Chapter Text
LANCE
Lance McClain sipped his red wine as he observed the hushed conversation that drifted past his ears from the main floor of the restaurant below him. Prime, the five-star restaurant that he owned, was bustling with the activity of the many dinner reservations that filled the building on the crisp New York autumn evening. The dark wood panelling on the walls coupled with the candlelit tables and dim overhead lighting cast a warm hue over everything, making the corner of his mouth twitch up in a small, satisfied smile. This was what he’d pictured when he’d first envisioned the restaurant, and he would have been happy even if it hadn’t been as popular as it was, so long as it gave him this feeling when he dined.
He could see nearly everything from the vantage point he had on the second floor, but the regular clientele was used to that by now. And if they weren't regulars, their eyes averted his as soon as they met. It was a subtle power play that he enjoyed. He watched his staff below him expertly navigate the floor, sliding past each other with soft murmurs of communication and acknowledgements as one server cleared plates or another took a couples’ order on date night. He knew all of them by name, even if he was only able to visit the restaurant once a month. It had good management, good enough that he didn’t have to be there to oversee every single night of operation. Though, that didn’t stop him from meticulously checking over every single report he received about the restaurant’s happenings when he wasn’t there. And speaking of meticulous…
“I don’t recognize him.” Lance spoke as he spotted a new face. The man had shoulder-length black hair that was styled into what almost looked, to Lance, like a mullet. He looked nice enough, Lance thought, even cute, but he could never be too careful in his line of work. Typically, personnel files of potential hires were passed from Shiro to Lance’s head of security. A background check was done, and if they passed, they were given the ‘okay’ to hire. Lastly, the full file ended up on Lance’s desk for final approval. Nine times out of ten there was nothing in them, aside from a picture and a brief history, so Lance at least recognized the people in his restaurant. He wanted to know everyone’s face. Unknown faces meant unknown variables and he was determined to never have any ‘unknowns’, ever since the death of his father and elder brothers. That day was still full of ‘unknowns’.
Lance ran his fingers through his own short brown hair as he inclined his head towards his primary bodyguard and long-time friend, Takashi Shirogane - or as Lance was accustomed to calling him in familiar company, Shiro - seeking an explanation.
Shiro was clad in similar dress as him; a fitted black suit and tie with a white dress shirt. He was a picture of perfection, his appearance constantly maintained to keep up with Lance’s reputation. Though if Lance was honest, and he usually was, a trained eye would spot the slight lump under Shiro’s left armpit from the concealed shoulder holster that carried his gun. Lance himself had opted for a burgundy suit, a black dress shirt with the top two buttons open en lieu of a tie, and his own gun pressed comfortably inside the waistband holster of his tailored pants.
“Antonio needed a person on short notice, and all of his references spoke highly of him.” Shiro said, “Kolivan is still working on the deeper background check. It’ll be on your desk by the end of the week.”
“It should’ve already been on my desk.” Lance muttered almost petulantly into his wine glass as he took another sip. He didn’t like people he didn’t know working in his places. Again, an unpleasant unknown.
“You trust Antonio’s judgement enough for him to practically run the restaurant for you. You should be able to trust him with this, too.” The familiar voice of his wife, Vera, said from across the table. He could tell she was getting impatient with their sitting around; she only enjoyed wining and dining so much before she wanted to get back to the estate and actually do something. “He’s cute; seems like your type.”
“It’s the cute ones you always have to worry about.” Lance smirked knowingly, finally looking at her.
Vera was devastatingly beautiful, even when he’d first set eyes on her ten years prior when he was the young age of eighteen. Her features were sharp, angular. She’d stood an inch or two shorter than him, and her wavy chocolate brown hair had flown down her back just like it did now. The sun had made her tanned skin almost glow. At first there had been no warmth in her brown eyed gaze, and it really shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did; she came from the same background as he had. Overtime they’d warmed up to one another, but the start had been rocky.
She probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance had his parents not thrust her toward him like a prized breeding mare, and he toward her like a stud, and their fates had been sealed.
‘An arranged marriage for the benefit of the family.’ His father, Jorge, had explained as he rested a hand on Lance’s shoulder. ‘This is the woman you’ll be with for the rest of your life. She will be the mother of your children, and the keeper of your secrets.’
Lance must have looked absolutely terrified, or discouraged, because his father continued. He outlined the rules of his arrangement. Vera was to be his prize, his wife, but it didn’t mean he had to love her. Jorge hoped he would come to love Vera like he loved his mother Anita, but he understood that those feelings might never form in a situation like theirs. Lance should have known then that the weight he felt from his father’s hand was a sliver in comparison to what was left for him after his death. Thinking back, that was probably when he really started resenting his family. And if it wasn’t then, it was definitely when his father said it was acceptable for him to find someone that filled the holes that Vera left if he chose to.
