Bites - 4. Le Fromage
"Truffles?" Rachel asked almost appalled and Kurt nodded. In order to discuss the Cannareccione fiasco, he intercalated an emergency meeting with her and his plan was already clear in his mind. There was only one way to return to spotlight to them, and that way was dangerous.
"Truffles," he repeated. "Fresh, French truffles. I already have a recipe with quail in my head - it's the only way."
After he went home last night, he had barely slept. The hours had noiselessly passed and all he had done was stare at the ceiling, creating the perfect revenge to finally outdo Blaine and his stupid Italian restaurant. The determination of beating him was lying as a venom on his tongue, but for all his sake - it was worth all the dangers.
"Kurt, no," Rachel burst his bubble.
"Why not?" He stared at her with wide eyes. His plan was seamless: they would put one of the most desired and luxurious dishes on the menu and everybody would come crawling back.
"Because I for one do not want to see my food expenses get higher than the Empire State Building!" she said with a shrill in her voice. "Truffles are insanely expensive, unless -"
Kurt already knew what she was about to say and he gave her a nod and a tiny, almost maniacal, smile. Her eyes practically popped out of her skull while mouthing ‘no' repeatedly.
"Kurt, no -" she said again, only with her voice hushed, "we are not getting into any illegal activities."
"Why not?" he tried to reason. "Every high class restaurant are importing them through dealers, why can't we?"
"Because it's illegal," she snapped. "The reason we are liked by almost every important culinary division in this state, is because we don't get into trouble. We are clean."
"And we can remain clean if it is a secret." Kurt looked around the restaurant. A few of the waiting staff were already setting things up for tonight as they decided to open again. They lost a few guests, but there were still enough coming to at least serve them. Puck was staring at him and Rachel before quickly continuing to mop the floor when he noticed Kurt watching him. "I only need a few shards of them, so I already have enough if I have two to three truffles and we can save the dish for an important night. The announcement alone is already enough to lure them back in."
He looked at her almost begging, knowing for sure this was the only way to crush and burn the competition.
"No, Kurt, I will not risk it." She closed the map with upcoming menus and shook her head. "If you find your truffles well within budget andlegal, you can use them. Any above budget you can pay for yourself, but I'll be damned if I find any illegal businesses in my restaurant." She poked him harsh in the chest and he stopped himself from rubbing on the sensitive spot. "And if I do find out they're illegal," she threatened, "you will get fired. For real."
They kept their eye contact until Rachel marched away to talk to her waitresses. Kurt started to chew on the inside of his mouth, keeping his hands from balling into fists in frustration.
Was he the only one in this restaurant that understood they needed to fight hard and dirty?
With a sigh he decided he needed to go to the kitchen and wondered if he would ever get his hands on some affordable black truffles, but he knew the chance was practically nil. French truffles were rare. Back in France he had the honor of working with them for a little while until they were out and he always dreamed of using them again.
Lost in thoughts, he hadn't noticed Puck standing between him and his way to the kitchen. Puck was still holding the mop, but the floor it was dripping on had already been cleaned.
"Can I help you?" Kurt asked bluntly.
"You need truffles," he said, his voice low and soft.
Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "And what if I do?"
Puck looked around the restaurant to see if anyone was paying attention to them, but the coast was clear.
"I know someone," he whispered, "He's very discrete."
Kurt suppressed a huff. "Do you even know what truffles are? You've been working in a restaurant for only a few days now - I need the exquisite French kind, not magic mushrooms." He tried to walk away but Puck stopped him.
"I know that! Although I can hook you up with shrooms too, think it'd be funny if you use those instead, but seriously - I know someone." He had an earnest look in his eyes.
It was Kurt's turn to look around the dining area to see if Rachel was still around, but she seemed to have disappeared into the wine cellar. He swallowed loudly, turning back to Puck.
"How discrete?" he asked hushed.
"Very," Puck promised. "He can even hook you up with a forged receipt, trust me."
Kurt looked away and out of the window, contemplating if the risk of losing his job was worth the trouble and then his eyes rested on Cannareccione. The hurt he felt last night returned briefly and he locked eyes with Puck.
"When can I meet him?"
"The deal can go through me, I just need to know what you want."
"Why would you want to help?" Kurt needed to know. "It's dangerous."
Puck shrugged. "What's life without a little bit of danger? But don't expect me to do this for nothing."
"What do you want?" Kurt cut to the chase.
