A/N: Hewo everyone!!!! The chapter is approximately 3.5k words but I honestly could've made for more but it would've had to be left on a bigger cliffhanger so I decided not to and settled with this instead HAHAHAH. Thank you for waiting. There were many sweet comments on the chapter last week and I'll take some time to reply them since I haven't done that in a while. 

I think I'm almost ready for the big big chapter that's happening soon which is kind of like the exhilarating climax but I'm going to make sure everything is set up for it so that it's built upon well.

Unfortunately, I'd also missed Vanilla's birthday special because of how busy I was these couple of weeks BUT I'm doing a vote on Instagram once again to decide! I don't know for sure when I'll be able to complete it but I'll let you guys know the results of the vote once it's complete hehe. If you'd like to vote, you can follow me at hisangelchip on Instagram!

Enjoy.

_______________________ 

[Leroy]

What's next after a swim?

A massage.

Feel free to disagree but all I could really think about for the rest of the evening after a good fucking meal and cocktails was having the  knots in my shoulders loosened up with the help of some magic hands. My body felt heavy and the arms attached to my torso were practically deadweight after an afternoon in the reef despite the stretches we did beforehand. Good thing the exhaustion reduced my general awareness of cameras and mics in a way that made half the shoot bearable. Almost pleasant, even.

It eased my mind into a state of instinct, narrowed in on sponging up prep methods invented by local villagers who ate fish like this on the daily. My head was so close to saturation that by the end of the day, I was fool enough to put in a request for said massage.

I guess the proper way was to fill up a form with some info and book a timeslot or something but... I'm VIP, so. "Can I get a massage, it's for health reasons."

Of course, he agreed. "A massage?? Goodness, Leroy. You've gotten a fair bit worse at lying—health reasons my foot. Any more candid and you could've induced a stroke. Mind you, there are mics everywhere up on the deck. But... but, yes." He said after adjusting his glasses and looking away­. "I'll see you in my room."

Naturally I was gonna be doing more than just seeing him in his room but before all that seeing was an hour-long wait of standing around, wrapping things up, and attending the director's debrief about tomorrow's challenge shoot. They dismissed the chefs soon after and I was speed; heading back to my room to fetch a set of clothing and dog treats for a night of 'seeing' and snowing.

I was getting ready to head back out less than a minute after returning to my room when the other chef rooming with me stopped for something like a conversation. It was confusing. He was kinda just... standing there in the middle of the doorway, looking into the room and waving when our eyes met.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"... just walking my dog." Reasonable excuse. Although Chicken looked pretty much exhausted after a day of running around on the deck but Pierson wasn't going to pry. Was he. Hope not.

"Oh! Right," he shuffled his feet but didn't quite get out of the way. "Sorry. I just wanted to ask if you've... you know, decided on your team. For tomorrow."

I paused to recall the instructions Pao relayed earlier today. In my head, things had been phrased a little different. "Isn't that up to team captains?" I raised a brow. "I don't get to choose."

"So, um. You remember what Chef Pao said this morning about that, right? They're letting me pick first," he went on. "And I'll pick you. If you're okay with that."

"Uh..." Honestly kinda mid but okay. "You do know I'm the only chef on board who doesn't own a restaurant, right?"

"Yeah, but you're..." Pierson faltered and left those words hanging. It got awkward. I sort of gestured to the door and called for my boy. He had his eyes on the bag of treats which resulted in his tail going semi-insane. This got Pierson snapping out of his thoughts and thankfully moving out of the way. "You've got... good instincts! So I want you on my team."

"Uh. Okay. Sure." Then I left.

That sole conversation was enough to deplete my social battery by half a bar which all the more made paying the snowstorm a visit for some recharge a necessity. Still, I wasn't expecting an actual fucking massage bed in his room, prepped with towels and scented candles and... aromatics and shit.

"They're called essential oils, Leroy." Forgot about the free English classes—that, too. "Not 'aromatics and shit'."

"You prepped all of this?" I looked around while Chicken searched for his tiny friend, who turned out to be hiding among the pillows on the couch.

"Yes," he said after clearing his throat, removing his vest and rolling up his sleeves. "It's the first time I've ever done something like this but I hope it is to your liking."

"Very."

