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queers-gambit · 7 months

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Two to Tango

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

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

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 5.4k+

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

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

part one: God's Plan

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

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

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

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

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

"What do you want?"

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

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

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

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

"Oh, someone's touchy."

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

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

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

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

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

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

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

"So, he needs his mother?"

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

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sucks to suck."

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

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

"How is talking to the man you love - "

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

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

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

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

"To say... What?"

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

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

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

"Really?"

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

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

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

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

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmy, we need to talk."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

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

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

"Nah, I'm okay - "

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

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

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

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

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

"I don't deserve you."

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

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

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

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't deserve it."

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

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

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

"Move in with me - officially."

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

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

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

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

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

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

"I'm fine - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay?"

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

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

"I will be."

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

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

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

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

"Fair point - just one then - "

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

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

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

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

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

"We're talking it out."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" He whispered.

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

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why can't I get out?"

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

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

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

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

"Laid to rest."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

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

"Think you can handle that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Hurricane

This is part 1. You can read part 2 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: The upcoming bachelor party that Carmen has to cater causes some tension between him and y/n.

Word Count: 9.5k

warning: alcohol, mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close, fighting, smoking

Three hundred thousand dollars, what kind of fucking moron takes out three hundred thousand dollars just to blow his brains out and let his younger brother foot the bill. What kind of cosmic douche does that to another person? Y/n would never say something like that out loud but she certainly was thinking it after Carmen told her about the debts that he apparently owes on top of the bills he had yet to pay. In fact, Carmen was barely scraping by, he cut his pay check till all he had was enough to cover rent and the bare bones necessities. Rather than cut anyone’s pay, or cheaping out on ingredients, he sacrificed almost everything for this restaurant, for his brother. And what did his brother leave him? A three hundred thousand dollar bill. Once again, what a dick.

“It’s not-” Carmen started. “It’s fixable.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, she continued to scrub the stop top and kept her face neutral when in reality her blood was boiling. It’s not her debt and she is completely free to run away before this ship sinks but she couldn’t help but stay. She had convinced herself that the reason she stayed was because this horrible and completely fucked restaurant was like a train wreak, you can't help but stand and watch it crash and burn. Definitely not because of any other personal reasons.

“We just have to keep our heads down and get through the year and we can get some money off of our tab.”

More silence.

They both knew it was a pipe dream, no matter what they did at the restaurant, they could only make an insignificant dent towards the impending debt. Y/n didn’t want to be negative when Carmen was doing his best to not crumble under the pressure so she looked up with a small smile. She wondered if the smile translated as an optimistic smile or a pity smile.

Carmen sighed, leaned against the wall and rubbed his face with his palms in an effort to wipe away some tension. Looks like it translated as a pity smile.

“Tell me something good, y/n.” Carmen mumbled through his hands.

It was like the words were lost in her mouth. What could she possibly say? What collection of words makes this shitty situation any better? The answer is none, sometimes words mean nothing. No amount of consoling or baseless optimism could make this situation look good. If you can’t make a shitty situation look good then you should at least make a shitty solution look good.

“At least you have those bachelor parties, you can knock off a few grand.” Y/n offered.

“Yeah,” Carmen agreed half-heartedly. Looks like she couldn’t make the shitty solution look good either. Y/n gave herself one more attempt to lighten the mood before she sewed her mouth shut, crawled into a hole and died.

“And let's not forget that your “loan shark” is your uncle and he won’t smash your kneecaps.” Y/n jokingly muttered, “Probably?”

Y/n heard Carmen exhale through his nose. Y/n lives to speak and live another day. After testing the waters for the past few months, y/n realized that in order to get Carmen to stop going into crisis mode she had to either talk about a solution or completely distract him.

“What's the payment situation going to be like? …What is the interest?”

“No …no interest, just a clean 300k.”

“That's fair, adding interest on a loan like that would be like throwing shit in a septic tank. When is the bachelor party?”

“Uncle Jimmy is coming by tomorrow to give the details for that stupid fucking party.”

One quality that has persisted through out the years was y/n ability to not know when to shut the fuck up. The trait was helpful when filling the silence between the both of them. Carmen liked to listen more than talk, he didn't have anything to talk about except depressing shit. So when the air was filled with anxiety and tension y/n did what she did best, make a damn fool of herself.

“You think there's going to be strippers?”

Carmen looked up from his hands and gave out a laugh out of shock and it sounded like music to y/n ears. She wished she could record it, he really did have a nice smile and she wished he smiled more. Good god, he looked so… so…

“There will be at least strippers.” Carmen snickered while hiding his smirk behind his hands. It's like he knew she was waiting for it and was depriving her on purpose. This was a good learning moment for y/n though, shock humor lands well with Carmen.

Y/n moved on to scrubbing the floor because she wasn’t able to look Carmen in the eyes after asking, “Have you ever been to a strip club?”

She didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of look she was getting. She heard a bewildered laugh and looked up and was met with an amazing view. His head was thrown back and his hand was running through his hair.

For a brief moment, y/n tried to convince herself that all of the embarrassment she put herself through wasn’t worth it but after stealing a few glimpses of him she could confidently say it most definitely was.

“No I haven’t. You?” He then straightened his head and grabbed a towel and started scrubbing too.

“Of course, I've been. I used to work in one, you know?” Carmen’s head shot up.

“Yeah, but I needed a career change.”

“You worked in one? As a… dancer?” Carmen asked not quite being able to tell if this was a joke or not.

“You call strippers “dancers”? What are you, 90? No, I was not a “dancer.” I was a bartender.”

“Hmm” Carmen pondered before adding, “I knew you couldn't be one, I saw you slip on air this morning.”

“My lack of coordination aside,” y/n rolled her eyes jokingly, “I spent a lot of time seeing the routines and stuff and I could never, I can barely run a mile let alone swing around on a pole. Those strippers are stronger and braver than the Marines.”

“I have a cousin in the Marines,” Carmen added while scrubbing a particularly tough stain.

“Tell him that he’s a little bitch.”

Carmen stopped scrubbing and gwaffed into his fist. On the outside she looked normal but inside she was scratching the skin off her face in joy. She really wanted to seal the deal.

“Would you ever be a stripper?”

3-0 favoring y/n because Carmen looked up at her and laughed, and not a reserved one. A full one with an open mouth and red face.

Holy fuck… what the fuck was she doing? She could be home right now rewatching a nature documentary to unwind. She should be asleep right now. It's 12am and here she is sitting with her boss on the floor counting how many times she can make him feel good. And the worst part? She was enjoying herself.

“I don’t think I would make a good one.” He said as he moved closer to y/n and scrubbed at another scuff mark.

He would make a great one, y/n thought. He has huge arms, a quiet but powerful persona, a sculpted face, and beautiful eyes. Y/n had to resist the impulse to say that she would throw all her money at him right this second.

“It's your eyes.” Y/n humorously pondered, “They’re too intense, am I going to get a lap dance or am I going to get into a long and meaningful relationship?”

Carmen's gaze lifted towards y/n, and she wrestled the urge to lock her gaze with his mesmerizing cerulean eyes. She wanted to etch into her memory the way the yellowing lights danced upon his irises, as they transitioned shades, but the flutters in her stomach were making her woozy.

Y/n was a coward, so unsurprisingly she looked away, but not before stupidly adding, “You could add a blindfold to your act, I bet that would make the girls go wild.”

What in the flying fuck was she talking about, y/n screamed in her head. Y/n had some nerve calling The Beef a train wreck when she was watching herself crash and burn and not being able to stop herself. It felt like an out of body experience, like she was watching someone else fuck up her life.

Carmen looked like he was thinking about something and y/n wondered if she would have the courage to pick up her last check after she got her ass fired.

“Judging by the amount of shit I have to deal with in this stupid fucking place, being a stripper is starting to look more and more…” Carmen stared at y/n for a split moment, “tempting.”

Y/n was glad that he had inadvertently stopped her from saying something really stupid but she needed a quiet place all to herself so she could squeal like a teenage girl.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, y/n was starting to notice how close they were and in order to stop herself from getting a sued for sexual harassment she forced herself to call it a night, and that was a tough call to make. Y/n smiled at Carmen before softly mummering, “Carmy, you’ve got a big day tomorrow why don’t we get you home?”

Carmen's posture straightened, and a slight haze seemed to veil his eyes. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand towards y/n. In the instant their palms met, a surge of thoughts flooded y/n's mind, realizing how deeply she would miss this touch once they released. The fleeting moment barely allowed her to relish the sensation, leaving her with only a passing recollection of his hand—warm, calloused, and undeniably strong.

After grabbing their stuff from the lockers, y/n glanced at her phone that showed 12:14am. The walk home was going to be a real bitch. Carmen did one last walk through before leaving. Y/n could have left after she got her stuff but she stayed for a bit longer. She leaned against the windows of The Beef watching Carmen leave the restaurant and lock the door. He didn't look a bit surprised at her still waiting for him, he knew she would always be there waiting. It was a tradition, they would close up and he would walk y/n to her car. He would wait till y/n car was completely out of sight before he climbed into his car and drove to his place.

“Where did you park your car?” Carmen asked while shuffling through his bag to find his own car keys.

“My car is at the shop, I'm going to walk home.”

“You're going to walk home after dark? It's like 1 in the morning?”

“It's 12:30 and it's not that big of a deal, and if I get tired I'll just uber the rest of the way home.”

“That's how people get kidnapped, y/n”

“Don't worry, even if I do get kidnapped, I'll still miraculously make it to work on time tomorrow, and I'll have an epic tale to share for years to come." Y/n joked. "Why don’t I walk you to your car for a change? Where did you park?"

Carmen hesitated, not because he didn't want to offer a ride but because he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It's just a ride home, it's not like ridesharing amongst coworkers is something new.

“Let me drive you home. This is not a great neighborhood.”

“My place is opposite from your place, I'm not going to hold you hostage. Go home, you have a big day tomorrow.” Y/n pulled up Google maps to see how long the walk would take, 35 minutes wasn't too bad.

“It's fine, I wasn't going to sleep right away anyways.”

Y/n shot a disapproving look. "Do you honestly think I was born yesterday? I mean, come on. You're planning to stay up late after a long day at work today and another one tomorrow?"

“Let me do this for you…Please.”

Y/n was contemplating beating his ass with one of the 2x4s lying around, how fucking dare he look at her like that when she is already holding her self back from jumping his bones. It was maddening. In that moment, the streetlight cast an ethereal glow upon his hair, transforming it into strands of pure gold. She couldn't deny the captivating effect it had on her. And that infuriating expression he wore, as if he had the power to make her surrender to his every whim, was driving her wild. If he had asked for her kidney with that look, she might have found herself on her knees, desperately clawing at her own abdomen to fulfill his request.

“Ok, thank you so much Carmen. You really are…kind.” Y/n tried not to look at his eye because she knew that she would feel another flutter and now she had an audience watch her throw up from overstimulation.

“It’s the least I can do.” Carmen didn’t have the courage to thank her for making him feel better about the restaurant’s financial situation so this was the best he could do.

They both walked to Carmen’s car in silence. Y/n had an unstoppable itch to fill the silence with some asinine conversation but she resisted. She knew as soon as she got home she would scream into her pillow for bringing up strippers and blindfolds to her boss, and she didn’t want to add more things to cringe about. They could be 85 and she would still pucker her face when remembering this night.

They finally walked up to Carmen’s car, and Carmen opened y/n’s door for her. Y/n had to keep from fainting right then and there, she was a grown woman and Carmen was doing the bare minimum by helping out an employee and here she was fighting a blush. He walked over to the driver side and started the car.

“You good?”

“Sorry.” Y/n hands were shaking from the nerves.

“I can't find the seat belt connector thing, it's too dark."

Carmen wordlessly grabbed the seatbelt from the base and trailed down the belt, softly grazing his knuckle on her collarbone before gently taking the buckle from y/n's hands and guiding it to the right place.

Y/n mumbled a soft thanks. They both looked away for a second, both of them completely floored by Carmen’s boldness. Y/n couldn’t take this anymore she needed to get out of here before she became a stuttering mess, “Let me look up the directions, I’m geographically blind so I need Google to tell me where to go. I've been working here for months and I still need someone to tell me to get home.” Carmen pushed his tongue against his cheek to stifle another laugh.

“Geographical blind”, who says that? That's literally the lamest fucking thing you could possibly say. Y/n was going to go home and watch a few meditation videos in the hope that she learns how to shut the fuck up.

The ride back was nice and quiet. Y/n was too tired to talk and she was starting to feel guilty for making Carmen drive her home, he should be even more tired than her. They finally pulled over to y/n’s place, and she sat in the car for a few seconds to ground herself before she looked over to Carmen who was looking straight through the windshield.

“Thanks again Carmen.”

“Will your car be back tomorrow?”

“The day after.”

“I’ll drop you off tomorrow then.”

“That's too much Carmen, You aren’t obligated to do this. I’ll just leave a little earlier so I can catch a train.” Carmen looked like he was not satisfied with that response. Y/n didn’t want to leave early because she liked her time alone with Carmen but she couldn’t keep imposing.

“I’ll drop you off, it's not a big deal.” He left no room for negotiation.

Y/n smiled at him before grabbing her purse. Carmen got out of the car and walked around to y/n’s side to open her door. Y/n got out with as much grace as a toddler, she really needed to go to bed.

“Carmen, you really are too… you're just too…” Y/n struggled to find a good enough word before mindlessly blurting out, “Good.”

Y/n couldn’t see his face because the streetlamp was too far to illuminate his face so she didn’t know if she made him uncomfortable.

“Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow Carm.” Y/n softly mumbled before walking into her building and while waiting for the elevator she saw that Carmen was still leaning against the car door. She gave him a small smile not seeing if she got one back. The elevator ride up was filled with y/n jumping, dry heaving, and overall panic induced mayhem. The second hand embarrassment was too much. The elevator dinged and she went into her place and looked out the window to really burn the memory into her brain. This is the exact date and location where Carmen dropped her off.

She was surprised to see that he was still there. Everyone at work knew what apartment building she lived in because she invited them over for dinner recently, so it wasn’t a surprise that he knew the general area on where to look for her apartment.

She flicked on the lights and picked up her phone to dial him and watched as his silhouette fumble around to find his phone.

Carmen spoke first, “I just wanted to make sure you…”

“I got home safe.” Y/n opened her window before giving him a wave from five stories.

Y/n continued, “Go home, chef, I want to see you bright and early tomorrow.” She saw a blur of what she deciphered as a wave.

“Night y/n”

And with that y/n closed her window and Carmen drove off. It was 1 in the morning so she didn’t jump or scream into her pillow like she intended to because her neighbors would kill her. So she settled for a shower and eventually passed out.

Y/n was not a morning person my all means and told Carmen as an off handed comment a few months back. He offered her later hours so she didn’t need to come in super early for prep but she could stay to clean up. She got ready and got to the restaurant at around 11:30 am, where she found Carmen, Richie and an older man seated on a table at the far corner of the restaurant.

Before she could slip away to make herself busy in the kitchen, she was called over by the older gentlemen with a finger curl. Y/n turned around assuming that he was indicating someone else only to find that no one else was there but her. She looked over again and pointed at herself and Richie rolled his eyes before kicking the chair next to him to indicate that she was to sit. Y/n took off her headphones and sat across from the old guy and in between the cousins. Carmen looked up and wordlessly gave her a polite greeting.

If this was money problems why is this old fart calling me over?

Awkward silence.

“Good morning.” Y/n started.

“Morning, did Carmen fill you in?” Carmen’s “uncle” asked.

"I'd be delighted to put a name to your face. I'm y/n," she said with a warm smile.

“I'm Cicero…” Y/n pretended to look a bit puzzled, “Uncle Jimmy, yes, yes, Carmen told me you were coming today”

No one filled the silence so y/n stepped in.

“As much as I love the mystery, I do have work to do…so…why am I here?”

Cicero spoke up, “Carmy’s got that catering gig at that bachelor party on Friday and we were wondering if you would like to help.”

“Catering to a bunch of drunks on Friday night, seems like exhilarating” Y/n said sarcastically. “I'll be there. I’ve got to the kitchen, I shouldn’t leave Tina alone with my prep-”

“Look, I'm going to be honest with you…” Cicero continued, Y/n glanced sideways at both Richie and Carmen but they looked as confused as she did.

“Did you work out front a week ago?” Cicero asked.

“I covered for Richie on Tuesday?”

“One of the guys, the groom, saw you and thought you…looked…” It looked like he was embarrassed to finish what he wanted to say. “They want you to be there.” Cicero finished.

“This is what you were holding off on, we’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes in fucking silence so you could solicit a fucking chef?” Richie said in confusion before laughing and leaning back to glance at Carmen on the far right who was visibly livid, which caused him to laugh even more obnoxiously.

“Be there and do what?” Y/n pondered, a flicker of concern crossing her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how human trafficking stories began. She wasn’t really paying attention to either Carmen or Richie, but she could feel that it was getting tense on her right, where Carmen was seated.

“I'm just going to rip off the bandaid. They want you there to serve drinks.” Y/n couldn’t hide the look of bewilderment and relief.

“Jesus, you were making it seem like I was going to have to sleep with them…Yes I can serve drinks. I’ll be there” Y/n got up from her chair and Cicero added.

“Do you know what a Hurricane Shot is, y/n?”

Y/n immediately sat right back down, she let out a laugh and she was in decent company because Richie was also dying right next to her.

“They want that…” Cicero finished awkwardly.

