The Less I Know The Better
Sydney likes Luca's cooking and Carmy wants to kill himself.
Warnings: MINORS DNI, Arguing, Angst, Toxic Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Unprotected Sex, Jealousy, Alcohol, Panic Attacks, Codependency
Divider: firefly-graphics.tumblr.com GIF: thiscoldheart.tumblr.com
Part 1 | Part 2
A/N:
I used to pray for times like this. I'm so happy I finished the fic and I am unburdened by it. I have one more installment planned. It's not a continuation but how I imagine they got together in the first place. I'll try to get that out soon. The title is based on The Less I Know the Better by Tame Impala. Posted on AO3.
She didn't feel like she was in her body when she woke up the next morning.
Her head was floating away to some vast unknown paradox, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling. It made her senses fall out of whack. She felt cold, even in his warm embrace. His body was always so warm. When he pulled her against him she’d sink into it, against his artfully crafted body, she felt at home.
She missed the mindlessness his touch brought. He’d look at her and hold her like she didn’t have to worry, ever, about anything. He always made her feel safe. She briefly registered an emotion she hadn’t felt since her business failed. It was gone, shaken off by the flexing of her fingers down to her toes.
The feeling left her and she could finally move.
She slipped out from under him, a stealth mission to leave the house before he woke up. He stirred when she stood up, her blood ran ice cold. With a heart fighting its way out of her chest and tightly closed eyes - she begged god to keep him asleep. Just for a little longer, she wasn’t ready to face him. After a few moments of silence his breathing evened out and she could safely open her eyes. The breath she released was sure to be quiet.
The morning didn’t greet her with the smell of freshly cut grass or a warm radiant sky, but with a brittle bite. Her cheeks were stinging and her lashes were wet by the time she reached her father’s house.
Emmanuel stood by his coffee maker. He watched as his sweet'n low disappeared into his coffee. His back was to her when she turned her key and welcomed herself inside. She never got rid of her key when she moved out in case something went wrong. God knows she was used to things going wrong.
“Something tells me you want to talk.” He called behind him as he added cream to his cup. He watched as the color of his coffee lightened until it reached the desired hue.
Sydney weakly snorted as she shrugged out of her puffer and heeled her shoes off at the door. She hung her coat on the rack and sat on the too stiff wooden seat sitting at the table. She sat in silence as the sounds of her father’s spoon clinking against a ceramic mug filled the air.
She absently noted that it was the mug she sculpted for him when she was just 9 years old.
More silence stretched between them.
She liked it though. She didn’t feel the need to perform or pretend like she wasn’t burning on the inside. He finally turned around bringing an extra cup with him, already filled with coffee prepared just how she liked it.
“What’s on your mind sweet pea?” He took a seat, the wooden chair shifted under his weight and the floor creaked.
Each time she tried to speak the words died on her tongue. She couldn’t form a coherent thought and the longer she struggled the more she thought about how stupid this all was.
Finally, she let herself breath.
“God, I wish mom were here.” She stared down at her reflection in her coffee. Nearly black with 2 sugars.
“So it’s one of those problems.” He spoke into his cup just before taking a healthy sip. The mug hit the table with a subtle 'clank'. “I can call auntie, but it’s close to midnight where she is.“ He was already moving to grab his phone when she stopped him.
“No, don’t bother auntie!" Her outburst made him pause. He slowly moved back to his previous position, watching his daughter with intensity. "It-“ she sighed glancing between her cup and her father’s befuddled face. He patiently awaited her confession. “It’s just about Carmy…” she bitterly chuckled as she she played with one of her braids. Twisting it around her finger before letting it fall. “Stupid really.”
“Ah,” he raised his eyebrows. “It’s one of those problems.” He hummed, contemplating his next set of words. Silently pondering how to best go about this. “Why do you say it’s stupid?”
She shot him a deadpan stare, “Come on. Boy problems, at this age?” She rested her elbows on the table and ran her hands over her face. Her fingers rested firmly against her eyes.
She pressed and pressed until the burning feeling of tears subsided. She wished she didn’t feel the need to be so strong all the time. She wished she could just breakdown and let those feelings flow instead of intellectualizing them every chance she got.
Emmanuel gently nudged her shoulder effectively bringing her back down to reality.
“If you have a problem, you have a problem.” He waited until her glassy eyes reached his. “Talk to me, you can tell me anything.”
She sniffled, laying her hands flat against the table, sliding them back so she could feel the smooth surface. A grounding technique that always seemed to work. She slid them until they fell off the table and rested in her lap. It wasn't working this time.
“I just didn’t think I’d ever find myself back here again.” She muttered more to herself than to him. But he nodded along nonetheless. “We broke up. It was finished. Yeah, it was awkward at the restaurant but it was working…” she lifted one shoulder and let it drop before adding. "Working enough." She shook her head in disbelief. “Then- then he came to me for help and I just couldn’t say no. It’s like he knows just what to say and I’d do anything for him. Anything.”
Emmanuel nodded slowly taking in her words. Hanging onto everything she said, saving his response for later when she was done pouring her heart out.
“Then I learn he hasn’t let go of his ex and they’re still” her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and she felt her throat burn with constriction. She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth slide down her throat and warm her belly. “They’re still friends and he brought her to family dinner and I don’t know. I think I did something stupid just because I was jealous and afraid. Now i'm debating if I even want to go to California still and you know this opportunity is all I ever really wanted. I still lo-“ she choked on her words before gulping them down.“I just don’t want to lose him.”
He inhaled deeply taking in everything she said. But he thought not to speak. - at least for now. He let her words linger and he let them penetrate his mind. His daughter was his heart, a spitting image of her mother, he just wanted to coddle her. To hold her against him and tell her everything would be okay and that he’d get rid of anything causing her distress.
As he stared at her he realized she wasn’t that little girl playing in his shoes anymore. She wasn't tripping over her feet and scraping her knees on the hot concrete. That was back when his kisses could make the pain go away in an instant. She was different. She had complex thoughts and even more complex feelings that he was afraid to admit he didn’t quite understand.
He didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know what to do.
“I ever told you about the time your mother and I broke up?” He watched as her eyes lit up with curiosity. “Yeah it was Summer of '83, she was missing home. Her parents were getting older and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with them.”
She watched as his eyes drifted to the ceiling and he recalled what happened all those years ago.
“I think I told her that if she left me I’d never forgive her, that I’d never speak to her again.”
“God dad.”
“I know, I know.” He chuckled to himself. “But I just couldn’t imagine losing her or living apart. I wanted a family and I knew I didn’t want that with anybody else but her.” He shrugged. “I was being selfish. Selfish and stupid-”
“What'd she do?” She questioned before the tail end of his sentence could leave his mouth.
“She left.” He chuckled with the shake of his head. “I was dumb, a kid. I didn’t fully understand what love was. I didn’t think it could exist when there was such a great distance between us.”
Sydney thought about Carmy again. The way she’d felt sick at the thought of leaving him and The Bear. She shooed those thoughts away when her father began speaking again.
“I lasted about three days, I think...” He recalled. “Maybe two and a half before I called her parents’ house. She didn’t want to speak to me but I wore her down and the first thing I said to her was that I missed her and that I was sorry.”
She felt a warmth spread from her heart throughout her body. Despite herself, a smile broke over her face.
“She of course told me to go to hell.” He laughed. His infectious laughter pulled Syd in, beckoning her to participate in his delight.
“So what?" She chuckled between her words. "You just wore her down even more?”
“Well, sorta kinda” he hummed with a grin on his face. “I got the next flight out and showed up at her parent’s doorstep with flowers and a ring. Hat in hand, I asked for her back.” He quirked his eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “I think I gifted her parents some fresh fruit so they didn’t run me off their property.”
“Jesus, so did she take you back?” She leaned forward, cheeks aching from her smile. She loved hearing new stories about her late mother.
It was bittersweet, she knew that one day there wouldn't be anymore stories to tell.
“She did.” He supplied. “I asked her father for her hand that night and we were engaged the next morning. Flew back to the states a few days later.”
“Real smooth dad.” She chuckled. “Did she come back with you?”
“No, she stayed there for a few more months after I went back but we talked all the time. She taught me a lot, Syd.” He rested his hand over hers. “She taught me about patience and trust. She taught me to put myself first just like she did. Most importantly she taught me that love is something tangible, something real and nobody can define what it means for you, but you.” He let her sit with those words. “Now, I can’t tell you what to do in this situation. I know things are different nowadays in relationships. Kids aren’t getting married all willy nilly” he stopped short. “You’re not thinking of marrying this kid are you?”
“No dad.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. “It feels like we are though.”
“Well, I’ll ask you this: How does he feel about all this?”
“He-“ she stopped with a sudden realization. She hadn’t even spoken to him. She left him alone in her apartment in her bed after she confessed that she was leaving the state for an undetermined amount of time.
A fog lifted from her mind and it donned on her just how much of an asshole move that was. She hadn't even consider how he'd be taking all this.
“Dad I gotta go.”
Carmy blinked a few times adjusting to the sun's rays bleeding through the blinds. He let a yawn pass his lips as he rubbed his eyes. His arms reached out as the kinks in his shoulder popped and relaxed. He was used to mornings with Syd being spent in leisure. Quiet and intimate.
Whoever woke up first usually started breakfast. They never spent the morning after separated. Syd teased him once about being a ‘water sign’ (whatever that means) but Carmy hated the idea of waking up alone.
This was something Syd knew.
