Chapter Text
Today wasn’t a bad day for Chef Levi Ackerman. Not bad – meaning not great, but not terrible either. The morning had been slow and quiet, a rare luxury. He hardly ever got to sleep in, but today, Mikasa was handling the shopping at the market, and Eren was picking up the deliveries. So Levi woke up later than usual, made himself breakfast, drank his tea on the terrace, and even read a few pages of a book. He didn’t arrive at the restaurant until the family meal.
Sasha had prepared stew with roasted potatoes and a salad. Levi approved – the dish had good depth; she had definitely used dark beer. The potatoes were crisp and well-seasoned, while the salad was simple yet well-balanced, complementing the meal. He gave Sasha a small nod – no complaints. She was over the moon for the rest of the day.
They had a full house tonight, so when Levi checked the prep, he did it thoroughly. They had to be ready for every guest. With a mix of satisfaction and a hint of melancholy, he noticed that his sous-chef and line cooks had everything under control. The truth was, Levi hadn’t really been needed in the evenings for a while now. After seven years of running The Radice, he could start thinking about a new project – or even retirement – only stopping by to oversee things. But he wasn’t ready for that. And beyond this place, he had absolutely nothing.
Yet.
Service ran smoothly – except for one nasty fucker who wanted to substitute wild thyme in his famous Risotto alle Radici e Timo Selvatico. Levi had even stepped out of the kitchen to handle the guy himself, since Furlan hadn’t managed to change his mind. Furlan was good with customers – he actually wanted to make people happy. Levi’s philosophy was simpler: Eat what I make, or get the fuck out. It usually worked. Today was no exception. The old man with his teenage girlfriend insisted on the thyme, but Levi Ackerman didn’t do substitutions, and he made that crystal clear. In the end, the guy ordered the regular version of the risotto.
When the last dish left the kitchen and service was finally over, Levi stepped outside to smoke in the back alley. That first cigarette after a long shift always hit different. Well-earned – or rather, justified. He wanted to quit, but he always found a reason not to. How else was he supposed to unwind after a long day at work? It was either this, drugs, or fucking Zeke.
In that equation, a smoke seemed innocent enough.
He hadn’t even finished his first cigarette when the back door creaked open and Furlan’s head appeared. Usually, Levi would’ve been glad to see his stupid face – he and Isabel had been friends since elementary school. But Furlan knew this was Levi Time and that he wasn’t supposed to interrupt. Unless there was some kind of problem with the restaurant.
“Table 8 sent dish back. Big guy is still hungry and wants something else.”
“You’re fucking joking, Furlan.” Levi ground the cigarette out on the pavement. “The risotto guy?”
“Yes, the thyme risotto guy. He says he’s fine with anything, as long as it doesn’t have thyme.”
“I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Leave it,” Furlan shot back. “Just go back to the kitchen, make him pastina, and be done with it.”
“No, I don’t think so. No pastina for morons.”
“It’s up to you, Levi, but I don’t think it’s worth the hassle. Or the pastina.”
But he didn’t listen. Levi brushed past Furlan and marched through the kitchen, where his staff were still cleaning up. Isabell, Mikasa, and Eren were scrubbing the counters, while Sasha and Connie tackled the mountain of dishes. Levi pushed through the doors and entered the restaurant’s dining area for the second time that evening – not to bask in praise from a satisfied guest, but to explain to a stubborn thug that Levi Ackerman did not serve garbage.
At 10 p.m., most of the tables were still occupied, but the buzz of conversation and laughter had already quieted down. People knew they were just finishing their last bites and sipping their wine, that the pleasant time was coming to an end. Once the opening hours were over, it was time to pay and leave a tip, then head home or continue on into the city.
The couple at Table 8 looked like they had known each other for a while but had only recently started dating. They got along well, but there were no real signs of intimacy yet. Both were very fair-haired with striking blue eyes. The girl, petite and likely still in high school, was eating her risotto with obvious enjoyment. The man – broad-shouldered, much older, and annoyingly handsome for a conceited bastard – was talking to her with intense energy, probably trying to convince her to stay the night.
“You sent my dish back,” Levi said, stopping in front of their table, arms crossed. “What was wrong with it?”
“Oh, Chef Ackerman.” The man smiled. “Nice to see you again.”
