are we supposed to know?"
Phipps groaned and ran one of his hands down his face in exasperation, "We can trace the number to a store which sold the phone, maybe he used plastic," he replied. Alois rolled his eyes, they both knew that the chance of the mystery man using plastic to purchase the mobile was not likely. Who ever it was, was very careful, so careful that the only way in Alois' eyes to find out who was sending the messages was to call the number. He snorted and looked at Phipps, "You and I both know that's impossible," he stated simply.
His eyes fell on the black box now on the counter, "Calling it is out best shot," he commented as he glared at Phipps. The man shook his head, his white hair falling out of place as he did so and stated, "No way in hell, besides my guys are running the number, I should have the shop soon." Alois tipped his head back and groaned loudly as he looked at the ceiling, he loved the man but sometimes he was so set on doing something one way he tended to turn a blind eye to all other options. The mobile on the table rang and Alois noticed it was one of the tech wizards, "Speak of the devil," Phipps commented as he put the mobile on speaker and answered, "This better be good."
Alois shivered, he loved it when Phipps used that tone, it was dark, commanding and made him want to do everything the man asked and more. "Hey Phipps, that number you had me chase belongs to a prepaid mobile, and no it wasn't purchased with plastic he paid in cash," he stated. Phipps groaned as he hit his head against the desk. Alois jumped in the air and did a fist pump for good measure, "YEAH!" he shouted. "Sir?" asked the tech on the other end of the line and Alois grinned like a Cheshire cat, he should have made a wager, he would have gotten a nice pay out. "Ignore him Carl, thanks any luck on retrieving those servers?" he asked. There was a pause and Alois could hear the turning of pages, "That's the funny part, you see we never extracted the files but somehow they ended up on our servers," said the man.
Phipps stared at the phone with disbelief and from what Alois could tell it should have been impossible to do such a thing, "Should I be concerned about a breach?" asked the man rapidly, Alois paused, that was an issue. Thousands of people's lives would be affected if there was a hole in their security. "No, oddly it was done using your password and user," said the tech. There was silence, it was impossible to get those two things out of Phipps, Alois had seen the way he logged in. He even had a special laptop to log into that wasn't connected to anything else, completely secure, or at least it was thought to be. "Vincent," he mumbled as he looked at the mobile, "Don't worry about it I think I know who it was, thanks Carl," he said swiftly before hanging up.
He looked at Alois and then back at the phone, "I suppose now we do it your way," he said simply as he turned the phone around to face the bartender. The blonde's jaw dropped as he looked at the handsome man before him, "What?" he asked. Phipps leaned back in the stool and crossed his arms, "You came up with the idea, now make the call," he said simply. Alois looked at the sleek black mobile and quickly pressed redial with a smile, "Just you wait, I'm going to crack this wide open," he said with a hint of confidence.
The mobile rang several times, Alois and Phipps stared at the device with interest as they waited for what felt like years. "Sure you are, you're going to prove to me that I'm an imbecile and you're a god since you have managed to do something in less time than me," he commented. Alois sighed and clicked his tongue before saying, "I remember a certain someone asking the tech to do the work." Phipps glared harshly at the blonde, "Same difference," he spat with a hint of irritation.
Alois was about to point out that he just contradicted himself when the person finally answered with a bright, "Hello?" He paused he knew this voice; it was the voice that had scolded him for years about washing behind his ears and streaking after midnight. He blinked owlishly before asking, "Uncle?" There was a pause and Phipps stared at Alois in confusion, "Uncle?" he mouthed. Alois rolled his eyes and looked at the phone once more, "Alois? How did you get this number?"
Alois looked at the mobile and growled, "Me? How the fuck did you get it, I know you didn't send that message, it's not your style!" Phipps stared at Alois open mouthed, he knew his uncle, he was the king of flirts and blonde bimbos. His uncle made even Alois look like a genius. His uncle snorted and clicked his tongue as he spoke to a woman in the background, "No I want them in crimson. If you must know Alois I was looking for the phone's owner today, I haven't had a chance to text all the numbers," he stated. Alois looked in confusion at the mobile, he began to wonder just how busy the owner of the mobile was. "Oddly, all of the other numbers were internet numbers and where they went vanished, apparently I missed the only working number," he commented. "What?" Phipps barked.
Alois groaned as he glared daggers at the overly zealous man across from him, "Alois, who was that?" asked his uncle, he could tell the man was smirking, he only used that tone when he intended to embarrass the hell out of him. "Are screwing a man again?" he asked curiously. Alois blushed brightly and looked at Phipps before saying meekly, "No…" There was a pregnant pause between the three before his uncle hummed, "I didn't mean currently, although… I had no idea you were that kinky," his Uncle commented as he crossed his arms, "You're awfully quiet I thought you were a screamer, at least I remember you were when I caught you screwing the butler the Christmas you finally came home from Paris," he commented. Alois turned several shades red and buried his head in his arms, "Uncle, that was a while ago, and yes I am dating a man," he said after a moment.
Phipps was chucking and it took everything Alois had to not strangle him, "Oh? What's his name?" cooed his uncle, he honestly hated it when the Vice Count felt the need to know every name of the men he slept with. "Phipps, Charles Phipps," Phipps introduced himself, his deep voice rang clearly and sent shivers through the bartender. He banged his head against the bar and groaned as though he were dead. "Charles Phipps, as in Chief Consible Charles Phipps?" asked the Vice Count curiously. Phipps grinned with mirth as he replied, "One in the same." Alois blushed brightly as he watched the man grin from ear to ear, he had no idea what he had just started and in all honestly Alois wanted to wait a bit before Phipps got a taste of his Uncle. "My my Alois you've been busy, I invited him to a party a few months ago and he was quite the looker," he commented.
Phipps looked at Alois in confusion and he sighed, "Uncle, I just need to know where you found the phone," he stated. There was a pause as the man sighed and hummed, "I see we are all business today, it was on the front seat of my car when I collected it this morning to go shopping, it didn't belong to the valet," he replied. Alois ran his hand through his hair, whoever this was had acess to a number of hidden doors which startled him. "Uncle, go back to New York, I don't like the fact that this guy can get to you here," stated Alois with an air of authority. He looked over to see Phipps staring at him in shock, his lips were parted with a question begging to slip through them, Alois held up his hand and shook his head, when it came to family he would do anything to keep them safe.
"Why are you concerned?" asked his Uncle in a more sincere tone. There was a feeling twisting in his stomach, he only got it when things were about to go very wrong. He had gotten it the night Ciel had seemed to loose it at the party, the night of the final challenge and now he had it. "Simple, who ever this is, happens to be well connected and we don't know what he wants. Go to New York and lock yourself in the fucking safe house or so help me I will come over there package you up and ship you there myself!" hissed Alois. At that moment he didn't care what Phipps thought of him, what mattered was protecting his family. "Alois, I'm safer here in England, but I won't argue about security, so I will compromise with Manchester. I'll move to Manchester today and stay in my mansion there," his Uncle stated, much to Alois' displeasure. He didn't like the idea that the man was still in the same country but figured this was the only compromise the Vice Count would make willingly.
"Fine, just upgrade your security," Alois huffed before hanging up, he didn't look at Phipps, he wasn't sure what the man would think of him. He had never lashed out like that before him, and now that he was coming back to his senses he realized he had just taken command and sounded a lot like William. He looked at the mobile, terrified to look up at Phipps. He was confused when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. Alois looked up to see Phipps sitting on the bar, usually he would shout and dare to dismember anyone who sat on his bar, but he would let this slide. "Alois, it's okay. I understand you are worried, and we will figure this out. Just Breathe," Phipps said gently as he carded his fingers through the blonde's hair, "All is quiet for now on the Western Front."
