#carmy berzatto scenario | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

etherealising · 11 months

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chapter one | a berzatto family christmas

masterlist | next chapter ↣

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!michael berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: you reunite with carmy years later at the berzatto family christmas party.

warnings: language (cursing), blasphemy, angst (maybe?), spoilers kinda (if you haven't seen season 2 don't read), the berzatto family, not dialogue heavy, very subtle hints to mikey being suicidal, probably ooc!characters, idk what else but if you find something let me know please! not beta’d and minimal editing so sorry for any mistakes. i also wrote this overstimulated on caffeine so if it doesn’t make sense or it’s repetitive then we know why : )

semantics: no use of Y/N: reader goes by the nickname Baby it has a backstory and its literally so simple, if this bothers you idk what to tell you, sorry : (

wc: 4.7k

You were standing on the sidewalk, nerves filling your body as you hyped yourself up to take the few steps left to the porch and ring the doorbell. You shouldn’t have been so nervous, you knew that but your mind was spinning with the myriad of scenarios both good and bad; that could play out once you stepped foot past the threshold. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much that you were nervous to enter the house itself, it was the fact that you’d be face to face with your childhood best friend for the first time in you didn’t even know how long. Maybe childhood best friend was a stretch you had only been introduced into each other's lives due to circumstance, and because of that forced proximity, you both took comfort in having someone stable around.

The two of you weren’t friends because you had chosen each other, or because you had met in kindergarten and shared toys in the sandbox because the other kids were stingy. No, you met because as a single mom, your mother needed all the shifts she could get even if that meant working the graveyard shift at the hospital, and only seeing you a handful of hours throughout the day because most times she was too dead on her feet to be conscious for more than a few hours. And when she could no longer pay the babysitter her next best option was the eccentric woman across the street who had children close in age with you.

Enter Donna Berzatto, a woman who came to feel like a second mom to you. It's not that she replaced your mom, no one could ever replace her, but she was the only real mother figure you knew for a time in your life. Who took you in as her own when your mother needed a new babysitter, and not just you but integrated your mom into the family as well, when she was spared the time off from nursing. Donna Berzatto who never sent you home empty-handed, and always made enough food for you and your mom to last throughout the week, just so your mother wouldn’t have to worry about fitting grocery shopping into her already hectic schedule. Donna Berzatto who, even when you were old enough to no longer need a babysitter, would send Carmy across the street to fetch you for family dinner, or even just invite you over because she thought you needed company.

Now that you were thinking about it, it seemed like you were more friends with his mom than you ever were with Carmen Berzatto. But then that would be a lie wouldn’t it?

You and Carmen Berzatto were friends due to circumstance, maybe even best friends. You weren’t just friends at his house, but you were school friends, you were everywhere friends. He really was your only true friend, of course, you had school friends, but that’s just what they were. You saw them Monday through Friday for a mandatory education, never an hour before school started or a minute after the final bell. Which didn’t necessarily bother you, but sometimes you longed for a weekend invitation to hang out, not that it ever came. And it wasn’t like you were shunned or unpopular in school, you were just average, you didn’t see a point in making friends with people you weren’t actually interested in befriending.

That’s what made Carmy so different, yes maybe you were only introduced due to circumstances but that didn’t stop the two of you from latching onto each other for dear life. Your mom always wondered how you two even established the friendship you did, with both of you being shy and never feeling the need to go out of your way to make friends. Include the fact that you had been neighbors practically your whole lives and never once taken an interest in each other aside from shy waves and curious childlike staring when either of you would be outside.

Your relationship with Carmen progressed as any childlike relationship would, you befriended each other, had your incessant petty arguments and fights, nothing ever serious enough to actually cause damage just childish antics. And it continued to progress through middle school and high school, the two of you were each other’s person, you just understood each other, the two of you let the other understand you, and wanted to be understood by each other.

You could also recall what you explain as a minute change in your friendship. As Senior year approached and you and Carmy continued to grow into yourselves, you developed a slight crush on the boy you had grown up with. It obviously wasn’t as small as you thought it was if you were standing in front of his childhood home giving yourself a pep talk just to ring the damn doorbell though was it?

The unsolicited card and wrapped present weighed heavy in your tote bag, as your breath was made visible by the chilly Chicago weather.

It was Christmas and for all intents and purposes you had been planning on mailing the present to Carmen’s New York address, but after visiting The Beef on your way back into town Mikey and Richie had let it slip that indeed the infamous Berzatto sibling would be gracing everyone with his presence this holiday season.

It was moments like these you wished you had picked up on the Berzatto family’s horrible smoking habit, thankfully your mom had taught you just how vital having functioning lungs was.

Your head shot up as the sound of loud rambunctious voices drew your attention to the front door opening and closing revealing a face you were all too familiar with and actually relieved to see. The oldest Berzatto brother stood on the porch, hands on his hips as he gave you a goofy smile. You could feel your lips stretching into a smile of your own, the infectious aura that Michael Berzatto exuded doing wonders to calm your racing mind.

“I know you didn’t come all this way just to stand outside staring at my family home like a fucking weirdo Baby.” Mikey’s smile grew in size as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes at the childhood nickname you wish hadn’t stuck as Mikey opened his arms to wrap you in one of his signature hugs. The two of you stood on the porch embracing each other for what felt like hours, you needed this hug as much as he needed it, you knew it and Mikey did too. That was the thing about you and Mikey although not blood-related it was as if your souls knew each other in a past life. Of the Berzatto siblings, Mikey was the last sibling you developed a relationship with. Growing up he was always just Carmy’s older brother but as you grew up surrounded by him, he became your surrogate older brother as well. And when Carmy dashed off to pursue his culinary dreams in New York, you and Mikey grew even closer.

You stepped back from the embrace, your eyes finding Mikey’s as he looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “You not standing out here cause of a certain Chef in that house are ya?” Mikey asked, smirking down at you.

You chuckled “The only reason I come around anymore is for Mama Donna.” You joked doing a poor job to convince Mikey.

He nodded, tossing his head back with a laugh, “You were always a shit liar Baby. Carmy’s an idiot, don't let him ruin your Christmas.”

You let out a sigh head resting against Mikey’s chest as you tried to let his words soothe you even more, “He’s not ruining it, you just know things have been kind of stilted between us, and I don’t know this whole situation just feels awkward.”

You raised your head to look at Mikey again, “It’s awkward right? Am I making things awkward? I don’t wanna ruin Christmas Mikey, I know how your mom is and I know how Carmy is, I don’t wanna ambush him.”

The worry in your voice was evident as Mikey stood there listening to your ranting. His hand reached out as he used his thumb to massage away the frown between your eyebrows. “Calm down Baby, you know Ma is expecting you, and she wouldn’t take it well if you missed Christmas. She looks forward to seeing you every year, you give her a piece of Carmy when he can’t be fucking asked to come home and visit.” His hand moved down to cup the side of your neck rubbing soothing circles where his thumb rested, “Do it for Ma okay? Let Carmy be fucking wonder boy Carmy a’ight.”

You laughed nodding your head as best as you could with Mikey’s hand holding it, he smiled giving you one last hug before dropping his hand to grab your wrist and tug you into the house. You stopped him by placing a hand on his arm that was connected to yours.

“Hold on Mikey, I got you something.” You moved to start rummaging through your tote bag stalling because you were too nervous for his reaction to the present.

“Awe you didn’t have to get me nothing.” You turned back to him with the present in your hands as he held his own hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental things and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else.

You laughed holding the rectangular wrapped present out to him, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded feeling your face heat up as you dropped your head so he couldn’t see how unsure you were about the gift.

He smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfing it from end to end. He smiled looking at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shove his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands but holding it in front of your chest so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, it’s not like I trademarked it for myself or anything. I just know how much this means to you and I, I know shit has been tough lately and I’m sorry if you feel like I stepped on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” You hadn’t meant to go on a rant, but you could feel the apprehension leaving you as you became passionate in every word you spoke.

“You deserve to be fucking happy Mikey, and I, I want you to know I fucking believe in you and I’m always in your corner. If it's-” You were cut off by Mikey clearing his throat, causing your eyes to snap back up to his, all the emotions he didn’t know how to translate into words swirling in his brown eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.

“Mikey-,” Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, this hug conveying something completely different from the earlier one you shared. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. Mikey wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey his moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while he was being emotional. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face in both of his hands, eyes finding yours, a whispered “thank you, baby,” leaving his lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug.

His head rested atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. You lied, you thought the last hug was different, but no it was this hug that was different, while the second hug you shared in the span of 20 minutes was a hug of love and gratitude. This hug felt heavier, like there were things Mikey wanted to tell you but couldn’t, things he only felt he could convey through a hug, things you weren’t sure if you wanted to question or not.

It had been almost 20 minutes since Michael had escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping Donna out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever had grabbed Mikey’s attention.

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it.

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy had offered to him, marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen double checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the frown grace the younger man’s face, his eyebrows pinching together in agitation, annoyed that his brother was on a phone call rather than inside. Though that’s what Carmy told himself subconsciously he knew he was just annoyed at the fact that Mikey was even talking to you at all. Carmy didn’t think he was possessive but as you and Mikey grew closer through the years, he couldn’t help but feel miffed about the ever growing friendship between the two of you. You and your friendship with Carmy was the first thing in his life that he felt like was actually his and his alone.

It’s funny really for Carmy to think he has any sort of claim over you, or like the two of you were even really friends anymore. When he left Chicago to pursue his culinary dreams, he left you behind to, essentially ghosting the one real friend he did have. It’s not like he meant to, you two just went your separate ways after graduation, and he wasn’t even sure if there even was an “Us” when it came to the two of you anymore. If that was the case the only person he had to blame was himself, it was no fault of yours that your friendship had hit a plateau, Carmy hadn’t responded to a text of yours in years, and the fact that you still texted him to this day caused a slight pain in his chest as he stood in the middle of his mother’s kitchen, frown still etched into his features.

“He’s outside on the phone with Baby?” Carmy questioned the ache in his chest doing nothing to alleviate his irritation. It was Richie’s turn to frown reciprocating the same confused look Camry wore.

“What - No dickhead, he’s talking to Baby, like she’s right in fucking front of him and shit.” Richie swatted the side of Carmy’s head like a child. “Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those to idiots just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jackoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who had finally joined his side nodding his head to the window.

“Get a load of these fucking losers hugging on the porch like they’re in some fucking Hallmark movie or some shit.” Richie laughed pointing at you and Mikey through the window. Carmy leaned closer to get a peak at what Richie was going on about.

Carmy hated to admit it, but Richie was right, the too of you looked like the happy couple who just saved a small town’s Christmas or whatever the fuck Hallmark movies were about. Mikey had finally separated himself from you long enough for Carmy to take in your features. He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity had touched you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school.

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things. Like the haircut you were sporting that Carmy felt shaped your face well, not that he knew shit about stuff like that, but he could appreciate art when he saw it. The outfit you picked out doing wonders to compliment your tall form and accentuate your legs. Carmy could look at you all day, scratch that he wanted to look at you all day.

He was torn from his reverie as Richie narrated the scene happening in front of them, “Aw look at these fuckers lookin all in love an shit.” He joked watching as Mikey slung his arm around you and led you towards the door, what looked to be a frame held in his other hand. The two of you walked side by side, your arm wrapped around his torso, hugging him into your side, Mikey’s head leaning slightly down to whisper something in your ear a small smile gracing your face as Mikey pressed his lips onto your temple lingering there for what Carmen swore was forever.

The tightness in his chest intensified tenfold as the realization of just how close you and Mikey had become sank into him. He didn’t know how to feel, his brain not even allowing any emotions to process, saving himself from any conclusions he might come to from a split second interaction.

Carmy left, he chose his path, he knew this, and he had no regrets he would pursue his dream every time the opportunity was presented. He just wished that, maybe if he held onto you as tightly as you still held onto him, it would’ve been him greeting you on the sidewalk on Christmas Day, being the sole object of your attention holding you close to his longing body. He knew overall the decisions he made regarding you were wrong, while he ignored your daily text and calls enough times for you to just resort to monthly check ins asking him about his endeavors and congratulations as you heard about his achievements in the culinary industry, he knew deep down that Mikey answered every text and call you sent his way, made it his mission to connect with you anytime you were back in Chicago.

Carmy couldn’t admit it to himself but deep down he knew his family saw spending time with you as a way to stay connected to him. You were the closest thing any of them still had to Carmy, and even though he had essentially cut you off from his life, his family loved you too much to allow Carmy’s shortcomings to affect their relationship with you.

He was broken from the recesses of his mind as Richie threw the door open stepping over the threshold raising his hands in the air to welcome you and Mikey into the house. The glass of Sprite still clutched in his left hand, a broad smile spread across his face as you left Mikey’s hold to greet Richie eyes not having spotted Carmy who was hidden behind Richie’s small frame.

Carmy’s first up close look at you in years were your hands wrapped around Richie’s torso as he pulled you into a hug, rocking the two of you back and forth, Richie let you go quickly turning his body back into the house “A’ight fuckers you can all stop pretending you care so much about Carmy and his little rat in the chef hat bullshit. We got the real deal here now, Baby's gracing us with her journalist presence.”

Carmy’s brows furrowed at Richie’s dig only slightly offended about being compared to a fictional character named after pasta, too caught up in allowing the sound of your laugh to grace his ears for the first time in what felt like forever. Mikey had finally caught up to you standing behind you with a hand placed on your shoulder, Carmy watched as his brother’s hand glided up and down your arm before giving your bicep a slight squeeze and nodding his head in Carmy’s direction.

If Carmy was being honest it was becoming increasingly difficult to quiet his mind that was eagerly trying to piece everything together. From yours and Mikey's prolonged moment on the porch, to the kiss he placed on your temple, add in Richie’s jokes and the almost constant physical contact between you and Mikey and Carmy was sure he figured shit out.

You looked to where Mikey motioned his head finally noticing Carmy’s figure standing there while Richie ran off towards the stairs after his impromptu introduction. Looking at Carmy was like being in a Time Machine, nothing had drastically changed, he looked more exhausted than what you remembered. But overall he was the same Carmy you parted ways with all those years ago.

A small smile graced your lips as you took him in, he was still your Carmy appearance wise, and right now for you that was all that mattered. You lifted your hand in a small wave gaining his attention, your smile growing wider as your eyes locked with his.

The clearing of a throat broke you from your thoughts, Mikey’s hand giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walked you two into the house before shutting the door behind him. As he finished he stood in front of you so that Carmy was partially covered from view by each brother in your line of vision though your focus was taken up by the eldest. He gave you a reassuring smile before gently knocking his fist against your chin and presumably turning to leave you and Carmy alone.

As Mikey walked past Carmy he gave him his signature grin and a wink before patting his shoulder as left to check on Donna in the kitchen and mingle with the other guests.

Carmy’s face was still set in the same frown it had been in when he first asked Richie where Mikey ran off to. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves before taking a step to close the gap between you, your hand reached out to gently squeeze Carmy’s arm though stopping in midair as you watched him subtly flinch. Your smile faltered, your hand finding its rightful place at your side. You looked up to see the apology in Carmy’s eyes, you did your best to brush the moment off, maybe you came on too strong, maybe it wasn’t fair that you were still pushing for a friendship when Carmy had given you all the reasons to stop trying, maybe the Carmy in front of you was a different Carmy to the one you used to know. Maybe the life where it was you and Carmy had finally taken its last breath and you were just too clingy and desperate to realize.

You cleared your throat trying to alleviate the lump forming from the thoughts that were racing through your brain. The small placating smile on your face there to stop you from having a full breakdown in the Berzatto’s foyer. “Its good to see you Carmen, I hope New York is treating you well.” You lips wrapped around the generic greeting forcing yourself not to say anything you might regret.

Carmy nodded his head rapidly accepting your lackluster words, his lips parting and closing all in the same breath. The man obviously had nothing to say to you, and maybe you just had to accept that. You stayed a moment longer cursing yourself for doing so as the air between you two filled with palpable tension.

“Baby, is that you? My goodness you look fucking gorgeous.” Half of Donna’s body had popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet you. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, a ladle held in her right hand while the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else your brain couldn’t even begin to discern.

You laughed half in amusement and half in relief, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand there as Carmy burned holes in your body. You waved at Donna quickly, beginning to head towards her to join her in the kitchen. It wasn’t your first choice as an escape from Carmen but you’d rather try and help Donna finish preparing Christmas dinner than be around Carmy for another minute.

Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girls bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. You handed him your tote as soon as his arm shot out and began hastily shimmying out of your jacket. You gave him a soft smile before laying the jacket on his awaiting arm.

You began to leave the foyer as Donna motioned for you to follow her, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to walk into. A sudden thought occurred causing you to gently grip Carmy’s bicep as you were walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” You smiled tilting your head slightly in questioning.

