His Little Chef
Title: His Little Chef
Media: Ratatouille
Pairing: Anton Ego/Human!Remy
Smut Level: Innocent
Reason: Kink Meme
Summery: Anton Ego loved food more than anything. His personal chef Remy loved food more than anything. It really was a match in food lover heaven.
Anton Ego had once said he loved food, but time and harsh reviews scattered around Paris made many second guess his self proclaimed love of food. After all, it was practically impossible, completely impossible in fact, for anyone who loved food to speak the way he did. The casual throw of insults, the subtle remarks, the blatant disgust. It wasn’t fitting of a man who claimed to love food. And Paris was home to some of the finest chefs in the world. Most of them, if people felt like bragging. Certainly he was being cruel with his words. Certainly there had to be delicious food out there. But for Anton it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly good enough.
For Anton food had to be perfect. And only one chef in all of Paris, in all the world, was perfect.
And that chef belonged to Anton.
His name was Remy and he was a simple enough boy, fresh out of culinary school when Anton snatched him away from the star chefs who wanted to court him to their restaurants. They were right to crawl after him. But Anton could pay more, offer more freedom, and allow him more room to experiment as a chef. If the boy wanted it Anton would give it to him. A trip to Japan to learn how to make sushi? Not a problem. A new stove crafted by the finest artisan in Paris? But of course.
Anything to make his Remy happy.
And Remy was happy in Anton’s kitchen. From his humble home in what many would consider a slum south of Paris he had traveled far in the world and to be the prized in home chef of the world’s harshest food critic was a challenge and a pleasure. It wasn’t the money that had enticed him. No, it was the rush of excitement the first time Anton ate at his school, chiding every dish for careless mistakes and disregard for the majesty possible in food. Every dish was ripped apart, save one.
His ratatouille impressed Anton Ego.
Impressed him enough that upon graduation he had an invitation to work for Anton Ego as his personal chef. And though his classmates had called him crazy he took the job. All his struggle, all his anxiety, all his pressure culminating in the moment when the fork reached Anton’s lips and they twisted into a pleased smile.
All worth it.
“And what is this, boy?” Anton asked, inspecting the meal presented before him. A shell fish of some kind, and a sauce he had never seen before but which smelt suspiciously of licorice. Though he would never mention it aloud the idea that his chef could still come up with combinations that surprised him, even after two years in his kitchen, made his heart clench in a mixture of wonder and joy.
“A surprise.” Remy said with a cheeky grin. Certainly too long together if Remy wasn’t even slightly afraid of failing him employer. Perhaps because he knew that no matter what he presented Anton would eat it and would find something to love about it. He’d never turned away something Remy created.
Even if it did look suspicious.
Sure enough there was the smile, the turn of lips that proved he had succeed where so many had failed. With a smirk Remy bowed, taking his leave to prepare dessert. His mind was whirling with possible ways to surprise Anton, whirling so fast he almost missed his employer calling to him.
“Sir?”
A touch of red reached Anton’s cheeks, making Remy wonder if he had over spiced the dish. Impossible as Anton would have said something instantly. He rather adored that honesty. Kept him on his toes. But no, it wasn’t a blush from heat that painted Anton’s face. “I find your meals, though exquisite, lack something when eaten alone. Perhaps you will join me for this course?”
Confusion filled Remy, mostly because this was the third time in a week Anton had tried distracting him from completing the dessert in favor of his company. “I haven’t finished the final course.”
“I’m sure the meal would benefit more from company than from a dessert. Please join me.”
Gathering the second plate he’d saved for himself Remy indulged his employer, setting down at his side and still wondering what he could whip up with this new limited time frame. The licorice sauce would lend itself well as a topping, if he were to put it on ice cream. Though the ice cream in the kitchen was solely his as Anton didn’t eat it if it was store bought. And he’d never be able to pass it as his own, not without adding mint like he normally did. Then again he did have some fresh mint, and sneaking store bought food into Anton was a perverse pleasure he’d developed during his tenure as a personal chef.