When Lance and Vera had been left alone together, she wasted no time at all telling him that whatever delusions of a happy marriage he had, she didn’t intend to fulfill them. It was lucky for both of them that he shared the same sentiment. He’d had no intention of happily going along with his parents’ plans ‘for the family’.
For the family, for the family, for the damned family.
Still, they had little choice when both of their families planned a quick wedding and practically walked them both down the aisle. They’d been married the next year, when Lance was nineteen and Vera twenty. It took a while for the both of them to warm up to each other, especially considering they were both in university and much more focused on finishing their degrees instead of bonding as husband and wife.
They agreed to be amicable for both of their sake, and seek partners they actually wanted outside of their marriage. For Lance it was fine, thanks to the family, but for Vera it was nearly unheard of thanks to the good ol’ deeply rooted misogyny in his family. Well, fuck the family, he’d thought. He and Vera would take the situation by the balls and make it their bitch, and they did.
Eventually they grew closer together and started to love each other. They went out on their own dates and Lance did make an effort to woo her. In between they had different partners and both made the discovery of their bisexuality and supported each other through it. Lance didn’t know if he would have survived the aftermath of his father and brothers’ deaths if Vera hadn’t been there and supported him through it.
Lance’s reminiscing of the past was interrupted by a crash of ceramic on the floor below. Shiro tensed next to Lance, his hand raising and readying to grip his gun. Lance’s head whipped to the side and his eyes snapped to the floor below as the restaurant came to a standstill as if everyone was holding their breath and waiting for the entertainment to start. A customer was berating the newbie, ripping into him like the server had personally scorned him. For all Lance knew, he had. It looked relatively harmless, nothing that the server wasn’t able to handle, and definitely nothing that management wouldn’t be able to handle. It wasn’t until the customer got up and started angrily waving his arms around that a flash of fear actually appeared in the server’s eyes, and fuck that. Lance was up before he even really realized he was moving, abandoning his wife and dinner in favour of going downstairs.
“You should leave it to management.” Vera called as he walked away, Shiro a step behind him. Lance could hear the smirk in her voice as she continued chiding him half-heartedly, “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile, remember?”
Fuck a low profile. Lance was here, and so were his expertly trained bodyguards. Hunk Garrett, another of his security team, had been by the door their entire lunch. Shiro stood out more with his noticeable tuft of white hair at the front of his head and the prominent scar across the bridge of his nose, so he stuck to Lance’s side. Hunk was much more inconspicuous, so he maintained the perimeter while Shiro maintained, well, Lance.
Lance walked down the stairs from the second level and made a beeline for the table, getting close enough to be within earshot towards the end of the conversation. The server, Keith, as Lance read on his nametag, was still trying to keep the situation amicable.
“Sir, I’ll get you your food made right, if you just sit down-”
“Don’t tell me what to do, you little punk. Do you even know who I am?” The customer got in Keith’s face, his face almost beet red from anger.
“Quite frankly, I don’t give a shit who you are.” Keith snapped back, and definitely looked like he regretted it a second later when the customer raised his fist like he would strike.
He never got the chance of course, because Shiro was on him in an instant. Lance always liked watching him work. It made him truly value the skill that Shiro possessed when he was able to quickly grab the customer’s arm, twist it behind his back, and force him down in a pin against the table.
The customer let out a shout of protest and Lance was finally able to get a good look at his face. He recognized him as Lewis… something. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had a history of being a royal pain in the ass to the servers and chefs. Lance had been looking for an excuse to ban him and it seemed like it landed right in his lap, wrapped with a nice little bow.
“I think it’s time for you to go.” Lance said, glancing around. Hunk made himself visible when he could see Lance looking for him, and he raised his hand to wave the other bodyguard over.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Lewis argued, thrashing in Shiro’s grip. It only tightened, making Lewis wince, “Get off me! This suit is Armani. Do you even know who I am? I could call the owner and get you fired!”
Now that, Lance wanted to see. He smirked, reaching up to cover his grin behind his hand like he was rubbing his mouth in anxiety. He crossed his arms and motioned for Shiro to let Lewis up. “Can you really?” He asked in an intentionally hushed tone as if he was nervous.
Lewis had the gall to look smug and overconfident as he stood up and fixed his suit, smoothing it out with his hand. “That’s right.”
Lance let Lewis enjoy his moment for another second before it was his own turn to enjoy the moment, “Then do it.” He said, calling his bluff.
Lewis at least had the decency to look like he was going to shit himself, but was also able to compose himself in record time as well. “What?”
“Do it. Call the owner.” Lance continued before Lewis could even attempt to make up some sort of excuse, “Oh, but that would require actually having his number. But you don’t, do you? Considering I don’t remember giving out my number to you.” He slipped his phone from his pocket, holding it up.
Lewis looked like a fish out of water the way that his mouth was gaped; opening and closing like he was trying to form words but nothing was coming to mind.