Alois tensed, despite his appearance he was well versed in history, and silence on any front was never a good thing.
~~xXx~~
Fire is a dangerous element, it's hot, fierce and changes shape in a flash. With a simple touch a flame can char a page of paper and sear skin. Yet there is another side of this element, it represents creations. Every oven was lit, the massive ranges were glowing and the kitchen was as hot as a sauna, the scents of spices, vegetables, chocolate and meats was over whelming. In the kitchen the chef was the master, he controlled fire's dangers and subdued her, became her master and used it to create a world of wonder in a dish. It was chaos as chefs began doing prep work and the sleeping kitchen sparked to life. Chefs were dashing to and fro in attempts to prepare the place for customers who were soon to come. All of them on set paths which had been determined by the Head Chef based on task. It was as though the fires of creation had been sent to kindle the hearts of every chef, well nearly every chef.
In the corner of the kitchen leaning against a glossy clean counter was the Patissier, his red eyes were locked on his own reflection and he looked a little lost. The entire kitchen was a buzz and everyone was moving rapidly, never staying in one place too long. Sebastian hummed as he slowly looked them over, his red eyes couldn't leave the sight of Claude owning his side of the kitchen and yet he had no idea what to make. He no longer had Ciel to cater to, Noir was a fresh slate, a new breeze which had just swept through London and he had the chance to once again amaze and stun the customer. Yet, he had no idea what to make, he wasn't sure what he would craft as his new signature dish, in truth he wasn't even sure what Ciel's signature was. He honestly never paid it any mind.
He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes hoping that somehow the muses from above would appear and come to him in his time of need. "What's the matter?" asked a familiar voice. Sebastian looked up to see Claude before him, leaning against the counter he was aloof and seemed disinterested at a glance, but Sebastian could tell from the way he was looking at him that he was anything but. "Does it matter?" he asked after a moment, he had no idea how to act around the man in the kitchen, he wanted to maintain professionalism, however he wasn't sure of what to do entirely. His head was screaming professionalism, while his heart was screaming affection.
Sebastian shook his head in frustration in an attempt to clear the clutter. "Yes," Claude replied quickly, only to make Sebastian's head jerk upward. Golden eyes bore into crimson as the Head Chef continued, "Please tell me, I want to help," he stated. Sebastian noticed how everyone in the kitchen seemed to be lost in the rhythm Claude had set and now he was the only one out of place, which wasn't unusual, his work took a different kind of pace. "I don't know what to make," he replied. Claude blinked and Sebastian hung his head, he had a feeling the chef was going to grill him. He braced himself for the criticism only for two slender fingers to slip under his chin and guide it upward.
Sebastian found himself looking back at those fiery golden eyes, only to find that they held no hit of disappointment, only affection. "Sebastian, I know this is nerver wracking, I spent this morning drafting a new menu and I don't know if it will work either," commented the man as he gently caressed the side of Sebastian's face with his fingers. His touch was light and tender as his fingers swept over Sebastian's cheek. A grin curved Claude's lips and his eyes took on a different kind of spark, one which made Sebastian shiver with desire, "Sebastian, listen to your head," Claude began as he drew closer, "your heart," he continued and drew even closer. Sebastian felt his breath catch in his throat, he could smell Claude's body wash and natural scent, it was driving him crazy, his breath tickled Sebastian's lips and he stared into a pair of intense golden irises, the fire was even hotter and Sebastian felt as though he would melt into a puddle at any moment. "And your soul," Claude finished before pressing his soft and silky smooth lips against Sebastian's parched ones.
Without thinking Sebastian wrapped his arms around Claude and opened his mouth to allow an eager Claude entry. His head was spinning, and he felt that fire which had filled the kitchen kindle his desires and passion for Claude. A pair of powerful arms lifted the chef off the floor and onto the counter so that Sebastian was sitting on it, he honestly didn't care, all he cared about was his spider. Those hot lips, his firm and confident touch and that grin which spelt his undoing, which was all he cared about. His fingers slipped under Claude's hat, knocking it to the floor as he carded his fingers through Claude's unruly black hair. It was a haze until he heard the distinc sound of a camera shutter closing. The pair were snapped to attention and looked over to see the pair of reporters standing with a grinning Vincent before them.
The brunet blushed brightly as she looked at the camera, "That was," she stammered, "a-an accident." Claude chuckled as he ran his hands down Sebastian's back affectionately, he leaned over and whispered into Sebastian's ear, "Entice me," he whispered before pulling away and stalking off into the other side of the kitchen, leaving him behind with the pair of women. He was confused for a moment until something sparked his imagination, he looked over to the side and noticed something he had forgotten about, "Pomegranate," he whispered as he jumped off the counter. The pair of women stared at the patisserie, "So what it's a Pomegranate, what's so important about it?" asked the blonde.
Sebastian picked up the bright red fruit and grinned, his eyes sparkled as he turned to Claude and tossed the fruit in the air as he pivoted and caught it with ease. "I know what I'm making," he commented as he carried the bright red fruit to the other side of the kitchen. His head was teaming as he completely ignored the pair in favor of raiding the pantry and pulling his ingredients, dark chocolate, white chocolate, sugar, vanilla, cake flower, vanilla extract, confectioners sugar, eggs, a lemon, and butter, he decided on getting heavy cream later. In moments he returned with his loot and was grinning broadly. The pair of women sat before his counter on a pair of stools which looked as though they had been snatched from the bar. "Alois, I need a bottle of PAMA," Sebastian commented.
The was a pause and he looked up to see the women looking at one another in confusion, clearly they didn't know how Sebastian knew that the bartender was present, "Sure, we only have one bottle though," he commented. Sebastian chuckled and looked at Vincent, "You weren't going to mix cocktails with it anyway, just bring it," said Sebastian simply as he waited for the bartender to retrieve the bottle. "What are you?" asked one of the women, Sebastian didn't look up as he grabbed a large knife and placed it on a cutting board before looking for a glass bowl and filling it with cold water. "Creating," replied Sebastian simply as he picked up the beautiful chef's knife and cut the crown of the succulent red fruit off. He slowly turned it in his hands and began to gently score the rind, the blade slipped into the rind with ease as he carved lines into it from the bottom to the rim of the portion which had been produced after removing the crown. The juice was sticky and the rind was smooth between his fingers as he slowly placed the knife on the board once more and placed the fruit in a bowl of cold water. His eyes slid up to the clock on the wall and he smiled as he began to make the vanilla chiffon cake.
One of the girls was about to ask a question when Alois whispered, "Hush, ask him later just watch," he placed the familiar blood red liquor on the table, and left quietly. Sebastian smirked; he knew he could leave it to either Alois or Claude to keep them from breaking his concentration. He was going to show Claude enticing, in fact he was going to redefine it. He was going to prove that he hadn't lost his sense of style or intricate techniques; he was going to craft a dessert that demonstrated the elegance of Noir. He wanted to show the beauty of darkness and the light which could be seen in it.
Sebastian reached over and turned the massive oven to the proper temperature and felt himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his life. Slender fingers wrapped around a glass bowl as he brought it over and began measuring all of his dry ingredients; one by one they fell into the bowl, save the granular sugar. A white mountain rested in the bowl as he did so; it grew more steadily with the tip of each cup of flour and ingredients. The mountain of white ingredients fell quickly as he added milk to the bowl, and began to whisk them together; before adding the canola oil, making the perfect silky smooth batter he was known for. He could feel the reporter's gaze on him as he recalled how to craft a light and airy chiffon cake.
