All I Want For Christmas Is Pie

Life was chaotic all on its own, but this business with the Ministry seemed to only amplify things. Katya tried her best to stay out of all things politics, but too much of her family had aligned with the Dark Lord and she frequently held a sense of dread not only for herself but for her family. Her mum had sent her a letter recently claiming Katya was living with her “head in the sand” and recommended she connect with her cousin Igor, as they were both currently living in the same country. Katya ignored her mother’s well-intended advice and she tried to ignore the chaos filling the beautiful streets of wizarding London, but even she couldn’t avoid the pamphlets that practically rained from the sky demonizing muggles and muggleborns, the posters advocating citizens to turn in their neighbors if they saw anything “suspicious”, or the bright yellow bracelets some of magical folks were forced to wear. Kat found relief in her work. She enjoyed cooking and baking, hell, even cleaning up in the kitchen was sometimes a cathartic experience, depending on how things were going. They employed dishwashers at Almathea’s though, so she generally reserved her pan washing therapy for at home.

They were a week into December and Katya was kicking around the idea of getting out of town. She adored London, the nightlife was amazing and if you ignored the blatant supremacists, the people were amazing too. She’d been here three years, a hell of a long time for the wandering brunette. Was there anything tying her to this place that was worth overlooking the political strife the country was in?

“Pie bloke’s back.” Hazel eyes flashed over her shoulder, her hands continuing their work as she filled a cherry pie on the woodblock countertop. “Are you news announcer now, Gerald?” she asked sarcastically, a little smile flashing quickly across her face. “You know he fancies you.” “Everyone does,” she retorted. She didn’t need to play into the restaurant gossip games the rest of the kitchen staff partook in, but she liked hearing about Pie Bloke. Gerald shrugged and picked up several plates, placing them onto his tray and backing out of the kitchen toward the dining room. Katya peeked through the swinging double doors toward the main room of the restaurant, seeing if she could spot Pie Bloke. A quick smile flashed again as she spied him near the Christmas tree. “Privlekatel'naya svin'ya,” she said to herself as she turned back to her cherry pie and prepared to put the lattice crust on.

Having slipped the pie into the oven and flicked her wand toward the timer, Katya gave another glance toward the dining room. With the doors now shut, she could only see through the circular windows the festive tree near which Pie Bloke was sitting, but not his handsome face. She wiped her hands on a towel and pursed her lips. If she was going to skip town, she might as well have some new kind of fun before she left. Leaving her chef’s coat in the kitchen, Katya slipped through the double doors and casually mentioned taking her break to the sous chef on her way out. Her hair was still up in a messy ponytail and there were flecks of powder in her hair from when one of the bakers dropped a bag of flour in the middle of the kitchen and coated the room with an indoor snow. Kat sidled up to Pie Bloke’s table and rested one hand on the empty chair across from him, the other on her hip. “No compliment for me today?” she said, smirking through the accusation. He always sent his remarks to her via the wait staff though he had only received his pie by the looks of it, and likely hadn’t had the chance yet to flag someone down for a compliment.

Feed him? Naked? Katya laughed. He certainly didn’t seem to have any shame. She liked that. “Perhaps if you are good boy, I feed you breakfast tomorrow. Naked.” She smirked confidently at him. Katya wasn’t one to play coy, she didn’t wait around for someone else to make a move. If she wanted to shag someone, she’d say as much. If she wanted a date, she asked. Life was short, and he was hot, and there was no send in wasting anyone’s time. Leaning forward, Katya swiped her index finger through the dollop of whipped cream on top of his pie, and smiled before popping her finger into her mouth and sucking the sugary goodness off. Had she not been at work, she might have let Pie Bloke lick it off her finger, but she wasn’t quite ready to get canned. Sticking her hands in a guest’s food was risky enough as it was. “I’m off at four.” She sauntered back toward the kitchen, possibly with a little more swagger in her hips knowing that he was likely looking at her arse as she walked away, and wanting to give him something more to admire.

When she returned to the kitchen the rest of the staff were grinning at her, and slowly Gerald started to clap. “Bravo, good show. Good show!” “Don’t make me fire you, Gerald” she teased, pulling her chef’s coat back on and fastening the buttons. “He better tip well today,” someone remarked and the kitchen burst into a roar of laughter.

