Chapter Text
For most of Vi's life, her entire focus has been food.
Finding it, having enough of it, making it palatable for Powder and herself.
It was a matter of survival to have enough and to be able to stomach it. She made it a game to encourage her sister to eat more, then she started enjoying the variations she made. Staleness could be counteracted with a sweet or tangy sauce, mold could be disguised with an expert level of seasoning, and slow patience of simmering oils could transform a piece of fish meat from near rancidness to something savory and delectable.
Vi kept on it as she grew. She pestered her way into a dishwashing job at Jericho's and then worked her way up to line cook. Jericho himself began giving her free reign over menu items and Vi ran with it. She made dishes she'd read about in books, she made dishes from things she threw into a wok, she made dishes to best suit the taste buds of someone fresh from a break up. She was on top of the Culinary Underworld.
So the piece of paper Jinx wiggled under her nose asking for applications for a Private Chef position in some expensive household were hardly appetizing.
“I don't think so,” Vi dismissed. Her knife ran another pass over the whetstone in a careful, practiced motion.
“But the money is so good. Vi, you could get your own place with this cash.” Jinx moved to her other side and waved the paper again.
“The money will be enough to wake me up at odd hours of the day to cook for a single rich person who doesn't know a marinade from a glaze,” Vi scoffed and slapped the paper out of her vision.
“You work odd hours anyway. At least with this, you could stay clean and you'd have time to yourself. You wake up at two in the afternoon everyday and then work in the kitchen until three in the morning. That's not healthy, sis.” Jinx's voice twisted in concern and dipped in volume.
That gave Vi pause. Because she was right: as it was, she barely had time to see or speak with her sister even though they lived in the same apartment. Jinx was off in the morning to University classes and she only came back as Vi rolled out of bed and threw on her comfiest pants and Crocs. Paying for classes had stopped being such an immediate burden thanks to the restaurant's success, but she wasn't afforded the opportunity of taking advantage of it. She woke up, worked herself into exhaustion, and slept. Vi frowned at the paper in her sister's hands.
“Where'd you find out about this?” she asked warily. A good opportunity was one thing, a gift horse was another.
“I dunno,” Jinx shrugged, “my teacher said his partner is best friends with her or something. I do know they're like, the richest people in the city so,” another shrug, “worth taking a look.”
Vi rolled her eyes.
“Oh, a friend of a friend of a friend? How trustworthy.”
The paper didn't crinkle when she snatched it out of Jinx's hand. It didn't lose its shape or become deformed. It was some kind of heavy-duty quality stationary that only a really rich person would bother with. There was a crest of crossed keys at the top and a date and time above a job description. The likelihood that this random job opportunity would allow her the same freedom as Jericho's while paying her almost three times more was slim to none, but it was worth it to see her sister more. Maybe they'd even be able to move closer to Jinx's school or Vi's new job.
“Well?” Jinx asked, plopping her chin to Vi's shoulder.
“Whatever, I'll try out or something.” The life was squeezed out of her only a moment later as Jinx took hold like some kind of needy octopus. “Okay, okay, do your homework or something,” Vi grumbled, shoving her off. Her sister didn't wait and pranced away, humming a jaunty little tune as she went. Heartening as it was, Vi glanced at the ancient clock on the wall and frowned. She had to get to work. “I'm out! Stay safe!” she called, grabbing her leather roll of knives to take with her.
The streets of the Undercity laid out bare before her as she walked. As she grew, so had the city, and it became a lifeblood to her in a way only her sister could match. With all its terrible smells, slimy textures, loud noises, and decaying air, Vi found home in it all and relished in it. The part of the city this upper crust family lived in was something else. Sure, it was all Piltover, but it was night and day different. It had no smells besides those of blossoming flowers, there were no slimy textures at all, loud noises were only that of children flitting between one another's houses, and the air was sweet and floral.
