The Staff Series part 1- Baldroy

You were always cooking, and that's how you liked it. You were always at your best mentally and physically when you were mixing together new ingredients, catching scent of the tempting deliciousness of every new food you cooked, and finally serving it.

You cooked a lot, of course, because you were a chef at the house of a local eccentric millionaire. Stress the word, were. No longer did you have your job of dreams, since you had been fired from your post just hours before.

Why? He claimed to have gotten food poisoning from your 'careless' cooking, to anybody who asked. But in all honesty, your boss had been (unsuccessfully) trying to make passes at you every chance he got; his hand would snake up your thigh whenever you would lean down to serve him supper, his arm would brush up against your rear end while he came in to "check on the food", and he would ask you to bring him a snack to his room just conveniently enough when he was completely naked.

Hours before, he had finally told you bluntly that if you wouldn't sleep with him, he would throw you onto the streets. It didn't take more than a second thought to pack your things and leave. There was no way you were going to lose your virginity to some nasty old man just to keep your job. You were sure you'd find another job eventually- your cooking was, quite honestly, irresistible.

Now, you stood tiredly at the corner of the nearest shopping strip, where street vendors animatedly advertised their products, little kids played, and drunk men would attempt to start fights with random passerbys.

That's Victorian London for ya, you thought, either completely crazy or completely refined.

All you had with you was a small satchel, which held your life savings and your resume (in case someone was hiring). All you wore was a simple floor length robin's egg blue gown, which laced up at the front with sapphire blue ribbons. On your feet were a pair of faded black high heels.

"'Ay, miss," you heard a high-pitched voice call to you from behind. You turned to find a short boy, about ten or eleven, holding a burlap sack of rolled up newspapers. "Like to buy one? Only two pence, ma'am. Quite the steal, if ya ask me."

"Oh, all right," you said politely, taking three coins in your bag. "Here's the two pence for the papers, and here's one for whatever you want it to be for."

"Gee, thanks!" he took the coin and stuffed it into his pocket quickly, as though you might chind your mind at any second. He handed you a paper, and with that he had jet off. You smiled to yourself. It made you content making kids happy. You remembered being on the streets back when you were nine, begging for food and sleeping in alleys on top of rotting sheets you had found in a dumpster. That was after your parents left, never disclosing where they had went.

It was nine years later now, and you had made pretty well for yourself. Settling onto a bench, you opened the paper, skimming the latest news. Nothing really peaked your interest. It was all mostly murders and robberies, nothing you hadn't already heard of endless times through. You flipped the page and found an ad that covered an entire sheet.

Work Wanted at the Phantomhive Estate

-1 Co-chef needed

-Gender does not matter

-Pay will be £1.50 a day plus room and food

-Arrive at the Phantomhive manor at 2:00 pm on 5 February for interview if interested

*ad issued by Sebastian Michaelis

Your eyes involuntarily widened a pound and a half a day? That was a lot. And to work for THE Ciel Phantomhive was a pretty huge accomplishment. If you could get that on your resume, you'd be able to get any job you wanted.

Today was February 4th, so you didn't have much time to prepare. Somehow you'd have to make yourself presentable. You checked into a bed and breakfast run by the husband of all the mens' favorite brothel girl.

The next morning, you fixed yourself up and attempted to make yourself presentable. You combed your (h/c) hair with your fingers until it no longer frizzed up, and you hastily ate a pillow mint to somehow make up for not being able to clean your teeth. There was not much else you could do, so you checked out (but not before indulging in a free burnt waffle).

Thirty minutes before two rolled around, you called over a carriage driver. "Phantomhive estate, please." The driver nodded curtly, protruded his hand for the money, and cracked the reigns. It took precisely thirty minutes to arrive, and you marveled at the intricate, enormous house in person.

It was crafted so well, one couldn't tell at all that there had been a tragic fire a few years before. You felt a bit sorry for the owner of the mansion, thirteen year old Ciel Phantomhive. He did have a lot on his plate, as well as a mansion to run.

