Taste of Iron

Nineteen: Crank Up The Air Conditioner

Nineteen: Crank Up The Air Conditioner

"It was nice to meet you too, Leo. We'll be in touch," Atlas said as he shook hands with the last applicant.

Thankfully, Damian was doing much better now so the head chef could focus on work once again. Atlas and Emil had scheduled the interviews over the course of the week, and they had just gotten done with the last one. Atlas liked him the most, though he was still pretty young. But he seemed sincere and his resumé had been impressive.

Plus, Atlas had a soft spot for chefs like him, especially ones that couldn't go to culinary school and honed their skills through working from a young age.

"I think he's the one," Atlas stated once Leo, the interviewee, had left.

"I agree," Emil nodded. "Much better than the rest."

"I'll call him tomorrow to give him the news," Atlas added. "I want him working the same shifts as me the first few weeks so that I can train him."

"Whatever you seem fit," Emil shrugged as he stretched his arms. They both were in Shawn's office, sitting side by side at the desk.

"The staff... seems happier since you've taken over," Atlas said.

Emil had made a few changes ever since he bought the restaurant, and his overall involvement and presence had been good for morale. Everyone liked their new boss much more than the old one, and he had formed close relationships with all of the employees in the span of the months he had been there.

"Yeah?" Emil smiled, turning his head to look at the chef.

"Yeah," Atlas nodded. "I was wary when you bought the place, especially since you didn't have any experience with owning a restaurant but you've done a great job."

"It means a lot to hear that from you," Emil replied honestly. His face had lit up and if this was an anime, Atlas was sure that his eyes would be twinkling.

"Uh huh," Atlas hummed, looking away. He was finding it awfully difficult to make eye contact with Emil the past few days. Every single time they got close... Atlas would have the same intrusive thoughts again.

First, they would be about wanting to close whatever distance was between them. And then he'd feel guilty for feeling so. He kept reminding himself that Emil was a criminal, and that he would be a fool to get romantically involved with him. However, as the days passed, he was starting to care less and less about the latter.

"It's hot in here," Emil muttered as he stood up from the chair.

"What?" Atlas blinked, taken aback.

"It's hot in here," Emil repeated as he started folding the sleeves of his shirt up till his elbows. "Shawn keeps this office like a goddamn sauna."

"Oh." Atlas's mind was somewhere else completely. "Yeah. Why don't you get your own office? I mean, you've been spending so much time here so you might as well..."

"I never thought of that," Emil hummed, now rolling up the other sleeve. "Maybe. But I mostly hang out in the kitchen so I don't think I need an office. Plus I've grown to love to annoy the old man."

"Think about it," Atlas mumbled, his eyes fixed on Emil's arms. He still hadn't seen his tattoos properly, and he was growing more and more curious to find out what all the man had inked on his skin. "How many tattoos do you have?"

"I've lost count by now," Emil answered, before grinning. "Why? You like them?"

"Yeah," Atlas retorted without a second thought. "They're hot."