It wasn't the city Vi knew and loved. To live and work there? A terrible idea she couldn't believe she was entertaining. But, like everything else in her life, Jinx's needs and desires outweighed her own. Plus, it gave her the opportunity to learn high end dishes that rich clients might pay exorbitant amounts for. The dream of her own restaurant was left on her pillow every night, but the skills were something that could maybe move it to her pocket one day instead.
Jericho's came into view: gross, gaudy, and genuine. It was covered in all the things Vi loved most about the city which made it a real local spot that no one else risked. Since she'd started prepping food as a teenager, food poisoning cases in the Undercity went down almost 77% and she took full credit for it. A hole in the wall was only as good as its kitchen and Vi was the elevation it needed. Since she began cooking, business had jumped 200% and many of those were regulars that came by more than once a week. They were attached to the food Vi served them.
She jammed the old brass key from her pocket into the lock of the back door and nudged it open with a violent shove from her hip. The routine of checking her instruments, utensils, food, and prep space came easily and she quickly lost herself in the movements and checklists. The line cooks, dishwashers, and the sous chef all filtered in as she worked and began on their own tasks.
Vi let herself melt away into the comfort of it. She loved being surrounded in the place she’d really made her own, the place where she’d worked from nothing to be head chef. The people around her all helped her and pushed her to be better and learn more and she couldn’t be more grateful. Her goal of owning her own restaurant felt possible with them.
Yet, as they moved from prep to open service, and through the course of the evening, Vi’s mind was stuck on the paper Jinx left laying on the counter. A job like that could put her in front of investors, it could line her pockets with start-up cash, it could introduce her food to people with more money than sense to pay for it. It could be good for something. Even once they hit closing and Vi was dead on her feet and hunched at the shoulders, she thought about the paper.
“Hey, what’s with you?” Mylo was a line cook she’d started as a dishwasher with. He was more of a brother that she wanted to smack on the back of the head every time he spoke, but now that they had so many years of friendship behind them, it had lessened to an eye roll.
“Yeah, you’re a little off today. What’s got you so distracted?” Claggor started a handful of months after the two of them, but he’d passed Mylo to become sous chef and neither Vi nor Claggor let him live it down.
“I just-” Vi didn’t really want to tell them. Why did the flier feel like some great big secret? It would take her away from Jericho’s, but anyone who knew her for longer than a day knew that the big guy couldn’t hold on to her forever. She was destined for bigger and greater things. “Jinx found an opportunity that I agreed to try out for. I don’t know, it feels almost too good to be true,” she sighed.
The two followed her out the back door and waited patiently for her to lock up before crowding her shoulders.
“What is it?”
“Who are you cooking for?”
“Are they hot? Rich? Available?”
“How much are they paying?”
Vi shoved at their shoulders with a laugh. “Fuck off. I don’t know much, but I've got a few days to prepare something really fancy.” She could do a Risotto alla Milanese. No, saffron was not a common kitchen stock, she shouldn’t count on it being present. Ingredient availability needed to be taken into consideration too. Maybe some kind of scallops? A possibility to be sure, but not everyone actually liked seafood.
“When’s the try out?” Claggor asked. The night chill had set in with a vengeance, the creeping chill of night forcing him to tug his thick coat tighter around his body. Even Vi was beginning to regret her Crocs.
“In two days. I gotta be up early,” she laughed, a cloud expelling from her mouth like a dragon. A gentle thump to her shoulder from the other side and Vi caught Mylo just as he was about to punch her shoulder lightly again.
“You’re gonna kick ass. They won’t even know what hit ‘em,” he assured, a cocky grin stretching over his face. Normally, Mylo was insufferable and insensitive, for his reassurance was rare and infrequent and made something warm settle deep in Vi’s stomach.
She smiled genuinely.
“Thanks. Really. I think it could be good.”