"No more dishes."
Kurt almost laughed out loud, but remained composed and only shot him an amused look.
"You're serious? You want to risk your job, my job and the restaurant, only to no longer do the dishes?"
Puck gripped the shaft of his mop tighter. "Yes, Brett freaks me out. So for real, think about it, tell me what you need and I'll talk to him." He held out his hand to seal the deal and Kurt eyed it considering.
If Puck really was that sure about the discreteness of this dealer, even with a forged receipt, he could slip through all the barriers that were withholding him from succeeding.
He took Puck's hand and shook it.
"Deal - but I need a pricelist and I want to weigh and inspect every single one of them before I buy them and I trust you keep this very, very, quiet." Kurt had no idea why he was so quickly convinced and he guessed desperate times called for desperate measures.
Kurt tried to act as normal as possible the following nights he worked, knowing that soon he would have the truffles in possession. They had agreed that Kurt would meet the dealer together with Puck - because Kurt didn't just trust some dealer - and Puck told him he would let him know when and where soon. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. He hadn't felt this secretive since he accidently broke Chef Fournier's skimmer and didn't tell.
La Vedette's restaurant was mostly empty every night and Rachel had said she hadn't had this bad of a week since the fourth of July weekend when New York was practically uninhabited.
It didn't keep Kurt from letting his kitchen crew become discouraged, though. Every night he yelled more, pushed harder and let them become utterly exhausted - yet content with the work they delivered. He was reaching limits and maybe even broke a few, as Sam started to cry before he even touched the onions, but they needed to realize that when they would give up, the entire restaurant would be doomed.
"Kurt?" Quinn called. She was already wearing her coat as the restaurant and the kitchen just closed. Kurt was bent over papers with recipes - all ones he never tried before because until he had his truffles, he still had to try and beat Blaine. "You coming, honey? San's already gone. There's no one here."
He looked up, realizing that his kitchen was indeed empty. Tonight had been a horrible night with three returned dishes and he had wasted a lot of saliva on yelling at the responsible ones, and in all stress he completely forgot his surroundings when the night was nearing its end.
"I need to do some things," he said and started to pile up all the papers. "You can go, I'll lock everything." But of course Quinn didn't leave immediately. Instead she was suddenly standing next to him, forcing him to look her in the eye by gently taking his chin.
"You need to go home," she said, assertively yet kind.
He shook his head as much as he could while she was holding him. "I need to do some things."
"You're stressing yourself out." Quinn let go of his chin and took his hand instead. "You can talk to me. You know that, right?"
"Of course! Of course," he said quickly, "I just, I - I have a plan. Really."
"Oh, honey," she cooed, "Everything is going to be alright! And we don't even need a plan for that."
He sucked in his lips. His entire body was tense and he knew he had been jumpy for most of the time ever since Blaine showed up again.
"I know," he said, "but I really want to try this and I need an empty kitchen for that anyway." He tried to look at her as honest as possible and she was still looking at him like any minute now she would drag him out of the kitchen by his hair. "I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes," he said, ignoring the little quiver of stress in his voice.
Quinn was still doubting, but nodded eventually. "Okay, but call me as soon as you want to talk or something."
He nodded and she squeezed his hand lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," she said and grabbed her bag before leaving the kitchen, backdoors swaying behind her.
Kurt started to gather the things he needed, disappearing into the pantry to retrieve the vegetables he needed and pulled out a chopping board. There was something utterly peaceful about an empty restaurant's kitchen and after choosing a knife, he started to chop up the fresh leek.
The backdoor made its usual screeching sound and a wave of cold air brushed the skin of his bare arms.
"Forgot something?" he asked absentmindedly, thinking Quinn had come back but when he looked up, Blaine was standing inside his kitchen. He was looking around and Kurt noticed he was just in his chef's uniform, not even a jacket or something.
With a clang he dropped the knife on the chopping board.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" he sneered and Blaine jumped up visibly. His fright didn't last long, already giving Kurt his typical crooked smile.
"Backdoor was open, thought I'd come by and return your spying attempt."
Kurt felt his blood boil, grabbing a towel to clean his hands.
"You already infiltrated last week," he said curtly and Blaine gave him an unimpressed look. He started to wander around the kitchen, taking in every aspect of it and even took out a few items to observe them better. He seemed completely blind for Kurt's soon-to-burst temper.
"It's very you," Blaine suddenly commented and Kurt was thrown aback for a second.
