Chapter Text
Some people find certain types of calm when surrounded by chaos, finding moments that are almost peaceful when the world around them is in bedlam.
“How many minutes on the salmon?” Steve hollered across the bustling kitchen, never taking his eyes off the spread of plates in front of him. This was the last course to be plated for the night but that did not mean he would allow it to be any less perfect than the first four.
“Three minutes Chef!”
Steve gently poured the lemon béarnaise sauce on to the final plate before responding. “See if you can make it two!”
“Yes Chef!” His team moved in a flurry of motion behind him.
Luckily Chef Steve Rogers, formerly Captain Rogers, was just that kind of a man.
XXXX
Outside the double doors that separated the kitchen from the large function hall, the muffled sounds of someone making a speech and the polite laugher that always follows could be heard. Steve peered out of the small window in the door and caught a glimpse of his friend on stage. Wiping his hands idly on a dish towel, he turned back to his now exhausted crew.
“Thank you all so much for your help tonight everyone. It was a great service, and as of now it doesn’t appear as though any one has gotten food poisoning.” Steve grinned lightly at his own bad joke. The cooks paused in their clean up duties to glance at each other while shooting confused looks at him.
Steve shrugged as he made his way across the kitchen to drop his apron off in the laundry bin. He knew that most of the Executive Chefs that he had worked under in the past had a habit of neglecting to thank their staff, especially after a particularly challenging service. He hadn’t realized it was quite so rare as to earn him strange looks from this group.
“Steve-orino!” One of the double doors swung open with a bang, breaking up the awkward silence that permeated the room. Steve rolled his eyes good naturedly as he watch Tony strut in to the kitchen as though he owned it. Wait, Steve thought, he actually did own the building.
“Sorry I missed your speech Tony, but some of us actually have to work around here.” Steve slung an arm across the other man’s shoulders.
“Don’t worry Stevie I’m sure Pepper caught it on tape, as per usual. I’m sure I could get you a copy so you can just watch it over and over.” Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and began to lead him out the kitchen doors, ignoring the furtive whispering that was occurring behind him.
“Umm Tony this is the ballroom,” Steve mumbled uncomfortably.
“Keen observation there, no wonder they made you a Captain.” Tony continued applying a steady pressure to lead them to a large table by the stage, where a number of people were standing around mingling, drinks in hand.
Steve let out a petulant groan. “When I agreed to help you said it was in the kitchen. You never mentioned anything about mingling with these people.”
“These people? Why I’m shocked Steven.” Tony feigned offense but the wicked grin that meant he was up to trouble never left his face.
“You know what I mean,” Steve grumbled, smoothing down his chef coat and hoping there weren’t too many stains. He had never been happier that he had decided to wear his solid black chef pants as opposed to the horrible checks. Absolutely no one looks good in those. “Besides you know I’m not any good at small talk.”
Tony ignored his protests as he arrived at the table, giving Steve a small push forward. “Ladies and gentlemen may I introduce your Executive Chef for the evening, Chef Steve Rogers.”
Steve felt his cheeks heat up as fifteen pairs of eyes turned to look at him. The couple closest to him beamed at the introduction. “The food was just exquisite Chef, some of the best we’ve had outside of Europe.” The woman who addressed him was one of the most elegantly dressed women that Steve had ever seen. Her hair was pulled back in a dramatic bun and her green eyes were piercing as she took him in.
Steve stumbled for words, now positive that he was completely red at their praise and the unexpected inspection. “Steve-o this is Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. Eleanor here is the CEO of… oh crap….you know…that company that has the huge tower downtown. Anyways, she’s CEO of that and Bruce here is a big time, super nifty lawyer.” Tony grinned, pleased at his lack luster introduction,
Mrs. Barnes smiled politely at Tony, before turning her attention back to Steve. “Now Steven, how long have you been the Chef here at the Marquis? When we ate at the last function here the food was just terrible.”
“Well actually, I’m just working here tonight as a favor to Tony, for some reason he’s an old friend. There was some sort of incident with their regular Chef.” Tony snickered next to him at that.”Tony won’t give me all the details but when he called this morning I jumped at the chance to work at such a prestigious event.”
“You must tell us where you normally work so that we can host our next event there,” Bruce insisted. Mr. Barnes was dressed just as well as his wife but he failed to exude the same confident and intimidating presence that she did.
“Well actually, I’m a bit… in between jobs at the moment.” Steve rubbed the back of his neck nervously, trying to mask his embarrassment.
Eleanor’s face lit up as she heard that and a wicked grin spread across her face. She looked like a predator ready to pounce and Steve was starting to feel a bit like the prey. “Steven you must come and work for us. Our personal Chef left us a few weeks ago and we have been absolutely starving without her. Please tell me you’ll do it.” The confident tone of her voice convinced Steve that this was a woman who always got what she wanted.
Steve looked around nervously for support but Tony had moved on and was engrossed in conversation across the room. “I really do appreciate the offer but I think I should think on it a bit.”
“Of course dear, I’ve put you on the spot. Call my assistant Peggy tomorrow and she will fill you in on all the details then take a few days to consider it.” Eleanor’s kind smile was still in place but her eyes were cold. The way she held out a small card made it clear she would not take no for an answer.
