#michael berzatto

[xxdrixx]

@bernthirst-events 📺 Michael Berzatto 📺 Mikey smiling in The Bear

[glindauplland]

the kindness they showed to tina 🥺

[oscarisaacsspit]

i could’ve fixed him

[p4nishers]

me when doomed sibling relationships

[spxllcxstxr]

Kiss the Cook • M.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you do a mikey berzatto x reader blurb?? maybe some with the pair cooking together with some flirty banter/playful teasing sort of vibe:)) — anon

Summary: Mikey proves to be a distraction in the kitchen

Warnings: no pronouns used, food and cooking, mentions of donna, honestly its all fluff lmao

Word Count: 934

A.N: first mikey blurb and first bear writing! I hope you guys all enjoy!

•

It's noon when you finally wake up, Mikey's light blankets tangled in your sprawled out limbs. The house is quiet--too quiet, you realize while shifting out of the bed. Donna must be out smoking or somewhere with Lee. With Mikey not opening The Beef today, that could only mean he was downstairs waiting for you to wake up.

Knickknacks tremble precariously and wood creaks under your feet as you climb down the stairs.

You creep through the house until you get to the kitchen where Mikey is staring at the open refrigerator, staring into its white light.

“Lookin’ for something honey?” You ask, leaning against the threshold, arms crossed at your chest. You watch him jump slightly with a smile on your face.

He looks a bit sheepish, cheeks pink while one hand runs through his hair.

“I was, uh, lookin’ for something to make. For you.” He smiles and your eyes run over his relaxed figure.

“Why don’t we make somethin’ together, chef?” You wink, ambling over to him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Alright baby,” He kisses you quickly before he begins to pull things out of the fridge. “come help the master…”

You and Mikey easily work together, he tells you what to do and you do it. Maybe you’re not as skilled as Mikey Fuckin’ Berzatto, but you get the job done.

The chaotic nature of Donna's kitchen is gone; there isn't a barrage of egg timers going off nor is there the overwhelming smell of burning wafting through the room. All there is the sound of knives against the cutting board mingling with whatever soft rock is playing from Mikey's phone. For once, you can actually take a deep, non-anxiety induced breath in the Berazatto family kitchen.

“Can I trust you to start boilin' the water, babe?” Mikey calls out, eyes still trained on the onions in front of him. His tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth in concentration, dark brows slightly furrowed.

Despite this, he seems at peace. Mikey's hands aren't shaking nor is his jaw unnecessarily clenched.

You lightly scoff at your boyfriend's teasing, abandoning your own task at the counter across from him. "I'm not an idiot, Mikey."

He hums, dark brown eyes lifting up from the counter and watching your form grabbing a pot from a cabinet.

"I'm gonna blow your goddamn mind with how well I can boil water, chef," You point at him, faking your seriousness.

“Alright, alright…” Mikey shrugs, lips upturned. “Prove me wrong…”

Getting the water to boil was easy, though it took longer than expected. You start throwing in things Mikey tells you to, staring at the water, silently praying nothing goes wrong.

Suddenly Mikey’s behind you, slightly swaying while looking over your shoulder. You hum in satisfaction.

His chest presses into your back, warm and calloused hands sliding across your torso in order to hug you closer to him. You close your eyes, smiling to yourself while taking it all in.

Mikey smells faintly of his cologne with hints of onion and various other herbs and spices mingling around him. He smells of home and the comfort of a homemade meal after a long day. He smells like your Mikey.

His beard tickles the crook of your neck, nose brushing over your skin as he presses delicate kisses just above the collar of your shirt. You giggle softly, the tips of your ears burning at his affection.

"You're supposed to say behind, Mikey..." You tease, placing your own hands on top of his own. Lightly your fingertips trace patterns across his skin. "No wonder The Beef runs like shit."

He ignores you, lips reaching your jawline and trailing across to the spot underneath your ear.

"Michael..." You murmur, titling your head up drawing his lips to your cheek. "Michael, I love you..."

His head dips lower, nose brushing against your own. Taking a quick peek you see that his own eyes are closed as well, the two of you living in the moment in his mother's kitchen.

Right now there's no drama with Donna or bickering with Carmy or the slew of questions that come with Nat. Just you and Mikey alone cooking; doing what the two of you love.

"I love you too, baby." Mikey whispers, placing a kiss right above the bridge of your nose. He squeezes your body once before pulling back his lips just an inch. "Your water's boilin' over."

You jolt, eyes springing open and widening at his words. The sound of boiling water ripping through the kitchen and overpowering whatever song is playing on the other side of the room.

“Fuck!”

Scrambling, you grab an oven mitt, carefully rushing to take the pot off the heat. A string of curses following you to the sink. Mikey chuckles behind you, offering no help whatsoever. His laughter fills the small kitchen and it would melt your heart if you weren’t doing anything important at the moment.

“And you said you were gonna blow my mind…” Mikey smirks, leaning against the counter. The corner of his eyes crinkle with laughter.

You throw your head back, groaning. “You were fucking kissing me and being a fucking distraction!”

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Well excuse me, princess, didn’t know giving you love and affection was off limits!”

“It’s not!” You huff. “But when I’m doing anything involving boiling water, you can’t be anywhere near me!”

“Alright babe,” He passes you, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead as he goes back to the cutting board. “Now get back to work, chef.”

•

[sophsun1]

#the universal job experience

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hopefully it's not too late to send a request... can I get a blurb with pillowfight with Mikey Berzatto?

