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Just Desserts
location: still home *sigh*
mood: 
accomplished
accomplishedmusic: joints popping every time I move *sigh* *crack*
This is from a new verse of mine, UGF or United Galaxy Federation (known to some as the United Galaxy of Fools). This will most likely turn out to be a collection of short stories, rather than anything longer, so here is my first oneshot. t is out of town, so no beta for me, therefore sorry if it's a little rough.
*edit* This verse is undergoing changes, therefore this story no longer fits with the verse. I like it, so I'll leave it up, but to avoid confusion, it should be ignored when I get around to writing more in the UGF verse.
Jonas rang the doorbell a third time, peering through the glazed window next to the door, trying to see if anyone was coming to let him in. This was just great, he was nervous enough already, and on the first day of his new job he couldn’t even get in the front door.
He reached for the button again and jumped when a voice cracked out from a speaker beside the panel. “Oh just come in already, no one’s paying any attention and that bell is starting to get on my nerves.” The door clicked open.
He stared at it for a moment, then cautiously stepped inside. “Serta and Nicky are in the living room, down the hall third door on your left.”
“Uh, thanks.” Jonas said to the disembodied voice. “And uh…were are you?”
“I am the A.I. responsible for many aspects of this dwelling. My main computer is located in the operation room on the third floor of this building. I am called Ruus.”
“Oh,” he said weakly. “Sorry.” He had heard that some of the richer houses were run by artificial intelligence, but he had never seen one. He hadn’t thought his new employers had that kind of money, though they were certainly in the top 5% of the population.
He heard yelling as he reached the specified door, and poked his head around the corner cautiously. His eyes widened as they wandered around the room, noting a large couch, the largest screen he had ever seen and the space! What could they possibly need that much space for?
The floor was marble, and there was even a balcony above the room, with marble staircases leading up to it on either side. Finally his wandering eyes settled on the man doing all of the yelling and his breath caught.
Everyone, even the kids in the slums who couldn’t afford a decent meal, knew StarCrossed. The band was famous, and all the more so because all of the members save one had fought their way up from the slums themselves.
The man who stood beneath the balcony now was the lead singer, Serta Haran. Jonas had always thought personally that all the stars looked much better in pictures, but if anything this one was hotter in person.
Strait, loose blonde hair just touched his shoulders, a stray strand of it brushing a pale cheek. He wore a clingy blue outfit that left little to the imagination, stopping at the shoulder to show off a good bit of bare arm, decorated with bangles. A silver ring in his right ear sported a small sapphire, perfectly matched to ice blue eyes, which were currently gazing upward.
“Nicky!” Serta stood glaring up at the balcony. “Get down here so I can pummel you, you bastard!” The blonde stomped his foot for good measure and Jonas was forced to smile a little.
A second man, dark where Serta was pale, poked his head cautiously over the balcony railing. “Oh yea, ‘cuz that’s motivation.”
“Nicky,” Jonas murmured, identifying the man as Nicolas Cole, guitar player and songwriter. Nicky was considered by many to be Serta’s polar opposite. His coal black hair was short where the lead singer’s was long, his skin dark where Serta’s was pale, and his eyes a warm gold to counter the blonde’s cold blue. Even their builds were opposite, Serta thin and lithe where Nicky was broad-shouldered and well muscled. Together they made a sight for thousands of fan-girls to sigh over.
The guitarist wore all black, and it suited him nicely. Slightly baggy pants accompanied a tight tank top, and a strip of leather was wound around one wrist, in lieu of the bangles his friend wore. Nicky too had a hoop in his right ear, but his was gold, with no accompanying stone.
Well, he had better introduce himself, before they caught him staring. That would not be such a great way to start a business relationship. Jonas stepped a little farther into the room and cleared his throat. The two men turned to look at him, and Serta raised a thin eyebrow.
Jonas tried not to blush but judging from the slight heat in his cheeks, he hadn’t quite succeeded. “Uh, hi. I’m Jonas Wren, I’m supposed to be your new cook.”
Serta’s expression cleared and Nicky jumped off the balcony, grabbing one of the hangings to slow his fall, landing neatly beside his friend. “Ah, so you’re the newbie.”
The lead singer grinned, looking him over. “Ruus didn’t say anything about our new cook being so hot.”
If he hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly was now. “Ah…thanks,” he struggled to look anywhere but at the far too attractive man who was his employer and he so did not need to do something stupid and mess this up.
It wasn’t like Serta was serious. He was nothing compared to the people this man must consort with on a daily basis, with his brown hair and eyes as plain as they come, and his build completely average. He bit his lip, hard, and brought himself back under control just as Nicky stepped up and held out a hand.
“Don’t mind him,” the guitarist said with a wink, shaking his hand firmly, but not making a challenge out of it. “He says that to most of our employees. Not that it isn’t true.” He gave the new cook a once-over of his own before releasing his hand.
