#does carmen want a baby? is the baby REAL?

[queers-gambit]

Two to Tango

prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.4k+

note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!

warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

part one: God's Plan

"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"

You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"

"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"

He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."

"What do you want?"

"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.

You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"

He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"

"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.

"Oh, someone's touchy."

"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"

He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."

You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."

"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.

"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."

"So, he needs his mother?"

Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."

"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."

You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"

"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."

"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.

"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "

"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"

Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."

"Sucks to suck."

"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"

"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."

"How is talking to the man you love - "

"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."

"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."

You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"

He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"

"To say... What?"

"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?"

"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."

"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."

Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"

"What?"

"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"

"It's not even seven in the morning!"

"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."

You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.

When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.

"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."

"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.

"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.

The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "

"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"

He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.

"Carmy, we need to talk."

"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.

"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "

"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."

"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."

"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"

"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "

"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "

"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."

"Nah, I'm okay - "

"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."

"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."

"I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."

"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.

"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.

"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."

"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."

"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."

"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."

He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."

"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

"Move in with me - officially."

Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "

"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"

He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."

You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."

"I'm fine - "

"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."

He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.

"Exactly why we're going back to yours."

Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"

You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"

You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."

He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.

"Okay?"

"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."

"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"

"I will be."

"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.

"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."

"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.

"Fair point - just one then - "

He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.

When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."

"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."

He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.

"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.

"We're talking it out."

He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."

"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"

He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"

"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."

Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.

When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.

"Why?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."

Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."

"It's okay, baby," you whispered.

"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"

"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"

He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.

You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.

"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."

You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.

"Why can't I get out?"

You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.

"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"

"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.

"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."

"Laid to rest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."

"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."

"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.

When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.

"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."

"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."

He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.

"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.

"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.

"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"

"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"

"I don't want you t'clean after me."

"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."

"Think you can handle that?"

He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."

You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."

"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.

True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.

You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.

Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.

You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.

They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.

You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.

Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.

And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[carmenized-onions]

Two Steps Back. | Advanced Payment

logline; it's time to retrace your steps. both of you.

[!!!] series history, this is the thirteenth; nothing distresses me more than when i see people read this out of order PLEASE BABY PLEASE

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin��� added to. constant headache was actually in season 3? my brain. my power.

Or, maybe you'd like a playlist made especially for this chapter? Consider this my Fishes special.

portion; 17k new record again, please god tell me it gets shorter from here on i'm so. tired..

possible allergies; you will know exactly what trigger warnings you need upon reading seeing the first line. Also! I watched Season 3, and injected some lines from it into this, including the finale. I don't consider it full spoilers, because it's an entirely new context, but you might wanna catch up before you read this one!

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader so excessively gendered, in this chapter. my bad.

it's my birthday so if you typically lurk legally you have to tell me your thoughts on this one! Also it's once again the new longest, so like. cmon.

“What are you, Amish?”

You blink, craning your head back to look up at this annoying giant. You’re too tired for this shit. This is your one day off this week and you’re spending it fixing faulty lights with your dad, at some shit diner. Why did you agree to start coming on jobs? Why’s this guy gotta bother you on your lunch break? What’s wrong with you not wanting to smoke? Pardon you for not wanting to kill yourself with tobacco—

“Ah, no, I’m just uhm—” You gesture your hand to your head. “I get migraines, kinda easy, so I can’t, uh— Can’t indulge.”

He nods, he opts to stand next to you, while you’re sitting on the curb. At least the smoke will blow over your head, this way. You try to eat your lunch in peace. He does not let you have this moment of peace.

“Jack, right?” He nudges your foot with his. “That’s what your pop’s calls you, at least?”

“Yeah. Everyone calls me Jack.” You nod. Guess this is a conversation now, whether you want it or not. “You’re Mikey? The owner?”

“The Original Chicago Beef, in the flesh.” He nods, and he says it like he’s proud but he doesn’t look it. He leers at your partially consumed tin foil wrapped sandwich. “You bring your own lunch?”

You shrug. “Uh, yeah, grilled cheese with pork—” 

“Why would you—”  The door to the kitchen swings open, as Mikey grimaces. You both turn your heads to see another guy come out— Oh it’s that one, the one that cannot stop talking about his divorce— Mikey consults him. “Yo, Rich, do I look like some jamoke, to you? Just wonderin’.”

Rich, tilts his head, and his legs follow after him, “No, cousin, whatssup?” He takes the cigarette from Mikey, when it’s offered up.

“Well, our little fixer friend here—” Mikey nudges you, again. “—seems to think me a fuckin’ ass.”

Now when did you say anything like that? “Wha—”

“Stop making lunches, I’ve been watching you come in here with your little lunch pail the past few jobs, you eat free ‘ere, aright? You’re workin’.” Doesn’t matter what you said. Mikey sees you. Mikey’s always seen you. 

‘workin’’ is a bit generous. The most you do is hand your dad tools, hold a flashlight, and ask too many questions. You definitely could do more, but he knows you're too tired. He really just wants to spend time with you. You pretend to not know his ulterior motives.

“We’re gentlemen here, sweetheart.” Rich bends down, so you can see him past Mikey’s frame, at your level. He reaches a hand out for you to shake. “Richie. Jerimovich.”

You’re not gonna remember that. You take his hand and shake it. “Jack. It’s— I’m just Jack.”

You’ve only got one hand on your sandwich, to shake Richie’s hand. So, like a school bully, Michael takes your loosened grip as his opportunity to grab it from you. “Yoink—!”

You whine, “C’mon—” “Let me make you a real fuckin’ sandwich, sweetheart—” “I’d just like my sandwich, alright?” “Oh, it’ll be your sandwich, alright? You think I don’t make good sandwiches? Richie, she doesn’t think I make good sandwiches.”

“Fuckin’ insane, cousin.”

You attempt to defend yourself from the peanut gallery of one guy. “Not what I said!”

“Why do you keep bringing lunch, then?”

Because it’s easy? Because it’s orderly? Because you’ve been in a full state of autopilot for the last threeish years and every day you’ve eaten the same breakfast and made the same lunch and then you go on your shift and then someone nearly dies and sobs in your arms and then you sit on the edge of the ambulance and you eat your grilled cheese and pork? Because if you break the routine it’s all gonna hit?

“I just like making my own lunch.”

“Well, stop. You’re breaking my heart.” Michael takes a bite of your sandwich. You click your teeth. Germs. You’re going to chastise him, but he doesn’t let you. “You like pork more than beef?”

“I think beef is fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

You take too long to respond, meaning the lie won’t be believable, so you have to tell the truth. You have to tell The Original Chicago Beef that— “I… I like pork more.”

“How dare you—” Barks Richie, the guard dog, apparently. Mikey stops him, putting a hand up.

“No, no, I asked the lady a question. She’s wrong but I asked. Fair’s fair. We express our fury like gentlemen, Cousin.” He nods, to himself. Thinking. About what is beyond you. God, so much for a lunch break. You point to your sandwich in his hand.

“Can I have that back—” “No. I’m makin’ you a goddamn real sandwich.”

You all but growl, really. You start to stand up. God, this guy is pushy. “I just said, I prefer—”

Mikey’s already making his way back into the kitchen, with the last half of your lunch as hostage. “Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ pork sandwich, aright?”

Mikey’s guard dog stamps out the butt of the shared cigarette, walking backwards into the kitchen, following Mikey but watching you. “He’s gonna make you fuckin’ pork, aright?”

“Aright!” Is all you can yell back, at your wits with the two dumbest most stubborn middle-aged geezers you’ve ever met.

Richie holds the door open for you, so you don’t get locked out. Alright, maybe he is a gentleman. You hear Mikey’s voice ring, from inside the kitchen. “And if you’re not doin’ nothin’ for your dad, try to fix the fuckin’ coffee machine, would you?”

This fucking guy. 

You have waved at him a couple times, here and there, while helping out your dad. But now, you’ve officially had Michael Bear Berzatto in your life for a solid ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it.

Carmen Anthony Bear Berzatto has officially not had you in his life for ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like you’ve been gone for years. But you’re probably still just outside, talking to Richie and Syd. How is it still Friday? What time is it? Almost six? They’ve still got four fucking hours of service to go? No, that’s a good thing. This is a good thing. Doesn’t give him time to think. Everyone needs to stop staring at him. 

What a fucking monster. What did he even say? He can’t remember anymore. He remembered ten minutes ago, and now it’s gone. Completely walled off in his memory. What did he say? Why did you make that face? What did he say to Richie, again? Why did you step in front of him? What did you say, again? What did Richie say? What happened? He can’t remember. He knows he did something fucked up but Carmen cannot remember what happened twenty minutes ago. That’s bad, right?

“I need hands!” Carmen does not recognize the fact that he’s working until he hears his own voice.

Right. He’s on expo. He’s doing expo. That’s what was happening twenty minutes ago, he thinks. That’s what was happening, right? Doesn’t matter. This is what he’s doing now. Fak comes back in and takes the tray to run. He looks around for a moment, confused. 

“Where’s Tony?”

“She’s gone.”

Fak pauses. You don’t leave, that doesn’t match up in his brain. It doesn’t really match up in Carmen’s either, but this is what’s happening now. “What’d’you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she’s fucking gone, Fak.” Carmen barks back, practically. Such a fucking monster. Could Fak tell him what he said? Doesn’t matter. Carmen nods to the plate. “Table twenty-five, go.”

“...Where’d she go—” “Fucking go, Fak!”

There is a loud, thrumming buzz. The type that goes off after a game. Or maybe after a wrong answer. Expo clock. Since when did it have a sound setting? The kitchen flinches, including Carmen, including a meek-made Neil, and look to the clock behind them. 

Time has stopped. 0ERR is all it displays now. The sign ‘EVERY SECOND COUNTS’ is real ironic, now. What the fuck happened? You would know. You’re still outside, Carmen could get you. Carmen could get you and say he’s sorry for whatever happened. The back of his head feels like it’s hemorrhaging. He needs to go to a doctor. Maybe a paramedic. Carmen could get you, ask you what he said, and also ask if he is actively dying, right now.

“Fak.” 

“Carm?”

“Table twenty-five.” Carmen points at the plate again, with his sharpie. Then points behind him, to the broken clock. “Then fix that.” 

“Why not call To—” “Do you want a fucking job here or not?” “I—I do—” “Then do your fucking job, Fak.”

Carmen doesn’t need you. The Bear doesn’t need you. They can function just fine. Everything’s fine, without you. Everything’s normal. Everything is the way that it should be. He is shaking so much— When did he eat? Has he eaten? What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened twenty minutes ago? Or was it twenty-five? No. That’s table twenty-five, he’s mixing up his numbers. What time is it? He doesn’t know. The whole kitchen doesn’t know what time it is, anymore. You are gone and so are the minutes. 

Fak leaves, with the plate. Shrunken. Following orders. Carmen just turns everyone into himself, doesn’t he? What a fucking monster. He knows how bad it is to be him, and yet he still does it. Look at the orders, Carmen. Run fucking expo. So fucking slow, Carmen. Look at the orders. 

The crumpled piece of paper you handed him twenty minutes— Thirty? Fuck. The fucking note you handed him some amount of time ago. It sits on his table, next to all the actual orders. He rereads it, instead of the five cavatellis he’s supposed to be yelling about, right now.

Walk-In Hotfix, $80

Plumbing Repair (Service + 4 Hours), $250

Oven Wiring Fix (House call), $70

Oven Hotfix + Replacement Thermocouple, $120

Non-Gratis: Pinot Grigio, -$20

Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. -$2,500

You forgot the booths. And taxes. And you should probably get paid a half day, for serving for the past half hour. You also forgot all the times he called you, texted you, came over, the bookshelf you brought him, the basil, the rosemary water, cleaning up his trash, every time you tried food for him, every time you told him everything was going to be okay, every time you made everyone breath in here like it was going to be okay— You forgot everything you do. Priceless. Easily, you are owed millions, from Carmen. 

He flips over the note. He reads Sweeps’ quick scribings from David, the fucking asshole out front, the fucking asshole in his head. 

Cherry + Lamb, good flavour. A lot of elements. Fresh, Unique. Overall good? Ig? Weird tone.

Said he’d like to speak to ‘Wine Girl’ (ick), mentioned Michelin connect? Number = Connect? (Ick)

You didn’t eat the cherry and lamb dish. That just connected, in his head. You didn’t get to eat it. Not only did you not get to eat it, the motherfucker outside did. Fuck. You were trying to be nice, but you’ve fucked him. Unique is practically a slur to his Exec. Carmen has fun when he makes things for you— He plays— That’s not what his Exec wants. He wants two elements, max. The fact that David actually liked the flavour is nothing short of a fucking miracle. Carmen could throw up. He’s definitely getting an ulcer, again. Where’s your Tums? Fuck, you took it with you, didn’t you? 

It’s embarrassing how many rules he forgets to implement, when he cooks for you. Boundless, unrestricted— When he cooks for you. Doesn't cut a single concept. It’s mortifying that someone other than you ate it, let alone David fucking Fields.

Carmen’s eyes feather, almost closing, but not completely. He scratches his fingers through his hair, destroying the cast of gel it’s been stuck in. His curls are desperately trying and failing to reform. It doesn’t matter how much he runs his hands through it, he cannot get it to smell like you again. He cannot find you in himself, he cannot find you in his kitchen. That’s what annoyed him, earlier, wasn’t it? That you were everywhere? That you were carved in, everywhere? He thought he didn’t want that?

His knees bounce where he stands, he bumps into his jacket under the table. Right. You left it. Are you cold? Turtleneck was thin. You looked so good. You always look good. Better, in his clothes, but you always look good. Did he remember to tell you that? Probably not.

“Where—” Fuck, he really is going to throw up. “Where we at on Booth Twelve’s dessert tray, Chef?”

You said it was okay for Carmen to give your number out. You gave your dish out. You shelled yourself out, for Carmen. It feels like a cave is being hollowed out, in his throat. He is so angry and he doesn’t know who it’s for. He doesn’t know where to put it. Is that what happened twenty-three— twenty-four minutes ago? Did he give it to you? No, he gave it to Richie, right? That’s how it started. Marcus hands off the dessert paddle to expo, silently. No one wants to talk to Carmen. That’s probably fair. What did he say? Probably bad. It’s already huge they haven’t walked out on him, yet. Has anyone walked out, yet?

Marcus is here, Syd is still out back— Well, actually, she might’ve left with you, she should if she can. Are you still out there? Tina wipes her eyes, working at the oven you fixed thirty— No, forty— Fuck— Earlier. It’s probably the onions from the broth making her tear up. No, it definitely is. Fak is out front, Sweeps is out front, Richie is still out back.

What did he say to Richie? Something about kids? There are no servers to hand off dessert to stupid fucking booth twelve. Carmen cannot keep looking at the family he’s ruined, in whatever way he managed to ruin it. He grabs the dessert tray. He’ll deliver it himself. He can do it all himself. He’s good by himself.

You’ve been out of Carmen’s life for 0ERR minutes. Yeah. That’s exactly how long it feels like.

“Try it try it try it.” You mumble, hurriedly, excitedly, to Marcus. The bread guy. He’s the nicest of the bunch, so far. You hand him the mug. He takes a sip of the coffee you’ve been perfecting for the last six jobs here, give or take. You’ve been in The Beef’s life for two months or so.

“Holy shit.” He nods, digesting it— Actually digesting it, which means— “It’s edible.”

“I know!” You all but shout, too excited to hide it. You’ve finally figured out how to make this thing produce what it’s supposed to— Instead of what is essentially arsenic with coffee flavouring.

Your excitement makes a line cook behind you grimace. The one you’ve still got yet to win over. “My ears, kid.”

“Sorry.” You reply lightly. Your back is turned to her, so she can’t see you cringe to Marcus, crying for help, practically. He’s sympathetic. He kept saying you just need to prove yourself, but it’s been taking forever, what else can you prove?

He decides to fast track you. “Yo, T.” She nods. She respects Marcus. But you’re just some girl that’s been in her walkway for the past seven weeks. “Try it.” He hands her your edible coffee.

She rolls her eyes, already nonplussed, but she takes the coffee. She is genuinely impressed, for a split second, before it turns into a coy sarcasm. “Wow— You’ve made not poison, great job, baby.”

“I’m gonna get better.” You respond instantly. That’s something you noticed Tina likes. Quickness. “I’m gonna make you a good coffee.” Determination, too.

“Bold.”

“Thank you—”

“No.” She pushes the coffee to your chest; you grab it before it spills. “I like it bold.”

God, she’s so scary. “Heard.” She’s so cool. 

She watches you, for a second; wants to see if you crack. You don’t, thankfully. She folds. She finally kinda likes you— Or rather, is willing to admit it, in some small way. “You can come tonight.”

You can come to family, tonight. It takes everything in you not to cheer. You should mix them drinks. Or is that too try hard? No, it’s the perfect amount of try— Right? It was your old party trick in college, you should use it. Prove yourself.

“Cool.” Is all you can say, without seeming like a desperate nerd. 

You've been slowly cutting away at every relationship in your life, par for your family— And even that hangs by a thread— And you thought you were fine with that. You thought you were good like that, but once you got used to The Weirdos of The Beef, you cannot help but desperately want friends, again.

Every moment you get outside of your twelve to twenty-four hour EMS shifts, you spend it here. You’re tired, but it might actually be worth it; to talk to people instead of rotting in your apartment for half a week every week.

What month is it? March? When's Squid's birthday again? Did you miss it? It's the one time a year you get to talk without the underlying pressure that you have to hang out now.

Happy Birthday, what have you been up to? Oh, same thing as last year? You're irrevocably a different person now but you're also still the same? Nothing much? Same here. We should see each other soon. We won't. I won't say I love you because I don't want to be weird. Even though we used to say it every day. I will never know you like I used to, and so I won't even try. Same time next year?

Working in The Beef reminds you of her. Reminds you of the other stubborn cook in your life. Was in your life? Don’t think about that. Sometimes you hear her dad's voice out front, buying himself a half-hot half-sweet braised beef sandwich. Sometimes you think about going out there and saying hi. Sometimes you think about asking about Syd. Sometimes you think about asking how the catering gig is going. Sometimes you think about asking if she needs you anymore.

You never do.

“Aye.” Mikey claps your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. You didn't even realize he was behind you. He digs his hands in, a sudden and always painful massage. His preferred way of saying stop fucking tweaking. He leans over your shoulder, looking at the coffee cup that doesn't look as pitiful as it usually does. “Good job, kid.”

“Thank you—” “Now figure out how to make it worth drinking.”

You scoff, rolling your shoulders to push him off you. “I'm fuckin’ trying!” 

His hands stay in place, but his massage does become gentle, and actually decent. Per usual. You’re not sure how he always manages to get the knots. “T say you can come to family?” 

You had to get all yeses that you are now in fact family to join for family. You look over your shoulder to face him. “Mhm.” 

“Good.” He looks around. “Your dad here?” 

You nod. “In the basement, something about your furnace? It's fucking beyond my skill set, so I'm up here until he needs me.” As much as your dad started doing this to hang out with you, heads got too hot with you fucking up which tools to hand him one too many times; repeatedly yelling same team in a more and more distressed tone did not seem to be helping either. Whatever. Gave you more time with the coffee machine. You’re going to make this thing your bitch, one day. One day this thing is going to sing for you.

“Oh, good.” And with that, he's already pulling you to his station. “You can help me with family brisket, then.” 

“Nooooo—” “If you want family you gotta be family, Jack.” 

You whine, but you don't mind this at all. Mikey sees you. Mikey knows you; probably better than he should. He knows you always need something to do.

“Pork?” “Pork.” “Fine.” It's your recipe, so you must oblige.

He's good. Mikey is good. Mikey pays attention. Mikey's made the cycle break in a way that doesn't hurt.

Carmen needs to apologize to Richie, for never taking his stress over running front of house seriously.

Carmen hates being out front already and he’s only just stepped out. Why is everyone looking at him out here, too? He should also apologize for whatever he said forty minutes ago. Thirty-five? Doesn’t matter. What’s important is handing this dessert tray to the fucking jagoff. The man who Carmen dreamed of becoming, the man who he’s now scared he’s become. David Fields. Former Executive Chef. Too many accolades to list. 

“Dessert is served, hope you enjoy, Chef.” Carmen manages to bite his tongue for this guy, so why can’t he do it for the people he actually gives a fuck about? He’s a fucking coward. He swallows, setting the dessert paddle down in front of the stupid five fucking guests. Far too big a party, for a fucking walk in. And all they got for dessert was the fucking tasting paddle? Why are they skimping now? Assholes. All of them. Carmen knows all of these people. Well. Knows their faces. Remembers working with them, but never really talked to any of them. Why would he? He was focused. He was good.

“Thank you, Chef.” Says David. It feels like lightning, to hear those words. But not in a good way. It should feel like an accomplishment, to hear this guy say anything remotely positive, to Carmen, but it doesn’t. It feels the opposite, honestly. Feels like something’s wrong. Getting this guy’s approval is wrong.

This is the part where Carmen is supposed to leave. This is the part where the server goes back to the kitchen and continues their job. But he can’t. He’s stuck in place. He’s back in front of the fire, and he’s not putting it out. Carmen swallows hard and his spit feels like glass all the way down his throat. His Exec stares at him, nearly coy— Like he knows. Like he can see the invisible snake coiling around Carmen. Like he knows that Carmen desperately has something to say. 

“Let’s have it, Chef.” David goads.

Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck it. Not like the night can get worse. “Can we step out, for a second, Chef?”

“Lookit this.” Mikey pivots his phone to you, for you to see a photo he's just been sent.

It's of… “What the fuck is that?” You've got no clue. Some weird spiralling array of colours. 

“I've no fucking clue. Food? Apparently?”

It's April, and Mikey has let you in. You will not realize how big a deal this is until it's too late. But right now, you're just happy to be hanging out with him before open. Without your dad, too.

Their most frequent regular’s favourite chair broke, one of the legs just fully gave out underneath him. It's an easy fix. Mikey could probably do it himself. Fak or whatever the fuck his name is could absolutely do it himself. Mikey called you, instead. Called you. Not your dad. You think this'll be your first and last solo job. Naive.

“Carmy?” You assume, he's the only person that's on that rich people shit. Michelin Star Chef, baby boy with big dreams.

“Yessir. He’s still killin’ it.” Is all Mikey says, tucking his phone away. You frown at him, screwing the chair leg in, sitting on the floor. He groans. “Don't gimme those eyes, Jack.”

“You should reply!”

“He doesn't need a fuckin' reply.” 

You tilt your head, the look you give him translates to ‘Are you forreal?’

He just sighs, exasperated. “You don't get brothers, Jack.”

“I literally have brothers, Michael.”

“Yeah but it's—” He gestures to the general air, attempting to explain nothing. “It's different. We communicate different.”

“Sure.” You can admit that. “I'm sure the dynamic is very different brother to brother, brother to sister. But like—” You jiggle the chair leg, alright maybe it's not that easy of a fix. “It sucks bein’ the baby, I know that much.”

“You're the baby?”

“Yeah, why?” You lift your head from the chair back to him. “I got middle child energy? I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

“No, no— Oldest.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Thought you were one of me, Jack. My own blood.”

You scoff. But it’s not something you haven’t heard before. You’ve got the blood of people who’ve had to take care of people. “Well, being the only sister kinda made me the oldest sister.”

You pad your hand around the floor, searching, before looking up to Michael, again. “You see the fuckin—?”

He tosses you the chair leg cap, before you can finish asking for it. “You’d like Nat. Similar ideologies.”

“I would love to know how your younger sister fuckin’ survived you, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, at that. “She’s a trooper. Surrounded by some of the worst men Chicago has to offer.” He looks at the coffee that you painstakingly crafted for him, this morning. “This is actually kinda fuckin’ good, Jack.”

“Do you have to add actually and kinda?”

He rolls his head back, neck straining. “For what you had, it’s fuckin’ perfection, alright? Happy?”

“Fuckin’ delighted.” You throw the chair up onto its legs, and it stands. “You?”

He gets up from his seat to try out the chair. He takes the coffee with him. There’s a split second where you’re scared that actually this was too hard a job for you and Mikey is going to fall and the hot coffee is going to careen everywhere and fucking scald him and you told him he needed to get a first-aid kit in here but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet—

Mikey sits, and the chair works. He takes another sip of your chai coffee blend, like a vote of his confidence. He never had any doubt you could get the coffee machine to work, never had any doubt you could make a good coffee, never had any doubt you could get the chair to stand strong. Mikey has always always believed in your capabilities, even when you haven’t, and has always been happy to prove yourself to yourself. Mikey is really good at being an older brother, you think. And forget that he never texted back the real baby of his real family.

“Fuckin’ delighted, Jackie.”

“Never fuckin’ call me Jackie.”

“Heard.”

Two executive chefs stand in front of a restaurant, there’s probably a joke in here somewhere. Carmen doesn’t care to find it. He watches your car drive out onto the road, out of the corner of his eye. That’s it, then. You’re gone. He fishes a pack of cigarettes out from the chest pocket of his chef’s uniform. 

“You should quit.” Says David, so high and fucking mighty. As if he doesn’t house a bottle of wine daily.

“I’m aware.” Carmen lights it anyways. You don’t smoke. Did his mouth taste bad, every time he’d kiss you? Probably. You probably just bore it for his sake. Maybe that’s why you so rarely went for his lips. He takes a puff, it doesn’t calm him down. 

“Your hair is fucked.” 

“And the food?”

“Busy. You can lose the basil and eggplant. You’ll re-learn.” David tilts his head, thinking, smarmy. “Someone got in your head.”

“Someone other than you, yeah.”

“Awe.” David smiles, something he so rarely did in the kitchen, but perfected in public. His tone is so perfectly pouty, like it’s disappointing he’s not the only one living rent free in Carmen’s brain anymore.

Carmen steadies his eyes forward, to the street. He cannot look his own personal nightmare in the eyes, but he can say what he’s always wanted to say. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

“How am I an asshole?” “Can you stay ‘til after close?” “You’re welcome.”

Carmen turns his head to face him now, eyes wide like plates. “I— I’m welcome? For—For-for what?”

“You were an okay chef, when you started with me.” David doesn’t fear eye contact. David’s probably never had a bad day in his fucking life. “And you left an excellent chef, so you’re welcome.”

Carmen’s never even heard the fucking word excellent come out of this man’s mouth. Let alone to describe him. It doesn’t feel good, for some reason. It still doesn’t feel good to receive praise from him, despite the fact that he’s everything. 

“You…” Carmen needs a second, to catch his breath. He probably should quit smoking. “You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and— and nightmares— You— You know that? You understand that?”

“Yeah.” David’s entirely unfazed. All he’s heard is a list of benefits, in his head. “I gave you confidence and leadership and ability— It fucking worked.”

Is this what it working is supposed to feel like? Is this what it feels like to function? Is this what it means, to make it? If it is, then what the fuck does not making it feel like?

“I’m— I’m, I’m— I’m actually fuckin’ stunned, right now, I—” Carmen rubs his hands over his eyes. “My life stopped.”

“That’s the point.”

“That’s the point?”

“You wanted to be excellent. You got rid of all the bullshit, you concentrated, you focused— And you got excellent. And it worked. You’re here.”

You’re not bullshit. You’re not bullshit and he shouldn’t have done whatever he did to make you leave. Carmen is anything but excellent, without the people behind him, and he’s realizing that now. He’s an idiot, because you told him this, the second day of knowing him you told him this. He has a wonderful team— A family— A family he now considers you a part of. And he tanked all of it, everyone— Why? Because he had a bad fucking day? Because a dish got sent back? Because he fucked up tremendously? Boo-fucking-hoo, Carmen. It takes an idiot like David, who thinks he’s a genius, for Carmen to realize they look exactly the fucking same— And that is the actual thing that’s mortifying, tonight.

The real mortifying thing, isn’t that you were so fucking sweet and considerate of his stupid fucking brain and his stupid insane aspirations— It isn’t your dish. The mortifying thing is he prioritized the man in front of him, in any regard. It’s mortifying that Carmen made you feel like you had to prioritize the man in front of him.

“I just— I just made the—The only fuckin’ good thing in my life leave because— Because you got in my fucking head.”

David just raises his brows, like Carmen’s fucking stupid. Like there’s not a problem here. Because to him, there isn’t. And once again, the stupid fucking Exec repeats. “You’re welcome?”