Familiar Comfort.

mikey berzatto x reader

warnings - cursing.

valentines masterlist. main masterlist. inbox.

You’re sat solemnly by yourself on the Berzatto family’s couch when something slams into the side of your head.

You whip around, expecting to see your best friend standing there with that smug look on his face. Instead, you’re met with the sight of Michael leaning against the doorframe, watching you carefully.

“The fuck was that for?”

He chuckles, pushing off the wood to come and sit next to you.

“Thought you were frozen. Wanted to check you were still alive.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

“What you doin’? Carmy ain’t here, and I thought you two had dates.”

“Mine cancelled, so I helped Carm get ready for his. Picked his outfit for him and everything.”

“He cancelled? Why?”

“Don’t know. Gave me some bullshit excuse, said something about cat sitting for his sister. Think I dodged a bullet.”

“You definitely did,” he confirms, swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Fuck that guy. Doesn’t deserve you.”

You shuffle in closer, resting your head on his broad chest. The two of you have always been familiar, having grown up in close proximity. You sometimes forget just how comforting Mikey can be, so used to his boisterous and unserious personality. He likes to be the joker, the guy that makes everyone laugh - especially if Richie’s around.

“Don’t waste your time on guys like that,” he murmurs, fingertips running across the skin of your arm. “You’re too good for ‘em.”

You pull back to look at him, instantly missing the warmth of his body.

“Thank you,” you whisper sincerely. After a moment, you ask the question on your mind. “No dates for you tonight, Mikey?”

“I’d rather be here with you.”

Your heart constricts at the way he looks so genuine, gentle smile etched across his face.

You move without thinking, leaning in to press a careful kiss to his lips. Just as you’re about to panic about what you’ve done, he pulls you back in, kissing you deeper. One of his hands finds the back of your neck, the other tangling into your hair.

You’re tempted to climb into his lap, wanting desperately to be closer to him. Instead, you pull away for air, resting your forehead against his.

“I want to be good enough for you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I’m not, yet. But I want to be.”

“You are.”

“I’m not. But I will be. Trust me, baby. I will be.”

You kiss him again softly, before wrapping your fingers around the pillow next to him and smacking him in the side with it. He looks shocked for a second before grabbing another in retaliation, hitting you firmly but carefully.

“Oh, you’re in for it,” he chuckles, grabbing you around the middle and throwing you onto the couch before thumping you with a pillow again.

You screech, swinging your cushion wildly in hopes of making contact with him in some way. You’re both laughing so hard your stomachs are hurting, tears running down your faces.

You don’t have another thought about the man that stood you up. He’s not worth thinking about.

Not when you’re laughing until you cry with the guy you’ve had a crush on for years.

[minidodds]

"Sandwich really that bad?"

[jagroka]

let it rip

[animusrox]

The Bear (2022 - ) Season 2 Episode 6 “Fishes”

[halfway-happyyy]

My Sun, My Moon, and All of My Stars {Mikey Berzatto}

summary: recalling the first time you and mikey met results in lots of soft feelings.

warnings: none. cotton candy clouds of fluff.

pairings: mikey berzatto x female reader

an: listen people. i've visited chicago in january. i said what i said, and i will die on that hill. happy reading!

You’d be hard-pressed to find a more miserable place than Chicago in the winter. 

The wind and the cold found creative ways of settling into your bones, often staying there until the May thaw occurred, and even then… Well, even then it wasn’t always enough to drive the chill away for good. While you loved the city's aged and gothic architecture, the inherent gloom that pervaded it tended to follow you around like a specter or an old friend. January wasn't entirely blameless in all of this, either. A month that held only thirty-one days often felt like it dragged on for thirty-one years. And yet, you could never fully bring yourself to loathe the first month of the calendar year, because on the 17th day of it, you met Mikey Berzatto for the first time- and suddenly, winter didn’t seem so awful after all.

“On a scale from one to that time you had to hide in the bar bathroom until I could rescue you, how bad was it?” 

You fiddled with the zipper on the front of your jacket, replaying the night’s mostly disastrous second date, and sighed. “Definitely not that bad.” 

“I mean, you did technically get a Michelin-star meal out of it, so it wasn’t all a complete write-off.” Your best friend Olivia pointed out, and then asked whether you wanted to go home and pound back a pint of frozen custard, or if you were still hungry. 

You eyed the green glowing digits of the clock on her car, which read ‘8:07 P’ and shifted in your seat. “Still hungry.” 

“Perfect,” She cast a smile your way and slid the car into drive. “I know just the place.”

You had been expecting Portillo's or something similar, but when she parked in behind the Original Beef of Chicagoland, you were dubious. 

“I know, I know. But Benny took me here two weeks ago, and when I tell you I’ve been thinking about this sandwich every day since, I’m not lying.” She led you by the hand to the front door, holding it open for you so that you could wander in first. “I mean, they say you know you’re in love when you go to bed and wake up thinking about the same thing, and for me that’s the italian beef here so, pretty self-explanatory I guess…” Her voice became drowned out in the din of the still-bustling restaurant. 

It was chaotic to say the least; a complete assault on the senses. Noise seemed to clamour out of every corner of the small establishment, and somehow the thing that hooked you in the most was the pervasive scent of onions frying in fat on the flattop. Though the restaurant was only open for another hour, it was packed inside, and there was a line-up at the takeout window that snaked around the back of the place.