Carmy frowned when he felt that the other side of the bed was cold. He opened his eyes fully to examine the wrinkled bed sheets beside him. She'd been gone so long that the bed was now cold to touch.
“What the?” He turned his head around searching the space for her, listening for anything. “Syd?”
He stood up tugging on his pants and stumbling out of her room.
“Sydney?” He rushed through the space looking for her, a note, anything. But, she simply wasn’t home. He huffed pushing his hair back and staring at the white wall before him. No note, no notice, nothing.
Was he not worth the decency of a quick nudge, ‘Hey I'm headed out’? He just never thought she’d leave her own apartment to avoid an awkward rejection the morning after.
He felt so stupid.
He never felt stupider.
Of course, this was nothing, of course, this was a sympathy fuck or something worse. Like closure.
What else could it have been if shes that eager to get up and leave?
Carmy’s spiral of self-deprecation was cut short by the sound of keys turning in the door.
“You’re up!” She notes before turning completely around and locking the door. She used this precious time to squeeze her eyes shut and count to five. With a steadying breath, she turned around to face Carmy.
She always loved how sensitive he was when it was just the two of them. It was the look on his face that reminded her of their little agreement.
Leaving each other after having sex wasn’t something they did. Sex felt sacred to them, the time carved out was far too precious to ignore. After breaking up, the pact to remain in each other's embrace after still stood apparently.
“Yeah, I’m up!” He met her with a warm embrace, a warm smile on his face.
She was surprised at his reaction but decided that she liked this more than the expected awkwardness.
“Sorry, you had to wake up alone.” She exhaled sincerely into his shoulder.
He closed his eyes enjoying their closeness before pulling away.
“Where were you?” He grabbed the bags out of her hand and pecked her cheek before bringing them to the kitchen. “What's all this? You went grocery shopping?”
“Yeah on my way back I stopped by the store. I’m out of eggs and bacon and milk and you know everything.” She shrugged. “Wanted to make us breakfast.”
Something to soften the blow. Butter him up.
“That tends to happen when you spend all of your time at the restaurant.” He replied, playful sarcasm in his voice. He moved to begin cooking their breakfast. “Don’t feel bad, my place doesn’t look much better anyways.”
She wanted to help him but holding onto this secret, this brewing confession, left her mute and stagnant. After a few moments of watching him she cleared her throat and leaned against the counter.
“I bet.” She remembers all the mornings and nights when they had to make something out of thin air or order delivery if they were too tired from working.
She began putting the groceries Carmy didn’t need away.
"Where were you on your way back from?"
“Oh yeah I um I also went by my dads...”
Carmy sliced a square of butter and let it sizzle in the skillet. Something peculiar was in her tone, he knew that much.
“Yeah? How is he?” He glanced over at her finding that her face matched her tone. Peculiar.
“Still buying canned cabbage.”
He barked a laugh before sparing her a glance. “Gotta get him to see the light, Chef!”
“I’ve been trying, Chef.” They both laughed, naturally letting it tapper out. A swollen silence filled the air. “I talked to him about us”
That seemed to make Carmy’s ears perk up. “What about us?” He tried to keep his tone casual, but she knew him well. Each inflection in his voice stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter how normal he tried to sound.
“I asked for advice.” She slowly delivered “Carmy. I don’t know if what we did was smart.”
He momentarily stopped scrambling the sizzling eggs, it was only for a second but the hitch in movement was noticeable.
“I’m not saying I regret it or anything,” She supplied quickly. “But I already have my plane ticket. I’m leave soon and we’re-“
“We’re not gonna work long distance.” He finished her sentence, realization seemingly hitting him in that moment. “You're right we won’t.” He admitted dejectedly.
Frankly, she was surprised by his answer and how understanding he sounded. She wished that she could fully understand the breadth of her decision herself.
She promised herself from a young age that she’d never let anything hold her back from her dreams - not money, not circumstances, not relationships - one thing seemed to slip through the cracks.
She misses when she never looked twice in a guys (or a girls, for that matter) general direction.
She kept her head down for so long working, working, working now her dreams were being fulfilled right before her eyes and she found herself hesitating. All because of some blue eyed man with anger issues.
She didn’t want to leave him. She didn’t want to leave The Bear.
But she knew she had to. She’d resent him. She’d resent herself. If her mother’s death taught her anything, its to always live your life for yourself. Time here on earth was so short, a drop in the boundless ocean. She had to spend her time doing what she loved even if it called for great sacrifice.
“I can’t pass this up.” Her voice cracked. A very surreal feeling thickened the air as they accepted defeat.
This felt eerily final.
“I wouldn’t want you to," He let a beat pass before adding on an obligatory, “Chef.” He sighs, clicking the front burner up a few notches. “Just don’t go over there and decide you like working in their kitchen more than mine."
"Yours?" She raised an eyebrow, her teeth winked at him as she smiled.
"Ours." They both smiled at his words and settled into more tension-filled silence.
“What's gonna happen to us?”
Carmy rattled the words around in his head as he plated the eggs and moved on to frying bacon. He focused on the popping sound of the grease and the smell of crisping pork. His movements were cathartic.
Cooking never left him. It never disappointed him. He could rely on this.
“Carm?” She tilts her head and meets his eyes.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat “We'll be,” he searched for the words. What would ex-lovers become if they ran a restaurant together? "Friends?"
She chuckled surprised at how heavy and foreign the word sounded in this context. But that was better than strangers or whatever the fuck they've been these past couple months.
"Friends with Chef Carmen Berzatto." She slowly nodded becoming familiar with the term that now described their relationship. "I'll take it."
They waited for the words to settle and for the air to return back to normal but it hadn't and eventually Carmy finished plating their breakfast.
"I'm gonna hop in the shower then head out.” He began walking away before she could reply.
"We're not eating together?"
"I'm not that hungry actually!" He closed the bathroom door behind him.
Time apart would be good, Carmy thought. They’d get time to think and to grow. This was good.
This had to be good.
✓ A pen.
✓ The ceiling fan.
✓ Boots.
✓ The TV.
✓ A pillow.
Five things he could see, check.
‘Gauge your surroundings. This will help ground you.’
Carmy's therapist taught him this method not too long ago. It quickly became one of the only things that could ground him nowadays.
She taught it to him towards the end of one of their first sessions. Her voice was calm and slow, drawing him out in a steady tempo of gentle negotiation. She spoke to him as if he had a bomb strapped to his chest and any sudden movements would set it off. He’ll never forget that day.
He was finally opening up about Mikey, telling her all about how they didn't have the best relationship but he somehow felt closer to him after his death. He hadn't realized how much he'd spaced out until he opened his eyes and he was back in his mother's house. Glass was breaking. A million alarms blared in his ears replacing his thoughts. Everybody was yelling. He couldn't breathe.
A panic attack in front of a stranger was new.
When he finally calmed down he realized that the world hadn't exploded and chunks of the rock weren't drifting through space leaving him to float in the vast unknown.
He was still in her office. He was still alive.
He blinked the memory away and rubbed his hands against his jeans, hoping the rough feeling against his sweaty palms would bring him back to earth.
He began naming four things he could touch under his breath.
"Jeans." He continued moving his hands over his thighs.
"Lambskin jacket." The inside was lined with fur.
"Shutter." It sat atop his bedside lamp - the warmth felt nice again his palm.
"Blanket." Sugar gifted it to him this past Christmas, it was way too fluffy but it did keep him warm at night.
What could he hear?
A bird chirping just outside of the window. It’d been going for a while he realized.
The low hum of electricity.
His phone beeping.
He took note. Then it beeped again and again until he descended from the clouds and found that it was ringing. He did a double-take at the contact before answering.
“Carmy?” Her voice bled through the receiver and he felt like he could breathe again.
Light. He felt it shining through the phone.
“You there?”
“Yeah, I,” He inhaled more air before blowing it out in once quick exhale. “I’m here.”
“Are you okay?” She worried her bottom lip, listening for any signs of distress.
She promised herself before her move that she'd focus on looking forward not back. But being friends with Carmy kept her feet firmly planted in the past. She felt them slipping back into the place they were at just before they got together.
Their exchanges were far too soft, far too thoughtful, and far too tense to be simply platonic. She had to remind herself that they'd been there and done that. This was good.
This was better.
“I am. I was just- it’s nothing." He scratched the back of his head. Unruly curls tangled around his nimble fingers. "Trying this 5,4,3,2,1 method my therapist taught me. It helps me calm down..." He plopped down on his couch and threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I was actually thinking about things I could hear before you called.”
“I know that method." She replied before checking the time.
She didn't need to leave for another 15 minutes. “If I’m not mistaken you have 2 more steps to go then.”
“I'm okay now, you- you help me breathe.” He confessed through a relieved chuckle. "So, tell me are you running that place yet or what?"
Sydney grinned but didn't let his charming words deter her. “What are two things you can smell.” She encouraged.
He realized his leg was still bouncing, maybe he wasn’t completely grounded. “I made spaghetti earlier and accidentally put too much garlic, so, garlic.”
“I bet it was still fire.” She hummed almost dreamily remembering the taste of his cooking.
“Wish you were here to taste it.” He muttered sadly playing with a rip in his jeans.
“Alright, big guy don’t go soft on me now.” She teased ignoring the butterflies in her belly. “What else can you smell?”
“Ah, my cologne I guess it’s new I kinda hate it." He pulled at the collar of his shirt, bringing it up to his nose before dropping it. "Too, I don’t know, fancy.”