"Excuse me?"
"The kitchen." He gestured around. "Very you. Clean, sophisticated - maybe a little uptight."
Kurt flushed red with anger. "Are you kidding me? Get the hell out of my kitchen or are you forgetting I actually have knives at my disposal?"
The last thing he expected was Blaine to laugh, clear as bell and loud. He appeared in front of the counter Kurt was working on, looking down to the chopped up leek.
"What are you making?" he asked with honest curiosity.
"None of your business."
"Sounds delicious."
Kurt was trying to find ways to make him leave but all he did was grab the counter tighter, making his knuckles turn white. Blaine was inspecting the shape and size of the pieced of leekand it reminded of back in culinary institute how he would always judge his skills.
"I, uhm," Blaine started, sounding shyer than ever, "I'm sorry what happened on Friday. I didn't mean - I didn't expect it would get so much out of hand."
"Really?" Kurt huffed disbelieving. "You're sorry your restaurant beat mine on its first night? Really? Honestly?"
"Hey!" Blaine said louder. "I didn't think it would go like that! I'm trying to apolo-"
"I'm trying to get you out of my kitchen!"
"You're the one that declared war, remember?"
"And you're the one coming here, laughing in my face!"
"I was trying to tell you I was sorry!"
They started to yell at each other, spitting out words that dissolved in each other and neither of them really caught full sentences. The arguing continued, until Blaine shut him up with a proposition:
"You know what this calls for, right?" he said and leaned in forward. "An old fashioned, chef Johnson's cook off."
Kurt swallowed back his next sneer, falling completely silent at the triggering words: cook off. Chef Johnson was their teaching chef for International Cuisine, and he loved setting up two students to his version of a battle royale. He also loved the cook offs between Kurt and Blaine, because neither really wanted to lose to one other.
He licked his lips, pondering the option. "There's no judge," he said. Chef Johnson always decided who had won in the end.
Blaine had sparkles in his eyes and a huge smile on his face, entirely pleased Kurt was definitely considering to accept the cook off.
"We can just do the chopping part, let speed determine the winner." Blaine was so close, Kurt could smell the faint spicy scent that lingered on him. "I'll even let you decide the ingredient, as I'm probably not allowed into your pantry."
Kurt didn't even answer. Instead he ducked underneath the counter and shoved a new chopping board into Blaine's chest. Swiftly he turned around to the pantry, missing Blaine's excited smile as he set up his working place across Kurt's.
A minute later he returned with two equally big carrots and placed them both on his chopping board, giving Blaine the decision to pick which one. Blaine didn't even think it through and grabbed the one closest to him.
"Now, you picked the vegetable," Blaine continued with a devilish grin. "I pick the way."
Kurt stared at him intensely, waiting for the verdict. They could go different ways with carrots, which is why he chose them - plus it was more often used in French cuisine than Italian.
Blaine pursed his lips and Kurt tried not to stare at them.
"Brunoise," he finally said.
Kurt let out the breath he had been holding. He knew it had to go between julienne - which were thin strips - or brunoise, which were small dices of about an eighth of an inch and every single one the same size.
"May I?" Blaine pointed to the knives and took out one of his spare chopping knives. Kurt cleaned the one he used for his leek and tossed the already chopped up vegetable aside. Experimenting with new recipes could wait: he needed to beat Blaine first.
They both got ready on each side.
"Clean, peal, dice - yes?" Kurt asked to affirm the rules again.
"Yes," Blaine answered, eyeing one sink he could run to and Kurt eyed his. "En garde?"
"Oui," Kurt answered automatically in French.
"One - two -" Blaine's feet were shuffling and so were Kurt's, ready to run, "three!"
Both took their own carrots and stormed off to rinse them. There wasn't much dirt on Kurt's, but he made sure it was perfect before running back to his station. The adrenaline he always got from cook offs pumped through his veins and was pleased he started to peal before Blaine did.
Sounds of chopping echoed through the kitchen. Kurt tried not to pay attention to Blaine's, but he knew he was going fast - almost at lightning speed and when Kurt was finally dicing instead of slicing Blaine put down his knife.
"Done," he said self-satisfied and time stopped. Kurt looked up to find indeed perfectly brunoise chopped carrot on Blaine's board. With the adrenaline still flowing heavily through his body, he raised his hand holding the knife and forced it in deep into the board, tip first.
