#nat and syd too !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[purposechef]

syd & carm's day off

[ciaomarie]

GIF by @thoughtfulchaos773

I woke up this morning thinking about The Bear as one does. The Donna and Claire parallels were on my mind. In S2E10, Carmy was pushing them both to the back of his mind/bottom of his priorities. It was Nat who wanted her there. That night, Donna learned that Natalie was pregnant. That bit of info was her final nudge not to enter the restaurant. Claire came inside, but it was Richie and Neil who were excited to see her. Later, she learned that Carmy (who was spiraling in a vat of self-loathing) didn't think he could be in a relationship, and it was a distraction. That was her nudge to leave and cut him off. Then, in S3E8, about 30ish years after his birth, there's Donna talking crap about Carmy's arrival like he got himself stuck and how terrible her relationship was with his father. In S3E7or9(?) we have Tiff relaying the ish, Claire is saying about Carmy, who is at fault, but she's miscontruing his meaning and has no empathy for him. So, the woman who saw his mother drive into their home and said she loved him is dragging his name through their mutual friend/family group?! Idk...if Claire is endgame imma throw up. Tbh, I don't want a whole S4 episode of Donna either. Two scenes and wrap it up.

[coachbeards]

yeah sure s3 has its flaws. but richie kissing nat's cheek and them talking abt their daughters was good :)

[miredball]

[sydneys-adamu]

sydney is such a nervous wreck in ep. 1 of season 2 and I love her so much. she adjusts her hair no less than five times throughout the entire course of the episode from having the upper tied part of her braids be higher in some scenes, and then lower, then she takes the scrunchie out of her hair completely for the meeting with jimmy and then throws it back up into an anxious bun. she is just the picture of external panic.

meanwhile carm is just like “we have enough money totally don’t sweat it. oh we don’t? that’s okay I’ll just use this pizza box as a budget balance whatever. we don’t have to finish repaying loans, it’s fine. oh the phone just broke? the fridge guy can’t even hear me because everyone’s screaming? this is fine everything’s fine :)”

even during the meeting syd and nat have obviously rehearsed what to say to jimmy to get him to expand the loan and carmy’s just making shit up as he goes, nothing that’s not true, but still it’s just hysterical. the picture of internal panic and he’s an expert.

[alisonsfics]

secret’s out

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: you and carmy have been able to successfully hide your relationship from your friends for four months. but when they all get invited to carmy’s apartment for a party, they find something that spoils your secret relationship.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, smut implications

“We really have to get back out there, Carmy,” you mumbled against his lips. You tried to pull away from him, but he grabbed your hips and held you still.

“Don’t wanna. Just wanna stay right here with you,” he protested, moving your hands back to where they had been in his hair. Carmy loved the feeling of your fingers running through his curls. “They’re gonna realize we’re gone,” you tried to protest, but Carmy was making it difficult.

You hummed contently as Carmy’s hands ran down your sides. “You really wanna leave?” He teased you. Carmy could read you like the back of his hand.

“You know I don’t, but we don’t want all our friends to realize we’re dating, do we?” You asked him.

Carmy finally pulled out of the kiss. “I just miss you. That’s all. I see you everyday but we have act like we’re just coworkers. And we have to be so careful. I have to watch every move I make around you. I know we can’t, but I just wish I could flaunt you to everyone.” He told you, honestly.

You took his hands and interlaced your fingers with his. “I know, baby. I’ll make it up to you later, though.” You flirted, kissing the inside of his wrist.

Carmy huffed. “We have that party later at my place with everybody, where I once again won’t even be allowed to hold your hand or…do this,” Carmy said, trying to distract you. He attached his lips behind your ear, sucking softly on your skin. He knew how much you loved it.

“We always have after the party.” You said, pressing a kiss to Carmy’s neck.

“God, I love you,” Carmy said, with awe in his eyes. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before sneaking back into the kitchen. You waited a few minutes before joining him, so no one would get suspicious.

Later at the party, you and Carmy were making sure to keep your distance. If you both were inseparable, your friends would figure it out pretty quickly.

Carmy was in the kitchen chatting with Fak and Marcus. You were sitting in the living room with Richie, Sydney, Nat, and Tina. Every once in a while, Carmy would meet your gaze and smirk at you as he took a sip of his beer. You tried your best to maintain a straight face.

Richie was in the middle of a rant about god knows what. You had been zoned out for the past few minutes, and now you had no idea what he was talking about.

“The fuck keeps poking me?” Richie grumbled, bringing your attention back to the conversation. Richie stood up and started pushing the couch cushions on the couch that him, Syd, and Nat were sitting on.

You all watched him in confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about? There’s nothing there, Richie.” Sydney told him. Richie kept searching the couch. “No, see. Right here,” he said, finally realizing where the mystery object was.

Richie stuck his hand behind the cushion, grabbed it, and then held it up.

The four of you froze when you realized what it was.

Richie was holding up a dark red lacy bra.

Your bra.

But no one knew that.

“Yo, cousin,” Richie yelled, successfully grabbing Carmy’s attention. “Yo, what’s up?” Carmy asked, walking around the corner. He froze when he saw what was in Richie’s hand.

There was complete silence for a second as everyone realized what was happening.

Then, chaos erupted.

Natalie and Sydney jumped off the couch. “I am never sitting on this couch again.” Natalie said with visible disgust on her face. Carmy’s face turned the darkest shade of red you’d ever seen.

Marcus let out a whistle, embarrassing Carmy further. “Who does this belong to, cousin?” Richie asked, intrigued by Carmy’s mystery woman.

You stayed seated in the armchair, trying to make sure there wasn’t embarrassment written on your face too.

“Fuckin’ give that to me,” Carmy said, snatching the bra out of Richie’s hand and storming into his room. You heard him slam his dresser drawer after stuffing your bra in there.

You remembered back to the night that your bra ended up in the couch. You had just bought a new bra to surprise Carmy. He was a big fan of the purchase. In summary, it didn’t stay on very long and you both never even made it to Carmy’s bed.

Carmy came back into the room and avoided eye contact with the whole group. “So, who’s the girl, Berzatto?” You asked, teasingly. You knew if you were the only one who didn’t tease him, they’d get suspicious. You watched a smirk start to form on his face, but he stopped himself.

“Wouldn’t you all like to know?” Carmy answered without answering. He retreated back to the kitchen, searching for his keys. Richie and Marcus followed right behind him, practically whispering in his ear.

“Who’s the special lady, chef?” Marcus asked him. “None of your fuckin’ business, you assholes,” Carmy said with a chuckle. Richie threw his arm around Carmy’s shoulders, holding him close. “No wonder you’ve been so much more tolerable lately. You’ve been getting laid.” Richie said, smirking at Carmy.

“I’m taking a smoke break. Please don’t follow me.” Carmy said, ducking out the door.

“Who do you guys think the girl is? Is it Claire?” Sydney asked, looking over at you and Sugar. Sugar was quick to shake her head no. “I don’t think it’s Claire. I don’t think it’s anyone we know. I mean, he’s clearly crazy about her, and that’s why he hasn’t told anybody. He doesn’t want anybody to scare her off.” She added.

“What do you mean? You think this is a group of people that would scare a girl away. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said, sarcastically.

“Guys, he left his phone.” Richie cheered, running over to the living room. You felt your stomach drop. The only proof that Richie could find about yours and Carmy’s relationship was in your phones. Carmy always made sure to hide the pictures of you both in his apartment when he had friends over.

You mentally prayed to any deity that would listen. You needed Richie to not get into Carmy’s phone. Just like that, you watched Richie perfectly guess Carmy’s password.

“Alright, c’mon cousin. You gotta have a picture of this mystery girl.” Richie said, clicking on the photos app. You wracked your brain for any reason to get that phone out of Richie’s hand.

The first photo Richie pulled up was a picture of yours and Carmy’s shadows. You’d both gone for a walk along the river, and Carmy had taken a picture of your shadows as you held hands.

Marcus and Sydney started booing that they couldn’t see the girls face, so Richie kept scrolling. He came onto another gem that was just a picture of your hand holding Carmy’s. You felt yourself start to hide your hands in your lap.

Richie started scrolling faster, getting more desperate for answers. You felt your heart skip a beat as he stopped on a picture.

It was a spicier picture.

One night with Carmy, as things got a little heated, he stopped to take your picture. He said you looked like the most beautiful woman on the planet, so he took a picture to commemorate it.

It was taken from his perspective as he was straddling you. It showed you lying on Carmy’s bed in a matching bra and panties set. Your hair was messy, and your lipstick was smeared. And to top it off, Carmy’s very recognizable tattooed hand was resting on your stomach.

You practically leapt across the room and snatched the phone out of Richie’s hand. Every person in the room was staring at you with shock and disbelief on their faces.

“It’s you? You’re fucking Carm?” Richie almost yelled. You had worried that your friends were getting suspicious, but it was clear from their reactions that they didn’t expect it at all.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You lied, slipping Carmy’s phone into your back pocket. They all clearly knew you were lying, but you were completely on the spot. You didn’t know what to say, and Carmy wasn’t even there to take some of the heat.

“You’re fucking my brother? You’ve told me stories about your sex life. Those were about my little brother?” Natalie asked, once again disgusted. She retreated to the kitchen to refill her wine glass. “You know what? Good for you. You saw what you wanted and you got it, but at the same time, I think I know too much about you both know.” Sydney tried to be supportive. You giggled at her response and accepted the high five she gave you.

Then, the door flung open, and Carmy walked back inside. “Well well well,” Richie said, turning to face Carmy with an almost wicked grin. You could see the light drain out of Carmy’s eyes.

“They know, Carmy,” you filled him in. He took a second to process your words. He hoped you weren’t talking about what he knew you were. “You told them?” He asked you.

Before you could respond, Richie butted in. “No, she didn’t. Something else told us,” Richie said, still smirking. He loved watched Carmy squirm as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“What’s he talking about?” Carmy asked, looking to you for help.

“You need to change your phone password. Richie was able to guess it.” You explained. Carmy froze before patting his pockets to check for his phone. You slid it out of your pocket and held it up to show him.

“All I have to say is well done.” Richie continued to tease him. Carmy walked over towards you and nudged you out of your seat. He sat down and pulled you down onto his lap. If everybody knew, he wasn’t going to sit on the other side of the room from you anymore.

“What did they see?” He whispered in your ear. You gave him a look that made him question whether he wanted to know or not. You unlocked his phone, turned down the brightness, and then showed him the photo. “Oh, shit. They saw that,” Carmy said, his eyes growing wide.

“Yeah, we saw it. And now we can’t unsee our friend doing things with our brother.” Sugar called out from the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, Sugar. I really am. I wish I told you sooner.” You apologized to her. She quickly shook her head. “Fuck telling me sooner. I don’t want to know sooner. I want to un-know. Please wipe my memory,” she said, earning a laugh from the room.

