Summary: You decided to go with Carmy to work, Carmy hesitated with bringing you along with you. You been dealing with pregnancy hormones recently. With the hormones hitting you, Richie had enough and lashes out on you making you upset.
Genre: Angst to comfort
Warnings: Cursing, Crying, mentions of being pregnant, Richie being mean, Yelling.
MasterList
A/N: My requests are open! 💜
“Alright baby, I’m off to work.” Carmen announces as walks over to you in the kitchen. He places a hand on your bump rubbing it gently before kissing your forehead.
“Actually, Carmy?” You said making him go back to face you.
“What’s wrong baby?” He asked as he softly cupped your face worriedly. You smiled at him being so protective of you.
“Can I come with you today? I’m tired of being home by myself.” You said with pleading eyes.
Carmen sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure babe? I don’t want you getting tired of being bored at the place. Plus, you should be resting.” Carmen loves when you come along with him to work, but with your hormones being more stronger and you being more sensitive, he hesitated. You literally started to cry over tying your shoe because your stomach was in the way.
You pouted, “Please Carmy? I promise I won’t cause trouble I just wanna be with you, I get sad when I’m alone here.” Your eyes were already watering making Carmen panic.
“Okay, okay baby, don’t get upset. I hate when you get upset, it hurts me. Of course you can come, but if things to start to overwhelm you, you tell me okay?” You nodded making him smile and peck your lips. He grabbed your hand as the two you of walked out of the apartment.
“Look who finally showed up!” Richie announced as Carmen walked in with you, Carmen rolled his eyes.
“Shut the fuck Richie, get to work.” Carmen shook his head as he led you through the kitchen.
“What brings you here sweets?” Richie asked you as he gave you a hug, you smiled.
“Didn’t feel like staying home, I need to get out and enjoy life before the little one comes.” Richie nodded as he continued to work.
Tina smiled as she walked up to you giving you a hug and a kiss before rubbing your bump. “How are you doing mama? Baby doing good?”
You smiled at Tina’s comfort, “Healthy baby, but it’s killing me.” You whined making Tina frown.
“Aye, poor thing. You need anything?”
“Not right now, I’m okay thank you.” Carmen yelled something at the others, as you walked towards his office.
“Oh, hey Y/N!” You quickly turned to see Sydney waving, you quickly smiled at you and gave her a hug.
“Hey Syd! How you doing?”
“Good, good, and you?”
“Ugh, it’s hard dealing with a fetus in your stomach.” You joked as you rubbed your bump.
“Well hey, almost time y’know?”
You nodded with a smile, “I can’t wait.” You quickly said goodbye as Carmen led you to sit in his office chair.
“You hungry or anything?” He asked you as he ran a hand over your back, you shook your head.
“Not at the moment.” You shrugged
“Alright, let me know if anything.” He quickly gave you a kiss to your lips making you sigh.
“Love you.” You said with a smile making him smile back.
“Love you more.”
It’s been over two hours already and you starting to get cranky. You were whining as you had your head down. Your back was killing you and you felt a headache coming on from the heat from the kitchen. You whined as you slowly got up before wincing as your back started to hurt. You rubbed your bump as you opened the office door entering the kitchen.
“Guys, I fucking told you a million times! Get your shit together, I’m not fucking playing!” Carmen yelled as everyone yelled “Yes Chef!” In unison. Carmen sighed before he spotted you with a frown on your face.
“Hey baby, you okay? What’s wrong?” He cupped your face as he examined your features.
“I’m getting hungry carm, it’s hot I’m dying! And my back is hurting!” You said a little too loud, Carmen cursed in his mind knowing you were getting cranky.
“I’m sorry babe, you wanna sit by the booths? You might cool off better there. And you want something to eat?” He led you to the entrance of the diner, before you stopped him.
“No Carmen, nothing is helping me. I’m tired and hungry and it’s making me upset!” You could feel tears forming making Carmen cringe.
“Hey, hey, hey. Relax, I know baby. I’m sorry that you’re going through this. Just take a deep breath and I’ll make you something to eat, what do you feel like having, hm?” He said softly not wanting to make you more upset, he quickly rubbed your back making you whimper as small tears fell down your face.
“I-I I don’t know what I want to eat! Basically anything I eat makes me puke! I can’t take it anymore!” You were starting to get more loud making everyone in the kitchen look at you and Richie finally blew it.
“Jesus Christ! Why did you even come if you’re gonna act like a bitch?” Richie yelled from the other side, everyone turned to look at Richie who had a frown on his face.
“Richie!” Carmen yelled back at his cousin making Richie shake his head.
“Nah! Because why the fuck is she here if she’s gonna be bitchy about everything? Make that make sense to me!”
“Richie, you better shut the fuck up! She’s pregnant, I don’t care if she’s here or not! Don’t make me fucking hurt you cousin!”
“Let me see you try, jagoff.” Richie said with a sarcastic chuckle. Carmen’s eyes twitched.
“Don’t even start with me Richie! You’re the fucking jagoff, don’t start with that bullshit I-
Carmen stopped his yelling when he heard a sniffle and a whimper. Everyone turned to look at you, tears fell down your face as you hiccuped.
“I-I’m sorry.” You said through broken sobs, everyone just froze as they watched you cry.
“Baby.” Carmen said softly as he quickly walked over to you. “Hey, look at me.” You pushed his hands away as you shook your head. You then turned around and walked over to the back door, you opened the door as you went outside to the cool breeze.
Everyone just stood there in silence, then looked at Richie.
“What the fuck is wrong with you Richie! How dare you do such a thing to that poor girl! She’s pregnant for god sake!” Tina yelled at Richie as she slapped his arm with a frown.
“Not cool Richie, seriously.” Marcus said with a shook of his head as he followed Tina outside.
“Do better Richie, honestly.” Sydney said as she followed the rest outside to console you.
Richie just stood there frozen with his mouth slightly opened.
“What the fuck is your problem!?!” Carmen roared as he shoved Richie into a wall nearby, making Richie stumble.
“Chill Carmen!”
“No, you chill! How are you gonna say that to her huh?!?! Don’t you have a kid?!?! Didn’t you deal with this too?!? How dare you come at Y/N like that! She didn’t deserve that shit! She’s seven fucking months pregnant! Of course she’s gonna feel like shit!” All Carmen saw was red as his shoulders rose up and down from his yelling rant. His heart was pounding as his hand shook under Richie’s shirt he had a grip on.
“Chill the fuck out Carmen! I’m sorry, that just came over me! I mean it! I didn’t mean for that happen, I just let my inner thoughts get to me! I know she didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry alright?” Richie said in a calming voice to get Carmen to calm down.
Carmen gave him a glare as he let go his shirt, “You better fucking apologize to her, not me. Understand?” Richie nodded with hands in surrender, Carmen huffed as he first walked outside, Richie behind him.
You had your head buried in your hands as Tina comforted you, your head rested on her shoulder as she rubbed your back in comfort , your shoulders shook with each sob.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for-for that to-to happen.” You whimpered, making Tina shake her head.
“Nonsense mija, you are carrying a child. You have every right to feel this way. Richie is being an asshole, don’t let him get to you mama.”
You removed your hand away from your face before looking up to see Carmen and Richie. Tina moved away but not before giving your head a peck as she told everyone to go back inside, leaving you, Carmen, and Richie alone.
You looked down at your feet, not making eye contact with either of the men. Carmen didn’t say anything as he walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you.
You couldn’t help but feel more tears fall down as you softly cried into his chest. Carmen softly shushed you as he rubbed your back knowing it was hurting you. He whispered sweet nothing in your ear as he kissed your head and forehead repeatedly.
“I-I I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean for this to happen.” You said through hiccups, Carmen shook his head.
“Hey, no, stop that. This wasn’t your fault baby. You’re pregnant, you have every right to be mad, upset, and sad. This is a hard time for you. But you should’ve stayed home baby. It’s always chaotic here, and I don’t want that to overwhelm you. I want you to be okay and feel comfortable. I know it’s hard for you, but I’m here always for you okay?”
He cupped your face making you look up at him, your lip trembled as tears fell down your cheeks. He quickly wiped them away, before kissing your lips a few times. He gave you a hug making you wrap your arms around his waist, enjoying his touch.
“I love you, y’know that?” He said softly in your ear making you nod in his chest. He swayed you back and forth before facing Richie, who had a frown on his face.
“I think Richie has something to say to you too.” Carmen said softly making you open your eyes to see Richie with a sad frown. He cleared his throat before speaking.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you Y/N, I really am. I admit I was being a jagoff and all that shit I said was wrong and that you don’t deserve that. But, I hope you can forgive me because you’re my family and I don’t want to hurt you like that again.”
You actually felt another set of tears coming at Richie’s apology, you loved Richie as family. You hated what he said to you, but how can you not forgive him.
“Oh Richie, of course I forgive you. I’m sorry that I triggered you to go off on me. I’m sorry, you’re a sweet man and I know you didn’t mean it.” You hiccuped as you walked over to Richie before wrapping your arms around his waist bringing him into a hug. Richie’s eyes went wide, not expecting you to forgive him so easily. He tensed up as you hugged him, but quickly relaxed and wrapped his arms around you.
“I’m sorry kid, really. I was an asshole for that.” He said softly as he rubbed your back in comfort making you look up at him with a smile. You stood on your tippy toes before pecking his cheek with a smile making him smile back at you. You turned to face Carmen who walked over to you and Richie.
“Don’t pull that shit again cousin or I swear I will beat your ass.” Richie rolled his eyes at him.
“Yeah, yeah cousin, I got it. Jesus.” He shook his head making you chuckle a bit at the two men.
“You still hungry baby?” Carmen asked you as the three of you walked back into the kitchen. You nodded your head at that.
“I’m having those cravings again actually.” You said as you held onto Carmen’s hand. He led you to the booths in the front, Carmy smiled.
“What’s the craving today?” Carmen said as the two of you sat down at a booth.
“Pickles and ice cream.” You said with a smile making Carmen give you a disgusting look. You smacked his arm before laughing.
“How the fuck do you enjoy that?” He said as he got up, you laughed.
“It’s not me, it’s the baby!” You put your hands up in surrender.
“Sure it is baby.” He said with a smile before leaning down to kiss you before entering the kitchen.
“Marcus! Get me a cup of the ice cream you made and Tina! Get me some pickles! Y/N is having her weird ass cravings again!”
summary — carmy is finally home for the holidays and you, his childhood friend, are invited to the berzatto christmas dinner
word count — 10.2k
warnings — angst, mentions of addiction, family chaos, written and added to season 2 episode 6 so like you know strap in (of course all credit to the wonderful creators, writers, producers, and directors for the fuckery of the episode they created)
author’s note — yeah, anyways have fun! also going by the basis that carmen is at least 15 years younger than mikey!
“hold on, stall for me, i heard them saying my name,” carmen requested, pausing your conversation to make his way to the front door to ask his older siblings why they called upon him. you tilted your head, not being able to even deny his request before he went outside. you pulled at the sleeve of your knitted green sweater, only letting the headache-inducing arguing mixed with a symphony of christmas music filter through your ears.
you roamed the trays of cheese and crackers as he was away, the fak brothers yammering in your ear about a potential business reselling baseball cards on ebay.
