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drabbles-mc · 7 months ago

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So Serious

Sydney Adamu x GN!Reader

Warnings: 18+, canon-typical arguing/light angst, language, mentions of smoking, pining

30 Fic Challenge with prompts from This List: aspectabund- letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: my first Syd/Reader fic! i love her! that's all!

The tension in the kitchen was suffocating, had been for weeks. Everyone knew it and no one was saying anything about it. Tendrils of it managed to slip out to the front of the house every now and then, weaseling its way out as staff filtered back and forth between the two halves of the restaurant. Most of the time it dissipated before it landed at a table full of customers, but sometimes the cloud of it was thick enough to cover them in it too.

In every restaurant you’d worked in, there had always been some level of chaos. It seemed unavoidable in a way, the way that most chefs were wired. Short fuses abound. The Bear wasn’t any different in that regard, but there was a weariness permeating the restaurant that you weren’t quite used to. You felt like you were supposed to be doing something about it, but there was nothing to be done. Like most things, the issues themselves were far above your paygrade. You focused on treading carefully and running plates—those were the things that you had control over.

Once the last table of customers had left, once the cleanup in the front of the house was done, most of the waitstaff scampered right on out the door. You didn’t blame them for that, and neither did Richie, judging by the tired, dejected look on his face. The two of you weren’t exactly close, but he also had a way of making people feel like they were a friend of sorts, or a frenemy if nothing else. You enjoyed that about him most of the time, but you noticed that even he was starting to lose that spark.

“Need anything?” you asked as he idly messed with the forks and napkins on one of the two-tops.

He didn’t look at you as he shook his head. “I’m all good. You can,” he sighed and finally forced his eyes off the table and over to yours, “you can go home.”

You wanted to offer again, press a little harder about it, but you didn’t. You’d been successful at staying out of the line of fire so far, and you wanted to keep it that way. “Okay,” you conceded with a nod. “I’m just gonna toss my stuff in the back and take off, then.”

His attention as already redirecting elsewhere as he nodded. “Night.”

“Night—see you tomorrow.”

You walked away, looking back at him over your shoulder just long enough to see that even though he was staring at the table in front of him, his mind was miles and miles away. The frown on your face appeared like a reflex. Still, you forced yourself to keep walking until you reached the door that led back to the kitchen.

The second you pushed the door open you were hammered with the sound of Carmy and Syd going back and forth. You had grown used to the tension, the pockets of yelling that broke out between Carmy and Richie, between Carmy and Natalie too. It wasn’t even the first time you’d heard Carmy yell at Sydney.

It was the first time, though, that you heard Sydney sound like she was about to start yelling back. You saw the way that they were standing on either side of the main station in the center of the kitchen. Carmy had his palms flat against the countertop—you could tell how harshly he was pressing down into it by the tension in his arms. Sydney, on the other hand, had her arms folded across her chest, instead holding all of her tightness in her jaw as she waited for Carmy to finish his piece. Gearing up to volley the argument right back to him. Round and round again.

You were just trying to slink past them to the very back of house, towards the office and the lockers. You kept your chin tucked and your eyes aimed at the floor as you went. You knew that you were going to have to go around one of them to get to where you needed to go. There wasn’t a good option and for a moment you wondered if it would be worth it to just catch an Uber home rather than getting your car keys—you were just going to be back tomorrow anyway.

As you went by Sydney, you mumbled an extremely quiet, “Behind,” out of habit. You regretted it even as you were saying it as it felt like you were inadvertently adding yourself to the conversation, but the action was so ingrained in you now that you couldn’t help it.

The same reflex had her shifting slightly to give you more room before she fully realized what was happening. “Sorry,” she muttered, louder than you’d been but not by much. Then she looked over her shoulder and saw it was you and the features of her face softened just a touch. Her eyes went from annoyed to genuinely apologetic, her lips tugging into a small frown for a moment as she repeated herself, this time with more earnestness in her voice. “Sorry, Chef.”

You knew that she was apologizing for more than the few seconds that had just passed. You also knew that the things that she was really saying sorry for, weren’t really hers to take ownership of that way. But you’d get a hundred apologies from Sydney before you got a single one from the man who was currently scrutinizing the two of you.

“It’s okay,” you said, giving her a quick nod before walking as fast as you could without breaking into a run to get to the back.

You let out a sigh of relief when the lockers came into your field of view, the feeling in your lungs telling you that at some point you’d begun holding your breath. The strides that carried you over to your locker felt much more fluid than the ones that had gotten you through the main drag of the kitchen.

The latch on your locker door let out its signature metallic clank as you lifted it, a sound that seemed so loud in the silence of the back area. You went to pull the door open, and the creaking of it was immediately drowned out by Carmy’s yelling. You winced at the sound, glad that you didn’t have to spend your whole shift listening to it.

Then you heard Sydney starting to yell right back. “No, what I’m asking for is that you listen to me and maybe even, oh I don’t know, talk to me instead of just making all of these decisions alone. We’re supposed to be part—”

“Well you still haven’t signed the fucking agreement so I guess we’re not.”

Neither of them had noticed that you were lingering just within viewing range of them again. You’d lasted until you heard the scathing sarcasm dripping from Syd’s tone when she said ‘asking for’ before going back again.

The business side of things was well outside your jurisdiction—you knew that. But even so, you knew that what Carmy had just said was a low-blow. Syd’s eyes widened, her head tilting just slightly for a moment. You were holding your breath again, wondering if she was going to lunge across the counter at him—you wouldn’t have blamed her for it. You probably wouldn’t have tried to stop her either.

“If that’s what you need,” she was making short, angry gestures with her hands now, rage written all over her face, “to take me seriously, to take me opinions and feelings into consideration—”

“This, this isn’t about your fuckin’ feelings, Syd!”

The short laugh she let out was a cruel one. “No? Because it definitely seems to be all about yours!”

He was shaking his head, suddenly unable to look at her again. “I, I don’t, I don’t need this.” He pushed himself back and away from the counter.

Syd rolled her eyes as he started to walk away, and you were too busy watching her to register the fact that Carmy was walking towards you. “Wow, yeah, alright. Good talk, Chef. Glad we got all that sorted out.” She was shaking her head as she turned to follow him with her gaze, more snarky commentary on the tip of her tongue until she saw it was you standing there and not Carmy. Her expression faltered. “Shit, I’m, uh, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to listen—”

“It’s fine,” you told her with a small shake of your head. Then you caught yourself and let out an awkward laugh as you tried to recover. “I mean, it’s not—you know…”

She quiet chuckle she let out had a weariness to it, but you still took it as a bit of a win. “I know.”

She took a breath to say something else but before she could, the sound of Carmy slamming his locker shut echoed throughout the kitchen. She tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling like she was about to start praying for answers. She watched as Carmy came tearing back through, his jacket only half-on. The exasperation was weighing on every single feature of her face as she tried to call after him only to get ignored. You went from staring at her to staring at the floor. Both of you vaguely heard Richie calling after him, having no greater success than Sydney had.

Seconds later Richie came striding into the kitchen, pointing his thumb back over his shoulder in the direction of the front door to the restaurant. “Yo, Syd, what the fuck did you say to that little jagoff?”

She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment. “Oh, you didn’t hear?”

He scoffed, then shrugged. “No, I mean, I heard. I just figured it was the professional thing to do to pretend I didn’t. What—” He paused when he saw you standing there, looking as awkward as he’d ever seen you. “What the hell are you still doing here? Thought you were heading home?”

Syd answered for you. “Got caught up being a material witness to an attempted murder.”

That got a chuckle out of all three of you but it was Richie who spoke up first as he looked at Sydney. “You woulda beat Carmy’s ass.”

She laughed. “Well, yeah. No question.” Taking a deep breath, she looked over at Richie. “You should head out, get some rest.”

He nodded, not looking for an argument on that. “You too.”

She nodded right back but made no move to leave. “I will.”

You should’ve counted the seconds that passed with the three of you standing there in silence all waiting for one of the others to start heading out first. You still didn’t even have your backpack. The quiet continued and suddenly the mantra of every second counts felt more like a threat than anything else.

Richie caved first, digging out his car keys from his pocket. “Right, well, I’ll see you guys tomorrow then.”

“Goodnight, Richie,” Syd said with a nod, crossing her arms once more.

You and Richie exchanged another brief goodbye before he was turning on his heel and leaving. Sydney watched him until he disappeared out the front door and you found yourself doing the same. Once he was gone, Syd was staring at the empty dining room and you were staring at her.

“He’s right,” you finally said, still looking at her. You waited until she turned to face you. “You should get some rest too.”

She sighed as she nodded. “I know.”

You cocked your head to the side. “You heading out, then?”

Dragging her hands down her face, she nodded. “I guess so, yeah.”

You chuckled and nodded. “C’mon, I’ll walk out with you."

The two of you walked back towards the lockers. You had to actually grab your things for real this time and Syd needed to swap out and collect hers as well. You could feel it in the air between you that there was something more she wanted to say, another apology or some kind of explanation. Not that you needed one from her.

Yours was the only locker door that was open, betraying how you’d abandoned your mission to leave earlier. The sight of it got a soft chuckle out of Syd. You were shaking your head, knowing what she was thinking without her even saying it.

“I’m nosey,” you said with a laugh as you went and grabbed your backpack off the hook, your jacket too. “Sue me.”

Syd was still smiling and shaking her head as she opened up her own locker. “I’m sure you could’ve heard us even if you didn’t come back out there.” She slipped on her coat and grabbed her tote bag before looking at you again. “I am sorry about that. Really."

You shrugged as you shut your locker. “It’s fine—I know how it goes."

She looked pensive for a moment before she asked, “The other spots you worked in…they were like this?”

You huffed out a tired laugh as you put one strap of your backpack on your shoulder. “Well, not exactly like this.”

Syd’s smile was a half-hearted one as she said, “It’s that bad?”

You immediately shook your head. “No. I mean, well,” you laughed as the two of you started to make your way back to the main part of the kitchen, “it's different here. I’ve never…” You trailed off, wanting to make sure you chose your words carefully. “I’ve never worked at a spot this new.” You shrugged as you crossed the threshold into the dining room, watching Syd flick off the lights on her way. “You guys are still figuring it out.”

“Carmy’s figuring it out,” Syd corrected under her breath, the bitterness in her tone not directed at you.

You gave her a sympathetic smile. “So I heard.”

“Sor—”

You waved her off. “Richie talks shit about him to me too. What’d he say that one time…” You paused as you wracked your brain for the right words. It took a moment but your face lit up with recognition. “He said Carmy was going ‘all fuckin’ cowboy with this shit', which was hilarious for a lot of reasons.”

Must’ve been to her, too, because she was laughing as the two of you reached the main door. There was a split second after she turned off the lights when you couldn’t see her but you could hear her laughter. Then she opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk, the streetlamps of Chicago illuminating her once more.

“He hears Richie say that,” she said as she turned to lock up, “and he’ll come in wearing a sheriff’s badge.”

“Yeehaw,” you said, your tone flat and pseudo-serious enough to get both of you breaking down into laughter again. It was good to hear it—it was good to hear her like that.

“God,” she shook her head as she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat.

“It’ll be fine.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Promise?”

You chuckled, making a big show of looking anywhere but at her. “Ah, shit, you know, I really gotta…gotta get going…” you trailed off as you started to laugh again. When the moment quieted again you said, “Try not to let it eat you alive.”

“Too late,” she joked. “Ask my medicine cabinet full of Pepto."

You smiled. “Ulcers are a bitch, huh?” You adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Still better than smoking though. That shit takes forever to quit.”

“I’m about to tell Carmy to pick it up again. That gum is not it for him,” she punctuated her statement with a laugh.

“Know what I do instead now?”

“Eavesdrop on everyone’s conversations?”

You waved her off good-naturedly before bringing your bag so that it was in front of you. “I did that shit while I was still smoking too.”

You unzipped the small pocket of your backpack and stuck your hand in. All that could be heard for a moment was the crinkling of wrappers and the confusion mixed with curiosity on Sydney’s face was priceless. You held your hand out to her, a few small candies in your palm.

She laughed. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “So serious.” You moved your hand a little closer to her. “Want one?”

She thought about it for all of a second before she reached and gingerly took one from your hand. She pulled on the ends of the butterscotch wrapper to open it. You mirrored her actions as she popped it into her mouth.

“So,” she started, speaking around the candy now tucked in her cheek, “you combat lung cancer and stomach ulcers with…granny candy?”

You burst out laughing at that, shoving your candy wrapper back into the pocket of your bag before slinging it back onto your shoulder. You pulled the other strap on as well as you nodded. “Hey, it works. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“Yeah,” you watched as she moved the candy from one side of her mouth to the other, “we'll see.”

There was a pause, one that dragged on just a little too long. Goodbyes were in order but neither of you were looking to be the first one to say it. It was stupid, really—you’d be back here in less than twenty-four hours.

“I should—”

“You need—”

You both started and stopped at the same time, laughing softly at the stumbled words. Sydney gestured for you to go first, so you did.

“You need a lift home?”

She shook her head immediately, slight, determined frown on her face. “No, no, that’s okay.”

“You sure?” You pulled your car keys from your jacket pocket. “It’s not a problem.”

“I’m fine, really. Besides,” she offered a small smile, “if you see the matchbox I now call my home, I’m afraid you might lose all the respect you have for me.”

You rolled your eyes, a warm smile on your face that paled in comparison to the heat warming your cheeks as you said, “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

There was a smile tugging at her lips, one that she fought to keep under control. She wished she could blame the wave of jitters on a sugar rush but she’d need to steal just about your entire stash for that to be a good enough excuse.

“You’re sure it’s not a problem?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Just, you know,” you shrugged as you started walking towards the car, “don’t let me get lost.”

“Lucky for you I was gifted with a great sense of direction.”

You smiled as you looked over at her, her strides matching yours almost perfectly in-sync. “That feels like sarcasm but I hope it’s not—I don’t really feel like exploring new sides of Chicago in the middle of the night.”

Syd chuckled. “No faith.”

You stopped next to your car and it was only then that you realized Syd had never seen it before. If she had, she wouldn’t have nearly kept walking right on by it. You smiled as you cleared your throat to get her attention. She stopped and turned to face you, eyes growing just a little wider as you leaned against the driver’s side of your car.

“Just let me clear off the seat real quick.”

There wasn’t much there. An old sweatshirt you kept on hand just in case, a handful of large straws that you took from the fast-food place at the end of the block by your apartment because they had big straws and for some reason the coffee shop always gave you small ones even though you ordered a large iced coffee every morning. Syd didn’t seem to bat an eye at any of it, or the random items that were currently cluttering your back seat.

She plopped down in the passenger seat and set about buckling in, her tote bag placed nicely on the floor between her feet. You watched her out of the corner of your eye as you buckled in yourself. You tried not to think too much about any of it, about the butterflies in your stomach or the way that the outside of Syd’s arm was pressed against yours on the console. You were going to reach to turn the volume up on the radio but now you just didn’t want to break the contact.

“So,” you turned and looked at her, knowing that there was no hiding all the different emotions on your face, but you tried in vain anyway, “where am I taking you?”

“Home, hopefully,” she joked. She looked back and forth between your eyes, and both of you pretended, for the sake of your sanity, not to notice when her gaze flicked down to your lips for the briefest moment. She cleared her throat, nodding towards the road in front of you. “You can just, uh, take a left at the end of the block here.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

You had to move your arm to put the car in drive, not that you wanted to. There was something that should’ve felt daunting about her sitting in the shotgun seat, but it wasn’t weighing on you the way you thought it would. It was a relief, really, when you put your arm back on the console and hers was still there, pressed right up against yours again. You smiled as you watched the road, and pretended not to notice the way that Syd was smiling at you.

(divider by @silkholland 💕)

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thecapricunt1616 · 1 year ago

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Blue Lotus - SxC One-Shot

♡ O/S Inspo: Blue Lotus - In Vedic Hindu tradition, the lotus represents enlightenment as well as purity. It is the symbol of the consciousness rising out of the mud of Maya and attaining its original nature or self-realization.

♡ Summary: Carmen accidentally almost checks out of life permanently due to a migraine fucking up his vision, and Sugar flips & sends him off to a trauma rehabilitation center, Syd is realizing she finds it extremely hard to stay away from him.

♡ W/C: 7,616

♡ Posted Date: 04/06/2024

♡ A/N: This is my first SydCarmy fic aaa!!! I have a hard time writing in 3rd unless its not my characters, so writing in 3rd for them was okay! This OS is all thanks to the LOML - the person who FULLY turned me into a #SydCarmy4Lifer - @gingergofastboatsmojito - This fic was HEAVILY - heavily, inspired by hers - Tucson, It can be found right ❀ here ❀ - My only request is you go read hers if you are going to read this one!! Her SydCarmy fics are the best, and the only ones I really read, give her a follow because her SydCarmy theories are also out of this world. Also, YES GINGER - Stardust is .... a horse - ol' girl TOLD THEM she'd always be watching!! If you'd like to meet Madame in her human form, mosey on over here - this fic also heavily inspired me to write for SydCarmy hahaha. If y'all want more of Blue Lotus let me know! I have ideas for a PT 2 if it would fancy anyone :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Accidental OD , Vomit, Sad Syd, but fluffy kinda!! Only lightly edited (we die like men), OC Carmy (IM SORRY) we all know he's down bad for her so maybe this can be considered IC Carm, because were just in his head more then watching him? But that's all basically.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Carmen was sick as a dog. Well - physically- the mental demons never stopped nagging at his overall happiness level, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this horrible, physically speaking, at least.

His muscles were aching, to the point any brush on his skin left a dull pain in its wake. His throat was swollen and sore, he had a terrible fever- his head felt like it was so full of pressure that it would explode.

He’d never experienced a headache like this before. His vision was actually spotty, there were little blotches in his vision, that were... glowing? He wasn’t quite sure, it was beyond the realm of anything he’d ever felt or seen before.

That was what must have caused him to grab his black bottle of oxydose he’d gotten after a root canal he had a few months back- rather then his liquid Zyrtec cold and flu liquid medicine.

The pain in his head was so bad, he didn’t even question why the usual cherry flavor had been replaced with bubblegum, as he swallows straight from the bottle, before putting the cap back on and going back to the couch, collapsing in the nest of pillows and blankets.

It was only about 10 minutes, and Carmy was feeling fine- no…Carmen was feeling… amazing.

His limbs all felt very heavy, but he felt warm, and comfortable. As comfortable as he’d ever felt. He actually found himself thinking ‘have I ever felt this good?!’ And before he knew it, he was laughing to himself about how he should double dose cold medicine more often, because he felt as if he was on cloud fucking nine.

He laid back on the couch, closing his eyes, and wasn’t sure just how long he laid there that way. It could have been minutes, hours, days for all he knew. The only thing he was thinking of, was her. He began wondering what she was doing right now, if she was adorably leaned over the counter, writing in her little notebook- her braids cascaded over her face like a beautiful beaded curtain.

If the blood in his arms hadn’t been replaced with cement, he’d have grabbed his phone and called her, and poured out his entire heart to her. Because nothing else in the world right now mattered. Carmen had no other thoughts, the past didn’t exist, nor did the future. The only thing that existed in this world at this very moment, was Sydney.

‘Psssst’

Carmen opens his heavy lids, just barely, his vision was blurry and almost doubled. “Mmm?” He hums, not even sure if he heard someone- or why he would hear someone. He lived alone, and didn’t hear anyone come in.

‘Yo. Dipshit.’ Carmen knew that voice anywhere.

“What?” Carmy looked around, and knew something was very amiss, when his brother was standing there in his living room, looking at him. He had this ethereal glow to him.

“What the fuck” Carmen said, sitting back on the couch, rubbing his eyes.

‘You’re nodding out right now. Here’s what y’gonna do.’

Carmen couldn’t do anything but nod his head obediently, was Mikey really here? He couldn’t be- he was hallucinating.

“Monkey are you here?” Carmen asks softly, rubbing his eyes again to see if he would disappear. He didn’t.

‘I’m as here as you’ll be if Y’don’t listen. Crawl to the fucking bathroom and throw up. She’s gonna be here f’you, don’t fight her’

Before Carmy could look back at him and question what he meant - he was gone.

Carmen suddenly felt…much too hot. He tried getting up, but narrowly missed bashing his skull on the coffee table trying to get to the bathroom, so he decided to take his wise older brother's advice and crawl there instead.

He didn’t finish the journey, though. He actually collapsed in the bathroom a few feet in front of the toilet, luckily on his stomach.

He was catching all sorts of luck today, because Syd had insisted she go and check on Carmy, as he was supposed to be at work today but hadn’t said a word- and that was nothing like him.

She got the extra key from Nat, and told her she would go check because ‘Pregnant women have by nature weaker immune systems’ and would blame herself if she ‘let Carmen get her sick’, so she convinced Sugar to let her go by herself.

When Sydney had opened the door, the first thing that greeted her was loads of empty Gatorade bottles on the coffee table near the couch, and a random French cooking show playing on the tv.

“Carm?” She calls, but when she saw one of his feet sticking out from the bathroom, she dropped her bag and ran, gasping when she saw him splayed out there in a puddle of vomit, looking sickly pale, with dark blue lips and fingertips.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!” She shrieked, getting him on his side as fast as she could and quickly pushing the emergency button on her phone, putting the call on speaker and setting it to the bathroom counter.

“Carmen? CARMEN! Wake up!” She slapped his arm, shaking him violently. “Carmen! Oh- oh god.” She said nervously.

‘911 do you need fire, medical, or police?’ The woman at the other end says.

“Medical! Medical my friend- oh god Carmen” she shakes his shoulders.

“Okay what’s your emergency?” The operator asks

“Uhh- I- he’s- so he’s thrown up, he’s passed out, his pulse is weak- he- his lips- t-they’re blue. oh Carmy” she touches his cold clammy forehead. “He- he’s- he’s cold oh my god why is he COLD can you fucking send someone Jesus Christ!” Sydney snaps angrily.

“Okay- it sounds like he is having an opioid crisis ma’am, do you have narcan available?” The operator asked her and Syds heart drops.

“No- what? No! He- he wouldn’t- his brother- he…get here!” She said frantically and quickly told her the address of Carmen’s apartment complex.

“Yes, yes you’re calling on an Iphone, ma’am - we have your exact coordinates. Just in case - do not try to make him throw up more, make sure his airway is clear- what is your name?” The woman asked her.

“Sydney- my name is fucking Sydney - but it doesn’t matter! He matters! My god! His name is Carmen- C-Carmen fucking Berzatto! Put that in your notes lady! He- he’s 31- where the fuck is the ambulance?!” She uses all of her strength to get him leaned up against the counter.

His vomit was getting everywhere, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t find a way to care, the only thing that mattered to her was that each breath Carmy was taking looked more and more difficult.

“They are en route! Remain calm, how long have you known this friend?” The Operator tried to distract Sydney, since there was only so much you could do for an OD patient if there was no narcan.

“He- he’s my…my partner we run a restaurant together. This doesn’t matter! Save him. Please! I can’t loose him!” She said, shaking his shoulders.

“Carmen! You fucking asshole! What did you do!!!” She shouts at him. “You would never do this! What did you do!!!” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, it didn’t matter though- Carmen wasn’t awake to see it.

No, Carmen was far, far away. Somewhere floating between life and death, he felt like he was being embraced in the warmest most comforting hug he’d ever felt, he’d never been more comfortable in his life.

But Syd, was in hell. Her own personal version of it. It felt like a lifetime before 2 paramedics came barreling into the bathroom, one of them holds Carmys head steady and the other sprays a full dosage of narcan in his nose.

Sydney stood in the corner near the shower, shaking hands cupping her face absolutely terrified.

Carmen was up now, nearly the second the paramedic hit the plunger release. He sits up with a gasp, eyes wide like a caged animal.

“What the fuck.” He mumbles, looking at both of them before meeting eyes with Syd.

“Syd?” He blinks a few times.

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding “you asshole” she grumbles, wiping her teary eyes.

“You’re home, you’re safe, you overdosed. Do you take opioids often?” The paramedic asked, putting a blood pressure cuff around Carmen’s arm.

“What? No- what the fuck don’t touch me!” Carmen snaps, ripping off the cuff and whipping it across the bathroom “stop- stop! Stop touching me- get away” he shouted angrily “I’m fine” he hissed.

“CARMEN!” Sydney barks, she’d never used that tone with him- so it was fair to say it very quickly got his attention.

“You will let them do their job, dick. I just- I- I find you in a puddle of your own vomit on the bathroom floor- I couldn’t wake you up! So now? you’re gonna listen to them.” She said angrily, grabbing the blood pressure cuff from next to her leg where it fell and handing it back to the paramedic.

“Give him your arm.” She snipped.

Carmen sits back against the bathroom wall like a dog being scolded, wordlessly offering his arm to the paramedic and keeping his gaze fixed on his lap.

“192 over 96” the paramedic told the other.

“Christ kid” the paramedic said, “gave you a fuckin dose of narcan and y’wired like y’re on coke” they helped him up and on the gurney.

“Hes- he’s gonna be okay?” Sydney asked anxiously, watching as they buckled him in by his hips and legs.

“He's gonna be fine in a day or so.” One of them responded. Carmen just looked away, the shame and embarrassment already looming over his mind like a huge storm cloud.

“I’m gonna…I’ll- I’ll clean up, and meet you at the hospital, ok? And I’ll have sugar meet you” she told Carmen and went over, giving him a hug.

He couldn’t understand. It made him slightly angry how sweet she was being to him. He was putting her out, he was fully fucking up her whole day- but all she was worried about was him.

“Syd..I’m fine. Thanks. But I’m fine. Don't- just…ugh no- please- I’ll do it. Just go- go home. take the day” He said, gently patting her back.

He wanted to throw his arms around her and never let go, he wanted to kiss her- he wanted to hold her and tell her he would never leave her again. He wanted to tell her he loved her.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would, or could for that matter, since he didn’t even realize yet that was what the feeling in his heart really meant.

“Thank god. Thank god you’re fine, Carm. What would I do without the biggest pain in my ass?” She teased.

Even though Carmen was hurting all over in a way he didn’t realize was possible, his lungs were aching, as was his entire body, and he felt as if the pressure behind his eyes were going to make them pop out - he smiled. It was slight, of course. But it was there.

“Couldn’t get rid’a’me if y’tried, Syd.” he told her.

The ride to the hospital was Carmen’s nightmare. They insisted on the stupid flashing lights and sirens, since his blood pressure was ‘dangerously high’ so he was at risk for a heart attack, and then rolling him out on a stretcher in front of all his neighbors was nothing short of a god damn dumpster fire.

He was never home, but like hell he’d ever intentionally show his face during the day again.

The hospital was even worse, he got plugged in to all these monitors and had an oxygen mask, got poked and prodded with needles, and was told he was being put on a 24 hour psych hold per hospital policy after an overdose- just in case he’d been trying to end his own life.

Sugar got there shortly after the nurses had finally let him be, when he heard her loudly telling them “CARMEN! BERZATTO! Like bear! B-e-r-z-a-t-t-o!!! Where IS HE !” He ripped off the oxygen mask, knowing if she saw him that way he’d never live it down.

Even though it really was helping ease the ache in his lungs and the pain in his head, he was willing to deal with it for his very pregnant sister not to worry.

Her heels click as she storms down the hall to his room, ripping the curtain back.

“Oh- Bear” she said, bursting into tears and rushing up to him, hugging him tightly. “Oh my god, bear. Never do that! What did you do? No- no- you aren’t in trouble, you aren’t in trouble, Carmen. I love you. You just worried me! You made Sydney cry Carmy! What the fuck- what happened?” She cupped his cheeks, observing his exhausted face.

“Oh you’re sick- you’re so sick- Carmy” she felt his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand like she did when they were kids. “It was an accident, right, right Bear? You wouldn’t do this?” She said, more pleading him than asking.

“No. No. No sug, no- I- I’d never. I just fucked up! I’m fine. I’m fine. C’mere” he hugs her close, kissing her head gently. “Stress isn’t good for the baby bear” he joked, hoping it would get her to lighten up.

“Carmy stop” she pushed away, looking at him seriously. “No. No. This isn’t okay- nothing - nothing about this is okay, bear! You almost died! Syd said- “ she shook her head. “Carmy. I- we can’t do this. We can’t. You’re right.” She sniffled, sitting back in the chair next to his hospital bed and wiping her tears.

“What- what do you mean?” He sat up a bit.

“I- if you….i can’t watch you like this anymore, Carmy. I can’t- I can’t see you wither away. Fucking emotionally anymore. It’s killing me. It’s hurting-“ she took a shaking breath.

“It’s hurting your niece. Carmen. I can’t do it anymore. here.” She dug around her purse, pulling out a brochure.

“Go- go. Get out of fucking Chicago, Carm. This place- I-i heard of it” she sniffled “its stupid-“ she laughed a bit, shaking her head. “So stupid, fuckin this..this Astrologer. She said in her podcast that this is the best place to go based on the location? I dunno…it’s a therapy place” she said.

Carmen looked at the Brochure, his brows raising.

‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ the front contained photos of absolutely breathtaking pine trees, mountains, as well as red cabins.

‘Blue Lotus is tucked safely away on Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, CA. Come and experience an inpatient by day, outpatient by night 30 day program, along with 15 days of sole inpatient TF-CBT therapy, focused on your direct needs as a patient. We specialize here at Big Bear in Equestrian Therapy, and Cattle Therapy. Enjoy hiking on hundreds of miles of breathtaking trails, and get to know the stunning haven that is Big Bear, California.’

“Horses.” Carmen looks at her, unwavered.

“Yes! They say they like- get us or something? You’ll be back before I give birth. Go. Carmen. Go. Or- or I can’t work there, anymore it-“ she shakes her head, looking down at her swollen belly as hot thick tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s like watching Michael…again. In a different way” she said quietly, wiping her face and looking up at him once again. “Please.” She whispered.

He shook his head, setting the stupid brochure down on the bedside table and laying back in the bed, grabbing the oxygen since his head was beginning to pound again and putting it back over his face, averting her worried gaze.

“I don’t have the energy to call these people” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

“I- I already got you a bed. I called them…on the way over- I begged them. And they are willing to take you, Carmy. Please. I’ll pick your cabin and everything - you- you stay in a cabin after the 15 days and then for 30 you go back and forth. It sounds so nice, bear. I know they’re gonna take such good care of you think about it- please- will you go?” she got up, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you” she whispered after a few moments when he didn’t decline her.

Carmen didn’t reply. If Sugar really thought that stupid place would make him ‘change’ (if that was even possible) and if she really felt as if it was affecting her child that was growing inside of her- he would give it a try. Even though he felt as if it would be just another money pit in the name of ‘mental health’ that didn’t do a thing.

“There’s dead man walkin’!” Richie said, Syd following in behind him.

“Stop! Don’t call him that Richie it was scary!” Syd shoves his shoulder.

Carmen grabbed the brochure, quickly tucking it under the blanket.

“Fuck you, cousin” Carmy said, his voice all nasally and low from his flu or whatever the fuck he’d picked up, that had led him to giving himself a cocktail of meds that almost sent him to Michael prematurely by total mistake.

“Carmen is leaving. As soon as he’s released. So- get your time in he won’t be home for a month or two” Sugar said and sat down, not budging on the issue.

Carm just rolled his eyes, laying his head back and wanting to melt into a puddle on the floor, but at the same time, he also wanted to pull Syd into the stupidly small hospital bed, and hold her to him, never letting her go.

“You are?” Syd asked, coming to his bedside and meeting his gaze.

He just stared at her. Wordlessly, he pulled out the crumpled brochure and offered it to her. She took it, looking at it. Richie comes over as well, peeking over Syd’s shoulder to read.

“Equestrian therapy? Gonna go play with some horsies Carm?” He teased, his smugness being wiped off his face when Syd stomps on his foot with most of her weight, causing him to whine in pain.

“Woops! Maybe you should learn some personal fucking space asshole” she shoved back in to him so he would take a few steps back.

“Ow!” He said dramatically, plopping next to Sugar who was also glaring at him with equal fire.

“Okay- okay- sorry fuckin hell. The kid is fine” he said and Carmen motions to him.

“See! See! Jagoff is right sometimes” he said to Syd and she shook her head.

“This…is good. This is really good. I’m for this.” She said, looking at Sugar before handing the brochure back to him. “I’m… gonna miss you, but…you need to get the fuck out. Like really, out, Carm.” She told him.

He sighed deeply, resting his head back and closing his eyes once more.

Whatever will make Syd happy, he would do, no matter the amount of discomfort it brought him.

