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amostimprobabledream · 6 days ago

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Sink Your Teeth In (Kensei x Reader)

Also available on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61846402

"I'm so sorry I'm late."

The restaurant is a Western-style one and you pause to admire the decor as you hurry in. Outside it's raining and cold, so the warmth inside draws you closer like a magnet. You really don't like these after work meals, the conversation is always so forced and the people who pick the food tend to go for these fancy restaurants that make you feel guilty for even considering the more expensive stuff.

Yasochika Iemura, one of your annoying busybody colleagues, scowls at you.

"You're late!" he scolds, as if you didn't just apologise for that very thing.

"I know, I was on the train, and it stopped for about twenty-five minutes outside the station-" you begin, speaking fast. "I tried to call but I couldn't get any reception-"

"Well, you should have gotten an earlier one in the event of this happening!" he says pompously, waving away your words, as if you're expected to plan for every single conceivably emergency. "We've already ordered the starters. Hurry up and sit down."

You scowl in annoyance as you wander over to the vacant chair, awkwardly maneuvering past other diners who have come as couples or families or friends. Not a bunch of people you have to see all the time if you want to get paid. You exchange a couple of awkward smiles with a few people you know somewhat well - Isane Kotetsu is sitting across from you and looks like she'd been having ear talked off.

"Hi!" an attractive waiter with spiky black hair approaches you, seeing you're the only person without her own drink. "I'm Hisagi, would you like to order anything else?"

"Oh, um, I'll have a cider." you say, a little flustered by how cute he is. "Thank you."

He nods and disappears off to the bar. You turn your attention to the starter in front of you - it's not the kind of thing you'd have ordered for yourself, it's some kind of soup or stew, maybe? But it's gone lukewarm and to be honest, you're not really hungry enough to brave mouthfuls of lukewarm soup. You decide to just leave it alone an idly skim through the menu, but you're still feeling frazzled and irritated from being scolded like an errant teenager and nothing jumps out at you.

Besides, this menu is predictably overpriced. Honestly you'd rather just go home and boil instant noodles than waste money on something off a menu with a dozen ingredients you probably won't even like that much.

When Hisagi returns with your drink, you thank him and he discreetly whisks away the bowl of soup when it becomes clear you're not going to eat it. He asks if you want to order anything else and you politely decline. He looks slightly disappointed, like he'd been hoping you'd ask him for something, but he doesn't bother you about it.

"You really don't want anything?" asks Nanao beside you. "The chef here is supposedly very good. Muguruma, I believe his name is?"

"It's okay, don't worry." you reply vaguely, reaching over and grabbing some bread. "I'm kind of broke right now."

You butter the bread as you listen to people around you gossip about what went on in the big board meeting last week - apparently one of the executives lost it and challenged the other one to a fistfight. You wish you'd seen it yourself, it's very Mad Men.

When the waiter starts bringing everyone's main courses to the table, you have to fight not to gawk at some of the dishes he brings out, but now you feel awkward about suddenly changing your mind. Plus, even though some of it smells amazing, you're still not convinced it's worth splashing out your cash on. Maybe if your stupid train hadn't got stuck and gotten you all stressed out and panicky and you'd arrived with everyone like you were supposed to…

"Do you want to try some of mine?" Isane offers shyly as your waiter from earlier wanders past. You glance down at her food which looks like some kind of chicken salad thing, but there's way too much dressing on it and you crinkle your nose just a fraction.

"I'm fine," you smile tightly at her, nibbling on bread.

At least people are getting drunker and less inclined to comment on your picky eating habits. You even loosen enough to laugh and joke about, mostly when people begin ribbing Yasochika, which is easy to do considering he's such a tightly-wound prig, but then he goes and asks to speak to the Chef.

"What is he doing?" you hiss at Nanao, who looks similarly disapproving. "The Chef's busy, he doesn't want to talk to some pompous ass!"