“Jesus Christ, someone ask for mayonnaise one more fuckin’ time, I’m beggin’ for it. Watch what’ll happen!” A tall, short-haired man yelled loudly, causing peels of laughter to erupt from the line cooks behind the busy counter. The sheer size of his grin, paired with the way his blue eyes glittered merrily, told you that the man was exactly where he was supposed to be in life.

“Order up for Peter! Peter, Peter pumpkin eater! Your orders’ up!” 

“Nikki, come get your order, mama!”

“Got one hot and sweet and one dog comin’ up!” 

Olivia tugged at your sleeve and gestured to the menu. “You wanna get the same thing as me?” 

You nodded, at an entire loss of what else to say, and knowing wholeheartedly that she would never lead you astray anyway.

“Good evening ladies, how are you both on this fine, Friday night?” 

Olivia grinned at the man and rubbed her hands together in excitement. “We’re much better now that we’re here, thank you.” 

The man laughed at that. “Excellent, that is good to hear. What can I get for ya?” 

She ordered two original beef’s and two cokes to stay and told you to grab a table in the quieter section of the restaurant while she waited for the food. While the back room wasn’t necessarily quieter, there were only two other tables occupied, and you settled into a seat by the wall of vintage arcade games.

“Wow, you are uh… you’re awfully dressed up for a trip to the Original Beef.” 

His voice had caught your attention first; the timbre of it immediately soothing in comparison to the chaotic din around you. And then you glanced up at him and it was all over before it had even really begun. His smile was so warm and inviting, the complete opposite of the one you had just spent all evening with, and it caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Delicate creases next to his dark brown eyes spoke novels of how much time he spent laughing, and it was all you could do to keep from blushing.

“I'm sorry, I mean no disrespect, you look amazing. I think it’s been so long for most of us that we forget what it’s like when a beautiful woman graces us with her presence around here.” 

Where it might have been off-putting in any other instance, or from any other man, you found yourself blossoming under the sunlight he shone above you. 

“I uh… just came out of a date, actually,” Your tone was sheepish, but you managed to maintain eye contact with him. “We were at Alinea.” 

His dark brows furrowed together in a mild frown. “Alinea, Alinea… why do I know that name? So damn familiar.”

You tilted your head to the side. “It’s a Michelin star restaurant downtown, super fine dining.”

His eyes lit up and his mouth dropped open in a silent, a-ha! 

“My baby brother, he’s a chef. Super talented, annoyingly so, ya know? I can't get him to shut up about Alinea.” Silence settled between the pair of you before he asked how it was. 

Your eyes widened, and you blew out a puff of pent-up air. “It was uh… an interesting experience, to say the least.” 

He nodded and sat down at the table opposite you. “And the date?” 

You laughed. “The date sucked.” 

He clicked his tongue, and shook his head. “Onto bigger and better things, then hm?”

“How’s your night going?” You asked, by way of wanting to change the subject.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. “Eh, it’s been a night, I’ll tell ya that much.. But it’s been good. Certainly better now,” He leaned towards you with his hand outstretched. “I’m Mikey Berzatto, by the way.” 

You took his warm hand in yours and introduced yourself back. It had been on the tip of your tongue to say something else, but just as you were about to, Olivia wandered into the room balancing a tray full of mouth-watering food.

“Richie gave you yours on the house, on account of this being your first time here!” She exclaimed excitedly. 

Mikey’s eyes widened, and a warm smile lifted his lips skyward. “First time here, huh?” 

“First time for everything, right?” 

“Mikey, we need your ass out here now! This fuckin’ pop machine ain’t gonna fix itself!” 

He rolled his eyes and rose from the table with a quiet apology. “You ladies need anything- anything at all, come find me.” 

He gave you a small wave and stepped into the main room. 

“How many times do I gotta tell you fuckers not to yell all the damn time, huh?” 

Olivia turned to you, a familiar mischievous glitter blazed in the depths of her eyes. “Okay, he was cute.”

You shrugged, unwrapped half of the sandwich and took a bite, savouring the flavours on your tongue. While you had been used to your best friend’s antics and dramatic flare for a while now, it became apparent immediately that she was absolutely right about this place. You swallowed your first bite and gawked at her, eyes wide. 

“Oh, I know. This place is legendary.” 

You ate your meal in silence, and pondered over how lucky you were to have Olivia in your life; someone you could call night or day, that would get you out of a bind, no problem. You hoped with every fibre of your being that she felt the same about you. 

“I owe you one for tonight, Liv.” You murmured. 

That caused a frown to pull the edges of her mouth downward. “You definitely don’t. But you do owe it to yourself to get back on the horse, so I think you should ask Mikey out.” 

“Ha! You’re joking.” 

She passed a napkin over her mouth and shook her head. “Not at all. Tell him we’re going to Kingston Mines tomorrow night and see if he wants to meet us there.” 

It had taken you until the end of the meal to pluck up enough courage to do as you were told. Mikey was at the other end of the room stocking napkins when you approached him. 

“So, your first time. How was it?” 

You cleared your throat. “Uh, it was incredible. You won't be able to keep me away, from now on."

Mikey’s laughter, and the small smile that followed it, warmed the ice around your heart, and gave you the confidence you needed to continue on. “Hey listen- Olivia and I are headed to Kingston Mines tomorrow night for drinks, and I was wondering if you’d like to join us?” 

Mikey’s smile faltered slightly. “Uh- shit, tomorrow night?” 

You nodded. 