Sebastian cradled the whisk in his hand as he pulled a pair of bowls and placed the clean utensil on the counter, after a moment he began separating egg whites from yolks. He was going to make a basic meringue to add texture to the cake and make it a little firmer and give it the desired texture. Once the whites and yolks were separated from one another, the granulated sugar was added to the bowl and he dipped the whisk into the glue like concoction in the bowl. He cradled the bowl in his arm as he began to gently fold the ingredients, taking extra care to prevent beating them, with each fold he was adding air into the mixture.
His eyes drifted from the bowl of meringue to the pomegranate soaking in cold water, it was just about time to finish prepping the beautiful red fruit. Unlike most fruits, the edible portion of a pomegranate was the seeds, the key was to remove the seeds cleanly and not damage them while scoring the rind of the fruit. It was difficult but not impossible. By soaking it in cold water he could get the natural fibers holding the seeds in to slowly break, and allow for him to gently peal the rind away. It was painstakingly slow, but the result of using a fresh pomegranate opposed to a juice was far better. It would give him that blood red color he desired and the wonderful luxurious taste that he longed for. Claude wanted seduction on a plate and Sebastian fully intended to do so.
It had been a while since he had played with the fruit, in fact it hadn't been since he was in school that he even thought to use the regal fruit in a dish. He lifted the silver whisk from the bowl and examined the peaks which the egg whites had made, they were stiff and stood tall. Unconsciously he gave the whisk a nod of approval before slowly tipping the bowl upside down over the other bowl with all of his dry ingredients. The soft white cloud of meringue fell into the bowl and landed right on top of the batter. Sebastian hummed as he lifted his whisk again and began to gently fold the meringue into the batter. Now he was well aware of the time, he had to pick up the pace, he still had the mousse to make, the mirror and even the pomegranate simple syrup. "So much to do, so little time to do it," he commented as he placed the bowl on the table and in a flash pulled a shallow baking pan, he had it buttered and lined in the blink of an eye and worked on slipping the now satin like batter from the bowl into the pan, it folded onto it's self as it fell free from the bowl and quickly spread across the bottom of the pan to each of the corners. With ease he turned on his heel and opened the oven to slip the pan into it.
Sebastian clapped his hands together, the sound made the two women jump as he reached into the bowl of icy water and plucked the large fruit, his nimble fingers slipped around it, he could feel the scoring which he had done with the knife in order to prepare the fruit. They skimmed over the rim of the top until he felt a loose portion with them, delicately he began to peel the rind away and watched the succulent blood red opaque pearls fall into the water. With each piece of the rind pulled away even more of them slipped into the cold bed under them, the scent of the glorious fruit filled his nose and made his skin tingle, now he knew this was the right choice, exotic, daring, fluxions and charming, that was the goal. His fingers traveled around the fruit, becoming ever so sticky as they went making his grin broaden. He loved the feeling of prep work, even though most Patissier saw it as beneath them, he thought of it akin to quality control. By preparing the ingredients himself he was able to control just what was going into the dish and insure only the highest of quality made it into the dish.
He could remember the fights he had with other chefs at college who wanted to hire other people to do the dirty work but then complained about ingredients not being up to par. He honestly thought it was insane to waist money so frivolously when doing the prep work insured both quality and was cheaper. Sebastian shook his head at the memory as he snatched a strainer from over head and used it to remove the seeds from the bowl. In heaps and mountains the damp blood red pearls moved from one bowl to another, which was ready to receive them. Sebastian hummed as he turned his attention to the bright red bottle of liquor which Alois had brought. In a haze he looked at the blood liquid and held it up to the light to ensure that the bottle's seal hadn't been broken. He wasn't a fan of stale liquor and since it was such an unusual item it was hardly used in the bar.
In several strides he was before the range adjusting the flame of a gas burner and picking a pot from the rack. He heard several pairs of shoes approach and had a feeling it was the two young women, he glanced over at them and smiled, he was making just the right dessert and he knew it. With a measuring cup he added water to the waiting pot and then added sugar before waiting for it to boil. He looked at the clock on the wall and hummed as he spun and made his way to the oven, "That smells wonderful," commented one of the women, making Sebastian chuckle. "Glad you like it," he remarked, the young woman blushed as the Patissier slipped his hands into the oven mitts. He grasped the pan lightly and pulled it out of the stifling hot oven, he loved the feeling of the heat on his skin, it only made this even more fun. He placed the pan on the counter and immediately grabbed a cooling rack, "What can you tell me about Noir?" asked Sebastian simply as he placed the pan on the rack and walked back over to the stove where the sugar had dissolved into the water and was now at a low boil.
His long slender fingers wrapped around the black handle of the pot as he bought it to the counter and placed it on a glass plate. "It means black," replied the brunet. Sebastian chuckled as he opened the bottle of PAMA, the air was filled with the intoxicating scent of pomegranates, it tickled his nose and teased his tongue, he couldn't wait to finish this dessert. "Good, Mrs.?" he asked and looked over at the brunet, she had a pair of large brown eyes and a rather small nose, Sebastian could tell she would be classified as cute by most men. "Helen Castor," she replied. He hummed and smiled a little, "Castor as in the sugar," he remarked as he slowly poured the bright red liquor into the pot, he watched the crimson ribbon fall before him, the girl couldn't take her eyes off of him. She was examining his face intently and he heard another camera shutter close as he looked up at her. His lips were curved in a smirk, she looked as though she were about go weak at the knees and fall to the floor.
Sebastian snapped the bottle up right and began to stir the liquor into the scalding hot syrup, he watched the clear liquid turn into a blood red one. He continued to use a spatula to gently fold it into the mix, taking care to not burn himself. "You are right that it means black, however Noir is so much more than that," commented Sebastian as he lifted the spatula to examine the simple syrup he was in the process of making. He held it up to the light and watched the light shine through it, it looked as though it were molten red crimson glass, delicate, fragile and unbelievable smooth. There were small pockets of air, but nothing serious, it was to be expected from making the sticky syrup. "Noir refers to darkness, traditionally it is also seen as a genre in film for darker films about solving crimes with hardened characters in sleazy settings," he remarked as he lowered the spatula.
He walked back over to the pan and flipped it with ease, releasing the cake and allowed it to fall onto the cooling rack. He hummed for a moment before looking for the right cutter which was resting in a drawer; once this was done he used an octagonal cutter to trim the cake into smaller portions. "However, in this case it isn't about crimes," commented Sebastian as he gently removed the cutter and slipped it into the spongy white cake on the rack and removed a portion of it, leaving it in the cutter as he carried it over to a large plate which had been set out by Vincent, "Thank you," he commented as he placed the piece on the stark white plate. He reached into his black bag and pulled out a wooden pastry brush and dipped it into the simple syrup, "In this case it means something different entirely," he remarked as he dipped the brush into the red liquid and gently dabbed it onto the white cake base, tinting it red. "It refers to the darkness in ourselves, and that place which we go where even when lost in the world of the night we see the light," he commented as he continued to add the simple syrup, he needed it to dry a little before he started working his mousses, he didn't want to be interrupted.