“Root Vegetable Risotto with Wild Thyme is my signature dish. It even has the restaurant’s name on it. Radice. So tell me – what exactly was wrong with it? I wouldn’t want to make the same mistake again.”
“Look, there was nothing wrong with it.”
“It’s delicious as always, Chef Ackerman,” the girl cut in, blushing. “I’m a regular.”
“See?” Levi gestured toward her. “She’s a regular and loves it.”
“It’s as tasty as always.”
“Everything was fine, I just don’t like thyme.” Admitted guy.
“So why the hell did you order thyme risotto?”
“I was asking him the same thing!” the girl said, clearly embarrassed.
“Because you told me it was the best dish here!” he called out to her with a hint of annoyance.
“But you don’t like thyme!” she slammed her fist on the table.
“That’s why I asked you to leave it out!” he defended himself.
“Levi Ackerman makes no substitutions!” Levi snapped, cutting through their banter. A few people at nearby tables chuckled. The head chef of Radice was famous not just for his food, but for his temper. Watching him lose it was practically a form of dinner entertainment.
“Look, it’s fine. I don’t want to cause trouble,” the man said apologetically. “I tried it, I didn’t like it, I’ll pay for it – but I’m still hungry and just want something else before I leave.”
“No. The kitchen is closed. I won’t keep my team here longer than necessary just because you ordered thyme risotto while not liking thyme.”
“When you put it that way, it does sound a little dumb,” the man admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. “But would you really let me leave hungry? That’s not very welcoming of you, Chef Ackerman.”
“I made you the dish you ordered. What’s not welcoming about…”
Before Levi could finish, Furlan suddenly appeared, setting a plate down in front of the problematic guest. Both Levi and the man stared, caught off guard. The blonde idiot had probably been trying to impress his date with his negotiation skills and hadn’t expected the issue to be resolved so quickly.
“Please enjoy pastina made by our sous-chef,” Furlan said smoothly. “It may seem simple, but it’s actually very comforting and filling. It’s homemade soup with orzo, cooked in a root vegetable broth with celery and carrot, finished with lots and lots of Parmigiano Reggiano. It’s on the house. Bon appétit.”
***
There was a reason Furlan was the head waiter. He oversaw the care of the guests because, unlike anyone else, he knew how to talk to people. Levi, on the other hand, took care of their palates, and that was what he knew best. Neither of them got in each other’s way, which is why The Radice had been running so well for years. But today’s situation was one of those where Levi’s rules were broken by Furlan. That’s why, at first, he didn’t say anything to him. He helped with the cleaning and then, without a word, got into the car.
Levi felt betrayed, but at the same time, he knew Furlan had done what was necessary to win the customer back. What stung was that Furlan had gone to Mikasa, asking her to quickly whip up something from the leftovers – it meant he didn’t trust Levi’s ability to handle the situation. From an objective standpoint, it was the only reasonable solution. But in his stubbornness, the head chef had wanted to kick the guy out without a second thought. That’s why he couldn’t afford to sulk for too long.
“I’m still going to kill you, Furlan,” he said as they were nearing home.
“I’m glad you started talking to me again. I was sure we were in the middle of one of our silent days.”
“I had to. We live and work together,” Levi muttered, arms crossed as he slouched in his seat.
“Look, you have so much experience, it’s first time someone didn’t liked what you cooked?,” Furlan asked, smoothly changing lanes. “It happens from time to time, right? Did you forget how annoying people can be, sending back a dish just because, I don’t know, they didn’t like the color of the sauce?"
“Yeah, mom,” Levi shot back.
„Trust me, it wasn’t worth your nerves. Or making an even bigger scene. I know people call you the Scowling Chef, but if you don’t focus, you’re just going to turn yourself into a joke.”
“Fuck him.”
“If you want, I can drive you straight to Zeke.”
Levi let out a short, sharp laugh. Zeke Yaeger. His ex. They had spent far too long locked in some kind of twisted on-again, off-again mess – one that involved screaming matches, physical fights, wild sex, and absolutely nothing else in common. But Zeke’s stepmother had owned the first restaurant Levi ever worked in, and now, as if fate had some sick sense of humor, her younger son was working in his kitchen. The restaurant world was incestuous like that.