Carmen looked up after trying to burn a hole into his table. “What the fuc-” Carmen fumed.

“What’s the pay like?” Y/n asked.

“Without you 5k, with 10k”. That made Richie stop laughing.

“Let me think about it.”

Y/n got up and walked out back. She stole a quick glance at Carmen who was sharing some choice words with his “uncle.” Y/n thought that she might as well get back to work. She was going to serve drinks no matter what but she had a feeling that she would get some resistance.

The rest of the shift was relatively slow and Carmen was in his office for most of the day. Around 8, it looked like there weren't going to be any more customers so Carmen finally got out of his cave and let everyone leave early. He stood with his back straight and arms crossed in front of his office, his eyes narrowed at y/n. Y/n thought she could not deal with the brunt of this confrontation by herself, so she looked at Richie trying to nonverbally communicate for him to stay. Luckily, Richie understood and stayed and it was just the three of them alone at the restaurant.

Carmen went inside and it was implied that the both of them should follow.

“I'm going to serve at that party.” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah, no shit you are.” Richie agreed while whispering a lot less quietly.

“It's 10 grand.” Y/n reasoned

“Who says no to 10 fucking grand?” Richie exclaimed.

They both walked over to the office. Y/n stood against the wall, it felt like she was being sent to the principal's office.

The silence was killing y/n so she started, “It's just one day.”

“Only a few hours” Richie offered

“Which is basically just a few minutes.” Y/n reasoned.

“Which is really just a few seconds.” Richie added.

More silence.

“It's a lot of money cousin, and y/n is up for it.”

“Yeah, 10k in a few hours. I mean it would be totally crazy to say no.” Y/n remarked.

“You would be fucking crazy to say no.”

“Yeah, Carmen, it would be pure idiocy to say no.” Y/n chimed in.

Carmen rubbed his temple and then looked up. “That is not happening. You aren’t doing this.”

“It's 10k, Carmen, and all I have to do is pour some drinks. It's like money is just falling on our laps, we have to take advantage of this golden opportunity.” Y/n added, “God helps those who help themselves.”

“You're religious?” Richie questioned

“No, but he’s Italian and they're religious, right? I thought it might help my case.” Y/n whispered.

“I can fucking hear the both of you.” Carmen was annoyed and y/n realized she didn’t really know how to convince him to let her help him.

“What specific issue do you have with me bartending at this party?” If she got to the root of the problem she could find a solution that helped ease his worries.

Carmen brooded in his corner. People didn’t give Richie enough credit, he was pretty good at reading a room and he knew that it would be better if he left Carmen to y/n.

“I got something tonight.” Richie spewed out before turning around to get the hell out of there. As he was about to leave he mouthed You got this? Y/n gave him a subtle thumbs up.

They both stood in silence hearing the sounds of Richie walking around the kitchen to grab his keys and get his charger in the front, and eventually the door chimed meaning that it was now just Carmen and y/n.

“Tell me what the issue is. Do you have safety concerns?”

“That's one of many concerns.” Carmen knew he was being difficult but he couldn’t let this happen.

“I'm just pouring drinks, I'm not going to be doing anything super dangerous.”

“You are going to be pouring drinks for coked out dickheads. How is that not dangerous?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, your uncle told me that I'm going to be giving hurricane shots, if anything I'm the dangerous one.”

Carmen looked up and furrowed his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You don’t know what it is?” Y/n had to resist snickering. “So basically, you would take a shot, then I would splash water on you and slap you…Do you want to see a video?” Y/n ushered Carmen to the only chair in the office.

Carmen didn’t know why he was humoring this and he didn’t want to admit it but he was wondering what the appeal of getting slapped was. If it's just slapping a few guys then maybe it wasn’t too bad…

Y/n pulled up a video and any bit of him that could have been convinced to let this happen shriveled up and died. It was a video of a woman in a very revealing dress sitting on a table splashing and slapping horny middled aged fucks. Absolutely not.

Y/n looked up from the video and saw that she made it worse. Carmen was sitting silently in his worn out chair, not even looking at the video just staring at the floor.

Carmen felt a hand on his shoulder and felt y/n come closer, he could feel her breath on his neck and it was making it hard to breathe. Softly, y/n whispered, “Carmen, you are being perfectly reasonable and very respectful but this is a once in a lifetime situation.”

A soft pause passed while y/n was trying to formulate the right words.

“You do so much for me so let me take care of you, Carmy.” Y/n rarely called him that and the name slid down his spine causing him to shiver.

Without even having time to think about what just came out his mouth, he mumbled a soft “yeah”. Carmen looked just as shocked as y/n. Neither of them were expecting that, y/n was expecting to have to postpone convincing him till tomorrow.

Now the next hurdle was making sure that Carmen didn’t change his mind. “Why don’t you stay with me during the party? That way if anything happens you'll be there. Will you be my designated bodyguard for the night, Carmen?" Y/n playfully feigned a pout, allowing Carmen to remain silent, sensing that he might need some space to process the request

She slipped out before taking a deep breath, Jesus that was stressful. People killed each other for 10k and he was just going to throw it away. Y/n wasn’t going to let that happen, even if he said no she would have snuck into that party and got Carmen his 10k.

She surveyed the kitchen, it was spotless. There really wasn’t much to do because the other chefs had done most of it but she had a feeling that if she left Carman alone, he would change his mind. So, she did what she did every single day, scrub these stupid floors.

A few minutes had passed and y/n was wondering about what she should wear to an event like that? A small dress was a necessity but she only had a small black one from her college years. Would it even fit, it's been years since she last put it on? She needed to find her old pair of black pumps from college too, she knew they were deep in her closet. And while she scrubbed and planned her outfit for Friday, Carmen came out of his office and joined her wordlessly, taking the towel from y/n’s hands and scrubbing for her.

He finally looked up, “I will be by your side the entire time. You can’t go anywhere unless I can see you-”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“No?”

“What if some sleazy fucker is waiting in the bathroom?”

“I doubt it. But ok, I'll hold it.”

“You can't cross the counter.” Y/n wasn’t going to anyways.

“And I have to drive you home.” That stupefied y/n.

“What? Why?”

”What if one of those limp dicked pervs follows you home?”

“Carmen, you’re thinking too much. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not letting you do this unless-”

“Alright Carmen. We will do this your way.” Y/n gave him a smile to show that they were good.

Carmen quickly glanced down and continued scrubbing the floor. The rest of the night was spent cleaning the floor and eventually neither of them could come up with any other excuses to stay together. There is only so much time you can spend scrubbing and organizing an already spotless kitchen.

They both went back to the lockers, grabbed their stuff, did a final walk through, and locked up. Carmen drove her home, y/n said goodbye through the phone and waved out the window. Y/n knew that this routine couldn’t last because she would pick up her car tomorrow morning but she was debating slashing a few tires just to make this last a bit longer.

The next day y/n came in at 11:30 and was pulled aside by Richie.

“Is it handled?”

“It's a bartending gig not an assassination. And yes.”

“That bastard said yes?” Shocked didn’t really cover what Richie felt.

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “I know you wanna crack a few jokes but he is tethering and I don't want him to-”

“No wise cracks.”

“Also, the crew thinks I'm catering, could you keep the bartending underwraps.”

“Sure thing princess.”

“Do not-”

They were cut off by Fak and y/n took that as her sign to leave. Other than that, the day was exactly the same. The only other difference was that at the end of the night she had to walk to her car with Carmen.

“You can back out, you know. This debt is my brother's… and now it's mine. You shouldn't get involved in this shit show.”

“Do you feel like you're taking advantage of me?” Carmen didn’t say anything.

“How about you give me the day off tomorrow and we'll call it even. Paid leave.”

Carmen smirked, “That's not really even.”

“I'm giving you less than 24 hours notice and don’t even have a good reason to miss work tomorrow, I'm being a bad employee and you're going to let me get away with it. It seems plenty even to me.” They had ended their night relatively early, it was only 11pm and y/n wanted a few more minutes with Carmen, so she took a few wrong turns. Was that a selfish thing to do? Yes. But did it feel right? Also, yes.

They finally “found" her car. Carmen opened the door for her after she unlocked it. Y/n pulled out her parking spot and then drove off. But she didn’t forget to wave out the window and in the rear view window she could see that he was waving back. Y/n drove for a few minutes before double parking in an open street to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. She rolled up her windows and squealed. It felt good to be able to do that after holding it in for the last few days. She composed herself and drove home.

The next morning was brutal because she had to completely gut her closet to find that black dress and heels. After a few hours she found them in the same box that held her cap and gown. She laid them on her bed and then went to get a haircut. On her way back she saw a tattoo parlor and walked in and asked if they had any temporary tattoos lying around. They found one wedged between some binders, it was a large rose.

The night was quickly approaching and she had to leave soon. She had finished getting ready and right as she was about to leave she remembered the rose tattoo. Y/n ran to the skin, and peeled her dress up leaving her thigh exposed and placed the rose tattoo there. She grabbed a long black jacket and then she called an uber to take her to The Beef. The jacket covered up her cleavage but her legs were mostly bare and she regretted not wearing a pair of sweats for the commute.

The restaurant was closed slightly early but it still was pitch black when she got there. Richie and Carmen were finishing up moving chairs and tables. Y/n walked in and the chime alerted them that y/n had arrived.

“Hey guys. When does the party start? Am I too early?”

Carmen’s face betrayed nothing so she couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Richie smirked, “The band of dickheads are coming in about 20 minutes.”

“Can I see what the booze situation looks like?” She got a short tour of what the food and drinks situation was going to look like. She hadn’t taken off her jacket because it was still a bit chilly.

“Carmen, can you turn up the heat?” Carmen walked over to the thermostat in his office to adjust it to y/n comfort. With only 5 minutes before the party was supposed to start, y/n thought she might as well take the jacket off.

“I feel a bit out of place, I'm the only one dressed up.”

Richie gwaffed,” Don’t worry you’ll be in good company with the strippers. Honestly, who's going to know the difference.” Y/n raised a cup of iced water to chuck at Richie.

“Hey, save that for our esteemed guests.” Richie said as he walked as far as possible to avoid getting splashed.

Just as y/n was about to tell Riche to fuck off, Carmen walked in. He took one look at y/n and spent the next few seconds trying to generate a coherent thought. The first wave of guests came in and Carmen lost his chance to say something but it's not like he could come up with anything marginally comprehensible anyways. In a few hours the party was in full swing. Richie was sitting in the kitchen but the thumping music, the smell of booze, the reverberating sound of obnoxious drunk laughter was giving him a migraine so he went outside for an hours long smoke break, he wondered how Carmen was doing.

Carmen was not doing fine, he was doing horrible. The lights, music, and dancing were making him nauseous. But the thing that really tested his patience was the guys ogling at you. Y/n wasn’t really paying attention to any of the guys but they were getting more and more drunk.

The room was lit with purple and blue lights and it was difficult to tell what was happening, and even though he knew it was wrong that didn’t stop Carmen from taking a few peeks at y/n back side throughout the night. If the back was rendering him speechless he could only imagine what the front looked like. The thought that these piss pots were seeing her would send him into a blind rage but the fact that each one of them would get hit in the face made it a bit more digestible.

A guy came up to y/n, and Carmen walked right up to them to know why this fuckhead was talking to her. The groom had asked for the first hurricane shot. Y/n sent him away for a few minutes to give her time to set up. She turned to Carmen and gave him a mischievous smirk.

“Payback time.”

Even though they were in a very crowded room, y/n smirk made him forget it. It was a small and private gesture and no one else would be privy to see it. It was just for Carmen and no one else. That made him feel a bit better.

Y/n and Carmen filled up cups with very cold water just to make it hurt even more. Carmen started to put ice in the water and when y/n saw what he was doing she threw her head back to laugh. The laugh made his heart flutter but the feeling of her hand grasping him to ground herself sent a shiver down his back and it wasn't because both their hands were ice cold now.

The room was so loud that they needed to come close to the other’s ear just to hear each other.

“You gotta put a bit more ice in this one, Carmen ”

“Who’s getting this special order?” Carmen smirked, he was having fun.

“The groom of course. Why are you asking a stranger you meet once to slap you across the face when you have a fiancée at home? Also, what kind of sick fuck gets drunk, high, and a hand job from a stripper the week before his wedding? That level of dickbaggary deserves a face full of welts.” Carmen covers his mouth to hide his smirk.

“It's so tacky and…and…yuck. Hard pass.”

Carmen took that information and stored it in his vault; no drinking, drugs, or girls of any kind during his future bachelor party. He wasn’t going to do the last two anyways, but he never wanted y/n to feel “yuck” about him so he would sacrifice the alcohol for his own bachelor party.

“Have you seen the women here? Very pretty.” Y/n teased.

Y/n didn’t really know why she even brought it up, She spent the entire night facing the crowd and got an eye full of many tits and she knows Carmen’s witnessing the same scene. Being surrounded by a sea of stunning and jaw dropping women had triggered a sense of insecurity within her. Yet, she reminded herself that those women were there to captivate with their beauty, while her role was to serve food and drinks. And to be fair, some of her customers have dropped their jaws after eating her food, balancing the scales of admiration. As such, any lingering immaturity or jealousy dissipated into the air.

The source of unease wasn't the presence of other women, but rather Carmen himself. Y/n had previously worked at a strip club and hadn't experienced this level of jealousy before. But now, with Carmen by her side, she found herself questioning whether he was comparing her to the other women at the party. Did she even register on his radar amidst the crowd? While their relationship remained strictly that of coworkers and friends, she appreciated that Carmen hadn't abandoned her. However, she couldn't help but feel conflicted about his presence, as she didn't want him to witness the spectacle of beautiful women giving drunk idiots lap dances.

Carmen looked up at her while his head was still bent down filling cups with ice, “Uhh, I haven’t really taken a look.”

Y/n doubted that but she didn’t want to protest, so she hid her insecurity behind jokes.

“You should, Mrs. Berzatto could be in this crowd.”

“I can guarantee you that they are not.” Carmen pushed. Y/n chuckled and Carmen could swear he saw her eyes glow.

“Hey, today has probably been really stressful. You can let go for a bit. You know, blow off some steam. There are plenty of women who would love to give you a lap dance. You know that pretty blond has been eyeing you since she came in.” Y/n pointed in some general direction with a straw but Carmen didn’t even look up from the water cups.

Carmen looked into y/n’s eyes and was trying to decipher this puzzle she had put in front of him. She was telling him to go and talk to other women and even though her tone, face, and behavior was exactly the same as before, he couldn't shake off a faint undercurrent of tension emanating from her

“I like it here.”

“So you like to watch.” Y/n smirked while turning around to fill a styrofoam cup with sprite from the soda dispenser to cool herself. She was trying to be cool but it was coming off as vaguely threatening, she needed to get her shit together.

Carmen turned around so he was facing her direction then placed his elbows on the counter and looked up at her with those killer eyes, “Yeah I do.”

“Mr. Berzatto, have you been drinking you’ve gotten, dare I say, bold?”

Carmen raised his eyebrows in a joking manner and y/n could swear that she saw stars glisten in his irises. God, was he handsome or what?

“I think it's time to get this show on the road.” Y/n turned around to walk around the counter so she could hop on top, she couldn't do it from behind the counter because it was filled with liquor and cups and she would knock everything over. Just as y/n was going to walk out the counter, a muscular arm blocked her from leaving. She furrowed her eyebrows, and looked up at his eyes.

“You promised, you wouldn’t.”

“I can't get to the counter from here…why don’t you walk me over there, so that no one bothers me. Earn your keep bodyguard” Y/n softened her eyes to convince Carmen, and to her surprise he let out a sigh before removing his arm and leading her to the other side of the counter glaring at anyone who even thought about looking at y/n. Y/n’s dress was so tight and short that she couldn’t really get up without flashing everyone. She looked up at Carmen and told him about the situation she was in and how she needed a chair or something.

Carmen brought his face close to y/n so she could clearly hear, “Can I touch you?”

Holy…mother…of…fuck. Y/n’s brain flat lines and she stumbles out a quick and breathy “yes”.

Carmen put his hands on her waist and y/n linked her hands behind his neck and just as y/n was about to close the gap, she let out a yelp as she was hoisted onto the counter. She is starstruck, her heart is beating fast and she is resisting the urge to kiss him from up here. She had to remind herself that he was just being helpful.

"Tattoo?"

Y/n was a mess and she needed a few seconds to understand what he was saying, "It's fake, so that if anyone takes any pictures I can pretend it's not me." It took all of y/n's will power to connect these words together. It was getting hard to think.

Carmen took one more look at y/n stradling the counter before reaching over the counter to grab the same straw y/n used to point at some other women, and lighty dragged it across her knee.

“Your past the counter, chef”

Y/n was in a daze, her knee felt like it was on fire and that was just from a straw. She wordlessly got up on her knees and kneeled on the counter.

Carmen walked right back to behind the counter and passed her a heavy cup.

“For our guest of honor.” Carmen grinned. He was making her lose her breath, y/n was going to pass out and fall off this counter.

Y/n took the cup of water and a shot of tequila from Carmen. Their pinkies brushed each other and sent an electric shock up her arm.

“Make it hurt.”

Y/n gleamed. She turned towards the crowd and shouted out a short introduction before calling over the groom. She passed him the shot which he downed in record time, y/n shot a quick glance at Carmen, before splashing the water right on his face and just and he slightly relaxed his face from the original impact of the icy water, y/n gave him a loud and painful slap. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and it became silent for a brief second before cheers erupted from the crowd. The noise makes Richie peek his head inside to see what the commotion was about. The groom's face was already bright red from the alcohol and the ice and somehow the right side of his cheek looks like someone painted it scarlet, y/n gave a thumbs up to Carmen, who to her surprise returned one back. A line began to form and while y/n was making everyone pay for being annoying dicks, Carmen called over Richie.