"Ssh. Though you're right, I don't know why he has to do this whenever we go anywhere." Nanao tuts, and you smirk - woe betide the person who gets on Nanao's bad side.

Soon enough a man in a chef's outfit appears. Your eyes widen at the sight of him. You don't know why but you had an image of a guy with a beard and French accent and flamboyant mannerisms, some cliche off TV that embedded in your brain.

Kensei Muguruma, as his nametag says, is nothing like that. He looks like he's made of brick or steel - solid and tough, with arms that, even with the thick chef's coat, you can tell are toned. For sure he hits the gym, he holds himself like a man who takes care of his body, all straight-backed and solid posture. His arms are folded over his chest as he listens to Yasochika's pandering compliments. His jaw is held tight, and you're admiring the sharpness of it when he lifts his eyes to yours, spotting you watching him.

"Oi. You."

His words cut over Yasochika, who flops back in his seat like a kid.

"Uh…yes?" you say, looking up. And up. Christ, his biceps.

"You haven’t ordered a single thing since you sat down." Kensei barks, in tones of deep condemnation. "And you sent the starter back."

That's not strictly true, you didn't even order the starter, they just took it away when you hadn't touched it. But clearly this guy takes food very seriously. He'd got a thunderous scowl on his face, like he intends on throwing you face-first out of the nearest window. A flicker of irritation that had dimmed down into embers comes back to life at his accusatory tone - you don't know how he knows that (except, perhaps, Hisagi mentioned it in passing), but what does it even matter? You don't appreciate him acting like you've done something wrong.

"Well," you say, with a passive-aggressive smile. "Maybe I'm just not hungry."

His eyebrow twitches, not missing out on the edge to your voice. He leans down and you fight back the urge to lean away from him - you won't let him use his bigger size to intimidate you, even if it is kind of working. For god's sake, you're a customer!

Are you, though? a voice in your head asks. After all, you haven't ordered anything. No transaction has occurred, besides the drink at the bar you bought.

Kensei speaks in a low tone, like his words are meant exclusively for you. He has a nice voice when he's not barking orders at people, low and smooth.

"Yeah? You've been sitting there for nearly three hours while everybody else eats, and you're not hungry at all? Bullshit."

Your eyes widened, surprised and, to be honest, a little titillated that he's speaking to you like that. You assumed that this place with its atmospheric mood lighting and ambient music playing would be too haughty for that kind of language. Evidently Chef Muguruma doesn't care as much as everyone else does about all that. Your thighs press together underneath the mahogany table.

Easy, girl, easy.

"You're just a fussy brat, aren't you?" he says, and your chest heaves with indignation. How dare he?! Especially in front of your colleagues who are totally earwigging!

"Maybe you're just not a good a cook as you think you are." you reply without thinking. Shit, that was rude.

But instead of getting angry like you expected, Kensei smirks and your stomach flipflops. He's even more handsome when he smiles, maybe because it's such a rare thing you feel like you've won something just by catching a glimpse of it.

"Oh yeah?" he says, straightening up. "Fine. Pick something."

He plucks a menu off another table and hands it to you, folding his arms when you take it hesitantly. By now you feel like everyone in the restaurant must be staring at you, but it's Kensei's gaze you return, everyone else fading into background noise. Swallowing, you look down, eyes tracing over the starters, side orders, main course…there are so many options it's a bit overwhelming, but you take your time with it this time, weighing up your choices instead of skimming and dismissing everything offhand. Your eyes land on something and you point to the dish on the menu.

"This one," you say, reading it aloud. "Sole meuniere."

Kensei's eyebrows rise slightly, no doubt expecting you to pick something excessively complicated just to spite him, not a simple dish like this. But he nods and takes the menu back, his eyes on you.

"Don't you move." he says, as if you have anywhere else to go. "I'll be back."

And off he disappears into the kitchen, and you notice the back of his neck is red. Everybody at the table is staring at you and heat crawls up your cheeks. What? You weren't the one who demanded to talk to him!

