Loosen Your Grip. | R & D
logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.
[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.
Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!
portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.
possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.
pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry
kofi; if you’ve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!
i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!
The Monday morning after New York— The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or two— Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts you’ve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you do—
“...Are you fucking kidding me?!”
—You’re definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. You’re wide-eyed and wired— You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.
“Oh— I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicago— Fuck this!”
In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days.
The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.
Gratitude. Highlight reel?
There’s a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Syd’s, Richie’s, Carmy’s, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldn’t be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.
Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.
Carmen’s knife guy wasn’t able to do engravings on such short notice, and you’re not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so that’ll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the MET— Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.
Still lost on what to get Carmen… You’ve got a week, it’s fine. You’ve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, ‘hey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?’ You’ll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.
It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. You’ll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal… Just such bad timing—
At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. You’ve got to stop ruminating or you’ll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today.
“God wants me to kill myself—” Gratitude. Express gratitude.
The drive back went ‘well’. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmen’s lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarz—
Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are covered— You’re winning best Aunt for sure.
Oh, huge highlight— Didn’t say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.
With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasn’t helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed.
Today’s Monday. Today’s your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.
You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. You’re both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the ‘confidence’ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.
“I love my life, I love my life, I love my life…” If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, it’ll become true, right? …Where’s Sara’s card again?
The Bear doesn’t run service on Mondays, so it’s a good day to do onboarding— Good day to do R and D. …What does one wear to R and D? Don’t need the serving uniform. Don’t need to dress up. Don’t need the jumpsuit… This is the first time you don’t need a uniform and that is bizarre.
You’ll wear your dad’s flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, you’re just a normal… restaurateur… part of the team…
Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. “Mikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.”
You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.
It’s snowing.
That’s a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.
That’s basically a sign. That’s basically what you asked for.
You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.
…And then soon after, head back in— Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. “The fucking glass, goddamn it!”
There’s a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No one’s gonna notice that, though.
“Mikey, why didn’t you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.”
You’re good. You’re you. You figure shit out. You’re compartmentalising perfectly and no one’s gonna be able to tell that you’re internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.
“ ‘Sup with you?” Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass you’re carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully it’s a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.
“I got it, T, just spot me—”
“Woahwoahwoah—” But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, “Fuck are you doin?” And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. “Wait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellin’ you?”
“I am very capable—” You grunt, but you’re relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. “Put it on the island.”
“What’s it for?” Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.
“Syd’s idea.” You walk with him, sidling up to Syd who’s already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.
“Unless it’s bad—” You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. “If you hate it, then it’s my idea.”
Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. “Nice save.”
“What’s your idea, Chef?” Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.
You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like you’re Vanna White as Sydney explains. “For R and D. Thought since we’re like— Constantly changing shit and needing to review, it’d be like, useful to have a whiteboard— But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurant— Duh— So—”
“Glass!” You come in with the assist as she rambles on. “On hinges— These one’s lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the station— And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!”
“And—And—” Like a TV ad, Syd points out, “We can put paper under it and still be able to see— So it’ll make editing clearer— I-I think.”
Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through other’s ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. “Smart idea. Thank you, Chefs.”
You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. “You got a second?”
Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. “Always.”
Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, “Trouble in paradise.” Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?
The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmen’s office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. He’s first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.
“Are you good?”
Fuck, he caught you too? “Hmm? Yeah, I’m good, do I not—”
You’re halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. “Right— Stupid, stupid fucking question— I just— Sorry—”
“Woah—” You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. “Are you good, Carmy? You’re right, sweets. You caught me. I’m a lil’ off today. What gave me away?”
“Right, yes— You’re nice.” He’s saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. “I— I’m good, I was just—You didn’t text me back this morning.”
“Oh.” You say it so breathlessly, with relief. It’s cute that that’s what’s got him freaking. “Sorry, yeah, I’ve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got some…” You shake your hand in the air for effect. “Bleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, that’s all.”
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“Ah—” You shake your head, waving it off, “Too much to get into. Later, though?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you want.” He nods. “Ah, I wanna get into uhm—” Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. “Get into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of time—But Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shit— Should be here in thirty?”
You nod, squinting. “Is it like… A special computer or something?”
“Computer is a guy.” Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, “Why wouldn’t he be!?” Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. “Baby, what the fuck is that?”
You’re already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. It’s a gorgeous espresso machine— “It’s an Ascaso.” Explains Carmen. “It’s the best.” And it’s sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be.
“Baby, baby, baby—” you’re looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. “Don’t tell me you threw away the old one—”
“You want the old one?”
Richie’s timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, “Fuckin’ told you, Carm.” He knows the context. He keeps walking— On a mission, seemingly.
“I’m grateful— I- I am.” You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelf— It’s not here. She’s not here. “New is good— New is nice— I’ll learn how to use the new one— I will— But— I— I need the old one— You didn’t throw it away, did you?”
When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where you’re crouched on the ground, pleading. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I— I—” The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. “It— It barely worked—”
“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”
He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? “That’s the point?”
“I knew how she worked.” You push yourself back up onto your feet. “It’s got an espresso function that doesn’t work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a little— You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it won’t dispense— It’s literally a fucking nightmare— I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. And— And I’ve got it memorized.”
“...And you want that?”
“No one’s gonna know how to take care of her, she’s my baby!” You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. “If you throw her away or donate her, no one’s gonna take the time to figure it out— They’re just gonna think she’s broken but she’s not, she works! She just needs the right hand!”
A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. There’s an ever slight chance your ‘I’m totally fine’ facade is cracking. “...Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your thing right—”
“I’m good!” “...Okay.” “Did you get rid of her?”
“Relax, Handy!” Carmen does not say this.
You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beef’s corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by far— Well, second least favourite, only to— “She’s over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boy’s ack - queso bullshit…” It’s nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic.
He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. “...Refresher would be good, though.”
You’re already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You don’t get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jack-Off and don’t touch her, I’ll show you, I’ll break your hand Cheech, I swear—”
The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. “Ey, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.”
Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be.
You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. That’s fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.
Mikey really shouldn’t have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people don’t know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.
“You gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.” You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebra’s shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. “Just the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.”
Cheech turns his head to you, “Right, Handy?”
“...Don’t call me Handy.” Don’t freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Don’t freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. “Maybe just offer them, if they ask for one?”
“Y’know what the people are asking for, babe?” Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. “They’re asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.”
You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. “Yeah?”
He shrugs, nodding. “Ninety-eight percent, Jack-Off.” Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?
“C’mon, E…” You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. “Well, I’ll make note of that. Now back to the fuckin’ hand frother, Cheech?”
“I know how to crank it, Handy—” “I swear to fucking God—”
“Ey!” Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chi’s head with a hand towel when she does. “Don’t talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.”
He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. “Ey, T, it’s all love, aright? Playing!”
“Yeah well, you’re not gonna wanna play wit’ this one. ‘Specially not now—” She nudges you, smiling that coy ‘I’m about to blow up your spot’ smile.
You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. “T, don’t—” “That she’s Jeff’s.” “—Goddamnit.”
“Oh! Oh shit!” Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. “You finally closed on Charmin’? Congrats—” It’s a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your… boyfriend? Undetermined.
You wave a hand in his face, “Shut the fuck up—”
“So where should I send flowers?”
You hate this family. “For the record, I have not closed shit.”
“What’s closing?” Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesn’t reveal anything. “What’s that? Gramps?” She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing.
“Well Jack-Off’s a little Mother Mary for my taste—”
You scoff, “So not true, for the record—” but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. “So I suspect she just means they haven't had the ‘are we datey-wating carmy baby?’ talk.”
You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as it’s done, and you’re praying that’s soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. “We are currently unlabelled, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”
Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. “Richie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?”
You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a mother’s disappointment. “We talked out a lot of important stuff—” “Mija, that is important stuff!”
“I just— We’ll talk eventually—”
Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tina’s about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. “So you’re still on the market, Handy?”
“For you?” You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. “Never. Now froth the fucking milk.”
He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frother— You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carm— The menu.
When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking… off. She’s staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers.
You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. “You good, T?”
Your hand shocks her back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, baby.” It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. “I’m good. You good?”
“I’ve got my complaints.” You shrug. “But nothing I won’t survive.” Probably.
Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, “And when did I fuckin’ greenlight this?” interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.
With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant.
You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, “The old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. She’ll need the three groups to keep up.” and you’re able to quickly glean they’re talking about the new espresso machine.
“Okay, I hear that,” Jimmy nods, “but why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?”
“Ten?!” You can’t help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand, “Sorry, continue.”
Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients needed– Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. He’s so sweet. God, you love him. God, that’s disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computer’s— Computer. Carmy’s nonplussed by that fact, it seems.
Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. “See, Chip understands the power of the dollar.”
“I’m not involved.” You add, waving your hand, it’s a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. “Ignore me, continue.”
The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, “It’s the best.”
Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. “Why do you need the best?”
The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. “Cause—”
You duck your head under the counter at just the right moment— Or just the wrong moment? Because you don’t get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. “Because.”
You don’t see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. “Chip…”
When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you don’t hit your head— Because you have an awful tendency to do so. You’re too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like you’re in trouble to notice though. “What’d I do?”
“You’re you.” Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. It’s not your fault. Not completely. “F-Y-I– Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.”
“Hm.” You squint, lips in a line. “And what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?”
“Well respect yourself more than that.” Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. “Take twenty, now you’re back to ten. You’re welcome.”
“Generosity knows no bounds.” You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. “Thank you, Unc.”
“Sorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?”
“Oh fuck—” Despite Carmen’s best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voice— The Computer, you assume. “Fuckin—Ow— Sorry! Y’know what, hol’ on, let me just finish up here—”
“It’s the drink budget. Tony’s the new mixologist.” Natalie answers for you. “And sommelier.”
“Ah,” hums The Computer. “She’s the one we’re paying Quarter-Master for?”
“Nah, that’s me.” Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, “Richie, you find that book yet?!”
“I’m taking them too!” You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. “Apparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.”
“I think it’s impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.” Syd taps the top of your head, she’s the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. “Classes are coming out of the advanced.”
“So is this.” You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. “You’re workin’ with like… A thousand left for pre-paid work?”
“Hm.” Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. “Did you account for that?”
“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”
Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, “Alright, you don’t—”
“A thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.” He’s right, but you don’t love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. “Payroll is a little high, for a somme.”
“I don’t disagree—” You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.
But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. “It’s not.”
“That’s not pay for a somme, that’s a pay for Chip, you don’t need to enhance on that.” Jimmy deads the topic then and there. “You’ll see. Just trust me. You were sayin’ somethin about tiny plants?”
“Microgreens.” Says Syd.
“Yes. Do less of that.”
And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive we’re doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, don’t duh– What’s that you’re hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computer’s screen that he doesn’t understand but pretends he does.
You’ve got a million ideas, but it’s none of your business. It very literally isn’t your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.
He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like it’s a witness stand. “What’s that fuckin’ face on your face, kid?” Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?
You pfft, shrugging. “I’m not makin’ a face—!” But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you.
“You’re makin’ a face,” — “This is just what I look like,” — “Y’know how I know you’re makin’ a face?” — “Enlighten me.” — “Cause it’s the same fuckin’ face—”
He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. “That your dad makes.” A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dad’s tells. And a man that knows your dad’s tells is a man that knows your tells.
You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”
“Come off it.” “I’m not on anything, Unc—” “You’ve got a problem, say it.”
“I don’t have a problem!” You have a lot of problems, but they can’t know that. That makes you judgy and pushy— You don’t know enough about the business to have an opinion. “I’m just observing, that’s all.”
Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the world’s heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, it’s to say, “C-K.”
“Cicero.”
“Y’know why I’m able to pour mas queso into this fuckin’ kid?” He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. It’s bad to think he’s pretty when he’s annoyed, isn’t it?
You tilt your head, “Honestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.”
Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. “It’s because when I saw your dad at the table, makin’” —He gestures to you— “That fuckin’ face, I knew to pull back.”
“You don’t need to pull back.” Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyone’s liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. He’s got you.
“Then speak on it.” And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like it’s obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer.
“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”
A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, that’s on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.
You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, “I– I mean, I didn’t invent them.”
“It’s presentation.” Carmen nods, to himself. He doesn’t like to budge. “That first look at the table affects everything.”
“Yes.” You nod, directly across the counter from him. “I agree, I just think the plates are stupid.”
