A Little Slice of Heaven [Namjin]

Chapter Three: Shatter

AN:  Hello!  ...Anyone out there?  If you're enjoying the story, please comment and vote!  Cheers!

Edited 2/5/2020 - Just fixing grammatical errors, nothing new.

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"Hyung!" The evening was well advanced when Hobi burst into the kitchen, clutching his notepad to his chest. Half the kitchen staff turned quizzical stares at the young man as he nearly collided with a full tray of beef bourguignon being precariously balanced in the hands of one of the other members of the wait-staff. Sheer reflex turned Hoseok into a one-man reenactment of The Matrix as he dipped, twisted, jerked, and flailed out of danger's reach before coming to a stop upright next to the head chef. "Yoongi-hyung."

Yoongi raised a single brow but didn't take his eyes off the dish he was plating. "Hn?"

"I need the keys to the wine cellar."

The shorter man sighed. "The wine cellar is only locked after we close for the evening. I unlocked it myself hours ago. You were there when I did it." His tone was bland but Hoseok knew the older man well enough to detect the barest hint of irritation in his voice.

Hobi pressed his lips thin and leaned one hand onto the plating station, other hand on his hip. Before he had the chance to explain, he was slapped with Yoongi's chef's hat before the shorter plopped the toque back onto his dark mop of burgundy hair.

"Now I'll have to re-sanitize that surface." Yoongi passed the plate to a nearby waiter and finally turned to glare at his protégé. "What is wrong with you today?" He quickly started wiping down the counter top, grumbling under his breath.

"I need the keys to the special wine cellar."

This caused Yoongi to pause mid-scrub. "For what?" His dark eyes narrowed. It took Hobi only a fraction of a second to realize why his boss was looking at him with such suspicion. Jin-hyung had told them that, while the eldest of their friend-group was intending to bring some libation to their bonfire, they should also bring something to share. Hoseok had joked that he knew where the "good stuff" was hidden. Under the withering glare of Chef Yoongi, Hobi was regretting his earlier comment.

"Not for that," the bubbly brunet immediately reassured the other, waving his hands in front of him. "Come here." Tugging lightly at Yoongi's elbow, Hoseok led his boss to a computer screen near the door into the dinning room; it was used by waiters to cash out bills and input orders into the system. After a couple of taps, Hoseok pointed at the screen.

"Who the fuck comped a two-million-won* bottle of Staats?" Yoongi hissed, staring at the screen. His eyes flicked over the booking before he groaned. "Jin-hyung." With the deepest sigh yet, Yoongi fished a set of keys out of his pocket and dangled them over Hobi's outstretched hand. "One condition."

Hobi nodded quickly in agreement, though he didn't know the terms yet. He had a good idea what Yoongi wanted in exchange for the privilege of accessing the restricted cellar but waited impatiently for the shorter to get on with it.

"Don't lose my keychain."

Hobi snorted as the keys were dropped into his awaiting palm, Kumamon keychain and all. That wasn't what he thought Yoongi would request. "You got it."

"Oh, and..." Hoseok raised an eyebrow at Yoongi's sudden hesitation before leaning in at the elder's beckoning gesture. "I want to know who that bottle is going to. Report back soon as you drop it off."

And there it was. He might have looked mildly disinterested in everyone and everything around him, but Hoseok knew that, deep down, Yoongi was as much of a gossip hound as the rest of the kitchen staff. Scurrying away with the keys clutched tightly in his hand, Hoseok made his way through the normal wine cellar to a door in the back, unlocking it quickly. He found the bottle in question without any issues, thankful for Yoongi's anal-retentive organization, and triple checked that he had securely re-locked the door when he left. He took a moment after handing Yoongi the keys to make sure his bow tie was straight and that he didn't have anything on his white dress shirt before tossing a towel over his arm, pocketing a corkscrew, and taking the bottle out to the table.