By The Bay (Part 1)
anonymous
August 19 2010, 07:51:53 UTC
This is first anon filler posting. I hope this is liked. I sense some fail in there somewhere though. Also other anon is welcome to do this too. =)
Alfred Jones had been lucky to find a job really, or at least one that didn't involve having to repeat the phrase, 'Would you like fries with that?' constantly. Not that he would have minded that but his friend, Toris, reminded him that Fast Food pay is cheap and College tuition is not.
Therefor, he had ended up here. where exactly was here again? Oh yeah the restaurant 'By The Bay'(quite literally named), owned exclusively by the town's Yacht Club. It was a place that anyone with social climbing ambitions would sue to get into.
So finding himself standing in the kitchen that would have put any and every burger place to shame, with it's shining silver stove tops and white marble counters, was a little exciting.
He beamed at his new surrounding work place wearing an expression of triumph for being hired nearly on the spot. Despite this he couldn't help but feel a tiny knot gnawing at his insides. He'd never been somewhere that seemed so, for utter lack of a better word, perfect. Inside and out of what he had been introduced to was spotless.
He was busy admiring the expensive looking deep blue wallpaper when something was shoved into his hands. Looking down he had been given what appeared to be his uniform by the head chef who had been showing him around.
"Do you want me to put it on?" He asked, thinking later that it had been a stupid question.
"but of course, Dinner starts in an hour and you certainly aren't going around looking like...that." The chef, who had a french accent, gestured at his blue jeans and sneakers then extravagantly pointed towards a room where he could change.
Twenty Minutes later he walked back into the kitchen feeling slightly uncomfortable in a white button up shirt under a neat black waiter's vest, black slacks and a tie. To top it all off, he had a black half apron tied around his waist. His sneakers remained, he had not been given any other shoes so he guessed they would do for now. No one would be looking at his feet anyway.
The first thing he noticed was that the kitchen was occupied by a number of people now. All focused on whatever task they had before them, only a few looked up when he came in.
He spotting the blond Frenchman, who was the only one he knew, giving out order's while stirring something in a big silver bowl. Alfred approached him with a grin on his face ready to do his best.
"Ah, you look much better." The chef said without looking up from his work. "Now,take one of the note pads by the dining room door and get out there. I'm sure taking order's won't be too hard for you, non?"
"Right! Hero on the job!" He said energetically, turning on his heels and heading through the double doors into the dining area. Pad and pen in hand.
What he didn't see was the head chef glancing after him, shaking his head with a small grin on his face as he watched Alfred go.
By The Bay (Part 2)
anonymous
August 19 2010, 07:55:11 UTC
Taking order was indeed quite easy for the most part. He could flash that charming grin he was known for and people would feel at ease. Even when he was asked to recommend something he could glance down at the menu and retort with whatever item his eyes fell apon. He figured a place this fancy everything had to be tasty right?
Everything was going swimmingly. He was thinking that he could really get used to this, as he was bringing some empty dishes back into the kitchen when a loud shout punctuated his bubble of contentment.
"WHY IS MY BLOODY FLOOR DIRTY!" The shout was accented in a way that was very clearly British. It seemed odd to Alfred, who was still getting used to the head chef's french accent.
He looked at the source of the voice and saw a man facing away from him, bent over inspecting a smudge on the floor. Alfred was caught off guard by his eyes focusing immediately on the man's ass. Mentally face facepalming he forced himself to look away and turned towards his destination of the sink instead.
Distracted by his thoughts Alfred didn't realize that half the kitchen had paused at the voice before quickly returning to their work with double the concentration. Only the head chef had bothered himself to look up with a exasperated expression at the noisy person.
"eh, mon ami, technically it is OUR floor and..." the Frenchman was cut off.
"Francis, this is a respectable business we can't have dirty floors!" the British man snapped ignoring all other comments from the other as his eyes scanned the floor again, settling on a pair of sneakers attached to a teenager he had never seen before.
Alfred looked up just in time to see the man making a beeline for him. He flashed his signature smile, if he had been worried it didn't show.
"You there, you little twit. What gave you the idea you could wear such messy shoes in my restaurant!"
Alfred's grin was cemented to his face, he was at a loss for words and determined not to opening his mouth and blow his job by saying something wrong, because he didn't think a single thing he said would have been a good enough excuse for the steamed Brit.
He was saved by the head chef, Francis was his name apparently, who had seen what was about to occur and rushed after his fellow business partner to grasp him on the shoulders.
"Now, Arthur, I just hired him. It's his first day. He was not aware of your dress codes."
The Englishman named Arthur looked over his shoulder at Francis. "Oh, so this is your fault as usual is it?" He toke a long sigh and looked calmer now. He crossed his arms over his chest before looking back at Alfred as if inspecting him.
"Next time I expect you to have a decent pair of dress shoes, and comb your hair...and for queen's sake straighten your tie boy!"