“You got somethin’ better?”
“Think so.” You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. “Ay, Cheech! Pass me a fuckin’ basket!”
It’s without hesitation that you hear, “Hut!” before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it.
You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, “Easier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, they’re gonna be tossed anyways.”
“It looks cheap.” Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations.
“It looks purposeful.” You double down, leaning on the counter just so, “It carries a story, that we didn’t forget where we started.”
“Ooh.” Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. “Kind of a bar, Chef.”
“Thank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.” You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. “Think on it?”
“No.” Carmen shakes his head, and you’re a little crestfallen, for a second. “It’s good. Let’s do the baskets, yeah—” He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, “Yeah?”
“Yeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.” Syd nods to Nat. “Can you look into, uh—”
“Returning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.” Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, “Please keep going.”
“Oh, uh—” Are you some sort of thought leader now? “Well, uhm, I think I heard you sayin’” —You snap your fingers at The Computer, “That R and D cost is a little high?”
“A lot high.” He corrects.
“Kid with crayons.” Jimmy tuts, “Need to pull back a little.”
Carmen’s screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jar— Marmalade, it’s for Syd’s drink. He made it this morning, it’s labelled down to the minute. Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. He’s been dying for this moment and it’s being thrown off by this bullshit.
He can’t keep biting his tongue, “Hey, uh, why don’t you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?”
You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmen’s ass. You put one hand up in front of the old man’s face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. “He didn’t mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.”
“Does he now?”
“He does.” You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. “Right, Carmy?”
Poor Carmen nearly deflates, “...I’m tryna be the guy.”
“Not what the guy does, baby boy.” You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. “Guy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.”
Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. “S’that right?”
Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, “S’a facet.”
“....Well, just don’t do it again.” A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened.
“I love to see a family come together.” You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, ‘R & D - Cost: Bad’
“Bring it from bad to good.” The Computer notes very helpfully. “You can cut—”
“Hol’ on.” You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, “Just think about it first. We don’t have to go straight to cutting. Let’s look at our options.”
“Your options are fucked.”
“Just—” You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. “Widen the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargers— How else can we ‘return’ shit? Carmy?”
Thank God you’re the guy, because Carm can’t hack it. “Heard? Yes?” And frankly, he doesn’t want to.
“What’s the main cost on R and D?”
“Supplies. Food— Y’know, lot of trial and error.” He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morning’s session. But you like that, right? “Trying new things, y’know?”
“...Carmen.” He doesn’t answer, because he can hear he’s in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. “Sweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckin’ bus tub?”
“Yes, it’s got a blood orange reduction, but– But Syd suggested mint—”
You don’t let him finish, “Is it poison?”
“It’s not.” “It’s edible?” “It is.” “Okay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?”
Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. You’re perhaps… a dash upset.
“We can’t eat everything.” “Did you offer it to the crew?” “Yeah—” “You offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheech— All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?” “...Heard.” “Did you take a bite of all of these?” “Not all.”
You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, “Okay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckin’ food waste apps— Too Good to Go, or somethin’. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel ‘bout that?”
You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better.
“...You keep a binder or somethin?” Is all Carmen can think to ask.
“Steel trap memory.” You tap the cap of the marker to your head, “Good though?”
He nods, “Good.”
“Good.” You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. You’ve also been dying to get to this menu.
But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in hand— Didn’t Mikey get you that? It was meant to be a gag gift but it’s actually quite useful. “Chip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckin’ sucks?”
“Re-lax.” You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Syd’s drink. “Syd told me ‘bout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever it’s called?”
“It’s—” Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. “It’s an idea I’m floating, for now— It’s what the best restaurants do, and— And even if we don’t have full intent on getting a star, right now, it’s still important.”
“I just think…” You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. “It doesn’t exactly give you the most room to collaborate or create—”
“The whole point of it is to collaborate and create—”
“Oh yes,” —As if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, “What wasssit? ‘Vibrant Collaboration’ and ‘Constantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroboros’.”
“Relax.” You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. “You don’t have time to be creative or collaborate when you’ve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.”
Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, “But the—”
You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. “Did you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?”
“Well, no, it’s not viable to perfect that in such—”
“A short amount of time, angel?”
“Oooh…” Richie mimics Syd’s movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, ‘Mad mad.’
Carmen’s two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasn’t even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible idea—
“You don’t have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, you’re gonna have to cut corners on what you’re willing to experiment with.” You reword, more productive, better for his brain. “Plus, prix fixe is a fuckin— In—In my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.”
Carmen’s willing to give up the daily rotation, he’s not so willing to give up the pre fixe. “It’s what the best restaurants do.” Carmen loves the word best, huh?
“Have those restaurants—” You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.
You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. “You’re thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customer— A- A guest, for a second.”
Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, “Let’s do a little roleplay, alright? Let’s say we’re just average people, not workin’ at The Bear, and we’re goin’ on a date.”
“When?” “...When?” “When is the date?” “No, I’m— It’s— This is hypothetical.” “Yeah but in the hypothetical.”
You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. “I dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.”
“Oh, so you’re doing good.” Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, “Weekly date night is a cornerstone.”
“Moving on.” You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, “I’m not a foodie, you are— In this hypothetical. You’re looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bear— You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,” —You list off on your free hand— “prix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you can’t go off of reviews either. Also, it’s a new place, so you can’t really ask around for opinions.”
“Right.” Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmy’s got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carm’s mopey expression.
“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”
Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcast— Not upset, just can’t take feedback without keeping his head down. “Prob’ly not, yeah.”
You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. “People are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new food— But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehand— And they’ll need to be able to choose.”
He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, “But. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, y’know, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. That’s how some of the best places do it.”
Carmen’s eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. “You do keep a binder.”
“Syd does. I just pay attention.” You shake your head. “She mumbled about it all night when we got back.”
Adamu is immediately aghast, she should’ve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. “You said you couldn’t hear me!”
“No, I said you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t.” You can’t hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but you’re happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. “Hand me a lowball.”
With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.
“It’d probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?” And so you throw him a bone. “Like Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on what’s in season with local vendors?”
“What grows together goes together.” Tina says, nearly sing-songy. “Farmer’s market is rough though, Jeff.”
“Fuck a farmer’s market— With love, fuck a farmer’s market.” Back to writing on plexiglass you go. “We gotta do vendors, maybe f’ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmer’s market, but it’s just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, it’s just not— It’s not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?”
Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. “That cool with you, T?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool with me.” Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeable– To anyone but you, that is.
“Why’s— Why would T not be good with that?”
“She’s in charge of farmer’s market.”
“Hm.” You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. “T, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?”
“Ooh?” She tilts her head, shrugging, “Yeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.”
“Not me.” You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. “Them.”
“I’ve paid my sous chef dues.” Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them.
“You need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmer’s market once in a while to remind you.” You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. “Non-negotiable. Heard?”
A soft, simultaneous, “Heard, Chef.” from your cats.
“Good.” You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. It’s a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.
You slide the drink over to Syd. “I can’t drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based on— I don’t care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.”
You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and you’re quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.
Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. It’s got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. It’s strong. Resilient. It’s made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmalade— Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.
Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. She’s quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass.
“Ah… what else? Rapid fire.” You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve them— As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while.
“Opening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, I’m right.”
Richie’s. Also served over ice in a lowball. It’s similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbon— A good one, but not too good that it’s a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience.
“Wine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by default— Whatever works.”
Marcus’. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and what’s in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight it’s actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcus’ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, you’re going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?
“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just grow these microgreens myself in house. They’re just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?”
Tina’s. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua fresca— With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?
“Why are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violet’s Violets— I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone who’s nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and you’ll be set for life.”
And of course, Carmen’s aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because it’s important to try. You’re almost certain it’s too much though.
“Napkins…” You rub your icy cold hands— From shaking up so many goddamn drinks— Over your eyes. “Why are we renting?”
“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer.
You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, “Well, it’s like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, y’know, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, ‘hey, actually, we’re gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins back’ even though you’ve —again— Literally had them for years—”
“Chippy, are you good?” Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isn’t.
“We—!” Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isn’t, ignoring the question. “We can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem ‘em ourselves. We—” You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. “We can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.”
“That sounds nice…” It’s Carmen’s turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. “It also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?”
“Fuck no.” You’re quick to shake your head. “I fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my blood— No, my—” Oh. “Hold on.”
Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. “Oh, put it on speaker.”
You’re annoyed before he’s even answered, knowing the headache you’re about to get. “Trust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not need—”
“Hey!” It’s impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons.
A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. “Hey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princess—” Oh, he’s mad. The whole ‘slew of nicknames when you’re pissed off’ thing? Yeah, that didn’t start with you. “Did someone die? Because that’s the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!”
You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. “Y’know, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.”
Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. “Please tell me that’s not true.”
“Oh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, aren’t they?!”
“Dad—”
“I should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.”
“Noted, Big C-K.” Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. That’s gonna require a long talk down later.
Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasn’t time. ‘C-K?’
You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel ‘Chicago’s Kindest.’ He’s not the best with acronyms.
“Oh— And thank you for bringing that up! And what’s this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people ‘fore I hear it from you?”
“I got a long-term bartender gig that’s actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Cicero’s got stock in the place, actually.”
“How you doin’ C-K?” Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.
“Ah… I’ve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!”
There’s a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say.
You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, “Anyways, I’m still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. It’s not like I brought in that much business anyway, I’m not pulling a foundation.”
“Everytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!”
“It’s not dying! It’s alive! It’s present and alive!” Don’t get flashbacks. “Anyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favour—”
“Ooh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bail—”
“For the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!” You grumble, continuing. “Remember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?”
“It was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logos— And and— you have to remember—” You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what he’s going to say, “that it all starts in your community— And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me… And also it’s fun.”
“Well… If it’s fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?”
And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairman— Well, former, but still. He’s simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.
“For who?” “Restaurant. The Bear.” “Why?” “Cause they need linen napkins.” “How many?”
You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, “Bout seventy to a hundred covers a night.”
“Six hundred.” “Pay?” “We’ll pay supplies, and I’ll give you like—” You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. “A thousand?”
“A thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!” “I work here, okay?! Discount me!” “My God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?”
That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? …Or something?
After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. “Ah–Uh, Syd co-owns the place.”
“Oh, Adamu?!”
Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. “H–Hey, Mr. CK.” She waves, despite the fact that it’s a phone call.
“Hey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!”
“Alright!” You bring the phone back to your face— It’s remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. “I didn’t realize you were best friends.”
“Of course we are. Y’know she brought me this uh– this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.”
You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. “You bring my dad food?”
She whispers in return, defensive. “He lives on my block, don’t be weird.”
“For her, I’ll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, can’t imagine trying to move on top of that.”
Your turn to blue screen. Moving? You’re immediately over the love thing. “...Pardon?”
“...I’ll do it for eight—”
“No– Yes, sorry, yes dad that’s great—” You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. “Syd, you’re moving out?”
She sighs, “Trying to.”
“Pops.” You straighten up, not looking away from her. “I’ll call you back to sort details later, okay?”
“Sure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park or—”
Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, love you, bye!” and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. “When you tryna move?”
“Like, soon as possible.” She stretches out her shoulders. “My own dad is sort of… Encroaching on my space.”
“Right.” Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and you’re trying to temper expectations. “You wanna live by yourself?”
“I mean, I don’t really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same ‘low budget’ as me.”
The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, “And why are we talking about—”
But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, “I need to move out asap and have a ‘low budget’.”
That’s Carmen’s queue to chime in, he loves your place. “What happened?”
Also Richie’s, “What? Chip, your spot’s like a historical site, ya can’t move.” and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.
“To make an extremely long story short, I don’t have a choice.” You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. “My sweet old lady landlord— The only landlord I’ve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckin’ big business gentrification ass company— I’m not in a rent controlled zone so they’re gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spot— They also may or may not have found out that me and Loretta— My landlord— Haven’t exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.”
“Meaning?” Carmen knows the answer will be bad.
But it’s somehow worse. “Meaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying ‘do you want to keep living here?’ and I say ‘yes’, and we continue on.”
“Well, hold up—” Richie holds a hand up, like he’s a genius. “Squatter’s rights?”
“I thought about going that avenue, but—” You gesture to Syd. “If you’re already moving, and looking for a roommate?”
She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, ‘pros and cons’
“Pro.” You murmur as you write. “I have a better credit score than you.”