"I want to capture the elegance of the darkness, the mystery of the night and the intrigue of it," he said simply as he pulled a bottle of POM and then a sauce pan, "To show a normal person the passion of the night," he commented as he turned his attention to the stove and deftly tossed a lemon in the air, his hands catching the small yellow orb with ease, as though he had practically snatched it from the grips of the air. The scent of pomegranates, lemons and sugar filled the air as he brought the pan up to a boil. The tartness of the pomegranate caressed him like a lover in the night, gentle, tantalizing and ever so cruel. "The mystery and power a lover holds over a man, their scent, and their walk even their voice which leads you into a world of desire," he said softly.
He was quick to finish making the molasses and grinned; now he had to make the mousse, which was going to be quiet a fun one. His mind drifted back to when he was in Paris, it was one of the most difficult things for him to master, he could bake a soufflé in no time, but creating a mousse was a whole other game. The texture, weight and consistence had to be just right, to make it light on the tongue and dream like but rich in flavor. Now all he had to do was assemble the mousses one by one, it was better to craft them just before assembling the dish than later and risk them stiffening too much. If he allowed them to stiffen he wouldn't be able to pipe them cleanly into the molds.
Sebastian looked in the bowl and made easy work of peeling back the wrappers of the chocolate bars, the smell of dark and white chocolate cracked into the air, coupling and caressing that of the bright citrus from the lemon and the tartness of pomegranates enveloped him. Sebastian closed his eyes and drew a deep breath as he remembered the first day he was on campus. After everything that had gone wrong in his life, somehow he managed to be at just the right place at the right time. It was as though that day all of the stars in heaven had aligned and allowed him one chance out of hell. He could remember the stretch of hallways and wandering through them only to find himself standing in the back of an advanced class. The professor at the front was one of the strictest he knew of, and also one of the best. His eyes were locked on the man as he held up the beautiful red fruit, the epitome of exotic fruits and one of the most difficult to prepare.
All of the students were so wrapped up in how the fruit looked that they forgot it's signature flavor and every flavor combination failed. They were all over thinking it, something so simple and yet they were lost in the exotic flavor of the fruit. He hadn't even started and he walked over to a counter, no one seemed to notice the first year walking through the lab space as he gathered his ingredients and made the one thing he knew would stop it all. The sound of a chocolate bar snapping caught the attention of a number of students and they slowly began to meander toward where he was working. He could remember the whispers and snide remarks as he made the first mousse. With steady hands he set up the double boiler and began to melt the chocolate and added the heavy cream tentatively. His red eyes never left the pot as he gently stirred the mixture to ensure that it didn't stick. Before his eyes the chocolate transformed from stiff bricks to a liquid chocolate that looked as though it were white satin in the pot.
Sebastian was snapped from his memory by a woman who asked, "Are you talking about a lover or a dessert?" asked the second young woman, she had short blond hair and a pair of bright gray eyes. She looked far younger and trendier than the brunet. Sebastian's red eyes lifted from the pot as he asked, "How can a dessert not be a lover?" The blonde's eyes widened as she stared at Sebastian dumbfounded, "For one you can't eat a lover," she stated. The corners of Sebastian's lips quirked up as he looked at her with a sly grin and replied, "Oh I assure you, you can," Castor coughed and looked at Sebastian in shock, "Passion is key. Without passion life is bleak and dull," he stated. He pulled the base from the stove and quickly walked over to the side and pulled out another bowl, with a little effort Sebastian produced another basic cloud like meringue and began pouring the supple white chocolate over the white clouded material, he watched the elegant white ribbon fold over it's self as it freed its self from the confines of the pot.
Sebastian's slender fingers plucked a clean spatula with a bright blue handle, "Passion?" asked the blonde curiously, Sebastian looked up sharply. He had forgotten about her for a moment, since only Castor had been kind enough to give him a name. The white tip of the spatula dipped into the white cloud like base, and he quickly began folding the white chocolate into the rest of the mousse. Delicately he folded the soft base over it's self, gently always allowing for just the right amount of air to be swept in. He hummed as he attempted to find just the right way to explain it. He searched his head looking for the right word, only to turn up the memory of him making a mousse for the first time under the watchful eye of his former master, Monsieur Foist. He could remember the smell of olive oil and rosemary as he made one of his signature loaves. He was still a child then and remembered having a stepping stool to reach the top of the stove. There weren't words for what he felt in his chest as he worked the dough or ingredients to create a dish.
There was silence in the room and he could feel the pair's heavy gaze on him, he drew a deep breath before placing the spatula on the side and bringing the glass bowl which was now filled with Pomegranate seeds over, unlike the dark chocolate the white had to firm in the fridge in order for this to work. This was because white chocolate had a different melting point and was generally softer. He could smell the sweetness of the tart fruit again, it was like the caress of a goddess of the night, subtle, dark and sinfully sweet. His lips quirked up at the corners, he had no idea how to say it in words so he decide to do what he knew best, "Watch," he stated simply. His voice was firm and left no room for argument.
His red eyes fell on the rather tall blonde and he shot her a warning glare, he was tired of trying to use words. Her jaw snapped closed as she looked a little nervous and guilty for even thinking of interrupting him. The word hung in the air as Sebastian quickly pulled out a tray and several silver rings. Instantly Sebastian snapped into gear he had enough of words, those weren't his thing. Sentences, grammar, spelling, structure, and speech, they weren't up his ally. However, he knew he could explain it in a way that no one else could.
With a smile he picked up a heavy glass bowl and slowly began to add the beautiful red pearls from the pomegranate into the mousse, he heard a gasp as he did so. A chuckled left another person and he looked up to see a grinning Vincent, obviously he had made the right decision because the man was watching intently. "Are you watching?" asked Sebastian lightly as he picked up the spatula and began to fold the bright red pearls into the fluffy white mousse, they contrasted greatly against the stark white cloud like mousse. Castor nodded and he hummed, "Good, now watch closely or you'll miss it," he commented as he snapped his fingers and summoned over one of the triplets, "Put that in the walk in, make sure it's safe," he stated. The young man nodded diligently before picking up the mouse and vanishing.
Canterbury vanished as Sebastian began to melt the dark chocolate, butter and milk. "Miss what?" asked Castor, "This is Jess by the way," she commented before jabbing her thumb at the blonde. Sebastian nodded as he began to heat the chocolate, his eyes never left the pot as he gently stirred it and kept an eye on the temperature, the last thing he wanted was for it to burn. The beauty of desserts was that there were so many small pieces, each of them important but alone simple and relatively different in flavor. It was when these flavors, textures and visually amusing elements were combined that things transcended the basic and entered the realm of the elegant. Once this was melted he removed it from the heat and placed it on the glass pad he had with the pot of white chocolate, which somehow had vanished. He looked around curiously eyes narrowed, he had no idea where it was until he noticed Thompson holding up the same pot in the light and smiling as the light made it sparkle.
"Typical," he mumbled as he shook his head, a smile was on his face as he noticed that not only was Canterbury at the ready, but also Thompson and Timber. Clearly Claude wanted them to assist him, regardless of his thoughts on the matter. "One of these days I'm going to tell the elves to stop stealing my stuff," he remarked as he picked up a bowl and reached for a cold container of cream, "The magic," commented Sebastian as he opened the container and poured just the right amount into the liquid measuring cup and then transferred it into the silver bowl of the waiting Kitchen-aid mixer. As the mixer whipped the cream he turned his attention to the small bowl he had grabbed before and plucked an egg from the carton.
His fingers swept over the shell looking for any cracks and faults before promptly cracked the egg flawlessly on the rim of the bowl with one hand, he gently squeezed it to make the crack spread across the cool and rather slick shell. He held two halves of the shell in his hand as he positioned himself over the bowl which was filled with yolks and other egg parts that he didn't use. He wasn't in the mood to try and salvage an egg, this meant that he would have to pluck a yolk from the bowl and not breaking. It wasn't that this couldn't be done but he would rather work with a fresh yolk.