Alfred grin warmed quite a bit as Arthur turn his attention away to some poor Spanish man who was minding his own business chopping tomatoes.
Later that evening when everyone was leaving, Alfred got stuck with a mop in hand making him one of the last people left in the building.
No idea how long this will be. I was not aiming for long or short. Just going until my idea is finished.
Re: By The Bay (Part 2)
anonymous
August 20 2010, 10:34:48 UTC
Ooooh,i love it! Alfred is adorable here,we got a mention of his friend toris and of poor kitchenman spain (i hope Gilbert is also in the kitchen,to have the full trío...). I'm dying to know what's arthur's part in the business, apart fron bitchingXD. i lovethat france and him share the restaurant...moar!
Re: By The Bay (Part 1)
anonymous
September 3 2010, 04:46:50 UTC
Anon is ashamed that she toke so long to get this out. She promises to hurry her arse up next time.
When Toris walked into the living room of the apartment the next morning he found a surprise in the form of his roommate Alfred sprawled out on the couch still in his new work cloths. Toris just grinned and stepped past him for the time being. He'd wake up soon enough.
That soon enough came when Toris turned to coffee pot on in their tiny kitchen.
Alfred's eyes shot open and an electric pulse jumped up his spine at the scent of hot caffeine. He jumped off of the couch and dove for the kitchen. Once he had his coffee cup in hand and filled to the brim he sighed and sunk himself down into one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table.
Toris was still amused by his roommates morning antics no matter how often they occurred. He sat down at the last empty chair and sat his own glass of juice down in front of him on the table. "So, I suppose it's safe to say that you got that job. Did you have a good first day?"
Alfred grinned, Toris's positive attitude was always welcome after a hectic night, especially one that involved cleaning. "Yeah, it was all right." he replied sipping his coffee and avoiding looking down at his horribly wrinkled uniform. The scrunched up material matched the way his back felt after sleeping on the cheap living room furniture.
For class he had changed out of his uniform, hanging it up in hopes of some gravity de-wrinkling, and put on some comfy cloths. A red, white and blue stripped hoodie and a pair of old worn out jeans.
It was a mistake, he ended up being too comfortable and slept through most of his classes. Head on the desk, he dreamed of serving hamburgers to the school staff.
By the time school ended and he was on his way to the restaurant again, he was fully rested thanks to his naps. He strode as confidently as he could into the restraint. His uniform looking pleasant thanks to Toris ironing it for him during lunch and he had remembered to wear dress shoes, double knotting them for good measure. He had even attempted to beat his messy hair into submission with a comb, but that one spot that always stuck up was unwilling to be conquered despite his efforts.
As soon as he walked into the kitchen he was greeted by a demand," Can you get me some Salmon from the freezer, aru?" asked a short man with his long hair tired back behind him who was busy juggling two woks over the stove.
Jeez, he hadn't even gotten a hello before being put to work, but he didn't mind. This was his job after all. Still he didn't think it would be a bad thing to be friendly.
He did as he was told, and whirled his way around the kitchen until he found the freezer. A big steel doorway in the wall with a temperature gage beside it. The door was heavier then it looked, and it looked pretty heavy to begin with. Leaving the door open behind him, he was fascinated. The freezer was like a walk-in closet full of ice. Meat hung from hooks in the ceiling and the shelves where lines with the finest food, all of it obviously fresh, none of that instant stuff he had so much of back home.
He found the salmon on a shelf near the door, looking like it was straight out of the water, only frozen, eyes staring back at him ominously. It kinda gave him the creeps. He decided he preferred not seeing his own food before it was made.
By The Bay (Part 4)
anonymous
September 3 2010, 04:55:40 UTC
oh god, that's supposed to be part three up there. Ignore the horrible fail. It's midnight and I have class in the morning.
He turned to exit the freezer with an armful of fish only to nearly dropped it all at the person who had snuck up behind him. There he was again, that angry Brit.
"What are you doing? Why aren't you out there taking orders like a good waiter boy?"
Alfred found his grip on the fish loosening, melting ice wasn't the easiest thing to hold onto. "Well, someone asked me for help. Was I supposed to say no?" he asked rather innocently.
Arthur seemed slightly ruffled at his response. He crossed his arms again, it seemed to be a habit of his, though it didn't make him look as manly as he probably thought it did. " I'll overlook it this time."
Arthur continued to stand in his way however, inspecting him for any further faults all the while Alfred's arms were growing frostbite he was sure, as the icy melting of the fish began dripping down his arms. They slipped further down until he was using his knee to keep them in place. He was sure the Englishman was continuing to block his way on purpose now.
"Sir, unless you want your floor messy again..." Alfred trailed off leaving the implications of his statement unspoken.
"Don't you dare drop anything! I'll take it straight out of your paycheck!" At this Arthur turned on his heel and let Alfred go about his business. Just in time too as he hobbled over to the Asian cook who had a basket waiting for him to drop the fish into.