Syd sputters, half sarcastic. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”
“It’ll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!” You defend.
“In-unit laundry…” “Your eyes just lit up in such a sad way.” “Con. You are an ass.”
“That’s a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation I’m gonna need you to take care of them, and I’m not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and they’re dying I’m gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.”
“Violently honest.” “Pro. Mostly direct. Aside from when I’m not.” “Con. I’m not direct.”
“Con. That’s fine but if I get the idea that you’re mad at me I’m gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you don’t want to throw me out the window.”
“Yeah. Con. Same.”
“Pro. I’ve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when you’re moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. I’ve lived by myself for a while, and I’m very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, I’m not giving that up.”
Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, “But, but like, underwear though, right—?”
“No shit I wear underwear!”
“Okay! It’s important to note!”
“Don’t be weird.” Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.
Who’s whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. “‘Don’t be weird’? You don’t be weird.”
“I’m not bein’ fuckin’ weird—” “Then why are you up in my shit—” “Up in your shit? Oh wow—” “Fully not what I was referencing—” “Don’t be weird, cousin!” “I literally— I did not even move— Not a single cell in my body—” “And— And you only know that ‘cause you had to lock it down, you dog—”
“I don’t remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?” Uncle Jimmy interrupts.
“I’m just takin’ care of my boy, Unc.” Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. “Can’t be too careful.”
“You super can, and you super are.” You grimace, elbowing him again. “And also, not important–!”
“Actually, no, very important.” Syd of all people interrupts. “Non-negotiable, like you can’t— …Like you— …When I’m home it’s like— Don’t—” Ah.
You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. “Syd, I wasn’t planning on it. That’s like roommate rule one.”
“Syd.” Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, ‘watching you’. “Don’t be weird.”
“What the fuck—”
“Everyone shut up, pros and cons—!” You shout, gaining the attention back. “Pros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already, you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.”
“...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.” “I think I could swing that.” “Pros. You’ll never have to cook again. I guess that’s my only pro, actually.”
“Con. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if I’m moving I am going to have to adopt her, so we’re gonna have a cat. She’s cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, it’s called.”
“What’s her name?” Squid’s not excited per se, but she’s not saying no.
You shrug. “I never named her, let’s name her together.”
“No, that’s too much pressure—” “No, you’ll do great—” “What do you mean I’ll do great—?” “Three–” “Oh like together together? No! What—?!” “Shut up, just do it, head empty, two—” “No! I’m just not gonna say any—” “Yes you will, Squid. One!”
And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, “Calamari!”
“There we go.” You write ‘Calamari’ on the plexiglass. “That’s my girl— That’s our girl, actually. I’m still not sure if she’s a girl.”
You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. “Non-negotiables?”
Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. “I need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.”
“...Do you have a fuckin’ lactose intolerance?” “It’s my me time!” “Alright! Fuckin’ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows… and uhm…”
Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, “You have a big non-negotiable…”
“It’s not that big… It’s more a group thing than a roommate thing, really…” “What is it?” “I think… It would be fun… If we all started playing Dungeons and Drag—”
There’s an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, you’re still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, “I honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! I’ll D-M, I’ll make it so easy— Please?”
Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. “Y’know what, you’re never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.” Still a win.
“Okay.” You hum, capping the marker. “So… Aim to move first of February? You down?”
It takes some time, and you realize as Syd’s brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. “Sorry, that’s going too fast, you think on it—”
“...I’m down.” You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. “Yeah, let’s do it. February. I’m down.”
“I’m so happy for you two, but I’m still fuckin’ reeling— Chippy, it’s– it’s— So many memories—” Richie’s being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. “I mean, come on, first time I’d ever been stabbed was on your block.”
“Sorry, what?” Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out they’d be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than he’d like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. “Stabbed on your block?”
“Yeah,” You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, “I— Yeah, there’s no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckin’ scared.”
“You were tweaking!” Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him it’s a charming story— You’d probably be laughing too, if Carmen didn’t seem so… unpleased, let’s say. “You fuckin’ thought I was gonna die!”
“You fucking were!” You slap Rich’s hand away. “It was so close to a cerebral artery— First and last time I’ll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to God—”
“What’s the story?” Oh, new face from Carmen you haven’t seen before, bewildered annoyance, you’d describe it as, it’s going in your bottom five. “You live in a bad neighbourhood?”
“It’s rustic—” You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. “Oh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. You’ve been there, haven’t you?”
“Yeah but it didn’t seem that bad— No— Hold on, go back, stabbed why?”
“So I heroically defended a boy from crooked—” Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. “Richie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of ‘em stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.”
“You got stabbed by a kid?” Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up for—
“Yeah, and wouldn’t be the last time, would it?”
“Richie, c’mon…” You reach up, patting the guy’s shoulder. “It was an accident and she apologized—”
Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, “Mm-mm.”
And so yours raise in tow, “...Fuck you mean ‘mm-mm’?” And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you apologized, right?”
Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, “Syd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?”
Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. “I— I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.”
“Hm.” Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll take it, I guess. Would’ve liked a card.”
“I am not getting you a card.” “I’m jus’ sayin’ I’d’ve liked one.”
Carmen’s still five steps behind, “Are you gonna be fine living there? In January?”
You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. “I’ve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think I’ll be fine for another month, sweetheart.”
“Crime is bad in January.”
“I was a first responder, and I know that’s not true.” You shake your head, shirking off laughter. “It’s actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.”
“Point of order.” The Computer finally pipes up again— Might’ve forgot he was here, if you’re honest. “What are we talking about anymore?”
“Point of order— I feel like numbers— Talking numbers is great but it’s all just like— Paper, y’know?” You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. “We should be talking more.”
Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. “Heavy that, Jeff.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’, like—” You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, “Did y’all know until right now that Syd was moving? …No, right? Let’s like— Fuckin’ remember to check in, like y’know, family, Chefs.”
And without calling her out, you can feel Tina’s demeanor next to you change, relaxed.
“Heard, Chef.” Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.
“Y’know. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!” A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce.
Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, “...What’s everyone doing for the holidays?” Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. “...Or not.”
You volley back for him, “If no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lil’ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a ‘goodbye old apartment’ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?”
“Not gonna go up to Oak Park?” Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other.
“Meh.” You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. “We’re not so intense about holidays since everyone’s aged. I’ll visit my nephew on New Years.”
“I’m doin’ Eve with Eva, but I’ll be free on the day. I’ll come by. We doin’ gifts?”
“I mean I got you something, so,” You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. “Catch the fuck up.”
Syd pipes in, sniffing. “Me and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so I’ll come.”
“Incredible. Two down.” You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. “You guys? Tina I assume you’ve got a loving family and shit?”
Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. “I do have a loving family and shit, but maybe I’ll come by late with them too?”
And Marcus tacks on with her, “I’m gonna be with my mom most of the night, but I’ll come through for a couple hours.”
“Perfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!” You hum, writing names down on the glass board. It’s kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. “Richie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?”
“Yessir.”
“And us!?” Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldn’t be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.
You yell back without turning to him. “Yes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckin’ plus one for you though!”
“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”
“Oh, make me a fuckin’ sandwich, big man!”
“Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ sandwich!”
“Oh, my dick!” A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. “Berzattos… Holiday plans?”
“I think we’re gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.” Sug hesitates, she’s looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. “I was gonna ask what Carm’s plan is…”
“I’ll go. I’ll go.” Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. “I’ll go. And I’ll come to the party, after.”
“I’ll probably just go home with Pete after. Baby’s first Christmas, y’know.” Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. There’s a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense there’s something dancing in the air, you’re not going to overstep on this front.
“Mazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. …Now let’s talk about the important grievances.” You hum, happy to end that chapter.
You turn just slightly to gently slap Richie’s cheek as he stands next to you. “Rich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me off—”
“What’s with the fuckin’ drive by?!” “It’s been on my mind forever— You can’t be wearin’ suits and then be rockin’ that unkempt shit, clean up—” “I’m clean! I’m fucking clean!” “Who said? Who fuckin’ said? Cause I sure didn’t!” “How’m I s’posed to be linin’ my shit up every mornin’—” “You do not grow a beard that fast—” “Oh fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ Carmen, I grow a fuckin’ beard.”
Carmen’s just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. “What– Now that’s a fucking drive by, what the fuck?”
“If we’re voicing grievances, I’d like to voice my fuckin’ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over here—” “Who the fuck is sublimating now?” “You’re not usin’ that term correctly, cause you’re not integrated—” “I thought you two worked this out on the road trip!” “We did!”
You only half regret starting this feud with the beard comment— To be fair, you’re right. “This is it working?”
“This is, in fact, it working.” Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point.
“Alright.” You slap your hands together. “Richie, what is your complaint?” Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now.
“Carmen is fucking killing me.” The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. “He won’t change shit for guests!”
“No substitutions!” It’s almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together.
Richie scoffs, head reeling back. “What happened to it bein’ about hospitality?”
“I mean…” You suck air through your teeth, squinting. “If we’re sayin’ no substitutions, it’s no substitutions— Unless it’s like an allergy or sensory thing— But even then, it shouldn’t be like a major component getting replaced.”
“See? See?” It’s almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that you’re on his side. “Fuckin’ thank you. This is why I lo—”
Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmen— Not the pointed side, he doesn’t want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carm’s chest as Richie stutters out, “F-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutions— What the fuck am I supposed to say then?” speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmen’s mouth, muddling them.
You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. “...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages —uhm— explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comforts— So eat a fuckin’ mushroom, you’re not gonna die.”
“If they don’t like mushrooms—” “Then they shouldn’t order it!” “How hard is it to just fuckin’ switch it out!?” “So hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!”
“I could do it.”
“Could you?” You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. “Okay, roleplay, you’re Carmen, I’m you—” Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. “I know you wanna be a bitch, I’m askin’ you to just skip that part for me.”
His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. “How am I supposed to be in character if I’m not allowed to be a bitch?”
You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. “Chef, patient—” Instincts never give out, huh? “Christ, patron doesn’t want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.”
“Ah, well I’m happy to do that for you, Host Richie, I—” He’s going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick.
You speak over him, voice stern, “Chef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?”
Richie’s head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.“Fuckin— Fucking– Eggplant.”
“Eggplant?” You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing.
“It’s a sauce isn’t it?” You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. “It’s like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?”
He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. “It’s a ragout. Low and slow cooked stew—” Carmy’s ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps that’s too romantic for a public setting. God, he’s weird about love. “We keep it going on our back burners all day— It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you can’t just sub it.”
“Yeah, well…” Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. “Well, I didn’t know that. You didn’t explain that shit to me.”
“I don’t have time to hold your fuckin’ hand—” Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. “I can’t explain why I do everythin’ I do when I’m— When we’re in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we can’t do it. Trust that I thought it through.”
Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth don’t upturn just slightly, has to make sure it’s not clear that he is overjoyed that there’s finally middle ground, can’t get his hopes up. He nods. “I just wanna make everyone happy, y’know?”
“I know. You’re—” Carmen’s nose scrunches up for a second, God, he’s never had to say that he think’s Richie’s good to his face. And he’s not gonna start now, “Eggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.”
Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. “Maybe I could look into knowin’ restrictions faster and estimatin’ their orders, so you can have ‘em on deck?”
And Carmen does think that’d be a waste of time, but he’s learning. He hears it out. “Could give it a shot, yeah.”
“Same team.” Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.
“Same team.” First time you’ve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you can’t help but smile, though you’re trying to hide it. You’re too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances.
Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. You’re Chip. You’re the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone.
You’re the guy. Always have been, always will be.
The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. “Can she deal with the butter thing?”
“What the fuck is the butter thing?” You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. “What’s the butter thing?”
Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week?
“It’s the best.” Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. “It’s—”
“Carm.” Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. “Making it worse.”
“Angel is like, the worst it can get.” Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say ‘what’s the point of paying bills?’ And you’d have to pull him aside. “Can’t get much lower than that besides—”
“Light of my life.” You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. “Apple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?”
Carmy’d like to say no. “...Yeah.” But you already started walking before he even answered, so there’s not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmen’s got a second before he gets devoured.
He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen what’s left of his cocktail. “You need to lock the fuck in.”
“I know.” Carm returns, shooting down all that’s left of the lowball. Why’s Richie’s the sweet one? Why’d Carmen get the cough syrup drink? That’s not fair. Do you not think he’s sweet? “Thank you for the— Intercept.”
