Hey, everyone.
Well, with some good help from Mitch (thanks, dude!) I feel pretty ready to share my first ever fanfiction with you! It’s in three parts. I hope you like it! It was very autobiographical to write for me, yet, I think you’ll find that it is still very much in character.
Spoilers: yes
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.
This One is Different
Mon journal,
I have always hated men. They are simply the weaker gender. And yet, they have a way of making women seem lesser, somehow.
For years I have studied and worked hard and long at the best culinary schools, and my talents were never appreciated. The stupid old professors (all male, by the way) only let us few women do the preparatory chopping and peeling, praising the talentless, immature boys for their overcooked veal that I could have made flawlessly. I have been through too much pursuing this career. Men have not only used me, but they have abused me too, physically. But it helped me learn (early on, luckily) not to allow them too near to me, not to let them into my life… What will happen? My dreams would be abandoned, and my life devoted to some man who only wants to use me for his ‘needs’ and call me his property. His submissive little wife. His Colette… more like his slave.
Non. I was wise. I decided not to take that route. I bought my pepper spray and learned self-defense – the hard way. Working in such a male-dominated field has toughened me, I know. And I know that because of it, I’m perceived by people to be stand-offish, or they think I have no feelings. I could even understand if people think I am snooty. But toughening up was necessary. Men were sworn off. For a good reason, so I thought. And I still think! I don’t know anymore.
Linguini came in and changed everything. At first I thought nothing of him. Nothing good, nothing bad. But I was assigned to show him the ropes. At that time, the shields came up because I knew that once again, this man would have to be in close proximity with me and that would mean the chauvinist in him (and I stand by the belief that all men are chauvinistic pigs) would try to get too close for my comfort.
But as time has moved on, I began to realize – all the while kicking myself for it – this one is different. As stupid as it sounds. In fact, now that I think of it, it sounds like the girls I make fun of…
But he genuinely respects me, and for once here is a man who admires me for my talent. I can tell! He follows my every word. I sense no other ‘intentions’ from him. He seems so innocent and he is so polite. This is more of a gentleman than any other man I have met in my life. Mon dieu, this sounds ridiculous, but it is true. I’ve grown fond of him and I want to help him succeed.
Still, I will not let my guard down. He is a man, after all.
Mon journal,
Tonight Chef Skinner invited him into the office for a chat. This is a milestone! And it frightened me. I saw my career flash before my eyes. My nightmare was almost confirmed when Horst said something to the effect of “Looks like the boss has a new right-hand-man, eh, Colette?” And I realized I had led him to surpass me. Again kicking myself, I thought “Stupid! This is what happens when you don’t watch your own back and look out for yourself. This is how men find ways to take advantage of women.” I am so resentful now. What if he has been using me all along?! I did not think he was like that. My mistake.
I came home and cooled off. I’ve been reflecting for a while. I think at the time, I was overreacting; I reminded myself of how nice he had been to me. I will talk to him in the morning.
Mon journal,
This boy is confusing me so much, I don’t know what I should think! This morning I came early into the kitchen. Linguini was wearing some stupid sunglasses and washing dishes. I tried to begin a conversation to no avail. He kept ignoring me. But I just kept talking. I even (with difficulty) confessed that I had liked him – which is a rare thing. Finally he turned toward me and made the rudest, most disgusting expression with his face; he let out a weird snort that I don’t even know what to think of. I was so offended; I just put all my anger into my hand and slapped him. I was surprised at my strength; he fell on the floor. I was yelling by now. I understood. He used me to teach him a few kitchen tricks, and now that he is cozy with the boss, I mean nothing to him.
I had invested so much time and effort so that he could prove himself at the restaurant that I forgot to look out for myself. Well if I knew he would act like THAT, I would have let him drown.
Well I told him this and got on my bike. He stopped me. The boy began to give me praise. He said everything he did with food was not him. --I hate false modesty. If a boy with such natural talent like he thinks no good of his self, what does he think of the rest of us? Amateurs? It is just another way to lie.
I think he was trying to tell me something about… something, but he was making no sense. Slowly, the shields came back up. The boy was freaking me out. So I took out the pepper spray, ready.
Suddenly, his mouth met mine. I struggled for a few moments, my mind caught between spraying him or not. But just as I was about to do it, I felt my body melt. My muscles relaxed involuntarily and my eyes shut happily. The damn boy has found my weakness! But like I have said before, this one is different. His kiss was tender, not aggressive. He was such a gentleman about it! He allowed me to take the initiative to move closer to him and he did not grope me like other men tend to. Sickos. His hands only held me lightly, lovingly, sort of… delicately, as if he was touching something fragile – and I am, inside. He felt that. He is the first person to understand it and to actually see the “me” underneath the strong façade. We connected. It was from this that I knew we were meant to be soul mates. His was the most innocent, honest kiss anyone has ever given me; his touch, the most sincere. Our embrace was so meaningful, genuine.
I’ve never felt this safe with a man before. Earlier, I questioned how good of a man he is and I wondered if he would be good for me. I felt odd at the idea of being romantically involved with someone. But at his kiss, all my insecurities vanished. I am not scared anymore. Now, with my Alfredo, it is starting to feel right.
). So really, I’m not the creative-writing type. This was like an accident gone right, if you will.