“You’re thinking about the dessert still, aren’t you?” Anton said dully from his side.
It was Remy’s turn to blush at how quickly he’d be caught. “Since you called off chocolate after that Lalo review I’ve been forced to be more creative.”
Anton wrinkled his nose at the memory. “The man tried to mix both chili peppers and mint into his cake. What is this world coming to where that man would be praised for creativity?”
Remy nodded sympathetically, even as he planned a method of creating the same cake for his employer once the chocolate ban was lifted. “He graduated the year before me from school and was constantly praised for being a creative genius.”
Anton scoffed, attention returning to the food before him and not the food that had put him off chocolate for so long. He realized he would have to lift the ban eventually. His little chef was clever but only so long forbidden from chocolate and Remy would have to begin repeating desserts. Or experimenting. Anton wasn’t sure which he was more frightened about. “My boy, I’ve noticed you haven’t made any requests for time off this month. Again.”
“No sir.” He said between his own mouthful of food. Remembering that he was eating with him boss Remy straighten up, taking a big gulp of water before continuing. “I was thinking about asking for some time to go to one of Colette Tatou’s seminars but I found out she eloped with that assistant of hers.”
“Dear lord, such fine talent running off with that lowly boy. A shame. Their children will inherit his gangly arms and her talent will mean nothing. But I was thinking about personal time off. You haven’t said a word about visiting your family in almost two months.”
Remy couldn’t help rolling his eyes, catching himself halfway through the motion. “Dad and I aren’t talking again. But I might take a day trip to town for some of the apples we grow there. You mentioned liking them in that tart I made a few weeks ago.”
“Remy, do we ever talk about anything but food?”
He paused. “What else would we have to talk about, sir?” It wasn’t meant to be rude, just a statement of fact. What would be so important to talk about besides food?
And in that moment Anton Ego fell just slightly in love with his personal chef.
Unfortunately Remy was, completely and totally, devoted to food. As well as a little oblivious. Actually very oblivious if Anton knew his little chef as well as he thought he did. His publisher would try flirting with the boy each time she stopped by and each time Remy would confuse her advances as everyday pleasantries. Which would be fine if he didn’t do the same the few times Anton tried a more direct route with his affection.
The sad truth of the matter was that if he couldn’t cook it, bake it, fry it, flay it, broil it or, god forbid, burn it he didn’t have the time for it. Or he was just an idiot.
Anton wasn’t sure which it was.
“Remy.” He glanced up at his chef, waiting with that same mixture of anticipation and glee on his face as the spoon hovered in front of Anton’s face. “Might you join me for tonight’s meal?”
“It’s only the soup, sir. I haven’t finished with the main course.”
“Then finish it and join me. And no, I’m not concerned about dessert. I know you have that attempt at a chili pepper and mint chocolate cake hiding back there.” He gently dropped his spoon back into the soup, regretting it a little because it did smell divine.
Remy just shuffled awkwardly. “Aren’t you going to try to soup first?”
Anton sighed, delicately sipping at the soup which was, by all accounts an experiment, and managing to not swoon only because he was seated. “As always, marvelous. Did you somehow get salsa in here?”
“Yes, sir.” He said with that same grin that had gone from just endearing him to his boss to making Anton’s heart flutter just slightly. “I’ll finish up the main course.” And without another sound he had scurried off into the kitchen leaving a very frustrated food critic.
One who would not stand for it anymore. He stormed into the kitchen, as best a man prone to silent storming could, pleased with the startled jump from his chef. The room was perfumed with the scent of garlic and onions, full of the sounds of sizzling and overwhelming in its perfection. He didn’t know why he didn’t storm into the kitchen more often, only lurking outside the doors for a peek at what his chef was making.