Richie nods, he’s been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldn’t stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. “Just think with your brain, not your—”
“Don’t.” “Was gonna say heart.” “Sure.” “Don’t be weird.”
“I know it’s expensive.” Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, “But it’s normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know it’s different—” He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting.
It’s facing you, you’re reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesn’t know what’s on the piece.
“Carm.” You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. “This is not another restaurant.”
Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. “We’re not just another high-end restaurant. We’re us. And so we should be doing things like us. We’re the best, we don’t need the stuff to be.”
He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.
“It’s—” You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, he’s very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. “Hold on, let me show you somethin’ — I think I left one in here.”
You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull out— A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.
“...Has that been here the whole time?”
You nod. “Like threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling it’s origin story. It’s part of the first set I ever got.” You grip the flat wooden handle. “It’s the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.”
That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You look up from it to him. “It’s a handmade set. Dad’s dad made it.” You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. “It’s got a flat wooden handle, made of poplar— So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, it’s also so fucking slippery. It’s part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.”
“Sounds fucked.”
“It is.” You laugh, and so does he. “It’s purposefully meant to piss you off.” You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the wood— All from the times you threw it at something— Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. “You ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, bein’ the youngest and all?”
Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. “Just assumed you were the best.”
That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmen’s overjoyed by the sound. “Yeah, I’m probably the best. But that’s only cause I kept up with it.”
You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, “When our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdrivers— Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and they’d quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess I’d cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.”
“Tricks?”
“Like.” You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. “It’s really good if you’re screwing from the top down.” Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. “It’s balanced. And it’s really all in the grip— Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.”
You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. “But if that doesn’t work, and you just can’t get it to work—” You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at the— “Just make your own grooves, it’ll be easier to hold.” Tiny teeth marks.
“Carm.” You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. “I’m the best repairman because I can work with anything. You’re the best Chef because you can work with anything. You don’t need the best when you’re the best.”
He’s the best?
He’s the best.
He’s the best.
“I truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.”
Carmen’s the best. You think he’s the best.
He’s gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.
“I dunno bout all that.” He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back.
“Well I know ‘bout that.” You shrug back, “I’m actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing who’s good and who’s not.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. “...Painting is very good.” He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. “Or I guess it’s less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?”
“Yeah.” You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. “Most of them I took.”
“They’re good. It’s—” He pauses, tongue against his teeth. “It’s nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethin’.”
You nod, seeing Carmen’s brain struggle to keep pace in real time. “We took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it work— Or, that you could make it work, rather.”
Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fists— Probably too tight— where they hide. “Yeah, kinda fuckin’ up my end of the bargain, hm?” The light laugh that follows is hollow.
“Eh. You both did.” You smile, though it’s hesitant. “ But at least you’re still here fixing it.”
Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. “I was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.” He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him.
“11k for butter,” Carm’s head doesn’t move but his eyes raise to you. “Is a week. More than a week.”
Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikey’s life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikey’s sobriety.
All you can do is nod solemnly. “It is, yeah.”
He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. “That’s too much.”
“I’d agree.”
“I’ll switch to local.” You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them.
“I think that’s the right call.” You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl it— Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.
“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”
And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Well— Not completely, he’s not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. He’ll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.
“Come to dinner with us?”
would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"
was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach
DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!
anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt
oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)
@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant
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break up with your boyfriend, ellie williams
pairing: bestfriend!ellie x afab, curly haired,bi!reader (college au)
chapter: one shot (8k words whoops my finger slipped got my asd diagnosis today lol ig that explains that) proofread but if there's errors idk what to tell u
warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ so minors dni, subish!ellie, loserlesbian ellie, poc friendly!! drug mentions, marijuana usage, friends to lovers, angst?? ellie gets her coochie ate, so does reader, fingering, ✂️✂️, all that good stuff, they essentially worship each other, cheating (not by reader but sus behaviours n thoughts fs) (tw::: men bf’s a dickspawn imsorry) homophobia.
summary: you have a horrible boyfriend, ellie’s always hated him.
a/n: full word vomit im sorry if its ass but also i kinda lost my composure writing this 🤭🫣😵💫
AS ALWAYS FUCK DRUCKMANN AND ALL ZIONISTS, resources for Palestine and the daily click linked on my pinned post!
**
You were tired, drained. Hours had passed and you and your boyfriend were still at it. Angry words and misunderstood sentences all throughout the day had resulted in yet another fight between you.
"Dean, I've said it so many times, I can't go through it again,"
Dean, your boyfriend of a few months had a rocky track record, from keeping in close contact with his ex, to not telling interested girls that he's not single. The situation was always the same, you'd express your discomfort with something and he'd get angry, defensive. Then, eventually after so much arguing would get you to 'realise' that it's no big deal, that you shouldn't have reacted that way at all and in fact, you should apologise to him for making him feel like a cheater.
You had considered breaking up with him, so many times, in fact. Yet, you simply couldn't bring yourself to do it, still holding out with hope that things will improve.
"Baby, I swear nothing is going on, she's just my friend."
"Fine, okay." You ceased, feeling mentally drained by hours of conflict, "I have to go, need to meet Ellie, we have that test soon."
"You're leaving?" Dean said, clearly still agitated and pumping from the fight,
"Yes, Dean," you sighed, glancing in the mirror to double-check that your makeup hadn't been ruined from the previous crying, "I told you, this exam is really important," In other words, you have more things to be worrying about than your issues with him.
Gathering your books and piling them into your tote bag, you felt Dean's eyes on you, silently steaming as he saw you pick up your books.
"I'll see you later," Without looking back, you grabbed your keys from the side of the door and headed out.
He always had a problem with Ellie, which you couldn't understand, she was always supportive and kind to you. What reason would he have to dislike her?
You had been friends ever since that first physics class three years ago, you had sat in the row in front of her, over fifteen minutes into the lecture had passed until you felt a tap at your shoulder. Turning, you were greeted with green eyes and a smiling face adorned with light freckles.
"Hey, you got a spare pen?" She looked bashful, almost embarrassed that she hadn't been prepared even for the first class of the year. A half smile was placed on her lips. Amused, you gladly handed her a pen, pleased that you had an abundance of pens neglected at the bottom of your tote bag. You were always prepared, just not the most organised.
At the end of the lecture, she tried to hand you back the pen, but you refused and insisted she kept it, was she planning on asking someone for every class she had? That was just inefficient.
When you wouldn't accept the pen back, she ripped out a rough square from a page of her notebook, scribbling her number quickly so she could pay you back for the pen.
You had been friends ever since, there was something that just worked. She had been there long before Dean and you would be damned if he was to get in the way of your friendship.
You had reached Dina and Ellie's place, they both shared the accommodation whilst you lived in a one-bed en-suite in a dorm. Dean lived at his fraternity, which you always hated going to meaning you spent most of the time at your place instead.
Knocking, you only waited for a few seconds until the door swung open, revealing Ellie, clad in a white tank top and some grey sweatpants. The open door had caused a draught to haze through the air, the faint scent of smoke and music softly playing at a low volume.
"Hey, you." She spoke, smiling that usual smile that was seemingly tattooed on her lips. Ellie moved out of the doorway to let you in, closing the door behind you as you stepped into the familiar, comforting living room.
"Hey," your tone must have not been well received, as it prompted a,
"Well, what's gotten into you?"
"I've had the worst day, Dean-" you were interrupted by a slightly exaggerated groan, with an added,
"What has he done this time?"
"Ellie.." you sighed, dropping your tote from your shoulder and to the floor, kneeling down to pull out your books and pens.
"I'm serious," she threw her hands up, leaning against the edge of the desk where her work had been all set out already, "He's always up to some bullshit."
Ellie was confused, annoyed actually as you explained the situation to her. In her head, as a lesbian, the solution to these kinds of issues was so, so obvious to her; break up with him, he's not worth it. She had repeated this rhetoric to many of her men-loving friends, all of which refused to listen to her only to turn out heartbroken in the end, anyway.
"I wasn't exactly being rational either," you tried to explain, not that you were making excuses for him, but you felt a certain need to defend your relationship with Ellie. She was always so judgemental of the people you dated. You knew deep down that it was her way of looking out for you, she had consistently been the one to bring you comfort during your relationship breakdowns. And there had been a few of them.
"Don't do that, that's exactly what he wants," She spoke sympathetically, her words very soft considering that, mentally she was currently fighting Dean, and winning.
What was wrong with these guys? Ellie thought, you had dated some specimens before, but this new fraternity bro, Dean? She couldn't stand him.
Seemingly fuelled by his returned distaste towards her, but she knew the real reason why.
He was a pig. Flirting with any girl that'd give him attention, Ellie had caught him at parties with drunk girls hanging off his arms, inches away from their faces, centimetres away from cheating. Only for him to charm his way out of it when you confronted him. It pained her to see you go through this, especially when there were so many options out there. Like her, for example.
To be frank, Ellie's asking for that pen three years ago hadn't been entirely innocent. Whilst, it wasn't a lie per se, as she did, in fact, not have a pen on her first day, making her feel like the worst student on the planet.
She had taken notice of you when you first walked into that physics class. Eyeliner, framing the outer corners of your eyes and tight curly hair that lay perfectly around your face caught her attention. You were so beautiful, she knew she had to talk to you.
As you two had gotten to know each other over those first few months, her little crush had evolved from simple attraction to a full-blown, 'would rip the sun out of the sky if it meant seeing you smile', feelings situation. Whilst her initial intention had been to try and flirt a little bit, over time (really didn't take that long) Ellie realised that you were something special. The bond and groove you had as platonic friends was too great to risk ruining it all. So she decided, her feelings shouldn't be the thing to damage it. Ellie being Ellie, didn't know how to deal with said feelings, so she had made a pact with herself to never act on them, never expect anything other than platonic behaviour on your part, and never, ever let you find out. So whilst you dated, so did she.
"Anyways, can we talk about, literally anything else now? Like our exam that we have in a few days, perhaps?" You hummed, kicking your shoes off and sprawling on her couch, reaching down into your bag for something you had saved for this exact moment.
"Right, 'cos studying is the reason why you're laying dead on my couch right now." Ellie chuckled, joining you and holding your legs up to settle her body on the couch as well, before placing your legs on top of her lap.
"What are you even looking for?"
"Just wait, you'll see." You responded, still rooting through the bag, god where is it?
"Well, not if you can't find it in that damn bag, how do you even find anything in those?"
"Shut up," you chuckled, feeling better already. That's something you loved about Ellie, no matter what would happen to you, a few minutes with her and you'd feel like you had taken uppers.
"Ah, finally," you breathed out, fishing out a single joint that had become embarrassingly bent in the trauma that is, being an object lost inside the bottom of a tote bag.
Ellie laughed when her eyes caught sight of the bent joint, rubbing her eyes as they started to tear from the entertainment.
"You didn't have to go through that much effort to pull out that monster, plus you know I always have enough here, we don't need to smoke yours."
"It may look unfortunate, but this is the best shit in town right now." You tried to sell, "Got it from Xav,"
"Xav? How did you manage that?"
"One of Dean's frat brothers put in a huge order with him and sold me some, thought I'd save it so we could smoke it together."
"You truly know the way to my heart," Ellie gushed, before leaning over your legs, to grab the closest ashtray and a lighter, passing it to you, roller's rights, after all.
"This doesn't look like studying, though," Ellie spoke, eyes falling to your lips as they wrapped over the end of the joint, sparking and taking a drag. She excused her thoughts.
"I just want some peace before I have to focus on work, you know?" You said, exhaling out the smoke.
Ellie sighed, knowing Dean was truly taking a toll on you, she watched as your face fell, obviously being reminded of the previous events. She wishes there was more she could do, how many times could she say leave him, before it sounded too obvious? Too pushy? Too out of line?
"Fuck him, don't worry about that for now. You're with me, this is a Dean-free zone." Ellie cheered, taking the lit joint as you passed it to her.
You felt her fingers trail random lines and shapes on your leg as she smoked, probably not even aware she was doing it. It was comfortable and set off a wave of sleepiness to hit you.
Ellie passed you the joint back,
"You going to that party tonight?" She asked,
"I don't know, I think Dean wants to go but I was planning on sitting this one out,"
"Why don't you come? Dina and Jesse will also be there, so you don't have to spend the whole party with him,"
"Fine, only because I haven't seen Dina and Jesse for a while,"
"I can live with that," she chuckled.