He transferred the yolk from each half of the shell, slowly siphoning off the white. He felt the sticky and slimy white of the egg slip over his fingers as he did so, all the while watching the bright yellow yolk to ensure that it stayed in the shell and didn't fall from it. "Magic?" asked the blonde incredulously, "What magic?" Sebastian chuckled to himself, as he put the yolk in the bowl and picked up a large silver whisk. He held it between his fingers and quickly broke the yolk and began to whip it into submission.
The bright yellow liquid fell from the small bowl and into the mixer, allowing for him to make the perfect whipped cream. He watched as it formed seamless peaks and knew then it was ready. Once the mixer had done its job he pulled the silver bowl and placed it on the table, now he had to fold in the chocolate. "Just watch," Sebastian replied sternly as he transferred the lukewarm chocolate into the bowl, it had to be lukewarm otherwise he would curdle the cream and essentially ruin the beautiful mousse he was trying to make. He watched as the white based slowly turned brown as he folded in the silken dark chocolate. He loved the earthy smell of the chocolate as he did so, it made him hum, he couldn't wait to pair it with the pomegranate, it was going to explode on the tongue and he knew it. With each fold he watched the chocolate swirl into the mix and slowly take over, staining it a lush dark brown.
Sebastian placed the completed mousse off to the side and opened his bag. He pulled a tick spool of what looked like to be clear ribbon. His fingers slipped over the spool as he looked for the end; once he found it he wrapped the thick ribbon around the inside of the molds and did so with each of them.
He placed the molds on the plate and quickly began lining the circular molds as well with the thin film like ribbon. He had already peeled the top crust of the cake off to ensure that the cakes would absorb the syrup properly. With a brush he began to brush on the Pomegranate based PAMA simple syrup, like he had with the octagonal, and then added the molasses. He lightly drizzled the thick red molasses onto each cake, not bothering to spread it since it was so sticky that it would rip the cake apart if he attempted it. The tartness of the fruit send him on a tail spin as did the snap of the lemon. He felt his senses wake up to the kiss of citrus and began to move a little more quickly, he had to get the beautiful chocolate mousse piped into the circular molds, if he allowed it to sit too long it would set and that would be very bad. Traditionally he would want the mousse to set, however he had to get the mirror on top of the piece to give it that slick and smooth glossy finish, and if the mousse were allowed to stiffen it would cause an inconsistent texture on the top and destroy his seamless mirror.
With a pastry bag in hand, he began to fill it with the thick chocolate mousse. Oddly it was only the chocolate which would not allow the mirror to have a smooth finish, the white had another issue. Once the clear bag was filled he began to pipe it evenly into the circular mold, approximately an inch thick and did this with each cake. He watched the mouse fell the space like foam in an air leak. It was quick and puffed up slightly. After filling each and every single one of the circular molds he picked up the sheet and smiled. With little warning he slammed it down and watched the occupants of the room gape at him. The girls were startled as he did this three more times, with each slam the mousse settled perfectly into the mold. "What the hell!" shouted Jess as she lept off the stool. He ignored her and continued this part until it was perfectly even.
He gently placed the tray down and then turned to Canterbury, "I need the white," he said simply. The purple haired chef bowed before rapidly striding across the kitchen "Why did you do that?" asked Jess angrily as she checked to see if she had gotten covered in the lush dark brown mousse. Sebastian tilted his head and grinned wickedly, "Lesson 10, never ever underestimate a chef, we make noise it's not that odd," he commented. There was a chuckle on the other side of the room and Sebastian's head shot up as he glared at the Head Chef. Claude was looking far too entertained for his taste.
Canterbury returned with the bowl in question and placed it before Sebastian, who simply nodded and began filling another bag with a slightly larger silver tip on the end with it. Unlike the dark chocolate this mousse wasn't as pipe able, it was slightly runny which made piping it more of a challenge. He filled the bag with the plush like white mousse which had stiffened up just enough to pipe, he smiled broadly as he began to pipe it into the mold. The smell of pomegranates mingled with the sweet and earthy tones of the chocolates as he did so. He filled each mold approximately and inch and grinned broadly as he slammed the tray on the counter. This time the room's inhabitants seemed ready for this. "Canterbury, please reheat the molasses, I need to make the garnishes," he commanded. The young chef nodded and in a flash was off to work, one of these days he was going to remember to ask for an intern.
After a moment he walked to the cooler and slipped the tray on an empty shelf before returning to the bench. The two girls were perking up as he checked the pot and noticed it was still rather thick but just thick enough. With a sweep of a spatula he whisked a portion in the air and observed the thickness of it, it was just right. He pulled the pot and walked back over to the counter. "How long have you been baking?" asked the blonde in confusion as he pulled out a white cutting board and smoothed his hands over the top of it to ensure that there weren't any ridges on it. If there where it would mess with the delicate work he was about to do, "Baking? I don't remember really, I've been in a kitchen since I was five, it was the safest place in the Orphanage," he stated. He didn't mention the fact that Father Francis didn't like Sister Helen, she tended to yell at people who walked in uninvited. Sebastian chuckled as he remembered how the nun would shout in mottled version of French and Italian. She would always hold up an iron frying pan and chase any of the naughty children or priests out.
"What's so amusing?" asked Jess hesitantly, she seemed nervous that Sebastian would snap at her for speaking. The Patissier slowly tipped the pot over and poured some of the reflective molasses on the board, it was still very thick but perfect for what he planned to do next. The small pool of red spread out slightly as he moved and put the pot back on the range, "Low heat please," he commented as he caught Thompson moving about out of the corner of his eye. He flattened his palms on the bright red sugar and pomegranate mix and began to start working with it as though it were putty, only this stuff was rather hot to the touch. Castor gasped as he did this, not even wincing as he continued to work with the hot sugar, it was sticky and felt as though he were touching a polymer, rather than the sugar, PAMA liquor and water.
With a straight edge he broke the long rod of molasses that he was rolling into smaller portions, the silver blade was silent as he slipped it into the relatively soft rod. "Well in the Orphanage there was this one nun, she hated almost everyone, she would chase people out of the kitchen regardless of who they were. Other nuns, priests and children it didn't matter, it was her kitchen and lord help you if you had to ask for something because she had really good aim with dinner rolls," he said fondly as he chuckled at the memory, a smile played on his lips as he thought of the number of times he had gotten hit in the face with those rolls.
"Anyway she was this rather stout woman with a ton of wrinkles and this narrow eyes that honestly would scare the hell out of you, somehow she always knew when you were up to something, because she would glare at you and say in this clipped tone, 'Garcon, I need your assistance scrubbing pots.' She had this big black iron frying pan she would wave and shout at us in a mixture of Italian and French speech. No one really understood what she was saying and I'm sure half the time she didn't understand herself," he remarked as he looked at the ceiling with a knowing smile, "Lord knows I didn't."
The two girls chuckled, as Sebastian began to work the smaller portions of sugar and rolled them out with a silver pin into thick flat strips. "The only person who could get into the kitchen without being threatened or getting hit with 'Holy' Dinner Rolls was Amilie. She used to help her cook, and when they were together they made magic happen. Sometimes when I was getting picked on by the other boys I was brought into the kitchen by here. Sister Helen wasn't the nicest, the first few times she would yell at me in and tell me that I was a rotten boy," he commented and shrugged his shoulders a bit as he picked up a long thick dark red ribbon which he had pressed, it was the color of merlot and he examined it closely. With one end tucked between his fingers he picked up an empty silver circular mold and delicately wrapped it around it as a curl before slipping it away. The thick curled dark red ribbon stood alone on the table and he smiled as he waited for it to cool.