“Its fucking boiling in here” Carmen commented, “Can you go into my office and turn the thermostat down to like 60-65 and grab my jacket.” Richie looked like he wanted to make some smart comment but the sound of another slap echoing derailed his train of thought. Richie took one look at y/n, and Carmen wanted to curse him out and punch him across the face, but he refrained. “Richie, the fucking thermostat.”

Richie complained but Carmen wasn’t paying attention and so he left and turned the thermostat down and threw the jacket over the counter.

“When is this shit show supposed to end?” Richie asked while judging the guests in the most unsubtle way possible.

“Two more hours.” Carmen said while looking at y/n. Richie rolled his eyes and left and Carmen was starting to feel the cold air coming from the air vent on top of them. Y/n was starting to feel chilly too and looked over at Carmen who was already handing her a nice wool jacket, his wool jacket. She slipped it on and Carmen felt like he could finally breathe. He was beating himself for not coming up with something like this sooner. The stupid shots were finished and y/n was ready to come down from the counter.

“My ass and thighs are numb.” Y/n said while rubbing them. Just as she looked up towards the crowd she saw that Carmen was right next to her ready to help her come down. Y/n was feeling bold, almost invincible from spending the last 30 minutes slapping men.

“Would you like a shot?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seen a million guys take it, aren’t you curious?”

Carmen was struggling to come up with something to say, he didn’t even know how to react. “I have to drive you home.” His stare was making y/n feel like she was burning from the inside.

“A shot of water?” y/n offered.

Carmen thought to himself, what would he regret more? Taking the shot or not taking it?

He extended his hand towards the water pitcher behind the counter to pour himself a shot of water. Y/n grabbed one of the ice cups and scooped the ice with her left hand and dumped half of the remaining water on the already flooded floor. She wanted to avoid making this as painful as possible. Y/n took off the jacket and set it down on the counter next to her. She tucked her right hand in between her thighs to keep them warm so it would sting a lot less. Carmen took one long look at where her right hand was settled and then locked onto her eyes,

“Hit me with your best shot, chef.”

Carmen downed the shot before locking eyes with y/n. Y/n splashed the water on his face and gave him a solid slap. Not as hard as the others were getting but not so soft that she would be accused of chickening out. Carmen’s face whipped to the left before coming back to his previous position.

“How was that, chef?”

It must have been the lights or the fatigue but y/n could have sworn that he glanced at her lips. Carmen’s hands circle around y/n waist to bring her down. He carried her a few feet away from where they previously were so that y/n wouldn’t step on the puddle, set her down and walked her back behind the counter.

“I can understand the appeal.” Carmen murmured. Y/n looked at him incredulously before laughing in shock.

Y/n was about to tease him a bit before she heard shouting from the crowd. “Do you want to step out? I think I need a break”

Carmen welcomed a break. He handed y/n his jacket and ushered her outside where Richie was smoking. They had forgotten he was still there.

“It's nauseating in there.” Y/n exhaled.

Carmen pulled out a cigarette in an effort to calm down. They were no longer in a party where they could pretend they had no outside obligations. He had pushed the bounds of their relationship and he wondered if the lights, music, alcohol, and seclusion together was only affecting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Y/n crouched down because her feet were killing her. She could feel the blisters forming but she was going to be a trooper. All she wanted to do was lay down. Carmen crouched down to match her height and raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong.

“I need to go to bed.”

“20 minutes left. You can wait in the car and get some rest. I can cover for you.”

“I need to see this place after it’s cleared out. I think I forgot what it looked like before we had it packed with drunk chodes.” That earned her a snicker from both Carmen and Richie.

A sense of tranquil silence enveloped them, providing y/n with a much-needed opportunity to gather her thoughts. She realized that she had to prevent herself from getting lost in the overwhelming depth of Carmen's presence. It was becoming clear that she had two choices: either distance herself from him entirely or bridge the gap between them, instead of remaining in their current state of avoidance, where everything seemed to be ignored.

Just as she was about to turn over to Carmen to ask him if he was free tomorrow night, a loud thump was heard inside the restaurant followed by a crash. Next came the screaming. Y/n and Carmen stood up and looked inside the window to see what got Richie to rush inside.

“Shit” Carmen exclaimed before running inside to stop the groomsmen from fighting. A wave of women ran out. Y/n didn’t go inside till the noise died down, she knew she would just get in the way. She pushed the door open and saw some guy laying on the ground with a bloody head. She scrambled to find a towel from the counter and then applied pressure on his head. Carmen had already called 911 and Richie was just staring with his eyes wide and hand on his head.

The next few hours were a blur. The ambulance picked up the guy that was knocked out. The police came and took Richie, and everyone else was either taken by police for questioning or they left for the cops to get there.

Y/n and Carmen were the only ones left standing on the pavement with little to no energy left. It felt like their bones were the only things holding them upright. Y/n didn’t have the energy to fill the empty space. So the trick to shutting her mouth was being tired, she could save herself from a lifetime of embarrassment by working herself to the bone so she wouldn’t have the energy to make a fool of herself.

She started snickering which slowly devolved to full laughter, she held on to Carmen’s arm to steady herself. Y/n from 5 hours ago would never have touched Carmen under any circumstances unless he initiated it first but she was losing it. She was starting to feel light, like this wasn’t real. Like she didn’t see Richie bash some fucker’s skull in. Or that she spent the last few hours flirting with her boss just for nothing to come from it. Carmen could only just watch.

“Let's get you home.” Carmen slowly ushered her towards his car.

Y/n laughter died down. “I can’t go home, not with Richie in jail.”

“You need some sleep”

“And you don’t? Where are you going after this? Visiting Richie?” Carmen didn’t reply or look up at her.

Y/n went back inside, grabbed her black jacket and ran as fast as her shitty heels and blisters would let her.

"I'm ready," y/n exclaimed with determination, taking confident strides towards Carmen's car. Carmen watched, momentarily transfixed and still processing the whirlwind of the past few hours. Y/n had laughed heartily as a coping mechanism, but inside, Carmen felt a deep sense of anguish, fearing the possibility of losing yet another loved one. He yearned to join in the laughter, knowing he couldn't do it without y/n by his side. Shaking off his thoughts, he quickly jogged over to where y/n stood, matching her pace as they proceeded towards the car together.

The car ride was silent, as both of them were fighting the urge to sleep. They got to the police station and y/n was so out of it she barely understood what groomsman status was and what would happen to Richie when the police officer explained it to her and Carmen. They were led to a seating area where they had to wait. Carmen threw his body on the bench and y/n followed suit. It was chilly and Carmen was wearing a shirt, so she slowly slipped off the jacket to hand it over. She felt firm pressure on her shoulders preventing her from bringing the jacket down.

“Keep it on, it's cold here” Carmen muttered.

“I have a jacket”

“It's too light.” Carmen’s eyes were drooping. Y/n sat back on the bench and tried to sleep sitting down but it wasn’t working. Carmen’s eyes were already closed so she shifted on the bench and laid her head on his lap.

Once Carmen had confirmed she was fully asleep, he draped her thin black jacket over her legs and floated into unconsciousness.

Carmen was shaken awake and woke up in a jolt. He eye’s meet Richie’s and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Aggravated Assault.”

Carmen let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Carmen wanted to get up but he saw that y/n was laying on his lap. He gently slipped out from under her and carried her on his back to his car. He did his very best to ignore everytime that she dug her face deeper into his neck but he was still beet red when he gently placed her in the backseat and put her seatbelt on.

Richie watched but didn’t have any motivation to say anything but a simple, “You got yourself a girlfriend, Carmy?”

“We’ll see when she wakes up.”

Part 2

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sihtriggyr · 3 months

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Emmy Award Winners 🥺

#ayo edebiri #jeremy allen white #ebon moss bachrach #the bear #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #richard jerimovich #carmen carmy berzatto

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adamsacklerdriver · 29 days

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i love this scene cause it’s comedic at the end but it’s carmy deflecting he is starting to ask sydney how can he stop being a shitty person he is not sure about the relationship he is in with claire at all and he’s beginning to ask for advice like “how do i fix this, how do i even know if this is right(how do i do the right thing)? how do i know i’m fucking everything up?” but syds response is just to stop doing shitty things easier said than done duh obvious and this is the best response for carmen cause he gets to just give a funny response and change the subject

#carmen carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear #the bear hulu #carm berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy and sydney #jeremy allen white #syd adamu #sydcarm #syd and carmy #syd x carmy #carmy x sydney #sydney adamu #the bear show #the bear fx #ayo edebiri

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cloveroctobers · 3 months

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FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.

A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.

WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

it was a Sunday.

The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.

You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.

The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)

It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.

Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”

“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.

Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”

“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”

That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.

Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!

You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”

Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”

“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.

Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”

“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”

Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”

“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”

Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”

You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.

Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.

Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”

“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”

Sydney says, “give it time.”

“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.

Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”

“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”

“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.

“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.

You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”

Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.

“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”

“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.

“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.

Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”

“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.

Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”

“Hmm…it doesn’t.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—

“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—

Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”

He nods.

“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.

If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.

He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.

That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.

You weren’t clueless.

He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.

What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?

The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.

“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.

“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.

“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”

“You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.

Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”

“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.

See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?

You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”

Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—

“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”

“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”

You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”

Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there, Neil?”

“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”

“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.

The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.

If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?

You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.

A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.

“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.

It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.

“…are you asking me to hang out?”

“We had fun at that club way back when no?”

“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”

You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.

The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.

Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.

“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”

You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.

“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”

“So…?”

“Can’t do it.”

“You didn’t even hear all the details!”

“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”

“I could never!”

“You know you could always ask carmy-

“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.

Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”

You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.

“Do you want me to hang up on you?”

“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”

“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”

“…whatever that means.”

“Right.”

You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.

Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.

Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.

Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.

You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”

“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.

“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.

“I’m not here to do think pieces.”

“…aren’t you a writer?”

“Have a good night, nat.”

“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”

Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.

“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.

His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.

“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”

The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.

Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.

You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.

Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.

The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.

He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.

Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.

“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.

Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”

“Watching you prep.”

You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”

A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”

“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.

“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.

You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”

“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.

Which is a sight to see.

You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”

Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”

“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.

Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.

“The hell is this place?”

You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”

“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”

You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.

“What looks good?”

“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”

The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”

“Sounds good...I guess?”

“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.

“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.

You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”

“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.

You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”

It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.

“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.

You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”

“That’s not really my problem?”

“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”

Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”

“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.

You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.

*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*

Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.

Not you.

“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.

You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”

Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.

“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.

That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.

So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.

“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.

Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”

“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”

Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”

Sydney.

You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.

“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.

His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”

You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.

The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.

Communication was important people!

And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.

Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”

Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”

“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.

“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”

She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.

“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.

Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”

Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”

“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.

Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”

“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”

“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”

Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.

“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”

“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”

“You wanna do this with me right now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“I thought we could move past what happened—

“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—

“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—

“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”

“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”

Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.

“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.

“I saw you—

“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.

You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.

“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.

You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”

Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.

He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.

“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.

He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”

“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”

Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.

He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.

Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.

“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”

And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!

You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”

You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.

You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.

If you believe in that shit.

So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.

He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.

So you took carmy’s input into consideration.

With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.

Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.

He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.

Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.

Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉

“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.

You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.

Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”

“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.

Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???

Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.

He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.

Syd: well youre gonna.

~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~

“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.

Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”

He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.

“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”

Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”

“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.

You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”

“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”

“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.

Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”

“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”

Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”

And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”

Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”

“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.

The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.

“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.

You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”

“What’s the rating?”

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.

He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”

“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.

Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”

Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”

“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”

“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”

That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”

And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”

“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”

“Yet.”

Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”

Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”

“I said that?”

“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”

Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.

Someone just had to look hard enough.

“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”

“What do you want?”

“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”

“You swore off love.”

“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”

Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?

Maybe.

Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.

He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.

“How’d—

“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.

It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?

So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.

“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.

You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.

“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.

Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”

You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”

Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”

“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”

Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”

“On what? My review or showing up?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”

“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.

And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.

You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.

Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.

And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

February fluff anthology series continues here.

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tigertan · 2 months

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neighborly favors and chicago cigarettes.

uhh late to the bear party but eat up anyway .

probably part one of a slow burn fic im writing .. lmk if the public wants more :3 CONTEXT } you recently moved to chicago with the help of your friend syndey, who's boss-slash-friend-slash-business partner had an open apartment across from him. [word count ; 4k] [ mentions of alchohol, cigarettes, cursing. ]

;; all fluff. awkward first meetings. a lot of fuckin' tension and shared cigarettes.

the blackened mac and cheese in the pot bubbles vengefully on the stovetop and you curse it right back with a hissed out, “fuuuck.”

you’d left the stove on for a bit too long when you went to hop into the shower. as a result your mac and cheese became charcoal black and smoking. it’s a wonder how the fire alarm didn’t go off as you grab the handle with a stained rag and toss it into the sink.

the hot pot emits a dying hiss as it hits the water, and red whines from under the couch. “yeah, i know.” you respond to him, standing square in the kitchen and staring at the pot of your former dinner. “that was the last box too, shit.” you groan, finally stepping forward to peer over the sink edge and now you were staring at the guttering pasta and dairy mixture with furrowed brows. “fuck.” you say once more. instead of red’s usual whine in response your phone buzzes on the countertop and you received a text from sydney. she’s down by the bear if you wanted to stop by and maybe grab dinner with her and some of the staff since closing is in 30 minutes? you respond to her with a swift hell yeah. you didn’t dress up much. neat white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. afterall, the bear was a walking distance of four to five minutes. and you throw on a black puffer jacket, for chicago wasn’t christened the windy city for nothing. again, an entire scene change from the warm, near stagnant winds of southern california.

leaving red in the bedroom as it’s way past his bedtime, you grab your phone, wallet, and keys before stuffing your hands in your pockets and stepping out. but as you do there’s a rustling of paper against polyester and a crumpled sheet inside your left pocket. you already know what it is before pulling it out and every fiber in you wants to throw it away. it’s a photo roll— from last winter— of you and your ex-boyfriend, lucas. you sigh, stuffing your bottom lip between your teeth as you stare at the once over the moon you and him. it seemed so long ago, before he started drinking. you clench your jaw. you’d moped around enough in the past three months. this was a fresh start that everyone said you’d deserved, and it would not be ruined by him. nothing would ever be ruined by him again. a spike of anger wedges between your ribs, familiar and fucking ugly. you heave your chest once, exhaling it out along with the paper roll, tossing it to the floor. you jet down the stairs two at a time and step into the windy streets of the windy city, smelling the air. it smelled of petrol and cigarettes, but you didn’t outright hate it. it smelled like l.a. but then again, every big city probably smelled like gas and smoke.

the walk was quicker than you expected, as you strode down the street, you took in the street signs and flashing lights and other lone passerby who shared the sidewalk with you. a peaceful time of stressful pacing, for many a person walking the streets so late at night.

the bear was an elegant place, with a contemporary touch to the furnishings and finishings that you could see from the outside itself. you stepped inside, warm smells of food filling your nostrils and teasing your tastebuds.

it was beautiful, the ambiance had an aura that screamed both family and stress. but such was to be expected from a place that was aiming for a michelin star. you spotted where staff filtered in and out from the front of house and back of house and was beginning to make a line towards it when you were stopped by a very tall man— in his forties most likely— standing behind a lectern at the front who slid his hand between you and your goal. he wore a crisply pressed, all black suit and a buzz cut. “reservation ma’am,” he asked, a cocked brow as he took in your simple attire. you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious of your sweatpants and plain shirt; probably stained as well. “ah— well, i’m friends with sydney,” you reply, hoping it gets you past him. he doesn’t seem to be budged and you get nervous, even a little pissed from the way he’s looking at you. you’re a decent height, but he’s tall. that makes you shift on your feet. “i moved in next to her uh, friend-slash-buisness partner-slash-executive chef? does that— does that ring any bells?” you add on, shrugging. the big puffer you have on probably is not helping your case. “uh-huh.” he nods over another waitstaff, whispers in their ear and sends them off. you two then stand there for a bit, his blue eyes seeming staring directly into you and you shuffle a bit on your feet. you introduce yourself, guessing that maybe reducing the barrier of strangers would ease the tension of this encounter. telling him your name, you hold your hand out. he looks at it then back up to your face before taking it with a grip like iron. “richard. richie. nice to meet yo’.” “nice to meet you too, richie.” you nod shake his hand. at that moment the wait staff is back and whispers again in richie’s ear. he nods and they go back onto the floor and richie nods towards the back. “guess you’re free to go sweetheart.” he gives you a wink as you pass and you give him a scrunched up side eye. what a weirdo. the kitchen is fast. fast isn’t even the best way to describe it. just standing in the doorway had your palms itching to jump in and help, although you wouldn’t be much help, being a preschool teacher. a waiter was coming at you in long strides, an expensive dish in their hands and you immediately stepped to the side, not wanting to be the cause for someone missing their meal. you spot sydney, at the front of the line and constantly spewing out order after order after order, each one responding with a, “yes chef!” from the cooks in the kitchen.