Glad to be relieved of his fishy burden he whipped his hands on his apron, which was equal soggy at this point and did little to help. That was when a towel was thrown over his head momentarily blocking his vision. There was a suspiciously french sounding laugh though that he wasn't all that surprised to hear. "Francis? Is that you?" he asked pulling the towel off and whipping his hands with it.
"Looks like you needed a hand, Si?"
Ok, that sounded Spanish. Just how many people with accents worked here? He finally turned around and saw the head chef and the worker that was always seemed to have tomatoes in hand. They seemed chummy together, like old pals.
"Good to see you came back, I almost thought our little Arthur scared you off." Francis said patting him on the shoulder.
"He doesn't scare me", Alfred said setting the used towel down on the counter beside him. His hero instincts wouldn't let him admit fear even if that was the case. No, it wasn't fear he felt when Arthur confronted him, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was either. He decided not to think about it, after all it was only his second day, Maybe the Brit just didn't like new people.
T.T The beginning of this part was horrible. I hope you like it anyways. I should be updating more frequently from now on...hopefully >.> Anyways the freezer will show up again later and I will be including prussia but not in the kitchen. Teehee ~ In heaven the German's are engineers~ after all.
Re: By The Bay (Part 4)
anonymous
September 3 2010, 06:04:24 UTC
Oh you're back and yay for more freq. update.
Ok, that sounded Spanish. Just how many people with accents worked here?
Major LOL at this. Most writers don't touch on the fact that all the character are different race and ethnicity which would seem a bit different in RL, seeing as how we (or at least just the U.S) tend to associate with members of the same group. Ah well, thanks for updating.
By The Bay (Part 5)
anonymous
September 17 2010, 02:06:39 UTC
Sort of a wrap up to the last chapter.
"Well, regardless, I suggest you get to work." Francis said to Alfred giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before leading the smiling Spanish man away back to the depths of the kitchen.
Alfred grinned, a skip in his step again as he grabbed his notepad from the rack by the door and headed into the dining room. He had gotten the hang of taking orders quickly and he plowed through any small troubles that popped up.
Half way through his shift he was taking orders out, porcelain plates balanced in his hands as he made his way across the carpeted floor. He blamed it on a lump in that carpet when he looked back at the kitchen door and tripped. In reality he had seen a certain Brit's face in the window of the door watching him.
The face disappeared just as quickly as he had noticed it. He kicked at the nonexistent wrinkle in the carpet and continued to the table he was delivering too. As he made sure everything was in order in with patrons he couldn't help but feel like he was in a challenge. If Arthur was going to watch him, then he wasn't going to give him a chance to see him mess up. He'd show that he deserved his job.
By the time his shift was over that night Alfred was feeling rather accomplished. He almost felt like someone should congratulate him but the dining room was empty and he had removed his black black vest and loosened his tie to relax a bit.
It was quiet, only few people were left cleaning up and preparing things for tomorrow. He slung his discarded vest over his shoulder and walked out to his car.
That night he got home in time to change into his pajamas, and fall asleep watching the late show on TV, comfortable in his bed.
Short update but don't panic, almost finished with the next part, should be up tonight or tomorrow.
By The Bay (Part 6)
anonymous
September 17 2010, 04:35:58 UTC
and here's the rest of tonight's update yayy. I'm almost rather happy with this one.
Things went on like this until Alfred fell into a comfortable pace. Class during the day and work at night. There were few variations but generally the main things stayed the same: Francis would greet him when he came in, he would wait tables, Arthur would be watching him every now and then when he looked over his shoulder and on occasionally would nag him about some aspect of his appearance or such.
He got used to Arthur's bark being worse then his bite and very rarely did he ever mess up enough to have to stay behind and clean anymore. In fact, Alfred found, when Arthur wasn't yelling, his complaints were actually kind of doting he thought. Not that he would ever admit this, for fear of being sacked or worse.
He had been told plenty of horror stories though, by Francis's friend the Spaniard, who Alfred had learned was named Antonio, and by the Chinese man who he had helped with the fish before, Yao. It seemed not all the employees were as relaxed with Arthur as Francis was. He wondered why.
So one day, being the straight forward person he was, he just asked.
"Hey Francis, why is everyone afraid of Arthur?"
The older man looked mildly surprised at the youths question as he shoved some French pastry into the oven one night.
"Well, He is British, non, and being so he is very grumpy at times."
Alfred was about to say that didn't answer his question at all when the Frenchman leisurely leaned against the counter after taking his oven mitts off and continued.
"..the problem lyes in the fact that he controls everyone's paychecks. He is the brains of the operation, if you will. He is the manager here, and President of the Yacht Club. So if he wills it people can be dismissed from this luxury, ...except me, Arthur will never be rid of me."
At this Francis did a laugh that echoed his cultural roots.