“Yeah, you do love an earthy scent." She closed her eyes missing him now more than ever. Missing the way he smelled when he held her close and did the thing with his hips that made her words sound like simlish. "Now lastly what can you taste?”
“I had a stick of orbit earlier and the taste is still in my mouth.” He waited a beat. "Happy now?"
“Beaming!" She switched ears and walked to look out her window.
The small apartment she was subleasing was located smack dab in the middle of the art district. She enjoyed the sounds of the neighborhood at night and there was always some sort of performance art near the corner store she frequented. None of that mattered though, she rarely got to enjoy the artistic views because just outside of her window was a brick wall.
She ignored the symbolic implications that screamed at her every time she'd stare at it for too long.
“I feel alright- great actually, thank you Syd”
“No prob Carm." The heavy silence only reminded them of their distance. Sydney was the first to speak. "I'm adjusting to this place quicker than I expected actually.”
“Of course you are. You’re an amazing cook.”
He closed his eyes, trying to conjure her image in his head.
It was fuzzy and out of focus. Her complexion wasn't as vibrant. Her eyes were the wrong shade of brown. He missed how they flashed red in the sun. And pictures were just sobering reminders that she wasn't there with him.
He had to stop looking at them for his sanity.
“You’re reliable and confident."
A day without seeing her face was a day too many.
"Hey, you wanna Facetime?”
“Yeah one sec.” After a few seconds her face came into view.
Carmy felt his chest tighten. He’d spent their time apart creating this image of her in his head. He assumed because he missed her so much the image he created wasn’t accurate, there’s no way that she was that beautiful.
She was though. She was even more captivating than he remembered.
Venust: beautiful, comely, graceful, elegant.
Their busy schedules kept them from speaking to each as often as they wanted. Even when she lived in Chicago, they’d seen each other mostly in the kitchen.
Now they had to schedule appointments to talk. How bleak.
This phone call wasn't scheduled though.
“Hey, why’d you call?”
“Shit! Right, I called you. I was talking to Marcus the other day and apparently his friend from Copenhagen is coming here to fill in for someone. Isn’t that cool?”
She had her phone set up on her counter as she went about cooking. Carmy watched her in silence missing the way she moved around his kitchen.
“Luca? That's new. At least you'll kinda know someone there.” He hummed. “Are you making Bouillabaisse?”
"He's supposed to be arriving tomorrow." She stirred her simmering concoction. "How do you do that?" She chuckles keeping her eyes on the cloudy liquid. “I am. I’m cooking for everybody tomorrow including Luca and I’m super nervous so I’m trying out a few things!”
“Why are you so nervous?” He could really only think of one or two times she was genuinely nervous about her cooking.
Each time he wanted to grab her and convince her just how amazing she was. To stop doubting herself.
Then again he was probably being bias.
“Marcus speaks so highly of Luca and I know you and him are acquainted. I just want to live up to the hype.” She rambled.
“You will Syd.” He promised.
It was late. It was very late in Chicago so it was late in California and she still hadn't called.
He'd been busy all day so he didn't think twice about her promise to call later that day. But, he couldn't sleep and he'd grown tired of watching black and white reruns.
He tried not to watch his phone like a hawk but each time it lit up he couldn't help but grab it.
When she finally did call he had nodded off to sleep.
"Did I wake you I'm sorry!" She winced realizing how late it must've been. "I'll call back-"
"No!" He sat up "it's okay, I'm up." He yawned checking the time, 3:00 AM. He yawned again as he stood to grab a glass of water. "What's got you out so late?"
"It's only 1:00 where I am!"
"Still."
"Luca brought this special wine and we all got drunk off of one glass and did karaoke"
"Sounds like fun." He replied sincerely, preoccupied with boiling water. Tea would help him get back to sleep after their conversation. "How was the dinner? Did you impress everybody?"
"I did!" She exclaimed. "Sorry if I’m being loud.” He could almost see the expression she was donning. “Did you know that weed is legal here?"
Carmy grinned realizing she was still tipsy and probably a little buzzed. Whenever she had a little bit too much to drink she'd get this slur in her speech. Each word would hug the next and her Chicagoan accent grew thicker. She laughed a lot more, Carmy would worry about her cheeks hurting by the end of the night.
He gnawed on his lip to keep from confessing how badly he wanted to see her and kiss that smile off of her face. That's not how friends talked to each other after all.
"They loved it but Luca made this braised wagyu," She groaned. "Hands down, the best dish I've ever had!"
Carmy paused switching his phone to the other ear. "The best?" He masked the crack in his voice with a chuckle. "Luca?" He scrunched his nose up.
He didn't understand why that statement made him feel uncomfortable (for lack of a better term) but it did and he didn't like it. Previous to this development she always remarked about how his food was the best she ever had. He held that close to him, clinched between his finger afraid of losing it. Afraid of losing her favor. Her compliments felt like a drug and he was forever chasing that high. Wanting to please her. Have her direct that smile and those dangerous eyes at him.
"Yes, you have to try it!"
"Maybe...'m not a huge fan of Wagyu. Also, I've tried his cooking before." He didn't know why he was lying. He loved Wagyu.
Luca was a good enough cook, not better than Carmy, but decent.
His hands rattled as he stirred honey into his piping hot tea. That unwelcome feeling twisted within him tugging him down to a level of immaturity he despised. Maybe as a teenager this would feel more normal but as he stands now it felt unhinged.
His chest burned as he tuned back into Syd's rambling.
"…I invited him to eat at The Bear when I fly back for my birthday next month."
"Ah, so you two are friends?" He continued, voice soft. He couldn't bring himself to ask her the question any louder.
"Of course! He's so cool Carmy. He's a beast in the kitchen. He's teaching me how to make this cake that has an insane amount of layers tomorrow."
"You really like this guy..." He muttered. "I'm happy you're getting on well there. Really, Syd you deserve this." He continued with renewed interest.
Aside from those weird feelings, he couldn't quite pin down, he knew that his job was hyping her up. Being a supporter. A friend.
One day he’ll stop having to remind himself of that sobering fact.
"Thanks." She settled on her bed. "I miss you."
He hoped it happened soon.
"I miss y-" he began, but she continued on without missing a beat.
"I miss everybody at The Bear"
"Well, we miss you too."
Today was slow. It went smoothly. There were virtually no mistakes made in the kitchen and Carmy found himself with extra time on his hands.
He could be normal and go home or go out for a drink, but alas he preferred the kitchen. There was always something to do in the kitchen after all.
"Hey are you busy?" Sydney lounged on her couch, exhausted from the busy day she had.
He looked around finding that he was in fact not busy and had finished all of his tasks.
"Nope, what's up?"
"I got secret shopped again!"
"Damn chef," he whistled "you're on fire. Once this year once last year."
"The asswipe said my lobster tail was 'overcooked'."
"Lobster tails' easy to mess up." He shrugged "I have this method I can show you when you visit."
"No, actually its okay. Luca taught me this technique and it came out so much better."
“Right, right." He cleared his throat hoping the popping in his ears stopped. He tugged on his earlobe before grabbing a damp towel and wiping down the same spot he'd just finished wiping down.
There goes that weird feeling again, creeping up his body forcing him to move until it subsided.
"What is he like,” he hesitated. “He’s mentoring you now?”
If she heard the shakiness in his voice she ignored it.
"Not sure if I'd say all that. He's a good teacher though, kinda filling that gap." She replied busy multitasking.
Her phone sat on the bathroom counter with the speaker turned up so she could still carry on with the conversation. Her braids bunched up comfortably under her silk scarf. By morning her scarf would've slipped from her head and made its way to the floor and her braids would be sprawled across her silk pillow. It's the thought that counts.
"You told me he was good but dude he's like your level good."
She grabbed her phone and made her way to bed. At the sound of his bashful laughter she felt a pinch in her chest akin to an esophageal spasm.
Missing him had grown physical and she just wanted to keep him on the phone. She was hoping that the sound of his voice bleeding through her phone would comfort her.
She could lie back and imagine that he was right beside her, that he followed her here like she wanted him to. But he had his own shit he had to sort out. She knew begging him to come and see her every time she missed him wouldn't be feasible because she missed him every second of every day.
But Carmy, who was on the other side of the world, it seemed, didn't know this. He only heard her praises of Luca shooting out of the phone like spears and piercing him until he didn't want to be on the phone with her anymore.
"I actually do have something I need to do. Catch up later?"
"Sure..." she stared at her phone screen as he hung up.
She remained there trying to figure out where things went wrong and why he rushed off the phone. The screen soon turned black and she saw her reflection staring back at her.
She didn't get much sleep that night.
"So you're just not gonna visit?" He frowned. "It's your birthday Syd, come on just take a couple days off I'll buy you a ticket myself."
'I just wanna see you!' He stubbornly thought.
"I can't. It sucks for me too, but it’s the mayor. I can't exactly pass up serving the mayor." She frowned looking at a framed photo of the two of them at The Bear's official opening.
'"Come on Carmy stop working for one second and get a picture with Syd!" Sugar grabbed his arm dragging him out of the kitchen and out front where Sydney directed a delivery man around back. She moved to follow him and make sure he found his way when Sug grabbed her arm and placed her next to an annoyed Carmy.
"Natalie we open in 2 hours I don't have time for this." He huffed placing his hands on his hips.
"Yeah and I think he's taking the order to the wrong entrance." Syd looked behind her following a delivery man with her eyes. She began to call out to him when Sug grabbed her shoulder making her turn back around.
