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infoactionratio7 · 11 months ago

Text

Recreational

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: Two chefs, one needs a distraction and the other needs anything but.

Word Count: ~11k

Notes: This one has been stuck in my drafts for almost 6 months, google docs was my editor so if you mention any grammar/spelling mistakes I'm gonna blame Google lol.

Y/n always had the idea that life never let her be too happy. And not to be unnecessarily pessimistic or ungrateful for the good things that happened in her life, but it was really only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. To be completely honest, if she was remotely better at anything else or something else paid more, she wouldn’t have been a chef. She thought her career as a chef was the universe having a good laugh at her, making her a part of a culture so deeply rooted in making connections which she couldn't reciprocate.

“They aren’t your friends.” The lesson was so deeply ingrained into y/n’s psyche that it was impossible for her to even spare a simple congratulatory smile after finding out her co-worker had won a James Beard award a few years prior or give that same co-worker a nod of approval when he retained a star. They were at best two instruments in the same tool kit, easily replaceable to the other, and y/n wasn’t going to offer an olive branch.

The French Laundry’s kitchen had perfected the skill to make even the best chefs throw their thousand dollar knife in a huff and quit on the spot. The head chef was a maestro of pushing buttons, ensuring a constant undercurrent of tension that never reached extreme highs because, in that kitchen, there was never a low.

That was before y/n was hired. There were chefs with better referrals, more experience, were more likable but there was something in her that put her above the rest, she didn’t crack.

She didn’t flinch when the head chef lowered himself to her level, still towering over her, and told her that she didn’t deserve to be there in the middle of a dinner rush on her first week.

Carmen kept his head down, anticipating the impending sobs and sniffles. However, as moments of silence stretched on, he resisted the unseen force compelling him to remain bowed. Slowly lifting his gaze, he noticed her studying the head chef as if extracting more from his irises than his words. Her eyes then swept over the rest of the staff before locking onto Carmen's. There, in that shared glance, he sensed her silent inquiry, a question of whether he, the second in command with a James Beard award and a Michelin star, was a coward.

He bowed down, focusing on the plate in front of him and pretending to wipe a nonexistent splatter.

The silence echoed while the rest of the chefs continued to slice, dice, and stir not sparing a glance, this was nothing new. When the head chef figured that she wouldn’t say anything back, he sauntered over to his next victim. Carmen lifted his head one more time, there was nothing he could do to comfort her if she was a mess but he already knew which chef would have to take over for her while she sobbed in the freezer. He was met with her side profile, she was smirking.

For a brief moment it felt like Carmen finally got a good look at her since she had been hired a week ago. It took a few moments for Carmen to decipher her expression. She was unimpressed with him, the head chef, and the kitchen. It wasn’t possible to be unimpressed and here she was looking at everyone like she was a parent listening to the squabbles of an irritable child, it was different.

She was a dangerous person because her small stunt inspired him to do something he had never done in the French Laundry, roll his eyes when the head chef left after his criticism. It was a small taste of delicious, slippery, freedom that was bound to kill him later. The day ended and Carmen didn’t even notice that he was walking up to her until he was right in front of her.

Y/n was expecting an apology and Carmen was expecting an opening to start talking, something had to give but it was too raw to do that here. After one more glance, Carmen started parting his lips but y/n slipped right past him and walked out.

They aren’t your friends.

Y/n had many aspirations growing up: pop-star, astronaut, scientist, and ice-cream vendor. As she got older the list matured, and consequently shortened. It didn't take much for her to enroll in culinary school, a decision made almost impulsively.

In the busy kitchen, amid clattering pots and the aromatic dance of ingredients, she watched chefs passionately invest themselves in each dish. She had heard stories from her colleagues, the heartfelt narratives that bound them to their culinary journey, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of shame that she couldn’t reciprocate. Her presence in the kitchen wasn't driven by sentimental attachments to food; she was here for a paycheck, a stark contrast to the fervor surrounding her. As she navigated the world of flavors and aromas, she grappled with the solitude of her own motivations, wondering if there was space for her in a profession driven by love, memories, and a deep connection to the culinary craft.

Unable to reciprocate the profound connections others sought, a sense of bitterness and unrest festered within her. Her internal conflict wasn't born out of disdain for those more accomplished; instead, it stemmed from a profound inability to fathom the emotional intricacies that seemed to drive others but couldn’t seem to reach her.

Y/n didn’t allow herself to confront a nuanced flaw—projecting her perception of routine loneliness onto the world, all while unconsciously imposing a self-isolation rooted in a complex interplay of guardedness and yearning for genuine connection. She kept herself busy by watching, judging, others in the hopes that eventually she would see something that clicked.

Y/n spent the next few years in relative ease even if every single soul in the French Laundry were a bunch of battered devotees, who regularly got verbally and emotionally beaten black and blue, but still came crawling back. It was almost humorous to watch all the chefs line up to leave and look like they just had their soul siphoned out from their puckered assholes.

Carmen felt like a cautionary tale to her, never getting too involved. He had crafted his own prison cell, a second in command with no real power, no life outside of work, and y/n bet he told himself that this was his peak. His self created pathetic life was so intensely interesting to y/n that she resisted asking about his life so she never made the same mistakes. But the way his focus scattered across the kitchen told her that he didn’t know why he was like this either.

He didn’t come to work on a Friday, which was a bit of a shock, and it rippled when she walked in on some janitor emptying his locker a few days later, and just like that, Carmen was gone from her life.

Months went by and by then y/n had completely forgotten about the chef that wasn’t strong enough until she saw browsing a food blog, and she found a name that she thought she would never see again. A post about a restaurant in Chicago that had served yet another "dish to die for". She refreshed the page a few more times, wondering if this was someone with a similar name but after a bit of sleuthing, a slightly blurry google review photo, it was undeniable, Carmen was indeed in Chicago.

They shared certain similarities—they had comparable resumes, education, and paychecks. Given the exorbitant rents in New York, it was likely that their living expenses were almost identical. They were both engulfed in the demanding world of cooking, leaving little time for anything else. Yet, despite these parallels, a puzzling question lingered: why did Carmen have the financial freedom to make a spontaneous departure, a luxury y/n had yearned for but couldn't grasp for years?

Y/n wished that she felt that pulling force, like seeing a familiar face after a long time bloomed an ache in her heart. She spent a few moments trying to will her heart string to pull but she was unsuccessful. She was looking for a reason to leave the French Laundry and she was hoping that Carmen’s scribble tattoos, wavy hair, nauseatingly blue eyes would make a path for her to escape, or at least reveal what gave him that final push.

She liked the restaurant that she used to work at, a local hotspot that was known for its penne alla vodka and other vaguely Italian dishes. Over there she was the hotshot young chef freshly graduating from the CIA and was leagues above anyone else. No one towered over her asking if she knew what she was doing, no one ever asked her if she remembered to stir the roux, or if she was an assistant. The only reason she left was because her student debt was closing in and she was exhausted from constantly debating if she should buy a replacement for her shitty knife or groceries for the month. Being poor was so tiring that y/n caved when someone came in with a job offer. As much as she hated the French Laundry it graced her with a different type of freedom, the freedom to not worry about if she could afford to survive.

She waited till The Beef closed to give them a call, and unsurprisingly someone picked up with a heavy sigh, “ We are closed.” and then hung up. Y/n dialed again, “I need to speak to Berzatto.”

“Yo Cousin, some chick is looking for you.” A muffled, we’re closed, was heard but y/n insisted.

“We worked together in the French L-.”

“She says she’s French or something.” And before y/n could correct, Carmen was handed the phone.

“The fuck do you mean French?” Still arguing with the guy with a gruff voice.

“Maybe it's a "pro" you sobbed in front of in France, you virgin. I don’t know your fucking life.”

“French Laundry.” Y/n interrupted and just like that Carmen was glued to the phone.

“Y/n?” Y/n ignored that he was able to recognize her voice even after all this time and how that made her almost soften her voice.

“I’m in Chicago for a few days, when can I stop by.”

“You want to come?" Carmen hastily recovered, "You can come when you can but we are doing some renovations and it's a mess-''

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.” And with that y/n hung up and emailed HR that she would be out for the week because she was sick.

The Chicago air was unbearably similar to New York's and y/n was glad she didn’t have to spend too many miles on the same shitty city. And Carmen understated the “renovations”, it was a gut. The door scraped open dragging the paint cans that were leaning it. The door isn’t the working issue, it's the fact that the whole restaurant looked like it was on the verge of being classified as a collection of bare load bearing pillars and plastic tarp. Y/n was glad that she settled for sneakers because heels were begging for her to eat shit.

“Ms. New York!” The man with a gruff voice yells with laced hostility, alerting everyone.

The echoing music was promptly shot off as curious onlookers tried to decipher why an unknown woman was waddling through a battlefield of loose nails and scattered sawdust.

Y/n didn’t have to look long before Carmen came tumbling out the kitchen door, looking at her like she was glowing. Y/n wordlessly walked over to him and extended her hand and much to her shock the shake was firm, eager even, the last time they shook hands was when y/n had to take a photo with him 3 years ago for Gastronomica. Y/n was the first to slip her hand away, not remarking on his softened calluses, it seems like he hadn’t done much cooking lately.

Carmen ushered them towards the kitchen and held the door open for her, the room was empty and oddly quiet. They were holding the work outside so they could hear what they assumed would be confessions and passionate love making.

Carmen probably sensed it too because he took them to what looked like the skeletons of an office.

They both stood against the wall on completely opposite ends, their words would have to fill the gap. Carmen parted his lips a few times trying to formulate what he practiced last night but all the words seemed to die in his throat. His staggered inhale was followed by a soft, “What brings you here? I mean I’m glad you're here-”

“I wanted to know what you were up to.” Y/n twirled a strand of hair, looking into his eyes trying to relearn him again.

Carmen’s breath stalled as he fiddled with his apron to avoid eye contact. “I’m running this place now so-” Carmen’s eyebrows furrowed, “How did you know where I was?”

“I saw the restaurant in a blog and thought I would….” Y/n noticed him deflate, trying to figure out from disappointment or finally relaxing.

“I thought I would get something to eat but it seems like…” Y/n waved her hands at the bare walls, “That's not gonna happen.” She let out a soft chuckle but was a bit peeved that Carmen wasn’t doing anything but staring at her.

Y/n crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, Carmen sighed and thumped his head softly on the wall behind him. Being across from him, gave y/n a familiar view of Carmen at the end of shift, pitiful and enervated. Y/n didn’t fail to notice that his arms had gotten bigger.

“Manual labor suits you.” Carmen let out an embarrassed but bemused “ha” as he failed to stop his lips from curling up.

“Yeah, I have to do a lot by myself. Don’t exactly have the funds to be hiring a million contractors to do shit.”

“How do you afford all this?” Y/n lifted her gaze and tried to not look too eager.

"A ton of loans. We're barely holding it together," he admitted with a soft chuckle, passing some papers to y/n. As he continued, Carmen listed the financial burdens on his shoulders, payroll for the chefs, government permits, contractors, vendors, appliance suppliers,each itemized until it culminated in a big, fat, red zero that highlighted the crushing reality of y/n's shattered dreams. There was no money left; they couldn't afford to keep her. The devastating truth settled in, she couldn't afford to work here, and Carmen couldn't afford to save her.

Carmen walked over to the desk between them before plopping on his chair and balanced his head on his right fist as he looked up to y/n.

“What are you doing right now?” Carmen asked, the new view let him see more of y/n, which she didn’t know if she liked.

“I'm still at the French Laundry, it pays the bills, Carmen.” The air stilled and all the oxygen in his lungs contracted in his lungs as his name echoed in the otherwise silent room. He wasn’t Berzatto anymore. Y/n’s small smirk was enough of a reaction for Carmen to solidify that he had no clue about the women in front of him.

As she basked in the lull, she extended her leg to stretch them out to, noticing that it wouldn’t take much effort for her to put her foot on one of the legs of his chair and roll him closer. Y/n wasn’t without decency so she resisted messing with Carmen anymore. She was being stupid and immature, it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t help her, but a part of her still yearned to inflict some measure of discomfort on him.

“Enough about me…what have you been up to?” He was finally worth talking to, y/n thought. He would finally have something of value that she couldn’t get out of any other seasoned chef, a spark behind his eyes. Maybe there was something else that gave him the power to come here, something that could move her too.

“I'm taking over the restaurant from my brother and we are remodeling and shit to make it��a spot.” He realized how stupid he sounded when he said it outloud.