“I’m stuck here tomorrow night, until 11 at least but-

You shook your head. Of course he was. He owned the place.

“No problem, I totally get it.” 

He shook his head. “No, what I’m saying is that I’d like to come. I want to. I can be there around 11:15 if that works?” 

Holy shit. 

“Yeah, that absolutely works.” 

Mikey grinned to himself and reached out to take your hand again. “It’s a date, then.” 

~

Mikey’s eyes opened, and a small smile lifted the corners of his lips. 

“What's goin' on in that beautiful head of yours, baby? You’re lookin’ at me like I hung the moon.” 

You brought the back of his tanned hand to your lips and kissed it. “Because you did. You hung my moon.” He leaned in to your touch, craving more of it always. “I’m thinking about the night we first met.” 

“A good night indeed. I’ll never forget the way you looked in that dress and your leather jacket,” He chuckled softly, the sound of it reverberating deep in your chest. “Never forget the stones you had, asking me out the way you did.”

A blush flooded the apples of your cheeks. You traced a fingertip down the length of his uneven nose, and marveled at how he smiled into your touch. 

“You know I love you, right, Mikey?”

He pressed his lips to your hand and murmured an almost inaudible, I know, baby. 

He tapped your hip twice, a silent command for you to turn around and snuggle back against him, which you did. Your favourite part about being with him like this, was that you were so close you could feel the subtle beat of his heart against your shoulder blade. 

“Mikey?” 

His lips ghosted the shell of your ear. “Yeah, baby?”

You swallowed hard and wrapped a hand around his forearm. “Never leave, okay?” 

He hummed softly against the nape of your neck.

“Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together, okay? Just please stay.” 

Pressing his lips to the crown of your head, he agreed. 

“I love you, Mikey.” 

I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Love you too, baby.” 

[glindauplland]

#this is so real

[riickgrimes]

You ever know somebody who knows exactly what it is in this world that they want to do? Like, fucking knows it, and not only do they know it, but they're really fucking good at it. Mm. Sounds like a dream. I'm telling you, I genuinely really think that that is the dream.

The Bear 3.06 | "Napkins"

[bullet-prooflove]

Save It: Mikey Berzatto x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cleacc @cutebookdragon1 @bungurus @nogoodbee

Sequel to:

Mess - Mikey tries to prove to you both he made the right decision by leaving.

The Diagnosis - Mikey recieves an explaination regarding his behaviour and addiction issues.

Being with you is akin to a religious experience, that’s what Mikey thinks as his mouth chases all over your skin, his calloused hands stroking over every part of your body. Your hands thread through his hair as he nuzzles your inner thigh, the stubble on his cheeks sending a rush of heat searing through your nerve endings.

He loves going down on you, he loves the way you arch against him, your grip tightening on his hair when he thrusts his tongue inside of you, his thumb tracing light circles over your clit. You taste like fucking sunshine and he just can’t get enough of you.

He devours you like man whose starving, like he’s trying to make up for every little shitty thing he’s ever done because in reality he is. He knows eating you out isn’t nearly enough but it’s a start he thinks, a way to remind you just how dedicated he is to you, just how much he loves you.

You’re breathing hitches and already Mikey can feel the fall coming. He hears it in those cute little whimpers, the breathy way you say his name as he uses his palms to hold you open as he fucks you with his mouth. Your grip tightens on his hair, your hips arching and suddenly your flooding his mouth with that sweet nectar of yours and Mikey’s just lapping it up because he needs to consume every single drop of your pleasure.

His hands grasp your waist as he begins to kiss his way back up your body, his heated lips dragging across your flushed skin as he caresses you. You need to stay connected in the aftermath and he gets that. You need to feel the weight of his, body, the press of him because it grounds you in the moment, it reminds you that he’s here to stay, that this isn’t a one night thing like all the other times he’s loved and left you.

“Mikey…” You whisper as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. He knows those three little words are on the tip of your tongue and Mikey, he just can’t bear to hear them because he’s not worthy of you, not yet.

“Save it for me.” He murmurs, his thumb trailing along the line of your jaw as he looks into your eyes. “Save it until I’m the man that I’m supposed to be.”

Love Mikey? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[catharticconsolation]

requests bot dump: 13/4/25

the bear:

‎𖦹- Carmen Berzatto - sign language - working in a busy, loud kitchen whilst being deaf must be terrifying, but Carmen is willing to learn, for you. (carmy x deaf!user) sign language by eric clapton and bob dylan.

‎𖦹- Carmen Berzatto - little brother, goodbye - Carmen knows that you're mad that he didn't show up to Mikey's funeral, but he just wants to look after his baby sibling. (carmy and berzatto-sibling!user) coyote, little brother by pete seeger.

‎𖦹- Carmen Berzatto - depollute me, pretty baby - Carmen has been in love with you for years, and now that the time has come for the two of you to get intimate, all he wants is to impress you. we'll never have sex by leith ross.

‎𖦹- Michael Berzatto - the only exception - you've saved Michael, and he's so scared of hurting you, but he just cannot resist whenever you come to check up on him (michael x younger!user) the only exception by paramore.

shameless:

‎𖦹- Lip Gallagher - strangers again - Lip seems to have moved on from you after the summer, but he'll still happily use you to look after Liam. strangers by celeste.

‎𖦹- Lip Gallagher - one of your girls - you've always been the only girl in Lip's life, but you don't know how to cope when he starts becoming more popular. one of your girls by troye sivan.