The young American was curious at this, why was Francis so different. Why should he be above the rest wasn't that a little unfair. Unless he and Arthur had something. Alfred made a face at the thought. He didn't like it, but surely he was over thinking things. They were both men after all, although he had seen first hand that it had never stopped Francis being flirty with people like Antonio.
"Why is that?" Alfred asked innocently as he stepped across to the sink on the other side of the counter. Sticking his hands in the soapy water, more fumbling around then cleaning. It gave him the appearance of being busy with something so that he could continue to talk without being pushed off to something else.
"Why?" Francis echoed his question still giggling. "Let's just say there is a reason I am the head chef and he is not." He leaned over at this and whispered over to Alfred now, cupping his hands ever so slightly as if what he was saying was a secret.
"He needs me around. He is not very good with food. When he first started he tried to work in the kitchen alongside me but I quickly pushed him into something he was more suited for. After all, how were we supposed to gain good standing with him sending out his burnt cuisine."
At this Alfred did laugh, so that's why Arthur simply haunted the kitchen when he was around. It made sense, his thoughts were calming when the head chef decided to add a little more to his monologue with a mischievous smile.
"Although, there is a little bit more to the story, but that Mon Cher, is for another day."
Something in his gut seemed to fall like a heavy rock. He ignored it and shifted in his place as Francis left the oven side and pulled his hands out of the water, giving his a towel. "It wouldn't do for waiters to have pruned hands." He said playfully before turning back to his own work. The conversation obviously abandoned.
By The Bay (Part 7)
anonymous
September 17 2010, 04:43:24 UTC
He went about his real work with his usual smile, but Arthur wasn't watching him today. No matter when he turned around, or looked over his shoulder. He never saw that mysterious and obvious figure looking at him from the window of the kitchen. Somehow, he didn't enjoy his rounds as much that night either.
Somewhere towards the end of the night his cheery smile started to fade. It might have been for a number of reasons but it didn't go away until someone pointed it out.
"Why do you look so down today, eh?" Asked a quiet voice from the table he was at. He actually had to look around for the source of the voice even though the person was sitting right in front of him.
"Do I know you?" He asked with a look of surprise on his face at such a seemingly casual question when most of the people here were uptight and stiff as a board.
The stranger's face fell by a fraction. "You've been serving me every night for quite awhile now. Do you really not remember my face?" When Alfred just stared at him blankly. He had wavy blonde hair with a single piece that curled and fell into his face, over glasses and blue eyes. He wore what would be casual against the dressy stuff that he'd seen most folks where around here, a hoodie and jeans. This was, a normal kid just like him.
The boy looked off to the side, a little disappointed," Well, I guess you do see a lot of people everyday so of course I wouldn't be recognized."
It didn't hit Alfred until he looked down at the plant in his hands and sat it in front of it's recipient. "Oh, you the one who always orders pancakes for dinner!" Sure, it made sense... "Yeah, that's me" The boy said glad to be remembered for something, even if it was only what he ate. "My name's Matthew!" He said holding out a hand to Alfred.
Alfred had never shook a customer's hand before but he decided that he liked it. This Matthew was cool, even if he ate pancakes for dinner.
"So, why so glum?" Matthew asked him again with a patient smile on his face.
"Ya know, I don't even remember why now." Alfred said his own smile returning now. He was overjoyed to have found a friend outside of the kitchen and he pushed his mind away from the absence of that certain British man.
I've had the idea that Canada would be a regular visiter for quite awhile. I was so happy that I finally got to it and poor Alfred, reading too much into things becuase he's jealous maybe? Hmmm. Sorry for the lack of Arthur actully showing up in this chapter I hope this update was satisfactory for everone.
I'm really loving Alfred's characterization in this and his growing...attention about Arthur wanting to know his history missing his presence when it wasn't around. Francis and the rest of the cast is really good too!
By The Bay (Part 8)
anonymous
October 9 2010, 06:04:21 UTC
Sorry if this toke awhile. I got swamped with essays, then a trip across state, then got sick BI. Despite this, I think I like this chapter, I hope you do too.
He hadn't seen Arthur for two days now, not that he was counting or anything. It was only two days, two days in which he had avoided anymore extensive talks with Francis and had gotten to know Matthew better. He stuck to his work and it wasn't exactly exciting.
He had been in the kitchen adjusting his ever crooked tie when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Alfred nearly jumped out of his apron and turned to find Antonio's smiling face staring at him. Alfred shuffled back a few steps and turned to face him properly. "What is it? You nearly scared me to death!"
Antonio just continued to smile at him cheerfully,"Calm down, I'm not trying to scare anyone." Alfred believed him, after all Antonio was possible the friendliest guy in the restaurant. "Although, I am supposed to tell you that Arthur wants to see you in his office."
Alfred's eyes widened and he stood there letting his brain catch up with what he had just heard come out of the Spaniard's mouth. When it finally did words came tumbling out but not quite the ones he had intended, instead he heard himself say curiously, "Arthur has an office?" He hadn't faintest idea that the Englishman had an office but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. " and he wants to see me?"