suddenly another chef bursts into the kitchen from the front and his pale brown hair is flying at the ends, although it looks like he’d tried to slick it back it obviously failed; his eyes are a striking blue and widened, the irises eating away the white sclera. but even though he seemed a tad shorter than you, he was pretty fuckin’ cute. that was, until, he opened his mouth and his voice climbed to a screaming spiel at sydney and anyone who was around, really. rounding the large table of food and preparation in the middle of the kitchen, he grabbed two trays and shoved them at the waitstaff. while you didn’t understand most of it, kitchen lingo was incredibly confusing— why was everyone chef? how do you know who was talking to who?— you could tell that he was practically bursting in anger, the bridge of his nose bunched up with the t-zone of his face.

it was a sight really. a perhaps five seven man in a pressed white chef outfit screaming like all hell was breaking loose. maybe a little scary, but you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. from whatever dramas you’ve seen on chef life and the such— take marco pierre white, for example— head chefs were incredibly demanding, seemingly downright arrogant.

you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire, being a prime target for your un-chef-liness in the midst of a busybodied kitchen, so you ducked into what looked like an office, one wall plastered with a ceiling-to-floor bookshelf and a framed picture of a baseball stadium. hopefully you were safe in here. you sighed.

but it turns out you weren’t, because that same short angry chef came barreling into the office area and stopped short when he spotted you, the scream dying on his tongue. there was the thick and familiar air of awkward tension and you fiddled with the material in your pockets, swallowing. “hello.” you break in and he blinks. his eyes are huge, you realize. “are you— are you going to yell at me too?” “uh. i’m– i’m sorry, wh—” he replies, brows furrowing as he looks you up and down. “CARMY!” sydney followed in closely after the chef, cutting him off. she looked at you, doing a short double take before looking back at— carmy? “can you just— can you calm down? you’re scaring everyone again.” she sighed, obvious exasperation on her face. it flicked a switch in carmy and he turned to her, all the anger filling his features in an instant. “no syd, the fucking fish is cold again. we have a vip up there and the fish is cold and—” he was like a candle wick, you realized. exploding now and then in violent, flashing flames, only to get doused out with a simple thing or the other.

this time it was sydney circling her heart with a closed fist. and he stuttered, swallowing harshly before doing the getsure back to her. “i’m sorry.” she says, “i was caught up again and it all got fucked. i’ll fix it.” unsure of what to do, you debated doing it too. but maybe that would be weird. so you instead shoved your hands deeper in your pocket and thinned your lips. “uh. sorry,” you shot a look to carmy. “should i go?” you asked sydney. “i thought you guys were uh. done so i like— came over here.”

sydney chuckled lightly, though it sounded more tired than anything. “no, no you’re fine. it’s just the dinner rush. it’s dying out, the kitchen closes in like— fifteen minutes. i didn’t realize you’d get here so quickly.” “well, it’s like a five minute walk, so.” you explain. “i would’ve hung out with red,” you joke. sydney grins. “yeah, he would’ve liked that a lot more.” “okay, who is this?” carmy interjects, hands splayed in front of him as if he tried to physically stop the conversation between you and sydney. your friend nodded as if to say oh yeah, and gestured to you, telling carmy your name. “she’s the one who moved across from you. that’s why i asked you for that apartment information.”

he just nods, then hands you another look before turning on his heel back into the kitchen.

sydney watches him walk away and then turns to you. she shrugs in apology and you dismiss it with a wave. “i’m. so sorry. i genuinely thought you’d take longer. just… hang out in here, i guess.” you laugh and take a seat— gingerly— in the office chair. “yeah, i’ll just hang out in here.” sydney nods then jets back to the chaos that is the kitchen after flashing you another one of her signature smiles. thank goodness you’d downloaded that mind-numbing mobile app on the flight here.

-- you could hear the unwinding of the kitchen from the office. it was evident; the defeated hiss of fired pans falling into a sink, stoves clicking off, and the urgent yells of the staff had reduced to inaudible chatter. carmy walks back into the office, and he seemingly forgot you were there, from the way he stopped in his tracks and blinked at you. he was no longer in a chef uniform, eight sets of buttons across his chest were swapped out for a plain white t-shirt and black jeans that were too tight around his calves. the shirt also was fitted around his chest despite the bagginess it held around the rest of his frame. did he have a thing for too-tight clothes? you looked up, and immediately stood from the chair, apology written across your face. “ah. sorry. syd said i could wait in here after… all that.” “yeah, no no, it’s… it’s fine. i just need, uh,” he pointed to the jacket hanging on the seat of the chair. the one you’d been half sitting-slash-leaning on, and had noted mentally that it was a pretty ugly shade of brown. “oh. yeah.” you fumble the pickup, fumble the fucking delivery, but the jacket ends back in carmy’s hands and he slides it on. only then you realize he had tattoos. all over his arms.

you’d always wanted a tattoo, maybe one of red. you’d seen other dog obsessed people on tiktok get tattoos of their dog’s paws and noses. carmy’s ink peered out from his jacket, littering his left hand in numbers and other stray marks. you sort of stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do until he speaks, “are you um— you’re sydney’s friend?” he asks, blinking voraciously. you nod. “yeah. that’s me.” theres a bit of a chuckle to it, in the hopes of the labored tension between you two will dissipate.

unfortunately it doesn’t.

you’d heard many things about this guy, everything but his name, surprisingly. sydney had raved about him being named the ‘best chef’ in the ‘best restaurant’ in america. in socal, with the budget you had, the best you’d get was souplantation. it’s a shame they shut down.

maybe he should win an award for most awkward man ever, you thought with a bitter edge, swallowing hard. “are you going to the bar too?” you ask. he seems almost surprised you decided to continue to talk to him and he looks behind him then back to you in rapid succession. “oh. yeah. just for, for a few.” he replied. you nod back, and jump at this newfound opportunity. “how far is it?” “huh? oh, like, a ten minute drive.” carmy responds, taking out a rung of car keys from his left pocket. perfect. you think. “do you think—” you begin, on the path to ask him for a ride, maybe you’d break the awkward silence between you two and you’d be friends. but it never happened on account of sydney walking back into the office, changed into her large trench coat and grins at you as she calls your name. “you ready? we’ll take the subway,” she nods to the door, and waits as if you were to follow. you sigh internally. oh well. maybe he’d drink enough and they’d loosen up and you could ask him if his name was really carmy and why the hell he was so mad earlier. you side step carmy with a muttered, “excuse me”, and follow sydney out the back and around the corner and to the subway. —

the bar is quaint, some local pub with local teams and references plastered from wooden mahogany wall to wooden mahogany wall. it smells strongly of beer and grease, so thickly it lays gently on your tongue and makes you immensely hungry.

sydney walks to a table in the far right corner. a tall man and very short woman sit side by side, joking as the woman grins widely. a pudgy guy with a braid sits beside— great. richie is here too, you realize with sullen realization and swallow the sour bile in your throat. he just radiated a terribly immature aura. the other side of the table were four seats, the two on the right side filled by another tall man in a beanie and beside him sat carmy. you wonder in passing how he got here so fast. “sydney! you’re late,” richie booms, beer glass in his hand. the image is crude and you cringe by the slightest. sydney scoffs playfully, rolling her eyes. “shut the fuck up richie,” she retorts. you sit on the side next to carmy and sydney takes your right. he raises his hands in mock surrender, and passes two untouched beer glasses to you and sydney, you take it slowly. you hadn’t drank since— well, since you realized why lucas acted the way he did. so you held the beer glass between you hands on the table and watched the witty banter of the staff members unfold, so natural and so familial it felt warm and fuzzy— for lack of a better, less cheesy term— in the deepest parts of your heart.

but it was broken, momentarily, by carmy standing up in a bit of an abrupt manner and muttering something along the lines of “smoke break,” and you watch him leave with some sadness. he hadn’t talked much, during the whole show, whenever he did it was a sideish chuckle or a shut the fuck up to richie. a lot of people were saying that, you realized. the break let everyone take a hearty swig from their glasses, and the silence brought the attention to you. tina— the short woman with an underlying spanish accent— asked you where you were from. “california,” you replied. “it fucking sucks out here,” you joke, and feel a sense of social accomplishment when the staff laughed alongside you. it grants you that moment of courage for you to take a sip of ‘liquid courage’. you hadn’t drank in so long. you were never a heavyweight, but the long gap between your last taste of spirit let the alcohol in the drink go immediately to your head and opened the metaphorical floodgates of your surprisingly dirty mouth and quick whips that were always the highlight of your college party experience.

“so why’d you move out here, then, sweetheart?” [“you can’t just call people sweetheart, richie,” sydney scolded almost subconsciously, but was brushed off by richie with a wave.] you held the beer glass in both your hands, a brow lifting with the side of your mouth in a half-disgusted-half-scorned look. “um. california’s too fucking expensive?” you offer in a ploy to change the subject but he shakes his head as he follows through with his question, staring at you. “don’t believe that.” he retorted almost immediately in between a swig of beer. you glared at him. “okay, fucko. i needed a new job.” “and what are you?” “... a preschool teacher.” “not with that mouth!” ebra interjected with gibelike laughter, the other members of the beef chiming in. you had to admit, that was true. you’d always had a bit of a sailors tongue, something your fellow teachers berated you on during your days as a TA.

“okay, okay, yeah, i have a filthy fucking mouth, but i’m still a preschool teacher.” you shrug, taking a sip with a snarky smile. “okay, but preschool teacher pay is worse in illinois.” richie pressed you. he knew there was something, you knew he wanted it out of you, like the nosy fuckin’ bitch he was. “okay, but—” “come on, what is it really?” he interrupted you with a plaguey tone of voice that made your stomach curdle and your mouth twist in an annoyed grimace. “you fuck the wrong principal? buy the wrong drugs? bad fuckin’ boyfriend?” when your grip on the glass tightens, the beer sloshing the sides at the miniscule impact, richie knows he’s won. and like the loud mouth he is, he makes it known. “oh HO, so that’s your fucking pandora’s box. come on, what kind of asshole was he? the tight assed asshole? the—”

he doesn’t get a chance to finish because you slam your beer glass down onto the honey-washed wooden table and it spills, getting your hand and the sleeve of your puffer damp. you glare daggers into richie, the familiar javelin of rage fitting in your chest almost familiarly. “do you fucking mind? ever hear of privacy, you washed up gossip whore?” you damn near snarl, shoving the chair back as you stand and cock your head to one side. the bar had quieted; curious, nosy bystanders had taken an interest in the sudden spike of aggression and noise that radiated from you. sydney gingerly tried to lay a hand on your arm, but you pulled away from her as the pressure fell on your bicep. you didn’t mean to snap at her, but as of that moment, you’d snap at anyone. you felt cornered, like a wild animal being poked through the bars of a cage by jeering children. the teeth in your jaw ground together, and you pushed the chair back further with your legs to untangle yourself from the situation, taking long, deliberate strides to the back door, the one carmy had gone through. shoving through the heavy metal door, it didn’t take you long to find carmy. he stood a few paces away from the door, under a flickering street lamp that flirted with various winged insects. it splayed over him, illuminating the chef in harsh yet complementary light.

he looks almost surprised you’re there, a cig pursed in his lips, the case in one hand with the lighter in the other. “uh. hey,” he nods to you. was it routine for these awkward silences to find a home between you two? you nod back, the flush in your cheeks hopefully falling out. then you nod to the cigarette case in his hands. “enough to share?”

–

you two stand; around a foot or two apart, cigarettes in your mouths. one looked up and the other looked down. the sky was shittily pretty, you noted. city pollution obstructed the sight of any stars, but the neon glows of various billboards and street signs rose into the air and tinged the edges of the purple-black canvas.

you exhaled heavily, the smoke burning your nostrils on the way out. it’d been, what— two, three months?— since you’d “quit” smoking. it didn’t fit with the whole preschool teacher-esque you needed. but tonight was just getting worse and worse and you wanted to go bash your head against the brick alleyway until god herself would come down and take you away. “richie?” he speaks, and it startles you. the cig nearly falls from your mouth, but you take it away between your index and middle finger. you look back at him, blinking then nodding slowly. he nods back in acknowledgement. “what uh– what he’d do now?” “other than be a big fucking nosy bitch, nothing, really.” you reply, taking a long drag on the cigarette, the spike in your ribs chipping away with each wash of nicotine.

carmy makes an o with his mouth and nods again. he looked like a bird, you realized. but not in a bad way, or anything. like a flighty falcon, the kind you saw on those nature rehabilitation shows on animal planet. you just needed to hold them the right way, maybe say the right cooing words. maybe find something in common if you did that right. you give a slight look to him from the side. the cigarette was cushioned in his lips, and while they weren't very large, from here alone you could tell they were plush pink and soft, from curve it held around the butt of the cig.

“why’d you come out then?” he asks another question, snapping you out of your creepy lip-admiration. the fact that he was asking you more questions made you think this was either progression or unsettling, but it was hard to decide. you shrug in response, however. “i was hungry, actually. burned my mac and cheese.” there was another few moments of silence, filled only with the city life of chicago and your noisy exhale, blue gray smoke tendrils curling in the air.

“i could make you somethin’.” he offers, his voice nonchalant and passive, even though his big fuckin’ eyes stared at you like he was some lost puppy.

it was kind of endearing, actually. no one had ever cooked for you. why'd it make your chest tighten pleasingly?

you laugh. “sure. one day, when you can, neighborly favor of sorts if you’re into that.” you jest, unaware he was being serious. you take another lung filling puff of the cigarette, nicotine thick in your senses. “chicago cigarettes are strong,” you remark.

he nods. “like em’ better than the new york ones.”

you raise your brows in acknowledgement. he swallows some air, not for the cigarette, you realize as he begins to speak.

“i was, uh, being serious, by the way. i fucking hate mac and cheese.”

you grin, looking over at him, the dim glow of the cigarette hanging from your lip. “me too.”

...

for more / updates go check out my ao3 !

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keerysfreckles · 3 months

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i can't stop coquetting things this is getting so out of hand 😣😣😣

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #jeremy allen white #jeremy allen white the bear #the bear #the bear show #the bear fx #the bear fox #the bear tv show #the bear tv #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen carmy berzatto

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f1ilms · 1 year

Photo

The Bear ( 2022 -)

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bobertbilliams · 2 months

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The Bear “Dogs”

#the bear #jimmy cicero kalinowski #carmen carmy berzatto #richard richie jerimovich #pete #oliver platt #jeremy allen white #ebon moss bachrach #chris witaske #my post

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kyloknightren · 1 month

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i need sydney to encourage carmy to make a painting for the bear after seeing his sketches cause he hated the look of the one that nat got for the front of the house and i feel like carmen’s drawings will just have more importance in the next season

or if nat sees carmy’s stuff and tells him “bro. you should hang something at the restaurant!”

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queers-gambit · 7 months

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Neon Sticky Notes

prompt: ( requested ) reminding your boyfriend you love him one sticky note at a time.

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

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.4k+

note: baby gets what baby wants! God, do i hope this is what you want, my baby...

warnings: probably cursing, Carmy needs a nap, men being simps, this is short and sweet! it's FINALLY edited!!!

You knew he was struggling. Worn-out, beaten down, exhausted, run ragged, amuck, and into the ground.

It was evident in the way he carried himself; the prominent bags under his eyes, the way he tossed and turned in bed before being found on the living room couch in the morning. His hair seemed greasier then usual, his skin turning gaunt and grey, and you knew he wasn't making time to eat.

By comparison, you had a simple job, something corporate and in an office. Something that made decent money; something you were good at, something you could find pride in doing.

However, Carmy's job as a chef was different; being more than stressful, and while coupled together for years now, it was still a work-in-progress each time Carmen started on a new venture. Owning, running, and converting The Beef into something "better" should've been no different, only it was - it was totally different. Carmy was frazzled, looking deranged some evenings, as if operating on adrenaline, and you were at a loss on how to help.

So, you resorted to a natural instinct - communicating.

Carmy needed reassurance, he needed support, he needed to be loved for who he is, exactly how he was, in order to keep his head on straight. You never did mind the challenge that was Carmen Berzatto, finding him akin to a puzzle. So, on your way home from work one evening, you stopped at a CVS to grab a pack of neon, multi-colored sticky notes and a brand new Sharpie marker.

You had an idea.

When you got back to your shared apartment, you unloaded the groceries you needed onto the counters before calling Carmy. "Hey, Peaches," he answered on the third ring, usual kitchen clatter in the background, "everything okay?"

"Yeah, all good."

"Sure? Sound outta breath."

"The elevator's broken, I got groceries," you groaned, "and have been skipping the gym for a couple weeks."

He chuckled, "Never skip leg day, baby, you know it's our house motto."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever - hush. I'm just wondering if you had an ETA for tonight? I have an early morning meeting, so I want to go to sleep early."

"Uh," he trailed, a muffled ruffling sounding over the line before a small clatter that made him sigh, "yeah, um, you know what? I really don't know, baby, I'm sorry. You do your thing and I'll be quiet when I get in, just leave my stuff on the couch."

"No, come to bed," you whined slightly, "I miss you."

"Awh, yeah, miss you, too, Peach. I'll be there," he promised.

You finished putting all groceries away; the dishes following, then you got started on prepping dinner. Look, you were no cook - that was all Carmy. But you weren't totally useless in a kitchen, so, you didn't mind taking over most meals now that Carmy was waist-deep in The Beef's bullshit. You played music as you cooked, poured a glass of wine, danced around, and tried to think of a list of encouraging things to remind Carmy. You ate dinner alone, and when done with clean-up, faced off with your sticky notes and Sharpie.

The first note was scribbled and stuck on the covered plate in the fridge: Bone Apple Teeth, Chef!

Then you wrote a note to leave at the door where Carm was sure to drop his keys: make sure you eat the plate I left you!