Carmen Berzatto graced you with a small smile, nodding back in agreement as you sent him one final nod and turned to enter the kitchen. The first positive emotion he granted you since you walked back into his life 30 minutes ago.

next chapter ↣

a/n: this is my first fic that i’m publishing and i genuinely have no clue what the fuck any of this is, : ) but nonetheless hope you all enjoy! or don’t i’m just a stranger on the internet. constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated though. please like, comment, reblog if this behemoth tickles your fancy!

also i write for fun/hobby and i'm such an inconsistent bitch so don't get your hopes too high, but this will potentially be a series idk yet though lol.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #michael berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto angst #platonic!michael berzatto #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#[aiekoy] 1

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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j is for james beard... and for jealousy | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

pairing: jealous boyfriend!carmy x female!reader

word count: 7.4k

summary: after sydney takes home a big win at the james beard awards, you and your boyfriend carmy run into an old rival for a fiery, chaotic, and surprisingly sexy night. companion piece to 'make my heart surrender' but can be read as a standalone oneshot.

warnings: 18+ chapter, minors dni: lots of swearing, p*rn with a plot, smut, p in v unprotected sex (reader is using hormonal birth control in monogamous relationship), praise kink, rough jealousy sex

a/n: how dare I drag poor james beard into this hetero nonsense?! anywayssss surprise i'm back because i keep having ideas for these two. maybe one day i'll just write a carmy x reader piece that doesn't include this character but for now... please enjoy this literal porn with a plot. also: let's all agree that toxic jealousy is a red flag in relationships, however, i wanted to work with a scenario where carmy would perhaps be more sexually assertive.

“I look ridiculous,” Carmy had grumbled earlier that day, at his reflection in the mirror.

He had never felt like himself while wearing a suit. Sure, he would spend time, effort, and money into finding the perfect vintage denim jacket, but a suit? He’d much rather be behind the scenes, in his chef whites, instead of this.

“You look…” you’d countered him, emphasizing the word ‘look’. “...hot, Carmen.”

He’d given you somewhat of a half smile in response – flattered by your comment, and also unconvinced you hadn’t just said in an attempt to get him out of the house.

Or out of obligation.

Because he’s your boyfriend. Because you’ll say anything to get him out for Syd’s big night. Because you love him.

Carmy had never gotten used to the whole celebrity aspect of the food world – especially his own. These award ceremonies were always an uncomfortable reminder that he never quite felt like he fit in.

“Do you think Syd would kill me if-?” Carmy had asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Baby, Sydney is counting on us… and she and I will both kick your ass if you don’t get in the car,” you’d cut him off, because there was no way in hell he was getting out of this. With a scowl on his face, you’d dragged him down the stairs and into your Uber.

And that’s how he ended up here, at the James Beard award ceremony on a Sunday night, as you all wait anxiously for the announcement. While the restaurant hadn’t been open long enough to be nominated and was actively in a state of ‘working out the kinks,’ Carmy’s celebrity in the food world had brought in a lot of press. Ever since Sydney and Carmy had become partners in the reopen, he had been more than happy to let her take center stage. When the nominations were announced, and Sydney was on the list, he was ecstatic for her. Truthfully, it was a relief that she seemed to do much better with all the stuff he wasn’t crazy about: press, interviews, the spotlight.

“Wake me up when this snoozefest is over,” Richie mumbles trying his best to pretend he’s not having a good time. You snort, shooting Richie a look, because you know it’s one of the most exciting nights he’s had in a while.

Besides Carmy, who wouldn’t want to get all dressed up to go to a fancy party and celebrate Sydney?

You’ve somehow managed to corral the core staff of The Bear here this evening. The entire restaurant had been abuzz when the nominations were announced, and talks of who would get stuck at the restaurant the night of the award ceremony had already begun. It was an easy decision to close the restaurant for that night, so that everyone who wanted to could attend.

Your life here is better than you ever imagined it could be. Working your ass off in a kitchen that you love has been invigorating. It’s helping you fall in love with the process all over again. You suspect that your time in fine dining had, perhaps, run its course even before you quit your last job. Back then, here is what you’d longed for on the days you felt your most lost. You love being a teacher; you love mentoring Marcus. He’s got a desire to learn that never quits, and it inspires you day in and day out. But most importantly, you’re head over heels in love. You’re so deeply in love with Carmy that sometimes, you wonder what took the two of you so long to pull the trigger.

Tonight is no different. You’re surrounded by people you adore more than anything – people you’ve been in the trenches with during a dinner service from hell, people you’ve laughed your ass off with after a round of drinks outside of the restaurant – and you’re all here to celebrate someone who’s become a close friend of yours. It’s just another reminder – another sign from the universe – that you made the right decision.

And you’re sure Sydney is going to win.

You’re not sure how you know.

You can just feel it.

Sydney sits between Carmy and Marcus, and you’re seated in between Carmy and Richie. You notice Carmy’s leg is bouncing up and down impatiently as he anticipates the next category of awards. Even though you know these big social events put Carmy on edge, you know he’s really just nervous for her.

“And the winner… for the James Beard Rising Star award of 2023…” the announcer, esteemed chef Mashama Bailey begins, grabbing the attention of the entire room.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and Carmy continues to fidget nervously. You reach across Carmy’s lap, grabbing Sydney’s hand and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. Sydney holds on to you, and while you’re sure she might cut off your circulation from squeezing so tightly, you don’t mind. You’re all on the edges of your seat.

“Sydney Adamu of The Bear!”

You and Carmy are cheering as loudly as you can, while Richie jumps to his feet letting out a loud ‘whoop.’ A chorus of ‘that’s right,’ ‘she won!’ and ‘c’mon syd’ echoes through Tina, Gary, and Ebra and Manny, while Angel is already on his feet taking a video of the crowd. Everyone is cheering so boisterously you’re not sure it’ll ever stop.

“You won, Syd!” you yell over the loud claps and cheers, giving her hand one more squeeze. She rises, letting go of your hand, you and Carmy both following to give her some space to walk through the aisle.

“Let’s go, Syd! That’s right. That’s right,” Marcus calls out loudly, jumping to his feet with Richie and earning a few looks from the people sitting to the right and left.

“Congratulations, chef,” Carmy whispers, as she passes him by. You watch as Marcus ushers her over to the aisle so that she can go up to the stage while Angel films the whole thing on his iPhone. Carmy has the proudest look on his face, the tip of his nose the lightest blush pink, and you’re beaming as you watch your friend make her way towards the stage of the opera house.

“Remember when this was you?” you whisper to Carmy, catching his attention.

“Tonight everything changes for her,” Carmy replies, grinning from ear to ear.

“For the both of you,” you add. “For all of us.”

The night he won the rising star award put him on the map. While you hadn’t known Carmy at the time, you’d heard about him in those early days of both of your careers. Carmy had risen so quickly through the ranks that by the time you met him, he was only a few weeks away from his promotion to CDC at the old restaurant. Not only did this put Sydney on the map, but it was better press for The Bear than anyone could ask for.

“Congratulations, baby,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He just shoots you a look, the pride evident in his eyes, before wrapping his arm around you and holding you close.

“I just wanna say,” Richie begins, having garnered the attention of your group. You’re all huddled in a circle at the reception, champagne flutes in everyone’s hands.

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye…” Richie toasts, earning a few looks and side comments from your team. “And don’t forget about that time you stabbed me… but even if this brings a bunch of fuckin’ strokes to the restaurant, we’re so fuckin’ proud of you.”

“To Sydney, who’s… what does Carmy say… changed the chemistry and who is the heart of this restaurant,” Ebra adds on.

Tina smiles proudly, raising her glass to Sydney. It brings a smile to your face to see her all dressed up too.

“Syd, I don’t know where the hell we’d be without you,” Carmy continues, raising his glass.

“Cheers to you, Sydney!” you say, clinking champagne glasses, before taking your first celebratory drink as a team.

It doesn’t take long for your group to break off into smaller ones – making comments about how out of place you all feel at this fancy of an event. Richie’s wrapping an arm around Carmy’s shoulder, ushering him to a side conversation – something about ‘lizards this’, and ‘the working class that.’

“So how do you feel?” you ask, turning towards Sydney, taking a moment to quietly congratulate your friend.

“I think I’m still in shock,” she sighs in relief, earning a chuckle from you.

“Well, I’ll cheers to that. You know. To calm the nerves,” you joke, raising your glass once more.

“To liquid courage,” she agrees, clinking glasses with you again, as you both decide just to finish off your flutes of champagne.

“Can I get you another drink?” you offer, placing your now empty champagne

“Oooo can you get me one of those fancy themed cocktails I saw at the bar earlier?” Sydney replies, excitedly.

“Anything for you,” you say back.

“And when you’re back, I think I saw Carla Hall has a tasting table here so we should make our rounds,” Sydney mentions, because there’s no way either of you are missing out on the fact that the best chefs in the world are cooking in this room right now.

You nod in agreement, heading to the bar to get both you and Sydney a new round of drinks.

“What can I getcha?” the bartender asks.

You glance at the menu, deciding on your go-to, a gin and tonic, and then one of the featured cocktails of the evening that Sydney mentioned, knowing she’s a tequila drinker. You wait at the bar for your drinks, knowing the fancy mezcal cocktail you just ordered for Sydney will take a little bit of a time to make.

“I was wondering when I’d run into you,” you hear a voice say, grabbing your attention. It’s a familiar voice that you were really hoping you’d never have to hear again.

“Funny, because I was hoping to avoid you,” you quip back, turning to the man who’s just joined you at the bar. His bravado alone is enough to earn an eye roll from you and you can feel your guard going up.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, unable to hide the disdain in your voice.

“You haven’t heard?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face that you just want to slap off of it.

“I don’t make it my business to keep up with you, Walker,” you shoot back, using his last name as a formality, completely unamused by his question.

“God, I love it when you talk dirty,” he croons, a flirtatious low chuckle rumbling out of his chest.

You ignore him, rolling your eyes for the second time in the last two minutes, as you thank the bartender who’s just come back with your gin and tonic. You raise the glass to your lips, getting a head start since now, you definitely need this drink.

“Moved to LA. Took a CDC position out there. Besides, after you left… New York was… getting boring,” he explains, playing it cool. He drops the name of the well-respected LA restaurant that he’s running now in an attempt to impress you, which only seems to piss you off further.

You scoff in response. If you weren’t waiting on Sydney’s drink, you’d be long gone by now, but as you watch the bartender burn a sugar cube, you wonder how damn long it takes for a fucking mezcal drink to be made.

Maybe if I’ll just ignore him, he’ll fuck off, you think to yourself.

“You know, I was surprised to hear you moved to Chicago. Left without saying goodbye. Then again, should’ve known…” he provokes, continuing his very one sided conversation.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Nate?” you snap, turning your head to him, instantly regretting giving him the attention he’s so desperately seeking.

He raises an eyebrow, before nodding towards Carmy as a reply. Your gaze follows, and you can tell that Carmy’s noticed who you’re talking to at the bar.

“It’s a small world. Word gets around. People talk.”

But you’re not listening to him, your eyes fixed on Carmy. Carmy sends a look of concern your way, but you nod back to him as if to say ‘all good.’ You can hold your own here. Nate watches carefully, noticing the look you share with Carmy across the room. He was always a detail oriented son of a bitch.

“Classic golden boy,” Nate sighs, the envy in his voice giving him away.

“Don’t you think your little one sided rivalry with Carmy is getting a little old?” you laugh dryly.

“One sided?” Nate asks back, taking a step towards you.

“Yeah, one sided,” you repeat, standing your ground. Now way in hell you’re going to let this asshole back you up. “Because if I recall correctly, he never indulged you in your silly little games.”

Nate laughs again, taking another step towards you that makes you increasingly more uncomfortable.

“If that’s how you remember it.”

“Oh grow up.”

“Not when golden boy gets everything I want.”

“You’re so full of shit!” you exclaim, finally taking a step back. “Carmy’s had to work for everything he’s achieved. You and I both know that.”

“How do you think he’d feel,” Nate starts, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to sound seductive or intimidating – neither of which are working on you. “... if he knew about what happened between us? After he left New york? It was… what? A week, maybe two, before you jumped into bed with me?”

“Carmy knows I’m not a thing to be had, Nate,” you seethe, glaring at him.

The bartender returns with your second drink finally.

“You sure about that?” Nate smirks, reaching out to touch you.

What a fucking asshole.

“You’re disgusting,” you seethe, jerking your arm away from him. You take both of your drinks, and you can’t get out of there fast enough.

“It was great catching up,” he calls after you, cockily.

“Can’t say the same,” you say, not even turning to look back at him.

You return to your group, holding in your fury. It’s Sydney’s big night and you’d much rather focus on that than the asshole of an old coworker you can’t fucking stand. You try to shake off the interaction, deciding it’s not even worth expending energy on.

“What the hell was that all about?” Sydney asks, having witnessed your tenuous interaction with the man you called Nate. She thanks you as you hand her her new drink.

“Absolute trashcan of a human. We used to work with him. In New York,” you said, letting out a puff of flustered air.

“Okay but… that was weird right?” Sydney questions, seeing that this guy’s clearly gotten under your skin.

“Totally. He’s a piece of shit. He and Carmy always had this weird rivalry but it was mostly on his end. I… also may or may not have made the dumbest mistake ever once upon a time and slept with him… like… over a year ago,” you confess, feeling just a little bit guilty about it.

“Noooo,” she replies, her eyes widening. “You slept with that guy?”

“Yeah,” you answer, regretfully. “Not one of my finest moments. Long story short: right after Carmy left New York to come back here, I got a little too drunk with some coworkers. I was really sad and it was stupid, and uh, he was… let’s just say more than happy to play the part of a good listener.”

“Can’t imagine that guy being good, or a listener, let alone both at once,” Sydney replies, seeing the negative effect he’s had on you in one conversation.

“Yeah, It was a stupid fucking mistake and I regretted it the next morning. If you can believe it, he got even more insufferable when he realized it would never happen again,” you tell her, shaking off the bad taste in your mouth the conversation left you with.

“Yo,” Carmy says, hesitantly. He can tell that you’re pissed after your conversation at the bar. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, honestly. “Just Nate Walker being a fuckin’ asshole. But what’s new?”

“Hey Syd! Let’s go grab a bite,” Marcus calls to her.

“You guys mind?” she asks, looking from you to Carmy.

You shake your heads ‘no’, and honestly, you’re glad it gives you a little time alone with your boyfriend. You watch as Sydney leaves with Marcus to make the rounds, leaving you and Carmy alone.

“Haven’t heard that name in a while,” Carmy starts, bringing Nate up again. He can feel his face beginning to heat up as he asks you about it.

“Yeah.”

“Biggest jackoff in New York City.”

“Well, apparently he’s LA’s problem now.”

“Fucko,” Carmy says, shaking his head at the memory of his pain in the ass sous. He can’t figure out why seeing Nate talk to you near-sent him into a blind rage, but you’d reassured him that you were good so, he let you hold your own.

“Seems like he had a lot to say to you.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” you reply dryly.

“After that I think I need a shower. Or a bath of bleach.”

Carmy lets out a small laugh, releasing some of the tension he, unknowingly, was holding in his body.

“Listen, I don’t want to talk about Nate,” you say, changing the subject.

It’s not that you feel weird about it – that you’d feel weird telling Carmy about what happened between the two of you – but it just feels so small and insignificant in the face of the love that you have with Carmy.

“Good, me either,” Carmy exhales.

Another release in pressure.

He wonders if he’d been this tense all night, or if seeing you with Nate had managed to piss him off this much.

“You wanna dance?” you ask him, a mischievous smile on his face. You offer a hand out to him.

“Baby, you know I don’t dance,” he states, matter of factly.

“I know. But I do,” you say, with a wiggle of your eyebrows.

“One dance,” he warns, earning a triumphant smile from you.

He takes your hand, prompting you to put your drink down on the table where you’re all posted up at. Carmy shakes his head, surprised that you’ve coaxed him this far out of his comfort zone. As he pulls you into his arms, you giggle, wrapping yours around his neck and sway to the loud music in the background.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asks you with such genuine love in those beautiful blue eyes of his.

He thinks you look like a goddess – could be the dress, but he’s pretty sure it’s you. Your hair is shorter now than it was a few months ago and lays in the softest, most gentle waves, parted perfectly down the middle. He hasn’t stopped staring at cherry red-painted lips all night, and every time he gets a peek of your legs through the high slit in the dress you’re wearing, he swears he short circuits.

Not to mention the low neckline. He’d watched you tie the top of the dress into a plunging neckline, and had to hold back his ask for you to cover up. It’s not that he cared about what you wore. But if he hadn’t been going to therapy over the last few months, he might feel some kind of way about anyone else getting to see any part of your breasts – anyone but him.

“A couple of times… but I won’t be mad about hearing it a few more, Bear,” you grin, leaning into him.

He smiles at your use of his childhood nickname. Back in New York, he’d kept it from you. It was just a reminder of what he’d left behind: his psycho mom, a nightmare of pain from his psycho-fucked-up family, how much it hurt when Mikey cut him out. But now, he loves the way it sounds coming from your lips, your voice the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. While he knows it’s taken him a long time to let you in, he’s glad he has. Whether it be at the restaurant or at the home you share together, you’ve become one of the most consistent things in his life.