After thanking the driver, you exited the carriage and made your way gingerly up the steps to the door. Before you could knock, the door opened, revealing a tall man who seemed to be in his mid to late twenties. His hair was raven, and he wore a dark suit and silk gloves. He flashed a suitably attractive smirk at you, and bowed his head respectfully.

"You must be here for the interviews, am I correct?"

"Yeah." You considered adding 'how'd you know?' in for sarcastic emphasis, but ruled against it.

"Things are going to be a bit different for this interview. Instead of answering ridiculous questions in an interview, you will be assisting our head," he paused for a second to mutter 'and only' under his breath, "chef in preparing a meal for the master. If you do a good job, you will get the position."

"All right, sounds easy enough."

He chuckled in a way that was amused, yet not condescending. "Don't be fooled. Our head chef is a bit... reckless, which is why we're searching for a co-chef. To keep him in place so that I don't have to. It will be a bit more work on your part."

You nodded, (e/c) eyes glinting. You had this made! You were definitely going to get the job.

"My name is Sebastian," said the man. "I do apologize, as I have not yet formally introduced myself. And your name, milady?"

"(y/n) (y/l/n)," you responded, a blush resonating in your cheeks as response to being called "milady". He led you to the kitchen, and nodded his head. "Good luck."

With that, you entered.

There was a man leaning against a counter with his hand massaging his neck, just barely grazing about butterscotch-colored hair. In his other hand was a lit cigarette, the smoke furling towards the cieling and disappearing into thin air. "Hey, I'm (y/n). I'm going to be helping you cook tonight, and hopefully after today also."

He looked up, cerulian eyes squinted. He had a light overlay of stubble, but it suited him. He was actually very attractive, in a rugged way. "'Ay, you're tryin' out for the job? What's a pre'y thing like you want to do with cookin'?"

You felt a giggle escape your lips against your will. Somehow it made your heart swell that he called you pretty. "It's fun, at least to me." You approached him, smiling warmly. "I haven't got your name?"

"Baldroy. But everyone calls me Bard."

"Well, hello, Bard. What are we cooking tonight?"

"Erm.. about that." He sheepishly directed his gaze to a spot in the kitchen, which you followed. An entire countertop was charred black, with a seared full turkey set in the middle like a cherry on top.

You suddenly realized what Sebastian had meant by 'reckless'. You couldn't help but laugh. He raised his eyebrows, his lips turning up at the corners as he took a drag of his cigarette. "You laughin' at me, missy?"

"No," you said, a grin apparent on your face. "Alright, maybe a little."

"'Ay, it's hard to cook turkey, ya know."

"I mean, I guess I understand the turkey, but an entire counter?" You snorted, trying to stifle your laughter with your hands clasped to your face.

He ruffled his hair, his strong arm flexing as he did so. You sauntered over to him, took his cigarette from his lips playfully, and pressed it to yours. You took a drag, and positioned it back in his mouth. You normally didn't smoke- you usually only did it with people you really liked when you were having a lot of fun. But today you were feeling particularily adventurous, and you definitely liked this chef.

"So, what do you suggest we cook?"

"How about... hm." You sifted through the stock of food,hoping to find something that could be turned into an extravagant feast. All you found that was remotely delectible was salmon.

"Alright, this'll have to do." You flopped the lifeless fish onto the counter. It smelled positively rancid to you, but you knew it was worth it to ignore the smell. If you pulled this off, you could easily get the job.

"Okay, slice up the fish and I'll start making a lemon-vinegar sauce to top."

"Awright, easy enough!" He got to work, and you began with the sauce. A cup of lemon juice, three teaspoons of vinegar, a dash of oregano. Finally a half of a stick of butter to tame the acidity. You turned excitedly to bard, where you found he had completely mauled the fish. Pink chunks of meat scattered the cutting board, and he was bleeding from accidently slicing his arm.

"God, Bard, how can you possibly mess up on cutting a damn fish?" You said it teasingly, but you could tell he took it to heart. He sighed, obviously apologetic.