"Si" Antonio said giving Alfred a playful tap on the shoulder when he just stood there. When that didn't work he toke the American by the shoulders and steered him through the kitchen until they stopped in front of a short hallway of the side of the kitchen near the backdoor.
The hallway was generally dark, lit only by a few long florescent placed every few feet. There were three doors: one on the left, which Alfred vaguely remembered was a broom closet; one on the right, which was a mystery and one at the very end of the hallway. That last door's window emitted enough light for him to see in through the clear glass. From there he could just make out the form of a hunched over figure, strands of fly away blonde hair bobbing in and out of sight.
Alfred came back to reality when Antonio gave him an encouraging push forwards and said," There it is, good luck." before turning to head back to his station in the kitchen.
Alfred felt anxious for a reason he couldn't place. He wasn't sure if being asked your bosses office was a good or bad thing. He couldn't for the life of him think of anything he had messed up on lately though, so surely he wasn't about to be reprimanded.
Alfred Jones had been lucky to find a job really, or at least one that didn't involve having to repeat the phrase, 'Would you like fries with that?' constantly. Not that he would have minded that but his friend, Toris, reminded him that Fast Food pay is cheap and College tuition is not.
Therefor, he had ended up here. where exactly was here again? Oh yeah the restaurant 'By The Bay'(quite literally named), owned exclusively by the town's Yacht Club. It was a place that anyone with social climbing ambitions would sue to get into.
So finding himself standing in the kitchen that would have put any and every burger place to shame, with it's shining silver stove tops and white marble counters, was a little exciting.
He beamed at his new surrounding work place wearing an expression of triumph for being hired nearly on the spot. Despite this he couldn't help but feel a tiny knot gnawing at his insides. He'd never been somewhere that seemed so, for utter lack of a better word, perfect. Inside and out of what he had been introduced to was spotless.
He was busy admiring the expensive looking deep blue wallpaper when something was shoved into his hands. Looking down he had been given what appeared to be his uniform by the head chef who had been showing him around.
"Do you want me to put it on?" He asked, thinking later that it had been a stupid question.
"but of course, Dinner starts in an hour and you certainly aren't going around looking like...that." The chef, who had a french accent, gestured at his blue jeans and sneakers then extravagantly pointed towards a room where he could change.
Twenty Minutes later he walked back into the kitchen feeling slightly uncomfortable in a white button up shirt under a neat black waiter's vest, black slacks and a tie. To top it all off, he had a black half apron tied around his waist. His sneakers remained, he had not been given any other shoes so he guessed they would do for now. No one would be looking at his feet anyway.
The first thing he noticed was that the kitchen was occupied by a number of people now. All focused on whatever task they had before them, only a few looked up when he came in.
He spotting the blond Frenchman, who was the only one he knew, giving out order's while stirring something in a big silver bowl. Alfred approached him with a grin on his face ready to do his best.
"Ah, you look much better." The chef said without looking up from his work. "Now,take one of the note pads by the dining room door and get out there. I'm sure taking order's won't be too hard for you, non?"
"Right! Hero on the job!" He said energetically, turning on his heels and heading through the double doors into the dining area. Pad and pen in hand.
What he didn't see was the head chef glancing after him, shaking his head with a small grin on his face as he watched Alfred go.
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Everything was going swimmingly. He was thinking that he could really get used to this, as he was bringing some empty dishes back into the kitchen when a loud shout punctuated his bubble of contentment.
"WHY IS MY BLOODY FLOOR DIRTY!" The shout was accented in a way that was very clearly British. It seemed odd to Alfred, who was still getting used to the head chef's french accent.
He looked at the source of the voice and saw a man facing away from him, bent over inspecting a smudge on the floor. Alfred was caught off guard by his eyes focusing immediately on the man's ass. Mentally face facepalming he forced himself to look away and turned towards his destination of the sink instead.
Distracted by his thoughts Alfred didn't realize that half the kitchen had paused at the voice before quickly returning to their work with double the concentration. Only the head chef had bothered himself to look up with a exasperated expression at the noisy person.
"eh, mon ami, technically it is OUR floor and..." the Frenchman was cut off.
"Francis, this is a respectable business we can't have dirty floors!" the British man snapped ignoring all other comments from the other as his eyes scanned the floor again, settling on a pair of sneakers attached to a teenager he had never seen before.
Alfred looked up just in time to see the man making a beeline for him. He flashed his signature smile, if he had been worried it didn't show.
"You there, you little twit. What gave you the idea you could wear such messy shoes in my restaurant!"
Alfred's grin was cemented to his face, he was at a loss for words and determined not to opening his mouth and blow his job by saying something wrong, because he didn't think a single thing he said would have been a good enough excuse for the steamed Brit.
He was saved by the head chef, Francis was his name apparently, who had seen what was about to occur and rushed after his fellow business partner to grasp him on the shoulders.
