Jayce's Late Night Cooking
The kitchen of The Undercity was a glow with stove tops. The clattering of knives against the cutting board and the rich scent of seared meat and butter filled the kitchen. The restaurant had been closed for hours, the staff long gone, yet Jayce was still here- shirtless, his muscular frame illuminated by the dim kitchen lights, sweat beading along his arms as he worked.
A storm of ingredients surrounded him: diced shallots, herbs scattered across the counter, a pot boiling over with a deep aromatic stock. He moved intensely, muscles flexing as he plated, tasted, and adjusted. It wasn't just cooking- it was preparing for battle. The upcoming competition with The Chem Baron Bar dug itself deep into Jayce's thoughts. He had to be better. He had to win.
Jayce had been going at it for hours now and didn't plan to stop anytime soon. That is until the soft creak of the kitchen door broke the stigma.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," a familiar voice chimed, smooth and touched with amusement, "but you do realize most people sleep at this hour."
Jayce didn't have to turn to know who it was. He smirked, flipping a piece of stake onto a plate. "Didn't know you were my mother, Viktor."
Viktor leaned against the counter, watching Jayce with a knowing look. He was still dressed in his usual waistcoat and rolled-up sleeves, and his cane against his side. His sharp eyes flickered over the chaos Jayce had made- the half-used spices, the sauces smeared on the counters.
"I see you're stress cooking," Viktor noted, tapping a finger against the counter. "A good sign, or should I be worried?"
Jayce exhaled a laugh, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "Just needed to clear my head." He picked up a towel and wiped at his chest absentmindedly. "I have to be perfect. The Chem Barons aren't just some average competition Vik. Their chef Finn-he's ruthless. If we screw up, it's not just losing a competition, but the reputation we have built."
Viktor hummed, stepping closer to Jayce. "Perfection is an illusion Jayce." His voice softened. "You are putting too much weight on your shoulders."
Jayce sighed, turning to face Viktor fully. For a moment, he just looked at him-the warm glow of the kitchen lights caught the golden hues of Viktor's eyes, and there was something ethereal about his presence.
"You always do this," Jayce murmured, lips curving into something softer. "Come in here, say a few smart things, and suddenly I forget how to breathe."
Viktor smirked, "Perhaps that is simply my charm."
Jayce chuckled, shaking his head before sliding a dish to Viktor. "Here, try this."
Viktor raised a brow but took a seat, cutting into the steak. He chewed thoughtfully, then gave a small, satisfied nod. "Not bad."
"No bad?" Jayce gaped at him.
Viktor shrugged, his smirk widening, "Perhaps a little too heavy on the rosemary."
Jayce groaned dramatically, throwing his towel at him. Viktor caught it with a laugh, shaking his head.
A comfortable silence settled between them as Viktor placed his fork down, studying the shirtless man before him. His friend, his partner, the man standing before him, overworked and overstressed yet always striving for more. Viktor reached out, his fingers ghosting over Jayce's wrist.
"You are more than just this competition,' Viktor murmured. "More than winning or losing. Do not let it consume you."
Jayce swallowed, caught in the moment, caught in the way Viktor was looking at him
Then after a short pause Viktor leaned back with a smirk. "However, if it will help you relax, perhaps we can conduct some.....research."
"Research?"
Viktor tilted his head, "We should see The Chem Baron Bar for ourselves. Get a feel for their menu, their atmosphere. If we are o beat them, we must know what we are up against."
Jayce huffed out a breath, shaking his head with a smile, "You just want an excuse for us to go get drinks at a place we don't work at for a change."
"Perhaps," Viktor admitted, grinning, "But it is a very good excuse."
Jayce laughed, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. "Alright,"
Viktor raised his fork as if in a toast, "then let's call it a date!"
And with that a plan was set.