“apparently, i’ve been placed on mom duty,” he muttered as he came back to join your side. he smelled faintly of cigarette smoke when he returned. who could blame him? 74% of the american population were also in agreement that the christmas holidays were the most stressful time of year.
the rest of the berzatto family was staggering through the den, quick quips flying from their mouths as they interacted with each other. lee was trying to pass off a bright red, piping hot dutch oven to everyone he walked past, finally settling on sugar to bring the dish to the kitchen. you felt bad for her. she already confided in you the moment she saw you. she was so nervous about ruining christmas because of her impulsive tendency to ask her mother if she was okay. it was a surprise for her to see carmen again after he had been in copenhagen, but an even bigger surprise when she learned carmen was bringing you to a family dinner.
you, peach, well that’s what mikey had deemed you after a particularly embarrassing accident in the neighborhood. the nickname stuck over the years, and now the entire berzatto family was keen on calling you peach rather than your actual name. you were caught in the middle of this entire night, avoiding your own family for personal reasons, and already regretting saying you’d be there for carmen. you had enough of the berzatto stress working for mikey at the beef. none of that was ever mentioned to carmen. the past nine months, in between your college courses, you were bagging sandwiches and helping the patrons of the beef while listening to richie and mikey’s bullshit.
you didn’t expect carmen to call so late at night. you had gotten a few random, nondescript texts from him over the months he had been away, but never expected his next time to contact you would be over the phone asking you to join him for christmas dinner with his family. so, there you stood, trying to make conversation and witty banter with the friends and close relatives of the berzatto family because carmen was so terrible at socializing. they were all happy to see you in some weird way, like a blast from the past, the nostalgia of “peach and bear.”
carmen was in the kitchen, but he wouldn’t allow you to step a foot into the war zone of a thousand unlabeled timers, splatters of sauce, overfilled oven, cluttered stove, drunken and mentally ill donna, and the unprepared seven fucking fishes. it was loud enough to overhear donna barking orders to an already panicked carmen. jimmy was brave enough to walk in to get olives for his cocktail, spouting promises to keep his hands to himself. though he had extra courage taunting donna about what they were going to have for dessert, lucky for him, she had taken his teasing calmly.
the kitchen was heating up as more people went in and out. you didn’t dare. the faks, donna yelling for mikey, and sugar.
ugh, why natalie?
why did she have to leave you and enter the trenches?
“ma, are you good?” sugar questioned, her voice rising over the kitchen timers, fak brothers, and donna. “ma?”
no, come on nat, no. you told me that you wouldn’t do that.
“yeah, yeah, we’re good.” carmen insisted. his next move was to attempt to direct his sister to the garage for more paper towels. he was already doing well guiding donna’s attention away from natalie.
you had only zoned out for a second when michelle and steven were asking about your college career. your head whipped, excusing yourself quickly from the new york-dwelling cousins.
“okay, this is why, this is why i didn’t want to come home.” carmen’s voice rang through your ears, his annoyed stutter making his older brother and mother begin to argue over his impoliteness on christmas.
you stood on the outside edge of the entrance of the kitchen, playing with the ring on your index finger as another timer shrieked through the kitchen. you wanted to step in, but everything seemed to be moving so quickly. they were being so condescending, leaving carmen to stand up for himself. mikey had a full mouth of food urging his younger brother to say three simple words. carmen’s unamused face said it all as donna egged him on as well.
carmen clearly gave in to the taunting because his next words were “i love you.” his tone said it all. he was becoming very agitated. his mother wrapped him in a hug, glancing in your direction.
mikey placing a quick and vexing kiss on the side of carmen’s head muttered “so happy the bear's home,”
“happy, happy to see you too, peach,” donna added, now averting her attention to the grossly jammed stove.
“yeah, you too, see dee,” you emphasized, blowing her a kiss as her hands covered in batter hovered above carmen’s shirt collar as she held him in her arms for a moment longer.
donna and mikey cared for carmen, but they didn't understand him. though, you didn't quite understand carmen either. he was always trying to prove to his family that he was the best, but being the best now meant that he was too “fancy” for them. you wished he could stay away from the overbearing chaos his family brought, but apparently, it was better for him to only come home once a year to stay in their good graces.
now, donna was trying to gain carmen’s attention, but little to her knowledge carmen was paying attention to her. he was trained to continuously be moving in a busy kitchen, but donna saw that as a sign of disrespect and avoidance. she forgot her train of thought, though carmen who had been paying attention, got his inebriated mother back on task to explain freeing an oven spot for another dish. donna’s orders, although scattered and frantic were being heard by carmen. he wasn’t going to let this be another year of disaster.
you were glad he could understand donna because even after years of knowing the berzattos, donna was a character that you never quite understood. after all, no one ever bothered to discuss her deep-rooted issues. you had the liberty of learning of her crazy antics on your own accord after overhearing stories and occasionally witnessing smaller bouts of her rage. donna’s illness was unspoken, but maybe that was for the best. she clearly didn't want to be helped or think she needed help.
the pregnant tiff entered; she was always nice, but even with the upset her baby was causing her she seemed in better spirits than anyone. she could have an escape away from family and friends while she pukes her guts into the toilet. donna was determined for carmen to understand that tiffany was not okay. she had thrown up! she needed to be cared for!
tiffany wasn't helpless, but it made donna feel better about herself to worry for someone else other than herself, for once. maybe donna just wanted to seem like she cared and truly didn't? you never knew where to place her.
the timer again! donna was questioning her own directions as she tried to remember what dish she needed to tend to. carmen had remembered because, through his conversation with tiff, he managed to make his way to the stovetop. richie had blocked carmen, setting him back for a few moments. he was quickly back on track. natalie had come back with the paper towels, and your eyes were set on her. you saw her gaze at the open bottles of liquor. you blocked the view of her as she poured the toxic brews down the sink. hopefully, with less liquid courage, donna would settle down.
the entire time as you blocked the wandering eyes in the kitchen from natalie’s liquor-guzzling drain your mind was fixated on carmen’s precise movements. he never seemed to waste any time.
“my timers are going off!” donna exclaimed to carmen, as if her disorganization was her son’s issue. carmen stood up for himself again as he finished tending to donna’s mess to make tiffany, who was already making her way to the bedroom to lie down, a sprite.
carmen was facing ridicule again. he was a chef, having staged in a very elite restaurant, and they were surprised that he could make fucking sprite. did they think he wasted years of his life to be mediocre? none of them knew that he had the terrible and compulsive need to be better than the environment he was raised in. you felt that since carmen was on donna duty, you had to be on carmen duty. you were invited to family dinner, but you extended your invitation to your remaining brain cells that were urging you to protect carmen from the wrath of his family.
you never understood carmen’s perspective. you had begged carmen multiple times to get away from the shitshow the berzattos produced, but he never listened. he always came circling back each year and looked to you for an answer as to why his anxiety was so terrible. maybe it was the universe’s way of a practical joke. you were avoiding your own family and now had to deal with carmen’s family.
you folded your hands in front of you as you faced richie and donna. “you have to give him some credit for working at noma.” your comment was overlooked the moment natalie started questioning her mother’s wellbeing. carmen heard this, giving you a quick glance.
sugar, why? leave donna the fuck alone. i know you are trying to help, but fuck off, sug.
“nat, she’s fine,” you squeaked out as donna pulled natalie closer. she took it better than expected, but as richie started asking about the tradition of the seven fishes, you could’ve sworn donna was being interrogated. her exaggerated body movements and the close proximity to richie’s face were enough to make you stand on edge as carmen began muddling the limes and lemons for his homemade pop.
let it be, rich. let her have her stupid traditions and let it be!
lee chimed in ready to explain the biblical part to richie’s question, though adding more than necessary.
“...makin’ people feel like shit, holding everything in and then letting it out inappropriately, raging, pouting, screaming, making scenes. you know all the italian classics?” lee chattered on and on, hinting obviously towards donna’s behavior. she didn’t notice, but if she did she paid him no mind.
donna stood in the middle of everyone’s conversations, watching lee and richie steal a bite of food as another timer rang, carmen adjusting the “proscuit” and the “mortadel” by order of his mother, and richie now taking the glass of sprite.
carmen slid over to you, offering a tasting spoon of some concoction from the stove when he had a moment.
“why is no one listening to me?”
here we go.
you were bracing for impact as donna, richie, and carmen tried to figure out why her temperament wasn’t as mellow as it had been just a few seconds prior.
over a pot that she never mentioned until now? classy, donna, really classy.
richie took that as a sign to leave. he didn’t want any part of donna’s delusional shenanigans.
“he’s going to move the pot, dee dee,” you said defensively as carmen lugged the white stock pot off the burner and to an empty space on the counter. you could tell carmen was getting close to a breaking point as he stormed out of the kitchen. he put his hand up to you, stopping you from following him. you knew after years of being friends with him it was best to let him simmer before trying to immediately help him.
as donna spouted multiple thank yous, you slipped out of the hell hole of the kitchen to the bathroom. you knew better than to bother carmen when he was seemingly about to burst.
to your surprise, when looking in the mirror, you were still put together, tugging at the waistband of your jeans to waste more time collecting yourself. though as you dilly-dallied in the bathroom carmen was being hazed by mikey and richie. when you exited the bathroom natalie was lingering in the hallway waiting for you, swiftly taking you with her upstairs to tiffany.
mikey and richie were face to face asking each other if either one of them had told carmen the good news.
“why are you guys fucking with me?” carmen asked, his tone raising as the annoyance continued.
“no one’s fucking with you!” the friends said in unison.
“why would you think that?” mikey pestered carmen, taking a step closer to him.
“‘cause you’re always fuckin’ with me, that’s why i fuckin’ think it,” carmen spat back, his entire body tensing. he wanted them to stop with their anticipation and tell him what was so important.
“it’s a good thing! it’s a good thing!” they insisted, attempting to calm carmen down. carmen was standing stiff, his face reading as unimpressed and blank.
“just take a break from being a mopey little fuck,” mikey urged carmen as richie tried to quiet the youngest berzatto brother.
“we’re trying to tell you that peach is the love of your fucking life.” mikey’s voice dropped lower as he told carmen. he didn’t know where you were located in the house and didn’t want you to overhear as he told his brother the information.
“dude, i don’t have a love of my life.” carmen’s shoulders only seemed to tense more as they spoke.
richie was wearing a shit-eating grin as another timer echoed through the house.
“she’s been working at the restaurant,” mikey interjected as richie pumped his fists. “the body is banging!” he exclaimed as mikey mocked the word "banging” to carmen.
“she’s hot as balls. dude, that tip jar is always fucking full every time she picks up a shift.” richie reiterated excitedly as he bent closer to carmen.
though your normal attire had always been comfortable and mostly consisted of oversized garments, working at the beef transitioned your working attire to a more fitted attire due to having an overwhelming amount of regular male customers. your school loans had to be paid somehow.
carmen’s entire face was contorting upon hearing their comments about you. he wasn’t stupid. he knew you were attractive, but knowing his older brother and his married friend were ogling over you was disgusting. and wait? mikey said you were working at the restaurant? why the hell were you in that goddamn restaurant?
“she’s like a waitress in a fuckin’ porno,” richie continued, mikey following suit again “she’s all that and a fuckin’ basket of biscuits, bro.”
“oh, oh,” mikey started to speak again, inching closer to carmen’s face. “by the way she’s like a legitimate fucking wizard.” richie agreed with mikey, beaming as he spoke.