"Alright. Well. You could um. Start by removing your clothes and lying down while I prepare the oils." "Everything off?" "We should... keep your underwear on. For safety purposes." "Safety purposes he says." "Yes. Safety purposes." "What, like it's a weapon or something?" "Precisely. I don't see a difference—all of it fall under the very same category of danger." "By all means, Mr. White." "Good good. Alright, this should do the... oh, um. Are you looking for something?"

I'd stopped by the decent-sized wardrobe in front of the bed to catch a glimpse of my options for tomorrow, knowing he'd actually put in the time and effort to sort his clothes and hang them up. Unlike me. Either way, it didn't take very long to realize all he had in his suitcase were a bunch of formal wear and nothing casual. The closest he had to summer wear were two short-sleeved polo tops. Which meant that everything he owned had a collar. I checked his selection of pants.

Trousers. Dress pants. More dress pa—a pair of capris. I grabbed those.

"Yeah your outfit for tomorrow." I laid out the pair of beige capris on his ironing board. "Can't decide what to go with this... every top you own has a collar..."

"Precisely. I've said this multiple times so no matter how concerned you and Chef Pao are about how I dress in the summer, there isn't really—"

"... so either you go without a shirt or..." The idea was wine. One sip got me hooked. "This."

My gaze led him to the clothes I'd brought along. I held up a shirt of my own. Simple; white; a V-neck.

His jaw dropped. "No... no, absolu—no."

"Why?" "It's two sizes up, Leroy. A-and and it doesn't even have a collar! That would be far too much exposed skin for comfort and therefore simply... borderline scandalous." "Aw." "Don't you dare look at me with those eyes. It doesn't work." "But Vanilla..." "Th-that! That is extremely unfair. Stop fooling around and lie on the bed so that we can get started on this." "Pao and Amelia would've liked to see you change it up a little..." "We don't always have to dress alike." "For the occasion, why not. When in Rome..." "... yes?" "I don't know what comes after that phrase." "I know you don't know." "... fuck." "Would you like to be educated?" "Private lessons with Mr. White, sure." "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." "You said it, not me."

His hands on my back paused and already, I could taste the delicious surprise on his face without looking at it. "You tricked me!"

I laughed. He deliberately kneaded the knots on my upper back twice as hard as before. "Worth."

"And here I am, giving you a complimentary massage while you convince me of your hidden agenda."

"It's not hidden," I laid out frankly, appreciating the intimacy that Leroy two weeks ago would never have dreamed of. A fucking massage. Wow.

"Coming from the one and only stubborn idiot who'd decided to go all out and return with a winning catch..." I heard him sigh. "I'm surprised your muscles held up. I was a little worried. Admittedly."

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease up under his hands; and maybe it was his words or I was feeling a lot more relaxed than before that I felt something begin to burn and asked: "Is it time to turn?"

"O-oh. Already?" The pressure on my back stopped for a bit. "Sorry. I didn't realize you were uncomfortable. Lie on your back if you'd like. I'll um... see what I... what is that?" He stared at the tent in the towel I had around my hips.

"The reason I asked if it was time to turn."

*

One eventful night later.

I was heading out first to the lower deck with my dog, using the same system we'd come up with back in Italy (leaving the room at staggered times) to avoid any suspicion when I ran into Pao at the top of the stairs. His shirt had dolphins printed on them.

"Ay my boy!" He clapped my back and we headed down together. "Morning... what are you doing on the upper deck so early?"

"Enjoying the breeze. Nice view."

"Yes... very nice. You tired? That was a lot yesterday. Swimming and fishing technique and traditional cooking. I saw you put in a lot of effort to talk to the fishermen and villagers. It was all-natural. You are good at this. I can only hope you like it too."

"... yeah." I vaguely brushed his compliment aside, not knowing what else to say. "Just..."

Just something. There was something about yesterday that felt like a light that I was drawn to.

Everyone's got it. Or maybe not everyone. People like Dona Brazi. Like Pao and Amelia. Marseille. Layla, Chen... Annie. Some kind of glow that reminds me of fireflies and tastes like spice the stronger it is. The strongest being a sound—one I'd only hear from a single person in this lifetime.

Pao and I went separate ways at the salon to get our hair and makeup done while waiting for the rest of the contestants and judges to arrive. The camera crew was setting up further in, past the doors that led to the dining room where the cooktop stations were. One for each team.