The rest of Katya’s shift was fairly uneventful. Her sous chef burnt a steak and she scolded him in Russian quite thoroughly despite the man’s inability to speak her language. He seemed to get the point though and was on his game for the rest of the afternoon. No one liked burned food, but they especially didn’t like waiting twice as long for their mid-day meal than they should have, and Katya didn’t appreciate her skills in the kitchen being confused for someone’s of a lesser standard. Half past three rolled around and the gossip-mill began to start back up again. “You gonna find out Pie Bloke’s name tonight?” one of the waitresses asked her. “Why?” Katya replied earnestly. His name made no difference to her, she could shag him regardless of his name and what if he was named something horrible like Axel or Stacy. That would ruin the whole allure he had going, and it wasn’t as if she were planning to stick around long enough to make him a regular in her rotation. “What are you going to call him, then?” the witch asked sincerely. “Pie Bloke,” someone else suggested. “No..” the waitress complained but she was drowned out by laughter.

Four o’clock came and Katya was officially off the clock. She threw her chef’s coat into her locker and grabbed her handbag, throwing the strap over her shoulder. “Proschay, Gerald.” Gerald made kissy faces at her and Katya rolled her eyes loudly at him. Children, the lot of them. Pie Bloke was sitting near the front entrance when she stepped out into the dining room and Katya raised her eyebrows then looked at her watch. He was rather prompt. “It is a little desperate to be so early,” she said as she approached, giving him a teasing smirk. She had been told on a number of occasions that she came off more harshly than she had intended, owing to her thick, foreign accent and blunt tongue. She proudly claimed anyone who couldn’t appreciate her sense of humor deserved to be offended and they could fuck right off.

He dragged the chair he’d been sitting in back under the table it had apparently come from, making a horrible noise as he did so. Katya winced slightly at the sharp sound. He was not a smooth man, by all accounts, but that was alright. At least he wasn’t offended by her joke. He laughed at her and Katya raised her brows for the second time. “Perhaps not with your silly accent,” she offered, though not even in her native tongue would those two words have been confused. At least he wasn’t dull, thank Merlin. Katya hoped he would be able to hold her interest at least through the sex, she would have been disappointed with herself about having thought about him so often if he couldn’t keep her interested for a few hours at least. He could be as boring as he wanted in the morning, on his own time.

He suggested drinks and Kat nodded. She could go for a beer after a full shift. The Leaky Cauldron was nearby, so they headed that way. Katya felt no need to make small talk on the way there, though she was by no means cold toward him; the December night was cold enough. Running her hand over her hair to loosen the bit of snow and even some leftover flour as she stepped inside, Katya looked around. It wasn’t too dead for a Tuesday afternoon, but thankfully it wasn’t crowded either. Kat headed toward the bar and slid onto one of several open stools, catching the eye of the barkeep with a friendly wave. “Privyet, Tessa. I’ll have a beer, please.” She didn’t know the owner of the Leaky well, but there had been a few drunken nights where she chatted up the brunette before stumbling home. She seemed nice enough to Katya. Kat looked to Pie Bloke for his order, reaching into her pocket for her coin pouch. “First round’s on me.”

Placing the silver coins on the bar top, Katya slide them forward with one hand, stuffing her coin purse back into her pocket with the other. “You will get whatever I make you,” she remarked, though a full English breakfast wouldn’t go amiss. After a night of lively entertainment, something hearty would be just the ticket. Grabbing at the handle of her own mug, she raised the beer to her lips and took a drink.

Katya took another swig of her beer and wiped the foam off her upper lip with her free thumb. She was curious about Pie Bloke and how long he expected this foreplay to go on before they bounded off to hers or his and got on with it already. She wasn’t looking for anything touchy-feely. They didn’t need to know each other’s favorite colours or first pet’s name or what lesson they hated in school. The less she knew about Pie Bloke, beyond that he was arrogant, had good taste in food, and was hotter than a man had any right to be, the better. “Most people do,” she answered cryptically, although after another drink she offered, “Katya.” Another sip. “If your name is Stacy or Dexter or something like that, I do not need to know.” No need to ruin what she hoped to be a thrilling memory with a wretched name.

He pattered about the names she’d given as an example, and her lips curled. “Incredibly so.” She took another drink of her beer as Pie Bloke gave his name. “Zak.” She shrugged. “We will see about the screaming.” She smirked at him, her eyes glancing noticeably to his lap then back to his face, daring him to make her see Merlin tonight. She kept her gaze locked on him as she took another sip. If he took too much longer to make a proper move she was half tempted to drag him into the loo and get on with it.