Castor looked sad for a moment, she stared at him as though he were a little boy who had been forgotten and abused. Sebastian drew a deep breath, to calm himself he didn't like receiving pity, but it was unavoidable since what happened to him was heart breaking to most people. "Then one day I got beaten up by these boys outside her window, I don't remember what happened exactly but she chased them away and I found myself sitting on the kitchen counter she was tending to my injuries and had called for Amilie. Since that day I was welcome into her kitchen. Usually I would sit in the corner and watch but slowly she started having me do things, and when I was asked by Monsieur Foist to come to in every morning she only made sure she had me in the evenings," he commented as he tapped his toe and continued making each of the elegant curved ribbons to wrap around the dark cakes.
The pair of girls were staring at him, and he could feel a familiar gaze on him from across the room. Sebastian looked up to see a rather sad looking Head Chef, he knew Claude didn't like the fact that he had a horrid childhood, "Then I went to school and started working on bigger and more extravagant things," he commented. He finished the thick blood red ribbons and pulled a pair of silver canisters from under the bench. The girls stared at him as he placed the ribbons off to the side and walked over to the range, he motioned for them to follow. "While I was there I learned that the world of Pastry was beautiful and I wanted to do every part of it," he commented as he picked up a glass measuring cup and began to measure the proper amount of water so he could make the mirror. He couldn't wait, that glossy top was what was going to make the piece really pop.
Castor had a pen in her hand was taking notes, which he hadn't noticed before. He was tempted to snap when he realized that even with the interview very few people knew much about him as a person. Perhaps this was what they needed for the animosity toward himself and Claude for being the way they were would fade. Until then he had been just another name with a brief interview, and now he was opening up and showing them his personality, perhaps this was what they needed. "It wasn't until I came here that I had the chance to work in a kitchen of this scale and met Claude," he commented as he began to add the powder to make the gelatin. The key to making the perfect mirror was the amount of gelatin in the base, too much and the mirror was too reflective, too little and it was dull. Like many portions of this particular dessert it was all about balance. "I did however, have a supporter in Paris when I started experimenting, he went by CF," he remarked, there was a pause as a grin played on his lips, "It wasn't until I came here that I met the chef."
Jess and Castor looked at one another and then to Claude who was working with Thompson on prawns. He could hear the Head Chef instructing Thompson on how to prep them, it was tone of voice which was easy for Claude and screamed for attention. "Wait, Head Chef Faustus was the chef?" asked Castor in shock, her lips were parted and her eyes were wide. Sebastian chuckled, now that he thought about it, they were always passing one another, it wasn't until now that they stood side by side, as opposed to diagonally. "Yes, he was. He apparently attended everyone of my demonstrations, it was a bit ironic when I got the job here. I didn't realize who he was at first," he replied. The girls looked at one another before watching as Sebastian pulled the cap off the PAMA into a bowl and added some water to it, "Hold that?" he asked softly as he held it out to Castor. The young brunette blushed as she took the bowl, her hands were shaking a little which caused the liquid to slosh a little in the bowl. Thankfully he had pulled one that was in reality a little to large to do this, so she wouldn't end up wearing it.
He continued working with the gelatin before holding his hand out for the large bowl and pouring the gelatin into it. He watched the liquid stiffen up and the girls gaped, he could tell they had forgotten that not everything was as it seemed in a kitchen. After a moment he grabbed a bottle of pomegranate juice and broke the seal, the crack filled the room as he freed the black cap from the ring and gently poured the juice into the pot. The girls watched him quietly as he slowly reached over and turned the burner down to simmer. Jess snapped another photo, and at this point he had become accustomed to the photographer snapping away. With the challenges he only had to deal with video cameras, not the snap of a digital camera.
The juice warmed slowly, as he waited for it to reach temperature, now all he had to do was dissolve the gelatin into the juice and then pull from the heat. "Thompson, grab the tray," he commended as he began to add the PAMA and gelatin mixture into the pot slowly. He was careful to ensure that the three ingredients mixed perfectly. The girls turned their heads and watched Thompson and Timber carry a tray appease and walk back to the counter. "Triplets?" asked Castor curiously. The pair stopped and looked at her before whispering something among themselves, one of the giggled and shook his head while the other grinned. "Hello ladies," said Thompson smoothly as he walked by, he looked a little stiff and moved like Vincent. The Lord chuckled as Timber said, "Yo," and did a mock salute with two fingers and spun on his heel to keep up with Thompson.
Canterbury walked over and stood with his hands at his sides, his golden eyes watched the group, "Yes Canterbury?" asked Sebastian. The young man smiled and looked at the girls, they looked confused and honestly Sebastian could understand, it took a bit for him to realize who was who. Now it was easy, before it was as though he was seeing triple and that was never good. "William wants to know what the dessert will be so he can start pairing, he already has Claude's," he stated. Sebastian nodded as he carried the pot over to the side and began to slowly add the gelatin to each mold. "Tell him it just has to chill and there are two desserts, they are plated together," he commented as the purple haired chef watched the Patissier work curiously. Out of the three he was the most curious about Sebastian's work, there were times that he would offer to help when Claude didn't have him doing anything. There was a point where the Patissier was tempted to ask if he would like to be an intern.
"Of course," the chef said before vanishing. Now he had to pick up pace, William always did his pairings three hours before opening, that way he would have some idea of what to pull and get them printed for the bartenders to handle. "How can you tell them apart?" asked Castor as she watched the chef walk back to the group. Sebastian hummed and replied, "Simple, practice." He stretched his arms out and cracked his knuckles, the sound echoed in their ears. He placed the tray in the cold walk in and then leaned against the counter, his eyes were locked on the clock, the triplets had been cleaning up behind him the entire time, which meant that things were interestingly clean. Sebastian hummed as he tapped his fingers on his forearm, he had to allow the mirror to set or it would turn into a mess, which would honestly depress him. The goal was give them a show stopping sheen, not turn them into a puddle.
"Sebastian, do you think you can stand up to them?" asked Jess softly, he turned and notice how concerned she looked. She wasn't asking as a reporter who wanted to know his story, or the general public's messenger owl, no she was asking as a person. He hummed as he looked at her and sighed, he didn't know, he had no idea what was in store for him, all he knew was that this wasn't over. It wouldn't be. "I don't know, but I'm going to try, I'll give it all I've got and then some," he replied firmly, he wasn't going to give up his happiness, not when he had just managed to have it.
Everything he had worked hard for, he was fighting for a chance to be free. While Vincent was more easy going in food, he knew he would still be limited, he would have to be rational and bow to the man. He didn't want that, he didn't want someone to be his boss, he wanted to be the boss. "How?" asked Castor softly, she sounded just as concerned, the Patissier smiled as he noticed how she seemed to be like Jess. "Love, I will do anything to protect him," said Sebastian simply. Before they had a chance to ask another question he walked over to the walk in and pulled the tray once again, it seemed to be a perpetual cycle, which thankfully was going to come to an end soon enough.