Rubbing his back sympathetically, you said, "it's all right, I'll figure something out." You wondered what on earth you could do with diced up salmon, but didn't want to make the wannabe chef feel even worse. You decided to make a vegetable stew, and in it mix the well-cooked chunks of salmon for a pop of flavor and protein.

You started to cook the salmon, refusing to let Bard to the honors with a flamethrower (honestly, why did he even think it was a good idea?). While it cooked, you turned to Bard. "So, how'd you manage to get the job?"

"Long story." He blew smoke from his cigarette, the smoke wafting into your face. You muffled a cough, and he didn't notice. "Wanna tell me your life story or somethin'?"

"Hm. Yeah, sure," you said casually. "Why do you wanna know?"

"Well, I wanna know more about you than that you're just beau'iful and a hell of a better cook than I am."

"All right then," you blushed deeply, avoiding his eye contact. You hoped to god you weren't developing a crush on him, but you knew already it was too late. "I was born in a slum somewhere in London. Don't really care to remember where. My parents ditched me when I was nine, and I had to live on the streets. When I was eleven I got picked up by a local orphanage and I learned to cook there. Then I got a few jobs for cooking, and eventually hit the jackpot getting a job from this old rich guy."

"How was 'at? I've only ever cooked for the master, see."

"Erm... not so good. The guy turned out to be a perv and kicked me out since I wouldn't give him his way."

"No shit!" he began laughing ferociously. You considered snapping annoyedly at him for making fun of a serious situation, but you considered it for a minute- it was pretty funny. A weird old guy who spent all his time constructing meaningless statues out of things collected from dumpsters lusting after his teenage cook. It was quite the story.

You felt yourself fall into full-blown hysteria, letting the past worries slip away. In time the two of you were both laughing over something you had forgotton- your stomach hurt and your head couldn't recall just what was so funny. Suddenly, you remembered the salmon.

"Shit." You turned to the salmon to find it nearly burnt to a crisp. The time was ten to six- almost supper time, and not possibly enough time to start cooking something else. "We're just going to have to deal with this."

You picked up a chunk and popped it into your mouth. It wasn't too bitter from the burnt outer skin, and the inside meat was tender. "It's still okay."

"Thank 'em heavens," Bard said, pulling you into a hug. "My god, you're amazin'. If you get this job I just might have to kiss ya."

You laughed, swiping his cigarette and taking one more puff for good measure before rubbing it out. "All right, it's show time."

xx

Dinner had just ended, and you had watched Ciel intently the entire time, percieving his facial expressions hoping to somehow see if he was content with his colorful stew littered with blackened bits. His face showed nothing, but he ate the entire meal until there was nothing left. Now you were talking to the maid Mey-Rin in her headquarters, waiting for Sebastian to give you the news.

"Milady. Young master has given me his concensus on the meal."

You jerked your head up to meet Sebastian's voice. He had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Adrenaline began coursing rapidly through your veins.

"He thought it was rather delicious. Welcome to the job."

You had to suppress a squeal of delight, but instead bounced on the balls of your feet. "Thank you so much, sir. You won't be disappointed."

"Tell that to the young master."

You nodded, running down to the kitchen first to greet Bard. He enveloped you in his arms, and you inhaled his spicy, cigarette-infused scent. His arms were warm and toned, and he looked down to you, a mischeivous shine in his eyes. "Ya know, I did say if you got the job I'd kiss your pre'y face."

Before you could respond, he tilted your chin upwards and pressed his lips to yours. Softly kissing him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and let him pull you closer to him by the waist. Deepening the kiss, you could taste wine and cigarettes. Neither of the flavors appealed to you, but mixed with Bard, you didn't mind them at all. You met him only a few hours ago, but you still felt like you'd known him for a lifetime. The kiss was charged with passion, and you knew Bard was not some meaningless crush you'd developed.

You pulled away, flustered, your face filled with color and a silly grin across your mouth.

"(Y/n), welcome to the Phantomhive manor." He blushed a bit, and then spoke once more. "Ya know, I really can't believe I just did that. I always get so nervous around girls I like."

You smirked, and without a word, returned to kissing him.