Steve took the offered business card and tucked it in to his pocket. “Yes ma’am I will. Thank you for the offer, and it was lovely to meet you but I really must get back to check on, er, the kitchen staff.” He made a small bow before hurrying across the ballroom to find sanctuary surrounded by ovens and stoves. Really Steve a bow, he grumbled to himself. He could churn out a five course meal and lead men into battle but five minutes with such a high-status group had him running for cover.
XXXX
Steve woke late the next morning. When he had finally made it home last night it had been all he could do to kick off his clothes before falling in to bed. He stretched, feeling the small but satisfying burn of muscles that were tired from a hard day’s work. The delicious smell of something baking pulled him out of his warm cocoon of blankets and the promise of coffee dragged him downstairs.
His roommate hovered over their small excuse for a stove, hissing as bacon grease splattered up on to his arms. Behind him the coffee maker let out its final series of gurgles, signaling that it was ready. Steve poured himself a mug and slid on to a stool to watch. “What’s the occasion Sam?”
Sam’s head jerked up as if he just noticed for the first time that he was no longer alone in the kitchen. “Shit man, warn a guy.”
“I kind of figured you would have heard me,” Steve said, gesturing with his mug. Sam grumbled something about big guys being too sneaky for their own good as he tried to whisk the contents of a sauce pan while he flipped the last strip of bacon. “Need a hand there or are you practicing your cirque du soleil audition routine?”
Sam rolled his eyes but the corners of his mouth tipped up in to a betraying smile. “Get the biscuits out of the stove and set the table.”
“Oh no, it’s a biscuits kind of morning? I’m sorry man,” Steve groaned as he slid on an oven mitt. Sam made a variety of breakfasts that each had a very specific implication about his mood. Omelets meant he had just met a new girl, pancakes meant he got lucky the night before, and waffles signaled that he was frustrated about a case at work. But biscuits and gravy only meant one thing; he had been dumped.
“’S okay man, wasn’t that serious yet.” Same shoved a plate piled high with food in his direction before working on his own.
Steve took the plate, his stomach grumbling in anticipation. They fell in to an easy conversation as they ate, Sam pointedly ignoring his break up. Just as Steve was mopping up the last of the gravy on his plate Sam’s head jerked up as if he was remembering something.
“Oh man, I almost forgot,” he reached in to the pocket of his sweat pants, pulling out a small card. “Is this yours? I found it on the stairs this morning. Did you meet someone?”
Steve groaned as he grabbed the business card. “Must have fallen out of my jacket when I took it off last night.” Sam stared at him blankly, clearly waiting for more information. “It’s nothing really, just some rich society lady wants me to come be her personal chef.”
“Hey that’s excellent.” Sam raised his own mug of coffee in cheers.
“I don’t think I’m going to take it,” Steve grumbling, turning the paper over in his hands nervously.
“Why? Besides the fact that you’re a damn fool, because I already know that.” Steve shrugged idly, feeling like he was back in grade school. “Come on man, I know it’s not the five star restaurant you’ve been dreaming about but it’s a great start. You know these rich society people, they know everybody. You could make some great connections. I think you owe it to yourself to at least give them a call.”
Sam slouched back in his chair looking about as smug as someone could while chewing on a slice of bacon, which it turns out, is pretty darn smug. “Okay, okay, I’ll call her,” Steve sighed. “You know you shouldn’t be allowed to do that therapist stuff on unsuspecting civilians.”
“You can take that up with the VA then, now stop deflecting and call.”
Steve pushed his chair back and threw his hands up in surrender, mumbling something about no good, nosy roommates as he pulled out his phone and began to punch in the neatly printed number. He rolled his eyes at Sam’s grin as the phone rang. After the third ring he started to feel like he might be lucky enough to just leave a message. He had tried after all.
“Carter,” a voice answered, breaking Steve’s train of wishful thinking. The woman on the phone had a rich English accent that left him momentarily speechless.
“Er yes, hi, um, I’m calling for a Miss Peggy Carter,” Steve said, wincing as he fumbled for words. Sam sitting right there snickering into his napkin was not helping.
“And as I answered the phone with Carter you may deduce that you have succeeded.” No shit Steve thought, trying to keep any attitude out of his voice.
“Yes, well I’m Steve Rogers. Mrs. Barnes told me that I should talk to you about the opening for a personal chef.”
“Yes, Steven, Mrs. Barnes hoped you might call.”
Steve sighed and shot Sam a glance. What was it about these people who insisted on calling him Steven? “You can just call me Steve.”
“Alright just Steve, let me tell you about what would be expected of you and what sort of compensation you can expect to receive.” After giving him a moment to grab a pen and a scrap of paper Ms. Carter began to explain how he would be expected to work every afternoon and evening except for Fridays when the Barnes family liked to try new restaurants. He would also be required to cook Sunday mornings for brunch, apparently another family tradition. When she got to his salary he had to pause and clarify the number.
“We would like to have you start this coming weekend, assuming your background check clears,” she finished.
“Assuming that I say yes to the job you mean,” Steve said, aware that he was already sold on the idea.
“Well you will won’t you Steve?” Steve could almost hear her smiling over the phone.
Sam shot him a thumbs up from where he was leaning over to see Steve’s notes as he was writing them. “Yes Peggy I think I will.”
After giving him the final details of how the security checks would work, Peggy hung up with the promise that they would speak again in a few days. Steve sunk back into his chair suddenly overwhelmed, letting the phone drop against his leg.
“So?” Sam asked, nudging his shoulder.
Steve ran a hand through his short blonde hair. “I’m going to be a personal chef for one of the most influential families in the city.”