“w-wait, what did you say to her?” carmen stammered, looking at the two friends frantically. “you’ve been working with her? what did you say to her?” he needed to know. dear god, he needed to know why it was such good news and why it was so important that they tell him that you were the love of his life. what did they do this time?
“she picks up a shift when she doesn't have class,” mikey said casually, though carmen’s voice was rising in a panic.
“what did you do?” he asked, his eyes darting quickly at mikey and then at richie. “what did you do?” he demanded, barely able to catch his breath.
“bro, this is a once-in-a-million opportunity for you to score with a woman that’s stacked physically and mentally,” richie explained nonchalantly.
“homie, you’re having a fucking child,” carmen said his brows furrowed together trying to comprehend the fucked situation in front of him as another timer ended and sent the dinging through the hallways. “why are you even talking like that?” carmen questioned with a huff.
“it’s done,” mikey confessed, taking a step back.
“who asked you to do that?” carmen petitioned. he was furious. why the hell was his brother meddling in his life?
“i put in a good word,” mikey said, attempting to brush off carmen’s anger.
“nobody asked you to do that,” carmen countered sternly.
“she told me you two were in touch, so i told her about how you always had a little crush on her.” mikey smirked as if he hadn’t just released embarrassing information.
mikey wasn't lying, upon telling him that carmen had invited you to family dinner a few hours later, he and richie were trying to offer carmen up as the main course. you managed to walk away from the conversation unscathed, but mentally trying not to admit being too interested in what they were saying. you weren't going to seem like a lovesick fool and admit your feelings for him to his older brother and family friend.
“i feel like you’re breaking my balls.” carmen clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as more information came out. “i don’t understand why you always do that,” carmen grunted, continuing his heated rambling. “like, why are you like this?”
“she’s hot now, carm. she’s hot now,” richie said, circling back to where the conversation had started, trying to urge carmen to think of something positive.
“stevie was with us!” mikey exclaimed, already calling steven into the heated conversation.
“i don’t need steven to come over here,” carmen hissed, throwing his arms up as steven rounded the corner.
“would you tell him about peach at the beef?” the friends said, filling steven in on their topic of conversation.
“oh, y/n? peach?” steven asked, being confirmed with nods by richie and mikey. “she’s wonderful–”
carmen stared blankly, how had you agreed to come to christmas dinner with him knowing mikey had told you about the crush he used to have on you? he was filtering out the words steven was saying as richie and mikey started talking over each other.
“she’s a deeply good person,” steven said, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other around an overfilled glass of red wine. “i can see why you’re in love with her–”
“i-i’m not in love with her, though, that’s what i’m saying,” carmen pressed further, wishing that someone would listen to him. “where did you guys get this from?”
“you used to have all those drawings,” richie commented, though carmen’s anger and embarrassment spiked as he pointed a finger at the group of men in front of him.
“that’s what i’m fuckin’ talking about, though!” carmen’s voice was rising every second, but luckily for him you, natalie, and tiffany were in donna’s bed catching up with each other as carmen only got louder.
“that’s what i’m saying! that’s why i think you’re fucking with me!” carmen was speaking so rapidly. he could barely keep up with his words as steven, richie, and mikey began to chuckle.
“you used to give me a fucking hard time about it.” carmen retorted again, backing away from the three of them. mikey was pestering carmen by trying to grab his face as the cycle of another timer was over. carmen was begging for him to stop touching him as steven mentioned that mikey had the conversation with you handled.
the timer kept ringing as mikey inched closer. carmen was swatting his brother’s hands away as a spoon flew towards the men.
“the fuck?” steven murmured, turning on his heel to look at donna. “auntie d, did you just throw a spoon at me?”
that was a hell of a way to break up a conversation. donna demanded that the sprite richie was toting be brought to his wife and that carmen was needed back in the kitchen.
“ma, you gotta chill, mom,” mikey said walking towards donna, repeating himself as she urged him not to speak to her that way.
richie bent down, holding one of carmen’s shoulder’s firmly. “we’re not done with this peach thing.”
“you’re fuckin’ breaking my balls,” carmen said, his voice had lowered again, though he did not look pleased.
“no, i think, i think it’s just a big misunderstanding,” richie admits, taking a final peak over steven’s shoulder before resuming his task of bringing the sprite to tiffany.
steven nodded to carmen. “carm…this is a good thing.”
carmen was looking past steven’s striped shirt and large square glasses as he spoke. he didn’t care what anyone was saying to him about you. he might have been overly defensive in that vomit-inducing conversation, but maybe that was because he did care about you.
you and natalie had filtered out of donna’s bedroom as richie knocked on the door, leaving the couple to their own devices.
the entire time you had sat on the edge of the bed with the other two women, carefully looking around the jaguar-infested room. it was so dramatically gaudy and over the top. though, donna being donna, would most definitely have it decorated the way she did.
the conversations were light at first though when tiffany mentioned richie previously telling her that michael had told you of the childhood crush carmen had on you there was nothing other than laughter. the laughter was refreshing from the overwhelming dread that was lingering over the home. it was as though being with family, this family, in particular, was a death sentence to any participant.
you weren't oblivious to carmen's obvious staring and stuttering, though even in the present day nothing had changed. except you left out the part where you mentioned that you were always stealing sneaky glances at carmen as well.
in the kitchen, an artichoke topped with breadcrumbs fell to the ground. donna was on her knees cursing as she began to clean it. lee rushed in to help her. he made her laugh. donna was laughing and smiling. that brought her temperament down. lee not only helped clean the kitchen mess, but donna’s attitude as well.
though now donna was shoving her long red nails into lee’s face insisting that she didn’t need a job opportunity that he had smoothly worked into the conversation. mikey had walked into the back and forth with lee and donna, questioning if they were arguing again. lee casually picked up the dropped artichoke, looking at mikey, and merely commented that he had only been cleaning a mess.
mikey had started the smart-ass remarks with lee, slamming the bottle opener for his beer cap on the top of the fridge. donna was still on her knees as she yelled for mikey to be kinder. lee murmurs about a lack of christmas spirit in the home but continues with his cleaning duty with donna.
the fak brothers and michelle were hidden in the bathroom, smoking a joint. they were bantering, reminiscing, and then finally in agreement. agreeing that donna was going to blow her lid. the real question now was when?
donna was cracking lobsters, progressively becoming more intoxicated by the second. you leaned against the counter watching carmen pace around the kitchen, trying to keep up with the list of demands from his mother. natalie insisted on helping, to which donna immediately declined.
jimmy entered the kitchen again. while donna was distracted, natalie looked at you and then motioned to carmen. she wiggled the half-consumed bottle of wine in disbelief. her eyes were wide upon finding that her mother had ingested another ridiculous amount of alcohol.
“...sugar instead of salt and the gravy tasted like fuckin’ hawaiian punch,” donna recounted the story of how natalie got her nickname to jimmy, casually tossing the lobster shells away as she spoke.
“at least she's not peach because she ripped her pants open to show everyone her peach underwear during the neighborhood garage sale when she tried to run on the treadmill mrs. troisi was selling,” you retorted, a hint of red filling your cheeks as jimmy patted your shoulder. mikey never let you live it down, though when most people heard the name they luckily thought it was because you were a metaphorical peach in your personality.
another timer altered the kitchen, donna shooing carmen away to fetch tiffany some saltine crackers to go with her homemade sprite. you stayed with natalie, assuming it would be best for carmen to have a minute away from family. donna went on another spiel, asking to be reminded what her timer was for and to make sure someone told her to put the bread in the oven.
carmen stood in the pantry with mikey, his agitation showing. he voiced his annoyance about being unable to work with him at the beef, though he didn’t bring up the fact that mikey was allowing you to work there; he was still stewing on that new factoid, not even having mentioned that he knew it to you. he never returned to the kitchen. mikey wanted more for carmen, just as you did, but his own personal reasons he didn't reveal were more to the reason he didn't want carmen in the restaurant with him.
sitting in the den as michelle went on some ridiculous tangent about her last name and a random woman who knew about bears, you could only agree that it was better than still being in the kitchen with donna and natalie. you finally started to relax for the first time that night, your legs crossed comfortably as you sunk into the couch cushions. lee started jabbering about sports when mikey walked past them. he looked rough. he looked off; something wasn’t right.
donna yelled from the kitchen, cursing loudly, making steven begin to stand, wanting to offer her a helping hand. even your eyes widened at this fact. how was he still going to go in there even after everyone was begging him not to bother her? steven was nice, but oblivious to the true ways of donna. you had figured it out for yourself many years ago, and now steven was about to as well.
with carmen still not back in the kitchen, donna was unraveling. she burnt the fish from the oven, staggering around trying not to drop the hot tray before slamming it on the counter, causing her wine glass to topple onto the floor. natalie was frantically trying to clean the glass shards as donna claimed that no one ever offered to help her.
donna was rambling wildly, holding natalie’s face harshly as natalie pleaded with her mother that she was okay and needed to settle down. steven, of course, was now learning his lesson as he offered his help.
“get the fuck out!” donna voiced loudly, steven standing shocked only nodded his head, awkwardly backing out of the kitchen. natalie was breathing heavily as she took the glass-filled trash bag out of the kitchen, muttering to herself as steven stopped her before going out the door. steven was now using his kindness to natalie’s advantage, wrapping her in a tight hug.
back in the den, everyone was uncomfortably listening to mikey’s incoherent story. his words were misplaced and jumbled. talking with his hands was not uncommon, but they never seemed to sit still, even if they rested they were jittering.
“we’ve heard this story a million times,” lee said, interrupting mikey’s retelling.
“no, uh, let him finish,” you spoke up, though lee only rolled his eyes.
you looked at mikey, wrapped in his brown tassel blanket. everyone trying to defuse the potential situation as mikey only seemed to be becoming more irritated the longer he went without talking.
“you sold the car and then you find the horse,” lee announced, summing up mikey’s story quickly. he sipped his drink as mikey threw his hands up in defeat, sarcastically congratulating him on ruining the moment.
lee started recounting mikey’s multiple failed business plans. michelle was trying to center the conversation back to a safe spot as jimmy walked in to join them, the tension was still present but the bickering had silenced as michelle welcomed jimmy.
“what’s going on in here?” jimmy questioned, mikey immediately perked his head up.
“this jagoff is talking shit,” he muttered about lee. lee tried to lighten the mood, playfully pointing to himself and repeating the nickname.
“i guess about how i, like, don’t finish shit,” mikey said, his expression was blank.
jimmy was in agreement, softly speaking as he nodded. mikey wasn’t the most practical of businessmen.
pete came bursting in toting a wrapped tuna casserole. like pete, you didn’t understand why there couldn’t be eight fishes, but knew that if everyone was telling him it was a bad idea then it was true. you followed the basic rule that if donna had a particular tradition to never break it. you didn't think it was necessary to cause anyone in the berzatto family any extra anger; they had enough of it genetically engineered into their veins.
carmen came to announce that dinner was ready and they were needed at the dinner table. michelle was warning everyone not to tell carmen what was in pete’s hand, but when he looked at you he rolled his eyes.
“tuna casserole,” you breathed out, a cough backing up your words. carmen began berating pete for bringing the dish. who knew that eight fishes could make someone an asshole? apparently, the berzattos knew this fact, and anyone not related to them was left to cope with whatever hell eight fishes would bring.