He looked at the glossy mirrors on each of the treats as he picked up the silver mold and lifted the metal ring off of the treat. It slipped off with ease, leaving the clear ribbon around it. Sebastian pulled the ribbon off of it and placed the beautiful cylindrical treat on the white square plate which had been grabbed at some point. He reached over and grabbed one of the elegant curving ribbons of sugar and slipped it over the top of the cylinder so lit looked as though the thick ribbon like structure was being peeled back and the cake was inside of it. "Missing something," he commented and then remembered the whipped cream he had chilling. In seconds the familiar bowl was in his hands and he was piping a small tuft of it on the top of the slick red mirror and adding pomegranate seeds as well as a light fleck of the extra PAMA simple syrup. The room was silent as he slipped all of the pieces together and then moved the octagonal molds.
"Whoa," breathed Jess as she looked at the finished product. A smirk curved Sebastian's lips, "Magic," he repeated as he freed the other cake from the mold and removed the ribbon. This time he placed the cake on the block and with a simple knife he sliced through it to make small wedges. A second plate was before him and Sebastian began looking for a spoon, he wanted to make a streak. He grumbled as he went looking for such a simple thing, usually he had one on him. "Looking for something?" asked a silky smooth voice. Sebastian turned around and noticed a golden spoon between Claude's fingers. He shook his head as he gently took the spoon from his lover's fingers. "Thank you," he replied as he kissed the man's cheek. The Head Chef hummed and crossed his arms, at this point Sebastian was fluent in Claude's language of grunts, that one meant he was welcome. He chuckled as he dipped the spoon in the left over simple syrup and added a streak to the plate before placing a wedge on the plate.
Once the piece was in place, he took one of the ribbons which had shattered and stuck a piece vertically on top of the cake and then added a small tuft of cream. "There," he said simply as he pushed the plates toward the two women and then went to plate the same thing for William. He watched Jess and Castor stare at the treats before Jess took several photos of them, she looked enthralled by them. "Sebastian is this Noir's new signature?" asked Vincent after a moment. Sebastian jumped a little, and looked up sheepishly; he had forgotten that the man was even present. "If you like it," said Sebastian after a moment as he blushed a touch, he was honestly embarrassed that he still jumped like that.
Claude walked over and with a fork and slipped it into the dish, he had a goofy grin on his face, it was only made when he was tasting Sebastian's work. It made the Patissier's heart flutter; it was a look just for him and his sweets. He slipped the dark cake and mousse combination between his lips and his eyes fluttered closed. Sebastian watched as the Head Chef purred with delight and seemed to savor every taste. Sebastian was watching the man with delight, he loved that look on his face, he looked like a child as he tried the treat, he was younger then and the only issue was his glasses. Sebastian sighed as he shook his head, he had to get the man to wear contacts more. He felt a pair of fingers slip down his neck causing him to look up and meet those intense golden eyes. With little warning Claude's lips were on his, they were sweet, tart, lush and confusing. Sebastian gasped as he felt Claude's hands roam down his back and that hot tongue slide over his lips.
Quickly that slick and seductive tongue slipped between them, agile invading his mouth. Sebastian moaned, as he tasted the dark chocolate, pomegranate and lemon on the man's tongue. It was amazing how sensual it was. His head was spinning as he stated the earthy dark chocolate support the alluring and tart pomegranate. It was sweet but tart, the flavors were caressing one another as Claude's tongue caressed his. He could feel Claude's heart pounding under his hands and the heat of his palms on his back through the thick coat. Then it ended, it was abrupt as the chef pulled away smirking. Sebastian touched his lips with his finger tentatively and asked, "What was that?"
Claude chuckled and replied, "Taste test," as he shrugged and stalked back off to his side of the kitchen. Sebastian's cheeks turned bright red as he covered his mouth with his hand in a vain attempt to hide his embarrassment. "Here I was thinking he was the prudish American," he commented.
~~xXx~~
Ciel growled as he looked around the house, as always dinner was at eight, why it was at eight annoyed him. He wasn't sure if it was was because it was always so late in the day and at that point he had no desire to be near his parents, or if it was simply because it was at eight. It was as though his day at work always started at eight which was usually a nightmare, and then he had dinner at eight which was another nightmare. Ciel grumbled as he caught his reflection in the mirror and noticed his bow-tie was off. The other issue was the fact that his father demanded the best of dress at dinner, suites only which also drove him insane. He looked in the mirror, he had decided to wear his dark blue suit with a black shirt and silver bow-tie. His sapphire blue eyes stood out starkly against his pale complexion. "You know for most people their demise is at noon, or midnight. Oh no mine is at eight o'clock, eight o'clock sharp," he grumbled as he straightened his tie. He looked at his reflection and growled with discontent, it wasn't going to go well this evening he could tell.
Ciel swept out of the hallway and began to walk down the stairs only to see Diederich standing before the dinning room awkwardly. He looked both lost and confused, which was a first. He was standing in a stunning black suit with a dark green vest and green tie. His gray eyes were apprehensive and he looked as though the grandfather clock he was looking at were going to bite him. Ciel smirked, at least he wasn't the only one dreading the fact that it was soon going to be eight. His dark hair was combed in place and he looked a little nervous, "Relax, it's dinner not the Spanish Inquisition," commented Ciel. Diederich narrowed his eyes, "Rachel will be present as well as Vincent and he said something about a discussion," he stated.
Ciel sighed, "I amend my previous statement, it's the Spanish Inquisition with food." Diederich hummed as he slowly stepped into the dining room, which as always was decked out and a beautiful spread awaited them. Ciel slowly walked over to the table and went to take a seat when he noticed Diederich was still standing at attention. His eyes were pasted on the door as Rachel walked in, she was wrapped in midnight blue silk, which seemed to flutter as she moved. "Good evening," greeted Diederich with a bow as he pulled out her chair. Ciel rolled his eyes at the display, as always the man didn't know when to give up. He had seen the looks Diederich gave his mother since he met him, it was clear that the man was head over heals for her. Vincent padded in soon after and smiled at Diederich as well as Ciel. "Good evening, Lord Phantomhive," Diederich said graciously with a bow.
Vincent held up a hand and shook his head, "Dee, we've known each other for ages, call me Vincent," he said simply. All eyes fell on Ciel who was still sitting in his seat, he didn't even stand for Rachel and he hadn't greeted his father, he knew he was in for it. In his opinion these traditions were a waste of time, and wasn't interested in engaging in them. All eyes were on him and the young man sighed. "Ciel I request that you move," said Vincent briskly. The young man sat up ramrod straight and looked at his father. "What?" he asked as his eyes narrowed in disbelief, he had always sat in that spot, it was meant for the heir of the family or lover if the noble had one. "I asked you to move your seat, I would like Diederich to sit there," he stated simply. Ciel's eyes widened as he looked at his father in shock, "What? I'm the heir this is my position unless," he paused and looked at Diederich in confusion.
"Father, he's not your heir nor is he your lover it would be inappropriate," he hissed. Ciel couldn't believe what his father was saying it made no sense. Vincent looked at Rachel who nodded, "Ciel tonight we have something to discuss, and I want Diederich to sit where you are, so damn it move," he commanded, his tone was dark and clipped, leaving no room for argument. Ciel got up and huffed, "Why pray tell is it so important?" he asked as he leaned on the table. He was seething, first he lost Ciel, and then his father found out what he had done, and now this. "Because I want him to be my Lover!" shouted Vincent with irritation. The room went silent as Ciel looked over to his mother who was looking at Vincent, she was unfazed by this. Diderich was blushing madly and looking pleadingly at Vincent.
"Your what?" asked Ciel, he turned pale and felt his world spin. He braced himself against the table and closed his eyes.