He acknowledged Blaine saying something along the lines of ‘Woah', but Kurt was too busy cussing and ranting in several languages.
Blaine subtly put his knife away so Kurt didn't see it and tried to shush him.
"Kurt - Kurt -" he said calmly, breaking through the anger. "Kurt, come on, it's just food -"
Abruptly he became silent, staring at Blaine with big, red-rimmed eyes and Blaine was extremely happy there was a counter between them.
"Just food?" Kurt said incredulously. "It's never just food. It's never just cooking." His voice was rising and he knew he was getting too passionate, but somehow he felt the need to get this out of his system. The stress, the anger - everything was bottled up inside him and it needed to come out. "If you think your job is just a job, than I am ashamed that we share this profession. I can't believe you! It's just food? Food is the only thing every human has in common! I cook because I know a person out there loves it and therefore loves me," he closed his eyes, "and I will keep on cooking for them until I find that fucking person I truly love and I will only cook for him - because I want my damned -"
"Il vero amore," Blaine filled in for him softly and Kurt's eyes snapped open to find Blaine next to him instead of behind the counter. He was close - too close, and he was getting even closer. Kurt didn't know what to say anymore because Blaine's expression was completely vulnerable. His lips were parted, moving slightly as if he was trying to say something but refrained. Kurt tried to step back to create distance, only to feel the edge of the counter press against his back.
Blaine trapped him between his body and the counter, his eyes searching Kurt's face for something. Suddenly everything moved too quickly: Blaine pressing against him, his hand cupping Kurt's jaw and pulling him down to crash their lips together.
Kurt was confused at first, unaware of what was happening, but then Blaine hummed against his lips and he was drowning in the missed feeling of being kissed. His hand reached up to grab the fabric of Blaine's uniform, tugging him closer and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss even more.
Blaine let out an approving noise, letting his hand draw from Kurt's jaw to his hair and gripped a few locks tightly.
Feeling bold, and having the need to control the kiss, Kurt slipped in his tongue and Blaine accepted it gratefully. Espresso, Kurt thought at first when the specific taste of Blaine hit his taste buds. But it wasn't just espresso and the urge to know what it was, was bigger than continuing to kiss. He pulled away, under many protesting mewls coming from Blaine, and forced him to look at him instead of letting him kiss his neck.
He licked his lips, still tasting the faint flavor of espresso and without thinking he asked: "Tiramisu?"
Blaine let out a huffed chuckle, smiling at him while his eyes kept on going back to his lips.
"I thought chef Hummel didn't like Italian food?" And he surged forward to steal another kiss. The teasing voice, however, brought Kurt back to reality and he pushed Blaine away. "Kurt -" Blaine said, realizing what was going on.
"What are you doing?" Kurt cursed his pitchy voice.
"I -"
"You kissed me," he said to answer himself.
"You didn't seem to mind it," Blaine replied.
"But - but I, and you - we hate each other." Kurt was riding around in an emotional rollercoaster because one part of him wanted to punch Blaine, but the other part wanted to pull him back into another kiss.
"There's a very fine line between hate," Blaine dared to cup Kurt's face again and he didn't protest, "and love." His thumbs stroked his cheekbones and one went down caress his lower lip briefly. "And don't deny that that just there, felt incredible." His voice was low, except not in the teasing way when he wanted to embarrass or anger Kurt. This tone had an entire different purpose - it was meant to fluster Kurt, to make his blood boil for another reason and to make him feel wanted.
"Don't you want it, Kurt?" Blaine closed the distance again and their bodies were pressed flush against each other. "Don't you just want to let go for once?" His fingers disappeared in his hair and his blunt nails scratched over the skin, making Kurt arch his neck, baring his throat. "Don't you?" Blaine's voice was merely a hum, pressing a soft peck on his Adam's apple.
Kurt let out a whimper. Did he want it? His body was screaming yes, no doubt about that. His skin was begging to be touched, to feel Blaine's strong hands on him and just for once - Kurt felt the need to give himself entirely to someone. But did he want to give himself to Blaine? He arched his neck back so he could look at him, and there was not even a hint of indecision whether Blaine wanted it or not. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips begging to be kissed again and when his tongue darted out for a second; Kurt was completely separated from his mind.
Of course he wanted Blaine - he had always wanted Blaine, even though he's obnoxious, annoying and his own personal plague.
"Do you want it?" Blaine murmured, with his lips so close to his that it was an offer Kurt just couldn't refuse.