Y/n’s lips quivered downward, he was taking over a family obligation. He didn’t unlock any of the universe’s secrets that he could share with her, that would make the road ahead clear. He really couldn’t help her. The crushing feeling in her chest was worsened when he carelessly tossed out, “You could work here, ya know?”

A pile of bills at home dared her to throw caution to the wind and fail spectacularly. Y/n shut down any part of her that could have been swayed and diverted instead.

“What are you serving?”

“You would be head chef, y/n.” Carmen's intense gaze made her look at him in bewilderment.

“It’s not a good fit.” Y/n pressed with a self-assured chuckle.

“Syd would be number 2 and I can focus on the business shit-”

Y/n wasn’t going to justify his ridiculous proposition with a response, so she gave him a pointed look before asking a final time, “What are you serving?”

“Whatever I want.” His eyes focused on y/n’s, almost daring her to be enticed by the freedom.

Y/n's stomach somersaulted. The room around them seemed to close in as the weight of the unknown pressed against her. Y/n grappled with the question of what she had truly come for. The initial curiosity about his past now collided with the reality that the person standing before her was somehow a deity that had broken free from the shackles of depriving the self from freedom but also a mortal with dangerous arrogance that she couldn’t replicate.

“You finished the menu?”

Carmen nodded as his eyes wrinkled.

“Show me the menu.”

“You’ll see it on opening night.” Carmen leaned back in self-assurance.

“I won’t be back.” Y/n briskly asserted as she went back to twirling her hair and crossing her arms.

Y/n heard a chuckle and a soft, “Doubtful”. Just as she lifted her head to argue, the words were gone and so was Carmen, who was at the door now, holding it open for her.

“You're the worst, you know that?” She presented him with a vicious side eye. “I came all the way to the menu, you know.” That wasn’t remotely true.

“You can see the kitchen.” His hand hovered over the small of her back before catching himself and slipping his hand back down.

Carmen gave a run down on where the stove would go in relation with the expo, being mindful of speed but also spatial restriction. Y/n walked with him wondering if she would care enough about the minutia to organize a restaurant from the ground up like this. Her fingertips grazed the silver gas stove, teh cool metal brought back memories of working in LA. His expo covered in plastic wrap was the exact one she saw in her first internship. And most damning of all, Carmen specially picked out everything; so just like y/n, he had a story to tell with each piece.

His eyes shimmered as he talked about not beating his time around the kitchen yet, and y/n felt her stomach roll over as a wave of… something rolled over her.

Eventually, Carmen led her out to the front where she talked about table choices and the lighting to match, her eye’s glazed in wonderment wondering if the version of Carmen that cared about interior design was always a part of him or if it was a new development. Just as she was about to ask, Richie interrupted her.

“We’ve held it long enough, I think we would ALL love to know who you are.” He spread out his arms and nodded like a politician who was, “asking the real questions”. Y/n went from floating around the kitchen to being slammed shut in a bird cage.

“Ms. New York didn’t give it away?” Y/n replied, doing her best to ignore the nagging whispers in her head telling her she wasn't wanted here.

“Then why are you here?” He challenged right back, pointing an accusatory finger at her before migrating it to Carmen, “Why is she here?” The urge to run away tugged at her, to a place where it didn't matter if people liked her.

Carmen squinted his eyes before letting out an exasperated sigh, y/n could tell he was used to Richie’s machinations. Looks like the three of them didn’t know why y/n was here.

“Just ignore him, that's Tina..” pointing at an older woman who looked like she was just about to leave.

“..Nat” was buried in a binder but her head still shot up and smiled which y/n politely reciprocated.

“.. and Syd '', who looked pissed that y/n was here, y/n looked at her hands clasping a notebook. Recipes…a menu…y/n tucked her lips to hide her laugh, they didn’t have a menu to show and she had interrupted their brainstorming session. Y/n made a mental note that Carmen wrinkled his eyes when he lied.

“I was just in the neighborhood, and I'm just about to leave.” She walked towards the exit, not failing to notice that Carmen was in hot pursuit.

It didn’t take a genius to know he was going to offer her a ride so she beat him to it, “I’ve taken enough of your time.”

And just as Carmen was about to say something, Y/n hid her disappointment with a smirk, “I’ll let you get back to making that menu.” Y/n caught a quick glimpse of shock before the door swung open and she walked the Chicago streets wondering if she got what she was looking for.

This place wasn’t for her at all, and no amount of small town romance novels could convince her to leave her cushy job with a bunch of pompous clowns for a DIY restaurant. Her heart quickened as she allowed herself to be momentarily seduced by the idea, only to shatter any hopeful illusions with the harsh reality that Carmen couldn't rescue her from her financial nightmare. She needed a paycheck, a big one, and Carmen couldn't give it to her; he could barely afford the stove he wanted. It was almost cruel to give her a taste, let her acquire it, and then realize that she couldn’t have it.

Y/n went back to her hotel and had the difficult choice between watching Pawnshop or Diners, Drivers and Dives when she got a text message from an unknown number.

I’m off tomorrow, let me take you somewhere other than a construction site.

Y/n let herself have one last taste of freedom and dialed the number, “Who’s this?” she asked to tease Carmen.

She could hear Carmen’s grin loud and clear as he gave her a soft, “The worst person ever.”

Y/n laid flat on her bed and made herself forget that he didn’t have a backbone, that he ran away without a word like a coward, and (most damning to her) he couldn’t save her. She pushed the part of her that screamed that she should run away before they realized they didn’t fit because right now, she wasn’t talking to Berzatto. He was Carmen. He had dreams and aspirations that were bigger than him or maybe just as big as him. He was working hard and confident; everything else he wasn't in New York.

As she confirmed a good time for tomorrow, she sat up on her bed as she said her goodbye.

“Have a good night, Carmen.”

Y/n had trouble falling asleep that night.

The week had reached its end a lot quicker than y/n thought it would. Before she knew it she had repacked her life back into her suitcase and was sitting at her gate waiting for boarding to start.

Y/n had her legs propped up on her carry-on, balancing an egregiously priced coffee in one hand and a book in the other. It’s not like the book was any good, it was an autobiography about a famous chef who had died of cancer. She recalled her outing with Carmen a few days prior.

The pans that y/n had to use in her shitty old apartment were non-stick because she couldn’t afford the non-cancer kind till after she graduated from the CIA. She remembered joking with her classmates about it while they were learning how to take apart a chicken, and everyone gasped in disgust. Y/n gave a careless grin while hiding her warming cheeks and mentally punching herself for even saying that out loud.

Her birthday came around and all of her classmates pitched in for a set of pans, non-stick pans. She laughed with her friends, went home and invited them for dinner made entirely from the pans and watched as they ate their dishes, nodding in pretentious considerment, not knowing it was made on Teflon and wondered if this is how that guy who served his customers human meat felt.

Y/n told the story to Carmen during their lunch at a Korean restaurant and felt a surge run through her as he met her eyes and instead of laughing at what was meant to be a humorous story and mumbled, “That was shitty.”

Y/n’s lips parted as her eyebrows furrowed in anger and, more embarrassingly, shame.

Before she could defend herself, Carmen added, “I wouldn’t call those friends.”

He played with the condensation on his glass, y/n knew better to look down at him playing with the wetness with his pointer and thumb.

“That’s how it is there. How was your first week here?” Y/n sipped her soup.

“I lost my knife, found it beat up on the floor. I would have quit if I could.” Carmen gave a soft chuckle and y/n hated that she wanted to know more about him.

“Which knife?”

“It was the Yoshimi.”

Y/n quirked her lips up, “I remember when you first got it.” Carmen looked up quizzically.

“It was a shit show.” The head chef was not in a good mood and Carmen pulled up, with a pep in his step and a new knife, begging to be shot down. Honestly, y/n was surprised that Carmen didn’t kill anyone that day.

Y/n’s flight had started boarding so she threw all of her stuff in her bag while fishing for her passport. In her hustle she missed her phone vibrating till she was in her seat trying to catch her breath from shoving her overloaded carry-on in the ever shrinking compartment.

You got on yet?

Just sat down, TSA sucks ass, might have to start working out bc im winded rn.

Have a safe flight.

Y/n finally made it home and just as she was about to pass out, she quickly texted a picture of her exhausted face with a cringy thumbs up, she would regret that in the morning.

Y/n fell right back into her regular rhythm, with two new additions. She had started running in the morning. The other thing was a new pen pal, of sorts.

They tried texting more regularly for the first few weeks but their schedules were too different so they had simplified it to a photo every few days.

The Bear

Y/n got the photo on her train ride home after months of “talking”, a picture of a decal on the restaurant window, y/n didn’t miss Carmen’s furrowed eyebrows and grimace from having to be out in the sun to take the picture. His reflection exposed his paint stained t-shirt and y/n rubbed her eyes to check that his arms had in fact gotten bigger.

Y/n sent out the first actual text message in months, Why The Bear?

She saw the bubbles disappear and reappear a few time before settling on,

Come and find out

Y/n snickered and the women sitting next to her gave her a side eye as she got up to leave.

I don’t want to install appliances or check the plumbing for free.

Carmen texted back uncharacteristically fast, maybe they had shot down texting too soon.

“Don't want to” or “don’t know how to”?

Y/n squinted her eyes, he should believe her even if she was lying. She texted a middle finger back. You should be so lucky to see my trade skills in action, I could have been your contractor and it's sexist that you think otherwise.

I’ll settle with you coming by as a guest.

Y/n called him, it was a split second decision that she didn’t have time to regret. He picked up just as quickly as she called.

“I’m not coming back if you guys are still building shit.” Y/n asserted as she unlocked her front door.

“We finished that a while ago, now it's real shit this time.” There was faint rustling in the background and what y/n could decipher as yelling.

“Yeah?”

“We're missing some stuff, repair guys to call, and we still have some vendors to deal with but doors open in a few weeks.”

Y/n giggled, “Sounds like you're cutting it close, Carmen.” There was rustling heard on the other end, “You can probably get all that shit done with time to spare if you don’t get distracted.”

A laugh erupted from the other end, Richie’s.

“He’s plenty distracted, got himself a girlfriend.” Y/n stomach fell to her ass as she stood in her kitchen with her work bag still slung on her shoulders.

“Really?” she croaked out. Richie must have slapped Carmen on the back because she heard him slap Richie back.

“Ignore him. Doors open on the 1st.” The line stayed quiet for a second.

“I’ll see if I can make it, but you know it gets.” Y/n wasn’t going to make it, she was taking it out of the calendar right now.

A door closed on his end and the line was disconnected.

Before y/n could chuck her phone at her couch and sleep off her day, it rang again. Facetime.

Y/n picked up and was met with a new setting. Carmen noticed her slight confusion.

“New office, what do you think?” He propped his phone up and angled his body so she would see his fully stocked bookshelf. If y/n didn’t know any better she would have assumed that he was trying to impress her.

“Dewey Decimal?”

“Alphabetical.” He pulled out a book and showed her the self-made label on the bottom that proved that it was in fact in alphabetical order.

Y/n let herself be a bit difficult, “Your handwriting leaves something to be desired.”

Carmen covered his smirk with his tattooed hand before locking into her eyes,”Why don’t you come over and help me out?”

Y/n almost let herself fold before recollecting herself, “Unless you plan on working part time for our HR department, I don’t see that PTO being approved.”

“Sick days?”

“Why don’t you come back to New York. Wanna slice oranges for our tarte á l’orange? Maggie misses you.” Y/n was referring to the kitchen’s pastry chef who didn’t miss Carmen in the slightest.

“Are you opening a restaurant?” Y/n was a bit floored that she was getting sass from a man who put his jeans in an oven and shirts in kitchen cupboards.

“Are you? Looks like your team thinks you're distracted? If I didn’t know any better I would say you're calling me to distract yourself from calling the repair guy.”

“He can wait… tell me what I have to do to make this happen.”

“I took a week off, and we live in a capitalist hellscape so I already used up my PTO for the year. Don’t worry, I’ll make it to the next one.”

“You think I'm good enough to franchise.” Carmen ran his hands through his hair as he laughed and y/n cheeks warmed as his shirt slightly lifted as he leaned back.

“No, when this one fails and you have to make it another Mcdonalds.” Carmen gave her an adoring smile that made her wonder if he heard something else.

He put his right leg on his knee and spun in his chair, thinking.

“It’s better if I don’t come, what if your team hates me or worse they love me, force me to be their leader, and kick you to the sidelines.”

“I can be on the sidelines for you.” Y/n ignored the fluttering in her stomach.

“I’ll see…”She offered.

Carmen let out a sigh and y/n almost felt bad but the distance was good. They didn’t work together anymore, they texted irregularly, they barely were face to face, and it was working for them.