"What were you thinking!" Yasochika hisses at you, looking mortified. "You can't speak to the chef that way!"

"Stop making a scene, Yasochika." Nanao says, and you could hug her if you weren't already aware she'd hate it. "He asked her to pick something to cook, she picked, he's cooking it. That should be the end of it."

Nanao's words manage to take some of the heat off you and you smile gratefully at her. She simply nods and sips her drink, ever the professional. You should have expected this much, she's used to handling Shunsui on a daily basis. You like the guy, but you can't imagine the willpower takes not to slap him about the head whenever he's sleeping instead of doing paperwork.

Sure enough, after waiting a little while, Kensei reappears and a sizzling pan of fish is presented to you. It smells heavenly, you look over the golden-brown skin of the fish, bubbling still with butter, and you can feel your mouth flooding with saliva. He's right, you are hungry - in fact, you're starving despite the bread you were eating beforehand. You'd just been doing your best to ignore it.

"Well, don't just stare at it." Kensei huffs impatiently. "Get eating."

"You're seriously going to watch?" you ask in a deadpan, but he's apparently determined to get your reaction firsthand. You suppose that's on you for challenging him so openly, so you turn your attention to the piping hot fish in front of you, accompanied by some asparagus that looks nice and fresh.

You grab some of the fish with your fork, which falls apart easily and slowly, take a bite.

Oh, fuck me.

The flavour is soft, sweet and tantalising. You'd expected Kensei to have harsh, strong flavours that fit his personality, but this is like a warm, slow melting together of complementary tastes. Creamy melted butter soaked into the flesh of the fish, and you can taste the tang of salt and parsley. It's not too rich, and the sizzling hot dish wafts steam into your face that makes you salivate as you chew, each bite releasing more buttery goodness. The asparagus that goes great with the fish too - a soft, slightly peppery crunch that doesn't overpower anything.

Kensei's expression would be annoyingly smug, if you weren't enjoying the food so much.

"Good?" he asks, rhetorically. He doesn't need to ask, the look on your face is enough.

"Good." you reply, covering your mouth with your hand, but unable to conceal the growing smile behind it.

A moment lingers between you - more than just a cook and a customer enjoying the creation between you. You'd blame it on the atmosphere or the alcohol you've had, but as you bite into another mouthful of fish, you know what it is. Attraction. He's a damn fine-looking man even buttoned up to the neck as he is - you can only imagine what he looks like when that white coat of his comes off.

With a grunt that might just be covering slight embarrassment, Kensei turns and disappears back into the kitchen, apparently satisfied he's made his point - and, more importantly, given something to the picky eater she actually liked.

You eat every bite of the sole meuniere, licking butter off your lips. It's so good and warm, perfect for filling you up. You won't even mind braving the rainy weather after this. You keep glancing every so often at the kitchen door, longing to look at Kensei one more time, but he's clearly a busy guy and he doesn't reappear all evening.

When it's time to go, you linger a bit so everyone is ahead of you. Hisagi is picking bottles and glasses off the table when he notices you hovering, and gives you a smile.

"Was everything to your liking, miss?"

"It was," you reply with a smile. "Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you for one more thing."

"Certainly!" he says eagerly, and you hand him a napkin.

"Could you give this to the chef? With my compliments." you say, biting your lip slightly, and Hisagi's smile turns into a grin.

"Of course, I'll give it to him when we close tonight. Have a good evening, miss!"

"You too."

You sling on your coat and yank up your hood, hurrying after your colleagues to brave the journey home. Luckily you did remember an umbrella this time. Your heart is pounding even as you leave the restaurant - you're not the type of person to make such a bold move as to give

"I may be picky," you reply, leaning against the counter. "But when I see something I do like, I know it."

"Yeah?" he says and you can picture that cute amused smile of his again. "In that case, meet me after work tomorrow. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”

There’s only one answer to that and you grin foolishly as you reply;

“Yes, Chef.”

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