"Now, Arthur, I just hired him. It's his first day. He was not aware of your dress codes."
The Englishman named Arthur looked over his shoulder at Francis. "Oh, so this is your fault as usual is it?" He toke a long sigh and looked calmer now. He crossed his arms over his chest before looking back at Alfred as if inspecting him.
"Next time I expect you to have a decent pair of dress shoes, and comb your hair...and for queen's sake straighten your tie boy!"
Alfred grin warmed quite a bit as Arthur turn his attention away to some poor Spanish man who was minding his own business chopping tomatoes.
Later that evening when everyone was leaving, Alfred got stuck with a mop in hand making him one of the last people left in the building.
No idea how long this will be. I was not aiming for long or short. Just going until my idea is finished.
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Thank you so much for this!
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When Toris walked into the living room of the apartment the next morning he found a surprise in the form of his roommate Alfred sprawled out on the couch still in his new work cloths. Toris just grinned and stepped past him for the time being. He'd wake up soon enough.
That soon enough came when Toris turned to coffee pot on in their tiny kitchen.
Alfred's eyes shot open and an electric pulse jumped up his spine at the scent of hot caffeine. He jumped off of the couch and dove for the kitchen. Once he had his coffee cup in hand and filled to the brim he sighed and sunk himself down into one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table.
Toris was still amused by his roommates morning antics no matter how often they occurred. He sat down at the last empty chair and sat his own glass of juice down in front of him on the table. "So, I suppose it's safe to say that you got that job. Did you have a good first day?"
Alfred grinned, Toris's positive attitude was always welcome after a hectic night, especially one that involved cleaning. "Yeah, it was all right." he replied sipping his coffee and avoiding looking down at his horribly wrinkled uniform. The scrunched up material matched the way his back felt after sleeping on the cheap living room furniture.
For class he had changed out of his uniform, hanging it up in hopes of some gravity de-wrinkling, and put on some comfy cloths. A red, white and blue stripped hoodie and a pair of old worn out jeans.
It was a mistake, he ended up being too comfortable and slept through most of his classes. Head on the desk, he dreamed of serving hamburgers to the school staff.
By the time school ended and he was on his way to the restaurant again, he was fully rested thanks to his naps. He strode as confidently as he could into the restraint. His uniform looking pleasant thanks to Toris ironing it for him during lunch and he had remembered to wear dress shoes, double knotting them for good measure. He had even attempted to beat his messy hair into submission with a comb, but that one spot that always stuck up was unwilling to be conquered despite his efforts.
As soon as he walked into the kitchen he was greeted by a demand," Can you get me some Salmon from the freezer, aru?" asked a short man with his long hair tired back behind him who was busy juggling two woks over the stove.
Jeez, he hadn't even gotten a hello before being put to work, but he didn't mind. This was his job after all. Still he didn't think it would be a bad thing to be friendly.
He did as he was told, and whirled his way around the kitchen until he found the freezer. A big steel doorway in the wall with a temperature gage beside it. The door was heavier then it looked, and it looked pretty heavy to begin with. Leaving the door open behind him, he was fascinated. The freezer was like a walk-in closet full of ice. Meat hung from hooks in the ceiling and the shelves where lines with the finest food, all of it obviously fresh, none of that instant stuff he had so much of back home.
He found the salmon on a shelf near the door, looking like it was straight out of the water, only frozen, eyes staring back at him ominously. It kinda gave him the creeps. He decided he preferred not seeing his own food before it was made.
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He turned to exit the freezer with an armful of fish only to nearly dropped it all at the person who had snuck up behind him. There he was again, that angry Brit.
"What are you doing? Why aren't you out there taking orders like a good waiter boy?"
Alfred found his grip on the fish loosening, melting ice wasn't the easiest thing to hold onto. "Well, someone asked me for help. Was I supposed to say no?" he asked rather innocently.
Arthur seemed slightly ruffled at his response. He crossed his arms again, it seemed to be a habit of his, though it didn't make him look as manly as he probably thought it did. " I'll overlook it this time."
Arthur continued to stand in his way however, inspecting him for any further faults all the while Alfred's arms were growing frostbite he was sure, as the icy melting of the fish began dripping down his arms. They slipped further down until he was using his knee to keep them in place. He was sure the Englishman was continuing to block his way on purpose now.
"Sir, unless you want your floor messy again..." Alfred trailed off leaving the implications of his statement unspoken.
"Don't you dare drop anything! I'll take it straight out of your paycheck!" At this Arthur turned on his heel and let Alfred go about his business. Just in time too as he hobbled over to the Asian cook who had a basket waiting for him to drop the fish into.
Glad to be relieved of his fishy burden he whipped his hands on his apron, which was equal soggy at this point and did little to help.
That was when a towel was thrown over his head momentarily blocking his vision. There was a suspiciously french sounding laugh though that he wasn't all that surprised to hear. "Francis? Is that you?" he asked pulling the towel off and whipping his hands with it.