Humming, you pondered a moment before smirking and writing a third note to be left on the TV remote: I know you too well. come to bed.

Lastly, you wrote a fourth and final note to be left in the bathroom: great job today, Chef! you're killing it!

You were fast asleep when he got home. He found the note in the key bowl, smirking at your kindness and thoughtfulness. Carmy saw the messily-drawn heart and pocketed the note, toeing off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He reheated the plate you left, pocketed the second note after a silent grin of amusement, and when ready, took his hot food to the couch.

Carmy laughed when he found your third note. He left it on the table as he ate, half-watching the news segment he flipped on. When he was full and his plate clear, Carmy turned the TB off, pocketed your note, set everything in the dishwasher, started it, and then went into the bathroom. Another soft chuckle emitted as he pulled the final note in his hand - and you already know he saved it.

When he got in your shared room, he made sure to leave the notes in a random shoe box, stashing it in his closet, changed for the night, and crawled into bed with you.

This was a regular occurrence now: Carmy came home late to a barrage of sticky notes, saved them all, then crashed in bed with you. You missed each other, but understood scheduling just didn't line up right now. It wasn't like you two never saw one another, you still did - but it wasn't like it was. Time together now felt fleeting, as if you had to savor everything, so you made the most of your situation.

Was it overcompensation? Possibly. But Carmy adored your notes.

Sometimes, you'll be sat in the living room, reading a book, working on your laptop, or scrolling Instagram on your phone, while he cooks and he finds a note left on the milk carton that reads: I am UDDERLY in love with you!

Get it? 'Cause cows have udders? You were pretty proud of that pun.

Other times, he'll be up at an unGodly hour, getting a steamy hot shower, and you'll come in to pee. He doesn't think anything of anything until he gets out of the stall only to see a neon orange sticky note on the counter, saying: i love your butt! lemme pinch it!

Carmy feels himself looking forward to your little surprises. Some were funny and a little vulgar, like the note found on the eggs: fertilize MY eggs!

Some notes were more innocent, like the one he found in his shoe one morning, reading: I'm so proud of you. have a great day today!

Some just said: be home for dinner @ 8! making your fav!

Others were found, saying: you're so fucking handsome. I'm one lucky ducky! You even tried to draw a little duck.

Some notes were motivational: you're doing a GREAT job, baby!

Some notes reminded: you have a dentist appt @ 10!

Some notes were sweet: call me during your break, cutie, i miss your voice!

And others found on the bathroom mirror were playful: you look too good today, go change! A second note added: don't need anyone looking at your fine ass! A third: i'm the only one allowed to look #respectfully

Each and every note had a drawn heart, being saved to a hidden shoebox. He found notes in his usual coffee mug, reminding him you loved him. He found notes on his toothpaste tube, telling him he was doing a great job. Cereal boxes now promised Carmy they were proud of him, pastas told him to have a great day, and the light switches assured reminded him how special he was.

The microwave told him you felt blessed to be his and in his jacket pocket, he was told how lucky you are to love him. Some notes swore to him he was one of a kind, others explicitly detailed what parts of him you wanted in parts of you, and a few reminded him of important dates, appointments, deadlines, anniversaries, birthdays, etc..

Sometimes, he found little treats with these sticky notes. Like when you had to make brownies for your little sister's bake sale, you left him a Tupperware full with a hot pink note, labeled: for the love of my life!

And then... One morning, when you got up for work, Carmy was already gone for his day. You went through your normal routine, entering the kitchen with the intention of making a to-go cup of coffee, only to pause and grin when a neon green sticky note greeted you from the stovetop. Written in messy, fresh, black Sharpie was: got you on my mind. love you, be home @ 6 tonight!

Carmy drew own heart and you beamed at the reciprocation. You didn't mind the distance for now, knowing he was busy and it wouldn't last forever; but the fact that he could reassure you as much as you could him warmed your heart. You felt like the Grinch when his heart grew in size, just without the painful grunting. If anything, you felt euphoric from his little note - thinking it was reassuring to still communicate even when your schedules differed.

The day passed sluggishly - only because you were actually excited to go home. Ironically, your last client of the day didn't leave until a little later than scheduled, so, when you FINALLY got off work and made it home, Carmy had beaten you. When you got through the door, you were met with a heavenly aroma; using Gandalf's advice and following your nose to enter the kitchen.

You sighed dreamily when you came to a halt in the doorway, bottom lip trapped between your teeth to attempt and restrain your ecstatic grin. Carmy was shirtless at the stove, stirring a pasta dish to coat it in the sauce of his choice. "Hi, pretty peach," he beamed at you.

"Oh, I've missed this sight," you squealed, rushing to his side to throw your arms around his neck. "Hi, baby, hi, baby, hi, baby," you chanted between chaste kisses to his cheek.

"Someone missed me," he laughed, cheeks blooming a bright red - but not from the kitchen heat.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, and you know I don't do well alone, I need attention," you teased with a pout, his arm slithering around your waist - but a crinkle noise caught your attention. "Woah, hey. Did you get a new tattoo?" You pondered, looking down at his arm that was protectively bandaged.

He smirked and held his arm out, "Wanna take the plastic off for me?"

"What'd you get?"

"Find out," he whispered, staring at you with his intense baby blue eyes; waiting as you calculated your next move. Slowly, you reached out and unwrapped the protective cling wrap, getting to the gauze, then slowly peeling that from his skin.

"Ohhh, my fucking God," you whispered.

"Like it?"

"Are these... My hearts?"

He nodded, "I got 6 of them from your notes tattooed. 'Cause we've been together six years. Figured, each year, I could add one - but you gotta draw it."

"You're ridiculous," you laughed, in minor disbelief. "What made you do this?"

He eased, "You. I've never felt so confident in my life before, and I know you're a huge part of that. It feels right, being with you feels right and I wanted to show you that I see and appreciate all you do." His tone softened, "I wouldn't be me without you, Peach."

"You'd still be Carmy."

"A totally different Carmy, though," he chuckled. "I actually like who I am with you, baby. But look here, I know it's been real hectic lately, sweet girl, with the restaurant, but it's not gonna be like this forever. We're makin' progress, we're gonna get this settled."

"I know," you assured, "'cause if anyone's gonna get this done, it's you. Just don't forget to breathe every now and then - you're drowning in this stress and I need you to stay afloat, Carm."

"I'm good, Peaches, got you on my team so I can't lose," he eased, tucking you into his chest for an embrace. After a minute and a tight squeeze, he sighed, pecked the crown of your head, then mumbled, "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner's almost ready."

You agreed, stealing one last (prolonged) kiss before scampering off to the bedroom. When you got there, you almost tripped when you came to a halt; laughing loudly as the entire bed was covered in an array of neon colored sticky notes. Until you got closer and realized each note detailed a different reason Carmy loved you; from the way you search for him in your sleep to how you resembled a Gremlin if not fed within certain hours. From how you weren't afraid to dress up for the Renaissance Festival to how you throw blankets in the dryer for 15 minutes before movie nights. In fact, "movie night" was on a single note, being a fond yet routine date. You read each note carefully, tears wanting to build but you refused to let them, yet it was difficult when this was the sweetest gesture you've ever known.

Even things you were insecure about, like dimples or weight or hair color, was highlighted as a reason Carmy loved you. He listed your authenticity, generosity, thoughtfulness, charisma, incredible brain but even bigger heart. He praised your wit, your humor; adored your sneezes, and looked forward to coming home every night because he knew he was coming home to you.

You've never felt so loved before, wondering if this was what Carmy felt each time he found one of your notes.

Movement caught your peripheral, and when you looked up, Carmy was leaning in the doorway of the bedroom; arms crossed and lips pulled in a small smirk. He didn't speak, he just stared at you. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth twice; holding most of the sticky notes in your hands, but then, you settled on telling him simply, "I love you so fucking much, Carmy."

Dinner might've allegedly burned that night, but so did your love and passion for one another. Even the smallest of gestures can go farther than we anticipate, and showing someone you care could be as simple as leaving them notes around the apartment you cohabitate in, on neon colored Post It's.

Wanna know the cool thing about adult relationships? You get to love your partner out loud; being unapologetic in how you emote, and in return, you're loved by them. Each person deserves to be loved in the way they want to be loved - but you know how fucking great it is when two lovers respond to the same language? What I mean is, it could be considered rare that you, who liked to leave notes, would meet and fall in love with someone who liked to collect and read those notes. Your love language was the same as Carmy's, part of the reason you both worked so well together - but also why one day, he'd add plenty more hand drawn hearts to the collection on his forearm.

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ticktokrobotsnot · 10 months

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Turbulence

This is part 1.

You can read Part 2 here

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his shit-hole restaurant.

Word Count: 14k

warning: panic attacks, stabbing Richie in the ass, mentions of suicide, tax evasion lol

After years of working in restaurants as an in-house accountant, Y/n met a lot of chefs. They were all the same, especially the good ones, and the worst part was that they all thought they were so unique and tortured. They assumed that their problems justified them yelling over a broken sauce or a pierced piece of veal. They made food look pretty and they served it to people. Women have been doing that for years and you don't have people praising them for that. Now some guy with a complex does it and its art, it's magical, it's jaw dropping. No, it was a waste of time and energy.

It was food, a necessity and they had perverted it to some freak art show with conflicting flavors and overall mayhem. It was like a cult, where they convinced everyone that their ossobuco for breakfast, coq au vin for lunch, escargots de bourgogne for dinner, and crème brûlée for dessert wasn’t making them physically sick, mixing different cuisine in a failed attempt at being different. It was regular food served small, but the pretentiousness made y/n more sick than their food.

Y/n was willing to concede that Carmen wasn’t the worst chef she met. She got a job at the French Laundry a few years back and there really wasn’t a word that could adequately describe him because to her, Carmen was nothing but a shell of a man.

In their brief encounters, y/n knew Carmen didn’t have a life outside of cooking. She would watch the chefs come in at the ass crack of dawn and Carmen was always there first. Even when he came to pick up his check at the end of the day, he would grab it before running back to the kitchen to check up on some marinated before he left. The stupid hunk of meat deserved more of his attention than the women handing him his paycheck. She had to refrain her self from screaming, “Look at me you stupid fuck, I’m here giving you your paycheck, look me in the fucking eyes. That steak isn’t going to do anything but get shit out in a few hours! I'm real, look at me.”

It was an immature and one-sided hate, Carmen didn’t really deserve it. However, she found it hard to resist seeing him as an easy target, given his passive nature and frustrating obliviousness to the situation. She never actually did anything crazy like mess with his paycheck or fuck with his W-2, it was more like glaring at him when no one was looking or taking a pen that feel out from his bookbag, holding on to it for a few days, and then dropping it near his locker a few days later. It was very harmless and it felt nice to finally have someone to bother, without actually bothering them.

Every so often he would do something that would make it difficult to hate him fully. He would open the door for her when they were the first to come into work, or he would help her pick up some files that she dropped, or put that very pen back in her cup holder because he assumed that the pen was her pen to begin with. If he had said a single word to her, y/n would probably have had a bit of a crush on him but he never did, infact y/n never heard his voice. Her office was quite a walk from the kitchen so she was left wondering if he belonged to the boisterous brigade of chefs who bellowed at anything in their path, or if he truly possessed the quiet demeanor he exuded. If he were to speak a single syllable, he would transform from a mere embodiment of her job dissatisfaction into a fully-formed individual.

That's why she was confused when she got a phone call weeks after Carmen mysteriously left. The resignation was a shock to y/n, she never once expected him to quit, she thought he would die on top of the stove when his heart finally checked out from all that fat, sugar and acid at 65. She remembered mindlessly sticking his last paycheck in an envelope to ship to Chicago, maybe he got a better job there at Venteux, Brindille, or Les Nomades. They must have sent an amazing poacher for him to leave just about everything in his locker but his backpack and never look back.

“Hello, is this y/n?” Y/n sat up on her couch wondering who was calling her at 9pm on a Tuesday.

“Yeah…Who is this?’ Y/n wondered if one of her friends gave out her number without asking her again. Even if this guy had a nice voice and sounded handsome she would have to reject him based on principle.

“It's Carmen…Berzatto… from the French Laundry.” Y/n dropped her phone in shock, not knowing what knocked the wind out of her lungs more, the fact that she was getting a call from an ex-employee, the fact that he had her number in the first place, the fact that she was getting this call scandalously late, or that he actually sounded like that. Jesus, he was really holding back on her.

“Are you still there?” Y/n grabbed her phone from the floor and gave him a simple, “Yes.”

“How have you…been?” He was unsure how to approach this and he would never do this unless he was desperate, which he was.

“I have been fine, I heard you moved to Chicago, a new exciting job?”

“That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Y/n didn’t probe because this felt like payback for all the times that she said something to him hoping that he would fill the space just for him to walk into that stupid fucking kitchen and leave her standing around like a fool.

“Umm…It's a long story but I have this restaurant that needs a bit of accounting?” Y/n didn’t say anything and let him suffer in his own silence like she used to. She chose to flop down on her couch again.

“I'm not sure what the right word is, but the books are a mess and I was wondering if you could have a look.”

“Paid of course. Obviously I'm going to pay you.” He stumbled out. Finally, y/n thought, he was fumbling which was a nice change of pace from his usual stoicism.

“What’s the place's name?”

“The Beef.” Y/n sat up on her elbows.

“I have never heard of it before, how many stars does it have?”

“It doesn't have any.”

“Okay…okay?…” Y/n was assuming that he started working at some nepo babies new pet restaurant, the pay must be amazing for him to leave like that. A part of her was proud of Carmen for choosing money over his craft.

Y/n continued, “Give me the owner’s number and we can get the details together.”

“I'm the owner.” She didn’t think that she could be rendered speechless by a guy who would probably combust if you squirted cheese-wiz within a 10 feet radius of him.

Y/n composed herself, he was calling for her which means that he needed her. She had the leverage and she wouldn’t ruin it by babbling like an idiot. “I can come by next week.”

She heard a distant sigh, “That's…yeah…yeah, that's great, we will cover travel and get you a place to stay.” Y/n wanted to be a bitch and demand first class and a five star hotel but she had a feeling that he would actually think she was being serious.

“I’ll send over the information, y/n.” The sound of her name coming out his lips felt foreign, she had never heard her name spoken like that.

“Good night, Carmen.” Just as she was about to hang up the phone she heard a quiet, “She said yes?” He doubted her. Good, y/n thought, he should doubt her, he doesn’t know anything about her and that was entirely his fault. She hung up the phone and searched up The Beef, she found a hundred restaurants with the same name. What the hell was Carmen doing at a restaurant that couldn’t even come up with an original name.

She gave herself a week to prepare even though she didn’t have a job anymore. She quit a few days after Carmen did, she had lost all motivation to go there everyday, without a target she was just flying till she splattered on the ground.

The underlying reason for her self-imposed week of preparation was a strategic move to play hard to get. Y/n wanted Carmen to realize her value and understand that he needed her and that she was just as good as him, if not better.

Immature, petty, bitchy, difficult, mean; maybe her mother was right about her after all.

A week flew by and she was at baggage claim when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and saw a short woman in a blue apron and an eye-sore of a bandana.

“I'm Sydney, I'm new. I’m here to pick you up, Carmen says he’s sorry couldn’t do it but we have to prep for the lunch rush.” The way that Sydney looked when speaking about Carmen showed that she had a deep respect for him and a small evil part of y/n wanted to convince Sydney that Carmen was actually tied to the mob or did ballet in his spare time. Something that would knock him off of a pedestal and make him more like a person and less like a God.

Y/n picked up her luggage and wordlessly rolled it over to where Sydney had it parked. The ride to the restaurant was filled with questions that she really didn’t know the answer to, What was Carmen like in New York? What was a dish of his that y/n liked the most?

Sydney should have asked what his salary was, that y/n knew like the back of her hand. Y/n answer those questions by repeating things that other people have said about Carmen. His plum desert was to die for, he was very methodical in the kitchen, and he ran a tight ship, what more could she possibly know?

Sydney finally pulled over in a rough neighborhood and y/n wondered if Sydney needed to do an errand before they finished their journey but when she saw through the window that another guy was wearing the same color apron as Sydney, she knew that this was the famous “The Beef'' that took Carmen away from her. It wasn’t even called “The Beef'' it was called, “The Original Beef of Chicagoland '' which was somehow even worse.

Y/n told Sydney that she needed a few moments to herself and when Sydney slipped inside, y/n started sprinting towards the pub next door. She gave the bartender a sob story about how she was looking for a job next door as a waitress and how she wanted to know what the situation was next door, for her safety, before she asked for a job. The bartender bought her story and gave her a quick review of what had happened. The previous owner killed himself, shot his brains out, and now it was under new management, the old guy’s brother. Yikes didn’t even begin to cover what y/n thought but that was the best she could come up with, so...Yikes.

She ran back to the restaurant, fixed up her hair and walked in like she didn’t just hear a horrific story that was going to make it very difficult to do her job.

Y/n walked in, and she felt like she was in an alternate dimension, y/n was by no means spoiled and she had eaten in worse places than this, but the thought that Carmen Berzatto, her Carmen Berzatto, was working in a place like this felt like a joke. She wondered how stupid he looked in his chef whites, slicked back hair, and annoying long apron that looked like a skirt.

The restaurant hadn’t opened yet but she was greeted by a woman named Tina who basically rolled her eyes at y/n and then disappeared into the kitchen. Sydney chirped in with a comforting, “Yeah…she’s like that.” Y/n gave her an understanding smile. She wasn’t expecting much because nobody likes an intruder.