“I’m—” The door opens, and for a moment, despite the fact that he watched your car disappear minutes ago, Carmen still thinks there’s a chance it’s gonna be you; begs a higher power that it’s going to be you. It’s not. It’s Richie. 

“Hey asshole—” Richie stops, when he sees David. “Ah. You’re needed, Chef Carmen.”

“Cousin— You’re needed, pronto.” 

“Not your Cousin.”

“Heard and resented.”

Richie’s had a habit of calling you cousin, lately. You pull your head out of the back of the Ball-Breaker arcade machine. Its controls are allegedly on the fritz, but you’re pretty sure Chi-Chi just sucks at this game. “Whaddya need? Do I have to run front a-fucking-gain?”

That was a fun out of nowhere three hour shift with zero restaurant experience— Par for bar. It will not be the last.

“Nono— Just a cuppa coffee? More like six.” 

You kiss your teeth, tutting him. “You know how the fuckin’ machine works—”

“Want your coffee?” He corrects, like stroking your ego will make you fold. It does. You stand up, stretching your legs.  

“Fine. Just get me a list of everyone’s—” He slaps a folded note against your forehead. “Orders.” 

“Fucker.” You take it off your head to read. “Whatta ‘bout Mikey’s?” He’s missing from the list.

Richie shrugs. “Surprise him, he’s out back— In one of his moods.”

You don’t know how uncommon it is for Mikey to be so out of it. You’re meeting Mikey during his slow but certain downward spiral, but you don’t know that. No. How could you? No, so you think it’s normal for Mikey to occasionally leave rooms and turn inward. 

“Aye aye, Rich.”

He kisses your temple as you pass him, making an all too aggressive ‘muah’ noise, because that’s what fake Italians do, as a form of thanks, and lets you go work your magic on the coffee machine. 

You’re pretty integrated into The Beef, at this point. How long has it been? You don’t really need this list of orders, but it’s good to visually ingrain in your brain. You’re thankful to Mikey for investing in a bunch of Torani’s syrups for your coffee dreams. You’re here enough for it to be worth it, anyways. 

You’re probably gonna start being here a lot more, soon. Well, maybe.

You haven’t told anyone yet, about what your dad told you this morning. That he’s gotta retire, soon. Like soon, soon. Now, you’re faced with a decision— Keep going with this EMS thing until your body fails and you need to be wheeled out by your own coworkers, or take on ownership of a small family business directly after the fucking pandemic. Really good options, here.

You’re leaning towards the latter, at the moment. You’re leaning towards being called here, for half your jobs. It’d be hard to make ends meet on just whatever crack change Mikey is able to pay you— But you used to bartend in college— You could work dailies whenever you’re short. Probably. It probably won’t be that hard. Could it be harder than what you’re doing now? Could it be harder than watching someone flat line? Probably not.

Ebra, watered down black coffee. T, two sugars, one milk, cinnamon and chocolate syrup. Marcus, spiced coffee. Sweeps, water in a deli cup— A delicacy. Richie, two sugars, cinnamon syrup, ideally boiling hot. 

But to be fair, people need someone like you. People need paramedics. Is it selfish for you to decide you can’t handle it anymore? Should you let your body break before you let yourself go on one? Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Mikey? You’re feeling the knots build up again. 

Out back. Richie said he’s out back. You pick up your coffee, and Mikey’s— cinnamon and caramel, this time— And head out back. 

And you see a sight that you’ve actually seen plenty of times.

You’ve just never seen it in the back alley of The Beef. You’ve just never seen it happen to a friend. You’ve just never seen it happen to Mikey. You don’t drop your coffee cups in some sort of dramatic shock, or anything like that. Because that would take time. It’d take too much time to be shocked. You just turn around, immediately, partially crashing into the door as you run back in, breaking the mugs and spilling scalding hot coffee over your hands and chest— You don’t feel it, you don’t give a fuck. 

“Cousin!” 

You’re a mom friend. That’s what Syd used to say. You carry Tums, painkillers, cough drops, pepto— All in your purse or pockets. You keep a lighter on hand. You keep safety pins— All ranging in size, just in case of a clothing mishap. You keep kid’s band-aids in your wallet. You’re a mom friend. Everyone used to find you also carrying a naloxone kit a bit dramatic, like you were overdoing it. You always hoped they were right; that it would never be used. Regardless, you'd always replace it when it expired.

“Cousin get my fucking bag, now!”

“Right.” Carmen’s honestly kind of surprised, to be needed. But it’s probably just cover, to talk. People don’t typically need people like him, especially not Richie. He nods to David. “Chef.”

“Chef.” David nods back. He looks at Richie. “Where’d your translator go?”

The fuck? Richie does not look phased, at all. He also looks like he’s been crying— So it might just be that nothing phases him, right now— But at the very least, Carmen would expect some surprise. So this disrespect must not be new. Why didn’t he tell him?

Maybe he did, actually. Maybe that’s what happened forty minutes ago? How’d that lead to you leaving? 

“My what?” Richie knows exactly what David’s getting at, but he asks anyways, to embarrass the fucker.

But David doesn’t feel embarrassment, it’s just not in him. “Your somme.”

“She had to leave early.”

“Ah,” He nods, “You’ve got her number, by chance?”

A deep and sharp exhale, through Richie’s nose, as he desperately tries to be a good host. Tries to be star material. But he runs his tongue across his top teeth and he just can’t bring himself to bite it. Richie hates both of the men in front of him right now. “I do, I do, actually— I’ve had her number for three years, memorized, y’know why?”

David shrugs, delighted to upset someone. “She your wife or something?”

A sharp, terrifying chuckle, honestly— One that hides any sign of a smile. Rich steps forward. “Oh, I should be so lucky. I would be so fucking lucky, if a woman like that—” And he pivots his head, to speak very deliberately, to Carmen. “Decided for some Godforsaken fuckin’ reason, that I was worth an ounce of her precious time— Let alone her hand.”

“If only, truly, David.” Still looking at Carmen, squarely in his face. “If fuckin’ only. If I had someone like that— I’d be on hand and fucking knee, for her.”

“Chef.” Carmen’s talking to David but looking at Richie, but that might also be because he can’t look anywhere else. 

“Chef.” David shrugs, whatever fight here is beyond him. He doesn’t fucking care. Carmen knows the Michelin thing was bullshit—Certainly David can put in a good word, but inspectors are anonymous, that’s the whole point. But his stupid fucking Exec wanted to see if Carmen would stoop so low as to take the bait. It also wouldn’t hurt to get your number, you’re perfect. Carmen doesn’t think he’d have taken the bait, but the fact that he’s not sure speaks volumes.

David steps back into The Bear, and an Executive Chef and his dead brother’s best friend stand outside their restaurant. There’s a joke in here somewhere, and it’s probably Carmen.

“I’d fucking kill him.” You shake your head, when Mikey tries to brush off the end of his story like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe no one fuckin’ said anything.”

“They might’ve.” He sniffs, arms crossed— Guarding himself. He sits opposite of you, both sitting on the floor of his office, backs against either wall. “But I couldn’t fuckin’ hear anything but him— And then the fucking car, obviously.”

You can tell he’s trying to move on. He wants you to ask if his mom was okay. You don’t honestly care, and you don’t care if that makes you a bad person, either. 

“You’re not nothing, Mikey.”

It’s close to midnight, a humid but cool August midnight. A week or so, since Mikey’s overdose. You’re finally christening your jumpsuit with a patch from The Beef, on the left shoulder. You do keep stabbing yourself with the sewing needle— If you were sleeping beauty you’d be fucking dead. 

“I know.”

“Mikey, you’re not.”

“Don’t fucking Good Will Hunting me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You both laugh, but you’re still stuck with him, at that dining table, in your head. You’re still hearing Uncle Lee screaming, despite never actually hearing it. “They should’ve said something.”

“It’s different when you’re there.” He shrugs, again. “Hard to speak in those rooms.” 

Your lips stay tight, for a moment. There’s a long silence of just staring at each other, because you want him to know that you’re completely serious when you say— “I would’ve said something.”

“Sug tried to say somethin—” “She told you to stop, that’s bullshit.” “She was mediating—”

“And why the fuck were you the one that needed to calm down, exactly?” You frown, deeply. You don’t have anything against Sug, but this story just rubs you the wrong way. The way no one was on his side verbally. “Just cause you’re the guy, means you can’t stick up for yourself? I hate that shit.”

He thinks on that, for a moment; because no one has ever said the thing out loud, never acknowledged it. He nods, tucking one knee up to rest an arm on it. “It sucks, being the guy.”

“It fucking sucks to be the guy!” You shout back, emphatic, practically jumping to agree— You jab yourself again. “Fuck, ow— Yes, it sucks.”

“And—” You’ve really opened a faucet for him. “And no one wants you to acknowledge that you’re the guy— Like you can take the compliment, but you can never say ‘I know, I’m doing it on purpose.’”

You poke at the tip of your nose with one hand and then to Mikey with the other, bang on. “No one wants the guy to know they’re the guy!”

“We always know!” “We always fucking know!” “We’re the guy on purpose!”

It’s rare for people like you two to talk and actually get along. The typical stereotype is that two sweethearts will always end up butting heads, too intimidated— But instead, you’re both just able to honestly commiserate over being who you are. The Guy. The Dependable One. The Head.

“You shouldn’t have to always be good and—and like, understanding of every single fucking person— Especially when they’re a dick!” You yell, exasperated. “You are allowed to fucking stick up for yourself!”

He tightens his lips in a line, because he agrees, but he has been so trained to lay down and take it. To take the teeth; it’s one of the many many jobs of being the guy. You know it just as well. He sighs, “I know.”

“You’re worth standing up for, Mikey.” You emphasize. They should’ve said something. It shouldn’t have been on you. You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself. They should’ve protected you, like you did for them. Like you always do for them. 

His eyes flicker, a bit. He clears his throat and punches his chest, shaking his head out of it, because if he doesn’t, he might actually fucking cry, and that’s not what the guy does. “Okay.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He kicks your foot with his. “Now tell me some fucked up thing that happened to you, Jack.”

You laugh, and it quickly turns into a groan as you try to come up with something. “I uh… Oh! I fuckin’ hate the nickname ‘Jack’, that’s something.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, teasingly intrigued— You’ve thrown him a bone, because you’re the guy, too. He’s able to focus on this in lieu of himself.

You nod and continue. “My dad gave it to me, when I was really really little, like five or six— And it was ‘cause I like— For a kid, I was really into uhm, like— Like everything?”

“Like a nerd?” “Like a nerd.”

You chuckle. “I liked helping him go on jobs, and barely being able to hold flashlights. And I liked learning what all the wires and the pipes do— I liked doing chores and like— Making shit for people, or doing shit for people, if it made ‘em happy.” You’re a little too zoned in, on your sewing. The motion helps keep you grounded. “And so he would go like Awe, my helpful little Jack of all Trades, you can do it all.”

You pull the string up and out of the fabric, taught, dramatically high. “Which like, of course he was trying to be like, a good dad and hype me up— But my kid brain just garbled it and translated ‘you can do it all’ to ‘you have to do it all.’”

“Damn.” He cringes but laughs, sympathizing. “You got ‘guy’d’ at fuckin’ five?”

“Well, when did you get ‘guy’d?!” You snap back, he takes a moment to think about it, sighing.

He shrugs. “Probably five.” “Exactly!”

You both laugh, a bit too aggressively, honestly; compensating for the sting. Mikey sniffs, adding. “So that’s why you hate it? ‘Cause of the weight?”

“‘Cause of the weight.” You nod. “Like a constant reminder, that I need to be like— constantly at service.”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes looking down. Thinking about far too much, and though you have become his closest confidant, there are still parts of him that he won’t show. “Drinking helped?”

“Drinking helped.” You close the last stitch on the patch. “Which is funny, because that whole thing started from wanting to be helpful.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“There was uhm—” You can’t help but laugh a little, at the ridiculousness of it. “There was this girl, and she was my best friend, and she fucking loved— Or I guess still loves— Cooking. And even as a dinky little highschooler, she’d have me try shit, and it’d be like— So luxe.”

“Right.” Mikey smiles, thinking of all the dishes that have been foisted on him by the precocious cook in his life.

“And I wanted to be like… equally impressive. So I started doing research on wine pairings and shit, so I could have something to talk to her about, have somethin’ to say other than wow great job— Because I could tell she always wanted more.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “I haven’t gotten there yet!” “Well stop burying the lead!” “Oh don’t you point a finger when it comes to burying a fucking lead.” “Oh, fuck you.”

“Anyways!” You clap a hand on your knee, casting aside the completed sew job. “I’d give her pairings based on research— still teens, so we couldn’t drink yet, but she appreciated the thought. And then I went to college and she went to CIA and we were talking and then we graduated and suddenly we weren’t…” You knock your fist against your hand a couple times. “We weren’t talking, anymore.” 

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “Kinda.” “Oh. I was being sarcastic.” “Yeah, dontchu feel guilty as fuck now?” “What happened?”

“It was easy.” You shrug. “I started working at pubs in college, I was getting free drinks all the time, I was trying more wines for her— I didn’t really see it as a problem, because like, I didn’t do it to function, I never reached for anything like ‘oh I fucking need this.’”

“That’s how it starts.”

“That’s how it fuckin’ starts.” You nod. “Then suddenly we weren’t talking and I became an E-M-T, and then suddenly I was watching people y’know, live through the worst moment of their lives or die, and I— Suddenly I did need that drink.” You should’ve just called her. She would’ve done a lot more for you than a bottle could. But you were stupid and tired, and still are.

“Who coulda thunk it?” “I know! Ridiculous.”

“How long you been stable, again?” 

“Six months, four days… But who’s counting?” You laugh, and so does he.

You’re both very literally counting. And the buzzer of a timer going off on your phone reminds you of that. You both stare at it, in a daze, as it officially hits Twelve in the morning. Once you silence it, you look to Mikey. 

“Michael The Bear Berzatto, you have officially been sober for twenty-four hours.”

He smiles, no teeth, but he smiles. “Gimme.”

“Be patient!” “I am being the most patient a person can be.” “Yeah that’s fair.”

You opt to go for the cupcake first, a big One candle sticking out of it. “This is stupid.” Says Mikey. “Have some fucking whimsy in the face of adversity.” Says you, pulling out your disposable camera. 

“Do we need photos?” “What the fuck else are we gonna put in my folder?” “I dunno, write me sonnets.” 

“Do you want sonnets?” You ask, and the worst part is Michael can tell you’re being sincere. You would write him sonnets, if he only asked. You would do anything, if he only asked. You quit being an EMT, immediately after seeing the state he was in, last week. You are here for Michael, and he only has to ask.

He shakes his head and blows out the candle when you lift the cupcake to his face, and he makes a wish to whatever higher power exists, that he won’t drag you down with him. 

You thread a 24 Hours in Recovery chip onto the embroidery thread you were using and tie it off. When you present it to him, he bends his head down. “Chip me.”

“That’s not what chip me means.” “It means something?” “I’m pretty sure chipping someone means shooting someone—” “Well Google it, Chip.” “Well, fuck, ok— Chip?”

He shrugs, “Better than Jack, no?”

You throw the necklace over his neck, like you’re knighting him. You grow a great degree softer. Even when he’s deliberately not supposed to be The Guy, when he’s supposed to be working on himself, he’s still your guy. Still looking out for you just as much as you look out for him. He will never realize that you consider the exchange equal.

“Yeah, better than Jack.”

“This sobriety thing is going to be easy.” “ —Okay, so— The thing is, everyone kinda says that after twenty-four hours and then a week or two in, it actually hits—” “It’s gonna be so easy.” “I love that you think that and I want you to keep that hope up, I also think maybe let’s just be easy on ourselves if it gets hard—” “It’s not gonna get hard.” “That’s what she said—” “Fucking gross!”

He throws his arm over your shoulder, a loving noogie, but a noogie nonetheless. You try to hit him from below, it’s a failed flailing. You both start laughing and he stops, opting to just hold you there. You hold his forearm with your hands, and sigh.

“...Even when it’s not easy, we’re on the same team, okay? Don’t forget that. That we’re on the same team and I love you.”

He squeezes you a little, bicep curling. In fifteen seconds you will complain that he’s choking you, but right now, he says, “I’m not gonna forget you love me, Chip.” and neither of you know this is a lie, yet.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen sniffs, is he actually going to cry? Holy shit, he might cry. “I don’t know what I said—”

“You don’t know what you said?” Richie scoffs, he can’t help but laugh. “You don’t know what you fuckin’ said? Ah— It’s— It’s all good, man. You don’t know what you said, so it’s all good—”

“I’m apologizing—” “Nonono— No— It’s all good, I don’t need a fuckin’ apology. I know how you feel now, so it’s all fuckin’ good.”

“I love you—” “You love me? You love me? Oh, that would’ve been nice to hear half a fucking hour ago.”

Has it really only been thirty minutes?

“No— No, you know what?” Richie takes a choked breath, pressing his index finger over his nose and mouth, then points it to Carmen. “If that’s what your fuckin’ love is— I don’t fuckin’ want it. And I don’t want that shit for Chip, either— So leave her the fuck out of your fuckin’ love or whatever the fuck you think that is, too.”

That one hurts, because it’s true. Carmen can’t say anything to that; the silence just eggs Richie on more. “Oh, was that a low blow, to you? Cause I’d say saying it was her fault was a pretty low fucking blow— Kinda below the belt shit, if you ask me—”

“What?”

A silence louder than anything either of them have ever heard hangs in the air.

“Fuck you mean what?”

“I said what?” Carmen’s spit still feels like glass, he is destroying his throat. “What—What did I say?”

Stunned, Richie is stunned. And he can’t tell if Carm’s lack of cognizance in the situation makes him more or less angry. He’s pretty sure it’s more. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Cousin, what the fuck did I say to her?”

“You said she failed him.”

Yeah, Carmen’s gonna cry. Carmen is absolutely going to cry. Not weeping, but a tear. Just the one. Just the one, and the dry heaving. The dry heaving and just short of falling over, managing at the last minute to fall onto his rear. He slides his back against the full length window of The Bear. All the guests will get to witness his full blown meltdown. Who fucking cares. He cards through his semi-matted hair, again— It’s not fucking working. It’s not working and he might as well tear his hair out because there’s no reason for it anymore if you're not in it.

“I am a monster.” Not said like a question, not said with emphasis, not choked. Completely monotone. Zero pulse. Said as a fact as simple as the sky is blue. And it is. Because now that he remembers that one thread, he can follow it back. “I am bullshit.”

It’s hard to kick someone, when they’re down. It’s hard to say all the things you want to say to a person, when they’re just saying it about themselves. Richie just stares, debating his options. He could so easily choose to destroy what’s left of Carmen. Frankly, Carm’s sitting at the perfect angle to kick his fucking teeth in. Richie came out here with full intent of throwing Carmen through the window. Came out here with the full intent of proving he’s a fucking problem.

“...I don’t know how to fix it.” But Carmen looks up at him, with a never before seen level of humility. “How do I fix it?”

His best friend loved this guy, and unfortunately you also seem to be on the verge of loving this guy. And even more regrettably, Richie loves this guy. He shrugs, and to any onlookers, his response would seem to be lacking any level of empathy. 

“Stop being you.”

“You don’t love me!”

“Of course we fuckin’ love you!”

“You don’t fucking love me!”

Like tidal waves, Richie and Mikey crash against either side of the walk-in freezer door. Mikey desperately trying to escape the freezer; you and Richie desperately trying to keep him in. 

Your phone rings, in the middle of this. “Ah, shit, she’s calling back, hold on—” You slide your back off the door slowly, giving Richie time to place extra weight where your body was to keep it closed as Mikey relentlessly slams. He’s pivoted to screaming like— Well, a bear, now. 

You move just a few feet away— Enough to fog up the yelling, but not enough that you couldn’t run back to Richie if his arms start to numb. 

“Yo, T.” You answer, thankful that somebody has finally returned your fucking calls. To be fair, it’s painfully early— But how is no one awake an hour before they have to clock in? C’mon.

“We’re doing this because we love you, fuckin’ numb nuts!” 

“Don’t be fuckin’ mean when he’s in a vulnerable state!” You kiss your teeth, yelling to Richie behind you, just as Tina tries to say hi. 

“I am not a fucking patient, Chip!” Another slam, another violent jiggling of the door handle. You’re pretty sure that shit is going to break off one day, if he keeps doing that. You don’t know how right you are now, but you will in a year or so. “Open the fucking door!”

You only remember you’re on the phone with Tina when she pipes up, vaguely hearing the yelling on her end. “...Two week milestone going well?”

“Just fucking peachy, T.” You grimace, rubbing the space between your brows. “You think it’s healthy to lock him in the freezer? I feel like we are fucking this up.”

“Why’s he in the freezer?”

“Guess who was—” You turn your head to Richie, when you speak into the phone. “So fucking stupid— And left his fucking xanax just out in the open with his unfinished breakfast?”

“I apologized—” “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, Cousin! Now open the fucking door!”

“Yeah, I think freezer is the right call.” Says Tina; you’re both not sure if that’s true, but at the very least when he’s in there he can’t hurt himself or either of you. But fuck, he must be cold. Maybe that’s good for his nervous system? Every yell just mounts with guilt— But you’re his sponsor now. You are not his friend right now, you’re his mentor and you’re meant to do this. This is definitely— slam— the right thing—scream—to do.

“Yeah, probably.” You nod, to no one. “Well, basically, if you can let everyone know to just— Not fucking come in, today, or at the very least not come in for like— At least three hours. Maybe six. It’s not like you can work anyways, the freezer’s off limits until further notice.”

“You sure you don’t need us to come in?”

“Ah, T, that’s a nice thought but—” You wince, as you hear a crash from inside the walk-in. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse, for more people to witness this.”

Richie can tell what the crash is, because he himself has dropped shit an innumerable number of times in that walk-in before. “—Did you just knock over the fuckin’ stock—” “Fuck yourself! Fuck yourself! This is my fucking restaurant! Let me the fuck out, Richard!”

“Let’s just say call me back in three hours.” Is what you settle on. You don’t want to see this, and you don’t want anyone else to have to see this. And when Mikey eventually comes out of his rage state, he will be glad that the only two people that actually saw him like this, are his two closest friends. “Can you let everyone else know?”

“Yeah baby, I’ll let ‘em know.” First time Tina’s called you baby with sincerity instead of sarcasm, you wish you could savour it, but you’re so distracted with everything else that you really don’t even notice it. “Keep yourself safe too, alright?”

“Okay, Mama.” You reply with what is really only half sarcasm, and let her go. You sidle up to Richie, back on holding the door closed duty. Backs against the walk-in door, holding Mikey in, despite punch after punch after punch. He’ll wear himself out, eventually, but you’re terrified about how long that’s going to take. So is Richie.

He nods to your phone. “How long?”

You don’t need to check to know. “In six hours, he’ll be at two weeks.” You wince as one of Mikey’s hits against the door very directly targets your back, putting it in knots. “But it’s not like he’s suddenly going to go, oh well it’s been two weeks so I’m normal now, though.”

Richie just nods, pensive. “M’sorry.” 

You shake your head. “I was just bein’ a bitch, we’re all getting used to it, I gettit, just try to be safer.”

He nods again, looking down at you as the beating seems to slow down. Richie tries to imagine a world where you two aren’t here right now; for some reason, he finds that universe more miserable. “We’re so fucked.” Because here it’s you two. You’re so fucked but it’s you two. It will take more than a year for you to figure out that’s how Richie feels.

“I know.” You punch back against the door, alerting Mikey— Not that he wasn’t already alert, and speak to both of them. “Same team, though!”

One last resounding body slam into the door, with everything Mikey has— It moves, just a bit, but not at all enough to open it. And then, a long silence. To the point where you and Richie look at each other, worried if Michael has somehow just died in there. But then a quiet voice speaks, like a white flag being raised. 

“Same team.”

You look to Richie for permission, he’s just as clueless as you are here, as to what the right call is. With the most trepidation one could have, you put your hand on the handle and just start to pull on it, not even close to opening it. But Mikey notices the way the hinge moves by a hair, on the other side. 

“Don’t open it.” You know he’s up to the door, just opposite of you. Not capable of looking at you; not capable of looking at him. “Six hours. It’s just six hours.”

But you can hear each other. And maybe that’s all you really ever needed. To be able to hear each other, even when he’s not here. 

“Six hours. Same team.”

“I don’t know how.” Carmen’s nose twitches. “I don’t know how to stop being fucking—Garbage— I’ve tried—” “Have you?”

It’s a bit knife twisting, from Richie, but necessary. “Have you done the work? Cause it’s— I don’t think you have, Carm.”

“...What the fuck kinda work can I do, to fix me—?” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen, interrupting him. “That— That is the exact fuckin’ problem with you, Cousin.”

Carmen almost rolls his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “What, that I’m self-aware?”

“That you just fuckin’ give up.” “I don’t just give up—” “You do! You give up and you go wah, I’m a Chef with issues and I’m gonna make it everyone else’s fucking problem—” “I am asking for help—” “Are you? Because the last person that helped you just ran out crying.”

Richie exhales, eyes closed. There’s a long forced silence, as a few tables full of patrons exit The Bear, awkwardly shuffling past what is clearly a crisis between the people that have been serving them tonight.

“That was below the belt, I’ll admit.” Says Rich, once they’re out of earshot. 

Carmen just shakes his head, though he cannot look at Richie, though he can’t refute anything. 

Richie steps next to where Carmen sits, and like an olive branch, Carmen lifts up his arm to offer his cigarette. Richie accepts, thank God— Thank you, for softening him up, because if you hadn’t, again, Carmen would be going headfirst through the fucking window right now.

“Don’t yell ‘t me—” That honestly hurts more than getting thrown through a window. “But I don’t think you got Andrea, at all.”

Andrea? Oh. “Chef Terry?” The Ever’s owner, Richie means. 

“Andrea.” Richie nods, taking a puff. “Every second counts— I don’t think you got it.”

Carmen just shrugs, shaking his head, sure, he worked there for years and Richie worked there for days, but sure, he’s the one that didn’t get it. “Yeah? What’d I miss?”

“It’s not meant to make you fuckin—” He gestures to the general form of Carmen. “Tweak. It’s not about speed or— or— like firin’ off on all fuckin’ cylinders.” 

“Then what is it?”

“It counts because it counts.” Richie hands the cig back to Carmen. “It’s— The fucking—” He kisses his teeth, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “When you took like, a million goddamn years to make that fuckin’ mont— Mont— What was it?”

“Montmorency.” Your cherry sauce. Carmen spent too fucking long reducing it, yesterday. He redid it like five times. He’d redone it so many times the autopilot in his brain fucked up that fucking plate yesterday, and it threw his entire life into a spiral. No. That's not what happened. He threw his life into a spiral.

“That was worth it, cause it— Cause it took time. Does that— Am I making any fuckin’ sense? Terry did this shit better, fuck.” Richie rubs a hand over his face, you’d probably be able to explain this better too. “It’s not the thing you’re doing that makes it count, it counts because you’re doing it.”

The value is in the time, not what is delivered. It does not need to be the most special, hyper condensed, hyper focused, upper echelon second to count. It will count because it counts. Time spent is worth it, no matter what was bought. Every second you spend, will always count. All the work and the not work and the love and the not love— It all counts. It counts because it counts. You care therefore you care. Any effort made is good effort. 

Why does Carmen keep taking eons to learn what you are always trying to tell him?

The door opens, again. Instead of more patrons, Syd steps out— Wondering where the fuck her Exec and Host have gone. “Are we good?” 

“No.” Says her Exec and Host. She nods, that’s good, cause she’s not good either. 

“Who’s runnin’ house?”

“No one.” Lies Syd, Tina’s running the back, Sweeps is running the front, but she wants to freak Carmen out a little. She grabs the cigarette from Richie. “Burn the money, I say.”

“So, what you’re asking me to do— If I’m understanding, correctly, which— I might not be— You want me to take all my money, okay, and place it in a fucking furnace? Is that right?”

“So I’m sensing—” You curl your hand in the air. “A touch of hostility, which is fair.”

Bargaining with Uncle Jimmy isn’t the easiest thing in the world— Especially when this is your first time meeting him— And you’re begging him for money. Well, helping Mikey beg him for money. 