"Looks like you needed a hand, Si?"
Ok, that sounded Spanish. Just how many people with accents worked here? He finally turned around and saw the head chef and the worker that was always seemed to have tomatoes in hand. They seemed chummy together, like old pals.
"Good to see you came back, I almost thought our little Arthur scared you off." Francis said patting him on the shoulder.
"He doesn't scare me", Alfred said setting the used towel down on the counter beside him. His hero instincts wouldn't let him admit fear even if that was the case. No, it wasn't fear he felt when Arthur confronted him, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was either. He decided not to think about it, after all it was only his second day, Maybe the Brit just didn't like new people.
T.T The beginning of this part was horrible. I hope you like it anyways. I should be updating more frequently from now on...hopefully >.> Anyways the freezer will show up again later and I will be including prussia but not in the kitchen. Teehee ~ In heaven the German's are engineers~ after all.
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Ok, that sounded Spanish. Just how many people with accents worked here?
Major LOL at this. Most writers don't touch on the fact that all the character are different race and ethnicity which would seem a bit different in RL, seeing as how we (or at least just the U.S) tend to associate with members of the same group. Ah well, thanks for updating.
p.s, I hope Ludwig also makes appearance too. ^_^
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Love the interplay between the characters especially Arthur and Alfred. Can't wait to see how that relationship progresses. <3
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"Well, regardless, I suggest you get to work." Francis said to Alfred giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before leading the smiling Spanish man away back to the depths of the kitchen.
Alfred grinned, a skip in his step again as he grabbed his notepad from the rack by the door and headed into the dining room. He had gotten the hang of taking orders quickly and he plowed through any small troubles that popped up.
Half way through his shift he was taking orders out, porcelain plates balanced in his hands as he made his way across the carpeted floor. He blamed it on a lump in that carpet when he looked back at the kitchen door and tripped. In reality he had seen a certain Brit's face in the window of the door watching him.
The face disappeared just as quickly as he had noticed it. He kicked at the nonexistent wrinkle in the carpet and continued to the table he was delivering too. As he made sure everything was in order in with patrons he couldn't help but feel like he was in a challenge. If Arthur was going to watch him, then he wasn't going to give him a chance to see him mess up. He'd show that he deserved his job.
By the time his shift was over that night Alfred was feeling rather accomplished. He almost felt like someone should congratulate him but the dining room was empty and he had removed his black black vest and loosened his tie to relax a bit.
It was quiet, only few people were left cleaning up and preparing things for tomorrow. He slung his discarded vest over his shoulder and walked out to his car.
That night he got home in time to change into his pajamas, and fall asleep watching the late show on TV, comfortable in his bed.
Short update but don't panic, almost finished with the next part, should be up tonight or tomorrow.
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Things went on like this until Alfred fell into a comfortable pace. Class during the day and work at night. There were few variations but generally the main things stayed the same: Francis would greet him when he came in, he would wait tables, Arthur would be watching him every now and then when he looked over his shoulder and on occasionally would nag him about some aspect of his appearance or such.
He got used to Arthur's bark being worse then his bite and very rarely did he ever mess up enough to have to stay behind and clean anymore. In fact, Alfred found, when Arthur wasn't yelling, his complaints were actually kind of doting he thought. Not that he would ever admit this, for fear of being sacked or worse.
He had been told plenty of horror stories though, by Francis's friend the Spaniard, who Alfred had learned was named Antonio, and by the Chinese man who he had helped with the fish before, Yao. It seemed not all the employees were as relaxed with Arthur as Francis was. He wondered why.
So one day, being the straight forward person he was, he just asked.
"Hey Francis, why is everyone afraid of Arthur?"
The older man looked mildly surprised at the youths question as he shoved some French pastry into the oven one night.
"Well, He is British, non, and being so he is very grumpy at times."
Alfred was about to say that didn't answer his question at all when the Frenchman leisurely leaned against the counter after taking his oven mitts off and continued.
"..the problem lyes in the fact that he controls everyone's paychecks. He is the brains of the operation, if you will. He is the manager here, and President of the Yacht Club. So if he wills it people can be dismissed from this luxury, ...except me, Arthur will never be rid of me."
At this Francis did a laugh that echoed his cultural roots.
The young American was curious at this, why was Francis so different. Why should he be above the rest wasn't that a little unfair. Unless he and Arthur had something. Alfred made a face at the thought. He didn't like it, but surely he was over thinking things. They were both men after all, although he had seen first hand that it had never stopped Francis being flirty with people like Antonio.
"Why is that?" Alfred asked innocently as he stepped across to the sink on the other side of the counter. Sticking his hands in the soapy water, more fumbling around then cleaning. It gave him the appearance of being busy with something so that he could continue to talk without being pushed off to something else.
"Why?" Francis echoed his question still giggling. "Let's just say there is a reason I am the head chef and he is not." He leaned over at this and whispered over to Alfred now, cupping his hands ever so slightly as if what he was saying was a secret.