‎𖦹- Lip Gallagher - sunday morning- a rainy sunday morning seems to be the most perfect time for the two of you to get cuddly and sappy. sunday morning by the velvet underground.

‎𖦹- Lip Gallagher - you are not alone - Lip has always been your safe space, and you've always been extremely anxious, and all he wants to do is comfort you after you come back from a new mom's gathering in tears. you are not alone by stephen sondheim (into the woods).

‎𖦹- Lip Gallagher - cut your hair - Lip cannot cope after another lice outbreak at Freddie's school, so the hair gets shaved in the middle of the night. common people by pulp.

music:

‎𖦹- Bob Dylan - i got mean - Bob doesn't like to show his stage fright like a normal person, so he lashes out. i know the end by phoebe bridgers.

‎𖦹- Bob Dylan - shelter from the storm- Bob doesn't like how people talk about him, you help him feel like a man. shelter from the storm by bob dylan.

the iron claw:

‎𖦹- David Von Erich- power of love - David loves to talk in the ring, especially about you, and especially when he gets to announce your marriage. power of love by jennifer rush.

brooklyn nine-nine:

‎𖦹- Jake Peralta - just a silly thing - an undercover stakeout leaves you wanting more. i'm not in loved by 10cc.

stranger things:

‎𖦹- Steve Harrington - the air that i breathe - Steve and you have practically become the same person, so when you get to work together at family video, he starts to love you even more. the air that i breathe by the hollies.

criminal minds:

‎𖦹- Spencer Reid - sesame syrup- addiction is a nasty thing, and as Spencer gets better, all he wants to do is help you (tw!substance abuse). sesame syrup by cigarettes after sex.

𖦹- Spencer Reid - nobody- Spencer and you are both terribly lonely, and it only hits him how much he feels like he's using you when you're injured after a case. nobody by mitski.

note: some of these requests are a year old and i'm so sorry that it took so long to get them out! i'm hoping to release some more bots and update my fics over this next week while i have a break. thankyou x

[ambitiouspotions]

BABY DAZE | MICHAEL BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — regretting the shotgun wedding, caring for a five-month-old baby, and wondering why your husband likes painkillers more than you

word count — 4.4k

warnings — addiction, angst, talk of recovery and na meetings, arguing, slightly religious connotations, drug/alcohol usage, stress from motherhood, mom guilt, mature language

author's note — i told myself not to write mikey again so soon, but look at me…also i channel some of my family (sicilian american) when i write these

“fak, come on man, you can't put together a damn crib? you gotta get me out of this hole i’m in,” mikey looked at the stray pieces of wood on the floor, screws in a pile, and neil fak’s unorganized toolbox. the instruction booklet was opened and slightly crumpled from the number of times fak had referenced the pages.

fak’s face was slightly distorted as he looked at the pieces and then back to the instructions. “man, look, i don't know what you want me to do this shit is all kinds of fucked.” the handyman simply could not understand why baby furniture had so many pieces and so many varying sizes. if it was so safe, why was the company recommending it all to be put together with a single allen wrench? there was no way he was only using that stupid allen wrench, not for baby berzatto anyway.

mikey was running his hands over his face and to his bangs that were falling, gripping the ends of his hair tightly. he had promised you the nursery furniture would be completed by the time you arrived home after work. he already had the majority of the room completed without you knowing, moving and organizing the junk he had piled into the spare bedroom as if it were a storage unit. the baby shower had only caused the room to be more cluttered, and on top of the clients, you were trying to fit in for their appointments before going on maternity leave, which meant you never had enough time in the day to organize it yourself. the stress of disorganization and ill preparation led to you biting your nails and peeling the skin away from your fingertips routinely. mikey noticed this and now had the perfect excuse to get the nursery finished and elevate your mood at the same time.

“what’d you do this time anyway?” fak questioned as he propped one board of the crib against the wall and rummaged through his varying sizes of drill bits.

mikey didn't want to admit to fak that he was unwilling to defend you in front of his mother, donna, at a family lunch when she had mumbled something along the lines of ‘your child is still a bastard.’ it was unneeded, unkind, and simply unprovoked after you had put on your nicest attitude to agree to have lunch with her and mikey in the first place.

you both already made the mistake. there was no coming back from that fuck up, so why keep dwelling on it? that was the understanding by the rest of the family anyway, but donna wouldn't ever drop it.

“fak, you fucker, i’d love to know,” mikey held the opposite end as fak skimmed the directions again to install the railing. he didn't need to be told he was in the wrong again, best to just skip that shitty conversation altogether.

“they say the first seven months of marriage are always the hardest,” fak tried to console mikey as he began using the drill. mikey was doubtful the moment fak tried to say anything about marriage, especially coming from a single man. mikey, himself, wouldn't have any pleasant advice to give anyone either because his marriage, more like hasty elopement, was only six months old with a wife who was eight months pregnant. any idiot could do the math on why this marriage was legitimized.

“seven years, the first seven years,” mikey corrected him with a groan of annoyance. “i appreciate you doing this though; my back’s been killin’ me.”

another factor of stress added to the plate, almost two years ago, would mark the anniversary of mikey slipping in the flooding bathroom of the beef so violently that he now had permanent hardware in his spine. along with the surgery came the pain and the way to manage pain—opioids. that was a sick joke. one second, he’s slipping on the tile and slamming into the porcelain commode, and the next, he was relying on drugs to get him through a stressful day.

he didn't know if his back still hurt or if he was accustomed to saying it to convince himself that it was enough of a reason to get high. that was the sad part, mikey was popping pills and you barely had any time to notice because you were always asleep before he took a little something to take the edge off. he didn't need you to have another thing to worry about, so sneakily would replace the pills he took and leave the prescription bottle in the same place. you had no reason to question him because the allergy medication you received from the walk-in clinic almost a year ago sat on that same shelf, and you never bothered to clean it out. he was covering his tracks well; why would you ever notice anyway? especially if he was so good at hiding it?

