Chef Luca x fem!Berzatto!reader (established relationship)
Word count: 2.1k Masterlist
Summary: Luca asks you to move with him, will you blow up your relationship in typical Berzatto fashion? Or let yourself live the life you’ve always dreamed of?
AN: nobody asked for this but I’m a slut for Will Poulter and had this idea while watching season five. SEASON FIVE SPOILERS!
You couldn’t have heard him right. That couldn’t possibly be what he just asked you.
“Wha-what did you say?” Your words were shaky, you shook your head in disbelief.
“I asked you to marry me and move to Copenhagen… with me,” his accent was so overwhelming, even after years of dating, it made everything sound like silk, “I know it’s a bit of an ask, darling. If you marry me, you wouldn’t have to worry about a visa. I can’t pass this up, and I’m asking you to come with me, because I want that future we’ve been talking about.”
You could tell he was nervous, his tone was soft and a little tentative, like he knew exactly what he was asking.
“Is that supposed to be a proposal?” It’s the only thing you could think to say.
His face softened, “not the official one, I just mean it’ll make it easier. I thought we talked about it. Do you not want to marry me?”
“No, I do, Luca. This is just, I don’t know,” you gestured vaguely, “a lot.”
Your family was here, your sister, your niece, your brother, your oldest brother’s grave. You have known nothing in life but Chicago. But part of you always dreamt of more, could this be what that is? Or was this a grave mistake you were bound to fuck up?
“We have to get to the restaurant,” you moved on autopilot, not knowing what else to do. You slipped your rain jacket on.
As you walked by him, he grabbed your wrist lightly, keeping you in place.
“Look at me please,” he said barely above a whisper.
You took a deep breath before turning to face him.
“I leave in a month.” He searched your face for a reaction, but your poker face remained in tact as you reverted back to your old ways of pushing your emotions all the way down.
“I want you to come with me, if that’s what you want. I’ll be able to support us both for a while, it could be our next chapter. But you don’t have to tell me right now,” his hands moved to cup your cheeks tenderly, and you let yourself melt just a little bit from his touch, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Lu,” you said softly, trying to blink back the tears of frustration that threatened to spill.
He moved his hands away from your face and you turned to leave, Marcus was waiting outside for you both.
The entire car ride you sat in the back as they chatted and bickered like brothers. You looked out the window at the rain absolutely pounding. The anxiety was sitting in your chest like a weight, making every breath feel like a chore.
He was so patient with you. So patient with your grief and your anxiety and your Berzatto way of handling emotions and big conversations.
By the time you got to the restaurant, you made your problems everyone else’s.
You hated that you did this, the snapping, the tone. Sydney was begging you and Carmy to stop. It wasn’t loud, there wasn’t cursing, but there were little digs. When you finally turned to Sugar and gave her similar treatment, she had decided the last hour had been enough.
She took your forearm firmly and all but dragged you into the small office. When she closed the door you immediately crossed your arms in defense.
“What’s wrong with you today?” Your sister’s blue eyes bore into you as she placed her hands on her hips, “you’re snapping at everyone, I hate when you get like this, it’s not like you.”
“Nothing,” you said, rolling your neck.
“Well, what’s bothering you then?” Nat asked, throwing her hands up in frustration.
“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth this time. You moved to leave, but Nat stepped in front of the door.
“Sug—”
“No.” She cut you off, “you’re not leaving until you tell me.” Her hands were firm, her stance strong.
“Sug, don’t make me move you. I’m taller than you and you always forget that,” you threatened.
She scoffed, “try me.”
You sighed, seriously considering a physical altercation with your older sister, but your shoulders sagged.
Her face changed, twisting into something of concern.
Your hands came up and covered your face.
“Is it Luca? You guys have barely talked,” she pried, “he keeps looking at you like a dog that’s been kicked.”
You removed your hands, “god, you always know.”
She smirked at you.
You took a deep breath, “he’s moving to Copenhagen.”
Her jaw nearly dropped, “what?”
You took an even deeper breath, you felt like caving in on yourself, “and he asked me to… marry him and go with him.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose and squeezed your eyes shut. Now she audibly gasped. “What?”
She moved from the door and stood in front of you, “I mean, you said yes right?”
You whipped your head up, “what? I didn’t say anything. I totally panicked.”
She sighed, placing both of her hands on your shoulders, “you have wanted to escape here your whole life. And you love him so much, so much I’m almost jealous. This is so exciting.”
You smiled a little, which made her smile.
“What am I supposed to do? Just marry him and fuck off to Europe indefinitely?”
“I mean, does that really sound so bad?” She said softly.
“Ugh, no.” You said with a groan, “so why am I being so stupid?”
“Because you’re a Berzatto, it’s in our blood to ruin good things,” she answered, only partly joking.
You laughed again, “you’re right.”
She pulled you into a tight hug, “I think you need to talk to him.”
You embraced her, enjoying the moment of quiet that you rarely got with your sister.
“Yeah I do.” You agreed with her.
She took a shaky breath against you, you knew that meant she was trying not to cry, “I’m really proud of you, and so happy for you.”
“I love you,” you said softly.
She kissed your cheek and pulled away, placing both her hands back on your shoulders, “go get em tiger.”
You emerged from the office with a new found lightness. Your first stop was Carmen. He was at his station solemnly, being uncharacteristically quiet today for the sake of Syd.
You bumped your hip against his, “hey bear.”