“That’s my favorite picture of you, y’know?” Carmy whispered in your ear so no one would hear him.

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[donetbhlmao]

while I agree that the cast and writers of the bear play way too much in our faces about sydcarmy, it honestly blows my mind how a good number of viewers don’t stop to savor the EXPLICITLY romantic storytelling beats between these two:

- the bear, the SHOW, starts the day Sydney comes to the restaurant. Not the day carmy comes back. The day SYDNEY appears to stage.

- the many many many MANY MANY parallels between the two. After s3 there’s too many to list here, but oh boy…

- the beat that the camera takes after syd asks “who’s Claire?” when nat first brings her up. That beat is meant to portend something bad (aka one of syd’s main conflicts in the season with getting carmy’s full focus).

- the music. Oohhhhhh god the music. I’ll tell ya, there’s tons of songs about friendship and family or whatever. They’re not using those songs for Carmen and Sydney.

- the red dish of fate that connects the two???? The fact that carmy couldn’t bear to send out another dish the way he was told to and send out what HE thinks is right? AND IT’S SYDNEY’S FAVORITE MEAL? bye

- the fact that sydney literally brings him down from a panic attack, TWICE. carmy is spiraling and the thought of claire is making it worse (and strange currencies is playing in reverse and chopped up) but the THOUGHT of Sydney is enough to bring him back (and strange currencies plays correctly)?? I’m so sorry but that’s some shojo manga-level shit. the contrast between the trauma of his past (his family, and Claire being connected to that), and the golden promise of his future (Sydney). It’s almost unbearably romantic.

- them talking quietly under the table with Pearl Jam’s “come back” playing in the background. if I think about this one too long I’ll combust.

- the fact that carm has (unconsciously) made his dish look like Sydney’s scarf in s3 e9????? like she is his MUSE you all can stay mad abt it.

my position has always been that the actual storytelling has always been romantic for these two. It’s in a subtler than what’s on other tv shows, sure. you can’t deny that there is TONS of platonic love on the bear. Sydney and carmy’s bond stands out simply because it’s presented differently from those examples of platonic love.

And this isn’t even an exhaustive list!!!!!! The bear writers I’m in your WALLS!!!!

[thecapricunt1616]

Daddy!Carmy at his 2nds birth

Call me cringe but fuck it !!!!!

Let’s talk Carmy during an unmedicated birth. Holy shit. He would be… scared. Like. Seeing his girl in such pain would lowkey make him woozy that he couldn’t help. Fr while you were groaning through contractions ofc he would be holding your hand but…(more BTC)

Really as soon as you get to the hospital, bc let’s be real who wants to be there before they’re a minute apart and you’re literally crowning? And ofc by that stage since you waited for so long - there’s no such thing as an epidural so Carmen would be shaking with nerves bc he knows you’ve been grunting and nearly screaming in pain all night and he knows labor only gets worse he’d be mentally buckling In.

You’d call Pete and Nat (or Syd, let’s be real) to watch your first so you could go to the hospital. By the time you’d get there and your doula met you, and told you you were 9 dilated and she just had to break your water and you’d probably be pushing within 30 minutes you were elated considering your first, much like Carmy was a long, intense, and most of all exhausting labor that lasted over 48 hours - so the way this one was ready to head out in less then 24 had you more than pleased.

By the time you really had the urge to push he would be standing at your side knowing the time from your first delivery. The second you told him you “felt scared” he would be at your side, holding your leg and dipping a washcloth in cold water, dabbing it on your forehead and reminding you of how the last time you “weren’t sure you could do it” you delivered a beautiful, healthy baby boy with no problems and that he was waiting at home so excited to become a big brother.

“Shut up. I can’t. I can’t Carmen it’s too hard -“ you groaned, gripping the bedside so hard your knuckles went white and you felt like the noise you let out was something akin to an angry grizzly bear as another contraction washed over your back and stomach. You looked at him, eyes narrowing “you fucking did this to me! Fuck you!” You growled, shifting uncomfortably if you could even call it that.

“That’s normal” one of the nurses that was holding your other leg said and you shot her a glare, quickly losing all other feeling as the overwhelming urge to push washed over you. It didn’t matter how bad it hurt or how hard it was, push was the only thought you had. You were nearly screaming in effort and Carmy was looking at you like he was about to pass out in fear and your doula patted one of the nurses to tap you out and told her it was time for a break and for you to change positions because your back was clearly doing no good.

At this time Carmy would rest his forehead on yours, stroking your cheek lovingly and would whisper “y’doin so good, baby. So good, angel. Princess is jus’givin us a hard time, huh? She’s stubborn like her dad yea?” He joked, earning the smallest smile from you.

“I-i think” you sniffled back your tears “I think- on my knees- maybe? That helped with little dude” he stroked your single tear away with the back of his forefinger.

“That’s a great idea, Angel. Always know what to do, want me to help you?” He asked gently and your lip quivers

“I’m scared” you whisper, tears pooling over your lash line.

“Oh- Angel” he said gently, stroking your tears away “you know there’s nothing to be afraid of, mm? Y’body did amazing the last time- that’s just fear talkin’, your beautiful perfect body delivered baby cub with no issues, so she’s gonna be the same” he carefully stroked your sore belly.

You sniffled, pouting for a moment before asking the nurses for help putting the bars down on Carmys side so he could support you like last time while you sat on your knees. Two stray tears fell from Carmys eyes and he squeezed your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it.

He helped you through another exhausting contraction before helping you ease on your knees and gently rubbing your back as you rocked back and forth groaning through another contraction when the last was less then a minute before.

“Good girl- good breathing baby,” he kissed your shoulder, feeding you more ice chips when you huffed your mouth felt dry again.

“Gotta push- gotta- h-hold my hand” you squeaked, clutching Carmys hand for dear life as you pushed harder then you thought was possible, grunting all the way through and you were honestly suprised when you heard the nurse say

“C’mon dad! Baby’s nearly out come catch her- momma one more big push you can do it -“

And with one more deep breath and a big growl you heard Carmy gasp and your baby start to cry before the nurse said

“Congratulations! It is absolutely still a girl- momma hold on just one more second I’m cutting the cord here and daddy will go ahead and put baby on your chest” you sobbed yourself hearing your little girl cry, falling to your hip as soon as the nurse said it was ok and rolling on your back, unclipping your nursing delivery gown to see Carmy was crying just as hard as you were

“Give her - give her oh my god, hi princess” you cried as Carmy laid her on your chest, kissing her cheeks and forehead as she wailed. “She’s so beautiful-“ you cried, head falling to the pillow in exhaustion

“She’s perfect, she’s amazing princess- look at her her lungs are so strong” he kissed your forehead before hers “strong just like her mama” he sniffled, stroking her cheek as you settled her on your breast to eat.

“I love you, thank you. Thank you for giving me her” you whispered, resting your tired forehead against his shoulder.

He chuckled a bit, kissing your temple “are you kidding? It’s me who should be thanking you for the rest of my life”

[nolita-fairytale]

pov: carmy makes people magazine's sexiest chef alive list

a/n: this is a little blurb inspired by ayo's incredible reaction to every interviewer ever asking her about jaw's calvin klein campaign.... if you haven't seen it, she just hides the photo or makes the funniest 'please don't bring this up' face while exclaiming: that's my boy! this is a work function! you can see it here (watch till the end you will not regret it ayo'sgettingpeoplefit@hotmail.com.co.uk -- it costs A LOT of money lmao). anyways, congrats to my golden globe winners eeeeeek!

riding the high of the bear's newest award: best restaurant great lakes, and buzzed on the best that veuve cliquot has to offer, as many staff members of the bear as possible have to come to celebrate at the james beard awards once again.

of course, you're hoping this year's afterparty will be a little less eventful -- not that you're mad at how last year's ended.

you, carmy, syd, richie, natalie, marcus, tina, and ebra are all gathered for an interview, answering questions about taking home the big win for the restaurant.

"last year chef sydney took home the rising star award, and this year it's best restaurant great lakes. how does it feel?" the interviewer, a well known and james beard-award winner herself, sophia roe asks as her cameraman follows closely behind.

"yeah, it's uh, wow. it's a huge accomplishment and we cannot be more honored to be taking this win home," sydney answers with a grin stretched far across her face.

it's surreal, for all of you, really.

"and chef carmy, i hear there's another congratulations in order," sophia continues. "you made people magazine's sexiest chef list this year and then shortly after, had a profile done in GQ."

nat groans in response while richie snickers, only too quick to whip out the screenshot he has on his phone of the article as carmy turns beet red.

"i uh... yeah. that was um... a surprise," he stammers his eyes shifting from the interviewer to you, and then to richie for a death glare.

"oh don't worry. i got it riiiiiiight here," richie says, eager to rush over to the interviewer and revel in carmy's embarrassment.

"oh put that away!!" sydney snaps, pushing richie's phone down.

"mixed reviews from the restaurant staff?" sophia asks curiously.

"looks like i'm the only proud of our guy," richie gloats, shooting you a look that causes your eyes to roll.

"no of course not!" sydney exclaims.

"it's just-, that's my brother!" natalie is quick to chime in, defending sydney.

"exactly. that's my boy! that's-, he's our-, this is our family," sydney explains passionately. "that's her brother." and then a quick gesture to you. "and that's her husband!"

"my what?!" you exclaim, caught off guard.

carmy snorts out a laugh in response to you while the interviewer and cameraman chuckle.

"sorry! that's her mans. that's her boyfriend, yknow?" sydney corrects herself with a laugh, before continuing to answer the interviewers question, this time with both marcus and richie to support.

"can't start any rumors, now can we?" you mutter under your breath, for only carmy to hear.

carmy only snakes his arm around your waist, hugging you closer to him this time.

"and if you ask me," you add, mischievously. "i'd be more than happy to tell everyone about your new accolade of 'sexiest chef alive' if i knew it wouldn't totally humiliate you."

carmy laughs dryly this time, "good thing syd jumped to my defense then first, babe."

"good thing."