The rest of the night is almost perfect. It’s filled with dancing, catching up with coworkers and friends in the culinary world, and most importantly, a celebration with your chosen family. That is, until you hear Sydney swear halfway across the room, catching the attention of you and Carmy both.

Carmy’s looking past you to where Nate is towering over Sydney at the bar. If looks could kill, he’s pretty sure Nate would be dead by now.

“Is that Nate again?” Carmy asks, his face pink as he feels a rush of blood flow throw him.

You can see that Sydney is practically in the same place you were an hour ago. You watch as he steps in front of her, practically blocking her in between him and the bar.

“I don’t like this. We should go over there,” you say with a sense of urgency.

Carmy agrees, and Richie and Marcus, who you’re currently conversing with, follow close behind.

“Okay. You need,” Sydney warns, her voice deliberate, like a rattlesnake giving one last warning before it strikes. “... to back… the fuck up.”

His response is even worse, causing a fire to burn in your belly as you overhear what he says to Sydney.

“Oh come on,” he coos, forcing himself closer to her. “I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

Sydney takes another step to the side, trying her best to escape him and holding her hands up as a barrier while you charge at him. Your sudden movement attracts his attention, giving Sydney the out that she needs. You put both of your hands on his chest, shoving him away from her as you shout.

“She said ‘no.’ What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Nate’s got such a smug, satisfied smirk on his face that, if you weren’t in a room filled with the best chefs in the world, you’d actually punch it right off of him. Carmy follows you, protectively standing behind you.

“Jealous?” he asks, amused. His eyes flicker over to Carmy, whose face is beginning to heat up, turning a brighter shade of red by the moment.

“In your dreams, asshat,” you spit back.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” he says, completely satisfied as Carmy’s fist clenches. He’s clearly enjoying just how much he’s getting under his old boss’ skin.

You feel Carmy step towards him, but you turn to him, placing a hand on his abdomen to stop him, “Bear, it’s not worth it.”

“Did you tell him?” Nate asks you, with the intention of stirring the pot.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, shaking your head in absolute disbelief.

“Tell me what?” Carmy asks you softly.

“How does it feel, golden boy? To know that the one thing you always wanted… I got to first,” Nate sneers, a threatening sound in his voice. He looks from you to Carmy, assessing the damage.

Before Carmy can say anything, it’s you who lurches towards NAte, and Carmy’s wrapping his arms around you to hold you back. You can feel the tension in his arms as he holds you against his chest protectively.

“Okay this motherfucker is just asking for it,” Richie seethes, charging towards Nate.

“Richie, don’t!” Sydney shouts, shooting him a ‘please don’t make a scene’ look.

It takes all of Richie’s self control to stop himself. He nods to her, holding up his hands as a surrender. He begins to take a few steps back as your uncomfortably public standoff continues.

Sydney has retreated back so that she stands side by side with Marcus, while Carmy’s loosened his grip on your waist.

By the look on Nate’s face, you can tell he thinks he’s gotten away with it all, as he looks around at all of you one last time.

“You all have a goodnight,” he smirks, before taking his drink and slithering away.

You could care less where to. You’re just glad he’s gone.

You watch as he goes before checking in with Sydney, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head. Marcus is by her side in an instant and you can see Carmy’s jaw twitching with anger. “Can’t believe you used to work with that guy. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy,” Richie agrees under his breath.

“C’mon. Let’s just…” Marcus encourages quietly, nodding to your table.

Richie, Marcus, and Sydney all make their way back to your group as you stay with Carmy. His face is red and you can see it on his face that he’s still processing what just happened – what Nate said. You can see the gears turning in his head, and he’s staring at the floor, his face still cherry tomato-red.

“Carmy,” you say, ripping him from his thoughts.

He looks up at you, his face softening the minute you make eye contact.

“Can we go somewhere? Talk?” he asks, trying not to look like he’s going to burn the fuckin’ place down.

You agree with a nod, taking his hand and leading him elsewhere.

The further away from the reception you go, the quieter the party gets, and the louder your thoughts get. Would he be mad? You were furious with Nate for trying to use what happened to get under Carmy’s skin, but you also wonder if he’s mad at you too. For sleeping with Nate? For not telling him? But was it something you were supposed to tell him? It’s not like you expected him to tell you about every person he’d ever slept with.

Carmy finally stops, leading you into a quieter room, far away from the party. As you flick the lights on, it looks like a single dressing room for the plays performed here. The silence between the two of you is deafening, and it’s not just because it’s the first quiet moment you’ve had together since you arrived.

“I’m not mad… about Nate… about what he said,” Carmy says, breaking the silence between the two of you.

He’s trying his best to sound convincing, reassuring even, but he’s sure he’s doing a shit job.

You’re surprised, so you just take him in, searching his face for any clue that he’s telling that truth. His face is red, and you can see a tightness running across his chest as he’s looking for the courage to ask:

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, unsure of what to say.

“Because…” you begin, hoping that if you just start talking, you’ll find the right words to explain. “I-, I didn’t think I had to. It happened once and it was a stupid mistake with… a lot of tequila involved.”

“You had just left New York and I was lonely. I didn’t say anything because… it didn’t mean anything to me, Bear.”

He listens, taking your explanation in, his eyes fixed on the floor again. He’s not mad at you, but he can’t seem to shake this feeling of anger – this tension that has him wanting to punch a hole through the wall.

“I don’t like what he fuckin’ said to you,” he finally blurts out.

“That- that he thinks he can just say whatever the fuck he wants. That he forced himself on Syd like that, like he can-.”

Carmy looks down at the floor again, his words trailing off.

He’s pissed.

You can tell he’s pissed.

But you have a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that says something else is going on.

Is Carmy… jealous?

“Carmy, I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” you apologize softly. “He shouldn’t have-, I mean he really is the worst fucking person to ever walk-.”

“I’m not upset about-,” he interrupts, firmly. He holds your gaze, trying to give you the most reassuring look he can. “I don’t care about-. I just… I don’t like the way he talked to you.”

You wait as he stews on his thoughts, his anger simmering as he sorts through his feelings. It’s like watching a hot pot of water come to a boil.

“I didn’t like seeing him touch you earlier like-.”

Let it rip.

“Like he can just put his hands on anyone he-. On you! I–.”

And then finally he explodes with, “I just fuckin’ hate that guy!”

It’s as if the pressure valve has been released as he lets out a big puff of air. While you can see it’s given him some relief, you’re still not sure what you’re supposed to offer at this moment.

“Carmy, what can I- hmmph?” you begin to ask, before being cut off by his lips on yours.

Well this isn’t what you were expecting.

Your head is spinning as your boyfriend kisses you with such passion, fervor, and urgency. He’s crashing his lips against yours at a desperate pace, and it’s all tongues and teeth and his hands are grabbing the back of your head, tangling into your hair. You’re not sure how you’ve gone from trying your best to hold space for your boyfriend’s feelings, to him pressing you up against the dressing room counter.

You gasp as he hoists you up onto the counter, pushing his body into yours.

“Carmy, are you-?” you ask, feeling the tent that’s already formed in his pants as you wrap your legs around him.

There’s a confident assertiveness he moves with, and as much as you hate to admit it, this is all turning you on.

“Hate that fuckin’ guy,” Carmy murmurs into your skin, as he begins to leave kisses down your jawline.

His mouth moves urgently down your neck, to your shoulders, to the exposed skin the plunging neckline of your dress reveals. His teeth leave light pink and purple marks in their wake, and you’re gasping, moaning, grabbing at any part of him you can hold on to. Little love bites begin to appear, but when he’s making you feel this good, you could care less.

He’s confident in the way he sucks little marks into your skin, biting down then immediately soothing the pain with his tongue. As he works his mouth over you, he looks up at you, his eyes wide, pupils blown out in pure desire, and it takes your fucking breath away.

Pain and pleasure.

Just to show the whole world that you’re his.

“Thinks he can fuckin’ look at you. Put his fuckin’ hands on you,” he mumbles against your skin. His mouth has reached the lowest point of your plunging neckline as he stands up, pushing himself against you between your legs.

“Baby,” you breathe out. You make a mental note to unpack why his sudden possessiveness has you so hot and bothered with your therapist next week.

“I really, really don’t want to talk about him right now.”

Carmy drops to his knees, stripping off his suit jacket and throwing it elsewhere. The sight has you absolutely drenched and you think you may cum just from looking at him.

“You’re mine,” is all he says, eliciting another moan from you as he sinks his teeth into the soft supple skin of your calf. You slide a heel-covered foot over his shoulder, as his lips begin trail up your calf, to your knee, to your inner thighs…

“Yes. I’m yours,” you breathe out, exasperated by Carmy’s sudden forwardness. You lean back, your head hitting the mirror with a thud. “All yours.”

He works his way up your thighs, leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs while his hands disappear underneath the skirt of your dress, frantically searching for your panties.

“Carmy, I don’t know if we have time for-,” you gasp, as he pulls away for a moment.

His curls are unruly from running your fingers through them, his lips swollen from the passionate makeout you started only moments ago. You feel his fingers hook underneath the top of your panties and he looks at you like he can see right through you. Holding your gaze, it’s impossible to not get lost into his ocean blue eyes you’ve fallen so deeply in love with. He takes his sweet time, teasing you, refusing to break eye contact, as he pulls your panties down your legs at an unbearable slow pace.

You don’t look away.

You don’t dare look away.

Finally, finally, he breaks eye contact, sliding your panties over your feet, and putting them into his pocket as you brace yourself for what comes next.

“We should-,” you start, your words ceasing instantly as he spreads your legs, licking a stripe up your dripping wet core. You cry out loudly, panicking almost instantly, because you don’t remember locking the damn door.

We should stop.

Do this elsewhere.

Lock the door.

Keep quiet.

But you can’t seem to get the words out, as you let out another loud moan, and Carmy doesn’t have the heart to stop you. Something primal inside of him wants nothing more than for the whole party mere hallways away to hear you crying out his name.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue through your folds. “Already so wet for me and I’ve barely even put my mouth on you.”

He wonders if there’s an award for this.

Lifetime Loser Award.

2023’s Most Jealous Boyfriend

Chef Most Likely to Fuck His Girlfriend During the James Beard Reception Because He’s a Sad, Jealous Fuck.

“Carmy, please,” you beg, scooting your hips off the counter and pulling him up from the ground. Your demand rips him from his own self deprecating thoughts.

“I need you inside of me. Now.”

You need him.

“Turn around,” is all he says.

He’s not sure where he gets the confidence for such a demand and it has you clenching around nothing.

You’re more than happy to oblige as you whisper out a ‘yes,’ and turn yourself around to face the mirror. You can hear the sound of him unzipping his pants, then he’s hiking up the skirt of your dress once more. He puts his hands on your hips to steady you – maybe even to steady himself – and you can feel the head of his cock running through your folds.

Just when you think you may die if you don’t get what you want, you let out the loudest cry you think has ever come out of your mouth as he pushes inside of you. You gasp, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as you feel him shudder against your back. Your head hangs low, just focusing on memorizing how every single inch of him feels inside of you.

Carmy’s thrusts are slow at first, deep and deliberate thrusts burying himself all the way to the hilt. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you is really testing his patience here as he thinks he may go insane.

Back out.

Then back in.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet. So fuckin’ perfect for me. God, I love being inside of you,” he groans, enjoying his last few slow and deep thrusts.

He’s got one hand on your hips and the other, wrapped around your waist. As he begins to speed up the pace of his thrusts, the hand around your waist goes to the counter too, to brace himself.

“Carmen,” you moan his name, as he starts to go faster. “Yes. Perfect for you. Only you.”

Only you.

Your words cause him to smirk, and the sounds you’re making only encourage him to keep fucking into you like he means it.

“Look at yourself, baby,” he says, his words causing you to squeeze around him. He groans, his eyes rolling back, before he returns his gaze to the mirror.

When you lock eyes, it’s like you’ve been set on fire. Your skin feels hot, and the prolonged eye contact has you squeezing around him as you start to grind against him. You feel lightheaded, breathless, purely at his mercy.

Carmy holds your gaze through the mirror and you want to commit this photo to memory. You watch your reflections in the mirror, seeing your face change as he speeds up again. His hands are everywhere: in your hair, grabbing you breasts, tracing over the little marks he’s left all over your chest.

“This how I make you feel? Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel,” he asks, and you think this is the most vocal he’s been during sex.

“So good, Car,” you’re panting. He grabs a handful of your hair, guiding your head to the side so that he can kiss you. You manage to continue your praise in between wet, sloppy, and desperate kisses, and desperate thrusts between the both of you.

“So fuckin’ good. So high. Like I’ll never come back down.”

He’s satisfied with your answer, feeling more and more confident with each thrust. You can tell he likes it, so you decided, why the hell not?

“You feel incredible inside of me, baby,” you continue, wanting nothing more than to appease him.

He’s swallowing your moans in his mouth, as he continues to fuck you, your pushing your ass back against him, your hands bracing against the mirror. You see stars as he hits that spot inside of you – the one that makes you let out a sob – and he’s bending you over the counter so that he can find that spot again and again. Carmy presses his forehead against your shoulder as his hands move underneath your skirt once again, rubbing fierce circles around your clit, trying to take you there with him. He knows he won’t last long when you’re moaning his name like that. He looks up for a moment, enjoying the reflection in the mirror a little too much, before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, feeling himself get closer… closer…

You can feel he’s close too, so you say something, something you know will bring him over the edge.

“Want you to cum inside of me.”

“That what you want? Want me to fill you up? Have me dripping down your legs when any other fucko tries to talk to you tonight. Tries to even fuckin’ look at you…” he asks, his breath ragged and sentences becoming increasingly choppy.

He's leaving little kisses and bite marks all over your upper back as he continues to fuck you.

“Yes,” you pant, moaning his full name once again.

“Fffffffuck, baby. That’s so hot,” he stutters, his thrusts becoming more erratic. He grabs a handful of your ass, chasing his high with you.

You’re squeezing your eyes shut so hard you see stars when he finds that spot again, and you remember that he wanted you to watch. You blink open your eyes, breathless as you take in the image of your boyfriend fucking you from behind. He’s got his forehead resting on your shoulder. You feel the delicious contradiction of pain and pleasure once again, as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, in the same place from before.

So close. And you're already so tender.

“Carmen. Yes. Right there. Please, baby. Fuck. Don’t stop,” you’re crying out as you as your walls clamp down around him. It’s like an explosion erupts inside of you and you feel that you perhaps are on another fuckin’ plane of existence from the way he makes you feel.

Your eyes close again as he fucks you through your orgasm, taking you higher and higher. The way your walls are squeezing around him have him on edge and he gives you one, two, and then a third thrust before painting your walls with his release too.

He stops, resting his head on your back again, still buried all the way inside of you.

Both of your heavy pants fill the room, before you interrupt the status quo with a laugh.

“Holy shit, babe,” you finally say, exasperated and completely fucked out.

He pulls out of you, and you have to put a hand down on the counter he just bent you over, for balance as you stand up straight. You can hear Carmen pulling his pants back up and you’re adjusting your dress as you turn to look at him. His eyes are fixed on the button of his trouser pants, as you grab his face for another long, lust-filled kiss.

“What do you say… to getting out of here? Maybe continuing this at home?” you propose, your voice hoarse from what you’ve just done. Your forehead is still pressed to his and you want nothing more for him to say ‘yes.’

“Fuck yes. Please,” he practically groans, wondering how it’s possible for him to be hard again already.

“I’ll order a car,” you agree, reaching for where you left your phone on the dressing room counter.

“Surge rates, babe” he sighs, the disappointment evident in his voice as he issues the little reminder.

You shoot him a look that says ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me?’

“I will pay all the surge rates in the world, if I get to have you again, as soon as possible,” you state, and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to wait till you get home.

You glance back down to your phone, your fingers moving quickly through the right buttons to get a car on the way. As soon as you see the confirmation, your swiping out of the app, and over to an unread message:

Sydney: So that was weird. Where did you guys go?

You: Out for some air. Sorry, we’ll be right back in.

Sydney: Angel wants pizza and a few of us are gonna go. Wanna come with?

You: Think we’re gonna head home. Breakfast tomorrow? My treat.

Sydney: 100%

You: Congratulations again, friend. Love you.

“What’s going on?” Carmy asks, as he sees you fiercely texting away.

“Nothin’,” you answer, seeing the Uber notification popping up on your phone. “Just telling everyone we’re gonna head home.”

You turn your back to the mirror to examine the damage, immediately spotting Carmy’s bite mark on your shoulder.

“Carmen,” you sigh, fingertips running over the huge bite mark on your shoulder – the one he left when he made while cumming inside of you.

Carmy takes a look, a small smirk on his lips as he sees what you’re referring to. He has to admit that he’s almost… proud of himself as he leans over, leaving a soft kiss against one of the rapidly forming purple bite marks left on the back of your shoulder.

As much as he’d like to show the entire culinary world that you’re his, he removes the suit jacket he just put back on, and hands it to you.

“Here. You can wear this.”

You giggle, taking it and appreciating Carmen’s act of chivalry.