“Sir?” Remy asked, hand clenching at the handle of his saucepan as though he wasn’t sure if he should ignore his boss in favor of finishing the meal. Considering who his boss was it was possibly a good idea to just ignore him. But he couldn’t ignore him, or the question clawing at his throat. “Did you not like the soup?”
Anton was startled by the question, more than he should have been given his reputation for not finishing food he didn’t like. “It was perfect. Everything you make is perfect. Everything about you is perfect.”
Remy wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Sir?”
“You, my boy, have a serious problem with noticing anything outside of food. And normally that would be a pleasant thing in a chef, but you are driving me mad!” He stalked closer, pleased with the touch of red on his chef’s face. “I send you around the world to learn new tricks. I buy you anything you could desire for this kitchen which is less a part of my house and more your private kingdom. I would do anything for you and you don’t notice.”
Something about the desperation in his voice finally forced Remy to understand. The invitations to eat with him. The attempts at spoiling him rotten. Everything made sense. “Oh sir, don’t you know any trick I learn, anything I get for this kitchen, is to improve your meal? You’re the greatest challenge I’ve ever faced and it’s…it’s perfect. Watching you eat is just perfect.”
“Oh.”
They backed apart, Remy pushing himself further against the stove and maintaining his sizzling onions the whole time. It never occurred to him that the conversation was more important than potentially burning food. “This is why you keep inviting me to dinner.”
“Of course it is.” Anton didn’t shift when nervous, merely pulled his shoulders up higher around him. “Even your meals lack something when eaten alone.”
Remy chuckled, face still bright red and not looking to cool any time soon. Abandoning his onions he stepped forward, kissing his employer. It was only a quick brush of lips and he was gone, back to cooking. “Go finish your soup, sir. Dinner will be ready soon.”
And so he went to finish his soup, which was wonderful, and together they ate dinner, talking about the chefs around town and the newest review and the proper way to season a slab of steak. And that night, while pondering how Remy could possibly make chocolate cake with chili pepper and mint taste good, Anton fell completely in love with his chef.
Which was fortunate, because his chef was starting to fall in love with him too.
Media: Ratatouille
Pairing: Anton Ego/Human!Remy
Smut Level: Innocent
Reason: Kink Meme
Summery: Anton Ego loved food more than anything. His personal chef Remy loved food more than anything. It really was a match in food lover heaven.
Anton Ego had once said he loved food, but time and harsh reviews scattered around Paris made many second guess his self proclaimed love of food. After all, it was practically impossible, completely impossible in fact, for anyone who loved food to speak the way he did. The casual throw of insults, the subtle remarks, the blatant disgust. It wasn’t fitting of a man who claimed to love food. And Paris was home to some of the finest chefs in the world. Most of them, if people felt like bragging. Certainly he was being cruel with his words. Certainly there had to be delicious food out there. But for Anton it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly good enough.
For Anton food had to be perfect. And only one chef in all of Paris, in all the world, was perfect.
And that chef belonged to Anton.
His name was Remy and he was a simple enough boy, fresh out of culinary school when Anton snatched him away from the star chefs who wanted to court him to their restaurants. They were right to crawl after him. But Anton could pay more, offer more freedom, and allow him more room to experiment as a chef. If the boy wanted it Anton would give it to him. A trip to Japan to learn how to make sushi? Not a problem. A new stove crafted by the finest artisan in Paris? But of course.
Anything to make his Remy happy.
And Remy was happy in Anton’s kitchen. From his humble home in what many would consider a slum south of Paris he had traveled far in the world and to be the prized in home chef of the world’s harshest food critic was a challenge and a pleasure. It wasn’t the money that had enticed him. No, it was the rush of excitement the first time Anton ate at his school, chiding every dish for careless mistakes and disregard for the majesty possible in food. Every dish was ripped apart, save one.
His ratatouille impressed Anton Ego.
Impressed him enough that upon graduation he had an invitation to work for Anton Ego as his personal chef. And though his classmates had called him crazy he took the job. All his struggle, all his anxiety, all his pressure culminating in the moment when the fork reached Anton’s lips and they twisted into a pleased smile.