“Fine.” He mumbled.

“Really?” Sugar asked him and he looked over at her, brows slightly furrowed.

“Want me to fuckin fight you about it?” He snipped, already annoyed with how easy he was giving in- but he was too exhausted to fight, and Syds lavender perfume was so comforting, and so familiar. He just wanted everyone except Syd to leave, and to be able to hold her.

That wasn’t going to happen though, probably ever was what he’d told himself. No, that would be too good, the universe would be much too kind to Carmy as to let him have the ultimate pleasure and enjoyment that would come from being with her in that way.

“No…no. I’m sorry. Thank you, Bear. I know this is gonna be good” Sugar said quietly.

The doctor came in, saving Carmen from the uncomfortable conversation. “Hello again, Mr.Berzatto. I have your results here- is this okay company? If not I can have them step out for a moment” she’d said.

Carmen had already completely forgotten her name, her name to him was simple - not Claire. Which was the only good thing to happen to him today.

“As long as I’m not dying cause these two will pitch a fit. You can go ahead” he said, sitting up slightly in the bed.

“No, no. you are very healthy, well- for the most part. Does your family have a history of high blood pressure?” She asked, sitting in the rolling chair next to the bed and holding her tablet in her lap.

“Dad. Dad did, bear.” Sugar said.

“Oh! Lovely- and did dad also have chronic treatment resistant depression?” The doctor turns to her.

“I- I don’t know but…I know he was depressed for sure.” Sugar replied honestly.

“And I know per your file you’re a smoker, heavy or moderate?” The doctor asked

“Heavy” Syd buts in and Carmen didn’t even have the energy to fight either of the women.

“So heavy is a pack plus a day does that sound average?” The doctor asked Carmy and he nods a bit.

“Sometimes…sometimes two. Depending on uh…how shit is” he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, so we’re gonna need to reduce as much as we possibly can. And we’re also going to speak about treatment options. Have you ever done mental therapy?” She asked Carmen.

“He’s getting help. Don’t worry” Sugar said, “he’s going to do a therapy program. Blue lotus? Heard of it?” She asked.

The doctor nods with a slight smile. “That would be wonderful for you, by the looks of your chart.” She got up.

“Visiting hours are over at 10 pm, he will need to remain here until at least 1 pm tomorrow afternoon- then he’s yours.” She headed towards the door, shutting the privacy curtain behind her before closing the door.

Richie chuckled “hack job name” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly.

“What was her name?” Sugar looked over at him.

“Doctor Ginseng?” He said, “isn’t that a- a fuckin-“

“A root. A very expensive, luxurious root. It can be put into tea, or soup…the native people of China believe it has properties that make your body better deal with stress” Syd said absentmindedly, staring at the clock while nervously twirling the end of one of her braids.

“She got it” Carm said and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile, just a bit. He absolutely adored the way if Syd wasn’t beating him to the punch when someone asked a random food question- that she was teaching him something.

Even after years in the kitchen, the hundreds of hours watching cooking shows, Sydney still managed to teach him. He was utterly amazed by her every single day.

“That’s a good idea. I- I think we have some. Back at the restaurant. All the stuff here will be shit- I’m gonna make you tea. And soup.” she got up, grabbing her bag. “Don’t fucking die when I’m gone, Kay? Guess you need that reminder now” she told him.

He rolled his eyes slightly “Y’don’t have t’fuckin make me tea Syd. I’m fine.” He said, but something deep inside him yearned for Syd to take care of him. He craved it.

“I’m making the tea, and you’re drinking the tea. Be back soon” she said before heading out.

Sydney had stuffed Carm full of pastina chicken soup and warm ginseng tea with lemon, ginger root, and plenty of local honey. As well as sourdough bread that Marcus had made fresh that morning.

They sat and talked, just the two of them for hours until visiting hours were over. The nurse had to actually warn them both that she’d told them 4 times already it was past visiting hours and she ‘wasn’t afraid to have people removed’ before Sydney finally hugged Carmy goodbye and left.

They both took his leaving for 45 days extremely serious. They’d joked together about just how quickly and casually Sugar had whipped out the information, all put together so neatly - it was quite obvious she’d been waiting for an opportunity to ship Carmen off here.

They laughed a bit, and shared stories, and of course Carm answered any and every question Syd had about running the restaurant on her own while he was going to be away.

Syd had even pulled a chair up to the bed at one point, resting her legs across the mattress after taking her shoes off, and her legs were draped across his own. He didn’t dare say anything, though. He was relishing in the feeling of closeness with her, even if it was as close as they’d ever be.

Syd had actually made him so excited that the nurse had come in when she first came back and Carmy realized they’d be alone, to realize he was perfectly fine- his heart had just settled at a new pace since she was around.

He was feeling worlds better by the time he’d gotten to the airport on Sunday morning. He’d spent the rest of Saturday evening at Sugars after he’d been discharged from the hospital, and had one last close family meal with Syd, Richie, Nat, and Pete, well, Pete was a must - he couldn’t uninvite the man from his own house, unfortunately.

Carmen would be in a hotel in Big Bear, California by nightfall, and by the following morning he’d be starting his 15 day inpatient stint at ‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ tucked away on a farm, in a dip of Big Bear Lake. How fitting.

The parking lot of the airport was full of tears, not from Carmy- of course, but a very tearful Sugar, who’d conveniently spent the rest of his hospital stay packing him 2 weeks of clothes to cycle through, explaining phones were allowed- but they gave the toiletries, since it was a mental health center after all.

She kept hugging him, kissing his cheeks- as if she was sending him to war and not a fucking treatment center. “Is there…somethin’ I’m missing- am I never coming back er somethin are you selling me to some weird chef collector?” Carmen teased, getting at least a small giggle from her.

“God no. I just… this will work Carmy. It has to work. You’ll get better, okay? It’ll all be fine.” She wiped her face. He nodded a bit.

“It’ll work.” He said, he wasn’t sure if he believed it- but if it got her to stop feeling so sad, he would agree.

“I love you, be safe ok?” She said for the millionth time “and remember look at your phone I sent you-“

“The flight number, Nat. I love you. Thank you again” he kissed her cheek, grabbing his suitcase and opening his texts, clicking his flight number she sent him.

“Gate D11! Thank you Nat. Gotta go now- unless…” he teased.

She smiled a bit, finally. “Get out of Chicago.” She pat his arm gently and got back in the car to a waiting Pete.

The flight was okay, it felt much longer than he was expecting, but his anxiety told him a lot of things- he couldn’t trust minute things such as time and how he understands it anymore. The first thing he noticed upon landing was the stunning green, and the crisp air.

The air felt…cleaner, then Chicago. It was chilly- since fall was quickly approaching. Carmen was suddenly grateful Nat had him put on a hoodie before leaving this afternoon. He had the entire evening to explore, and not be himself.

He already was feeling some kind of new. He wasn’t here to work, definitely not to play, but he could enjoy himself, because he didn’t have to be him. At least not for the night. He opened the Uber app on his phone, booking a trip to the hotel to check in.

When he’d gotten to the hotel and showered, dressing in some vintage Levi’s and a white long sleeve in trade for his short sleeve, along with his favorite plaid jacket. He had to get somewhere to see how people live here, how to be apart here, so he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at this rehab place.

He’d grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and opened Apple Maps on his phone, looking for a park to go sit at and just be. He found a park close by, simply called ‘BearHill Park’ and following the walking directions.

He’d missed his ventures to various parks in New York, but especially in Copenhagen. Copenhagen had the most beautiful sunsets Carmen had ever seen before. He missed it sometimes, not the work, but the life. It felt worlds more simple then his life now, where every relationship, every aspect of his job- was dripping with difficulty to manage it all.

When he got to the park, he’d found an oak tree that looked well over 200 years old, getting situated under it and resting against the trunk, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

He watched a couple and a baby walking by, carefully though as he’d learned quickly as a child most people don’t take kindly to being looked at for more then a few moments at a time. But Carmen didn’t watch people in an odd way, of course. He was just wanting to observe, see how he should be. And in a place so new, so out of his ordinary all by himself, it was gonna take a lot of observing to get himself readjusted.

He watched as the father pushed the carriage along, the mother holding his hand happily. They were far away so he couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, but it must be funny because their heads were tilted back in laughter multiple points throughout the conversation as they continued on.

He continued on his cigarette, his eyes now finding a younger couple. He sat up a bit, leaning further against the tree to get a better look. From behind, the woman reminded him a lot of Syd, of course it wasn’t- but it was also the way her boyfriend or- husband- Carmen wasn’t emotionally advanced enough to look for a ring, he’d never needed to before.

It was how his arms were covered in tattoos, and his hair was a muss of dirty blonde curls like his. It was how the woman was beautifully tall, with stunning long black braids, and a floral scarf tied around the top of her head. She was much more…boisterous then Syd, but none the less. They looked like them in another world.

So not only, has this other man, found his Syd, the universe was determined to rub Carmen’s nose in it, or that’s how he took it, anyhow.

He scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes and looking the other way. Of course. He thought. Everyone can be happy but me. I’m headed to adult crazy camp! And those two are just, fuckin happy and in love.

The girl laughed loudly, causing Carmen to look back over. “CAMREN!” She squeaked as he tickled her. “Cam! Stop- I-I can’t breathe!! You asshole” she punched his shoulder playfully.

“Do you give up?! Say it!!!” The man countered, continuing the assault on her sides.

“No- NO! This- this is cheating!” She said, interrupted by her own laughs.

“Cheating?! No, I'm getting what’s rightfully mine Scarlett!” He pinned her arms above her head.

Carmen now looked away. He couldn’t help but think of Syd while watching them, and think of everything he was too pussy to pull off. He wished he could take Syd somewhere like this, but who would run the restaurant, and why would she say yes.

He’d finished his cigarette by the time the couple had left and he took out his sketchbook and the pen that lived inside of it. He looked at the recipe on his phone Syd had sent ‘Farro Mafaldine with browned Black Truffle Butter and Chanterelles mushrooms’

He had tried it for her, and he actually told her he wanted another bite to be sure he was ‘getting everything’ when really- it was just so fantastic he couldn’t stop at one single bite.

“Syd that is…wow. Really, really fuckin fire. If it weren’t for the mushroom, we’d need that on the permanent menu. Have you tried others?” He’d asked.

Syd just smiled and nodded, a lot of times she was around Carmen- she thanked god for her darker complexion, considering he made her feel overly hot, all the time. Nearly every time he spoke to her, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t always this way. But ever since they opened the restaurant together- things had changed between them. Not for better, not for worse, the energy just… shifted.

Carmen got lost in thought of Syd, and before he could realize what he was doing- he was drawing her. He rested his elbow on his knee, crouched over as he added details to each intricate little braid. It was one of Carmen’s favorite things about Sydney.

No matter how she wore her hair, she looked absolutely beautiful. The braids, he did have to admit, were his favorite. Maybe it was because it was how her hair was when they met, but they interested him. He wanted to sit and watch her doing them. She told him a while back, she did them herself.

Apparently, her mother wasn’t able to teach her- but she had cousins that could. She says it was usually much more expensive to have it done then just do it yourself, that part made sense to him. He was really impressed the first time he told her, she laughed a bit at that.

‘Most of us do our own hair, I mean- unless you got it like that. But otherwise, just like the white girls we have to do it on our own’ Carmen blushed, feeling silly for not realizing.

‘Yeah- yeah I..I get that but. I dunno…I’ve seen Sug do her hair…it seems easier” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

‘Oh, well yeah, that’s why I only do mine every 6 weeks!’ She’d said, wiping down the counter.

‘Really? Well that’s cool. I thought you like…I dunno.’ He chuckled a bit.

‘That I went home, took out 200 plus braids, and then put them all back in before I come in every day?’ She teased.

Now Carmen’s cheeks were bright red. ‘Okay- listen I’m not a girl. I wouldn’t know’

Carmen caught himself smiling at the memory. He looked up at the setting sky, and his heart fluttered a bit at the beauty of it. He’d realized he’d sat there now for probably 5 hours, his back was aching, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t care because this was the most at peace he’d felt since moving back to the states. And he was alone. He snapped a photo of the gorgeous sunset with his phone, hitting the send button and hovering over Syds name for a moment, before deciding to click it.

She did tell him to text her when she got settled in after all.

In CA - this place lives up to the name. Never seen so many bear statues in my life.

He sends the text, with the photo attached, not even realizing the photo had been a live capture, and you could fully see the drawing of Syd for half a second if you held the photo down.

He put his phone back in his pocket, continuing on his drawing. Back in Chicago, Syd was very glad that she was working today- because the only thing on her mind otherwise was one single person.

“Okay guys! I need some hands here- we got 3 dishes for table 13 let’s move! Keep up the pace!” She called out. She had already been here 12 hours, and wasn’t planning on being out for another 6.

It was just how Sydney operated - she couldn’t sit and worry about Carmen. It would just unearth emotions she didn’t want to go searching for, and once they came up she was worried it would ruin absolutely everything she’d worked so hard to maintain.

And back across the country, 2,000 miles away, Carmen was contently packing his backpack, getting up, and heading to a small diner he’d seen. He enjoyed a quiet burger to himself, in the corner booth, looking out the window at the water.

The place truly was beautiful, and very hidden away. There were barely any cars here, it was fully the opposite of anywhere he’d stayed long term, and he was beginning to feel as if he needed that, he wouldn’t admit that to sugar, though.

He’d gone back to his hotel, taken a shower, gotten in his pajamas, and was laid in bed, watching some random cooking show on the food network since the TV unfortunately didn’t have YouTube like his did.

When Sydney had seen the photo, she almost didn’t realize it was live at first. She was also at home, finally in bed- but she was 2 hours ahead of Carmen- so instead of it being 11 pm- it was 1 am. She’d scrubbed the restaurant floor until she was sure someone could eat off it, and made sure every station was in perfect condition before returning home.

She laid in bed with sore hands, a sore back, and sore knees, and sore- well, everything. When she finally had checked her phone and seen it. She smiled a bit at the comment about the bear statues, clicking the photo open to see more.

It was a breathtaking sunset for sure. She went to close the photo, her thumb lingering because she saw a speck of white in the corner- and the photo started moving. For just a short moment she sees…. Herself? On the page of Carmen’s sketchbook.

She could feel her heart thumping in her throat. Why would he be drawing her? Unless- no! Keep the emotions buried! He is sick. He is so depressed- treatment resistant depression the doctor had said his chart showed.

She swallowed thickly, not sure what to say back. Should she just ignore it? Should she mention it boldly? Should she just…forget about it and convince herself it didn’t happen?

She typed and retyped the message multiple times, smiling to herself a bit as she jokingly typed out ‘pretty sunset, even prettier drawing.’ Before deleting it and retyping before hitting send;

fire sunset. so I take it big bear is treating the bear well so far?

Carmen looked at the message right away, smiling to himself a bit. She’d never called him bear before, something about it made his heart begin to race.

According to Nat, bear+big bear = depression gone, I’ll let you know in a few days if that's the truth.

He wasn’t sure about the whole equestrian therapy thing still, but he did know that being here seemed to allow him to breathe a little easier- and he was already here, so he would try.

The first 5 days in the inpatient program were…quite the adjustment. That was because it was what he learned was the most intensive part of the treatment, and meant to break down your walls by setting you in a hard routine so you had no choice but to think about your shit.

This included a wake-up time of 6 am, the lights in his inpatient room literally turned on, then at 7:30 was breakfast, then- at 8 am they had 1 hour of either equestrian class, which you learned how to begin caring for the horses, or an hour of tending to the cows - Carmen chose the Horses because he was not going to shovel cow shit.

Then, you had a therapy class of your choice from 9-11:30, he chose art therapy. It didn’t feel like therapy to him, they got to draw, or paint. Carmen just sat by the window, drawing different recipes - or, more often than not, drawing Syd from memory.

12:00 was lunch, 12:30-2:00 you had mandatory either equestrian therapy, or cattle therapy. Carmen was more drawn towards the cattle on hard days, and the horses on easier ones. This was because the hour of 3-4 was mandatory group therapy. That usually emotionally drained him until at least art therapy the following day, since to progress and complete the program- you need ‘participation points’ in your 15 day inpatient stay, before you’re trusted to be on your almost fully on your own for a whole 30 days.

The horses were usually nervous around new people, so it was a challange to get them to trust him. While the cows, people in the group joked- were ‘giant grass puppies’ the therapy consisted of literally just laying with the lazy cows and cuddling them, and feeding them snacks, which they very much enjoyed, and Carmen found to be very soothing once he learned to douse himself in bug spray before heading in the pen so the flys would be out of his way.

Then, dinner was at 5, and afterwards you had the evening to yourself in your room, or you could walk the trails until they closed at sunset. In your room you could watch tv, read, and the residents were also allowed to have their cellphones.

It was quite exhausting the first 5 days, but the second 5 he was getting into a groove at Blue Lotus. He was beginning to enjoy the hard manual work that came with working with the animals, and the time it took to build their trust. There was one particular horse Carmen had become fond of, a white horse named Stardust. Perfect name for her.

When he looked in her eyes she felt more human then most people he met in real life. She was different then the other horses. He’d been told that she rarely took to men, and that he was the only male she’d never need startled by. He always took extra time brushing her mane, and they both seemed to appreciate eachothers silence.

Carmen heard other people in stalls next to him, they would talk to the horses- dump their issues they were too afraid to tell their therapists out on them. He wondered if the horses ever got annoyed, he probably would if he was a horse. He smiled a bit at the thought, and it was almost as if Stardust could tell what he was thinking, because she turned her head and looked at him before snorting almost in agreement and sticking her head back out of the stall.

Getting into outpatient life at lotus though, was as easy as falling into bed for Carmen. His inpatient stay, he made sure to take the time in the evenings to learn his favorite quiet trails, the ones less taken usually, so when he graduated to outpatient - he could take stardust for rides on his own.

It took them about 3 days to get to know each other in that regard, it was mostly Carmen’s fault though he realized, because when he’d get nervous he’d pull on her reigns in such a way that she thought he meant for her to go faster - when it was the opposite. But, Stardust was so, so patient with Carmen.

He made sure to sneak her extra apples with a small drizzle of honey in return, so she knew her patience with him always came with great reward.

Carmen had been gone for about a month now, he and Syd would text intermittently, sugar was sure to call once a week and they’d talk for about an hour. But it was mostly quiet from Carmen’s end, he had told them it was because he was usually out, all day long unless he was at therapy.

It was day 19 of the outpatient part of the program, so he had just 11 days left. He had just finished his morning art therapy, and was in the stables tending to stardust, feeding her slices of pumpkin they’d had in the snack bucket for the horses today. “Come onnn- the tongue, really star” he wipes his wet hand on his jeans and she nudged his shoulder with his nose, asking for more.

“You are greedy! I’m always the first one in here y’gotta leave some for the rest of these guys!” He grabbed another piece of pumpkin, feeding it to her.

“And this is our horse stable, he spends a lot of time out here” Carmen heard one of the employees likely giving someone a tour, only half listening.

Stardust snorts at him, nudging his chest and he rubs her neck gently. “What is it? Y’done? Pumpkin not good enough for ya? No honey apples until after our ride or Y’don’t listen missy” he pats her head gently.

“I didn’t take you for a horse guy but I guess drop anyone off in the middle of nowhere and you’d be surprised. 34 days and you went full fuckin’ cowboy on me- are those boots, Carm? ” An all too familiar voice said from the large open sliding door of the stable He looked at stardust for a moment, he must be dreaming, or ODing again. Maybe he died, and had been dead the entire time. Because there was no way he could believe Sydney Adamu was standing behind him, 2000 miles away from their shared city, in Big Bear, California.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡ ⋙

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thefanficmonster · 1 year ago

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hii would love anything with sydney adamu x reader if ur still taking requests!! or even just headcanons honestly just need more syd content on here

Hi hun! Oh I'm always delighted to write for Syd, I'm obsessed with her 🙈 Hope you enjoy the fic darling 💌

Pairing: Sydney Adamu x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Bear S2, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF

Summary: When Sydney's left to do menu research duty on her own, she comes to realize a few things.

Her calls are going straight to voicemail, it's half an hour past their agreed upon time to meet up and she's frankly fucking tired. She's used to doing things on her own, knowing not to expect much from other people. But still she's astounded by how shitty this is. It's not like they have all the time in the world - quite the opposite actually. Every second counts. And Carmy just wasted 1800 seconds of precious time Syd could've used for menu research.

She's given up hope and is now waiting for the train to the first restaurant on her list, puffs of smoke escaping her mouth as she periodically sighs in continuous disappointment she can't suppress no matter how hard she tries. The momentary tranquility she finds from the chaos of the restaurant is time she cherishes, until it's interrupted by her ringing phone.

She's not even surprised to see it's not Carmy who's calling. She is, however, surprised to feel a wide smile stretch across her face when she sees your name on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi." She hears the exhaustion in your voice, the yelling in the background explains the reasoning behind it. "I know you and Carmy are probably eating some wonderful food right now but I really need to talk to someone sane or I'll commit a crime."

A laugh rattles Sydney's chest, a genuine, wholehearted laugh, "Nah I'm actually bored out of my mind waiting for the train. Alone. I'm more than happy to keep you sane for a sec."

"Wait, alone? Why are you- Richie for fuck's sake put the hammer down!!! - Sorry about that. Why are you alone?" Syd hears the click of a lighter on your end, signaling you're out for a brief smoke to prevent the aforementioned potential crime. Possibly a murder. Possibly of Richie.

"Because Carmy has dropped off the face of the Earth." She sighs, stepping onto the train that's finally arrived, rescuing her from the Chicago cold.

"That's unlike him. I'd be concerned if - Fak, honey, you're gonna wreck the fucking pipe! - You know what, never mind that. I'm sure he's fine. You wanna....not be alone maybe? I wanna be anywhere but here right now."

Syd could use some alone time, or at least that's what she was telling herself before you called. Now, she couldn't imagine spending her afternoon any better than visiting different restaurants and doing menu research in your company. "I'd love that. I'll be at The Montgomery."

"Cool, cool. It's a date."

Sydney playfully rolls her eyes as she hangs up the phone, the dory smile refusing to leave her face.

The two of you have been essential for each other's survival and sanity ever since this whole restaurant fiasco started. Her with her brutal realism and you with your unconditional optimism, it's safe to say you balance each other quite nicely, bringing you close and forming a strong bond between you.

Somewhere along the way, flirting started being sprinkled throughout your interactions, mostly from your end. But it's not like it's one sided. You both have fun toying with the potential of there being something more. Just as a joke, of course.

But in every joke there's a half-truth. One half from her and one half from you forms the whole truth - that you're both idiots that should stop hiding behind teasing and sarcasm and just say what you're feeling.

There hasn't really been much time for that though, not among the dust, mold and other substances currently littering the restaurant-in-the-making. You're a little too busy knocking down walls to build bridges.

You make it to The Montgomery half an hour later only to find Syd nose-dived into a notepad, jotting down impressions and ideas. You're not nearly as well-versed into the culinary world as she is but you're still more than willing to endure her long rants about each menu item and how it can be made better and incorporated in their own.

She's been sending you ideas, even cooking a couple of them for you to try these past few days. You don't have the heart to tell her you have the palette of a broke college student - you're not crazy to turn down free and fancy food. But it's not like Syd doesn't know that though. She does it more as an expression of what she cannot say with words. As her very own love language, curated just for you.

"Is this seat taken?" You smile down at her, motioning to the chair across from her.

She looks up, her whole face lighting up when she sees you. "I'm sorry, it's reserved."

Chuckling, you sit down, shrugging off your jacket, "Well, they clearly don't deserve it if they have you waiting here all on your lonesome."

You receive a playful eye roll in response. You get that a lot from her. And you find it adorable.

Syd pushes one of the plates towards you, handing you the second fork, "Try this, it has potential."

With some analysis of the layout of plates and bowls on the table, you quickly gather that what she's offering you is a concoction of two different dishes. You can't pick out what the individual dishes might consist of so this collaboration of the two is a complete mystery to you.

But if Syd says there is potential, you'll be damned if you don't believe her.

You pick around the plate, getting a little something of everything on your fork. The flavor is so full and different, almost overpowering. However, you can clearly see that potential Sydney was talking about.

"Thoughts?" She prompts you, waiting for your rating.

You tilt your head to the side, furrowing your brows, trying your hardest to gauge what ingredients have been used. Unfortunately, to no avail. There's no denying that it's good though. "It's something." You eventually say, causing Syd to scoff and shake her head, "However..." This grabs her attention and her gaze is back on you instantly, "...it's too overpowering. Heavy, even. If we serve this we'll need to plate it with some lemon slices or something to freshen up the flavor. Lighten it up, you know?" Seeing the grin on her face, you find yourself getting a little flustered, unsure if you just made an absolute dumbass of yourself. "Did that make any sense?"

"My thoughts exactly." She laughs, reaching to switch out the plate in front of you for a different one, "Oh and also, I pulled some strings and booked us a kitchen to test some stuff out tonight."

Your brows perk up, the corner of your lips pulling up in a smirk, "Us?"

"Mhm..." She hums in response, avoiding your gaze briefly as she grows slight flustered. Look how the turn tables. "I mean, if you're free, of course."

"I'm always free for you." You contain any flirtier remark from escaping your mouth. Because this is sincere. This is nothing short of the whole truth. You're always free for her. Even if you aren't, you're willing to drop everything for her.

And little do you know, she feels the exact same.

Syd nods, finally meeting your eyes again, "Cool. It's a date."

Fucking dorks

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear fic #sydney adamu #sydney adamu x reader #sydney adamu x you #sydney adamu imagine #syd adamu #sydney adamu fic #sydney adamu fanfic #sydney adamu fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #fic #fanfic #fanficiton #reader #x reader

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year ago

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so my darling | sydney adamu x the restaurateur (unnamed male oc) | oneshot

summary: sydney falls in love with a restauranteur (one played by pedro pascal). song title inspired by so my darling by rachel chinouriri.

warnings: swearing, unnamed ocs, talking about sex, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, two original characters (the restaurateur & the pastry chef), the pastry chef is the mc from make my heart surrender, wong kar-wai films, ambiguous ending

wc: 4.8k

a/n: ok, so i'm not entirely back, but this photo of pedro pascal and ayo edebiri at the sag awards quite literally haunted me and made me write something about it. also i've really missed all of you. and i've missed these characters. and i miss this world. this oneshot feels really different to me than a lot of the things i've written for the bear and there isn't much inclusion of the other characters because i really, really wanted to write from sydney's perspective. it's limited storytelling in the way that it's mostly her experience of being charmed by the restaurateur but i had a lot of fun with this and i hope you enjoy. fic inspired by the pic below:

nolita fairytale's masterlist

Sydney doesn’t expect to win, yet her name is called out anyway, followed by the phrases: “James Beard Rising Star Award” and “the winner is.”

Most of the night is a blur. Somewhere between winning the biggest award of her career to accepting congratulations from the best chefs in the world, Sydney’s still trying to gather her bearings. It’s not until Carmy’s girlfriend, the woman who picked up her life and moved to Chicago to be with her exec chef, tugs at her arm.

Sydney doesn’t mean to completely reduce the woman to just Carmy’s girlfriend.

She’s also become many other things: the head pastry chef at The Bear, a colleague, and most importantly, a best friend.

“Hey, Syd! Carm wants to introduce you to someone,” she says, before giving Sydney a chance to politely excuse herself from the previous conversation she’d found herself in.

As The Pastry Chef leads her away from her present company, Sydney follows with a soft smile, half expecting it to be yet another celebrity chef—someone in Carmy’s network that reminds her why she began working at the Bear when The Bear was The Beef.

What she doesn’t expect is to meet him, her breath hitching in her throat as she and her best friend who’s dragged her over here, find themselves standing across from Carmy and an unfamiliar man.

“I see a congratulations is in order,” the man greets her, tipping his half-empty glass of champagne in her direction with a smile so charming she has to do a double take.

“To this year’s newest Rising Star chef.”

He’s handsome, sure—but that’s not what catches her eye.

The first thing Sydney notices about the man is his soft, dark curls—much cleaner than the unruly ones that belong to her head chef. He wears thick-rimmed rectangular glasses and has a perfectly groomed mustache that surprisingly works for him. It’s not usually her kind of thing, is all. In a white button down, perfectly tucked into his pristine black trousers, it's somehow still black tie with a touch of rebelliousness for forgoing a tie and a proper suit jacket.

He can’t be much older than Richie, she thinks to herself. What? Ten… maybe fifteen years older than herself?

Reality comes back to her, as she realizes that she hasn’t said a word, wondering just how long she’s spent caught up in her own head over the handsome stranger.

“Oh uh, yeah. Thanks,” Sydney replies with a smile and a nod, snapping back to her senses.

“Syd, this is… probably one of the few mentors I’ve had in my career. Well, him and Terry, ‘course,” Carmy begins to introduce, shyly. He’s not used to the one doing the introductions. “From Malibu.”

“Fairest Creatures,” the man clarifies with a hearty chuckle, citing the name of the restaurant they worked at together. “Way, waaaaaaay back in the day.”

Right.

The restaurant that put Carmy on the map, winning himself the same award that year that Sydney’s won tonight.

That’s when it clicks for her.

An old mentor of Carmy’s.

Not Terry.

And no, not that one—not the asshole from New York—to put it nicely.

The Restaurateur from California.

“No, I-. Yeah! I’m a big fan of your work, yeah,” Sydney scrambles to say, a glimmer of recognition in her eyes as she reaches out to shake his hand.

“Carmy was one of my early boys—look at him now. The student has far surpassed the teacher,” the chef adds, implying he’s mentored plenty of then-up-and-coming chefs back in the day.

“Oh thanks, but uh. Nah, I don’t know about that,” Carmy mutters, quick to brush off the older chef’s compliment.

Sydney can feel The Pastry Chef nudge her playfully, letting out a chuckle in response. The two exchange glances as Sydney follows her gaze from Carmy to his mentor.

“Oh they’re just being modest. Don’t think I’ve ever met two humbler chefs than these two,” the pastry chef adds with a playful eye roll, shooting her lover a look that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Which… if you ask me, is practically unheard of in this industry so… I consider us lucky, Syd.”

Sydney lets out a small, nervous laugh in agreement, before raising her own champagne glass to her lips as she finds herself, suddenly, parched.

She sees him again, weeks later, when the pomp and circumstance of winning a James Beard award has almost died down. She’d been quick to assume that, like many other chefs that weekend, he’d only been in town for the award ceremony, but as Sydney listens to the man tell Carmy that he’s moved to Chicago for “the foreseeable future,” she wonders why she never asked in the first place.

The Restaurateur had come in to say hello, for a meal, and Carmy had quickly declared that it would be on the house—eager to feed the best mentor he ever had in his California fine dining days.

“Yeah, I’ll be steppin’ in for Cuadros… when he goes on paternity leave… and we’re talking about expanding—what that could look like. Well, you know how it goes, Carm. Right now I’m just hangin’ out, helping out where I can between the two restaurants he’s got now,” he explains to Carmy with a nonchalance, as if he’s not a restaurateur whose reputation precedes himself.

“Ah, man. That’s cool. Well, you let us know if you need anything. I’ll give you mine and uh… Syd, you cool if I give him your number too?” Carmy asks, catching Sydney off guard.

“What do you-, I mean-?” Sydney begins to ask, unable to hide her surprise.

“Since he’s new to the restaurant scene here in Chicago. Can help each other out, you know?” Carmy returns, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I-. Sure,” Sydney nods, forcing a small smile in an attempt to shake the ‘deer-in-headlights’ look she’s sure her face has involuntarily contorted itself into.

She watches her head chef carefully, as Carmy continues to interact with the restaurateur in a way that she’s never seen before. She’s never seen him this eager to try to impress someone—hell, sometimes she wonders if Carmen thrives on pretending like he doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks—so it’s sends her head spinning as she tries to reckon with this newly-revealed side of her business partner.

“That means a lot. Thank you–the both of you,” The Restaurateur replies, genuinely, bringing her back into the conversation.

“Sure,” Sydney manages to get out, still caught up in her head—exploring this new side of Carmy she has yet to see. “Anything for a friend of Carmy’s.”

“I’m at Amaru most of the time these days,” the restaurateur continues, his eyes shifting from Carmy then back to Sydney as he adds one last thing.

“You should stop by sometime.”

They exchange a few texts here and there, but it’s all business.

Who’s your preferred vendor for kitchen towels?

You guys see success with extended weekend hours?

Thoughts on being open on Monday?