“As much as I’d love to do a walk of shame through a room full of the world’s best chefs… think I’ll keep this one between me and the one that just fucked me,” you joke playfully, as you kiss him as a ‘thank you.’

You check your reflection in the mirror as you drape the coat strategically over your shoulders, making sure you both look somewhat presentable enough to flee the scene with dignity.

“Carm?” you ask.

“Before we leave. I just-, I want you to-,” you stammer, uncertain if you’re doing the right thing by telling him. You’d hate to play into Nate’s little game – even if you both won after what just happened.

“Hmm?”

“Just… you know… for the sake of factual accuracy and not that we’re playing Nate’s game at all but... you and I hooked up first. Nate just doesn’t know that.”

He nods in response, trying not to make it seem like a big deal.

But it certainly makes him feel better.

“Well, if we’re being factually accurate…” he offers up in response. “I know you always thought our whole rivalry thing was one sided… but it wasn’t.”

“No?”

“Rode that guy as hard as I could, every chance I got,” he confesses, in reference to your old, very toxic work environment.

“Because he deserved it?”

“Because I hated how much he flirted with you.”

You shake your head with a small smile. Your phone is buzzing in your hand, letting you know that your Uber has arrived.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Bear.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #sydney adamu #make my heart surrender #carmy smut #carmy berzatto smut

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ticktokrobotsnot · 11 months

Text

Vapor

This is Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his not-so-shit-restaurant and gets invited over for family dinner.

Word Count: 10k

The sky was blood orange and the reflection on the store window was mesmerizing. Y/n was supposed to be in the office getting ready for the full day ahead of her but she couldn’t resist slacking off for a bit, it was nice to finally enjoy the restaurant with no one inside. Y/n needed to be here early when a potential vendor came by to give some quotes. Carmen’s initial reaction was to stand his ground and act like some faux bodyguard because he couldn't fathom why some “sick fuck” would want to be alone with a woman in a restaurant at the ass crack of dawn without them having bad intentions—said it wasn't safe at all. Y/n had to inform him that the, “sick fuck” was a woman. And as soon as Carmen heard that, and realized they were going to be talking numbers for a while, he ran off to the farmer's market, wanting no part in that snooze fest.

Y/n grabbed her laptop and started reviewing the binders she organized. Just as y/n was about to check her phone for any messages, she heard a knock at the door. A pretty blond woman looks at y/n with a bit of confusion. This woman wasn’t expecting to see y/n and y/n wasn't expecting to see this woman. Y/n walked to the door and opened a crack.

“Who are you?” Y/n questioned.

“I could ask you the same thing.” The women laughed but y/n wasn’t finding this funny.

“Natalie…” Y/n shook her head like a bouncer sending a teeager away without his fake ID.

“Natalie Berzatto.” She clarified and y/n recalled the name as a co-signer for The Beef, now The Bear. Y/n opened the door a bit more to let her in.

Y/n gave her name but she didn’t know what else to say but Natalie was already filling the space.

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Carmen won't stop talking about you. You really saved our asses. Especially with the file organizing stuff, I found the old payroll stuff in like a minute, you're a real savant with stuff like that. Carmy is a real sticker for cooking but he is a real shit-”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Natalie was nervous.

Y/n knew that Natalie was a part of Carmen’s family but she didn’t know how they were connected. One plausible scenario was that she was Micheal’s widowed girlfriend or wife, which would explain why anyone would co-sign the disaster that Micheal had created and promptly left. Y/n wondered why Carmen would be getting so chummy with his widowed sister-in-law, but then again men have done worse.

Y/n bit the bullet, “How do you know Carmen?”

“I'm his sister… Sugar?” Y/n was starting to feel like a real idiot for not being able to piece these easy deductions together, she was losing her edge because it was to fucking early in the morning.

“Yes, Richie told me that “Sugar” was going to stop by this week. What can I do for you?” Y/n didn’t mention that she thought Sugar was going to be a stripper because of the name.

“Actually I came to pick some old tax stuff… Micheal’s tax returns.” Y/n guided her to the office. Even if she didn’t look back she knew that Natalie was spying on her binders and laptop laid out on the counter, trying to find out a bit about y/n.

“So, Carmy tells me that you two used to work together back in New York.”

“Yeah it was only for a few years.”

“Were you close?” Natalie probed.

“We were…strangers at best.” Y/n chose to leave out the messy parts of her and Carmen’s origins.

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be true, he actually came to my place one day, pretty late. You know why?" Y/n, not knowing the answer, simply shrugged her shoulders.

"He said he needed to make an important phone call, someone from his old job. He said that he wanted to ask for a bit of help." Natalie continued, her voice tinged with wishfulness "I thought maybe he was finally going to therapy or something." Y/n felt a strange sensation, like she was staring directly into the sun, hope gave Natalie a beautiful glow.

Natalie's smile softened as she added, "And you know what? He made that phone call right on our porch." Her words carried a touch of warmth. "Well, at least he's reaching out for help. It's a good thing, right?"

“I recommended therapy to him too but I think we would need to put a gun to his head for him to actually go." Natalie let out a humored exhale.

There was a lull of silence after she handed the tax returns. Y/n could sense that Natalie wanted to talk some more so y/n directed her to the bar stools out front. She checked her phone and saw that her vendor had a family emergency and needed to reschedule. After shooting a quick ok, she directed herself to face Natalie.

"You can ask me anything. I've got plenty of time to kill." Y/n offered, feeling generous considering the recent kiss shared with Natalie's brother just a week ago.

“I was here a few times but I never had a chance to meet you?”

“I was probably apartment hunting.” Natalie looked like she was debating asking her next question.

“What did you think of Carmen when you guys were back in New York?”

“He was like every other chef.”

“Nothing else? No pulling force?”

“No pulling force.”

“You moved state lines for him and you're saying there was no pulling force?”

“He asked me for help and I gave him some.”

“You chose to stay. There had to be a pull.”

“The restaurant spoke to my soul, I had to stay.” Y/n was bluffing.

“Bullshit, there was a pull.” Natalie said with a self fulfilled smirk like she had won a point in their imaginary game.

Natalie continued, “You know, he won a Michelin star. A man who cooks…is not too bad.”

“I don’t eat gourmet food. It’s pretentious.” Y/n didn’t want to make too much out of the kiss and make Carmen panic.

“I'm sure he can make something you will like.”

“I have yet to eat something of his that would warrant him having a Michelin star.”

“You don’t like his cooking?”

“I don’t like anyone’s cooking.” Natalie couldn’t come up with something else. Point to y/n. A smile spread across y/n’s face and Natalie was relieved to realize that y/n wasn’t being serious.

“What do you like doing?” Natalie probed.

“I spend most of my time working here but I also read.”

“Why did you leave New York?” Natalie blurted out.

“I don’t like working with other people, my boss was all over me. I thought Chicago would be a nice change of pace.”

Y/n saw Natalie unlock her phone to respond to a text from someone named Pete, who had a pink heart near his name. Y/n knew that memorizing people’s passwords was an invasion of their privacy but it was fun to be a bit nosy.

Y/n was also tired of getting the third-degree, she was hoping for a few fun questions asking if she ever murdered anyone or if she ever was contacted to be a part of a bank heist. She would be lying if she wasn’t a bit afraid that whatever she said would be relayed to Carmen so she didn’t want to say anything too damning.

“You read romance?” Y/n saw the book peeking out of Natalie’s bag, it was one that she had read before.

“Yeah, they’re my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too. I liked that one.” Y/n pointed at the book peaking out.

“I hate it, it's filled with miscommunication. I’m only finishing it to justify the 12 dollars I spent.” Natalie said with a fake pout.

“I love miscommunication because I suck at talking to people too. Much better than the one I just finished.”

“What killed your book?”

“Third-act break up.” Natalie nodded her head, it seems like they agreed.

Y/n couldn't help but feel relieved; while the nature of Y/n's relationship with Carmen remained uncertain, it was evident that Natalie would become a more integral part of the restaurant. Carmen's recent discovery of three hundred thousand dollars hidden in tomato cans had sparked ambitious plans for renovating the place. Even if she ended up being nothing serious with Carmen, she needed to secure a stable support who wouldn’t completely hate her if shit hit the fan.

They continued to talk about a few books that they had read, a few so trashy that they had to hide their faces in embarrassment from each other when reading the summary out loud.

The door chimed and both women looked over to Carmen who was holding a few bags of produce and baked goods. Y/n went over and plucked the receipts for the top of one of the bags, she didn’t bother helping Carmen because he wouldn’t have let her help anyways. Carmen was gracious enough to put all the receipts together so she wasn’t digging to find them, she kept a record of them to write them off as a business deduction.

“Nat, you’re here early?” Carmen spared a glance before opening a box of croissants to share and then disappearing to the kitchen to put everything away.

“Yeah I had to pick something up, y/n was so kind to help me so early in the morning. Isn’t she just the best?”

“Yeah…How did it go with the vendor?” Carmen mindlessly mumbled while busying himself with a notebook of recipe ideas.

“Rescheduled.” Y/n didn’t look up, engrossed in cataloging some expensive mushrooms for record keeping. $268.43 for some mushrooms was honestly so ridiculous y/n needed to squint to see if she was seeing this right.

“I need to return the favor.” Natalie started.

“It was just a few folders, you really don’t-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on friday?” Y/n felt like she was performing front and center.

“I couldn’t-.”

“Please, Pete never wants to talk to me about…” Natalie was raising her eyebrows in the most unsubtle way possible so she didn’t expose y/n's softer side and her penchant for reading romance novels. Y/n couldn’t help but hide her face in embarrassment, “Yeah…fine. Just tell me what time.”

Observing the exchange, Carmen couldn't help but wonder if this was how dogs felt when humans engaged in their own incomprehensible conversations.

Y/n was starting to feel like she was edging closer and closer to Carmen’s limit. Kissing in the back alley of a restaurant and on the car ride to and from work was very different from being invited to his sister’s house for dinner. It carried a weight of intimacy, commitment, and solidity that made Y/n slightly uneasy, wondering if this was too much for Carmen. She waited for the other shoe to drop, Carmen would subtly show his discontent by telling Natalie that she shouldn’t force y/n to go to that dinner, which was just an excuse to create some distance. Y/n was surprised when Carmen asked what type of desert he should bring instead.

Y/n kept her cool and excused herself to go to the office so she could get back to work.

Carmen and Natalie moved to the kitchen where Carmen would experiment for a bit. Natalie sat on a stool next to Carmen who started washing produce.

“She is very smart.” Natalie whispered. She took a glance at the closed office door.

“Yeah. Great with the books.” Carmen peeled and diced some garlic.

“Nice too.”

“She is very nice.” Carmen started cutting some nepitella. The additional “very” caused some alarm bells to ring in Natalie’s head. She hid her smirk.

“Everything about her is nice,” Natalie made sure to pay close attention to Carmen’s face, “Nice personality, nice face-” Carmen took a worried glance at the office door and then looked up at Natalie with wide eyes.

“Why, why, what are you-?” He was flustered.

“I’m just sharing my observations. You don’t think she has a nice face-?”

“This is a business, we try to keep professional.” Carmen hid his fumble with fake professionality, unfortunately Natalie saw right through it.

“Try?” Natalie teased. Carmen looked away to pretend to look for some dried porcini. He felt like an idiot. He understood why people used to see him as an easy target when he was younger, he basically showed everyone his buttons, and asked them to get pushed. Carmen continued to chop in silence.

“I'm sorry, I just got a bit excited. I won't push.” Natalie gave her brother the benefit of the doubt, she always thought he would never get into a serious relationship but he liked y/n and y/n seemed like the serious girlfriend type. Natalie couldn’t help but nudge Carmen in the right direction.

Carmen chopped in silence for a few minutes, debating if he should tell Natalie about the kiss. In his mind, he didn’t know if it was too soon for him to introduce his girlfriend to his family. Calling y/n his girlfriend felt unreal, past him wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it.

He handed his notebook to Natalie so she could read measurements to him, he wanted her here for just a bit longer till he gained the courage to tell her about y/n.

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms was the first test item of the morning, and he had to soak the dried porcini for 30 minutes, he was bummed that the market didn't have the fresh kind but he knew he would get the real shit when y/n got a hold of that vendor. He looked up at Natalie and tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. Carmen avoided the alley because he knew that y/n would look there first and he didn’t want her to overhear anything. They walked over to a nearby supermarket and started roaming the aisles. It was nearly empty because it was six in the morning.

“I did something…and I need you to not…just listen and don’t make it a big deal.”

“I got it, Carmy.”

“A while ago, I…” Carmen looked at all the different types of instant noodles they had on display. “So, we were in deep shit with these pre-orders and I was a mess and y/n and I were talking after…” Carmen moved over to the boxed pasta, he didn't intend to buy anything but he did read the nutritional facts.

“I umm, asked her to…” Jesus, Carmen wondered, why he didn’t make more friends so he didn’t have to talk to his older sister about something like this. Richie didn’t seem capable of giving any advice that wasn’t, “Just Do It”.

“We ki…” Natalie kept her face hard but the second that Carmen turned around to look at a box of elbow pasta, she couldn't help herself but let out a small, barely audible squeal of delight. Her eyes widened, and a grin threatened to break through her determined facade. Natalie quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her elation, making sure not to let Carmen catch a glimpse. She stifled her excitement with every fiber of her being, preserving the illusion of calmness for when Carmen turned back around, none the wiser.

“It’s been a while, and we k…” Carmen didn’t know how he was supposed to maturely ask for advice when he couldn’t even say a kiss in front of his sister while cringing. Carmen couldn’t do this, it was too open, too vulnerable.

Nat cut him some slack and started asking questions instead, “Was it a one time thing?” Carmen subtly shook his head no. Her lips parted as she squeezed a jar of Pego to contain herself.

“Do you regret it?” Carmen didn’t respond but that didn’t mean no, that ment that she was getting closer to the root of the problem.

“Do you think she’s going to regret it?” Carmen’s shoulder’s raised slightly, bingo.

“Why don’t I gauge how she is feeling at dinner.” Nat knew he was about to run away from her for exposing too much and she had to give him an incentive to not follow his instincts.

She continued, “We talked earlier, she said she hates your cooking.” Carmen’s head snapped up, Nat knew that y/n was just joking but it was still a bit funny to mess with Carmen.

The look of shock transported her back to when she was eight sitting next to Carmy and watching Micheal convince him to finish a glass of milk or else he would lose all of his teeth to a calcium deficiency. This wasn’t the time to reminisce but it made her heart warm knowing that even after going through so much, there was still a part of young Carmy that persevered. She was feeling the burning in the back of her eyes, her hormones were making her sentimental.

“Yeah she said that your food fucking blows.” Carmen caught on and let out a small laugh.

They both roamed in the aisle moving on to juices. Sugar free, diet, pineapple, orange. Carmen’s eyebrows raised when he saw the price of orange juice before putting it down and deciding to just make his own.

Carmen started, “She isn’t the type of person who changes her mind easily,” but if she can make that shift to see him in a good light, maybe she'll stick around and eventually see the real Carmen—a pathetic, insecure loser. All he did was make a promise to her but he knew it meant nothing without actions, and he was unsure if he could control his anger or keep his obsessiveness in check when something especially difficult happened. If another shit storm made its rounds in the kitchen, would he really be able to be the bigger person? Carmen doubted it.

Carmen just ripped off the bandaid, “I don’t know how to…I want her to not hate me. I know I'm going to..” Carmen waited till a child next to them moved to the other end of teh aisle towards his dad, “..fuck it up, but I dont want that to happen.”

“What makes you think she is going to hate you?”

“When we were talking…she told me that I should have done better. And that I…needed to be “stable”, but I don’t know how to be that for myself, let alone someone else.”

“She isn’t asking you to do it for her, she wants you to do it for yourself.” Natalie offered.

“Its like having to solve a word search to answer a stupid fucking puzzle. I don’t…” Carmen sighed in defeat. Nat knew that he was strong and it was impossible for her to fix this for him but that still made her palms itch seeing him struggle like this. She racked her brain, desperately seeking any glimmer of a solution that could offer him even a shred of relief.

They both walked out the market towards the restaurant. “It's really hard…and it's not that I don’t want to, it just feels impossible.” Carmen muttered, he was close to giving up.

A burning sensation welled up in the back of Natalie's throat, and she instinctively placed her hand on Carmen's shoulder as a gesture of support and to her surprise Carmen looked at her, saw her glassy eyes and hugged her. The shock knocked a few tears from her eyes..

Carmy was not a selfish person but Nat noticed that he was becoming a bit more aware that he takes up much more space then he originally thought he did. He now knew that his presence was big enough to be able to tear people down but was also big enough to offer meaningful support. He had come to understand his own significance, and this realization struck Natalie like a tidal wave, causing her to burst into uncontrollable sobs.

“Does crying mean I'm fucked, Sugar?” Carmen asked, his voice tinged with humor and uncertainty, as he gently rubbed Natalie's back for comfort. Nat shook her head no.

“You'll be okay. You always are.” Nat wiped her face before continuing to walk back to the restaurant.