“it's no big deal, happy wife, happy life,” fak rhymed, adjusting his leveling tool against the boards before drilling them together.

the moment the tattooed handyman was able to support the crib by himself, mikey began working on the other projects to make the room more cozy.

fak made himself scarce once it was close to your arrival time. he was going to let mikey take all of your good graces on the updated nursery.

“look at that panica,” mikey greeted, affectionately rubbing your oversized belly the moment you walked through the door. his fingers slipped under your bag and dragged it off your shoulder, setting it on the counter beside him.

you eyed him skeptically wondering where his gentleness was stemming from. he had given you dull responses, impersonal kisses, and compliments, just enough to keep you quiet before you shut the door to leave. his pre-sleep painkiller always caused a morning annoyance when he awoke, but you always chalked his bad attitude up to stress rather than thinking he was abusing any type of drug. it was mikey; he had a lot on the line, stress was his middle name, annoyance ran through his veins. he was a berzatto; of course, he had to have some form of mental illness genetically passed down to him.

“what? i can't love on my two babies?” he asked, pulling you closer to place a kiss on your temple.

“what did you do?” you asked, holding each side of his face, trying to find an inkling of his true intentions. it was teasing in a way, but knew he must've had a plan up his sleeve.

“i'm so glad you asked; close those pretty eyes for me,” he chuckled. the singular lift of the corner of his mouth was always enough to make you melt.

mikey led you blindly to the spare bedroom that had been transformed into a nursery, too bad your crumby landlord wouldn't allow the wall color to be changed or mikey would've had that swatch of fern canopy behr from the local home depot on all four walls.

“alright,” he said, clasping his hands together. when you opened your eyes, you couldn't withhold the emotions that had been pent up for so long. you were staring at the crib like it was a winning lottery ticket. the sheets were made, the embroidered baby blanket natalie and pete had gifted you was draped over the edge, the bear stuffed animals were in the corner of the crib as if they were having their own meeting, and the mattress was at the perfect height for a newborn.

the changing table was assembled, and even with one of the drawers being slightly crooked, it was perfect. it was everything you wanted for your baby. it was safe, cozy, organized, and most importantly, it was something you wanted.

mikey had gone beyond your expectations. he had promised the furniture would be put together, but he gave you more than that. he gave you hope. he gave you a reason to relax. he gave you solace in knowing that although you had an unplanned pregnancy, wedding ceremony at the courthouse, and chaotic reception at the beef you could lean on him for support.

“hey, don't cry,” mikey began rubbing your lower back as you reached over the crib to caress one of the teddy bears.

“i’m sorry…this is just really beautiful,” you sniffled, taking the bear into your arms and hugging it tightly.

“would it make you feel better if i said i got you those apple pie egg rolls?” he smirked when you turned around. your gaze had softened more, more tears falling down your eyes with the most genuine type of comfort.

“you got me egg rolls?” you couldn't help but question him in the sweetest disbelief. the tone in your voice was cracking as you leaned into his chest. mikey berzatto was out of the hole he placed himself in just a few days prior.

you were in survival mode and so was mikey. it was nearing the end of your eighth week out of ten from maternity leave at the salon and mikey had barely any time off from his responsibilities at the restaurant. he was trying to split his time as much as possible, but unfortunately, an understaffed restaurant meant he had to be gone more than he liked.

everyone said once the baby arrived, your life would never slow down, and they were right. gabriel michael berzatto was a healthy, gentle, and happy baby, the one people didn't mind stopping to look at in the stroller as you walked past. he was a miniature mikey if anything with his dark hair, crooked smile, and wide nose.

“is your back hurting that bad?” the question hit his ear like a ton of bricks. “i don't think you can drink on those,” you added, picking up the paper plates from dinner.

“what?” mikey asked, pushing his beer on the coffee table that had already suffered enough of mikey's abuse from not using a coaster.

“your back,” you repeated, looking at him from the kitchen. “i didn't even know you took those things still. i thought they were expired,” that's when mikey realized what he had done. he left the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. a mistake he never thought he would make had been done. by the time you went to sleep, he was in a comfortable state of high, and you were none the wiser. then halfway through prep at the beef, he’d take another little pill, and if he was having a particularly shitty day, then again when he went for a smoke break. he seemed to have a lot of shitty days at the beef because everything was falling apart and everything always seems to go wrong. and who knows maybe the days weren’t that bad, but sometimes it just seemed like too long to wait until you were about to go to bed.

“yeah, hurtin’ pretty bad,” he lied, sitting uncomfortably in his recliner now. “opened this thing without thinkin’,” he was looking at the amber-colored glass of the freshly opened beer.

“didn’t even know you needed them anymore,” you confessed, folding the throw blanket that had been discarded on the floor when you rose from the sofa after nursing gabriel to sleep.

“sometimes, you know that permanent hardware gets pretty damn stiff when the weather changes,” he explained, wiping his hands on his boxers.

“maybe you need to go back to the orthopedist,” you suggested casually, though you were skeptical of his body language. he was tense and unrelaxed, more than he was before you voiced your concern about his well-being.