I saw Pierson trying to catch my eye in the mirror minutes before our first take of the day. You'd think he had something against me.

"Banilla! Yess this is what we want to see," Pao's excitement could be heard from all the way across the room and needless to say, everyone's eyes were on the one person in a very special outfit picked out by yours truly. "See? You look so good."

I saw him resist the urge to hide his face behind his hands from the corner of my eye. "I—well. Thank you. I um... thank you."

"The shirt is a bit big, don't you think? But they go well with the pants and the scarf."

Scarf? Wait. I looked over my shoulder to the hairstylist's disapproval and caught a glimpse of the navy patterned silk scarf he'd tied around his neck for coverage. Even without a collar, he'd think of ways to steer away from what he claimed to be scandalous.

I mused quietly while the rest of his counterparts fawned over his new look until Stan called for places.

Things kicked into high gear. Pao made sure to direct a fair bit of attention to a certain someone's outfit before welcoming everyone back. Half the contestants looked beat from yesterday's swim because, uh, not everyone's VIP enough for a complimentary massage so I got real lucky there.

Amelia called the team captains forward and handed out scarves in respective colors. Pierson, blue, and Layla, red.

"Remember captains, you need to be thinking this through. Each team needs to have at least two chefs and two fishermen. If your fishermen don't return with a catch, you're as good as done for the challenge."

Oh. Right, so it made sense for Pierson to want me on his team since I was the only one who returned with more than a single catch yesterday. Although for purposes that weren't exactly relevant. Catching a glimpse of him in my shirt again, I could honestly pat myself on the back.

You're the man, Leroy. You're the man.

"Okay chefs," Pao clapped and rubbed his hands together with a look in his eyes that craved some drama off the bat. "Chef Pierson. You pick first."

There wasn't even a pause. "I pick Chef Cox."

At least people weren't looking all that surprised. Half the challenge wasn't even really about culinary skills and it made sense to assume I was picked for the role of fisherman. And you know what, I could totally see myself doing that over the whole restaurant thing any day. Maybe call the crew over. Chief seemed like your average fishing kind of guy. Zales and Park probably wouldn't mind. Jaeger... maybe not.

I caught a glimpse of Layla's face after retrieving a blue scarf from the display table and she did not look very happy. Either way, she was never the kind of person to back out of a greater challenge.

"Chef Tenner?" "I pick Garland." "Alright alright... this is turning out very interesting. Next!" "I would like to pick Chef Saito next." I couldn't really tell where Pierson was going with the team composition but I just assumed he was picking who he thought were the best with seafood in general. Du Bellay went to Tenner. So on, so forth.

Don't think I need to explain how Andre ended up being picked last. The poor guy got spooked by a fish on yesterday's swim and gave up after fifteen minutes in the water... or at least that's what I heard from one of the villagers last night. You could imagine the look on his face when he realized Layla and Pierson weren't all that willing to have him on their team; add to that Pao sort of sealing the deal by asking if he had anything to say to the captains before they said their final picks.

Man chose to go with: "I think people are gonna regret if they don't pick me."

Pierson called the name of the chef beside Andre so Layla had to suck it and take him in.

Stan called for cut after teams were given a couple of minutes to map out some strats. As expected, I was put on fishing duty. Pierson wasn't the kind of leader to take charge and marshal everything that was going on so the team kinda just fell into a state of co-leadership. People chipped in if they had something to say and Pierson put them in charge of the things they said they were good at. It worked out.

I was asked to get into my gear from yesterday—the same getup with a wetsuit, mask, flippers and all—along with three other contestants who were assigned the fisherman role. Funnily enough, Layla was among these people. Which was kinda unexpected because that meant losing a really good chef on the red team, which already hadn't a field day with their team members either.

"So how do you feel about being relegated to the role of fisherman?" Some of the camera crew were walking around with a member of the production team asking questions on the fly. "Do you feel disappointed about not getting to cook today?"

"No." I said shortly, in the middle of warm-up and some stretches. "I'm honored, I guess. It's the most important part of cooking: getting the ingredients. You can't cook a fish without one."

Aside, Chef Saito the other guy on my team on spearfishing duty nodded in agreement. "Cox is right. We should be grateful to farmers and fishermen. Guests don't see them when they're eating at the table but they are as important as the chefs who prepare the food."