"If you two stand still for a second I can get a picture and you can go back to stressing out, okay?" She rolled her eyes "You guys looks so cute in your matching outfits!" She beamed holding her phone up.
"Uh, everybody's wearing these?" Sydney looked around ignoring Sugars sound of indignation. Carmy stifled a laugh agreeing with her.
"Just smile." She gave up trying to reason with them. Carmy threw his hand over Syd's shoulder and threw his other hand out to Sugar.
"Okay, okay see I'm smiling come on take the picture!"
Syd was caught laughing, her eyes closed. While Carmy was caught with his mouth open, his hand thrown towards the camera. He hated it, but Syd thought it was perfect.
"No, no- yeah, you're right." He settled. Not much else was said after that. Carmy sighed closing the cookbook he'd been perusing for the perfect cake recipe and headed home.
“Fuck, sorry Chef!” Syd winced feeling warm all over. She’d stayed behind with Luca so he could teach her a few tricks. However, in the span of just an hour she compared his cooking techniques to Carmy’s about five times. But who's counting.
“All good, Syd. I never thought about trying that! He laughed. “And relax you can call me Luca”
”Right, Luca.” She continued “I’m just feeling a little homesick. My birthday is tomorrow and I decided to stay back because you know the whole mayor hoopla.”
She was close to saying screw the mayor just so she could hop on a red eye and do something pathetic like beg her ex-boyfriend for sloppy, rough, no-strings-attached birthday sex.
He nodded sympathetically before putting down his knife, a brilliant idea on his tongue.
“How about I take you out for a drink afterwards?”
”Maybe...I’m usually so tired after work. I was talking to a few servers last week and Fay talked about wanting to go out this weekend too-”
”I mean I can take you.” He waited a beat before hesitantly adding. “Just us...”
”Oh," she cleared her throat finding it harder to look him in the eyes. "Like a date?” She raised an eyebrow.
”Yes," he chuckled. "If that’s okay with you?”
She never got used to being hit on or asked out. She grew up awkward and introverted. But something happened when she turned 20.
Like a Cinderella transformation or something. Men were falling over themselves. Women began batting their eyelashes at her and inviting her to sleepovers. She soon realized that they were flirting with her and by sleepovers they meant sex.
Her immediate thought was to turn him down. But she couldn't find a good enough reason other than it would probably hurt Carmy's feelings.
He had been dodging her phone calls though. They barely spoke these days. Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he didn't care what she did.
She eventually remembered herself and she remembered that she and Carmy were just friends. So she put on her best smile and nodded.
"I'd love that."
“I got the knives you sent me." She toyed with one, balancing it on her fingertips gauging how heavy it was. "Thank you they're really fucking nice.”
“I'm happy you like them. Just something I saw and decided to pick up...” He ran a shaky hand over his mouth. "For you. F-For your birthday I mean."
He didn't know when he started feeling nervous speaking to her but it sucked. He felt like a teenager. He even found himself avoiding her calls, figuring that if they continued speaking every day and night he'd never get over her.
At this point he didn't know if he wanted to get over her or if it was a possibility.
She'd gotten under his skin. Digging her way to his fractured heart and somehow making a home out of it.
He felt like a fucking loser, blushing during a phone call. A fucking phone call.
“You saw five hundred-dollar knives just lying around and bought them?" She replied endeared.
“Well, you know how it goes." He shrugged.
Heat rushed to his face again.
Realistically he figured he was going to get them for her months ago, but telling her that felt too eager. Like he was trying too hard to impress her.
“So," She sat the knife down but couldn't stop eyeing it. The pristine set sparkled under the warm lighting in her living room. Her eyes caught her name engraved at the bottom of one of the vegetable knives.
Warmth covered her neck and traveled up her cheeks.
''Just decided to pick them up' my ass.'
"How's The Bear been with me gone?”
“You know, we’re staying afloat. The new hires are all great. Everybody's been getting better and better. And Marcus?" He whistled. "He's doing some shit I haven't even tried."
"I'm gonna have to ask him to overnight me some donuts or something." Her phone vibrated momentarily pulling her from the conversation.
Luca (restaurant): I know we'll probably be wiped after tomorrow so I'll stop by later on around midnight? I know this great place that's open late
"Looks like Copenhagen did him well." Carmy noted.
Like an incessant alarm her conscience rudely screamed at her. She had to tell him sooner or later.
"Hey, so, speaking of Denmark, I have a um I have something to tell you..."
He waited for her to continue speaking for a bit, but her deep sigh caught his attention.
"Whats up? Everything okay?"
“It's just-" she clenched her fist over her mouth wanting to swallow her next set of words. Through gritted teeth she finally choked it out. "Me and Luca are go-going on a, going on a date tomorrow." She waited a beat. "He wanted to take me out for my birthday!" Another awkward beat. "And I thought it’d be weird for me not to tell you considering...well you know.”
He didn’t speak for a while.
"I'm sorry if that's weird but I'd feel weirder not telling you." She winced bracing herself as she awaited his response.
He blinked a few times, pulling his phone away from his ear to look at her contact photo. Yeah that was still Syd on the phone.
He felt like he was speaking with a stranger not the girl he loved. The girl who would never purposely hurt him. Her voice was muffled, like she'd been submerged in water.
Now he wanted to be as far away from his phone as possible.
"You still there?" She bit her thumbnail regretting her words.
"I am I" He cleared his throat, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "I just didn't expect that. That's all.” His voice quieted, just above a whisper now.
"I know. Was it weird that I told you? Are things weird now?" She tried to keep the panic out of her voice but it was evident.
"No, not weird." He cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice. But when he spoke again the only thing he could muster was a hint of what his voice could be.
If Syd didn't know any better she'd think she heard heartbreak in his voice. But they were over right? They'd been over. They had to move on from each other.
Lingering wasn't healthy. No matter how romantic The Cranberries made it sound.
Although she felt this way, she couldn't help but feel like she betrayed him. A Delilah stringing her lover along just to chop off his golden curls when he slipped into comfort. Just when he felt like he could let his guard down.
"I am a little busy so-so I have to check on that uh that," he snapped his fingers a few times. "Delivery. The delivery for tomorrow morning."
"Wait, what? I don't understand?"
"I'll touch bases with you this weekend." He didn't wait for her to answer before hanging up.
Syd found herself once again staring at her phone screen. It lit up momentarily reminding her of the unanswered text from Luca. With little reluctance she replied.
Syd: I can't wait! :)
Dinner went off without a hitch and the mayor even complement Sydney personally. By 10:00 P.M. she was on her way home and by 10:30 she sat on her couch, finger hovering over Carmy's name.
"He doesn't care Syd." He hadn't even wished her a happy birthday. "Just get ready for your date." She whispered to herself. "Maybe, I'll just send a text..."
Syd: Not to brag but the mayor said she never had a steak quite like mine
With that done she plugged her phone in the charger and began getting ready for her date. The date she was excited to go on and not at all dreading.
Every 10 minutes she'd check her phone for a response from Carmy. But nothing, he hadn't even seen the message. She huffed turning back to the mirror to pull her braids into a high ponytail.
The doorbell chimed over the radio playing oldies in her living room.
“Fuck he’s here early!” She cursed checking the time before rushing to the door only to find someone she thought she left back in Chicago.
“Carmy?”
“Hey." He strolled inside pulling his luggage behind him. His baby blues drinking her in. “You look nice.”
Keep it polite, he reminded himself. She looked more than nice, skin shiny and sparkling. Perfume pulling him closer and closer.
He cracked his knuckles, stopping himself from reaching out and touching her.
There were moments, fleeting, minuscule, when her voice would radiate from his phone. Resonating, seducing him. It made him want to reach through the receiver and feel her warmth.
He had to settle on touching himself. Then he'd feel like a creep and swear it off. It never stuck.
Now she was here, within reach, looking like that for someone else. He brushed his knuckles against his lips admiring her from a safe distance.
“Got any plans?”
She blinked a few times, hand still on the nob, door ajar. "Uh yeah, Luca is on his way.” She scoffed finally snapping out of it.
With each stride she took toward him, he felt his pulse drum faster.
“I told you that last night?”
She crossed her arms watching as he studied her. As if she were a puzzle or a Monet. He marveled almost. No one ever looked at her quite like he did.
“Right, you two are seeing each other or whatever.” He twisted his mouth instantly wanting the nasty taste of those words out his mouth.
He distracted himself by looking around her living room. His heart lurched when he came across a photo of the two of them on the morning of The Bear's official open. The entire staff took turns taking pictures together, they took several as a group but Sug just couldn’t resist getting a pic of them out front in their matching fits.
It was framed, he noted with reddening cheeks. "You got it framed.” He cooed just under a whisper.
“Of course, it's my proudest accomplishment.” His black t-shirt stretched across his back as he leaned forward to examine the picture more closely. A few strands of his hair were kissing his forehead when he faced her again.
"Proudest huh?" Something was different about him. Whatever it was evaded her. His hair wasn't in it's normal state, busy and tangled, instead his curls neatly sat upon his crown. He never really wore jewelry but now he donned a thin chain that played peak-a-boo with her wandering eyes. "Mine too."
He wasn't as jittery as he usually was. His hands were still, almost too still. This wasn't the Carmy she left in Chicago. He momentarily broke eye contact, a fleeting admission of anxiety that was gone by the time he captured her gaze again.
This was a facade she decided. There was something troubling him. Something huge that she knew he wouldn't be able to keep under wraps for long.
His tongue grazed his bottom lip, she watched it go.