Carmen snuck a few glances to see what was making his sister a sobbing mess, she wasn’t the type to break down like that, “Are you good?” Natalie nodded her head.

“Everything good at home?” It felt strange to say the word home, even after visiting multiple countries and living in many different apartments, Carmen couldn’t really call any place home. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary of warmth, Carmen's closest experience to that feeling was back in his family house—a place where the warmth was scalding and suffocating. Where it was a constant waiting game, anticipating the intense heat to escalate and cause everything, and everyone, to boil over.

Carmen was acutely aware that he would never have a home quite like Sugar's. He couldn't help but wonder if he had what it took to be like Pete for someone else—always helpful, kind, and perhaps a little too accommodating. He questioned whether he had the capacity to fulfill that role and maintain his own sense of self. Granted, what about his “self” was worth preserving?

Natalie nodded her head but Carmen wasn’t convinced. “It's just a lot, you know. Seeing the place getting renovated. I used to hate that place, but..” She sighed, “...I picked up Micheal’s tax returns, I didn’t even need them for anything…I just wanted to see them to know what he was going through towards the…'' end. She didn’t need to finish for Carmen to know what she was talking about. They were in front of the restaurant and Carmen gave her a side hug and against his better judgment he tried his hand in verbal reassurance so he could be there for her, fully.

“I think he tried his best to make everything look fine, and it’s nice to know that he was at least able to pretend till the...end.” Sugar looked up at him and didn’t comment on his successful attempt to be her support, not wanting to scare him.

They wordlessly walked in the restaurant and Carmen finished up his dish. He made enough for one plate because he was expecting to have to remake it a few times. He grabbed a small plate and served a separate plate for y/n before knocking on her door. She looked up at him, not hearing him and gave him a “hmm” which echoed in his chest. She sat with them in the kitchen, taking her laptop with her. They all took the first bite together. Carmen watched both women’s reactions to gauge their uncensored reactions. Natalie’s eyebrows raised and she gave him a nod of approval.

Y/n took a bite and looked up from her plate so see Carmen staring at her. “Why are you staring?”

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s good.” Y/n put her fork down and propped up her head on her hand.

“But, you didn’t-”

“I’m not really a foodie, so food is never like…” Y/n made an explosion sound and flicked her hands open, “Good, is the best you going to get out of me.” Natalie wondered how a chef and an anti-gourmet foodie were going to work.

“Is all food just ”good”?” Y/n looked up and tried to think of food that was better than good.

“I like mom's cooking.”

“What is her food like?��

“Intense…subtly in food doesn’t mean anything to me because I don’t taste the difference.” Carmen was waiting for more for y/n.

“I ate a lot of spicy, sour and bitter food growing up. My mom didn’t think that kids should eat different things than everyone else, so I guess pasta and mushrooms will always be just “good”.” Y/n felt like she was just shitting all over his profession but he asked for her opinion so he couldn’t get offended now.

Carmen nodded his head before walking away. Y/n pierced her lips and looked over to Natalie wondering if she hurt Carmen’s feelings. Natalie looked just as bewildered. Just as y/n was about to find Carmen, he came out with a few more ingredients.

“What are you making?”

“Something you will like.”

“I liked what you made-”

“Good is not enough.”

“Come on, Carmen, it's something that everyone will like, it’s going to kill opening day.”

“But you have to like it.” Y/n sighed before indicating that he should continue.

“You won’t be able to serve the food I like to eat, it would be considered a biological weapon.” Y/n was warning him but Carmen thought she was teasing him. He would learn to listen to her warning in the future. He put the porcini mushrooms to the side before getting started on some penne all’arrabbiata.

Y/n laughed at him knowing that he wouldn’t have the courage to spice up a dish to her standard before grabbing her laptop so she could get some work done and also talk to Natalie about contractors.

While Carmen chopped and stirred, y/n subtly glanced up at his flexing back and strong arms. She thought she was hiding it well but when she went to check if Natalie noticed she saw that Natalie was already watching her. Natalie snickered as y/n hid her face behind her laptop to hide her embarrassment. Carmen turned around to see what was so funny but was just met with the view of both of them with their faces hiding behind their hands.

Y/n felt someone pass behind her and knew it was Sydney without having to look up. “Hey guys, what are we making?” She took a bite out of the pasta, which was slightly cooled but she still nodded her head.

“It’s fire, chef. It would be great if it was hot, I want to remake it to see what it was supposed to taste like.”

Y/n couldn’t say that she completely forgave Sydney but y/n did respect that she went to Richie to give some type of apology after a while. Y/n could accept that the two of them wouldn’t be best friends, they just needed to be able to work together.

Y/n went to Carmen’s locker before pulling out a few Tums for everyone, it looks like today was going to be pasta day because of her and she didn’t want to send everyone home with a stomach ache.

Carmen continued with his pasta, and served it in front of y/n. All the women took a bite,

“It’s got a kick to it.” Natalie said while reaching for a food container filled with water while wiping sweat from her brow. Sydney gave Carmen a, “This is fire, chef.” Y/n couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the comment because she knew she couldn't quite match their shared vernacular and the ease with which they expressed themselves with food. What private passion did y/n and Carmen share?

Carmen stared y/n down as she took a bite.

“It’s good.” Carmen waited for her to elaborate. “It’s too subtle.”

Carmen smirked, “Yeah, next time I'll just make you a ball of fire for you to enjoy.” Y/n gave him a shit eating grin, it was just too fun not to mess with him, and when she saw him smile back she felt a bit of imaginary nostalgia, this was what she longed for back in New York.

The restaurant was still closed for renovations and after a while a few other crew members came by to do some demo. Y/n was stuck on hold with the inspector's office when she was approached by Natalie, “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment so I've got to go, I’ll see you on Friday at eight.”

The rest of the week flew by because they were on a very strict time crunch to open in a few months. Y/n wasn’t very worried but she could feel the nerves from everyone else and she knew it would be in bad taste to tell them to toughen up, so she let them be grown ups and deal with their own anxieties.

On Friday, y/n left early to get ready for dinner, she opened an old moving box and pulled out a dress that she wore to an old work function. It was very tasteful because it was freezing outside. Y/n grabbed her gifts before running into Carmen’s car. Y/n took one look at Carmen and had to do a double take to make sure that she went into the right person’s car. Carmen’s hair was lighty slicked back, probably with pomade, and he was wearing a deep blue sweater with a white collar.

“I didn’t know you had clothes other than aprons and Dickies.”

“You look..” Carmen marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with an inner radiance, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew he wasn’t able to get the full picture yet because they were in a dark car but he could only imagine what she would do to him when they went to the well lit house. “..great.” Carmen wanted to punch himself for being so unoriginal but he couldn’t focus on anything.

“Thank you, you look good too. Blue is definitely your color..” Carmen’s fingers loosened around the steering wheel, compliments had always made him uneasy; he spent the majority of his life trying to make himself as small as possible and now he was pushed into the spotlight and he wondered if he even liked it?

“Carmen, can you look at me for a second?” And when he swiveled his head towards y/n, she squished his face lighty before giving his puckered lips a soft kiss. Just as she was about to lean back into her seat, Carmen, unable to resist, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grasping the back of her neck and drawing her in for a deeper, more passionate second kiss.

Yeah, he liked it.

“We are going to be late.” Y/n whispered before giving him one last peck. Carmen, still in a daze, fiddled with the radio so he could get his head straight. The ride to his sister’s house was quiet barring the soft jazz. Y/n was very nervous, they never had that conversation that said that they were official and for all she knew she was just a friend that Carmen kissed from time to time. She resisted the urge to ask right now because she was scared to find out that they were nothing more. She would savor the few minutes before she was inevitably introduced as a friend, or worse a co-worker.

They pulled into Natalie’s driveway and got out of the car, y/n grabbed the bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine and they rang the doorbell.

"Why are you holding the tray like that?" Y/n asked, noticing how Carmen clung to it like a shield. Before she could receive a response, Natalie opened the door with a warm greeting, inviting them inside. Y/n handed over the gifts, but Carmen still clung onto his belongings. Just then, Peter descended the stairs, seemingly about to approach Carmen for a hug before his gaze landed on Carmen's protective tray. He hesitated and stepped back, realizing it was acting as a barrier. Y/n stifled a laugh, biting her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at Carmen’s immaturity.

Carmen greeted, “Pete.” Y/n could feel the dislike and she felt bad for Pete because he seemed nice.

“Carmen, it’s good to see you, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” A sense of numbness overwhelmed her. It was like when people get run over by a semi and say that they don’t feel anything. Y/n extended her hand to shake Pete's, and she followed him into the living room.

Carmen went into the kitchen to help Natalie and y/n made pleasant conversation with Pete, he seemed a bit soft but she could understand why Natalie might want someone like him. Y/n pretended to be interested when he showed her his Cubs memorabilia, she initially thought the Cubs were a fictional sports team made by the New Girl writers.

Y/n and Pete walked over to the kitchen and asked if they needed any help. Pete looked like he wanted to actually be helpful but y/n had her fingers crossed hoping she didn’t have to do any cooking. It was weird to see Carmen let someone else take the lead while he watched. Even with Sydney, he still watched over everything like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust her, it's just because he wouldn’t let her fail.

Y/n watched as everyone spoke and she wondered where she fit in. Natalie and Carmen were obviously close and Pete was doing his best to get close to Carmen, trying to bridge the obvious gap between them. Y/n had to stop herself from telling Carmen to either be nicer or for Pete to drop it.

Other than being Carmen’s new “girlfriend” and sharing small talk, what else was there for her to talk about? Y/n didn’t know them well but she could tell there was a lot of subtext between the three of them that added weight to their interactions that she wasn’t privy to yet. She was a flame trying to suck in any bubble of oxygen so she could ignite, she needed more information before she could actually join them.

It felt like she was reading Dune for the first time, being dropped in the middle of an already moving plot and she was scrambling to play catch up. Carmen had a lot of triggers and she wondered if Natalie was the same. Even if they acted completely differently, y/n could tell that they were sidestepping something, like they were avoiding talking about a gaping bullet wound, and if siblings were acting like that it means that it's a problem with the parents. Despite the fact that they were in the kitchen, the three of them weren’t talking about the food. Y/n made a mental checklist of a few rules; 1. Don’t bring up parents 2. Don't mention food because it's a trigger 3. Pay attention to Natalie because she was not as good at hiding her feelings as Carmen.

Dinner was served and they all took a seat, y/n took slow sips of wine and saw that Natalie’s wine was slightly darker than hers. Y/n was sitting across Natalie so she recognized the smell too, apple. She was drinking sparkling apple cider. Y/n hid her smirk by talking another sip, she would be a spy or something because she was killing it in the recon department.

Dinner was starting to feel stiff, y/n took a deep breath and turned to Natalie, “Your cooking is to die for.” Natalie tucked in her lips but couldn’t help but hide her smile, y/n never told Carmen anything like that, barring the first day she got to Chicago, it was a petty way of getting back at him for blindsiding her by calling her his girlfriend.

“Thanks, It's a family recipe.” Y/n wanted to stab herself with the fork, she just broke rule one and two. Just as y/n was about to make some asinine comment to change topics, Carmen did it for her.

“Can you pass me the bread, Sugar?” Y/n found her opening.

“Sugar, that’s a nice nickname, what’s the story?”

Natalie paused and y/n had a feeling she fucked up, “We were having this Chrismas family thing and I added a cup of sugar into the gravy instead of salt. The name just stuck.” Y/n definitely fucked up, she was breaking rules left and right. Y/n scrabbled to put herself in the same level as Natalie.

“I’ve been there. My parents were having a few co-worker over for lunch and they brought a box of these expensive mangos and I was told to make some smoothies because it was boiling that day. I filled up the sugar container with salt without noticing and made them smoothies with a ton of salt.” Y/n saw that all eyes were on her and she didn’t allow herself to be nervous because she was trying to get a deeper point across.

Y/n continued, “I have never heard that many people gag all at once.” Their faces broke into a smile.

“What did your mom say?” Bingo, looks like the taboo parent could be narrowed down to their mother.

“She didn’t say anything bad, she and her co-workers just laughed. I mean I was a kid and we all make mistakes. I ended up making lemonade instead.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up,“It’s a shame that all those mangos went to waste.” Natalie joked.

“Waste?” Y/n had a fake offense, “I drank the rest to prove that it wasn’t that bad.”

“Was it that bad?” Pete asked.

“My blood pressure was through the roof. It was the first time I ever got a headache.”

The rest of dinner was a bit more relaxed, y/n was expecting Carmen to talk a bit more because these were his people but it looked like she would have to do the talking for the both of them. They finished up dinner and y/n got up to help them clean up. It was y/n and Carmen alone in the kitchen while Natalie went upstairs to check on something, aka she needed some rest and Pete went to check up on her.

As Carmen washed the dishes, Y/n stood by, towel in hand, drying them. The domestic scene felt comfortable, yet she couldn't determine if she truly enjoyed this newfound domesticity. She wondered if in Carmen’s eyes she was merely playing the role of the perfect partner – someone who could effortlessly navigate his family dynamics, fix his business, and be his own manic pixie dream girl.

A selfish thought crossed Y/n's mind. What was she truly gaining from this relationship? She had been too afraid to make a move with Carmen after the kiss, fearing that one misstep could lead her to being shut out completely. She hesitated to voice her preferences about his food, to ask about the nature of their relationship, or to discuss their future plans if this relationship fell through. Y/n wasn't one to dwell in discomfort, except for her previous job, and she felt frustrated that she had to jump through so many hoops just to ensure that Carmen wouldn't leave.

They finished the dishes and y/n could tell that Carmen wanted to check on Natalie but he didn’t want to leave y/n alone. Y/n being a supportive girlfriend, practically pushed him up the steps before walking out the front door and leaning on the porch. Y/n grabbed her jacket and walked out. She underestimated the frigid Chicago air which felt like a sharp slap to her face, serving as a wake-up call. It reminded her that the warm and fuzzy feeling she had been battling within herself was merely fleeting, and that the reality of the world could be much harsher and more painful.

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder why Carmen was even bothering with her, they had nothing in common but the restaurant. Work was everything for him and Sydney, their shared connection always pulled them together despite both of their volatile personalities. What pulled y/n and Carmen together? They both worked in the restaurant but Carmen didn’t have a passion for running said restaurant, it was a mere obligation that y/n took from him. If she stopped working there, what else did they have in common?

Y/n came to the daunting realization that Carmen picked Sydney because he saw potential in her, a chance to let both him and her grow. However, he didn’t pick y/n because he saw something deeper in her, it was an act of embarrassed desperation.

Was she just a means to help Carmen get his shit together? The restaurant meant a lot to Micheal and after he died Carmen stopped seeing the restaurant as something that was out of his reach but as something to connect him to his brother, a small thread connecting the estranged brothers. Y/n was there to hold up the connection in the vaguest of ways, she kept the restaurant afloat so Carmen could come to terms with Micheals’s legacy, good and bad.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door close, she turned her head to see Carmen was already lighting a cigarette. It was difficult for her to be objective when Carmen locked eyes with her with such intensity. Y/n ripped her eyes from him and faced forward looking at the neighbor's yard, they had nice shrubs.

“I thought you left.” Carmen started as he leaned on the railing with y/n. He looked forward to see what was so interesting that y/n couldn’t look him in the face, it was just some trees.

“I needed some air.”

“You could catch a cold.”

“I don’t get sick, sick is a mindset.” Y/n was obviously joking.

She lowered her head so that she could feel the cold metal on her forehead, maybe a different type of pain would make this conversation easier. Her forehead landed on something warm, the back of Carmen’s hand. She turned her head to its side but remained connected to Carmen’s hand. The warmth radiating on her cheek was making her stomach do backflips. Even if she knew she shouldn’t be indulging like this she couldn’t help it. He felt too good and y/n was getting more and more greedy.

“Hey, Carmen?” Carmen was still staring at y/n. “What do we have in common?” He looked taken aback.

“We like each other…” He was starting to feel the slow slitter of nausea because he knew the other shoe was about to drop.

“If we don’t have much in common, what do we talk about?”

“We can talk about whatever we like. It’s nice to…be with someone who isn't wrapped up in the same things as me.” Carmen expressed a genuine warmth in his voice. Carmen wanted to say that she made him feel like the roof wasn’t going to collapse on him and that the small things weren’t going to destroy him but it felt selfish to describe how much he cared for her based on how she made him feel and not on facts about her.

“I don’t care about fancy food.” Y/n blurted out.

Carmen chuckled, “You know about the vendors, where the supplies are sourced, how much they cost, and a bunch of other stuff. You do care, just in a different way than I do.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It gives me perspective. It’s very realistic and grounded.” Y/n knew he was calling her realistic and grounded.

“I like hearing you talk about my food.” Carmen offered.

“Even if it’s just “good”?”

“Especially if it's just "good". That means you're telling me the truth.” Carmen recalled a ninth grade world history lesson about the Rosetta Stone, an artifact written in three different languages and made it possible to translate some ancient language. Though he hadn't fully paid attention during the lesson, Carmen now saw the parallel. If Y/n had the courage to express her opinions on his food, it meant she was being honest with him about everything else.