And I didn’t think it was possible to blush any harder. Jonas thought to himself. “W-well if you’ll point me in the direction of your kitchen I can get started I suppose…”
“No yet,” Serta said with a grin. “You have to meet the rest of the crew first.” He looked up at the ceiling and a moment later Jonas realized he had directed his gaze to a small camera in the corner above the room. “Hey Ruus, why don’t you get our girl’s attention? Have everyone else come in too.”
“You had only to ask,” the A.I.’s voice echoed a bit in the larger chamber. A moment later two women he recognized spilled in from a door across the room. Several people followed them, most of them new to Jonas.
“Ladies,” Nicky said, bowing with a flourish. “Allow me to introduce you to our new cook, Jonas. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you who they are,” the guitarist said with a nod at the two women and a wink in Jonas’ direction.
The cook simply shook his head. The taller of the two, with her multicolored hair in a messy style no one else in the universe could pull off (though some tried anyways) was Sophia Aiara, the only one of the four who hadn’t come from the slums. In fact, her very wealthy father was the one who had funded the band in the very beginning, and given them a chance to get to where they were today.
From her clothing though you would never be able to tell that she had come from a long line of wealthy nobles. Her clothes matched her hair; That is to say most of it was crazy in some fashion. A fashionable enough green blouse was ripped to end at the navel, showing off the torn mesh beneath. Beige cargo pants, were tucked into black combat boots, and each ear had no less than three piercings, matching the one in her nose. This was the StarCrossed drummer, and she certainly looked the part.
The girl at her side was several years younger than the other three, but she was the spitting image of Nicky. This was his little sister, Elia Cole, the band’s base player. She was five inches or so shorter than her brother, and her coal black, slightly curly hair was grown to just past her shoulders. Her eyes were a perfect match for her brothers, and she too dressed all in black with a gold hoop in each ear, a leather skirt and matching jacket, black leggings and combat boots of her own.
Of the others, three were the guards considered necessary for anyone of any importance. One was a tough looking older man with a few scars across his face and salt and pepper hair, called Aris. The second was female, but she looked just as tough, that impression only furthered by the fact she was missing an eye. Serta introduced her as Jerri. The third guard was almost as famous as the band.
Jonas felt a chill travel up his spine as the met the hurrican’s eyes. Hurrican were a race that was almost extinct, most of them having been eliminated by the United Galaxy Federation. The Federation had hunted them for years, simply because they were so incredibly dangerous.
They were born and bred to kill, and almost impossible to destroy, a race of perfect hunters. Their hide was black as night, and tougher than steel, those claws could cut through just about anything, and they could survive up to three weeks in open space.
Meeting this one’s hard yellow eyes Jonas had no doubt it would kill him without a second thought if he gave it an excuse. They called it Ru.
Tearing his eyes away with a shiver he shook hands with the rest of the employees. There weren’t many. Two men, a blonde named Yuri and a brunet name Del, were in charge of keeping the place clean and general service along with a portly female brunet called Bella. A thin redhead named Sam kept Ruus in top shape, and had an amusing habit of pushing his glasses up every few seconds. Jonas gathered that anyone else they needed was hired on a temporary basis.
Once introductions were made all around, Serta showed him personally to the kitchen. “Here you go,” the lead singer said, watching smugly as Jonas goggled at their kitchen, his kitchen. He had never seen so much counter space!
“We’d like dinner around six if you can manage, breakfast at eight on the week days, ten on weekends, and lunch at one. The employees eat what they want, whenever they want it, you don’t have to make them anything unless you want to. If we want anything before those times we’ll give you a call. Prepare what you like, if you have any questions about what we will and won’t eat, Ruus should be able to answer them. Will that do?”
“Yea,” Jonas said faintly, now running his hands lovingly over the appliances. “Yea, that’s great.”
Serta chuckled. “I’ll leave you to it then.” He paused as he reached the doorway. “Oh, and you’re allowed to wander all you like, don’t be shy.”
Jonas put all of his concentration into getting the frosting on the triple layer cake just so. It was Elia’s birthday tomorrow, and he wanted the damn thing to be faultless. Not that he was a perfectionist or anything; he simply demanded excellence.
He had been with StarCrossed three months now, and he was finally getting used to the band’s antics. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be working here. It was amazing how snatching onto one opportunity could take him from working in a rundown restaurant in fourth sector to being the personal chef of the most famous band in the universe.
He had been nervous as hell when he served them the first few meals. He was a worrier he couldn’t help himself. But by some miracle they had actually liked his meals, and continued to be pleased with him.
He had been doubly nervous about taking their invitation to wander, but after the first two weeks Soph, the drummer, had actually stomped into his kitchen (his kitchen! He still could hardly believe it) and dragged him out to the living room to place Force (a complicated game that played on a consul hooked up to the screen in the living room) saying that she had already beaten everyone else, so she might as well see what skills he had other than cooking.
Since then he had gotten much more comfortable interacting with his employers and fellow servants, though the hurrican still gave him shivers.