“He likes you,” The Pastry Chef insists one day, in between lunch and dinner service. Sydney quickly shoves her phone back into her apron pocket, as if she’s a kid again—one who’s gotten caught texting in class.

“What? He does not! I-. This is-, it’s not-, we are two professionals… talking shop,” Sydney dismisses, because it’s easier to push those thoughts aside than to entertain them.

“Syd. He could be texting Carm but he’s texting you,” the her friend continues, completely and utterly unconvinced. Sydney finds herself on the receiving end that says, ‘cut the bullshit’ as The Pastry Chef continues.

“Even if it is… just about work, I think it says something that he’s texting you, Syd. I mean, do you know how long it took me and Carmy to-.”

“Okay, but not all of us are you and Carmy!” Sydney interjects, letting out an uncomfortable laugh as a means to break the tension.

Off her look, her friend just chuckles with a shake of her head, reminded of a time that she too could live this far in denial.

“If you say so,” The Pastry Chef resigns herself, accepting that she won’t make much progress on this one today.

She waits a beat, focused on cleaning up her station as Syd unconsciously checks her phone to see if there’s a notification from a certain someone yet.

“When are we going? To his restaurant, I mean,” The Pastry Chef speaks up again with a quirked eyebrow.

Could she really have noticed that? Syd wonders.

This time, Sydney only groans in response with a mumbled, “Fuck off. I am sick of you,” earning a bigger laugh this time from her pastry chef friend.

But the conversation seems to be the push she needs. It only takes a week or so longer for their days off to align, and Sydney’s the one bringing up the idea: that they should do a happy hour at Amaru to “show support” (and nothing else — really, no ulterior motives at all).

The Pastry Chef is more than enthusiastic about the idea, easily suggesting that they make it a girls’ night.

Which is how Sydney finds herself here, seated between her two biggest cheerleaders, Sugar one side of her, and her pastry-chef-colleague-turned best friend, at the bar of the Pan-Latin American neighborhood spot. She’s sure that Sugar was recruited for said girls’ night, in an attempt to get a second opinion on whether the handsome, older restaurateur is or is not in fact, into her.

She doesn’t hate the idea of it, for the record, but she wonders if they’re reading this all wrong—hesitant to get her hopes up.

But after the first plate—a gift from the kitchen—and the aperitif sent their way, both on the house, Sydney can only assume that The Restaurateur has something to do with it.

Of course, it’s easy to chalk it up to good hospitality. After all, hadn’t they done the same when he visited The Bear, a few things on the house Carmy insisted they send out? Isn’t it customary?

Sydney thinks back to how easily Carmy had given her number to the older chef, eager to extend as much support as possible to his previous mentor as he transitioned into the Chicago market.

But he wasn’t texting Carmy all that much. Just her.

She tries not to brush off yet another excuse: because she’s the CDC, not Carmy; because maybe he thinks Carmy, as the exec chef, doesn’t have the time when she does. Syd thinks she could go on and on like this, and instead, for a split second, she allows herself to think that maybe, just maybe, it’s because her friends aren’t all that wrong about this.

“You’ll have to forgive me. I wanted to come say hello earlier, but. Well, you know how it goes,” The Restaurateur says, earning the attention of all three women. While he acknowledges both of her friends warmly, he makes sure to he’s look at Sydney as he concludes with:

“I’m glad you came.”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you for everything. Seriously. Everything’s been amazing,” Sydney answers, wondering why it suddenly feels five degrees warmer inside of the restaurant.

Sugar snickers and the knowing look shared between her and The Pastry Chef doesn’t go unnoticed.

She just might have to kill her best friends later for this.

The Restaurateur smiles, and with a polite nod of his head, mutters a ‘thank you’ before her friends chime in with compliments, kudos, and their own respective ‘thank yous’ for the superb hospitality. Syd listens as he picks The Pastry Chef’s brain on their newest dessert addition, while Sugar enjoys what feels like a well-deserved second margarita. As The Restaurateur explains the most recent dishes he’s added to the menu since taking over as CDC, she notices that somehow, his focus and attention always seem to return to her.

He can’t visit for long, The Restaurateur apologizes—it is a busy night of service—and before she knows it, he bids his goodbyes before disappearing to the back of the house for the rest of the evening.

“Well he definitely likes you,” The Pastry Chef declares, as soon as he’s out of earshot.

“Oh. So obvious,” Sugar adds with a knowing smirk as the two exchange the exact same glance from earlier

“I’m gonna kill you guys,” Sydney mutters, her head hanging low as she feels a heat rush to her cheeks. She can’t make eye contact with either of them—not right now—or she might just burst into flames.

“Well, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you! That’s for sure,” Sugar clarifies, earning a nod of agreement from The Pastry Chef.

“See! This is what I’ve been telling her since… shit, since he came to The Bear a few weeks ago!” the pastry chef exclaims, sharing another looking with Sugar. “I think he likes you and I think you like him.”

Sydney opens her mouth to say something, but instead, just lets out an exasperated sigh, earning another round of giggles and exclamations of ‘I knew it!’ from her best friends.

They don’t stay for much longer, knowing they’re all due back at the restaurant in the morning. The three women say their goodbyes before parting ways, and as Sydney sits on the train, on the way home with her phone on do not disturb, she notices a few notifications waiting to be read.

A text from Carmy about the prep list.

The pics from tonight waiting for her to open in the group message labeled: Girlies.

And then, from the Restaurateur…

Thanks for bringing friends! It was great to see you.

There’s a familiar heat that warms her cheeks as her fingers race to reply:

Thank you for everything. The meal was incredible.

She waits before adding:

I’m glad we stopped by.

And almost instantly, there’s a reply:

Come back any time. :) With or without friends.

Come back any time. With or without friends.

The words linger in her head over the next few days. She lets them settle in, tossing them back and forth in her mind, while holding what feels like a fragile kind of excitement in her hands that’s somehow seemed to have buried itself deep inside of her.

So he is flirting with you, she thinks to herself, coming to the conclusion that her friends were perhaps right about The Restaurateur.

She doesn’t want to completely misread the situation, but she’s not sure how else she should interpret it either.

It takes Sydney two more weeks to work up the courage to go back to Amaru on her day off that week. Part of her wonders whether it’s been too long—if she’s missed her chance—and part of her knows that in the business they’re in, the days blur together, and two days become two weeks, become two months, and that he probably hasn’t even noticed that’s been that long. Her and The Restaurateur are both on Kitchen Standard Time, right? She’s not sure what takes over her, but she’s somehow mustered up the cajones (she can practically hear Tina’s voice in her head as she hypes herself up) to show up, this time, without friends.

Her risk does not go unrewarded, when he comes out to say hello. This time, he’s not alone, introducing her to his soon-to-be-business partner, Chef Cuadros, the owner of Amaru and his other venture, Bloom. They exchange pleasantries and congratulations (you know, over the huge fucking deal of an award she’s just recently won) before he pats The Restaurteur on the back, excusing himself back to the kitchen.

The Restaurateur chuckles, noting how much he’s looking forward to joining Cuadros’ restaurant group.

“Rodolfo’s a great guy,” The Restaurateur sighs, contently.

“Yeah, he seems great,” Sydney agrees, almost just to be polite.

“Yeah. Really leads by example. Rare to find that in this industry,” he chuckles, before changing the subject.

“Speaking of. Cuadros is closing up tonight which means I’m off, starting now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You wanna get a drink?”

She doesn’t even have to think about it.

“Yeah. I uh-, I’m in.”

“It’s devastating!” The Restaurateur declares, the passion evident as the words escape his lips.

“I mean, the transitions are a little choppy. And even they can’t take away the fact that: It. Absolutely. Without a doubt. 100% ruined my life,” Sydney wholeheartedly agrees, completely captivated this conversation—one that she finds incredibly sexy.

“I cry. Every single time,” the man that sits across from her says, a dopey smile plastered to his face and a heat to his cheeks from the second whiskey on the rocks he’s nursing.

“Every single time!” Sydney emphasizes, just to drive the point home.

“Because, well-, I mean, they just can’t catch a break! Always just a moment too late. It’s like… well, it’s like they’re never supposed to end up together in the first place,” The Restaurateur clarifies, in reference to what about the film is so goddamn devastating.

Syd nods with a sigh, examining the idea in her head cautiously, knowing that he’s right—even if she doesn’t want him to be.

A beat.

She leans in, the corners of her lips beginning to turn up into a smile.

“Have you seen Chungking Express?” she asks, because she’s ready to start this whole thing over again.

“Have I seen-? Are you-, of course I’ve seen Chungking Express,” the Restaurateur answers, building on their shared excitement about finding common ground outside of the kitchen. “I love Wong Kar-Wai so much I even put myself through My Blueberry Nights.”

“Okay, chill. It’s not a competition,” Sydney jokes, earning a full bellied laugh from The Restaurateur.

“You’re funny,” he states, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles back at her.

Her heart skips a beat, her breath caught in her throat.

The way he says it is genuine. It’s real. It feels… more earnest—more intimate than what should exist between two colleagues.

Then again, she didn’t exactly say ‘yes’ to drinks thinking it was just as colleagues.

“I-,” Sydney hesitates, scrambling to find the right words when it feels like so many of them could burst out of her at any minute.

Instead she settles on, “Thanks,” feeling more like Carmy than she’s ever felt in her life.

There it is again—that flutter in her belly.

This man is most definitely flirting with her, a thought that only mildly causes her to panic.

The moment feels almost too tender for either of them. Sydney shifts nervously in her seat while The Restaurateur takes another sip of his whiskey, before clearing his throat.

“I uh. I should probably get going. It’s uh… yeah. It’s getting late,” Sydney says, finding the words to excuse herself.

She’s not sure what she wants out of this—it’s maybe why she takes the out in the first place, thinking it may be best to end the evening here. Tonight was… more than she expected it to be, and she’s torn between wanting to stay and wanting to flee the great state of Illinois.

Better pause while we’re ahead, Sydney thinks.

“Yeah, no, of course,” The Restaurateur agrees, easily, before insisting that he pick up the tab.

“No, I-, I couldn’t let you-,” Sydney begins to argue.

“Please,” he insists, his tone once again rendering her once again at a loss for words. “You’ve been more than helpful to us over at Amaru since the minute I got here. This is on me.”

Syd spends the next few days going back and forth over whether or not it—whatever the hell the other night was—would be a good idea. She eventually concludes that she can’t stay away—from the high, from the way he made her feel when he insisted on paying the bill (a moment she’s replayed in her head over and over again), from him. She doesn’t tell anyone: not Nat, not The Pastry Chef, and certainly, not Carmy.

She sends the text before she can chicken out one Saturday night, as she finishes closing up.

Heading to Green Door Tavern for a night cap.

He puts her out of her misery, quick to respond as always, almost as if he was expecting her to (or waiting for her to, which, she decides is a little too much of wishful thinking).

I was just thinking about you! Just rewatched 2046 the other night. Want some company?

Yeah.

Let me close up. I’ll let you know when I’m on the way :)

The smiley face.

The fucking smiley face.

She discovers that the same dopey smile finds its way across his lips as soon as he enters the bar. The two of them quickly find themselves in yet another deep conversation about foreign films over, for him, a whiskey on the rocks, and for her, a tequila soda. There’s that same buzzing in the air between the two of them—chemistry, one might call it—as they move from Wong Kar-Wait to Jean-Pierre Jeunet with an ease that feels good to her.

Really good, actually.

So good that as soon as Sydney realizes it’s getting late, she doesn’t run in the other direction. She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but she thinks this time, she could stay. This time, she could talk to him till the sun came up, allowing herself to get lost in his soft brown eyes she finds more comforting than she should. It’s not till he brings it up that she notices again that:

“It’s getting late.”

“Oh shit. Yeah,” Sydney agrees, reluctantly, because she doesn’t want this night to end. Before she can say anything else, her body moves to get up, just half an hour away from last call.

The Restaurateur stops her, reaching out a hand that feels warm against hers as she pauses, her eyes locked with his.

“I hope it’s not uh, well, I hope it’s not inappropriate of me,” he begins, clearing his throat as he pauses.

“No, I-, I don’t want the night to-, you know… I lost track of time too and I-,” she stammers through, unsure of what she wants to say.

He smiles warmly, his hand moving to grab hers, as if, in spite of the fact that she can barely get the words out, he understands exactly what she’s trying to say.

“You can say ‘no,’” he prefaces with, a sure nod as his gaze returns to hers.

“Can I take you home?”

And the only response that makes sense to her is the biggest, most enthusiastic:

“Yes.”

Maybe it’s just a one time thing.

Okay, a three-time thing, considering it happened that night, then two more times after the sun came up.

But to Sydney’s surprise (and delight) he texts her later that day, and the one (three) time thing becomes a one to three times a week kind of thing (schedules permitting, of course).

They fall into a rhythm—and she likes this rhythm—they cook, work at their separate restaurants, and then she lets him fuck her into his mattress like they didn’t just work their own respective twelve-hours shifts.

The Pastry Chef lets out a laugh, noticing that it’s the third day in a row that Syd’s come in having ‘not gotten enough sleep’ yet still glowing.

“How’s the sex?” she smirks, shooting Sydney a look.

In return, Syd rolls her eyes, like she isn’t getting laid on the regular, her best friend waiting patiently for a proper answer.

She checks over both shoulders to ensure no one else is listening before lowering her voice.

“It’s the best sex of my life.”

She finally moves into her own apartment a month later.

Of course, it’s a decision she’s made on her own volition and has nothing to do with the hot Restaurateur who seems like he might have some kind of staying power—the same one that’s giving her the big bang of orgasms, but that’s besides the point.

No, it most certainly has nothing to do with that.

With Chef Cuadros officially out on paternity leave, The Restaurateur somehow still manages to find the time to help her move in between running two restaurants while developing the concept for a third.

It’s the first night he spends the night and they sleep—just sleep—since she started seeing him, though they christen the place in the morning.

“We’ve been talking about a full nixtamalization program. For the new spot,” The Restaurateur explains over breakfast tacos one morning—ones he made for her in her new apartment because, of course, they had to christen the place in more ways than one.

“Shit. That’d be dope,” Sydney replies, as they continue to bounce ideas back and forth. “Do you think you could pull it off in that small of a space?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” The Restaurateur grins, before going into a near-monologue about the handful of creative solutions he’s come up with, eager to soundboard a few ideas off of her.

But Sydney finds herself a little distracted.

It’s not that she’s not listening… but she’s got something else on the tip of her tongue that she’s been holding back. The Restaurateur is in the middle of breaking down the logistics, contemplating whether or not they could pull off what he’s labeled, Idea B, when Sydney finally musters up the courage to blurt out:

“I want to cook something for you. Like not in a restaurant, or anything. I mean. Here. I want to cook something for you here.”

“Yeah?”

A beat.

“Yeah, I mean. It doesn’t have to be like-, I don’t know, this big thing or anything. But. You’re always cooking for me,” she explains, unsure of why she feels so nervous as she continues. “I kinda want to return the favor.”

He only smiles.

“Then it’s a date.”

It started as the best sex of her life, but it’s as if he’s carved out a place in her life without her noticing, seamlessly woven himself into her life, and she, his, in a way that she can’t imagine what it was like before.

It simultaneously excites her and makes her feel uneasy.

Fuck.

She doesn’t really even know what she should call ‘it’ anyway.

They haven’t really talked about it—haven’t given it a label—but with shifts at The Bear for her, running two restaurants for him, and fleeting nights spent at each others’ places before it was time to do it all over again, it’s not like they’ve had the time.

She finds herself in late Fall, almost Winter, all dressed with a newly-done silk press at yet another James Beard fundraiser. Her coat was checked in long ago as she bares her shoulders in the near-off the shoulder, gingham-printed dress, with The Restaurateur by her side. He wears thick-framed glasses, his white-collared shirt unbuttoned low enough that she’s more than ready to head back to her place to undo the rest.

It practically gives her deja vu—the two finding themselves in an all-too-familiar place—as they stand across from Carmy and The Pastry Chef, sipping on their fancy champagne and making small talk to the best of anyone’s ability.

“Hope you guys don’t mind. Can we get a few pictures?” the event photographer asks as he approaches, noting that a picture of this year’s Rising Star award recipient is a must on his shot list.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Sydney replies, a kindness in her voice even through her discomfort.

It’s not lost on her that Carmy’s more than relieved that he doesn’t have to be in the spotlight anymore, eager to step out of the way.

She poses for a few photos solo before both Carmy and The Pastry Chef are encouraged to join in, taking a few more shots with her.

“And then can we get one of the two of you?” the photographer asks, this time gesturing towards The Restaurateur.

Sydney opens her mouth to protest, to let him off the hook, because what would that mean? Before she can say anything, The Restaurateur has happily agreed, wrapping an arm around her, his hand on the small of her back.

She exchanges a look with him, something that says, ‘are you sure?’

He only nods in response, a supportive smile and a softness in his eyes that puts her at ease as if to say, ‘of course.’

Instinctively, she reaches for him, his right hand landing softly against his midsection. She feels the warmth of his palm as his hand slides up, landing somewhere above her wrist, making another point of contact. Well, now they certainly look like a couple.

“Great! That’s great, you two,” the photographer grins after taking a few more shots, his eyes fixed to the screen on his DSLR as he plays back the last few photos. “Thanks so much.”

What could this mean?

What could this be?

She doesn’t have all the answers.

Not yet, at least.

But she’ll take a wild guess—one that fills her with a certainty that she can feel in her bones.

Because tonight, he stood proudly by her side—his hands all over her as if she were his, in a photo she’s sure will make it out of Adobe Photoshop—meaning maybe, just maybe, The Restaurateur could be here to stay.

#nolita fairytale's masterlist #sydney the bear #sydney adamu #sydney is the main character #sydney adamu x oc #sydney x male oc #sydney adamu fanfiction #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear fanfiction #ayo edebiri #pedro pascal

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finniestoncrane · 2 years ago

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A Taste

The Bear!Sydney x GN!Reader, word count: 500 not one single bit of me could stop from getting this idea out i am desperate to give her a hug and a smooch and some unconditional love so it's just little but i needed it I NEEDED IT request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff and a kiss

You could smell it from the elevator, even before the doors opened on to the floor of her apartment building. There was something about it, a familiar spice, something she always put in her food, that told you it was definitely hers. So good, so tantalising. It felt like you were being dragged by your nose as you inhaled deeply down the corridor, grocery bag in hand, taking a deep breath as you unlocked and swung open the door to Sydney’s place.

“Hey, smells good in here, babe! I got the orange juice you were looking for. Specific brand and everything.”

You walked from the front door, kicking your shoes off and close to the shoe rack, juggling the paper bag in your arms.

“Got a couple more things too, just a little something for dessert!”

Rounding the corner to the open plan kitchen, you could continued before you were cut off.

“I hope that’s ok, I don’t mean to overshadow anything that… you’re… making… What are you making?”

Aside from a mess was what you wanted to follow that up with, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. Sydney clutched the underside of the counter by the stove, white knuckle grip, head down, chin against her chest. There were pots and pans everywhere. Plates, spoons, spilled sauces. Not the usual standard she kept when cooking for you, or ever. Coming up from behind her, you reached to put your hand on her lower back, but jumped back as she smacked the ladle by her hand against the backsplash, painting the wall with a smear of red spatters.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey… Syd… what’s wrong?”

“It fuckin’ sucks.”

She turned from the stove, wiping her mouth with the back of her forearm, missing a streak of the red sauce which stuck to the corner of her lips. Closing her eyes tight, she took a deep breath in and exhaled. Sensing your moment, you stepped in to her, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. Your fingers stroked up and down her spine softly, pressing your forehead to hers as she lowered her head.

“Syd… it’ll be fine. I bet it tastes amazing.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Better than anything I could make. Lemme taste it?”

She scoffed, moving her head away from you again, but you grabbed her chin between your finger and thumb and kept her close.

“Come on, please?”

“It’s everywhere, I tossed it.”

“It’s ok, I got some.”

You ran your thumb over her lips, popping it into your mouth and savouring the sauce. She looked at you, pensively.

“Well?”

“Probably need a better taste.”

Pulling her into a soft kiss, you savoured the tang on her pout, breathing in deep through your nose, the smells filling the air. The food, her shampoo, her skin. All of it delicious.

#finnie writes #the bear #people of the bear fandom who might look at this #and then look at my blog #know that I am so not normal about Batman #sydney adamu #the bear fanfiction #sydney adamu x reader #sydney adamu fanfiction

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sunflowersteves · 2 years ago

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smut: ✰ requests: ✧

| 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔 |

my baby [coming soon]

#vic's masterlist #sydney adamu x reader #sydney adamu x you #sydney adamu fanfiction #the bear #sydney adamu

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year ago

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ok so i loved this

hi!! i’ve never done this before but id like to request a sydney adamu x femreader :) like maybe with the reader being a new sous chef at the bear or old culinary school crush or smth along those lines haha or literally any other ideas u might have!! there’s an unfortunate lack of sydney fics in general so i’ll rly take anything lol. also LOVED the one you wrote recently (im losing it lately) i have been re-reading it over and over again omfg

Already better for knowing you

Sydney Adamu x female reader

Warnings/Contains: swearing, syd is so fucking awkward, carmy is a meddling shithead, mature themes (involving fruit), beginnings of a praise kink, no actual smut (can you believe it?!)

Thank you so much for requesting this, I thoroughly enjoy writing for Syd! Also sorry that I always write her the same way (awkward-lesbian-munch) but I genuinely think that’s how she’d be. Also cannot believe you’ve read my work multiple times! I didn’t know if you wanted this to be smut so I only hinted, but lemme know if you want more. Anyways, hope you like this!

Sydney and Carmy had to have the difficult talk.

With the success of The Bear, how much it had taken off with their hard work, it was time to bite the bullet.

They needed more hands in the kitchen.

Experienced hands, they needed someone that Syd could rely on. She could give an order and that person would follow.

She needed a sous chef.

They put up the ad and, sure enough, they had a number of chefs in for the interview. They were keen, mostly young, hungry for the chance to break out into their first kitchen.

Both Syd and Carm knew you had to start somewhere but they both really needed the experience, the trust, the reliability.

Their last day of interviews rolled through and Sydney couldn’t help the feeling of helplessness creeping in her chest. Last day of interviews and still no closer to a new sous.

Were they being too picky?

As she shuffled her papers of interview questions and old CVs, she watched Carmy scratch the back of his neck as he read over the last applicant’s details.

“Well, she sounds good on paper.”

Syd couldn’t help the snort she let out, elbows on the table and head resting in her hands. “They’ve all sounded good on paper.”

Carmy shrugged his shoulders at that, but nevertheless sat down beside his chef de cuisine still reading over the paper.

“Says she’s worked in a couple restaurants, out of state- she’s only recently moved to Chicago.”

Syd listened to him speak, trying to find herself a little bit more excited at the prospects.

“Graduated from the CIA, experienced with-“

That perked her up a bit, knowing it was a long shot with the number of campus locations and students that came and went from the institute.

But there was still a small chance.

“What’s her name?” She turned to read the paper over Carmy’s shoulder as the sound of the door opening filled the space.

It all happened so quickly.

The door opened.

Carmy said your name.

You appeared before her.

Still as beautiful as the last time she saw you.

As if she could forget that day, for a few reasons. One, it was graduation, obviously she was going to remember it. Two, well, you were there.

If anyone cared enough to ask, she could tell them what you wore. The way your smile shone under the stage lights. The way you smelt as you hugged her and wished her the best.

Sometimes, when things got quiet, she’d play that moment over in her head.

Sydney thought she might’ve been dreaming when she saw you striding across the auditorium right towards her. You smiled, bright smile, hand coming up to give her a quick wave.

She’d even looked over her shoulder, trying to find out who you were even waving at. By the time she looked back towards you, you were smiling harder and giggling a little.

“Yes, that was for you.” You’d teased, making a heat grow on Syd’s cheeks.

“Yeah- yeah, I knew that.”

Your smile turned into a smirk as you nodded knowingly. “Course you did.”

Then you both stood there quietly, Sydney couldn’t really focus when you were dressed like this. Granted, it was just your chefs whites, but she couldn’t deny you wore the hell out of them.

You’d been wearing them nearly every day, and it still took her breath away every time she saw you. She didn’t even notice you were speaking until you shifted to get into her eye line.

“Sorry- what was that?”

“I said I’ll miss seeing you in the kitchen.”

Syd nodded, earnestly, face softening as she spoke. “I don’t think I’ll enjoy cooking as much without you there.”

She’d surprised herself with her confidence, actually being able to say it. She was pleased to see your smile growing. There was also a glint in your eye that she couldn’t place.

Her chest tightened up as you stepped forward, hands reaching out to pull her into a hug. She melted into you, taking a deep breath to remind herself of your sweet scent.

“Soon as you make it big,” You spoke knowingly, like it was inevitable. “I’ll come find you.”

And here you were now, standing before her in her own restaurant.

You’d found her.

Her mouth fell open as she tried to find the words she’d wanted to say to you all this time. How are you? I’ve missed you? I’ve thought about you every day since the last time I saw you?

Instead, she just stayed silent. She closed her mouth, blinking up at you with those beautiful eyes of hers.

“Syd,” Her name sounded at home in your mouth. “How long has it been?”

“Three years, eight m-months.” She’d only realised how quickly she’d answered when she saw your eyebrows raise.

Carmy shifted beside her, too. It snapped her back into reality, the reality where you were standing right before her and she was acting like a fucking dickhead.

“Well, here’s hoping I’m right on time.” You didn’t look put off, you assumed that same smirk you’d given her all those three years, eight months ago.

You were, you were always right on time. Always in the right place. Always just right.

Syd managed to pull herself together enough to stand up (for whatever reason) and gesture to the seat before her and Carmy. You graciously accepted, sitting down and placing your hands on the table.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to them, the way your fingers intertwined together, the lines coming off your palms. Sydney remembered back to the institute, the distractions she’d face watching you handle a knife or split a citrus fruit.

She couldn’t think of the latter right now.

The way your fingers would pierce the skin, pulling it apart with juices spraying up your wrists. You’d scoop out the flesh with your bare hands, not caring for the way it’d leave you sticky and dripping.

You’d look up at her, finding her watching you and not minding the way she stared. The fateful day you threw the rest of the grapefruit into the scraps, bringing two fingers to your lips to lick the excess off before you washed your hands.

Sydney was completely and utterly-

“Obsessed,” Your voice brought her back into the room, only for the second or third time in the short span of time. “Obsessed with what you’ve done with this place.”

She saw Carmy smile out the corner of her eye, his cheeks blushed a little at your words. You had that effect on most people. Sydney knew better than anyone what you could do to a person with just a few words.

“Well, we’re quite impressed with your CV,” He responded, laying it out on the table. “Aren’t we, Syd?”

By the time she looked away from him, she found you were already staring at her expectantly. She nodded, mumbling an affirmative sound to the both of them.

“Really impressed, seems like you’ve done a great job since graduation.”

You lit up, that’s the only way Sydney could describe it. It was as if your heart was swelling in your chest as your cheeks rose.

“Thank you, that means a lot,” She had assumed you were referring to the both of them until you finished. “Coming from you, Syd.”

If this was how she was at the interview, lord help her in the kitchen. There was no doubt you were getting the job, that was an absolute given. But Sydney would have to think hard about how it’d work practically.

Her sous chef. Following her every move. Responding to her every word. Reliable, obedient, willing, responsive.

Syd had seen you in action at the institute, but never following her own orders. She didn’t know if she’d be able to cope with hearing your “yes, chef” and knowing it was directed at her.

Even the way you were looking at her now, so expectant, hanging on to everything she was saying. She knew that look in your eye, on your face, you’d given yourself away just a little earlier.

“Coming from you, Syd.”

Praise. You were looking for her praise.

The thought sent Sydney into overdrive, forcing her to stand up abruptly and knock her knees into the table as she did.

Both you and Carmy looked up at her in confusion, your mouth opening to ask if everything was alright.

Syd cut you off, babbling as she walked away from the table. “I just remembered- remembered that the stove is on and- that’s the number one cause of kitchen fires- and I will be right back!”

She kept talking as she eventually made her way into the kitchen, hiding in the space right next to the oven (that hadn’t been on all morning).

Sydney knew she was fucked. Royally, totally, well and truly fucked. The crush she’d had on you at the institute had been debilitating and, whilst she’d missed you, these three years and eight months had meant she was finally able to focus.

Now here you were, in her kitchen and looking like everything she’d ever wanted.

Syd had no idea how long she stayed hiding in the kitchen but sooner or later Carmy came through with a stupid smile on his face, leaning against the bench.

“Think you handled that really well.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m begging you.”

He laughed, laying the brown folder he’d been carrying down beside him as he crossed his arms. She looked up at him, wincing a little as she already knew what was coming.

“You gave her the job, didn’t you?”

Carmy laughed louder, looking down at the heap of Sydney on the floor. She could kick his shins right now.

“Of course I did,” He responded, pushing up from the bench as he turned to leave. “Have fun training your new sous chef.”

Fucked. Completely fucked.

#sydney adamu fanfiction

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carmenized-onions · 8 months ago

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Don't Say It. | Closing Out

logline; just say it in every way but the one way that makes it weird.

[!!!] series history; did y'all notice the banner rebrands? tell me you think they look nice and good and cool or i'll. start crying.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. how is it more than 7 hours. my god.

portion; 14k was hoping we'd reenter our single digits era but we ball

possible allergies; two mentally ills battle it out (romantic).

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader almost certain there are gendered bits/pronouns but can't honestly completely remember.

(new!) kofi; I have one now! if you've enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

moving into a new place literally in two days!! high stress. so thank you for waitin' as always pwease enjoy and pwease tell me what you think!

You take a good long breath, sitting on the counter in the bathroom. Right. Time is linear and you’re in New York again— Never left. Right. Carmen’s sitting across from you, it’s kind of a shock this floating sink counter hasn’t collapsed under the two of you yet. How long have you been here? Swapping stories took a long fucking time, and there’s still, disgustingly, a lot to unpack.

“Any shoes left undropped?” You drum your hands against your knees, the question is as much for yourself as it is for him.

Carmen opts to open with a soft ball. “You called me Carmy?” Before you knew me, you called me Carmy?

“I called you a lot of things.”

“Like virgin Michelin Star chef?” He’s failing to hide the upturned corners of his mouth, when he says it.

You snort and nod, “Like virgin Michelin Star chef, or Carmy, or Carm, or baby boy, baby bear, mister New York— Basically all Mikey’s, I think the only one I coined was Charmin.”

“Charmin?”

“Like the—” He finishes with you, “—Toilet paper bears.” and whether he should be or not, he cannot stop laughing, when you confess this.

“I thought it was a good bit!” “Cause I’m a piece of shit?” “Bitch—Cause you clean up, and you’re a bear, and Carmen sounds like Charmin, and Charmin sounds like charming and I—”

You pause, cringing, parasocial relationship coming to a head now. When your best friend wants you to get with his hot talented brother living in the Big Apple, it’s hard not to fantasize about, alright? “...I found you very charming.”

God, it’s just far too easy for you to render him completely speechless. It’s really not fucking fair. Carmen looks like a deer in headlights, he looks how he did in your car, a month or so ago, when he bit the bullet and asked you out. Well, promised to ask you out. He swallows, no more glass in his throat, but it does feel a little scratchy, kinda like, like pop rocks?

Pop rocks, yeah. Sweet, salivating. “Do you still?”

You squint, like he’s a moron. He is. “Of course I do.” Cherry pop rocks. Yeah, that sort of spritz feeling, on the tongue, and the way it continues to simmer all the way down. “I don’t want you to stop being you, by the way, Carm.”

“Huh?” What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you want him to change, he sucks.

“I—” You’re quick to clarify, straightening your posture. “I think it’s great to— to do the work, and therapy and reading and self-care— That’s all— That’s very good, and you should do it— For you, not me, but I— One bad night is not how I’ll think of you— You’re— You’re not a bad person, is I guess all I’m trying to fuckin’ say.”

You’re sweet. Sweet but with depth, slowly developed, caramelized, tart. Maybe a fruity molasses.

Carmen swallows, it’s hard to digest the sweet. “I— I’m not a bad person, but I could be better.” Pomegranate molasses. It’s got an acidic kick. Sort of like balsamic.

“I could be better, too.” Could you? Please God, don’t try, he can’t compete. No, shit, hold on, stop pedestaling. “You kinda got my ass, with peoples’ princess.”

Carmen cringes, there’s the acid. “I should not have said—”

“I have a fucking saviour complex, Carm. And it’s just as bad for everyone else as it is for me.”