[juuuulez]

about co-workers, enemies (kind of) with benefits, filthy disgusting hate-fuck with carmy…

sometimes you get tired of him running his mouth, being rude and mean, barking orders around without a care. i’m thinking of this third season, of changing the menu everyday. i’m thinking the stress of everyone in that kitchen, carmen making tina redo the dishes, and one day he makes you redo the dish. it’s nonsense, you are out of time, your dish is actually perfect but carmen and his stupid need for every little detail to be out of this world when it’s not even necessary. so, you fight back. it’s perfect chef, there’s no need to do it again. and that starts a back and forth, him repeating if it’s not perfect, it doesn’t go out. and syd trying to help stop it, it even takes richie to interfiere. until carmen says something like if you don’t stop yapping and do what i say, maybe you are not made for this job. the dish is not perfect, so when i say redo, you redo. and if you don’t like it, then you can walk out the door and don’t come back. but that would just prove me right because you are not made for this. so, redo the dish. is that clear, chef? that brings silence, except the noise of the people eating and chatting, and the cooking going on. syd and richie just stare, they can’t believe carmen just dismissed you like your job means nothing, like you aren’t one of the best cooks in this place. and you can’t believe it either, so you stare hard into carmen’s blue deep eyes, saying yes chef and throwing the food into the trash to go back to work. and he seems guilty about it. that happens on monday. you don’t object anything else the rest of the evening, in fact, you don’t talk to him for the rest of the week.

when nat and syd had tired the fuck out of carmen, saying he should apologize. because now, the tension in the restaurant just feel like everything is about to explode. and plus to that, you two don’t fuck because you don’t even aknowledge him. so, he apologies. kind of. by text. and you don’t respond.

until you see each other on monday. and the whole day feels slow. and the end of the shift, after everyone cleans and goes home. you are waiting for him in his office, you two are absolutely alone.

i forgive you. kind of. you say, sitting on the edge of the desk while carmen closes the door.

kind of? he looks dizzy, like he can’t believe you are here and talking to him, like he missed the sound of your voice.

mhm… it will be entirely if you show it. he comes closer, your hands on his shoulders, his hands on your hips. looking at your lips, dying to get a kiss. so he gets close to your face, ready to feel your mouth. until you push him back with your hand on his chest. you will have to get on your knees first, carmen.

and he does, my god. your jeans and panties throw in the floor and his face deep in your cunt. all he tastes and feels and breaths is you, his eyes rolling back. your thighs on the sides of his head, keeping him caged (like he would dare to scape) and your hands gripping his hair. the slurping noise is disgustingly loud. you are so wet and he is so hungry. fucks you with his tongue and sucks your clit, all your juice and his spit is dripping on his chin, and it is a sight. and you moan so lost in it, not letting your opportunity to scape.

missed this cunt so much, huh? mhm, if you say you are sorry i will let you fuck it.

and he makes you cum. on his tongue. and his fingers. and his cock. apologizing for being so mean!

i’m sorry baby. pretty pussy so fucking good, i won’t let it happen again, oh… i- i won’t let this needy whore without my cock for so long, i’m sorry-

oh WOOOOOOOWWWWW another brilliant morning it seems!

but yes yes yes because sometimes carmen is just SO mean that you don’t even want to fuck the anger out. it’s easier to shove him away and make him realise that, despite everything, there actually is a line between the two of you. a difference between just right and too far.

that week where you don’t talk is agonising.

since this little deal came up, carmen has been jerking off a lot less. why would he, when he has you? but now it’s like this chore that is nagging, needing to be done. four days in and he’s completely wrecked, strung tight and more agitated than normally.

he’s slamming all the doors when he gets home, throwing his wallet on the table. carmen just wants to go to sleep and forget everything, but after he’s tugged his clothes off, ready for a shower, he notices that glint of pink fabric on his dresser.

your goddamn underwear that he stole.

and, fuck, he tries to ignore it. but his mind lingers as the hot water beats down on his back, his body having gone far too long worked up.

carmen ignores it as he dries his hair, wraps a towel around his waist. says it’s stupid, that having it around is a cruel reminder of all the nice things in life he destroys.

he picks up the fabric with intention of ridding of it, but once it’s in his palm, carmen finds his feet move in the opposite direction. his cock is stirring at the mere thought, the soft texture between his fingers, the memory of stuffing it into your mouth.

he’d washed them since then, of course, and had been intending on returning them. but, if carmen couldn’t have you, then maybe this would be fine?

so he fists the cotton tight around his cock, once again soiled with the pre that continuously spills out. carmen would never admit it, but his mind is stuck on you, unable to envision anything but your mouth, your pussy clenching around him.

do you miss him, too? he doesn’t know. probably not.

jerking off doesn’t even feel that good, either. it’s not the same. nothing will be the same, now that he’s had a taste of what you can do to him.

so carmen is quick with it, jaw tense and brows furrowed together, focusing on cumming just because he really wants to go to sleep.

it’s the image of your teary face that sends him over the edge, splattering sticky white over his abdomen. the last few drops are squeezed from his weeping cock, soaking into the pink underwear that provide a delicious friction, almost bordering on painful as he milks himself dry.

that’s the night when he finally texts you a half-apology.

[carmenized-onions]

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different— The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug.  They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

[sydcarmyfan]

Has Carmy ever smoked around Sydney?

It is interesting that Carmy smokes in front of Nat, Richie and Marcus but never Sydney. Why doesn’t he smoke in front of her? Carmy is probably too busy staring at Syd that he doesn’t have time to smoke, or maybe his need to smoke decreases as he is with someone who brings him total peace. If Syd ever asked Carmy for a cigarette, would he give it to her or would he go into protective mode and state all the reasons as to why she shouldn’t smoke?

[light-yaers]

tangerine. | part two [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 6k+

PART TWO

You lit your cigarette before the back door even fully shut. You leaned against the wall as you inhaled, and exhaled slowly when you could feel the smoke in your lungs expand. It was a nasty habit, you knew, but it was the only time where you got an ounce of peace at the diner. Two minutes to yourself, not in the cold walk-in, but outside where no one could yell for you, or grab at you, or need you. When you were out here, the chefs and staff alike knew not to bother you. It was just for you. 

Carmen knew that rule well, but that didn’t stop him from following you out the door. He burst through the back door like he was an employee under the diner roof, and found you immediately. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, not wanting anything to start today. 

You inhaled again, and let out the smoke quickly. “You know you’re not allowed back here–”

��What the fuck is wrong with you?” he boomed. Sydney’s words from before had completely dissipated in his mind.

You turned back to him, eyes wide, utterly gobsmacked. “With me? Are you fucking joking?”

“What, it’s been five years and not even a fucking hello or a how you doing?–”

“Oh, sorry, Carm,” you said sarcastically. You stepped towards him in anger. “I was under the impression you never wanted to fucking see me again, huh? Isn’t that what you said last time at USC, or did I just make that shit up or something?”

Carmen shut his mouth. You both breathed heavily as the silence descended over you, only broken up by him pulling a pack of cigs from his pocket and plucking a stick from the foil. He slotted the cigarette between his lips, and lit it without a word. As he inhaled, he leaned against the wall next to you. You smoked together, not making a sound, as smoke coiled around your heads and disappeared into the air without a trace. 

You flicked ash on the floor. “What are you doing here, Carm?” you asked. 

He sighed, trying to calm himself down. “Getting ideas.”

“Ideas for what?” you asked, and glanced at the side of his face for just a second. He still looked the same, just a bit older. He had more tattoos on his arms, and a stronger jaw, but he was definitely the same Carmen you’d known once. 

“A restaurant. In Chicago.” 

You finally met his eyes, awestruck. He looked down at you to his left, and all the years came flooding back. Behind your eyes, behind the pain and the shit he’d said last time, was someone who still cared about his endeavours. It was almost too much to bear. 

“You found a place?” you asked. 

Carmen nodded. “The Beef. My brother’s old place,” he said, and scratched his head almost painfully. “He, uh… died, and left it to me. We’re doing it up.”

“We?”

“Me and Syd,” he said, and pointed back at the door. Sydney was still inside, at the table alone. “And, uh, Nat and Richie.”

You exhaled a shaking breath, smoke free. Your fingers started to buzz. You were torn between wanting to congratulate him, and wanting to walk away. This was immense for him, and something you knew he’d been wanting from the very beginning. He’d done it, was doing it, but despite all the time you couldn’t help but think– 

Weren’t we supposed to do this together? 

It didn’t matter now. It had been too long and you’d missed each other, passed by, lost the opportunity. Even so, after all this time, would you even want to go back?

You swallowed away all the words that wanted to pour from your mouth. “Wow,” you said, and it sounded stale. “That’s… that’s big.”

“Yeah,” Carm said.

“When do you open?” you asked. You tried to keep things light. 

“Couple of months. We need to open fast. Faster than we wanted to, so, yeah. It’s a lot.” 

As his words fizzled away, you looked at the ground. The air between you felt thick, heavy, with all of the words that you both wanted to say to the other, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Now wasn’t the time to think about what could have been. Maybe, if what happened at USC hadn’t happened, things would have been different. You’d still be friends, have any semblance of a relationship, compared to being almost strangers. 

In fact, you’d pick being strangers with Carm over this. Inside, you still harboured the hurt from those years previous. He’d been so horrible. He’d been so cruel. You wondered if he still remembered all he’d said, or if he had no memory of the way he’d cut you to your core. 

It’d been too long. It didn’t matter. Nothing would change from this. 

“Well.” You sucked in a final pull from your cig, before you flicked it on the ground. You looked him in the eyes as you stood up straight. “Good luck with it all,” you said, before you started towards the door. 

Carm shot up from the wall. “You should come to the opening, in July.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You grabbed the door handle, and Carmen tensed immediately. 

“We’re looking for a front of house manager,” he blurted out. You froze. All the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you clamped your eyes shut. “I don’t know– if you wanted a change, or something new.”

Your fingers hurt from how hard you held onto the door handle. Your knuckles had turned white. Quickly, you inhaled a sharp breath, turning back to him. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Carm realised his mistake as soon as you spoke. “Fuck– I just–”

“No, Carm. Think about it. You think that you can come back here after five fucking years, and offer me this like it’s nothing?” You were seething, you were upset. It only cemented that he didn’t realise how bad he’d hurt you, and if he did, then that was even worse. 

He looked around the back of the building, anywhere but at you, trying to find the right words. “I was shitty, I get that.”

“Do you?” You stepped forward once. “Tell me how shitty you were, Carmen.”

“I was– fuck– I shouldn’t have–” he stumbled over his words. 

“You shouldn’t have treated someone– who only fucking cared about you– like that, is that what you were gonna say?” you said over him, and the look on his face told you everything. You knew Carmen well, and you thought that was why he struggled. You could see right through him, especially back then. “You have a habit of pushing away people that give a shit about you.”

He frowned at you in understanding. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“I hope you grow out of it one day, and realise your worth,” you said, and felt the familiar sting of tears welling in your eyes. 

“That’s what I’m trying to fucking do,” he said, finding his voice. He took a strong step forward, taking you by surprise. “Come and work at the restaurant. You need to give yourself a fucking chance too, not just other people.”

You scoffed at his change of character. “You’re really flipping it this way?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said plainly. “You’ve been here, what, seven years? You know you’re qualified to work in places ten times the level of the diner–”

“God– fuck you!” you burst, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed and your chest stuttered. “You can’t just come back here after all this time and tell me that you give a shit, that you’re living your dream and you finally want me to be a fucking part of it–”

Carmen cut over you. “So only you’re allowed to say I need to know my fucking worth, huh? I can’t say it back to you?”