She was forgetting the man who froze like a battered dog when she was being shredded in the kitchen, and she could forgive him for being selfish because now he was too far away for it to affect her. Closing the gap risked her relearning why she didn’t get close to him in the first place.

His lips parted like he was constructing the words.

“What?” Y/n was just about ready to hang up and get ready for bed.

“I just…I don’t know. I thought that I could…you would see something different.”

“It’s a restaurant, I've seen plenty of those.”

“It’s different, I swear. I worked hard on shit and it's new and different. It's …better.” A chef analogizing his restaurant to represent himself was so unoriginal y/n would have laughed in their faces if it wasn’t Carmen.

“I’ll save you a table.” He offered.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot of tables to save.” Carmen quirked up his eyebrows.

“Your sister s, Sydney’s dad, Richie’s friends, me. Are there going to be any tables left for customers?”

“I need them all there, y/n.” He didn’t need to say her name but it still reverberated inside of her sending a shiver down her spine. In response, y/n felt a warm wave of relief wash over her, knowing that she couldn’t quite explain why that felt good to hear.

“I'm nobody.” Y/n squinted her eyebrows in doubt.

There's a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he's been searching for something that y/n couldn’t figure out, “You saw me in New York and here so you're the only person who can compare the two. I don’t have anyone like that left.” Carmen rounded his eyes in closeted adoration and y/n’s throat closed up.

“I’ll see what I can do but no promises. I have to go… don’t forget to call the fridge guy.”

Y/n was a strong independent woman who built her own furniture, threw out her own trash, and even back out by putting an arm around the passage seat headrest so when she got an email the next day with tickets to Chicago, her head began to swim.

Her phone buzzed, Meet me halfway.

Y/n left him on read and gave herself the freedom that Carmen had unknowingly denied her.

–

Birthdays were never y/n’s favorite holiday, she didn’t bother taking the day off and she stopped telling people since her CIA days, so she felt a little disgusted when grown adults would make a whole situation about this day. Celebrating birthdays in a restaurant was annoying for the kitchen but celebrating management’s family birthdays made y/n nearly quit every year.

It came around like clock work, just as she forgot about it, her boss's friend's (or whoever) birthday would roll around and she had to remind herself that the only reason she still had a job here was because she didn’t break down in hysterics and the only reason she stayed was because the bill wouldn’t stop just because she disliked her job.

It had already been a month since she and Carmen last spoke, they went back to curt messages. Y/n couldn’t help herself from texting back even though she knew better. The last message was a picture of Carmen in front of a finished kitchen, he puckered his lips to hide the full grin and seeing such joy, even if it was from a photo, was infecting every corner of her mind.

The week was just as difficult as it always was, and the last thing y/n wanted to do was a large dinner like this but it was like the universe wanted to beat her numb.

Y/n forgot to mention that the HVAC system had gone down for the afternoon and it was still over 100 degrees in the kitchen. As she chopped some chives, she ignored the expo coughing, and she walked over her collapsed body when expo inevitably passed out, to grab some more butter from the walk-in.

Y/n stole a glance from the corner of her eyes, they had no expo and a full house. Y/n puckered her lips in hidden contentment when the head chef practically roared and the unconscious women to get up and y/n swallowed a laugh when he had enough and started to manage the expo.

Y/n’s eyes darted to her left and finally felt that Carmen wasn’t working there. He had long been replaced, twice over, and y/n went back to her foie gras terrines trying to figure out why it even mattered now.

As orders were being barked and a rehearsed chorus of, “Chef” played back, y/n stalled her knife noticing that the pitch was off. It was missing the bass of a chef that had left just about everything to run away and was trying to convince her to do the same.

“WHERE THE HELL IS THE CONSOMME FOR 14?”

For the first time in years, y/n flinched. It wasn’t noticeable barring the fact that her little jump made her slice her finger. Her breath picked up as the blood pooled over the chives, she grabbed her cutting board and dumped the herbs in the trash and grabbed another board. She pressed the kitchen towel deeper into her finger, trying to remember where the first aid kit was from her orientation week.

Just as y/n was about to run to the stove to cauterize the wound herself so she could keep working, someone grabbed her arm and handed her a bandaid. She looked up to give them a silent thank you but they were gone. She hastily wrapped herself up and tried to lean inconspicuously on the counter because heat was getting to her too.

A few minutes later when by and y/n had fallen back to her usual rhythm even as a waiter walked in, she had learned to ignore waitstaff when they entered the kitchen because they never brought good news. Y/n could feel a piercing glare on her back.

“You sent out a Coq au Vin, chef?” Y/n didn’t have to look up to know he was talking to her but she still met his searing glare.

“15 minutes ago, chef.” Y/n resisted wiping the bead of sweat that was torturously grazing down her face.

He stared her down like he was waiting for her to admit that she had actually eaten it, she kept her nose high and bit her tongue to stifle the grimace that was forming.

“It's missing.” An ugly pause passed throughout the kitchen, she had almost convinced herself that she hadn’t actually finished it but the shift in his gaze brought her back to reality, he remembered her bringing it to him.

In the smelting kitchen, in her cramped corner, with her chef whites sticking to her, she almost let this pathetic man think he knew more than her.

The command echoed out of her before she could contain herself, “Refiring the coq au vin.”

A familiar chorus of, “Chef” was missing its usual thoughtlessness, y/n wasn’t supposed to do anything till the head chef told her, she had given herself a command, it was sacrilege.

Y/n was never a target, she watched as others were shot down time and time again, and moved on when she saw them break down crying in the middle of a dinner rush. The most she could give them was aloofness but as she stood in her corner, drowning in orders, and having every single one sent back from expo to redo, or having to wait longer for plates then everyone else and getting reamed for her dishes coming in late, she felt the weight of the kitchen’s gaze on her shoulders and wished someone one was there for her.

She kept her face composed as she finished up the last of her orders, her vision swaying from dehydration. Just as she was about to give into the weightlessness, the clock struck midnight and the kitchen was officially closed.

She did her best to walk to her locker, and sat on a chair with her head in her hands wondering how she was getting out the door, let alone go home. Her phone buzzed in her lap and knew that it was Carmen. His restaurant was opening tomorrow and she didn’t want to hear about it right now.

The rest of the chefs filed out, each giving her a glance that told her that she had finally been properly assimilated, just five years too late.

Carmen was giving her a taste of freedom in Chicago and that fleeting freedom was too seductive to ignore. The job offer echoed in y/n head, she wasn’t a good fit with them, she didn’t want a “work family”, but the temptation was poisoning her.

She opened the text, it was a simple picture of Carmen in his chef whites, he was practicing the “look” the day before the restaurant opened. He had even slicked his hair back with pomade like he used to in New York, and for the first time in months she laughed.

The sips of warm gatorade had sobered her up enough to walk out, just barely missing the head chef on her way out the door. She performed a blasphemous act in the back of the uber, she opened the email that Carmen had sent a month ago and checked the tickets date and time. Tomorrow morning, and like the universe was giving back after being shitty today, the French Laundry was closed for the next few days.

Y/n got home, ate two day old Thai food, sat on her couch astounded by her sheer audacity as she checked in for her flight. She was sure that Carmen would have gotten the confirmation email by now but he did her the service of not mentioning it.

Y/n packed a carry-on early in the morning and got to the airport, each checkpoint moving much faster than usual. The TSA didn’t make her take off her shoes, her gate was super close, and they had upgraded her to first class because a couple wanted to sit together. All the stars were pointing to Chicago…to Carmen and she tried not to think about how she was running away from her problems just like he did.

As she reached her hotel room, she hesitated to text Carmen. Nothing felt right to say, so she gave him the best thing right now, some space. She busied herself with getting ready and watching the shopping network.

As y/n approached the restaurant, she was a bit taken aback that the line was still so long. She stood next to an elderly couple who were talking about mortgage rates going down which meant that another housing bubble was bound to burst and the economy would be in shambles. Y/n tried not to think about how she couldn’t afford to lose her job right now because she had nowhere else to go.

No special treatment tonight, Carmen wouldn’t know when she got here so he could focus on his own work. She entered the restaurant and was relieved that the host and the waitstaff were new. She was led to her table and hesitated to pick up the menu. This was a long time coming and opening it felt so empty. It was like when she submitted her last assignment for highschool, alone on a Thursday night wondering why something so big wasn’t registering.

As she digested the menu, she let her fingers trace over the faux leather and the brown stitching. She wanted to know why he chose brown stitching, or why he stuck with Seven Fishes despite the fact that he must have made it a million times in the French Laundry? Why did he choose certain wines, or why was there a donut on the menu?

It's not like she hated the menu but a horrible thought dawned on her that all she wanted right now was for Carmen to sit across from her and talk about everything that she had missed. Every detail of this restaurant that reflected a better him, and how she had so much more to learn.

Her phone burned on her lap but she didn’t text him. Instead, she watched the people murmur about work and the food and y/n couldn’t help but hate herself for her self imposed loneliness.

Y/n did herself a disservice by coming towards the end of the shift so the crowd was thinning and her cover was close to being blown. Her dish arrived and she didn’t need to walk into the kitchen to know that Carmen made this, after years of taste testing his food, his flavor was ingrained in her DNA. Y/n finished her bucatini and felt compelled to order another despite being stuffed, just to swirl the flavor around her tongue for a bit longer. She ordered the aforementioned donut, paid and left.

She stood in the crisp Chicago air, a few steps from the restaurant, grappling with the audacity that led Carmen to abruptly leave the French Laundry. Immaturely, she couldn't help but wonder why he got to leave and she couldn’t. She knew why, but she let herself fester in the pain, it kept her alive.

She was used to being alone but for the first time in her life she yearned for someone to be there for her. She had isolated herself to such an extent that she knew that right now no one knew where she was or what she was doing, even Carmen couldn’t be sure that she actually went on the flight.

She could hear the last of the customers file out and the bussers clearing tables. She felt her phone vibrate and took a few breaths before she picked it up.

How was the bucatini?

Y/n lips waivered and a pit dug itself in her chest as she tried to compose herself, but she felt her eyes watering. This wasn’t fair, he wasn’t playing fair.

She hid her face in her hands, and tried to regain some of her dignity.

She stood there for what felt like a few seconds and felt someone stand next to her followed by the familiar sound of a lighter.

Y/n bit her lips shut and stared ahead, knowing that she was stronger than this.

“I didn’t take you for the donut type.” Carmen said in between puffs, he had changed into more casual clothes.

Y/n inhaled deeply through her nose and put her arms down, the night has hidden any trace of her vulnerability. “I wanted to try something different.” Y/n tried to put more power behind her voice but it came out too soft for her liking.

Carmen studied her profile and y/n knew better than to turn away, so she faced him. Her moist eyes turned his eyes into a kaleidoscope of silvers, blues and gold.

“How did you know I was in the restaurant?” Y/n was relieved that she was able to get it all out before her voice cracked.

A silence passed through them and y/n wished they were doing this somewhere more private.

He gave her a look, I know you.

The air hung heavy with tension as Y/n responded to Carmen's humored dismissive look. "You don't know shit,", a sardonic smile playing on her lips. She nonchalantly extended her hands toward Carmen's cigarette, a move that seemed almost too casual for the charged atmosphere. She was reaching out for the small remnants of warmth that she knew she would lose in a few hours, because right now and right here, he was there for her.

Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a subtle yet palpable connection that lingered in the air. It was a moment that could have easily been avoided, but neither of them seemed willing to retreat.

As the smoke curled around Y/n, she maintained a facade of cool composure, seemingly unfazed by the intimacy of the shared smoke. It was as if the brief touch and the exchange of breath and saliva meant nothing more to her than the inhale and exhale of the smoke itself. The proding sense of sadness thumping in the back of her head telling her that this couldn’t last, they couldn’t last.

“I liked the food.” Y/n returned the cigarette. “It's different…better.”

Carmen looked at her like he had a million questions that he wanted to ask and y/n wondered if she was giving him the same look.

She leaned back, “Don’t you have an alley or something? Smoking out front is so highschool.”

“Syd threw up in the alley.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow and wondered if this is how far they would go, she would have savored him for a moment longer if she knew it was going to end so soon.

Carmen stood straight and tilted his head so she would follow him.

“They cleaned up fast.” Y/n marveled at the vacant restaurant, the lights were dimmed and Carmen led her to the office.

“I think they wanted to get out of here before the last train left.” Carmen held the door open for her and the familiar heat of his hand hovering over the small of her back was a welcomed surprise.

Despite the practicality of the situation, the impending departure and the need for a clean, cold goodbye, there was a lingering question of whether she could maintain that distance. Carmen's proximity, the heat of his touch, and the shared space was going to make it challenging to stick with a clinical farewell.

