Fill - puis libre enfin
Prompt: this one
Pairing(s): Alfredo/Remy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Remy thinks back on a very important day in his life.
Note: I've been waiting for this prompt to get filled since it was posted some time ago - I guess all I needed was a bit of time on my hands to go for it myself :DD
Disclaimer: This fic contains some references/direct quotes from the 2007 movie, which is property of Walt Disney Studios and Brad Bird; no copyright infrigment intended.
on ao3 | at disney_kink
Remy laughs, a little giddy and slightly breathless, as he speeds through the tiny Parisian street on his new Rollerblades. He clutches at his boyfriend's hands, trying not to fall when he turns to stare at the way the wind blows his red hair in his face. This is Alfredo.
All things considered, Remy thinks it's apparent that he's pretty happy with his life right now.
Remy meets Alfredo on a Monday, which sounds kind of irrelevant when he says it like that, but it's not just any Monday - that day also marks the beginning of Remy's successful career at Gusteau's, something that no, he'll never stop being smug about.
Well, it isn't that successful at first. Remy actually starts out as a replacement-trainee chef, and even though that's not much by general standards, Remy's practically ecstatic at the time.
It's actually a first day for the both of them, Remy and Alfredo. There is one tiny difference, though - let's just say, Alfredo's career doesn't start out all that gloriously, either, if only because he's, well - the new garbage boy.
Remy doesn't really pay him any attention at first. If there's anything he's learned from Gusteau's book - and there is; they don't consistently call him a book rat for nothing - it's how to pick the important people in the kitchen from, well, the not important ones. Alfredo falls under the second category, and anyway, Remy has other things on his mind right then - the first being the fact that he's never had to work in this kind of restaurant before.
He means the big, busy, city, gourmet kind.
The thing is, Remy's only worked in bistros before, mostly just waiting tables, and he's never been to a single restaurant in Paris, much less a chef in one. It's bigger than anything he's used to, actually, it's bigger than anything they had in the small town in the outskirts of the city where he grew up. Remy's more than a little overwhelmed and definitely high-strung, even though this job is his actual childhood dream.
The kitchen isn't crowded, but it's busy, what with the fires burning from all directions and everybody talking over each other, barking dish orders all around. Remy has to pay extra attention to Mdlle. Tatou to catch what she's telling him about keeping his station clean (practical tricks; Remy's actually surprised that he's made it this far in life without somehow picking them up) while she's also chopping vegetables furiously and yelling back at the Sous whenever he asks something about the dish.
Honestly, that woman is a little intimidating.
It probably doesn't help Remy's situation that he's completely distracted. Surviving his first day on the clock, making a good impression? - it's important, very important, but it isn't really the only thing on his mind at the moment.
Usually, he'd be working his ass off in the face of such an opportunity, but tonight marks not only his first day at Gusteau's (honestly, it's a wonder they took him, considering his obvious lack of working experience), but in Paris in general, which. Is a problem.
Not that Paris itself is problem, because it isn't - Paris at night is easily the best thing he's ever seen in his entire life - with its many lights, fluorescent windows and shop displays, the way the streets are practically coming alive with light, and a big, open sky, it's better than anything he could've imagined living in the countryside.
No, the problem is, Remy actually has nowhere to go after closing hours. He hasn't packed much, just the money for the ticket he used to get here and some spare clothes in a satchel. He'd left in a hurry - more like, got kicked out when he told his dad he'd applied to be a cook in Paris of all things - and came to Gusteau's immediately after getting in the city. He doesn't think he'll manage to pay a room in a hotel with the cash he has on hand, at least not for the whole month he has to wait until his first paycheck. He doesn't even know any cheap hotels, and there's no way he's asking his colleagues.
With those sorts of thoughts floating in his head as he mixes ingredients under Tatou's scrutiny, Remy doesn't really care to pay attention to the newest addition to the kitchen aside from himself. He does the scraps of a conversation that sounds painfully awkward, but doesn't really listen to it - there's all sorts of other things he needs to listen to in this kitchen.
It's not until some time later, when Tatou's gone to the refrigerator for a cheese Remy isn't sure he got told the name of, that he notices the boy for the first time.
He's mopping around one of the stations that Remy saw the Saucier working at before, looking like he's going to pee himself. He's tall, lanky and apparently very awkward, because he suddenly slips and spins in a circle, knocking over a giant pot of soup from the burner.
Some of the soup spills, before the boy hoists the pot back on the burner, quickly looking around. He doesn't catch Remy staring, and turns back to the pot, fills it back up with tap water from the sink, grabbing some spices at random and throwing them into the soup.