All worth it.
“And what is this, boy?” Anton asked, inspecting the meal presented before him. A shell fish of some kind, and a sauce he had never seen before but which smelt suspiciously of licorice. Though he would never mention it aloud the idea that his chef could still come up with combinations that surprised him, even after two years in his kitchen, made his heart clench in a mixture of wonder and joy.
“A surprise.” Remy said with a cheeky grin. Certainly too long together if Remy wasn’t even slightly afraid of failing him employer. Perhaps because he knew that no matter what he presented Anton would eat it and would find something to love about it. He’d never turned away something Remy created.
Even if it did look suspicious.
Sure enough there was the smile, the turn of lips that proved he had succeed where so many had failed. With a smirk Remy bowed, taking his leave to prepare dessert. His mind was whirling with possible ways to surprise Anton, whirling so fast he almost missed his employer calling to him.
“Sir?”
A touch of red reached Anton’s cheeks, making Remy wonder if he had over spiced the dish. Impossible as Anton would have said something instantly. He rather adored that honesty. Kept him on his toes. But no, it wasn’t a blush from heat that painted Anton’s face. “I find your meals, though exquisite, lack something when eaten alone. Perhaps you will join me for this course?”
Confusion filled Remy, mostly because this was the third time in a week Anton had tried distracting him from completing the dessert in favor of his company. “I haven’t finished the final course.”
“I’m sure the meal would benefit more from company than from a dessert. Please join me.”
Gathering the second plate he’d saved for himself Remy indulged his employer, setting down at his side and still wondering what he could whip up with this new limited time frame. The licorice sauce would lend itself well as a topping, if he were to put it on ice cream. Though the ice cream in the kitchen was solely his as Anton didn’t eat it if it was store bought. And he’d never be able to pass it as his own, not without adding mint like he normally did. Then again he did have some fresh mint, and sneaking store bought food into Anton was a perverse pleasure he’d developed during his tenure as a personal chef.
“You’re thinking about the dessert still, aren’t you?” Anton said dully from his side.
It was Remy’s turn to blush at how quickly he’d be caught. “Since you called off chocolate after that Lalo review I’ve been forced to be more creative.”
Anton wrinkled his nose at the memory. “The man tried to mix both chili peppers and mint into his cake. What is this world coming to where that man would be praised for creativity?”
Remy nodded sympathetically, even as he planned a method of creating the same cake for his employer once the chocolate ban was lifted. “He graduated the year before me from school and was constantly praised for being a creative genius.”
Anton scoffed, attention returning to the food before him and not the food that had put him off chocolate for so long. He realized he would have to lift the ban eventually. His little chef was clever but only so long forbidden from chocolate and Remy would have to begin repeating desserts. Or experimenting. Anton wasn’t sure which he was more frightened about. “My boy, I’ve noticed you haven’t made any requests for time off this month. Again.”
“No sir.” He said between his own mouthful of food. Remembering that he was eating with him boss Remy straighten up, taking a big gulp of water before continuing. “I was thinking about asking for some time to go to one of Colette Tatou’s seminars but I found out she eloped with that assistant of hers.”
“Dear lord, such fine talent running off with that lowly boy. A shame. Their children will inherit his gangly arms and her talent will mean nothing. But I was thinking about personal time off. You haven’t said a word about visiting your family in almost two months.”
Remy couldn’t help rolling his eyes, catching himself halfway through the motion. “Dad and I aren’t talking again. But I might take a day trip to town for some of the apples we grow there. You mentioned liking them in that tart I made a few weeks ago.”
“Remy, do we ever talk about anything but food?”
He paused. “What else would we have to talk about, sir?” It wasn’t meant to be rude, just a statement of fact. What would be so important to talk about besides food?
And in that moment Anton Ego fell just slightly in love with his personal chef.