“don’t let her fucking see it,” carmen warned him as he walked out, though you were following behind him. natalie swiftly took the tray and threw the casserole out the door.
the table was cluttered, everyone basically sitting elbow to elbow as they all were seated. you nudged carmen with your foot and his head raised as he exhaled. you could tell this family gathering was screwing with his head. he nudged your ankle to acknowledge you, though you couldn’t tell if that was enough to settle his nerves as he mentioned going to get his mother to sit down.
carmen was once again in the kitchen. his pleas were not enough to make donna come to join the table. she would only go when she was ready. he was feeling guiltier by the second as she wouldn’t join them for dinner. he finally returned to the table, seeming more quiet than before.
steven was volunteered to say the prayer but quickly declined. michelle took his place asking about the seven fishes. lee butted in with his biblical nonsense, a fork then thwacking him in the head. everyone's face dropped at the sudden interaction. no one liked where this was headed.
mikey mimicked the sound of a buzzer. his eyes unfocused and overly amused by his actions.
“did you just throw a fork at me?” lee asked, whipping his head around to look at mikey.
“i did,” mikey said a bit too proudly. his elbows were on the table and his hands were folded until he started to speak. speaking wildly, incoherently, and maybe a little too loudly.
jimmy peeked his head forward. “what are you doing, michael?”
“he started it, uncle j,” mikey waved his hands to lee.
“mike just–” carmen started to speak until lee chimed in. “don't throw fuckin’ forks at people.”
mikey began to mock lee for speaking. richie bent his head down, trying to contain a laugh of nervousness.
“hey, fak. you using your fork?” mikey hinted. neil fak stuttered for a moment before admitting that he needed his utensil. fak tried to convince mikey not to take the fork, but soon the silverware was inching away from him.
“please–” fak mumbled, trying to keep his voice neutral. it was as though he was trying to defuse a bomb.
“i just need to borrow it for one second,” mikey said, raising the silverware in his hand and waving it teasingly. you were now chirping with the rest of the crowd for him to set the fork down.
it hit lee in the forehead again.
“i threw the fork, lee,” mikey said, covering his mouth as he spoke. his wide eyes fixated on lee.
“cousin, you're scaring the normals,” richie jests, trying to lighten the mood.
“mikey–” you uttered, clearing your throat, though he didn't pay you any mind.
your eyes were fixed on mikey. your hand was under the table rubbing carmen's knee gently. you now understood more of the reason you needed to be present for him tonight. carmen massaged his temples, shutting his eyes tightly.
“you see, i can throw forks ‘cause this is our father’s house,” mikey was blabbering. that disturbed look in his eye still present.
“rich,” lee called upon mikey's friend, hoping he could do something to stop mikey.
“my father's house,” mikey continued.
“we have lift off,” commented michelle.
lee pestered mikey again, but not in some playful way. a true jab about his stories again. the laugh mikey was not out of fun. mikey was hunched over as he chuckled.
“tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and other suckers who'll listen to your bullshit,” lee spat, silencing everyone else at the table for a moment.
“lee, shut the fuck up,” jimmy warned, though he was silenced the moment lee pinned him as one of the suckers mikey was mooching off of.
“unc, it’s fine,” mikey said, a wide smile across his face, though his face dropped as lee continued to speak.
“because this guy's nothing and he's nobody,” lee taunted. mikey's mouth was agape, but lee continued. “and i know you're-you're scared and you're afraid, aren't you, michael? and michael i don’t know what the fuck you’re on, but whatever it is, if you can hear me through the fog, throw another fork at me and you're gonna get fuckin’ rocked.”
lee and mikey stared at each other for a moment. no one else dared to make any sudden movements. you halted rubbing carmen's knee, like everyone else you were wondering how far the situation was going to escalate.
mikey rubbed his beard, just under his nose. “hey petey,” he coaxed. pete was reluctant to look at mikey.
“you think i could just, like, borrow that for one second? i just…” there was a small clattering of utensils as mikey picked up pete's fork, and an even louder bunch of voices chimed in to warn mikey to halt his actions. you knew that this wasn't going to stop mikey. mikey had already made up his mind after the first fork he threw.
mikey looked at natalie, his fork in position for launch. she was begging him not to throw it. he stopped moving when she spoke.
“i love you, okay?” sugar spoke softly, though mikey never lowered the fork.
“i love you too, sug,” mikey had a nod going as he spoke, the fork still tightly in his hand.
“i'm begging you,” sugar expressed sternly, though ot raising her tone.
steven gave an embarrassing laugh. “i'm sorry. i giggle when i get nervous,” he admitted, glancing around at the family next to him.
mikey was taken out of sugar's trance. he was waving the fork sporadically as he spoke. he was assuring steven that it was okay for his outburst. though as he kept insisting that it was okay to laugh jimmy spoke up. “michael, i need you to calm down, buddy, alright?” jimmy much like everyone else, was uncomfortable with the tension-filled room.
“mike–” carmen warned, his brother,
“there’s other people at the table, i need you to calm down,” jimmy explained, peering around the table at the confused and frightened faces. “you're being a bit of an asshole,” jimmy added, hoping mikey would see how unacceptable his behavior was.
though, mikey, high on whatever substance he was on started smiling again. “thank you, uncle j, but i'm fine.” no one could believe this fact seeing as moments before he launched two other forks across the table at lee's head and was still holding the third.
after a sarcastic comment from lee, jimmy confirmed that along with michael being an asshole, lee fit the bill. mikey also thanked jimmy for that comment. just a table with two assholes and a bunch of bystanders internally pleading that mikey would drop the fork that was in his hand.
“go ahead,” lee taunted. “let's go,” he coaxed. “fuckin’ throw it.”
mikey licked his bottom lip, the fork still waving in his hand. “yeah?”
“yeah, throw it or put it down,” lee threatened. it was followed by a weak chuckle from mikey.
“you bite lee? is that what you do?” mikey counters, his eyes darting around the table before going back to lee.
“for fucksake, your mother's been workin' for fucking days, making this meal. have some respect. there's other people at this fucking table!” jimmy scolded mikey.
“throw the fuckin’ fork,” lee insisted, though his hands went to cover his face.
“oh, would you look at that? i didn't throw it! i didn't throw it, you fuckin’ pussy!” mikey was towering over the table as he rose from his seat, aiming to throw it again. he only got louder and more entertained in this sick game as lee went to cover himself again. “you fuckin’ flinched! look, you did it again, you fucking pussy!” mikey announced louder, flicking the utensil again.
“throw it,” lee grunted as mikey sat back down. “i'm not on anything. i flinch,” lee threw another verbal jab in mikey's direction. “i still--my brain's connected to my nerves, you monster.”
“yeah, i'm a monster, lee,” mikey mocked. the entire table was in disbelief as the argument continued.
“you're a loser fuckin monster,” lee remarked with a sneer.
“nobody wants you here with your big fuckin’ mouth,” mikey said, puffing his chest out a bit more. “with your big fuckin’ mouth,” mikey repeated with a scoff. he slammed his hand into the table, making a few glasses shake.
“fuckin’ throw it,”
“yeah?”
“go ahead, fuckin’ throw it you fucking animal,”
“yeah?” mikey was screeching in a similar tone to that of a rabid animal.
“yeah, make it about you. make christmas about you,” lee sneered. “throw the fucking fork.” he urged again. though lee didn't stop talking. “you’re nothing.”
“you’re nothing,” lee reiterated. “you're nothing.” a third time. lee paused, gritting his teeth. “you are nothing.” and again. “you’re nothing.” lee didn't stop. mikey's eyebrows fell as lee said it again. “you’re nothing.” lee continued to repeat those demeaning words until donna walked into the dining area.
everyone was applauding her, putting on a happy face, wishing her a happy holiday and a merry christmas. donna looked as though she had been crying, her makeup smudged, and her blonde hair looked like she had been pulling at it with annoyance.
cigarette in one hand and wine in the other, donna sat at the head of the table closest to the china cabinet. it was deadly silent.
“what'd i miss?” she interjected the silence with a giddy tone in her voice.
lee looked to donna, “nothing,” he commented, waving his hands though his tone was not as fierce as it previously was with mikey.
“i missed something,” donna insisted, knowing the chaotic household was never so silent.
“no, no, no,” mikey denied, luckily donna didn't press any further. “stevie's about to say grace, ma,” he added, waving the fork.
steven was trying to politely decline, but the more steven said no the more mikey wanted to press him.
“just fuckin’ say the thing, okay?” mikey urged, as his mother pawed at her hair.
michelle in hopes of keeping the table at a simmer presses further for steven to say the blessing over the food. steven, as awkward as he is, took the challenge, although he was most likely following michelle's lead in wanting mikey, lee, and donna to act semi-normal for the rest of the night.
“hey, uh, it's great that we're all together, um, and healthy, i think,” steven began, michelle producing a slight giggle as he spoke. “uh, no one’s si–physically very sick.”
was he referring to mikey or donna or both? hell, maybe he was referring to himself and decided to include the rest of the group with him because it was probably true.
“i'm so grateful, um, for this beautiful meal,” steven paused looking to donna, “and donna, um, what an incredible job donna did. and i-i could hear in there. it sounded very hard and it's just gorgeous,”
donna had an impeccably large smile on her face, pride washing over her as her painstaking work had been acknowledged. her hands clasped together with gratitude as though she had won the oscar nomination for best actress.
“and is he still holding the fork?” steven asked nervously. mikey looked up, the base of the fork shoved in the center of his praying hands.
“sure is,” jimmy confirmed, steven paused for a moment before finding his way back to his prayer he wasn't prepared for.
“okay, um, listen” steven announced, though he was stalling for more time to find another topic. stalling to ensure that mikey would put down that goddamn fork and allow dinner to finish on a peaceful note. “what is the seven fishes or why do we do it?” steven nodded his head, the other’s seated at the table were now focused on steven speaking rather than blankly and nervously staring at the table. “i think i know what my definition is,” steven swallowed hard, his mouth dry, trying to accumulate more words. “uh, as soon as i think of it…it's a chance to be together and to take care of each other.” donna took a drag from her cigarette quickly so her hands could fold together in prayer as steven continued to speak. it was as though all his yammering was to talk mikey off of the ledge he had placed himself on, hoping that it would be enough to force him to drop his borrowed fork.
“and to eat together. and there's seven fishes, which means you have to make seven entirely different dishes. seven entirely different ways. and that takes a lot of time, and i think spending that time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them,” donna was practically in tears as steven spoke of love and togetherness. maybe that’s all she wanted, love and togetherness. holidays were hard enough, but maybe she needed familial support rather than criticism. though it was hard not to criticize her or anyone else at the table because of their unwillingness to get help for their issues. they all complained of each other’s anger and hostility but never complained of their own.
“…and maybe we eat too much…and we definitely drink too much, and we say too much without listening, but tonight w-we're gonna eat seven fishes which is absurd,” michelle gave a small chuckle at steven's quips in his blessing.
“but we have to take extra time to do it and we have to chew more and we have to listen more. and, uh, we only get to do this tonight one time, so i, by the way, love it. i love being here. thank you for having me every year at this. i look…i very much look forward to this. and i love you,” he said looking towards michelle, her eyes fluttering at his sweet devotion.
“i-i-i’m very in love with michelle, and i'm not gay like you guys asked a lot, but i was thinking about what you said about bears and how they're aggressive,” steven continued to chatter, though his gaze only on michelle now.