She shook her head, plunging her thoughts into ice cold water.
"That's doesn't- what are you doing here?"
"Ouch" he placed a hand over his chest, leaning back as if she physically hit him. "Is it a crime to visit my friend?"
She cut her eyes at him growing increasingly more frustrated at his casualness. His gum chewing. His stupid hair that was always messy but for some reason was now perfect. And god those stupid eyes, she could excuse everything else if it wasn't for his penetrative stare.
Always calling to her. Burning up her skin, leaving her insides vibrating for minutes until she worked up the courage to will those feelings away.
"Carmen," she took a deep breath. "Please don't play with me right now. I have plans."
"Right, and you're still going?" He questioned like he was asking her for the time. "Because I really need to talk to you."
"What? I'm supposed to overlook you conveniently showing up the night I have a date?" She blew a raspberry, feeling her nerves burn up at his expression. "And stop looking at me like that!"
He maintained eye contact, trying his hardest to keep his smile at bay. He missed this.
"Okay I admit my timing isn't the best..." He trailed off shoving his hands in his pocket. "But I just needed to see you, Sydney. I need to talk to you."
"I actually have this really cool new invention called the cellphone-" she crossed the room grabbing her phone. The device flashed on as she turned around holding it up. "Would you look at that? It works! Did you forget that the phone worked both ways?"
"In person," he sighed finally dropping his facade. Apparently his sad attempt at charm was falling on deaf ears. "Can I please have a second of you time? Then I'm gone." His previous bravado had dissipated, leaving room for him to be himself. "I just need to, need you to hear me."
She shouldn't be talking to him right now. She left him in Chicago. She left all that stress and dysfunction, and this relationship behind. How did it still find her? What possessed him to chase after her?
"Luca will be here any minute, I mean after-"
"Why do you like him so much?" He cut her off, twiddling his thumbs - a pensive expression covering his face. He rubbed a finger over his eyebrow, a nervous tick. "Its like all you talk about is him. What is it? Are you fa-falling" he gulped, trying to conjure moisture in his mouth. "How serious are you two?"
"Carmen Berzatto, you took a 4 hour flight because I'm going out on one date with a guy I've known for a few months?" She shook her head. "This can't be healthy."
"I just need to know if you plan on dating this guy." He shrugged, hands palm up and outstretched. "As your friend I feel like I have an obligation. I care about you so much-"
"Cut the shit. You came here because you're jealous."
He felt the tips of his ears warm at her accusation. A very true one at that.
"I've been obsessed with you since before we even spoke to each other and I finally have the guts to have a drink with some other guy and you do this?"
“It's not just that Syd" His voice teetering on a desperate plea. Fuck if it didn't tug at her heart strings.
"Then what is it? What made you get your ass on a plane and show up at my door in the middle of the night."
He ran a hand through his hair effectively messing up the expert styling he'd done in the airport bathroom. "I-I missed you and I wanted to talk to you, and it's your birthday."
She stared at him long and hard before giving up and plopping down on her couch. "Okay. What did you want to talk about?" She checked her phone to find Luca had sent an 'On the way!' text.
"Are you thinking of moving here? Permanently, I mean." He sat on the bar stool adjacent from her, his leg shaking incessantly. "You mentioned Luca being the best cook in the world or something like that and I just wanted to know if you thought he was good enough to stay or maybe you'd want to go cook with him where ever he ends up."
She quirked her eyebrow, taking time to survey his face for any sign of humor but he was stone cold serious. That was when she surprised herself - and Carmy - with laughter.
"You're serious right now?"
"What? Why are you laughing at me?" He stopped shaking his leg. That reaction wasn't right, was it?
"I'm not..." She shook her head as she lifted up a finger. The sweet sound floated around them. Carmy shifted uncomfortably noticing how warm his face was growing. "All of this is because I said I liked his cooking?"
"No." He balked. Even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
She tilted her head to the side letting her laughter subside. She was looking at him how she used to again. With warmth and maybe even love, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.
"He's not going to replace you Carmy."
He felt embarrassed. Like these last few months in therapy were all for nothing. He didn't try any of his exercises and he overreacted. Now he felt like a possessive prick who can't get over his ex-girlfriend - who works for him.
He should probably make Sug head of HR, because their lack thereof was becoming starkly noticeable.
He should just leave. Go before she could officially cut him off. Get out of her hair for good. He didn't remember standing up but she was soon standing before him, placing a gentle hands on his shoulders.
"Stop it." She broke through his thoughts.
"What?"
"I said stop it. God I can hear your thoughts from here." She inched closer to him before running her hand from his shoulders to his clammy hands "Luca is cool and yes we have a date but I think I have something to say to you too."
He stiffened staring at their joined hands.
"Whats that?" He replied thickly. As if tears were threatening there way out of his downcast eyes.
She used two fingers to lift his head until he was looking her in the eyes.
"Carmy, I'm not going anywhere." Flashes of his vulnerable confession just before they hooked up came back to her.
She wanted to say this back then, she wanted to tell him that she didn't want their hookup to be a dead end but she felt weak for feeling that way. Like she had to prove something to herself, to the world, and to Carmy. She wanted to prove that he didn't have the upper hand. She could now see how naive that was.
"I want to be with you. L-like we were before, but healthier." She suppressed a grin but he caught it. "I have this huge, never ending, and frankly inconvenient crush on you. And I don't know man, it's gonna take a lot to get rid of me."
”I love you." It felt like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he'd been baptized in cool water and his vitality had been renewed. "I don’t want you to feel like I’m this brainless prick. I know I don't own you and coming here was probably the last thing you wanted but-" he grabbed both her hands. "It's you Syd. You drive me crazy."
Bright flecks of happiness peaked from within him and shined against Sydney.
"And it's you."
Those grating feelings of uncertainly that dominated his thoughts and body began seeping out, never to be felt again. He was ready to let go of the baggage that came with doubt. He hoped Syd wouldn't pick it back up.
"So, what are you saying? You want me back?" He knocked their hands together, swinging them in a childlike bout of giddiness.
"Only if you'll take me back." She confessed, remaining hopeful that they were still on the same page.
He brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed each knuckle keeping his eyes connected with hers.
"Are you crazy?" And that was all it took really. He let go of her hands and didn't spare a second to pull her against his chest and inhale the fruitiness of her aroma.
She smelled like a freshly cut mango on a summer day. When you'd suck at the seed and the nectar would run down your arms. You couldn't bring yourself to care because it tasted so damn good.
Her lips felt like home. She tasted like she had before. He cradled her head between his hands, devouring her. His hands traveled down to her waist pulling her flush against him.
She gasped at the movement but let him will her body to his control. She missed how he held her. She missed how his hair felt between her fingers. How he kissed her like he couldn't get enough of her. His kiss was something that never changed.
He didn't care to pull away or open his eyes when the doorbell rang. Syd felt his arms pull her impossibly closer when there was a knock.
He'd forgotten all about Luca, who was innocent in all of this, but he was having a hard time rationalizing that.
Syd was the one that pulled back causing a sound of disapproval to leave Carmy's mouth. She remained in his grasp. She wasn't sure if she could get out of it if she tried. His hands clasped her in a firm grip, like she'd slip away if he let go.
"What are you gonna do?" He questioned bracing himself for her answer. She looked from him to the door and back again.
"I'll go talk to Luca." She decided. "I'll let him know I can't come out tonight."
"Okay." He breathed, finally letting her go. He missed her softness, how had he gone so long without this.
She pecked his cheek sweetly, briefly, admiring the scattered freckles littering his neck.
“Be right back." She promised before turning to get the door.
Carmy watched as the door closed behind her. He exhaled and looked up to the ceiling and thanked whatever god was up there that coming here actually worked.
"Woah Syd, in a hurry to go?" Luca jested backing up as Syd stepped outside. He looked down admiring her outfit choice but stopping short at her feet. More specifically her choice in shoes. "No offense but, are these house slippers?"
"Uh," she glanced down. "Yes they are. Look-" She was trying and failing at internally psyching herself up. She loved Carmy, but this still made her feel like shit. "You know Carmy right? Chef Carmen Berzatto?"
He slowly nodded and raised an eyebrow. "I think you may have mentioned him once or twice also I kind of worked with him." He chuckled teasingly. "What about him?"
"Right, you did." She winced. "He actually dropped in and I'd feel bad leaving him inside and I'm so sorry but"
"You're canceling our date." He supplied.
She nodded shamefully. "Sorry, I just - we, I mean Carmy and I- and, and you drove all the way here. I just"
"Hey, hey Sydney it's alright." He laughed, hand shooting up to stop her. "I understand. We aren't reciting vows." He laughed more so to himself this time. "Mind if I say hello?"
She hummed imaging how that could turn out. She considered them being adults and not animals but she also considered how badly she wanted to send him away and climb on top of Carmy and stay there until the sun came up.
"Sure." She welcomed him in.
Carmy paused his nervous pacing, his eyes caught Syd's as she put on her best I'm sorry face and mouthed 'Be nice'.
"Chef Berzatto!" He reached a hand out waiting for Carmy to shake it. Carmy stared at it before Syd coughed breaking him out of it and forcing him to shake Luca's hand.
"Hey man." He cleared his throat shoving his hands in his pocket. A bout of awkward silence passes through the room. "How you been? Marcus said you've made quite the name for yourself in Denmark."
"I could say the same about you." He grinned "It's been great though. But it's different here. I'm actually considering a move out here, check out a few more places. Mind if I borrow Chef Sydney though?"