“I don’t do Zeke anymore,” Levi said. “I’m seeing someone.”
“Oh yeah. Mr. Right Guy.” Furlan smirked.
Levi rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. Yeah, this time was different. Onyankopon wasn’t like the others. They had met at the farmers' market, where he ran an artisan bakery. Levi had stopped by for a loaf of sourdough to pick for restaurant, and somehow ended up talking to him. One conversation led to another, and before he knew it, they had gone on a handful of dates. He was steady, patient, the kind of guy who took things slow. And if he fucked anything like he kissed, Levi was hitting the jackpot.
“Mr. Right Guy,” he agreed, staring out the window as the city lights blurred past.
“You’re going to see Zeke tomorrow anyway, right?” Furlan added, turning into driveway. “Good Morning, Marley, eh?”
“Fuck, I forgot…” Levi buried his face in his hands. “I can’t make it, Fur. I’m too tired – can you go instead?”
“I can’t cook, dumbass.” Furlan patted Levi’s head. “Besides, it’s you people want to watch.”
Zeke had been working at the local TV station, M24, for several years. He started as an intern, but eventually became the operator for several programs, including Good Morning Marley. There was always a cooking segment, and when their previous chef had to step down, Zeke suggested his boyfriend, who was already running a popular restaurant at the time. It turned out to be a perfect move, as Levi, with no effort, won over many fans. Now he had his own segment every Saturday and Sunday morning. Balancing it with restaurant work was tough, but the TV paycheck was the only thing keeping him afloat. The restaurant, popular as it was, didn’t bring in huge profits.
“I need to be in the studio in five hours,” Levi sighed. “I’m going to look like death.”
“That’s part of your appeal.” Furlan laughed.
***
Reiner was punctual as always, arriving in front of Levi and Furlan’s home at 5:30 AM sharp. Levi had it written into his contract that the show would provide him with a driver – getting there on his own was too much of a hassle. He and Furlan shared one car, and Levi was usually too exhausted to drive safely. Taking a cab or an Uber was too stressful; the uncertainty of whether they’d show up on time was something Chef Ackerman didn’t want to deal with. So, when he renegotiated his contract last time, he requested a driver. Nine times out of ten, that driver was Reiner, Good Morning Marley’s producer.
“You look terrible, Levi,” Reiner said instead of greeting him. “If this is getting too much for you, we can start looking for another chef.”
“Fuck off, Reiner,” Levi muttered. “Let me get my beauty sleep.”
He dozed off as they drove to the studio, and from there, everything moved fast – arrival, security check, makeup, wardrobe, and at exactly 8:00 AM, Levi was at his designated spot, prepping his dishes.
The studio had recently been remodeled after years of having the ugly red carpets and yellow walls. Now, Good Morning Marley had a modern, warm aesthetic, with earthy tones, wooden furniture, and large screens. It was one of the most popular shows aired on M24, their local TV station.
Levi glanced at the table and saw that all the ingredients for his caponata and panna cotta were already prepped, just as he had requested. That was probably Reiner’s doing as well. While GMM looked professional, it was, at its core, a small local morning show. As the producer, Reiner had to keep everything running smoothly.
Levi sighed, weighing the knife in his hand. He had forgotten to take his own set from the kitchen, and without it, he felt weird – like something essential was missing. It wasn’t just about the knife; it was the whole routine that felt off, the comfort he found in his own tools, and now he had to adjust to something that didn’t quite fit.
The same applied to the makeup and clothes chosen for him by the stylist. Levi usually wore his own clothes. He didn’t have bad taste, and Yelena never needed to make changes. But today, he’d thrown on jeans and a hoodie, which, unfortunately, didn’t quite work in the GMM studio. Wearing something that had been worn by who knew how many others made Levi feel disconnected, like he wasn’t truly himself.
Through the room Levi spotted Zeke talking to Porco. Yeager looked good – too good. A sure sign he had fucked someone and moved on, already forgetting their relationship. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed, which wasn’t typical for Zeke, and he was even wearing clean clothes. Like every cameraman Levi knew, he had his cap on even indoors.
The news segment started at 8:00 AM sharp. Pieck and Porco were already at their desks, doing whatever it was they came here to do. Levi didn’t care – he just noted Zeke and Colt’s positions with their cameras. One of them would probably be heading over soon to transition into the cooking segment.