“they're aggressive, but they're kind…they're sensitive,” his gaze was genuinely loving and of light as he looked at michelle.
“you guys have been so kind to me. you guys let me hang out with you every holiday. i don’t have a family like this and i'm really grateful that, um, you make space for me at this table and time for me on the holidays,”
“may god bless us and keep us safe in the new year, and please give michael the strength not to throw that fork, amen,” steven concluded, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. michelle wrapped him in a tight embrace as they uttered soft ‘i love yous’ to each other.
“stevie, that was, uh, that was beautiful,” mikey commented.
donna was wiping her final tears away with a sigh. her wrinkled hands brought her cigarette to her mouth again. “it doesn't fuckin’ matter,” she muttered, her eyes closed tightly.
carmen was scratching his temple as he looked at his mother. his hand was now on yours that had been still sitting on his knee from earlier. his palm was sweaty, probably from the overwhelming amount of stress that the holiday was causing him.
“no, donna, it’s great,” you uttered as everyone else at the table tried to send their praises to her. everyone's attention was on her, trying to coax her into a better mindset.
the only one that didn't attempt to say anything was carmen, his jaw clenched tightly as he saw donna begin to exhale.
“you okay?” sugar whispered, carmen's head flipping to look at his sister. everyone at the table closed their eyes in dismay. everyone had made it through conversations, pete’s eighth fish, lee's belittling, mikey's two fork throws, and steven's version of grace, but they all knew they couldn't escape this.
sug…no…sugar
“oh, natalie rose berzatto,” donna’s eyes were closed as she leaned back in her chair, only opening them when she flicked her head towards her middle child. “do you know how much i hate when you ask me that?”
natalie's mouth was agape, trying to avoid eye contact with her mother.
mikey had dropped pete’s fork on the table he ran his hands through his hair. his petty fork throws were nothing in comparison to the hurricane that was brewing across the table.
“do you know how much i fuckin’ hate when you ask me that?” donna's teeth were gritted, a maniacal laugh surfacing as she spoke so harshly to natalie. “do you ask the rest of these people if they're okay?”
“no,” a simple answer spouted from sweet natalie, though donna wouldn't let her get any other words in as she was so keen on speaking over her daughter.
“do i not look okay, natalie?”
“not really,” michelle was saying what everyone else was thinking, though now donna's attention was now on the other side of the table.
“oh, fuck you, michelle,” donna spat. “i do not look okay? did i not just bust my ass all day for you motherfuckers?”
“i didn't mean it like that,” michelle uttered, though her shoulders dropped. she looked defeated and unheard.
donna stood from her chair, gesturing towards the table. “this is beautiful!” she exclaimed waving and shaking her hands wildly. “am i okay? am i okay? are you motherfuckers okay?”
she was screaming, her eyes wandering across the family and friends sitting in their chairs. “are you okay, lee?” she sneered.
“you didn't do shit! this is fucking gorgeous! fuck you!” donna was slurring her words the louder she became. she threw a plate to the ground. “fuck you!” she concluded, stomping away after giving her final curses to natalie.
“it's okay,” michelle quickly and quietly tried to tend to natalie by rubbing her arm.
you squeezed carmen's knee. you needed him to know you were still there. you were witnessing this with him.
lee looked from left to right with a shrug. “well, i guess we all knew that was gonna happen. so it's out. and, uh, maybe everybody, everybody can relax, huh?” he suggested, taking a breath. though mikey didn't seem as convinced with this advice.
“that's the worst i've ever seen her,” michelle mentioned, not to be rude, but to possibly try and lighten the unfortunate situation they were all now a part of.
the clattering of silverware was heard through the dining area. mikey cocked his arm back and launched the fork at lee's head.
lee hopped up in an instant. “you fuckin’ piece of shit!”
michael flipped the table, every dish and placemat was now on the floor as lee and mikey charged toward each other. the fak brothers immediately tried to hold the two men back as everyone else tried to get as far away from the chaos as possible. jimmy was screaming, hell, everyone was screaming at each other.
carmen managed to pull you close to the back wall nearest the dessert. you willingly followed his harsh tugging on your hand not wanting to get in the midst of more chaos than needed.
richie pushed tiffany towards jimmy, wanting her safety to remain intact as he went to pull mikey away from lee. richie was almost immediately forced away by mikey with an overpowering shove. the faks were still attempting to hold the men apart from each other when there was a loud crash.
donna had rammed her car through the foyer. she had gone through the front of the home, squandering the christmas tree and the remaining sanity of the rest of the guests. that was what caused mikey to rush to donna, snap out of his anger with lee, and come to her rescue. he was beating on the driver's side window.
“ma, what did you do?!” he was repeating it over and over trying to make her open her car door. donna remained locked in the car, but mikey's banging only became more forceful as donna was laughing. “open the door, ma!”
christmas was a sick joke. donna had turned the script. she won a trophy for the most narcissistic member of family dinner.
carmen was staring at a pile of pistachio-crusted cannolis topped with powdered sugar, but his main focus was the silver fork, the third and final fork, sticking out of the sweet dessert.
natalie, sugar, whoever she was, the middle child of the berzattos sat in her chair, shocked into place, staring wide-eyed at the misfortune of the holiday.
you didn't exactly remember how you and carmen ended up outside, but the chilly chicago air was calming the nerves of the both of you. carmen was pacing, chain-smoking cigarettes as you stared at him. it was a long moment of silence, though after begging for quiet earlier it only felt worse now.
the christmas lights illuminated him perfectly as he stopped and turned to look at you. his mind had calmed down to a dull roar and flicked the ash from his final smoke. carmen had enough of dealing with “mom duty.” he was done with family. it was peach and bear together again.
“why the hell did you not tell me you were working in the restaurant?” carmen asked with a huff, though he was looking past you into the window of his childhood home. carmen was deflecting; he didn't want to think of any of tonight's events.
“bear, i–”
“peach, what the hell were you thinking?”
i'm not thinking. not about that right now at least. i'm thinking about the car through the house we used to play in and how your brother, my boss, just went ape shit on your mom's boyfriend.
“i was thinking that i needed a job, and no one else would hire me with my schedule,” you admitted, tilting your head while your eyebrows furrowed.
“mikey, fuckin’, asshole,” carmen crossed his arms, stamping out the cigarette butt he threw to the ground. his pile was complete though his muscle memory reached for the package in his pocket until he grunted finding the package in a crumpled ball next to his lighter. “h-he hires you to fuckin’ stare and never gave me half of a goddamn chance,”
“it's not like that. i bag sandwiches and make less than minimum wage,” you held your temples, leaning against the siding of the house. “you're a chef. a good fuckin’ chef, and you want to work at some shithole that can barely pay to keep the lights on?”
“that's not what i'm trying to say and you know it,” carmen huffed, stepping closer to you, trying not to alert the neighbors of any more dysfunction from the household. there were already enough of them standing outside of their homes looking at the new garage donna had installed.
“bear, i have been picking up the pieces of that restaurant for the past nine months, and not once have i complained to you or even mentioned it because i know the shit that goes on there is only going to drag you down,” you explained though your chest felt heavy and empty. nine months of confusion, busting your ass, using every inch of the backbone you had to grow, and only watching a steady decline in the restaurant.
“y/n, i never asked you to do it! i don't need to be looked after like a damn child,” he spat. he was gripping the back of his hair trying to keep his anger contained. it only spiraled so quickly because his mind was reliving every moment from the night.
“carmen,” you crossed your arms. your expression had dropped. your nails were digging into the palms of your hands. “you let them drag you back into this every time. you continue to let them suck you into the ridiculousness and hysteria. how many times are you going to let them keep doing this to you? because every time i beg you to do something better you turn around and let them squander everything.”
“so i'm supposed to leave and never come back? it’s my fault for letting them do it? like i don't already have enough to worry about now i have to let this go so easily? like i'm trying to fix myself, make myself better by doing something for my career and you're mad because i come home for christmas,” carmen scoffed, as he only stepped closer.
“carmen, have you not listened to a word i've said? let me try again, you can't keep coming back because they ruin you.”
“why are you in that fuckin’ restaurant then? why do you care so much?”
“because i don't want them to call you and bring you back to the hell you're crawling out of because i fucking care about you! i have no connection to them other than you! i'm almost done here in chicago and i don't want to have to leave and know you've been coerced back because of the people that are always hurting you,” you exhaled, trying to contain yourself though carmen was frustrating you. your expression never softened. your head was pounding from the night's volume level being at a constant high. “you barely talk to me anymore because we always have this same conversation.”
carmen stared blankly. he released the grip on the back of his hair and shoved his hands into his pockets. he was so conflicted. he wanted to be the best he could be. he wanted more than who he was raised to be, but then struggled in knowing that he would probably always fall back on his berzatto instincts. angry, spiteful, grudge-holding people who were almost always mentally ill.
“we barely talk anymore because i'm scared to ruin everything i have with you. i have years with you, and you have always tried so goddamn hard to help me, but y-you're right it's the same shit every year, every fuckin’ year,” carmen admitted, though he didn't want to make eye contact with you.
“you are only going to ruin this friendship if you keep pushing me away. i want to see you succeed and thrive. do you think it’s fun when i keep having to see you hurt?” you mumbled, unwilling to see his mental health decline any further. you couldn’t bear to keep seeing someone you cared so deeply for continue to be walked over, criticized, and disregarded.
“no, but damn, like, i keep failing every time i come back. failing you because i can never seem to listen. i keep thinking things will be different and every time i’m wrong i have the urge to keep coming back to see it become right.” carmen was pacing as he spoke, but the moment he stopped he managed to slide down the side of the house next to you. he crouched on his knees as he looked up at you.
“you’re so wrapped up in everything else you can’t see what’s in front of you. you have a career. jesus, you have me, bear.” you uttered with a sigh, as you slid down next to him. his hand immediately found your hand that was resting on your thigh and gently began to trace lines onto your knuckles.
“peach, be realistic, it’s not just about me,” you rolled your eyes at his comment and shook your head.
“your life is all about you, carmen. you can control it and you can decide who you want in your life. my best suggestion is to only let those in who care. stop running away from what you want because you feel tied to your shitty family in chicago. is it just easier to hide it under your pride?” your head leaned against his shoulder, and carmen only continued to play with your hand as the tow truck meticulously tried to back into the driveway of the house to pull donna’s car out of the house.
“how am i not supposed to run?” carmen asked stifling a laugh, watching the scene intently.
“keep dedicating yourself to it. you’ve done a helluva good job so far, keep it up,” you encouraged, sighing at the car being pulled out of the house. you were only grateful no other family members bothering you both.
it was a long spell of silence, but carmen stopped rubbing your hand. he cleared his throat, making you turn your head towards him.
“i care about you too…like, l-like peach, i really fuckin’ care,” carmen admitted thinking about what you had said earlier.
“i never have stopped caring, bear,” you confessed, moving to sit flat on the ground. your hands raked through the grass nervously, never having admitted any feeling towards him in the many years of knowing him.
“i-i don’t know how to do any of this, or know anything about how to deal with this,” carmen fixated on your eyes with something vulnerable in them.
“you don’t have to know right now. you don’t have to rush with me, but you need to focus on being healthy and working for what you want,” you comforted him, being lost in the blue pools in front of you.