Deciding you were no longer comfy in that position, you lifted your legs up off Ellie, before manoeuvring your body so that you were sat side by side. Passing the joint back to her, you rested your head on her shoulder. What you didn't notice was Ellie's visible tensing the second you laid your head on her.
It wasn't like it was unusual behaviour from you, yet she reacted like this every time.
"What do you think of it?"
"Fuck yeah, it's good," she swallowed, head turning to glance over at you resting your head comfortably on her shoulder, "You falling asleep down there?"
"No..." you mumbled, your voice visibly getting quieter as you were getting sleepier. You were just so tired. Constant arguing with Dean, working or studying. You needed a break, plus Ellie had a habit of being super comfortable to nap on.
"You sure?"
"No..."
"It's alright, have a nap, we’ll study later."
Ellie chuckled, she continued smoking the joint to its ends, relaxed by the sound of your breathing as you fell asleep. She took the opportunity to observe you for a minute, you looked peaceful, a hell of a lot more peaceful than you were when you first entered. She wished that you could always be that content, at peace. Ellie wanted you to be happy, whether with her or not, she just didn't want you so stressed and drained by yet another unhealthy relationship.
It was then she took time to think, how messy the situation had truly become.
—
After your nap, you and Ellie actually did finally study, spending a few hours going over the course material and sharing notes. With a few distractions here and there, but successful nonetheless.
You were back at home, Dean seemingly long gone back to his own place, as you got yourself dressed for this party. Texting Ellie that you were ready, you awaited her knock on your door, as your place was a bit closer to the party you decided you'd make your way there together and you'd crash back at your house later.
Once she arrived, you two made your way to the party, it was in the next block of student accommodation, so it was only a quick walk.
Before long, you had reached the party, greeted by its loudness with thumping music and loud chatter.
"It's fucking packed," you complained, already nervous. The bass of the loud music echoing in your chest, exacerbating the anxiety you felt.
"It will be okay, let's go find Dina and Jesse,"
It took a few glances to land on them but they had been settled in a corner with two other girls. One with short black hair and the other with long, blonde hair.
Making your way towards them, Dina spotted you and Ellie and eagerly waved you guys over to their spot.
"Bitch! Where have you been?" Dina questioned, and truly it had been an unreasonable amount of time since you'd seen her, which is weird considering how often you were at her and Ellie's place.
"Don't get me started," you sighed, whilst smiling at her and wrapping your arms around her.
"Well, it's good to see you, we missed you!" Gesturing towards herself and Jesse, who took his cue to also greet you.
Dina introduced you to her friends who were also sitting with them, the one with black hair was introduced as Cat, and the blonde was called Abby.
They were nice but you weren't too sure about the dark-haired one, she seemed a bit standoffish to you, only, but welcoming and friendly to everyone else in your group, and especially to Ellie. You noted it and placed the thought at the back of your head for dissection later.
In the ten minutes you had been there, Dean had spotted you and walked over. Causing an eye roll to come from Ellie,
"Hey, you're here!" He was drunk, words slurred and eyes heavily lidded. How much had he already had to drink?
Wrapping his arms around your waist, and nuzzling his face into your neck, the scent of alcohol lingered on him and you found that you didn't want him to be that close to you.
Your eyes met Ellie's briefly before she quickly looked away and took a long sip from her cup, which had been filled up with some vodka and whiskey mixed with some chaser by Dina. She turned her head away from you and began talking to Cat, faces a lot closer than most people.
You tore your eyes away from their interaction, turning to face Dean.
"I have to go to the bathroom," Dean shrugged, too incapacitated to care too much before making his way back to some of his frat brothers. Yuck.
You were making your way to the bathroom, hoping to find the right door, but you weren't successful the first time, the second or the third. You were starting to wonder how many goddamn rooms were in this place until you finally reached it, and it was of course labelled with a stupid little diy frat sticker that said 'bathroom' featuring other, more immature graffiti. Apt, you thought.
The light was on but the door was slightly ajar, thinking nothing of it you walked in believing it to be empty. The room was also, of course, occupied. You mentally laughed at your own bad luck as you saw Abby sneaking a cigarette out the window. Her body perched up on the windowsill as she breathed the smoke out the open gap.
"Shit- oh it's just you," she chuckled, holding her hand on her heart indicating that you had slightly frightened her, clearly from her doing something she isn't supposed to be doing.
"Sorry, thought it was empty," you said, turning your body towards the door in an effort to leave her to it,
"You don't have to leave I'm just smoking this before any of my team sees me,"
That brought a smile to reach your lips,
"Why are you sneaking cigarettes like a 16 year old?"
"Athletes aren't really meant to smoke, but shit happens. I just don't want to hear it from coach." She mumbled taking her final drag, throwing the butt out the window.
"I'll take it to my grave," You promised, making a little zip motion on your lips.
"All yours," she smiled, making her way out of the bathroom.
"I won't take long, we can head down to the group together,"
So you did, exiting the bathroom, Abby smiling at you,
"Let's go?"
"Sure,"
You had travelled down the stairs, engaging in random, friendly small talk until you had reached everyone. Abby sat back down next to Dina and Jesse, who were ranting amongst themselves, whilst Cat and Ellie had been left to their own devices. Now, you and Ellie had been friends for a while, you kinda knew what she looked like when she was flirting with girls. And this was definitely that.
Your thoughts were interrupted by Dean respawning in your face again,
"Wanna explain that?"
That completely broke you out of your little trance, explain what?
"What?"
"Why were you in the bathroom with her?"
"She was-" you remembered your promise to her, "We were just chatting, nothing weird happened, if that's what you're thinking."
He grabbed your wrist and walked with you to a quieter corner of the room,
"Why are you lying?"
"Dean, nothing happened we were chatting because she was in there when I walked in,"
"Do you know what she is?"
"I just met her today, Dean," You didn't want to deal with this right now, Ellie had said she was going to try and help you escape Dean tonight and instead she got annoyed by his presence and began flirting with Cat.
"What is with you and hanging out with all of those d-...", he trailed off,
"Those what, Dean?" You were beyond angry at this point, you didn't like what he was implying.
"You know, all those le-"
"Hey," your altercation was interrupted, "Everything cool?" Ellie was looking between you both, eyebrows furrowed as she looked you over, gauging the situation. She knew you could fight your own battles, but when a drunk man is getting too handsy on someone it's always good practice to remain vigilant.
"We're fine." He said, his words less slurred now, a bit more pissed off. Egged on by the fact that his very point had just interrupted him.
"Oh yeah?" She pressed, making sure to look at you when she asked, having watched the interaction since he dragged you away.
"Yeah, I'm okay," you added, trying to give her a grateful look with your eyes, whether she got the message or not wasn't confirmed. Ellie wasn't one to let things go, but then she asked you if you wanted to be left alone with him and when you simply said 'Yeah I can deal with this," there was nothing more she could do without being too out of line.
Sighing to herself, she dragged her feet back to the group, silently warring with herself over her actions, wondering if she put her nose in someone else's business or whether she didn't act enough. She had decided that was enough for the night, she'd try and focus on something else.
Whilst you were frustrated; you didn't want to explain the situation to her yet, at this point.
"Dean I don't like what you're trying to say, I don't want to be near you right now, we can talk about this at home."
"Sure, whatever." He walked off. You exhaled a sigh that had been festering in your chest for a while.
Wandering back to Dina, Jesse and Abby, noticing a considerable lack of Ellie and Cat. But at least you could clear your mind, Dina offered you another drink- which you gladly took.
You were in conversations with your friends, a good amount of minutes had passed and you finally caught sight of Ellie. You felt your heart twitch, your stomach churning at the sight.
Ellie was engaged in some heated make-out with that Cat, her hands tightly wrapped around the back of the girl's neck. The lights of the room bounced off her skin, illuminating them in deep reds and blues, as their lips moved against each other. It was hot, you couldn't lie. Perhaps the alcohol had hit you a lot more than you thought. You had seen Ellie in action, but not in action.
You felt yourself start to stare, lost in the sight of Ellie until you felt your breathing start to quicken and your legs fidgeting. You had to pull your eyes away, shaming yourself in your head for even looking that long, like a damned pervert.
Taking another sip of your drink, your thoughts trailed, you wondered what it would feel like to be in Cat's position, to feel Ellie's passionate grasp and soft lips against yours. You wondered if her kisses would feel loving and warm, not cold like you were used to.
You quickly dismissed your thoughts, blaming it on the alcohol, wondering what was spurring this on, all of a sudden.
You soon decided it was probably time to head home, the party had lived its course and you were in a worse mood than when you first got there. Mission failed, indeed.
Saying your goodbyes to Dina, Jesse and Abby you made your way through the dance floor to Ellie.
"Hey, I'm gonna head out," You interrupted a conversation occurring between Ellie and Cat.
"Oh, you sure?" She glanced between you and Cat, "Will you be okay getting home?" She asked.
"Yeah, I'm gonna find Dean and we're gonna go,"
"Oh," her face soured, "You're really still going home with that guy?"
"Well..." you stilled, you didn't exactly want to, but you knew he wouldn't give up until he got to say his piece, regardless of where you were, "We have stuff to talk about, I guess." Your voice and tone sound beaten, tired.
"I see," She glanced you over, hesitant, as if she was about to say something but then changed her mind. You could almost see thoughts flying in her eyes.
"See you later," Cat smiled at you, though it didn't quite reach the corners of her eyes, no crease of skin. Everything seemed polite on the surface, but there were weird undertones in her voice, indifference. The vibe of that was definitely weird, right?
"Yeah,"
With that, you found Dean and left to go home.
—
Panting, you were panting. Heavy breaths mixed with sloppy touches in the darkness of red and blue lights.
You pulled away, glancing at Ellie, the corners of her plump lips curling into a smirk as she caressed your thighs. Fingers teasing near your entrance, you were completely ready for her touch, dripping, waiting.
"I can't wait to taste you, baby." she spoke, her words soft but with a hint of a growl that excited you, eager for what was about to come.
Then your eyes split open, and you were lay on your bed, hours had passed and you had been fast asleep. Sleep came easy, induced by the alcohol you had consumed, as you realised you had just been dreaming.
It took you a few seconds to stir and become conscious of what you had been dreaming about. Then the shame hit. What the fuck was that?
It didn't last long though, before you heard Dean's voice,
"That was hot,"
You slightly jumped at the surprise of his voice, not expecting him to have been awake and especially aware that you were having a dream of such nature, about your best friend of all people.
"You got me all hard, babe." You suddenly felt too overwhelmed, flashes of Ellie's lips and fingers cursed your mind as Dean's voice was mixed into your thoughts.
Confusion and panic hit your senses, you didn't want to look at Dean's expecting face when your mind was still reeling with the faint remnants of being under Ellie's warm and comforting touch, even in the astral plane, your body still warm and wanting. But not for him. Disgust overwhelmed your veins, poisoning the air in your lungs as you realised you couldn't think of anything worse than him touching you. It was as if that dream had been a message, a sign that this wasn't what you wanted. Or deserved. A sudden unexpected epiphany.
You quickly shot up and ran to the bathroom, no words spoken between you as you closed the door. Ensuring space between you both.
You sighed and grabbed at the roots of your hair, thinking of how utterly fucked this is.
You thought back to Ellie, would she be disgusted at your thoughts? Would she feel weird and uncomfortable if she knew you had been thinking of her that way? Her best, and very platonic, friend. She definitely isn't interested, you thought, remembering the way she had grabbed Cat closer to her and embraced her in a kiss that could only enflame your very being. Jealous. You realised, that's what that feeling was. It seemed to occur a lot regarding Ellie, that feeling.
Dean's voice blared through the door, reverberating through the walls.
"It's about that blond bitch isn't it?" Your eyebrows pulled together, fucks sake.
"Dean, please." It was stupid o'clock in the morning, the last thing you wanted was yet another argument.
"I knew those fucking lesbians would fuck with your head, you've always been a stupid woman, following whoever gives you attention."
His words hurt, and doubly pissed you off. How dare he? Those were your friends he was talking about.