Carmy didn't answer not knowing exactly how to respond without it coming out snarky or rude. So he simply didn't respond.
"Just jokes, just jokes!" He broke the tension. "Well, I just came in to say hello. See how you were getting on."
"You know how it is, Chef. There's always something." He replied plainly.
Luca nodded sensing that his presence was no longer wanted. The air was slowly being sucked out of the room. The longer he stood between Syd and Carmy the more he realized their building tension.
When he moved she moved, when she breathed he replied with his own pattern of inhale and exhale. After seeing the way Sydney looked at Carmy he wondered how he ever thought she looked at him with any hint of attraction.
"I'm gonna head out." He nodded his head towards the door. "Bye Syd, see you Saturday. Come in early so I can finally teach you how to make Chocolat au Crumble de Fraises." He closed the door behind him.
Carmy kept his eyes on the door. "Have I ever told you how annoying that guys is?"
Syd laughed sauntering over to her cabinet to pour herself a drink.
"Shut up Luca is a cool guy."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He playfully replied following her path and grabbing himself a glass. "Hey, I'm sorry about not telling you about inviting" he cleared his throat, "yeah to-to uh dinner."
"Carmy..."
"Please, just, can I actually offer a real explanation?" He waited for her to give him the go.
After she nodded he continued
"We ran into each other, randomly, she was still a little prickly towards me. I you know, I felt so bad. She's still a friend of the family, right? And I didn't know what to say, so I invited her to dinner. I didn't stay the entire night and left before we even got to the second course." He gulped down his brown liquor. "We haven't spoken since. Promise."
She looked down at her drink. Warmth covering her face. She was thankful of her rich complexion, how it protected her from that kind of vulnerability.
"Thank you." She breathed, looking up from her nearly empty glass. "For that, you, I should've just talked to you. I shouldn't have been so mean."
“Stop it." He refilled her glass. He followed her movements as she sipped the sharp whiskey. Her lips were shiny once she pulled it back.
She shifted under his stare. Attempting to match him by watching him back. It only made the room grow warmer. She was pulsating now. Liquor had always spelled danger for her.
Thankfully he lost their unspoken competition.
"I actually forgot, one sec.” He released a deep breath, bending down to grab something out of his bag. A manila envelope.
She eyed it curiously, intrigued by what he had up his sleeve. He ran a finger over his right brow before extending it towards her.
“Here”
She took the envelope and slowly opened it. It was a contract. A contract for The Bear. Establishing her as a co-owner along with Carmy.
“You okay?” His soft voice broke her from her daze. He ducked his head catching her watery eyes.
She blinked realizing that tears were welling in her eyes. She wiped them quickly in embarrassment.
”Fuck sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
"No, it's not, you don’t have to say anything right now." He assured. "The Bear is as much mine as it is yours. This isn’t me trying to make you stay in Chicago. I’d never do that to you, I know you want to do more than work in that shithole” he mocked. “But it’s, it's ours isn't it? I want you to know you’ll always have a home.”
She kicked herself for letting more tears pass her lids. They were quickly wiped away as well. She shook her head skimming over it and seeing the signature line at the bottom. All she had to do was sign.
“Jesus, Carmy would’ve been easier if you asked me to marry you.” She laughs eyes still on the paper reading the header over and over again. She could own something. Something that wasn't destined to fail.
He hummed thoughtfully, “You’re right, it would be easier if I asked you to marry me.”
They let the thought linger. She gently placed the papers back on the envelop.
"Thanks again, for-for telling me about the uh dinner thing. I know we weren’t together so of really wasn't any of my business-“
"Together or not, don’t want you thinking I don’t care about your feelings.“ His words hit her deeply. How careful he always was especially with her. She pulled him into a hug, relaxing as she held onto him.
His hair smelled freshly washed and he was wearing some fancy cologne. Leaning back she took him in, more carefully this time.
”What’s got you all dressed up?” She raised an eyebrow.
He looked down at himself then back at her, “Didn’t want to ask you to be my business partner in a dingy white-tee.”
"You could’ve.“ She laughed. “But you look really nice. I like your cologne...“
"It’s the one I hate.“ He noted “Nat said I should wear it.”
"She knows you came?”
”She drew up our contract” He explained “She wants no legal obligation to that place by the end of the year.”
"Better me than her I guess." Her reply was absentminded as she trailed Carmy's body. How could someone who ate like a frat boy maintain a body like his.
"What?” He looked down self consciously.
"Have you been working out?” She always knew him to be fit but she swears his biceps were bigger than they were the last time she saw him.
"Yeah, been hitting the gym hard since you left.” He shrugged. “Helps with stress”
”I’m sure it does.” She rips her eyes away from his arms to pour herself a heftier drink. “You look great.” The compliment slipped out of her. "You know what else helps with stress?"
Shut up Syd. SHUT UP.
"No, what is that?"
His arms rested on the counter, outstretched past her. She swayed brushing against it, stumbling back onto the bar stool behind her.
He didn't know if he wanted to look at her drawing eyes or kissable lips. His eyes darted between both as he leaned closer to her, wanting to know the secret she kept.
She should've stopped drinking one glass ago, now her filter was withering away and her sober mind was locked behind a cage guarded by her horny intoxicated mind.
Sydney's alarm made the both of them jump away from each other.
With this distraction, her sense came rushing back. They shouldn't have sex.
Not now.
She had work in the morning and everything was still so fresh. Plus she was feeling like a fucking doofus around him and she didn't know why.
Her reasoning sounded like B.S. in this moment but somewhere in her head it made sense.
"I'm- that's my alarm for bed." She chuckled, as she slid off the bar stool, temporarily swaying a bit too close to him. He followed her as she moved away, so close to kissing her but he decided against it at the last minute. "Just gonna go get ready for bed." With that she left.
Carmy watched her disappear behind her bathroom door and waited until the shower cut on to breath. He pressed his hand against the seam of his jeans, willing his hard on away.
Steam billowed out before her once she left the bathroom and padded over to her bedroom. He was looking over the Polaroids that hung above her dresser. Each memory she cherished.
"Shit sorry." He turned around like he'd been caught red handed. "Didn't mean to intrude."
"No it's, you're fine." She pulled her towel, that she realized was entirely too short, closer. The fluffy white fabric stopped just below the curve of her ass.
He watched as a bead of water trailed over her collarbone and under the towel. She sat on her bed, fingers still tightly holding the towel around her.
"You, uh did you see the pic there at the top?"
Carmy heard her but he didn't have the capacity to respond. He was suddenly so thirsty. He missed how she tasted. He turned back around to find the photo she referred to.
Shifting, her thighs granted her temporary relief. Blood thudded inside of her.
"Holy shit is that?" He squinted his eyes trying to get a closer look at the photo. "It can't be we hadn't even met at that point." The restaurants name etched on a menu beside the dish confirmed his suspicions.
He prepared this dish during a time of devaluation and grief. He was alone and felt like he'd lost touch with his family. When really Mikey was just avoiding him. He was told it was never good enough. He was a fuck up who didn't know the first thing about cooking. He swore he'd never made it again - too many bad memories. Funny how even at the lowest point in his life, she seemed to find some good in him.
"Remember I told you I tried your cooking well before I met you."
"Yeah I remember I just," he glanced back at her, eyes dropping to her enticing thighs before darting back to the photo on the wall. "I-I didn't know you had a picture of it!" He chuckled. "Do you photograph all the food you eat?" He quirked an eyebrow, turning back to her. "Or was I special?"
He just wanted to hear her say it. He'd never ask her for anything else if she just called him special.
With each step forward an inferno blazed within her, it'd be impossible to look away now that he was so close.
She imagined this was how it felt after staring at the sun for too long. Hypnotized by its beauty. Blinded by it's ferocity. Appreciative of its life. She understood now why people worshiped the blazing ball in the sky.
He stood above her, overbearing almost. She looked up at him, trying not to shiver at his attention. She failed.
"You were special." Her voice was small. She feared speaking louder would give her away.
"Thought I was special, did you." He grinned knocking their knees together.
His mind wouldn't stop racing. He resisted his urges long enough, seeing that on her wall like it was art stirred something within him. She was always there seeing him for who he was and not who everybody wanted him to be. The depth of his feelings for her broke new ground, growing treacherous. He'd be terrified if he didn't trust her with his heart, his life.
"I did." She replied, voice still hidden under her embarrassing desire.
"You're special too." He nudged her legs apart, moving closer. Still above her. Still staring down at her as if this were the most casual thing in the world. Beneath his depth he was anything but.
She wondered if he'd still respect her if she got on her knees right now.
If she begged for it. If she came by simply rubbing her body on his.
"You know that right?" The back of his hand grazed her cheeks. He could feel the warmth. She couldn't hide now.
She nodded, hypnotized by him, afraid to speak, fearing a feral moan would rang out.
"Can you say it for me?" He waited a second, hand now gently gripping the dip of her neck. "Say 'I'm special'."
"I-I'm special." She replied breathlessly. His eyes grew darker as he watched her squirm. She was dizzy now with desire. Seconds from dropping her towel and jumping his bones.
His hand that wasn't on her neck met her bottom lip, gently pulling it down. "Can I try something?" He left her mouth open, waiting for her reply.
She closed her mouth, gulping down the saliva that pooled there. She nodded and he smiled.
"Use your words."
She gulped down more saliva before speaking again
"Yes."