“Listen, Uncle, please.” Mikey swallows, leaning in, elbows on the table. It’s nearly the end of January. New year, fresh start. No better time to pitch a half-baked pipe dream in the middle of The Beef’s dining room. “It’s not like I’m brand new to the restaurant gig— We turn profit, here, we can fuckin’ pay people.”

“Can you pay me?” “We will—” “Or you could just let me cut my losses—” “I wanna do something real, Uncle.”

“Why’s she here, again?” You shrink, when Cicero points at you. You swallow. 

“I’m here as… Proof… That he wants to do something real.” You have to stop yourself from doing jazz hands, doubling down on the awkwardness will not make it go away, that is sadly not how that works.

Jimmy stares, for a moment, the cogs in his brain almost audibly whirring, as he stares at the space between you and Mikey, where you sit, at the other side of the booth. “Are you having a fuckin’ baby or somethin?”

The visceral reaction from your side of the booth is immediate. The worst part is he’s not even the first one to ask something like this— No, the manager at Wells Fargo was.

“What the fuck!” “Come on, Uncle…” “Do I— Do I look like a Milf, what the fuck is going on—” “She could be my daughter!” “Alright— So that is a little far, but the sentiment—”

“Alright, shut the fuck up, what is so fucking real that I’m suddenly going to hack up—”

Mikey tosses his necklace onto the table. It shouldn’t be physically possible, because it’s on a string, but it still manages to roll for a comically long time, like a coin, over to Jimmy. To thine own self be true. One Month.

“You will not be giving your money to some fucking junkie, Uncle—”

You wave a hand, interrupting Mikey. “Verbiage.” 

He swallows and nods, taking the note. A hard lesson to learn. “You will not be giving your money to— To— You— You’re gonna give your money to someone who is trying, alright?”

Uncle Jimmy hasn’t looked up from the chip since it landed; Mikey continues. “And— And I’m gonna bring Carmy on, and we’re gonna do like—Like high level shit. Like a real fuckin’ Michelin level—”

“How many times have you gotten to a month?”

“First time.”

Jimmy frowns, crossing his arms. “How many times have you tried getting to a month?”

“Five.” Michael says, “Six.” you correct. Christmas was hard. Christmas was extremely fucking hard. You weren’t with the Berzattos, upon Mikey’s request— And neither was Carmen, upon Mikey’s ignoring him completely. And that made things a little fucking hard. 

Jimmy just nods, arms still crossed. He’s forming some sort of plan, in his head, you’re just not sure what it is yet. He looks to you. “So you’re his sponsor, then?”

“Yessir.” “Do you feel qualified to do that?” “No-sir.”

Mikey kicks you under the table, your proclivity for honesty is not doing a great job selling this whole restaurant idea. You kick him back. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel qualified.”

“You sober?” “Not really.” “Well that’s kind of a key factor, I’ve heard.”

You sigh and lean forward, putting your hands in your lap. This is Mikey’s Uncle— Well, is he, actually? Unsure. But he gives as much of a fuck as you do, so you spill your guts, because you know he’s poking because he’s worried that some kid is taking care of Mikey and it’s the blind leading the fucking blind. 

“I’m stable. I drink, sometimes— But never more than one glass, and never multiple days in a row. I’m coming up on a year, I still attend A-A— Though not as often as I’m told I should— And I’ve told Mikey that turbulent month long benders and a full blown decade long opioid addiction are not the same thing and I really shouldn’t be his sponsor.”

Mikey leans forward as well, then, meeting your level. “And I told Chip— And our coord— That I won’t do the program without her.”

After a long moment of silence, taking his time to digest every bit of information, Jimmy nods to the folder on the table. “N’ this?”

“It’s like a… Proposal?” You look to Mikey for help, he shrugs. This motherfucker— You’re not even a stakeholder in this, why are you talking? You turn back to Jimmy. “It’s like a promise.”

You open the folder, there’s loose sketches you’ve put together of The Bear’s signage, plus Carmen’s original piece— It was fun and weird, to work off of an artist you’ve never met before. There’s also cut outs from the New York Time’s and Food and Wine magazine showing off his award winning talents. 

“We make money now.” Mikey finally chimes in, crossing his arms. “Imagine what we could do with him.”

“It would be cool!” You wingman. A little too excited for someone who’s never even breathed in a Michelin restaurant. “It’d be cool to have, like, a fine-dining establishment on North Orleans.”

“Or you’d completely cut out the audience that already likes The Beef.”

Mikey defends, “The people don’t know what they like, yet.” while you spread out some more papers across the table, showing off screenshots of food Carmen’s texted, that Mikey has never replied to. “They will like this shit— It’s— It’s art, Uncle. When they see this, they won’t give a shit about sandwiches.”

“They’ll give a shit about the price.”

“Uncle, I’m the guy.” Mikey uncrosses his arms, straightening up his posture, because now it’s serious. “I can— We can do this.”

As you continue to spread out papers, Uncle Jimmy stops you, seeing a peculiar page in the pile. He points to it, so you fish it out and hand it to him. He squints. “Joint bank account?”

You nod. “It’s so I can keep an eye on his spending and withdrawals.” Mikey tries not to wince at the fact a kid is in charge of managing his finances. You try not to wince at the fact that despite managing his finances, he's still reset six times.

“Y’know banks are a fuckin’ scam, right?”

You do not entertain Jimmy for a second, finally losing your whimsy. Your leg is shaking underneath the table— Thank God these tables are bolted. “I know that this is the first time in twenty years that my best friend is keeping savings.” 

Not just living paycheck to paycheck, anymore. Not spending every penny on painkillers, anymore. Mikey is saving up because now there is a future to spend it on. Cicero swallows, nodding, eyes looking down, thinking deeply. 

When he speaks again, it’s to say the most insane thing you’ve ever heard. “Ten grand a week.”

Your reply is in sync with Mikey, both jumping forward in your seats. “What?”

“Every week.” Jimmy pushes the chip back to your side of the table. “Every week that you keep going, that’s ten grand.”

You flail your hand under the table, grabbing for Mikey’s— He does the same, and it’s like a contest for who’s going to break who’s hand first, with how hard you’re holding each other. 

Mikey’s first to ask the question, “Is that… Starting now or starting since I—”

“I’m so glad you asked, fuck no, that’s starting now.” He points to you, now. You flinch. “You’re gonna piss test him every fuckin’ week. I’m not fucking around about this.”

“Right. Heard.” You can only nod, because if you express anything else, it might just be screaming forever and ever. He pivots back to Mikey.

“And it’s gonna be cash— It’s not going in that fuckin’ joint, aright?” “Heard.”

“...Alright. Deal.” Cicero comes forward in his seat, and shakes Mikey’s hand. And despite not being a stakeholder, he reaches for yours, too; you shake it, and after a moment, he ruins this excitement stirring in the room, moving out of the booth. “I gotta piss, now.”

When he leaves for the bathroom, Mikey leans his head to you, putting his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Art of the deal.”

You push his face away immediately, laughing. “Shut the fuck up! Why did you make me lead that shit!?”

Tomorrow Mikey will relapse again, and you’ll reset his necklace for the seventh time, but you don’t know that yet. Carmen’s gonna be so excited, when he finally comes back to Chicago and gets a sober brother and his dream restaurant. You’re excited to meet the guy, one day. Fingers crossed he likes you. 

“That was fucking nuts.” Sydney decides that’s the best way to surmise it. “Like more than usual.”

“I’m aware.” Carmen can only nod, and despite the fact that he’s just going to lie down and take this, it does not remove the bitter feeling in her heart at all. Syd’s fucking mad, and she wants him to know. 

“I’ve— I’ve literally only ever seen her cry like, like during Pixar movies or when we graduated. Like she just— That’s not a thing she does. I, I’m so— I literally don’t know what the fuck to do, right now.” For a second, she thinks her vision is flickering. “Oh my god, am I finally having a stroke?”

The three restaurateurs look up to see their neon white logo of a bear’s head, flickering and occasionally buzzing out. Richie’s the first to speak, as they all blankly stare at it. “Who are we gonna call, f’this?”

If this was yesterday, or maybe even if this was an hour ago, it wouldn’t be a question as to who they’d call. Carmen scratches the back of his head, the flaking hair gel is getting itchy. “Ted?”

“Who’s Ted?” Asks Syd; that’s not Tony, Terry or Tommy.

“Ted Fak.” Richie and Carmen answer at once, she almost gasps. 

“They’re multiplying?”

Richie rolls back into his memory. “There’s eight— No, fuck, nine of them— I always forget Avery.”

Sydney just nods and hugs her shoulders for warmth. They all keep staring at the flickering bear, like moths.

“I don’t—I don’t have anyone, except her, y’know?” Syd sniffs. “Like after my dad, it’s— it’s literally just her. She’s my best and only friend.”

Carmen presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, “Heard.” 

“I don’t want to choose between her and my career.” Carmen thinks she’s pausing, so he waits, but she’s not talking. That was the end of the sentence.

“Heard.”

“If that’s what getting a star takes, I don’t want it.” That’s huge. That’s a big statement, from Syd of all people. That gets the men to turn their heads from the light to her.

Syd continues to stare at the flickering bear, which lights up the two single straight streams of tears perfectly. It’s silent. She’s not snivelling or anything, she just shakes her head in tight swivels, biting her inner cheek. “It’s just— it’s just not worth that.”

“How can I fix it?” Maybe Syd will have a better answer than Richie did, something a little more actionable. She finally flits her gaze from the light down to Carmen, where he sits. 

“Can you stay after close?”

“—Nobody in this motherfucking city knows transit etiquette— Why does everyone get on and go ‘wow I love standing in the walkway’— I’m so— There was so much seating just ahead of the blockage, Mikey, I’m so pressed, I’m literally—” You massage your brows, finishing up your rant from this morning’s commute. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“If you weren’t a little passenger princess, this wouldn’t be a problem, Chippy.” “I have my fucking license! I just don’t have a car!” “Then buy one!” “With who’s money!?” “Mine?”

A terrible running joke, from Mikey, is telling you to spend his money— The money he gets from staying sober. The money he’s saving for The Bear. The reason why he thinks this is funny, is because you have no fucking idea where he’s been putting it. But you know he hasn’t spent it, so that’s all that really matters.

You just huff, leaning back against the wall of his office as you watch him work, arms crossed and cringing as he futzes with the wiring. “You’re going to light us up like a Roman fucking candle.”

“It’s Jewish lightning—” “Top twenty-thousand reasons we do not say that— Number One—” “It’s gonna work! Just trust me!”

Mikey’s office looks a lot more lively, lately. He never cleans up the mugs of coffee you give him, every morning. He says it’s his way of tracking which flavour is his favourite, since you’re always switching up. It will never change from the chai spiced blend, and you both know that. It’d be more accurate of him to say he likes the sticky notes you tack on to each mug, saying you love him and saying he needs to keep going.

“I could fix it, y’know.” At that, Mikey turns away from his distressing handiwork to look at you. 

“I know. But I wanna prove I can, too.” 

That hits you right in the chest. You want to tell Mikey that he never has to prove anything, with you; never has to lift a goddamn finger. But he would hate to hear that. “Okay.”

You hear from outside the office, the back door opening. “Child incoming, no expletives please!”

“What the fuck is an expletive?” Mikey asks you, whispering.

You whisper back, leaning forward off the wall to close in on him. “It’s what you just did.”

Eva runs in, the way that kids do— The way they kinda waddle. Immediately up to you and Mikey. Uncle Mike and Aunty Chip, she calls you both. Sometimes Uncle Jack— Because she hasn’t completely grasped the concept of gender yet— Good, no one should.

“Watch!” You have yet to even say hi, before she immediately attempts to do a cartwheel in the middle of this very small office. 

“Good job, Evie!” You clap, after she just barely lands safely on her shins.

She nods, “Can you do that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think I can.” You look up from her to Mikey. “Can you?”

“Can I cartwheel?” He stumbles back, slapping his hand over his chest. Gutted. “Can I cartwheel? Eve— She doesn’t think I can cartwheel.”

“Insane, Uncle.”

“Not what I said!” You can’t hold back your laughter, what a shining this kid has taken to her dad. “I’d love to see it, I really would!”

Mikey just shakes his head, kissing his teeth. How dare you offend his honour, in this way? This forty-two year old man can absolutely cartwheel with the best of them. In five minutes he definitely isn’t gonna eat shit in the dining room of his restaurant. He pats Eva on the shoulder. “You go with your dad and clear out some tables out front, I’m gonna need space.” 

“You’re gonna break your neck, Mike.” Richie chimes in, standing in the doorway now, waiting for Eva to return to him. “I don’t wanna plan your funeral.”

“Please, you would plan a terrible funeral.” “That’s bull—”

“Expletive!” You cover Eva’s ears. She just laughs, looking up at you with that cute and bizarre blank kid stare. What a little patoot. 

Richie looks to you, forgetting the bit for a moment, “Y'need a grocery run, tonight?”

You nod, removing your hands from Eva, but then she holds them there. Goddamnit, kids are an awful idea but she's fucking cute. “Pay you gas money in the form of Wendy's?”

“Marone!” Richie exclaims, poorly, grabbing your face by the chin and top of your head to kiss your cheek just short of a million times. “The perfect woman—”

“Not Italian!” is the synchronous reply from you and Mikey.

Richie rolls his eyes, “Not Italian— Fu—”

Eva interrupts him, taking as much as a shining to you as she does her father. “Exp—Expultive!” She looks at you for approval and you nod in delight.

“Just go set up front, would ‘ya?” Mikey brushes Rich off, the man just rolls his eyes, picking up his daughter from you to fly her off like an airplane. 

“Let's set the stage for your Uncle’s neck injury, sweets. Bwwwwrrr—” Richie makes good airplane noises. Richie’s a good dad. You will never find a good time to tell him this. You watch Mikey’s back flex, as he cracks back into the hole of wires in the wall. He's been working hard on a lot of little things lately. 

You will not realize he is trying to make things clean and square, until it is too late. Right now, you’re just happy, because, “You’re already at three weeks again, and you haven’t even noticed.”

“Oh, I fucking noticed.” He doesn’t face you, when he says it, but it’s with a hearty chuckle. He’s noticed it violently, he’s just getting very good at the first month, now— Well acquainted with the burn out. “But now there’s money on the line, I can’t lose.” 

It’s not that money’s on the line. It’s that his brother is on the line now. And Mikey couldn’t do this for himself— but the guy could do it for his brother. So he’ll just be the guy, that’s what the guy’s do. Six hours, same team. Nine weeks, Mikey, come on.

“Well you’re doing good, I’m proud of you.” 

“You believe in me?” He says it like he doubts your conviction. You nearly punch him in the back of the head.

“Of course I believe in you.”

Mikey bites his inner cheek, though you can’t see his face. “...Why are we keeping the candles?”

Ah. You’ve still got the one and two candles in his drawer with a lighter, ready for the next cupcake. They’re slowly but surely melting with each reset, eventually they’ll be incomprehensible. Do you believe in me? If you do, why are you saving them? Do you think we’ll need them? That’s what Mikey’s asking. You scoff. 

“You’re so stupid.” “What the— I confide in you and I get this—”

You interrupt him, arms crossed. “One day, one week, one month, one year, fuckin— When we get to double digits? Ten months? One decade?”

He’s mum, at that. You add. “We’re getting our fucking mileage out of these candles, Mikey. I believe in you.” You think Mikey has a future, still. Mikey knows he doesn’t. He changes the subject because if he doesn’t, he’ll tell you everything and you will stop it.

“I want you to start talking to Carmen, when he comes back.” You should’ve asked Mikey why he was so certain Carmen would be coming back. But you weren’t smart enough. 

“What the fuck?” You snort. “Okay, out of literally nowhere—” “You’d like him.”

“He sounds very nice.” “He’s not. He’s a—” “Ball buster, yes, you’ve told me.” “He’d like you.” “Why?” “Cause you’re you.”

“Wow, pretty inarguable there.” You can only smile, unable to see the wheels turn in Michael’s head. “Guess we’ll be besties.”

“I meant talk like talk—” “Are you trying to hook me up right now?” “He’s a virgin, so it’s definitely not a good deal for you—” “And— And why are we talking about your brother's sex life— Did we already explode and this is hell?” “I just want you to be prepared for what you’re getting into, he gets performance anxiety so—” “Mikey!”

“You’ll talk to him?” Mikey turns away from the wall, wanting you to look him in the eyes and promise him.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but stick a hand out for the Berzatto to shake. “Yes, Bear, I’ll talk to your virgin Michelin star ranked brother.”

“Thank you! I ask for so little.”

After close, after everyone but Carmen, Sydney, and Richie leave, the three make plans to meet in Michael’s office. Carmen will go in ahead to hide your folder because he doesn’t want to see it himself and he absolutely doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Even if one of them could very well explain it, because he’s fucking in them. It’s fine. He looks at your wrapped up painting in the corner of his office. Carmen considers for what feels like a decade, whether or not he should open it. But he hasn’t earned a gift from you, so he doesn’t— Not for now, at least. He hasn’t earned your art right now. 

Underneath your ICE folder is his notepad— The one he was scribbling recipes for his Exec into, the one he scribbled your recipe into, and underneath all that torn up paper— His list, from this morning. The non-negotiable rules he wanted— Wants? To add to The Bear. There’s twenty-seven. Half of them are spelt wrong as he wrote them while absolutely losing his shit, this morning. This list did not go over well, when it was proposed during family, at two in the afternoon. Some of these could still work though, right? At least the technique and the boxes and the—

Richie comes in, not knocking, and immediately spots the list. “Oh good.” He grabs the notepad and rips off the twenty seven points. Leaving only the title, NON-NEGOTIABLES. 

“Come the fuck on—” Says Carmen. Richie rolls his eyes, tossing the list onto the desk. Richie can tear him and his stupid fucking list a new one another time— Richie and Carmen can sort out their own part of the fight in a week, when they take a twelve hour road trip. Right now though, they are both completely focused on you. 

Sydney comes in with two labelled deli containers of coke. Time codes and everything, she can't turn it off. She hands one to Rich, the other one is for herself. That’s fine, soda on Carmen’s shredded throat really wouldn’t be great right now anyways. She takes a sip, looking over Carm's shoulder. “Oh, we’re doing a real list, now?”

Carmen just sighs, letting the dig go, because he deserves it. He clicks his pen, sitting down, ready to write, without hesitation. “Go.”

Richie leads, “You need to fucking relax.”

“Lay off her,” Sydney waves her hand over her neck. “Leave her the fuck alone, for like a week, minimum.” 

“No— What? No— You should call her like now—” “Absolutely not the right move—” “Solve it hard and fast—” “Why hard—?”

“I’m just gonna wait.” Carmen decides, typically Syd is the right one, anyways. Plus if he hears your voice right now he might throw up and he doesn’t have your tums, anymore. “Next?”

“An exorcism.” Richie doesn’t laugh, when he says it. “Also read fuckin’ Runnin’ on Empty— By Doctor Webb.”

The two cooks just look at him, like Richie’s grown five thousand heads. He groans before they even say anything. “I’m fuckin’ well read, shut the fuck up— It’s—” He snaps his fingers, pointing to Carmen’s list, “It’s an audiobook, too, on fuckin’ Spotify— Listen to that shit on your commute you have no excuse.”

“Yes, Chef.” Carmen writes it down, he also writes down under things to look into, catastrophizing, while he’s at it. Richie watches over his shoulder, and adds, “Look into sublimation and behavourial dysfunction.” 

Syd’s still reeling over the sudden character growth. “You need to relax with the self-help books.”

“Yeah, well you need to read Mark Wolynn’s ‘It Didn’t Start With You.’” Richie’s got lists of books now, instead of zingers. They somehow hit harder.

She’s got no come back for that other than a surprised pout and nod, taking her own phone out to write it down. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmen pipes in, not looking up from his list of to dos “Should I also read that one—” “Yes.” “Heard, Chef. Next?”

“It cannot be on Tony to be your fucking punching bag. If you’re tweaking— Keep that shit between you and your therapist—” Syd switches from her notes app to search, “We’re finding you a fuckin’ therapist.”

“Is that covered in our contract?” Didn’t he write it? Carmen doesn’t know.

“Doesn’t matter. Also I don’t know, but doesn’t matter.” Syd hasn’t read it yet. She also doesn’t know.

You are worth a couple out of pocket fees. Well, more importantly, Carmen is worth a couple out of pocket fees— Well, alright, he’ll discuss his weaknesses of self-prioritization with the therapist. 

Before Carmen can even say next, Richie adds. “Also you smell like shit.” The hair gel is pungent in a bad way.

And before he can defend himself, Sydney adds, not looking up from her phone, “We’re going to fuckin’ Kohl’s after this and we’re getting you a skincare— And haircare— routine. You’re seconds away from breaking out, I bet you use fuckin’ Palmolive dish soap.”

“Well— I’ve been using Tony’s, actually—” “We know.” It’s a completely synchronized interruption. 

“It’s been her signature scent, since highschool.” “Who do you think took her grocery shopping when she didn’t have a car?” “I thought I was having a flashback everytime you walked by in the kitchen, this past week.” “You should go back to it.”

“I know. I will.” He’s got every intention of re-upping on your shampoo and conditioner, when he’s taken on a shopping spree to get his shit together. Hopefully you won’t mind him copying you. “No more Five in One.”

“You’ve been using fucking five in one!?”

Carmen thought, yesterday, naively, that he would do right by you on Friday. He didn’t, he did the very opposite— But even if he did, that’s weak shit. Carmen’s not gonna do right by you for just one single fucking day. Carmen’s gonna do right by you, for the rest of his life. The three get to well over twenty seven points, and he has every intention of showing up to it. He’s gonna be your man, and he’s going to fucking earn that title. He’s going to prove it.

“Okay. So can you tell me what happened on February 22nd?” She’s a shit therapist. You’re imagining both you and her dead in your head. You’ve been imagining a lot of people dead in your head, for the last two weeks. Every time your dad comes to check on you, you imagine that he’s a ghost. 

You imagine having a passing conversation with someone, maybe catching up with Syd, one day. And she’ll ask you ‘Meet any interesting people?’ and you’ll say ‘Yeah. But he killed himself.’ That’s gonna suck. You didn’t prepare for that one. So you need to prepare now. Look at all of your friends and family, and imagine they are dead— And introduce them as such. ‘That’s my friend Richie, he died.’ Make it hurt now, so it doesn’t hurt then. 

You didn’t prepare enough. Didn’t do enough. Countless little mistakes and moments you missed. The therapist is looking at you, oh right, it’s your turn to talk again. You’ve told her all these cute little stories but now she wants to hear how the sad shit went. Or maybe it was all sad shit. Maybe it’s all coated in a film of grief, now. 

You’ll tell her that Mikey was very thorough, with his plan that you didn’t know about. He waited until he thought you were out of the city— When he knew you’d be out of the city. When your sister in law delivered your nephew and you went to Oak Park to visit. 

Just days before, you celebrated three months of sobriety with him and Richie— You’ll tell the therapist, excitedly, that this was his longest streak so far, it took him a year to reach three months— It was a big fucking deal. You were beaming all day. You didn’t realize, however, that days after Uncle Jimmy had made his deal with you two, that Mikey did the math. Figured out exactly how many weeks he’d have to be sober, to get three-hundred grand. 

Thirty weeks. Roughly seven months and two weeks. He did it. Not in sequence, but he did it. You’re still not sure where that money is. Uncle isn’t either. Maybe Carmen will figure it out. It’s meant for him anyways. You’ll say that Carmen will figure it out in such a way that she asks— “And do you hold animosity? Towards his younger brother?”

You look at her like she’s a psycho, because she is. Replying incredulously, “I don’t fucking know him.”

‘My best friend Michael is dead.’ ‘My best friend, Mikey, is dead.’ Doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. 

“Do you wish you did?”

“I really couldn’t say I give a shit, ma’am. Can I tell you about the guy I did know, though?”

She nods, you roll the fuck on. You tell her that the morning after you got to your brother’s place— February 22nd, you all decided instead of staying for the week, as you’d planned, as Mikey planned, you’d instead go home early. Because as much as you wanted to be helpful, having more people in the house was stressing the new mom the fuck out. Understandable. So you took a train back to Chicago early. 

You got home, and you found that you’d gotten some mail, waiting for you on the floor, shoved through the mail slot of your door. Bill, bill, invoice, spam, coupons, handwritten envelope— Ah. Mikey’s handwriting. A deep unsettling feeling burrowed its way into you. It just says For Chip. There’s no letter inside. No. There’s a debit card, his, of your joint bank account, there’s a key, yours, a copy of your key to this apartment, and a necklace, his— With his three month sobriety chip hanging off of it. 

You call him, immediately. He doesn’t answer the first time. You call him again. He answers on the last possible ring. 

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call with an old friend.

“Yo, Ice-y!” A classic nickname, reserved purely for phone calls with Mikey. Because in his phone, you’re 0ICEChip, so you’ll show up at the top of his contact list, if he’s ever found unresponsive. Typically a pro-tip reserved for those in hospice care.

You don’t entertain him. “Where are you?”

“I’m just out for a walk, sweetheart.” “Shut the fuck up out for a walk— Where the fuck are you?”

He hums at your snarky tone. “Nephew didn’t take a liking to you?” “I came home early.”

The silence is long, and you can hear the heavy wind coming through his phone. He’s outside. He’s somewhere outside. It’s a cold night. It’s usually not this cold at the end of February, but it really fucking came down, this morning. 

“Oh.”

“Why did you leave this shit at my door? Where are you?” You thought of 0ICE but you didn’t think to have him turn his location on? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot. You didn’t do enough. ‘My friend, Bear, is dead.’ You didn’t prepare enough. “Bear, c’mon, what’s going on? I told you, if we need to reset, it’s two steps forward, one step back, it’s okay—”

“It’s not.” “It is! We will get there!” “I’m not. You’re gonna get there, I’m not.” “That’s not true!” “I love you but we both know this was a pipe dream.”

“Mikey—”

“Chip, I’m not going anywhere. You’re— You’re fucking going somewhere. I can’t— I can’t let— We both know where I’m going and it’s nowhere you should begin to be.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me. You don’t get to make that call. I decide what I bet on— Mikey, where are you?” You’re walking out of your place, you hadn’t even closed the door before leaving again.

Fucking idiot, you should’ve bought a car. How are you supposed to get to him on foot and train? Fucking idiot. The snow is beating down, the wind is cutting into your face. ‘My best friend died on February 22nd. On the State Street Bridge.’— Why didn’t you get a fucking car? You didn’t do enough. You can’t remember any of your training, right now. What are you supposed to say? “Are you using?”

“No. No. I’m— This is me, Chip.” “No it’s fucking not, Mikey! Shut the fuck up, where are you!?”

“I love you, I didn’t want this to be— I-I—I’m not killing myself, Chip.”

“You’re not?”

You shouldn’t have believed him. You should’ve just kept walking. You would’ve figured out where he was, eventually. You should’ve called the coast guard, or some shit. Should’ve just figured it out.

“I’m not. I’m— I’m okay, I’m really just going for a walk— I-I just— I had a… I— I don’t want you to be my sponsor anymore. That’s it.” It made sense. He didn't want you to feel hurt, so he was hesitant. It made sense.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re a kid, and I can’t make you responsible for what I do.”

“I’m not a kid.” “To me, you are.” “Then we’ll find you someone else.” “Yeah, okay.”

You pause, for a good bit, listening to the shakiness of his breath. “You’re cold, Mikey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re just cold.” That’s all that’s wrong. He’s just cold and he doesn't want you to be his sponsor anymore. “Go inside, soon. Come home.”

“I will.”

Mikey always had that way of making you think everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t. “Okay.”

“I want you to start treating our joint like an advanced payment, by the way. A million things are always fucking breaking at The Beef, there’s no point in wiring all the time.”

Mikey wants this to be clean and square, too. Because he couldn’t figure out the wiring by himself— He needs to make sure his baby brother is taken care of, he needs to make sure his restaurant is taken care of, he needs to make sure that you have something to do because Michael fucking saw you. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nod to no one. “I think your toilets fucked, speaking of.” You laugh, everything’s okay. There’s a long silence, and you think he’s hung up. 

“Good. Okay— You should— You should come fix it, sometime soon… Love you, Chip.”

“Love you, Bear.”

You will tell your therapist that after that phone call, you went back inside, cleaned yourself up, unpacked unused toiletries, changed out of your borrowed brother’s sweats into your nice pajamas, because Mikey said he would come home. He said he would come home and you believed him because he never lied to you before. You set up the things he left for you in your handmade clay dish tray; so he can take them back. Just because you’re not his sponsor, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his chips. 

