Chapter Text
In the many years he served at the Henituse estate, Vicross never expected to spot the young master in the midst of darkness like some midnight cryptic being.
Vicross had never been the type to sleep deeply, having grown far too used to slipping just below the surface of consciousness to replenish his energy by a few dregs. How long had it been since he's had a restful sleep? He's not sure anymore. Sure, it was tiresome having a mind that felt the need to run adrenaline through him like some medicinal drip, but it is what it is. He learned to differentiate what to and not to ignore.
Tonight, Vicross could not, for his life, ignore the strange sounds he's been hearing. A cacophony of small, hard objects being hit against each other, followed by harsh cracking and crunches. What the fuck was he hearing?
Unable to ignore it for any longer, he set out into the dimly lit halls, keeping his footfalls light and silent as he followed the source. His downturned lips settling into a deeper grimace when it leads him straight to the doorway of his kitchen. It's unsettling- the match up of the deep shadows with the unknown commotion. Whoever, or whatever was in his kitchen would have gotten away with it if not for their excessive crunching. Whoever it was, was stupid.
Vicross rounded the corner, sticking to the covers of the shadows as he neared where it was all coming from: the pantry.
What he finds makes him wish he had stumbled across a burglar instead.
"What the fuck," Vicross hisses out, blinking owlishly at the sight.
Cale Henituse, the respectable man who he served, stared back at him, equally astonished at the situation he was caught in. Though, his shock only lasted for a few moments, seen in his wide eyes, which quickly returned to his usual nonchalance.
In Cale's arms, was a container of raw pasta. Cale was eating raw pasta in the middle of the night.
Yeah, no. The few hours of fitful sleep he's gotten during the week must be catching up to him because he was hallucinating. It wasn't proper to see your employer as a sleep paralysis demon in your dreams.
The chef turns around, leaving as though he hadn't seen a thing, but he got maybe halfway back to his room before he heard the infuriating crunch again.
"Young master," Vicross burst into the doorway once more, "What the actual fuck are you eating?"
A pregnant silence falls between them, neither one of them making any sudden movements. Distantly, Vicross' mind jokes about how this encounter reminds him of a deer freezing in front of a carriage instead of running off. Wordlessly, the chef takes a step towards the man, and then another he makes no move. He does, in fact, hear a cautiously slow crunch, which grates on his fraying nerves. Horrible. He needs to take it away as soon as he can.
On the third step, the young noble unfreezes and begins to shovel more pasta into his mouth.
Vicross lets out a jumbled curse through gritted teeth, lunging at the younger to yank the container from his hands, "STOP EATING THE RAW PASTA."
The little shit just started chewing faster. Vicross could already feel the exhaustion rapidly creeping in. The red haired man even had the nerve to look offended as though he hadn't done anything wrong in the first place. It was terribly easy to take control of the situation, seeing as how the man had little to no muscles. Cale was... skinny. Too skinny. And now he was here eating strange things in the dead of the night.
"I will cook a heavier breakfast for you in the morning," He closes his fingers around Cale's wrists, gentle yet firm. There was no way he could trust the young master not to come back to eat something else. If he caught the man eating something normal, like fruits or bread or anything else, Vicross would have simply sent him back to his room with a light platter of snacks to keep him through the night. But now... now he would have to keep a close eye on him.
"I'm not-"
Vicross shoots him a look which has him shutting his mouth with an audible clack of teeth, meekly allowing the chef to drag him back out into the dim halls. The walk feels endlessly long when it's done in the blanket of the night. Maybe it's the fact that Cale had never spent too much time on this side of the building either. A bubble of anxiety pops in the back of his mind as Vicross continues to drag him along. Where were they headed to? This wasn't the way back to his room, so what was the man planning?
They come to a stop in front of a door which the chef reaches out to open. It must be older because he jiggles the knob a few times before pressing his weight up against it. Something routine that the chef probably knew by heart now.
"Sleep," A gloved hand briefly touches the center of Cale's back, guiding him towards the cot.
Confused, Cale turns back towards the older, "Why am I here?"
The chef only shoots him a look that Cale knew meant are you really asking me that? It was a half lidded glare with no real heat behind it, but just enough to make him feel reprimanded. He had no chance of escape with the way the chef situated himself in a wooden chair in front of the door.
"You're going to sleep like that?" Cale blinks dumbly.
Vicross only gives him one last bored look before closing his eyes with the cross of his arms, sitting without a single trace of a slouch. Cale was sure that the man would have tensed muscles come morning.
Cale sleeps poorly that night, even with the comfort of a mattress.