The door clicked shut and y/n let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Do your worst. I can take it, y/n.” Carmen sighed, y/n’s stomach fluttered and she dug her nails into her palms to compose herself.

“Service was good, the waiter filled up my cup when it was halfway. The silverware was clean and rolled tight. Points off because my fork was from a different manufacturer from the rest of the dinnerware.” Y/n saw Carmen clench up for a second before nodding in concentration. It felt as if each syllable was being burned into his memory and the intensity of his gaze was making her sweat.

She gave herself the satisfaction of sitting because her feet were killing her and Carmen sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“The saltiness of the guanciale harmonizes with the richness of the eggs and the sharpness of the Pecorino Romano. The dish was velvety but delicate. The guanciale provides a necessary contrast in texture. Simple but precise. I think…I know that it was the best thing I’ve had in a while, chef.”

Yn was met with a humming silence.

“We can do this tomorrow, I know you had a long day.” Y/n offered.

“No…” He shook his head and his eyes were distant before landing on her’s, the severity behind them had made her sit back, “I want to hear what you have to say.”

She extended her legs towards Carmen, “You see these, chef?” Carmen hesitated to look forward like he was in the middle century and ankles were scandalous before gazing at her soft legs.

“They hurt like a motherfucker.” She flexed the back of her heel to show the blisters that had formed. “I gotta take care of this back in the hotel.”

Carmen slowly shifted his gaze from her legs to her face before wordlessly getting up and walking out. Y/n rubbed her temple and allowed herself to be selfish once more by downing Carmen’s abandoned sugar free Redbull left on the desk.

As she collected her stuff to get back to the hotel, Carmen returned with ice and first aid.

He placed everything on the floor so slowly that y/n could only assume that he was stalling.

Carmen looked up at her with his bright, almost silver, eyes and his eyes asked, Can I help you? Can I be there for you like you were here for me today?

It was like time had stopped as y/n struggled to bring oxygen to her lungs. She mindlessly nodded yes and the first touch made her heart thump against her chest. His hands were scorching against her skin and every lingering touch imprinted its memory on to her. As he iced the swelling and followed it by placing his warm hand to ease the shock in temperature, it became hard for y/n to focus.

Carmen did her the courtesy of abandoning the ice pack. She took a hollow and staggered breath, “Ask me anything.”

Carmen looked up from her, she hadn’t noticed that he had removed her heels, and asked her about every minor detail about her experience. He wasn’t aware that he was softly rubbing his thumb across her ankle, and y/n couldn't seem to move on from it.

When y/n finished her summary, Carmen’s fingers seized dancing across her skin and she regretted not talking for longer.

He didn’t let his hand leave her even as he asked, “How is work?”

Y/n grunted out in dismay and she leaned back and would have fallen backwards if Carmen hadn’t grabbed the seat between her legs. They both stared at his hand before Carmen quickly pulled back, y/n mumbled a quick thanks.

“It’s great.” Y/n sarcastically pushed.

Carmen quirked up his eyebrows in a sarcastic manner and y/n ignored him.

“It was Henry’s birthday.” Carmen hummed in understanding, birthdays were always a mess.

“You wouldn’t guess who was doing the expo yesterday.”

“I have an idea.” Y/n couldn’t deny that his smirk sent her spinning. He understood the fiber of that world so well even though he was hundreds of miles away, and she was barely hanging on to a tread.

Carmen continued, “Feel bad for the poor bastard who was his punching bag for the night.”

Y/n swallowed the burning lump in the back of her throat and kept her gaze relaxed and gave him a soft, “Yeah.”

The silence was making y/n uncomfortable so she mustered her remaining energy to give him a relaxed smile.

Carmen’s face didn’t give anything away, “How bad was he?”

“I'm here, aren’t I?” Y/n chuckled humorlessly.

“I know you're strong but I was being serious, y'know…about the job.” Carmen asserted.

Y/n softened her eyes, he was making this so much harder for her. “Noted, chef. Why Chicago?” Y/n diverted.

“Inherited the restaurant from my brother and I had to deal with it. He killed himself.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“It’s fine, I was going to have to tell you anyway.” Y/n didn’t have to know anything, she was no one and she didn’t deserve his trust. “It was a sandwich place before we renovated it.”

Y/n laughed in disbelief, “You made sandwiches? They sell truffles in Chicago?”

Carmen smirked as he went back to mindlessly rubbing her ankle again. “Regular sandwiches.”

Y/n widened her eyes and couldn’t hold her laughter in, “Pictures or it didn’t happen.”

Carmen fished out his phone and showed her pictures of a messier restaurant.

“I get why you had to gut the place.”

“It's not that bad.” He asked humorously.

“What you have right now is more your style, I like this version better.” Y/n heart skipped a beat when his hand shifted a bit higher up her leg.

“I love the look though,” Y/n squinted at a picture of Carmen standing behind a counter at what looked like a bachelor party.

“What look?”

“You know, the rugged, tired look.” Carmen rolled his eyes. “No seriously, I didn’t even know you had so much ink.” Y/n zoomed in on a tattoo of some numbers on his biceps.

“I'll show you all of them later.” Y/n let out a laugh as she handed back the phone. She wondered if she was hiding her nerves well.

"You spend all your time at work, when do you find the time to sit in a tattoo shop?"

"Prioritizing important shit, I guess."

"If you can prioritize getting tattoos and running a restaurant, when do you have time for your girlfriend?" Subtle, passive, non-probing was what y/n was going for. She forced herself to watch his reaction.

Carmen gave a puzzled look, his scrunched up eyebrows and distant look was accompanied with a quiet, "Don't have one."

Y/n gave a casual "Hmm…you sure? Seems like you got time to kill, always so relaxed." Carmen curled his lips up and bit his lips to stifle his smile. His lips turned pale pink before returning to rose red and y/n wanted to reach down and run her pointer finger along his lips to feel his heat.

"When I have the time. The restaurant is new and I need-"

"I thought you said you knew how to prioritize?" Y/n leaned back and rested her cheek on her fist.

"Maybe if she's really special."

"And not distracting." Y/n added.

"Then I can prioritize." Carmen adjusted his posture before asking y/n.

"What about you?"

"I am a realistic romantic, so love is real but just not for me. I don't have it in me to text everyday or go to family dinners. But who knows, Mr. Right might make me less shitty and more sunshine and rainbows. "

"Your personality is fine right now." Carmen offered.

Y/n jokingly scoffed before adding, "Then maybe I just need someone to distract from my own problems."

They sat in comfortable silence, but y/n’s eyes widened as she checked the clock, “It’s late.”

“It’s only one.” Y/n gave him a look of disapproval before nudging her foot against his stomach, where it had been resting for the past hour.

“Go home, Carmen.” Carmen wordlessly picked up her heels and slipped them back on to her feet. He stood up and offered his hand.

They walked out the restaurant and y/n pulled out her phone to call a taxi.

“I can drive you.”

Y/n looked over her shoulder at Carmen checking the locks.

“If you drive me, you won't be getting any sleep.” A pause passed through them.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Y/n rushed out.

Carmen cleared his throat, preserved her dignity by not saying anything else and led her to the car.

“You know these things will kill you.” Y/n lifted a Red Bull from the cup holder and cracked it open and took a few healthy sips.

Carmen wordlessly slipped the can out of her hands at a red light, “I need it more than you.” He looked down at the lipstick mark and took a few savored sips. At the next light, y/n could see the remnants of red lipstick on his bottom lip.

They reached y/n’s hotel too fast for each other's liking. Y/n swiveled her head, Carmen was already looking at her. She was fighting heavy lids a few minutes ago but now she was sprung with energy.

Y/n looked up in feinted innocence before casually offering, “You want to come up for some tea?” The kettle in her room didn’t work, she checked this morning.

Carmen blinked a few times, wondering if he heard her right, before slowly nodding his head like he wasn’t sure it was a joke.

She unlocked her room door for the both of them and Carmen shut it behind him. With a cautious gesture, y/n extended her hand, placing it close to Carmen's body. The darkness clung to Carmen's form as y/n's fingers grazed his side, a brief but intimate contact that went unnoticed in the dimly lit corridor, to check if the door was locked.

Carmen walked over to the office chair in the corner. Y/n room was so cramped that she was still within arms distance of him as she sat on the foot of her bed.

“The Bear?” Y/n’s inquisitive gaze and playful smile made Carmen’s heart stutter as he nearly forgot what The Bear was, or what his name was.

He cleared his throat, “Berzatto…Bear. It was a nick-name my brother gave me.”

Y/n leaned in a bit closer as she scoffed, “Even the name is good. I kinda hate you a bit more.” She bit her bottom lip to stifle the laugh but was pleasantly surprised that he was bouncing from her eyes to her lips.

He parted his lips to formulate a coherent sentence but y/n extended her heels to the legs of Carmen’s chair and pulled him closer. The look of his thoughts scrambling right in front of her was making it difficult for her to be restrained and poised. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”

His grip on the arms of the chair was telling her that she was headed in the right direction. She kept her hold on Carmen’s chair, as she softly assured, “I have to go back soon, so I’m trying to soak it all in right now.”

“You're leaving?” Carmen mumbled, sharing his attention between her eyes, lips, and her leg. He let his legs relax, which made them meet with y/n’s legs.

“I hate Chicago.” Y/n leaned back. “And I don’t really belong here. My whole life is in New York, and I don’t want to change everything just for-.”

“Come work for me-”

A swift pang of anger rippled through her, he didn’t need her. “You’ve got your plate full, you don't need a distraction.”

“But you do.” Carmen placed a warm hand on her thigh and the heat made her breath heavy, y/n knew where this was going but she wanted it to last as long as it could because she knew that once the sun rose, they were done.

“It’s going to be messy.”

“It won't be.”

The room held its breath as they teetered on the edge of something undefined. The impending dawn loomed, casting a shadow on the delicate illusion they had woven. “I don’t want something serious.” Y/n argued.

“And I dont have the time for something serious.” As Carmen leaned forward, pushing his hands high up her thigh.

As y/n searched for any other reason no to do this, Carmen’s cerulean eye’s hazed with lust seemed to have the opposite effect. Any reservations, logic, or inhibitions that could have prompted her to stop were forcefully pushed away amidst the intoxicating allure of Carmen.

Y/n didn’t know who leaned in first but it didn’t take much time for both of them to topple in the bed. In between huffs and shirts flying off each other Carmen whispered into her lips, “Just pretend it’s real tonight.”

Y/n reeled her head back a second, but Carmen's intense gaze and his trailing hand convinced her otherwise. She leaned back in, hooking her legs around his waist pulling him closer.

Carmen stalled his kisses down the column of her throat, “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Y/n twisted her hips and in a flash she was straddling him.

She sensed the subtle shiver that ran through him, his unsteady hands finding a resting place on her hips, torn between the desire to reciprocate from below and allowing her to continue her torture. Taking charge, she decided for both of them, lowering herself down to grind against his jeans.

Carmen’s mind went blank and the last thing he saw before he lost all sense of restraint and reason, was y/n’s eyes sparkling.

You can read more of my stuff here

End Notes:

I love reading your comments, and that's what motivated me to finish, so share your thoughts bc I want to hear them.

I currently have like 10 half baked drafts and they all suck so this was the sole survivor. This one is kinda self indulgent because I hate my job so much but sometimes no matter how much something makes you miserable, there isn’t a way out, so you have to find something to distract yourself from the dull pain.

I tried to keep it as realistically healthy as a relationship with Carmen can be because that man just needs some space to grow. Honestly, I'm not sure if they'll ever meet again, or maybe they might meet up more now. Im really not sure.

#fic rec #too good omg #carmy x reader #the bear

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infoactionratio7 · 11 months ago

Text

call it fate, call it carmen pt. 3 - c. berzatto

summary: carmy and the pretty girl from the cafe visit one of the chef's favorite restaurants in the city. they end the night with a question of what is to come next for the two of them.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem! teacher! reader

word count: 2350

note: to read the other parts click here! basically carmy is showing off that he knows a bunch of restaurant owners bc he's famous and thinks he's super cool, lots of food talk, the usual! very cute fluffy nothing crazy. this is the last part el oh el. i hope u all liked this mini series. (sorry it took so unnecessarily long to write i hope u all like it ♡ )

The smell of aromatic spices and cold air hit you as Carmy led you into the restaurant. The lighting was dim but still pleasantly warm, you were in awe of the decor. The traditional japanese architecture mixed with the modern vibes of all the restaurants you had seen Carmy following on Instagram. The host led the two of you into a dim lighted honeycomb looking wall full of booths, Carmy beamed at you seeing your fascination with the setting. He stayed behind you, placing his hand on your hip as the two of you walked up the steps into the booth. Shivers seemed to run down your spine at the delicate touch.