You opened the door, Dean all blotchy and red in the face, fuelled by the past months of his bullshit and borderline abuse, this was the final nail. He was not about to say disgusting things and expect no repercussions. Lifting your hand, you put your entire back into connecting your palm with his cheek, made real by the smacking sound of skin, loud as a gunshot in the dark hours of the night contrasting the silence of no other surrounding sound in the dorms.
"Fuck you, Dean. I'm over this, get out." You stared him right in the eye as he rubbed the throbbing skin of his cheek to alleviate some pain. You couldn't help but feel a hint of relief that it had actually hurt him, as horrid as that sounds. You weren't a violent person, by any means, yet the continuous accusations, the newly exposed homophobia, his vile behaviour - it had to be done. You were done letting him treat you like that.
"I don't need you anyway, can find ten other girls that'd give me what I want."
"Go do that, then." You huffed, wondering why you hadn't done this earlier.
"Already have, sweetheart." He smirked, eyes glinting as he finally lifted the shroud of lies he had been filling your head with. You always knew deep down, you just chose to ignore it. Worms in the brain feasting at any rational thought and your self-respect. You didn't find it in yourself to get angrier.
"Get out of my house, Dean." You finalised, arms crossed over your chest, you just hoped he'd go willingly.
"You're not worth it, anyway." He cements, body turning to put on his shoes, chuckling as his heavy presence finally leaves your door.
You let out a breath, relief, shame and anger seeping into the deepest part of your being.
You were glad he's gone, truly. You just wish you had killed it sooner. Ellie was right, he ain't shit.
You sat on the edge of your bed, suddenly finding that the dark, empty space in your room was doing you no favours.
Pulling out your phone, you drafted a text to Ellie,
3.47 a.m: you awake?
It was a long shot, you almost gave up on a response for tonight until you felt your phone buzz.
3.49 a.m: ..always
3.49 a.m: whats up?
Your lips tilted into a weak smile, before responding,
3.50 a.m: u should be sleeping rn!
3.50 a.m: umm so should u
3.51 a.m: whats wrong?
Sighing, you had to bite the bullet, already started it now.
3.52 a.m: he's an asshole, i broke up with him
A few minutes passed, and you wondered what was taking so long even though in the grand scheme of time it was only a few seconds, really. It was just anticipation, time felt dragged out awaiting her response. You didn't know that Ellie was laying on her bed feverishly typing, deleting and re-typing, overthinking how to respond. She wanted to say, 'I knew this' and how she was happy he was gone because he was a loser who didn't deserve you anyway. How she never liked him. Ellie didn't want to be insensitive, though, lest she hurt your feelings further.
3.57 a.m: how are you feeling?
3.58 a.m: im just glad he's gone tbh
3.58 a.m: had to be done
Ellie couldn't help the hint of a smile that fought its way onto her features, she typed her response. Picking at the dry skin around her thumb with her teeth as she sent her next message, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
3.59 a.m: he didn't deserve you anyway, you're too good for that.
You felt a warmth rush through you, stomach tightening as you read into her words. You wished that she meant it, that her feelings matched yours. Your mind thinks back to Cat, instantly murdering any hope in your heart.
You don't remember when your feelings for Ellie began to change, but looking back on it, you had felt so unsatisfied, seldom comfortable with your past lovers. Ellie was the only person who knew you, truly. Who had loved you and made you feel so safe, her comforting presence always soothing you, you felt like a person around Ellie. Whole. It had just taken some time for life to knock some sense into you to realise. It has always been Ellie.
4.01 a.m: want me to come to you or you wanna come here?
4.01 a.m: it's so late you don't have to! i'll be ok promise
4.02 a.m: hah good one.. gimme ten mins
Ellie was not messing, not much time passed before she was knocking on the front door of your dorm.
"Hey," Her voice was soft, gentle, her eyes shining with such a tender glint. She's always had such pretty eyes, you thought.
"Hi,"
You moved a few steps to give her space to enter,
"How you doing?" She wrapped her arms around you, holding you tighter than you expected,
"Honestly, I'm okay," Ellie took a look at you, gauging your overall mood and believed it, you already looked lighter, less weight (*Dean) holding down your shoulders.
"Think I mentally checked out a long time ago," you added, sitting down on your bed and lifting your laptop screen to load a show, acting somewhat as a buffer amongst the silence.
"So what happened?"
You couldn't help the audible groan that escaped your lips, "He got pissy when he saw me leaving the bathroom with Abby and accused me of cheating,"
"Abby?" Ellie had taken off her coat and shoes, joining you on your spot on the bed.
"Yeah, she was smoking in the bathroom hiding from their coach, we walked down to the group together, it was only small talk. I was so confused, he started saying things about who I was hanging out with,".
"Meaning?"
"He's a fucking homophobic prick,"
"He said hanging out with 'all those lesbians was fucking with my head', said I follow whoever gives me attention," you sighed, "then I slapped him."
Ellie couldn’t help it, she felt a swell of pride that you slapped him, stood up for yourself. He deserved so much worse, she thought.
Ellie couldn't hide the smirk that reached her lips, as much as she tried to suppress it, it still came.
"That's my girl,"
You didn't expect your stomach to twist when those words left her mouth, opening something up deep inside.
"He finally admitted to cheating, and then it was over," You sighed.
"I'm proud of you," Ellie muttered, fidgeting with her nail-beds, failing to meet your eyes.
"You don't have to say that, I know how pathetic this is,"
Resting your head on the headboard, you brought your legs into a cross,
"Hey, I mean it, it must've been a lot," She paused, her hand coming to rest on your knee, rubbing her thumb over the skin absentmindedly, like it was second nature to her. Perhaps, it was.
You looked over at her, eyes trailing down her features, freckles and the green eyes that still weren't meeting yours, suddenly shy.
"You're amazing, you deserve to know that," she paused, eyes finally meeting your own, determined.
"So are you," Your voice lowered, trailing back to the pretty brunette from earlier.
“So what’s going on with you and that girl?” You shouldn’t have said anything, but it was out before you could stop it. Clearly, your brain kept thinking about it.
“It’s..” Ellie thought about what to say, it would sound extremely horrible to say Cat was mainly a distraction, unfair as she is a lovely person, but it’s true.
“Nothing more than what you saw,”
Vague, was that best response to that, Ellie thought.
“I saw quite a bit,”
“Honestly, she’s great, we get along and all but..’ She’s not you. “I don’t think it’ll go any further.”
“She seemed to really like you, why not?”
Ellie almost wanted to laugh, it was so painfully obvious to her, how could you not see it?
“I guess.. I want something different.”
Her eyes connected with yours, the contact between your eyes felt different now, charged. You caught yourself stealing a glance at her lips, which slightly parted as she spotted where your eyes had fallen.
“Like what?”
She had no response, it was either avoid the question, or firm it. Ellie didn’t know which was the right answer.
"Ellie.." You paused, words caught in your throat, as scenarios rushed through your head like a rolodex of different possible outcomes. Heart tugging at your brain to do something, anything.
"Yeah?" Her head leaned closer to yours, your breathing slowly becoming heavier, the room's environment growing thicker, harder to inhale. Her hand still on your knee, unmoving now, frozen in place.
You could almost make contact with her lips, if you moved just a tiny inch closer. Her hand trailed slightly further up your leg, just a little above your knee, almost as if to test the waters. You wondered if she felt like you did, if she could also feel her veins light up and her body inflamed. Were her lips just as eager to touch yours? Were her hands longing to feel you just as well?
Before you realised, it was out.
"Ellie, can I kiss you?"
A beat, and no response. You felt your heart start to panic, already thinking over how to pretend that had never happened. You almost regretted it, until her hand reached for the back of your neck, reducing the distance between your faces.
Lips meeting yours, shyly at first, hesitant. Ellie’s mind was whirling, feeling her heartbeat pump aggressively throughout her body, there was no way this was reality, she thought. No way that you were here in front of her, asking to kiss her, after all this time of her yearning, feeling like a useless lesbian who would never ever make a move on you.
She could almost feel herself kicking her feet in the air, as she decided to firm it. Scared if she waited any longer, the opportunity would cease to exist, pass her by and join one of those regrets she’d think about as an elder.
Your lips met hers back, eager to push for contact, eager to push closer. Your zeal spurring hers on, as her hands clasped the back of your neck, keeping you in place. Not like you wanted to be anywhere else.
This was it. This is what you should’ve been feeling in the past.
Ellie’s soft, plump lips melted over yours, taunting with a bite and pulling your bottom lip out before entering her tongue into your mouth.
Fuck. That was hot.
You felt yourself getting hotter, damper by the minute as the kiss continues, Ellie’s hand getting more comfortable and trailing down to your thighs.
You pulled apart for a second, taking the time to catch your breath as you looked into her eyes, usually green but now much darker, enhanced by enlarged pupils as she glazed her sights over you. An unreadable expression on her face,
“Are you okay?”
“You’re so hot, and amazing and I-I really want to keep going, I just- I don’t know, I don’t want this to be like a .. rebound thing. I really care about you but I just, don’t want to feel like that, you know?” She rambled on, her thoughts getting ahead of themselves as she was pondering if it happened, then if it was too late to return to what you had been, before things got all naked and messy.
You understood, of course you did. You had literally broken up with him just maybe two hours ago. But it didn’t matter, you had to say it. Let her know and reassure her that it was only her.
“Ellie.. you could never be a rebound to me,” You stammered a little before the next part, “You’re the one I’ve wanted this whole time. It’s always been you.” You pecked her lips, grabbing her face, looking into her eyes hoping she’d see the seriousness in yours.
“I’ve wanted you for a really long time,” she broke contact, “I just didn’t wanna fuck shit up,”
“I mean it, Ellie, I’ve never felt as certain about something as I do this,”
Her stature relaxed, you continued, “I love you, Ellie. I didn’t love anyone else,”
“I love you,” she answered, the corner of her lip tilting up, eyes brighter.
“I’ll just have to show you how much, if that’s okay with you.”
Her gaze turned curious, before nodding, watching as your hands danced down her sides and ever so slightly underneath the fabric of her shirt.
“You can do whatever you want with me, honestly,” she murmured. You caught her body tensing, almost shaky as you lifted her shirt. Warm hands covering the sides of her defined stomach, you squeezed a little, just enough to rile her up.
Which it did, Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed as she anticipated your next move. Losing control of her lungs, she was about to explode.
“This okay?” Your hand met the band of her sports bra, digging scarcely into her skin beneath it.
“Yeah,” she exhaled, stuck in place, watching, her cheeks becoming flushed, “Shit,”
You hands pressed over her breasts, tightening pressure around as she let out a content sigh. You dipped your head down to wrap your lips around her nipple, licking laps over the tip and softly blowing air over them when you decided you were done, chuckling to yourself at the goosebumps that now raised on her skin,
“Don’t tease,” She murmured, composure dwindling.
“Sorry, can’t help myself,”
You kissed down her stomach to her pelvis, feeling her restlessness grow as her body refused to stay still, itching for you to do more.
You leaned back up, placing either leg over her torso and looked her over, making sure she was okay as your hand moved lower down, seemingly in a mind of its own as it crept past the waistband, meeting her skin as you held eye contact.
Ellie folded, shutting her eyes as the waiting became too much, you tapped her leg with your free hand,
“Eyes on me,”
When she held your eye contact once again, you teased a finger past her folds, almost letting out a groan at how wet she was, at how easily you could feel her arousal.
“Fuck Els,” you sighed, struggling to contain yourself as your thoughts grew more indecent, slipping a finger in further as Ellie writhed underneath you, head hanging back.
“More fingers, please,” Her voice was strained, breathy as she closed her eyes, embarrassed to be feeling this undone already.
“Yeah?” The side of your mouth curled up, goaded by the sound of her voice. She nodded impishly, covering her eyes with her wrist, as her other hand reached to grip around your hip. A tight squeeze followed on your skin.
“I can do that, baby,” Following instructions, you slipped two more fingers into her, falling into a rhythm as you felt her clench around you. She glanced over your body, legs spread over her midsection as you leaned your arm back, hips gently grinding over hers- an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure building up.
Her hand grabbed at the hem of your shirt, pulling it slightly and groaning when the tight material pushed against your breasts, she always loved how you never wore bras, stiff nipples poking through the fabric.