“i want you, peach,” he confirmed, nodding slowly, his hand caressing your cheek. “it’s going to take a while to figure you out, and fuck, i’ve known you longer than i’ve been able to cook, but i’ll be damned if i keep letting you go again, or letting my brother try and smooth talk you for me.”
“keep working then, bear, i’ll always be here.” a smile spread across your face as you relaxed into his side.
christmas would likely never be the same for you and carmen. each year that passed you saw carmen in the news, each time growing into a more successful person. you were proud of him. you regularly kept in touch, both of you just waiting for the right moment. each of you were so involved in your careers away from chicago, but still so involved with each other.
it wasn’t until carmen took over the beef that you knew he was back in chicago. you always wondered why he had gone back after being so adamant to stay away, but the moment he was back you were back with him. visiting his apartment, wondering why he had jeans in his oven, reminiscing on the good times, and trying to talk through the bad.
thinking back to the eventful christmas holiday carmen often mentioned to you how mikey and richie pestered him about you, and he hated admitting it, but they were right. you were the love of his life. the one that was always there. the one that was patient. the one that waited. the one that kept him grounded.
he missed mikey, well, he missed who he remembered mikey to be. every time he uncovered a new terrible part of his past he would call you, trying to talk through the emotions rather than dwelling on them and having a massive and uncontrollable berzatto outburst. his anxiety would never be gone and his perfectionism ruled his life, but you allowed it to be easier managed.
it was peach and bear again because it was always just meant to be peach and bear no matter how long it took, how many arguments were had, no matter how many messages were unsent, and no matter how many times they left each other only to find one another again.
Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?
Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader
Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)
Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT
Word count: 7929
The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.
When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.
It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.
Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”
Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”
“No, really, I don’t mind –,”
“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”
Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.
“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.
The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”
Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”
“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”
Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”
And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.
“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.
“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”
Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”
“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”
Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.
“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”
“Not if she plans on going home with it.”
“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.
Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”
“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.
His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”
“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.
With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.
“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”
All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.
She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.
“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.
“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”
“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.
“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.
“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.
“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”
Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”
“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.
He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.
Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”
Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.
She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.
Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.
When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.
“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.
“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”
His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”
For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”
“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”
With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.
Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.
***
When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.
“What the fuck is that?”
Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”
“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.
As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.
“Girl what?”
“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.
“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”
He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.
“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”
“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.
Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”
“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”
“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”
Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”
Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.
Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”
“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”
“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.
“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”
He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””
They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.
“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”
He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”
“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”
“That is your stuff.”
“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”
Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”
“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”
“That’s way too many towels.”
“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.
“Y/N…”
“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”
Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.
All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”
And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.
You take care of me, I take care of you.
Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.
But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.
He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.
And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.
They took care of one another.
But not just that.
No.
Not for him.
Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.
He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.
He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.
She was his home.
Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.
She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”
He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.
Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.
“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”
And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.
Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.
“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.
Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.
“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”
“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”
Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.
Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.
Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.
“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”
“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”
He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.
“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.
“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”
“Then why can’t you tell me?”
He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”
“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”
“This is nothing like the restaurant.”
“Then how is it?”
He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.
“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.
His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.
“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.
“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”
He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”
There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”
“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own… But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”
“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”
That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”
And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”
His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.
“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.
He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”
Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.
Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.
“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.
“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back.
She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.
“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.
Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.
Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.
Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”
She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”
Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.
Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.
He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.
Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.
A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.
“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.
When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.
“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.
Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”
“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”
Her responding smile made his heart soar.
In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.
He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.
Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.
“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.
“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”
“Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”
She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.
Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.
But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.
“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.
He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.
Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.
Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.
“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.
Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”
Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.
Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.
A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.
“Condom?” she asked.
“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.
“Neither do I.”
For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”
“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”
Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.
“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”
That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.
“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”
“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”
He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”
“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”
“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”
Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.
When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.
She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.
“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.
“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”
He swallowed. “Are you sure?”
Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”
After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.
Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.
She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”
And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.
More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.
Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.
White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.
It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.
His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.
“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.
Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”
Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”
Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”
He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.
After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.
He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.
“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”
She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”
“You did yesterday.”
“Because I’d already eaten!”
Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”
***
The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise. But their rest didn’t last long.
She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”
“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”
Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear. Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.
Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.
There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.
“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”
“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.
“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”
Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”
Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”
“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”
“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”
“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”
The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”
“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.
A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.
Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”
“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.
“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”
Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”
Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”
She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.
“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.”
They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.
And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.
And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.
And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.
By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.
Summary: Carmen has been really busy with work, which results in him not being home most nights, if not for the whole week. It’s been going on for months and slowly began to break you. It’s become a routine to feel disappointed by the man you love.
Warnings: really angsty and sad, nothing violent, just heartbroken reader.
Word Count: ~1173
—
This was routine, loneliness. If someone asked you to describe yourself in one word, it’d be alone. The worst part of it was that you weren’t really alone. You and Carmen had been dating for five years, and you’ve had your ups and downs, but you’ve never felt so alone in your relationship. Carmen had been so busy at the restaurant that he didn’t even come home sometimes. Date nights have been postponed so often that you both silently agreed to dismiss them. His side of the bed was cold and empty most nights unless you wrapped his shirt around his pillow to cuddle. You started becoming accustomed to the routine of this loneliness. You’d text each other like nothing happened, cherry and lighthearted until the end of the night. You’d ask if he was coming home, and he’d tell you he wasn’t. You’d just say “ok I understand” then you’d say goodnight to each other. This was routine.
But Christmas was coming, and he promised he’d be more available by then, but he still wasn’t home. You sat on the floor, fluffing the branches of the false Christmas tree you put up alone, trying your best to enjoy it. Carmen promised he would be home every weekend for the last three weeks to help you decorate, but something more important always came up. You knew he was stressed and wanted to support him, so of course, you said ok again. You knew being patient was what he needed, and you were proud of him, so why wouldn’t you be. But Christmas is in a month and your tree still isn’t done. Carmen knows how much you love Christmas, even if he isn’t really big into the associated traditions. He especially knew how much you loved decorating the tree. It was your favourite thing ever, and doing it with him made it all the more special. So you sat, fluffing, hopeful and waiting. Carmen said he’s coming home tonight, so you had to admit you were excited to finally do the tree together. You had Christmas music playing, the decorations pulled from storage, fresh Christmas cookies baked, and your comfiest pjs and socks on, ready for the night you’ve been waiting for. Then the phone rang.
Hello?
You answered cheerfully, not paying attention to the caller ID, too focussed on the tree.
Hey baby…
You heard Carmen’s voice chime through the phone. You were excited for a brief moment, but you knew better than to get your hopes up. His voice had a nervous snake to it, and deep down, you knew what was going to happen.
Hi Carmy... Are you on your way home?
You asked. You knew, but you asked anyway, hoping he’d hear the hopeful tone in your voice and come home just for you. He sighed.
Um, no, no, I’m not coming home tonight, baby. I’m sorry, but I have to get this shit done, and I just don’t have time right now.
He explained. You could tell he felt bad, but you were still upset. You were heartbroken, but you smiled through your tears and nodded even if he couldn’t see it.
Ok, carmy, It’s ok. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. Just focus on getting it down so you can come home.
You said. You sounded cheery and nonchalant, something you’ve mastered the last few months this had been happening. You just wanted to be a good girlfriend, supportive and loving. Even if sometimes you felt he didn’t feel required to do the same for you.
I’m so sorry, baby. I know you were looking forward to tonight, but I just have to get this done. Jimmy and Sugar have been breathing down my neck about moving my ass.
He explained. You just listened, tears beginning to gather in your eyes. However, you kept up the facade.
I know, Carmy. I know. It’s okay; just do what you have to do. I’ll see you soon, ok? Maybe next weekend?
You suggested, your voice still not breaking. You heard Carmen sigh again.
Ok. Are you ok? I’m really sorry I can’t come home yet.
He said. It only hurt more.
Yeah, I’m ok, baby. Just do your work; I know you're busy.
You faked a chuckle. There was a pause.
I’m proud of you for working so hard, you know.
You said. It was empty, though; even if deep down you were proud of him, at that moment, you couldn’t care less.
Okay. Thanks, baby. I’ll let you know next weekend when I know more, okay? I have to get back to it, though. I love you. Goodnight.
He said in a rushed tone.
Night, love you too.
You said cheerily, then hung up. You just sat there for a few minutes, empty and emotionless. Then the dam broke. You threw your phone across the room in frustration, angry, heartbroken tears streamed endlessly down your cheeks, and you sobbed. Ugly, loud and broken sobs racked your body as you curled into a ball on the floor. You were mad, upset, disappointed, heartbroken and alone again. You hated Carmen at that moment. You hated him for pushing you aside and treating you like such garbage. You hated him for not being there or having the decency to put his work on hold for even just one night. You hated him for not loving you as much as you loved him and leaving you alone for months on end. Finally, you hated yourself. You hated yourself for allowing him to treat you this way. You hated yourself for letting this painful experience continue and saying nothing because you were afraid it was selfish or would upset him and drive him away. You hated yourself for being so passive and such a pushover. Most of all, you hated that you still had hope. That a part of you still was delusional enough to believe he’d make time for you. You were angry, broken, and alone, and you couldn’t even tell Carmen how you felt because you knew how stressed he was already, so you made yourself feel like you had to bottle it up. After an hour or so of crying on the floor and another hour of just lying there in silence, you stood. You looked at the unfinished tree and decided it wasn’t worth finishing. In fact, you looked at everything you had set up and decided it was all pointless. If he didn’t care and wasn't willing to put in the effort, why should you? You turned off the music, put away the cookies and turned off the lights before heading to your bedroom. You strip out of your comfy pjs and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top before falling into bed and crying yourself to sleep. This was routine. You’re alone, and you cry yourself to sleep. You’ve lost count of the nights and are surprised you still have tears to cry. You should’ve known. This was routine.
synopsis: the woman who made him a man is back in town and he can barely hold it together
a/n: i tried to make it cohesive without rushing it, but oh well..enjoy!
no one ever forgot their first time.
it was the sweetest taste, your cherry flavor stained lips, chapped from the dry chicago heat. he remembered the way they felt, soft and rubbery, his teeth had caught on them. then the fruity flavor had turned to iron, but he still kissed you as hard as he did the first time.
after he had bitten you, you had asked gently if he had ever done this before. carmen answered honestly, and you promised you’d teach him everything you knew.
but that had been years ago, and a lifetime of memories had occurred since then, that when richie had mentioned your name, carmy couldn’t place you.
“what was it again?” carmy asked, hands on his hips as he thought hard of what richie had just said.
“y/n. come on, cousin, don’t tell me you forgot!” his neck vein popped out, and carmy shook his head, his hands rubbing across his face as he thought hard.
“was she in school with me? how do you know her?” carmy shot out any questions that could connect you to him in his mind. it sounded familiar, the way richie said your name with thousands of memories behind it.
richie shrugged, “you brought this girl around to every single thing your family threw! she was your little girlfriend-“
“holy fuck- penny?” it was as if all the gears in carmy’s head had finally turned at the right time. he remembered you, of course he remembered you. he had to sift through all the bullshit of the past decade but now, it was like a fresh breath of air.
“penny? i swear her name was y/n.” richie raised his eyebrow, “i saw her at some magazine stand down the street, and i swear she looked familiar-“
“pennington. penny’s for pennington. i-“ carmy chuckled slightly, “mikey called me bear once, when she was around. and she had wanted a nickname like that.” richie could see the warmth in carmy’s face as he talked about you.
richie nodded in response, giving a second for carmy to come back down to earth. “i invited her to opening night. she’s one of those people who mold shit outta clay-“ he demonstrated with his hands, carmy’s eyes just staring out.