They left us alone soon after because we seemed to lack the drama they were looking for but who knows? Might've been the strat in the first place for some peace and quiet.

___________________

[Vanilla]

"Banilla, I know I said this just now but I really like your style today," said Chef Pao with ample vigor as soon as we were seated at the judging panel in between the cooktop stations on opposite ends of the room. "The V-neck? Very sexy. I am surprised you own something like that."

"Oh w-well I um." I paused to think of an appropriate excuse for the size and the design. Amelia jumped in.

"Nothing wrong with owning a piece of clothing that's a little bold and exciting to wear once in a while. Also, have you ever been to a nightclub, Vanilla? Not that you're dressed for the occasion, I'm just curious."

"... surprisingly, yes. I have been to a nightclub."

My counterparts gasped in unison. "Banilla?? Really?" "When?"

"Back in culinary school, right after my graduation ceremony. I had the honor of giving a speech as valedictorian and um, I was invited to an after-after party at a nightclub with members of the alumni. Layla Tenner was there. Oh by the way, my uncle must never know of this. Also, the music was frightening."

"Okay but did you meet anyone there? You know, typical high school romance?" Pao was eager for something juicy, as though this was a birthday party of some distant relative and we were in a room of fifty-odd and he'd decided to bug one of his nephews about their love life. "Just asking."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Pao, but I struggle with the definition of romance, let alone experience it in a typical high school fashion. The nightclub experience couldn't have been any more boring; the only reason I was approached by other people was talk about internship offers and my very 'bright and promising' future. The whole thing was quite a drag."

"No one hit on you?" Amelia appeared shocked by this information and I, too, was stunned by her alarm.

"Wh—o-of course not. Why would anyone willingly subject themselves to a time of cryptic fact-checking?"

"But Banilla, some people are into that, you never know. Anyway, you have a very cute face! Many girls like. And boys." He exchanged a look with Amelia to my right and they shared a strange amusement in their eyes.

Thank goodness Director Stan decided to drop by for a quick word about the next shot they had in mind. Plans were tweaked; Amelia and I were to take turns going around the room with Pao to check in on the teams as they prepped their mise whilst waiting for the fish to arrive. Finally, we'd gather back at the judging panel for predictions, praise and concerns.

"I'll take care of the red team. You do blue," Amelia said as soon as the director was out of earshot, relieving me of Andre-interaction which was really the nicest thing anyone could've possibly done under such circumstances.

Even from afar, the discord amongst members Layla Tenner's team could be seen and heard. Because the captain herself was assigned the role of fisherman, she was not present to facilitate the happenings of her team. This very naturally led to a struggle of power with several chefs (including Andre) attempting to fill her place, resulting in overlaps and disagreements. Pao and Amelia left the table to find out what was going on.

Meanwhile, I watched the blue team from afar.

Unlike red, they appeared to have a standard production kitchen system going. Shocking, I know—trained chefs behaving like experienced professionals, breaking news. It was clear that the team was expecting their fishermen to return with a typical-sized grouper or sea bass for their seafood dish and had about two chefs already starting work on the side that would go with their supposed fish.

The general flavors they were going for could be something they'd discussed beforehand regardless of the catch and thus made the preparation stage rather smooth and problem-less. Simply put, the stark difference between the teams' planning stage was already shaping a clear winner.

Needless to say, Pierson had made the clever decision of picking Leroy first. Layla and that idiot on the same team would've made for some serious challenge.

"Stan!" Someone on the crew with a sound box and boom mic came rushing into the room. "We need a medic on the deck."

"What happened?" The director did not call for a cut and instead kept the cameras running. "Is someone injured?"

"Yeah Tenner pulled a muscle in the water. Cox got her out and they're on the deck right now."

Immediately, a couple more from the camera crew were dispatched to the scene and the safety member of the yacht's service crew was alerted. Pao and Amelia were instructed to stay in the salon along with the other contestants despite the clear show of concern on everyone's faces. Questions fired back and forth about her condition but none were answered concretely.

I wasted no time and slipped out of the room in the midst of the commotion since I wasn't involved in anything concurrent and no one was paying me close attention. Thank goodness for the firefighter.