"Here you are, someone will be over in a second to help you" The host smiled at the two of you warmly, they placed the menus on the table. You scooted into the booth, the wooden walls surrounding you creating an isolated booth for the two of you.

Carmy sat down at the booth, he shook his coat off his broad sholders, exposing the white chef's shirt underneath. Of course he was wearing it, the only shirt you had seen him wear each time you had the pleasure of seeing him. Not that you were complaining, his tattooed arms looked beautiful in the dim light.

"Now" Carmy grabs the menu and says your name softly, "My brother helped this guy start the business, there were a few guys wanting to buy this place up for some laundromat years ago, but they ended up dropping it for this resturant to buy the place." He had been scanning the menu, you had yet to open yours up, knowing he would pick the best option for the two of you. You gazed at him as he intently looked at the menu, there had never been someone who you felt this way about before. It was so simple, to bring you to a resturant and pick out your food. But the fact he was just doing it, because he wanted to impress you made it even more attractive.

The server came up to your table, you ordered water and Carmy did the same, wanting to stay sober for the night to get to know each other better in the right headspace.

"What are you gonna get for us Carmen?" you smiled while his gaze met yours, his blue eyes piercing as they scanned your face. His lip quirked up in a smile, "You know I think that is gonna have to be a surprise. I just know you are gonna like it though." As the server walked up to your table with the water glasses, Carmy brought the menu up to his face, hiding the order from you. You giggled at his antics, making the order a surprise just for you. He gave the menu to the server and the server smiled gently at you, and bringing up their serving booklet to shield their words from the man they mouthed, "You've got a keeper."

As they walked away, you made eye contact with Carmy, "What are you up to Berzatto, you have a sneaky look on your face?" He took a sip of his water then leaned in close to you, grabbing your free hand on the counter "You'll see" He grinned from ear to ear, "now why don't you tell me a little more about yourself huh?"

His hand was so warm, yours ice cold in his palm, the drastic change in temperature came as a shock to you. His touch felt so comforting, the rough calluses from years of working in the kitchen gave you butterflies. He had been through so much in his career, there was so much admiration you had for his past culinary escapades. And the thought of possibly accompanying him in any future was swimming around your head. You forgot where you were for a second, coming to after you felt some pressure on your hand, a squeeze from the chef sitting in front of you. "I lost you for a sec, what were you thinking about?" You realized you had been silent for more than a minute, shaking your head you replied, "Sorry, sorry, I totally zoned out, just thinking about some stuff, it doesn't matter" He looked suspicious but acted like he just didn't care, moving on.

"Oh yeah, let me tell you some stuff about myself um..." You looked up and around trying to think of something interesting, "I used to watch Gilmore Girls and then write down all the different jokes I liked so I could say them at school and people would like me more if I was as funny as I thought they were. It never really worked but my mom said she always liked the jokes!" Blushing, you looked down, laughing at yourself, reluctantly letting go of Carmy's hand and burying your face into your palms. Parting your pointer and middle finger you peaked through. Carmy was laughing, and laughing hard, the man seemed hysterical, his eyes squinting because he was laughing so, so much. "I cannot believe I just told you that, holy shit that's so embarrassing"

"That is so fucking funny, how old were you?"

"I was 6"

He fidgeted with the utensils on the place setting, "I would have loved to know you at six" He laughed and shook his head, "I don't have anything as embarrassing as that to tell you but one time I did drop the whole pan of ricotta polpette during christmas dinner and my mom took every single toy in my room and put it in our freezer in the basement that I was terrified of because I thought a yeti lived there." He looked so happy talking about his childhood, "My brother, Mikey, came with me and his airsoft gun to go into the freezer to help me get them back just in case the yeti tried to attack us."

You covered your mouth as you laughed, he glowed, recounting a simpler time than now. His smile dropped, thinking about the past christmas, not wanting to remember how horrible it ended up. You could tell something was wrong, and wanting to change the subject, you cleared your throat.

"So, Carmen, when am I gonna get to try your cooking?" He lightened up, excited to talk about his career again. "I mean, you bring me out to a restaurant but I want to try some of those famous family recipes. They have to be good it seems like it's important to your family" You smiled at him, giving him a once over, his hair was a mess but he was so beautiful, it just did not matter.

"I promise you can try my food soon, I hope it's not too much for you though, I'm sure you've never had true italian cooking like mine" You rolled your eyes.

"You're from Chicago."

He tilts his head gazing at you, "And?"

"There is no way your 'true italian cooking' is that accurate, come on."

He looked at you like you had just taken all your clothes off, "That is the most insulting thing you could have said to me." He grabs his chest and leans forward with a pained look on his face, "You are breakin my heart already, we've barely been on one date and I'm already close to death." He dramatically gasped and met your gaze with a toothy smile.

"Oh shut up Carmen"

"Never" He says your name, just as the server comes back with a few dishes in hand.

They set a bowl in front of you, full of soup dumplings, but soup dumplings in the shape of little hearts, the thinly sliced radishes around the rim of the bowl as a garnish, also shaped as hearts. You looked up at the man grinning in front of you. There was nothing to say, this was the cutest gesture you had ever experienced on a date in your entire life.

"Carmen are you kidding, these are the most precious things I've ever seen in my life how in the world did you get them to do this, oh my god," He was still grinning, so proud of himself for making you smile. "Like I said, I know the owner." He shrugged and looked up at the server, thanking them as they smiled, and walked away.

"These are too cute to eat I can't" He looked at the dumplings, then met your eyes, "I think the biggest insult to me right now would be if you did not eat these dumplings right now, so please I need you to enjoy them." He picked up the utensils and encouraged you to start eating. While the two of you ate, Carmy told you about the past few months he had experienced, from moving back home to dealing with all the new people in the restaurant, and his mom not reaching out to him so he could see her, the group he had been going to that his sister recommended, and dealing with the money problems at the restaurant. He revealed so much to you, you shared stories about your family. The friends you had lost in your life and some of your biggest hardships, finally making it to teach in the best school you could ask for with all the best kids. You could not help but fall into his eyes, as he spoke about all the experiences he had in his life, he put his whole heart onto the table in front of you. The chef even shared some of his food with you, the gyoza he ordered for himself was delicious. You both finished the food in what seemed like hours. You felt as if you had been in this restaurant for a lifetime, experiencing Carmen.

"You ready," Carmy glanced at you, with the bill in hand, opening your mouth to protest paying for your half, he raised his hand and shook his hand. "I am not letting you pay for this, I will pay and you will be happy and let me treat you to dinner."

"But Carmen you bought me that baklava and I need to repay you please, please, please" You put your hands together begging him to just let you pay for your half of dinner at the very least.

He said your name like an impatient parent, "I will not let you pay, you can pay for the rest of the dates we ever go on if you just let me pay for this one time, okay?" This made you blush, the idea of Carmy thinking about you and him going on more dates than this one made you feel warm inside. You sank down into the booth, and with a groan of protest you shook your head and gave up.

"Thank you, I want you to feel unbothered tonight." He handed the bill back to the server after he had signed his name and got up. He got your coat for you, holding it out for you to walk into it. Getting up he pulled it up and over your shoulders, grabbing your upper arms, kissing the side of your head next to your ear, "Lets get out of here" He whispered and let go of you, putting his own coat on.

The two of you walked out of the restaurant, Carmy angled his elbow out for you to hold, you grabbed onto him and held on tight. You looked at him with a smile on your face, this was the best first date you had ever been on. As you walked the two of you continued the conversation you had not finished in the restaurant, talking about anything and everything. You could see the sign for The Beef a block away, wondering why he ended up taking you back here. As you reached the restaurant, Carmy stopped on the bench in front and sat down, inviting you to sit with him as he pulled out a cigarette, "Do you mind?" You shook your head, sitting close next to him, sharing body heat. He lit the cigarette, took a drag and exhaled. Looking relaxed. You grabbed his arm and rested your head on his shoulder, feeling him tense up before relaxing into your touch.

You looked up at the sky, seeing your breath as you exhaled and breathed in Carmy, he definitely put some type of cologne on but it had faded out so much it was just a hint you could smell. All you could tell was that this was a smell you wanted to be enveloped in forever. You heard your name softly, picking your head up and turning it to face your date. "Yeah Carm?"

He leaned forward and captured your lips in his, the taste cigarette and mint as he held your face with his non-occupied hand. It was like you were seeing stars for the first time, you could feel his excitement as he moved his tongue along your bottom lip. It was a mess of teeth, tongue, and lips. Carmy pulled away and leaned his forehead on yours, beaming. "You called me Carm." Giggling you looked into his eyes, the blue seemed even more beautiful up close, you could get used to this. "Well I think if I'm going to be around you more I might as well call you by one of your oh so amazing nicknames" He chuckled pecking your lips once more, pulling away and taking one more drag of his cigarette. Throwing the butt onto the floor, putting it out with his heel. You put a hand onto his thigh, squeezing.

"I think I really like you Carm"

"I think I really like you too"

The two of you held onto each other for a while, enjoying the sounds of the city as you chatted. Eventually you got up, Carmy walked you home, dropping you at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. As you walked up to the apartment, you realized that finding him was not a coincidence.

It had to be fate.

#the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear season 2 #the bear season 1 #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #female reader #x you #x reader #part 3

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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Hey I hope you're doing well!! <3 is there going to be a part 3 on call it fate call it carmy? 😊😊

hi!! after an insanely long break i have started working on the 3rd part, i was so busy with school and absolutely everything. it got pushed to the side sooooo, it should be out sometime this weekend!!

#call it fate call it carmy #update

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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tattooed on my heart // carmen berzatto x reader

contains: FLUFF, carmen x you, dad!carmen x mom!reader, pregnancy

summary: your daughter wakes you up early and carmen distracts her with his tattoos

length: 1.3k

takes place in the same universe as this fic!

my masterlist / request a carmy drabble!

tattooed on my heart

it's early. way too early, frankly, for you all to be awake. you slept badly, pain piercing your back. carmen got home late, running on empty after service, but rubbed circles on your spine until sleep finally came over you again.

your daughter, of course, is oblivious to this, and bounded in as soon as the first chink of sunlight slipped through her curtains. you can't be mad at her. she's always excited on days when you're both home. she presses sloppy kisses to your face and says hello to the baby she knows is the cause of your rounded belly, gestures that alone work to win you over.

carmen has managed to steady her by letting her clamber kneeling into his lap in her brightly coloured pyjamas, his hand secure at her hip. even tired his face lights a little when he sees her. and you get joy just from watching him with her, bare-chested against the headboard, tousled and golden in the morning light.

your daughter is fascinated by carmen's tattoos. always has been. you've had to make sure all the art materials in the house are extra toddler safe because you never know when she's going to dash through the door with a Jackson Pollock up and down her arms.

"that one, uh, reminds me to be careful chopping vegetables," carmen says, as she examines the knife on the back of his hand.

"always careful in the kitchen," she repeats, sing-song. it's become something of a mantra, before you let her sit on the counter to watch carmy cook or take her for a visit to the bear. "which one is your very favorite?"

"easy," carmen says, his smile unfurling. he taps his chest with a fingertip. "this one."

"not the flower?"

"I like the flower. but I like this one more. can you read it?"

she shakes her head with great vigour, pulling absentmindedly at her pyjama hem.

"it says your name."

she frowns. "to remind you of it?"

the corner of his mouth twitches. "to remind me how important you are. and so you're always with me, here, near my heart."

her face blooms with delight. "because you looooove me?"

"because I love you," he agrees, that trace of a laugh still playing at his mouth.

you love how much he loves her. how, even though it was hard, had him panicking, hands shaking, in those earliest days, to realize how much he had opened himself up to, having her, and how scared that made him, he could live with it. and he was good at it, being a dad. you notice how careful he is to show her, not just tell her: learning how she likes her hair and taking her to the park in the fall to crunch the leaves and calling from the kitchen when he can't get home.

he doesn't ask her to say it back. and yet she will, because it is all she has known, the gentle and hard-fought love of carmen berzatto.

"does it say mama’s name too?” she asks, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.

"mama's name is here." he holds up his left hand, where instead of a wedding band he wears your name along the underside of his ring finger.

she looks crestfallen. "but not in your heart?"