“I know my worth!” you exclaimed. Carmen sucked in a breath and shut his mouth after, holding his breath. “I’ve known my worth all along, and sure, maybe I’m too good for this fucking place, but it’s my home.” Carmen’s face softened as the words tipped from your mouth. “What worth would I have if I went back to someone who treated me like shit?”

Carmen placed his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. His shoulders were tense as he hung his head in subtle shame. You knew Carmen. You knew he wasn’t like this, not always, which is what made it even harder to say no. 

“This was our dream,” he said gently. 

“It was your dream, Carm,” you said. He caught your eye strongly.

“You were always part of it.” The breath hitched in your throat. “It was always gonna be you and me–”

“Until it wasn’t,” you said over him. There was a finality to your words that Carmen understood wholeheartedly. He’d been too late, left it too long, for you to drop everything and come back now. 

He inhaled deeply, and let his breath out slowly, surely. “I’m sorry,” he said, hitting your eye. “For all of it. The way I acted. Cutting you all out of my life. I’m trying… not to do that anymore.”

You nodded gently, softening your expression. “I’m happy for you,” you said, and you meant it. “I just can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Carmen said. “Okay,” he repeated, trying to get it all to stick.  

You placed your hand on the door handle, and tugged it open. “It was good to see you,” you said. Maybe it was a lie, or maybe it had been nice to see his face after all these years. You just didn’t know yet. 

Carmen nodded. “You too,” he said. You shut the door behind you as you went inside, leaving him out the back with his half smoked cigarette. 

Sydney was amongst the last customers in the restaurant after lunch, and you sighed as you saw her alone. You strolled towards her table, and started picking up empty plates when you approached. “Nice meal?” you asked. 

“Amazing,” Sydney perked up awkwardly. “You were right. Those tangerines are good.”

You smiled. “They’re my favourite, too,” you revealed. 

Sydney rang her hands on the table. “Um, where’s Carmen?”

You kept your face flat, not wanting to show just how erratically your heart was beating after the entire ordeal. “Having a smoke, out the back. You can head out that way, I’ll clear this all up,” you suggested. 

Sydney got up and nodded. “Thank you. It was really nice to meet you,” she said. When you looked at her face, you could tell she was being genuine. “Carmen knows a lot of people in this industry, and most of the places and people aren’t like this, or, uh– like you. It’s a refreshing change.” She smiled. 

You felt bashful at her words, but ignored the warmth that spread to your cheeks. In that moment, you knew that Carmen had found himself a great partner. You just hoped he wouldn’t fuck it all up for her sake. 

Sydney quickly shuffled in her bag, and brought out her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, before you shook your head. “On the house. How do they say it? No checks.” 

“Oh, no, I insist–”

“So do I. Didn’t you hear Paulie?” you said, stacking a final plate on your arm, as you balanced the rest with ease. “I’m the big boss around here.” 

Sydney smiled marvellously. Her eyes shone when she did. “Okay, okay,” she said, backing off. “Whatever the big boss says, goes, right?”

“Too right,” you said, as you stood up straight and looked at her face-on. “I… I hope everything with the restaurant goes great.”

Sydney nodded, understanding that Carmen must have told you about it outside. “Yeah, me too. You should come by.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her no, so you simply nodded. You stepped back and headed towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. “Good luck, Sydney. You’re gonna need it with him,” you said, gesturing towards the back door. Carmen. 

Sydney scoffed, amused. The way her face dropped softly, and her eyes widened gently, made you feel properly seen. Like you were sharing words through looks alone, and absolutely knew what position the other was in, or had been in. “Uh, if you’re ever in Chicago– don’t be a stranger,” she added awkwardly, but you found it incredibly endearing.

You smiled, before you continued to the kitchen. As you did, you hoped it wouldn’t be like what happened to you, for her. 

It was always like this with Carmen. He somehow always found himself next to people like you and Sydney, strong-willed, capable, caring, but almost always fucked it up in some capacity. He’d done it before with you, and others, and neither you–nor Sydney– wanted it to happen again. Not when their restaurant would be on the line.

You dropped off the plates at the sink, and found yourself looking around the empty kitchen. The chefs were out the back, taking their after-lunch break. Sydney had already left through the door at the back of the restaurant, so they’d no doubt all bump into each other before Carmen fully left. 

Gently, you opened the walk-in and pulled the door closed behind you. You ducked down to the lower shelves, at the back, until you found what you were looking for– tangerines. There was a crate of them, some of them fresher than others, but you liked the ones that were almost over-ripe. You grabbed a couple and held them in your hands, before you headed back to the kitchen. 

Grabbing Paulie’s knife, you sliced them into quarters. The insides were the most neon of oranges. Unlike the peels on big oranges, tangerine peels were thinner. You liked it when the colour of the juice was so vibrant that it got stuck behind your eyelids for a moment. You liked it when you picked up a quarter and it almost fell apart. 

You were reminded of a memory then, of the last time you’d seen Carmen before today. Five years ago, when your reservation at Union Square Cafe had finally arrived, Carmen was in the kitchen just like you’d known he would be. 

You arrived on time, dressed in something fancy and upper-class, just to fit in. It’d been ten months since you’d seen him, since he’d left Lucky Strike Diner, and he’d been far too busy to come by. You didn’t blame him. He was finally doing what he’d meant to, and, just as before, you’d been absolutely right– within five months at USC, Carmen Berzatto won the James Beard award. 

You weren’t at the restaurant to tell him I told you so, but you couldn’t deny that you felt powerful about it. You knew Carmen better than he knew himself. But maybe that was more of a curse, than a blessing. 

The hostess sat you down at your table for one, as the restaurant emitted a gentle lull of mutters and chatter. You’d booked a later reservation, nearer to the end of dinner service, and everything was serene as you perused the menu and chose a wine. A few moments later, a waitress brought over your glass, and you sipped at it gently.

This was nice. You could get used to this. Fine dining, putting on a show of excellence. This was so far removed from the world of the diner that you almost felt like a different person. Someone elegant, someone important. Not that you didn’t feel loved or supported at Lucky Strike, but you knew that standards in a place like Union Square Cafe were above and beyond. That’s how they got their stars, and kept them. 

In the kitchen, Carmen worked on an order. He positioned micro basil and other delicate ingredients on the plates, working with immense precision alongside the rest of the kitchen. When he was done, he let out a strong “Hands!” and within moments all the plates had been picked up and whisked from the kitchen. 

He made his way to the expo, banked a few more tickets, before his eye caught something. He stopped– froze, almost– as his gaze fell over your name on the reservations list. 

“Chef,” he said, turning to his front of house manager, who was responsible for calling out orders, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. “This booking, table thirty two– has she ordered yet?” 

“No, Chef. She was still looking the last time a server went to her table.”

Carmen had a thought, and he was going to put it into motion. “Take her menu away. I’ll be cooking for her tonight. Chef’s pick.”

“Yes, Chef,” the manager said, before she quickly fled the kitchen. 

Carmen took in a breath. “I need two veal, four salmon and one beef!”

“Yes, Chef!” the crew boomed in unison. 

You thought you’d decided. The salmon looked appealing, and as soon as you’d picked it was as if a server came over from being summoned. You turned to her, and smiled. “I’m ready to order,” you said. 

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” she said softly, as she gently plucked the menu from your hands. “Chef Berzatto is taking care of it for you.”

Chef Berzatto. 

Hearing Carmy’s name in such a way had you downright giddy. You wondered how he’d known, or if he’d been told, or whatever. You knew that top restaurants had a habit of being attentive to the max, so maybe they’d background checked you. Either way, you were excited. 

“Looking forward to it,” you said, accepting the fate of your meal as being in Carmen’s hands. You simply sat back, swilled your wine, and felt at peace. 

As you waited, you peered around the restaurant. Everything was laid out perfectly, had a system that worked, and every couple and group and business party looked catered for. It was an utterly different vibe than the diner. This was a place for another species, not like the locals you knew by name. You’d always assumed that intense and fanciful restaurants like this lacked character, in a way. They chose excellence over warmth, or stars over honest food, but you’d been wrong. 

Already, despite being on your own, you felt like you belonged. Carmen knew you were here, his servers knew you were here, and you knew why you were here. For him. 

A few parties finished up as you waited for your meal. All the while, you were generously topped up on wine from the servers, and positioned right by the kitchen. You could hear the methodical way they spoke to each other, sometimes, and the whoosh of the door every time someone stepped from within back into the restaurant, and vice versa. 

In the kitchen, Carmen finished up preparing your dish. He’d been transported away as he worked, reminded of you with every garnish that he placed and ru that he drizzled. Whenever he saw the colour orange, he thought of you. It was impossible not to, when he’d cut up an uncountable number of tangerines for you during his time at the diner. As he placed the final piece of your dish, he readied himself to yell for hands, but stopped himself.

Instead, he grabbed your plate and approached his front of house manager. “How are we for time?”

“Fine, Chef. We’re in the after dinner lull, only desserts are left. Table thirty-two is the final main of the evening.”

Carmen nodded. “Right.”

“Do you want to take it to her?” she asked knowingly, and Carmen swallowed. “You know her, don’t you? An old friend?”

“Something like that,” he said, not knowing how to even begin to explain you. An ex-work colleague just sounded wrong, but an old friend sounded wrong, too. You’d been so much more than either of those, and still were. You supported his endeavours, and cared beyond belief. 

The kitchen at USC was vastly different from the atmosphere at Lucky Strike. It was robotic, and static, and everyone had their purpose and place. Carmen’s purpose was that of importance, being chef de cuisine, but his superior– the head chef– was not like Paulie used to be. 

Not in the slightest. 

“I’ll take it,” Carmen finally replied. He placed your plate down and straightened out his chef whites. “How do I look?” he asked her. 

She smiled. “Smart,” she said. That was enough. 

As you sipped the last of your glass of red, you tensed when the door to the kitchen burst open. You turned your gaze towards it, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Walking towards you with the speed of a freight train, chef whites donned and clean, hair slicked back, was Carmy. He powered through the restaurant and gained glances of respect from other guests, triggering a small hubbub of chatter from other tables. 

You relaxed even further into your chair, knowing that you didn’t need to perform. You didn’t need to sit up straight, or lean in, or do anything other than smile at him with as much warmth as you could possibly muster. He’d made it, and this was exactly what you’d wanted to witness– you just hadn’t expected him to leave the seclusion of the kitchen just for you. 

Carmen reached your table, and set down your surprise meal. He gently drifted the plate towards you, and leaned down intimately. 

“Your meal this evening is our classic fillet of salmon, with a twist,” he said. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You felt overwhelmed in the best way. 

“A twist, Chef?” you asked. 

“I took the liberty of adding fresh tangerine juice to the jus.” 

Your eyes sparkled as he revealed all. It was very easy to feel special when you were alone with Carm at the diner before, to understand the gravity of his actions when he got past his shyness and opened up more, but this hit it out of the park. Your chest compressed as your heart lurched. Your lungs spluttered as you sucked in a shaking breath. 