Y/n cracked a smile before covering her mouth and started laughing. It was a jarring sound, Carmen couldn’t pinpoint what the laugh was meant to convey but he knew it wasn’t good.

“What?” Carmen asked, Y/n rubbed her face with her cold hands.

“You said that you were scared of me a while back but now…” Y/n's laughter softened into a smaller chuckle, conveying a mix of amusement and irony.

“I’m scared of you.” The weight was lifted off her shoulders and slammed down on Carmen's. Y/n wondered if this is how the rest of their relationship was going to be; one person transferring their hurt to the other till the weight became too much to bear.

"It's... I want to bring so many things up to you but..." Y/n wondered if this counted as an accusation. "..you’re so flighty. I don't know what to say that won't make you..." Y/n struggled to find a word that didn't feel so definitive, but the only word that felt honest was, "...leave."

The porch fell into an uneasy silence, both of them grappling with the weight of Y/n's vulnerability.

"I...I didn't realize..." Carmen stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. "I would never just... leave." They both stared in silence, they knew that wasn’t true. Y/n lifted her head leaving the warmth behind, she knew this wouldn’t work if he made false promises. And against everything telling her to just accept his promise as law and ignore any doubts, she couldn’t fool herself like that.

“That’s such bullshit.” Y/n lighty giggled. It felt as though a shark had promised to stop swimming—it was ingrained in their nature. In that lighthearted moment, a mischievous thought crossed Y/n's mind: What would happen if Carmen actually stopped running away? Would he cease to exist, like a fish in space?

Her playful musings, though immature, offered a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. It was a temporary escape, a way to diffuse the tension. Y/n noticed that she brought all this shit up to comfort herself but she was giggling to make him feel safe. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn't help but try to make him feel better.

As the laughter subsided, Y/n met Carmen's eyes, she forced herself to ignore the emotions he was conveying and instead tried to match his eyes with things she had seen in the past. If this ended poorly, she would miss his eyes the most and she wanted to know what else could match in intensity in case she never got to see him like this ever again, nothing came to mind.

Carmen felt like he was backed into a corner, he couldn’t promise her anything without her, justifiably, doubting him.

"I don't want to leave you," Carmen offered, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. It was the most honest response he could offer at that moment. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't feel the urge to run, to escape when things got tough, but he had a genuine desire to stay.

Y/n's eyes met Carmen's, her expression softened. She knew it wasn't a perfect answer, but it was a step forward. It was enough to know that he acknowledged his own complexities and still chose to be present with her.

They stood in the quiet watching neighbors turn off their living room lights and go upstairs. She wanted to test out whether, “They could talk about whatever they wanted too.”

“What do you think they’re doing?” Y/n asked, Carmen parted his lips and turned his face to look at y/n so see if she was serious, she was.

“I think they go to bed and she has this super long night time routine and he is already asleep by the time she gets to bed. You?” Y/n knew that if they ever slept over at each other’s place, that’s exactly what would happen between them.

“She probably got home from a shit day and she starts reading an easy romance book…Do you read any books?”

“They are mostly cooking stuff.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

“You read cookbooks for entertainment?”

“Sometimes, it's a part of the craft.” Carmen realized how fucking pretentious he sounded and was a bit ashamed but seeing y/n refrain from teasing him by bitting her lips made him not want to crawl into a hole and die of shame, her smile was addicting. “…but there is a lot of history and science too. '' Carmen knew he sucked at conversation but he would do anything to keep talking.

“What was your last book?”

Y/n and Carmen kept talking till they lost track of time and eventually when they had reached a comfortable lull, y/n could confidently say that they were in fact capable of holding a conversation about mundane shit.

Against every fiber of her being telling her to end their conversation like this, she couldn’t help but ask, “What happens…if this ends?” Y/n didn’t know if she was supposed to use “if” or “when”; one was cautious, the other was a prophecy.

Carmen didn’t look back at her, instead giving her, “You’ll still have a job…I’m not a dick…all the time.” Y/n lips curved upwards.

“Will you be able to work with someone you’ve been in a relationship with?”

“Yes.” Carmen wondered if the answer could ever be anything other than yes.

Y/n knew that if this ended badly she would be allowed to stick around so that Carmen would have an excuse to throw himself at his work. She would be the catalyst to merge him from an individual to a vague reflection of Micheal’s legacy.

Whether or not Carmen knew it, Micheal was a huge influence in his life and just like Micheal began to isolate himself towards the end, Carmen would do the same if they drifted apart. It was his inherent weakness and a relationship gone sour that would make it difficult for him to break the cycle that Micheal had started.

“I won’t stay if it hurts you, Carmen.”

“I would want you to stay, y/n.”

“There is no trophy that comes with going through unnecessary shit.”

“I know, I would still need you.” Carmen hesitated but eventually placed his hand top on y/n's.

“Because I can do the books?” Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly.

“No…you do more than that. You are…” Carmen read books with a shit ton of adjectives, they had to be descriptive to describe food through text. Despite that, he was at a loss for words to describe her.

"You are..." he began again, this time his voice was a little gentler than before. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find those words that would express everything he felt.

"You are very important to me,". His voice was soft like he was realizing this for the first time.

The second time was meant for y/n, "You are very important to me." I love you, y/n.

Y/n locked eyes with Carmen for a moment.

"You are important to me too." I love you, Carmen.

Neither of them had the courage to say that to each other, wondering if they were the only one’s feeling like this.

They both had jackets on but y/n’s hands were freezing and she could feel Carmen’s hand was also ice cold. She knew that they had both reached their limits but y/n couldn’t help but relish in the cold for a bit longer.

For y/n, the biting cold was always a catalyst for clarity, stripping away the unnecessary and forcing y/n to distill her focus onto the few things that mattered. Amidst the frost, she found solace in the simplicity. It was within this chilling environment that she discovered a clear chance to confront her inner turmoil head-on and confront the world.

Carmen had always been drawn to the intense heat. It was as if the scorching temperatures matched the fire that burned within him, igniting his passion and driving him forward but leaving him with nothing to look back on. Extreme heat was his poison of choice, his way of confronting the world.

Carmen’s heat was turning her mind into a messy slurry of slush. Y/n had to force herself to focus despite the fact that Carmen’s hand was providing her with a sliver of intoxicating warmth.

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend.” Carmen’s head shot up aback by y/n's words. He was excited to introduce her to his family, and he hadn't thought to ask her permission first. He tried to explain himself, his words coming out in a rush.

"I didn't mean to assume anything. I just thought that since we've been seeing each other for a while now, it was... " He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I think you should try asking first.” Carmen stared at y/n not knowing if this was a trap to get rejected twice. He opted for silence.

“Carmen, ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?” Carmen didn't want to say the wrong thing, not when it was so important, for someone so important. Carmen trusted y/n so he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray before taking a deep breath and asking, “Will you be my girlfriend, y/n.”

Y/n wrapped her freezing hands around his neck accidentally grazing her finger on his neck making him shiver. She leaned in against his lip and even though they had kissed before this, Carmen felt like he couldn’t think. Y/n lips barely touching Carmen’s before whispering a soft, “Yes, Carmy.”

Carmen closed the small gap between their lips. And y/n felt a gentle heat seep through the folds of her head making it difficult to focus on her freezing fingers, or her numb toes, or her goosebump riddled legs, or her shivering arms. Y/n felt Carmen pull her closer and even though they were as close as physically possible, it wasn’t enough. Carmen’s lips left y/n’s before trailing down the column of her neck, y/n could feel the blossoming of heat radiate from his lips. Y/n’s hands sank down to Carmen’s waist and slowly drifted up his shirt. The cold sent shivers down his spine as y/n’s hands moved at a glacial pace.

Just as Carmen reached the collar of her jacket he looked up at her and y/n had to resist every irrational and reckless part of her that told her to continue. The realization that they were on Carmen’s sister’s porch made y/n look around to ground herself. She landed on a black box right near the door before looking back to Carmen with her mouth agape and her eyes wide open.

“What?” Carmen questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“We are on your sister's porch.” Y/n said with a thousand yard stare and a distant mutter.

“I’m not a fucking animal, obviously we aren’t going to do this here.” Y/n softly grasped Carmen’s face before turning towards the black box, a doorbell camera.

“Jesus…fuck.” They both looked at each other before y/n scrambled inside with Carmen right behind her. Either they were caught and they had to face Natalie despite the embarrassment or they got to the footage before Natalie saw it.

Y/n let Carmen lead her to Natalie’s room, who thankfully was still laying on her side, Pete had gone to the restroom.

Y/n leaned up to Carmen before whispering, “Distract her.” Carmen sat near Natalie and asked her if she wanted some ginger-ale or if he should stop by a pharmacy.

Natalie's phone was on the nightstand and y/n swiped it when Natalie wasn’t looking before unlocking her phone with the password she acquired from being noisy. She then deleted the footage of the last hour from her Ring app. Y/n wanted to scroll back a few months to watch Carmen call her for the first time but she didn’t have enough time.

Y/n set the phone exactly how she found it and gave Carmen a subtle thumbs up.

“I’m fine, I think I need to sleep this off.” Natalie sat up while glancing at y/n and y/n had to resist freezing like a criminal caught in the spotlight.

“I’m really sorry-” Natalie started.

“Please don’t be. I had a great time. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?” Y/n felt bad for taking advantage of Natalie’s pregnancy induced sickness but this was a matter of prestige, she wouldn’t be able to set foot in this house if Natalie ever saw the footage.

Natalie shook her head no and they said their goodbye’s before Camren and y/n practically tripped over themselves running out of that house. They sprinted to the car and slammed the doors shut before bursting out laughing. Y/n felt like she was a teenager again, sneaking her boyfriend out the fire escape before her mom walked in. Carmen pushed his forehead into the steering wheel to laugh and the sound that echoed felt like it was melting itself into y/n’s brain, forever branded into her memory.

“How many times have you been here, Carmen? You never noticed the fucking camera, you dick?” Y/n struggled to shake off the heat that pulsed up her body, Camren hadn’t even started the car yet and she was burning up.

“I…I never looked, what kind of freak looks?”Carmen said in between laughs. Y/n gave him a fake look of disapproval.

“Turn the car on, Berzatto, you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

Carmen turned on his car before pulling out of Natalie’s driveway, he was still snickering and in the streetlight y/n could see his neck turn bright red.

“Stop by a CVS or something.” Y/n said while fiddling with the radio.

“You think you caught something from Nat.” Y/n resisted telling him that pregnancy wasn’t contagious, men are so fucking stupid.

“You have condoms on you?” Carmen slammed on the break, lucky they were at a red light.

“N...no.” Scarlet crawled up his neck and up his face. Y/n didn’t know someone’s ears could ever get that red before. Carmen stayed still trying to collect his fractured thoughts.

“It's green, Carmen.”

He stepped on the gas and y/n was glad that the roads were practically empty because he was driving like he had all the insurance in the world. He pulled over to a Walgreens and ran out of the car. Y/n shook her head at his shit parking, he was in between two spots. Carmen came back in a minute with a plastic bag, y/n could decipher from the shapes that he had also bought some gatorades too.

Carmen pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t recognize the streets on their ride back, “Your place?”

“Mine is closer.” Carmen replied, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation.

Y/n could help but giggle, she always loved it when he was desperate. She knew it was wrong, but she always felt such a rush of excitement when her control over him was at its pinnacle and they both knew it.

When they reached a stop sign, y/n glanced over at Camren and saw that he was already looking back at her.

They couldn’t seem to care that they were wading in uncharted waters and they couldn’t convince themselves that this was going to end badly enough for them to not at least try. If they looked at each other like that, there was no way they were going to let each other go.

End Notes:

Fire + Ice = Vapor; It took me an embarrassing amount of time to think of that.

There is a lot of tension and maturity that needs to be written in smut for it to be good and I just can’t do that. I tried for this one and I had to close my laptop and take a lap because the second hand embarrassment was too much. So those drafts have been deleted and I’m glad I never have to see them again.

I didn't think people would like Turbulence, I was going to delete it after a few hours and just keep it to myself but i'm glad that people liked it so ig it's here to stay. I tried to keep this one more contained then Turbulence bc writing about multiple days is such a pain.

I really don’t know what else I might write about for these two, or in general, so if you have any suggestions feel free to send them to me. If your suggestion inspires me, you better believe that I'm going to get out of bed at 2 in the morning and start writing. Or we can bury these two in a shallow grave and forget they exist, which is also fine by me because I think fic aged me.

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thatone-brightstar · 1 year

Text

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 4: Bring a fox to a bear fight

Words: 8.7k (wft?!?)

Summary: Tensions with Carmy finally snap.

a/n: In honor of a new poster and release date for season 2, here's chapter 4! Hope you enjoy! xx P.S. There will be some spanish in this but if you're a 'no sabo kid' you can shamelessly use google translate❤️

WARNING: Smut ahead, masturbation, p in v unprotected sex (birth control is mentioned), minors DNI but you'll do what you want so don't say I didn't warn you

You felt it before even opening your eyes. The growing migraine had settled camp between your brows while you slept and his companion, an uneasy stomach, had you crawling out of bed and into the nearest bathroom to dispose of the undigested contents of last night. You ungracefully swatted your hair out of the way with half your head inside the bowl when a shadow stood by the door you had forgotten to close in the rush of the moment.

“Ay, mira que bonito!” You heard your mother’s taunting voice above you. “You had fun last night, mija?” She said in a fake sweetness, one hand rubbing over your heaving back as your stomach spewed itself into the porcelain.

The torture stopped long enough for you to look up at her through narrow slits, then feeling the acid crawl its way back up again.

“Isn’t this punishment enough?” You managed to say through a sore throat, spitting the last bit of red saliva inside and flushing. ‘Fuckin’ daiquiris’

You stood on wobbly knees from the cold tiled floor and rested your face against the wall by the door, your mother staring amused.

“No, those are just consequences, mi amor.” She smirked, reaching to caress your cheek, but stopped midway in distaste when she saw little remains of spit across it. “Maybe when you're clean.”

A soft sneer curled on your lips and you made a kiss motion at her.

“C’mon mami, gimme a kiss” You teased, leaning forward.

She took a step back as you took one towards her, reaching to pull at her hands. Her head shook in laughter as she stepped deeper in your room and tossed the towel hanging on the wall directly to your head. It fell with a ‘thunk’ to the ground and your vision blurred slightly while leaning down to pick it up.

“Take a shower, you smell like shit.” Your mother said on her way out the door. “And grandpa made breakfast!” She yelled from the hallway and the volume had your head pounding with heavy fists at your temples.

With sluggish movements, trying to not upset your already ruined digestion, you moved to your closet for a fresh set of clothes, then to your bed to wake up Syd. You found the space empty and wondered how she had gotten up without waking you, considering you were a light sleeper, but too much thinking made your head hurt so you left it to a mystery.

The bright rays of sunshine filtering through the open bathroom window usually appealed as lovely to your houseplant soul, however as you undressed to shower with a permanent scowl, the soft light burnt a hole through your tired retinas. You dragged yourself inside and as soon as the warm water hit your skin, you sighed in relief. There was nothing a warm shower couldn’t cure.

As you mechanically went through your routine, you assessed the events of the night before and the crater in your chest hollowed all over again. A few salty tears that mixed with the rosemary and lavender shampoo ran down the drain. Despite coming to terms with yourself that you’d solve everything that same day, the small voice in the back of your head nagged that ‘he probably didn’t even wanna see you, anyway’. You took a few calming breaths under the stream and pictured the perfect scenario to counter rest the dark thoughts swarming your unprotected psyche.

You’d show up to work as always, hopefully less hungover than you were feeling, and ask him to talk in his office. You’d tell him you were an asshole for hurting him and that you wanted nothing more than exactly what he was offering. You’d bicker back and forth for a while, but ultimately it would end precisely how it should have the night before, in a sweet sweet overdue kiss. You’d maybe even get to fulfill one of the many fantasies that flooded your head when he caressed your face in the small barely lit room.

Your breath hitched at the sudden change in direction your mind was taking you in. Behind closed lids, your consciousness had painted a promising picture of blown irises and tangled locks moving in a rhythmic tempo against you. His pearly skin was tainted carmine from the effort it took to contain himself as he slammed repeatedly into you; trained fingers digging into the sensitive skin of your upper thighs while he held you in place over the disheveled desk. Only the sound of shaky breaths and whispered praises filled the room while he confessed just how good you felt panting underneath him.

The vision in your head felt so real to your body, that your pulse had started racing and it had your cunt squeezing around nothing in frustration. A delicate hand slid down past your navel and a sigh of relief left your shaky lips at the sudden contact of your cold finger tips. You used the clear image in your head to aid the pulsing in between your folds, massaging at an equal pace to your vision. You pictured the veins in his arms, tensed with force, one hand holding you down while the other wrapped around your fragile throat and pulled you into a heated kiss. You felt the vibration from his groan travel down your trachea and straight into the speed of your fingers. Your knees quivered at the thought of his messy kisses down your neck, followed by shaky breaths of barely contained moans, your hands clawing at the skin of his back trying to press his chest closer to yours. All it took was the image of Carmy pulling your legs around his waist with force and burying his face in your neck, pounding ruthlessly against your skin before a strangled sigh left his mouth as he came, painting your insides white.