"no, baby, i mean- of course -”

"it's instead of wearing a wedding ring," you explain. "daddy can't wear jewellery when he's working in case it falls into somebody's soup."

carmen scrunches up his face in that vivid way of his. you can see him struggling not to swear. “soup? we serve broth.”

you roll your eyes. “fine, broth. either way you wouldn’t want to taste a wedding ring in it, would you?” you say, glancing cheekily at your daughter. you go to gesture with your own wedding band, and too late remember you took it off because of the swelling, leaving a ghost of its shape behind. fuck.

your daughter gasps, bolts upright to investigate. “your ring felled off!”

“no, sweet girl. I just took it off for a while, that’s all. my fingers were sore.”

“Oh,” she says sadly. Then, more hopeful: “I kiss them better?"

your heart almost melts out of your chest as she cradles your hand. when she releases you, carmen gathers her into his arms and kisses her crown, murmuring, his face soft with affection.

you press your nose to hers briefly. “thank you, sweetheart. that was very kind of you.”

“now you can put your ring back on,” she says, trying to wriggle free of her father.

“maybe later. we have to let your medicine work first.”

her face lights up with an idea. “you should get a tattoo! like daddy."

you pull a face. "I don’t know. tattoos hurt a little when you first get them."

when she looks back at carmen her eyes are wide. "all of these hurted you? did… did my tattoo hurt?"

"not really. it was just little taps. like this," carmen says, prodding her until she squirms and it descends into tickling. she screeches with giggles. it is one of your favorite sounds.

"careful!" you exclaim, as she accidentally kicks out towards you. carmen eases off. "your sister is in here, you know."

"sorry sister!" she squeaks, giggling, catching her breath on the bedcovers.

"can you do a job for me, chef?" carm asks, changing tack. "wanna check if we have blueberries and we'll make a breakfast special?"

when she has scrambled to her feet, full up on the importance of her task and very excited about the prospect of breakfast special, carmen turns his gaze on you. "how are you doing? your back any better?"

"better," you confirm, and there's a moment of relief in his blue eyes, as you rest your skull against the headboard. "thank you, for last night, by the way."

"of course. she still backflipping first thing?"

"oh, yeah. it's her new favorite trick."

"wonder who she got that from," he says, as the distant hammer of feet hits the hallway again. he brushes your thigh. "you wanna sleep some more or have breakfast in bed?"

you consider. the promise of a little extra sleep is tantalising to you. "first one, then the other?"

he pulls you half-in with one arm, kisses your temple. "you got it."

"we have blueberries!" your daughter calls as she returns, triumphant.

"call me if you need anything, okay?" carmen murmurs to you. with effort, he rises, and you're not too tired to take a moment to admire the way the puzzle pieces of his back flex and shift together as he crosses the room.

he closes the blind and shepherds your daughter towards the door. "thank you, chef. we're gonna eat breakfast while your mom sleeps and bring hers later, okay?"

as you try to get comfortable, you can still hear their conversation, fading out down the hallway:

"can I get a tattoo?"

"when you're older, sure. you have to be eighteen."

"that's okay. I'll be eighteen in febu-rurary."

carmen's laugh. his beautiful, fond, hard-won laugh. "that's not - baby, you'll be four in february. that's older than three, but it's not eighteen."

"oh." a distant lip wobble.

and you know, even as you fall into the deep and dreamless sleep of exhaustion, that he's going to give in somehow.

"i know, sweet girl. tell you what. wanna draw something and i'll get it tattooed on me?"

read more of my fics / request a carmy drabble!

#carmy rec!#carmen berzatto x reader

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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1x2 | 2x8

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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hi!!

so i’m in the process of working on the last part of call it fate call it carmy!! i’m pretty busy right now so i’m trying my best to find some time to work on it! thank you all for liking it sm! ♡

#the bear #call it fate call it carmy #update #infoactionratio7

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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mini masterlist

i don't have much to put on here but i'm hoping to add more as time goes by! requests are open! send me an ask if u have any ideas!

the bear

sydney adamu

(you) on my arm - sydney is at a wall, she has no ideas when it comes to the new menu at the bear. she decides to go to a bookstore for some new inspiration, she finds it, but not in the way she was expecting.

carmen berzatto

call it fate call it carmy (1) (2) (3) - after carmy runs into a pretty stranger in a coffee shop that morning, he never thinks he will see her again... until she walks into his restaurant. (finished)

#the bear #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #masterlist #navigation

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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(you) on my arm - s. adamu

summary: sydney is at a wall, she has no ideas when it comes to the new menu at the bear. she decides to go to a bookstore for some new inspiration, she finds it, but not in the way she was expecting.

pairing: sydney adamu x fem! bookseller! reader

word count: 2,514

note: annoying! carmy bc he literally is insane, kinda fluffy meet cute vibes, reader just moved to chicago, inspired by the song (you) on my arm by leith ross cause the song is rlly cute! also sydney gives me sapphic vibes, she definitely would have a crush on a girl!

monday morning -

Sydney was pissed, she had sent at least ten messages to Carmy in the last twenty minutes. Some about the new menu they were working on together, some about the fact that he had been a bitch the night before when he kicked everyone out because Claire just had to see the new restaurant. She ran her hands down her face in frustration as she sat at her dad's kitchen table, the sun streaming in through the blinds into the apartment. It warmed the floor as she got up from the table, debating what to do. She had no ideas left, everything was either not working out, or it just didn't fit the menu for the new revamped restaurant.

"Sydney, where are you headed off to today?" Her dad walked into the room with a steaming cup of coffee, freshly brewed from a new coffee blend she had found shopping the day before.

"Uh well Carm is not responding so I'm gonna head over to The Bear and meet up with him for a little then see where the day goes from there I guess." She walked out of the dining area and put her breakfast dishes away.

"Okay honey, have a good day. Hope he stops being an ass." She laughed, "Me too... me too."

Sydney grabbed her shoes out of the closet she had thrown them in last night, slipping them on and grabbing her bag. "I'll see you later dad." She grabbed her keys, and started making her way to the restaurant where she could deal with Carmy in person.

You looked around the bookstore, you had only been open for a month but it had been a hit within the community. You had almost any book anybody could want. There were teens coming from the school a few blocks away to get some cheesy romance novels to bring to the park and read with their friends, and there were grandparents coming in to get their grandchildren a new picture book about god knows what. You even had some people come in and request books you had never heard of before, you promptly ordered two copies of any book you didn't have. One for the customer, and one for you, to read and explore the pages.

It was a beautiful space, tall ceilings strung with fairy lights and lanterns, trying to bring some sense of whimsy to the dull days in Chicago. The books were arranged in every which way, requiring the customers to truly search for a book they wanted to read. You had tables full of recommendations, from people online and the employees of the bookshop. You really enjoyed curating all the titles you had in your collection. Tourists looking for a cute little magnet or souvenir adored the hole in the wall place, a safe space to just cuddle up and read a book.

You had a few customers that day, a mom and her son looking for his first chapter book to read. You had suggested he read The Magic Tree House, a series, about a brother and sister and their time traveling tree house. There was a tall guy with a buzzcut, who said he worked just down the street and was looking for a book about how to get rid of mold in the structure of a building. He seemed in dire need of some help, so you found the best book possible, The Toxic Mold Recovery Guide. You had no idea you had the book but it was meant to be. He thanked you immensely, leaving his name and number just in case you ever needed anything. His name was Richie, he seemed pretty nice.

Low music played as you restocked a shelf, you hated the idea of having Colleen Hoover books in the store but they were a big source of income. They absolutely flew off the shelves. The least touched section of the store were the cookbooks, it seemed like everyone in Chicago was moving too fast to just dedicate one hour of their day to making a meal from scratch. It was disappointing, because you had a large selection, from Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child to Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan. You knew that someday it might come in handy and you would be lucky to have all the cookbooks.

Sydney walked into the restaurant in a sour mood, Carmy had still not responded to any of her texts and she knew he was here. She walked straight into the office, passing the locker room, sans lockers and covered in black powder. Richie furiously flipping through a book that said something about mold on the cover. He glanced up at her

"Shut the fuck up." She was taken aback

"I didn't even fucking say anything Richie," he scoffed at her

"Well I was preparing for you to say something dumb as hell, and you did so I stand by my first statement." He looked back down at the book and mumbled something unintelligible to himself. She rolled her eyes and made her way into the office.

"Carm are you here?" Turning the corner she saw the chef, surrounded by papers and various file folders. He had his phone in his hand and was about to dial a number, "You little bitch, you fucking had your phone this entire time." She couldn't believe what was right in front of her.

"What do you mean chef?" Carmy looked confused, "Of course I had my phone, I'm about to call the fridge guy."

Rolling her eyes she brought her hand up to her face, holding her forehead in her palm. "I texted you at least ten fucking times, you couldn't even bother yourself to respond!" Shaking her head she sank down into the office chair Carmy had abandoned an hour ago.

He looked around the room, trying to get her to understand how much work he had been doing, "Syd I've been trying to make sense of this paperwork for hours, I haven't had time to respond to your messa-"

Fak's head popped into the doorframe, "Carmy I got your text about helping Richie clean up the mold but he's being mean to me." Sydney turned from Fak to the red faced chef sitting on the floor. He had been caught in a lie, of course Fak came in at just the right time for this to happen.

"Okay fuck you chef, I'm leaving." Sydney shrugged, stood up and left the room. She heard heated words from Carmy as she walked out of the office and passed the locker room again, now he was pissed at Fak, as usual. She heard her name as she turned around,

"Sydney, wait a sec come here."

"What do you want Richie, I thought you wanted me to shut the fuck up." She crossed her arms tight and shot him a pointed look.

"You should go to that bookstore a few blocks down, I got this damn mold book earlier and saw a shit ton of cookbooks. You should check it out." She sent him a tight smile and turned her back to him. "Thanks Chef."

You had just finished restocking the shelves for the day when the little bell above the door rang. You went behind the desk and called out, "Welcome to The Book Worm, If you need anything let me know!"

You heard no response so you just busied yourself cleaning up the case that was behind the checkout, it housed all your special edition signed or first edition copies of books. It needed to be dusted pretty often because you wanted to keep the quality of the books at their highest, just in case anyone would ever want to purchase one.

You heard a thud come from behind you, and turning around you looked down at the counter. There was a stack of six cookbooks placed on the counter in front of you. Looking up you saw one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen since you had moved in to the city. Her hair was long and perfectly braided, her eyes a beautiful shade of umber catching the light in a hypnotic way. She had a grimace on her face, yet still looked stunning. You had no idea how to react, so instinctively you started to enter the books into the register as you made some small talk,

"So how has your day been," She sighed and looked up to meet your gaze, "If I'm being honest, shitty. My fucking partner wouldn't respond to my messages and when I went to talk to him he had is phone in his hand about to call someone. So yeah really fucking shitty." You looked back down at the book at disappointment, of course she had a partner and of course she was straight.

Awkwardly smiling you tried to think of a good response"Oh, um, wow. That's pretty shitty I'm sorry." She seemed to sense your disappointment, trying to save the conversation, "Shit uh, my business partner I mean, he's a little bitch sometimes. We're uh, opening a business- or I should say um," She rubbed the back of her neck, "We're kinda rebranding his brother's old restaurant, its a lot." You had finished entering all the books into the system, your chest had filled with warmth when she rushed to clarify that he was her business partner. You thought that maybe, just maybe it might be because she wanted to make sure you knew she was single, and not exactly straight.

"I guess that explains the cookbooks then," You looked at her, she had been staring at you in a flustered state of shock. "What, oh, uh, yeah! I'm kinda stuck making the menu so wanted to get some inspiration."

Sharing an understanding smile, you read her total out to her. She grabbed her wallet and pulled out some cash, as she handed it to you her fingers brushed along yours. It sent chills down your spine, no matter how cliche it might be, you knew that she was someone to keep close. Your face flushed red as you took the cash and put it into the register, printing her receipt and giving her any change she needed back.

You decided that since she got so many books you would give her a free tote bag, just so she could carry all the books out of the shop. You pulled one off of a hook behind you and started to put the books into a bag. You decided to quietly slip a business card with your cell number and a little note into a book so she could find it and contact you. A subtle way of screaming, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen I want to spend the rest of my life with you, without being too forward. As you finished packing the bag, the two of you both happened to say something at the same time.

"Do you wanna come see my restu-"

"Do you work at the restura-"

You flushed

"No you can go-"

"No you can go - sorry um. Do you want to come to the opening of the restaurant. It's uh, the one down the street, we're not opening for a while but, if you want to come to the friends and fam-"

You cut her off, wanting her to know you really wanted to go to her restaurant, "I would love to go... what was your name?"

"Sydney, It's uh Sydney" Her face got hot, nervous about the fascinating bookseller she just had the pleasure of meeting.