“Fuck, clothes off, now,” she let out in soft grunts, as she broke your wrist from her to take off your shirt, rubbing her hands over your newly exposed skin “Always fucking wanted to see you like this,” She spoke, your fingers meeting her centre again, “So fucking pretty,”
“You feel so good, Ellie,” You gasped, your hips involuntarily grinding on top of her stomach, “So fucking good ‘n wet for me,”
“Fuck-“ Ellie’s voice cut off as she bit into the back of her hand, her own hips rolling your hand in deeper, hitting her walls more than before as she let out a mewl. “Feels so fuckin’ good, angel,” she whimpered, voice strained as she continued to ride into your hand.
It was the hottest noise you’d ever heard, and you wanted to keep drawing it out of her. To keep hearing her moan for you, and your actions only.
Suddenly, you had something you prove, both to her and to yourself. Flashes of Cat in your mind as you wanted her to forget other women existed.
You unwrapped yourself off her lap, removing your fingers, kissing her stomach as you pulled her pants and underwear down, grabbing her legs and holding them open, exposing her even further.
“Damn,” you said, glancing over her wet inner thighs as they glistened, all for you.
“Shut up,” she spoke, voice tight as a side smile swept over her features, as she grabbed the back of your head, pushing you closer to her pulsing core, throbbing and dripping waiting for you to make contact.
You licked a line up her heat, moaning to yourself at the taste of her. You grew light-headed, thinking you could die happily just between Ellie’s legs, becoming addicted to her moans as you ate her out, head in a daze as she squeezed her thighs tight around your head, almost cutting off your air supply- her moans growing more frequent, as she reached closer. Your free hand moving up to wrap itself around her breast, squeezing tighter around her nipple.
Deciding to have a little more fun, you slipped two fingers into her wetness as you continued to lap your tongue around her clit, pushing up into her as you sucked. Dragging her delicious sap on your tongue as it marred all over your face, cheeks glassy with her warm sleek.
Ellie had lost control over her vocal cords at this point, moans slipping out from between her sweet lips no matter how hard she tried to suppress them. Hell, you were moaning too, despite not even being touched yet, dripping all over yourself, ass up and needy as you rolled your hips over thin air as you continued to soak yourself into Ellie.
There could be no coming back from this, you thought, not now that you had been exposed to the delicacy that is Ellie Williams. You were holding on to her and not letting go.
You felt Ellie’s moans get shorter, cutting themselves off from its full power before the next one came, her hips moving more haphazardly up to meet your tongue, she was close.
You glanced at her, her eyes closed, brows pinched up and mouth agape, a slight sheen to her skin from sweat, she’s so attractive, you thought.
With your free hand, your fingers guided themselves onto your own folds, rolling over your own clit for some release, the lack of hand on her caused Ellie’s eyes to lull over at you, the sight of your arched back, wet cheeks from her slick, spread legs as you touched yourself all whilst still fucking her into oblivion.
The damned sight of you, just as undone as Ellie, without her even touching you, was enough to cause the coil in her abdomen to twist, before she came all over your face, breath slowing into heavy pants as her body twitched. You lapped her up her residue, finally removing your face from between her legs as she looked at you. Wordless.
“Wh-what the fuck..” Ellie’s weak voice trailed, before laughing and forcing a kiss on your lips, hands wrapped around your jaw as she tasted the remnants of herself on you.
There was no way you were about to give her the best orgasm of her life and expect her to not do anything back? Funny joke. Ellie was ravenous now.
She placed you underneath her, biting around your thighs before bending her head down, her tongue having been desperate for a taste since that first day she saw you. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” Your legs tightened around her as the air from her voice hit your centre, “Been dyin’ for a taste,” You looked at her, tip of your eyebrows raised up as you took in her words, how long had she wanted you back? Her words caused you to shudder, whimpering as she continued.
“Fuck,” You said, voice breaking as her tongue rippled over your pussy as your hips shook, slurping up the honey that had been left neglected. Long, slender fingers meeting your centre that had felt so, so desperate and needy for her to touch.
“G’na show what you’ve been missing,” She hummed, as her fingers picked up pace working harmoniously with her tongue as she fucked into you. Warm muscle rolling over your pulsing clit. Fingers rubbing over your velvet walls which sucked her further in, skin dragging out with her soaked fingers when they recoiled out, the image obscene. “What was waiting for you this whole time,”
“Els- shit, wanna feel you,”
“What you want, baby?” She gasped out, in between breaths as fingers toyed with your clit.
“Wanna feel you, y-your fucking pussy on mine-fuck,” you cut yourself off, embarrassed. The desire was simply too strong, you were dizzy just from the thought of it. Ellie seemed to share your enthusiasm, her heart skipping a beat, the thought kindling her veins with heat.
This was truly a gift from the heavens, she thought.
“Shit- yeah, okay.” Ellie exhaled out, as she got you into position, grabbing one of your smaller pillows to cushion underneath you as she placed her legs over yours, getting into place as she rubbed her clit over yours, hips lolling over your pelvis.
The sounds were debaucherous as they filled the room, hot and wet, as if the spirit of Dionysus, himself had possessed you. Invoking you with bacchanal, carnal desire as you could think of nothing else than the sublime vice that is Ellie Williams.
“Fuck, Els, I’m gonna come,”
Ellie groaned, rocking her hips over yours, her defined abs on show, breasts working with Earth’s gravity as they sprung up and down to match her movements, hair falling out of her half-bun, causing some strands to stick to her face, completely dishevelled. You looked at her, eyes attached to yours, lust ruling over them, then looked back down to where you were both intertwined. You trapped your bottom lip with your teeth at the sight before you.
Her sap mingling with yours, leaking out from her cunt as it folds over your own, Wrapping you with her warmth, pulsating around yours. Ellie’s body still trembling from before.
“Then come for me, baby,”
You were gone. With her words, you felt yourself spilling out against her, not being able to hold back the climax of your arousal spurting out from you, splashes reaching Ellie’s legs.
“Fuck, Ellie!” Your voice drawled out, as the wave ran through you,
“That’s it, angel, come all over me,” She smirked down at you, breath heavy as she watched your eyes glaze over, lips parted and chest heavy as you finally came down. A ardent glaze over her eyes.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” She gaped, eyes transfixed on your figure as her reeling mind came down from the high.
“Shit, neither did I,” you laughed, covering your mouth, suddenly shy. With your head still in the clouds, you weren’t feeling as overly self-aware.
“That was fucking hot, and I’m not done.”
—
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You Want a Baby? (Bat Boys x Female! Reader)
Based off of multiple resquests... and by all means request more of this shit. My Ruhn asks have been kind dry. Would hate for the frat pack to run a train on the reader...
AN: You guys I spent so much time on this I hope it lives up to expectation because this is my kind of thing.
Summary: It's the perfect storm, you're ovulating, all your mates happen to be home and they all want to see you pregnant with their child.
Warnings: Double penetration, breeding kink, size kink, possessive mates, Over stim, literally so many things I'm probably forgetting
Word count: 3738
It was that time of the month, well not THAT time.
Fae periods were a bitch, that much was true. But fae ovulating? It was a whole different thing. The need to be touched, to be filled, was excruciating. Ever since I had found my mates, three of them to be exact, it was like all those sensations had been heightened. Every time I ovulated, all three of my mates couldn't be present.
The first time Rhysand was meeting with Tarquin leaving only Cassian and Azriel to fuck me senseless. The next time around it was just Azriel to keep me sated. One of the most memorable times was last year when it was just Rhys and Cassian to help. However, I patiently waited for a day when all three mates would be here to take care of me, a day I secretly hoped would be today.
I woke up this morning to an empty bed and a note that said they had all gone to Windhaven to check on the Illyrian camps. I didn’t mind their absence too much until later that afternoon when I felt my body start to sweat with need. I went to the bathroom to strip off my clothes, leaving me only in the black lingerie that Azriel had bought me for solstice last year. I couldn’t help but admire myself, running my hands down my body. It wasn’t until then that I realized what was going on, I was ovulating.
The boys were in Windhaven which meant there was a possibility that they could all be here by tonight. But with the tensions in the Illyrian camps high, I knew it was most likely a long shot. So I spent the day dancing around the townhouse in nothing but my lingerie, loving the feeling of the fresh air on my skin. As the sky got darker I realized my mates weren’t likely to come home.
I made my way upstairs to our oversized bed and tossed myself on top of the covers. I tried to sleep and push all thoughts of Rhysand’s hands, Azriel’s tongue and, Cassian’s cock from my mind. I was unsuccessful, and ended up finding myself writing all over our shared bed, begging for any kind of friction the sheets offer me. That’s how the boys found me, squirming around our bed in nothing but my lingerie.
“Well, what do we have here?” Cassian drawled, leaning against the doorway.
I sat up straight, trying to act like I wasn’t about to reach a hand down my panties just seconds ago.
“I told you both,” Azriel said smugly, walking into the room with Rhysand in tow.
“Told them what?” I ask bringing my knees to my chest in a lame attempt to cover myself.
“I told them that you were ovulating today,” Azriel smirked. “I’ve been tracking your cycle since I got left out last time,” he looked to Cass and Rhys with a death glare.
“We got back from Windhaven a few hours and decided to get a drink at Rita’s,” Rhysand explained, stalling towards where I sat on the bed. “We were talking about you.”
“You were?” I ask, sensing the seriousness in Rhysand’s voice.
“Oh yes we were little one,” Cassian laughs.
“We were talking about how amazing you would look pregnant,” Rhysand explained, his voice like liquid sex.
“R-Really?” I say, not trusting my own voice.
“Yeah,” Cassain answered, taking a step toward me. “We think we're ready for a baby.”
“Only if you’re ready though,” Rhys assured me.
My heart skipped at their words. The idea of carrying any one of their children excited me. I couldn’t lie, I had been thinking about it since my last cycle.
“What do you think, little one? Gonna let us put a baby in you tonight?” Azriel drawled, leaving a kiss on the shell of my ear.
I couldn’t even speak, all the intelligent words leaving my brain. All I could think about was how feral the fae were when trying to conceive. My legs would’ve fallen apart if it wasn’t for my arms holding them together. I nodded my head, still unable to think.
A collective growl filled the room as Azriel grabbed my arms and stood me up in the center of the room, leaving me on display for each of my mates. They closed in on me instantly and I had to crane my neck up to meet each of their gazes. Cassian’s hand slid under the strap of my bra inspecting me thoroughly.
“Which one of you bought her this little set?” Cassian said, slipping the strap of my bra off my shoulder while Rhysand worked on the opposite strap.
“I did,” Azriel said, rubbing circles into my hips as he left open mouth kisses on my shoulders.
“Well thank you Az,” Rhys smirked, unclasping my bra.
My body felt like it was on fire from three sets of hands roaming up and down it. Even if I closed my eyes I could easily tell who touched me where. The sensation of it all had me tossing my head back on Azriel’s chest, trusting him to support my body. He grasped my hips tightly to keep my knees from buckling as Cassian and Rhys stared at my breasts now free of the tight black lingerie.
“Look at those perfect tits Az,” Rhysand drawled.
I felt Azriel’s large hand drift up my torso and to my neck pulling me against his body even more so I could feel his hard cock pressed up against my back. His hand on my throat gently pushed my head to look at him as he said back to Rhysand
“They are perfect,” he smirked, craning his neck down to capture my lips in his.
“And soon they’ll be full of milk,” Cassian pointed out with a smirk, swiping a calloused thumb over my nipple.
Rhysand bends his head down to take one of my aching nipples into his mouth sucking it taut. The gesture catches Cassian’s attention and he leans down to give the same treatment to the other side. The sensation has me arching my back aching to be closer to them. I feel Azriel’s hands grip my hips and yank me against his body again. His hand comes to grip my throat once more as he sticks his tongue down my throat earning a moan from me. I feel Cassian’s lips pull off my tit with a pop as he watches me and Azriel.
“Gods sometimes I forget how tiny she is,” Cassian drawls running his hands up and down my sides. “Look at her with Az she’s like half his size.”
Rhys stops his menstrations on my other breast to see what Cassian is talking about, “She’s practically half all our sizes Cass,” Rhys chuckles.
“Gods I just wanna toss her around like a little doll,” Cassian curses.
“Do it,” Azriel smirks, pulling his lips from mine. “You know how much she loves it.”
Cassian says nothing before picking me up by my hips effortlessly and tossing me onto the bed earning an excited squeal from me.
“Told you,” Azriel beamed with male pride.