The force of a relieving orgasm knocked the strength off your knees and you used your other hand to lean on the chill tile, the stark contrast in temperature running chills along your sensitive skin. You took a couple calming breaths until your thighs recovered their strength and the once persistent headache had finally subsided. You finished showering with newfound energy.

Dressed and feeling surprisingly less shitty than expected, you walked out into the kitchen drying your hair and enticed by the smell of sausages. You rounded the island where your grandpa stood wearing a ‘kiss the chef’ apron and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He handed you a plate of food with a smile and you thanked him then served yourself from the half empty coffee pot. Syd and your mom were having a lively conversation about where she had learned her great spanish as you silently finished your eggs and sausage, not wanting to add to the already noisy ambiance in the small area. Soft guitar strings played from somewhere in the living room, merging with the soft chirping of birds outside the tall windows that illuminated the room in a golden hue.

As you took a sip of your coffee leaning on the bar, your mother asked Syd if you had already invited the guys from work to your grandpa's 76th birthday next week. Your eyes grew wide in realization, only then did you remember that she had asked you to do it at least two weeks ago and you had not thought about it since. When she said no, your mother turned to you with a glare hidden behind a smile. You swallowed the bitter liquid and lowered your cup.

“I.. was getting around to it.” You confessed turning slowly and taking your empty plate to the sink behind you.

“What did I tell you, eh?” She began scolding you, “I told you ‘do it today before you forget’ and see? You forgot!”

You finished washing your dirty plate with your back to her and rolled your eyes.

“I’ll tell them today, I promise!” You told her, drying your hands on the gingerbread man dishcloth that had been out since last Christmas.

She gave you a long ‘Mhmm’ with crossed arms, eyed you with a scowl then rolled her eyes. “You better! I already told your tia Angie to add an extra ten people for the food, I don’t want anything to go to waste, okay?!” She continued as you rounded up your work bag from the couch and signaled for Sydney to hurry up.

She swallowed the last of her breakfast, slid from the stool and walked to the sink where she was about to wash her plate, but your grandfather took it from her hands and shook his head ‘Guest’ he said and pointed to her. She smiled with a ‘Gracias’ then ran to your room to get her things.

“Yes, I know. I’ll do it today.” You finished, walking over to both of them and giving them a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

Your mother grunted slightly but turned her cheek towards you.

“Oh! And invite that Carmy boy,” She said and your stomach churned. “He seems nice, no?” She whispered and scrunched up her nose at you.

“Syd let’s go!” You yelled ignoring her and walked into the hallway where your jacket hung.

“Thank you for breakfast, bye!” She called out to your family and followed you out the door. “Your mom told me that was your setup in the living room?”

You looked at her confused then remembered the half finished painting surrounded by empty paint tubes and drying brushes. The events from the day before made it seem like it had spent an eternity sitting to dry.

“Yeah, I like painting. Helps with my anxiety” You shrugged.

Sydney answered with a simple nod as you kept walking down the stairs. She reached up to massage her chin at the memory of tripping over the same steps a couple hours ago and a wave of laughter invaded you both as you made the rest of the way down.

You reached The Beef with a building worry. The plan to solve things with Carmy wasn’t as much a plan as it was an idea, and a vague one at that. You figured you had the whole train ride to come up with something, but it was mostly spent controlling your breath and trying not to puke all over the already sticky floors. So as Syd and you walked through the back entrance, unprepared and slightly nauseous, a stabbing sensation pierced your chest at the sight of an unruly head lifting up to meet your eyes.

The knot in your throat obstructed any possible passage of air and you stayed locked in place, grounded by the weight of his gaze.

“I think I’m gonna be sick again.” You whispered to Syd when you were no longer being observed by heavy pools of aquamarine.

He brought his attention back to mixing the dry ingredients for the rub on the beef, but you could tell his back had grown slightly more tense than usual. You passed beside him to the check in clock, muttering a ‘Mornin’ that he answered with a ‘G’Mornin’ chefs’, plural. Sydney shot a sympathetic look at you before moving to her area, lacking motivation. You debated whether to rip the band aid off now or wait until the end of the day, but knowing your impatient nature you knew the shift would be worse if you did nothing now.

“Uhm, Carmy?” Your voice sounded unsure, his fingers twitched slightly at the sound of it.

“Yes, chef.” He answered, mixing all the ingredients thoroughly in a bowl.

“Do you think we can talk?” You cracked your knuckles at your sides, waiting impatiently for his answer.

He looked at you for a millisecond, without bothering to raise his head completely, then moved to the hallway that led to the walk in.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about chef, we're good.” ‘Okay, so not even on a first name basis’ you thought.

You followed close behind and carelessly threw your things into the office floor, then catched the heavy metal door before it slammed shut behind him.

“Yeah you said that, but I feel like we’re not.” The force of the door shutting behind you pushed you fully inside and you were thankful for the cold climate drying your sweaty hands.

He had his back towards you as he rummaged through the stock long enough for it to be obvious that he was trying to avoid you. You fiddled with your fingers in anticipation, waiting for a word or a look, anything that signaled the start of a conversation.

“We are.” He answered, shooting you a brief over the shoulder glance then back to the rack.

You took in a deep breath and began. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said last nig-” He interrupted with a stern call of your name, hands leaning heavily against the shelf.

“-Chef, please,” He corrected, as if the simple syllables of your name physically hurt him to pronounce. His voice was low but authoritative. “If I say we’re good, then we’re good. Alright?”

“Yes.” You muttered, doing your best to swallow your heart back south into your chest.

“Yes, what?” He paused halfway in a turn, pulling a metal escoffier with the day's beef.

“Yes, chef.” You said through gritted teeth, irritated eyes locked into his.

His stare lingered on you for a moment longer, the tendon on the side on his neck tensed, then he lifted the heavy container and walked right past you, out the small room. You stayed a few moments longer inside, letting the chill air from the vents hit your overheated face and regulate your breath. With a final inhale, you pushed your way out to face the long day with an upset stomach and a beaten up chest.

**********

“I already fuckin’ told you how, Richard,” You spat angerly at him, the migraine in your head growing by the minute. “It’s not rocket science!”

It was the third time that day that he asked you for help because the tablet would go all crazy on him, that was two more than any regular day and you would be happy to explain how his grease covered fingers were the fucking problem, if it weren't for the massive headache that had you on a chokehold since the moment Tina opened the front door.

“Alright, geez! No need to throw in the government names!” He yelled back, throwing his arms up in desperation.

You sighed and dropped the empty dishes you were carrying on the lower counter beside him, then took one of the clean napkins and placed it in his hand. You moved his limp arm like you would a little kid and wiped the screen in demonstration.

“Okay, okay I get it, get off!” He said before swatting your hand away and continuing the task himself.

He kept mumbling under his breath how you were ‘insufferable when you’re hungover ’ and how ‘Carmy should’ve done a better job last night’ as you rounded up the dishes again and walked into the kitchen, not before painfully jamming your elbow into his side.

The hangover wasn’t the only problem, you had spent most of the morning throwing up and were sure you had gotten rid of most of the alcohol in your system. Having Carmy ignore you most of the day was the bigger issue. He had managed to avoid you all through morning prep and even hid in his office during family. You had maybe seen him two or three times during lunch service, but not once did he look up at you. Between having him act as if you weren’t even there and the constant guilt for how the conversation had gone, you were still trying to debate whether you wanted to try and talk things again. If there was anything left to solve.

You kept yourself busy during the break, setting the new tablecloths around the dining room, making sure they fell correctly and tried to ignore the pooling memories of his soft touches with every fabric you pulled out. Once they were set up to your liking, you took the empty cloth bag and walked back inside to save it with your remaining stuff. When you turned the corner towards the office, your sneakers squeaked at your sudden stop and your brow furrowed at the closed door. It was normally always open and you were sure you had left it that way twenty minutes ago when you had gone in to retrieve your things. You shrugged and kept walking to it, assuming it could have been a draft.

The last thing you expected to find inside was a tall blonde standing in the middle of the room beside Carmy. They both turned startled at the sudden intrusion while you stopped abruptly half way in. Your eyes danced between them for less than a second, a growing warmth of embarrassment holding your cheeks hostage. Carmy averted his gaze as the women scanned you expectantly.

“Uh… so-sorry.” You managed to blurt out, throw the fabric by the floor with the rest of your things and quickly shut the door behind you.

A dense huff left your chest when the door finally clicked shut. You moved back as if it were to combust instantaneously and still somewhat disoriented, traveled to the back for a breath of fresh air.

The soft crunch of gravel under your shoes grew therapeutic after the long day, as the smoke from a nearby cigarette floated to your nose and seemed appealing in the moment. Richie sat on one of the stacked up crates digging on the little stones by his feet, cig in between his fingers as he typed energetically on his phone. He looked up long enough to see you walk towards him with an extended hand to bum out a drag. He did so doubtful because he had never seen you smoke before, but didn’t care enough to ask and offered it anyway.

The numbing sensation spread to your head after the second drag, the voices in the back asking why you had quit in the first place. You handed the shorter tube back to Richie and leaned against the brick wall, still faintly warm from the early spring sun. You played with your bottom lip in concentration, racking your brain for ways you could ask him about the woman you saw Carmy with, without sounding too intrusive. ‘Fuck it, he already thought you were fucking, might as well ask.’ you thought.

You cleared your throat with a small cough and he turned to you with raised brows.

“Hey Richie,” You began, picking at the loose skin around your nails. “D-do you know who that blonde woman is? The one in the office?”

“Blonde woman.. Who, Sugar?” He asked leaning back to get a better look at you, smoke between his curled lips.

You shrugged trying to seem as nonchalant as it was possible, with your anxious brain throwing thousands of scenarios per second.

He took another drag, blew the smoke then spoke. “Oh, that’s uhm… that’s Carmy’s wife.” Richie spoke flatly, scratching above his bottom lip to hide an upcoming smirk.

Are you fucking kidding me?!

The blood underneath your skin began to boil, you felt hot and cold at the same time and your vision blurred with the threat of unsuspecting tears. Your breaths began to grow shorter but heavier as the acid in your stomach tried to claw its way up for the fifth time. You swallowed hard and snatched the cig from his offering hand, inhaling as much of the toxic fumes as it took to settle your boiling anger back into a simmer.

“Oh. She’s pretty.” Was all you were able to say, though it didn’t reflect the indescribable rage you were feeling.

At who, you weren’t sure. Yourself firstly, for being so foolishly naive to assume that he was different from any other tattooed, apron wearing son of a bitch you had met before. For thinking that he was actually interested in you as a human being and didn’t see you as another gold medal to receive as price for fucking the new girl. You were obviously extremely pissed at Carmen because what the actual fuck?! Who fucking does that?! Of course you knew of one fucking person, but did Carmen really think you were never going to find out? Why had Sydney not told you or did she not know either?

A million questions raced through your mind as you took another long inhale of smoke, eyes fixated on the rocky ground. You were so lost in the whirlpool of rage, you didn’t notice how Richie had pulled another cigarette for himself, leaving you the half finished one.

“Guess you didn’t know then, huh?” He asked, flicking the lighter on and burning the herby tip.

You shook your head slowly, thumbnail in between your teeth, the floating smoke from the ember tip between your fingers reached your eyes and made them water. ‘Yeah, that's what it is’, you thought. You sniffed heavily and regained composure because Richie was the last person who you’d let see you have a breakdown.

The dense metal door opened with a creek and the person you dreaded to see the most stepped out into the empty space. He walked towards you and Richie with his own unlit cig between his lips, brow creased when he eyed yours.

“Didn’t you quit?” He asked, nodding his head towards the short tube between your lips.

Pushing yourself off the brick with a last inhale of smoke, you flicked the end into the nearby garbage and walked past him without a single glance in his direction. You didn’t trust your voice or anything that would come out of it if you decided to answer, so you pushed your way inside and let the broth of your heated emotions simmer in your chest for what was left of the day.

You did what you do best when pissed, suppress everything in a little dark corner in your head and focus on the task at hand, the task now being getting through the dinner rush alive. It seemed like people knew you had a shitty day and could use the distraction because they had not stopped coming in since the doors were reopened at five. Between orders and clearing tables, you had only looked at your watch twice all afternoon, the last being twenty minutes ago when it read 8:30pm.

Carrying the last of the empty dishes into the back, you spotted Angel leaning lazily against the rack holding the clean kitchenware. You placed the plates lightly on the empty space beside the sink and he groaned in response to seeing them.

“I take it ‘adventure’ was fun, then?” You said teasingly then patted him on the back. “Those are my last ones!” You let him know, walking back out to finish cleaning your station.

A few customers lingered around, only two or three sat on the counter while they waited for their to-go orders, but other than that the dining room had grown empty. It was only then that you felt the weight of the day's events fall hefty on your overworked back. You placed your cool fingertips over your tired eyelids, taking a few long breaths as the dam you had kept all your anger behind began to crack. All you could see were flashes of swaying blues and golden brows as the choir in your brain listed all the reasons you were an idiot for putting your trust in someone again.

‘Please don’t ever think for a second that I would do anything to hurt you.’ The once sweet words now ran like bitter sap down your throat, the stickiness gluing it shut and leaving everything inside to brew until it reached a break point. You didn’t know if you were angrier at him or yourself. You tried to search your memories for any indication or mention of a partner, a ring or maybe even a tan line across his finger, but they all hit a dead end.

Frustration and sadness were a dangerous cocktail mixing at the back of your eyes and picking at your tear ducts, you rubbed hard until you saw stars to try to get the sensation out, but it only seemed to make it worse.

‘No, you are not gonna break now’ you reminded yourself, pulling the tears back into your eyes with a loud sniff. ‘You’re going to finish your shift, tell Carmy where he can stick his stupid fuckin’ spoon and never come back again’.

You had made that clear in your head while running orders. Every time you picked a new one from the expo and saw his inked hand push it towards you, the annoyance grew uncomfortable in your chest and you had to bite your tongue to the point of injury. You couldn’t stay like this, not when only a couple hours ago you were ready to break your most personal foundation for him, not when some fucked up part of your brain had made you believe that you could even get to love him, and he you.

It seemed of little value now, to think of this place as your safe haven when now you were afraid to catch him around every corner. Afraid of whether you’d want to slap him or kiss him because that’s how confusing your head was starting to feel. An almost inaudible voice in the back had planted the doubt that ‘Maybe this was Richie’s way of getting back at you for being a bitch all day and none of it is true’ but even if it was right, that didn’t take away the fact that things were never going to go back to how they used to.

If it weren’t true and you stayed, that still left the guilt of rejecting him looming above you both, persistent, dark and never ending. And if it were and you still stayed, knowing that he had consciously tried something with you while having someone waiting for him at home would rip you from the inside out. The last time that happened, you almost didn’t make it out… and nothing promised that this time would be any different.

With the new found heaviness of old wounds, you cleared your throat from the asphyxiating knot and continued to clean the mess left on the table, for what felt like the last time. You thoroughly scanned the room for remaining garbage, then took the last bags out to the back dumpster. One last swipe of the counters and there was nothing more left to do. You wanted to keep looking for things to do, things to clean or rearrange. Anything to delay the inevitable. But as you turned off the light inside the closed space, you knew you had to do it.

The kitchen was empty as you made your way slowly through the hallway, everyone had gone home at least twenty minutes before. Syd had even asked if you wanted company, but you denied it politely, knowing it was something you had to do alone; besides you didn’t know how rude you were gonna get and were in no need of an audience.

A growing anxiety took a hold of your chest as you reached the small office door and you spotted Carmy sitting with his back towards the entrance. Your step faltered when your legs grew weak at the thought of confrontation and as if he could feel your presence, the chair turned in your direction. He swallowed at the sight of you, brows raised in surprise, weighing heavy on your heart. You forced yourself inside and leaned down by the foot of the door that had become a foster home for your bag during the last month and a half.

He cleared his throat with a cough and you looked up at him expectantly.

“You headin’ home?” He asked, playing with the pen in his hand.

Swallowing the knot back down, you nodded and stood straight. “Yeah.. and I won’t be back.” His expression changed to one of worry. “So… thank you and fuck you.”

With the strap held like a lifeline, you turned in place and tried to make your way out of the small space before he had a chance to react.

“Wait, wait, wait-” He said loudly following behind you.

He quickly rounded the station through the other side and reached the hallway that led to the steward area and the backdoor before you, extending a strong arm against the rack and locking you in. You stopped abruptly, almost knocking face first into his bicep, then took two steps back for space.

“Can you please, tell me what the fuck is going on?”

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, almost as much as you were avoiding his intense stare. He took a step forwards, lightly leaning down to your eye level and that made you glare at him instantly, because was he fucking squaring up at you? You stood your ground and raised your brows in defiance. You could see the muscles in his jaw tense up, eyes swirling with a hurricane.