"Well Sydney, I would love to go. Just let me know the details," You softly smiled as you gave her the bag filled with books. She looked to you and grabbed a bookmark you had as a display that happened to have the shop's phone number on it. "I'll call you, um when we get closer to the open date, promise." You smiled, hoping that she would get in contact with you sooner than she expected to. She turned to leave.

"Thanks for coming in, really good to meet you Sydney." The door rang again and she sent you a wave through the glass, walking away quickly.

You were frozen, you had just given a random girl you just met your number, and had openly flirted with her for all the world to see. You crouched down onto the small stool you had behind the desk, tucked your head into your knees and screamed. You were feeling rushes of emotion and didn't think you would ever recover from that interaction. The bell rang again just as you finished screaming, you shot up and saw a group of teenagers heading to the new books you had just set out.

"Welcome to The Book Worm, If you need anything just holler!"

Sydney rushed back to The Bear, she was so utterly mortified, she had never seen someone so radiant and in their element. The chef couldn't contain her emotions as she stormed into the restaurant, Richie was the first person she saw, he started to say something,

"Not right now Richie I swear to God" The tall man was taken aback but threw his hands up in surrender, not wanting to get involved.

She might as well have ran into the office at the speed she was going, throwin the bag of cookbooks on the ground and closing the door, sliding down the back of the door she groaned,

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, fucking, fuck," dragging out the last word as she hit the floor.

Carmy stared at her from the floor a few feet away, "Yo Syd what happened to you? Looks like you just ran a marathon." He chuckled at the expression on her face.

"I just met the most beautiful girl and totally fucked up my chances with her cause I left so quickly." Sydney put her hands into her face and just sat there marinating in her embarrassment.

Carmy had some strong suits, his attention to detail one of them. He noticed something poking out of one of the books. He grabbed it, hoping that it was something that would change Sydney's mood before he had to work with her for more hours than they could count. He grinned taking the note out of the book and reading it,

"Hey Syd," He reached out to give her the note.

She looked up from behind her fingers, "What?"

He shook his hand, implying he wanted her to take the note from his grip. She groaned, then leaned forward to forcefully take it out of his hand.

She read the note, and smiled. Thank God you slipped her this note.

cookbook girl -

i hope you enjoy your SIX cookbooks, i have some more you could borrow for some inspiration. text me

Sydney's face heated up as she leaned back into door and scoffed.

Carmy had saved the day, one again.

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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call it fate, call it carmen pt. 2 - c. berzatto

summary: carmy gives a small tour of the neighborhood to the pretty girl he met in the cafe, they realize they could get used to eachother.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem! teacher! reader

word count: 2,657

note: carmy talking about mikey, cursing, a lot of describing food and restaurants in chicago! not really proofread, excuse any mistakes pls. could be read as a stand alone but you can read part one here! read part 3 here!

thursday afternoon -

The only thing anyone could hear was the sound of second graders screaming, the music you had put on was drowned out by them yelling your name and playing around the large art classroom. Some of them were running up to you with their finished drawings, wanting to show you the finished pieces. You checked the clock, fifteen minutes until three, fifteen minutes until you were free from the kids screaming, and fifteen minutes until you could see Carmy again.

The last time you saw him was at The Beef, when he had given you his number and a free dinner. One of the most delicious dinners you had the pleasure of eating in an extremely long time. You couldn't stop thinking about it. And you couldn't stop thinking about him, he was pretty, and even that was an understatement.

You were pulled out of your thoughts of the talented chef by a tug on your pants, looking down a little girl was holding a painting up above her head trying to show it to you and get your attention.

"Miss, I tried to paint the Mona Lisa." You had taught the class about some famous artworks today, and they were tasked with the job of recreating their favorite one.

"Well Iris, that is a beautiful version of the Mona Lisa!" You smiled, taking the painting out of her outstretched hands, crouching down to her eye level. "You know, I think I like it better than the original. I'm going to hang it on our wall if that is alright with you."

Iris's eyes lit up, "Oh, yes Miss I'm so excited!" She giggled and went to sit back down at her assigned seat in the classroom. Proud to tell her classmates she was getting her art hung up on the wall.

You checked the time again, ten minutes to three. The student's teacher would be coming soon to pick them up and get them out of the art room. You clapped twice, a sign the students needed to stop and listen, instructing them to clean up any of the supplies they were using, the classroom got quiet. The only sounds were the pitter patter of feet and the students putting away their pencils, paper, and pushing in their chairs to line up. Their teacher was at the door waiting and you gave her the sheet detailing what the students did in art class to give to the parents. As the students filed out of the room you were met with many cheery goodbyes and well wishes to have a good rest of the day. Waving to the students, you closed the door and took a breath, looking around the classroom.

There was a soft buzz that came from your desk, situated by a tall window filled with small stained glass projects some of your older students had completed. You made your way to the desk, relaxing into your plush chair and picking up your phone,

from: carmen

'hey, headed out of the restaurant. meet you in front of school at 3'

A smile blossomed on your face, excited to see what exactly the man had in store for the day ahead of you. Neither of you had really specified if this was exactly what someone might call a date, but it might as well be. After that sunday night, you had called the blue eyed chef every night since then, telling him about your day and the new restaurants or cafes you had tried. Some good, some bad, but none hit the spot like that lucious slice of chocolate cake you had eaten almost a week prior from Carmy's kitchen. He had told you a pastry chef named Marcus made it, and you told him that you would have to meet the man who makes the sinful slice of cake.

With both of your schedules being so demanding, there was never a spare moment for him to do as he promised and show you around the city. The two of you finally settled on a calm thursday afternoon, blocking out the whole night and dedicating it to the man you just couldn't wait to see again.

The school bell ringing over the loudspeakers alerted you that three had finally come and you could get out of the school and breath in the crisp winter air. You put on your puffy coat, one you had had for years after going to college on the east coast, you needed all the warmth you could get. The bag you brought with you to school had not been the typical one you usually had, knowing you would be going out with Carmy that night. You opted for a simple tote with your trusty sketchbook and pencil, and any other essentials you might need to use at any time in the upcoming evening.

Turning off all the lights, and locking your classroom door, you were met with the screams and giggles of the elementary students who were leaving the school to go home. They were just as excited as you were. You followed the crowd, exiting through the front steps of the school you heard your name being called by a soft child's voice. You looked up and saw Iris, pulling an adult who looked just like her, you assumed it was her parent. Iris caught up with you, letting go of her parents hand and hugging your leg,

"I just wanted to say goodbye to you Miss, I had such a fun time in art class today I am so excited to show my parents what I did in class!" She let go and looked up at you with a toothy grin.

Smiling at her parent then glancing back down at the little girl you remarked. "Well Iris I am just as excited that you had such a fun time in class, I can't wait to see you again next thursday." You waved goodbye to the little girl and turned around to see Carmy. Lounging on the stone fence next to the school, with one hand in his pocket and one hand holding a crinkled up brown takeout bag. He was wearing a wool checkered jacket and black work pants, with his signature Boston Birkenstocks (not his work shoes, but the ones he bought for everyday wear after he saw Fak wearing them one family holiday). As he looked up from the sidewalk he caught your eyes and you could feel your face get warm, you couldn't believe you had just met the man less than a week before. It seemed like fate, starting your new job and moving into the city, happening to stumble across this brilliant chef you still had so much to learn about.

You walked over to where he was standing and he stood up to his full height, holding out the brown paper bag, "I thought we could start at the park, nobody will be there cause of the cold." He shuffled his feet scanning your figure as your stopped in front of him.

"Yeah. Yeah that would be great Carmen" You smiled grabbing the bag from his outstretched hand, "What's in here?"

"Um it's from this cafe just around the corner on West Oak, Doma. It's a uh, Croatian Cafe" He rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly anxious to tell you about whatever might be inside the bag. "They opened around 2020 and have some really cool food. I um- I know the owners, got a chocolate croissant and baklava. They're some of my favorite pastries in the city." You opened the bag, smelling the sweet butter and honey that was combining from the two pastries, still warm, insulated from the cold in the bag.

You closed the bag, holding it by your side, "They smell heavenly, do you wanna walk to the park?"

He nodded and turned around, toward one of the many parks in River North. You thought for a second and decided to loop your arm through his own still in his coat pocket. He didn't seem to be expecting any physical touch, flinching before relaxing into your touch. He looked looked at you with a relaxed smile then started walking.

It was a beautiful snowy day, the night before there had been flurries of snow, leaving a blanket of white across the city. You could see your breath in front of you as you exhaled, "So, tell me a little bit about Chicago, have you been here long?"

He nodded, you could see the gold of the chain hidden in his shirt peeking out against his smooth skin, "I was uh, I was born here, yeah. When I was around 19, I moved out to New York, worked in a ton of restaurants there tryin to uh, sorta work my way up." He paused as you came up to a corner, and hit the arrow to cross the street. The walk sign flashed on the street corner. You looked both ways on the street and kept walking.

"Eventually, I got to this place called Eleven Madison Park. That was when um, I got my award. But uh, that's around the same time Mikey, my brother he was an addict, killed himself." He took a deep breath as the two of you walked into the park and found a picnic bench free of snow, under a small covered area. You both sat down, you across from Carmy, and opened the bag with the pastries, placing them on the table in front of you.

"Oh god Carmen, I had no idea, Jesus." You were shocked, you had never expected for him to open up to you so quickly. He picked up the chocolate croissant and took a bite shrugging, "You don't have to call me Carmen you know, everyone calls me Carmy." He looked to you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"I like it, it makes you sound more mature," you met his gaze, softly smiling as he shook his head and laughed. "I can't believe you, ya know, calling me by my legal name just because you think it seems more mature." You shrugged, taking the croissant from his hands and bringing it to your lips. You could smell the sweet chocolate and see the delicate lamination throughout the pastry. You bit into it and knew that Carmy knew what he was doing. He hadn't even made this but it was delicious, and if he had a good taste for food, his food must be even more delicious. Thinking back to the dinner he had given you, there was no question he was a master in his craft. He watched as you melted into the pastry, looking at him with eyes full of adoration for him and the croissant you had just taken a bite of.

"You like it huh," You nod and moan out a yes, "Knew you would, now you gotta try this baklava."

He offered up the fork he had gotten a bite of the desert on for you to taste, he brought it up to your mouth and nudged it to your lips. They seemed to open on command as he brought the pastry into your mouth. You closed your lips around the fork, taking the flavors of the pastry in as he pulled the fork from your lips.

"Fuck me Carmen" You couldn't contain yourself, it was mouth wateringly delicious. It was probably the best desert you had ever put into your mouth, apart from the chocolate cake you had that past sunday night. "Jesus how did you even save any while you were waiting for me? That was fucking amazing." He was beaming, proud you loved the desert so much. This was his love language, food, the one thing in his life he could have some control over. He had been waiting for this night since the second you texted him about taking you on a tour of the city. He thought the food tour would be the best. It was such a simple gesture, him picking out these restaurants for the two of you to try and experience together, but it meant everything to him and soon he hoped it would mean everything to you.

"I'm officially impressed, I don't think anything could top this. How the hell are you going to top this Carmen?" He glanced up at you through his thick lashes, "You know, I'm not too sure."

He took another bite of the croissant, "That was the best reaction to a pastry I've ever seen. I'm intrigued to see what you think of the rest of the places tonight."

"Well if they are even close to being as good as this, I can tell you that I'm going to go home very satisfied tonight." Taking the last bite of the baklava and putting your trash into the brown paper bag, you watched as Carmy pulled out his phone. He was looking at a list in his notes app, you tried to sneak a peak but he pulled the screen just out of your vision. He wanted to keep the next stops a surprise.

"Alright," He met your gaze, "Do you want to do appetizers or drinks first?" You contemplated the question, knowing that it would be better if you ate some more before you had any drinks. That's the best way to keep yourself clear minded around the handsome chef, you didn't need any slips of the tongue embarrassing you in front of him.

"Hmm, appetizers?" You were unsure of your answer but he nodded, making your choice seem like a good one. Standing up he grabbed the remains of your pastries, throwing them into the brown takeout bag, and tossing the whole thing into the trash. You stood in quick succession with him. Knowing he wanted to get going so the two of you could continue with the night he planned so meticulously. As you stood up next to him, he outstretched his tattooed hand, implying he wanted you to take it.

You flushed, realizing his intentions, and slipped your cold fingers into his. His grip was firm, but kind, the two of your hands slotting together perfectly. You shot him a smile, he returned it and started walking onto the sidewalk, pulling you along with him. Your joined hands were creating a perfect amount of warmth that shot straight into your stomach, making you feel fuzzy inside. You could walk around this city forever with him, he just had this aura around him, making everything feel so warm.