“cousin-“
“you invited her to opening night?” carmy echoed, and richie stared, hands falling onto the counter. he nodded, irritated with carmy’s absentmindedness.
“i want to be someone to be remembered.” the crinkle of the empty beer cans underneath your feet, followed your speech, “i want to be an artist!” your hands shot out, the drink in your left hand had partially spilled, but you didn’t seem to notice as you took another swig of it.
carmy’s face was hot. he felt it heat up after his first drink, and now had spent the entire night nervously pulling at his collar, trying to keep up with you.
you had driven him out to the suburbs in your mother’s beaten up volvo. he had gotten drinks, but hadn’t revealed how. but it didn’t matter, as the two of you were out, feet dangling above the ground, sitting in the trunk.
you turned to look at him. he looked beautiful in the moonlight, his blue eyes were deep, like pools of water that you wanted to get lost in.
“don’t you want to be an artist too, carmy?” your voice was soft, set to the pitch of innocence as you brought your hand up to caress his cheek. carmy was shy, eyes always darting away from yours, hands drawn up to his sides. it had taken a lot of convincing for him to even come out with you, but with the beer he had brought, you realized he could still surprise you.
it was in between your question and his answer that you had kissed him. it wasn’t the first time, there had been many more times since. but the passion was the same, the desire for more was always weighing heavy.
“yes..” carmy spoke, closing his eyes as your hands began to unbuckle his belt. he shivered, grabbing your hands, he helped you undo his belt, breath hitching as you kissed him harder.
carmen had been incredibly stressed all day. he had been stressed ever since richie had told him that you’d be coming to opening night. he had tried not to induce an attack, last time he saw you there had been a fight, and it was silence ever since.
but now, just the idea of your presence loomed over him like doomsday. today, even without you, could make or completely annihilate his career. but he was ready to face either or. you had taught him that, better or for worse.
“hey cousin!” richie thundered through the kitchen doors, his suit was dark and sleek, contrasting the chef coats everyone else was wearing. “y/n is at table five. sugar is talking to her, and it looks very,” he paused, and looked at carmy, “interesting.”
carmy sighed, “fuck.” he was busy, too busy that it should be inhumanly possible. he grabbed a towel, one that hung loosely over his shoulder and wiped his hands, “what did she order?” he looked around at all the other workers, looked at their plates and tried to guess.
richie smiled, crossing his arms across his chest as he spoke, “nothing.”
carmy had felt his face rise with heat as he slammed through the kitchen doors. he felt embarrassed, a little shocked even, that you hadn’t ordered anything for dinner.
he turned to the sound of sugar’s laugh, a familiar sound, he had found himself already walking over to the table. you hadn’t seen him yet, natalie had all your focus.
“hey-“ he greeted. sugar was the first to turn, and happily greeted her brother. you followed suit, but you didn’t say anything as the two exchanged a few words. instead you stared at carmy, years older, and completely unknown to you.
“hey bear.” you greeted, voice sweet on his name, you stood up, going in for a tight hug. he smelled of food, not surprising for someone who was just in the kitchen.
“hey pen..” he returned your greeting, and looked at his sister, who excused herself politely.
the two of you just stood for a moment, carmy watching as sugar circled around to talk to richie. carmy turned back to you, and extended his hand to your chair. you both sat, now face to face.
you looked different. the teenage invincibility had been exchanged for a confident, self assured adult. your eyes were still the kindest ones, he felt at ease just staring into them.
his eyes avoided your lips, avoided what they reminded him of.
“richie tells me your a sculptor?” carmy didn’t know why, but that was the first thing he had thought to ask. you laughed, surprised at his question too. but you nodded nevertheless, “yes, a local gallery is displaying some of my work. that’s why i’m back.” you played around with your silverware, and cleared your throat, “this is really lovely, carm. it’s-“ you looked around at it all, at the bustling scenery with various happy customers. “i’m really happy for you.” you finished.
carmy nodded, “yeah. thank you.” he blinked, and remembered what he had wanted to really ask. “are you not hungry or-“ you followed his gaze to the empty plate in front of you and you laughed, “oh- right!” you shrugged, “i don’t know actually. i guess i wanted to see if it was really you.” the way the words came out felt wrong, and you were quick to explain yourself.
“i didn’t mean it like that-“ you assured, and carmy laughed slightly, “i just hadn’t seen you in years that i almost didn’t believe it.” carmy nodded, “well, i’m here..im right here.”
the two of you locked eyes in that moment.
it was a special moment, something of substance that could ground carmy, and remind him of all the good things in life.
you tore your eyes away, and awkwardly laughed, “my show is next friday.” a card had appeared in your hands, and you were scooting it across the table to him, “i already gave one to your sister, and another to richie when i first saw him. you don’t have to come, i just figured-“ you looked around and he nodded, “yeah. no, totally. i’ll go.”
he found himself agreeing to go before he even fully thought it through.
he stood up, grabbing the card he tucked it into his coat. you looked up at him, eyes twinkling.
“bye carm.”
“bye pen.”
“you’ve got to calm down.” sydney had found herself at the end of an almost accident. carmy had forgotten the safe word, and nearly ran into sydney, who was carrying a large pot of boiling water.
she had set the pot down, realizing that there was something wrong with carmen.
carmy ignored her, and continued to furiously cook.
“hey-“ sydney put a hand on his shoulder but that seemed to make it all worse. carmy flinched, and dropped his spatula. he stepped back and shook his head, “back off, chef.”
“carm-“
“now.” his tone cut deep, and sydney nodded, annoyed with his response, she went back to work.
carmy’s hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. wind cut at his face, weaving through all the people on his way to the gallery.
he had checked the date and time multiple times, all day. he wanted to get it right, be there for you like you were for him. it had been a week since opening night, and he had thought about you every single night since.
you waited for him. people kept coming up to you, congratulating you on your new work, but none of it mattered. the work wasn’t for them, it was for him. and he was late.
“i could stay-“ carmy looked around nervously, eyes darting anywhere but the pools of pain in your eyes.
“no.” you bluntly said, “you will not stay here. you cant stay here. trust me carmen, you’re better off.” you had come to terms with the fact that if he stayed, he would be another mikey.
that’s why you had begged mikey not to let carmy work at the beef. he would never leave if he did.
carmy sighed, exhausted from the hours of arguing, “we’ll talk every day. i’ll- i can make time, between class-“ he tripped over his own words, and you had to stop him before it got worse.
“carmy-“ the way you looked at him made him realize that this was it. there was not going to be any calls, or any relationship because you were breaking up with him.
“i got into art school. i’ve been wanting to tell you, but i hadn’t made a decision.” you paused, “this is what’s best for both of us, bear.”
you had spotted him walking in. in the sea of pretentiousness, there he was. his wool jacket, perfect against the chilly weather, it had reminded you of all those winters during school.
“carmy!” you called his name, and waved him over. he weaved through to you, and greeted you with a hug and a kiss, “hey.”
he looked around at all artwork, “looks incredible.” he realized that along with sculptures, you had paintings as well. it was a cohesive collection, something that would definitely get talked about.
but as he looked at more work, he realized with a pang what the theme was. you followed him as he walked all around the gallery, until he finally got the main piece of work.
it was behind a rope, a blue velvet rope on all four sides as carmy, in statue form, looked out into the room of people.
“holy shit-“ he sounded breathless, eyes glued to a perfect posed, stone version of himself.
you watched his expression, unable to decipher how he was feeling. whether he was happy about it or not, you couldn’t tell.
more people came behind you to admire the statue, and carmy looked away, “is that it?” you nodded, and reached out, “come on, there’s one more thing, exclusive for the muse.”
muse, he whispered under his breath. he was your muse.
you took carmy to the office of the gallery. you had set up shop there, your belongings were scattered across the desk. you walked up to the desk, and leaned against it.
carmy walked in after you, and looked expectantly at you. you sighed, “you were the reason i came back. this,” there was a window where the statue could be seen, along with other pieces inspired by him. “was for you. you’ve been something that i’ve been trying to make right.”
carmy shook his head, “i’m not some broken toy that you can fix, penny.” your nickname cut like a blade in that moment and you exhaled. “i know that.” you replied, “i just- i cant get you out of my head, carmy. for years i’ve tried,” you stood up off the desk, and walked towards him.
carmy instinctively wrapped his hands around your waist, sitting them perfectly on your curves. you both remained silent as you got closer. but he was pulling you in too, just too close for comfort.
“come on, bear.” you whispered, nose dragging across his cheek, you closed your eyes and hoped he’d kiss you.
carmy shivered, his grip on you tightened as he kissed your cheek. it was soft, innocent almost. you opened your eyes, bringing your hands up to his face as you pulled him in for a kiss.
it was new. you hadn’t kissed him since you were teenagers. he was inexperienced, but he was willing to learn. but now as you kissed him, you realized that he’s kissed hundreds of people since then. but you didn’t care. you loved his taste, cigarettes and everything sweet.
he kissed you harder, his hands tightening on your hips that it was almost painful. you couldn’t help yourself, you pressed against him, carmy’s back digging into the wall behind him.
“fuck-“ you kissed him more, lips dragging from his to his neck. he shivered, but didn’t say anything as you began to kiss him lower and lower.
the bustling noise of the people outside broke him out whatever this was, and carmy put a hand on yours, which was right on his belt buckle. “not here.” he panted right into your lips, “later you can kiss it all off me, but not here.” he felt naked, those people out there were gawking at his stone figure like some lost greek artifact.
he couldn’t do it now.
you nodded, lingering in his eyes, “of course, bear. time and place, i’ll be there.” you leaned in for a kiss, which carmy happily gave away. a part of him wondered what this would be. he couldn’t think, he wouldn’t.
“i’ll- im gonna go, pen.” he had taken a minute, looking at the door for a moment before opening it. he exhaled deeply, stepping out as the door shut behind him.
you watched him walk, his broad back being lost in the crowd of onlookers. you tried to ignore the urge to smile, but even then, you couldn’t hide it.
(this is just the beginning for the fic. its storyline/plot building. also the reader is midsize. not skinny but not plus. in the middle)
(im posting this its the beginning to a fic im writing & i just wanted to post this lil excerpt. hoping to get some feedback & see what people think! please, let it rip:)
Home. Home? What did that word mean to you? It was a noisy, dirty, yet charming city. An old house, at least sixty years old. Paint now peeling, gutters full of old leaves and shit. Home, a minute's walk across the road. Inside a warm dish of delicious food awaits. Michael hands you that first plate. There it was, the moment of truth. Determining if you were friend or foe. Not really though, just testing to see if you were a narc. (Later you would argue with Mikey that his logic made no sense whatsoever.)
You found a home in the dysfunctional, crazy ass Berzatto family. They quickly accepted you as one of their own. Having been Carmy’s best (and only) friend. Always so polite and sweet. Until Mikey or Richie pissed you off. They were always picking on you and Carmy. And sometimes they pushed hard enough to set you off. That is exactly why you’re all in this situation now.