You will tell your therapist that you fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Michael. You will tell her you woke up to a phone call from Richie, and all he said, wavering, was, “You should come over.” Richie doesn’t ask things. Richie will always say, come over. You don’t know why that’s the signal you get, since you seemingly must have missed so many other obvious signs, but you know then that your— Your— Your best— Fuck, the knots are fucking debilitating, fuck fuck fuck. 

You will not come over. You will walk, in the cold, to your dad’s place. You will not bring anything with you. You will stay there and rot for two weeks, as will everything in your apartment. He will force you to go to this several hour long therapy appointment because he can’t keep watching you do this, and you will resent the woman you are telling all this. 

You will continue to see her, for five more sessions, because the first six are covered under your insurance. She will help in a lot of ways, she will hurt in others.

Wells-Fargo will ask if you want to close your account. You don’t want to, but it’ll accrue monthly banking fees, so you take the money out and close it. You buy a shitty maroon 2004 Dodge Intrepid off Facebook Marketplace with the two and a half grand. It barely functions as a car. But it will drive. The next time someone needs you. You can drive. Next time you’ll think of everything, next time you won’t fail.

You stop paying the phone bill, for your business line. It goes defunct. You just don’t think you should be trusted to be helpful, for the next little while. You will blame your father for this, when people ask about it.

On the day of his funeral, you will go. You will go, and you will sit on the curb across from the church, and you will not go inside. It's just not possible. You will buy a pork chop-cheese sandwich from a bodega nearby and you will eat it on that curb and it’s only then, after shoving it down for so long, that you will scream and cry.

You will leave before anyone sees you, and you will go to State Street Bridge, and you will set up a small vigil. You will finnick with the candles and the flowers until you feel they are perfect. They will never get perfect. You just don’t want to leave. You have a tendency to do that. 

You will stare at the little stuffed bear, the roses, the picture frame of him, and you will finally say it aloud. 

“My best friend, Mikey, died.”

When Carmen shows up, two hours later, not honestly that long after you finally left, he will add a bouquet and a prayer candle. He will readjust all of your work, to his preference, and then readjust it again and again and again— and he will finally say it aloud. 

“My brother, Mikey, shot himself.”

No matter how you say it, it won’t roll off the tongue.

And about thirty-nine weeks from that day, you will be in New York, at a wedding, talking with the virgin Michelin star ranked brother, as you promised.

You will have abandoned your bar after making confessions under the counter, and have instead co-opted the single stall gender-neutral bathroom to have ample time and space to tell each other everything you’ve told your therapists. Even now, neither of you can get the words to roll off the tongue. 

But Carmen manages to make “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry— I will never be able to surmise, how sorry—” roll off well enough. Alas, he’s interrupted, by a knock on the gender-neutral bathroom door, made by the only fuckers that knows you two are in here. 

“Guys I— Guys I don’t know how to run bar, and I don’t think I should’ve been trusted, with this.”

Carmen will not look away from your bleary-eyed face, he will not break his focus even when you laugh at the sudden tension break. He will just tell the Faks to fuck off and figure it out.

“I’m gonna fix it.” Carmen will tell you, and you will nod and say, “I will too.”

Because it’s not just on one of you, anymore. It can be both. The shared burden. The shared grief. No more fucking shoes, because it's all out now.

It’s not negotiable.

I love when tumblr drafts fully start to lag and my macbook lights on fire because the post is too fucking long. I have so much to say about this chapter but I think I will just make a separate post entirely about this. Because I’m. I’m really proud tbh not to toot my own horn but I think I kind of maybe a little bit ate with this one. 

Fun fact, that you may or may not believe: The Carmen scenes? Not planned. Fully did not plan to do any of that. This was going to be entirely Mikey flashbacks, originally— There might’ve ended up being more honestly, if I didn’t add Carmen, but after Something to Do when I started writing I was like,,, these cats aren’t cooking, Carmen’s side is missing a second beat before the third. And so, here it is. 

I know everyone was expecting a depression week for Carmen— And to be fair, I also kind of was. But I then thought, nah. They’d done too much work, and I don’t think Rich/Syd would allow him to wallow. Like get your shit together, not for you, for her. Ugh. 

Speaking of Rich and Syd— FUCK man my heart. The way their scenes from the past and present meshed together in such a deeply painful way I’m sooo SICK WITH IT!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!! Just fuckin— The way Tony was too scared to reach out to Syd but it’s SO FUCKING OBVIOUS that Syd was on the other side of Chicago thinking the exact same shit i’m SO SICK!!!!! I’M HACKING UP A LUNG HERE!!

Anyways it’s my birthday send me well wishes and an essay on what you thought I’d love to hear it. I know this was a tough one. Thank you for getting through it with me lmao. Tag list! Hope I didn’t forget anyone, pwease note i ownwee add pweople who swend theiw twoughts— It also may or may not hurt my feelings when people don’t read this text at the bottom. It might. It might a lot.

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

Next Part

[carmenberzattosgf]

if you’re a little insecure about your moans/how you sound during sex in general—carmen would (jokingly) take it as a personal attack. “i uh, i like your voice :(” does his best to encourage you in a way that doesn’t embarrass you or make you shy

“that’s a nice noise baby” “say please? just once baby, that’s all” “but you sound so pretty” “don’t cover your mouth, how ‘m i suppose to know im doin’ a good job?” -💫

Carmen loves to hear you during sex. It lets him know he’s making you feel good. He also just thinks your sounds are really fucking hot.

“You sound so pretty baby. So pretty. Love hearing those noises.”

When you moan out him name? He just wants to hear it over and over again.

“Say that again. Say my name again for me,” he murmurs as he starts to circle his thumb on your clit.

With that being said, if you ever mention being insecure about your sounds during sex, Carmy’s going to show you how much he likes your noises.

The next time he’s between your thighs, he’s asking you all kinds of things to get to hear you. “Do you like that? Yeah? That feel good?”

“Is that the spot? Come on, tell me. Is that where you need me?”

If he’s honest the real reason he makes you respond to his questions during sex is because he likes to hear your voice struggle to answer questions. The way your voice shakes as you beg for his touch does something to him.

“C-carmy please. I need more, please fuck.”

“You want my cock? Is that what my pretty girl wants?” You nod your head vigorously in response.

“Let me hear you then, baby. You gotta use your words and tell me what you want.” He’s already raised up from between your legs, holding his dick right up to your entrance.

“I-fuck. I need y-your cock, Carmy, please. Want you to fill me up.”

“That’s my good girl, using her words to tell me what she wants.” He plunges into you quickly, which makes you whine loudly as your grip Carmy’s back. “Feels so good, baby. I’m going to make sure every time you sit down tomorrow that you’re still aching from me.”

[h4m1lt0ns]

HEARTBREAK SYNDROME

episode four :: REMINDER.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴max verstappen x ex!y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔y/n was always right.

fc – wonyoung jang (aged up to 28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕none, more messy behaviour.

y/n

♡ liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and 10,284,958 others.

y/n show her these 🕷

2,294,103 comments.

username fell to my fucking knees.

francisca.cgomes 😩😩😩

francisa.cgomes one chance miss y/l/n

→ y/n u get all the chances you want

username YESSSSSSS OMFG 😍

username ABS MA’AM HELLO???

champagnepapi oh.

→ username ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

→ username HELLOOO ????

username this is my religion, amen. 🙏🏻

alexanderasaintmleux not looking respectfully 😮‍💨

→ y/n they’re for ur eyes only bbg 🤭

→ charles_leclerc the grip YOU have on MY girlfriend is crazy

→ pierregasly i think we can all agree with that

username HOOOOOLYYYYYYYY

→ carmenmmundt what you said 🗣

→ username OMFGGGFIDKSKSK

username what god do i have to pray to 🧎🏽‍♀️

bellahadid pretty pretty girl 😍

username i folded like a pretzel

thv 😍😍😍

→ username WOAHHHHHHH.

→ username tae just like me fr

→ username OHMYNGOD

username ONE CHANCEEEE PLSSSSS

lakeithsteinfield wow.

→ username WHATS GOING AWNNN

→ username ain’t noooooo way.

→ username BRO.

miumiu 💐💐💐

username if i was max i’d be begging and crying for her to take me back

→ username i’d lick the ground she walks on

username MA’AM.

username I’m.

username GAGGED THE GWORLS

username max is probably screaming at his phone rn

username she’s an icon, she a legend and she is the moment 😩

username max probably wants to die

username sHOW HER THESE

→ username I KNOWWWWWW

→ username 4+4

→ username DEVOURED

→ username head spun.

username the only girl to ever.

☆ IMESSAGE with ; BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

babygirl alex: OMFGGGJDISKQW

babygirl alex: THE PHOTOS Y/N POSTED ???

y/n: omg alex stop 🤭

y/n: are we gonna kiss rn

girlfriend kika: I KNOWWWWWWW

wifey lily: MOTHERRRRRR

y/n: PLSSSS

angel carmen: we are NOT worthy.

angel carmen: LIKE

angel carmen: one chance pls 🧎🏻‍♀️

y/n: YOU GET ANYTHING U WANT

CARMEN 😍‼️

wifey lily: i might propose actually

y/n: I SAY YES 💍‼️

girlfriend kika: i audibly gasped

y/n: do i make u nervous babygirl 🤭

babygirl alex: i sat there staring at my phone for an hour

PIERRE GASLYYYY: i sometimes wonder who’s dating who

alabono: i been saying like ??

chal eclair: no bc how does y/n make them react like this 😀

princess george: i’ve never posted a photo and gotten this reaction out of carmen

my baby lando: y/n’s just that bitch

my baby lando: like she’s so iconic let’s be real

honey badger: she’s an icon, she’s a legend and she is the moment.

honey badger: she’s everything and we’re just existing in her world

honey badger: she’s mother

honey badger: she’s cunt

babygirl alex: daniel gets it

wifey lily: daniel >>>>

girlfriend kika: holyshit is danny a bigger stan than me 😟

angel carmen: daniel 🔛🔝

chili!: y/n is just very slay in general

y/n: omfg 😭

y/n: you’re actually my favourite people

i love you so much ???

y/n: danny, carlos and lando 🔛🔝 frfr

y/n: wait

y/n: do the french mfs think i’m not slay 🤨

alabono: not me y/n i stan and stream on a daily basis 😁🙏🏻

PIERRE GASLYYYY: i just want my gf back 😭

chal eclair: me too 😭

chal eclair: wait i’m not french >:(

babygirl alex: if y/n says you’re french, then you are french. you become french even if you’re not french. figure that shit out 🤷🏻‍♀️

chal eclair: 😟

wifey lily: what she said 🗣

chal eclair: my own gf ?????

y/n: she’s my gf now 👹

kellypiquet added to their story!

kellypiquet

♡ liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, and others.

kellypiquet two years with you 💕

tagged: maxverstappen1

comments on this post have been turned off.

[thebearer]

baby blues |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: two blue lines change all your plans, and carmen doesn't take it well. or how you tell carmen you're pregnant.

read the entire dad!carmen berzatto masterlist here!

contains: language, pregnancy, angst, carmen's an asshole, alludes to past parent trauma, hurt/comfort.

"Shit."

The hiss of your tone bounced off the green tiles of your bathroom, an eerie echo that rang dully through your mind. A reminder that this was all too real, happening right now in front of you- to you.

After weeks of what you thought was a stomach bug- retching at almost anything, exhaustion, aches- you had come to realize it might not just be a virus when you looked at the unopened box of tampons under the sink.

You were late.

A frantic trip to Walgreens, an hour of avoidance out of pure fear, three glasses of water, and two tests later; you were here. Looking at the two mocking blue lines on both tests. You were pregnant.

You called your best friend, Alicia, unsure of who else to confide in. Scared, emotional, overwhelmed, you sobbed into the phone, hand holding your head on the edge of the bed. "Carmen is gonna lose his shit."

"Carmen is not gonna lose his shit." Alicia soothed over your heaving gasps. "He will be fine. You both will be fine. You're married. What's the issue?"

You shook your head, swiping your thumb under your eyes. "You don't... Carmen and I haven't, like, ever really talked about kids." You muttered. It was mostly true. You hadn't really, other than euphoric pillow talk ramblings where you both were just bubbly with love, spilling shared wishes under sheets.

"I thought you said you wanted kids?"

"Yeah, but not now." You sobbed into the phone. "I don't... I don't think I'm ready to be a mom. I'm not gonna be good at that. I don't-I don't know anything about kids! And-And I can barely cook, and- Alicia, I couldn't keep our cactus alive! I killed our fucking cactus, and you think I'm ready for a kid?"

Alicia laughed lightly on the other end. "Ok, true, but you won't kill your kid. You'll be much more attached to it than the cactus." She countered easily, calmly. "And you'll be a good mom, babe. I know you'll be. And Carmen knows too. You know he does. Call your OBGYN and get an appointment. Make sure this is legit and get your vitamins and let me know what you need from me."

Two days later, you were laid on the cool paper at the doctor's office, eyes wide watching her drag the wand over your tummy. Seven weeks. The ultrasound clutched in your hand had an arrow where the baby was, it was still so small. A blip, a splotch right on your plans.

You decided to tell Carmen that night. He knew something was off with you, starting to get more and more suspicious. It was only a matter of time.

"Hey, baby." You grinned as excited as you could when he came home.

"Hey," Carmen chirped, grinning back at you when you kissed him sweetly, a little longer than usual, not that he minded. "How are you doin', baby? Good day?"

"Yeah, it was." You quipped, throat tightening, desperately trying to keep your voice from cracking. "I, uh, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Carmen's brows lifted, dropping his bag by the door. "What kinda surprise, huh? Somethin' under this?" He teased, hand sliding up your shorts, palming at your ass and making you squirm.

You couldn't help the fleeting thought that he wouldn't be able to do that for long. Not when a baby was in the house. Your throat burned with tears at the thought.

"No." You shook your head. "Just... Here, sit right here for me and I'll be right back." You kissed his cheek sweetly, running to the spare bedroom for the ultrasound. You wondered if this would be the baby's nursery. Or maybe upstairs in the makeshift workout room Carmen used. It felt odd planning this type of thing, thinking about this.

Your hands were sweaty, trying not to wrinkle the printed photo. It was your first after all. The first picture of many. Ones you secretly hoped would line the walls of your house. Pictures of the baby, with you and Carmen.

You hoped Carmen would be in them.

That horrid thought always made it's way back into your mind, rattling you to your core.

"Close your eyes." You tried to sing-song, playful and light like you usually would. The kind of tone that was silly, left Carmen grinning and doing what you said. Instead, it sounded tired.

Carmen still covered his eyes anyways. You took a soft breath, placing the photo in front of him. "Ok, y-you can open." You whispered.

Carmen's brow lifted, looking at you carefully before down at the table. He stilled, face unmoving, body halted, eyes zoned in on the ultrasound.

"Wh-What-What is this?" Carmen's tone was hushed, tight, like his chest felt. He was sure this wasn't what he thought it was. It couldn't be.

"I, um, you know I-I've been feeling not great." You started, wringing your hands in front of him. "And I... I haven't had my period in a while, so I went to the store and... and I got a test, and it was..." You motioned down to the ultrasound. "I'm pregnant, Carmen."

The house was still. That same eerie stillness creeping back in, looming over both of you in such a sickening way, it had your stomach twisting.

Carmen blinked, shaky hands picking up the ultrasound, refusing to look at you. "Oh."

"Oh?" You repeated. "Carmen, I-I said I'm pregnant."

"No, no, I, uh, yeah, I-I heard you." Carmen nodded, leg bouncing under the table. "I just... I thought you were on birth control."

"Carmen, what?" You snapped. "I am."

"Then-Then how the fuck-"

"-Oh, don't you fuckin' dare, Berzatto." You hissed, rolling your eyes at him, snatching the ultrasound off the table.

"I'm not fuckin' blaming you, but-but how?" Carmen could feel his heart rate rising, ears ringing and head spinning with that old, familiar feeling of a panic attack coming on.

"How?" You gawked at him. "Carmen, it's not, like, a one-hundred percent guarantee, and-and... Come on, Carmen, we've been fucking a lot lately."

"I don't..." Carmen stopped himself, his hand rubbing over his eyes. Your heart skipped, chest aching with fear when you looked at him. Carmen pushed his chair out, standing and pacing around the kitchen, hands on his hips, lips in a thin line. "I-I need to think. Fuck, I need to think, just-just..."

You tracked him, your own heart hammering loud in your ears. Carmen snatched his cigarettes, hands shaking when he turned them over in his hands slowly. You could practically hear his thoughts, when the baby is here, he can't smoke anymore.

"I need a fuckin' second, ok? I need to fuckin' think!" Carmen boomed, voice thundering off the walls, making you jump. Carmen snatched his lighter and Spirits, stomping out the front door, the slam of the door the last thing you heard before the house settled and stilled again. Your worst possible scenario played out in front of you, becoming a reality too.

You were alone.

"Cousin, can I ask you, what the fuck your fuckin' problem is?" Richie grit, sliding beside Carmen. "The fuck are you being such a jagoff about, right now?"

"I'm being a jagoff?" Carmen snapped, slamming the knife down. His eyes were wild, hair even wilder. Curls matted and sticking out like they did when Carmen was stressed, when he'd ran his hands through them too much.

"Yeah, you're bein' a fuckin' jagoff." Richie countered, voice raising over Carmen's. "You look like shit, you smell like shit, and you're treatin' everyone here like fuckin' shit. So what's the fuckin' issue?"

"Fuck you, Richie, alright? Fuck you. Get the fuck outta my fuckin' face!" Carmen roared, the vein in his neck protruding when he did, sending the few chefs still in the kitchen retreating before they were screamed at next.

"Y'know why don't you just fuckin' calm down? Makin' everyone here fuckin' miserable with your bad attitude. No wonder-" Richie stopped, eyes flicking down to Carmen. His shoulders dropped, sighing heavy at his own revelation. "What'd you do?"

"What? What did I... Fuck off, I'm not in the-"

"-Nah, Cousin. What did you do?" Richie shook his head. "Why's she not here today, huh?"

"I'm right here." Natalie muttered, turning the corner, balancing two cups and a large work bag. "I had to take Chelle to Pete's office so he can take her to dance, and traffic was..." Natalie laughed cynically, shaking her head.

Carmen felt his stomach twist, jaw tightening. That would be you two before you knew it. All over the place, late to shit because of the kid. Just like Sugar and fucking Pete. That made him Pete.

"Not you, but I'm glad to see you. How are you?" Richie muttered, pressing a chaste kiss to Sugar's cheek. "Carmen fucked up."

"I did not-"

"-You fucked up? On what, bear?" Natalie blinked, frowning lightly. "Oh, before I forget, where's my favorite sister in law? I have her-" Richie gave her a pointed look. Sugar stopped, face falling in realization. "Oh, that's... Carm, what did you do?"

"Can you two just fuck off? Fuck!" Carmen roared, kicking a pot under the table.

"Wow, anger issues much?" Sugar rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "Is this what you did? Is that why she isn't here?"

"No, Natalie, you're pissin' me the fuck off-"

"Alright!" Richie clapped his hands, cutting them both off. "Family meeting. Ok? Meeting time. Right now."

"I don't have time-" Carmen started, Richie just clapping his hands on his shoulders, shoving him away from the table.

"Natalie, family meeting." Richie waved her in.

"Family meeting?" Fak turned the corner, eyes lit up hopefully.

"Not with you, you fuckin'..." Richie huffed, shaking his head. "Me, Nat, and Carm are having a meeting. Do your jobs, ok? Don't bother us, just... handle it, alright? Thank you. Every second counts and all that bullshit." Richie nodded towards the staff, shutting Carmen's office door behind him.

"Carm, you... Are you ok?" Natalie winced, looking at her younger brother.

Carmen ran his hands over his eyes, slumped in his desk chair, knees bouncing nervously. His breaths labored and ragged in his hands. Richie's eyes cut to Natalie's.

"Cousin," Richie's voice was softer this time. "What is goin' on?"

Carmen took a shaky breath in, Richie stilling at the sound of his emotions. "You... You were right. I fucked up." Carmen muttered. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad." Carmen's voice was tight, thick with tears he was trying to choke back.

Natalie stepped forward slowly. "Carmen, what did you do?" She said as calmly as she could. "Just-Just tell us, and we'll... we'll try and help you."

"Did you cheat on her?" Richie asked, brows furrowed in disgust.

"No, what? Why the... No, no, no, I-I..." Carmen leaned back in the chair, hands knotted in his hair. "She's pregnant."

Richie and Natalie paused, both sighing slightly in relief. "Oh my God, that's great!"

"Yeah, I mean, Cousin, I thought you... I'm glad you didn't, but that's great!"

"Aw, is that why she's been sick? Poor thing. I knew it! You know Pete said that, and I-" Natalie started, Carmen's sudden jerk of his body, sitting in the chair with frantic eyes stopped her.

"I don't know!" Carmen blurted, shaking his head, refusing to look at them. At their furrowed brows of concern. He couldn't face them. Tell them what he'd done.

"You don't know?" Sugar frowned in confusion. "You don't know if she's pregnant?"

"I-I..." Carmen felt his chest tightening, burning with that familiar ache. He tried to breathe in, slow and long, counting back from ten like his therapist told him, but his chest still ached. "I left."

The room filled with that same eerie silence, the one that seemed to be following him around lately. The one that crept into the room when you showed him the ultrasound, the same one that followed him into the restaurant last night.

"You left?"

"You fuckin' what?"

Natalie and Richie gawked, eyes wide and frantic, looking down at Carmen.

"Cousin... What the fuck? You don't... Holy shit." Richie muttered, shaking his head.

"Carmen, have you lost your mind?" Natalie snapped. She was angry- no, furious. "You left your wife? You left your pregnant wife?"

"Yes, fuck, yes, I just... I needed to fuckin' think!" Carmen threw his hands out. "I can't think! She just... We weren't planning it and-and then... I just needed to think!"

"Then think at home! Or-Or with the person you're having a baby with, Carmen, Jesus!" Natalie roared back.

"Cousin, you... you fucked up." Richie said solemnly, nodding in agreement. "I mean, I've done a lot of shit. A lot, ok? Just ask Tiff. But I...I never fuckin' left."

"No, she just fuckin' left you, right? Tiff couldn't take you bein' an-"

"Hey, woah, take it fuckin' easy, Cousin. Watch it. This ain't about me." Richie snarled, finger jabbing in Carmen's direction. "I didn't fuck this up, ok? You did. This is your shit. We're just tryin' to fuckin' help you, so why don't you do all that de-escelatin' bullshit and take a fuckin' breath and relax."

Carmen's teeth ground tight, eyes flickering over to Natalie. "I'm with Richie on this." She snapped. "You did fuck up. Huge."

Carmen could feel the burn, rising in his throat. Was it fear? Vomit? Tears? Regret? All of the above?

"I know, I know, fuck, I know." Carmen muttered, falling back into the chair. "I just... I know, and-and now I don't know..." Carmen could feel his heart rate, waves of guilt and realization crashing over him, leaving him feeling sick.

Carmen stood quickly, hands tangled in his hair, pacing in the small area of the office. "Holy shit, she's gonna leave me. She-She's gonna leave me, and-and... Fuck! Why do I always do this? I always fuck up! Always! Like... What the fuck? Why-Why-"

"-Carmen." Sugar said slowly, hands on his shoulders, stopping him. "Hey, breathe. Breathe. Just... Just relax, ok?"

"No, no, no, I-I can't fuckin' relax. I-I got to-" Carmen rambled, his chest squeezing, burning.

"Carm, look, just... Just do the breathing thing. Listen to Natalie." Richie nodded towards Sugar. "And we'll get it handled, alright? We can't fix this until you calm the fuck down."

"Richie," Natalie hissed, rolling her eyes in irritation. "Carmen, breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. Innnnn and Out." She mimicked for him, slow pulls of air and soft exhales.

Carmen could hear you. Hear you in his head telling him to calm down, feel your hands on his cheeks, your soft praises and coos. His heart ached but it tricked his mind enough to listen, shaky rasps of air falling in and out until he was on sitting in the chair, knee bouncing with adrenaline.

Natalie shook her head lightly, looking over at Richie, then Carmen. "You need to go talk to her."

"I know. I know, Nat, but I got a dinner rush-"

"Carmen." Natalie sneered, in that tone. The tone she used usually with her own kids. A tone of finality.

"I got it covered, Cousin, alright? I got it." Richie nodded, patting Carmen on his back. "Just... Go figure your shit out."

"Yeah." Natalie huffed, eyes narrowed at her younger brother. "You better bring that poor girl some flowers or something. Better make it up to her, Carmen, that is so gross of you."

Carmen nodded softly, grabbing his back pack, shedding his apron. "I-I'll have my phone on me-"

"-Go!" Richie and Natalie yelled in unison.

"I got it, Cousin." Richie shook his head.

"Yeah, and you have other things to worry about." Natalie snapped. "More important things, like your marriage, and your kid."

Carmen's heart skipped at that. It sounded weird, unnatural. His kid. Mind racing back to images of you with his niece and nephew. How Chelle took to you so naturally when you first met her, cradling her in your arms while Natalie scampered off for a shower. Carmen's heart swelled at the thought, how he had watched you, how good you were at it.

He knew you'd be a good mom. Had no doubt about that. That wasn't the issue. No, the problem was him.

Carmen Berzatto, who's family was the epitome of chaos, and who's genes this baby would have. Would the baby have your eyes and his crippling anxiety? His curls and his coping skills? Your nose and smile, and his family's addiction gene?

You would be the perfect mom. You were already so perfect in every way to Carmen. Too kind and forgiving and funny and sweet to him, he couldn't understand why you loved him sometimes. You would be good no matter what.

You'd be better without him.

His mind screamed it over and over. He couldn't shake the thought last night, sitting on the steps of your home, chain smoking through half a pack while his mind raced, horrible voices mocking and sneering at him, telling him he wasn't good enough; that he wouldn't be good enough. That you would be better off alone.

Then he was walking. Walking as fast as he could away from your home, back to the restaurant, where he could distract himself. Where he could trick his mind to focus on anything else other than you.

It didn't work, of course. It never did.

His mind still raced, all the way back to your home- his home. The home he shared with you. The place you bought for the future; your future together. A future that now, looked like it would be a little fuller.

You gripped the porcelain of the toilet seat, stomach lurching again, spilling the contents of- you didn't even know what. How there was anything left, you weren't sure.

Your nose burned with tears, head drumming with a dull ache, throat burning with the acidity flare of bile. And worst of all, the only person you wanted was Carmen.

You were furious, hurt, just... confused with him, but your body still ached for him. For him to come in, rub your back and coo at you. Settle you and calm you, like he always did.

The front door closed softly, the thud of the latch echoing through the all too still house. Anchovy chirped and trilled, Carmen's soft, raspy greeting back to him making your body jolt.

You stayed still, waiting and quiet with each muffled footstep of Carmen's, his sneakers falling closer and closer until the door opened gently. Your gaze on his, watching him with wide, red rimmed eyes from the bathroom floor. His own reflecting down on you, hand still gripping the door knob.

"You... You're still sick?" Carmen asked, awkward and unsure. He didn't know what to say, where to even begin.

"Yeah." You sneered, hand slapping on the knob, flushing the toilet. "Guess that'll be happening for a while."

Carmen flinched at your tone. You were angry. No, you were hurt. The revelation made him feel like he needed to throw up next, the ache in his stomach rivaling the one in his chest.

You pushed up off the tub, Carmen's hands reaching to help you. You slapped them away with a menacing scoff. "Don't touch me." You snapped. "I've got it."

Carmen nodded, backing out slowly, giving you space to brush your teeth. He didn't miss the tremor in your hands when you held the toothbrush, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror.

"I..." Carmen's voice shook, a squeak of a word that had wobbled when he spoke. "I, uh, I-I'm sorry."

Your eyes flashed to his furiously, lips pursing. "I know that's... fuck, that's not..." Carmen sighed heavily, a grounding breath to soothe his nerves, get the shake out of his voice. "I don't know what-what else to say other than... I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" You sneered, turning to him, your tone unnervingly calm. "You're fucking sorry?"

"Yeah, I-"

"-You left me!" You roared, chest heaving with fury. Your fears and sadness had turned into rage, pure rage.

