Haven't posted anything in like, 8 years? Got inspired today. goodbye. (don't even remember how this shirt works lmaooo)
“yo , Syd!” Carmy calls from his office. He has a hangnail he’s been chewing on. Mostly nerves, he thinks. Also because it fucking hurts. If he starts bleeding his wife is gonna kill him.
“‘Sup, Carm?” She pushes her way through the door and peaks her head in, “Yeah?”
“Uh, next week, on like-” he checks his phone for the date again, “wednesday, yeah Wednesday, I’m gonna be out. Gonna need you to take over until like-Monday, I think? You can call me, just won’t be in.”
Syd scrunches her eyebrow “uh, no-yeah that’s fine, for sure. Just like - why? Are you okay? You don’t normally, like, spring this shit on me.” She fully enters his office at this point. Arms are crossed, not in an annoyed way, more so because the giant fan in his office is directly pointing at her.
“No yeah, uh, fine.” He coughs into his shoulder. He shouldn’t feel awkward about this, he’s a fully grown man with two baby girls and a beautiful wife. “Just a procedure, medical, uh, procedure I gotta get done on Wednesday. They told me not to be on my feet too much for the next couple days.” He’s not making eye contact with Syd, fully focused on color coordinating the highlighters in his desk.
“Procedure? Dude, what? Are you fucking okay?” Syd asks, walking a little closer to him. She has half the nerve to put the back of her hand to his forehead.
“Yes, Syd. Jesus. I’m fuckin’ fine okay? I mean it, just - like, could you make sure this shit doesn’t burn down while I’m gone?” He runs his hand through his curls. He needs a cigarette. He tries to picture your disappointed face so he doesn’t reach for his emergency pack.
“Yo, Syd!” Syd and Carmy both whip their heads to the door, it’s Richie. With a shit eating grin on his face.
“What, Richie?” Syd scoffs. “Were you invited here or did you just decide to insert yourself?”
“Insert myself. Anyways, just so you don’t pop a blood vessel, Carm’s getting surgery to he can fuck his wife without protection. Don’t worry, sweetheart, he’s gonna be juuuuuust fine” he says, winking, stupid fucking grin still on his face.
“Jesus, Richie” Carm and Syd both say at the same time. Carmy has his head in his hands. “Don’t listen to ‘im.” Carmy finally says. “I mean - yes. I am getting, you know, uhm, that. Vasectomy. But like - that wasn’t the main reaso-”
“Hey Carmy?” Syd interrupts him.
“Mm?”
“Good luck on your procedure on Wednesday and I’ll see you Monday, okay?”
“Thank you, Chef” Carmy breathes out a laugh. Syd laughs too. “Fuckin’ Richie” he says.
“Fuckin’ Richie” Syd agrees.
-
Carmy shows up to the house 3 hours later. Apparently everyone in the bear had heard Richie’s loud fucking announcement about his surgery. His hangnail did start bleeding but he found a paw patrol bandaid in the backseat of his car.
He hears laughter once he reaches the back door, he smiles to himself.
“Where are my cubs?” He yells as soon as he gets through the door. He hears screaming and giggling and a jumble of “Me! I here, daddy!” and before he can get a good glimpse of them he has tiny, chunky arms wrapped around his neck.
“Where’s mama bear’s love? She chopped liver, or what?” You come into the doorway. Your hair’s a bit disheveled. You have tiny, blue and white plaid shorts on with a shirt that has so many stains on it you might as well consider it tie-dye. You have marinara sauce on your right cheek. You’re so fuckin’ pretty, he thinks.
“Hi, sweetheart” he says. He gets up from his crouched position, two tiny toddlers hanging around his neck. He kisses you, takes his thumb and wipes that tiny bit of marinara sauce off your cheek. You look at his bandaid and give him a look. “Couldn’t help it” he says.
-
After dinner, after the girls’ bath, after three different stories, after a small glass of wine each and a rewatch of something neither of you know the name of, you rest your head on his shoulders.
“How are you feeling about it?” You ask.
“What?” he asks. His eyes started to close a bit, he’s not fully sure he heard your question.
“About the snip” you say, giggling a bit.
He snorts, “you 10-years-old?”
“I mean it, Carm! Be honest!” You say, you lightly slap his arm, settling right back into him after.
“Jesus, woman.” He laughs “Uhm, I mean, good? Like this, like right here - uh, you and me, and my two cubs, my Ellie and my Charlie, my beautiful wife, this is it, you know? I just feel like our life right now is perfect. And you have done everything - so much for me. For the girls. So I’m good, I’m happy to do this. I wanna keep this, just this. This is perfect.”
Girls are told to be skinny but not too skinny and to wear makeup but not so much that guys can tell and to dress in revealing clothes but not too revealing or else you’re a slut and a hundred other contradictory standards so I think guys can deal with being made fun of for wearing fedoras