Bite, yet tender. You continue on. “I do need to work on that. And I should’ve explained more when we first met, it was just— You know… I know you know.” Medium rare, steak medallion— No— rectangle.

Pomegranate molasses, thick—Nearly sorbet thick. Poured onto the plate, centered, perfect circle. Medium rare wagyu steak— A3, maybe; too much fat would ruin the composition. Rectangular, off center. Dust with cherry pop rocks. Bizarre, but it might actually be something. Bad, but something. Not tired or overdone, that’s for sure. Anything but dusty.

Carmen missed you for a lot of reasons this week, but it’s almost annoying how merely being in your presence for a few hours has given him more inspiration to work with than he has had in the last one-hundred and sixty-eight hours, without you. But who’s counting?

It’s easy to make things, when they’re for you. When they’re about you.

“I should’ve listened, when you were ready, but I got defensive and—I— I do that a lot, clearly, I just—” Carmen tries not to bite at his nails and fingers, because his therapist, Sara, said not to do that. What the fuck does she know? A lot, actually.

“That’s just kinda how— we’d do things. Like that’s how we—” Carmen frowns, memories dawning on him. “…I guess maybe we never really talked.”

You don’t need to ask who we is. His family didn’t particularly set Carmen up for success. And every figure after his family didn’t really lighten the load. There’s not much for you to say or do beyond, “I like talking to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re allowed to still be mad at me.” Carmen reassures, he’s not sure why he feels the need to do so. “You can— You can tell me to go fuck myself.”

You shake your head, shrugging. “You can tell me to go fuck myself.”

He shakes his head, immediately, squinting, like you’re a moron; you are. “I would never tell you to go fuck yourself.”

It’s a silent moment of exchanging hard stares and trying to glean something from the other. Once you gather your findings, you finally return to your era of speaking in sync again, with, “I don’t hate you.”

It's a hellish realization, that you thought it was possible, let alone certain, to hate you. He could cry again. “Why would you ever think I hate you?”

You raise your brows, because how could you not think Carmen hates you? “Because you said—”

“I didn’t mean a fucking word.” He says it differently than he did before. Like it’s a final warning. He immediately recoils at his own voice and its aggression.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen scratches his nose, continuing for the both of you. What more can he say? He’s already said it a million times, so what’s one more? When you try to speak, he doesn’t let you. Because he knows you. He knows you’ll brush it off. “I don’t want you to forgive me, right now. I want to prove I earned it.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

“Yeah, Sara said that, too. You’re both wrong.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your therapist can be wrong, in this scenario.”

“Please.” Carmen props his knee up on the counter, his hands, in some way, mimic a prayer. He holds eye contact, he thanks whoever is in charge that you’re holding it again, too. “Let me earn it.”

Carmen will learn that he doesn’t need to earn anything or prove anything to anyone eventually. He’ll need more than six therapy sessions crammed in during his lunch breaks, for that. But right now, he needs to prove this. Needs to earn you. For now, you'll give it to him. For now, you just nod.

Carmen chews his bottom lip, he doesn’t want to say it but he has to. “When I said—” You failed Mikey. “—What I said— I didn’t mean it how I said it.”

You bring your legs up, criss crossing them. “How’d you mean it?” How else could he possibly mean it?

“I meant it like— Like— Of course he died.”

They’re Berzatto men, they’re doomed. “Nothing you could have done would have stopped him from dying— And I— It hurt cause it felt like— In—In that moment— In my head—” He puts a hand up, pausing to reassure, “Nothing you did. But I felt like I was ‘Round Two’ for you. Charity. I—”

Carmen swallows, looking down, can’t meet your eyes for the moment, but he points at you. “You didn’t fail Mikey— He failed to know he was worth saving.”

A wound closes up, a little bit, somewhere in your head and heart. “I think in some ways, I was trying to make up for something—”

You’re quick to clarify, too. “But not cause you’re you— Cause I’m me.” Have to do it all. Have to fix it all. Have to save it all. “Like— I think I might have that edge of paranoia for like, like a long time, if not… forever?”

You frown; what a bleak idea. “Fuck, I may need to go back to therapy, too.”

“You want Sara’s card?” “Sliding scale?” “Sliding scale.” “Is it weird to have the same therapist?” “Probably.” “I’ll look into it.”

You both laugh, the weighted blanket of tension over you both is finally lifting. Carmen’s capable of looking you in the eyes again. “You did literally everything someone could think of.”

You kiss your teeth, you could’ve done a couple more things. “I mean, location—”

“He never would’ve given it to you.” “That’s exactly it, though— I should’ve put my foot down more. I was never as strict as I was supposed to be.” “But if you were strict he wouldn’t let you help him.” “Sponsors are meant to be strict.” “Then he wouldn’t’ve let you be his sponsor.” “Then I shouldn’t have been his sponsor!” “Then he would’ve never joined the program!” “Well—” “It’s not your fucking fault!”

Carmen doesn’t hate you, Carmen doesn’t think you killed his brother. Heavy exhale of too many emotions and a touch of relief. But you can see yourself in his expression. You can see Richie in his expression. The guilt. The haunting. You swallow, “Not yours, either.”

“I could’ve called more.” “He wouldn’t have answered.” “I could’ve realized why.” “And how exactly could you have done that?” “...I dunno, could’ve— Could’ve been the guy, for him.” “Carmen you were the guy, for him.”

Carmen shakes his head. “You were the guy, for Mikey.”

“I— Okay—” You click your tongue, this is hard to explain. You shift on the sink counter, trying to get more comfortable. You won’t. It’s a fucking sink. “I was the guy, but the guy to another guy isn’t much— you—” You snap your fingers, pointing at him. “You’re not the guy, Carmen. Never will be.”

“Ouch.”

“No— You’re something much more important than the guy. You’re— You’re the, the cat.”

He can’t help but smile, confused. He’s so used to bear comparisons. “I’m the cat?”

“You’re—” You keep pointing at him, thinking the metaphor in your head through. “...The guy is— Is like the host of the house party. He keeps the jokes going, the room light, the drinks and food stocked— He talks people through panic attacks while they sit in the bathtub, he loses at beer pong on purpose to make the other team feel better, the guy makes everyone feel like they’re the center of the universe.”

“And the cat?”

“The cat is upstairs, locked in his room, because the cat will get all jittery if he’s around all that yelling and all those people. The cat doesn’t even like those people. And the guy doesn’t want his cat to go through that. But then, when the guy finally gets all jittery and can’t handle all those people himself—” You sigh, honestly stressed by your own metaphor, thinking of all the moments in your life you needed the cat and didn’t call.

“He’ll go upstairs, to his room, and the cat will be there, and he can talk to the cat— Because the cat likes him. And nothing will be solved, but it’ll still feel good and the cat will still think his guy’s perfect and wonderful even when the guy is just— just him— And the cat asks literally nothing of the guy— Unlike everyone else downstairs— and that’s exactly why the guy wants to give the cat everything over anyone else.”

God, you’ve been talking about cats and guys too much. “Not everyone needs a cat, but the guys that do, really do. And you’re… You’re the cat— Mikey’s and mine.”

Carmen can’t say I love you, because that would be an insane response. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid. But it’s the only thing he can think of. The only thing he can say besides that, is, “You’re very good to me.”

You’re not exclusively for Carmen, he knows that. You’re not made for him— You’re made for many things. But maybe you’re curated. The Bear wouldn’t exist without your advocacy. And it’s hard to believe, but there might’ve been even more broken shit at The Beef, if you hadn’t been there before Carmen got there. Mikey got to be your friend, before Carmen did. And you got to be Mikey’s friend, when Carmen didn’t. But you both kept him in mind, you told Mikey to text, you drew schematics for his restaurant, you said you’d talk to him. You thought he was charming. You still do. You’re Mikey’s pick, for Carmen. And it’s not like Mikey’s opinion matters that much, but it’s nice to have approval. Though he didn’t fucking ask for it.

“Such a cat response.” “Is that like being a Leo or some shit?”

You both laugh. Ah, thank fuck, it’s you two, again. There’s a comfortable silence while you think for a second, before asking, “Can I add another thing to your non-negotiables?”

“Always.”

“I don’t want you to be different for me.” You think back to being in his kitchen, the way he tried to hold back, when you were around. “I get you, work you, home you— If you want me to be your fuckin’ mixologist, you’re gonna have to get comfortable working with me.”

“You still want to work for me?”

“I shook on it, didn’t I?”

He laughs through a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Damn,” You snort, “Are you only with me for my skills?”

“No, I’m with you because you’re— You.” The kitchen needs you, The Bear needs you, Carmen needs you. He’s the cat, he doesn’t need anything more than you. He can work on his codependency issues in therapy, okay? “I— I like having you around.”

You readjust your posture again, it’s hard to get comfortable on a sink. “Well, you better get paid soon, then.”

“‘Bout that.” Boy came prepared. He rifles through the pockets of his black jeans, and pulls out a folded slip of paper. He does a yoga class worthy stretch to hand it to you, from across the sink. A paystub, from The Bear, to Carmen. Officially on fucking payroll.

Yeah, turns out, just a bad week, last week. Being in the red doesn’t last forever. Neither does being in the green. There are ebbs and flows. Next week will probably be shit, and yet the wheel still turns. Carmen also might’ve very well plugged in half of the numbers wrong, according to Sugar, when she eventually got to looking at it. But that’s neither here nor there. So he’s reactive. What’s new? Should’ve believed the you in his head, when she said there will be good and bad weeks. He’s still working on being the only voice in his head. But you’re a good replacement for the other guy, for now.

You stare at it, like an ancient scroll. It’s real. He’s really getting paid— Pretty decent too, he could finally buy some fucking furniture, with this. “Okay.” You look up from the slip to him. He looks like he’s on fucking Shark Tank, anxiously awaiting your approval. “And you’ll act like you?”

“I will act like me.” Even when he doesn’t want you to see it, Carmen will act like Carmen.

And that’s all you could ask for, really. You’re about to approve the deal, but then you think again, frowning. “The Exec.”

“Ah.” Carmen shuts his eyes, embarrassed by his own brain. “I know.”

“So you thought about it?”

“I didn’t think about— It—” Carmen doubted his own conviction, because he doubts all of himself. But it really was not ever on the table, to give your number…That said— “I thought about loopholes.”

“Catfishing him?” You guess, and he affirms. “Catfishing him.” Hey, great minds think alike. Doesn’t make Carmen feel any less scummy, for considering abusing your likeness for sake of approval.

“Did you go through with it?”

It’s Carmen’s turn, to blink, slow to realize that you actually don’t know. “Richie didn’t tell you?” You still live in a world where Carmen isn’t completely batshit.

You tilt your head, “Did Richie catfish him?”

“No, uhm—” He seems suddenly sheepish now. Can’t look you in the eyes, again. He nods and points to your pockets. “You got your phone?”

“Uh, yeah—” You pull it out, haven’t gotten any sudden creepshow texts, to your knowledge. “Should I be scared?”

Carmen shakes his head. “Nothin’ worse than what you’ve already seen.” He snaps his fingers at your phone, “Look up uh— I think it’s— Chicago Bear on Yankee Chef turf, or some shit.”

You have to take a moment, before typing, to just look at him with genuine pause. “...What?”

“Just do it.” “Did you kill someone?” “I do not have blood on my hands, the Tribune is just dramatic—” “The fucking Tribune?! Shut the fuck up, Carmy.”

Absolutely no way he’s in the Chicago Tribune.

Okay. Upon searching. Absolutely yes way he’s in the Chicago Tribune. Carmen’s trending on Twitter— Or rather, Chicago, The Bear, Bear, Carmy, Michelin Beef, Fuck the Yanks, and a million other keywords are trending— Local trending, but still trending. Chicago Tribune’s made an article archiving a handful of reaction tweets, summarizing whatever the fuck happened. Alright, this is taking too long, maybe you should just ask the man in front of you— “Oh my fucking God, there’s a video.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t watch—” Carmen is interrupted by his own voice coming through your phone. “—And what kind of fucking Chef doesn’t like black pepper? I’m white and overdone, but you’re an entire other goddamn beast—” “...That.”

It’s a screen recording of some patron’s Facebook Live at some New York restaurant David owns or whatever. Empire? That’s what the blurry signs in the video’s background seem to say. What’s his title at this point, anymore? Doesn’t matter.

It’s nice to see his blurry little face around ten to twenty feet from the camera get yelled at by a Carmen that is also many feet away, but his voice seems to be projecting throughout the whole restaurant; enough to be heard clearly through recording, anyways. “And it’d be enough to just be an asshole— But you’re a creep too— Never fuckin’ pray on my— my— bar staff, or I swear on my life—”

“Can’t make direct threats in New York, Cousin! Penal code!” You laugh when you hear Richie’s voice ringing out in the background. Thank God for whoever’s filming, because they pivot their phone to catch Richie, pretty much next to their table, calling out to Carmen. “It’s a fine!”

He looks tired but wired; they must’ve taken a pitstop here, before heading to the hotel. What a fun road trip finale. Richie is such a motherfucker for not telling you all of this first thing while you put on his cufflinks— This is not dirty details, this is front page shit! Literally! God, he buries the lead like it’s his fucking day job.

“Who gives a fuck about a fine? Everyone—” And back to Carmen. “This is David Fields, he’s the head of the head of the head, in their heads— He’s a fantastic chef, I don’t think he eats or sleeps or knows what another person’s hands feel like— He is fuckin’ brilliant at making the same three fuckin’ plates every fuckin’ day— With the most minute differences— And—And—And— He doesn’t even make them! He takes dishes from prozac riddled fucks like me, makes them worse and then puts his name on it! Unoriginal, a narcissist, and fucking bad at it!”

You don’t look up from your phone, eyes glued to the screen. “Holy fuck, Carmen.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” “Is this good marketing?” “Wait for it, I guess.” “...Are you actually on prozac?” “No. I kind of blacked out. Made a point though, right?” “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Sorry, miss. Could I—” …Fak? Guess he did third wheel on the road trip to New York. He grabs the streamer’s phone. There’s a ‘what the—fuckin— excuse me?’ from behind the camera as Fak pivots the recording to himself.

“Hey World, I’m Neil, that’s my best friend Carmy the Bear, over there.”

“Jesus Christ.” You look up from your phone to Carm, who was at first embarrassed and is now just trying to hold a straight face, hand over his mouth. “I’m aware.” He repeats.

You squint, thinking.“...Best friend?” “...I guess he is?” “That’s— Okay— I don’t— Alright, we’ll come back to that.” And return to your phone.

Fak continues, taking advantage of the sudden screen time. “He’s a really good Chef, knows his shit, if you ever want to see how he does it, please come eat— Dine— Dine with us at The Bear, we’re in Chicago— on North Orleans and Huron— You can— Can book with us at The Bear dot—”

“Don’t have the site yet.” Richie interrupts the impromptu ad, hovering over Fak’s shoulder, barely whispering. “Still The Beef.”

Neil nods and continues. “The Beef dot squarespace—”

“It’s Wix.” “It’s fucking Wix?” “Your problem isn’t with the lack of a domain?”

“It’s Google Sites, actually.” You correct for no one, really, looking up from your phone to Carmen, again. “I made him change it so it wouldn’t have that ugly freemium bar.”

Carmen snorts, shaking his head. Of course you did. “D’you design it?”

You let out a loud, “Ha!” before turning back down to the screen. “I think web design might be the one trade I can’t do.” But you’re willing to learn, if he needs.

Ah, the videographer managed to foist her phone back, returning to catch the very end of the Carmen Show. And it’s a wonderful finale, from Carm.

“—Fuck your two elements, fuck your face— Fuck everything about you— I cannot believe we gave you service— Let alone our best— For a guy in hospitality, you have no fucking right treating my host and somme like that. Fuck you—”

“Fuck you—” Finally a response from David, though it’s quickly interrupted, as Carmen finally starts to back away, not wanting a genuine fight if he doesn’t have to do it, but he certainly wants the last word. “No, fuck you—”

“Fuck you.” “—Chef— Stay in your fucking city— Stay in your fucking city— New Yorks great! Stay in it! We don't play in Chicago— Fuck you!”

Carmen comes back to his road trip squad, he notices the woman recording, and walks up to the camera. For a second, you genuinely think he’s going to square up with her— You’re pretty sure he at least thought about it. “Is she recording?”

“Streaming.” Answers Fak. “It’s the new thing.”

Carmy opts to use his words, possibly because he could maybe get arrested. “Sorry, sorry— I just want to make it clear—”

He gestures to the fucker in the background, bouncers seems to be approaching. Carmen keeps going, face red but calming down, chasing his own breath. “This man worked— and works with wonderful Chefs who I learned a lot under— And— And— I have all the respect for them, and always will— But-But— when it comes to David Fields specifically—”

Your cherry and lamb dish was perfect. David’s palate is just not worth appealing to. Carmen won’t make that mistake again.

“—What he serves is consistently vapid, dusty, and dead on arrival— like his heart— And—And— When you pay him, dine with him, work with him, you are lining the pockets of some fuckin’ creep that pulls rank on honest cooks and servers. So. Decide if you want that. And uhm— Uh— Tip your servers. Don’t ask for their numbers— Like he does. Be normal. Thank you.”

“Carmen Berzatto, folks! Come— Come to The Bear!” Yells out Neil, as security finally seems to be coming for the Chicagoans.

Richie grabs Fak by the back of his coat, knowing when to bounce, shouting, “No legal names! Godssake— This has been Carmichael Burrowski, folks! Don’t call no one—!”

The screen recording ends, not long after that. You’re going to need maybe a… fifty minute nap, to process that. Maybe, somehow, this is good publicity— Maybe in some way, this is putting The Bear on the center stage. But one thing is fact, Carmen completely abandoned the idea of keeping appearances and getting a star through kissing ass. He completely abandoned the idea of being appealing to the man in his head.

And he did that for you— And Richie— Which, honestly, makes it mean even more. Carmen’s a good boss. Not always. Definitely not always. But when it fucking counts, he is. Carmen's a good man. A good friend. A good not-quite boyfriend. Ugh, boyfriend? What kind of word is ‘boyfriend’? That's fucked.

You put your phone away, quietly nodding and thinking, not looking at Carmen. You shrug, attempting to be nonchalant. “Contract and I’ll be your mixologist.”

“Yeah?” There’s such a brightness, to the way Carmen asks. Like a spritz. “Okay. I’ll— I’ll send you a Docusign.” Aperol spritz. There’s more to it, than that though.

You’re so zoned out, looking at the sinks instead of Carmen, he starts to get worried. He just got eye contact back, come on. Was the yelling too much in the video? He was loud and mean. He always is. He told you not to watch.

“Tony?” What kind of bitters suit him? A slice of grapefruit might be nice. Bright but acquired.

“Are you good?”

“Wha—” You shake your head out of it, turning your gaze to Carmen. He jumped off the counter to stand by you. His hand hovers by your head— He considers grazing your hair, and chickens out. But he can’t put it down. “Sorry, was— I was uh— Just thinking of what we could put on a cocktail menu, that’s all.” Yeah, that’s all.

“Don’t work on it, without me.” It’s with a, dare you say, panicked quickness, that he requests this. “Cocktail menu, coffee menu, we should— Should do R and D, together.”

“Yeah, f’sure.” Fucking Chefs, so particular about their menus. “I think it’d be good to uhm— Build it around the main menu, anyways. Sorta match stuff up.” Thankfully, you like particular.

He really needs to not be standing this close, though. Your brain keeps zoning in and out— It’s really not the time to be feeling any sort of type of way about Carmen cursing out that fucking chef and going to therapy for himself and you and he smells nice and he’s reading books and he worked bar all night with you and he looks so nice in bartender black in lieu of his Chef whites and he is trying so hard and— And you cannot say you love him because that would be weird. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid.

And you can’t forgive him either— Well, not aloud, because Carmen wants to prove that he’s done the work— Wants to prove that he’s going to keep doing the work. He’s rendered you with nearly zero options here, to show your affection.

“Yeah, that’s— That’d be good. I was thinkin’ we’d put your station by Marcus.” Why is he still talking about work? He’s so stupid. He’s wonderful. This is the worst. This is hell. “Coffee machine’s already there, and you’ll tend to share a lot of elements, anyway— I think.”

You shift your butt on the counter, turning to face him head on, he’s just slightly between your knees as your legs dangle off the counter. “Carmen.”

“Yeah?” “I’m going to kiss you.” “Yeah, okay.”

Light, nervous, sweet, lifting, soft— A delicate kick to it. Pink peppercorn bitters. That’s it.

Aperol— Vibrantly orange liqueur, derived from bitter rhubarb. It’s an acquired taste. Some say it’s citrusy and herbal, others say it tastes like cough syrup. Either way, it’s awakening. Then prosecco. A splash of soda— Lemon-lime would be best. Aperol spritz. It’s an Italian cocktail. It sparkles. Everything in it fizzes, almost competing with each other. It’s meant to be enjoyed before dinner. It’s refreshing. Pink peppercorns and grapefruit would only add to that brightness, that light. It’s not for everyone, but it is everything to some. That’s Carmen. That’s your Carmen. Oh, maybe a syrup on the rim?

You try to be delicate, the way you put the palm of your hand on the back of his head and pull him in, but it’s just not possible. It’s the first time in a fucking month you’ve initiated— It's been one-hundred and sixty-eight hours since you've seen his face, let alone touched it— It’s just not possible to be kind.

Thankfully, based on the way he’s leaning you back on the counter, hands on your waist, it doesn’t seem like Carmen wants kind. There's a sigh of relief, to just kiss you. He’s fine with the touch of hair pulling, on your part— Possibly more than fine. Possibly way more than fine. The faint whining and pulling your hips to his seem to indicate it’s a lot fucking more than fine.

It would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon to say I love you, but you can mouth the words against him and he can’t tell what you’re wording but at least you know. It’s funny that he can do the same to you, and despite knowing the trick, you can’t tell either.

Carmen pulls back, just a centimeter, or two. He wants to say something. He’s opening his mouth to say something. He's all dopey and half-lidded. Man, he’s pretty. He knows that right? Yeah, he knows that. “You’re so pretty.” You tell him anyway, speaking into his half open mouth.

Whatever thought he had, it’s dead now.“—Jesus fucking Christ.” He moves his hands to hold your face. It’s nice. It’s nice to get peppered with kisses— Yeah, pink pepper fits perfectly with him.

Carm’s voice is heavier now. Maybe from the lack of oxygen. He’s fighting to revive his brain. He’s so serious, when he firmly kisses you, forehead against yours, lips still grazing, saying, “I’m not a fucking virgin.”

You laugh way too fucking hard for his ego. Your hands untangle from his hair, but your arms continue to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s still amped, too bad you’re you, and you have to ruin the mood to poke at him.

“That a recent development?” “Shut the fuck up—” “I’m just wondering, if he was accurate at the time—” “Why are you doing this to me?” “Did you have a tantric affair in Denmark, the people wanna know!” “I— There was no time, alright? It got away from me—” “Remember when you had your first kind of girlfriend like a month and a week ago?” “It was a recent development, okay?” “Darn. Sorry I was late.”

He pauses the banter to just stare at you, take in your features, take in that you’re here and real and half underneath him. “Not forgiven.” You should’ve shown up sooner. You should’ve injected yourself so completely in Carmen’s life eons ago, and made yourself intrinsically impossible to remove. Absolutely not forgiven, for being late.

“Yeah?” Your eyes upturn, deeply amused. Carmen really is the baby brother. Entitled, bratty, cute. You’re planning to say something coy, something playful like ‘Ohoho, how do I earn your forgiveness?’ But you remember something Carmen said, when he was summarizing his Friday night for you— And for Carmen, what you opt to say is so much worse than hot banter, for his brain.

“I don’t think your mouth tastes bad.” It’s your turn to take in his face and all its features. “I think it’s nice. It’s like the only way I can try cigarettes without getting a headache.”

“I wanna fly you to Paris.” It’s so quick, from Carmen. Choked quick— Like he fought to hold it down but you’ve just opened the Pandora’s box that is his mouth. He keeps going. Your surprised face firmly smushed in his hands.

“I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since I asked you to run bar— I’ve— I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since you washed my hair— I—I—” Too much affection to contain in words, he has to kiss you, and then he has to keep going, and then kiss you between the ‘ands’, and then keep going. Like a shot and a chaser and a shot and a chaser and a—

“I want you to be permanent and carved in my tables and I want you to wear my jackets and I want you in my kitchen and in my menu and in every dumb fucking conversation I have at Christmas tellin’ family what the fuck I’m doing— I want you in every sentence.”

It’s not ‘I love you’. Because saying I love you would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon. But it might very well be more than that. Trying to avoid saying it might be forcing you both to say something that means more than that.

It’s hard to generate a response as poignant as that. Especially because your cognitive abilities seem to have gone completely offline. Your brain is telling you to kill the moment so you don’t have to face the feeling, telling you to say something stupid like, ‘Why Paris?’, because if you don't, you might say it. But you can’t. You’re totally speechless.

Eventually, you manage to choke out, “I would like that.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ah, a smile from Carmen with teeth. What a rare gift you’ve been bestowed. He tries to celebrate this occasion with another kiss that will inevitably lead to a million more but when he goes for his classic move of sticking his head in the crook of your neck to bite you like a cannibal— You get the chance to look somewhere other than Carmen’s face, and realize you are both still very much so in a fucking bathroom at a fucking wedding in New York.

“Fak is still outside, I’m pretty sure.”

Carmen groans, there’s no way you’re doing this to him again, come on, neither of you have to go this time, you have all the time in the world, in this bathroom. Time isn’t real here. That’s how bathrooms work. “He’s not.”

“Carmy’s right, I’m not.” Says definitely totally not Fak, behind the door. “You guys kissin’ yet?”

“Christ.” You put a hand on Carm’s chest, pushing him back from you as you push yourself up with your other hand. “Mood dead.”

“No—” He grabs your wrist, holding your hand in place against him. “Mood not dead— Mood present and alive—”

There’s some fumbling behind the door. “Wait— Are they?” Oh, so Richie’s here, too? Good. That’s great. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way— Cousin, be a gentleman—”

Carmen leans over and all but screams into your shoulder. “I am being a fuckin’ gentleman, Richard!”

You kiss your teeth, shaking your head, shrugging. “Yeah, it’s dead.” Them’s the breaks.

A slow, heavy, arduous exhale, from Carmen, coming up to lean his forehead to yours for a second. Enjoying the liminal space before it’s permanently ripped out of your hands. “I hate my family.”

You smile, pressing your forehead firmer against his, nuzzling noses. “You love your family.”

“I love my family.” He sighs. He gives you one last kiss, soft, sweet, perfect. “Thank you for taking care of them.”

You shrug. “They’re mine, too.”

God, you’re so quick and mind-bending, he has to go for another kiss, come the fuck on— “Mood’s dead.” You laugh, so cruel, jumping off the counter, maneuvering past Carmen, but you’re sweet— Cruel but sweet— Carefully switching his hold on your wrist to holding your hand, dragging him with you.

You might be leaving the bathroom together, but Carmen’s pretty sure a part of him is going to stay there, like a ghost of a feeling, for the rest of time.

“Okay— Is everyone waiting to piss?” Is your first question, for the crowd awaiting you and Carmy outside the bathroom. Not strangers, though—Well, mostly not strangers. Richie, Syd, Fak, some guy that looks like Fak. There’s no way they all need to piss, there were three other bathrooms available, it's not like you were hogging. “Is fuckin’ anyone runnin’ bar right now?”

“Marcus is.” Syd answers, hurriedly, as she runs up on you, immediately enveloping you— Practically an attack. It’s not in her nature to hug, but you’ve forced her hand here. Carmen hasn’t even exited the doorway behind you yet before you’re stumbling back into him from the force of her.

“Squ—”

The words come out of her like a flood, no spacing between the words. “I’m-sorry-I— We-finished-serving-and-listened-in-on-everything-super-invasive-couldn’t-help-it— You should’ve called me.”

This— These motherfuckers. Oh well, saves you the trip to Denny’s. And frankly, you would hate to re-explain all that. You return the hug with your free hand, the other one still in Carmen’s. You put your chin on her shoulder. “I know.”

There were so many times where you could’ve just gone upstairs. So many times you could’ve just called your old cat. Should’ve just called Syd. She would have been there. Maybe that’s exactly why you didn’t call.

“I should’ve called you.” Maybe that’s exactly why Syd never called her guy, when she needed you, too.

“Well,” You pull her back by her shoulders, “We will next time.”

You can’t let the moment stay sincere for long though, shit-eating grin growing on your face, “You’d give up a star for me?” Nuzzling your face into Syd’s cheek as she desperately tries to get away from you now— Oh how the tables turn.

“Get fucked—” “You love me— I’m all you got, Syd? Woww—” “After my dad I said! After my dad!” “A single widdle tear from me isn’t worth a star?” “It was not widdle— Little— Fuck—”

“This is cute princesses but everyone get the fuck out of the way before I clog an artery.” Richie unnecessarily shoves his way between the Faks to get to you.

You release Syd to face the man, pensive, waiting for a slap, honestly. Richie just looks at you, now that he’s in front of you he’s dumbfounded, awkward. He knows he wants to say something or wants you to say something but neither of you know what that is. What it should be.

Before he can figure it out, you do. “I should’ve told you.” Besides your therapist, Carmen is the only person you told about the phone call— Well, intentionally, that is.

That doesn’t really seem to be the thing he cares about. He’s not going to slap you, and you don’t need to grovel. “Am I dead, to you?”

Your brows furrow, for a second. “Wha—”

Richie grabs your free hand, pressing it to his neck. “Check my pulse, am I dead, t’you?”

“First of all, wrong placement.” You have to wiggle your hand out of his grip to take his pulse correctly. “It’s under the chin, align it with your eye—”

“Do I have one?” “Yes, Richie, you have a pulse.” “So I’m not dead?” “You’re not dead—” “Then call me.”

When your breath hitches, he continues. “I’m not a ghost. I’m here. When shit happens, you call me.”

“I know.” Is the only thing you can say without your voice cracking. “I will call next time.”

“You will fucking call, next time.” Richie grabs your face, smushed in his hands. “And you’ll answer my calls, next time.” He forces you to nod— Not that you wouldn’t, but wants to make sure. “Am I heard?”

“You're heard.”

Richie can see over your head, so he barks at Carmen, who’s very innocently behind you, still holding your hand. “Get your weird little hands off my Chip, you perv—”

“I don’t have weird little hands—”

Syd pipes in, squinting. “Why is that the thing you refute—”

“Why does God let these moments happen to me?” You grumble, words muffled with your face still compacted by Richie’s hands.

“I think it’s beautiful, actually.” Says some guy that looks like Fak. You just stare at him with your partially forced closed eyes. “Just the vibes, so— like— tender.”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” You deadpan, pointing at Other Fak. “Has this guy just learned shit I haven’t even told my own father?”

“We definitely just got here.” Lies Fak, next to Other Fak. He continues, “We didn’t hear anything about the really sad way you both actually did attend the funeral but didn’t—”

Other Fak astutely interrupts to add, sniffing. “But if we did it’d be like, like really meaningful that you both like, did that.” Is he tearing up? Richie needs to check your pulse, are you dying?

“Everyone please back the fuck up?” Carmen sighs, behind you, then beside you, letting go of your hand to put it on your shoulder. “Like maybe give two solitary fuckin’ seconds?”

There’s a stuttering of apologies as everyone realizes yeah, maybe a bit much to immediately jump you. Richie drops your face, everyone takes a step back.

You keep staring at Other Fak. Squinting, you point to him. “Ted?” Guy who they called instead of you?

He nods, “Hi—”

“No.” You wave your hand in front of his face, cutting him off. You turn to Carmen, just shaking your head plainly. “No.”

“Heard.”

“Y’know how going to a different barber is like cheating—?”

“No, like I got it—”

“This is like times a thousand—”

“I am hearing the note—”

“Fak can— Neil can fix shit, I took his spot, it’s fair— Outsourcing someone though—?”

“Won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t.”

“It was— Should I have called you back in?”

“No, you should have had a broken light until we talked it out or let it be broken for the rest of your life.” There is not much you could ever find yourself getting genuinely jealous about— This, however, is a knife to the heart. Another handyman is a child out of wedlock, practically.

“Heard.”

“I spent way too long stalking you.” Interrupts Syd, she’s looking at her phone, a jumble of aggravated misspelled texts coming from the work group chat. “Fuck, I’ve gotta help Tina with clean up— We’ll—” She sticks a hand out, you reach out and hold it, for a moment. “You’re still— We’re still sharing, right?”

You tilt your head, confused, oh— “I’m still gonna sleep in our room, Syd. You weird pervert.”