Hungrily he locked their lips together, teeth clinking with the force but neither of them cared. Blaine let go of his head to grip the counter, and to keep Kurt as close as possible. There were shuffles behind him and suddenly Blaine broke the kiss to look down at the counter. Before Kurt realized what he was doing, Blaine sent the chopping boards, leek and carrots to the floor to clear out the space and with unsuspected strength, he lifted Kurt with his arms and placed him on the counter.
Even though he was higher than Blaine, he somehow felt more vulnerable and had to bend his back in order to kiss him again. The warmth of Blaine's hands was almost burning through Kurt's pants, as his fingers dug in deep to feel his thighs. It was going fast and messy, and frankly - Kurt didn't even care.
The arms that placed him on the counter were quickly pulling him off again, and he lowered Kurt onto the floor. The cold tiles touched his back and he was happy the food and items Blaine had thrown off the counter were on the other side.
Blaine straddled him right on the hips, grinding down in reflex and both of them let out a strangled moan.
"You're so hot," Blaine gasped, taking Kurt's arms and placed them above his head. "You already looked gorgeous in your student uniform, but fuck, Kurt - I couldn't have even dreamed you would fill out chef whites this well." His hands stroked down his arms, all the way to his chest where his fingers lingered at the first set of buttons. "I've always wanted to do this," he said huskily and popped open the first button, "always wondered how you would look when I'd do this." He leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against Kurt's, and Kurt kissed back languidly. "And truth be told," he breathed as his fingers blindly did the rest of the buttons, "You look even more beautiful than I ever imagined."
Air hit his skin as he forwent his undershirt that day, and Blaine's hand slipped underneath the partially open shirt. His fingers quickly found an already perked up nipple and Kurt couldn't help but buck his hips up when Blaine tweaked it gently.
A shuddered chuckle escaped Blaine's lips, grinding down to answer Kurt's movement. Oh God, he was so hard, and as Blaine rolled his hips - Kurt could feel he was hard too.
One hand remained teasing his nipple as the other one traveled south, reaching his zipper and Blaine pushed himself up with his legs so their crotches were no longer touching. Kurt let out a protesting whimper, but it died quickly when Blaine shamelessly cupped him through his pants.
Blaine leaned forward again, their faces aligned as Kurt was trembling underneath his touch.
"Tell me, Kurt -" Blaine whispered, opening the button of his pants and lowering the zipper, "And you're allowed to show, rather than tell -" His hand went into his boxer briefs and Kurt came completely undone when his fingertips briefly touched the head of his aching cock. "Do you speak French to your lovers?"
"Oui!" Kurt cried out, and Blaine took him entirely into his hand. His fingers were rough and calloused and mercifully, absolutely mercifully, perfect. He stroked up, freeing him from his boxer briefs and pants altogether and almost teasingly continued to jerk him off. "Mon Dieu, s'il te plaît -"
"Fuck, Kurt!" Blaine fastened his pace, keeping his eyes on Kurt's face rather than on his cock and started to grind down onto Kurt's thigh. "Come on, mio caro, let me hear you scream."
Kurt did so immediately, huffing out tiny moans after and his arms felt heavy when he reached up to grab Blaine's face. He needed to kiss him, to show him he wanted it - that he wanted him. The kiss was messy, with too much tongue and no finesse, but it was utterly blissful. Kurt sat up, throwing his arms around Blaine's neck and kept him on his lap. Blaine hummed approvingly against his mouth and rolled down harder onto his thigh, gasping at the friction.
Kurt was getting close, his orgasm boiling up low in his stomach and soon enough he threw his head back as he came. Blaine sped up his grinding while stroking Kurt through his orgasm and stared at him in amazement. Kurt let go of his neck and fell back onto the hard ground.
"Kurt," Blaine whimpered and started to come into his pants. "Mio caro bello, sei bellissimo."
Kurt was feeling entirely spent, smiling up languidly at Blaine and allowed him to drop his dead weight onto his chest. His face was buried into the crook of Kurt's neck, breathing heavily as he returned from his post-orgasmic state.
"Come home with me?" he asked softly, pressing a kiss to his throat. "I have a very nice rug on the floor, way more comfortable than this." Another kiss. "And a bed." Another one. "And some tiramisu..."
In response Kurt hummed, and he blamed his light-headedness when he answered: "Yes."
[ next course]