Unfortunately Remy was, completely and totally, devoted to food. As well as a little oblivious. Actually very oblivious if Anton knew his little chef as well as he thought he did. His publisher would try flirting with the boy each time she stopped by and each time Remy would confuse her advances as everyday pleasantries. Which would be fine if he didn’t do the same the few times Anton tried a more direct route with his affection.
The sad truth of the matter was that if he couldn’t cook it, bake it, fry it, flay it, broil it or, god forbid, burn it he didn’t have the time for it. Or he was just an idiot.
Anton wasn’t sure which it was.
“Remy.” He glanced up at his chef, waiting with that same mixture of anticipation and glee on his face as the spoon hovered in front of Anton’s face. “Might you join me for tonight’s meal?”
“It’s only the soup, sir. I haven’t finished with the main course.”
“Then finish it and join me. And no, I’m not concerned about dessert. I know you have that attempt at a chili pepper and mint chocolate cake hiding back there.” He gently dropped his spoon back into the soup, regretting it a little because it did smell divine.
Remy just shuffled awkwardly. “Aren’t you going to try to soup first?”
Anton sighed, delicately sipping at the soup which was, by all accounts an experiment, and managing to not swoon only because he was seated. “As always, marvelous. Did you somehow get salsa in here?”
“Yes, sir.” He said with that same grin that had gone from just endearing him to his boss to making Anton’s heart flutter just slightly. “I’ll finish up the main course.” And without another sound he had scurried off into the kitchen leaving a very frustrated food critic.
One who would not stand for it anymore. He stormed into the kitchen, as best a man prone to silent storming could, pleased with the startled jump from his chef. The room was perfumed with the scent of garlic and onions, full of the sounds of sizzling and overwhelming in its perfection. He didn’t know why he didn’t storm into the kitchen more often, only lurking outside the doors for a peek at what his chef was making.
“Sir?” Remy asked, hand clenching at the handle of his saucepan as though he wasn’t sure if he should ignore his boss in favor of finishing the meal. Considering who his boss was it was possibly a good idea to just ignore him. But he couldn’t ignore him, or the question clawing at his throat. “Did you not like the soup?”
Anton was startled by the question, more than he should have been given his reputation for not finishing food he didn’t like. “It was perfect. Everything you make is perfect. Everything about you is perfect.”
Remy wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Sir?”
“You, my boy, have a serious problem with noticing anything outside of food. And normally that would be a pleasant thing in a chef, but you are driving me mad!” He stalked closer, pleased with the touch of red on his chef’s face. “I send you around the world to learn new tricks. I buy you anything you could desire for this kitchen which is less a part of my house and more your private kingdom. I would do anything for you and you don’t notice.”
Something about the desperation in his voice finally forced Remy to understand. The invitations to eat with him. The attempts at spoiling him rotten. Everything made sense. “Oh sir, don’t you know any trick I learn, anything I get for this kitchen, is to improve your meal? You’re the greatest challenge I’ve ever faced and it’s…it’s perfect. Watching you eat is just perfect.”
“Oh.”
They backed apart, Remy pushing himself further against the stove and maintaining his sizzling onions the whole time. It never occurred to him that the conversation was more important than potentially burning food. “This is why you keep inviting me to dinner.”
“Of course it is.” Anton didn’t shift when nervous, merely pulled his shoulders up higher around him. “Even your meals lack something when eaten alone.”
Remy chuckled, face still bright red and not looking to cool any time soon. Abandoning his onions he stepped forward, kissing his employer. It was only a quick brush of lips and he was gone, back to cooking. “Go finish your soup, sir. Dinner will be ready soon.”
And so he went to finish his soup, which was wonderful, and together they ate dinner, talking about the chefs around town and the newest review and the proper way to season a slab of steak. And that night, while pondering how Remy could possibly make chocolate cake with chili pepper and mint taste good, Anton fell completely in love with his chef.
Which was fortunate, because his chef was starting to fall in love with him too.