It was always the same. During the live broadcast, Levi prepared two or three dishes while the hosts tasted them, and he had to be ready for small talk. He usually just acted like himself – grumpy, sarcastic, making it clear he’d rather be anywhere else. And it worked.
"You're on in ten seconds," Reiner’s voice crackled in his earpiece. "Yeager is heading your way."
Sure enough, Zeke pointed his camera at Levi’s hands as he noticed Pieck and Porco approaching. They had just wrapped up the news segment.
“Good morning, Levi! What are you making for us today?”
“Morning, Pieck. Starting with dessert – it’s almost vegan if you skip the honey. Panna Cotta al Latte di Mandorla e Zafferano,” he said with an exaggerated Italian accent. “That’s almond milk and saffron-infused panna cotta, garnished with roasted pistachios and a honey drizzle. It needs time to set in the fridge, so while that’s happening, I’ll move on to the caponata. Check back later.”
“Oh, Levi, that sounds fancy!” Porco said with practiced enthusiasm.
“Saffron isn’t that fancy anymore. If you want fancy, I’ll show you next week.”
“It’ll give the panna cotta not only flavor but a nice color, right?” asked Pieck.
“Yeah, it’ll be as yellow as sunshine – the total opposite of me.”
Pieck and Porco laughed, maybe even a little genuinely this time. Levi noticed Zeke had already moved over to the couch area where the first guest was seated. Colt stayed behind to finish recording, but that was a clear sign they’d be wrapping up soon.
“That was Levi Ackerman, chef and owner of The Radice, an Italian-vegetarian restaurant here in Marley. And now, we move on to our first guests…”
The camera feed switched to pre-recorded footage – probably about the largest fridge magnet collection in Marley or the fattest cat in the city. That was the kind of news they aired on GMM. Occasionally, local authorities would come in to discuss safety regulations or city investments, but most of it was light fluff. Levi sighed, left alone with his saffron infusion.
Time was passing, and Levi kept cooking. Pieck and Porco came and went, while the show’s segments shifted like a kaleidoscope. The weather. A guest on the couch – a group of girl scouts. Then Pieck and Porco returned to check on the dish, engaging in another round of small talk. Zeke shot him a sideways glance. The news. Another guest – this time, a bridal boutique owner showcasing the latest wedding fashion trends. Then a musical interlude. The weather… Everything happened at once, a chaotic whirlwind orchestrated by Reiner – one Levi would rather avoid if not for the advertisement and the paycheck.
Levi wasn’t interested. He endured it, did his job as best he could – because it kept The Radice afloat without raising prices.
“Oh, it looks lovely, Levi!” Pieck exclaimed when he handed her a portion of dish. They were nearing the end of the show. After the tasting, only one last musical segment remained.
“It’s Sicilian caponata, layered with burrata.”
“Can you say that in Italian?” Porco asked.
Levi sighed but obliged. “Torre di Caponata con Burrata e Riduzione di Aceto Balsamico.”
“Oh, Zeke wants to try some!” Pieck said, and Colt turned his camera toward his colleague, capturing the moment as Levi fed Zeke a spoonful.
Zeke tasting Levi’s food had become a recurring bit on the show. He usually criticized it, too. The fans loved it – they joked about the ‘tension’ between them on social media, so Levi played along. Even if the only thing he really wanted to do with the spoon was shove it down his throat.
“It’s sour,” Zeke said, predictably.
Pieck laughed.
“It’s balanced. The only sour thing in this room is you, after your last girlfriend dumped you,” Levi shot back.
He was that girlfriend, but the audience didn’t need to know that.
“It’s not sour, it’s delicious, Levi!”
“Wait until you try the panna cotta.”
A few minutes later, it was finally over. Levi left the dishes where they were, knowing the crew would eat them as soon as the cameras went off. That’s why he made large portions. Sometimes, he stayed to chat, but today, he just wanted to get out. He wasn’t in the mood. It was almost eleven, and he needed to get home for a few hours of sleep before the evening service. Mikasa handled the prep on the days he was at the studio.