“you’re right, just need’a find the time,” he agreed, scratching his grown-out beard that seemed to become more unkempt as the days quickly turned into weeks. it was one of the many tasks that got slid to the back burner because the priorities were set on becoming accustomed to demanding needs from the newest member of the family.

“got that big bottle of arthritis tylenol from the costco if you want to take that instead,” you offered, feeling uneasy about the fact that mikey was taking painkillers, painkillers you knew were two years old, though in actuality they were bought from a regular customer at the beginning of the week when mikey went to the restaurant to “check on the gas line.”

“yeah, thanks, baby,” he nodded, clearing his throat. he could tell you weren't convinced, but at the same time, neither of you had the energy to overthink or argue.

gabriel started to cry from the other room, mikey was the first one to move. he was quick with his attentiveness to his knowing he had an easy way to escape the conversation.

“i got this one,” he mumbled, rubbing his face as he slipped past you to enter the nursery. that was the end of that for a while, though it plagued your mind frequently. you started counting the pills in the bottle and it never seemed to lessen. it hadn't become misplaced again after asking him about it. you couldn't prove that he was using unless you were going solely based on your gut instinct.

you were as guilty as mikey. mikey was blatantly lying to you and you were enabling him because you were choosing not to confront him about it. you didn't want to admit to yourself that your husband was abusing painkillers because if you did that meant that your life would already be more stressful than it already was.

it was all making sense now. irritably, mood swings, aversion, questionable decisions, not because he had gotten you knocked up, not because he had to marry you, not because the bills were stacking up, not because he said his family was bothering him, but because he was popping pills.

it was hard some days because you were still figuring out the new aspects of parenting, but a natural and oddly comforting instinct took over you. although you and mikey were able to take care of gabriel and still manage your busy schedules you had an overwhelming amount of dread and guilt hanging over your head. were you doing anything right?

you hadn't known how much weight you were pulling until tonight. five months of night feedings, pumping, juggling schedules, daycare pickups, pediatrician checkups, washing bottles, pump parts, and an excessive amount of laundry which was clean, but piled skillfully on the living room sofa, but you did it because you convinced yourself that mikey was simply too busy to take on all the tasks you were tackling. you believed you had to be the sole provider for gabriel because mikey was the business owner. he was the one that had his valuable time placed on his restaurant, so you refused to mention that you might have needed help.

it was making you have doubts about your marriage. the marriage you consented to because you thought it would make both of your lives more stable and make you more reassured that mikey was going to stick around for you and the baby. the marriage that seemed to put your parents at ease knowing they could pray for the sins of lust and greed that caused an unplanned child. the marriage that at first seemed right, but now felt like a one-sided partnership because you were being stubborn and mikey was being ignorant.

everything seemed to be going wrong tonight (gabriel was fussy the moment you tried to put him down, you wasted eight ounces of fresh breast milk because you didn't seal the bag all the way when putting it in the freezer, and you were on your third shirt change of the night) and mikey was sitting in his recliner drinking a beer. the condensation was beading off the glass bottle and dripping onto his worn spiraled notebook where he kept his business dealings for the beef contained. you were struggling and he was drinking a damn beer.

“mikey,” you finally made him look up, smudges of ink from his pen were on the underside of his hand. “take the baby please,” you said, handing off the teary-eyed baby to your husband who couldn't seem less interested. you were covered in spit-up, from your shirt to your hair because gabriel accidentally grabbed a good chunk of it when he moved his dirty hand. mikey didn't seem present though he was sitting in front of you, loosely cradling his son.

“are you high?” you didn't know why you sounded surprised when you asked that question. you had been avoiding ever talking about that night three months prior. you practically snatched gabriel out of his arms which only made mikey defensive in trying to take him back. “oh my fucking god,” you muttered taking a step back from him.

“come on, i got ‘em,” mikey flicked the condensation that was still present on his hand from the beer, he rose from his resting place on the recliner. he was trying to avoid your line of questioning.

“no, what the hell is wrong with you?” you were placing entirely too much blame on mikey because you were overwhelmed and overworked, well, had been overwhelmed and overworked for months. your anxiety and frustration were spilling over the overfilled glass it had been stuffed into.

“hey, hey,” he warned, noticing your voice had raised sharply when he went to reach for gabriel. “chill out, mammina.” wrong choice of words.

“chill out? you want me to chill out? you're the one sitting on your ass getting high when i've been running around all evening with my head cut off.” you were trying to keep your tone light after your increase in volume had spooked gabriel.

“i didn't mean it like that, dammit, hand me gabe,” he sighed, though when he went to reach for the baby again you shielded gabriel from being taken out of your arms.

“you're bein' ridiculous,” mikey scoffed, following behind you. his inebriated state was affecting his ability to understand why he wouldn’t or maybe shouldn’t be holding his infant.

“and you're high,” you retorted, walking to the bathroom. “can’t even change my shirt because—” you unskillfully managed to open the cap and dump the oxycontin onto the counter. gabriel in your arms none the wiser to the situation. you counted them four times before even looking at him. you had to be sure that you weren’t going mad because the same amount was in the pill bottle as you had counted many times before.

“mammina—”

“where are you getting them?” you interjected, tossing the empty bottle at his chest.

“mammina, give me the baby and go change your shirt,” he insisted, as if you were so easily going to give up the little boy in your arms.

