Pastry Shop 7: Shake (up) and Bake
7: Shake(up) and Bake
By: Railenthe
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crack, Domestic!AU, Pastry Shop
Warnings for: Silliness, some language.
Summary: We finally got a possible chef: Legendary Blitzer Jecht, after Bartz’s impromptu damage control, has something tasty planned. Can the ‘Puf’s staff handle it, though?
Shake(up) And Bake
Ignore the noise. Just wait until they bring him out.
Kuja repeated that thought to himself several times, at least once each time some strange sound came from the kitchen area. In addition to the mob of repair-moogles, apparently during the fiasco earlier in the day someone legitimate had come in to try their hand at the position of head pastry chef. Why he hadn’t seen them arrive, Kuja wasn’t sure-either way, it was probably safer this way. After that muscle-headed moron had barged into his restaurant as if he’d owned it, Kuja found himself feeling vaguely irritated. The nerve of him! And then to act as if he was some kind of joke…no, calm down. No destruction up front.
So it was under these circumstances that Kuja found himself sitting down at one of the VIP tables, a stack of culinary magazines in one hand and a plate of one of his favorite desserts in the other-a flaming platter of bananas foster. He was a little sorry that there weren’t any customers inside the restaurant at the moment-carrying a plate that just happened to be on fire around a bunch of filled tables would have certainly been a good draw for customers. He made a mental note to add it to the menu-probably just as a temporary addition; bananas foster, while visually impressive when on fire, was really more of a comfort food dessert.
He sat down with the magazines in one hand, and put the plate down on the table-blowing on it once to extinguish the flames, a minute-and-a-half was quite enough time on fire, thank you very much.
His crew had assured him that the latest applicant would be easy enough to handle, and so he’d left it in their capable hands.
His job: learn as much about the enemy as possible.
Kuja sighed as he turned the page of the first magazine to the article on the art behind a good cream-filled sponge cake written by the critic who was going to be visiting so very soon. True to form, the first few paragraphs were dedicated to the way to tell if it had been done wrong. “Who knew someone so diminutive could be so much trouble?” he groused.
*_*_*
“Listen, little lady, I know what I’m doing. So get out of my way!” Jecht slammed a hand down on the counter,making the utensils jump.
“As if! This isn’t your kitchen, it’s mine, and you’ll play by my rules!” Shela was adamant.
“Do you want me to pull your irons outta the fire or what? Just stand back and watch a genius at work!”
“Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
“Do you?”
Bartz looked over at Tidus, more than a little nervous. “Five hundred gil says Jecht caves first.”
Tidus scoffed. “No way, man. Your friend with the pointy ears is gonna lose this argument.”
“Either way, I’m more concerned about the equipment. We just had this stuff fixed from the time Kefka came in…”
“Ooh, ouch. How bad was it?”
“You don’t want to know.” Bartz cringed as the argument regressed to insults and name-calling. “This isn’t going well.”
The remainder of the staff had also stopped to watch the argument-standing around and sort of half-working, or just watching without even making an effort to hide it.
“There’s procedure to be followed-and you will learn it before you do anything else.”
“Look-I know what I’m doing, and I don’t need you getting in my way. Just let me do what I do, and you go-I don’t know, you go and play with a ball of yarn or something…”
“Ball of yarn?!” Shela shouted indignantly, the last word going up in a screech. Jecht, however, wasn’t paying attention-he’d turned to a rack of measuring cups and spoons and was taking a set of each down with either hand. When she realized that Jecht had no intentions of listening to her, she hissed and stormed off in the direction of the dining area.
“You have a nice day, now,” Jecht called back pleasantly.
Tidus stepped well clear of the exit as Shela passed. “Uh, Dad-was that really necessary?”
“She’s a little spitfire, ain’t she? Kinda reminds me of-”
“Not listening.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Well please. Don’t. Really.”
Within minutes, the kitchen was bustling, and under the effective direction of the blitzer. Bowls, bags, and bundles were hauled over to where the bronzed man worked, without question from the staff.
“Uh, Tidus-can he really pull this off?” Bartz hooked a thumb at Jecht, who was busy whisking something in a bowl.
“Yeah. Easy. Just remember, you owe me money.”
“Okay-what?”
“Five hundred gil-Jecht won the argument.”
Bartz made a mental note-never wager against the Great Jecht.
*_*_*
There was a shout, a boom, and a screech from somewhere in the kitchen.
Kuja looked up at the door briefly, fork still in hand.
“No. Not important. Pay attention to what’s important. Shela and the others can handle this.”
Kuja went back to his bananas foster and magazines.