"I go outside to check on you, and you're gone! Who the fuck does that, Carmen? What the fuck is wrong with you?" You screamed.

"I-I don't know, I just..." Carmen's chest tightened, strangling his words. The pounding in his chest had returned, as had the queasiness in his stomach.

"You just? Just what, Carmen? Just don't want to be with me anymore?" Your voice cracked, tears brimming your waterline.

The silence was back. Uncomfortably loud and suffocating. Neither one of you moved, just stared at each other through heaving chests.

"I-I..." Carmen swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "How could you... You think I-I don't want to be with you?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think, Carmen?" You scoffed, throwing your hands out in exasperation. "You left!"

Carmen winced at the harshness of your tone. "I didn't... I just needed to think-"

"-Think?" You scoffed. "Think about what exactly, Carmen? Huh? Whether you were going to stay-"

"-No! Fuck, no!" Carmen barked, mind racing and overwhelmed. Hands trembling, heart pounding, he stared at you. "About... About how it would be. About how I would be."

"How you would be?"

"Yeah, how I would be." Carmen snaps, a little too defensive even for his own liking. It was habit, even after years of trying to be better, it still crept out at times.

Carmen took a breath, turning to you. "I'm... I don't think I'm going to be a good dad."

Your own heart sunk, a dull ache in your chest, heavy with the weight of his words. The fall of his face, lips curling downward. "Carmen," You said softly. "Why-Why would you... We've talked about having kids before."

"Yeah, but not... I thought I had time." Carmen admitted, hands shaking when he crossed his arms over his chest to still them. "I-I thought I would have some time to-to get my shit together."

You paused, watching his face crumble. The deep breath he took to keep himself from crying- from breaking. "I don't- I don't wanna be a bad dad. I don't wanna fuck this kid up." Carmen whispered, eyes darting everywhere but your own. He couldn't look at you when he said it, sure when he saw the sorrow in your own eyes he would crumble at your feet.

"Carmen," You said softly, taking a step towards him. He took one back, distancing himself. He knew what you were going to do. Reach out and comfort him, make him feel better- he didn't deserve that.

"Carm, please," You begged lightly. "You... You know you're gonna be a good dad-"

"-No, no, I don't know that." Carmen scoffed, shaking his head. "I mean, my fuckin' dad was a piece of shit, so was his dad, so-so will I. And-And I don't wanna do that to this kid. I don't wanna do that to you."

"Stop." You snapped, lips pressed together, sniffling to keep your own tears at bay. "Just...Just stop. Ok? Stop. You're... Do you really think I would have married you if I thought that bad of you? Do you think I would have ever even entertained the thought of having a baby with you, starting a family, if I thought you'd be shitty?"

Carmen's own eyes shone with unshed tears. You blinked, wiping the hot tears that ran down your cheeks away. "I'm scared, too. I-I called Alicia over you because I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how you would react." You admitted.

Carmen nodded, you could see the hurt in his eyes. "So you knew I would react like this? You didn't tell me because you knew I'd be a bad-"

"-No, I didn't tell you because I know you don't like surprises." You snapped. "I know you don't like to be fuckin' blindsided and-and shocked. I don't either. I knew it would shock you. I knew it wasn't apart of our plan right now." You held his gaze, eyes hard when you met his.

"But I never thought you'd be a bad dad." Your tone was firm. It made Carmen's heart swell. "I still don't think you'd be a bad dad, for the record. I think you're an asshole, and I'm furious with you." You said pointedly.

Carmen nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I... I don't blame you f'that." He muttered, looking down at his hands, wedding band shining almost mockingly back up at him. "Sugar's pissed at me. Richie, too." He paused, eyes lifting to yours. "I'm mad at me too."

"Yeah? Me too." You sigh, looking at him. "You can't just leave-"

"-I know." Carmen nodded. "I-I know. I don't... I'm sorry." Carmen looked at you, shoulders falling slightly. "I'm so sorry."

You nodded gently, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. "This is not how I thought this would go, honestly." You admitted with a small, wet laugh.

"Which part?" Carmen hummed, hesitantly reaching out to wipe your tear stained cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"All of it." You sighed. "But telling you. I-I always thought I'd do one of those cute, little Pinteresty things and surprise you."

"Yeah? 'm sorry." Carmen muttered, his heart fluttering with guilt again. "Maybe next time?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. Damn him, making you smile when you were supposed to be mad at him- you were still mad at him. But you were tired even more. Exhausted emotionally, physically- you just wanted to crawl into bed.

Carmen pulled you closer to him, his hand running down your spine. "Maybe you can do that cutesy shit to tell everyone else." He suggested. "I mean... Fuck, well, I-I told Richie and-and Sugar, but... Tina? Or all them?"

You bit back a smile, the curl of your lips betraying you. "Yeah." You hum, your body betraying you as you sunk into Carmen's chest.

"Here," Carmen muttered, pulling you close to him. "I'll get you in bed, and I'll go on the couch-"

"-No," You sighed, shuffled steps down the hall. "I don't... Just sleep in the bed with me."

Carmen hesitated. "No, I-I can stay on the couch. I know you don't-"

"-I can't sleep without you, Carm." You pleaded. "I didn't sleep at all last night, and-and... I just want to sleep."

Carmen nodded, following you into the shared bedroom. Stripping out of his jeans, trading them for sweatpants, before climbing in the bed with you. You stayed on your side, Carmen on his own. There was still tension, still lingering feelings of that familiar eeriness, but there was also comfortability.

Carmen would make it up to you. He'd be at every appointment, paint the nursery- be everything you knew he would be. Later. In the coming weeks as you two welcomed, embraced the baby coming. You'd get to tell everyone in your cutesy way like you'd dreamed. Tina's reaction would make you cry, and the baby shower would make you sob. You'd mull over baby names for hours with Carmen, going back and forth, testing each name tentatively until you found the perfect one.

For now, you were happy just to know Carmen was here with you. You were happy just to sleep. There was still so much ahead of you- of both of you.

[sunflowersteves]

can you write about carmy & readers first time after getting engaged 🥹

omg omg omg fiancé carmy just does it for me ok? and ik for a fact that the man wouldn’t wait once you got home. also I couldn’t find a picture of the ring I wanted so just pretend.

warnings || fluff, established relationship, SMUT, soft sex, riding, mention of oral sex, 18+ only

masterlist

You looked down at the small diamond ring that was garnished with two rubies on a sparkling gold band.

You were smiling so brightly that your cheeks started to desperately ache. The stones glistened, and you felt in awe as your chest fluttered with adoration. 

Your admiration for the ring had stopped as Carmen’s voice rang through your ears. “Are you sure you like it?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and head down, looking at the delicious food he had made. His left leg was bouncing up and down as the thoughts piled one over the other. 

Carmen had asked you that same question about four to five times now. He asked you once after you said yes, two in the car ride, and one while walking up the stairs of your apartment complex.

Despite your reassurance—sometimes too much in a daze of staring at your hand to realize he had even asked you a question—Carmen still couldn’t quite get it into his head that you said yes. 

It was as if his head was still in a jumbled mess—still sweating and knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. His heart couldn’t stop thumping against his chest, and anxiety-filled thoughts rushed over another. The nagging feeling that he doesn’t deserve this and that he doesn’t deserve you had taken over his brain.

His entire speech happened in such a blur with his stuttering sentences and shaky voice. He watched as your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you shouted, “Yes!” It took him a moment to realize your response—his eyes slowly blinking with his mouth parted open to then at lightning speed getting up off of the ground and crashing you into a hug. It just all felt so real. 

You stand up from your end of the table and walk over to him, taking the spoon that he’s frantically tapping in his hand out from his reach. “Baby,” You coo, pressing your palm against his cheek.

It was the most obvious thing in the world to you. You couldn’t stop staring at it since he put it on your ring finger, but you knew that he just needed a little encouragement to swat those thoughts away. “What’s going on?”

Carmen had proposed. Richie had called you saying there was an emergency at The Bear. Of course, he failed to mention that everyone was okay. You rushed to the restaurant in a frenzy, grabbing the bare minimum and speeding down the highway roads.

When you arrived, you practically jumped out of the car and ran inside. Your brain had thought of the worst possible outcomes—a burned-down restaurant and hurt people. It was sending you into a spiral. 

But then, your heart stopped at the view in front of you. This time, the thumping of your heart was pure elation (minus the mental note to yell at Richie later). The entire restaurant had been closed, and a small candle-lit table had been set up—rose petals trailing across the concrete floors. 

Carmen and Richie were arguing but they didn’t see you quite yet. “You didn’t even fucking tell her anything?” Carmen huffed.

Richie just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “No, you fuckin’ bitch. I just said there was an emergency.”

Carmen’s hands exploded around him, an unlit cigarette between his middle and index finger. “Are you fucking serious right now, cousin? She’s probably freaking the fuck out—an emergency? Fuck—” Richie just rolled his eyes and shrugged, but then his eyes locked with yours and a huge smile spread across his lips. The rest went in a blur, and before you know it, Carmen got down on one knee. 

“I-I just—I don’t know. I wanna make sure that I’m doing this right.” His eyes finally look into your own. Your heart just about stops at the sadness that’s swimming through them. 

“Carmy, baby,” You moved his chair back, wooden legs sliding against the hardwood floor. You climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of him. You pressed a hand to his chest, and you gently rubbed your thumb against his soft, white t-shirt. 

His hands rest on your hips, and they squeeze the soft, plushy flesh. He let out a content sigh, some of the anxiety already dissipating from his thoughts.

He wants everything perfect, just for you. The irony of it all is that you do think everything’s perfect. Everything is always perfect with him.

“Let me see, bebita.” Tina couldn’t stop smiling, taking a glance over at you staring at your ring. You were waiting for Carmen to finish talking with Natalie before leaving the restaurant. Tina had found you, staring happily at your finger. 

She cursed under her breath, eyes widening.“Ay, coño—” She continued to watch the small diamonds sparkle underneath the kitchen lights.

Then, she smiled. She looked at you, and she had the biggest smile on her face. You make Carmen so happy, and he knows he makes you happy.

She was truly excited for her friends. “You know, this was Mikey’s ring. It was their grandmother’s or some shit, but—” She pauses, smiling right at you. “It was definitely his.”

Your eyes widened, mouth agape. “What?”

“You’re perfect.” You say, looking into his ocean eyes. “You’re doing everything right.”

He searches for something. He searches for anything. Any doubt, guilt, lying—literally anything. He continues to stare at your beautiful face, looking from the plump of your cheeks to the curve of your lips. 

His eyes look back up to yours. Nothing. He found nothing but pure love and adoration between your irises. He choked out a sound. It was garbled and whimpering. It made your heart clench. 

“Carmen—” Before you could even react, his lips devoured yours. You gasped against him before melting completely, hands going into his messy hair. His hands scaled your body in a passionate frenzy, desperation hitting his gut to pull you even closer to him. 

You moaned against him as his tongue pushed through your lips and into your mouth, swirling and tangling with one another. His hand went to cup your cheek; it was so gentle and sweet—the action made affection swirl in your chest. 

He parts from you, only for a moment. “Please. I need—I need to be inside you.” Another breath-stealing kiss, lips molding against yours. “You’re so—you’re so perfect, baby. N-need you.” He pants out. 

“Fuck, Carmy.” Your hands move to fumble with his belt. He continues to kiss you, lips smearing against your jaw and chin. Jittery, your hands bumble around and finally find the button to his pants. You shuffle them down his thighs, letting out a moan at the sight of a bulge in his boxers. 

“Carmy—” You whine. His fingertips graze your shoulder and lift the spaghetti strap of your dress. “Please.” You feel dazed and desperate. You feel a burning sensation sprout from your chest, and it ignites across your entire being. 

He helps you out of your dress, and his hands fumble with the back of your bra. Meanwhile, you’re also fumbling with getting his boxers off. The position of sitting in the chair had made this much more difficult. “Baby, fuck.”

“Need you, Carmy.” You whine. It caused him to smirk down at you. Eventually, the two of you get all of your clothes off, discarding them somewhere on the floor. You were still straddling his thighs—kisses so sweet and passionate that they tingled against your lips. 

His cock was hard, leaking with some pre-cum, and it made you shudder. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared at you with hazy eyes. You position him to your entrance and slowly sink into him.

You both moan against one another, breathing in each other’s presence. Carmen’s head rolls against your shoulder, biting down at the clench of your walls. You start to ride him—hips rolling against his own. 

“Gonna—fuck—gonna make you my wife.” He breathes out. He watches the way you slick smears against his thighs and the way he disappears into your tight cunt. You loudly moaned against him at the affirmation of his—making you even wetter than before. 

“Wanna—wanna be your wife, Carmy.” You whispered against his soft skin. His lips lower to the perky bud of your nipple and swirled his tongue around the sensitive area. “Want—fuck me—want you to be my husband.”

You could feel his cock twitch at your words. His lips revert their way to where he really wants them—your lips. You whimpered at the feeling of him pushing you further.

The hand on your back was rough from calluses. The new position made you whine and cry, Carmen whispering sweet, sweet praises. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. My–my fuckin’ girl. Look at you, so-so good. Gonna make you my wife. My fucking wife.”

His words are what send you over the edge—the sweet praises and confirmations of his love became too much. “C’mon, pretty girl. Let go for me. Be a good girl and let go.”

With a loud moan, your walls spasm around his cock and gush all over him. You’re screaming his name like a prayer that won’t leave your lips. Your legs shake, unwilling to move any longer. He’s whispering to you again and again, but this time you weren’t listening. 

He was on the verge of an orgasm too, but there was a bigger, more primal need for him to do first. He watched as you slowly slid out of him and he started to press gentle kisses across your shoulder and neck.

He watches your eyes slowly come back to him, and he waits. “I love you, baby.” He says, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“I love you too, lovebug.” You say, a lazy smile curling your lips. You look down to see his hard cock against your thigh. You open your mouth to say something—wanting to take care of him, but he stops you with a shake of his head. 

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna eat you out. I need to taste you. I-I—” He stutters through his words, and the desperation settles on his chest. He needs to taste you on his tongue. He needs to hear the sweet sounds that escape your mouth as he eats his favorite meal. 

“Carmen. Fuck, yes.” 

The first night of being Fiancée’s with one another was going to be a very long night. 

[etherealising]

chapter eleven | flowers filled with dew

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: you and carmen have a long awaited heart felt conversation about a life the two of you could’ve shared…if only times were different.

warning(s): implied miscarriage | off-page miscarriage | talk of miscarriage | non-explicit description of miscarriages | moon cycles | grief | sadness | angst | ooc carmy | these losers finally communicating | minimal editing please give me grace | probably more idk sorry warnings |

wc: 4.9k

Neither of you say a word. You’re both tucked under the covers like two children preparing to tell each other ghost stories, a position you’ve surely been in with Carmen before. It's quiet, all to be heard are the soft breaths, the two of you exchange Carmy’s familiar scent of nicotine and the kitchen mixed with your signature body wash delicately dances across your senses.

You watch him as he watches you. It's been silent between the two of you since the shower you shared, each of you tenderly helping the other dress afterward. The revelation of the night felt as though it sucked out any remaining energy either of you had left.

The blue of his eyes was easy to get lost in. The sadness pulls you into the depths of his doe-like baby blues, the length of his lashes delicately brushing his skin with every flutter of his eyes. It was slow, the way your hand reached up to softly trace the bruising color on his cheekbone that juxtaposed the soft hue of his iris. Thumb carefully running back and forth over the bruise he received mere hours ago. You weren’t sure what time it was, but the fact that everything happened in 24 hours didn’t feel real to you.

“Do you hate me, Carmen?” The whisper was rough, and the sobs paired with the lack of speech made your voice sound raw like you’d unintentionally swallowed sandpaper.

Your eyes found his once more following the widening of his pupils, the brush of his lashes against your thumb still lavishing his cheek. You were unsure if he heard you, and that was okay, you didn’t think you’d be able to stomach his answer if it was unsavory.

“No.” It was firm, his answer; almost immediate. He heard you loud and clear his heart skipping a beat at the silly question you’d dare to let leave your lips in his presence. He could feel his breathing begin to pick up as he prepared to ask his question. A shiver raced through him as your hand gently slid down his cheek, tracing a path down his neck before landing on his heart, the gesture distracting him enough to get his breathing as controlled as he could at that moment.

It felt second nature as his hand came up to cover yours in its place over his heart, squeezing it slightly as if doing so would sink your hand into his chest and allow you to grip his heart in the way you’d been unknowingly doing all these years. Carmy watched you for a moment, tracing how sunken your eyes were, your face that mere hours ago shone in happiness and radiance now looked sullen, as though the life was being sucked out of you in real-time. He felt the urge to leave his questions unanswered, to continue re-learning your face until the ground decided it was time for him to leave this earth. But Carmen also needed to know, this secret part of him wanted to understand why you deemed him so undeserving of sharing in such a life-altering loss.

Maybe this was his comeuppance.

Carmy cleared his throat finally prepared to know you, “How…wha-.” He had to stop himself, the blockade in his throat fighting his every instinct to question you. He could feel his eyes water as the burn in his throat traveled to his chest, the never-ending ache that rented space there grew heavier by the minute, his mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he swore words were leaving his mouth but no sound was.

“Shh, hey.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at you as his hand squeezed yours tighter, blunt nails digging into your soft flesh. It was like the harder he tried to fight through the pressure in his chest the worse it became, his vision so blurry that your face became a mosaic of the features he so easily recognized anywhere. The shaking began unconsciously as your forehead rested against his, that ache he was so familiar with felt like it became deeper by the second as he tried to get himself to calm down.

“Shh, it's okay to let them happen sometimes, Carm.” He wanted to believe you, his head softly nodding against yours as though the movement would tell his brain that it was okay to sink into this feeling and it wouldn’t result in destructive behavior. “You’re safe with me Bear.”

The caress of your voice traveling through his ears awoke something in him, something he desperately searched for through childhood; to be allowed the chance to bask in his emotions without having to compensate for those of the people he loved. The gasping breath he let out was mixed with a sob of pain as the tightness in his chest felt like it would consume him at any moment. He thought he’d gotten everything out in the shower while the two of you were wrapped around each other feeding off the shared hurt. But this was something he needed, to allow himself to feel every warring emotion in his body no matter how uncomfortable it was; to feel safe while doing so, to know that there was somebody who cared for him and watched over him as he let the anxiety crescendo and run rampant through his veins.

Carmen needed this moment to understand just how valid his emotions were. And to know that someone cared enough for him to stick by his side as he allowed himself to safely express them. Carmen needed this, he needed to feel safe.

“Why?” Your eyes blearily opened at the warmth of Carmy’s breath against your neck, the husk of his voice in your ear. Somewhere between comforting Carmy through his panic attack and the two of you falling asleep once more, the position the two of you were in changed. You could feel his broad chest pressed into your back, the warmth of his body providing you a comfort you longed for but never allowed yourself the chance to have.

It was silent as Carmen’s arm moved from its place resting against your hip, his calloused digits carefully tracing over the exposed skin on your leg before finding its way under your shirt and shakily stopping above the skin of your stomach. The tremors continued uncontrollably as you could feel the presence of his hand hovering over their destination, the hesitation easily noticeable through the flexing of his forearm against your waist. You took the chance to lay your hand flatly atop his, guiding them to the warm soft flesh of your abdomen as Carmy’s sharp intake of breath reached your ears.

The response you felt was immediate, the tears filled your eyes as you basked in the comfort you longed to feel a year ago, but decided you were undeserving of it. You bit your lip to stop the tears from falling, hoping that your sniffles were quiet enough to slip past Carmy’s detection. It didn’t matter though, the trembling of your body gave everything away. The man rubbed soothing circles into your stomach a way for him to let you know that although you were alone in that moment, he was here now; and as much as his fear of the unknown screamed at him to run, he wasn’t going anywhere.

A tear escaped at the feel of Carmen’s warm chapped lips pressing into the exposed skin of your shoulder blade, the gesture left behind a heat you were sure you’d never forget. Carmen allowed you the moment to collect yourself, “Why?” He couldn’t get himself to say more, and you didn’t need him to as his fingers gently tapped against your stomach.

“I-,” you took a calming breath, wanting to answer any of Carmy’s questions as best as you could. “I didn’t know until it was too late.” The last word left your lips in a broken whisper, there was no conviction behind them just a sadness and pain and Carmy swore he could feel every essence of your emotions bleeding into him.

His thumb gently traced across your abdomen hoping to provide comfort in whatever way he could as you recounted such a horrid memory. “Everything was fine when I returned to Chicago… at least I assumed things were. My uh cycle came at the end of March and that was that.”

You gently traced the tendons of his fingers that rested against you, reminding yourself that you were no longer alone, “And then it was April and it should’ve been my last week in Chicago. I was uh staying with your moms by that point, keeping house…keeping her company. Natalie needed a break and I thought the least I could do before leaving was make sure the one parental figure still in my life was surviving.”

Carmen’s hand flexed against your stomach as he instinctively pulled you further into him, somehow hoping that if he wrapped his body around yours it would lessen the pain of your words. He felt guilty listening to the way you cared for his flesh and blood in their time of need more than he did.

“When I wasn’t with Donna, I was at The Beef…helping Richie. And I felt like it was what I needed to do, you know? Richie had his shit going on with the divorce and everything and if I could help out where I could then I would.” The longer Carmy listened to you the more he was beginning to unveil the person you grew into, he came to the silent conclusion that you had a problem with putting other's lives and wellbeing before your own.

You turned in Carmy’s arms needing to not only feel him but see him as well, it wouldn’t make things any easier, but you felt he was deserving of your full attention at this moment. “I remember feeling so lethargic that day, that I just assumed it was all the stress of trying to take care of everyone else getting to me. And it was the lunch rush, and things were so hectic I just needed to take a beat, you know get my mind right.” You held Carmy’s attention, keeping an eye out for any signs that it was all becoming too much for him and that a break was necessary.

A blush rose to the man's cheeks as he realized what you were doing, embarrassment flooding through him that even now as you were recounting this moment to him, you so desperately put him first. “I uh chose the walk-in of all places…I was having the worst cramps and felt like I was going to pass out at any moment. Richie came barging in and we locked eyes and it's like we just knew something wasn’t right.”

A small joyless laugh escaped you as you thought back to Richie’s antics while you were getting checked in at the hospital, “I remember the nurses tried to kick Richie out of the room for the tests they needed to perform but he convinced them we were married.” You listened to the soft watery chuckle escape from Carmy, “I don’t know why he didn’t just say I was like his adopted sister or something.” A sadness not even the softness in Carmy’s eyes could cure stirred in your chest as you thought back on a moment in time you had no idea would mentally and physically impact you as greatly as it did.

“Imagine our surprise when the doctor came back with monotone apologies for our loss, but not to worry because if we ever wanted to try again for a baby the chances of another miscarriage were slim, but I’d better beat my biological clock before it beat me.” It was getting harder and harder to continue explaining as the memories began resurfacing with your words.

Carmen was unsure what to do with the information you’d just given him, to know that it was Richie by your side while you were given such heart-wrenching news drew him back to his moment with Richie in the walk-in. The venom in the older man’s words as he yelled about keeping the Berzattos together when Carmy couldn’t find it in himself to do so; he hadn’t realized it applied to you too.

“And I-I was so confused. I didn’t understand or I don’t think I wanted to understand. And god do I love Richie but he swore up and down that they’d mixed my results up with someone else’s 'cause there’s no way I was pregnant.” The rough feeling on Carmen’s thumbs carefully collecting the now free-flowing tears that raced down your face made you cry even harder, your eyes moving from their position over his shoulder to find his gaze, his eyes full to the brim with unshed tears.

You took the moment to gaze at the man in front of you, to appreciate having him here with you “We uh…we argued after I told him about us…me and you,” you watched the frown decorate his face “He never outright said it but I…I think he was disappointed in me.”

Carmen allowed your words to sink into him, that familiar ache waiting just around the corner as he came to terms with the reality of everything. He should’ve been there by your side, the decision to not use protection wasn’t yours alone, and it shouldn’t have been your burden alone to carry the consequences of that decision.

“You uh…why didn’t you call me?” His hands dropped from your face the longer he allowed himself to think about everything. “Didn’t I have a right to know?” The soft broken timbre shot through you, the hurt on his face made you feel worse than you already did.

You couldn’t help but feel selfish as you realized what exactly you had stolen from Carmen by not confiding in him about something that was just as much yours to experience as it was his. “Your life was in New York Carm, you built something great there and I felt like I’d already taken so much from you…who was I to take even more. I-I thought it was for the best…I wanted to prote-”

“And who are you to decide what’s best for me?” The newfound irritation in his voice wasn’t lost on you, nor was the way his eyebrows pinched together in that way that told you he was beginning to feel frustrated.

You sat up, eyes following Carmen’s as he hastily rolled out of the bed, his figure quickly pacing in front of your bed. “Carm, you have to understand-,”

“You were pregnant Baby!” He regretted the broken yell as soon as he saw you flinch, but the excuses you were giving him felt like bullshit. It was like Mikey all over again deciding for him that he couldn’t work at The Beef, and now this, you decided he was better off never knowing that the two of you almost created a family together. And he was beginning to get tired of people making decisions on his behalf.

“And weeks before I was pregnant I was just some quick fuck you couldn’t even bother to call to make sure I made it home safe!” It was unfair, you knew it was, considering the context of this conversation the argument you were making didn’t even have two legs to stand on.

Carmy recoiled into himself almost immediately as he listened to the hurt and anger in your words. “I never told you to leave…I-I didn’t want you to leave.”

“You never asked me to stay either Carm.” You let out a small sigh, no matter what either of you said it wouldn’t change the past; the damage was done.

The room fell silent, Carmy’s chest heaved up and down from his position standing in front of you while you sat propped on your knees in the bed trying to corral all the pent-up emotions this conversation drew out of you. The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with the anger and hurt shared between the both of you. You weren’t sure how the conversation took such a sour turn but the longer you sat there watching Carmy you began to understand the root of his frustration, you kept something that negatively impacted the both of you from him and yet here you were allowing the shame you felt to convince you lying to him was for the best.

“I’m sorry I just…I blamed myself.” You sagged into yourself, the anger gone just as quickly as it appeared as you looked at Carmen, your bottom lip trembling. “You are the only person I wanted around me when I found out,” you bit your lip to try and control the trembling, the slick feeling of snot and tears all over your face. “But I just couldn’t bring myself to call you. We just lost Mikey and I told myself you wouldn’t be able to handle it…but the truth is I couldn’t handle it and by keeping it from you I was able to ignore the truth of it all.” Your head throbbed as you offered up the only pathetic explanation you had for the reason the two of you were in this situation now, allowing the hurt to disguise itself as anger. Self-sabotaging the relationship you both wanted so desperately to repair.

“Carmen I,” you let loose a deep breath knowing what you were about to admit didn’t justify keeping Carmy in the dark but he deserved your honesty. “I love you too much to ever force an experience like that upon you. And I know it was wrong of me to decide for you bu-,” the feeling of Carmy’s firm arms wrapping around you cut off your sentence a small whimper escaped at the tight almost painful grip he held you in. The soft press of his lips against your head and soothing whispers caused you to collapse into his hold.

You dug your hands into the borrowed shirt he was wearing, holding onto the fabric for dear life as you admitted your failures to Carmen, unsure how he could even stand to be in the same room as you. “Shh, shh I’ve got you.” The soft words and warm embrace were something you longed for from Carmen and it was no one's fault but your own that it had taken so long to get here.

Morning dew clung to the flowers that decorated the small garden in your backyard. The tiny blue bulbs of the flowers were beginning to overpopulate the garden, the invasive species of the plant doing what it did best. Carmen wasn’t sure how long he stared at the flowers, but it was long enough that the cold air of the morning felt like it was beginning to sink into his bones.

He frantically tapped the mostly empty cigarette carton against his thigh, trying to catch up with the thoughts racing through his mind. The exhaustion was creeping in on him, no matter how hard he tried to force himself to find sleep after he held you crying in his arms, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how alone you were in the past year. He hoped that if he looked at you long enough the words you shared with him would somehow become digestible. Carmen spent the night watching as you slept on his chest only removing himself from under you when he could no longer quiet the voices in his head telling him that he deserved to be left in the dark, that he didn’t deserve to know this part of you or imagine how different life would be if there was a little life that depended on him; on you.