“I don’t want to work here anymore… with you.” You answered with difficulty. Your voice was betraying your stand.

“Why?” He asked with a blank stare.

“Because I don’t think it’s ethical.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re a son of a bitch.” This began to frustrate you.

“Why?”

“Because how fuckin’ dare you hit on me when you’re fuckin’ married!” You finally exploded.

“Is that all this is about?!” He finally answered clearly.

“What do you mean ‘Is that all’! That “all” is a big fuckin’ deal!”

“Who told you that shit, anyway?!” Carmy asked frustrated, the tint on his skin rising up his neck.

“I saw her in your office, what? You thought I was never gonna find out?!”

“Who, Sugar?!”

“Yes, Sugar!” You shouted exasperated, had he always been this irritating?

He breathed out a humorless laugh, one hand rubbing his mouth, the other on his hip as he stared down at you.

“Sugar… is my fuckin’ sister. Wh-who told you that married shit?!” He asked, waving his hand angrily in the air.

“Doesn’t matter, the fuck was I supposed to know that?!” You shouted back, too deep in now to swallow down the contents of your mistake, scattered all over the floor.

“I don’t know, maybe you could have asked me!”

“Oh, like you would tell me shit.” You responded, rolling your eyes at him and crossing your arms over your chest. It was a lost fight but you were too stubborn to admit you were wrong now.

“Seriously? That’s fuckin’ rich coming from you. You wanted me to believe I scared you into leaving!” He takes another step towards you and this one has you sliding a couple inches back.

“I said I was sorry, okay?” The heavy pounding vibrated inside your ears as adrenaline mixed blood traveled faster into your head.

“Yeah well, you say that a lot lately.” He answered sarcastically, the pain hidden behind thin humor had your arms lose their grip and fall flaccid beside you.

“Look, that’s not the point,okay? The point is I can’t stay here.” You reply defeated, a pang of guilt hitting your stomach.

“Why?! Cause of some made up wife that turned out to be my sister?!”

You turned to the metal table behind you and dropped your bag on top with a loud clang of what you assumed were your keys inside. Sweaty palms rested on top of the cool surface and you let your head hang low while you tried to calm your anger down. Maybe you did go a bit too far by not asking him first, but in your defense, being hot headed was part of your nature.

“No Carmy- because I can’t stand seeing you every second of every day and not being able t-to touch you or-or kiss or do anything about all these stupid feelings inside! ” You finally confessed when you could no longer see his intense stare. The words stumbled out like the alcohol contents of that morning, heavy, fast and unstoppable.

Your heavy breaths and the running motor of the walk in are the only sounds audible in the reduced space. But if you could take a peek in either of your heads, you’d be surprised at the amount of swarming voices trying to decipher a million thoughts per second. Your eyes were fixated on the carefully organized spices resting on the second level of the table.

“So that’s your plan, then? Leavin’ cause you like me too much, but you can’t do anything while you’re here.” He whispered and you heard the light squeak of his kitchen shoes as he moved closer to you.

As the cloud of anger slowly dissipated, giving pathway to clear thoughts, the undertones of his words appeared unobstructed in front of you. You blinked continuously as you played out the idea in your head.

“Yeah… I-I guess.” You mumbled.

A soft breath escaped your lips when you felt a warm touch contrast to the chill surface. You looked down to your left hand, a bigger one placed carefully on top, skilled fingers inching close to the free space between yours, a tickling feeling erupting at the touch. Your fingers rounded softly around his and that was the sign of reassurance he needed to step closer to you, chest pressing fully to the length of your back and caging you to the table.

He held your palm like delicate glass under his rough hand, both of your eyes trained on the curved limbs, afraid the eye contact would strip your souls too bare. Carmy whispered your name like a prayer, voice soft enough only for you to hear in the empty space, a wisp of sultry air hit the base of your neck and erupting chills around the sensitive skin.

“You are amazingly smart, really fuckin’ funny and it would be a lie if I said I wouldn’t miss you… but if having you with me means not seeing you here every day, then I will gladly fire you myself.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, soon replaced by a sharp intake when you felt his fingertips brush gently at the base of your neck, moving your hair out of the way then leaning down to place a tender kiss to the skin. Your vision blurred at the edges from the simple touch and the hand holding his, locked tight around tattooed fingers. He kept planting small kisses to your rising skin, stealing small gasps from your chest, finding it adorable and amusing all at once. You felt a shy smile against your neck as his right digits skimmed over the soft velvet of your other arm.

It was ridiculous how his effortless touch had you almost losing grasp of your self control so easily. You tried to regain your composure, or at least concentrate on what would leave your mouth next, other than shameful gasps. Your mouth fell dry when his right hand curled at your waist and when he pressed himself closer to you, your lips parted open like a fish praying for a drop of water outside the ocean.

“Want me to stop?” He whispered in between pecks. He knew your answer from the way your body was reacting to him, but the never ending voice in the back of his head made him doubtful.

You shook your head no, not trusting the words in your mouth, swallowing dryly, and took the chance to turn around as best you could in the limited space. With heaving breaths and a thumping heart you finally looked up into the cloudless sky trapped in his eyes. Your brows furrowed at the marvelous change they reflected from the tired man you had grown to care for.

Now with a clear head, a different answer manifested in your mind as the one you had given the night before. If it meant you had to lose one thing to gain another even better, then so be it. You weren’t breaking any self imposed rule, only finding a loophole around it. There was no doubt in your mind that you wanted this. No angry voices in your head alarming you of what a terrible idea this was. It was only you, him and the prospect of a future together, however long it may be.

You stood on your toes and at last, closed the little distance left between your lips, He kissed back almost immediately, like he had been waiting for this exact moment, soft hungry lips dancing gracefully against each other. His hands moved to wrap around your waist again, pulling you closer as yours curled hard around the flimsy material of the white shirt on his torso. You bit lightly on his bottom lip and a small groan vibrated from his throat into yours and directly in between your thighs.

Without an inch of hesitation, he parted from your kiss and strong arms lifted you up to sit on the chill metal. Your legs opened for him to step in between and your cheeks would have gone crimson at the way they parted instantly if he would have given you a chance, but immediately after moving into the welcoming space, his hand circled the back of your neck and crashed your lips to his again with new found passion. The view was parallel to your imagination and a soft moan escaped your lips at the sweet memory, one he swallowed gladly. His other hand massaged your upper thigh, thumb brushing tenderly over the inside of your jeans, very close to the pulsing center where you needed him most.

You held on to his shoulder in support and threaded your fingers through his hair, just like you had imagined many times before. His hand squeezed your thigh deliciously at a pull to his roots and the vibration that escaped his throat allowed you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue to caress his own. Your lungs burned from the lack of air but you would rather die by asphyxiation than lose the rhythm you had carefully cultivated with him.

The hand on your thigh traveled back slowly, both meeting at the base of your spine. Still in your cloudy haze, you expected him to continue his exploration down, but his fingers stayed spread out at the bottom of your back, unable to move. With hands still knotted in golden strands, you circled your legs around what you could reach of his hips and pulled him closer than before. An involuntary snap of his pelvis against your core ripped a surprised whimper from your mouth and the sound seemed to be enough of a push for his hands to reach down to your ass, pulling you to the edge of the metal and kneading the tender flesh.

You could feel the straining bulge against his jeans as he continued to grind persistently, a strong grasp on your body. Short gasps escaped your lips at the friction, just enough to get you riled up but not to reach the high you were chasing. Peeling your lips from his to take a heavy breath, you pecked down his jaw and up to his ear where you rolled his lobe between your teeth. He shivered under your touch, a shaky laugh leaving his lips as his head fell on your shoulder and his movements faltered.

“Carmy… ” You pleaded into his ear.

It didn’t matter if you sounded pitiful, the only thing you needed at the moment was for him to take you hard on that table. You let go from his hair and dropped your hands to the buttons of his black jeans while you worked his ear between licks and tiny bites. His hands mirrored yours, fluidly popping the buttons open and sliding the thick material down your legs. Your sneakers fell to the ground with an empty noise when you kicked them off as he discarded your jeans somewhere on the kitchen floor, then pushed your hand down the loose waistband of his jeans and boxers to his welcoming hard cock.

His breath got caught in his throat from the sudden touch of your ever-cold hands, a heavy moan leaving his lips and tickling the inside of your neck. You stroked the surprising length with slow movements. You didn’t expect him to be so… gifted, at least he didn’t carry himself like it. It was a nice shock, one that had you grinding against nothing on the cool metal.

He must have sensed your desperation as a struggling whine left your mouth, because he placed a trail of soft kisses back up to your face. One of his hands rubbed your cheek tenderly, softly shushing you while his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“Shh, it’s okay” Carmy muttered with a low raspy voice. “I got you… I got you.” He placed soft kisses over your whimpering lips. The change in his tone from what you were used to made the movements of your hand waver inside his jeans and you squeezed lightly around his cock.

With no warning, skilled fingers rubbed at your folds through the fabric of your damp underwear, forcing a guttural moan to escape the deepest part of your being. He repeated the circular motion whilst peppering around your heaving lips with wet kisses. Using your thighs for support, you grind your hips to his palm, looking for release and speeding up your movements carefully on your other hand. He answered your actions by pushing your underwear to the side and massaging the tender area at a torturous pace.

A shock wave traveled up your spine at the contact, your hips chasing after his touch. He teased your entrance with his middle finger, rubbing around it but not quite going all the way.

“Fuck… Carmy, please” You managed to say between gasps, pushing your hips towards him to stimulate the friction.

“Please what?” He asked through gritted teeth, screwed brows betraying the blankness in his voice.

You tried following his movements, but the hand on your cheek quickly snapped down to your soft thighs, pressing you down with strength onto the counter top, a small smack rippling through your skin and vibrating tight down to your core.

“C’om on, chef… use your words for me.” He whispered near your ear and the simple sentence had your cunt gripping around nothing. “D'you want me to fuck you?” He asked, middle finger dipping halfway into you with a torturing pace. “To fill you up here, in the middle of my kitchen?”

Oh. Oh.

This was new. As well as the bubble of excitement growing in the valley between your legs. You had never been a fan of dirty talk, but the way your body was reacting to his words made you believe that no one had done it correctly until now. Gone was the stuttering man who couldn’t hold eye contact with you at the start, now replaced by some smooth motherfucker who could make you come with just his words.

“Yes… please” Short gasps followed your words.

“Yes what?” He pulled his mouth from your neck and stared down at you through hooded eyelids.

You could feel his pulse vibrate through his heavy dick in your hand as short breaths left your kiss swollen lips. The words fell thick in your throat, trapped between a whine and a gasp. Your thoughts streamed rapidly in your head and you knew that no future scenario would ever live up to this moment. You knew it wasn’t just about the sex he was asking approval for, it was about the whole conversation. The fight, the confession, the plated tray with his heart atop it that you had left untouched the night before. He needed the reassurance that this was not a goodbye or a one and done.

“Yes chef” You whispered with no doubts.

You pulled your hand from inside his jeans, then used your legs to pull them further down and finally free his erection from its confined space. And without taking your eyes off his, you reached up to your mouth, stuck out your tongue and swiped a thick coat of saliva to your digits. His lips parted in a daze, dark eyes flickering to your lips then back to your glossy stare.

The moment your hand made contact with his pulsing girth, he knew he was done for.

He pulled your hips to the edge, then carelessly removed your underwear and his shirt. Your eyes caught on dark designs decorating his hard abdomen and rib cage, and your mouth watered at the idea of tracing your tongue on each individual line, but the velvet tip of his cock sliding between your opening knocked all the thoughts inside your head.

“Shit..”He said under a shaky breath “D-do you have one?”

His forehead pressed to yours, both sets of eyes fixed on the view below them.

“No but, uhm.. I got an IUD. I-I’m all set.”

“Yeah, no..uhm, I mean cool, t-that’s great.” He responded with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah..” You answered amused.

You held his cock in your lubricated hand as his tip found your entrance, then slowly disappeared past your folds. A shared groan vibrated in the closeness of your chest when a delicious ache tingled along your cunt at the sudden stretch. Carmy dropped his head to place a kiss against your clothed shoulder and circled his hands under your thighs for a better grip. He stayed immobile for a couple long seconds, basking in the tight hold your pussy had around him, so much better than what he had ever imagined.

You shuttered beside his ear when he unsteadily pulled back almost to the tip and a small smile curled on his lips. Carmy took a calming breath to ease his racing heart, and without warning slammed his hips deep into your own, thick fingers kneading at the underskin of your thighs. The force of his pace pulled the last puffs of air from your lungs, leaving you a panting mess underneath his touch. One of your hands gripped the slick surface behind you for support while the other clawed against Carmy’s back, pressing him impossibly closer to you.

A thread of ‘Fuckfuckfuck’ and ‘Oh god’ spilled from your mouth with each strong thrust assaulting your body. Your senses were overwhelmed by his actions, every individual pound against you was followed by the obscene sound of slapping skin and blurred vision. His hips snapped repeatedly into you, pushing everything out of the way and filling you up with only him. You could feel him so deep in you that the taste of his cock lingered on your tongue.

The force of his movements rattled the legs of the table and a few spice containers fell around you, but that didn’t seem important enough for him to stop his brutal force.

A long fuck shaped groan left his throat, the dirty noise making your grip on his dick tighten.

“Fuck C-Carmy” You breathed out with wavering strength.

He separated from your neck long enough to admire how beautiful you looked under him. Baby hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead and rubies decorated your freckled cheeks. Your eyes were blown wide and brows knit together as you took in every of his firm thrusts. He could see the soft bounce of your breasts under your thin shit and he could only dream of what he would do with them when you had more time.

“W-what” You asked him when you caught him staring longingly at you.

His movements slowed down but didn’t stop fully, only enough to take in the full view of your glowing skin and panting chest.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” He sighed and a breathy laugh vibrated softly against your joined bodies.

He pulled you into a soft kiss, savoring the taste of the heated moment and categorizing it under one of the best things he had placed upon his tongue. A sharp gasp ripped from your chest when he snapped his pelvis deep into you, hitting a specific spot that left you a mumbling mess under his tips. He did it again, just to see you fall apart at his touch, head falling back and gasping for air.

Carmy found the whole experience extra corporeal and as if something had gained total control of his body, his hands carried your thighs higher up and pressed them to your chest, each socked foot resting on his broad shoulders. You took your nails from his back and rested both pals behind you, keeping you upright. Then he angled himself to where he felt a soft stop inside you and began to snap his hips against it.

The sensation was so strong you could barely mutter his name. You felt him everywhere, so deep you could feel him up your throat, in your bloodstream and every individual cell in your body. Your skin burned to the touch and nothing other than him pounding ruthlessly against you made sense in your mind. He was fucking you stupid, pulse beating in your navel and eyes covered in blinding stars.

You tried to let him know, warn him even, but nothing other than his name fell like prayer beads from your heaving lips. You squeezed your cunt around him and a small falter in his actions gave you some room to breathe.

“Fuck I-I can’t, Car-Carmy I'm gonn-” You struggled, waiting for the air to reach your lungs, but it was all tainted by the smell of sex and him.

“Let go, baby, let go” He cooed between moans.

And it was all you needed to hear to finally lose yourself completely to his touch. The smacking noise grew louder as he gripped your thighs with one arm around them, then the other traveled between you, placing his thumb above your swollen clit and pushing down in insistent circles.

The pressure in the base of your belly ultimately broke with a snap and an uncontained moan painted the walls of the empty kitchen in a lilac hue. Your vision blurred as tears of bliss gathered under your eyelids and your body floated into nothingness. Your walls pulsed around his dick with two more thrusts and that was enough for him to follow you down the rabbit hole of your joined orgasm. A choked growl vibrated in his chest and streaks of red crawled their way up his neck and buried at his cheeks with his release.

His grip on your legs loosened when he used his hands to steady his weight against the table, and let them fall carefully around his waist as he catched his breath. With his head hanging low, he pecked small kisses to your exposed skin. Your head hanging back with eyes shut, trying to enjoy the last ripples of pleasure turning into shallow waves. One of your hands caressed up his sweaty skin and buried into the tangled mess of his hair lovingly.

A soft pleased smile covered his features, closed eyelashes feathering lightly against yours. His large palm rested beside your still trembling thigh, soft thumb rubbing calming circles and a small chuckle left his lips.

“It was fuckin’ Richie, wasn’t it?” He asked, breaking the pleasant blissful silence you had sat in for however long it took to settle your raging heartbeats.

You nodded in response with your own small laugh and heard him mumble a ‘Fuckin’ Richie’, raising his head and looking lovingly into your glossed over eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ll just tell everyone he’s the reason I quit so they hate him for a little while.” You whispered and a beautiful sound left his lips.

It was a soft relaxed sighed laugh, the kind you don’t have to force and that vibrates directly from your chest out, brightening the space around you. Your chest tightened at the melodious sound and your brows scrunched up in awe when he finally opened his eyes again. The ever present line of worry above his brows was gone, leaving behind only the tint of rich aquamarine and sapphire blues.

Chapter 5.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

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