The sides of Carmen’s mouth curled almost imperceptibly, but you knew that look from a mile away. That small smile, that warmth, that affection, that he reserved solely for those people that he knew deserved it. That fact you were here, and everything else from before, was reason enough for you to deserve it. Innately, he felt good when he looked at you this way. It made everything clear, wiped the slate clean, made his crumbling chest settle just that tiny bit more. 

Carmen stood up straight, hands behind his back. “I wanted to mention that there’ll be no checks tonight.”

You finally sat up straight, and immediately went to protest. “I–”

“We insist. I insist,” Carm cut you off softly. 

You looked at the perfectly cooked salmon on the table, the bright orange jus, the drops of red wine on the sides of your glass. “Okay,” you said, peering back up at him. 

“Okay,” he repeated, and his smile grew. 

The cogs whirred in his brain, as he became hyper-aware of the other guests around him. He still had dessert orders to fill, and an entire kitchen to break down and clean. As much as he wanted to stay, to sit opposite you, to throw a kitchen towel at your face when you looked at him so deeply and warmly and lovingly, he simply couldn’t. 

He leaned in once more, so much that your hairs stood on edge as he whispered. “I finish just before midnight,” he whispered gently, before pulling away. “Stay.” He swallowed. “Please.” 

“Okay,” you whispered.

You stayed until the restaurant was empty. The hostess at the front folded napkins in the dim light of the deserted bar, but stopped ever so often to fill up your wine glass. She smiled at you every time she did. 

It was a comfortable silence in the empty restaurant, a silence that you knew very well from being at the diner after hours. Inside the kitchen, you knew Carm would be breaking down after service. Cleaning every single surface in sight, scrubbing the floors until they shined, labelling produce with tape that was cut; not ripped. 

Close to midnight, the kitchen door slammed open once more. Carm had stripped off his chef whites, opting for jeans and an old tee. He spotted you from across the restaurant and smiled smally. “Wanna see?” he asked. 

He held the door open for you as you stepped into the kitchen. The sleekness of it all practically took your breath away. Every surface shone, every plate and bowl and mug glimmered. This was such a step up from the diner, one that you’d been expecting, but seeing it in person was far more incredible.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath. 

Carmen huffed in amusement. “I know.”

“This is… this is insane.” 

He nodded slowly, coming up to stand beside you as the door swayed on its hinges, before settling shut. “It feels like a dream, somedays,” he said, admiring the workspace with you. “And some days, it doesn’t.” 

“I’m so proud of you, Carm.” You smiled. He smiled back, and for just a moment it was as if no time had passed. It was like you were back in the diner, talking about your dreams together. A place to call your own, and all that jazz. Perhaps, those dreams were still there somewhere.

“I’m not sure I deserve that,” he replied, but not quite jokingly enough for your liking.

You sent him a side-eyed stare and caught the look on his face– fear, or perhaps, damage. When he hit your eyes a second later, that look melted away. All you saw then was warmth. Carmen didn’t often show much on his face, but you could see it all. The years you’d spent alongside him had taught you more than how to run a restaurant; you were one of a handful of people that could seamlessly read Carmen like a book. 

That’s why your gut coiled innately. That look wasn’t one that you’d take lightly. 

“How’s it all going?” you asked. 

He let out another huff and shrugged his shoulders, before opting to move away and roam the clean kitchen. “I can’t complain.” He swiped his hand across the stainless steel workbench. 

“And that chef, David or whatever his name is, how is he?”

Carmen froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your hairs stand on end. His arms tensed, until you saw the strength within his veins rise to the surface. He looked up at you sternly, clenching his jaw. “He’s an excellent chef.” 

“Okay,” you said. “That’s great. What about how he manages this place, manages you?”

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Carmen let out defensively.

It only cemented that you knew something was wrong. 

“Okay– I’ll pretend you didn’t just snap at me for being interested,” you let out belligerently. “What the hell is it, Carm?”

“Drop it,” he said sternly, moving away from you and over to the enormous shelves of shimmering white plates. “I got a James Beard award, didn’t I? I got everything I fucking wanted here, so just drop it.”

“Listen,” you started, fast walking your way around the central island and closer to him. “I get it, I’m not part of this world– your world– anymore. But I still know a thing or two about chefs and their giant fucking egos. What’s going on?”

Carmen closed his eyes and let out a subtly shaking breath. You were taken aback by this whole conversation, the drastic shift in his mood as soon you’d started asking questions. 

“Carm,” you said softly, dialling things down a little. “Just look at me for a second.” 

His shoulders relaxed, dipping into more of a tired hunch than his previous disposition of a deer in headlights. When his eyes hit yours, your heart lurched in your chest. Those eyes, god– the blue was etched in the corners of your brain. Like a clear sky in summer, or a glittering pool, or a calm ocean. Carmen was many things, but clear, glittering and calm were not traits that most people would pin onto him. 

Not you, though. This was the Carm that dreamt with you. This was the Carm that cut up tangerines into quarters for you whenever you asked, or even when you didn’t. Blue and orange, swirling together like the patterns on peppermint hard-candy or gingham squares on the Lucky Strike tablecloths. Ingrained. Permanent. 

“He’s taught me a lot,” Carmen whispered. 

You knew it wasn’t your place, but red flags popped up in your mind and billowed in the breeze immediately. He looked stripped back, a shell of himself, just for those fleeting seconds, and you fucking hated it. 

“You’ve been here for almost a year,” you said, swallowing away the butterflies that had started crawling up your throat. “Maybe now is a good shot to find something else.” 

Carm’s eyes widened brightly, and you saw all his plans from before; his restaurant, his staff, his food and the like. And then, as if a gust of wind uprooted the largest tree within his mind, that was gone. Replaced by something seething, something angry and not at all kind, Carmen rose. 

“You’re telling me to quit?” 

You took a small step back. “Of course, I’m not–”

“No, no, you fucking are.” He bit down on his tongue, you heard it. “You think being here for a few hours and one meal is enough for you to tell me what the fuck to do?”

“Carmen, what are you talking ab–”

“Fuck!” His shoulders squared off, and suddenly he was a corrugated iron board before you. Immovable, stuck in place. “You came here to tell me I’m strong enough, right? What, you want me to go back to the diner with Paulie and everyone else who’s never had a real fucking goal in their lives?”

“Wow,” you breathed out, laughing a little as a lack of what else to respond. 

You stood your ground, as much as you wanted to scream and yell like a petulant child. The look on his face, the brick wall he’d built so high around himself, was something you’d seen before– self-sabotage, tugging away from everything and everyone that was there to help. A level of acceptance and denial alike was testament alongside situations such as this; abusive situations. 

This Chef David was abusing the shit out of him. And Carmen was deep, way down to the core of it, just trying to get through his days, shift by shift, in any way possible. Even if that meant cutting off those dreams, cutting off people from his past– you. 

“You really think I’d do that?” you said bluntly. “You really think I booked this solo reservation a fucking year ago because I wanted to come and drag you back to the diner?”

Carm’s eyes brightened momentarily. “A year ago?”

You took another step back, careful not to immediately fall into him from the childish bewilderment on his face. It was like he’d never had someone care, but you knew that wasn’t true. He just didn’t know how to spot when someone did, misconstrued it as someone trying to harm him, hurt him, ruin him. 

“I booked to come here a year ago, Carmen,” you started. “I fucking knew you’d make it here. I knew that when I came today, you’d be the one cooking my damn meal. I was fucking right.”

It was his turn to take a step back now, just a little. Perhaps he was overwhelmed because he wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting you to still stay supporting him after he left, or didn’t even want to think about what the guys at the diner might be saying about him after he’d gone. Little did he know, everyone still talked about him with smiles and bright eyes. 

Carmen Berzatto was the only motherfucker out there that didn’t know people supported him wholeheartedly. 

“I’m not telling you to leave, or quit, or whatever else you fucking think I was about to say,” you began again. Carm swallowed nervously. “You can think what the hell you want to think about us at Lucky Strike, but we’re still the same people we’ve always been. I guess that can’t be said about you now, huh?”

Carmen’s anxiety turned to anger in a heartbeat. “What, ‘cause I actually made a name for myself instead of you all staying in the fucking box you planted yourselves in years ago? If that’s why I’ve changed, then I’m fucking glad about it.”

“Fuck– there you go again!” you exclaimed. “You’re talking down to us like we’re pieces of fucking shit on your brand-spanking new shoes!” 

“And you’re looking at me with those fucking baby-eyes like I’m gonna crumble any fucking second!” Carmen screamed. “I can’t fucking stand it.”

You placed your hands on your hips and held your ground again. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” 

Carmen saw red immediately. “If you bring up Chef David one more fucking time, then I’m done.”

“You’re done? Huh, what the hell does that mean?”

“Done with you.” 

Your eyes widened. Bile started to crawl up your oesophagus. In that moment, you’d never felt more like your mother. You knew if you were to talk, you’d adopt her stern accent instantly. You popped your hip out and bent your knee, tired of fucking standing. 

“So, you made it to the big leagues, and now you’re throwing out all your trash. Is that what it is, huh?” You stepped forward once. Carmen stayed where he was. “Look at me right here, Carm.” You pointed to your eyes, not wavering once. “Look at me right here and tell me that you hate me. Do it right now. If you do it right now then I’ll know you fucking mean it. If you do it right now then me, and Paulie, and everyone from the fucking diner will call it quits with you like that.” You snapped your fingers on that. It cemented that you meant it. 

Carmen raised his chin, so close that your noses almost touched. In any other circumstance, maybe you’d have kissed him by now. Maybe you’d have realised that you both liked each other as more, loved each other once, still fucking did. 

But, that wasn’t this reality. 

When he didn’t say anything, you knew you’d won. He stayed as still as he could as adrenaline rushed through his blood. His fingers shook at the end of his arms. His chest thumped incessantly as oxygen tried to tear through his lungs. 

“No?” you asked, almost as a final warning. 

Carm breathed in. “I hate what you represent.”

“And what exactly is it that I represent?” you whispered. 

Suddenly, Carmen dropped his forehead on yours. His hands deposited themselves on either side of your neck warmly, gently. His fingertips set your skin alight. “The one thing I can never fucking have.” 

As much as you wanted tell him to get the fuck off, to stop touching you, your heart melted as soon as your skin felt his. You clamped your eyes shut, leaning into him. Carm let out a pent up breath. His breath was warm as it skimmed your skin. 

“Carmen.” You swallowed. “Please.” You paused. “I– love you,” you stuttered. 

“I know,” he replied. “I know you do.” 

For just a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. It’d be easy to drop his lips onto yours, you were right in front of him. Heads touching, breath mingling, sharing each other’s air like it was the most normal fucking thing to do. 