The anxiety quelled for a bit as he laid in bed with you, but now that he was alone that part of him that urged him to run, to disappear before you woke up because surely this wasn’t reality. If he left now the truth of the matter wouldn’t be able to follow after him, but he knew this wasn’t a problem he could shove to the back of his mind, he wouldn’t be able to use the chaos of the kitchen to forget any of the memories you shared with him.

An exhausted sigh escaped his lips as he finally pulled a cigarette from the carton, hand digging around in his pocket for a lighter only to realize he’d left it in his pants pocket before venturing outside. The sound of a door opening and closing drew his attention, he watched as you exited the house in your pajamas approaching him with eyes that looked as tired as he felt.

You held out a lighter in offering to him, his eyes darting towards it before finding your eyes once more sure you spotted him wallowing back here through your bedroom window. His hand gently reached out to take it from your grip, a small nod in thanks sent your way before he turned back to the flowers and lit the cigarette. He took a deep breath of the vapors watching from his peripheral as you squatted next to him, your arm brushing against his leg as you settled into the position.

Carmy watched you as your eyes traced over the flowers every bit of exhaustion he was feeling could easily be read on your face. He took another drag of his cigarette before extending it to you, a gesture he was sure he’d never pull but times were different now, that much was obvious.

You shook your head rejecting his offer, “It's stupid, but I…um I don’t like to smoke in front of the flowers.” Carmen followed your hand as it reached out to delicately trace over the petals of a nearby flower, your voice scratchy, raw from the sobs you shared last night.

He felt like an asshole, “Shit, I uh didn’t know.” He quickly snuffed the bud out, holding it in his hand to not litter near a garden that held importance to you.

“How could you?” You finally graced him with a look, a small sad smile lining your lips as Carmy found himself being sucked into the depths of your lifeless eyes.

He felt the ache in his chest returning the longer he held your eye. It was obvious that even just the reminder of everything had already taken such a toll on you, how could he even part his lips to ask you for an explanation of the flowers when you looked like you had just re-lived one of the worst moments of your life?

Carmy cleared his throat, eyes moving back to the flowers, “Why?” There was a moment of silence as he awaited your response, doubt filling him at every moment without any words between the two of you. “Why uh…why don’t you smoke in front of the flowers?” He raised his hand to scratch at the back of his neck the familiar sense of unsurety racing through him.

“Hmm?” Carmy watched as the side of your mouth ticked up, the knowing smile that usually followed that gesture was nowhere to be found as your lips fell back into a melancholic line. “Forget me nots are said to symbolize a few things a lot of people correlate them with true love. There’s a folktale about a man who picked these flowers for his lover by the river bank, sadly though he slips in and as the current carries him away, his last words to his lover are forget me not. ” Carmy listened intently to your words, his hand finding your initial pendant that set warmly against his upper chest. “But others used them as a sign of remembrance, to never forget those lost to time. These flowers…they’re a reminder for me of Mikey. Of…” Carmen could hear the heaviness in your voice as you spoke a lump forming in his throat at the words left unsaid.

He watched as you quickly wiped away the stray tear to escape your eye, his heart silently breaking at how much of a shell of your old self you appeared to be at that moment. He thought back to the letters he knew it was essentially an invasion of privacy for him to read them, they weren’t for him. But he couldn’t help but wonder, is this how you looked while writing them? Downtrodden and desolate, like just the act of breathing alone would confine you to dark weeks in bed with no will to move.

Carmen’s hand gently reached out to settle against your shoulder, hoping you could feel the comfort he was trying to exude through the gesture. He watched as your hand reached up to delicately grip his, lips pressing into his fingers before your head delicately settled against his hand.

“It was wrong of me to keep this from you Carmen, and I understand if you’re angry with me and want nothing to do with me. But please don’t be upset with Richie, or Nat. All they were doing was respecting my decision.” Carmy listened as you played with his fingers, his itching to grip yours.

An exhausted sigh left you, something you appeared to be doing more recently, “ I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but I do wish I told you when everything happened.” Carmy’s warm body joining you in the wet grass caused you to stop, his hand that was once on your shoulder moved to wrap around your waist softly pulling you into his chest, the warmth and comfort radiating from his body was almost immediate. “As selfish as it sounds there’s a part of me that’s holding out hope you’ll forgive me for all the secrets I’ve kept.” You wanted to cry as you felt the gentle press of Carmy’s lips against the side of your head. The gesture made you emotional.

You could feel Carmy’s heartbeat through the position the two of you were in, you hoped the rhythmic beating of it would imprint itself in your brain in case this was the last moment you ever got with the man. “I uh..,” you waited hand hesitantly intertwining with Carmy’s as a way to let him know that you were receptive to everything he needed to say. “I am upset…I uh n-not with you just the situation.” He paused hoping to gather his thoughts.

“I think…uh we hadn’t seen each other in years and uh when we did…” You listened to his voice trail off sure a red blush was making its way up his neck as he tiptoed around the night the two of you spent together. “Just I understand why you didn’t tell me, I didn’t make things easy…and I told you I couldn’t commit to you.” Carmy cleared his throat, sure you felt just as uncomfortable as he did as you listened to him speak, he was thankful he wasn’t looking at you though because he couldn’t guarantee he’d get any words out if he did.

“I just…I wish you felt comfortable enough to call me…a-and I know I should’ve called you but Baby you shouldn’t have gone through it alone.” It was quiet for a moment as the two of you sat there basking in each other’s confessions and the gentle breeze of the morning.

You turned to face Carmen, his arm dropping from your waist as you rose to your knees studying his face. A million scenarios ran through your head as you thought of what could’ve been…what never was, it did no one any good envisioning a life that was no longer theirs to claim, but who were you to deny yourself a daydream or two? A small trembling smile rose to your face as you took in every feature of Carmy’s you would’ve loved to see on a tiny human.

“I wish you would’ve called.” Between the trembling of your lips and the quiet of your voice, it was a miracle the five words reached Carmen’s ears.

He rose to your level in an instant watching as tears began to escape your eyes, but he found himself drawn to the small genuine smile that sat atop your lips, the gesture confused him as he couldn’t understand how you found the strength to give him a smile amid everything. He gently wrapped his arms around you bringing you into his chest before placing multiple kisses against the top of your head as your face pressed into his chest listening to his heartbeat once again.

Carmy wished he called as well.

a/n: didn’t mean to go m.i.a just in a bit of a life slump. this chapter gave me major writer’s block and i just stopped enjoying the writing process all together so updates may become less enthusiastic idk we’ll see. on another note i have a new idea for another series so that’s fun i guess, anyway hope you enjoy this chapter for what it is. i hope you’re all doing well, happy new year! 🫶🏽🤍

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Lost in the Eyes

Bearblr Promptober Day 7: Orgasm Control

Summary: Carmy's girlfriend finally figured out how to get his mind to shut up, and he cannot get enough of it.

Warnings: swearing, Carmy x Reader/generic lass (leave me alone), sub!Carmy, orgasm denial, light smut

Notes: Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

This is NOT a journal entry. All journal entries are titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

07 Oct 2024

She finally figured out how to get his mind to stop doing acrobatics, and it only took her about a week of seriously trying. He doesn’t know if he should be frightened or grateful; all he knows is it feels heavenly.

He lets her hold his wrists down when she does it. It’s a show of forfeiture that makes him actively choose to disengage the part of his mind that needs to be at the helm of the ship all the time. It’s a task—a near-insurmountable one when she first tried it because it takes him so much effort to yield to her strength. He’s fucking powerful, alright? Looks cute, cuddly, a little lost in the eyes, but his muscles feel like bundles of braided steel cable when tense, can move her like she’s not there when they want to.

He used to get frustrated, almost to the point of being angry when she denied him an orgasm, almost enough for her to abandon the idea, but when he was back to being his sweet, gentle self, the perfectionist genius who had to master a thing he set his mind to, he’d want to try again.

Now? Now he can’t get enough of it.

“Shh, easy, baby. Easy,” she whispers, slowing her hips to a halt.

His dick throbs deep within her, he chokes out something of a pathetic sound, and his arms easily slide along the bed so he can bury his face in the crook of his elbow as if her hands are not shoving them into the covers. He thrusts up his hips to chase down the second orgasm denied to him, but she squeezes her legs around his hips as hard as she can. He feels it—her thighs dig into his hipbones—but it’s more of a nonverbal signal to him to stop, which he obeys.

“Shh. Good boy. You’re being so good for me Carm.”

“Fuck!—Baby, please, I can’t!” He digs his heels into the mattress, twists his wrists in her grasp, but with no real strength behind the movement. “Fuckfuckfuck…”

“Breathe, my love. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

With that, he inhales a sharp breath, blows a trembling one out. Does it twice more. Then the haze sets in, and his body turns to lead, sinks into the bed; mind slows, slows, slows, stops in a small sphere—just their breathing, his heart pounding, the soft, tight, wet heat of her cunt, her weight on his hips, soothing the remains of that sharp ache in his back from working all day. No restaurant. No Cicero loan. No review. No streetlights, neighbor’s dog, traffic, creaking building—his mind becomes a shimmering field of snow and all that exists at the center is them.

She relinquishes the grip on his wrists and traces her mid-length fingernails up the insides of his forearms just hard enough to form little shadowed divots that follow her fingers.

“There you go… that’s it… relax. Let go.”

Carmen lets out a long, soft sigh. His eyes stay closed. His larynx jumps when he swallows, and she can’t help but plant a kiss on it. She trails her fingernails to his chest, traces similar lines down his torso. His back arches as she passes over his abdomen, but he relaxes again the moment her touch feathers away to nothing. He’s pliable in the few minutes it takes him to recalibrate. Opens his mouth eagerly to deep, exploratory kisses, doesn’t make an effort to hold her. Allows her to tension his hair in her closed fists. He’s also needy. Whines again when she straightens back up, only hushing when she slips two fingers in his mouth for him to suck and trace the pads of with his tongue. She’s entranced by what that mouth can do. Never ceases to stir the heat in the pit of her stomach.

When he returns to the world of the living, he sweeps her hand away, hooks his behind her head, and drags her down for a kiss. She placates him for a minute, lets him get some of his pent-up energy out, lets him grab her hips with near-bruising force and rock her on his dick for a few blissful thrusts. All she does is encircle his wrists and brush her thumbs along his radial pulses, and he grumbles, sure, but allows her to pin them next to his head again. His eyes flutter open, bottomless pits of obsidian inlaid in bezels of aquamarine, fixated on her, absorbing every detail of her face. Now her eyes drift closed at how full she feels, and he watches her move with saccharine adoration, listens with reverence to breathless whispers of his name tumbling from her swollen lips. Safe, content, whole, belonging.

Yes. He can’t get enough of her.  

[maxybabyy]

Daniel watches on as Max dodges him for the third time today, shimmies away from Daniel’s hands as he hurries to catch up with GP.

Daniel knows Max likes GP better than most people, knows they’ve been together longer than he and Max have. Max will bring it up sometimes when Daniel’s being needy and won’t stop touching him. He will go, “He is of course my race engineer, Daniel. Always I will have to see him more when it is a race weekend, no?”

Daniel will whine, call them work husbands with no love left for their real spouses. The words will taste sour even to his own tongue, but in the moment it will feel better. Max will say as he did once, “If you do not like this, GP being my husband. You can of course change this also, Daniel.”

So Daniel doesn’t call them that anymore, has taken to kiss him silly instead to keep him put.

But Max’s already been in two meetings with GP, and Daniel has barely seen him today, didn’t even get a morning kiss in before they had to leave for the paddock.

GP is picked off by one of the engineers, young and sweet as he works up the nerve to interrupt Max’s latest rant, hands vivid in the air. Daniel is quick to swoop in, bullies Max into a small alcove with his knee pressed against Max’s thigh to keep him in place.

“Daniel? What is this?” He says, wiggles in his hold. “I of course do not have time for this. Rupert wants me to look over the food that he will order, and I have to –“

“You’re a busy boy, Maxy. I know, just,” Daniel says, digs his knee harder into Max when he still hasn’t stopped moving. “Why are you being weird? I’ve barely seen you today, baby, and now you’re trying to do a fucking runner on me.”

“I am not weird,” Max says, crosses his arms over his chest.

Daniel smiles, sweet and soft to keep his lips from twisting. “Annoyed then? Frustrated? Did I do something to piss you off, babe?”

Max keeps looking at him, steady blues as he doesn’t blink. But his chest starts to move, deep, fast breaths that make his tits strain against the polo he always wears. The wind is chilly too, makes the nips peak out. “I am of course not this, annoyed, frustrated,” he says, voice curt.

“But I did do something,” Daniel guesses. “Baby, whatever I did to make you mad, please just tell me and I will –“

He leans in to touch Max’s waist, face close enough to kiss if Max just gave up the last few inches. But instead of leaning in like he always does, Max twists away from him with a glare, “Always I will see you later, Daniel. You can think maybe about how to not be a stupid idiot then.”

Daniel doesn’t know what to say, watches him walk away with his back against the wall.

“’A stupid idiot’? That’s what he called you?” George asks, digs his fork into the leafy greens Daniel had been too weak to order. “And you’re sure you haven’t done anything bad? Did you forget an anniversary perhaps? The cats’ birthdays?”

Daniel shakes his head. Max doesn’t care about shit like that. Sassy had her birthday back in April, and Jimmy will have his turn after the summer break. Siblings, but not twins. “They of course deserve their own birthdays, Daniel,” Max had said, coaxing a small hat onto the head of a patient Jimmy.

“He was fine last night, had a nice dinner. The hotel room is meh, but that’s not my fault, yeah?” Max had been tossing and turning all night, sweaty where he was pressed Daniel’s chest. But he’s dealt with a tired Max before, and this wasn’t it.

George watches him for a moment, eyes sharp as he stabs his fork through a tomato. “Reckon it’s that thing women do sometimes?” He asks, voice unnaturally casual like he knows it’s a shit thing to say.

“What, George?” Daniel says and abandons his spoonful of chickpea curry. The coriander tastes odd on his tongue, and he wonders if maybe they put nuts in it anyway. “What is it that women and Max do sometimes?”

“I don’t – you know that wasn’t.” Geroge breathes out, in, and then out again. “Carmen obviously doesn’t do this, mind you. And I don’t think Max would either, but there are like, these stories on the internet of women getting mad at their boyfriends because they dreamt about them cheating on them.

“Obviously, Max wouldn’t do it either, but.” George shrugs uncomfortably, the corner of his mouth pulled to the side.

And like, but indeed.

Max barely looks at him during dinner, talks about the press conference like Daniel wasn’t there next to him, and doesn’t answer when he asks about going out for drinks tomorrow.

He’s about to storm back into the bedroom, when Daniel says, “Reckon we should talk about this? Or do you want to keep being mad about something I did in your dream?”

The way Max’s head whips back to look at him is confirmation enough, but the deep, scarlet tint to his cheeks makes it all the more obvious.

“Maxy, why didn’t you tell me you had a bad dream? We could have talked about it together, yeah?” He says. He closes the distance between them cautiously, hovers awkwardly at the edge of Max’s personal space until Max nudges their feet together.

“You were of course a very stupid idiot in my dream, so I thought it would be good maybe to have you think about why it is so bad to do,” Max says, and he sounds so sincere it makes his chest feel tight.

“I reckon that’s fair. It did feel like shit though, thinking you were really mad at me, baby,” Daniel tells him. Max opens his arms, and Daniel is quick to fold himself into them, bury his head in the crook of his neck. The scent of their shared cologne is faint under the day’s sweat. “But you have to know I would never do that to you, yeah?”

Max nods against his shoulder, kisses the crown of his head. “I of course know this, Daniel. It would be very stupid to do this, and you would end up dead also,” Max says. He cups Daniel’s cheek, strokes his thumb along the edge of his jaw, and Daniel knows he’s going to get kissed, soft lips against his, but he cannot –

“Like, yeah. Obviously, I would never cheat on you, Maxy,” he says, covers Max’s hand with his own. To keep him in place, to stop him from moving closer, he doesn’t know. “But, killing me because of it is a bit much, don’t you think?”

Max watches him with a frown, head tilted to the side. “Cheat on me? Why would you do this? Daniel, is this what you dream of? We should talk maybe about this more also.”

Daniel digs his fingers into the dip of his waist, wills Max not to step away, “Hey, it’s your fucking dream, babe. I just think we maybe disagree on whether it deserves the death penalty, but it’s all hypothetical, no?”

Max scoffs, “This is a very stupid dream you have, Daniel. In my dream you were stupid also, so there is maybe something to think about.”

“If it wasn’t – Maxy, love of my life, whom I will never cheat on, ever,” Daniel says, kisses him softly. “Why were you mad at me in your dream?”

Max’s eyes sharpen, and the hand on his cheek drops to hold his shoulder, “Because never would you listen to me, Daniel. We were in the apocalypse, and always you were going to get yourself killed! You did not want to stay with the very nice, very big dog that I told to protect you, and you did not want to eat the food I made for us.

“Always, you wanted stupid Scotty to stay with us, when you knew, you knew of course that he was bitten and would try to eat us. And then I will have to kill him, and you will of course be sad. But I have to save us also, Daniel, so you have to stop being so stupid!”

Max looks so fucking worked up about this, chest heaving and red in the face, and Daniel wants to fucking eat him alive. Kisses him instead, takes what he can get.

“You’re gonna protect me in your big, bad dream, Maxy?”

Max huffs, lets himself be led into the bedroom, “I will of course always save you, Daniel. When you are being so very stupid, also.”

[gallaghersgal]

SUB LIP AND CARMY LAAAWRD (sorry for rambling my fault yall…)

carmen would be a whiner for sure—he’s a little embarrassed by it but not too much. to me i feel like he’d just wanna be taken care of…..no meanness or teasing just lots of praise. prefers slow grinds that make him tear up bc it’s so good. probably when he has bad days and wants to just have soft mushy gushy lovey dovey sex

now lip (slut) i feel like he rarely subs but that’s because he’s got that internalized ‘macho’ bs implanted in his brain. but when he does he’s probably bitchy saying “want me to take over? probably do it better than you 🤭” and when he stops being so bullheaded it’s all “o-oh, keep fuckin me like that, shhhit s’good”

feel like carmen would love a little edging? not a lot but…because the release is more than just physical it’s kinda emotional for him too? while lip would love overstimulation because it’d be the only thing he could focus on it’d just wipe his brain of all his current worries

oooooooooooooooo lord. oh lord. i need a cold shower.

carmen being a whiny baby is so real. i know he just wants to be taken care of after a long hard day in the kitchen, and he would be so sweet, begging you... 'please baby 's so good' 'f-fuck!' 'shit- 'm gonna come-' and its all strained and he's stuttering... he loves when you edge him, and i mean loves it, he loves to beg and beg and get pushed so close to the edge. and hes a crier, trust. he likes to feel vulnerable and soft with you.

getting lip to submit would be an... ordeal. but i think you can coax him into it. i think tying him up would be good for his giant fucking ego, once you get his ass tied down and start making him feel good he would start to let down that facade he's always putting up. he'd be squirming and begging you to untie him so he can touch you and please you. once you get him like that he would be soooo eager to please you. he would do anything to get you off, eat you out for hours and ask for nothing in return, just asking 'yeah, baby, 's good for you?' 'you can gimme another, wanna make you feel good please' 'am i makin' ya feel good? hm?' and for sure lots of 'thank you, thank you baby' when you praise him for how good he's being.

in conclusion: yes.

[buzzcutlip]

congrats on 100 maggie that’s amazing!! 🎉🫶🏻

could I request carmy with a single!mom reader and they’re still kinda fresh in their relationship and with both of their busy schedules it’s hard to have any alone time and whenever they’re trying to have privacy for adult fun time it keeps being interrupted by reader’s little one bc reader’s daughter loves carmy and they’re both going crazy but also love becoming a new lil family. I just keep thinking about how carmy would be with a little kid and how he’d take over the role of a stepdad-dad 😩

Thank you! :)

I would like to say that I love kids and I worked in childcare for years. However, I'm not much into kid fics - rarely read them and never wrote one! Your prompt got me thinking so I'm sharing my head canons about stepdad!Carmy (explicit stuff behind the cut!)

You're so scared to tell Carmy you're a mom because you've started having real feelings; it's not just fooling around anymore. When you finally share that you've got a little girl, you're sick to your stomach with nerves, worried about the possibility of being rejected or ridiculed. But Carmy surprises you—pleasantly—by not freaking out at all. He nods and asks a couple of basic questions: "How old is she? Who's looking after her when you two are together? What's her favorite Disney movie?"

Carmy does freak out—once he's at home. He barely sleeps that night, thinking of all the ways the "wrong" in him or with him could rub off on the little girl once they meet. Because he's a messed-up grown-up who has no clue how to behave.

You can't keep putting off Carmen meeting your daughter after four months of dating. You can't, and you don't want to. It takes a bit of effort before Carmen opens up about his difficult childhood and messed-up family. You assure him that it's not going to affect your daughter and promise him that you absolutely believe he's a good person.

Your little one is almost four, and she's independent, sassy, and loving, so she probably understands Carmy's hesitation and worries better than you do—without Carmen ever needing to say a word. She knows he's a chef—a cook—so she takes his hand and shows him her own wooden kids' kitchen. Carmy's eyes are huge and glassy when he looks up at you, and you hold back your own tears.

The first time you witness Carmy and your daughter cooking together (not in the kids' kitchen), your heart almost stops. You know how sacred the kitchen—any kitchen—is for him, as well as the whole process of meal prepping. They're just baking cookies, from what you can see over Carmy's broad back, flour everywhere, and he uses the softest voice on her: "You make a ball from the dough, that's right. Well done, chef," and "You got it, darling," and "Good job, good girl," followed by a high-five, your daughter giggling, clearly proud of herself.

That night, you ask Carmy to stay - the first time while your daugher is at home too - and he agrees, with a soft smile and a chaste kiss to your temple. You're a bit apprehensive about having sex, anxious about your little one overhearing something or waking up in the middle of it, but at the end it's you who asks Carmen for it. You beg him with your eyes, your hands and mouth, and who's he to say 'no'? The day had been emotional and the remaints of it hang between you as he fucks you on your back, staring into your soul, reaching there with his cock too. You're kinda trying to hurry up, Carmy thrusting into you with sharp movements that make you gasp out puffs of air between the two of you. He leans in to whisper into your ear "You're taking it so well, you would take my load so well, would you want another baby, hm?" His words surprise you and make you so hot that you come with a startle the next second.

Fuck, Carmy Berzzato wants a kid with you?

[roosterforme]

roosterforme's '80s Rocktober Playlist fic challenge

For those about to rock, we salute you!

Let's rock 'n' roll the Top Gun way! Choose an '80s rock song (or pop or country or rap...), and write a fic about one or more of our favorite Top Gun characters! Just make sure the songs are from Rooster's favorite decade, the 1980s!

Or create a banner or mood board! Go with an '80s vibe or a specific song to inspire you and run wild.

Banner credit to @mak-32. Rock on, Mak.

Rules for fics:

Please use the #top gun rocktober hashtag!!!

Once you have your song selected (first come, first served, no duplicates), please send me an ask letting me know which song and character(s) you want to write about. If your song is not listed below, just let me know what you want with your ask and I’ll add it (as long as it fits the decade). If your song has been claimed already, I'll let you know so you can choose another one.

You can use the song in the fic however you would like. Use it as the title, use some lyrics, have the song playing in the background, use it as inspiration, anything you want!

There is no real time limit, but please try to post in September or October.

Please make sure you tag me (or send me a message) when you post your story so I don’t miss it. I can’t wait to read and reblog!

Please reblog and share this with anyone who may want to participate. And reblogging fics is always a treat for writers!

If you’re under 18, do not submit or read smut.

Rules for banners and mood boards:

Please use the #top gun rocktober hashtag!!!

If you want to use a specific song, please send me an ask letting me know which song. If you want to participate with the '80s vibe and no specific song, just send me an ask and let me know you'll be submitting an image or images.

Please make sure you tag me (or send me a message) when you post so I don’t miss it. I can’t wait to reblog!

Please reblog and share this with anyone who may want to participate.

Songs and fics we are rocking out to:

1 @roosterforme What's Your Name by New Order (Bradley)

2 @beyondthesefourwalls Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper (Bradley)

3 @sylviebell Faithfully by Journey (Natasha)

4 @wkndwlff Love Walks In by Van Halen (Bob)

5 @desert-fern Jump by Van Halen (Bradley)

6 @yanna-banana Like a Prayer by Madonna (Jake)

7 @fanboyswhore9 Addicted to Love by Robert Palmer (Mickey)

8 @cherrycola27 Born to Be My Baby by Bon Jovi (Bradley)

9 @trickphotography2 Start Me Up by The Rolling Stones (Bradley)

10 @blue-aconite Every Little Thing She Does is Magic by The Police (Jake)

11 @roosterforme Do You Wanna Touch Me? by Joan Jett (Bradley)

12 @startrekfangirl2233 Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go by Wham! (Mickey)

13 @bradshawsbitch Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (Bradley)

14 @bellaireland1981 Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon (Bradley)

15 @wkndwlff Lay Your Hands On Me by Bon Jovi (Bob)

16 @beyondthesefourwalls Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield (Javy)

17 @thedroneranger Boys of Summer by Don Henley (Bradley)

18 @cottagecori Dancing With Myself by Generation X (Bob)

19 @sweetwhispersofchaos I Hate Myself For Loving You by Joan Jett (Natasha and Jake)

20 @sometimesanalice Straight Up by Paula Abdul (Bradley)

21 @lovinglyeternal Call Me by Blondie (Jake)

22 @roosterforme Adult Education by Hall & Oates (Jake)

23 @beyondthesefourwalls Your Love by Outfield (Bradley)

24 @mayhemmanaged You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC (Jake)

25 @topherwrites Love Shack by The B-52's (Bradley)

26 @ficsilike-reblogged Take On Me by A-ha (Bob)

27 @cottagecori Rock You Like a Hurricane by Scorpions (Bradley)

28 @jupitercomet Kissing a Fool by George Michael (Bradley)

29 @startrekfangirl2233 Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds (Jake and Bradley)

30 @topherwrites Just Like Heaven by The Cure (Jake)

31 @sweetwhispersofchaos As the World Falls Down by David Bowie (Natasha and Bob)

32 @inmyloveworld Open Arms by Journey (Bradley)

33 @thedroneranger Centerfold by J. Geils Band (Jake)

34 @gretagerwigsmuse Can't Hardly Wait by The Replacements (Bradley)

35 @bellaireland1981 Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar (Jake)

36 @blurredcolour Push It by Salt-N-Pepa (Jake and Bradley)

37 @blackwidownat2814 White Wedding by Billy Idol (Jake)

38 @keep-on-burnin The Look by Roxette (Bradley)

39 @cherrycola27 Secret Lovers by Atlantic Starr (Natasha and Javy)

40 @topherwrites Uptown Girl by Billy Joel (Bradley)

41 @jynxmirage If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher (Jake)

42 @notroosterbradshaw Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks (Bradley)

43 @ficsilike-reblogged Hungry for Heaven by Dio (Beau)

44 @callsign-magnolia Who's Crying Now by Journey (Bradley)

45 @trickphotography2 Every Breath You Take by The Police (Bob)

46 @sarahsmi13s Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard (Jake)

47 @roosterforme Cover Girl by New Kids on the Block (Natasha)

48 @bobfloydsbabe Alone by Heart (Jake)

49 @ughthisisntright The Stroke by Billy Squier (Bradley)

50 @wkndwlff Special Secret Song Inside by The Red Hot Chili Peppers (Jake)

51 @sylviebell Thriller by Michael Jackson (Natasha and Javy)

52 @xoxabs88xox Why’d You Come in Here Lookin' Like That by Dolly Parton (Jake)

53 @paigewinchester67 I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen (Bradley and Jake)

54 @sarahsmi13s Fishin' In the Dark by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band (Bob)

55 @callsign-joyride Need You Tonight by INXS (Bradley)

56 @foreverrandomwritings Paradise City by Guns N' Roses (Beau)

57 @cherrycola27 Whoever's In New England by Reba McEntire (Bob)

58 @1234-angelika The Bluest Eyes in Texas by Restless Heart (Jake)

59 @decantedenchanted Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx (Mav)

60 @the-authoress-writes Black Velvet by Alannah Myles (Jake)

61 @withahappyrefrain Somebody to Love by Queen (Bradley)

62 @valhallaas Hold on Loosely by 38 Special (Javy)

63 @talktomegooseman The Chair by George Strait (Jake)

64 @foreverrandomwritings Master of Puppets by Metallica (Mickey and Bob)

65 @poetrieshouse Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran (Mav)

66 @tongue-like-a-razor Poison by Alice Cooper (Jake)

67 @1234-angelika Real Love by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers (Bradley)

68 @the-authoress-writes The Flame by Cheap Trick (Ice)

69 @hangmanstigerlily Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon (Jake)

70 @samsgoddess Hysteria by Def Leppard (Bradley)

71 @eternalsams Cherry Pie by Warrant (Jake)

72 @love-in-light Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi (Bradley)

73 @thatdammchickennugget Summer of '69 by Bryan Adams (Bradley)

74 @whatislovevavy Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears (Jake)

Totally rad cover art:

@ryebecca She Drives Me Crazy by Fine Young Cannibals

@bettycooper Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) by Kate Bush (Bradley)

@ryebecca The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News (Bob)

@mak-32 Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car by Billy Ocean (Bradley)

@laracrofted I Love Rock 'n' Roll by Joan Jett (Bob)

@sebsxphia Come On Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners (Bob)

Need some song inspiration? Check out these bangers:

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic - The Police

Start Me Up - The Rolling Stones 

Livin’ On A Prayer - Bon Jovi 

Eye of the Tiger - Survivor

Shout - Tears for Fears

You Give Love A Bad Name - Bon Jovi 

Every Breath You Take - The Police 

The Final Countdown - Europe

Angel - Aerosmith

Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

Uptown Girl - Billy Joel

Call Me - Blondie

Take Me Home Tonight - Eddie Money 

Free Fallin’ - Tom Petty 

Hysteria - Def Leppard 

I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett & the Blackhearts 

Just like Heaven - The Cure 

I Won’t Back Down - Tom Petty 

Magic - The Cars

Love Is A Battlefield - Pat Benatar 

Addicted To Love - Robert Palmer

Love Shack - The B-52’s 

Without You - Motley Crue 

Material Girl - Madonna

Legs - ZZ Top

Paradise City - Guns N’ Roses 

Can’t Fight This Feeling - REO Speedwagon 

Cum on Feel the Noize - Quiet Riot 

[thebearer]

hii I though it would be cool if you show what the atmosphere would be like when reader and Teddy visit the bear for the first time since the fight? Maybe for their family dinner? Also I totally love ur work, super cool

relief lol. genuinely relief.

like they knew carmen was getting better. he’s still so fucking private but he ducks out early every tuesdays and thursdays in the middle of prep and they all pretend they don’t know where he’s going, but they know he’s going to his therapist.

still there’s this kinda tense vibe even after you’ve went back home. carmen seems better, and it’s not out of the ordinary that you haven’t shown up bc teddy is so little, but they’re still a little like “oh shit what if she left him?”

until you show up unannounced at family with baby teddy. she’s bigger now, it’s less of a risk and you’ve missed seeing them. probably after you and carm have settled back to normal (post smut lol let’s be real) and you come to see everyone.

tina actually sighs of relief. like she is so fucking happy bc she nearly killed carmen. wouldn’t talk to him for weeks, weeks, it was like worse than when he started. a worse cold shoulder bc she heard a sliver of what he did (not even the whole thing).