“That’s what I thought. Don’t come back here, Lewis.” Lance looked at his dining partner, “You either. Frankly I can’t stand someone that won’t hold the people they’re with in check. Garrett,” He looked at Hunk, “Get them both out of here and take down their names. Let the hostess stand and valet know that they’re not welcome back again.”
“Sure thing.” Hunk rested a hand on Lewis’ shoulder, tugging on him slightly to begin guiding him to the front doors of the restaurant. His dinner partner followed, collecting both of their remaining things quickly.
When Lewis and his company weren’t Lance’s concern anymore, he turned to the server, who also looked like a deer in headlights. Lance had definitely heard him swear at a customer, which even without the circumstances, was grounds to fire him. He wasn’t going to, but he wasn’t going to tell him that right away.
“Come with me, Keith.” Lance said, turning away and heading to the back. The general manager, Antonio, met with Lance on the way and he explained the situation. Antonio was reliable and extremely good at his job. He was the reason that Lance only had to visit once a month for business talk, and was able to happily enjoy dinner with his wife once a week without a care. Antonio had shaped Prime into the successful restaurant it was; Lance just provided his wants and the funds.
“Please cover Keith’s tables for ten minutes.” Lance said, looking at Keith, “Do your tables need anything immediately?”
Keith shook his head, “Table five wanted water refills and table six’s meals should be out by now. The other two are eating, but I would check on them.” He informed the manager, who nodded and walked off.
Lance led Keith through the bustling back kitchens of the restaurant, calling out to them as he walked through the doors, “Look alive, people! Greatness has entered.” He said with a grin, earning himself a few laughs as the crew kept working.
“Hey Lance, when are we going to get you back here with us for an evening again?” One of the kitchen crew called.
“Yeah, come back to the trenches with us!” Another cried dramatically, inciting laughs from everyone, including Lance.
“Maybe sometime next month. Busy schedule!” Lance grinned at the kitchen, offering them a wave before he walked inside the management office and had Keith follow him in. The management office had the same dark panelling as the dining room but much brighter lighting. It was nicely organized, and big enough to have small meetings and interviews in. Lance glanced back at Shiro, who would stand outside the door.
“Can you go grab my wine from my table? I don’t want to take another server off the floor.” When Shiro looked like he was about to protest - and Lance knew why he would; he had a whole list of why Shiro wouldn’t want him out of his sight - he continued as to not be interrupted. “I’ll be right here. There’s no windows, one door, and I’ll lock it. I’m secure.”
Shiro had to make his own scan of the room before he nodded, and Lance and Keith were left alone. Lance walked around behind the manager’s desk and sat down in the leather chair that was waiting for him, inviting Keith to sit down across from him. Today, the role he was playing was ‘wealthy restaurant chain owner’. A simple one, his favourite one, and one he wished he could play more often.
“So,” Lance levelled Keith with his gaze, finally taking a good look at him. His observation from the second floor had been correct; Keith was cute. Really fucking cute, actually. Especially with the fire Lance could see in his grey eyes; it told him Keith wasn’t going to take any disciplinary action easily. Keith stood a couple inches shorter than him and Lance could tell that he worked out. The arms of his shirt were taut around his biceps when he crossed them in front of his chest.
Lance should’ve stopped himself before he got started. He shouldn’t enter the weird grey area that was dating someone who worked in his restaurant. It wasn’t appropriate, for one thing. But Lance had enough money that Keith wouldn’t have to work at his restaurant…
Anyway. Back to business.
“You were told about the strict policy regarding how we speak to our guests, weren’t you?”
Keith frowned at him and Lance had to keep himself from smiling back, “I’m not going to let someone talk to me like that.” He said, “And I would hope that you, as the owner, wouldn’t either.”
Well, he had Lance there. It was part of the reason that Lance had banned Lewis; no one talked to his people like that. Even this person that he didn’t know as well as he should have thanks to the lack of an in-depth personnel file that should have been on his desk before Keith even had his first shift.
“No, you’re right. It’s part of the reason he’s now banned.” Lance admitted, “I have no interest in having someone who treats my people like that eating in my restaurant. Even if he brings every girl he cheats on his wife with here.” He rolled his eyes.
Keith blinked and let out an amused snort, “Seriously? How do you know that?”
“You get to know the clientele the more they come in.” Lance looked at the door as it opened, his body tensing as he prepared himself for action before the sight of Shiro had him settling again. Lance gratefully took the wine glass from Shiro and the bodyguard took his place near the door. “Same with the staff. I don’t know you, though.” He shifted to dig a water bottle out of the mini fridge under the desk, “Tell me about yourself. And don’t worry, this isn’t an interview. You already have the job. I’m just giving you a little break after that interaction.” He offered Keith the water bottle over the desk and took another sip of his wine after sitting down.