Syd lets go of your hand, shaking her own hands around her head, talking just as fast as she speed walks away to the kitchen. “I am not a weird pervert, I’m sexually normal, don’t be weird, goodbye! Love you, fuck you, see you later!”

Richie claps his hands, “We’re closing out, so I’ve gotta go pick up vases or some shit— Faks, c’mon—”

“Y’know we’re just regular guests, right?” Says Ted. They let Fak come on the road trip despite not doing a job? Medals of Valor need to be doled out.

“Pbbt, come the fuck on, here boy.” Richie starts to walk off, and the whistling is condescending, but they listen anyway. Rich looks over his shoulder, snapping his fingers at Carmen. “Probationary forgiveness.”

Carmen nods, “Thank you, Chef.”

“Dee-Dee’s here, by the way.”

Carmen’s relaxed posture immediately pulls into a taught physique, he’s considering chasing Richie to get more details. “Isn’t Sug here, too?”

“Yessir!”

“Have they—” “They got grouped at the same table. Unc and Stevie have been keepin’ the peace.” “How’s that going?”

“Your guess is as good as mine!” And with that Richie fades into the crowd of straggling guests and clean up crews.

You don’t know much about Donna, which was a very intentional choice on Mikey’s part. And that kinda tells you all you need to know. You turn to Carmen, pensive. “You wanna go find out?”

He itches at his collar, thinking. “I think if I say I don’t, I’m a bad son.”

“You didn’t ask to be her son.”

“Oh, fuck, okay.” He stumbles for a second, you immediately cover your mouth.

“Sorry! I just—” Inside thought got outside. “I just meant— That was a lot. It’s just like, I dunno, you can’t be bad at something you never opted in for, y’know?”

“No, yeah, that— That’s kind of… a good thought.” He nods, looking at the ground, swallowing the words. “I— I should be a good brother—and—and Uncle, at least. Say hi to Nat.”

You don’t start walking until he starts walking, intent to follow his lead. You’ll stroll casually, until they crop up, making no deliberate effort to find them. You’re both silently hoping you don't. Carmen brings his head back up to you. “You ever meet Mom—? Donna?”

You shake your head, “No, that was kinda one of our few red lines. For Mikey and me. He’d like—” You gesture with your hands as you explain. “He’d talk about her, and I saw like… photos of them from babyhood, but I never met her or heard details— Never like, came over to the house. It was just kinda like a silent agreement. Hard for him and hard for me with the whole— Uh—”

“Drinking thing.”

You nod. “It’s uh— I’m not easily triggered anymore, though, so I think I’m fine.”

Carmen sniffs, scratching his nose. “Well, if you end up not being fine, we can not— Like not talk to her.”

He’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s the cat. You nod. “You don’t have to talk to her either, y’know. Could just text Nat—” “She’s right there.”

You whip your head up in tandem with him saying, “Don’t look fas— Fuck.”

You put the back of your hand on Carm’s chest, you both stop walking. “That’s Dee-Dee?”

“Yeah, with the—the leopard print belt and the floral dress.” Carmen’s been growing meeker with each step. You’d think his biggest fear is clashing patterns. This is not the same bear in the Chicago Tribune. “Why, you— You do know her?”

“She looks fuckin’ familiar…” You kiss your teeth, trying to roll back in your memory— Come on, you don’t forget shit, where is she from? You’ve seen photos but those were blurry and she was so much younger. You remember this version of Donna, you remember her from somewhere.

“Fuckin’ — Something with Pete— I saw her with Pete— Nat’s husband—” You point to him, across from Donna, at the table. “Him, yeah.”

“Just them?” Carmen gently pulls your arm down, you’ve gotta remember your manners.

“Yeah, I was— Oh, I was—” You squint. “Did Donna come to your opening?”

“No, she was invited, but she didn’t show.”

“Okay— So, she did, actually.” “Huh—?”

“She was— She was outside, when you were in the walk-in.” You nod to yourself, still thinking through the memory. “Yeah, she was outside— I thought Pete was like her son— It looked like they were fighting or crying so I just kinda— Kinda let it be. You were locked in a fucking freezer so I chose my battles.”

“Oh.” Carmen nods, trying to make it seem normal in his head. It’s not. And he can’t seem to force it. “He definitely didn’t tell Nat.” Because Nat would’ve told him.

You hum, rocking on your heels. “Yeah there's no chance we're going to go say hi now, is there?”

“Yeah, that might be best.”

You fold your lips in a line, still staring at Donna, she looks normal, which makes it feel even less normal. Way too much to unpack, if you go over there. Instead, you’ll stand here in the middle of the banquet hall, and unpack the carry-on luggage, so to speak. “Christmas is in a week.”

It’s a freight train of realization, Carmen drags his hand down his face. “Fuck me.”

“I know.”

“I have to go, don’t I?”

You frown, turning your head to him, not wanting to say what you’re going to say. “Do you think she’ll plan anything?” First Christmas without Mikey. Will she have the willpower to plan something, like she usually does?

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I know.”

Carmen holds his hand over his mouth, words somewhat muffled. “I’ll ask Nat, see what she’s doing. Baby’s first Christmas, or whatever. That’s a thing, right?”

“Baby’s do traditionally experience time, yeah.” “You n’ that smart mou—”

Despite staring at their table, the two of you did not notice Natalie approaching you, baby Michaela swaddled in her arms. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen normal human beings that aren’t screaming or shitting constantly in so long— Please— Say something normal and fun.”

You pucker your lips, trying to come up with something. “Ah— Fuck, I can’t think of anything— Oh fuck, sorry I said fuck— God— I’m just gonna stop talking.”

Nat lifts her hand up for a moment to wave you off before re-supporting her baby. “No! No, don’t! Say fuck so much. Say it all the time. She can’t understand, she doesn’t care. I wish I was her.”

“Will do.” You just nod, holding a hand up to Michaela, waving. She grabs one of your fingers, holding on tight. You can’t help but coo. “Hey, baby! Have you been fuckin’ with your mom’s sleep schedule? Awe, yes you have! Yes you have!”

Nat laughs and hums, “Richie told me you used to babysit Eva.”

“He’s exaggerating.” You leave your hand with Michaela, but look up to Nat. “There were just some weekends he was working and daycare wasn’t running so I’d take her around the city for a couple hours— More like playdates than actual babysitting.”

“That just sounds like you’re a fun babysitter.” Carmen rebukes, Nat nods.

“I’m good when you only need a second.” You sigh, half taking the compliment. You glance over Nat’s fatigued face. “You need a second?”

“Yes, fuck, could you?” In the same breath, she’s handing you baby Michaela. “She has in fact been fucking with mommy’s sleep schedule— And no one tells you— ‘mommy strength’ or whatever, needs to be developed— My lats— I think they’re lats? Are insane now. Just from holding her!”

You bounce the baby in your arms, sidling her on your hip. She’s a grabber, that’s for sure. Grabbing your hair, your top, Mikey’s chip— No longer tucked under your clothes. You let her. Well— Not the hair— She could cut off her circulation— Relax, EMS. You’re off duty. “How’s it going with—”

Nat knows what you’re asking before you finish the question. “Better than normal, which makes it feel worse. Does that make sense?”

You nod, “Completely and utterly.”

Carmen’s staring at Pete. He’s not typically a snitch but this is his sister, “Did Pete tell you—?”

“That mom was there on our fucking opening and he told her we were having a baby? Yes, about five minutes before she sat down.” Nat says it with a perfectly practiced smile and a simmering anger.

Your hands slip just slightly, you readjust your grip on Mickey. You and Carmen speak together, “He what?”

Nat doesn't mean to ignore your both but she does, “How'd you find out?”

“I just told him.” You pipe up, guilt covers your face. “I saw them when I came that night. Sorry, I didn't realize that was your mom— Or husband, for that matter.”

Sug shakes her head, waving off the apology. “Not your fault, his.”

“Yeah.” Carmen nods, “Back to that, by the way?”

“Yeah, he realized it was kind of a hard lie to uphold— Because mom sucks at acting surprised.” She sighs, “She’s taking it well publicly but I’m expecting a full blown meltdown in the bathroom of which I can’t escape, so. Beautiful wedding.”

“Yeah, those are kind of unavoidable.” You just had one yourself. “Fingers crossed you make it out alive?”

“Oh, I’m making it the fuck out, it’s her you should pray for.”

You have to respect the power in that. “Damn.”

“I didn’t ask to be her daughter! If she hands it to me I’m handing it fucking back—” Nat’s brain is always running like a faucet, she cuts off her own thoughts with a new one. “Christmas is in a week.”

“We know.”

“Fuck me.” She sighs so hard it blows strands of hair out of her face. “What the fuck are we gonna do, Carmy?”

“Was gonna ask you.” Carm’s distracting himself with Michaela, she reaches for his hand, she doesn’t grab a finger, she traces his tattoos. God, babies are cute sometimes. “Can we figure it out later?”

“Yeah, like everything else we do, I guess.” Sug groans. But she just as equally doesn’t want to think about it as him. And honestly, she’s just happy to see him acting like a fucking uncle for once. “Tony, will I see you at work on Monday? You’re onboarding, right?”

You don’t notice the way Carmen’s face stones up, like a secret has been revealed. He’s been preparing for you to say yes. He’s got that Docusign in his inbox, ready to send. Had Nat budget you in. But you don’t seem to be upset about it— Or maybe you just didn’t catch that Carmen selfishly was hoping you’d come right back to him. Maybe it’s just that you don’t think it’s selfish.

“Oh— Uh, yeah, I guess you will.” Michaela starts to smack you for not giving her attention for more than seven seconds. You turn your head to her, bouncing her again, “Pbbt—Pbbbt— Mat leave over?”

“Gonna need to be.” Nat laughs when she says it, like you’re both on some sort of inside joke. Yeah, The Bear’s kind of a nightmare, of course Nat’s always needed. You laugh back, though there wasn’t really a joke anywhere in there.

“Make sure you get your rest.” Sug scoops Michaela out of your arms, rejuvenated from her second of peace. “Your boss is kind of an ass.”

Unfair drive-by, Carmen waves a hand like a white flag, “Alright—”

“I know, I like him anyways.” “Gross.” “I know, it sucks.”

“Okay, okay,” It’s way too obvious how happy Nat is that her brother has someone. “Both of you get the fuck out of here before she sees you, I told her you’d be too busy in the kitchen to say hi.”

She knows her brother, and Carmen’s grateful for it, but, “Are you sure? I can—”

“I love you, Bear.” Nat gives him a kiss on the cheek, and you a quick hug. “But fucking run, seriously.”

Carmen nods, “Heard. Love you, Bear.”

You quickly dash off together, blending into crowds to go unnoticed. Mumbling plans out as you sprint. “I’ve gotta help Marcus close out the bar.”

“I’ve gotta pack up our equipment.” “You’re on the fifth floor too, right?” “Yeah, you’re rooming with Syd?” “Yeah, you and Richie?”

“I got my own room.” “Okay, rich boy.” “I— It’s a fuckin’ Holiday Inn, it’s not that bad—” “Oooh, Charmin gets his first paycheck suddenly he’s all that—” “You wanna come up to my room or not?”

“Oh?” You practically skirt on your heels when you suddenly stop walking, “He’s bold now—”

“I— That’s not— Like we—” He can’t dig himself out of this one, and his darting eyeline is giving him away. “You told Syd you’d still sleep in your room— I just meant like— Like we could— hang out.”

“We could hang out?” “Stop—” “I’d love to hang out, dude.” “We can watch a movie or somethin’—”

You gasp, thought occurring to you. “Yeah, let’s watch a movie. I wanna watch a movie.”

“I don’t like the look that just happened in your eyes.”

“Yes, you do.” Your turn to smush Carmen’s face in your hands, kissing him with a comical, all too wet, and in no way seductive muah—

Which somehow just makes it all the more entrancing, for him. “Yes, I do.”

You smile, letting him go, splitting off from Carmy in favour of your bar. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, go be a good boss.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“How are they not seeing him fuck up the soup— That— A whole pot—” “You’re literally saying exactly what Remy is saying right now—” “I— Good. I’m still mad about the five star thing.”

Carmen likes Ratatouille. Likes it enough to nitpick. He relates to the weird rat with a complex family dynamic and having a brother that means well but fucks with him so much. He relates to the no credit, the starving, the death and desire of feeding the ego, Carmen relates to feeling like a freak in his own kitchen.

It is weird to feel seen by a rat.

But it’s nice to have you in his room, in his bed, watching some dinky little red-head try to survive in a French kitchen. It’s nice to occasionally watch you instead, out of the corner of his eye. He thought of roughly… fourteen more recipes since leaving the bathroom with you? Who would’ve thought that watching someone use a makeup cleansing balm would be inspiring?

What? It melted beautifully. Or maybe you’re just beautiful? Whatever. You emulsified it in your hands. Emulsion? Coconut emulsion would be interesting; very similar creme texture. On top of a souffle? Delicate. But it still needs zip. The glitter from your eyeshadow makes him think of zesting. Lemon zest. Needs more scent, though. Oh, maybe Kaffir limes. That’s a weird dish. That’s never gonna work. He has to get better at subtracting around you.

He’s doing pretty good at not saying I love you, though, so, that’s something.

“The houndstooth pants are cute.” You hum, as Linguini finally kisses Collette— Though by a rat’s volition. A win is a win. You lean into Carmen’s side, watching the movie pirated on his laptop, because hotel tv pay-per-view was so overpriced for no reason. “Oh, fuck, what’s my uniform gonna be?”

“Chef whites, no?” His arm is around your shoulder, it’s nice. “I can get you a jacket—”

“Well, your servers wear black— And I’m gonna be like, like both right?” You turn your head to him. Bad idea. He’s still very pretty, if not prettier in pajamas. “Like, making drinks in the back and then acting as somme out front. So all black?”

“Hm.” Carmen tries not to frown. Tries not to see you wearing black as you being on the other team. “I guess.”

“Richie’s not getting me in a fuckin’ button up, though.” You don’t notice his expression’s minute faltering, crossing your arms, thinking. “Sleeveless black turtleneck? Maybe black palazzo pants, could do what fuckin— Linguini’s doin—”

You point at the screen. “The bright red converse? Could do all black and then bright blue converse? Would that be cute or is that deeply unprofessional?”

Carmen tilts his head back and forth, trying to let you down easy, “I wouldn’t call it deeply unpr—”

“Heard. Okay, maybe like— Like a red bottom heel—” You kick your foot up in the air, for no real reason. A shoe isn’t suddenly going to appear on it for display. “Like not actual ones, duh— Like a black boot and I paint the sole blue—”

“What’s with you and blue?” He's deeply amused, or maybe that's just Carmen's constant state, right now, twirling his fingers through your hair without a care in the world.

“It’s like, Bear colours. You do blue. Aprons, baskets— I guess I’m thinking of The Beef, but like, your lighting is kinda blue.” You shrug. “I wanna match.”

He nods, eyes on the movie, thinking far too much— Well, for the average person. For Carmy it’s a perfectly normal amount of thinking. “All black, blue sole, blue earrings, maybe? White apron for when you’re in the back?”

Please say yes to the white apron. Please say yes to his team. He'll get your initials monogrammed and everything.

“Yeah, that’s a cute look. As long as it’s easy to take off.” You hum. “Oh, y’know, Richie wanted to—”

Speak of the Devil, and he shall call you for the fifth fucking time. “Fuckin— Pause it, hold on—”

Carmen pauses the wonderful rat chef in tandem with you answering the phone with, “I’m not fuckin’ comin’ to pool, Cousin!”

In one ear, out the other. “Fuck you! When are you getting here?”

“I am not getting out of bed to play pool— A game I have not played— With a bunch of fuckin—”

“If you’re not down here in five minutes, Chip, on God—” “I’m gonna fuckin’ hang up again you motherfucker—” “And what? You’ll just answer again, won’t you?”

Richie’s tone gives him away. He’s giggling, bubbly, absolutely tanked on dirty shirleys. But there’s a very genuine joy to it. You’ve answered his stupid meaningless calls every time, the last four times, despite knowing they are in fact, stupid and meaningless. And that is rife with meaning.

You sigh, but you’re smiling. “Yeah. I’ll answer.”

“Good.” You can hear his smile mirrored through the phone. “Sell your Greyhound ticket to Fak.”

“Bitch, fuck no—” “We can go aroun’ the city tommorow! We’re closed! C’mon have some fuckin’ fun before you start working in hell!” “We’re gonna be stupid New York tourists?” “Eva wanted me to get her face on some m and m’s—” “You want me to come with you to the fucking Time Square M and M store?”

That’s when Carmen shoots up, shoulder against yours, panickedly muttering into the phone, “We cannot go to Time Square a week out from Christmas.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When you realize why there’s a pause, you shut your eyes tight, knowing exactly what you’re gonna get. Carmen realizes after watching your face scrunch up, he puts his face in his hands, “Shit—”

“You’re fucking Carmen!”

“No—” “You said you’re in bed! His bed?!” “We’re watching Ratatouille—” “Without me? You’re coming to the fucking M and M store— Also that big ass toy store—” “This is not a betrayal—” “Matter of fact, we’re gonna go see that big fuckin’ tree, too—” “You just want me to drive us home because you’re gonna be too hungover.”

“No, I want you to drive us home because I love you.” Richie’s slurring when he says it, like it’s some sort of gotcha. “So fuck you, actually.”

Carmen bites back laughter next to you, you just shake your head, tutting. “I love you, too, Cousin.”

“If you loved me you’d come play pool.” “I don’t fuckin’ know how to play pool!” “We’ll fuckin’ learn you somethin’ then!” “Fuck off! I’m already coming to fucking Time Square with you, don’t be whiny.”

“You’ll come?”

You massage your brow bone, “Syd’s not gonna wanna sit next to Fak on the bus, you got room for four?”

“Yeah, but someone’s gonna have to sit on the console.” “I nominate Carmen.” “I second the nom.”

Carmen, now with two votes to sit on the console up front, presses his face into your shoulder. “What the fuck—” You peer down at him and whisper, “We’ll do shifts, don’t worry.”

“Put me on speaker phone.” “You’re talking so loud that Carmen can very clearly hear you.”

“Put me! On speaker phone!”

You put Richie on speaker phone. Carmen clears his throat, gruff, “Yo, Rich, can we finish the fuckin’ movie?”

“Patience is a virtue, or some shit. D’you see the resos?”

You mouth to Carmen, ‘Reservations?’ Carmen nods. “Yeah, I saw.”

“Gonna be fucked.” You frown when you hear that, but don’t want to interrupt. You silently word, ‘What happened?’ Carmen puts a finger over his mouth, he’ll explain in a second.

“Gonna be fucked, yeah.” Carmen sniffs, swiping at his nose. “Good kind, though.”

“Yeah. Good kind.” There’s a sigh from Richie on the other end, that heavy sigh. Practically sobering up with just one sentence. “Christmas is in a week.”

“I know.” Carmen kisses his teeth. This is going to be the worst, for all of you. The missing link is going to be all too apparent. “Good time to be busy.”

“Good time to be busy.” Richie echoes. “Only way out is through.”

“Heard.” Carmen nods, what else is there to say? “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Aright. Don’t fuck in a fuckin’ Holiday Inn Chip’s worth mo—”

That’s when you interrupt, “Alright, what a wonderful phone call this has been goodbye, fuck you, love you, don’t call again, be safe!” You hang up before Richie can reply, head flopping over.

There’s a long silence before Carmen speaks again. “...I’m not tryna do that by the way—”

“No, I know, I’m worth more than a Holiday Inn.”

Snorts of laughter fill the stale air of this shitty little Holiday Inn one bed. Carmen pulls you back into him, arm on your waist. Before you can start the movie again, though, you have to ask. “Reservations fucked?”

He hums, tucking your hair back so he can see the side of your face better. “We started taking reservations last week— Just to test it out. N’ it was goin’ smooth but ‘tuh…” He squints. “Trending today with the whole uh— Chef thing. We’re kinda booked full ‘til the end of the year. And January.”

“Oh shit.” Word on the street is true. Any advertising is good advertising. Even when promoting the wrong fucking website.

“Yeah, good kinda fucked, but like. Fucked.” Carmy nods, and after a second, grabs your hand. “But Christmas— Christmas Eve ‘n Christmas is off— And New Years— So, so you won’t be overwhelmed, hopefully.”

Your brain is already shooting miles ahead, you’re mentally back in Chicago, already. “We really gotta get on that cocktail menu.” There’s so much to do. New job, new menu, Christmas—

“And coffee.” Carmen sounds calm when he says it, which is deeply unlike him.

“And coffee.” You echo, eyes distant. You shoot back up. “Fuck, road trip is gonna be such a time sink. Okay— Well, okay— We’ll just— I’ll make a list tonight—”

You’ve gotta figure out your hours. You don’t want to lose Chicago’s Kindest completely— Can’t be available 24/7 anymore, though. Mattina Tony’s gonna hate that. But he’ll be happy for you. Gotta tell Eden’s Club you’re not going to pick up shifts anymore. They’ll say they’re happy about it, but curse you behind your back. That’s fine.

“List for what?”

“Christmas shopping.” Your eyes flick to him, still thinking. “I win Christmas every year.”

You’re getting Richie new cufflinks— But what of? Can’t just do initials, that’s lame. Fuck, what do you get Carmen? Can’t just do something cooking related— That’s lamer. But it’s also like— His only hobby.

“Don’t think that’s how Christmas works.”

“It fully is. And being in Time Square is gonna widen the fuck out of my search radius. Fuck what do I do for Syd? Fancy knife? They sell fancy knives here?”

Carmen shrugs, “I know a guy in the area.”

“Fantastic. I’ll get a list, you’ll help me out with stores. We’ll get coloured pencils at FAO, we’ll draft up a rough menu on the way home—” “Hey—” “It’s twelve hours of driving, so I think we can get a good chunk done. And then test out and finish on Monday—” “Baby—” “I was thinking we could do a section of house cocktails and coffees named after Chefs—” “I said don’t work on it—” “So like, each one would be themed after what I think of when I think of you—”

Carmen grabs your face with both hands. “Tony.”

“Carmy.”

“Cannot believe I’m saying this to another person, but loosen your grip.” He strokes your cheekbones with his thumb. It’s nice. “You don’t have to do it all.”

It's a long silence of just staring back at him, so much so Carmy’s worried he has failed at this whole self-help thing. But then, you say, “Sara’s a good fucking therapist.”

“She’s got a pretty flexible schedule, too.”

Your face is still in his hands, you’re basically unblinking. “I think you’re a pink pepper aperol spritz with a slice of grapefruit. Maybe like a cherry syrup rim? Or is that too much? That might be too much.”

Carmen sighs in a way that sounds like a laugh. “How many drinks have you made in your head?”

“Just that one. But I think Richie would be something with whiskey and peaches— And somethin’ about Syd makes me think about figs, I don’t know why, which would go good with—”

Carm pinches your cheek, frowning, though there’s an admiration to it. “I said don’t work on it.”

You push his hands away, “I haven’t written anything down! I can’t stop my brain from thinking! How many fuckin’ plates do you have in your head?”

He thinks, tilting his head back and forth. “A couple.” It’s a lot more than a couple. “They’re all bad, though.”

“Bad, how?”

“Bad, like weird.” Carmen gestures to the dimming screen of his laptop. You shake the touchpad awake. Rat chef is inspiring, and a good reminder of what he's meant to do, as are you. “It’s uh, it’s a good movie. It’s good to make new shit. But like, I need to be controlled.”

You tilt your head, “I don’t think so.”

“No?” Despite the fact that you’re disagreeing with him, there’s a happy hum, in Carmen’s voice.

“No. I think we should make really bad weird shit. At least in like, R and D.” You lean back down, against him. “Gotta try it before you brush off the idea. That’s the fun thing about art, y’know? Might work, might not.”

“I think that’s life.”

“Life is art, art is life, food is both.”

“Woah.” “That was kind of a bar, wasn’t it!?” “Kinda tough.” “What’s your bad weird idea?”

“Steak with pop rocks.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes go wide, but with a smile. Shocked but delighted. It's absolutely going in Carmen's top five favourite expressions of yours. You lean into him further, back of your hand slapping his chest.

“I know, but I was thinking the sugar would be good—”

“Like a sort of maple or sugar curing thing?” God, you just get it. And you give a shit about getting it.

“Exactly, n’ then it makes you like— Like salivate.” “I don’t think it’s that crazy an idea.”

He’s so excited to have someone encourage his ideas, for once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod assuredly. “We should do it. Try it, at least.”

“Okay. Cool.” Carmen tries and fails to not light up at the prospect of ‘we’. “You’ve still got a hard out at twelve?”

“Syd said she will be knocking violently if I’m not back at midnight on the dot, yeah.” You unpause the movie. “And she’s gonna be pissed when I tell her I’ve volunteered us for a tourist spree, so I gotta be on her good side.”

Carmen shrugs, turning his attention back to the movie, arm around your shoulder. “It’ll be fun, if you’re there.”

It gives you both away.

Every sentence gives you both away. The way you speak, the way you act, the way you pose. It gives you both away. The way he moves your hair out of your face so you can see the movie clearly. The way you lift your head so he can tuck his arm under the pillow, so it doesn’t go numb under you. All without asking. The way you see each other, the way you are constantly doting and thinking of the next thing you can make the other—All without checking in. The Berf shirt you wear for pajamas, your refilled toiletries in his hotel shower. The domesticity comes all too easy to both of you. It gives you both away.

“Remy kinda sounds like Carmy, y’know—” “Don’t.” “My petit chef!”

You say I love you in every way but the way that makes it weird and bad and stupid and too soon.

“Good God.” Is the first thing Sydney says, when you return to your shared hotel room. Face and voice filled with disgust, that is really only half sarcastic. “You’re beyond saving.”

You push past her, bumping shoulders as you do, smiling all the while. It’s nice that she can see you again. Even if she’s seeing that you’re down bad. “I didn’t even say anything—”

“Yeah, no, it’s that face on your face— God, it’s over—” “Baby, just say you’re happy for me.”

“I—” Syd blinks, rapid, hands in the air. “I’m happy for you— Tentatively.” Pending Carmen. Probationary forgiveness.

“Thank you. I’ll take it.” You squat down to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge, when you do, you’re able to give Syd a once over.

She’s adorned in an old jazz club shirt from your highschool, boxers, and a long bonnet so old you recognize it. You recognize all of it. It’s nearly enough to make you cry.

Funny, she’s thinking the same thing. Together, you speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Jinx!”

“Double jinx!”

“Triple Jinx!” It’s on the third one that you decide to let her win and not say it a fourth time.

It’s on the fourth one that Syd decides she doesn’t want to win. “Quadr— Man, this sucks.”

You know exactly what she means. You fall out of your squat, sitting on your butt with a frown. “It literally would’ve just taken one phone call.” You could’ve been doing this for years.

She sits down next to you, back against the front of the bed. “There were a lot of moments, where I thought to call you, honestly.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like uhm—” Syd’s face scrunches up her face, she’s already opened her mouth so she has to tell you, but she’s realizing she probably shouldn’t tell you. “There was this fucked day at The Beef, where we set up online orders, and I forgot to tick off pre-order—”

You unscrew the bottle cap, squinting. “I feel like that should automatically be off.”

“That’s what I’m fucking saying!” She slaps your knee with the back of her hand, “But uh, no it was fucking on— And we got like— Like fucked— Said that already. Hundreds of orders. And it was so much and and— Richie was, at the time, kind of a dick—”

“You don’t have to mince, I know what he was.” You take a sip of water, nodding. He’s a work in progress, as are you all.

“He was being a bitch and— And— I might’ve maybe lowkey stabbed him.”

“Holy fuck?!” You have to laugh, out of sheer shock. You choke on your water. “Syd?!”

“It— Swear to God—” Syd raises one hand, and puts the other over her heart. “Was an accident. Like— Like I was saying I would, and also I was like— Thinking about it— But I didn’t mean to actually do it— Like he walked into it—”

“Jesus Christ, Manslaughter Sydney—!” “No! …A little. On occasion.”

“You ever wanna stab Carmy?” “Oh, all the fucking time.”

“Fair.” You hand her your water bottle when you spot her looking at it. You see each other, you take care of each other, without being asked.

“And after a brutal stabbing—” “It was barely a graze, to his ass.” “—You thought to call me?”

“Yeah. You’re like. I dunno. I—” She sighs, taking a beat. “I’ve heard people talk about like— When they’re in a life or death scenario, or panicking, their first thought is like ‘I gotta call my mom’.” Syd clutches onto the water bottle like it’s a life preserver. “But I like— Like I don’t have that instinct, duh, dead mom club— But like, like my instinct when I’m scared is to call you.”

“You should’ve.” You want to take her hand, but don’t. Still working on that hesitation. You’ll both get there.

“You should’ve, too.” Syd lightly punches your knee. She tucks her lips in a line, thinking. “I would’ve been there.”

“I think I kinda got stuck in the same thought Mikey had, with Carmen.” You prop your knee up, hugging it to you. “Didn’t wanna drag you down with me. Didn’t want you to know I— That I’m not really uhm— That I’m not all that great.”

“I didn’t ask you to be great.” Syd says it before she thinks it, and it’s enough to make your eyes water. In a good way. She continues. “I didn’t ask you to be my somme, either. I always thought you were cool. I would always think you’re cool.”

“I…” You clear your throat, controlling your micro-expressions poorly. “I— I know. I think I just… Always do too much? Like I do everything to make myself like— Needed.”

If they need you, they can’t leave you. Though, that didn’t really stop you two from growing apart, so there goes that theory.

“You are needed.” Syd nearly rolls her eyes at you, but realizes that might be insensitive.

Syd could’ve called Terry, when the walk-in door broke. She called you. Syd could’ve called Claire— They’re not all that close, but she could’ve, when Nat went into labour. She called you. Syd could’ve called Fak, when Carmen’s oven broke. She called you. It’s insane that you’d ever think you weren’t her lifeline.

But she clarifies anyway, “Not that— Not that you need to be needed though, for me to want you around.”

You snatch the water bottle from her. “Well, I know that now.”

“Good.”

You all but chug the water, God you’re dehydrated. Syd laughs, “It’s not gonna fucking run away from you.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” You grin, screwing the cap back on. Sniffing, you sober up a little. “We’re never not gonna be friends again.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Lest you go full on He Had it Comin’ on your fuckin’ co-workers again.”

She scoffs. “I promise to try to not stab someone in your presence.”

“Deal.” You both laugh. You put your hand out to her, and without confirmation, do a handshake that must be more than a decade old. Dap, up-down, jellyfish out. Though, for your purposes, squid out.

Incredible, you’ve hit Syd with love and nostalgia, she has to say yes now. “We’re roadtripping with Richie and Carmen instead of taking the Greyhound.”

“It’s so crazy that you think that’s gonna happen—” “It will be fun—” “Define fun for me, right now—” “We can get Christmas shopping done—”

“Fuck. Christmas is in a week.” “I know!”

Syd scrunches up her nose. “What do I get my dad?”

“Sounds like you need to do some window shopping.” You could probably recommend something if you thought about it for two more seconds, but then you wouldn’t have an excuse to drag her along. “We could go to a Tiffany’s or something.”

“What and get him a locket?” “I’m honestly just naming stores, at this point.”

She’s thinking about it, really thinking about it. “...Could go to the MET, go through the gift shop. He’s a tchotchke guy.”

You hum, nodding. You can get her to fold. “Look at some expos, get some artistic inspiration?”

Syd’s eyes roll back, and she rolls her head back with them, head on the edge of the bed, in dismay. “...Are we doing gifts?”

You shrug, “Was thinking I’d get you a little something.”

“So super over the top and extravagant?” “What’s the fun in telling?” “I hate you.” “So you’ll come?”

She sighs, husky. “Yeah…” She says it like she’s upset but you both know Syd is a little excited.

You pump your fist, delighted. A win.

A comfortable silence fills the room. You flop your back down on the floor, laying on the carpet. “Thank you for helping Carmy.”

“Didn’t do much.” Syd shrugs, lazily turning her head on the bed to you. “He just needs pushing, sometimes.”

You hum, nodding. “Well, thank you for pushing.”

“You’re so welcome, dude.” You both laugh, and after another long gap of silence, she kicks you. “Stop lying on the dirty ass hotel floor, we paid for a bed.”

“There’s something about laying on the floor, man.” You shake your head. “Get down here. I can see the scope of the universe from down here, actually.”

With a profoundly deep sigh, Syd rolls over to you. Your shoulders touch as you both stare at the ceiling. She hums, pointing to the popcorn tiles. “Oh yeah, secrets of the universe, right there.”

