Long ways from home
Remi x chef!reader (Crack fic)
A hardworking gal just trying to get by, by sheer dumb luck lands herself a food prep position at @bigchefs (Gusteau’s) restaurant.
The breeze was soft, along with the hum of an accordion in the far distance, tucked away in the alleys with bustling restaurants. The tower itself a shining beacon one could use as a marker, just like the sailors with the North Star. Beloved by all, a symbol of what this beautiful city stood for. For WHOM this city stands for.
You, with quick and light steps, while frantically tying an apron, were running through these alleys and caused quite a ruckus. A man with a handlebar mustache sneered, almost spilling the Chardonnay and baguettes a table of 2 ordered. You holler out a quick “DÉSOLÉ!”, and weave the rest of the way through looking for BigChefs(TM) restaurant.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, however, upon entering the establishment you had to lay low, for you arrived late. Suddenly your stomach growled and in a panic, grabbed the nearest food item, in the BigFridge(TM). Crouching low and hiding behind some parsley you begin to eat, what you just now realize is, a croissant.
“Squeak, squeak!” you hear to your right, your neck almost snapping at from turning so fast. Eye to eye, face to face, you see a rat. You, with half a croissant stuffed in your mouth, are unable to utter a single sound. You fell down and scoot backward, the Brie, Camembert, Gouda, and provolone cheese falling onto you.
You manage to swallow the pastry, going from shock to horror. “AH! Stop! I could’ve dropped my croissant!” you say with added hand gestures to express your surprise. You then grab the brie and are about to throw it at the pest, that is until, with big, dream-like eyes, he returns your gaze and you’re frozen. He couldn’t, it was not possible, nor sensible, for a RAT to understand you... right?
SLAM! The door was suddenly ripped from its hinges. It was Sue-chef, and she was pissed. As per usual...
"(L/N)! Qu'est-ce que tu fais dans la refrigerateur?!?!? ALONSI NOUS AVONS BESOINS DE 50 CROISSANTS AU FROMAGE ET LAVENDE!!!!" Sue-chef screamed from the top of her lungs, her fire-truck red hair falling from the updo she had it in. She retreats to the sauce station, screeching about incompetent workers and starts flipping things and lighting other dishes on fire.
But hey, that's just French cooking.
Rushing over to your station, you started prepping the dough on cookie sheets, then setting them in the prover for a good dozen minutes. Going back into the BigFridge(TM), you had to take a moment to remember, "Hold on... did she say cheese and lavender??? Shoot speaking of which where the heck do we even keep that stuff..."
While scavenging the fridge, with quite a lot of cheese in hand, you meet once again at eye level, with a rat.
"ACK!" You fall back onto the food rack, trying to avoid the rodent as much as possible. He seemed to look at you, then to the cheese and scurried away, only to come back with a few sprigs of lavender. 'Does this rat live here or something? How does he know what dishes I need to make...' You think the best course of action is to probably take the lavender from the...rat. As you reach out, however, your hands meet, well it was more like, your find met his entire paw. Before anything further happened, you scampered out of the fridge and began on your work, praying you didn't miss the prover alarm.
After hours of grueling work, nonsensical recipes and a raging boss, you were finally done with the day. Exhausted, exasperated and all-in-all mentally checked out, you really didn’t have any care left in you to worry about a rat following you home.
With your shoes clicking on the linoleum, you hurry up the last flight of stairs to your modest apartment. Swinging the door open you don’t even both turning on the lights, you just shrug off your coat and bag, quickly change from the work attire and collapse on your bed. Dreading having to work the next night. ‘How am I supposed to keep this crummy flat if I might not have a job tomorrow... Leaving it all up to Sue-chef does not sound like a good idea...’.
Now waking up to the smell of a cheese omelet was not normal for you, especially since you’ve been living alone for quite a while now. You had moved to Paris after being tired of the day to day lull of your hometown, and being interested in cuisine, France was the first choice of many.
Rounding the corner of your room, you spot a frying pan on the stove, and what looked like, a spatula moving, but no one there to move it. ‘...I have a ghost. I...am living...with a ghost. MYNAMEISZAKBAGGANS. No no, (Y/N) don’t get off track. Be logical. step out and confront this thing’. It took all your courage but you manage to step out one foot at a time and call out to whatever was around the corner.
The only thing that could make you more scared was recognizing whatever was cooking. At that moment, you really weren’t sure if that was worse or better. But there he was, the rat from the day before, preparing an omelet...
You approach the stove and pull out a chair, taking a seat. “You know, I really should be worried about you getting in here, how you’re able to cook and also how you probably followed me... but that omelet smells really good and I’m a terrible chef apparently... now this is crazy I know...” you say with hesitation, waiting for his response. He gestures his hand to go on, and you can’t help but feel urged to do just that.
Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you carried on with a bit of hesitation. Before you could though, the small bundle of fluff had offered you said omelet. Darted your eyes from him to the food, you decided to give it a try, that would solidify your thoughts. After one bite you were sold. ‘By god that is a good omelet. I might just be able to stay here after all...’, putting up your hands in defeat you manage to finally say.
“Lil’chef, can you teach me how to cook?”
All he gave was a simple, albeit confused, nod and a rush of pure joy hit you like a metro. In pure excitement and joy of a more wondrous life, you picked up that lil fur ball and gave him a big ol’ smooch. He may not be the man your mother thought you’d end up with, but with him, by your side, you could make it through this.
Authors note: So I finally finished that vent fic, you can really tell the difference between me writing at midnight vs 3 am, but leave it to me to forget I didn’t post this when it was finished like 3? days ago. Also, I admit because it was late I didn't feel the need to grammatically correct my french here since it is a crack fic and all
But hey, that's just French cooking.
Anyways don’t worry Anon, I’m working on those asks, plus some things I wanted to get done too, so literally tomorrow or later today there should be more content that ISN’T crack.
~Snack