Hope and trepidation filled her in equal parts on her walk home. The whole arrangement listed out on the paper felt too good to be true, but GOD she wished it was. She waved goodbye to Mylo and Claggor on autopilot and didn’t come out of her haze until she stuck her lock in the door and shuffled inside. Jinx was out cold on the sofa with her arms and legs splayed out wide, the TV playing some infomercial.
Vi grabbed the large throw blanket draped over the comfortable chair she liked to sleep in and tossed it over her sister before turning the TV off, but she didn’t head back to her room. She hovered over Jinx, letting the swirl of feelings she'd been unable to sort through during the day drain out of her. There was no real decision to make. Her sister asked her to do it.
So she would.
The morning of, Vi woke up too early. Jinx hadn’t even gotten back from her classes when she leaned wearily out of bed and pushed herself to her feet. She’d spent the night tossing and turning and thinking of recipes from books she’d only ever heard of. By the time she woke up, she could almost taste the lemon tang on her tongue.
Her morning shower was extra long and she took particular care to scrub behind her ears and comb her hair out once she stepped from the shower into the chilly air. With her whitest button down smoothed in place and her knives packed and ready to go, Vi set off towards the nice part of town.
Since the city was divided so evenly between the rich part and the poor, Vi could have closed her eyes and felt the difference in the sidewalk through her Oxford shoes. Cracks in the pavement were filled in or tiles were replaced entirely when lower city counterparts were left to widen and crumble into a network of jagged spiderwebs down each street.
Vi found immeasurable comfort in the way her feet instinctively avoided the worst gaps even when dinner rushes had her dead on her feet for hours. The unexpected feeling of flat concrete underneath her soles set her on edge in a way she didn't like. It screamed 'outsider' with each sneering step that Vi grit her teeth to ignore. The closer she got to the address, the worse it got until she growled at herself and shook her head.
A massive looming shadow was the first blemish in the sidewalk and Vi raised her head to meet with a wrought iron gate of elegant twisted metal rose up from the ground between two creamy stone walls to partially block the view of a truly obnoxiously large house. It was set back a fair distance from the gate and its alabaster veneer gave it the impression of an untouchable beacon.
Vi took a hesitant step backwards. Maybe she wasn't right for this. Big fancy mansions only ever meant big snooty families. And this family - the crest at the top of the gate that matched the paper in her pocket confirmed it - couldn't be anything but. She could get the money for her restaurant another way. There would be more chances-
An oversized, ancient front door creaked open and a stocky, smug looking man descended the front steps towards the gate. He was dressed in a chef coat that was free of any wrinkles, stains, or burns. Vi's coat hadn't looked like that in almost ten years.
A loud creak was the only warning she got before the gate began to open and she jumped out of its path just before it could scrape across the top of her foot. The chef snorted as he passed through the gates.
“Careful now, those gates are low enough to scrape the scum off the streets,” he laughed.
All of Vi's reluctance evaporated. This fuck-o wanted a fight?
“Thanks for the heads up, I'll be sure to tell the security to scrape you off in the morning.”
Vi grinned wide and sharp, each of her teeth exposed with a threatening glint in her eye as she strode past him. Not once did she turn to look behind her and the chef's indignant sputtering turned her grin genuine as she reached the front door.
A hearty knock brought a housekeeper to the door and once she confirmed her purpose there, Vi was brought to a sitting room just to the left of the front door. The outside of the house was apparently a perfect indication as to the inside because the room and its décor were no surprise.
Every inch of it screamed 'wealth' from the first foot in the door. The furniture was all well-kept, antique, and expensive and Vi had to look at the housekeeper for reassurance before she sat gingerly on the edge of a cushion. Paintings of people wearing clothes decades and centuries out of date lined the papered walls and gave an easy hint to just how old and insufferable this family probably was. The itch to flee was insistent as it grew louder and louder.
Minutes passed in uncomfortable waiting until eventually a gruff laugh echoed down the main hallway. The faint impression of a soft voice followed after it until it became clearer and clearer and-
“-will be in touch with you as soon as I've made a decision. I appreciate your time today.”