The two of you walked through the streets, making your way to the next stop on his mini food tour of River North. He told you all about his siblings, taking over the restaurant, and learning about all the chefs who worked in The Beef. You could tell that he cared so deeply for his craft and for each and every person he surrounded himself with. You told him about your move to the city, why you came here, moving out of your hometown had been hard, but you think you found a quiet sense of home in this large city. You didn't mention that he was that quiet sense of home, but he didn't need to know that. It took about ten minutes to get to the next stop, Carmy stopping suddenly and dropping your hand.

Looking to your left, you saw a large line of people waiting to enter a restaurant on a street corner, illuminated with warm lights hanging from the ceiling, and intricate architecture. Carmy walked up to the host, standing at the door letting people in, had a short conversation, then turned back to you. He lifted his hand for you to take, leading you into the restaurant. You were met with a burst of warmth and the smell of bone broth overwhelming you.

This was going to be an amazing night.

another note: i hope you guys enjoy this little mini series, i'm just doing it for some fun! i would totally recommend trying some of these places if you are from chicago or happen to be going there for any reason. they all are so amazing! i'm going to write at least one more part for this to just wrap it up! thank u all ♡ .

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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this is so cutesy >o<

order up! 🍎🍳🥪

#the bear #the bear art

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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Carmy + tumblr text posts

#carmy berzatto #the bear #the bear fx

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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are you planning on a part 2 for call it fate call it carmen ? 👉👈

ya!!!! i already started to write it, hopefully it will be out sometime in the next three or four days! thank u for your support ♡

#answers #the bear

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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THE BEAR S02E08 - Bolognese

#the bear #ayo edebiri #jeremy allen white

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infoactionratio7 · 1 year ago

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call it fate, call it carmen - c. berzatto

summary: after carmy runs into a pretty stranger in a coffee shop that morning, he never thinks he will see her again... until she walks into his restaurant.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem! teacher! reader

word count: 2,506

note: kinda set during season one when the bear is still the beef. no warnings really, some cursing, that's it! :)

read part two here! and part 3 here!

sunday morning -

The bells of the little cafe on West Erie St chimed as you glanced up from your book, you were waiting for your name to be called by the friendly barista who had just taken your order. You were new in town, and wanted to explore all the different things Chicago had to offer. A man walked into the shop, inhaling the sweet scent of freshly brewed coffee as he went up to the counter and read an order from his phone,

"Can I get a small iced dirty chai latte and a triple shot iced espresso to go? Please, thank you " His voice was soft, as he ran his hand through his messy curls.

He glanced over to where you were standing, bundled up in a winter coat, scarf, and hat (Chicago winters got cold fast). He gave you a once over, taking note of your book, 'Chicago: A Food Biography'. You seemed to be completely enthralled in the page you were reading, captivated by every word. He was not one to ever go up to a stranger, but he felt that he had to take a chance. The barista gave him his receipt and a small smile, telling him to wait over near the pickup counter.

"You ever been to Chicago before?" You look up, wide eyed, not expecting the man to be speaking to you.

"Oh," you exclaim, flustered. "Once or twice with my family when I was a kid, but not that I can really remember."

He smiles and glances at your book, you realize this was the reason he is asking you. It was a very touristy book to be reading. Especially because the cafe you were currently standing in, was highlighted in the book. You had made a list of all the places you wanted to visit that day before you had to arrive at the elementary school down the street to start your new job. "I love trying all the foods that are in the cities I visit, it's like an obligatory tradition when I move in to find places near my new apartment." You spit put your words, not even thinking that you are telling a random stranger in Chicago that you live near this cafe and just moved in. Blushing and looking down at your feet, you hear your name called from behind the counter, rushing to grab your drink and chocolate croissant before the conversation could get uncomfortable. You put the pastry in your bag and quickly wave at him.

"Have a good day, hope you find some nice restaurants" He waves back as you open the door and walk into the blistering wind that had taken over the streets that cold winter morning.

You arrived at your apartment building, it was not the nicest apartment you had ever stayed in but it was not the worst either. You walked up the stairs to your door and unlocked it with the hand that was not holding the coffee you just purchased. Rushing into the apartment, you put all of your things on the kitchen table and just took a breath of the cozy air of the room. As you stood there and took off your winter layers, you could not help but think of the man who had approached you in the cafe, realizing how attractive he was, his tattooed hands running through his hair, and biceps anyone could see just from glancing at his bundled up figure. You took a sip from your coffee, thinking how could he get two iced drinks in the middle of winter was beyond you.

You went into your room to grab some of your papers from the desk you had just built from Ikea the night before. You had to do some lesson plans before you did anything else, you had not even started any for that week. It was sunday and all you could think of was when you were in high school, and using your sundays to finish all the work you had neglected to do the week before.

Deciding to just get your work done you opened the package with the croissant, and took a bite. Tasting the buttery and chocolatey pastry seemed to bring a jolt to your brain and body, motivating you to get started.

Carmen could not stop thinking about you, he had wished he had formally introduced himself and told her that he was in fact, the owner of a restaurant that was a block away and it would be great if she wanted to visit and try something to commemorate her moving into the city. But no he just waved and let her go, watching her leave into the bitter cold.

"Jeff, you need to focus, you almost cut your finger off," Tina pulled him out of his thoughts with her concerned tone. "What's going on Carmen, you gotta be more careful than that, take a break if you need one."

"Fuck, sorry Chef, sorry" He put the knife down and put the carrots he had finished cutting into the giardiniera container for service later that night.

"You seem more distracted than usual, I can finish the cutting, just go to the office to cool off." Tina glanced over at him as he nodded, cleaning off his knife and putting it away. Right as he walked away, Richie walked into the kitchen.

"Cousi- Where is he going Tina?" He looked from Carmy to his empty station next to Tina, still chopping vegetables.

"He's distracted or something, just let him be Richie, don't bother the poor kid," She turned around to go into the walk-in, grabbing more fresh veggies to prepare for service later. Richie, as he does, ignores Tina completely, beelining to the office, where Carmy is running his hand down his face and pacing around like a madman.

"Cousin, what's your deal? You look like you're goin' fuckin crazy" He grilled, leaning on the door. Carmy shot him a glare, sitting down in the swivel chair that squeaked every time he actually tried to swivel in it.

" There isn't a fucking problem Richie, leave me alone." Carmy pushed himself into the desk so he could look at some paperwork he had been putting off for the past week. "I gotta finish this paperwork."

Richie raised his eyebrows, looking down at the younger man, he wasn't going to push Carmy any further, because the whole kitchen knew what would happen if the chef got mad before a service.

"Fine cousin, just don't take that shit out on the rest of the kitchen." He walked out of the office dorway as the rest of the kitchen crew started to file in to prepare for dinner service.

Carmy blankly stared at his paperwork, thinking about the interaction at the cafe this morning he just couldn't stop thinking about.

sunday night -

You walked down the stairs to your apartment complex, having finished your lesson plans just in time for dinner. Before you left, you had read of a few classic dinner joints in the neighborhood, one of them was called 'The Beef', known for their italian beef sandwiches and spaghetti with meatballs. After looking at some reviews online, you decided that it was necessary to visit this local staple. The reviews talking about how some days it was as calm as anything in the restaurant, but others the employees were screaming at eachother while getting the orders out.

You approached the building, right next to a big parking lot where many people were just standing around with sandwiches. Someone pushed the door open, smells and noise leaked out of the warm dining room. You could hear the screams from in the kitchen,

"We are down five italian beef, sweet and hot dipped, two ravioli, and one spaghetti meatball, Lets go Chefs" A tall man yelled into the kitchen.

The swinging door to the kitchen opened and a woman with a blue apron and white chef's coat replied "We are only down all those things because YOU never fired them Richie, why the fuck are you not firing the orders?"

"Calm down Chefs, just fire the orders, we can catch up if you both shut up and work, okay?" A voice you had heard before cut between the two arguing, they both got quite and looked at the man who had just exited the kitchen with five sandwiches in his hands. They nodded and went back to their respective tasks, "Okay, thank you chefs. I have 5 italian beef, sweet and hot dipped for Chelsea."

You were looking at all options on the menu and had not noticed the man calling out the order was someone you had met before. Carmy scanned the room, trying to find the woman who had ordered the five sandwiches he was about to drop. His eyes stopped on a familiar figure, the same he had been distracted thinking about all day. He didn't even notice when a woman came up asking for her order, scrambling to put the sandwiches in a to go bag and giving it to the woman.

"Excuse me, you're next sweetheart, What'll you have?" A rough voice pulled you out of your focus on the menu as you stepped up to the register. You looked up at the tall man who was smiling down at you like he had never seen a woman before, when he was pushed aside and a familiar face entered your field if vision.

"Cousin what the fuc-"

A woman's threatening voice came out of the kitchen "Richie I swear to god if you don't shut up, I'm going to stab you again."

He stalked into the kitchen, mumbling something about how unappreciated he was in this restaurant. You brought your focus back to the man standing in front of you, beet red as he watched the taller man walk into the kitchen. He turned back to face you and awkwardly smiled,

"Nice to see you again, what'll you be having today?"

You scanned the menu one more time and decided to have a little fun with the man, "Can you surprise me?, I heard that this restaurant is pretty big with the locals."

He looked at you with a pointed look, "Okay," he softly said your name, "What do you want?" After a long pause he wrote down the order, then looked back up at you with his foggy blue eyes. You were flattered he had remembered your name, did he really care that much about a stranger he had spoken to for less than two minutes earlier that morning? You didn't even know his name, but his warm gaze softened you like butter.

"It's on the house okay, I promise it'll be the best meal you've had in the city since you moved here. Be ready in 10 minutes" You were quick to reply,

"No, I can't let you do that, how muc-" He cut you off,

"This one time, I'll cover it, and if you like it, next time I'll let you pay, deal?" He held out his tattooed hand for you to shake,

"Fine..." You smiled, slipping your hand into his rough palm, he shook your hand firmly, then letting it go, gestured for you to wait at one of the tables near the door. You smiled and walked over to the table sitting down. He walked into the kitchen and you could hear his faint yells through the wall, telling the kitchen your order.

"God damn Cousin, you just took my job for no reason what's your problem?" The tall man, who you remembered was named Richie stalked back out of the kitchen to get to the line that had formed. You realized you hadn't even asked the name of the man who had just offered you a free dinner. Richie stopped in his tracks when he saw you, realizing that this might have been the reason his boss had been distracted all day. Thinking about the pretty girl that he had met, and clearly liked her enough to give her a free dinner. He laughed to himself, taking a mental note to make fun of Carmy after service for getting distracted because of a girl.

The blue eyed chef burst out of the kitchen door with a to go bag, and made his way to the table you were sitting, waiting for the food. He placed the bag in front of you as you looked up to meet his eyes,

"So what are you serving me chef?" You tease, "Well that it a surprise you will just have to wait to find out" He grins as you stand up to meet his height.

"Well thank you..."

"Carmen, Carmen Berzatto"

"Thank you Carmen, I'm sure I will enjoy this, and if I don't, I'm afraid I'll have to come back and try something new." Placing your hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly as you started walking toward the door. "I'll see you Carmen"

You turn around and start walking out of the door when you hear a yell from Richie, "Cousin has got a little sweetheart don't you"

"RICHIE I swear to God-" The door closed behind you before you could hear what the woman who just barged out of the kitchen had to say to the pompous cashier.

You silently laughed as you walked through the street, it was around the time for sunset and the sky had turned a beautiful blend of orange and purple. You reached your apartment in around ten minutes, getting out of the cold and eager to see what Carmen had packed you for dinner.

Putting the bag of food onto your coffee table, you grabbed a plate from the kitchen and started to unpack the meal. The first thing you pulled out was an italian beef, 'sweet + dipped' written on the side, then you pulled out a small side of fries, and lastly there was a plastic container of spaghetti and meatballs, with a piece of chocolate cake. You unpacked everything in front of you and the scent of the food engulfed you. It was a heavenly smell, so you dug in.

When you finished all you could possibly eat you noticed something at the bottom of the bag. A small piece of lined paper, that looked like it was ripped out of a notebook, it said your name on one side in messy handwriting and on the other it had a phone number and more of the messy chicken scratch,

hope you like dinner, would love to show you around the city sometime. call me x

carmy

You immediately opened your phone, putting his number into your contacts, then opening your message app to send him a text.

to: carmen

loved dinner, too bad i won't have to come back and get something else. i guess you'll have to show me around to see if any spots can top this one. let me know when you're free ♡

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fx #x reader #female reader #x you #the bear hulu #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white x reader #the bear season 1 #the bear season 2

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