“No! This is terrible, he's ruining the soup! And nobody's noticing?” Remy exclaims incredulously, quickly checking - sure enough, everyone else is bustling around, happily oblivious to both Remy's outburst and the actual dish being messed up.
Tatou still isn't back to their station, so Remy, having quickly evaluated the situation, sprints into action, narrowly avoiding a few moving trays and shooting apologies to the passing cooks. Thankfully, they pay him as much mind as they do the garbage boy.
Remy strides to the boy's station, grabbing his hand and snatching it away from the pot of soup that he was about to poison with more non-belonging vegetables.
“What do you think you're doing?” He whispers harshly. The boy freezes in his spot, holding up a ladle. He stammers.
“Uhm. I, ah, sort of- ”
“Okay, nevermind, don't tell me, just move away from the soup, will you?”
The boy's mouth falls open, like he's trying to find his words but coming up short, so Remy chooses to ignore him for now - they're going to be noticed eventually, and the both of them are obviously newbies - Remy has no doubt that the Chef's going to kick them out the minute he sees them in the vicinity of a soup they have to serve. He may be the most important person in this kitchen and technically, Remy's boss, but Remy has an inkling as to why they calls him Skinner, and it's definitely not because the guy's known for his extensive patience.
The chit-chat is going to have to wait.
Led by his trusty sense of smell, Remy doesn't try to go by the recipe - that ship's already sailed, and anyway, it's not like Remy knows all of Gusteau's recipes by heart. Most of them aren't in his book, probably because they're too random - it's kind of a public secret that Gusteau loved experimenting on the spot.
So Remy decides to follow in his footsteps instead of wasting time trying to find the recipe and then salvaging it. He picks up some spices from the counter. Judging by the smell, he knows they'll go great together. He sets to fixing the culinary disaster on hand, closing his eyes and letting himself breathe the result.
He picks the spoon up after a few quick minutes, testing the soup. He hums to himself, satisfied. Not that he wants to brag, but this is how a good soup is made.
“Uhm.”
Oh. That's something cooking does to him - Remy'd almost forgotten the boy was there in the first place.
“That was - wow. You're good.”
It takes Remy a second to register that he's being complimented, because it's not like it happens often, but by then the boy has managed to go into a nervous rant: “I mean, you're obviously good, you work here, right, you're a cook - of course you're a cook-- wait, wait, what exactly did you see? I swear to God, I didn't do anything, please don't fire me, I really--”
“I'm Remy,” Remy says, more to get the boy to stop yammering than to start a conversation, though he was being faintly amusing. “I'm a trainee and this is my first day, so I can't actually fire you.”
“Oh,” the boy says, running a hand through a red mop of hair and laughs shakily. “I'm Alfredo, but- but everyone here calls me Linguini, so.”
Remy finally looks up at him - because he's tall and Remy's apparently not - and notices with startling speed that, wow, the boy - Alfredo, apparently - is also really, really cute. His hair's a mess, his freckled cheeks and big nose flushed, and he's biting a thin bottom lip nervously. He even has a little goatee going on. Remy's sold.
Okay, so what if he nails Remy's type right on the head, Remy still needs to focus on his job. The one that he's probably risking right this minute by still standing there and not going back at his station.
“Look, Alfredo, we need to--”
Before he can finish, the Chef calls out from somewhere in the front: “The soup! Where is the soup?”
Alfredo flails around a moment, before he plops on the counter, apparently trying for a leisurely, non-suspicious pose. The ladle in his hand makes him look ridiculous - even if adorably goofy.
Still, Remy would facepalm if he had the time. Since he doesn't, he thinks quick. He ends up doing the first thing that pops in his mind. He whirls around and pretends to be entirely occupied by washing one of the pans in the nearest sink. Thankfully, Skinner pays him no mind as he zooms in on the soup. He stops in front of Alfredo, starting to yell something generic at him before he spots the ladle in his hand.
“You are cooking? How dare you cook in my kitchen!” he screams, going on a very angry and kind of disturbing rant, from the sounds of it. Alfredo doesn't even look at him, his eyes fixed on where the Saucier's putting the soup in a plate and letting the waiter carry it out, not batting an eyelash at Skinner's antics.
After that things happen pretty fast. Skinner manages to embarrass himself in front of their whole clientele in his efforts to stop the soup - which Remy isn't all that worried about, because he knows it isn't by any means bad, at least not anymore - and fire Alfredo in just under three minutes.