“I told you.” You nod, wisely. You frown. “...When do you think it’s like, too soon, to say ‘I love you’?”

“Oh my fucking God it’s that bad—” “Just answer!” “Definitely right now is too fucking soon!” “Well, yeah, I fuckin’ figured—!” “I’d say like, another month or two, minimum.”

“I think I might explode, by then, if I’m being honest.” You turn your head to her. “I’m really worried I’m gonna forget I haven’t already said it and I’m gonna say it at a stupid moment and it’s gonna be lame and embarrassing and bad.”

Syd turns her head to you. “Yeah, that’s probably what’s gonna happen.”

“Okay, so you’re no fuckin’ help.” You snort.

“What do you want me to say? You love to the point of embarrassment.” She shrugs, smiling at your demise. But then Syd sobers up a little, turning her body to face you, leaning her head on her hand. “Are you sure, though?”

“I think so, yeah.” You cross your arms, nodding, assuring yourself, practically. “I feel what I think can only be described as emotionally violent— affectionately. And I think that’s what love is. Pretty sure.”

“Hm.” Syd watches you watch her. You’re absolutely getting lost in your own brain. She pokes the space between your eyebrows, you wake back up. “What’s in there?”

You blink, “Thinking of all the worst ways I could say it.” In front of everyone, accidentally while saying goodbye, off-handedly while hanging up, over text, and so on and so forth.

“Okay, that sounds awful and unproductive so let’s go to bed, huh?” Syd grunts, sitting up. She reaches for your hand to help you stand up with her. “Just try saying it normal.”

You take a breath, looking her in the eyes, say it normal. “Love you.”

“Yeah, just say it like that.”

“Oh, so I can say it—” “In two months.”

“Wait, is one more month hard off the table now—” “Now it’s three.” “Fuck, it’s gaining interest?!”

Just try to make it to next year without saying it, you’d take that happily. Just make it to Christmas. Okay, maybe just make it until you get back to Chicago…Maybe just take a vow of silence.

You shake your head, coming back to reality.

“Wait, what the fuck, Syd, say it back!”

wooooo

was it everything you expected? i hope so. or hope not? suspense and what not. i won't rant too much about it because i'm loopy from staring at my computer at work all day and then answering asks all night. but please send thoughts!!

if you enjoyed, again I have a kofi now! I also just love to hear your thoughts on things, so please send thoughts !! but tips are also appreciated!!

tag list time, fingers crossed it mostly functions! I add ya if you ask and send in an essay ! and if you don't send in an essay it means you don't read my little post scripts and it makes me sad!! please stop making me sad baby!!

@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmen x oc #carmy berzatto #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #the bear fx #sydney adamu x reader #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader

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eufezco · 8 months ago

Note

Richie with wife reader. Soft!Richie only for his girls!! Anything at all. Fluff and a little suggestive. Tag me later!! Thanks!! :))

Richie asked you if you could stay with his daughter when Carmen called him from the restaurant to ask him for help. There was only a week left before the opening and even though Richie was on his day off, he could not ignore Carmen when he needed him.

It had been a couple of hours since he had left and little Eva was busy watching TV while you cooked dinner. She had asked a few times where her dad was but she felt comfortable enough with you to forget that Richie had been gone all afternoon. You both had watched a movie, made some drawings for Richie and Tiffany while you listened to Taylor Swift, you had prepared a snack for her when she woke up from her nap and now she was sitting on your couch in her pajamas, peacefully waiting for her daddy.

Richie opened the door of the house. —I'm sorry. I'm sorry. How are my sweetest girls? Oh, you missed me? —He asked his daughter when she stood from the couch and ran to him. Richie picked up the girl and hugged her while he walked towards you to give a quick kiss on your lips.

You hummed when Richie kissed you, glad that he was finally home and just in time for dinner. —We've really missed you —You were focused on mixing the pasta well with the sauce. —Do you wanna tell him why, Eva?

—We took a nap —. The little girl confessed and Richie acted hurt.

—You took a nap? Without me? — Richie asked and Eva laughed He smiled. —Was it good at least? —He asked and the girl nodded. Richie gave her another tight hug and devoured the little girl's face with kisses before putting her down on the floor and telling her to go and wait for him on the couch.

Once Eva was focused on the TV, Richie put his arms around your body, hugging you from behind and resting his head on your shoulder while you continued cooking.—I'm sorry, baby. I should've called to tell you that it was going to take longer.

��It's fine, Richie. You know I don't mind looking after her. We've had fun.

He hugged you tighter, you had always been so sweet to his daughter and Eva loved spending time with you. Tiffany had played a big part in it, you both had a lot of respect for each other and she had helped to bring her daughter's relationship with you closer.

—You're gonna be the best mom in the world.

You hummed again. Richie, with his head tucked on your neck, tickled you with his beard. You closed your eyes, feeling Richie's hands caressing your belly over your clothes. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother to his kids, but with all the chaos after the wedding and the opening of the restaurant, you had been too busy to stop and think about it.

—Why don't we start now? —He murmured in your ear. Richie's hands started slowly moving from your belly to the elastic of your pajama pants. His face on your neck started kissing your skin there. You bit your lower lip and stopped mixing the pasta to give him a gentle slap on his hands to get him to behave.

—Richie, Eva's here —. You whispered.

He huffed and let his forehead fall on your shoulder. You giggled at his reaction and put one of your hands on his head to caress his hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Richie didn't want to show you how overwhelmed he was with everything related to the restaurant opening, but he didn't have to because you already knew. You both worked there, you knew how it worked. The only thing that made you relax these days was coming home together and realizing that you had each other. Marrying you was the best decision he had ever made in his life, there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think about how lucky he was.

—Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you go and take a shower?

Richie nodded and let his arms go from around your body. You turned around and kissed his lips. He showed you a satisfied little smile and went in for another kiss. Then, Richie walked over to the couch and planted a kiss on the top of Eva's head, who was too distracted by the TV.

—Wait —. You said before he went into the bathroom. Richie turned and saw you walking to where he was. His blue eyes lit up.

—Want to join me? —He asked excited. You nodded and his excitement grew. Richie's great imagination was already working and he couldn't have liked more all the images that went through his mind.

—We won't take long.

—We won't?

You shook your head and laughed. His daughter was there and the dinner was ready but food could wait and if Eva needed anything she could knock on the door or just call you, your apartment was not that big, and you would hear her just fine. By the time you finished thinking about it, the bathroom door was already closed and Richie's lips were on yours while he pulled on the hem of your pajama shirt.

@pear-1206 <333

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saltnsugarbear · 8 months ago

Text

The Bear masterlist!

🦇 - works done for promptober

🎊 - works done for a celebration

Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto

Bad Blood series masterlist!

Secret series masterlist!

the ones I picked out for you in Tokyo (18+)

your love's always finding me out 🦇

a dark heart is beating and waiting for you 🦇

I'm not here for absolution, because I've found myself an old solution (18+) 🦇

you make me a complete mess 🦇

gallzatto threesome (18+)

a gift to say 'I'm sorry' 🎊

perv carm (18+) 🎊

experienced carmy (18+) 🎊

an inch away from more than just friends (18+) 🎊

somethin' smoking weed does not replace

Sydney Adamu

did you think about me if I ever were to find out? 🦇

Richard "Richie" Jerimovich

why do you go wasting your youth on me? (18+)🦇

you remind just how good it can get 🦇

your hands are all over my scent 🦇

it was a graveyard smash 🦇

Natalie "Sugar" Berzatto

do you remember winding your arm around my shoulder 🦇

#the bear #saltnsugarbear #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #sydney adamu x reader #sydney adamu imagine #sydney adamu fanfiction #sugar berzatto x reader #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich fanfiction

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drabbles-mc · 11 days ago

Text

What do you tell your friends? (1/4)

Sydney Adamu x Richie Jerimovich

Written for the 2024 Five Figure Fanwork Exchange

Chapter Index

Warnings: 18+, language, angst/arguing, smut

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: im so so so excited that i finally get to start sharing this here! hope you enjoy this little mini-series 🥰

The first time it happened, it wasn’t supposed to. It was fast, and messy, not a single trace of grace to be found. It was also way better than it had any business being, not that either of them admitted that. They didn’t admit to much of anything at all.

Richie was getting the waistband on his track pants situated in the aftermath, still managing to watch Syd in his periphery as he did so. She was rebuttoning her blouse, fingers struggling with the action in a way they normally wouldn’t.

He ran his hands over the top and down the back of his head, resting on the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do or say next. He always had something to say, even if it wasn’t the right thing. But now, watching as Sydney straightened out her shirt, his mind was just static.

Still, he tried. She wasn’t even looking at him yet when he said, “So, uh—”

“Oh,” she turned towards him but it still didn’t quite feel like she was looking at him, “we don’t, you know,” she shook her head, eyes meeting his for only a moment, “I don’t think we have to talk about this, really.”

He scoffed, and there would’ve been more commitment to it if the edges of his brain didn’t still feel so fuzzy. “Right. Of course not. Why would we have to fuckin’ talk about it?”

Somehow two months had gone by and they still managed never to talk about it, not in a real way at least. That was an impressive feat in and of itself, something they would’ve given themselves a pat on the back for if either of them really gave the entire thing the thought and consideration it at least needed, if not deserved. But what they’d managed to create was one of the few things in their lives at the moment that wasn’t about thinking. It certainly hadn’t been thought-out that first night and it seemed to work out just fine. Surely if they kept it going it’d all keep being fine.

Their first night had been the first and, so far, last time they’d hooked up on company property. With all of the construction finally and truly underway, it never felt like there was a time when people weren’t at the restaurant. Which was fine. Completely and totally fine.

What the two of them had now were moments. Both looking at the barren, half-built-half-broken space where the improved kitchen and dining areas were going to be. Both rifling through boxes in the office looking for something. One of them stumbling upon the other who was searching in the depths of the basement for something that they knew they probably wouldn’t end up finding. The moments always had to do with work, and it wasn’t as though they were a pair of teenagers who couldn’t figure out how to keep their clothes on and their hands to themselves, but every now and then the air would feel a little different between them.

In those little moments they’d give each other tight nods and minimal eye contact, like they were afraid that someone was going to walk into the room with them and instantly sense what they’d done before. It was usually Syd that would slink by him and out of whatever space they were currently sharing, sometimes mumbling an excuse as she went, other times just simply brushing past him with a quiet, “Behind,” or, “Excuse me.” Richie never really said anything back except sometimes uttering, “Sorry,” or, “Sure thing,” as she went. Sometimes if she was standing close enough to him when she spoke, he could swear that he felt her breath on his skin. Not that he thought about it much. Not that it reminded him for a split second of the way it felt when she was panting into the crook of his neck, into his mouth as he’d pinned her against the desk in the office. Because that would be an inappropriate thing to think about your coworker at work. So he wouldn’t think about it. He’d shut his mouth and shake his head, and make a point not to stare at her when she would walk out of whatever space they were sharing at the time. Then the moment would pass—no harm, no foul. Totally normal.

She knew better than to say it out loud, even to herself, but Syd been expecting Richie to be an absolute terror about it all. After that first night she had been ready for every debate between them to get brought into the realm of absolute insanity because of what they’d done. She had been bracing herself for thinly veiled comments and innuendos in the brief times when it was just the two of them, him toeing the line in front of everyone else in a way that would spike her heart rate. But, considering how ridiculous he could’ve been about it, Syd had to admit at least to herself if not to him that he was surprisingly civilized. Maybe not quite chivalrous, but about as close to that as she expected Richie to get given the limbo they’d landed themselves in. She was thankful for it—if her and Richie ever talked about it she would’ve tried to find some weird way of telling him that, but they didn’t talk about it. It was fine; they were busy enough as it was, right?

It was early in the morning, and Carmy had already shown up and then taken off again on an errand that he never took the time to explain. Syd was looking around the dining area, hands propped on her hips as she tried to figure out where to start for the day, what she could actually do while they were still stuck waiting for one worker or another, one rep in the endless line that needed to show up for them.

She heard the front door open and she looked to see who was going to be walking in. When Richie came striding over, Sydney’s first reaction was one of relief, a sliver of the unease that she’d been feeling starting to melt away. At least she wasn’t alone. She only realized that she was starting to smile when she saw the smirk on Richie’s face in return, but it was too late to switch up and try to pretend that it didn’t happen.

He came to a stop right beside her, staring at the same scene she was. Eyes still forward, he asked, “Fak got it all tarped up for the guy today?”

Syd nodded, doing the kindness of not pointing out that the answer to Richie’s question was incredibly obvious to anyone with eyes. “Yeah. He took care of it before he left last night.”

Richie’s lips pulled down into a frown that made him almost seem impressed, like he was shocked that Fak had followed through and taken care of something the way that he was supposed to. “When’s the guy supposed to get here?”

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she checked the time—it felt like it should be way later than it was but the reality of it was just that she’d been up for that long. “Uh, in about an hour, I think.” She shoved her phone away again. “If he shows up on time.”

He chuckled at how she peppered that in right at the end. “Right.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his track pants. “So. An hour?” He turned his head to look at her, face neutral except for the mischievous glint in his eyes. “What’re you doing for the next hour, then?”

She laughed even though she knew better. His tone was just neutral enough to pass the question off as genuine, but she couldn’t just take it at face-value. Shaking her head, she looked up at the ceiling for a moment to collect herself before looking at him again. “Was trying to figure that out when you showed up.”

Slipping his hands out of his pockets, he held his arms out and grinned. “Solvin’ problems and answering prayers—it’s what I do.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter even if she didn’t let the sound slip past her lips. “Fuck off.”

He was still grinning even as he brought his arms back to his sides again. They turned to face each other completely and it was only then that he let himself get a little more serious. “Where’s Carmy, anyway?”

The humor immediately disappeared from Sydney’s face at the question. Her frustration wasn’t aimed at Richie, but he was the only one there to be on the receiving end of it since the person she was actually frustrated with had already flown the coop for the day. Again.

“Would love to be able to tell you,” she said, unable to hide the bitterness in her tone.

“You call him?”

She shrugged. “For what? It’s been me and his voicemail these last few weeks.”

Richie couldn’t stop his laughter despite Syd’s evident frustration. “Gotta admit though, that’s kinda better than fuckin’ talking to him, right?”

She didn’t want to break, didn’t want to let go of the annoyance that was bubbling up in her chest all over again, but she couldn’t help it. She allowed herself to smile and she gave a short nod. “Kinda, yeah.” Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and got herself back into work mode. “Alright. Let’s…yeah.”

Richie chuckled, knocking his shoulder lightly into hers. “Sounds like a plan.”

She fought the urge to tell him to fuck off all over again. “You have a better idea? I’m open to suggestions.”

He grinned. “Suggestions? For how we could kill an hour until the fuckin’ jagoff electrician shows up? Yeah, I got a couple.”

“Restaurant related?”

He chuckled, dragging one hand over the lower part of his face. “Well, you know, we’d be in the restaurant.”

Syd was laughing even though she was burying her face in her hands. “Gross.��

“Not what you said—”

The door to the restaurant swung open and Richie had just enough control to stop himself mid-sentence while they waited to see who it was. Sydney knew that their luck couldn’t be so good that it was the contractor showing up early.

Tina appeared and walked over to the two of them, still pulling her jacket tight around herself to fight off the lingering chill from outside. Then it was just the three of them going back and forth between staring at the restaurant, or what was left of it anyway, and staring at each other.

“I can’t stay,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just wanted to grab a couple things quick for class.” She looked at Syd. “That’s all good, right?”

Syd nodded. “Yeah, yeah totally good.”

Richie shook his head as he added on, “Not like anyone can fuckin’ use ‘em here.”

Finally unfolding her arms from across her chest, Tina asked, “Yeah, I meant to ask, what’s going on with all that?” She looked at Syd. “There something I should be—”

“No,” Syd cut her off, shaking her head as she did so. “You don’t have to do anything. We, uh, we got it under control. It’s just taking a little longer than expected to get all the contractors and reps through here.” She looked Tina in the eye, voice steady. “You and Ebra just focus on school. Take whatever you need for class, really, it’s fine.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Tina finally nodded, a tiny but grateful smile on her face. “Thank you.”

Syndey nodded, feeling a sense of relief over the fact that even though things with construction might not be on the schedule she wanted, and that even though things with Carmy were a mess that she couldn’t even try to clear up because she couldn’t hold his attention for a full conversation, and even though things with Richie were whatever the fuck they were with Richie, she at least had Tina. Things with Tina were going well and she was going to let that be the life raft that she desperately needed for the moment.

She and Richie watched as Tina collected up the few items that she needed. Richie wasn’t looking at Syd as he spoke to her. “Hey, uh, later?”

Syd wasn’t looking at him either as she said, “Later, what?”

He cleared his throat, which got her to look at him. He nodded towards the door. “You know.”

Her eyes went wide for a moment, that specific look that Richie had become all too acquainted with in the time that they’d worked together and spent together. The look that said she was pissed off but couldn’t say what she wanted to with her words so she was settling for saying it with her eyes.

“Unbelievable.”

Before Richie could say anything in response that matched the smug look on his face, Tina came back over to them. She gave each of them a quick hug goodbye, pressing a brief kiss against Richie’s cheek as she went.

“You two better be playing nice while I’m gone,” she told them as she looked back and forth between them.

“C’mon, Tina,” Richie called after her as she walked away, “like I know how to play any other way!”

As soon as the door shut behind Tina, Sydney reached over and shoved Richie. “You’re lucky that she had Carmy’s good knife or I swear I’d stab you again.”

He chuckled. “Least you’d stab me with the good knife this time.” Turning on his heel, he headed deeper into the construction zone. “C’mon, Chef, we have work to do.”

Sydney was laughing as she watched him walk away, and it was as genuine a sound as it was sarcastic. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head as she followed him, knowing that there were things that they had to do.

It was late, and dark, when Sydney was finally getting ready to leave the restaurant. Most of the day had gone sort of according to plan, so she had that to be thankful for at least. She still hadn’t seen or heard from Carmy, which was now more frustrating than it was concerning. She’d hung around later than she intended to hoping to catch him, but when he didn’t show she decided that she was just going to keep pushing onward anyway. And right now, pushing onward meant going home and finally going to bed.

She had her back to the sidewalk as she locked the main door to The Bear for the night. She could instantly see her breath and she tried not to think about that knowing she was going to have to walk to the station to get home. It wasn’t a horrible walk, and it was one she was perfectly accustomed to doing, but on nights like tonight when she was already tired and exhausted, it seemed worse than it really was.

Her balancing act between mentally preparing for her walk and mentally spiraling about it was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Her grip on the restaurant key tightened as she turned over her shoulder to see who was there, but the tension disappeared as quickly as it’d shown up when she saw that it was Richie standing there trying to get her attention.

She gave him a confused look. “Thought you went home a while ago.”

He shook his head. “Talkin’ to Fak about—”

Syd held her hand up to stop him, not needing more of an explanation than that. “Got it.”

Richie chuckled as he flicked away the last of his cigarette. “Why’re you still here?”

Syd rolled her eyes and shook her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. “For no reason, apparently.”

Richie pulled a face. “Yeesh.”

It got a weary smile out of her. “Exactly.”

He motioned back over his shoulder towards where his car was parked. “If you want—”

“Richie, it’s been a fucking day. A long fucking day. I think I just need to get home.”

“Would you let me just finish my fucking sentence? Please?” He paused and waited for her to nod him along. “As I was saying. If you want I can drive you home so you don’t have to walk. You know, since it’s been a long fucking day.”

Letting her head drop back, Syd allowed herself to smile. If she’d been talking with anyone else she might’ve felt a little bad for snapping the way that she had. But it was Richie, and it was far from the worst thing they’d said to each other. It wasn’t even enough to break the skin.

She tucked her chin down towards her chest again as she looked at Richie. He raised his eyebrows, offer still lingering in the air between them. Finally, she nodded. “Yeah, alright.” She started walking down the sidewalk. “I’ll let you do that for me.”

He laughed as he caught up and fell into stride with her. “You’ll let me?”

She was looking at the sidewalk passing beneath her feet as she laughed, the warmth of her breath causing puffs of fog. “Yeah, I’ll let you, since you want to so badly.”

He was shaking his head at her as he continued to laugh, but he didn’t say anything else. They walked side by side, the outsides of their arms brushing as they went. The swishing sound of their jackets filling the silence between them as their sleeves rubbed against each other. Syd was still looking down at the ground, and Richie was pretending to look around the street instead of over at her as he fought the urge to drape his arm across her shoulders. It would’ve been so easy to do, but he fished his keys out of his pocket to keep his hands busy instead. That felt like the normal and appropriate thing to do.

That quiet moment and the sweet gesture were all but forgotten about by the time the next night rolled around. It was way past time to go home for the night, and Sydney and Richie were at each other’s throats, Natalie there trying to play referee but finding it difficult because she wanted to put Richie’s head through a wall almost as much as Sydney did in that moment.

“Why the fuck would you ever think that this would be okay?!” she shouted, gesturing to the extension cords that were rolled and hanging off of Richie’s shoulder.

He scoffed, gesturing wildly at nothing. “I’m fuckin’, fuckin’ improvising! I’m problem solving! That’s what we’re fucking doing here!”

Her eyes got wide again in that way that let Richie know he should backpedal, even though they both knew that he was just going to double-down. And so would she. “This isn’t solving anything! You are not a problem solver right now, Richie. You are a problem creator!”

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck you. You have no—”

“Hey!” Natalie cut him off. Her voice lowered drastically, but it was just as cutting as she warned him, “Watch it.”

Richie shook his head. “Fuck you too!”

Sydney interjected again, her voice not quite as loud as it had been, but not quite back to her normal talking pitch yet. “It was dangerous, Richie! Like, really dangerous.”

He stared up at the ceiling like he was waiting for divine intervention. “It is not that fucking dangerous! You two have no fuckin’ idea what you’re—”

“What the fuck is going on?!” Carmy’s voice echoed over all of theirs, foreign in the argument and also just foreign to the space in general after how absent he’d been as of late.

Syd felt like a spectator of her own life as she tried to keep track of all the conversations that broke out after he’d asked that question. Part of her wanted to lay into Carmy that maybe he would know what the fuck was going on if he’d been making any type of effort to show up to his own restaurant lately, but she didn’t have the energy to get into it. She listened to everyone firing back and forth, and was registering all of it without truly processing her way through any of it. She heard Carmy and Natalie going back and forth, she heard Richie and Claire, she heard Natalie and Claire. She even heard herself every now and again but none of it really felt like it was sticking.

She couldn’t really remember how she’d excused herself but she knew that she did because before she knew it she was grabbing her jacket and making her way towards the door. Carmy was calling after her but she ignored him—it should’ve felt good to put the shoe on the other foot but it didn’t feel like anything. Natalie was calling after her and she ignored that too. That was a scratch she would be able to slap a band-aid on tomorrow.

Syd was a few yards down the street from the restaurant, aggressively pulling her hood up over her head when she heard Richie yelling after her. She ignored that, but it was shortly followed by the sound of his footsteps as he ran to catch up to her.

“Just gonna fuckin’ leave, then?” he said when he was nearly caught up.

She shook her head and continued walking without saying anything. The only reason that she could even hear him at all over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears was because he was so goddamn loud. Just because she heard him, though, didn’t mean that she was going to respond to him.

He got another stride closer and reached out to grab onto her. His fingers wound their way into the slippery fabric of her coat and he gave her enough of a tug to get her to stumble back a step. She jerked around to face him, causing him to lose his grip in the process.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Her brows knit together, wondering what he thought her answer to that question was going to be, like it wasn’t obvious. “Home, Richie.”

He gestured back towards the restaurant. “We gotta fuckin’—”

“No.”

“But—”

“We don’t have to fucking do anything. You,” she pointed at him, then pointed back at The Bear, “can go talk to Carmy about whatever it is that you wanna do since he’s here now. It’s his restaurant, right? And he’s,” she laughed, the sound as dry as it’d ever been, “he’s finally showing up for it so you might as well take advantage—”

His laughter nearly matched hers in levels of sarcasm. “I don’t know, sounds like you might have some shit you need to talk to him about.”

Syd rolled her eyes. “He’s clearly too busy for me, for this.” She nodded towards the restaurant to prove her point.

There was a moment of heavy silence between them as she and Richie stared at each other. Her expression conveyed nothing but annoyance. She could tell by the look in Richie’s eyes that he was still trying to size her up, trying to figure out what she was thinking and where her head was at with something. He always got around to asking about it, or if not asking about he would make a joke or biting remark that would get them to the same point eventually. So she didn’t break the eye contact—he’d step up to the plate if he wanted to.

“This ‘cause he,” he chuckled in disbelief as he shook his head, hands landing on his hips. “Is this because he fuckin’ showed up with Claire?”

Her face twisted at the question, somewhere between confusion and disbelief. “What?”

Richie let out one short laugh as he stared up at the sky, so few of the stars visible against all the light the city of Chicago threw out at them. He was still staring upwards as he said, “Un-fucking-believable. You’re all pissy because he’s been blowing you off for his girlfriend? What’s the fu—”

“I’m pissy,” Syd stopped him short, “because he’s been blowing me off. Period. Claire Bear has nothing to do with it,” she spat. She knew he would take her increasing annoyance as him being right, but the truth of the matter now was that not only was she annoyed with Carmy for blowing her off, she was annoyed at Richie for his assumptions.

He shook his head as he stared down at her. “Yeah, sure. Right.”

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, she made the decision to fire back instead of retreating, or further clarifying. “Why’d you take off, then? Claire not give you the answer you wanted about Tiff’s new boyfriend?”

Richie’s expression instantly hardened. All the smarm and sarcasm disappeared in a flash. “Don’t fuckin’ go there.”

Syd shrugged. “You went there first.” She felt the tic in her jaw. “And you knew it was fucked, so…”

He wanted to keep it going, but he couldn’t. His shoulders dropped as he sighed. Dragging his hands down his face, he tried to collect his thoughts enough to figure out a way to get the two of them from the conversation that they were currently trapped in, to something else that would end without even more layers of frustration.

He huffed. “The fuck kind of name is Frank, anyway?”

Sydney laughed despite herself—it wasn’t what she had been expecting. Hands still shoved in her pockets, she tapped the toe of her shoe against the sidewalk. “Want me to tell you it’s a dumb name?”

“I do, yeah.”

She let out a tired chuckle as she nodded. “Frank’s a dumb name, Richie.”

“Thank—”

“Kind of like how stealing electricity from our neighbors is a dumb idea.”

His head immediately dropped forward at the words. “Had to go and fuckin’ ruin—”

“Just tell me you’re not going to try and do that again and I’ll drop it.”

He paused for longer than he should’ve considering she was giving him the perfect out that he had been looking for. But he still didn’t want to just give it all up that easily. The least he could do, for himself if nothing else, was wait a few seconds before giving in the way that he knew he was going to have to, the way that he had been ever since they started tearing down The Beef to turn it into The Bear.

“Fine.” He wanted to leave it at that but then he saw the look on her face and he knew that the one-word answer wasn’t going to cut it. “I won’t fuckin’ do it again.”

Syd nodded. “Thank you.” She turned, angling her body to make it clear that she was going to keep on heading home. “It’s cold out, so I’m going home now.” She paused and waited to see if he was going to say anything to try and stop her. When he didn’t, when she saw the slightly lost look on his face, she accepted her fate for the evening. “Night, Chef.”

Richie let her get three steps away from him before he called after her. “Ch—Syd, wait.” He cleared his throat as she turned back around to face him. She raised her eyebrows expectantly and Richie pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “Wanna…you know…”

She tilted her head as she considered it. It’d be right on track for them, really. The frustration that she was feeling in her chest right then was how this whole mess got started in the first place—all that frustration with Carmy, with the restaurant, with life and everything else and they had nowhere to put it all except on each other.

“Okay.”

As she stepped back towards him, and she could see the shift in his expression. She could tell that he hadn’t been expecting her to say yes to that. She hadn’t really expected it either, but it beat going home alone and stressing out about everything that had happened. At least this way she wasn’t going to have to think about it.

Richie nodded as their strides fell in-sync while they walked towards his car. “Okay.”

As they walked into his apartment, Sydney realized just how thankful she also was for the fact that the two of them no longer forced any awkward small talk when they went to Richie’s place together, or when she turned up there on her own. She had enough time to toe off her shoes and shrug her jacket off her shoulders without interruption—he was still a little bit of a gentleman after all. But there were no attempts at conversations or smooth segues if they weren’t already in the middle of discussing something when they got there.

That was why it didn’t take very long for Sydney to find herself on her back on Richie’s bed, arching into him as he held her leg that was hooked around his waist. The only thing that she could hear above the sound of her own breathing were the curses and nearly incoherent words that Richie murmured into her skin just beneath her ear.

His blunt fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her thigh as he thrust into her, driving her deeper into the mattress. She gripped onto his shoulders, needing something to anchor herself. Then she felt the way he shifted, the way both his hands were then on the pillow on either side of her head, his forearms caging her in. Her legs locked tighter around his waist while her hands rested at the nape of his neck. His breath was warm against her neck, the prickle of his facial hair on the column of her throat a contrast to the softness of his lips as he kissed and sucked on the skin there.

She felt like there wasn’t a single part of her that wasn’t being touched by him as he pinned her body beneath his. He was everywhere at once, lips dragging across her skin, rough palms running up and down her body, his touch somehow needy and soft all at once.

He knew the moment that he’d gotten just the right angle when she looped her arms underneath his, nails biting into his back as she tried to pull him closer despite the futile nature of it. She lifted her head up from the pillow to press her forehead in the pocket of space where his neck met his shoulder. Richie shut his eyes as he focused on the feeling of her, not just the way she felt as he pushed inside her, but the way she grabbed at him so needily, the hot bursts of her breath against his skin, the fleeting feeling of her tongue against his neck. It was all enough to send him toppling over the edge with a few more sharp snaps of his hips, rewarded with the moan that Syd let out as she came right after him.

Her head dropped back to the pillow as she rode out the receding waves of her high, and Richie was in no position to pull away from her as he practically collapsed right on top of her. He rested his head against her chest, his ear pressed to her allowing him to hear her racing heartbeat. Their current position also allowed him to feel every drastic rise and fall of Sydney’s chest as she fought to catch her breath. Her legs dropped from around his waist, and as she untangled her arms from underneath his, she let one of her arms drape across her forehead, the other she let fall on Richie. Her hand rested almost perfectly between his shoulder blades, and Richie enjoyed the extra smatter of warmth against his back.

Neither of them said anything while they both waited for their heartrates to slow back down. Richie ended up matching his breathing to hers without even trying to, focused on the thrumming of her heartbeat against his cheek. It wasn’t until he felt Syd let out a sigh that he realized the two of them had been laying together like that for a while.

With nothing more than a quiet groan, Richie pried himself away from her and off the bed in one almost-fluid motion. He scooped his underwear up off the floor and stepped into them. He was still adjusting the waistband as he left the bedroom.

He was only gone for two minutes, three minutes tops. And yet when he came back to the room, one water bottle for each of them in his hands, he saw Sydney up on her feet and adjusting the bedsheets. He shook his head at her as he watched her. She’d grabbed his t-shirt from the floor, and there was something about seeing her in a shirt that said The Original Beef of Chicagoland that gave him pause. Not only that, but as she crouched down to pull the corners of the sheets back over his mattress, he could see the edges of her panties peeking out from underneath it. All he could do for a few seconds was stand there and watch her, but then he got himself back in order again.

“Don’t have to do all that,” he said as he crossed the threshold back into the room.

She looked over her shoulder and watched as he set the water bottles on his bedside table by his alarm clock. “Yeah, well, you still haven’t gotten sheets that actually fit your mattress, so—”

“These sheets fit just fine every other night so I don’t think the sheets are the fuckin’ issue here,” Richie argued with a laugh. He saw her about to head to the other side of the mattress to repeat the adjustment process and blocked her from being able to do so. “Give it a rest.”

She rolled her eyes at him but she did take the instruction to give it a rest. She plopped back down onto the bed and grabbed one of the water bottles that he’d brought in for them. She unscrewed the cap and drank far more of it in one go than she thought she was going to. Placing it back on Richie’s nightstand, she sank so that she was lying down on the mattress again. Just as she was about to pull the comforter back over herself, Richie yanked on the fitted sheet causing her to slide across the bed in the process.

Sydney let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and a laugh as she fought to get her balance back while he continued to tug at the sheets beneath her. Richie laughed as he lifted the corner of the mattress just enough to crudely tuck the sheet underneath it. When he looked up at Syd, she was propped up on her elbows staring intently at him, but he could still see the smirk fighting its way onto her face.