Keith shrugged, though he did take a gulp of the water. “Like what? What do you want to know?”
Lance hummed and leaned back in his chair, “What do you do outside of work? Are you in school? Have you graduated?”
“I’m in school for mechanical engineering.” Keith said, “And I won’t be finished for at least another… six years, probably.” He grimaced, “That’s depressing. I’ll be twenty-eight and old by the time I finish school.”
Lance barked out a laugh as Shiro chuckled by the door. “I’m twenty-eight, Keith.”
“You are fucking not.” Keith clapped back almost immediately, which had Lance laughing more. “You own a restaurant! Multiple, from what I’ve heard! How are you so young?!”
Lance’s smile faltered slightly, “It’s family money.” He said, “Why, how old are you?”
“I just turned twenty-two.” Keith relaxed back against the office chair, “On the twenty-third. I got a free dessert.” He smirked.
Twenty-two…
Lance remembered his twenty-second birthday. It was a Thursday; he’d had class. His two older brothers - Marco and Luis - had called him beforehand to give him their birthday wishes, and his elder sisters - Veronica, and the twins Gabriela and Daniela - had called or texted not long after. His baby sister, his favourite sister, Isabella, had travelled to have breakfast with him at a place near his school. And his mother had preemptively mailed a card and had called him right when he’d woken up.
His father… His father hadn’t spoken to him too much since he’d made the decision to go to Columbia University and pursue a life outside the family. He hadn’t liked the decision at all and hadn’t wanted Lance to do it. But as the third son, Lance had more freedom than his brothers. Less expectations than them. So his father had let him go, but he’d made Shiro go with him. That had been an adjustment too; getting used to a bodyguard following him around all the time. He’d fucking hated it, especially since Shiro was insistent on doing his job to the perfect T, and hadn’t given Lance any leeway when it came to alone time. Lance told himself he just had to put up with it until he graduated. His goal had been to get his MBA and get the hell outta dodge. California had floated around his head for a while. California beaches, California weather, California living.
In fact, it had been daydreaming about the beaches in California in the middle of class that had been interrupted by Shiro entering the lecture hall and briskly walking to the aisle seat that Lance had been sitting in. He’d put his hand on Lance’s shoulder as he’d leaned down and murmured in his ear, ‘There’s been an accident. Your father and brothers are dead.’
Shiro didn’t sugar coat things. He was straight to the brutal point. Lance appreciated it then, just like he appreciated it now, no matter how gut-wrenching, soul crushing, suffocating the point was. Lance remembered taking one final look at the projected screen of information at the front of the room before he quickly packed his bags and excused himself from class. He’d handled it well enough, until they’d gotten to the police precinct that had what would have been the… remainder of their bodies. Car bombs did that.
Lance’s mother and sisters had been there, all completely distraught. None of them could bear talking to anyone. His mother was completely inconsolable. He’d managed to hold it together pretty well until the detectives had told them the medical examiner had confirmed their identities from dental records. After that, he’d been just like his family. For the loss of his father and brothers, and for… for the loss of ‘California’.
The rest of it was a blur of questions after the detectives had ruled it a homocide. Some of them almost made him laugh, like, ‘Did your father and brothers have any conflicts in their lives? Any enemies that would want to hurt them?’
Of course, he’d wanted to scream. Do you have any idea who we are? Do you have any idea what we do?! You have no idea what the McClain family is–
“Lance.”
Lance was snapped back to the present by Shiro’s deep voice, glancing up at him by the door. Shiro’s smile was small and sympathetic, which meant that Lance had started to dissociate. How rude of him. Keith was looking him over, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern; probably wondering what the fuck was going on with his weird-ass boss when they were in the middle of a conversation.
He cleared his throat and sat up straighter before he plastered a smile on his face, “My apologies, Keith. Twenty-two is a good age.” He finished the last half of his glass of wine, “Well, keep up the good work. Just try not to swear at the customers.” Lance stood up, and Keith stood with him, nearly stumbling over the chair in his haste to keep up with Lance.
“Y-Yeah, man. Thanks for the break.” Keith held up the water bottle, “And the drink.”
Lance nodded, motioning for Shiro to open the door. He kept smiling at Keith until the younger man passed the threshold of the office. He sat back down with a groan, burying his face in his hands and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.
“Are you alright?” Shiro murmured softly, still dutifully by the door.
“Oh, dude, never better.” Lance chuckled dryly. “I have to be, don’t I?”
He took a deep breath. Clear your mind. Another breath. Center yourself. A third. Put the mask back on.
After a moment, he sat up properly and stood up, “Okay. I’m fine. We should get back to Vera, I don’t like her alone this long. And then we’ll just go back to the penthouse. I have some work to do.”
Shiro nodded, opening the door and stepping outside first, “Sounds good. I’m with you.”
“I know you are.”