You wanted him back, it was true. But not like this. Not broken, or bruised, or damaged beyond repair. It wasn’t his fault, you knew that. He’d been moulded this way. But, it was his responsibility to do good for himself. One deep dive into this entire conversation and you knew that it was impossible for him to do that, at least right now. Carmen Berzatto was stuck, and you didn’t want to get yourself stuck in the process of trying to free him. 

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Leave,” was all he said. 

You shook your head slowly, tears welling behind your eyes. “Don’t push me away.”

“Leave,” he repeated, as his hands dropped from your neck to your shoulders. Gently, he started physically pushing you off him. 

“Carmen,” you spluttered. Your eyes opened to see him in pain. God, you fucking hated it. “I won’t come back if you do this. I really fucking won’t.”

He stepped back once, twice, three times. Eyes glued on yours, blue and glassy like a glacier, his heart as cold as one, too. “Good,” he said softly, headed for the door to the kitchen.

“You don’t mean that.” You urged him to stay. 

He only nodded. “I never want to fucking see you again.” 

Carmen left unceremoniously, without another word or glance or care. The kitchen door swung shut, bobbing on its hinges. The only sound you could hear was the buzzing of the refrigerators, and the breaking of your heart strings. 

PART THREE

[aestheticaltcow]

Cooking Class

Part of the Six Months universe.

Teaching a cooking class at The Bear, what could go wrong?

The Bear Masterlist

“Nat- you should’ve texted me bout this before planning it all out.” Carmy groaned as Natalie shot him an apologetic smile.

 “Mom brain?” she said, forcing a laugh to follow. She sighed before continuing, “Carmen, it’s one night. It won’t kill you. I guarantee Y/N and Mia will be fine.” 

Carmy rolled his eyes at her and asked if he could use Mia as an excuse to escape this. Natalie shook her head and offered to watch her whenever he wanted. Feeling torn between his responsibilities and his family, Carmy reluctantly agreed to teach a cooking class at The Bear the following night. As he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing at the thought of having to teach some auction-winning d-bag how to make a signature dish from The Bear’s menu. All he wanted was to go home and snuggle with his girls. He shot you a text ranting about the new commitment before staring at his phone screen, waiting for your response. You disliked the message and sent him a picture of Mia playing in the sand at the park. 

Don’t worry Carm, we’ll survive without ya xo.

He rolled his eyes and pushed his phone back into his pocket before walking back into the kitchen from the office. He watched Syd assign different line cooks to different sections to best utilize their skills. He playfully bumped into her, earning a smack to the shoulder and an annoyed groan, “Paul got us really good seats for the Blackhawks game-” she started to explain only for Carmy to cut her off. He squinted at her, “You don’t like hockey. You could do this class.”

Syd rolled her eyes and ignored the judgment from her coworker-turned-best friend: “I like Paul, though. You watched all the Top Gun movies for Y/N. Love makes you do stuff you hate, Berzatto.” 

That night, Carmy walked through the front door to hear loud squeals echoing through the house. He shook his head and chuckled at the sounds of splashing and your poor impression of an elephant. As he walked down the hallway, his heart skipped a beat as Mia’s laughter became more apparent. Carmy peered into the bathroom and saw Mia sitting in the bathtub with a shampoo mohawk. He laughed and stepped into the room. You looked up at him with a cheery smile, “Hi, Daddy.” you greeted as Carmy slowly sat beside you. He kissed your cheek before turning his attention to the happy-as-a-clam toddler eagerly reaching toward him. “Woah there, princess. Let Mommy finish washing your hair first.” he explained as she shook her head, squealing, “Dada home! Dada home!”

You laughed at the interaction and allowed Mia to attempt to get out of the tub. Thankfully, she was still too little to do alone. Mia glared at the tub's edge, making you and Carmy laugh as she plopped back into the water. She refused to let you finish giving her the nightly bath she typically loved, “Mia, my princess, you can snuggle with Daddy as soon as I wash your hair, okay?” you explained as Mia’s bottom lip quivered. “I can do it, baby.” Carmy offered; he took over before you could accept his offer. You shook your head as you watched Mia happily comply. She already had that man wrapped around her little finger, and you couldn’t help but shake your head, “I’m gonna get her pjs ready.” you smiled and squeezed his shoulder with your still-damp hands.

~

“Please don’t take my sunshine away…” Carmy softly sang as he rocked an almost asleep Mia in his arms. You watched as he slowly set her into her crib before placing her favorite lovie beside her. He ran his thumb against her cheek and whispered, “I love you,” one last time before turning his attention to you. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to suppress the giggles that threatened to spill from your lips. His cerulean eyes looked you up and down as he reached toward your hips. You managed to escape his grip and scamper into the hallway. 

“Where ya goin’, baby?” Carmy teased as you stepped over the threshold of your bedroom. You thought you’d escaped him but squealed when you felt his arms wrap around your waist. Carmy pulled you closer to him and buried his face in the crook of your neck. As he mumbled something you couldn’t hear, you placed your hands on his. You stepped forward, pulling him with you, “Are you smellin’ me?” your question went unanswered as Carmy’s hands squeezed your stomach. 

Carmy let go of your waist, and you face planted onto the mattress. When the weight of the mattress shifted, you rolled onto your side to stare at Carmy. He grinned, “I really don’t want to do that cooking lesson tomorrow night.” 

~

“Hey Carmy, rich assholes are here for the cookin’ lesson,” Richie said as he walked into the kitchen. The restaurant closed after an uneventful lunch service, so Carmy and Richie could clean up and prep for the lesson. “What’re you teachin’ them?” Richie asked, pulling his suit jacket off. Carmy washed his hands one last time and quickly answered that they would make a simple risotto. Richie nodded, “I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

“Hello, everyone,” Carmy introduced, looking around the front of the restaurant to see what he presumed to be two couples. One was a woman with dark brown hair in a modest emerald green dress around his age who introduced herself as Vanessa. With her was a slightly older man with salt and pepper hair and a trimmed beard who’d introduced himself as Nico. The other was an older, presumed married couple around Donna’s age. The woman smiled brightly and practically shook in her boots to get into the kitchen. She introduced herself as Pearl and her husband, Ernie. He seemed less excited to be there, but Carmy grinned when he noticed Pearl squeeze his hand excitedly. “I’m Chef Carmen, welcome to The Bear. I think you were promised Chef Sydney. I’m by no means as entertaining as her, but I promise you’ll learn a lot about one of our signature dishes here at The Bear.” he took a breath and looked around the room to see the woman biting her lip. Carmy rolled his shoulders back, “Risotto was one of the first dishes Chef Sydney wanted on the menu, and after a couple revisions, we now have our signature risotto alla milanese with slow-roasted seasonal vegetables and beef tenderloin… any questions before we get started?” 

As Carmy walked the group through the cooking process, he couldn’t help but notice Vanessa’s lingering glances. He tried to avoid her as he explained knife technique to the others, but when she brushed against his hip for the third time, Carmy started to pick up on her intentions. “Nessie, can you hand me the onion, sweetheart?” Nico asked, not noticing how close she was to Carmy. Vanessa rolled her eyes and obliged the request.

“So, Chef Carmen, how long have you been a chef?” Pearl asked as she stirred beef stock into her risotto. “Uh, professionally, about 15 years, but it’s always been my thing, I guess,” Carmy answered as he grated garlic for her. Pearl smiled and thanked him before verging into more personal questions. Ernie sighed and apologized for his wife. Carmy chuckled, “Don’t worry, Ernie, mine does the same thing.” 

“You’re married?” Vanessa questioned as she stepped around Nico to be closer to him. Carmy nodded, “Happily married for seven years now.” Pearl gushed at Carmy’s response and started asking about you. Ernie chuckled as he shook his head. “Pearlie, you don’t have to ask every question that pops in that head of yours.” Pearl playfully hit her husband’s chest in response, “It’s not my fault Chef Carmen here reminds me of Robbie- Robbie is my youngest. About your age, he’s in the Navy.” 

The lesson was uneventful, subtracting Vanessa’s obvious flirtation. Carmy was confused about why Nico hadn’t said anything to her. If you were hitting on another man in front of him, he’d say something. Why wasn’t Nico? Carmy pushed the thought out of his head and said his goodbyes to everyone as he walked them through the dining area. As he held the door open, Pearl said thank you one last time, and Ernie practically had to drag her out of the restaurant. Carmy chuckled and invited her back anytime she pleased. Nico had his eyes on his phone as he flashed Carmy a grin before hurrying out of the restaurant. Vanessa, on the other hand, lingered. She looked up at Carmy with big doe eyes fawning a false innocence. Carmy softly swallowed, “Can I come whenever I want?” her voice was low as she looked up at him longingly. Carmy shook his head, “That’s not a good idea.” 

Vanessa rolled her eyes and ran a finger down Carmy’s chest, “Too bad… I want to get you out of that apron sometime.” Carmy awkwardly chuckled in response. She shot him a wink as she walked out of the restaurant toward Nico, who had been holding the passenger side door of their car open for her. He looked Carmy up and down before walking around the car to the driver’s side. 

Carmy locked the restaurant's front door and went back into the kitchen; Richie emerged from the office. “The lesson go okay?” he asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. Carmy shrugged, “Yo, could you clean this up?”

Richie rolled his eyes, “Sure…you okay?” Carmy nodded and went to the lockers, removing his apron as he walked. Richie watched him; something happened, but he was too tired to deal with Carmy’s bullshit. Carmy quickly pulled his backpack and jacket out of his locker before changing his shoes and running out of the kitchen. Richie watched and wondered what was going on in that kid’s head before he started scrubbing the counters.

~

It was almost midnight when Carmy got home. You were in the bathroom brushing your teeth when he came through the bedroom door. “Yo baby, can we talk about somethin?” Carmy asked from the doorframe. You spat in the sink before turning the water on to rinse your mouth and toothbrush. “Everything okay, Carmen?” you asked as you stepped toward him. The look on his face made alarm bells go off in your head, “What did you do?” 

Carmy watched as you crossed your arms over your chest, and he stepped away from the doorframe to allow you to exit the bathroom. You glared at him as he flexed his hands at his sides, “I didn’t do anything- I promise, nothing happened, but at that cooking class, this girl was just… aggressive? She was there with her husband but was very blatantly hitting on me.” he started to explain. Carmy couldn’t look at you while he explained what had happened, “I uh- I didn’t know how to shut it down, I guess. I didn’t do anything with her, and I absolutely won’t because I love you, and I can’t lose you again.” He took a shallow breath and looked up at you. You frowned and let your arms fall before closing the distance between you.

“Carmy. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.” you said as you reached up to rub his bicep. Carmy released his breath and limply wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against his body, “I love you, baby.”

[chefkids]

I love your meta!!! It’s amazing that you’re still able to identify and connect new things that the rest of us overlooked. Do you have any predictions for next season? Not just with SydCarmy but also any thoughts about where the show may take us

Thank you!