“See?” He stood up and held his hands out in a proud gesture. “Got it.”

Rather than saying anything, Sydney simply reached over and grabbed the water bottle that she hadn’t taken a drink from and pitched it over to him. They both laughed as he fumbled to catch it. She was shaking her head and tucking herself in while Richie all but chugged the entire thing.

As she settled down into the mattress, she rolled onto her side so that she was facing Richie. She wasn’t looking at him, though. Instead she was looking down at his comforter that was wound between her fingers. She became very aware of the feeling of the soft, worn-out cotton of Richie’s t-shirt against her skin. She didn’t usually wear his clothes, and in the moment she realized why—it felt more intimate than she bargained for. She just hadn’t wanted to put her button-down back on. It was comfortable to wear for work, but not for sleeping in if she could help it. But now as she laid there, covered in Richie’s shirt and blankets and immersed in the scent of him because of that, it was too late to go back on it now.

Richie’s voice pulled her out of her spiral. “Looks like you’re about to blow a fuse over there.”

She looked at him, the intensity in her expression softening as she let out a quiet laugh. If they had been somewhere else, his statement would’ve been an invitation to talk about what she was thinking about. But that’s not what they did here, so instead she said, “Always.”

He chuckled as he plopped down on the other side of the bed from her. She always took his side of the bed, not that she knew that because he never said anything to stop her from doing it. Shuffling around, he tried to get himself comfortable. His legs brushed against hers beneath the covers a few times as he tossed and turned. He could feel Sydney staring at him and chose not to pay any mind to it. She was the one stealing his side, after all.

He ended up laying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head and one draped across his stomach as he looked up at the ceiling. Sydney was still laying on her side facing him, and Richie couldn’t help but to feel like she was laying there staring at him. Turning his head, he looked over at her, only to find that she was laying there with her eyes closed and the blanket pulled right up underneath her chin.

He didn’t turn back right away, and somehow Sydney could tell because she said, tiredness creeping into her voice, “Go to sleep.”

Richie chuckled at the fact that he’d been caught. He gave her a small nudge. “Can’t until you turn the lamp off.”

She groaned as she turned in the other direction. She squinted her eyes against the light as she turned it off. In the darkness, Richie could hear her roll back so that she was facing him again. Even though he wasn’t letting his laughter escape past his lips, Syd could feel the mattress shifting as he tried to hold it in and she shook her head at him.

“Go to sleep,” she repeated.

He chuckled as he took his arm from behind his head and slipped it under the covers instead. His tone was all sleepiness and humor as he said, “Yes, Chef.”

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

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@justreblogginfics @fromirkwood @ashlingiswriting @ago0112

#the bear #the bear fanfiction #what do you tell your friends #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #sydney adamu fanfiction #sydrichie #sydrichie fanfiction #richie jerimovich fanfiction #sydney adamu x richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x sydney adamu #sydney x richie #richie x sydney #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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thecapricunt1616 · 10 months ago

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Blue Lotus - SxC Fic - Chapter 4

♡ Summary: Carmy FINALLY admits how he feels to Syd, friskiness ensues! ♡ W/C: 10,405 ♡ Posted Date: 05/16/2024 ♡ A/N: AAAA Here is C4 of my SydCarmy Fic!! I hope you all like it, I'm sorry this fic was abandoned for so long there was a hiccup, but were so back! Who's pumped to see (fingers crossed) some IRL SydCarmy makeout action - IK I am!!! I hope that y'all enjoy this chapter, xoxo :D ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT !! Carmy being all mushy about Syd, Overprotective Carmy, You COULD Call this OOC but Carmy has been in intensive therapy about his exact feelings of holding back his own joy - so it could also be very IN character when you take that in to account ;)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

“Uh- yeah? Yeah…” Syd said softly. She felt hot all over. Goosebumps were raised on each speck of flesh. Her head felt as if she’d smoked the joint from earlier all herself, light. Her chest felt warm, like her heart was being squeezed in a hug.

Syd had kissed enough people before to know this felt different, much different then any other time she’d been kissed. As stupid as it felt, she was thinking she understood what people meant now when they said their world stopped when they finally kissed the person they were meant for.

That- or their sexual tension was so insane that it lit each and every one of their nerves on fire, and the feeling of a magnet in her gut pulling her to him was all in her head, and she should really think about checking herself in.

“I think I’ve been wanting to do that….i don’t know how long- but I know…I’m sure I’ve wanted it now for a while and I’m sorry I haven’t done it…I couldn’t lose you, Syd.” He rested his forehead on hers, huffing a sigh of relief through his nose and his eyes fluttering shut.

“Do you wanna know why I really actually had the nerve to come out here?” She asked quietly.

When Carm opened his eyes, he saw syds heartwarming smile, meer inches away from his own lips. He wanted to lean in and kiss her again, he wanted to show her just how badly he needed her, here, now. But he wouldn’t dare push her. He’d already felt like he’d taken too much.

“Why?” He asked shyly.

“Fuckin fak” she said, giggling a bit. “Fak. Of all people. He told me…that like- he said we should date?” She said, laughing as Carm’s cheeks go pink. “And he said ‘you’re already work married but I think he’d want to be real married’ “ she said and Carm groans in embarrassment.

“I’m gonna fuckin kill him- I’m so so sorry” he rests his head on her shoulder, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck in embarrassment, but he couldn’t help but smile.

He nearly groaned when she gently runs her delicate fingers over his scalp slowly, ever so gently easing out the tangles from the day.

“It was needed for me too I guess. I think it’s a little funny. And also strangely humbling, considering I pride myself on reading people. But everyone except for me saw your feelings. Well…maybe I did? I just didn’t accept them because I also didn’t want to lose you. Because I trust you” Syd went on.

The words nearly brought tears to his eyes. She was afraid to lose him. She was afraid to lose him because of how much she trusts him.

“I would never leave you, y’know that, right?” He sat up a bit, taking her other hand and holding it with both of his, “I would never dream of it. I fuckin- I- I feel like I need you? And that’s somethin I’m still..I’m still trying to get over it while I’m here and work it out and I’ve been really trying Syd but it’s - I try to explain it to my therapist it’s not- it’s not like I think I’ll die it’s not like I think I can’t- I can’t keep going but it’s like this- this-“ his ramblings is interrupted this time, by Syd returning the favor and kissing him.

He let out a small satisfied hum of the feeling of his lips on hers, closing his eyes and moving his lips in tandem, relishing in the feeling of her fingers gently twirling his curls between her slender fingers, by instinct forming the little ringlets together in her fingers how she’d do when she played with her own curls.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much, Berzatto?” She teased, and Carm laughs genuinely.

“Never. That's the first time I’m hearing this. I could talk to you forever though…” he said and pulls her closer. She was nearly sitting in his lap. But to Carm, she still wasn’t close enough. He wanted her glued to his side, he wished he could bottle up the essence of her comfort and carry it with him everywhere, that is how he would feel normal, that was how he could feel apart, without having to do the work on himself, that is.

“I’m fucking with you. Honestly I-“ she’s cut off by Carmen’s phone buzzing loudly on the table.

Babysitter #4 the contact read when they looked over.

Carm saw the time and rolled his eyes “fucking motherfuckers” he muttered angrily and picked up the phone.

“What?” He snapped.

“Hello! Mr.Berzatto this is Basekeeper Christian how we doing tonight?” Syd heard a man chirp through the phone.

“Fine. What do you need.” He grates.

“Well we have here on the log a guest- Sydney Adamu - she checked in for you around 1 pm today- her guest pass was never scanned out at the gate so we’re being sure that you’re both aware of the time. Visiting hours have been over for 45 minutes, but she is welcome back tomorrow” The man explained.

Carmen wanted to drown his phone in the lake, get the first flight back to Chicago- (first class) - and fuck Syd so hard they literally caused turbulence. But- his testosterone driven rage wasn’t going to get him anywhere except thrown in a hospital here, since your essentially signing your sanity over on a little piece of paper until you ‘graduate out’.

“Mmhmm.” He grumbles “she’s leaving. I’m walking her down now.” He hung up on the man before he could say anything else and he drops his phone back on the table, rubbing his face how he did when he was annoyed but didn’t want to let it out.

“I told you I didn’t wanna get you in trouble!” She huffs

“D’you really think I give a fuck?” he asked and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her chest flush to his.

“No but I give a fuck, cause what happens if they think Y’re like becoming defiant and keep you away for longer.” She asked, looking down at his lips for a moment.

He seized the opportunity to pull her into another kiss, but this one was…different, more heated, more wanting, the kind that felt like it was dripping in anticipation.

She nearly melted into him, taking the chance to straddle his hips, sitting on his lap and cupping his cheeks as the kiss became more feverish. There were small nips, and moans, and wet sounds of lips moving with lips - they weren’t sure what sounds were coming from who at one point.

His hands were all over her, gripping the curve of her ass, memorizing it, the way it filled his large palms, squeezing the flesh of her hips the way that made her creen with desire. He slipped his hands under her hoodie, the pit of fire in his stomach growing when he felt the raised goosebumps running up the entirety of the flesh on her back and sides.

He disconnected their lips, kissing along her jaw, leaving small nips and bites before soothing them over with his tongue and kissing the stinging ache away, before moving on to the next targeted patch of skin and repeating the assault.

Sydney was sure she’d never been so turned on in her life. She felt like a wild animal, like a horny teen again. She couldn’t remember another time, another person - who she wanted to share this much of herself with- so badly. But there was also something in her screaming that it could be ruined if they moved all at once.

“Carm” she said softly, but his name had been leaving her lips in little moans and whines that it didn’t quite catch his attention. He gently bit down on her collarbone, suckling the flesh - being sure to leave a dark mark for her to admire in the mirror later - but also to remind himself when he sees her again that this all wasn’t just a dream.

She moaned out softly, tugging his curls firmer and disconnecting his lips from her flesh. She tugs his head back to look up at her, and she nearly forgot why she’d told him to stop at the sight of his purely blissed out expression.

His usual icy blue eyes had become blown out with the lust swimming in his pupils, the effect causing the rings of his iris’ to look like the deep sea. His cheeks were flushed a scarlet red, his lips were plump and rosy from all the kissing and sucking he was nearly addicted to already. He couldn’t get enough of her scent, her taste. His mind was already whirling around the fact that if he was this obsessed with the way her neck tasted?!

He was sure that when he did go home, he and Syd would both not be returning to work for a week because he was determined to lick, kiss, nip, bite, worship- every inch of skin she would allow. He felt…devoted. That was the word that was swirling throughout his mind, he was devoted to her pleasure, however she requested it.

“You taste so fuckin’ good” he said softly, taking the hand that was cupping his cheek and opening his mouth, wrapping his lips around her fore and middle finger and moaning as his eyes fluttered shut at the taste. He swirled his tongue around her digits sensually and Syd felt as if her brain short circuited for a moment.

Her jaw went slack, his filthy noises mixed with the saliva gathering at the corners of his lips - he was nearly fucking drooling at the taste of her.

“You’re a fucking whore Jesus Christ.” She said lowly. He smiled around her fingers, pulling off with a pop and swallowing with a satisfied hum.

“Please stay. Please” he looks up at her with pleading eyes.

“You know, if the whole EC thing stops working for you- you definitely have a potential career in modeling - for animal shelter donations. Don’t give me those fucking puppy eyes, Berzatto” she said and he ups the amperage, fluttering his lashes for added effect.

“And how! There’s a gate. Once I scan this to let myself out there’s security guards Carmy. I can’t just come back!” She said

“You think I’d make you go out there? No. Jess will do it, he owes me anyway.” He explained, gently rubbing up and down her sides.

“How is he supposed to do that?” She asked and Carm smiled friskily

“He has ways.” He shrugged. “This isn’t his first round here. He knows his way around the grounds. Cmon you wanna go back to the hotel? A little fun never hurt no one Syd” he mused, gently tucking his hands in the back pockets of her jeans

“Mmmmm…” she tapped her finger to her lips as if she was thinking “no. I’m not risking your entire stay here for one night of making out. We can do this tomorrow, you need sleep, I need sleep. It’s better if I just go, Carm” she told him gently.

He huffs, dropping his head back to the couch pillow. “Don’t blame me for trying” he muttered.

“I’m not, it’s very sweet how much you want me to stay with you” she kissed his chin gently. If his cheeks, and neck, and chest, weren’t already flushed he would have blushed, but instead he just felt the familiar rush of warmth to his face and chest he felt whenever they touched.

“I always want you with me” he said honestly. His eyes fluttered shut as she made a trail of kisses from his chin to his lips, over the bridge of his nose, to the crest of his forehead, and finally one sweet lingering kiss to the top of his head, before resting her cheek there and embracing him in a warm, tender hug. “I’ll always be around for you” she whispered.

Syd was finally off to her hotel in an Uber, that Carmen had insisted on ordering, he told her he had to be sure he’d able to watch it- even though Sydney was more than happy to turn on her location for him (she did so just to ease his nerves), he checked the liscence plate three separate times making sure each letter matched, and had to check the front and back, and also google a photo of the car to be sure it was the same exact one that they had listed.

He also asked the man what his name was when he pulled up- and was sure to lecture him to not drive off until she was inside her room, and telling her to call him if she had any problems at all. Syd was slightly embarrassed, but it also made her feel so tended to and cared for.

The second she got to her room and put her bag down, she texted Carm

Syd: Made it back 100% safe and as I was when I saw you last! Thank you for scaring the shit out of that Uber driver. I'm not sure he’s ever gonna take a ride there again - he told me when I got out it was easier picking people up at a military base.

Carm picked up his phone right away, sighing in relief.

Carm: Would you put your right hand in an Uber alone with no way of being sure they’ll be ok?

He sent back with a small smile. After Syd had taken a quick shower, brushed her teeth, tied up her hair, and gotten in her pajamas she had sent him her response

Syd: Aren't you right handed? So wouldn’t I be your left hand? Since in this analogy you’re one hand I’m the other? So you would be your own dominant hand? No?

Carmen didn’t hear his phone buzz over the sound of the shower running, but he couldn’t respond anyway, because said hand was currently wrapped tightly around his cock as he leaned against the cool shower wall, head rested against it, slowly stroking and tugging as he whimpered her name.

He was getting frustrated, though. Because now that he’d felt her hands in his- he could imagine one thousand times better how it would feel wrapped around his cock. His own calluses and rough skin, as well as the sheer size of his hand was not matching the fantasy of her jerking him off on her knees in the cave behind the waterfall that he’d discovered.

“I’ll always be here for you, Bear. I love taking care of you, is this what you need? You need to cum on my face?” she said in his fantasy, her tongue dipping over the curve of his v-line as she tugged his cock in slow languid strokes.

He whimpered out, “yes- fuck so fuckin dirty” he groaned, pumping himself faster.

“Do you want to cum on my face, or cum down my throat?” He imagined her hot open mouthed kisses along the side of his neck earlier instead being along the length of his shaft and he nearly got weak in the knees.

“Oh fuck” he whined, imagining the taste of her once again, the feeling of her fingers nearly touching the back of his throat, the feeling of her tongue on his, the feeling of suckling on her tongue and swallowing their mixed saliva like it was the very essence of life.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, bear” he imagined the look on her face as she came, the way he’d make her legs shake, how she’d stutter, and creen, and arch her back for him.

“Fuck gonna fuckin make y’mine baby- shhiiit y’so fuckin hot” he grunted as he spilled into his fist with heaving breaths.

It took him a moment to catch his breath and find his composure once more. When he opened his eyes, his cheeks heat in sheer embarrassment at the amount of cum covering from his abs, dripping down his balls all the way down his thighs.

“Fuckin hell” he muttered” rinsing himself off before taking a quick shower. It wasn’t a surprise though, any time he touched her the fantasy’s in his mind would run wild - and the fact that they were really doing this, that they were…together? Wanted to be together? He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that his head felt lighter, his balls felt heavier, and he could not wait to see her tomorrow.

When he laid in bed and finally read her response, he chuckled a bit.

Analogy’s, Acronyms, Abbreviations - haven’t you learned they aren’t my forte?

Before plugging his phone in after setting his alarm, and trying to get some sleep.

Every time his phone vibrated he assumed it was her, and would check it- to become frustrated that it was just another useless email, or news notification.

She’s probably fucking sleeping you freak get ahold of yourself.

He’d thought, but that didn’t do anything to stop his racing thoughts. He actually had to end up jacking off again to get himself to the point of exhaustion he could essentially pass out instead of willfully falling asleep.

The next morning, though, he nearly hopped out of bed. Carmen had never remembered a time he was so excited to take on a day. He put on his favorite thermal white long sleeve and vintage wrangler jeans, brushing his teeth and slipping on his boots before heading outside.

He stopped by Jesse’s cabin, banging on the door “wake up , jagoff!” He called through the door. One time, Jess had slept through half the day and missed meds- which was an immediate send back to inpatient, and a restart of your outpatient time, so naturally- Jesse was pissed with himself, and Carmen wasn’t too happy either because for 3 days he had to mope around basically alone, and walk Shayna wherever she wanted to go. So ever since he got back to the OP cabins, Carm was determined to at least assure Jess was awake before first call so he wouldn’t get thrown back again.

“It’s fuckin- it’s like 30 minutes before first call, asshole!” He grumbled as he unlocked and opened the door.

“Get dressed, first call is now- I wanna get the cows taken care of and shower before Syd comes back you owe me remember” he said and Jess rolls his eyes.

“Shay is gonna be pissed” he said

“Don’t care she can suck it” he stepped into the cabin, shutting the door and turning on the lights to which Jesse groans dramatically.

“Jesus Christ” he shields his eyes with his arms. “You’re worse then the inpatient morning staff” he went over to the bed, flopping back down on his stomach and covering his head with a pillow.

“The morning staff? Thats low” Carm snorts a laugh, opening his dresser drawers and throwing a fresh pair of boxers, a pair of jeans, and one of his black hoodies on to his back. “Im getting Shay if you’re still sleeping when she’s up and dressed? You know what she’ll do” Carm warned, before heading across the way.

He gently knocked on the door instead, of pounding as to not give her a panic attack. “Shay?” He called “you up?” He asked, knocking again a bit louder.

“If you don’t get away from my door I’ll peel your balls like clementines” she snaps loudly

“That’s uh- wow” he said with a chuckle “I was gonna offer to use my day pass and Syd can check the two of you out and we can go off-roading like you’ve been talking about? Unless…”

He heard her footsteps quickly approaching the door and the clicking open of the 3 deadbolts and the sliding chain before unlocking it, sticking her head out and squinting at the light - “fuck” she stuck her hand in front of her to block the sun.

“You really mean it?” She asked hopefully

“I wouldn’t lie t’you, Shay. Yes. If you get dressed now and come sit with Jess and I while we feed the cows” he added. She rolled her eyes slightly.

“Gimme 5” she said and shut the door.

“Thank you!” He called to her and went back across the way, opening the door to Jesse’s cabin. “Dude!” He said frustratedly when he heard him snore. He walked over, taking the pillow from on top of his head and wacking him with it.

He startled awake “wha- fuckin not cool” Jesse said, sleepily rubbing his face. “You think string bean across the way is gonna be able to carry even a single bale? Come on!”

After Carm and Jesse had moved their entire groups worth of bales in record time, due to the fact that patients weren’t allowed to check out until their routines as they called them had been completed - since that was one of their main ideas, being a stable routine helps an unbalanced mind stay regulated.

But, daylight was burning- and he was not wasting another single minute in this place as soon as Syd got here.

Carm was the first one in line to get his meds that morning, the first one to breakfast, and the first one in the main office. “Morning” he said to the woman sitting at the counter.

“Mr. Berzatto! Good morning to you as well honey how can I help you?” She asked

“Uh- the day pass? How do I go about that?” He asked.

“Oh! Yes ok so let me grab you the form here” she opens up her desk and takes out a blank form.

“Alright so between regular visiting hours so 6 am and 11 pm you may leave the facility with the signature of your therapist since you were a self admission. Each patient gets one day pass unless needed for familial emergencies and things of that nature. You may do whatever you wish, but if you are to not return by curfew- you will be kicked out of the program. Understood?” She said and he nodded

“Understood.” He said and handed over his patient ID so she could fill out the form.

She quickly filled out all the information that was needed “Alright here we go, enjoy your day” she said as she handed him his ID and the form back.

“Thanks, you too” he took it and headed straight to Mandy’s office.

He got there just as the clock struck 8, and huffed when he realized that the door was still locked and the lights were off, she must have been running late this morning. So he decided to fish his phone out of his pocket and he saw Syd had replied when he was getting his meds.

Things that have to do with communication usually don’t come natural to you, I’ve noticed. But you’re learning!! Lmk the plans for today whenever you want

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment, before he was hitting the call button and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” She picked up after the third ring.

“Hey- uh hey- g’morning- did you… did y’sleep alright?” He asked, almost feeling awkward, he became more stressed out the more he asked himself why he would ever be feeling awkward around her.

“As good as one can in the dead quiet. I can’t believe I’m saying this but… I miss the train?” She said and carm chuckled a bit.

“Yeah- yeah. Wow I- I haven’t even thought about that. You get used to it by like..a week? Maybe. I dunno the first week here I just spent either drawing or moving hay or training star, so by the time my head hit the pillow- I don’t even think there’s a night I remember falling asleep, other then last night but…that’s a different story” he said, hoping she would bring up so he could sooth the anxiety that she regretted everything.

“Yeah the craziest thing Carm- I woke up- and it looks like my neck was attacked by leeches! Now why would that be?” She mused. He felt the heat burning his cheeks, but he couldn’t help the smug smirk that curled on his lips.

“You did? Have you been swimming? It’s a little cold to be swimming, Syd. I don’t even think there is leeches in big bear lake.” He teased.

“Oh that’s why it’s so insane! I think..this hotel may have a late night leech problem, haven’t you seen that movie? Attack of the late night leeches?” She joked with one of her adorable giggles.

“That classic fictional horror movie? Are you joking? Of course I’ve seen Attack of the late night leeches- I’ll do you one better, have you seen the suck-uel? ” He asked, smiling proudly to himself when she cracks up laughing.

He heard Mandy’s keys and heels clicking down the hall “hey- hey start getting ready, wear something comfortable - I’ll call you in a few” he told her.

“Oh- ok! Like.. sweatpants?” She asked

“Whatever- jeans, sweatpants - just something to be moving around in yea?” He explained.

“Carmen? Oh- sorry I’m late, no one usually is checking in so early is everything ok?” Mandy asked him and he gave her an apologetic smile and held a finger up to tell her it’d be just a second.

“Okay- sure I’ll do Jeans, sorry for keeping you- bye” she said and hung up before he got a chance to tell her she was never ‘keeping’ him, or holding him up.

“Uh- sorry, y’supposed T’sign this f’me I guess? ” He asked her as she unlocked the door.

“Out-Day form?” She questioned, flicking on the lights and going to sit on her rolling chair behind her desk.

“Mmhmm” he hummed and handed it over.

“No. You haven’t done a single light tunnel assignment correctly. You haven’t advanced enough in the program to get back out, you’ll undo your progress” she said plainly and turned on your computer.

Pure rage washed over him like a bucket of ice water. “It’s bullshit. I told you what my fucking light is. It’s not my fault you don’t see her like that” he crossed his arms angrily.

“The purpose of the light tunnel project, Carmen, is that no matter where we are, we can find a light, and follow it. A person, is not a light.” She explained without looking up, since they’d already had this very conversation each time he refused to attend their check in meetings regarding the stupid project.

“But she is f’me! What don’t you get?! Syd is my fucking light! She- she always has been! Ever since I fucking met her!!! Please. Please. Mandy, what do I have to say?” He asked and she looked up at him over the rims of her thick black glasses.

“She’s here isn’t she.” She said matter of factly.

“And? What does that have to do with anything?” He asked.

“Shut the door. Sit. If you’ll have your weekly light session now, then maybe- let me repeat, maybe, I will sign this for you to leave lotus with her for the day.” She said seriously.

He quickly shut the door and sat down in the chair, and she realized she’d never gotten him to start a session so easily before.

“Fine. What. Ask me anything I’ll tell you anything.” He said honestly.

She sits back in her chair, folding her hands over her stomach. “Let’s imagine together. Say you jump into a relationship with this girl since you've been playing with the idea that she’d be a good fit for so long, and 6 months down the line- you two realize that running a business and being a partnership isn’t for you. How will you manage this? What have you learned here? We’ll start there.” She shrugged.

Carmen sighed, mentally rolling his eyes.

That would never happen

He’d thought to himself.

“I’d…” he trails off, thinking harder about what she may want to hear.

“I’d - pick whichever is more integral to my happiness. I’d make the choice f’me not f’what mikey would have wanted. Mikey would want me to keep the business and dump her, but…like I told you. She makes life bearable. I wouldn’t even want the bear anymore if she wasnt there. I-“ he stopped suddenly, realizing how he’d really felt and going dead silent.

“Okay so hit me with that breakthrough thought we just had” she pats the desk “cmon- let it out.” She encouraged.

He took a deep, shaking breath. “I hate it…I- I fuckin’-“ he shook his head “I fuckin’ hate the environment I work in. I-it’s loud, and it’s-it’s demanding, it’s stressful, it’s- it’s usually fuckin’ thankless most of the time... but it- it is…everything. It- was. It was everything. I think- I think that’s why? Y’know? When I first got here that I was so good. And uh…the fuckin- the inpatient nurses they’d always be so fuckin nice t’me and I always wondered why but…but I’m- I’m agreeable. It’s because I thrive under a demanding routine. They- they aren’t used t’that im like- A- a fuckin freak” he shook his head, laughing dryly. “I am still the freak. At fucking adult crazy camp. B-but the nurses they aren’t used t’people who just follow fuckin direction. But that- that’s being in culinary school, that was NOMA that- that was every fucking place ive been trained to do what I do. And I love it- I-i do. I like knowing what I’m going to be doing from the minute I wake up to the minute I’m in bed again, a-and I uh…” he rubbed his chin as he thought.

“I um…I think that Syd? Y-y’right. But in a way, so so wrong. Because she- she isn’t my light she’s my darkness. She’s my peace. She’s my…my fucking midnights?” He chuckled a bit at how stupid he felt saying it. “She’s…like- peace. She is what takes my fuckin view off the light. I’m a- I-I’m a moth. Mandy. I’m a fucking moth. And I can’t look away from the light, from the routine- from the- the- the chaos! I can’t! It’s who I am, it's what I need, it’s what makes me thrive. So no I- I have too much attention on the god damn light. Mandy! I need some fucking rest, I need some- some reprieve- some god damn relaxation?!” He said frustratedly.

“Like- I-i- I’m realizing. Fuck! I’m not getting better Mandy I’m getting comfortable again!” he shook his head, running a nervous hand through his curls that were still damp from the shower. “She saved me. Again! She made me fucking..she- she showed up and she showed me that I’m doin that- that- that I need something to take me off routine because I- I get obsessed with it. So my fuckin light? My stupid light is finding someone who can turn it the fuck off“ he stood up, pacing anxiously.

“C-can you give feedback? please? y’too quiet” he said, nervously shaking his hand as he walked back and forth from the window.

There was light scratching of pen on paper on the desk and he looked over just as she holds out the form, offering it to him. “Bring by your light tunnel packet later I’ll sign you off” she said.

“That- that- that’s it? That’s all? Y’-y’not like…” he looked at her confused.

“That was what I’ve been asking you to give me for the past 2 weeks. Have fun today! Enjoy yourself. We will go deeper into my feedback tomorrow.” she said, Carmen took the paper and was out of the office before she could barely blink.

He briskly walked down the hall, hitting syds contact and dialing her number. She answered fairly quickly “never say that again.” He told her.

“Hello to you too?” She questioned.

“Y’not - sorry. Y’not ever fuckin’ holdin me, er’- er’ keepin me. Or whatever bullshit you said before you hung up. I - I’ll always talk t’you” he pushed open the door to the therapists office cabin, heading down the stairs.

“Oh- ok…yeah I- I mean I really like talking to you too” she said, he could hear the smile to her voice and just knowing she was smiling made his chest lighten tenfold.

“Yeah…uh- so- we get days out here? Jesus feel like I’m in fuckin prison. But they allow us out, 6-11 - did you wanna go off roading with me Jess and Shay t’day? Shes been wantin t’go really bad- there’s this place it’s literally 10 minutes away. We rent a jeep and we get like a fuckin hand radio and we use it to keep in touch with the tour guides that drive ahead of us. Apparently we drive up walls and shit? It sounds super sick she’s been goin’ on and on about it since I was told I got my day. They both uh…well Shay had one of the days but she blew it on hooking up with this band member? I think? And Jess wasn’t sent here…by choice…so you would just check them out- but it’s nothing to it- you’re just speaking f’them that you’ll try to get them back” he explained.

“Shit- uhhh- yeah! That sounds fuckin…awesome. So- like- we’d be driving? Have you…done something like that before?” She asked

“No- well- yeah no. But I looked it up it’s not that crazy. And Jess said he used to go with his brothers all the time- he was gonna drive for us. It’s not like fuckin- daredevil shit Syd, it’s mostly like cool scenery we wouldn’t be able to see otherwise.” He opened up the door to his cabin, checking the trash to make sure they didn’t leave behind any alcohol bottles from yesterdays activities.

“Alright- I’ll Uber over now then” she said

“No- nah. It’s cool, it’s cool gimme a sec” Carmy said, putting the call on speaker and opening the Uber app on his phone.

“What do you mean? You want me to walk?” She teased.

“Nope juuuust-“ he said, stalling her for a few more moments “aha. Avery! Perfect. Avery, a nice looking middle aged brunette woman in a Nissan Rogue will be there for you in 3 minutes. I’ll stay on the phone just to make sure Avery is who Avery says” he said and plopped down on the sofa.

She sighed dramatically. “you make it like we’re in Chicago right now. This is Big Bear California, I was literally talking to this couple and they said they don’t even lock their doors here?!” She said and Carmy heard her shut the hotel room door behind her.

“Still, y’here f’me so…it’s my job to look after you” he said and rested his foot on the coffee table as he sunk deeper into the couch, the mornings extra 5 bales of hay beginning to weigh on his already bad back.

“Oh- yeah, look after me - I will be sure to tell them that I’m checking you and your friends out of day therapy so you guys can look after me” she teased and Carmen snorts a laugh.

“Y’know what? All this talkin’ why aren’t we searching for Avery mm? What if Avery is really some weird fuck in a black van ready to steal you cause he sees how innocent you look in your Uber picture?” He counters and she laughed.

“Ohhh oh- yeah! Like your creeper van? The one you refuse to get rid of? I’m sure another fellow in a creeper van, you guys would actually hit it off! If this man in a van shows up, I think I should ask him to go off roading with us” she mused and Carmen laughed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Fuck off! You know how many times that piece’a’shit has saved us? A bunch!” He countered

“Oh well would you look at that I’m looking at a Nissan Rogue are you ready for this license plate I’m gonna read it off. I know this is a presidential level transfer” she teased

“Shut up…just send me a picture of it I’ll see you soon” he muttered with a smile, his cheeks heating once more.

“Jesus! I’ll see you in literally ten minutes Carm. Try to take a chill pill in the meantime ok?” She said

“Just get here I wanna see you” he said and hung up, his heart nearly thumping out of his chest.

At least he was honest?

Carmy made the quick walk to the main office cabin once more where guests check in, waiting on the porch and leaning against the doorframe.

When he saw the Uber was one minute away he finally stopped staring at the ride tracking feature and put his phone in his pocket, nearly vibrating with excitement.

A white midsize Nissan pulled up and Carmy practically bounced down the stairs to open up the back passenger door. “Were you waiting for me?” She asked, sliding out after thanking the driver.

He shut the car door “had to make sure you got here safe, right?” He asked, heart pounding in his chest as he pulled her to the porch by the hand gently.

“I missed you too” she said, a bit…shy? Carm had never heard Sydney be shy before, something about it made his head swim that he had this effect on her, even if only for a fleeting moment.

“Thanks f’comin” He muttered as he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her back and she rested her cheek on his chest.

“You smell good” she mumbled, lacing her fingers together behind his back as she held him.

“You always smell good” he said and gently kissed the top of her head.

“I’m not sure why I thought I’d be sleeping in when I came here, I woke up at 4 and my first thought was that I missed the delivery cause of the time difference” she said, resting her chin on his chest as she looked up at him.