I do think they all see a change with him. that they don’t have to walk on eggshells around him. he’s not blowing up as more anymore. tried to talk calmly and not lose his shit when things get out of control. talks more instead of bottling things up. actually lets other people do things. and follows through. both at the restaurant and at home.

definitely is more appreciative in general. not so mean and doom and gloom. i feel like he got called out by someone (richie or jimmy i can’t decide), “I don’t know why you’re so fuckin’ miserable all the time. what more do you want? you got a wife, a healthy baby, a successful business, and a family that’s- yeah, it’s kinda fucked up- but they love you.”

and that really floored him bc that is genuinely all he ever wanted. it was stuff he never thought he’d have and now he does and he’s still sad and moody and mean all the time?

he’s so touchy at family dinner. everyone’s coping over teddy, and so you actually get to eat a meal without juggling. carmen’s not overly pda (let’s be realistic, it’s carmen) but he kisses you when he greets you (HUGE lol) and keeps his hand on your thigh. looks at you with the most lovestruck gaze while you giggle and talk with the others. just complete adoration. he always has but it’s different now.

[carmenberzattosgf]

when carmen sees you in a skirt or dress, whether you wear them all the time or not, it drives him fucking WILD. watching the skirt of your outfit swish as you walk, admiring your legs (thighs even, depending on length). he’s rubbing his lips against his fingers, his eyes flicking to your face to your legs and back to your face again. trying his hardest to bite back the urge to bend you over and flip your skirt up.

and if he’s being silly and bold, he’d sneak his hand up your skirt, fingers skimming your underwear and quickly pulling away with a big smirk and an innocent ‘what, baby? musta been the breeze, real windy today’ -💫

OH 💫 ANON HOW I LOVE YOU. YOU SO GET ME ( also I will be working on your other asks over the weekend hehehe)

He LOVES your legs in skirts. I’ve always thought of Carmy as boob guy first, but he’s a thigh guy second. You don’t wear skirts often, usually opting for shorts or pants, so when he sees you in them he’s done for. He cannot keep his eyes off of you, taking in your outfit choice.

There’s something about how easy the access is that really just does it for him. He knows that if he really wanted to he can take you to his office, bend you over his desk, and flip your skirt up. He’ll keep the skirt on you while he fucks you, simply shoving your underwear to the side to let himself slip in.

If you wear a skirt to a sit down dinner at a restaurant, or any kind of event sitting around a table, you best believe Carmy is going to mess around with you. His hand rests on your knee at first, innocent enough. Soon, though, he moves his hand up under your skirt and runs a finger over your clothed core before resting his hand back on your knee. I don’t think he would actually finger you under the table or anything, just mess around a bit.

Now finally let me discuss oral with a skirt on. Carmy is DESPERATE to get his head underneath your skirt. If you try and take it off, he’ll stop you. He wants to bury his head underneath the fabric and start lapping at your underwear, soaking it with saliva. Part of him likes that you can’t see exactly what he’s doing. It makes it all the more exciting when he brings you closer and closer to orgasm. Your thighs squeeze around his head hard as you cum.

Yeah Carmy emerges from underneath your skirt with a blushed face and stick covered chin. You’re convinced he’s never looked prettier.

[thecapricunt1616]

The Bear & His Honey - Chapter 12

♡ Chapter Inspo: Lyrics; Enjoy The Silence (Depeche Mode) - Words like violence, break the silence, come crashing in- into my little world. Painful to me, pierce right through me, can't you understand? All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, Is here in my arms. Words are very unnecessary, they can only do harm…

♡ Summary: Winnie x Carmy have deep talks, Carmy ends up running away & having a panic attack, Syd being the pookie pie she is brings Winnie to therapy, they share big news & Syd is anxious (but, what's new there?)

♡ W/C: 9,600

♡ Posted Date: 03/08/2024

♡ A/N: Hey everyone! No smut in this chapter, but lots of angst!! We finally get to see Syd bc I was talkin to a Tumblr OOMF & I just HAD to put in some Syd this week, & she slipped right in there perfectly! We will be back with some super sweet fluff next week, I need to keep you on your toes - this is about Carmen the most anxious person on earth after all hahahha

♡ Warnings for BTC: Smoking, Swearing, Angst, Talk of suicide, Panic attacks, Bad coping skills *not edited :)*

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

After a shower that surprisingly didn’t end in another round, and a heavy make out when he came out of the bathroom to see me clad in nothing but his white shirt and a pair of panties, we had gotten comfortable in bed again, my fairy lights back on. 

We were laid facing eachother, fingers intertwined, sharing sweet pillow talk about what we did earlier in the night. It felt so good to talk to him like this, and truth be told I felt so lucky that he was being so open about how he felt about it all. 

“Y’know when-“ I giggled “when I was like- I couldn’t say anything other then yes?” I asked and he snorted a laugh, squeezing my hand softly. 

“Yes why?” He gently rubs my hip with his free hand, pushing my shirt up so his palm was flat against my skin. 

“Cause- well I couldn’t even wrap my head around it, I just knew that you were doing exactly what I wanted, but more so you were saying what I wanted. Like- Bear. I am so amazed with you and your ability to like- learn so fast. You’re like actually the best lay I’ve ever ever had. For real, honest to god.” I said, gently rubbing my thumb over his now very warm and pink cheek. 

He swallowed thickly, thinking for a moment, eyes fluttering shut under my gentle touch. “Can I tell y’somethin, baby?” he asked quietly. I leaned forward, resting my forehead on his, my hand trailing up his face and fingers getting lost in his damp curls. 

“Anything, Carmy.” I whispered, gently nuzzling our noses sweetly “I want you to tell me everything baby” I whispered and he leaned forward, kissing me gently. When he pulled his lips away, his forehead still on mine. My eyes flutter open to meet his blue ones. He takes a deep, shaky breath. 

“I-I’ve never felt like this..and I’m really fuckin’ scared” he bit his lip, squeezing my hip gently. I cupped his jaw, planting a lingering gentle kiss on his forehead before resting my own against him again. 

“Do you remember, last week, when you told me you wanted me to show you how it feels?” I whisper and I could have sworn he stopped breathing for a moment. 

“N-no- no…how…it’s too soon” he pulls away a bit and I let him do so, squeezing his hand affirmingly. 

“How fast do you hate someone?” I asked after he sat silent for a moment, and the look behind his eyes was clear that he was far off somewhere else, so I had to say something to get him back. 

“What?” He asks, attention back to me. “Why does that matter?” He begins untangling our fingers and I rest my other hand over his to stop him. 

“Because. There is such a thin line between love and hate, Carm. I can tell you hate with a deep, guttural, soul-splitting passion. When you hate something, you hate it…and when you love something” I said and he gently curled his fingers around mine again, rubbing his thumb in strokes along the back of my hand. 

“How are you like that” he whispers, pulling me to his chest and nuzzling his face in my neck, his lips pressed to my skin and warm puffs of breath tickling the fleshy spot between my shoulder and my neck. 

I smiled, my hand absentmindedly coming up and lacing my fingers through his curls, scratching his scalp gently in the places I’d come to know he liked. “Like what, Bear?” I whisper, just as soft. It felt like we were the only people in the world. Sleep wasn’t needed in our little haven, I felt like I couldn’t miss a single moment of him. 

“That.” He breathes into my skin, peppering sweet, warm kisses along my skin. “You always fuckin’…just…calm me down. It’s so fuckin’ terrifying” he mutters, a small smile comes to my lips and I kiss his temple sweetly. 

“You calm me down too, but you also make my heart race so much even when I think about you, I worry for myself sometimes…like I’m havin’ a heart attack. Like my heart literally skips. And I didn’t understand what people meant until I met you” I said with a small giggle and he snorts a laugh into my skin. 

“I can’t think about you when I’m not with you- well…that’s a lie…I can’t think about how I feel about you when I’m not with you” he said softly, his thumb gently rubbing over the scar on my hip. 

“Why?” I asked quietly, gently dragging my fingers through his hair in slow, backwards strokes. 

“Cus’ I’ll give myself a fuckin panic episode or whatever it’s called if I think about it for too long.” He mumbled into my neck and I swallowed thickly. 

“Cause…you like me, right?” I asked and he lets out a chuckle. 

“Sooooo far past like, but sure. I don’t even know what to call it, but I more then like you. But- I…I also hate feeling like this..cus’…cus’ I feel- I feel like I’m gonna fuck everything up. Like…what if I’m so focused on us that I fuck up the restaurant? Or- or what if I lose my touch. Or fuckin’ I dunno. Somethin’ in me just like-“ he sighs. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette.” He sits up, back facing me, leaving me cold on my side and I pout. 

“Alone?” I ask quietly, wanting to reach out for him. 

“No- no baby come w’me cmon. Put on some pants though yeah? It’s freezin’ “ he said, grabbing his sweatpants and putting them on as well as his usual plaid brown jacket. 

I got up, opening my dresser and pulling out some pink fuzzy hello kitty pajama bottoms, tugging them on before putting on my fuzzy pink bear socks along with my Ugg slippers and grabbing my well loved Winnie the Pooh zip up, putting it over his tshirt and putting up the hood. “We can go on the balcony” I said softly, going over and unlocking the door. 

He slipped his sneakers on, following me out and sitting down on one of the chairs. “C’mere” he pats his lap and I come over, gently sitting and wrapping my arms around him once he got his cigarettes out and grabbing his lighter from his pocket. Once he popped it between his lips, I lit it for him, gently playing with the curls at the base of his neck and watching as he took a drag. 

“I just feel…like- and I-i know what you’ll say- cause you’ve told me already like a hundred times- but…I feel like, I’m finally sacrificing a little of myself for myself and…I feel like I don’t deserve to? Like…I-i-im betraying myself? and-“ I cup his cheek, stopping his rambling. 

“Why is it betrayal, baby? What about letting yourself feel for once is a betrayal?” I asked and he took another long drag, mulling the question over. 

“Cause’ that part of me that tells me it’s betrayal T’myself t’be happy is the same part of myself that says people always leave and it’s always right. And it tells me…like- like- everyone is gonna be so mad at me when I fuck up with you and then lose you and I also have been like- not on top of my shit with the restaurant. So like I’m- I’m fuckin over Nat, and Richie, and Marcus, and Tina, and Syd. I’m fuckin’ em, Win. For me to be happy. Leavin’ em with all this bull that I’m used to handling so I can run off and play boyfriend until you fuckin’ realize that-“

“Hey, hey, hey” I said softly, cutting his spiral before it could get too deep. “Let’s unpack this baby, so you…you feel like, if you were to fall in love- not even with me. Let’s take me out of this equation. So you think that if you were to have a lover, like a real, intimate, partnership, like- building your life with someone. And that because as a human you have to have a work-life balance, that if your life cuts in to your work, just like your work is expected to cut in to your life once in a while- you believe that everyone in your life, Your big sister, your closest friends, and Syd? Syd. The girl who every person in her life she just wants them to be happy? Like it actually brings her to tears. She fuckin sat with me and Sadie for eleven hours on a FaceTime call, helping us get our Taylor tickets when she didn’t even want to go. And she cried with us when we finally got them. Syd loves you, Carm. As a friend. And knowing Syd, how she loves her friends? Its pure. So if you can’t believe any of the other people you mentioned would be anything short of happy if you were to have an actual life outside of work, it would be Syd. Also- you” I poke his cheek, thankfully earning a tiny upturn of his lips with the action. 

“You, sir” I continue “are a control freak. Yes, it’s hot a lot of the time. But then the other 10-15% of the time…all it does is fuck everything up Carmy. When you try to fuckin’ control every situation with an iron fist something is bound to go wrong. Syd is so smart. She was smart before you got her, and she’s even smarter because you’re teaching her, Carm. You said it yourself- she’s your right hand. Is Syd not your right hand, lovey?” I asked him softly, gently massaging his tense shoulders. 

Blew a trail of smoke away from me, being sure not to let any get directly in my face, before clearing his throat. “Ye’. She is” he muttered, slightly relaxing under my touch. 

“S’what does that mean, baby? D’you trust yourself? Do you trust that you’ve taught Syd, and Richie, and Fak, and Natalie, and Tina how you want your restaurant to be run? What if somethin’ happened to you tomorrow god forbid- d’you think The Bear would crash and burn?” I asked and he shook his head lightly in response, pushing his cigarette out in the ash tray. 

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest. “No- no…that’s actually..” he sighs, looking ahead at the cityscape. “I think about that- like…a lot…well- more before I met you I guess…but- t’day” he swallowed thickly and I kept my gaze locked on his side profile. 

“T’day I thought about it again…and y’re right. If I was removed…everything would probably run smoother. Because like you said. I’m an efficient son of a bitch because of how tightly I control shit, but sometimes I do too much and- a lot I think like…what if I’m holding The Bear back.” He muttered and I gently stroked his cheek with my thumb, both of us going quiet. I gnawed on the inside of my lip nervously, contemplating how he’d react- but knowing how he feels about himself…I had to allow him to see his situation from the outside. 

“D’you wanna know something I’ve been thinkin’ about…but…I didn’t wanna tell you cus’ I’ve been scared it’ll get you worked up for the wrong reasons?” I ask just above a whisper and his gaze finally meets mine again. 

“Tell me” he said, “I promise- I don’t think I could ever stay mad at you, honey” he said leaning in and kissing my cheekbone lightly. 

I took a deep, regulating breath. “When Sugar drove me home…I dunno I just had this- I was…I was just curious. And I asked her, I was like oh- who started to call him Bear, and- she told me that it was Mikey…” I watch his jaw tighten slightly and I swallow thickly, finding the confidence to continue. “And she- she told me…that um..you- you went to New York. Because you and Mikey kinda…grew apart. But that when you were young you both- you…The Bear was gonna be yours together.” I manage to get out and he closes his eyes taking a deep shakey breath. 

“What does this have to do with what I said, Winnie.” He said evenly, but his breath trembling. 

“I…I think-“ I play with my zipper nervously. “I think Mikey felt the same way… I think- he…he felt like you’d be better off because of the way he did things a-“ my voice breaks, tears coming to my eyes. “and he saw you Carmen…he saw you. Sugar told me she- she said…she said he was so proud, but he- he wouldn’t say it. And- and I think…I think he-he was scared. I think-“ he cuts me off. 

“S’what? Y’think he fuckin’ killed himself because he thought I was better than him?! When he wouldn’t even fuckin’ let me work at Mom and Dad’s piece a’ shit - before I fuckin’ went off to prove myself to him.” He said, voice sharper than I’d ever heard him speak towards me before, but still cracking towards the end. 

“Carmy…” I whispered, my throat feeling tight at the sudden energy shift. 

“I think he always saw the greatness in you, but like you he didn’t think he deserved to be apart of the success he knew someone he loved was destined for. He saw you. Carmy. He fucking loved you so fucking much. The way-“ I took a trembling breath, tears staining my cheeks. “The way he loved you was pure Carmen. You said you- you haven’t felt it but it’s just- it’s been around you this entire time baby. Sugar told me how you two were, she gushed over the trouble you’d get into together and how he’d always walk you to school. Just how fucking kind he was and all the ways you take after him.” I wiped away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. 

“I-“ he choked on a sob. “I have to go on a walk- p-please. Alone.” He took in a shaking breath, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, tears pooling down his cheeks. “I h-have to think” he sniffled. 

I wipe his tear-stained cheeks. “Just be safe ok?” I whispered, kissing his temple gently before getting up off his lap.  

He nodded, grabbing his cigarettes and going back in to put a shirt on. I sat down in the chair, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my cheek on my knee, looking out at the city scape, my mind reeling with thoughts. The main one that kept bouncing from corner to corner or my mind like a god damn dvd video logo. 

You sunk too deep, too soon. He’s not coming back.

𝒞𝒶𝓇𝓂'𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱.🧸

I pulled the door behind me slightly harder than I meant to, the slam echoing throughout the hallway. I dug my cigarettes out of my pocket, the second I got into the stairwell lighting it with shaking hands. 

Really, Bear. If you ever feel it's getting too much - call, okay?

Sugars words bounced around my head as I pounded down the stairs, feeling like I couldn't breathe. Sure. The thick hot smoke I was inhaling didnt help the matter, but- fuck - the only thing that could allow me to speak fuckin normally in this state, was if I had a cigarette to pull on. 

I shove open the door so hard that it slams against the brick, causing an elderly woman and her white fluffy dog to jump. “Ooh!” she exclaims, putting her hand over her heart at the sudden noise. 

“S’rry Ma’am” I muttered, pulling my hood over my head as I walked by, looking at my feet as I fished my phone out while I took a drag of my now lit cigarette. With my free hand, I popped the cigarette out of my mouth and let out a shaky exhale as I unlocked my phone with shaking fingers.

Where the fuck am I going right now? 

I click the phone icon, clicking Sugars number and putting the phone to my ear as I listen to the ring and my heavy footsteps, inhaling another heavy drag. Surprisingly, it was only 2 rings before she answered. 

“God damn it Bear, y’re lucky I shut my ringer off before Livy woke up- Whats goin’ on?” she whisper-shouts into the phone. I stopped, leaning against the chainlink fence cutting off the empty lot a  block down from Winnies apartment. I wanted to crumple and sob at the sound of her voice.

“N-Nat?” I stutter in to the phone, my voice shaky, feeling just like I sounded as a fuckin’ kid, knocking at her door after Mom yelled at me for knocking her drink over. 

“Carmy-” she said, voice much softer then before and I heard her front door click open, car keys jingling. “Bear, where are you - let me help you, Bear, please, tell me- where are you?” she pleads.

I took a deep shuddering breath, crouching down against the fence with my head in my hands, the only thing stopping my hand from shaking being pressing the phone to my ear.

“Y’remember - d’you-” I took the phone away from my ear, slapping my palm against my forehead roughly in frustration. I cant fuckin’ speak right now. Fuck. And it feels like I’m gonna throw up. 

“Bear” I heard her say through the phone as I frustratedly rubbed my hand over my face, pushing tears away angrily to try and ground myself.

How the fuck did Winnie make me feel like this? What the fuck? Why am I not mad at her for making me feel like this?

“Nat- Nat…Nat” I try catching my breath, “Nat, Im fuckin’ im cashin’ in- w-when you told me t’call you if im- if… “ I look up briefly, rubbing my hand over my mouth to soothe back a sob, my eyes meeting the ‘For Rent’ sign of the empty lot I was kneeled infront of pathetically. 

“Uh-I’m-I’m a-at- tw-” I pull the phone away and cough, my lungs burning. The mix of crying uncontrollably, thick mucus, and cigarettes, proving once again to be deadly- if not at least extremely irritating to my throat when I’m like this.

“Twenty-five north Wells, near Winnies” I breathe out, slumping down into a heap on the sidewalk, curling into myself. 

If someone I know walks by, I’m actually going to end it, fucking tonight.

“Stay, stay right there, I’m coming Bear” I heard her car door slam shut, before the engine roared to life.

 “Thanks” I mumble in to the phone and hung up, dropping my phone in my chest pocket and hugging my knees.

I look like a fuckin child, pathetic and rediculous.

But my swirling, self deprecating thoughts didn’t stop me from shaking with silent sobs as I mulled over the words Winnie said minutes earlier, sticking to my brain like velcro. 

‘ He always saw the greatness in you, but like you he didn’t think he deserved to be apart of the success he knew someone he loved was destined for. He saw you, Carmy. ‘

I shook my head at the thought, wiping the never ending stream of tears from my raw cheeks. “Fuckin, get it together quit bein a pussy” I muttered to myself, sniffling and standing up, shaking my hand by my side roughly, hearing the joint crack with each flick as I paced back and forth quickly, uncontrollably gasping breaths taking over my lungs in place of sobs as I swallowed everything back. 

I refused to be sniveling like a little bitch when I got in Nat’s car. I’m not fuckin’ 7 anymore. I clear my throat, looking up at the sky as I pace, trying to find anything to pop in my mind other then the racing thoughts of Mikey, and the overwhelming guilt that I somehow killed him by leaving. 

I was so lost in attempting to chill the fuck out - that I didn’t even hear Natalie’s SUV pull up. What pulled me out of my head was the sound of her car door slamming. 

“Bear- fuckin’ Jesus Carmen, thank god Y’re alright buddy, you scared me fuckin’ shitless” she comes up to me, hugging me tightly and nestling her face in my chest. “I love you, i love you, I love you Carmen. I don’t tell you enough, but I love you, ok? So so fucking much. Y’re still my little bud. Y’know that, right? Y’re gonna be my little buddy forever” She mutters. 

And with that, I cracked once again. “Nat” I whisper, before completely breaking down in her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. She hugs me tighter, rubbing circles into my back soothingly.  

“Oh, Bear…” she whispered sadly into my hair, “tell me, tell me Carm.” She said and I tried to catch my breath.

“I- fuck- holy fuck. I- I needa sit…please. D-do you have water?” I cough hard into my arm. Fuckin cigarettes only fuck me up this bad when I’m like this. 

“Carm, fuckin’ breathe - holy shit. Yes, c’mon” she tugs my sleeve and I got on the passanger side, immediately grabbing her large purple cup that of course was just like Winnie’s-

Since the universe is determined to cackle at my demise at every beck and turn. 

-but I got past it due to my mouth that was so dry it felt glued, and chug down about half of the cup by the short time she’d sat in the driver seat and set the cup back down with a sigh. 

“Glad to see you found the water” she said, turning the engine over so we wouldn’t freeze. “So. Cmon. Let’s go. code hiccup..this must be serious” she said, bringing a small, barely there smile to my lips. 

Code hiccup was what she called her mandatory chats with me as a kid, when I’d get so fuckin’ worked up that I’d be hiccuping as I cried since I could barely breathe. And during these, she told me ‘as an older sister she has authority to make me tell her what’s bothering me.’ - she’d only ever called one of these when I was at the very wits end of my breaking point, so I never fought her on it. 

I look at her “Mikey- Winnie- she -hic- she…what the fuck did you say t’her, Nat?” Ok, so I guess I still get so worked up I fuckin’ hiccup. 

“Carm, what? Thats why you’re all fuckin’ upset?! Cause I told her a few childhood stories, and told her about how much he missed you when you were away? How close you both were? You knew that already. I told you that! I tried calling, Bear. You fuckin iced me out the same way he did t’you” she shook her head. 

“No- n-no she -hic- she…she said” I took a shaking breath, swallowing back the lump in my throat that was threatening to make a reappearance. “Why would she ever say I -hic- take after him? W- -hic- we both know that Mikey-“ I shook my head, looking out the window. “Was better at fuckin everything. He was normal.” I said quietly. 

“Carm, you are so much like him- you take after him in so many ways. The good and the bad.Other then the….the end for him, you were the same. We practically raised you, Carm, if anyone knows you its me, and it was Mike. How you’re so selfless in forgoing your own pleasures for the sake of others, your passion, Carm, your passion for your family, your passion for cooking? He missed you…but- I could tell he wanted you to just…do your own thing” she said, holding her cup in her lap and twirling the straw anxiously. 

“He knew Nat, he knew how much it h-hic-hurt me, when he fuckin…” I shook my head, closing my eyes tightly as tears pricked at the corners. 

“Bear I need you to hear me when I say this and not take it the wrong way…” she whispered and I looked at her, swallowing thickly. 

“A few months after you left…we were talking, and- he…he told me that…” she shakes her head, looking at her lap. “He told me that unless he kicked you out hard enough, you’d be too…soft to make it, like- that… that you wouldn’t be angry enough to get where you needed to go, to pull yourself up. He said that…that in the kitchen industry..you cant be so openly in love with cooking like you were…that to succeed you had to be serious about it, that it wasn’t about love, its about perfection. So he- he did that because he thought that he was helping you- but..but loving and being soft isn’t a bad thing Bear, and I wanted to fuckin wallop him over the back of the head for ever even thinking like that, but he told me…where you were going- where you were destined to go…you���d never had made it if he- if…he held your hand like he always did.” her eyes finally met mine once more.

I was just sitting there, dumbfounded, hiccups escaping my lips every so often a stears silently streamed down my cheeks. “Why does everyone except you and Winnie work like that, Natty?” I whispered after a long moment of silence. 

“Like what, Carm?” she brushes some stray tears away from my cheek. “That in order to offer help, they need to hurt me first”

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

I didn’t sleep at all that night, I didn’t even realize it was 6am until I got an alarm on my phone, alerting that Taylor would be hitting the stage in a few minutes.

She always helps me forget things for a little while. I’m so glad she’s starting her leg in Singapore, today.

 I grabbed it off the charger hitting the stop button, and rubbing my tired eyes. “ ‘Lexa - g’morning” I said ‘Good morning’ it replied, my LED lights flicking on to a warm pinky orange.

I sat up in bed, finding my remote and switching Criminal Minds out for the morning news, before grabbing my phone and opening up the live stream of her concert. Amidst everything, i’d forgotten about Swiftball completely- not even caring much. I had went numb a few hours ago, when it would have been a reasonable walk. No, Carm went home. He had to have, the only thing left here of his was his backpack, that was laying flat on the floor since everything he’d brought to wear for the night was on his person, and his pair of Levi’s, as well as one of his white shirts. 

I got up, stretching my back and listening as the lead up speech to Cruel Summer started. 