Jonas leaned back with a satisfied sigh as he finished the final edging on the cake. Perfect. Absolutely Perfect. Now, how to keep it safe from the other residents… “Mmm, that looks good,” Serta said from directly behind the cook, making him jump a bit. The lead singer reached past him, looking to steal some frosting.
Seeing what he was doing, Jonas moved faster than lightning, grabbing a spoon from the countertop and whacking the singer on the back of the hand. “None of that,” he said firmly as Serta yelped and jumped back, rubbing his hand. “No one is to touch this cake until I present it to Elia tomorrow, understand?”
Serta stopped rubbing his hand and turned to him with a predatory grin. “Is that so?” Jonas backed away slowly as Serta stalked towards him, the spoon raised defensively, and wondered if he hadn’t just made a terrible mistake. “Well if I can’t have a taste of the frosting, I guess I’ll have to settle for a taste of something else.”
Jonas had hardly taken a breath to respond when his mind went completely blank. Serta was kissing him. Him, the lowly cook and…god, he’s a good kisser…It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this coming anyways. Serta had always shown interest, and he was certainly interested in the singer, but he never really thought anything would come of it…
The lead singer broke the kiss slowly, licking his lips. “Very nice,” he purred. Jonas felt his face go beet red.
“Serta,” Nicky laughed from the doorway. “Now what did we say about sexual harassment of the employees?”
The lead singer didn’t move away, and didn’t take his eyes off the cook. He addressed Jonas, rather than the guitarist. “How about I harass you, you harass me, that ok?”
At least there is one lesson in this, Jonas thought to himself. It is always possible to blush harder. “I…ah…”
Nicky snickered. “At least ask him out on a date first Ser. And back up a bit, he looks like he’s going to explode.”
Serta grinned and backed up, giving Jonas a little more space. The cook relaxed slightly. “Well, how about it? Come clubbing with us tonight?”
Jonas tried not to sputter. “I…uh…I don’t really have anything…” he gestured at his clothing. His best clothes couldn’t match what they wore casually, he couldn’t hope to dream of looking like anything other than a tramp beside them all dressed up to go out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nicky brushed his worries aside. “You look like you’d fit some of my things.”
“Time to play dress up!” Serta said happily, latching onto his arm.
“But the cake…” Jonas protested weakly.
“No worries Jonas,” Ruus piped up. “I will see to it that your creation remains undesurbed.”
“Thanks Ruus,” Jonas said in relief as the two impatient band members dragged him down the hallway. He didn’t even bother to ask how the computer would manage the feat. After three months here, he had learned a few things, and one of them was ‘in the house, Ruus is god.’
He found out a few moments later, much to his embarrassment, that Ruus had decided to distract the other members of the household. Namely by sending them to watch and comment on Jonas-as-fashion-show.
Thankfully only Serta and Nicky took it upon themselves to actually get him into (and out of) the outfits they tried, and damn if that stupid blush didn’t return every time Serta touched him. The others contained themselves with simple comments. Even Ru had a thing or two to say, showing that even a hurrican couldn’t live with these crazies without being effected.
When they finally shoved him in front of a mirror, his breath caught, and his expression was a source of vast amusement for the rest of the group. Who knew that he could look like that!
“Again, very nice,” Serta said with a sly smile. “Now, we’ll all get ready and head out of here. You go sit in the living room and try not to pull that pretty hair out. You’re cute when you worry, but you’d be less cute bald.”
Jonas perched carefully on a stool in the upscale club they had dragged him off to and tried to be inconspicuous. The others had vanished shortly after arriving, and after a moment of confusion, he had decided to find an out of the way corner and hope no one noticed him.
“There you are,” Serta said in his ear, making him jump. “Here,” the singer shoved a drink into his hand. “Drink that, and then we can dance.” Jonas blinked at him in surprise. “What, did you think we brought you here just to leave you in a corner?” Serta grinned and winked. “This is supposed to be a date you know.”
Jonas smiled back, setting his drink down carefully and getting to his feet, holding out a hand. “Then let’s dance.”
Jonas laughed as he tripped through the door, his arm around Serta’s waist. He was only slightly drunk, enough to make him bold, but not stupid. The others separated and went off to their own rooms, Nicky and Soph each dragging a pretty boy they had met at the club behind them, and suddenly Jonas found himself in a deserted room, staring into Serta’s eyes.
It was amazing how fast the haze of drunkenness left his mind in this kind of situation. The cook swallowed. Serta smiled at him. “According to Nicky’s rules, the first date is much too soon to take you to bed if we’re looking for a serious relationship.”
Jonas’ eyes widened slightly. He had hardly hoped to dream that Serta would be interested in anything more than a one-night stand…
The singer tilted his head slightly to the side, and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. “You can still kiss me goodnight though.”
Jonas smiled. If there was a place for hopes and dreams to come true, this was certainly it… “I think I can work with that.” He bent slightly and concentrated all of his will on giving Serta a kiss he would remember.
Not that he was a perfectionist. He simply demanded excellence.
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