Besides that, the client who'd initially ordered the soup turns out to be a critic, who apparently likes Remy's soup and is just that influential that that simple fact saves Alfredo from permanent deployment. Tatou even argues about keeping him on the job.
They end up like this: Tatou's gone back to their station, paying Remy no mind as she sharpens knives viciously - she didn't like the Chef's idea of being directly responsible for Alfredo's cooking career, probably.
“You will make the soup again,” Skinner tells Alfredo, still not done with him, “and this time I’ll be paying attention. Very close attention.”
Skinner gives him one last dark look, which shouldn't be so effective on a man this small, turns on his heel to walk away. Alfredo gulps, watching the Chef retreat. Everybody else quickly resumes cooking.
Alfredo shoots a glance in Remy's direction before he scurries out of the kitchen. Remy has about two split seconds to make a decision, but it's not a difficult one, when Tatou's attention isn't focused on him anymore. Remy doesn't worry about her when he slips out the door after Alfredo.
He finds him smoking outside, leaning on his bike. Alfredo looks up.
“Hey,” Remy says, biting back a 'those will kill you' comment. God knows that never seems to work with Emile, not that Emile's ever cared much what he puts in his mouth. It's a family trait that Remy thankfully hasn't picked up.
“They expect me to cook it again!” Alfredo exclaims, taking Remy by surprise. “You’re the one who was getting fancy with the spices and I need this job. I’ve lost so many. I don’t know how to cook--”
Alfredo trails off, rubbing a hand over his eyes, lost in thought. Remy mulls it over - he understands where Alfredo's coming from, Remy wouldn't want to be in his place - and anyway, it's not like he's the one risking his job, so he says, “Okay, look, I'll help you. I'll teach you to make that soup again.”
“Really? You think you could do it again?”
Remy nods.
“Okay. Okay. We're in this together.” Alfredo smiles down at him, and suddenly, it's very easy to forget all of his impending problems. He smiles back.
That night, as he enters Alfredo's tiny apartment that they agreed they could share (even though there's barely space for one person, from the looks of it), Remy lets out a breath he's been holding in the whole day and soaks in Paris' atmosphere for the first time since he came here, looking at Alfredo's face being illuminated by the city's lights as he sleeps.
He drools a little, and his leg is crammed against Remy's, but it doesn't seem to matter in the wake of the new beginnings in Remy's life.
Pairing(s): Alfredo/Remy
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Remy thinks back on a very important day in his life.
Note: I've been waiting for this prompt to get filled since it was posted some time ago - I guess all I needed was a bit of time on my hands to go for it myself :DD
Disclaimer: This fic contains some references/direct quotes from the 2007 movie, which is property of Walt Disney Studios and Brad Bird; no copyright infrigment intended.
on ao3 | at disney_kink
Remy laughs, a little giddy and slightly breathless, as he speeds through the tiny Parisian street on his new Rollerblades. He clutches at his boyfriend's hands, trying not to fall when he turns to stare at the way the wind blows his red hair in his face. This is Alfredo.
All things considered, Remy thinks it's apparent that he's pretty happy with his life right now.
Remy meets Alfredo on a Monday, which sounds kind of irrelevant when he says it like that, but it's not just any Monday - that day also marks the beginning of Remy's successful career at Gusteau's, something that no, he'll never stop being smug about.
Well, it isn't that successful at first. Remy actually starts out as a replacement-trainee chef, and even though that's not much by general standards, Remy's practically ecstatic at the time.
It's actually a first day for the both of them, Remy and Alfredo. There is one tiny difference, though - let's just say, Alfredo's career doesn't start out all that gloriously, either, if only because he's, well - the new garbage boy.
Remy doesn't really pay him any attention at first. If there's anything he's learned from Gusteau's book - and there is; they don't consistently call him a book rat for nothing - it's how to pick the important people in the kitchen from, well, the not important ones. Alfredo falls under the second category, and anyway, Remy has other things on his mind right then - the first being the fact that he's never had to work in this kind of restaurant before.
He means the big, busy, city, gourmet kind.
The thing is, Remy's only worked in bistros before, mostly just waiting tables, and he's never been to a single restaurant in Paris, much less a chef in one. It's bigger than anything he's used to, actually, it's bigger than anything they had in the small town in the outskirts of the city where he grew up. Remy's more than a little overwhelmed and definitely high-strung, even though this job is his actual childhood dream.
The kitchen isn't crowded, but it's busy, what with the fires burning from all directions and everybody talking over each other, barking dish orders all around. Remy has to pay extra attention to Mdlle. Tatou to catch what she's telling him about keeping his station clean (practical tricks; Remy's actually surprised that he's made it this far in life without somehow picking them up) while she's also chopping vegetables furiously and yelling back at the Sous whenever he asks something about the dish.