"He needs me around. He is not very good with food. When he first started he tried to work in the kitchen alongside me but I quickly pushed him into something he was more suited for. After all, how were we supposed to gain good standing with him sending out his burnt cuisine."
At this Alfred did laugh, so that's why Arthur simply haunted the kitchen when he was around. It made sense, his thoughts were calming when the head chef decided to add a little more to his monologue with a mischievous smile.
"Although, there is a little bit more to the story, but that Mon Cher, is for another day."
Something in his gut seemed to fall like a heavy rock. He ignored it and shifted in his place as Francis left the oven side and pulled his hands out of the water, giving his a towel. "It wouldn't do for waiters to have pruned hands." He said playfully before turning back to his own work. The conversation obviously abandoned.
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Somewhere towards the end of the night his cheery smile started to fade. It might have been for a number of reasons but it didn't go away until someone pointed it out.
"Why do you look so down today, eh?" Asked a quiet voice from the table he was at. He actually had to look around for the source of the voice even though the person was sitting right in front of him.
"Do I know you?" He asked with a look of surprise on his face at such a seemingly casual question when most of the people here were uptight and stiff as a board.
The stranger's face fell by a fraction. "You've been serving me every night for quite awhile now. Do you really not remember my face?" When Alfred just stared at him blankly. He had wavy blonde hair with a single piece that curled and fell into his face, over glasses and blue eyes. He wore what would be casual against the dressy stuff that he'd seen most folks where around here, a hoodie and jeans. This was, a normal kid just like him.
The boy looked off to the side, a little disappointed," Well, I guess you do see a lot of people everyday so of course I wouldn't be recognized."
It didn't hit Alfred until he looked down at the plant in his hands and sat it in front of it's recipient. "Oh, you the one who always orders pancakes for dinner!" Sure, it made sense...
"Yeah, that's me" The boy said glad to be remembered for something, even if it was only what he ate. "My name's Matthew!" He said holding out a hand to Alfred.
Alfred had never shook a customer's hand before but he decided that he liked it. This Matthew was cool, even if he ate pancakes for dinner.
"So, why so glum?" Matthew asked him again with a patient smile on his face.
"Ya know, I don't even remember why now." Alfred said his own smile returning now. He was overjoyed to have found a friend outside of the kitchen and he pushed his mind away from the absence of that certain British man.
I've had the idea that Canada would be a regular visiter for quite awhile. I was so happy that I finally got to it and poor Alfred, reading too much into things becuase he's jealous maybe? Hmmm. Sorry for the lack of Arthur actully showing up in this chapter I hope this update was satisfactory for everone.
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I'm really loving Alfred's characterization in this and his growing...attention about Arthur wanting to know his history missing his presence when it wasn't around. Francis and the rest of the cast is really good too!
Can't wait to see where this is headed next!
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Please do go on :)
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He hadn't seen Arthur for two days now, not that he was counting or anything. It was only two days, two days in which he had avoided anymore extensive talks with Francis and had gotten to know Matthew better. He stuck to his work and it wasn't exactly exciting.
He had been in the kitchen adjusting his ever crooked tie when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Alfred nearly jumped out of his apron and turned to find Antonio's smiling face staring at him. Alfred shuffled back a few steps and turned to face him properly. "What is it? You nearly scared me to death!"
Antonio just continued to smile at him cheerfully,"Calm down, I'm not trying to scare anyone." Alfred believed him, after all Antonio was possible the friendliest guy in the restaurant. "Although, I am supposed to tell you that Arthur wants to see you in his office."
Alfred's eyes widened and he stood there letting his brain catch up with what he had just heard come out of the Spaniard's mouth. When it finally did words came tumbling out but not quite the ones he had intended, instead he heard himself say curiously, "Arthur has an office?" He hadn't faintest idea that the Englishman had an office but now that he thought about it, it did make sense. " and he wants to see me?"
"Si" Antonio said giving Alfred a playful tap on the shoulder when he just stood there. When that didn't work he toke the American by the shoulders and steered him through the kitchen until they stopped in front of a short hallway of the side of the kitchen near the backdoor.
The hallway was generally dark, lit only by a few long florescent placed every few feet. There were three doors: one on the left, which Alfred vaguely remembered was a broom closet; one on the right, which was a mystery and one at the very end of the hallway. That last door's window emitted enough light for him to see in through the clear glass. From there he could just make out the form of a hunched over figure, strands of fly away blonde hair bobbing in and out of sight.
Alfred came back to reality when Antonio gave him an encouraging push forwards and said," There it is, good luck." before turning to head back to his station in the kitchen.
Alfred felt anxious for a reason he couldn't place. He wasn't sure if being asked your bosses office was a good or bad thing. He couldn't for the life of him think of anything he had messed up on lately though, so surely he wasn't about to be reprimanded.
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