“Carmen said I need to look at some books. Do you know where they are…or where he is so he can tell me where they are?”

“Sdy, can you cover for me.” Y/n’s head snapped up, she recognized that voice from the phone call and was rendered speechless twice. He wasn’t wearing those migraine inducingly ugly chef whites but regular clothes with a blue apron. He had many more tattoos than she thought. His hair wasn’t slick back with gel but it was actually relaxed barring any sweat that might have pushed his hair back. Carmen was buff, which was such a shock to her that she really did feel like this was not real. And lastly, he called this “new” chef Sdy, a nickname. They were close, and y/n couldn’t explain it but that made her eyes twitch. She worked so hard to get to know him the first few months at the French Laundry and got nothing and now “Syd” got a nickname.

She took a deep breath before, “It's been a while.”

“Thanks for coming, let me show you the books.” She was surprised to hear any form of thanks from him but the lack of small talk was really nothing new. She followed him through the kitchen and heat from all the stoves made her nauseous. There was a lot of yelling and it looked like it was an overall mess both aesthetically wise and teamwork wise.

They finally got to the office, it had a worn desk littered with what looked like a fuck ton of papers, scratch that bills. Y/n looked up at Carmen who looked…ashamed. She took a deep breath before sitting down on the chair and looked up at Carmen waiting for him to give her a rundown of everything. They were behind on every bill imaginable, they hadn’t been able to pay vendors, and there were quotes for broken machines. Looks like Carmen’s brother left him a real shit show.

This felt like winning the lottery, not only was she seeing an interesting puzzle for her to solve, she was able to see Carmen look human for once. It was a shame, however, that the only human emotion that he was showing was stress but something was better than nothing. One thing that was untouched was the payroll, he never was behind on paying his workers, y/n felt a slight tug in her chest but she ignored that.

He looked down at her, and asked, “I’m going to leave this with you…umm….” And then he left the kitchen. Y/n starting grabbing floating folders and organizing. Most of the stuff was kinda sorted, but stuff like old payroll documents were in a file called “shit”, so she thought a total revamp was necessary.

It felt like y/n was an intern again, resigned to tedious work. After a few hours and a quick trip to Staples for office supplies, she had made the cluttered desk look like her old desk in the French Laundry…empty, sterile, cold.

With a deep breath she left the kitchen to find Sydney so she could unlock her car so that y/n could grab her laptop. The heat was bad, but the yelling was mind scrambling. It felt like she was dropped in a war zone trying to find where she parked her car, an innocent civilian amongst the war torn soldiers. She couldn’t be here any longer, she practically ran over to Sydney and asked for her car keys and was mindlessly directed to some lockers. Y/n could tell that she was busy so she didn’t ask which one in particular.

She started opening random lockers, and after her third one she saw a familiar sight. A brown wool jacket, the same one she had seen Carmen wear in New York, she quickly shut the door. This was too much, he was becoming a bit too human, too real. She finally found the right locker and rushed to get her laptop and the rest of her luggage and shut the office door.

She spent the first quarter of her day digitizing payroll as a quick warm up, she had a feeling that she would need it.

Y/n moved on to a leather bound book under a gas bill and after a quick glance she knew that this was going to be a fucking disaster. Whoever did the books used different coloured pens, was writing outside the lines, circling stuff randomly, doodling, and this was just the visual disaster, the closer she looked at the chicken scratch the more she realized how deep in debt this palace was. Thousands of dollars were being drained seemingly randomly and then money was being put back just as chaotically. There was no record of how the money was being spent or where the money was coming from. Even though y/n didn’t know Carmen very well she knew he would never do this, it was that brother of his. The inside of the cover said Micheal Berzzato.

She spent the rest of the day organizing the accounts payable and receivables. It was like trying to go through a dense forest with a pair of nail clippers but she got through a fraction of it. She already knew that the money wouldn’t add up and that if they got audited, the restaurant would be in deep shit.

She had her headphones in and nearly fell off her chair if Carmen didn’t brace her when he came in unannounced. Her heart practically shot out of her ass but she pulled herself together.

“I thought you would have left by now.”

Y/n looked at the time on her laptop and saw that it was 11:30pm, she was a bit impressed with herself. Look at me Carmen, I can also throw myself at my work and I didn’t need people to think I'm God’s gift to man.

“I lost track of time, is the restaurant still open?” Carmen shook his head. Y/n sat up and ushered him to the chair. She didn’t like it when people hovered over her and she wanted Carmen to look up at her for once. She placed her left hand on the back of his chair and her right on the laptop’s trackpad.

“Your payroll needed to be updated, no one does this on paper anymore.” Y/n showed him how to move things around, how to change certain information, etc and she was expecting him to half heartedly listen but was pleasantly surprised when he sat there and listened. He asked meaningful questions which almost made her fall over, he wanted to learn and that was very… admirable. Y/n had to snap herself out of it, of course he was listening, she was brought here to fix and teach, and she wasn’t cheap either.

She then directed him to the organized files and how to maintain file organization in case he was ever audited. He stared with such intensity that she had to turn around and pretend that she was looking for a file. She spent her entire career working in a building where almost no one knew her name, or really looked at her. The chefs were busy with their eye filets and lobster to look at her, management spoke to her through emails but now she was center stage which was making it hard to focus.

She ended her presentation with a short run down of the order that he should pay off certain bills based on priority. She finally looked down at him and was surprised that he was still looking back at her.

“Wow…all that in a day?” Y/n only presented 50% of the work she did today, omitting the illicit money transactions Micheal had orchestrated, and here Carmen was looking at her like she was God’s gift to him.

“It’s going to take a while to decipher this,” holding up the leather book, “but it's not impossible.”

Carmen parted his lips before closing them a few times, “How long can you stay here? Like how many vacation days did you take?”

Y/n debated telling him that she still had a job back home but there really wasn’t any point in lying to make herself look good for Carmen. Y/n was never one to be unnecessarily cruel, just a bit of a nuisance, so she would give him a bit of satisfaction. It was to make up for what she put him through in New York. She pretended to search for something on her laptop while avoiding Carmen’s eyes beneath her.

“I don’t work there anymore.” Carmen’s head shot up and he wondered if he had heard that correctly. He wanted to ask why she left but he knew that would be crossing a line.

“What are your future plans?” Y/n looked up and wondered that as well.

She knew she had to leave French Laundry, she hated the long hours, overbearing bosses, and most of all she hated the people she worked with. There was a team of accountants who worked near her and even though she did the majority of the work she always had to fight to get a seat at the table. She was smart, talented, and competent but she was always officially relegated to payroll even when she was the one who spent weeks organizing binders filled with projection just for some jackass to get the credit. The issue wasn’t just her coworkers but her bosses that assumed that someone else had done the research and let her present, and infuriatingly no one ever corrected management. Add all of that with the loss of what she considered her only acquaintance, she ran as fast as she could.

As for future plans, she had enough money to live a relatively nice life even if she didn’t find work for a year. She hated the French Laundry but she couldn’t sell them short, they paid her very well.

“I don’t know, I will probably have to find a new job.” That piqued Carmen’s interest, he assumed that she had another job lined up because y/n didn’t seem like the type to get up and leave without an exit strategy.

“If you're interested…” Carmen didn’t want to get his hopes up but he knew that he needed her here, this couldn’t work without someone like her. “You can always work here.”

Carmen’s head was swimming, if she said yes that would make his life a million times easier. He might actually be able to sleep a full eight hours.

Y/n didn’t really know how to respond, she didn’t hate the idea. “Am I going to be the only one working finance here?” Carmen’s chest fell, of course this was too much for one person.

“Yeah but if you need more peo-”

“Just me is fine. I don’t like working with other people.” Clear and blunt, y/n didn’t want to waste his time.

“Yeah..” Carmen looked one last look at the computer screen with the filled excel sheets that transformed his brother’s horrible business practices to legible spreadsheets and he knew he definitely needed her.

“What time do you want me to come tomorrow?”

“Whenever is good for you?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “You are paying for my services so act like it.” What she said was rude and slightly uncalled for.

Carmen looked up at her and felt like he was back in New York again, like when he was too scared to talk to her or when he would catch her glaring at him from the corner of his eye. Carmen knew she didn’t like him but if he needed her so what could he do, most of his staff already hated him so what was one more.

Y/n sighed, she tried to intimidate him to force him to toughen up but it looks like it just made him clam up. “That was really rude for me to say, but I think you need to hear it.” Y/n had a feeling that he was going to remember this so she thought she started to do damage control.

“All I ever hear about your food is how amazing and jaw dropping and delicious and mind blowing it is. You are very..” Y/n struggled to find a neutral word that would allow her to lift his spirits but not too high, “..competent. Your staff however…”

That got Carmen to pick up his head, “They are goo-”

“And I bet they are good but you can’t do your job and show off their skills and talents if they all walk around you like that. Can I be frank with you?” Carmen slowly nodded his head.

“I don’t see your restaurant lasting very long with the crew you have here.” Carmen knew that but hearing it out loud stung. “You have to make a few changes, either swap out a few annoying chefs or make them change.”

A few hours prior, y/n’s curiosity had gotten the best of her and she looked through Sydney’s resume. It was stacked with good restaurants and she even had a brief stint at catering, y/n didn’t hesitate to admit that Sydney was just as capable as Carmen.

“Get Sydney more involved, she can do much more than what you have her doing now.” Y/n saw Sdyney’s pay which showed that she was getting paid a regular chef salary, she deserved sous-chef. Carmen nodded his head but he was looking away, in his mind he wondered how she could possibly even know that while sitting in his office all day.

“They’re used to doing things a certain way.”

“I'm guessing fear is not your management style.” Y/n pondered how she would fix a situation like this if she was in his shoes. “I would say avoid baptism by fire.”

Y/n continued, “It's going to be a mess but you just need to lead the kitchen like you did in New York for the first few days and then transfer the responsibility to Sydney who will be watching the entire time so she isn’t thrown into a pile of shit on her first day and quit. That way you can continue to do whatever you were doing in New York.”

It had never occurred to Carmen that y/n didn’t know what he did, but then again he barely knew what she did. He would watch her typing away or he would hear fragments of urgent phone calls about audits, and give out checks. But other than that he didn’t know what she did for the rest of her day, so he had to swallow his discontentment with her not noticing him because he was no better than her.

“I think you need to expect more from people, you don’t have to do everything by yourself.” Y/n concluded.

It was quiet barring the sound of the lights buzzing. Just as y/n was about to slip out, Carmen swiftly stood up and walked out the office towards the kitchen and started pulling out bowls.

“I thought you said that this place was closed, what are you making?”

“What do you want to eat?” Carmen wasn’t looking at her as he grabbed a knife and a cutting board.

“Umm…You don’t need-”

“Give me something, y/n”

“It's late, Carmen.”

“You’ve been here all day and you didn’t eat anything…” Y/n gave him a disapproving look.

“Y/n.” He asserted, she couldn’t leave in good faith without eating something.

She didn’t fail to notice that when he lost control back in the office he came rushing out to re-assert his power by forcing her to eat something he was going to make.

“I don’t know…something easy and wont fuck up my stomach.” Y/n conceded.

Carmen smirked, and y/n was able to appreciate his objective handsomeness. After a few minutes of chopping she was presented with a simple salad.

“I tried to replicate the salad dressing from what I smelled from the last time I went to your office.” Y/n was shocked, she didn’t know that he noticed stuff like that, she was also amused that he had a great nose, both functionally and aesthetically.

Y/n was also surprised when Carmen asked her, “Why did you leave?”

“Why did you?” Y/n countered, she knew the answer but she assumed that he wouldn’t tell her. This felt like a decent way to manufacture some space. One step forward for making a meal and 2 steps back for asking probing questions.

“My brother used to own this place…and he died…killed himself.” Carmen was full of surprises today.

Y/n mumbled out, “I hated working there so much I would crawl out of bed hoping that I would fall, crack my head open and never have to step foot in there anymore… I would be gagging a block away from work every single day because I couldn’t stomach another second in my office.”

Y/n assumed that Carmen couldn’t relate, he was a god back in New York.

“I used to throw up every morning.” Y/n put her fork down and looked up at Carmen who continued. “And I would get these heat flashes while I was there even when the kitchen was like negative three-thousand fucking degrees.”

They were never good enough.

It was an embarrassing thing for both of them to admit, they tried to survive in New York and failed because they were weak, but at least they were in good company.

“My boss was a dick. He used to say crazy shit just to get a rise out of me.” Y/n didn’t know that Carmen had a boss, she just assumed that he ran the kitchen.

“Who was your boss?” Y/n went down her rolodex of names before landing on, “That guy with the huge forehead?”

Carmen covered his mouth with his hand but she knew there was a smile underneath. She was able to get a good look at his tattoo, she had only caught glimpses when he would grab an envelope from her or hold the door. At the time she thought it was out of place but seeing the whole picture, Carmen with his wavy hair, gold chain, smirk, and arm littered with tattoos she realized that she was missing out on a lot.

Y/n finished her salad and helped him clean up before they locked up the restaurant and Carmen stuffed her luggage in the trunk.

“You’ve seen our books..”

Y/n gave a small hum.

“So you know that we can’t put you in a hotel for weeks.”

“If I'm not staying at a hotel, where am I going?” Y/n was ready to jump out of the car if he said his house.

“I have a family friend of a friend who is visiting family down in Florida, and she said you can stay there.”

A weight was lifted off of y/n shoulders, y/n was feeling bold, “You’ve ever been to Florida?”

“I went once to check out a few restaurants when I was younger, you?” Y/n hid it well but she was shaking in nerves because it was the first time in years that she was getting some small talk out of him.

“I went to Disney with my family and got a heat stroke. How long is your family friend of a friend staying in Florida?”

“More than 2 months later, she left like a few days ago.” That caused some concern for y/n, she was going to stay in a house that had been abandoned for a few days in a new city, it was like the beginning of a B - rated horror film. The possibility of a serial killer waiting to turn her into a lamp shade was probably close to zero but it still freaked her out. Carmen pulled into the driveway carrying all of her bags leaving her with just her purse.

They approached the front of the house and Carmen opened the door and started placing the suitcases near the entryway, and y/n kept the door open, and Carmen got the hint. She wasn’t going to forge some type of artificial connection by asking him to help her walk through the house for any intruders because that would require her to rely on him.

To y/n, Carmen was unreliable, he could ignore her for years, only to suddenly offer her rides and engage in small talk. What puzzled her even more was his transition from avoiding eye contact to intensely staring her down. Y/n could tell from the sound that leaked from under the office door that he had an underlying temper, a bad one too. She didn’t want to be swept up in his current and be left high and dry. He seemed like he picked up things quickly and left them just as sporadically. While she recognized his passion for food and cooking, ensuring her job stability, Carmen was…unsteady.

Y/n knew people like him, people who hurt those who were close to them when they felt trapped. What feared y/n the most was what would eventually come out of her mouth if they ever got too close and Carmen said something to make her go away. He would say something vile and y/n would probably say that he is nothing, or that he is a failure, or that it should have been him and not his brother.

The thought of saying something so profoundly awful and untrue haunted her, making it impossible for her to bear the weight on her conscience. She had crossed that line before and was acutely aware of her limits. Carmen represented that limit—a boundary she couldn't afford to cross—rendering him off-limits in her life.

Carmen left a quiet goodbye and y/n gave him one back before shutting the door grabbing a knife and going through each of the rooms herself. She didn’t need him or anyone.

Once she went through the house with a fine tooth comb she locked herself in one of the bedrooms, got ready for bed. Her lease in New York expired in a few weeks so she knew she had to fly back to grab her stuff. She couldn’t sleep in this grandma’s house any longer so she grabbed her laptop and started looking for apartments.

Y/n woke up to the sound of her alarm and she felt nauseous before she remembered that she wasn’t crawling back to the French Laundry, she was trying something new. She got ready and spent the whole morning calling realtors and scheduling showings. She took the train to The Beef and when she came in, it looked like they were about to have some type of meeting outfront. Y/n slipped into the office and was momentarily shocked that Carmen was there. She put her bag behind the chair while Carmen was sitting, subtly telling him to fuck off and that this was her desk now. Carmen got up, “What a good boy? So smart”, y/n chuckled in her head.

“What is happening out front? Do I need to sit in?”

“We need to introduce you and we are going to transition to a french brigade, I just spoke to Sydney..”

“How did she take it? You told her you were going to take the lead or did-?”

Carmen was checking his watch obsessively, “She will be fine.” Looks like Carmen was in a hurry and so y/n didn’t even wait for Carmen to open the door before she walked over to the meeting.

She didn’t sit down because there wasn’t a chair for her. She saw the other chefs look at her but no one bothered to ask any questions. Sydney was standing right next to her and y/n saw that she was rehearsing her lines that were written in a small black notebook.

“Don’t mention the role titles, it's just going to scare them off.” Sydney looked up at her. “And keep it short and don’t fumble your words, you’ll sound like a fourth grader.” Sydney opened her mouth but was cut off by Carmen walking out front.

Carmen started explaining about how they were getting new aprons, how he wanted to reorganize the kitchen, and how they needed to be clean. He did not yet explain the elephant in the room to the rest of the chefs; who was y/n and what the hell is she doing here? Carmen was interrupted by a tall man walking in very late.

He took one look at y/n before pointing at her with a coffee cup, “Who are you? Cousin, why are you collecting women?”