Honestly, that woman is a little intimidating.
It probably doesn't help Remy's situation that he's completely distracted. Surviving his first day on the clock, making a good impression? - it's important, very important, but it isn't really the only thing on his mind at the moment.
Usually, he'd be working his ass off in the face of such an opportunity, but tonight marks not only his first day at Gusteau's (honestly, it's a wonder they took him, considering his obvious lack of working experience), but in Paris in general, which. Is a problem.
Not that Paris itself is problem, because it isn't - Paris at night is easily the best thing he's ever seen in his entire life - with its many lights, fluorescent windows and shop displays, the way the streets are practically coming alive with light, and a big, open sky, it's better than anything he could've imagined living in the countryside.
No, the problem is, Remy actually has nowhere to go after closing hours. He hasn't packed much, just the money for the ticket he used to get here and some spare clothes in a satchel. He'd left in a hurry - more like, got kicked out when he told his dad he'd applied to be a cook in Paris of all things - and came to Gusteau's immediately after getting in the city. He doesn't think he'll manage to pay a room in a hotel with the cash he has on hand, at least not for the whole month he has to wait until his first paycheck. He doesn't even know any cheap hotels, and there's no way he's asking his colleagues.
With those sorts of thoughts floating in his head as he mixes ingredients under Tatou's scrutiny, Remy doesn't really care to pay attention to the newest addition to the kitchen aside from himself. He does the scraps of a conversation that sounds painfully awkward, but doesn't really listen to it - there's all sorts of other things he needs to listen to in this kitchen.
It's not until some time later, when Tatou's gone to the refrigerator for a cheese Remy isn't sure he got told the name of, that he notices the boy for the first time.
He's mopping around one of the stations that Remy saw the Saucier working at before, looking like he's going to pee himself. He's tall, lanky and apparently very awkward, because he suddenly slips and spins in a circle, knocking over a giant pot of soup from the burner.
Some of the soup spills, before the boy hoists the pot back on the burner, quickly looking around. He doesn't catch Remy staring, and turns back to the pot, fills it back up with tap water from the sink, grabbing some spices at random and throwing them into the soup.
“No! This is terrible, he's ruining the soup! And nobody's noticing?” Remy exclaims incredulously, quickly checking - sure enough, everyone else is bustling around, happily oblivious to both Remy's outburst and the actual dish being messed up.
Tatou still isn't back to their station, so Remy, having quickly evaluated the situation, sprints into action, narrowly avoiding a few moving trays and shooting apologies to the passing cooks. Thankfully, they pay him as much mind as they do the garbage boy.
Remy strides to the boy's station, grabbing his hand and snatching it away from the pot of soup that he was about to poison with more non-belonging vegetables.
“What do you think you're doing?” He whispers harshly. The boy freezes in his spot, holding up a ladle. He stammers.
“Uhm. I, ah, sort of- ”
“Okay, nevermind, don't tell me, just move away from the soup, will you?”
The boy's mouth falls open, like he's trying to find his words but coming up short, so Remy chooses to ignore him for now - they're going to be noticed eventually, and the both of them are obviously newbies - Remy has no doubt that the Chef's going to kick them out the minute he sees them in the vicinity of a soup they have to serve. He may be the most important person in this kitchen and technically, Remy's boss, but Remy has an inkling as to why they calls him Skinner, and it's definitely not because the guy's known for his extensive patience.
The chit-chat is going to have to wait.
Led by his trusty sense of smell, Remy doesn't try to go by the recipe - that ship's already sailed, and anyway, it's not like Remy knows all of Gusteau's recipes by heart. Most of them aren't in his book, probably because they're too random - it's kind of a public secret that Gusteau loved experimenting on the spot.
So Remy decides to follow in his footsteps instead of wasting time trying to find the recipe and then salvaging it. He picks up some spices from the counter. Judging by the smell, he knows they'll go great together. He sets to fixing the culinary disaster on hand, closing his eyes and letting himself breathe the result.
He picks the spoon up after a few quick minutes, testing the soup. He hums to himself, satisfied. Not that he wants to brag, but this is how a good soup is made.
“Uhm.”
Oh. That's something cooking does to him - Remy'd almost forgotten the boy was there in the first place.
“That was - wow. You're good.”