Cassian stalked towards me with Rhys and Azriel hot on his heels and I started moving up the oversized bed towards the headboard.
“Oh no you don’t,” he smirks, grabbing my ankles and yanking me down the bed. I wait patiently watching Cassian untie the leathers of his pants, my mouth nearly falling open as his large cock springs out. “Come here baby,” he smiles and I eagerly sit up and lick the tip of his cock.
I looked up at him through my lashes donning my most innocent expression as I took as much of him as I could in my mouth. The rest I pumped with my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Azriel and Rhys fisting their cocks at the sight of me sucking Cassian off.
“Good fucking girl y/n,” Cassain moaned tossing his head back in ecstasy.
I reveled in the salty taste of him, the feeling of every single vein in his cock massaging my tongue. I would never get tired of this, of pleasing my mates. Cassian pulled me off him and pushed my upper half down on the mattress. My panties are ripped off and discarded somewhere in the room. There goes that set.
“Stop Cass, make sure she’s ready, I don’t want to tear her,” Rhysand tells Cassian, the voice of a High Lord making its appearance.
Cassian bends down to inspect my pussy, running a finger through my folds to find me absolutely drenched. “Oh she’s ready alright,” he smiles. “God baby your pussy is so fucking tiny. It’s a miracle you can take us so well.”
“Cass please,” I whine, nearly coming undone at his words.
Cassian starts pushing his cock in me and the stretch has me backing away from him subconsciously. He grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him, pinning me to the mattress. I had been their mate for a while now but every time they entered me I still felt the stretch. Cassian was right, I was half their size, was a miracle I could take them.
Cassian started trusting in me at a fast pace and the sound of our skin slapping filled the room. To my right and left Azriel and Rhys continued to stroke their cocks and as much as I longed to put them both in my mouth, Cassian had me in such a state of pleasure I couldn’t focus on anything else.
“Fuck Cass look at her belly,” Azriel practically moaned. Cassian’s eyes snapped to my stomach where he could see the bulge from his cock thrusting into me. I moaned at the sight.
“Yeah, you like that baby?” He smirks, leaning over to capture my lips in his. His pace speeds up and within seconds he’s cumming inside of me.
Cassian pushes his cock in me a couple of times, his attempt at burying his seed deep inside me. He pulls out soon after and I whine at the sudden emptiness.
“That’s the one that’s gonna get her pregnant,” Cassian beams with male pride, his cock already hardening.
“Pfft, you wish General.” Azriel scoffs positioning himself between my legs.
He pushes in slowly and I cry out at the stretch once more. Each glorious inch of him brings immense pain and pleasure.
“Shhh be a good girl and take it all,” Azriel coos until his hips are flush with mine. “That’s a girl.” he moans as he begins fucking me hard.
My mind goes to mush almost instantly and the moans coming out of my mouth are damn near feral. The need to be fucked and filled by each of my mates runs so deep in my veins. My hands claw and scrape and find Azriel’s forearms as he slams his hips into me, seeking out his own pleasure.
“Az please let me cum, I-I’m so c-close,” I mewl, each word hard to get out.
“Not yet baby, you don’t get to cum until we all have a load in that little pussy,” Rhysand drawls, pumping his cock. “Speaking of, step aside Az I’m not gonna last much longer.”
“No, I’m not done with her yet,” Azriel growls, his possessive side coming out.
“You think I can fit in there with you then?” Rhysand asks.
“Now this I gotta see,” Cassian jests.
The thought of two cocks fucking my pussy at once has my eyes glazing over and my mouth falling open like I’m in some sort of subspace.
“I can take it,” I choke out between Azriel’s thrusts.
“Pick her up Az,” Rhys says, his voice practically dripping with lust.
Azriel doesn’t stop his minstations as he wraps one of his arms around me, lifting me off the bed. My arms wrap around his neck as my forehead bumps his and he stares me down as he fucks me mid-air.
“Good girl,” he rasps, proud of how well I’m taking him.
The next thing I know he’s lying me down again, Rhysand’s warm chest replacing the mattress. His hands wander up and down my sides trying to soothe my nerves as Azriel stops moving.
“Alright little one take a deep breath for me,” Rhys instructs and I can feel him lining his cock up at my entrance.
I do as I’m told, taking the deepest gulp of air possible, excited for what comes next. The second I let my breath go I feel Rhys pushing his cock into me aside Azriel’s. The stretch is more than any I’ve ever felt before but the sounds escaping Rhys and Azriel’s mouths make it so worth it. Once Rhys is brushing my cervix along with Azriel tears prick my eyes and Cassian is kneeling before me in an instant.
“Shhh breathe baby,” Cassian coos, glancing down to where both his brothers' cocks are seated inside my pussy. “Fuck, you’re being such a good girl. Just gotta take two more loads and then we’ll let you cum alright?”
All I can muster is a shallow nod as Rhys and Azriel begin thrusting in tandem. The constant feeling of fullness has me feeling numb while feeling everything all at once. I arch my back further and Rhys runs a hand down my hip to hold me in place so that he doesn’t slip out. My eyes glance to Azriel who has his eyes fixated on the bulge in my stomach being made by both his and his High Lord’s cock. All the while, Cassian brushes the sweat and hair away from my brow whispering praises to me.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” Rhys groans, the vibrations of his chest skittering down my back.
“Me too,” Azriel moans and within seconds I feel his sperm coating my walls just like Cassian’s.
Azriel cumming triggers Rhys to cum as well and even though I can still feel Azriel, the load my High Lord put in me is equally as distinct.
“Holy fuck,” Azriel groans pulling out of me inspecting his work. My breaths are so ragged and my vision so blurred that I can barely make out Rhysand’s voice.
“Take her Cass,” he mutters, or so I think. My assumptions are proven right when I feel Cassian’s arms snake around me, pulling me off of Rhys’ cock.
I whimper at the loss of the fullness as Cassian lays me on top of his chest stroking my hair and kissing my brow. My body vibrates and my heart pounds with the need to cum.
“Poor baby, you wanna cum don’t you?” Cassian coos tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. My eyes are glassed over and my face looks fucked out but I’m still able to nod.
“Make her cum Cass, I want us each to get one more load in her before we’re done,” Rhysand says, already fisting his cock.
“Rhys I’m not sure, look at her. I don’t think she can take much more.” Cassian warns, placing me against the pillows and moving down my body.
“Do you want her pregnant or not?” Rhys snaps.
“Of course I do,” Cassian says. “Can you take three more loads baby?” he asks me.
“Of course she can,” Azriel says, his cock already at attention from seeing his fucked out mate.
“I-okay,” I sputter, still vibrating at the need to be touched. At this point, I was practically bucking my hips into Cassian’s face.
“You want me to lick your pretty clit?” Cassian smirks using one arm to pin my hips to the mattress and the other to spread my folds.
“Y-yes,” I beg.
Cassian chuckles, his eyes fixed on my cunt, “Looks like we made quite the mess of her little cunt,” he muses and both Rhysand and Azirel peer down to investigate.
“Shit Cass it’s spilling out,” Azriel curses.
“Don’t worry brother,” Cassian assures him, as he presses two fingers inside me, pushing the cum deep inside me. “She won’t waste it. Will you baby?” He smiles at me.
“No, I w-won’t,” I say, meaning every word my body still shaking.
“Cass lick her little clit or I will, the poor thing is shaking,” Rhys orders Cassian.
Cassian doesn’t waste a moment before lowering his mouth to my pussy and attacking my clit. It only took five kitten licks for me to orgasm harder than ever before. My back arches off the bed and the tension from my body pushes more of my mate’s cum out of my aching hole.
“Ah ah ah,” Cassian says, pushing two fingers into me again. “What did we say about wasting?”
“Cass it’s your turn,” Azriel bites close to spilling his load.
“Spread em’ baby,” Cassian smirks, spreading my legs for me anyway before burying himself inside of me.
“Oh gods Cass!” I cry out as he starts fucking me relentlessly chasing his own release.
“Fuck I love seeing that little bulge,” Cassian grins, placing a hand over where his cock hit my belly.
Seconds later he’s spilling his load into me, a sound coming from his mouth that I’ve never heard before. My vision nearly goes black, the only thing keeping me grounded is Cassian gripping my throat and pulling me up to kiss me as his second orgasm coats my walls.
“Who’s next?” Cassian asks, pulling out of me.
“Me,” Both Rhysand and Azriel say at the same time.
“Back off Az, you got to have her first last time,” Rhys growls.
Whenever I told people I had three mates they would usually joke about how territorial they would get over me. The irony was that my mates almost never had a problem sharing me, but tonight? Well, tonight was just one of those nights. When mates were trying to conceive they were practically feral, I was honestly surprised things had gone so smoothly till now.
“Yeah, and I literally had to share her pussy with you!” Azriel roars.
Cassain drags me up to lay my upper half on his chest so he can run a hand through my hair and whisper praises to me.
“I’m pulling rank, as your High Lord I’m going first,” Rhysand orders, nudging my entrance.
“Fuck off Rhys,” Azriel says continuing to fist his cock.
Rhys pushes his cock inside me with a groan as he bottoms out. My body shudders and on instinct, I move away from him but he grips my hips and brings me down his cock again fucking into me hard.
In my haze my head falls to the side, my cheek grazing Cassian’s abs, the very ones he let me rut on to get off a few weeks ago, and I meet Azriel. He looks glorious, pumping his cock while watching Rhysand fuck my hole. On instinct, I reach my tongue out and lap at the head of his cock catching his immediate attention.
“You wanna suck it baby?” He muses brushing his cock against my lips. I open my mouth wide, sticking my tongue out in response.
I know I’m so fucked out I can barely wrap my lips around him but Rhys pulling rank seemed like a dick move and I wanted to remedy it in any way I could. Azriel pushes his cock into my mouth letting out a guttural moan in the process.
“Good fucking girl,” Azriel moans and it spurs me on to suck him even harder as he fucks my mouth.
“Oh fuck,” Rhys roars cumming into me for the second time tonight. He knows better than to stay seated in me longer than necessary and pulls out as soon as possible. Azriel’s cock follows, his cock leaving my mouth with a bead of saliva dripping from it.
“Are you fucked out my love?” Azriel croons, grabbing my jaw to face him. It’s evident from my hazy eyes that I am.
“One more load sweetheart,” Rhys whispers, pressing a kiss to my brow. “You want a baby in your belly don’t you?”
“Uh huh,” I rasp still unable to form actual words.
“Open,” Azriel orders his grip on my jaw tightening.
Of all my mates Azriel was always the most dominant. I loved to test Rhys and Cassian, but when it came to Az? I knew it was in my best interest to be a good girl.
So just like I had a million times before I opened my mouth nice and wide for him. His hand gripped my jaw, keeping it open before he spit in my mouth.
“Now swallow,” he growled and I followed his orders once again. I opened my mouth to show him I had been a good girl and he rewarded me by pushing his cock inside me.
“What was that about Az?” Cassian laughed stroking my hair.
“Grounding her, if I’m gonna pump a load in her I want her to feel it,” Azriel groans. “We’ve done it before, haven't we baby?” he asks me and I nod enthusiastically.
Rhys wipes the sweat from my brow as Cassian presses a hand down where Azriel’s cock makes a bulge in my belly.
“She’s gonna cum Az,” Cassian informs his brother.
“Fuck I can feel it. Her tiny cunt is squeezing me so tight I can barely fuck her.” Azriel groans. “Ready baby?” Azriel asks me and I nod once more. “1…2…3…Fuckkk,” Azriel moans, spilling his seed into me.
Despite the haze that fills my head I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment knowing I did it. I gave each of my mates two orgasms the evidence dripping from my sore cunt, wait fuck.
“Waste!” is the only word I can get out as I feel all six loads of cum spilling out of me.
“Shh, it’s okay mate,” Azriel coos, pressing a kiss to my brow laying down on the side that wasn’t occupied by Rhys. “Cass plug her up,” Azriel continues.
Without warning, two of Cassian’s fingers slide into my pussy keeping their combined cum from leaking out.
“Get comfortable mate,” Cassian chuckles. “We’re gonna have to sleep like this.”
And sleep I do. With Cassian behind me, my head on Rhys’ chest, and Azriel using my stomach as a pillow I’m out within minutes. I don’t know what the future holds as far as children go, but I’d say this was a good first attempt at conceiving.
pregnant! Reader x bat boys Drabble
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