He didn’t look up from the pan in front of him, “hey.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take that all out on you,” you said embarrassed.
“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it,” he turned and gave you a small smile.
You rubbed your fist over your chest, and he mimicked the gesture, a silent agreement that you were okay, water under the bridge.
You moved swiftly to the pastry station. Marcus was tense besides Luca, and you were sure a conversation about Copenhagen was had.
“Lu,” he looked up at your voice and met your eyes, “can you come outside for a sec?”
He nodded, “yes, chef.”
The formality made you wince.
He followed you out the back door, where you both jogged to the tent that was the makeshift smoking spot.
Before you could think too hard you spoke, “I want to come with you,” you said softly.
His eyes widened and a grin took over the lower half of his beautiful face.
Even in the rain his blue eyes were sparkling.
“You’re coming… to Copenhagen,” he asked, like he needed to hear you say it.
You nodded, “yes.”
“And you want to marry me?”
You nodded again, slightly more eager, “yes.”
You smiled up at him, and before you could say something else his hands came up and pulled your face into a warm kiss.
When he pulled away you were both smiling.
“I guess I have to get packing… and also tell everyone I know,” you said softly.
“Lu,” you said sweetly.
“Yes,” he said, still holding your face in his hands.
“Take me to Paris, I’ve always wanted to go,” you said, placing your hands on his chest.
He laughed, “I will take you, literally anywhere you want to go.”
His hands stayed on your face, he slowly moved his thumbs across your cheek bones, “I thought I was going to lose you. My stomach has been in knots all morning.”
Your hands came up to hold his wrists, “you couldn’t lose me if you tried.”
“Don’t tell anyone I’m coming with you yet, okay? I need to do it,” you said calmly.
“Absolutely,” he kissed you on the cheek, “we should get back in there.”
“And babe?” You asked.
He hummed, still looking at you.
“Go easy on Marcus, he gets mean when he’s stressed, and even more so when he’s upset. He feels like you’re abandoning him,” you held his gaze.
“Okay, love,” he pecked your lips again.
Both of you stood there touching, not wanting the moment to end, listening to the sounds of the heavy rain and enjoying the warmth emanating from one another.
He leaned down and kissed you again, a little slower this time. You moved your hands to the base of his head, playing with the soft hair that sat there. He moaned softly into your mouth at the feeling. Just as you were about to slip your tongue into his mouth, the door swung open, “WOAH! Cousin!”
Richie’s scratchy voice rang out. You jumped out of Luca’s hold like he had burned you.
“I don’t wanna see all that, I’m tryna have a smoke!” He made his way under the tent, already trying to light his cigarette.
“We were just about to head inside,” you said, moving past Richie with Luca in tow.
“Yeah, sure that’s what it looked like,” he yelled after you.
You took Lucas hand and pulled him inside, both of you blushing out of embarrassment.
Inside, the kitchen swallowed you both immediately.
The hiss of burners, the clatter of pans, Sydney calling times from the pass. The tension of service was starting to creep in whether your world had just changed or not.
Luca squeezed your hand once before letting go.
“After service?” he asked quietly.
“After service,” you promised.
You headed toward your station and could feel his eyes following you for a second before he turned back to pastry.
Marcus looked between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “you guys okay?”
Luca reached for a tray of choux and, for the first time all day, looked completely relaxed.
“Yeah,” he said, “more than.”
Across the kitchen, Carmen caught your expression immediately. As a brother does.
He was plating fish when he glanced up, froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. You tried to keep your face neutral, but you failed spectacularly.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“What?” Sydney asked, noticing.
“Nothing,” Carmy said, still watching you. “Absolutely nothing.”
You rolled your eyes and focused on your prep, but your hands felt lighter than they had all morning. Every few minutes you caught yourself smiling at nothing. At the shallots. At the ticket machine. At the fact that Copenhagen was real.
Then, inevitably, your gaze drifted across the kitchen.
Luca was piping cream into pastries, and he was smiling too.
Not his usual small, amused smile. A full one. The kind that reached his eyes and made him look younger.
Marcus noticed it first.
“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked suspiciously.
“Am I?” Luca replied, failing to hide it.
“Yeah. It’s weird. Stop,” Marcus said seriously.
Luca laughed under his breath and went back to work, but the smile never really disappeared.
Service pushed on.
You moved automatically, years of muscle memory carrying you through the rush. Yet every so often you’d catch Luca looking up from pastry, and each time he did, that same impossible grin returned to his face.
And every time it did, you felt your own answer it.
By the middle of service, Richie finally noticed.
“Why do you two look so goddamn happy?” he demanded, pointing between you with a pair of tongs.
“We’re working, cousin,” you said innocently.
“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England,” he said, gesturing around dramatically.
Luca ducked his head to hide another smile.
Richie looked at Carmy. “You seeing this?”
Carmy smirked without looking up from his station, but didn’t respond.
“You know something?” Richie asked, turning towards him.
“I think I’ve put some pieces together, yeah,” he said simply.
“I hate this family,” Richie said shaking his head
“No you don’t,” you and Nat said in tandem.
The tickets kept printing. The rain kept hammering the roof. The restaurant buzzed around you.
But underneath all of it was something new.
A month from now, you would be leaving Chicago. You would be standing beside Luca in Copenhagen.
You looked up from your cutting board just as Luca looked over from pastry. Across the noise and steam and chaos of the kitchen, your eyes met.
Neither of you said a word. You simply went back to your station, unable to stop smiling. And neither could he.
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