Hell's Smitten (Gordon Ramsay x Reader)

Chapter 71- The Twelfth Dinner Service

Saturday, July 13th, 2013

Gordon exits his office and heads down the stairs, coming to a stop in front of the kitchens. I look up at him and admire his crisp head chef jacket. He catches me looking at him and gives a small, nearly unnoticeable smile before he claps for everyone's attention.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, today is the last day you'll be working in two separate kitchens. Who's ready to bring in the last possible win for the blue or red team?"

"We are, Chef!" both kitchens shout.

"Make your team proud today, Chefs," he says, then turns towards the dining room.

"JP?"

JP pops his head out from beneath the bar.

"Oui, Chef?"

"Open Hell's Kitchen, would you?"

"Oui, Chef." He nods, then opens the double doors for the final day of red versus blue.

The hungry customers flood the dining room until it is full capacity. I glance over my pots and pans, making sure everything is in place.

I just have to get through today. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves.

"Blue team, on order. Table thirty– two scallop, two risotto! Time?" Gordon asks.

"Eight minutes, Chef," Abel responds as he pours out the ingredients for two risottos into a pan.

"Excellent, I'll call out the next ticket soon. Be ready."

Abel nods and returns his attention to his pans.

The sauce for the scallops is already prepared, it only needs to be heated. So that means I'll be standing here without much to do for at least five minutes. I look over my station again, trying to keep my mind busy so it doesn't sink into sadness. As Abel said, my parents are expecting me to do well. And as Gordon said, I need to take care of myself.

In the meantime, Gordon calls out a second ticket with two more risottos and a salad.

I rifle through the different containers of sauce that are waiting to be reheated, trying to keep them organized. I pick up a container and turn it so I can read the label. An image of my mother's eyes locking with mine fills my mind's eye. The container slips through my fingers as I go rigid with shock, sauce splattering all over the floor and on my shoes.  "Fuck!"

"What was that?" Gordon peers into the blue kitchen and notices the saucy mess all over the floor and me. "(Y/N)? Are you alright?"

I nod weakly.

Gordon starts to walk over, then hesitates. Instead, he takes his towel off his shoulder and tosses it to me.

"Clean yourself up, then get the mop from the pantry. You should have time to mop it up before your garnish will be needed."

"Don't worry about that, (Y/N), I've got it. Stir my risottos for me, Kalyani?" Abel asks, motioning to his station.

Kalyani responds with a quick, "Of course," and moves to his station to take over.

Abel thanks her then steps towards the pantry and emerges a few seconds later with the mop and bucket Gordon had mentioned.

"Thank you, Abel," I say sincerely. He nods, then rolls the bucket out to my station and mops up the floor while I use Gordon's towel to clean my shoes. By the time I'm finished cleaning myself, Abel has finished cleaning up the sauce.

Well, maybe I don't feel as bad as I did before I came on this show. This time, I had comfort to get me through the roughest patches of reliving my parents' deaths. From my friends. From Abel. And most importantly, from Gordon.