“I am y/n, I am the new accountant.” Any form of teasing and snickering died down as a new worry washed over the staff, if Carmen was changing everything he might start changing staff. If y/n could sense it, then so could Carmen and just as she looked up to him for support he quickly excused himself because he had somewhere to be. He just left her to deal with this mess. See? Not stable.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Your not fucking firing anyone.” The tall guy threatened.

“Nobody is getting fired, no one is getting a pay cut and no one is getting replaced. If anything like that happens, that is Carmen’s decision.” Y/n allowed herself to throw Carmen under the bus just once because he left her.

“I’ll just be keeping the books in order.”

“Richie, sit down.” An older woman instructed.

“Carmen said something about a French brigade, it's essentially what you guys are doing just with more defined roles, it's not too different. Sydney will elaborate.” Y/n though she did an acceptable job not throwing Sydney head first like Carmen did and Sydney seemed to be a lot more comfortable then she was a few minutes ago. She didn’t title drop and she didn’t fumble. The crew was obviously annoyed but it was over quickly and Sydeny walked over to y/n.

They walked into the kitchen and Sydeny was feeling overwhelmed because Carmen wasn’t here like he said that he would be.

“Thanks for the pointers”

“No problem. Do you need me to help?” Y/n had seen the inner workings of a kitchen before, granted it had been many years prior and in a different restaurant then the French Laundry but she thought that she would be better support then Carmen, who wasn’t even there.

Y/n spent most of her time calling out orders, tracking what was sent out and doing quality checks, it wasn’t rocket science and she never understood why all those male chefs were screaming all the time, Sydney walked around and did her job as sous-chef. Overall, a very calm transition barring a few hiccups. A few of the chefs tried to steal some onions and y/n had to leave her station and tell them to basically fuck off. Sydney was already tense and doing stupid shit like that would send her over the edge.

The lunch rush was over and y/n was finally reprieved from her duties. She needed some air so she walked outside and into an alley where she saw Carmen.

She was beyond pissed at him, and the sight of him made her boil in rage but she couldn’t leave based on principle.

“How was Sydney?” Carmen asked. Y/n felt like murdering him. She took a few deep breaths before continuing to speak. He wouldn't listen to her if she screamed at him.

“You should have been there.” Y/n said with a bit of an edge.

It was quiet for a long time. Y/n put her head back.

“I went to an Al-Anon meeting, my brother was an addict. It’s his birthday today”

“How often are the meetings? Once a week?” Carmen nodded.

“Did it maybe occur to you to push back the transition one more day so you didn’t leave Sydney alone?” Y/n said calmly and with no malice, she was so exhausted from her lack of sleep, food, and being on her feet all day.

Carmen didn’t say anything, so y/n continued, “You're a steam roller. You don’t listen to other people and you don't think of other people. You left Sydney to drown, that wasn’t great. Not to mention you didn’t even introduce me.”

Carmen's gaze bore into her with undeniable intensity, yet y/n was too upset with him to be swayed by any semblance of attraction.

“I’ll do better. I’ll listen and be there.”

“We’ll see.” Saying you were going to change was different than actually changing.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, she graced him with a small smile. "You know, your job isn't that tough," she playfully teased, tilting her head back slightly.

“Really?” Carmen thought she was being serious.

“No kidding, you should hand me your apron and the deed to this restaurant because I just killed it today.” Carmen caught on.

“What did you do today?”

“Called out orders, made sure things were leaving the kitchen, blah blah blah. Honestly, it's kind of fun. It's like those restaurant management phone games, do you ever play those?”

“That would hit a little too close to home.” Y/n snickered.

“My head is spinning and I didnt even start the work I'm supposed to do today.” Y/n sat up with a sigh.

“What do you eat?” Y/n didn’t respond. Carmen got up and came back a few minutes later with a plate of food.

Y/n finished eating before walking inside and finishing up her actual work. The day ended and she was once again the last one left barring Carmen, who offered to drive her back.

As they both sat in the quiet car y/n spoke up, “I have to go back to New York.” Carmen’s grip tightened around the wheel.

“I said I would do better.”

“I'm not leaving permanently, I need to grab my stuff and tell my landlord that I am leaving.”

Carmen’s grip loosened, “You found a place here already?”

“I have a few candidates. I might have to leave in the afternoons for a few weeks to check out some places, I'll be back in an hour or two.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, he dropped her off and y/n crashed into bed.

Y/n had already been working for a few weeks when she came back to a dark restaurant. She walked in and saw Carmen and Fak talking, “ I thought you had a connection.”

“Yeah, I definitely, definitely did not.” Which was followed by more whispering and then a loud, “Fuck” from Carmen.

“What’s happening?” Carmen shot a look at Fak that sent him away and Carmen gave her a quick run down, the power was out and they needed 5,500 dollars to repair.

“There isn’t any money in the budget but maybe if you finance…” Carmen looked around to check if anyone was there before directing her to his office. Y/n turned on her phone flashlight so they could see.

“I’m going to ask you something, and it's completely hypothetical. Like not even a little bit true and you can tell me what the outcome would be.” Y/n nodded her head.

“Suppose we had a way to get the money but it wasn’t completely…legal…hypothetically. I'm not asking anything illegal because this is hypothetical… but what would happen to the books hypothetically?”

“You can talk like a regular fucking person, you know, I'm not going to snitch. Do you need me to fix some books?”

“I shouldn't have said anything.” Carmen started walking towards the door and y/n grabbed his shirt and pushed him towards the chair. He looked up at her and the phone light made her look like a prophecy discovered in a dream, so angel-like. Her words, not so much.

“You brother died so any fuck up that he did will result in us having to pay a fine which is not the end of the world, but if you fuck up… then thats malice and its jail time plus a fine…”

Y/n knew it was harsh so she softened her voice before uttering, “Let me help you, I want to help you.” Carmen was having a hard time focusing, she wanted to help him which means that she cared about him. Maybe her words were like an angel.

“Is it a one time payment or is it…” Camen wasn’t responding, he was just looking up at her. Before she could ask what his problem was, he interrupted.

“I have to ask Richie.” Carmen peeled himself off the chair and opened the door for y/n. They walked to the front where y/n saw Richie and Fak were glaring at each other. Carmen and y/n took a seat.

“What is she doing here?” Richie said while not hiding his disdain for her.

“She has to make this legal.” Carmen explained.

Rcihie signaled for Carmen and Fak to come closer. “WHY DID YOU BRING A FUCKING NARC HERE?” Richie yelled into Carmen’s ears which made him reel back and clutch his ear. Y/n had to look away to hide her laughter.

Carmen rushed to her defense, “She isn’t-”

“I won't. I'm just going to clean it up and we will never have to talk about it again.”

“We can’t trust her, why would you fucking bring her?” He asked Carmen who repeated what she said to him in the office about malice and jail.

“I know you don’t trust me but I need this place running so that everyone here has a job next month. I don’t even need to know how you got it.”

Richie looked like he was thinking, before he threatened, “If you squeal i’m going to put your head on a fucking stick.” He looked like he was apprehensive but realized that this was the only way to protect Carmen so he had to risk trusting her.

Y/n didn’t pay attention to their little squabble afterwards, but then the lights flickered on. They were back in business. Carmen slammed his palms on the counter and exclaimed a relieved, “Fuck” which made y/n short circuit for a second. It was nice to hear him happy for a change.

The rest of the day was spent creating fake receipts and adjusting inventory to account for the new money. It was busy work and after a long time, Carmen came into her office, it was her office for sure, squatters rights.

“Are we good?”

“The IRS will be none the wiser…” Y/n said she wouldn’t ask but the curiosity was killing her.

“How did you guys get the money?”

“I don’t want to put you in deeper shit and this isn’t your scene.” He looked like he regret dragging her into his mess in the first place.

“Did you know when I was younger I used to shoplift.” Carmen looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t need to lie to-.”

“I used to walk into stores and steal, I had the money to buy stuff but sometimes I just felt like taking something…so I did.” She wanted to be on an even playing ground as him so he wouldn’t hesitate to come to her in case something like this happened again. She couldn’t do her job if he hid stuff from her.

“You want to know what the most expensive thing I stole?”

“I still don’t believe you stole anything.” He said with a laugh.

“I stole someone’s wallet. It had $527 dollars and a bunch of credit cards, Ethan Thompson. Slid it right out of his pocket.”

“What did you do with the money?” Carmen asked. Y/n debated lying but she thought honesty was how he would learn to trust her.

“I didn’t spend it, I waited outside till he came out and gave the wallet back. Told him that he dropped it. It was the only thing I ever gave back.” Carmen stared at her with a bewildered expression before laughing into his palm.

“That seems like something you would do.”

“Why do you say that?” Y/n was offended that he was insinuating that she was a loser.

“You are honest to a fault. Brutally honest.”

“It's hard work but I try. Would you have returned it?” Carmen nodded his head.

“Yeah, I bet you would have gone the extra mile and turned it into the police.”

A lull of silence passed and it was clear that Carmen wasn’t going to tell her so she switched topics.

“I don’t want to be mean, but sometimes that's the only way I can get people to listen to me…I’ve been working on it.”

Carmen didn’t want to be a smart-ass and say that he noticed a significant difference from her behavior towards him now compared to New York. She didn’t look like she was disgusted by him anymore. A bit of him wondered if he could change as effortlessly as y/n, she made it look so easy.

“By the way…I'm going to take this office. Like it's mine now.” Carmen wondered if she was joking because she had a smile on her face.

“If you want it, take it. I never want to see another spreadsheet in my life.” If y/n smiled at him like that it would be nearly impossible for him to say no to anything. It was like finally getting her approval after working hard to get it in New York, like when he used to wake up early so he could walk in with her and open the door for her.

There was a lull of and just as Carmen was going to fill it with a probing question y/n beat him to it.

"Was it a murder-for-hire?" Y/n inquired, but Carmen remained silent, his expression unreadable.

"Sex work? Tax evasion? Robbery? Drugs?..." y/n continued, listing off possibilities, and in that moment, Carmen's lips tightened imperceptibly. It was a subtle movement, one that might have gone unnoticed by most, but for y/n, it was captivating, drawing her further into his enigmatic presence.

“Drugs.” She said with a slight smile,

“I'm not admitting to anything. Did you find a place you liked?” Carmen wanted to distract her but he also wanted to keep her here longer and he finally had the confidence and momentum to keep her talking.

“I found one, it’s like 20 minutes from here. One-bedroom but it looks much better than my shit box in New York. And they are going to hold it for a while while i get my shit from back home”

“What neighborhood?” Carmen’s heart leaped when she said the same neighborhood that he stayed in, but he controlled himself.

“That new building? I walk past it everyday.” Carmen didn’t offer to carpool because he didn’t want to hear a rejection. That would kill any confidence he might have gained in the last few weeks.

“We're neighbors, that's nice. You have a car, can we carpool?” Carmen wondered if she could read minds.

“I get here early and leave late-”

“I’ll just come and go when you do. I don’t have anything else to do in Chicago anyways…I booked a flight for tomorrow morning to get my stuff.” She moves fast Carmen thought. It was admirable how she knew what she wanted, planned her moves and executed them in record time. He wondered if she ever panicked and fumbled like he did, if she did he never saw it.

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven”

“I can drive you.” Y/n wondered if this was too much, she didn’t want to rely on him.

“I’ll take a cab, you have to be here for Sydney.” She didn’t leave Carmen any room to argue.

The next couple of months were much better than Carmen thought was possible. Y/n had engrained herself in their team, and Carmen was able to get his eight hours of sleep every night. They finally had enough money to not feel like the whole restaurant was going to crash and burn.

Sydney had brought up the idea of to-go orders placed through a tablet and after much deliberation and consulting with y/n, he decided to give it ago.

Y/n had stepped out to sign for delivery and was making some pleasant conversation before she heard some commotion from the kitchen. She bid the delivery man a goodbye before walking in to see what the situation was.

Y/n had never seen the kitchen in such chaos since her first day. Carmen's voice reverberated, barking out orders, while Sydney unleashed her own tirade upon Marcus for mishandling the cake cutting. Tension hung heavily in the air, thickening the atmosphere. It was clear to y/n that this wouldn’t end well. Jogging over to Sweeps, who thankfully wasn't completely overwhelmed, she learned that Sydney had messed up the to-go order settings, resulting in a barrage of pre-orders due within a few minutes. Y/n hesitated for a moment, positioning herself in a corner, desperately searching for a way to be of use amidst the chaos. With her limited culinary skills, she felt somewhat helpless, unsure of where she could provide the most assistance.

“Um, I’m doing them in five–” Sydney stuttered.

“No, no, stop. Fire everything right fucking now!”

“Step out.” He was interrupted by Sydney’s excuses.

“GET THE FUCK OFF MY EXPO, CHEF, NOW!” That made y/n jump, she heard him yell before but this was a lot worse, the shock made it impossible for her to look anywhere but the back of his head.

Just as things looked like they couldn't get worse she heard a loud crash and saw two cakes on the floor. Y/n rushed over there to de-escalate and practically had to rip Sydney away from Richie.

“I said corner.” Richie said childishly. Y/n was starting to feel like a babysitter. And just as y/n was about to run over to her office to hide, she hears Sydney snap at Tina. Y/n guides Tina away from Sydney.

“Somebody get me a fucking sharpie!” Carmen bellowed and y/n ran to the office and pulled out a few and placed them in front of Carmen then walked back to her little corner. She heard that Richie and Sydney were at it again, sensing that round two was going to be worse she had to go check on that mess. Sydney is harping on and on about how much of a loser Richie and y/n was forced to step in when she hears Sydney talk about Richie’s daughters while waving a knife.

“What the fuck are you guys’ doing? We do not have the time for your asinine bullshit?” Sydney doesn’t even look over and y/n had to tug at Richie to get him to step down, normally y/n would appeal to Sydney’s good graces but she couldn’t go near her when she was waving a knife around.

“Richie, why don’t we take a step back and-” y/n asked.

“WHY ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME!” Y/n turned her head and saw Carmen squishing something Marcus gave him before throwing it on the floor.

“Yo, Cousin, just fuckin chill-” Richie stepped back and even when she saw where the knife was headed she was to slow to do anything. Richie walked into the knife and blood started pouring out.

Y/n felt her breath pick up, her palms started to itch, and she was seeing double. She fought her nerves and led Richie to the front where Ebra would dress his wounds. Y/n didn’t want to look at Richie’s bare ass but she had to make sure it wasn’t bad enough to warrant a hospital trip, it didn’t and y/n saw that as a complete win.

Y/n ran back to the kitchen towards Sydney where she was sitting near the lockers. She was about to leave.

“We need you, you can’t leave. Tell me what I need to do to fix this.” Y/n desperate, she knew the face of someone who had given up and she saw it all over Sydney.

“He is being a little bitch.” Y/n didn’t know how to fix Carmen’s attitude so she did the next best thing, stall.

“Please, give me a day to fix this. I’ll have him come around and apologize, I'll make him regret even getting out of bed. Just please stay till this blows over. We need you. Please.” Y/n was beyond desperate, she couldn't stand doing Carmen’s job of managing his team but she forced herself to pull through. Sydney backed down and went to the sink to wash her knife before going back to prep.

Y/n hears Carmen walk over to Sydney and ask, “We good, chef?”, who wasn’t responding. This bastard was so incredibly dense y/n almost wanted Sydney to blow up in his stupid face and maybe stab him in the ass too but she denied herself that pleasure and quickly diverted Carmen over to the expo.

“Now is not the time. Do this later… Please.” Y/n was grasping at straws here and she wasn’t even given the satisfaction of being able to yell at someone. Carmen went back to his expo but not before bending down and eating something off the floor. He has definitely lost it, y/n muttered.

She went to find Marcus who was just about to leave. She thanked him for today and apologized on Carmen’s behalf. Y/n didn’t want to be a bitch but Marcus was not high on her priority list right now, him leaving would let her deal with less people and make her job easier.

She ran out front to check up on Richie again. “Please tell me you're okay.” He gave a small laugh and then a grunt. She saw that he was grasping an empty carton of cigarettes.

Y/n didn’t know how, but the storm passed and the doors opened for customers. Y/n slipped out and bought a carton of cigarettes and some painkillers from a nearby gas station and handed them over to Richie.

“I know this isn’t even a good enough apology but I’m really sorry about today.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“You're not going to get an apology from Sydney for a while so let my apology be a placeholder.” Y/n rounded her eyes and tried to see if there was any residual tension from this morning and to her relief Richie was fine.

“Tell me if you need something.” She then went back to the kitchen and Sydney was still cutting stuff and Carmen was yelling out orders with less fury. Y/n wasn’t going to have anything positive to say to either of them so she would wait till after the lunch rush. She slipped back to the front and sat on a bar stool with her laptop. She couldn’t face either of the chefs right now.

Looking at Sydney was difficult, and the longer that y/n waited out front with Richie to make sure he didn’t die of blood loss while manning the front, the more pissed she got at Sydney for not having the decency to come out to check up on Richie or even apologize.

Looking at Carmen was even more difficult, a part of y/n wanted to be proven wrong about her previous notions about pretentious chefs. But both Sydney and Carmen were the only one’s screaming and that because they felt like they were entitled to it, that they were the only ones who were allowed to be stressed and upset. They were selfish and that was a painful thing for y/n to admit about Carmen because that meant that his promise to change when she first came here was a lie. He couldn’t handle any type of stress without flipping out and she wondered if this was even the right profession for him.

The lunch crowd died down and she directed Sydney towards her office and shut the door, “You want to tell me what happened today?” Y/n faked the sincerity, Sydney wouldn’t talk if y/n was hostile.