I think a big focus of next season is going to be on their lives intertwining and their families coming together. Season 3 ended with Richie, Nat, Carmy, and Sydney all coming together to open the restaurant and including her in their core group like family. And like Ayo and everyone in the show has said, this is all about chosen family and real family. But I also think a lot of bad shit is going to happen, especially at the very start of the season.

After Carmy practically begging to meet Sydney's dad, I do think Emmanuel and Carmy will finally meet. I do not think he is going to like Carmy at the start. He is very sceptical of their whole arrangement, he knows Sydney quit for a minute and might have heard Sydney talk shit about him. And if he ever finds out what went down on opening night, I don't think he'll be too happy with Carmy. But I do think they will eventually bond and get to know each other, I think including that Sydney's dad was sober from alcohol is going to be a big conversation for them.

I think they were alluding for Natalie having some sort of complication maybe preeclampsia with her shoulder pain. I think she's going to give birth sooner rather than later. Natalie giving birth is going to bring Donna back and is what is going to get Carmy and his mother to finally see each other again after seemingly years apart.

I also think Donna and Sydney will meet. I think Natalie and Sydney are both going to try to get Carmy to at least try to give his mother a chance because they are both much more optimistic and forgiving people than him. I think it's going to cause a lot of tension between all of them because Carmy doesn't want Sydney seeing that side of his family.

Sydney's share/ownership of the restaurant comes back into question. I also think Carmy getting more credit/recognition than her in reviews or press will bother her. I think she will basically say that this place is not really hers. Someone tries to poach Sydney, Carmy freaks out. Sydney starts to consider if it is worth staying if another good opportunity comes along.

Marcus' mom is dead and gone. RIP to that lady. I think grief and how they all deal with it differently will be a big theme. Carmy ignored his grief for a long time and tried to use work to fix things. Sydney and her dad still keep her mom's memory alive but she still struggles with letting others know about her grief. I think Marcus will be letting others help him and be there for him and Sydney will be there for him. I think this will bring back things Carmy about his own grief and how he's still dealing with it.

Luca returns to fill in for him for a bit and emotional support for Marcus. Which I think will also bring us to see Competitive Carmy in full force as goes into Michelin Mode, for Syd's sake. No amusement or enjoyment. I also think this will kinda turn the crew against Carmy as they'll prefer Sydney, they kind of already do. Especially considering she was more involved in training them and in the build than he was. Plus she's just nicer than him.

Sydney will overwork herself and burn out, she won't trust Carmy on his own and will inevitably put a lot of pressure on herself. She's not going to want to quit or stop but Carmy and her Dad will be pressuring her to slow down because she's making herself sick. I think a large focus of Season 3 will be on their energy. In Season 1 it was all about the pressure of money, Season 2 about time pressure, and now they need to find the energy to keep going because they need to make back money in a set time frame. The focus on energy and their internal dynamics between them, rather than external issues like things in restaurant being broken.

Jealous Carmy. When he realizes Marcus likes Syd more than a friend, he's going to view everyone as competition and a threat, even though he's still to scared to do anything about it. I think Sydney will grow closer to Marcus and Richie and maybe even Luca or new guy Connor, not in any romantic way, but it is going to bother Carmy a lot that she never spends any time with him and that they know her outside of work but he doesn't.

Menu overhaul is inevitable, aside from Marcus dishes, most of the menu is not that remarkable and they really need to pull out new interesting ideas if they want a star. I'm sure we will see a lot more of Syd and Carmy actually testing recipes together. Carmy is just not as creative as Sydney when it comes to food, he struggled with the chaos menu. Mostly as Carmy's way to force proximity with Syd when she doesn't want to be around him.

I'm also still rooting for the return of the short rib risotto and the missing acid chaos ingredient. They have to bring it back.

Tina and/or Richie straight up comment on Sydcarmy. I think Tina knows and suspects a lot more than she lets on. She is very observant and protective over Sydney. She's overheard and seen a lot of what has been going down between them. She's going to put Carmy in his place and scare him a little on Sydney's behalf.

Richie on a similar note is going to put 2 and 2 together on what Carmy is feeling and basically tell him to stay away from Sydney because he doesn't want a Claire 2.0 to happen to her and he probably feels like Carmy does not even deserve Sydney in any way and he would just fuck things up for everyone at the restaurant.

Natalie finally says something to him and that's what finally gets him to do something and stop bottling everything in. She never commented on his relationship to anyone except Sydney, and that was more so to get her in the loop and protect her, because she knew Carmy was leading her on while seeing Claire and not telling her. She's going to subtly or not so subtly ask him wtf he is doing. I also think Jimmy fully thought Sydney was his girlfriend.

Fire Suppression System will tested for real with an actual fire. I have a lil theory that Sydney is going to be the one to accidentally start a fire next season. The fire suppression test was all a metaphor for Syd and Carmy suppressing their feelings and the spark/fire that they have. At the end of season 1 Carmy started a grease fire after Sydney quit, because he couldn't suppress his sadness and feelings for her. In season 2 they passed the fire suppression and Carmy decided to declare Claire his girlfriend. They managed to contain their feelings, but eventually they still came out with Carmy and his panic attack. But now I'm sure Sydney is going to be the one trying to suppress feelings because of how everything went down, and I think it will just blow up in her face literally and metaphorically. They spent so much time explaining the fire suppression system and the electrical wiring and the amperage of it all, that I think it's going to come into play again.

Carmy uses Sydney for emotional support without her realizing. When he texted her because he needed her comfort and forgiveness before opening Mikey's note, she didn't know that was what was happening. When he had panic attack and thought of her to calm down he used her for comfort, but she doesn't know all that. I think he's going to tell her or show her that she is his comfort person. I also think we will also see Sydney eventually reach for him for support and comfort as well.

Sydney's catering days and UPS flashback. Please I am begging. We need more of her lore. I think next season will be a lot of seeing her as more independent and being the boss, we only just started to see her at her peak performance in the last episode. I think we'll see more of her evolution, and also her flighty nature. She went from restaurant to restaurant. I think the idea of her leaving The Bear will hang around all season, but she won't leave.

Claire apology then goodbye within the same episode. Sorry to that girl. I think Carmy was already planning to breakup with her after he had the panic attack and the talk with Uncle Jimmy, which is why he freaked out when after he saw her at dinner. I don't think there would be much place for her unless they throw her into some hospital scenes with maybe Nat or Sydney being sick. I think her work here is done. I think she might make other appearances with the Faks. They are close family friends. Maybe she's friends with the elusive Francie Fak that everyone is dying to know what happened between her and Nat.

I think Richie will try to work elsewhere for a bit. He wants to prove that he doesn't need Carmy and that he can succeed without him. I think he'll come back when Sydney asks him to. The situation with him and Tiff feels very 50/50 to me. On the one hand I think it could be him learning to move on from his ex, on the other hand I think Chris and Joanna are all about second chances and I could see Tiff seeing Richie change and wanting to give things another chance.

I also think there's opportunity to see another city like we did with Copenhagen. I'm still rooting for Carmy to take Syd to Noma before it shuts down. I could also see a New York flashback episode with Carmy working at Eleven Madison and Sydney going on her NYC food tour and their whole invisible string coming together.

Not in this season, but The Bear Cookbook will happen. Trust.

And The Psychedelic Musical Episode. A girl can dream. But I do think we'll get another karaoke scene, maybe with the whole crew going out after a shift and just letting loose for once.

[alisonsfics]

too good to me

pairing: carmen berzatto x reader

summary: after weeks of stress and being on edge, carmy blows up and yells at marcus, but carmy holds such a special place in your heart that you go to his apartment afterward to see how he’s doing

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, arguing, general angst and then fluff

You all knew that something had been on Carmy’s mind. The past few weeks, he’d been more than just anxious. He was really putting his perfectionist tendencies to the extreme. It had been three weeks since officially opening The Bear.

Carmy knew that the first few weeks were crucial to a new business, especially one as volatile as a new-age restaurant. He’d been stressed, which was nothing new for him. But, it was more extreme. He had gotten into an hour-long screaming match with Richie about what specific angle the hostess stand should be pointed.

Everyone was trying to keep Carmy calm, but it had to be done carefully. If he picked up on a tone that was too sympathetic, he’d yell “I’m fine,” and storm off.

With everyone walking on eggshells around him, the tickets for the orders got a little jumbled and in a backwards order.

“Somebody better fucking fix this.” Carmy said, running his hand through his hair. You’d seen him do that move a hundred times, and it usually meant that everything was getting overwhelming. “It’s alright, Carmy. I can handle this. Just go take a quick break outside for me, please?” You asked him.

You were Carmy’s weak spot.

He’d always had a special place in his heart for you. He was wrapped around your finger. If anyone else had told him to take a break, he would have told them to fuck off.

Carmy walked around the corner, where Marcus walked up to him with a new pastry in hand. “Hey, chef. I was thinking we could add a new pastry to the menu for that special event next week?” Marcus asked. It was a perfectly innocent question, especially since Marcus didn’t have any urgent work to be done. In that moment, Marcus was just lacking in reading the room.

“Tonight’s service is a disaster, and you’re wasting your fucking time doing this?” Carmy yelled, smacking the dish out of Marcus’ hand.

That was too far. Farther than Carmy had ever pushed it.

You inserted yourself between the two men. “Marcus, you okay?” You asked him. He nodded his head, but looked down at a small cut on the back of his hand. You placed your hand on his forearm. “Go get that cut washed, and then help Sydney sort out those tickets please.” You said, remaining calm.

“Yes, chef,” Marcus said, walking towards the sink.

Carmy was frozen in place, like even he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “You,” you started to say, turning around to face Carmy.

“I know,” he said, softly.

“Go home, Berzatto. You need to cool off.” You said, trying to be firm but also gentle. Carmy huffed and ran his hand through his hair again. “But I just…one more—” he started to say.

“Home, Carmen.” You repeated, firmer this time. You called him many things: Carmy, Carm, Bear, and the occasional pet name, but never Carmen.

He walked away, but you heard him slam his hand against the wall as he left.

Still rattled from the whole encounter, you tried to get back on your game. “Syd, you’ve got this,” you encouraged your friend, as she directed the kitchen. The rest of the service was a little bumpy as all of you were still a little distracted.

At the end of the service, you were all silently cleaning up your stations. Normally at this point in the night, you were all catching up and joking around with each other. But instead, you all were recalling the night’s events in your heads.

You lightly knocked on the door of the office, where Sugar was sitting and looking through some forms. “Hey, Nat. You mind if I head out a little early? Richie said he’d clean up my station. I was gonna go check on Carmy and see if he’s alright. I’ve been really worried about him.” You told her.

“Yeah yeah, go for it. I think he’ll want to see you. And it’ll be good for him to talk to someone, and you’re the only one he really talks to.” Sugar told you, pulling you in for a quick hug before you left. She hesitated. “Let me know how he is…I’m worried about him,” she told you, softly.