It takes Remy a second to register that he's being complimented, because it's not like it happens often, but by then the boy has managed to go into a nervous rant: “I mean, you're obviously good, you work here, right, you're a cook - of course you're a cook-- wait, wait, what exactly did you see? I swear to God, I didn't do anything, please don't fire me, I really--”
“I'm Remy,” Remy says, more to get the boy to stop yammering than to start a conversation, though he was being faintly amusing. “I'm a trainee and this is my first day, so I can't actually fire you.”
“Oh,” the boy says, running a hand through a red mop of hair and laughs shakily. “I'm Alfredo, but- but everyone here calls me Linguini, so.”
Remy finally looks up at him - because he's tall and Remy's apparently not - and notices with startling speed that, wow, the boy - Alfredo, apparently - is also really, really cute. His hair's a mess, his freckled cheeks and big nose flushed, and he's biting a thin bottom lip nervously. He even has a little goatee going on. Remy's sold.
Okay, so what if he nails Remy's type right on the head, Remy still needs to focus on his job. The one that he's probably risking right this minute by still standing there and not going back at his station.
“Look, Alfredo, we need to--”
Before he can finish, the Chef calls out from somewhere in the front: “The soup! Where is the soup?”
Alfredo flails around a moment, before he plops on the counter, apparently trying for a leisurely, non-suspicious pose. The ladle in his hand makes him look ridiculous - even if adorably goofy.
Still, Remy would facepalm if he had the time. Since he doesn't, he thinks quick. He ends up doing the first thing that pops in his mind. He whirls around and pretends to be entirely occupied by washing one of the pans in the nearest sink. Thankfully, Skinner pays him no mind as he zooms in on the soup. He stops in front of Alfredo, starting to yell something generic at him before he spots the ladle in his hand.
“You are cooking? How dare you cook in my kitchen!” he screams, going on a very angry and kind of disturbing rant, from the sounds of it. Alfredo doesn't even look at him, his eyes fixed on where the Saucier's putting the soup in a plate and letting the waiter carry it out, not batting an eyelash at Skinner's antics.
After that things happen pretty fast. Skinner manages to embarrass himself in front of their whole clientele in his efforts to stop the soup - which Remy isn't all that worried about, because he knows it isn't by any means bad, at least not anymore - and fire Alfredo in just under three minutes.
Besides that, the client who'd initially ordered the soup turns out to be a critic, who apparently likes Remy's soup and is just that influential that that simple fact saves Alfredo from permanent deployment. Tatou even argues about keeping him on the job.
They end up like this: Tatou's gone back to their station, paying Remy no mind as she sharpens knives viciously - she didn't like the Chef's idea of being directly responsible for Alfredo's cooking career, probably.
“You will make the soup again,” Skinner tells Alfredo, still not done with him, “and this time I’ll be paying attention. Very close attention.”
Skinner gives him one last dark look, which shouldn't be so effective on a man this small, turns on his heel to walk away. Alfredo gulps, watching the Chef retreat. Everybody else quickly resumes cooking.
Alfredo shoots a glance in Remy's direction before he scurries out of the kitchen. Remy has about two split seconds to make a decision, but it's not a difficult one, when Tatou's attention isn't focused on him anymore. Remy doesn't worry about her when he slips out the door after Alfredo.
He finds him smoking outside, leaning on his bike. Alfredo looks up.
“Hey,” Remy says, biting back a 'those will kill you' comment. God knows that never seems to work with Emile, not that Emile's ever cared much what he puts in his mouth. It's a family trait that Remy thankfully hasn't picked up.
“They expect me to cook it again!” Alfredo exclaims, taking Remy by surprise. “You’re the one who was getting fancy with the spices and I need this job. I’ve lost so many. I don’t know how to cook--”
Alfredo trails off, rubbing a hand over his eyes, lost in thought. Remy mulls it over - he understands where Alfredo's coming from, Remy wouldn't want to be in his place - and anyway, it's not like he's the one risking his job, so he says, “Okay, look, I'll help you. I'll teach you to make that soup again.”
“Really? You think you could do it again?”
Remy nods.
“Okay. Okay. We're in this together.” Alfredo smiles down at him, and suddenly, it's very easy to forget all of his impending problems. He smiles back.
That night, as he enters Alfredo's tiny apartment that they agreed they could share (even though there's barely space for one person, from the looks of it), Remy lets out a breath he's been holding in the whole day and soaks in Paris' atmosphere for the first time since he came here, looking at Alfredo's face being illuminated by the city's lights as he sleeps.
He drools a little, and his leg is crammed against Remy's, but it doesn't seem to matter in the wake of the new beginnings in Remy's life.