“Carmen was being a dick. Everyone else is dealing with the same shit but now…” Y/n didn’t want to hear anything else for her.

“How is Richie?” Y/n asked with a bit of an edge.

“He walked into my kni-”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t know, okay? But it was his fault,” Y/n had to remind herself to take a few deep breaths, she wouldn’t let her anger get the best of her and she would refrain from yelling.

“When you finish with your shift, can you please talk to Richie, at least pretend like you care that you stabbed someone.”

“He called me a bitch and was all over my station, he deserved it, ”

“You deserved to be called more than a bitch.” Y/n regretted the words as soon as they came out but she wasn’t going to lose face. Sydney looked shocked but y/n kept her face stoic.

“Talk to him.”

Sydney didn’t respond but y/n knew she wouldn’t talk to Richie.

Y/n felt her blood bubbling, “You could move to fucking Timbuktu and be a chef there and you still wouldn’t rise above average, do you know why?” Y/n didn’t give her a chance to answer.

“It's because you are the problem, you are selfish and you don’t think. You can quit here and never look back and you know what is going to happen next? You're going to find another job and then leave that job and then find another job and leave that one too and keep doing that till you die.” It was getting harder for y/n to breathe. It felt like the walls were closing in.

“I have been gracious enough to give you the space to grow, I told Carmen to make you sous but every second that I take my eyes off either of you, it's like shit hits the fan. Are neither of you capable of doing your jobs?” Y/n was ranting.

“If today was so bad that you have to make someone else's life miserable and then whine about yourself, you shouldn’t even be allowed to work in soup kitchens.” Y/n took a painful deep breath, her head was spinning and she was suppressing the urge to start dry-heaving.

“You will forever be nothing unless you change, you are impatient, selfish, whiny, annoying, vindictive, and…and..” Y/n had to end on a good note or else Sydney might actually quit.

“..capable of doing better. I have seen the way you cook and manage a kitchen when it's not a shit storm. I bet in a few years you're going to make Carmen’s food taste like MREs. You are destined for good things but that will only happen when you grow up.”

Sydney was quiet before she stomped out of y/n’s office and slammed the door shut.

Y/n sank down onto the floor, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. It was as if she had been transported back to New York, constantly juggling her and her co-worker’s workload and assuming the role of the villain. She desperately sought control, but the grip of the panic attack tightened its hold, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she fought to regain control over her racing thoughts. It was an exhausting battle, one that felt all too familiar. She grasped at the chair trying to stay up right but after a few moments of dizziness, she slipped to the ground.

She was keenly aware that she couldn't single-handedly orchestrate transformative change in just a few short months but she thought that Carmen would at least learn to step up. She longed for a sense of calm and it burned to know that Carmen was incapable of being that for her now. The knowledge weighed heavily on y/n's heart. The realization that Carmen, the one person she had hoped could offer her some semblance of stability and support because he said he would, was not yet equipped to be that pillar for her. It was a painful acknowledgement, one that underscored the inherent instability that defined their dynamic. Carmen was not stable.

Y/n took a few deep breaths, wiped her tears, and stood up after pushing her sadness and disappointment with Sydney and, more importantly, Carmen in a deep crevice in her mind.

The kitchen had lost two chefs but it was still running smoothly because it was a slow day. Y/n discreetly circled the kitchen, she made a conscious effort to conceal the fact that her blood was boiling, striving to maintain composure amidst the chaos.

And just as she was about to retreat to her office, the man of the fucking hour decided to show up.

“Bad news guys, we have to close for dinner today because we are having a bachelor party in the front.” Y/n looked at a few sips of water, she needed to ground herself and resist throwing the cup of ice water in his face. Carmen glanced up at her and was met with the same eyes from New York, the ones which were glaring at him, disgusted with him, hated him. Y/n walked over to the alley and Carmen followed her even when she didn’t ask.

Y/n indicated that he sat down with a pointed look with her eyes, y/n stayed standing.

“I was hired to be your accountant, but today I was playing babysitter for a bunch of grown fucking adults. Why am I walking around your kitchen and apologising to your fucking staff while you do absolutely nothing.” She took a staggered breath.

"They were goddamn pre-orders, for crying out loud! If they were a little late, it's not like a customer would barge into the fucking kitchen to hang you. You guys have already had a C health rating and got into a fight with some customers a while back, so clearly customer satisfaction isn’t the issue.” The corners of her eyes were turning hazy.

“Why the hell do other people have to clean up your damn mess? How hard would it have been for you to tell Richie to inform the customers that the orders were going to be a bit late?” Carmen didn’t look up, keeping his focus on y/n’s shoes.

“Not fucking difficult at all, its like…like you wanted an excuse to be a prick.”

“Its your fucking entitlement, you are just like Sydney. You are selfish and you will never amount to anything unless you learn to deal with your problems. I mean this in the most blunt and sincere way possible: go to fucking therapy. If money's a problem, I'll foot the bill. I want you to go there and let them throw every damn thing they have at you, from drawing pictures to giving you a fucking lobotomy." Y/n’s face was getting hot and she could feel her forehead burn up.

“You are running a kitchen in a shitty neighborhood with people who would be happy if you served them insulation in between two pieces of drywall, it has never and will never be that serious.” Y/n gave herself some time to breathe before giving him a little bit more.

“You’re the head of the kitchen, you're supposed to be everyone’s support. You have to be…s-stable.” It was difficult for y/n to choke out that word, it hurt too much. “Your team shouldn’t have to walk on fucking eggshells when things get tough.”

“You promised me that you would do better, that is the whole reason I chose to stay. Did you know that I was going to tell you that I changed my mind after I accepted your job offer? I didn’t because you promised you would be better…do better.” Y/n knew there was some stuff she missed but she was exhausted and wanted to go back. She uncrossed her arms and knew that it was time to do some damage control again.

They stayed in silence for a long time before y/n let out a deep sigh, “I'm sorry, it's just… today was a lot when it really didn’t need to be.” Y/n sat down right next to Carmen, she gave him a few inches of space, he still wasn’t looking at her.

Carmen did well with praise y/n recalled, “You are a very talented chef and you are great at organizing a kitchen but that's very different from managing a kitchen with people in it.” A silence passed through them and y/n gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“Marcus was completely wrong and I don’t fault you for that. I know I would have done the same thing. What kind of idiot worries about donuts when everyone is asking you about cakes?”

“They were good.” Y/n almost missed it but she was glad she didn’t. That meant that she hadn’t completely broken him.

“I bet they taste even better off the floor.” Y/n chuckled and even if Carmen doesn’t join her, he does pick his head up and look at her. The fact that she was still able to smile after ripping him to shreds was very reminiscent of many people in his life. He knew that she was probably right but he also knew that aspects of her criticism would keep him up at night for years to come

“Was I too much? ” Y/n asked.

“I needed to hear it…” Y/n let them stew in silence.

“You need to find the root of your issues and fix them.” Y/n offered.

“Are we good?” Carmen asked. Y/n was tempted to say yes so that they could move on but she had a feeling that was too easy for him. She worked hard today to be a force of stability and support for everyone and saying yes to Carmen’s question only comforted him. Y/n wanted to be comforted for once.

“No.” Carmen’s face betrayed his shock.

“What can I do to fix it?” Carmen was desperate.

Y/n sighed before closing her eyes. Y/n didn’t respond because she didn’t know how either.

Carmen felt a heat crawling up his chest, a sense of being trapped. He knew he could go back to Sydney, apologize, and promise to change, and they would be good. He knew that if he checked up on Richie, they would be good. He knew that if he swallowed his pride and prepared family dinner today, he would be in good standing with the rest of his team.

But Carmen was starting to realize that he didn’t really know enough about y/n to make this good. Carmen spent a lot of his time overthinking every minute detail of his life but no matter how hard he tried to come up with something to fix this, nothing seemed right. He couldn’t leave because he knew if he did that would be admitting defeat and that would ruin any friendship he earned with y/n but he couldn’t find the right words.

She couldn’t leave Carmen without it killing him. Her words echoed in his head and he tried to find a clue, something that would give him an opening to learn more about her so she wouldn’t leave the restaurant, leave him.

“Why did you hate me? Back in New York.” It was a risk but it felt like his only option. Y/n parted her lips a few times, it was like she was formulating a response that wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t need her to comfort him, he needed to comfort her.

“Don’t lie, y/n.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Y/n conceded.

“Don’t bullshit me. The way you looked at me-”. Y/n didn’t know that she was being that obvious.

“You were…I don’t…” Y/n realized she had placed Carmen in an impossible situation by asking him to fix something without providing guidance, as she herself didn't know how to rectify her past mistakes without any guidance.

“I was really unhappy with my job and I thought that if I had someone, if I had you, we could stick together. We used to come and leave work at the same time, we were polite, you seemed like a nice guy. We could have helped each other out, I wanted so badly to have someone to rely on. It was selfish of me to put that pressure on you, I shouldn’t have done that…” That was the diluted version of the story, y/n was willing to take the blame for everything in New York but Carmen didn’t look satisfied, so she continued.

“I used to hand you your paycheck and you never made eye contact. I didn’t even know your eyes were blue until I had been working there for two months.” Carmen locked his eyes on y/n’s.

“I would try to talk to you and you never responded, I didn’t even know what you sounded like. You called me a few months ago and I didn’t even know it was you because you never said a word to me. I used to think that you thought you were too good to talk to me.” Carmen fiddles with his finders and y/n had to tear her eyes away from his hand so she could focus.

“I worked hard for a while to get close to you but you clearly weren’t interested. I took the hint and backed off. The looks were…immature and stupid but I couldn’t help it…I hated my job and you were an easy target. It's easy to hate something you know nothing about.”

“Do you hate me now?” Carmen whispered.

“Not anymore.” Y/n responded softly.

Carmen's shoulders visibly relaxed as he heard Y/n's response. Relief washed over him, mingled with a renewed sense of hope.

Carmen replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I never wanted you to hate me. I just...you would look at me like that and it was one more reason that convinced me that I wasn’t fucking good enough for that job.”

Y/n had the daunting realization that she was one of the reasons why he left the French Laundry, why he left her. She felt extra guilt for yelling at Carmen for fucking up and being selfish when she did the same thing without knowing it. She blinked back some tears, she needed to hear this, even if it hurt.

“I'm sorry, I was completely-.”

“I used to be scared of you.” Carmen interrupted. Y/n sat up and raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” she asked in pure bewilderment.

“It felt like you were leagues ahead of me…it's like comparing an ant to…umm…” Carmen was struggling to spit something out, “divinity.” That made y/n widen her eyes and lean forward.

"I never saw you as beneath me, y/n. You were always on a higher plane, like we lived in different fucking planets." Carmen's voice held a touch of reverence, acknowledging the perceived disparity in their positions.

“You were always so…perfect. I never saw you struggle. Even now, you pick things up fast, people like you, you are great at whatever you do, you never get mad for no reason.”

“People don’t like me and I did get mad for no reason, I just yelled at Sydney before I got to you.”

“We deserved it.”

"It wasn't my place. It's your kitchen, and I shouldn't have gotten involved." Carmen felt sick. She was distancing herself from the kitchen and from him. She was trying to run away and he couldn't let that happen.

“I wouldn’t have anything left if you left.”

“You would have been fine, you would have Sydney.”

“But you…you…belong here. I can’t do this without you.” Carmen felt like she was slipping from his fingers and he was trying to grasp on to any part of her that he could convince to stay.

“Give me a reason to stay, Carmen.” Y/n's whispered with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. She wasn't sure what words were left to be spoken, but she knew she had to say his name. Y/n wanted his name to swirl around her tongue, and imprint the feeling of his name leaving her lips.

Y/n shifted her gaze, positioning herself to face him directly, and her eyes couldn't help but gravitate towards his slightly parted lips. It was clear that he had something to say, and she leaned in, eager to catch every word. In response, Carmen shortened the distance, drawn by the intimate proximity. It felt as if he was about to share a secret with her, a whisper that only they would hear.

With their faces mere inches apart, Carmen's right hand softly landed on the seat beside Y/n's thigh, subtly adjusting their positioning to align their faces. Y/n’s right hand began to rise, caressing his face tenderly. Y/n locked in with his cerulean eyes wondering if she was the only one feeling this. She tested the waters by running her thumb across his lips. They were a bit chapped from biting them all morning.

Feeling the touch of Y/n's thumb on his lips, Carmen's breath caught in his throat. It was a gentle caress that sent shivers down his spine.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Y/n mumbled as she leaned in closer.

Without breaking eye contact, Carmen reached up, gently cupping Y/n's face with his hand, his touch conveying tenderness and longing.

WIth a hoarse whisper, Carmen pleaded, “Kiss me, y/n.”

Y/n closed the gap and it was a collision of pent-up passion and aching yearning. Y/n's fingers tangled in Carmen's hair, pulling him even closer. Carmen’s thumb stroked y/n’s jaw and he couldn’t believe how soft her skin was. Their bodies pressed together, feeling the heat and intensity of their shared desire. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sensation of each other. Every touch, every gentle nip of their lips, fueled the hunger that had been building between them for so long. It was a kiss filled with the weight of unspoken words.

Carmen didn’t want to pull away because he wasn’t sure if he would ever get another kiss, he wanted this one to last. He didn’t want to regret 20 years in the future not kissing for a few moments longer.

Y/n, breathless and in need of a moment to regain composure, pulled away from the kiss. Soft gasps escaped her lips as she tried to steady her racing heart. Carmen, caught in a blissful daze, found himself unable to flutter his eyes open. Carmen remained in a suspended state, savoring the lingering sensation of y/n's touch.

Carmen’s phone buzzed and that wasn’t enough to ground him. He felt like he was floating. If he didn’t move and really focused, he could convince himself that he was still kissing y/n.

He felt y/n’s hand slid up his apron and trail up his leg. Carmen's breath hitched, his senses heightened, as anticipation swirled in the air. He sat still, nervous to do something like this in public but if y/n wanted him to do something he would do it in a heartbeat. He trusted y/n completely, willing to follow her lead without hesitation.

Finally, Y/n's hand reached its destination, and Carmen's pulse quickened. Y/n pulled something out—his phone.

Confusion flickered across his features as he watched Y/n's playful expression. Y/n was teasing him, realizing the momentary tension she had caused. Carmen's anxiety gave way to relief, his lips curving into a smile of his own. He completely forgot about the buzzing so she answered the phone for him and brought it closer to his ear. He took the phone from her hands ensuring that their fingers grazed. It was a small, subtle gesture, yet it held the power to ignite sparks of electricity that danced along his skin.

“Yo, cousin. Where the fuck are you?”

“Why?” Carmen wanted to stay with her for longer but Richie, being a gigantic cockblock, was ruining that for him.

“You're out past your curfew. Why do you think?” Richie remarked sarcastically. “You still have a job, you can't just sit around in an alley like some kind of fucking sewer rat.”

“Richie, I swear to fucking good if the kitchen is fine and you dragged me back there for no reason, im gonna stab your other ass cheek.” Carmen waited till Richie started to talk back before hanging up on him, he was being petty. Carmen saw that y/n tucked her lips to prevent a laugh from escaping.

Carmen sat wordlessly, not wanting to leave just yet. Y/n stood up and Carmen followed her. As they stood face to face, Y/n's hands instinctively brushed his hair back into place, fixing any stray strands. With gentle precision, she smoothed out the wrinkles on his shirt sleeves and straightened his apron.

Y/n's finger traced lightly across his lips a few times, and a mischievous smirk fell on her lips. "Your lips are going to be a problem," she teased, a twinkle of amusement in their eyes. Carmen's mind momentarily scattered, unable to fully focus.

"Y/n?" Carmen's voice wavered slightly, his thoughts still clouded by desire.

Y/n, sensing his internal struggle, mustered a playful yet firm resolve. "Go back to the restaurant, I’m still mad at you." she gently nudged him toward the alley exit with an addictive smirk.

Carmen blinked, trying to gather his thoughts amidst the haze of longing.

"But when-" Y/n interrupted, her voice filled with anticipation.

"I'll see you in just a few minutes."

As he busied himself with checking on Richie and apologizing to Sydney, Carmen didn’t miss how y/n slipped inside and walked into the office.

Carmen was still pissed at Richie, who was counting the money in the drawer as they were about to close early to do family dinner.

“Why even bother calling if the place is empty, you dick?” Carmen said in a huff.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you sucking face with your new girlfriend.” Carmen’s jaw went slack.

“Carmy, you're so handsome.” Richie said in a hushed girly tone, mocking y/n’s voice.

“How-” Carmen started.

“You left and y/n left and you both came back within 5 fucking minutes of each other.” Carmen parted his lips trying to form a response.

“You should learn to hide this stuff better. Your lack of girlfriends is catching up to you.”

End Notes:

This is purely experimental so I will most likely not write stuff like this in the future, but if people like it, who knows?

We can delude ourselves into thinking that Carmen would be boyfriend material, but he most definitely isn't. I wanted to write something with an unreliable y/n who complains that Carmen has all these anger issues, is domineering, doesn't listen to people, is controlling, is selfish, is extremely unstable, etc. However, she is exactly the same; she just doesn't realize it.

At the end of the day, Carmen meshes well with people who are similar to him, which is why he is close with Sydney and sometimes Richie (their shared love of Michael and The Beef). I wanted to write something where he pursues someone who has similar flaws as him. I guess it's up to you guys to figure out if it's the start of personal growth on both ends or if it's a doomed romance.

Part 2

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