“I will, I promise.” You said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. You turned to leave the office. “Carm’s lucky to have you,” she told you as you walked away. You turned backwards as you kept walking. “The feelings mutual,” you added.

You walked up to Carmy’s apartment and knocked on the door. “Carmy, it’s me, please let me in,” you said.

You heard silence on the other side of the door. You fished your spare key out of your pocket and slid it into the lock. You turned the key slowly and let yourself into his apartment.

You walked into his dark apartment. You saw Carmy’s silhouette as he sat on the couch, staring out the window.

“I gave you that key for emergencies.” He said, coldly. You flipped on the light switch, bringing some light into the dark apartment. “I think what I saw earlier calls for a little intervention, don’t you?” You asked. Carmy sat in silence, continuing to stare out the window. You walked around to the front of the couch so you could face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, still refusing to look at you. Carmy felt guilty about what he’d done. He’d never yelled at you before, and he was ashamed that you had to see him scream like that. Carmy cared more about your opinion than he did about anyone else’s.

You walked towards Carmy, only stopping inches in front of him. “When was the last time you ate?” You asked, blatantly. He leaned back against the couch, trying to add some more distance between you both. He shrugged, genuinely not knowing the answer to your question.

You dug into your work bag and pulled out a takeout box. You stopped by Carmy’s favorite burger restaurant in Chicago to grab him some food. You knew Carmy would sometimes forget to eat when he was feeling anxious. “Eat it,” you told him, handing the box over to him.

He reluctantly opened the box and started eating. You set your work bag on the ground and sat down on the chair that faced the couch.

Carmy shifted nervously in his seat as your gaze was set on him. He was unnerved that you weren’t talking about what happened at the restaurant.

Carmy could normally read you like the back of his hand, but something about your current expression was throwing him off. He couldn’t tell if you were going to scream at him or not.

“Are you here to yell at me like everybody else? I already know I screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at Marcus, and I shouldn’t have argued when you told me to leave.” He told you, hoping he could apologize and avoid you yelling at him.

“You know that I’m not here to yell at you. You really fucked up, but Marcus knows that you were just stressed. I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay because I’ve never seen you blow up like that” You said, finally showing your cards. Carmy frowned, looking guilty.

“God, you’re too good to me. I acted like a piece of shit today, and you’re still trying to make sure I’m okay.” He said, still amazed by the love you had for him. He was looking at you like you were his whole world.

He set down the takeout box and used his hand to call you over to him. You stood up and walked towards him, and he patted the seat next to him.

You joined him on the couch. You both were sitting so close together that you were practically in his lap. He turned his body so he could face you.

He let his hand rest on your thigh, feeling more grateful for you than he ever had. You let your fingers caress his bicep, “you deserve to be okay. I want you to be okay,” you said, softly.

You studied his face. You noticed the small bags that had formed under his eyes. You wondered when the last time he’d actually gotten a good night’s sleep was.

You softly brushed his hair out of his face. When he was stressed, Carmy liked to pull on a certain strand of hair right in the front. You knew him like the back of your hand. You noticed all of his quirks; quirks that most people never picked up on.

Carmy watched as you gently tried to soothe him. He was sure you could see the adoration in his eyes.

“I hope you know how perfect you are. You always know exactly what to say.” He said, smiling at you. He pulled your hand away from his hair and interlaced your fingers. He’d wanted to kiss the back of your hand, but couldn’t push himself to do it.

“Do you wanna talk about why you’ve been so stressed recently?” You asked. You were treading lightly, but you wanted to understand what was making him so anxious. You hated seeing him push everyone away, and you wanted to help in any way you could.

He shrugged. “It’s just the restaurant,” he said, not knowing how else to explain it.

“The restaurant is doing amazing though, Carmy. You have no need to stress about that. You’ve been doing such a great job.” You told him, sincerely.

You watched him get a little more nervous. He was looking down at his lap, avoiding meeting your gaze. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to silently reassure him.

“You can tell me anything, Carm,” you said, softly.

“You just mean so much to me,” he started to explain. You were a little confused as to where he was going with this conversation. The room was silent as Carmy gathered his thoughts.

“Everything at the restaurant has been going so well. Every time my life has ever gone well, something terrible has happened next. I feel like I’m just waiting for everything to…I don’t know, crumble? Losing the restaurant would be terrible, but losing you and the rest of the team would be devastating. You guys are my family.” He told you, his voice cracking with emotion.

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You quickly pulled him into you arms, giving him the tightest hug you could. He clutched onto you like he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go.

“You aren’t going to lose anybody,” you said, holding back tears just from watching how emotional Carmy was.

The soft leather scent of Carmy’s cologne occupied your thoughts as you held him close. You both stayed attached like that for a few minutes. The room was silent, but a comfortable silent.

When you both finally pulled apart, Carmy dried the tears off his cheeks. “Nothing bad is going to happen with the restaurant. We’re all family, and that doesn’t go away based on what happens with the restaurant. You will never lose me, or any of us.” You promised him.

You earned a small chuckle from Carmy when you held your pinky up to him. “You won’t lose me either,” he said, dutifully going through with your pinky promise.

You both stared into each other’s eyes, unsure what to say next. The tension in the air nearly made it hard to breathe.

“I should probably get going and let you have the rest of your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said, standing up from the couch.

You had never felt so awkward around Carmy. Just the task of walking to the front door felt like a giant opportunity to embarrass yourself. Carmy also quickly jumped up from the couch, feeling equally self-conscious.

His hand lightly grazed your back as he led you back to the front door. “Thank you for coming over and talking to me. You really helped calm me down.” He said, sincerely. You smiled and nodded your head at him.

“Make sure to call me if you ever need to talk about anything. I promise that I’ll always be here to listen,” you assured him.

The tension returned.

You both chose to avoid it.

“Well, goodnight,” you both quickly said, at the same time. You rushed out the door, and Carmy closed it behind you.

The door clicked into place and seemingly broke you both out of your trance.

You both realized you had missed the perfect opportunity. The perfect opportunity to finally confess those feelings that had been weighing you down.

You lowered your head, almost shamefully, and started walking down the hallway.

Carmy leaned his head against the closed door, wondering how he could have missed it. The girl of his dreams was walking down the hallway away from his apartment, away from him.

He started to walk towards his bedroom when he suddenly thought “fuck it,” and turned around.

At the same time in the hallway, you had the same thought.

Your heart beating in your ears, you turned on your heel and headed back towards Carmy’s apartment.

Carmy started walking back towards the front door. Before he could reach the door, he watched the knob spin and the door fling open.

You were back and standing in front of him.

Realizing you both had the same idea, Carmy quickly closed the gap between the two of you. His strong tattooed hands cupped your cheeks as he finally kissed you. You kissed him back immediately, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

He moved one of his hands away from you, but just a second, so he could quickly close the front door behind you.

He pushed you against the back of the door. The back of your head bumped against the door causing you to grin against the kiss. “Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, cupping the back of your head. You quickly nodded your head. “I’m fine, I promise.” You said, grabbing his collar and pulling him back to kiss you.

He smirked against your lips at your eagerness to not break the kiss for even a second. He held onto your waist and pinned you against the door, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and toyed with his hair.

His lips felt perfect against yours. The kiss was somehow everything you’d dreamed of but completely unexpected.

You shifted your weight against him, gently nudging him away from the door. Carmy picked up on what you were doing. You noticed his signature smirk as he guided you towards the couch.

You fell back onto the couch, pulling Carmy down on top of you. All his weight landed on you, causing you to wince. “Sorry, that more violent than it was supposed to be.” He said, sheepishly. He quickly shifted his weight, so he was holding himself above you.

You both were giggly as these little mishaps continued to happen. It suited your relationship. You both had always been able to joke with each other, especially because of your matching sense of humor. It made sense that when you both finally got together that Carmy would accidentally bump your head against the door. But it didn’t make things awkward. You both were so comfortable just giggling with each other.

“Get back here, Berzatto,” you said, connecting your lips again. He quickly obliged. While Carmy loved laughing with you, he had been waiting years to kiss you and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled as he kissed you. You quickly slipped his tshirt over his head and tossed it to the side.

Then, you both heard a strange muffled sound. You pulled out of the kiss and gave Carmy a concerned look. It sounded like someone was in the apartment.

Your face completely changed when you realized what it was. “Carmy, that’s your phone. You butt dialed someone,” you whispered. His eyes also grew wide. He quickly grabbed his phone out of his pocket, hoping he could hang up and not say anything.

Once his phone was in his hand, he realized it was a FaceTime call and he was now face-to-face with his sister.

“Oh, shit. Sugar?” He said, the shock clear on his face. You immediately held your hand over your mouth, trying to remain completely silent.

“Hey, uh yeah. You called me? Are you okay?” She asked, confused by the whole situation.

“Oh, I must’ve done it on accident, sorry. Listen, I’m really sorry about yelling tonight. I’m gonna come in tomorrow and apologize to everyone though.” He said, sincerely. You were finding it so hard to not giggle. He was on the phone with Sugar while lying directly on top of you, and you just had to stay silent.

“It’s okay, Carm. Everyone knows you’ve been going through a lot. Y/N was going to head over to your apartment. Did you talk to her?” Natalie asked, genuinely invested.

Carmy quickly nodded his head. “Yeah, she came by earlier and we talked. I’m doing a lot better. Yeah, she’s umm—” Carmy stalled as he tried to come up with a lie.

Natalie picked up on his hesitation immediately. “Oh shit. Is she— are you two— wait is she there now?” She asked, putting it all together. You froze, trying to anticipate Carmy’s next move.

He quickly sat up on the couch before pulling you into his lap. “Hi, Nat,” you said, smiling at the camera and bracing for her reaction. You both watched her jaw drop.

“Did my two favorite people finally confess their love for each other? Oh, you guys,” she awed, being able to read you both just from the way you both were blushing.

Carmy buried his face in your neck. He knew how long Natalie had been rooting for this to happen, and he was having a hard time controlling how red his face was.

“You’re good for him. I’m really happy for you guys,” she said to you. You smiled in return and thanked her.

“Well, I’ll let you both get back to it.” She said, winking at you both and ending the call.

“So, how long before everybody knows?” He asked you. You just laughed in response, knowing it wouldn’t be long.

“I think she’s already sent an all-caps text to Sydney and Richie, and the rest of them will know before we go into work tomorrow.” You told him, honestly.

“We could just stay here tomorrow. We don’t really need to go in, right?” He said, pressing kisses to your cheek.

“Would that be the responsible thing to do?” You teased him. He chuckled and pecked your lips. “You know I would spend every second with you, whether it was responsible or not.” He told you.

You giggled, stopping him from kissing you. “Awww we’re only fifteen minutes in and I’m already your biggest weakness? You big softie,” You continued to joke around with him.

“You’ve always been my weakness, sweetheart,” he said, quickly picking up and carrying you to his bedroom.

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