He gently tugged on her towel tossing it to the floor. She watched the tips of his ears turn red. Being fully clothed while she was on display like this was mind-boggling.
He opened his mouth to speak but his words were stuck in his throat. His stomach did back flips. He still didn't know how he landed someone so, "Beautiful." It was a whisper but she heard it.
He brought his fingers back up to her mouth but this time he gently shoved two fingers in her mouth. He stroked her tongue, being careful not to trigger her gag reflex.
Moaning drifted past her ears. She met his eyes, realizing it was her making those noises. She didn't know why but his fingers in her mouth pulled her closer and closer to the edge.
"Back up for me." He left his fingers against her tongue as she carefully backed further onto the bed. His knee nestled between her thighs as she settled on her back. "Gonna get you off, okay? Apologize for popping up like this."
She wanted to tell him there was no need to apologize but between her slowly slipping mind and his fingers against her tongue she simply nodded.
In an instant they were gone out of her mouth and circling her bud. She was so wound up, the first touch sent electricity through her. She trembled, frantically trying to control herself.
"Fuck Syd, didn't even need to do that." His fingers slipped easily into her. "You're so wet. So ready for me."
She nodded desperately, moving her hips, chasing an already building orgasm.
"So pretty. So pretty." He worried his bottom lip, watching her. What made her jerk, what made her moan, what made her eyes roll. "You're gonna make me cum in my pants." He huffs. "If you keep looking like that."
She clawed at his top, hands sliding up from under. She moaned his name, how could she be expected to form a clear sentence in that moment.
"Want me undressed too?" His soaked fingers rubbed her, applying just enough pressure. She feverishly nodded.
"Please." She managed to get something other than his name out of her mouth.
His touch was gone - she resisted the urge to throw a tantrum. She wanted him undressed after all.
His chiseled body descended back on her. He immediately latched onto her neck. But he wasn't touching her like she wanted. Not like he was just seconds ago.
He soon noticed her vitriol and the fucker smiled.
"Relax," he continued kissing down her neck all the way down to her perky nipples. "I'll get you there, just missed this so much."
With each kiss he neared the place between her thighs.
Her mouth fell open once he latched onto her. Fingers slipping back into her.
With each come hither movement and each kiss worshiping her clit she moved closer and closer to the edge.
His tongue dancing in a firm circle pulling an orgasm out of her.
The feeling surprised her. This was different than all the other times. Her chest pounded and her thighs trembled. She gripped his curls and was pretty sure it made that fucker moan. She could feel the vibrations.
She loved him.
IloveyouIloveyouIloveyoufuckIloveyou
No one knew her like him. No one could do this to her but him. She didn't want anybody else to do this to her. With her.
He gently licked her, tongue slowly cleaning up her mess. He climbed up her body, nuzzling her neck.
"I love you too Syd."
Had she said that out loud?
He watched her come back to Earth, eyes low and hazy. He waited until she looked at him, clearly, to kiss her. She moaned when she tasted herself.
"You taste so good don't you?" He kissed her jaw. "Are you ready?"
She pulled him closer, far too weak and aroused to say anything.
He squeezed the base of his dick. He didn’t want to cum too fast, he wanted to relish in this. Savor it.
He exhaled as he pushed into her. He fit her so well. So easily. That stupid part of his brain preened at that. She was his.
He stilled once he bottomed out.
She was impatient. Feeling his throbbing head against that spot inside of her made her instinctively salivate. She canted her hips up, encouraging some sort of movement.
"Shit, you're" He buried his face in her neck as he began moving. Brutally. Slowly. As deep as he could get.
Her legs wrapped around him keeping him close. Needing him close. With each pound against her button she spiraled further and further into his spell. She felt drunk. In love. Dangerously so.
He groaned at her teeth digging into his shoulder, another orgasm echoed through her.
"Feel so good when you cum on my dick like that." He gripped the sheets, moving faster, more intentional - chasing his release. Her fitted sheets popped off of the corners of her mattress, rolling up under them.
She gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. She moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it.
He was so close, losing his grip on reality. On sanity. He wanted to cum inside of her. "Wanna get you pregnant." His eyes were closed, he didn't see her reaction but she clenched around him. Her legs and arms pulled him closer like a Venus flytrap devouring its prey.
"Please" she gasped gripping him tighter. "I want it."
A noise he hadn't recognized as his voice left him, muffled against her neck. He pumped inside of her, once, twice, three times so deeply he was sure they'd have a pregnancy scare. He couldn't bring himself to care though.
After cleaning up and fixing the bed he rocked her in his arms.
"We should get a Plan B." He mentioned kissing her forehead. “Or not.”
"I have an IUD." She reminded him.
He tried to hide his disappointment.
"Aw come on ya big sap, give me a kiss."
He happily obliged.
Sydney was back home and she and Carmy's relationship was on the up and up. They were working on it and things seemed to be progressing exponentially.
"Remember when I said it'd be easier for you to just ask me to marry you?"
"I do." He looked up from the document he'd been filling out. Syd long ago tried to bring Carmy into the digital age, but he was stuck in his ways. It was endearing. "What about it?"
"Is that," she hesitates, hovering over uncharted waters. "Is marriage something you ever think about?" She sat on his desk swinging her feet, too nervous to sit still or stand like a normal person. "Not with me I mean with anybody ever."
He sat his pen down, she now had his full attention. "You're the only person I ever thought about marrying." He replied openly, his hand sliding up her thigh. When he reached her belly his fingers twisted in the softness of her shirt causing her to stir and swat his hand away with a smile.
Now he was standing before her, between her legs, caging her in with his arms. Reminiscent of their first kiss. "And maybe even some day," he breathed into her neck, planting a wet kiss there once she leaned into him. "You can take that stupid IUD out and let me put a baby in you."
Her eyes fell closed, thinking about what it'd be like to do that. She pulled back cradling his head between her hands, stars brightening her eyes.
"Let’s focus on raising this baby first before we think about any others. Imagine how fucked up it would be." She tilted her had slightly in an attempt to be snarky or maybe sarcastic, anything to alleviate the seriousness of the moment.
"Who says we can't do both?" He replied half joking half hopeful. There goes his hands again, warming her sensitive belly. "We can try before the meeting starts." He mouthed at her neck and gripped her waist, now determined to make his dreams a reality.
She chuckled "Carmen." She gently nudged him back. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you know my dad would kill you- me- no US if we got pregnant?"
"Sydney, you know you're an adult right?" He shot her a teasing grin. "Also, I'm not saying right now or any time soon. I was joking." He placated. But they both knew he wasn't really joking all that much. "It's nice to know you're open to that sorta thing."
Syd nodded still trying to calm herself down. "I think you'd make a great dad." She replied earnestly.
She admired the pink that spread across his cheeks.
Richie knocked on the door before walking in, not waiting for a response.
"Yo, cousin when you and the wife are done with your meeting the actual team meeting has started out front."
"Shut the fuck up Richie!" He replied, no real heat behind his words. "And who started the meeting?"
"Who else?" He glanced around the room with a scoff "I did, when you two fly off to la la land I pick up the slack."
"What do you teach them? The quickest way to fuck up lunch?" Sydney fired back.
"Hey that was once!" He shouted behind him, already making his way back to the meeting.
Syd followed behind him but Carmy's hand stopped her. She spun around and he pulled her against him, kissing her breathless. He rested his forehead against hers.
"You'd really marry a fuck up like me?" He glanced behind her making sure Richie was gone.
"Carmy." She sighed leaning forward and pecking him once. "What did your therapist say about self-talk?"
"Right" He nodded. "Sorry, I'm still learning."
"Don't apologize." She kissed him again, lingering longer than before. "I wouldn't want to spend my life with anybody else."
"See! I told you they're back here making out" Richie's voice drifted through the kitchen catching their attention. The rest of the staff followed behind laughing amongst themselves.
"Chefs, are you going to show them tonight's specials or do I have to?"
[x]
☼ fluff ☽ smut (17+) ☁︎ suggestive ⛈ dark content (17+)
note: fem! and gn! labels are given based on the use of pronouns and anatomy; fem! fics use 'she/her' or labels such as 'girl' as well as explicit fem anatomy, GN! has no use of gendered pronouns or labels and anatomy is ambigious
mike has a thing for recording ☽ GN!
matt is obsessed with you, and bad at hiding it ☁︎ fem!
mike is a grumpy bf ☼ fem!
mike w an impulsive and nosy gf at freddy's ☼ fem!
phone sex w mike snippet ☁︎ GN!
mike is just a bit of a perv ☁︎ fem!
mike tries to keep quiet but you feel too good ☽ fem!
abby matches up you, her new teacher, and mike ☼ GN!
mike can be a bit of a brat tamer when needed ☁︎ fem!
slightly brat!tamer mike will make you participate ☁︎ fem!
mike needs you to keep him awake at work ☽ fem!
mike trick or treats against his will ☼ fem!
mike is too shy to ask for it (he's obvious about it) ☽ GN!
dad!mike's first halloween with a newborn ☼ fem!
flirting with mike as a playboy bunny ☁︎ fem!
mike eats it from the back ☽ fem!
accidental couples costumes ends w bathroom fucks ☽ fem!
mike who goes "you still with me" ☽ fem!
mike goes cross eyed when he's about to cum ☽ fem!
mike won’t just let you shower ☽ fem!
more than friends w vanessa, and mike is a third ☁︎ fem!
a story where dean opens up about his childhood to cas would be amazing 💙💙
destiel, 1.5k, established relationship, hurt-comfort, angst, anxiety attack, mentions of abuse and childhood trauma not in complete detail
Cas didn’t need to sleep.