As he entered the locker room to grab his things, he noticed a familiar face. It wasn’t unusual for strangers to be hanging around the studio – guests often brought friends or family. The man was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but when he spotted Levi, he quickly sat up. Most people Chef Ackerman knew were taller than him – this one was no exception. A broad-shouldered blond with a strong build, a Greek nose, and blue eyes, he gave Levi an awkward smile, a faint blush creeping onto his face.
Of course, Levi's first reaction was surprise, then a flicker of interest at seeing someone who fit his type – only to end with a groan of disappointment as he realized who he was dealing with.
“The Thyme Guy.” Levi finally acknowledged him.
Today, he looked more casual – wearing a T-shirt and jeans instead of a suit. In this light, he didn’t seem that old. Late thirties, probably.
“Indeed, the Thyme Guy,” the man admitted, smiling.
“You’re not here to kick the shit out of me?”
“No, no. I came with my girlfriend – she was one of the guests…”
“The one talking about her scout troop and how hard it is to balance elementary school with camping trips?”
The man looked surprised. Meanwhile, Levi checked his phone. Onyankopon had texted him, praising his performance today and asking if he’d stop by the market.
Levi sighed. That wasn’t part of his plan. He was exhausted – but also horny, and things with his new boyfriend were moving pretty slowly in that department. Every meeting brought him one step closer to the bedroom.
“Well…” The Thyme Guy rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Maybe I should introduce myself. My name is – ”
“Gotta go,” Levi cut him off, grabbing his bag and heading out.
***
Most of the crowd had already thinned out, and some stalls stood empty. It was almost noon – the market was winding down. Levi rubbed his eyes as he stepped off the curb, exhaustion weighing down his limbs like dead weight.
Onyankopon stood behind his wooden stall, hands dusted with flour as he tried to make up for the gaps left by the morning rush. Most of his goods had already sold out. His apron was smudged, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Levi found himself watching him work. He liked how his boyfriend looked when he was focused – there was something irresistibly handsome about the way Onyankopon’s brows furrowed in concentration, the sunlight catching in his dark eyes.
Onyankopon turned just in time to spot Levi approaching, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Well, look who decided to show up,” he teased, leaning forward on the stall. “Big TV star.”
Levi shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well. I got a text from some guy.”
Onyankopon laughed, reaching for a paper bag to pack a croissant. “You did good today.” He added, pointing at the iPad sitting next to the register. Even while working, he never missed an episode and Levi thought this is extremely sweet.
“I’d love to try that caponata,” he added, flashing a grin. “And I definitely wouldn’t be talking nonsense like Zeke.”
Levi scoffed. Onyankopon didn’t know he and Zeke had been an item, and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t seem like the jealous type, but no one liked finding out their boyfriend worked with his toxic ex.
“That dumbass always complains.”
“Here.” Onyankopon handed him the paper bag. “I figured you’d drop by, so I saved your favorite croissant.”
Levi eyed him for a second before taking it. “And if I hadn’t?” he asked, tearing the bag open.
Onyankopon shrugged. “Then I would’ve had to stop by the restaurant on my way home.”
Levi broke off a piece – buttery, flaky perfection – and popped it into his mouth. The rich layers melted against his tongue. Niccolo was the one responsible for French pastries, while Onyankopon handled the breads. That was how they’d met, really. Levi loved good bread, but he could never quite master baking it himself. He’d spent ages searching for the best supplier for The Radice, even driving all the way to Trost every morning before Onyankopon started working with Niccolo.
“Did Mikasa come by?” he asked, his mind still half on the topic.
“Yeah, she was here earlier. But it’s been a while now, if you were thinking about joining her.”
Levi glanced at his watch. It was already time to start prep. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Trying to get laid was costing him too much.
“She’s probably already on her way to the restaurant… Wanna head to the back?”
Onyankopon chuckled, shaking his head. “If you wanna make out, we’ll have to do it in the open – Niccolo already left.”
Levi sighed and grabbed his boyfriend by the collar, pulling him in. As their lips met, he felt Onyankopon grin into the kiss. God, Levi thought. Am I in middle school again? It was just a kiss, but somehow, it felt electrifying.
Then, his phone buzzed.
Levi groaned, already regretting checking it.
“It’s Mikasa,” he muttered, answering the call. “What’s up?”
“Levi?” Her voice was steady, but something in her tone made his stomach drop. “Levi… we had a break-in last night.”