“When I first got here- let’s say the first maybe 12 days? I was restless at night unless I was cleaning. I felt fuckin nuts” he said and looked down at her.

Her eyes looked like golden honey in the early morning sun, her skin was glowing with whatever sunscreens and lotions she put on this morning. “You have super long eyelashes” she said after a few moments, their faces mere inches apart.

“Is that good?” He questioned, a small smile curling on his lips.

“Mmm I dunno. Maybe? They’re pretty.” She said

“OH MY GOD!! KISS, KISS, KISS!!!” Shayna chants loudly as her and Jesse walk down the row of cabins to meet them

Carmen rolled his eyes, turning to face them. “You love to ruin a moment don’t you, Shay?” Jesse said with a grin

“You two jagoffs are getting checked out by my-“ he stopped, thinking for a short moment

“I should be offended” Syd laughs “your friend? Asshole?” she said and Shayna laughs

“Oh my god Carmen! Stand up bitch!” Shay came over, resting her arm on Carm’s head on the way she knew ticked him off.

“I am standing stringbean” he brushes her arm off and she slings her arm around Syd’s shoulders instead.

“Since he won’t claim you you’ll be my girlfriend for the day” she said and Syd laughs.

“Oh finally a taker, if I swung that way I’d be all over it” she linked their arms together.

“Awww come onnn” Shay smiled “you look like a girl who likes magic” she said playfully.

“Woooowww” Syd laughs “Magic huh? What kind of magic?”

Shayna smiled flirtatiously “the kind with princess wands and special rabbits” she said playfully and Jesse laughed.

“Carm I highly recommend you collect your friend before before the succubus gets ahold of her” he said and Shayna rolled her eyes.

“Well if he’s not gonna take a bite” Shay teased and Carmy plucks Shayna’s arm off Syd’s shoulder and pulled Syd back to him

“Fuck off” he said, wrapping his arm around her waist securely.

Carmen was becoming snappy very quickly. He had just been able to admit to Syd somewhat how he’d felt last night- and felt as if Shayna was trying to turn her off of him somehow. But it was simply his blind hormonal testosterone taking the reins.

For Syd, every nerve she had was on fire. She simply thought Shayna was hilarious, and knew she meant nothing by the harmless flirting - but seeing the way Carmys fists tightened slightly at his sides, the way he watched Shayna’s every move. And when he grabbed her like that? He had never claimed her before, they had hugged- sure. They of course made out last night. But he had claimed her as his, at least in the way Shayna was jokingly insinuating they should hook up.

“Awww shortstack” Shayna ruffled his hair and he pushed her hand away annoyed “Fuck off Shay” he huffed “are we goin’ ‘er are you two gonna keep fuckin’ w’me?” he grabbed Syd’s hand, leading her up the steps and opening the door for her.

They had been led to a forested mountain by the tour guides, and had been encouraged to park and explore the trails a little bit. Shayna had begged Jesse to go with her until he got the message - she wanted to be sure Carmen and Sydney were left alone.

“Do you-“ Syd gasped, her heart thrumming with anticipation as he ravished her neck with hot, open mouth kisses, that quickly turned into goosebumps after moving on to the next spot and the crisp fall air would chill the remaining saliva he’d left on her skin.

His hands were everywhere under her sweatshirt. Palming her tits, playing with her nipples between his fingers until they became perky and plump, gently dragging his nails over her ribs as he reached up, slowly rubbing over the supple soft skin with the pads of his fingers to caress her shoulderblades and easily unhook the simple 2 clasped bralette she’d been wearing.He tugged at her jeans and she lifted her hips right away. Carmy quickly unbuttoned them, nearly breaking the zipper trying to get it open, and pulled them down swiftly with trembling hands.

This revealed the small wet spot right on the crotch seam due to the barely there black lace she’d worn akin to her bralette, since the jeans shed taken were stupidly thin in order to fit a weekends worth of clothes in one overnight duffle so she wouldn’t need to check a bag.

“Do you think they- that they fucking planned this?” she breathed out.

Carmen could barely think - he was being driven by something outside of himself. The only thing he knew that he craved was her most sensitive, intimate parts in his mouth, as if it was the very air he breathed. The last 4 minutes had felt like an hour but yet, only a second to him, and what had been a small bonfire underneath his skin last night had turned into a full on blazing inferno this time around.

He smoothly sunk onto his knees in the shared large footwell of the back seat. This had been made more than easy for him because Shayna had *conviniently enough of course* thought that she’d dropped her vape thing Carm was always making fun of her for somewhere in the front and was convinced it ‘slid under one of the front seats’, and had even forced Jesse to also move his seat up all the way to ‘check’, but- it of course ended up being in her bra where she always kept it.

He tossed a toned, long leg over each of his muscular shoulders, giving him full access to exactly what he needed. He trailed butterfly like kisses over her waistline from left to right, before licking a broad wet stripe back down. “I’ll owe ‘em fuckin’ forever if they did” he breathed into the crook of her thigh, before wetly kissing along the leg of her panties in tandem with the way he’d done to her waistband.

He got to the portion of her pantyleg where her lip was peeking out of the fabric, he took this opportunity to teasingly flick his tongue over it sharply, before pulling it between his lips and looking up at her in a lust filled haze with those thunderstorm like eyes as he sucked it gently at first, but gradually sucking harder until she was tugging her bottom lip between her teeth hotly, and her back was slightly arching off the seat as she whined hotly.

“Where- Oh my god? - Where did you learn this- you fucker” she nearly cried out. He rubbed the sides of her thighs soothingly after her hips buck involuntarily, holding her legs for her with his muscular forearms so she wouldn't be sore on the plane home.

He pulled off the plumpened skin with a pop, blowing cold air over the wetness he’d left behind with puckered lips and she shivered, goosebumps arising all over her hot skin.

“Nonono-” she begged “Carmy you barely even touched me” she whimpered “plea-ah!-“ she nearly yelped, looking down at him once more when he nipped her hip bone, before quickly soothing the stinging ache with his warm silky tongue and leaving a featherlight kiss over the slightly inflamed, aggravated skin.

She gently pushed his curls off of his forehead in order to see his glazed over piercing blue eyes once more, boring right back into hers with a passion that made her stomach flip, and clench, and twitch.

His cheeks were so flushed, she thought it was adorable how red he got when they made out, her excitement was thankfully for her a bit easier to contain. But this level? His cheeks were blazing red, the top of his chest and collarbones were splayed pink.

This was because way she was whimpering and moaning under his touch was driving him to a level of horny insanity he didn’t think existed. When people said primal urges - he didn’t get the full scope, and almost had the feeling to laugh at that sentiment- until the very moment he was currently encased.

Something took over him, something not of his own confidence or knowing- it was as if he was following a script, a hot, perfectly written- filthy script.

He’d buried his nose between the folds of her pussy that was still covered by her dripping lace panties that didnt cover or contain anything.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes fluttered shut in bliss, getting nearly pussydrunk off her scent alone, his mouth watering so much at the thought of her sweet nectar being right there for him to taste- he was already nearly drooling.

“You look so fucking pretty between my legs, Carmy” she purred, gently brushing his cheekbone with her nimble, cool forefinger over his burning hot skin.

Carmen was so hard against his denim that his cock was actually starting to ache. He’d never in his life felt so pathetically desperate to please someone.

He needed to be inside her, to feel her warm tight walls squeezing around his cock, to pound her absolutely fucking silent - and soon - but before he allowed himself that ultimate pleasure that the universe was handing to him, wrapped the absolutely breathtaking box, with stunning wrapping paper and a bow - that was his Sydney; he had to absorb every single detail of what she liked, and what made her feel good to memory, so he could play it back in his mind over and over and over, until he could recite it like the back of his hand if asked, the same way he could recite the hundreds of ingredient ratios he’d memorized in cooking school.

“And you smell so fucking good” he countered and nudged his strong nose firmly against her already throbbing, swollen clit, earning a small, sweet squeak out of her. “It’s the only thing I couldn’t imagine. Fuck but it’s so good, baby - everything- everything is so fuckin’ perfect” he mumbled against her core, licking a broad, slow stroke with the pad of his tongue up the divot he’d created in the fabric with his nose, savoring the taste of her juices that had seeped through the breaks of lace.

His large blue eyes rolled back hotly, his lids fluttering shut and nearly a whimper coming out of his throat at the taste of her finally on his palate.

He had to squeeze his cock that was pushing at the right leg of his jeans to ease the pulsing, throbbing ache that started to grow worse and worse the second he’d inhaled her addictive scent.

“Carm you are so pussydrunk - are you fucking touching yourself?” she tugged his hair, pulling him up from her aching core. She realized his entire chin, and nose, was glistening with her arousal.

“holy shit.” She said at the view of him, it was stunning. “What fucking business do you have being this hot?” She panted, but when he opened his mouth to reply- she pushed him back roughly to where he was needed much more desperately.

“That tongue of yours has sooo many better uses right now then trying to talk shit” she said. He obeyed her command like her own personal puppet, quickly tugging the useless wet lace to the side with his forefinger and gratefully lapping up her viscous slick, a gutteral moan errupting from his chest at the tangy, sweet taste bursting over his tongue. He nearly panted at how good she tasted, swallowing and sucking and slurping up all he could.

His brows knit together in bliss, eyes shut momentarily as he enjoyed himself before he opened them again, watching her every reaction and focusing back on solely making her cum as hard as she possibly could, in the backseat of a cold jeep- that was. He figured that could cause for some negative advantage, but he’d weigh the advantages and disadvantages of how the could have done this better later.

He was in pure heaven. He felt her thighs tremble slightly against his neck as he swirled his tongue gently around her entrance, egging him on to dip his tongue in to her tight pussy. Her flavor was causing him to drool, the wet lapping and lewd squelching that was filling the backseat of the car was absolutely sinful.

“More- h-harder Carm” she rocked her hips against his mouth, tugging his curls and pulling him up to tongue her clit instead. He very much appreciated her guidence, it was of course - anything he could have wanted in a partner regarding intimacy, but- she’s Syd, she’s perfect for him- they were made for eachother. They were finally beginning to understand this, well- Carm was, Syd was simply just now accepting it.

He loved being a student, and he’d discovered long before now Syd was his favorite teacher. This was a new subject they’d yet to explore, but Carmen knew he’d eventually ace the class, and it would become their combined favorite subject to master together.

He sloppily lapped over the twitching, throbbing bud, drawing random consistently paced patterns over it that were making her gasp and mewl beneath him. He was pretty sure he was going to cum in his pants faster than he would find to be not embarrassing, but he didn’t really care.

“Fuuck yes good fucking boy- thats it- shit- y’re such a mess Carm” she said, tugging his soaking wet face deeper into her core. Her breath stuttered as she feels a sharp flick of his tongue across the sensitive pearl, her head falling back in bliss and hips jerking unintentionally, his name beginning to spill from her lips like an invocation.

He set a hungry pace, slack jawed, watching as her face twisted in pleasure, soaking in every single sound. He was devoting every single gasp, every twitch, every mumbled praise to memory. One thing about him, he was efficient- so instead of this first brush of below the belt intimacy being about chasing his own pleasure - it was about making sure, next time they fooled around, she came three times as hard, now that he knew which exact buttons to push.

“Finger me - please - shit Carm, now” she ordered, back arching off the seat as he slipped in his middle finger, his other hand reaching up to play with her nipple once again.

“Another- please- I want you to make me feel full” she demanded, whining when he added his ring finger.

“Yes- yesyesyesyes!” she wailed, “My god Carm- those fucking hands do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about your ffffucking hands- oh god- oh shit right there!” she cried out, nodding quickly.

“Don’t stop! Don’t you dare fucking stop, Carm-” she nearly growled. She’d never admit it, but something about him in this intimate context was bringing out a feral minx in her.

“You gonna finally make me fuckin’ cum, Huh Carmy? How long have you been wanting to do this? Mm? I’d bet- oh- oh!” she felt the familiar heat pooling in her lower back, her toes curling, and feet pointed to the floor as she writhed and squirmed beneath him.

He smugly chuckled a bit into her throbbing heat, even though he himself was nearly drowning in pleasure as well. The smile was quickly replaced by a pathetic whimper as she tugs his hair, hard enough to make him to look up at her “I wanna touch you”

He swallowed thickly, offering her his other hand to hold and going back to his assault on her clit, continuing to pump his fingers with an even pace “Mm- C-Carmy- stop” she breathed and he sat up, but she grabbed his hand before he could remove his fingers.

“You don’t….” she asked, her tone much more casual, but laced with a bit of anxiety “You don’t want me to touch you?’ she questioned.

“No- syd- no…I-” he felt a large rush of embarrassment flood his chest, but didnt dare break her gaze, though, in case it would make her feel insecure.

“Uh…i’m like - fuckin wired right now, a-and this isn’t my van… y’know? this is a fuckin rental and i’m pretty sure m’gonna explode like… everywhere I’ve already accepted we’re gonna have to stop back at blue so I can change” he rested his flushed sticky cheek on her thigh that was wet with her arousal.

“I don’t have to like- take you out to touch you, come here” she sat up on her elbow, urging him forward with her feet on his back to kiss her.

His wet lips met hers, an exchange of hot feverish kisses ensuing. She hummed softly at the taste of herself over his saliva, her sticky slick covering his nose and chin being transferred to her face as she wrapped her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

He resumed the pace of his fingers once more, curling them in a way that her back arched sharply, a squeak coming out of her throat and hips jerking. He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers as he continued the pace, “tell me c’mon pretty girl - how do you want it? You want it like that?” He curled and uncurled his fingers against that spot and she went quiet, jaw slack in a silent moan

“Mm? Yeah? Is this how I know? Is this how I know I’m givin’ y’what y’need? Mm?” He moved his fingers quicker in to that spot. Her only response was her nails digging into the flesh of his back and dragging down, he hissed at the sting and burn it left, making his pace faster and more relentless.

Her head dropped back against the window and she gasped out, thighs trembling around his waist. Her mind was fully empty, she let out a strangled “now-fucking Jesus Christ - Carmy- Carm-carmcarm h-holy-ah!”

He felt her walls fluttering around his fingers wildly, her jaw going slack and hips stuttering and shaking “good girl, that’s it- good fuckin girl” he worked her through her climax, her cum leaking down his wrist to the crook of his elbow

“Gah- fuck you- m’too sensitive” she squirmed beneath him, looking up at him, “fuck fuck- fuck you fuck you carm don’t stop” she whined, pulling him up to kiss her roughly, her stomach tightening and core clenching around his fingers

He took his other hand, rubbing her neglected clit with his thumb and nearly fell on top of her when she unbuttoned his jeans, slipping her hand in and slowly stroked over his cock in his boxers “Jesus fucking Christ - w-warn me before you just grab my fucking cock d’you know how long I’ve been waiting” he breathed, trying to keep up the pace with his fingers but his focus was becoming harder and harder to maintain.

“Sorry…mmm can I please watch you touch yourself?” She asked hotly in the shell of his ear just above a whisper, her hot breath fanning his neck and tickling his jaw

“W-what?” He stuttered.

“I want to watch you touch yourself. Didn’t you just say you thought about it?” She asked, gently rubbing her thumb over his sensitive tip and he whimpered

“Oh my fucking god Sydney” he groaned, taking his fingers out and rubbing them over her clit slowly, causing her thigh to twitch due to her orgasm being so close behind her

“Please? Only if you want to of course” she said, voice breathy as she gently played with his hair and rested her forehead on his.

Carmen wanted to say hell no. He wanted to spare himself the embarrassment. He knew he was gonna cum a ridiculous amount. He knew the noises that would accidentally come out of him. But she looked so fucking sweet. Too sweet to deny.

“Okay…” he whispered, carefully sitting next to her on the bench seat

“Wait really?” She asked and smiled wide “really? Holy shit. I thought I was gonna have to fight for that one” she sat sideways to have a full view of him

He shot her a playful glare “do you want me to go back on my word?” He teased, pushing his tshirt up to his chest so he wouldn’t make a mess of it

“No, no. Please- please continue I’m honored to be attending this show” she teased and put her left leg up on the seat in case she wanted to touch herself while she watched him

“Well like I said you’re right in front of me and the show may be short” he said, lifting his hips and pulling his jeans down before sitting and pulling his cock out of his boxers with his fist.

“Holy shit” she sat up a bit in surprise “dude” she covered her mouth, giggling “i knew you were packing but like- a decent pistol not a fuckin magnum.” Carmen laughed

“my dick is in my hand stop tryna to fuck around do you want me to focus or not?” he asked, but the comment did make his head a little bigger, both egotistically and dick wise.

“Okay okay sorry. Sorry do your thing” she leaned back once more. She couldn’t help but realize that just as she’d imagined, he has veiny hands, and a veiny neck- his cock was veiny as well. There was a pulsing vein that ran from the base of his balls up his thick shaft just to the middle, she wanted to lean forward and lick her tongue up feeling it pulse beneath her tastebuds

It literally made Carmen’s large hands look normal, or even small. He pumped his length slow at first, before spitting in his hand and continuing, his breathing getting quicker and head falling back. He let out small little moans and whimpers that were driving Sydney insane. Her pussy was quite actually throbbing.

“Y’re so fucking hot- shit” he grunted, tightening his grip, his breathing getting more rapid and sharp “every- ah mmm shit - every fucking time I jack off- I think about how fucking good it’ll feel to- fuckin- god” he moaned “cum in your fucking pussy. I fuckin need it.” He rasped “so- so close. I’m so fucking close. Can I cum? Y’want me T’cum right?” he whined.

Sydney couldn’t take it anymore - literally could. Not. Stand. To just sit there and watch him whine and writhe in front of her, and not offer to help him. “Can I taste you?” She asked, an even just hearing her say that- With a pathetic cry and whimper, he was shooting ribbon after ribbon of white thick cum over his stomach an abs, his head thrown back in bliss and hips rutting into his hand. There were stripes of white covering over his near entire torso, on his hips, stomach, abs, ribs, to just below his sternum. Cum also leaked down his hand and a few droplets dripped onto his wrist.

“Fuck. Fuckin hell” he muttered, annoyed with the mess he’d made. Sydney stared in absolute awe.

“Dude- do you need a doctor?” She teased leaning forward and licking a stripe from his navel to his sternum and he just watched, slack jawed as she made sure he saw her tongue was coated in his seed before swallowing and licking off another stripe.

“I think I just fuckin died for a sec and came back- wait what the fuck” he muttered as she zigzagged her tongue over his abs

“Why? I’m helping you clean up. You did warn about the mess” she stopped, tonguing over his nipple and he gasped lightly, his cock twitching at the action which made her smile teasingly.

“Jesus you are fuckin evil” he chuckled, watching as she finished the job.

“Your cum isn’t as salty as I expected. They must be feeding you well” she found her panties and slipped them on, plopping back next to him casually

“Oh wow-“ he chuckled “so what did you think of me be-“ he’s cut off by Shayna flinging the door open.

Syd screams flinging herself over Carmy’s lap to cover him meanwhile Carm does everything he can to cover Syd’s thong clad ass “Sorry lovebirds we got a call - Carm, they found bud in my room we have to get back”

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋘ 𝐖𝐈𝐏 ♡♡♡ ⋙

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thefanficmonster · 1 year ago

Note

Not sure if ur accepting requests for the bear.. but could we maybe get a Mikey x reader where she finds out she's pregnant after he died (big angst tbh) and she comes to the restaurant a mess and tells everyone and it's sad but everyone's shocked or something idk if that makes sense lol, thanks

Ahhh the angst! My favorite genre to write 🙈 Thank you so much for the request, darling! I hope you enjoy the fic 💌

Too Much, Too Late

Michael 'Mikey' Berzatto x Reader (Female) [The Bear]

Warnings: Mentioned Suicide, Mentioned Past Drug Abuse (dealing and consuming), Pregnancy, Swearing, SPOILERS for The Bear

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst with a happy ending

Summary: see request above

It was a job like any other. It was supposed to be one of those briskly-in-swiftly-out deals. All you had to do was keep it on the down low, distribute your products, get your pay and leave.

However, that didn't happen exactly as planned.

"Why are you in such a rush, sweetheart?" You found yourself accosted by a man who was very clearly three sheets to the wind already. The redness of his eyes, the dilated pupils and the alcohol on his breath suggested he was under several influences. Still, none of that was any justification for his borderline sleazy behavior. "Why don't you accompany me in blowing through this, huh?" He held up the baggie he'd just bought off you, causing you to roll your eyes.

In another setting, preferably under vastly different circumstances you would've probably found him attractive and would even like to uphold a conversation with him. Then again, in those ideal circumstances you imagine he wouldn't have been nearly as obnoxious as he was being in that moment.

Besides, you had a strict rule against participating in drugs with your clients. Or just drugs, period. Anything stronger than weed, that is.

You wanted to get him off your back as soon as possible so, instead of shutting him down in your typical cut-throat manner, you decided to let him down slowly and vanish before his object permanence kicked in. "Another time, pal. I have a busy night ahead."

It worked like a charm anytime someone tried to sweep you off your feet.

However, none of those other occasions had any follow-up. This one, on the other hand....

"Hey."

You had been caught up in your thoughts, making a mental itinerary for the next few days worth of deliveries when a voice startled you out of your tranquility.

It was the following morning and you were headed to the dumpster that was your plug's house - if you could even call it that.

Looking up, you couldn't help but frown at the sight of the 'flirt' from last night standing on the porch of your plug's house, leanings against the fence, smoking a cigarette.

"Hi?" The word came out automatically, a notation of confusion to it which made him smile.

"I don't know if you not remembering me is for better or for worse. I understand I came off a bit....gross last night." His unoccupied hand clasped around the back of his neck, an apologetic half-smile on his lips.

Despite being puzzled by the predicament, you found yourself chuckling, "No, no, I remember you. And don't worry about it, you were pretty tame compared to other shitbags I've had to deal with."

Your wording made him let out a laugh, "Yeah, 'shitbag' sums me up nicely."

Realizing how your words were poorly transmitted, you hurried to correct yourself, "No! That's not what I..."

He laughed yet again, amused by the blush that had crept onto your cheeks, "I know, I'm just fucking with you." He flashed you a charming smile as he tossed his cigarette and offered you his hand, "I'm Michael, by the way, but everyone calls me Mikey."

You were surprised by your own lack of hesitation as you took it, "Y/N, nice to meet you, Mikey."

What did surprise you was his smooth gesture - bringing the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to your knuckles. You could see relief flood his features when you only scoffed in amusement. "Hope you don't mind, I asked around about you at the party last night. You're quite the phantom, you know. Nobody knew anything except your plug and it was a whole other hassle having to track him down."

You would've been lying if you said you didn't find his effort flattering. "Why go through all that trouble?"

There was that charming smile once more, now accompanied by a wink, "Cause that ain't a face you simply forget, darling."

That's how it all started, three years ago. But you can hardly remember any of it now. Everything has quickly been overshadowed by the tragedy that rocked your world.

Losing the love of your life. No one and nothing can ever prepare you for such a thing. No one can take away or aid the pain it brings on. No one can tell you how to move on, if you ever will. No two grieving processes are the same and yours has been very quiet. Too quiet. You can't even remember if you've cried since you found out a week ago. You can't remember having spoken to anyone since that dreadful phone call.

It's all been building up, piling on - the calm before the storm.

And the storm has just crashed down on you, tears finally spilling over past the barrier you're able to hold them at. Sobs scratch up your throat, racking your ribcage, echoing back at you off the bathroom walls. All the agony, all the pain, the regret, the guilt the grief - it all spills out in those harrowing sobs as tears stream down your face, falling onto the sink counter and pregnancy test on it.

The positive pregnancy test.

"No, no, no...." You mumble to yourself in despair, unsure of what exactly you're saying no to.

You don't even have time to process how you feel about it, if you want it, whether you're happy about it or not. All that's plaguing your mind is the gnawing thought of what if?

What if you'd found out two weeks earlier? What if you told him? What if that changed his mind? Would you still have him by your side if he knew he'd be a dad? Would this be a reason for joy and excitement for the two of you? Having your own little family, fucked up in its own way but miles better than your individual families.

You never met his, he never met your. Unlike him, though, you haven't seen your folks in years, five to be exact. He put up with his, you had cut off yours.

You're well versed into his family and their dynamics though, thanks to all the stories Mikey told you throughout the years. You specifically remember him talking about his siblings with such adoration. Natalie and Carmen. The only supposedly sane ones of the bunch.

Wiping the tears off your burning red cheeks, you regain control of your breathing, effectively calming yourself down as you take a long look at yourself in the mirror. You will yourself to put a hand over your belly, taking a moment to let the realization of there being a living thing inside you sink in.

Your and Mikey's baby.

A baby that'll never know the wonderful man that is their dad.

"Don't worry, baby. If they don't want us, we'll always have each other."

* * * * *

After a sleepless night, you find yourself struggling not to nod off on the train.

You thought you'd feel a lot more....well, something more as you approach the inevitable meeting with Mikey's brother. Instead, you're quite numb, immune to whatever you might be faced with once you arrive at the restaurant. Nothing he might say or do can faze you, not after the week you've had. Though you're pretty sure his hasn't been any better. He lost his brother after all. It could be a point of mutual understanding for the two of you or a point of collision and apperhension.

Only one way to find out.

You're surprised by the sheer boldness with which you enter the sandwich shop. Again, you thought you might exhibit at least mild hesitation but you have never been prone to such reservations. You still do things like you used to back in your dealer days - briskly-in-swiftly-out.

This is no different.

Upon entry, the interior feels familiar. You've been here only twice before, always after closing, snuck in by Mikey as a date night. He'd cook for you while you DJed with the restaurant sound system in the office. It was the peak of romance in your relationship.

Never once did you think one day you'd be coming in alone, during work hours, the memories bringing tears to your eyes.

You push the pain to the backburner when a waiter approaches you. "Welcome, what can I get ya?"

You force the closest thing to a smile you can manage, "Carmen Berzatto, if possible."

Just then, as if on cue, sounds of chaos flood out from the kitchen into the seating area. It doesn't really seem to bother any of the three tables enjoying their meal, but you are certainly a little shocked. You remember Mikey mentioning shit would get chaotic in back of house, but you'd never imagined it'd be this bad.

The waiter casually peers over his shoulder, pressing his lips in a thin line, "I can't promise you anything but I'll go ask. Who's asking for him?" He inquires, already uneasy at the thought of what he'll be met with in the kitchen.

"Mikey's girlfriend." You watch, in real time, as the poor guy's eyes hollow out in shock, his eyebrows raising impossibly high.

Despite being rattled by your response, he manages to clear his throat and murmur a quick, "Please wait here" before disappearing out of view.

Less than a minute later, the door to the kitchen swung open again, the man emerging from the kitchen shocking you with his lack of resemblance to Michael. Fair hair, bright blue eyes, overall soft features whereas Mikey was all sharp edges, dark brown hair and chocolate eyes.

He too, quite like his brother, is doing a poor job masking his confusion as he offers you a tattooed hand as a greeting, "Hi."

You take it, "Hi."

The rowdiness picks up yet again, causing Carmy to motion for you to follow him, "It's a little too loud in here." You nod and follow suit as he leads you out through a back exit to a fenced of area. He shuts the door, drowning out most of the noise before he turns back to face you, "Alright, tell me everything."

It takes all the will you have coupled with all the pride within you not to let yourself shed any tears as you sum up five of the best years of your life in front of this stranger. It gets especially hard when you see his eyes gloss over but you manage to keep it together. Your chest feels somewhat lighter once you bare one of the biggest secrets in your life, knowing there cannot be any repercussions now.

Because...well...he's gone.

"Fuck..." Is all Carmy can say to break the silence after you've concluded your story. His gaze is trained on the ground, his hand cupped around his mouth. He suddenly lifts his head to look at you, making you feel a little too exposed. Those eyes stare right through you. "Why didn't he ever tell us about you?"

You shrug, you have no real answer. You don't know why he would tell them but you're none the wiser as to why he didn't tell them either. So, you just stay quiet.

He nods, pausing for a second to collect his thoughts before speaking up again, "I-I gotta ask...did you suspect anything? Like, did you see any signs?"

You were expecting this. That doesn't mean it hurts any less to actually hear him ask it. You force yourself to inhale a shaky breath before replying, speaking around the knot in your throat, "No. I saw him that morning, he seemed fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. We were talking about the game. He was excited the Sox had won. He made us breakfast. I ironed his shirt for work and I sent him off. And...." You take a moment to maintain your composure, "...that was the last time I saw him."

"Fucking hell..." He sighs out, the curse pouring out from the depths of his soul. He takes a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, taking one and offering the pack to you, "You smoke?"

You shake your head, "Yeah, but I can't right now." You let out a bitter chuckle as you add on: "Last night...I found out I'm pregnant."

Carmy chokes on the puff he'd just inhaled, coughing out the smoke. He gives you a deer-in-headlights look, trying to gouge your reaction so he can mimic his accordingly. You help him out by giving him a slight smile, allowing him to reflect it back at you ten fold.

"No fucking way." He laughs, prompting you to nod, your eyes filling with tears for the millionth time today. He tosses his cigarette, motioning for you to approach him, "Come here." His arms wrap around you and you damn near break down, finally allowing yourself to shed those tears you've been holding back as you hug him back, squeezing him tightly.

You didn't realize how much you'd needed that hug, that comfort. You had no one to offer it to you. It's funny how quickly people can become important in our lives - in this case, only minutes after entering yours.

You're both startled when the door is thrown open revealing a man you don't recognize initially. His demeanor allows you to connect him to a name soon though.

"Cousin, what the fuck?! We're fighting a war in there...- oh, my bad." He straightens his attitude when he notices you, "Hi there."

Sniffling, Carmy wipes a stray tear before offering Richie a wide smile, "Cousin, we're gonna be uncles."

The confusion on his face provokes a laugh out of you, a genuine one at that. It's refreshing, nostalgic almost. And although you're well aware you'll have to retell your and Mikey's story several more times to catch people up to speed, you know that it'll be a little less dreadful each time.

* * * * *

It's over. The five minutes of utter hell and chaos are over.

You share a look of disbelief with Syd before bursting out in hysterical laughter, enveloping each other in a hug.

"We did it."

"We fucking did it."

Wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, you beam up at Richie who is equally as high on the feel of accomplishment. His arms wrap around you so tightly, he momentarily lifts you off the ground.

It's finally the calm after the storm. You can finally relax without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You rush out to the dining are, going straight to Sugar and Pete's table where your one year old son is being entertained by the couple, cackling as Pete tickles his feet.

"Hope he wasn't too much trouble." You say as you approach their side, your voice prompting Sugar to get up and practically tackle you with upmost joy.

"Great job back there, Y/N." She beams at you, holding your hands tightly when she pulls away.

"You too, mama." You smile back, resting a hand over her swollen belly just in time to feel a kick.

Turning back to Calvin, you see him making grabby hands at you, giggling when you pick him up, peppering kisses all over his face, "Hi, baby!" You coo to him, adjusting his surprisingly still clean shirt. A fancy one, curtesy of Richie. Him, Fak and Calvin are in matching suits tonight and it's the most adorable thing. "Wanna go see uncle Carmy?"

It's ridiculous you even asked. The little boy cheers happily, kicking his feet as you carry him back to the kitchen, stopping in front of the freezer door to knock on it.

"What?!" You hear Carmy's rough voice boom from inside.

"Carmy!" Calvin calls out to his uncle, his tiny hands tapping on the freezer door, "Hiiii!"

"Hi Baby Bear." His tone has softened now, raising to an octave higher, "Your mommy is a badass, you know that."

"Oh he knows." You reply, resting your forehead on the cool metal, "We did it, Carm. We took care of it. Everything's handled, don't worry." You take this moment of calmness on his end to reassure him that no matter what anxieties are plaguing him, everything is and will be fine.

"I know you did, Y/N. You're an awesome team. Just wish I was in the fire with you, you know?" He says through a shaky breath, causing your heart to ache.

"Oh this was just the frying pan, dude. You'll be there for the many fires to come." Your words are successful in making him laugh, bringing you relief.

"I cook too!" Calvin proudly proclaims, making you both chuckle.

"You'll cook too, Teddy Bear. You'll be the best fucking chef ever." You gave up a while ago trying to shield Calvin from the sailor mouths of the Berzatto family and the restaurant as a whole. If he has a potty mouth from a very early age, you'll just blame it on his dad and uncles.

You never dreamed you'd find yourself in the cahoots of such a batshit crazy and immensely loving family. It really makes you feel a sense of fulfillment looking back at how far you've come and look forward knowing that you'll never come to a point where you'll be alone.

You'll always have your son, the Berzattos and The Bear by your side.

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