“Fucking A. You ain’t gotta hit me that hard asshole! Seriously, it was just a fucking joke man! Lighten the FUCK UP!” Richie yelled. You sat across the island from him. Mikey was digging through the freezer. He was trying to find something to ice Richie’s face. You had given the bastard a black eye and a bloody fucking nose. Mikey was more than impressed. So was Richie, but he wouldn’t be telling you that any fucking time soon.
“I’m sorry Rick,” he scowled as you called him that. “I tried to warn ya that you went too far, but no, you just had to go there.” He just stared at you, deadpan. You sucked in a breath, cheeks puffed out. Head in your hands you let out the breath. Standing up and making your way in front of the man. A hand extended out, an olive branch.
Scoffing he smacked the hand away. Your chest tightened, Richie was basically your older brother. His rejection hurt, a fucking lot in fact. Not wanting him to see the tears starting to well up, you start to turn away. That is when you feel it. Two long, solid arms wrap around you. Twisting around, you rest your chin on his shoulder and grasp the back of his old ass hoodie tight. Fingers clenching the fabric.
“It’s all good Doll. I still love ya. Even if you broke my goddamn nose.” Richie held you, then after a beat, “I mean shit. My cheekbone feels like a grown man split it, kid.” The tender moment was over for now. Richie is trying to make a joke out of it. You smirk, shoving him by the shoulders into his previous seat.
“ ‘S what ya get asswipe! Quit fucking with her when she says. It’s called ‘boundaries’ cousin? Ever heard of the concept?” Mikey slapped a steak on his eye. The other man groaned.
“FUCK SAKES MIKEY! Please, could ya be a little more considerate or some shit? I already got rocked. Don’t need a worse fucking bruise.” Mumbling as he pushed Mikey’s hand away, holding the slab of meat.
“I am not eating that shit later Mikey, no fucking shot.” Giggling, you give the man a kiss on the cheek. “What’s for dinner anyways?” The dark haired man seemed to think for a moment, then said something similar to what landed Richie his shiner and fucked nose.
“Ask Carmy, I’m sure he has a few ideas for what he wants.” Wagging his eyebrows at you. The smirk was audible. Mikey seemed to be proud of himself for the quip.
“Y-You…motherfucker.. I swear I’ll end you, Berzatto. YOU BITCH, C’MERE.” You took off around the island to where he stood in front of the kitchen sink. Richie was screaming and crawling up onto the counter, “ You two fucks better watch out for me. My shit’s busted enough. Get the fuck outta here!”
The memories of Mikey and the family keep swirling through your head as you stand in front of the funeral home. It had been a year since you physically saw any of the Berzatto clan. Too many years since seeing your best friend. Carmen Anthony Berzatto. A name you desperately wanted to forget. The name felt hollow to say, a distant memory. A smoke show that never existed except only in the dark recesses of your mind. Brought up when you wish to torture yourself even more than usual.
Drinking in the cold Chicago air, you begin the trek up the stairs. One measly step at a time. Hoping to calm your racing heart. It felt like the organ was lodged in your throat, bound to come up in a grisly mess at any second. The walk into the foreboding building felt like it took light years and seconds all at once. Standing before the doors, hand hovering over the knob. Psyching yourself up you finally grasp the knob and starting to pull and-
“Fucking Christ! This is fucking insane.” A familiar voice barks out. The door was quickly and haphazardly thrown open. PANG! Jumping back it only caught your arm a bit. The pain was nice and a needed distraction.
“Oh shit, I am so sorry, I-I didn’t realize anyone…” a small gasp of surprise and a tearful chuckle. Then a slow shaky intake of air, “Doll, is-is that you? Or am I just fucking nuts?” Desperation paints his tone. His words crack and waver with emotion, no, sadness and grief. And a bit of hope.
“Hey cousin, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Your voice was thick with the tears ready to be shed. Before you know you’re shoved into his warm chest. All you smell is stale cigarettes, and his woodsy, Ed Hardy cologne. The aroma of smoke, along with bergamot and amber soothes you. There was a time you despised this fucking scent. It was always too strong and pungent. Telling Richie he smelt like a hooker, wanting to piss him off.
“At least one of us is shaking ass and making some cash Doll.” SMACK! Richie shook his hips at you.
“You made it inside yet? ‘Course not, fuck. I-I’m sorry Doll, my brain is fucking lost. I-I don’t have a goddamn clue about what’s going on.” Apologizing and rubbing his nose roughly.
“Can’t lose something you never had Rick.” You smirk, jabbing him in his ribs.
“Hardy har. You got fucking jokes, eh? Nice, real nice…Shit.” Richie let out a loud sigh and looked at his feet, “Don’t call me fucking Rick man. Shit wasn’t cool when you were a kid, sure as shit ain’t cool now pip squeak.” He smacked you lightly on the back of your head. Reaching into his coat he grabs a cigarette, and swings the pack towards you. You quit smoking, a year ago. But, fuck it.
It is a funeral after all. Might as well take the edge off somehow. Being sober was fucking awful at times. You both finished the cigarettes in silence. After stubbing the cherry out, you gestured to the door.
“Think we should, uh, ya know?”
Richie swallowed his nerves and gave a single nod. The man had a hold of the handle before you could even think about it. Walking into one of the absolute worst possible moments of your entire fucking life.
i think what is so good about the bear is that every single fucking italian i know (including myself) talks about how relatable a lot of the situations in the bear is. that show has brought new york, chicago, and new jersey italians together like you would never believe. like im not sure if any of the actors are or are mostly italian, but like they fucking get it 🤌🤌🤌
May I humbly request Carmy telling you how bad you've been after giving him attitude at dinner service?
*retreats back into bog*
Attitude Adjustment
warnings: SMUT (MDNI), fingering, squirting, lil orgasm denial, lil angst, lotsa brattiness, lotsa swearing
A/N: I know I strayed from the plot, but stay with me. I love you. Mwah.
“You’re pissin’ me off.”
“Me?” You scoffed. “You sent me to voicemail!”
“I had shit to do!”
He balanced against the entryway’s wall, untying his shoes while you stood crossed arm in the dimly lit kitchen.
It really wasn’t that big of a deal, you could admit that, but it was rude. Even if he didn’t care about himself enough to prioritize his general safety and wellbeing, you still did.
“Well fuck me then, I guess.” You let your arms dramatically drop to your side.
“Yeah?” He asked, straightening in his spine. “Fuck you then?”
“Yeah. Fuck me.”
You fought like this often, if you wanted to call it a fight. It was more of a “misunderstanding”, you’d coined it since the very first one. There was shouting and cursing, followed by a good ol’ fashioned attitude adjuster that ended with naked bodies underneath a pile of blankets and a post coital conversation.
The tension became palpable, almost electric, as he stood his ground, and you held your breath in anticipation.
“That what you want?” He asked, stalking towards you. “Huh? Want me to fuck you? Want me to fuck you to say sorry for doing my fucking job?”
He was right there in front of you, arms crossed and nodding after each question as if answering for you.
“Maybe.”
“No no,” he smirked, knowing exactly what you were playing. “Don’t ‘maybe’ me, not when you’ve been actin’ like a spoiled brat all night. Tell me what you want.”
It was a game of cat and mouse. Give in, or don’t. Make it fun, or make it easy. You chewed your tongue while weighing the options.
He decided to help you out, brushing the pads of his fingers experimentally against your clothed core.
You gasped at the sensation, subconsciously opening yourself up to him. “I want,” you swallowed, accidentally stumbling backwards. “I want you to say you’re sorry for not answering my calls.”
“Yeah?” He coos, eyes flickering between your lips and eyes. ”Anything else?”
“I want you to say sorry for-for yelling at me,” you scrunch your eyes closed and balance your weight against the small table while his fingers rub circles against your clit.
“What else?” He enjoys the way your facade fades with each routine circle.
“I-I want you to,” you inhale sharply as he expertly bypasses your underwear and easily slips a finger into your cunt. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Want me to fuck you?” He goads, already knowing how worked up you get while you’re fighting. “Like this?” He curls a second finger into your velvet heat, relishing in the way you become pliable.
“Mhm,” you moan, grinding your hips into his hand, enjoying the way his palm presses into your clit. “Please.”
“I don’t know if I should,” he teases, placing slow, wet kisses against your throat. “You knew I was gonna be late tonight.”
“Forgot,” you moaned, craning your neck, giving him access to every inch of you.
“Forgot,” he huffed into your skin, ignoring the way his pants grew tighter with each buck of your hips.
“God, Carm,” you whine.
“Feels good?”
“So good,” you throw your arm around his neck, pulling him in closer to you. “Kiss me,” you breathe.
“First you want me to say sorry,” he chuckles, “now you want me to kiss you?” He watches the way you contort your face, attempting to look as if he wasn’t seconds away from pulling an orgasm out of you.
“Please?” you whine, giving your best half-lidded puppy dog eyes.
Fuck it.
Give in.
Make it easy.
He lifts you up without a struggle, allowing you to plant yourself on the edge of the small table, collecting your body into his own as he holds you by the back of your neck. Your lips lazily crash against his, unable to stay connected for long as your jaw trembles from the budding orgasm.
It was embarrassing how quickly you were to losing this fight, but that’s usually how it goes.
“I’m gonna,”
“Don’t do it,” he warns but doesn’t stop his rhythmic pumping.
“Can’t help it Carmy,” you bite your lip in hopes it would deter you.
“You better try.”
You do. You do try, but it’s a weak attempt.
There was no way of stopping it from happening. He was knuckle deep massaging your gspot and sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck while your fingers circled your clit, it was impossible to stop, but he knew that.
“Fuck!”
Your body goes rigid just before you gush all over his hand. He’s quick to kneel down, suctioning his lips against your swollen bundle of nerves while pulling the pleasure from your core.
Your thighs instinctively wrap around his head, his unruly curls rick tickling your soft skin. You attempt to push him away, but he’s diligent. Skilled. Determined to make sure you knew how sorry he was.
“Carmy, fuck! I can’t!” Your limbs go limp and you all but fall back onto the table top.
He couldn’t help but chuckle as he rose from his position, studying the way you were sprawled out on the way-too-small table like a rag doll that had been thrown to the the side.
You couldn’t make yourself open your eyes, especially as he caressed the side of your face. You hummed, purred, at the feeling, enjoying the tenderness that always followed.
“You okay?” He asked gently, stroking a thumb against your cheek.
“Mhm,” you sighed, unable to contain your smile.
Your eyes eventually adjusted to the distant warm glow, and you finally got a good look at him. He was beautiful, even if he smelled like oil and cigarettes. Even with the bloodshot eyes and sleepy smile. He was beautiful, even with the stain…
“Oh my god,” you were mortified at the damp discoloration of his shirt, evidence of your own doings just minutes prior.
“What? What’s wrong?” He was timid as you sat up too quickly, afraid that the moment of softness was too much.
“Your shirt,” you panicked, embarrassment washing over you completely.
He had to look down to discover the issue. It wasn’t an issue at all, really, and he almost laughed at how unserious it truly was until realizing you were completely serious.
“It’s nothing, honey. Don’t worry about it. See,” he removed it effortlessly, throwing it in a pile of his dirty laundry that had already been collecting. “Nothin.”
You can’t help but avoid his gaze, studying the goosebumps on your thighs. “I’m sorry about your shirt,” you mumble.
“And I’m sorry about the voicemails.”
You perk up at that, only allowing a fraction of a smile to grow.
“Can we call it even?” He asked, his smile mirroring yours.