~~xXx~~
The night had gone well and the entire kitchen was exhausted. Sebastian looked as though he were about to keel over at any moment. Once the reporters had left and the customers began to stream in regardless of the press and angry people outside of Noir it was chaos. They were running like crazy in an attempt to keep everything going. Sebastian's new dessert was flying out of the place and he was struggling to keep up. Finally they could all rest, they all had a chance to breathe. Sebastian was leaning against the counter, his limbs hung and he looked as though he had finished a marathon. Claude hummed as he reached in his pocket and unfolded the note which Vincent had left on his desk before leaving. He had been asked to stay after for a moment and talk to him, apparently he wanted to know if there was anything the Head Chef wanted to change in the kitchen.
Claude ran a hand through his hair tiredly and walked over to Sebastian, "Love," he called sweetly as he tucked one of Sebastian's bangs behind his ears. A pair of sleepy red eyes looked up at him, "Why don't you go to the flat?" he asked as he held out a key card, he had been meaning to give it to Sebastian but hadn't found time. "That's for you to keep, so you can always get in," commented Claude as Sebastian slowly took the plastic card in his fingers. Claude couldn't fight the smile that was curving his lips, he had just given Sebastian the key to his flat, which was a huge step. "I can keep this?" he asked hesitantly, there was a spark of hope in Sebastian's eyes, which made the moment all the more tender. Claude nodded and replied, "Forever, I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me, I wanted to ask you tonight but Vincent wanted to speak to me," he said simply.
Sebastian was beaming and Claude loved the look of joy on the man's face, he swore to himself to make the Patissier happy no matter what. "Okay, do you want me to make anything?" asked Sebastian tentatively, Claude could tell he was asking for permission to enter his kitchen. Unlike most people a kitchen was very personal to a chef, especially their home one. Claude nodded and replied, "If you want to," he didn't want to make it seem like a demand, too many of those had been made of his raven. Sebastian smiled giddily and looked the the key card in his palm, "Okay, so I'll see you later?" he asked nervously as he slipped his knife bag over his head. Claude looked at the Patissier and said, "Wait, have Alois and Phipps take you home, I don't want you walking through this mess."
Sebastian looked at Claude and then nodded, he didn't seem accustomed to being taken care of, but Claude wasn't going to allow him to ever fall into that dark place again. He watched the raven haired Patissier leave the room and walk into the dining room. Alois' boisterous greeting could be heard through the walls as well as Phipps laughter. Clearly the Patissier had a ride, and this put Claude at ease. He didn't want Sebastian harmed anymore. He couldn't' stand the thought of someone injuring his raven anymore than he already was. He had hurt enough.
Minutes slowly shifted to hours and one by one the staff of Noir left. Claude huffed as he pushed himself away from the counter, he had waited an hour, "Something must have come up," he commented before turning to leave. Only to smell the pungent odor of the trash which Hannah hadn't taken out. "Again?" he asked as he walked over to the clear bag and lifted it, "One of these days I'm going to get her to put the trash in the dumpster," he commented with a hint of irritation as he slung it over his shoulder and walked out the door, leaving his knife bag inside. He had chipped one knife already and wasn't in the mood to break anymore of them;.
The alley was dark and the premise seemed to be clear of all the protesters, it amazed him how one statement seemed to turn such a civil country into a mad house. There were plenty of gay actors, authors and the like, but somehow a pair of gay chefs was too much. He turned and walked down the side of the building with the bag and threw the lid of the dumpster open. He threw the bag in when he felt a tingle on the back of his neck and for some reason his skin acquired a layer of goosebumps. Something wasn't right. There was a rustle at the end of the alley which called his attention. With Claude walked toward it hesitantly, concerned that it was a reporter waiting to get some embarrassing photos, he wouldn't put it past the press for stooping so low. "Hello?" he called as he drew nearer, resting against the crates was a stack of papers and boxes from the morning, they were cleaned and waiting to be picked up by the Grower. The rustle occurred again and he looked over toward a crate with a piece of paper over it. He hummed as he slowly bent over and removed the sheet to found a cat, she hissed angrily and darted out of the alley. "Typical," he commented as he watched the stray run. He hummed and shook his head, obviously he was wound up too tightly, even the sound of a cat looking for mice freaked him out. Then again with Sebastian, it was difficult to always be cool. He had been kidnapped right under their noses so his fears were justified, or at least he thought so.
He slowly made his way back to the dumpster and closed the lid before clapping his hands and rubbing them together. He always hated touching the dumpster it was usually crawling with germs and the thought of it made his skin crawl, the first thing he had to do was wash his hands. Claude turned and looked down the alley one last time, that nervous feeling hadn't gone away and he shivered. There was a whistle as something heavy broke through the air and he heard a shout, "Disgusting fag!" Claude was about the wheel around when he felt something hard and sharp hit him. The sound of glass shattering and the familiar sting of alcohol enveloped him. It was agony and he could tell he had just been hit in the head with a wine bottle, the scent of merlot was strong and hung in the air. Claude fell ot his knees, the pavement hurt as his knees fell into it. Pain shot through him like electricity and he grit his teeth before attempting to turn to his attacker only to feel a heavy punch to his side. Immediately his hand shot up to protect the area.
He saw spots as a boot connected with his ribs, causing him to fall onto his hands, the pavement beneath them was harsh and unforgiving as he felt it rip his palms open. Combined with the stinging of the wine and the gravel he hissed in agony as his hands burned. "Disgusting," shouted the person again as he delivered another kick, causing all of the air in Claude's lungs to be forced out of them. Everything hurt, his ribs screamed in agony as his head spun and his palms burned. He attempted to block another kick only to feel the world spin even more and suddenly the pavement was moving to greet him.
Claude's world began to fade, his head was killing him, the liquor stung his wounds and the sent of both the merlot and garbage curdled his stomach. He fought to keep his eyes open and attempt to see his attacker only to hear another shout and feel the same boot meet his ribs. He groaned as his eyes closed, this must have been what Sebastian felt like, scare, in pain and oh so alone. He could remember the look of terror on Sebastian's face when he faced Francis. Those beautiful crimson orbs were wide and filled with terror. He didn't like that, he wanted the Patissier to always smile.
"Sebastian," he whispered before succumbing to the darkness.
Review Replies:
ScarlettDeidri : Well Chapter 16 is a fun one, just wait for the others. I'm glad you are enjoying it though.
Guest (2): It's time for Sebastian o fight, he's been passive far too lng. Don't worry Ciel's punishment is coming. Hang in there.
mew: I'm glad that you liked 47, the father son moment between Lucius and Claude is long over due. I go into more of what happened there in "Bottle Shock," the prequel to this, I'm still working on those chapters. I'm glad you like Noir, I thought that Vincent would have a space that was just as unique as he was and to make it into a restaurant was only cooler. That being said you can't deny that Vincent has style, and his moment with Dee is proof of that. He's such a fun character to write, everything about ihm screams power and sensuality. Ciel's going through a lot and this chapter just adds to it. Don't worry about the segregation, by the way and thank you fr your compliment, I'm just happy people are reading this piece. I ever thought anyone would give it a try. So much was against it I really thought I would have to abandon it at Chapter 5.
Guest (1): I added the 1 for myself. Vincent and Dee are fun, I love writing their relationship it's kind o like the "Guy next door" kind of story. They've known each other for a while and somewhere along the line they fell in love with one another. Oh believe me Ciel' punishment is coming, that's not even the half of it.
Yu Ping: I know you have an account now but I didn't realize I didn't reply using it. Check your inbox for reply lol. I'm slow. Thanks for taking the time to review though!