A man and a woman stopped just in the hall outside of Vi's sitting room. The man was short and stout with a bird's nest of gray hair tangled on top of his head. His chef jacket was just as pristine as the tall asshole's and made Vi wonder if she shouldn't have tried to patch hers or get the really nasty stains out. She turned her attention to the woman and her brain short circuited.
Hot was the single word managing to swim around in her brain.
The woman was tall with legs for days wrapped in perfectly tailored clothes. Her dark hair moved like a freshly laundered sheet that Vi wanted to bury her face into and inhale, but it was her eyes-
“I'm very excited to cook for you, Miss Kiramman. It is an honor of the highest order,” the short chef laughed, grasping the woman's hand and shaking it roughly. Vi's stomach sank. Had she come too late? The woman smiled politely.
“I'm sure it would be. Have a safe trip home,” she replied. Oh, an accent. A shiver ripped down Vi's spine.
The front door opened and the man disappeared on the other side with another irritating laugh. The woman pressed her forehead to the old wood and let out a slow, exhausted exhale. Inch by inch, she straightened and came to attend in the doorway of the sitting room. Vi realized the woman's eyes were on her and she jumped to her feet.
“Hi, I'm Vi, I'm here about the private chef position.”
It took all of her self control to exude the confidence she didn't feel. She watched the woman do a once over, a very slow once over, and Vi took the opportunity to get a better look.
The woman's cheeks, while perfectly sculpted, looked hollow and pale, like she hasn't seen the sun in a good number of days. In fact, upon closer inspection, her shoulders seemed to fall under an imaginary weight. Everything about her seemed…diminished.
“Yes, hello. I'm Caitlyn Kiramman, but please just call me Caitlyn. Thank you for coming. If you'll follow me,” Caitlyn greeted with a weak smile and a gesture towards the hallway she'd appeared from.
Vi matched pace with her and tried not to stare at the walls as they walked. There were even more old paintings of dead people and countless doorways that provided a brief peek into other rooms. Much of the furniture was covered in white drop cloths and Vi realized that besides their tandem footsteps, the huge house was utterly silent. A ball of loneliness formed in her stomach.
“May I ask how you found out about this position? At which restaurant do you cook?” Caitlyn asked, interrupting the unsettling quiet.
“My sister showed it to me. I think she got it from one of her Academy professors, a guy named Viktor I think.”
Caitlyn hummed in acknowledgement.
“He's something of a friend. I didn't think he was one to be friendly with his students,” she mused.
Vi had met him once and that couldn't be more correct. He held a casual disinterest towards everyone around him except for Jinx as she bounced from theory to theory at light speed. He'd listened with a calculated focus and only interjected for clarification.
Vi laughed softly. “My sister doesn't take 'no' for an answer.” She pictured her sister giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up and shook her head. “I cook at Jericho's, by the way. Small place in the Fishing District.”
Caitlyn finally looked at her with something other than exhaustion. The naked curiosity on her face made Vi want to keep talking, but she reigned it in.
“In the Undercity?” she asked with interest.
Vi hummed.
“Yup. Been there since my teenage dishwashing days. Owner taught me everything he knew and then I learned more on my own.”
The hallway widened to a luxurious double staircase, but Caitlyn turned to her left through a set of double doors. The room was, of course, larger than the whole apartment Vi shared with Jinx and the gold inlaid dining room set (who needed twenty chairs?) was surely worth more than what she was paid in a year. The house's interior decorator had forgone wallpaper for a nice shade of warm cream. They didn't linger though, and Caitlyn led them through another set of doors on the other end of the room to a smaller, less ornate hallway. A third set of double doors brought them - finally - to the kitchen and Vi could have cried.
It was beautiful.