Before he and Dean started dating, Cas would spend his nights out in the library, on his own, and Dean always hated it. He hated knowing that Cas would be out there on his own, waiting for somebody to wake up to keep him company. It used to keep Dean up some nights, when he was hopelessly in love with the angel but too scared to do anything about it, and all he could picture was Cas sat on his own in the dark, waiting.
So when they did get together, Dean urged Cas to spend his nights with him. And at first, it had been a way to keep him company even when Dean was asleep. He’d fall asleep with Cas beside him, and wake up with him in the same position, tangled up in Dean’s limbs that had soothed him through the lonely night. Dean would kiss him Goodnight and kiss him good morning, and they’d get up and leave the bedroom together.
But sometimes, Cas being in bed with Dean was more for Dean’s benefit than the angel’s.
Dean could feel the warmth of him pressed up against his back through the thin material of his sleep shirt. Cas had his body draped along the length of Dean’s back, an arm hooked over his waist, a leg between his — practically every part of Cas was touching him, and it kept him grounded. He needed the contact to keep himself sane.
“Another one,” Castiel’s breath fanned over the back of his neck as his voice came out in a low rumble. “Breathe, Dean.”
It had happened more times than he’d like to admit, that Cas helped him breathe. Dean didn’t get panic attacks, he didn’t have anxiety or depression, he was fine. But… there had been occasions where he thought too hard and it felt like he’d been winded, or his vision blurred and his chest ached. And before Cas, he’d forced himself through it. He clenched his jaw and sat stiffened until it passed, or at least until it got marginally better, and he carried on with whatever he was doing. If Sam asked, he got told the same thing every time, that he was fine.
But Dean couldn’t lie to Cas. The first time it had happened in front of the angel he’d tried to shrug him off, but Cas had seen right through him, and just forced him to sit down and eased him through it.
Cas has been easing him through it for almost six hours by that point.
The case that he and Cas had worked had left Dean with a nauseous swirl in his gut instead of the usual relief. He’d grit his teeth through the drive home and only hadn’t crashed because of his partner’s hand on his leg. He got food and didn’t choke because of the warmth of the angel sat by his side. When they got back to the bunker the only reason Dean hadn’t sat and drank an entire bottle of whiskey was because Cas had led him to their bedroom before he had the chance to pour a third glass.
When he’d been doing things, it was easier to try and ignore the feeling. But when he just laid there with nothing to do but stare at the wall, he thought. And when he thought about the case too much, it physically took his breath away.
“That’s better,” Cas had one hand against Dean’s chest and rubbed his sternum with the heel of his palm, and his other arm was underneath the pillow Dean laid on. “Another one.”
Dean forced the breaths until the ache in his chest subsided and his vision stopped swimming. When the wall finally stopped looking blurry, his shoulders slumped slightly, and he tipped his head back until he was flush against Cas. “Thanks.” His voice was a little rough and a little shaky.
“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas sounded so concerned that it made Dean’s heart ache. To be fair, he didn’t even know what was wrong, why the case had fucked him up so much. Dean hadn’t been able to tell him at the time without compromising the case by sending himself into a spiral.
“Peachy,” Dean continued to stare at the wall. “M’fine, Cas.”
Though he was breathing fine, the palm that rubbed against his chest hadn’t stopped. It was nice, it kept him at least somewhat relaxed.
“Would you like to tell me what happened?” There was a pause behind him, before, “If you want to. You don’t have to.”
Dean hesitated, swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.
The case they’d worked was at the house of a mother and her young son who kept getting unexplainable bruises, and it turned out that they were being haunted by the ghost of the boy’s deceased father. They spoke to the mother and found out all about her dead husband — the ex-military, violent, angry man — and they’d spoken to the son, and it just hit a bit too close to home. It made Dean think too much about it.
He’d never told Cas much about his dad. He knew the basics, knew that there had been some issues, but Dean had never gone into too much detail. That shit was in the past, he had forced himself to forgive and forget his father’s actions. He supposed it was why when he was forced to remember it all, it threw him through the fucking loop. Because he’d forced himself to pack it all away years ago.
“Dean,” Cas prompted softly when he hadn’t replied, and rubbed the heel of his palm over his sternum again. “With me?”
Dean cleared his throat and nodded, and forced himself to focus on the angel’s touch, the warmth of his body, the breath on his neck. “Yeah, um…” he took in a shuddering breath and exhaled before he spoke again. “The case just got me thinkin’.”
There was silence behind him. Cas just pressed his palm to his chest again, as if to say go on.
“That… fuck, that kid,” Dean hated the way his voice wavered, he wanted to choke down the feeling and shove it back into the box that he’d kept locked up for years, that he hadn’t touched in god knows how long. “He didn’t deserve that.”
“No, he didn’t,” Castiel agreed solemnly. “He was just a boy.”
Dean’s throat constricted. “It wasn’t fair, it was his dad, he was supposed to… to keep him safe, not to… to take his anger out on him.”
Cas was silent for a moment, continued the ministrations against Dean’s chest. “There’s no complacency in a man that angry,” there was silence, before, “That… boy, he didn’t deserve it. Any of it.”
Dean’s eyes stung and he squeezed them shut. He knew that they weren’t talking about the boy. “He’s been dead for years.”
“So?” Castiel also knew that they weren’t talking about the boy. “He was also alive for years. Time makes no difference to the extent of the damage that was done.”
It was the gentleness of Cas’ tone that broke the barrier, and Dean felt as the first tears slipped past his eyelashes, over the curve of his nose. He took a few moments of silence, breathed through his mouth and focused on the pressure on his chest, before he spoke again.
“It scares me, sometimes. The… the anger he left me with. I don’t… I don’t want to hurt Sam, or… or you.”
Again, Castiel didn’t reply straight away. His hand lifted from Dean’s chest and pressed to his shoulder, pulled him until he laid flat on his back, looking up at the angel. His expression was so loving that Dean’s throat clenched again.
“Dean,” there was a certain sincerity to Castiel’s voice, a hard seriousness that he felt in his bones. “You are nothing like your father.”
It felt like getting winded. Dean had to remember to breathe back in as he absorbed the statement, eyes flickered around the angel’s face for any crack in the sincerity. He couldn’t find one. The tears fell a little faster.
A warm hand cupped Dean’s cheek before Cas’ head dipped down, and their mouths met with a tenderness that sucked most of the aches out of Dean’s bones. It was soft and warm and felt like safety.
“You’re not,” Cas promised again as soon as the kiss had broken, like he couldn’t bare the thought of Dean doubting him. “You are good, Dean. You are who you are in spite of him, not because of him.”
The lump in his throat just grew larger. Dean tried to swallow around it but couldn’t, so he blinked away the tears and nodded, and just leaned up to kiss Cas again.
He hoped that in every press of his lips, stroke of his tongue, in every breath that they shared, that he could convey the I love you that he wasn’t able to say in that moment.
My heart belongs to you
masterlist
pairing: old!logan x f!reader
Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.
wc: 3.5k of pure smut
warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.
Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.
It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.
But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.
“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than you holding him because of your sick love for him. He doesn’t think you love him in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.
He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.
You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.
“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.
He closes them. “I’m tired,” Logan says flatly.
“I know. It’s okay.”
There it is again. Pity.
He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.
You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”
He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.
“Elliot Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”
“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.
You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”
“Nothing’s bothering—”
“What’s bothering you?” You interject.
He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”
“What?”
But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.
“Logan,” You protest.
He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas.
You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”
He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.
Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.
“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”
You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.
“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.
“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.
“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”
“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.
“Okay,” He repeats.
You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”
He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”
He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.
“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.
“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.
“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”
“Logan,” You sigh.
He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.
You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.
But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—
He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.
“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.
“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.
“But that takes a long time now.”
He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”
You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.
You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.
Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.
“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.
Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.
But then you catch Logan smiling.
He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.
You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.
“Good girl.”
“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”
“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it. I know you’ve been missing when I used to ruin you.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”
“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.
“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
“What do you mean?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.
He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”
“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.
“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”
“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”
He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.
Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it.
He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.
“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”
He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.
“What do—What the fuck do you think?”
He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.
You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.
He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.
The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.
“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.
When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?
Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.
You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.
It’s the hottest thing in the world.
You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.
“Not yet.”
A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.
His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.
You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are.
He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”
“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”
He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.
“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.
“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling identical things. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.
His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you.
“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”
You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.
You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”
Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again.
His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.
“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”
He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.
Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”
“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.
“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.
He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.
“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.
“I’m gonna—” He groans over and over as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster, swapping his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back so you both can swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.
You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.
You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.
“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough from his orgasm.
You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.
But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;
And for a moment, he’s his old self again.
A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.
STRANGE DARLING 2023 | Dir. J. T. Mollner
kurt vonnegut, slaughterhouse five/spn: 6x20 [the man who would be king]/sarah ruhl, eurydice/spn: 7x17 [the born again identity]/spn: 5x04 [the end] - 7x23 [the survival of the fittest] - 11x23 [alpha and omega]/ original piece by me, olive you/spn: 12x12 [stuck in the middle (with you)]/anne carson, grief lessons: four plays by euripides/ spn: 13x04 [the big empty]/hozier, work song/ spn: 13x06 [tombstone] deleted scene
Bro’s got it bad for his voice at the VERY least
But honestly who can blame him
Y’ALL SHE IS SO FINE, I CANNOT 😍