“michael, i am not fucking stupid and you know that. so where the fuck are you getting them?”

“why's it matter where i'm gettin’ ‘em from?”

he had a point; you didn't quite know why it mattered. you knew he'd find a way to continue taking them like he was already doing.

there was a long moment of silence, yet it was saying more than words could. pain, hurt, frustration, uncertainty, and fear were seasoning the bottom of the cast iron pot, and a thick helping of despair was poured over the top. the back of the metal spoon that was used to stir the clusterfuck let everything mingle, and then it had to bake in the oven at 425° until that shit was burnt and stinking up the entire apartment. oh, and then you had to eat that garbage. it was inedible, but you had to choke it down because that was what was happening. you helped enable that mess, and now you, as well as mikey, had to take responsibility for it.

“how long…how fuckin’ long have you been takin’ them?” your nose was buried in the crook of gabriel's neck. your voice was barely above a whisper.

“i dunno,” he wet his upper lip with his tongue, dragging his hand over his face. he couldn't admit that to you right now. that would break you. it would break you knowing you were oblivious for years. he could tell it was already eating you alive that you didn’t confront him properly just a few months ago. you had a general time frame when you thought he started abusing painkillers, but mikey was the only man that knew when his issue truly began.

“you gotta know…” you pleaded softly. your tears were finally falling. you didn't know how they were contained before. gabriel's tiny hand was pulling at the top of your shirt to whine for his nightly feeding. you looked so vulnerable leaning against the bathroom counter, pulling down one side of your shirt and unclasping your nursing bra, allowing your son to nurse. that was life now, having someone that meant more to you than anything else because even if your husband was abusing opioids you had a son that was helpless without you. the world could be ending, but your responsibility would never be focused on anything else except your child. what were you supposed to do in this situation? keep gabriel safe before things get too out of control. that was the answer.

you didn't resent mikey or hate him. he was helpless much like gabriel. though he had unintentionally gotten himself addicted to opioids because of the exploding toilet from the beef, it wasn't his fault. he was caught in a vicious cycle that needed professional help; help you couldn't provide for him.

you couldn't do it on your own either, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. you couldn't leave him because he was the person that you could lean on when you needed him. he was the man that forced marcus to learn how to make apple pie egg rolls so he wouldn't have to keep buying them from the bakery across from the beef. he was the man that sat behind you as you labored because he knew you felt better when he had his chin on your shoulder; he talked you through the entire thing and you couldn't be upset about it because every word he said comforted you and encouraged you. you could let him lean on you when he needed you most as long as it met that gabriel was safe.

“listen to me,” your voice cracked. “i don't know what to do, but i'm going to figure it out.” you managed to loosen one of your arms from gabriel. you wiped under your eyes. a painful and staggered exhale left your lungs. “ i won't be able to do this forever if you don't try to get sober, and it's not because of me, it's because of gabriel. he doesn't deserve this.”

“i know,” mikey said, reaching his hand out to caress his son's wispy black hair. you knew he wasn't going to take him. mikey needed comfort and gabriel was an easy little one to be comforted by. he was small and innocent. he loved his parents unconditionally because he didn't know the horrors of the world. he was being cradled in the bathroom unaware of anything that had occurred. he was blissfully ignorant. he was protected because he wasn't mature enough to understand the complex emotion that was surging through the apartment.

“i know you're going to have bad days. i know that you're going to relapse, and i know that this can't be fixed in a week, but damn, you have to try or i'm going to leave with gabriel.”

mikey leaned his forehead on yours. a quiet and consoling agreement that he would try his best. he couldn't ruin this with you. he made enough stupid mistakes with you in high school. he was supposed to be apologizing for those times now when he truly cared for you. he didn't reconnect with you later in life to keep being stupid, okay—maybe forgetting the condom a couple of months before your marriage was stupid, but the point was he wants to make things right.

the rest of the night was painful. you stayed up watching mikey sleep off his latest dose on the recliner and studying gabriel's small figure on the baby monitor. tonight seemed like the night that needed some silence even if it wasn't followed with peace.

mikey had taken your consideration of being sober seriously. he knew you were never one to back down from your word, and that ultimatum made him scared. scared enough to try and get his bearings in order, leave the beef to richie before he was past the point of no return. he was going to attend the narcotics anonymous meetings you had found online because they could allow him to find more resources to aid him. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, hell, he was living through the hardest part, wanting more—another dose—before he even got in the car with you to attend the meeting.

he didn't want to be the dad that wasn't around. he gets sober or you leave with gabriel that was the deal. he couldn't stop this alone but that was the most difficult part—admitting he needed help. he couldn't keep fighting with himself, ignoring his fatherly duties, and he couldn't keep hurting you. he knew he wasn't acting like himself and he saw it most when you gave him that sad smile where your eyes wouldn't crinkle at the edges and your cheeks would barely rise. he knew he had to make a change.

“we'll be waiting for you because we love you,” you whispered in his ear. mikey had his nose buried in the side of your cheek, withholding the tears he so badly wanted to release. mikey was holding the railing to the steps of the church so tightly. his other hand was resting on gabriel's back. he was scared to let go. he knew he had to confront what had been haunting him. it wasn't just a back injury anymore it transpired well past that. it was beyond physical pain. it was an addiction. a festering, evil addiction that constantly gnawed at his entire body.

“i love you too,” he cleared his throat harshly, knowing if he said anything else he would break down. he wanted to do better. he wanted to be better. he needed to do better for the sake of keeping everything he loved.