“Oh! Nǐ hǎo!” she said adorably before beginning to sing, causing me to giggle. 

“Adorable” I mutter to myself, turning around and picking up Persephone from her spot on Carm’s-

On the other side of my bed. 

And held her like a baby. “G’mornin stinky” I said and kissed her head. She looked up at me and licked my nose, causing me to scrunch it up and smile. “Tank you for kisses smoochy, where were you last night mmm? Hidin’?” I put her back down on the bed gently and stroke her tail before grabbing my phone and heading to the bathroom.

I connected to my speaker, listening to Lover play, and rolling my eyes to myself as I start the shower and began to undress. 

This therapy session is gonna be brutal. I feel it. 

Nonetheless, out of habit I hummed along. I washed my body while listening to The Archer, Deep conditioned my hair, dancing around in the shower a bit to Fearless, it really was one of my favorite songs of hers. Probably because it was one of those songs Chris and I danced to a billion times together in my room with my little hello kitty CD player my mom had gotten me as my christmas present at a garage sale one year. 

I shaved my legs to You Belong With Me, and exfoliated to Love Story, smiling as I replayed all the memories of Chris turning the volume all the way up, and sitting criss-cross on my floor, his hand over the top of the CD player, feeling the hum of the lyrics and the bass while I jumped wildly on my bed and sung my heart out like I was preforming my own personal concert. We’d listened to this album so much, and I’d signed him the lyrics so much, that by the bumping of the bass and vibration of the lyrics- he knew by memory what song was playing after a while.

By the time Look What You Made Me Do was playing, I was cutting the water off from my long luxurious shower. I was convinced I’d scrubbed every touch of him off my body, out of guilt more then anything. I swoop in his life, give him these new experiences, make him feel loved, and then clawed open his deepest wound that had barely clotted yet. 

He doesn’t deserve to heal on my timing because it would make our relationship easier on me. This is about us together, and the conversation we had was out of my own selfishness. 

I’m torn away from my swirling thoughts from the opening lines of Enchanted, rolling my eyes in annoyance, “Oh give me a fuckin’ break.” I mutter to the universe. I finished drying myself off, trying to ignore the lyrics as I slathered my lotion on. 

And now I’m pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door.. 

“No! No its a stupid song and I am not dramatic and this song isn’t even about anything like what happened shut UP brain” I rambled to myself, spraying on my Honey Bee body mist that had golden glitter in it, going out to my bedroom and opening my dresser. 

I focused on getting dressed, putting on a black T-shirt bra and panties and heading over to my closet. I pulled out one of my favorite pairs of overalls with Pooh embroidered on them, as well as a striped tan,blue, and red turtleneck sweater i’d thrifted. I slipped on the sweater, untucking my damp hair and adjusting the collar before putting on the overalls and buckling them up. 

I went back over to my dresser, pulling out some plain black ankle socks and slipping them on before grabbing my phone and heading into the bathroom. I quickly blew out my hair so my bangs wouldn’t curl up wildly, and brushed my teeth before heading out to the kitchen with Persephone on my heels as I hum along with We are Never Ever Getting Back Together  

This is the energy I need to take on for his sake. 

I sighed to myself as I took out one of my iced coffee glasses, stuffing it with ice before putting it under the coffee machine & brewing a strong latte. 

I had nothing to make for breakfast, and did not feel like going to the store- so I just decided to skip it and grab some McDonald’s on my way home from therapy later. I wandered off to my craft room, looking over various projects I’d started and contemplating what I wanted to throw myself into today. 

Something…intricate. 

I knew just the thing. I opened up the closet, pulling out the bodice mannequin that was dressed in my half done replica of Taylor’s Midnight Rain bodysuit. I had scoured google for days finding the perfect colors of beads, finding the best threads that wouldn’t snap, the best sequins. I saved up for 3 months, after my last Taylor concert- because Sadie and I agreed that we’d be watching for more Tickets to her Miami show, because it was so good when we went we had to do it again. 

I hum along to The Last Great American Dynasty as I prepared my sewing needle, getting all my beads and sequins laid out. I counted out my first group of 13 beads, sewing them in a neat row one by one, having to push up my glasses on my nose every so often. 

I only broke my trance when she started singing the first surprise song of the evening sparks fly. I gasped, standing up and watching closely, dancing around and singing along, squealing excitedly when she mixed in Gold Rush as well. 

“Oh my god those are perfect songs together!!!” I jump happily, singing along excitedly when she got to the chorus. 

“I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild just keep on keepin’ your eyes on me it’s just wrong enough to make it feel right!! And lead me up the staircase won’t you whisper soft and slow!! I’m captivated by you baby like a firework sho-“

“Winnie?” I hear and a shriek escapes my lips in surprise. I whip around to see Carm standing in the doorway. 

“Bastard” I slap my hand over my heart, attempting to catch my breath. “Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that! Jesus I almost had a heart attack!” I said, and there was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. 

“I did knock, sorry I guess it wasn’t loud enough.” He said. His eyes were bloodshot, nose red and raw from being rubbed. His curls were a mess of broken waves from running his hands through them so much. 

“I thought…” I turn the volume on my phone down. “I- I thought you…went home.” I said, biting the inside of my lip nervously. 

“What? No..no. I’m sorry, I- I had to think…I uh- I saw Sugar, we talked. She just dropped me off cause she has to get her kid ready for school. But I feel…better, kinda.” He releases a shaky breath. 

I nod, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry, I’m really, sorry, Carmen. I- I shouldn’t have said any of that t’you..it doesn’t matter how I feel about Mikey and- and how I feel about how you feel about him…it was never my place to reopen that wound. And…I-“ my voice cracks, vision going blurry with tears. 

“I think I’ll only hurt you if we keep this up.” I shake my head, looking at my feet and nervously playing with my fingers. 

“No- well, maybe- maybe yeah…-“ he hesitated and swallowed thickly. 

I squeeze my eyes shut, hot tears running down my cheeks. 

Selfish. Manipulative. Horrible. You ruin everything you touch. Why are you crying- he should be the one crying. You hurt him - you selfish greedy bitch! 

I shake my head as the voices roar in my ears. 

“I mean- it was a lot all at once…baby, and it was really late, and- and we had just been so close like that for the first time in bed, and that was my first time being so close to someone in bed in general. And - I…I think I was too emotionally fucked out for that and that’s why I ran. But I want you. I want this” He said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

I look up at him, sniffling. “Y-you don’t hate me now?” I whisper, my voice shakey. 

“Honey” he said softly, stepping towards me and opening his arms. I felt pulled like a magnet, dropping my phone on my chair and curling my arms around him, nuzzling my face in his chest and inhaling the scent of cigarettes, sandalwood, cedar, the smallest touch of jasmine, but best of all the light tinge of him. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, Bear” I whisper over and over again into his shirt. He rubs my back in long soothing strokes. 

“ it’s okay baby, I’m just…I feel alot when I with you- let’s go slow with talks like that yeah?” He mumbled in to my hair and I nod slightly against his chest.

“Thank you” I said softly and look up at him, resting my chin on his sternum. 

“F’what baby?” He brushed my bangs from my eyes. 

“Not leaving me.” I whisper and he bent his neck downwards, resting his forehead on mine and looking into my eyes.  

“It’s a me thing - not a you thing- but…I’m really confused why I didn’t. I mean…that’s my MO usually, especially with girls. But…I dunno…I wanna keep trying this time, y’re different.” He squeezes my hips gently. 

I wrap my arms around his neck loosely, “kiss me?” I ask softly and he obliges. I hum satisfied at the feeling of his lips once more, swiping my tongue across his bottom lip and he opened his mouth on contact, his tongue finding mine. I tasted a tinge of iron, and he pulled away lightly when my tongue ran over his bottom lip, feeling the raw flesh. He’s been biting the fuck out of his lips.

Our noses sweetly rub together in the tender kiss, my fingers twirling a soft blonde tuft of hair between them. He pulled away after a moment, and I looked up at him.  “can we sleep baby, please” his eyes fluttered back shut, it sounded like a plea more then anything. 

“Let’s go t’sleep, Bear” I intertwined our fingers, tugging him gently to the bedroom.

I’m woken by my Apple Watch buzzing on my wrist. I groan softly, looking at it ‘therapy 1 hr.!!’ The alarm read. I hit stop, carefully untangling Carmen and I, first slowly deranging our fingers, then carefully untwisting our legs, and finally ever so gently picking up his arm and rolling out of bed slowly so as to not wake him. Poor thing has only been sleeping 6 hours and he was surely up for more than 24. 

I slipped his white tshirt off, dropping it on the bed and I went over to my desk, putting on my outfit that I’d taken off to nap. Then, I sat at my vanity, popping in my AirPods and listening to my metal playlist as I did some light simple makeup, brushing my long hair into a high ponytail, leaving my fringe out. My music goes soft, Siri reading out a notification. 

Text from Syd the Chef kid 👩🏾‍🍳🫶: place is slow cause the rain, espresso date b4 therapy?? 

I smiled to myself, grabbing my phone and quickly texting back. 

Plsss!! 🥹🫶 imu goddess. Need Syd time!!!

I got up, going and brushing my teeth before feeding Persephone her early dinner so she didn’t wake Carm asking for it if he slept through my appointment. I grabbed a piece of my Hello Kitty stationary and a pen, quickly writing. 

Went to therapy. Be back by 4:30, please lock the door if you leave (didn’t wanna wake you, you look so sweet + handsome when you’re sleeping ♡ ) x♡x♡ - Winnie♡ :) 

I quietly entered the bedroom, leaving the note on my pillow and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead, being sure to tuck his arm into the blanket so he wouldn’t get cold and brushed his hair back before grabbing my tote and shutting the bedroom door behind me. 

I check my phone to see a new text from Syd about 5 minutes ago 

Be there in 10!

I grabbed her heels that id been long meaning to give back to her, quietly shutting the front door behind me and I went downstairs. By the time I was bouncing down the steps her blue optima was pulling up. I practically skipped over, it had been ages it felt since we last got to hang out. Syd brought me to therapy 3 times a week, she refused to take gas money, and told me that she didn’t want me dealing with surge pricing or risking the train. 

I pop open the passenger door “you’re children” I present her heels dramatically. She laughs, taking them from my hand and tossing them in the back. 

“Thank you. You only held them ransom for how many months?” She asks as I shut my door, buckling in. I laughed. 

“Mmm don’t ask you know me and time” I said, putting my tote at my feet. “I fuckin missed you bitch!!! When are those James award nominations coming out?” I ask and she looks nervous. 

“Last night” she said and I gasp 

“SYDNEY!!! Oh my god! No- don’t tell me you haven’t looked!! You’ve been working so hard!” I tap her arm excitedly. 

“I literally couldn’t bring myself to look at them that’s why I wanted to get coffee” she said putting the car in drive and turning down the main road to get on the highway. 

“Dude! With all the attention The Bear has gotten since you opened last year, and like - what is it- four of the five most popular dishes are all yours!!! Bitch- Carmen should be scared! You are coming for his neck!” I laughed and she shakes her head, smiling wide. 

“I know..I know..but still like..” she sighs a bit “what if it’s like it was last year…what if- like…what if they just see our success as his success..he totally deserved all the awards last year, but- that to me is all the more reason for the voting panel to hand it to him. And he’s been on like 2 podcast interviews…and he has like a whole fandom online.” She said and I grab her hand that was moving as she spoke, squeezing gently. 

“Syd..Carmen isn’t a new chef- he’s already won that last year, sure he can take outstanding chef, if he’s nominated. But…” I swallow thickly. “I- I know Carm is amazing but like- cmon…Syd. You’ve been…the star of that restaurant now, the whole time you’ve been open. Carm is the handsome face that’s been media trained, yes we both know he’s a crazy genius chef mastermind- but - so are you! You’re younger then he is, and I have no doubt you’re nominated for something this year. Yeah, Carmy is getting the bear out there on social media by bein all sexy and stuff in interviews- but you are the one that’s being interviewed like weekly by those blogs and magazines” I said and her smile returns. 

“You’re right, you’re totally right. Totally. Carmen can’t be nominated for emerging chef again, he already won it.” She squeezed my hand gently. 

“Speaking of Carmen.” She eyes me through the rear view mirror. “Spill.” She said and I bit my lip, looking out the window as I played with my fingers nervously.  “Okay. What happened.” She demands, turning the radio lower. 

“I’m a idiot is what happened” I said embarrassed and pick at balls of lint on the inside of my sleeve. 

“Okay and this is becauseeee…” she drawls, waiting for me to continue. 

“Because I thought it’d be a good idea to try and help him realize that the reason things went the way they did with Mikey per his sister was because it sounded like Mikey was ashamed of his own skill set because of how talented Carmy was from so young, and he instead of being honest about it- took more of a tough- er- really icey love approach, and just - froze him out. Like threw him in the middle of the ocean to drown without his help for the first time and left him there. Because he thought it would make him tough. But it really just fuckin wounded him emotionally and Mikey had alot of guilt about that and - “ she interrupts my rambling. 

“Dude-“ she chuckles in shock. “Dude….you said that?!” She looks at me for a short second before looking back at the road. 

“Well- n-yeah? Something similar I guess in the moment when he’s looking at me with his sad blue puppy eyes I had a hard fuckin’ time getting anything coherent out. So he flipped his shit and had a panic attack and ran off to go see sugar I guess and then came back at like 7 am and told me he still wants to be with me then knocked out and was sleeping still when I left.” I said and she raised her eyebrows, thinking for a moment. 

“Hmm..well- I’m surprised he came back. He said that? Those words? Tell me exactly what he said when he came back.” She said and I roll my eyes. 

“Why are you the Carmy whisperer or something?” I huff lightly “he said like- ‘It was a lot at once baby it was late and we just fucked like that for the first time and I’ve never been so close to someone while I fucked them and I was too emotionally drained and that’s why I ran but I want you I want this’ “ I paraphrase from memory as best I could. 

“Holy shit what did you do to him?!” She teases with a giggle causing me to start laughing too. 

“What? What the hell do you mean!!” I tap her arm playfully. 

“I’ve never heard Carmen say he wants something emotionally unless it had to do with the restaurant. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything. So…hm…maybe- maybe this is good for him” she said the end to herself more than anything. 

I raised my eyebrows “should I be offended you thought I’d be bad for him?!” I cross my arms and she laughs. 

“You? No. God no. I say that because I knew you were good for him- but I thought he was gonna run himself ragged dodging his own feelings while simultaneously doing everything he can to make you fall for him and keep you interested just like he did to me. But hey- I’m happy genuinely, Pooh that you’re getting out there again. But…fair warning- when he starts acting like an asshole- and he has periods where he’s fully a fucking asshole, I swear it’s like a fuckin’ man period- know that you are gonna be the one we’re calling to get a leash on him cause the only time he acts okay about everything going on is after he sees you.” She said and I felt my cheeks heat. 

Did I really affect his attitude that much?!   “Spray ‘em with a spray bottle, it works on Sephy, he’s very cat-like so I assume it’ll work on him.” I said, and we both laughed.

“Oh my god you never skipped school?!” I asked Syd as we walked up the sidewalk to the coffee shop. 

“My dad would have killed me probably. What did you even do?” She asked and I laugh at all the memories. 

“Oh my god so, in high school- we uh…don’t talk anymore but - my best friend her name was Jane and she had a car first, so we in sophomore year during lunch would go eat out in her car and then…usually I would convince her to skip with me, cause I’m such a devil” 

She snorts a laugh “Fits” she opens the door to the coffee shop for me. 

“Why thank you, but anyway we would like usually drive around and blast music. Or we’d go to my house since my mom was never home and watch movies. And then Chris would get home and we’d fight about him giving me his notes since we were always in the same classes, and he’d tell me I was a fucking cheater - his favorite word.” I laugh a bit, getting in line with her. 

“It sounds like Chris and I would’ve been friends, that’s a cute story though. I always wished I had a sibling.” She said as she looked over the menu. 

“No singletons always say that, but you’d hate a sibling. Think Sadie how she’s all up in your shit, but from the day you were born” I giggle and she shook her head with a smile. 

“Yeah but I dunno. Sugar is super sweet, I wish I had a sister, but I guess Sadie’s close enough” she shrugged, stepping up with me in line. 

“What are you getting?” I asked, looking over the iced options. 

“Vietnamese iced coffee. They do it perfect here. I’ve been telling Carm it would do well on the dessert menu if we had one but, who am I to tell him what to add “ she mutters to herself, annoyance slightly lacing her voice and I nudge her with my hip. 

“Hey,” I nudge her with my hip, causing her to look at me. “He’s a man. He may be a genius chef, but he’s still, a man- make him think it’s his idea, Syd. Do your Sydney chef kid magic “ I did sparkle fingers for added effect, finally earning her dimples back. “Make the best fuckin Vietnamese iced coffee, and have someone else try it. Make him feel left out. And they’ll obviously be like ‘oh my god Syd, this is amazing’ and then, he’s gonna feel stupid if he doesn’t add it.” I said and she rolls her eyes amusedly. 

“I think you’re the Carmen whisperer. Well, you’ll be certified if that works” she said with a smile as we step up to the counter. 

“Hey there, can I have a name for the order?” The barista asked. 

“Winnie!” I replied before Syd could try to weasel her way into paying - again.   

“Ha! Fitting name, love the overalls. What can I get for you?” the barista chirped with a smile. 

“May we please have 2 large Vietnamese iced coffees, oh- and…” my eyes settled on the pastry case in front of us, a brown wicker basket on top filled with cookies in the shape of little bears. 

I grabbed one, handing it to her. “This.” I said and she nodded, putting in the order in her till. 

I double clicked my power button and quickly waved my phone over the till before Syd could think to and she nudged me with her shoulder causing me to smile. “Woops” I teased, taking the bag from the barista containing the little cookie for Carm. 

“You ladies can wait there at the end of the bar there we’ll call out your order, have a good one” she said. 

I nodded “thank you!” I said as we made our way down to the end of the counter to wait. 

“The second I saw those cookies I knew your mushy ass was getting one” she teased, leaning her hip against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest with a smug smirk. 

“Oh like you didn’t know I’m a hopeless romantic” I smiled. 

It wasn’t long until we got our coffees and sat at a comfy corner table. “I’ve never had this before- what is the white is it milk?” I asked and she nods, stirring hers with her straw. 

“It’s sweetened condensed milk. It sounds like it would be sickly sweet but the coffee is so strong it balances perfect. I was thinking…” she leans in so no one would hear. “If we did it, I’ll do like lavender in the milk, of course we’d make our own condensed milk, so I’d steep lavender in it before. Wouldn’t that be fire?!” She asked and I nod with a big smile. 

“You are so fuckin smart, Syd. That sounds amazing you’ll have all the witchy bitches me included coming by just to get that I bet” I stirred mine up and took a sip, nodding. “Totally something you guys would sell” I said and she smiled. I grabbed my phone, opening up the camera. “Smileee!” I said she gave me a silly smile and a thumbs up, coffee foam covering her top lip.

“Perfect” I giggled, sending it to Sadie with the caption ‘Our fave chef kid’ 

I put my phone down and look at her “Okay! You’re not denying me the pleasure of celebrating you any longer- take out your phone and let’s see if you’re nominated!!!” I urge and she bites her lip nervously, grabbing her phone, unlocking it, and setting it on the table. 

“If I got nominated I’ll have an email…you do it- I can’t look. I can’t” she pushes her phone towards me and I eagerly grab it, opening up her email and refreshing it. I smiled wide when I saw the words, clicking open the email and clearing my throat before reading 

‘Dear Chef de Cuisine; Sydney Adamu, 

We hope this email finds you well. 

The James Beard Foundation 2024 Awards Committee would like to extend their congratulations on such a fine year of culinary accomplishments. Your passion to the culinary arts, and dedication to our personal mission at TJBF to celebrate, support, and elevate the standards behind America’s food culture- doesn’t go unrecognized. 

This is why you have been nominated for the for the following awards;

Outstanding Chef ‘

I jump up, wrapping my arms around her with a wide smile, tears pricking behind my eyes. “Syd!!! You did it. You did it. I knew you would” I squeeze her tight. 

“Holy fuck” she grabs the phone, and I watch as she rereads the words over and over “holy fuck.” She whispers, jaw dropped. 

“I told you bitch!! Look at herrr okay!! Syd the chef kid! Everyone better watch out! You skipped right past emerging chef and went straight for the big one! Oh my god I can’t wait for you to tell Sadie!! Oh my god we need to celebrate!!” I pat her arm excitedly. 

“Wait-“ she said, scrolling further I quickly read the rest of the email, my heart sinking slightly when I saw the paragraph she was now stuck on. 

‘You have been nominated among 4 other extraordinary, and talented Chefs in the industry; 

Berzatto, Carmen (Executive Chef) 

Cantina, Jose (Executive Chef) 

Donner, Phillip (Executive Chef) 

Nixon, Jessica (Executive Chef) ‘

“So- they just fuckin’ nominated me against people that are all my senior? Are they joking” she laughs dryly. “And then to pit me against Carmen? What is wrong with them, Winnie?” She locked her phone, putting it back in her jacket pocket. “I just- I’d rather they had given me a fair chance. This just feels like they’re telling me straight up they won’t pick me.”  

“Syd - don’t get down on yourself, what if they put you in there because you’re the only Chef-de-fancypants that deserved it, hmm?” I said with a small smile and she snorts at the silly name. 

“That’d be a long shot…but thanks” she said, squeezing my hand gently. “C'mon- we have to get you to therapy and I need to get back. I should be working on recipes” she said and my frown returns. 

In this way, her and Carm were exactly the same. Whenever she was upset with herself she threw herself into her work instead of feeling. 

“Alright…” I said softly and got up, putting the brown paper bag containing Carm’s cookie in my tote carefully so it wouldn’t be crushed, standing up. 

The walk back to the car was silent, I could tell she was beating herself up and I hated it. 

“Y’know…it’s crazy you even got nominated so young, Syd. Everyone else on that list is at least 3 years older than you are…so like- they see you as deserving already, but it doesn’t even matter what they think, or what Carmen thinks, or what I think. You’re deserving because you know how much you put into your work.” I told her once we were driving again. 

She nodded, “thank you…really it means a lot. I know I’m deserving, I just wish sometimes other people would see it.” She said, and my heart ached. We listened to SZA the whole way, I decided it was better not to push her on the issue. I’d long since realized Syd was the kind of person who had to stew in her anger or hurt for a while, alone- so she was comfortable explaining it to someone else since she knew it like the back of her hand. It was alot how she did her work, she would never show anyone any new recipe she was working on - even Carm - unless she felt it was already deserving of a spot on the menu, because she knew the dish so well, and any possible thing that could make it better- and only approaches someone for final tweaks. 

When we stopped at the Doctors office I lean over and give her a hug. “It’s all gonna be ok, Kid. I love you, i’ll see you friday” I said softly into her shoulder and she rests her head on mine, hugging me close. 

“Thanks…Love y’too. It will be…” she said softly into my shoulder and I pulled away. 

“And I expect you’ll send me that new article to check out when they send it to you yeah? You looked so gorgeous in the pictures they took. Really, I cant wait to see the whole thing” I said and she nodded with a small smile. 

“Course Pooh, C’mon-” she taps the clock that read 1:54 “Gonna be late” she said and I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Yes Mommy” I teased, pushing the door open. “Later kid!” I said as I swung it shut and head in to the building.

Time to rip open some unhealed wounds! Oh what a joy.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

[softly-sirius]

The Staff Of The Bear Dating Vampire Gn! Reader Headcanons:

Currently on Shift: Carmen Berzatto, Richie Jerimovich & Sydney Adamu

Carmen

At first, thought it was kinda weird that you had a mini fridge with a padlock in your room

You told him it was where you kept your vintage jeans

 Which was a complete lie, so when Carmen told you he collected jeans too? 

Well, you had to spend a lot of time researching on the computer to cover that lie up

Will make you blood-infused recipes to show you he accepts you

Red velvet cake with blood instead of beetroot

Honestly, would eat it as well

Ends up getting a little obsessed with making stuff the perfect texture

Asks you loads of questions about blood

What do you like about it? Do different types taste different? How do you like it prepared?

He wants to know everything about your preferences so he can make everything perfect

I think Carmy's vampire partner would struggle the most with being a vampire and not a human 

So eating the food Carmen makes you will make you tear up sometimes because it reminds you so much of being human

Kinda wants you to bite him, but also kinda does not

So So Nervous about it, but you never bring it up

You can hear his pulse racing when he’s stressed so you always know when he needs help

You’ll kiss his pulse point when you notice him stressing out

He washes his hands a million times when he’s back from work in case of garlic

Before he knew the secret he once brought you some garlic bread 

Your nose burnt for a week, your throat even longer

You couldn't bring yourself not to eat it when he gave you those eyes

Carmen has sunscreen for you in summer and insists on it even if it does nothing

The hot summer in Chicago just makes you extra exhausted and sluggish so you need to feed more

He knows when you’re slacking on your feeding and will make you blood puddings (now with real blood)

When he does pluck up his courage and ask about biting he finds out he kinda likes it

Loves it when your teeth scrape his most sensitive areas

He really likes it when you bite at the pudge of his stomach, though it isn’t the best spot for you to feed from

But your bites are more love bites than actually feeding from him

Overall, he is not as chill as Richie would be with a vampire partner, but that's because he isn’t chill about anything

He’s just happy someone likes him :’)

Richie

“You’re a vampire? My baby’s a vampire?”

He would love you to bite him, wants to see your teeth marks all over him

Was jealous for a while wondering where you were getting blood from

 Who were you biting? Did they taste better than him? 

He was not having that

Read that papayas make blood taste better so he starts eating them all the time

Starts taking iron tablets in case that tangy taste is what gets you going

‘Accidentally’ cuts himself in the kitchen to see your reaction. 

It’s minimal 

Eventually, he just gives in and is like, 

“Why have you not drunk from me yet?”

Moans when you bite him, it’s probs made him nut let's be real

Loves to have your bite marks all over him, on his thighs, his chest, his arms

Wants you to feed from him until he goes dizzy and can’t stand

Loses his mind when his blood drips from your lips and you stare at him all predatory

Turns red when you tell him how good he tastes

Enjoys being taken care of afterwards

Makes you watch Blade a million times

Calls himself your toyboy (even if you’re not that old a vampire or younger than him)

Whenever he sees bats he’ll tell you he saw one of your friends

Talks to the bats sometimes

Keeps blood in a wine bottle for you at the restaurant and loves to pour it for you and take care of you when you visit

Loves to cuddle up to you in summer because your body is nice and cold

The most interested in your ‘powers’ and asks you a million questions

“You or Godzilla, who would win?”

“Wait, so when you kept asking me to open all those jars?”

So smug when he realised how often you acted helpless just to get his help

Arm wrestles you all the time

Thinks if he catches you off guard he might win (Sometimes you let him)

He’s a loser, but he’s your tasty loser 

Sydney

Laughs when she finds out and thinks it’s a joke

Probably bails on you for a little while

But then ends up coming back like…

"I didn’t think i could be ok with it, but I would rather be with you than without you"

Is grossed out by it, so you drink blood in private

She does not want to be bitten

Is the least chill with it, but she loves you so she deals

Will feel for your fangs every time you kiss, but you keep them hidden away

She gets mad at you when you go out when it’s really sunny

Keeps shades and an extra hat in her bag because sometimes you just turn up

She’ll be waking around the city and you just appear and ask to hang out

She thinks it’s a kind of power

She just forgot she added you on Find My Friends

Then she realises she can use your powers for her gain

Uses you when shopping second-hand to check if stuff is real silver

Buys you a gothic ring with a bat on it mostly as a joke

But you wear it all the time, it melts her little heart

Loves,when you turn into a little bat, especially if you look like a fruit bat

She’ll cradle you against her chest and stroke your head with her fingers

Will carry you around in her bag all day if you want to

She doesn’t call you her vampire but thinks of you as her bat 

Thinks it’s pretty funny when you go as a vampire for Halloween every year

Especially when a drunk Richie starts complimenting how real your fangs are and pokes his fingers in your mouth

Is definitely not jealous that when Tina cut her finger during prep you had to step out of the room

Especially not when she sees the empty iron pouches in the trash

She knows they tide you over in emergencies till you can drink blood

Maybe she wants you to drink from her a little bit 

Perhaps you’ll get to taste her one day after all, just as a little treat