All the appliances were industrial sized and gas powered with magnetic strips on the walls for knives and other utensils. The backsplash was a light gray subway tile that wrapped around the entirety of the food prep areas. A pair of doors, one double wide stainless steel and the other a dark wood, interrupted the tile pattern and Vi didn't stop herself from opening each door.
The first was a walk-in freezer the size of the whole Jericho's kitchen, each shelf stuffed with boxes and tubs. She wrenched open the wood door and found a pantry brimming with even more boxes and cans. Her fingers twitched with desire to rifle through and see what rare, forgotten spices she might find.
“Vi?” She grimaced. Right. Not what she was here for. She closed the door and turned around with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, this is a beautiful kitchen,” she complimented. Thankfully, Caitlyn didn't seem bothered. She watched Vi with amusement and relaxed patience.
“Thank you, it was a fairly recent renovation.” Caitlyn took a seat on one of the barstools at the continent sized island and gestured to the expanse of the kitchen. “Feel free to keep looking around.” She dropped her chin into her hand and watched Vi curiously.
Vi, for her part, felt conflicted.
It should have been a no-brainer for her to march across the kitchen and run her hands over brand new dials and surfaces, but her feet felt tied to the spot. The warm light of the kitchen provided a stark contrast to Caitlyn's exhaustion and washed out face. The mom in Vi screamed in discontent and she sighed.
“Before we- look, I hope this isn't rude of me to ask, but have you eaten anything today? Had any water?” She cringed in anticipation of the outrage, but it never came. Caitlyn only jerked stiffly and tried to hide the way her face went pink.
“Well no, I've been busy and none of the chefs have actually made anything I wanted to eat-”
“Great.”
Vi didn't stop to think twice and disappeared back into the pantry. She located the bread (several familiar and unfamiliar options) and grabbed two slices of something hearty and full of large grains. They were deposited on a cutting board while Vi opened the industrial refrigerator (she could have cried at how well stocked it was) and found butter and the three cheeses she was looking for, and set to work. The stove top didn't sputter when she turned it on and the handle of the pan felt so nice to hold. As the cheeses melted, she found a glass of water and the garlic powder. The water was placed at Caitlyn's elbow.
“Drink that. Slowly, don't chug,” she instructed, already moving back to the stove. No arguments followed so Vi took the occasional sound of glass clinking against marble as acceptance. Vi focused on getting the grilled cheese just right and sighed in satisfaction when it slid onto the plate.
She set it down in front of Caitlyn and watched, her breath caught in her throat as Caitlyn's nice eyes scanned the food like it was a crime scene. Slowly, she picked it up and when she bit into it- oh Vi could have died right there.
The term 'stars in her eyes' always felt like the stupidest exaggeration of liking something, but for the wonder in Caitlyn's eyes, Vi couldn't think of anything more right sounding. She chewed slowly and didn't bother trying to talk until she'd methodically savored every bite.
“I've never had that before, that cheese sandwich,” she swiped her finger through a glob of cheese that had dripped into the plate and stuck it in her mouth, “that was so good.”
Vi didn't fight the dopey grin that settled over her face.
“Yeah, a cheese sandwich.” Fuck, she was enamored.
“Sorry, I should probably-” Caitlyn frowned, as if suddenly coming to awareness about the purpose of Vi's visit and how weird the whole situation was. Then she frowned deeper and shook her head. “No, the job is yours, if you want it.”
Vi blinked in shock.
“But I haven't proved my skill yet.”
“Yes you have.” Caitlyn settled her forearms on the island top and stared Vi down, intense and sure. “I need someone who makes me want to eat. You are the only person to have done that today and it was your single focus. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. And honestly, only an idiot wouldn't see how familiar you are in a kitchen. So again, if you want it.” Her voice tapered off into a quiet nervousness that did nothing but endear her more to Vi.
Vi took a long, slow look around the kitchen, imagining all the meals she could make and suddenly her dream restaurant felt a little more real.
“That sounds good to me.”
All for the price of a grilled cheese. No - sorry - a cheese sandwich.