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silentglassbreak · 8 months

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Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

!!!There is finally smut in this chapter!!!!

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying, this is a work of fiction. All of my words are my own. Plagiarism is a crime.

Taglist: @flowery-mess

Part 5 - Bad Decisions

Three months and three days, since I had met Noah Sebastian. Since he had walked into my group, reserved and exhausted, ready for a change. Three months and one day since I had agreed to be his sponsor. Since I had taken on the role of maintaining his sanity and sobriety with him. Three months exactly since Noah kissed me, causing me to pull back on our relationship.

I had given myself a silent rule that I never told Noah: we did not meet in person, outside of group, unless it was dire. So far, we had not gotten to that point.

He called me often, needing support. We talked on the phone, sometimes for only a few minutes while he panicked, I calmed him down, and he focused on breathing. Sometimes, we talked for a long time. I suspected he called me at times, out of pure boredom.

Two weeks after his show in Hollywood, he finally told the members of the band that he had began AA. As I suspected, they were all very supportive, most notably, Nick Ruffilo, his best friend since childhood. He even brought Nick to our last 'Loved Ones' session, where we asked everyone to bring someone in their lives who supported their recovery. Some people only brought their sponsors, but some brought their husbands, wives. Girlfriends. I always brought Laura.

I met Nick that day. He was polite, had the most charming smile, and shook my hand respectfully.

"You're the famous Leena, huh?" Noah had been talking to Syd when Nick approached me.

"Famous?" I quirked my eyebrow. He smiled brightly.

"You've kept my boy straight for a whole month."

I nodded in understanding. As fate may have it, the day Nick came to group, was the same day Noah had earned his 30-day coin. He had earned himself a large round of applause, as well as his favorite flavor of cupcakes in class. Red velvet, cream cheese frosting, graham cracker dust. I'll never forget, I asked Laura to make them.

Nick cared deeply for Noah, I could see it. I knew the other members, Folio and Jolly, did as well, but I believed Nick was his best source of support.

I broached the subject with Noah about a week later of Nick being his sponsor. I saw the look on his face while he sipped on his coffee, group having just ended.

"Oh, I didn't even think about it." He was looking at the ground, something he regularly did when he was uncomfortable.

"I mean, it was just an idea?" I tried to stay warm, comforting. Noah didn't always go for that. He had his moments where he felt patronized, and preferred I be straight with him. Usually when he was in a bad mood.

"I could ask him, I guess." He still wouldn't look at me.

I sighed, quirking my lips in a smile. "You don't have to. I'm happy to keep being your sponsor, Noah."

He looked at me finally, through his lashes. "You just know how to pull me back from the brink. He doesn't."

I nodded in understanding. "Guess you're stuck with me then." I beamed at him, earning a smile back.

Today, Noah was earning his 90-day coin, right before he leaves for tour. He got to go first in group, discussing his experience through recovery. He also got his special cupcakes, Laura turning up special to deliver them by hand. He was like a kid in a candy store, nearly hopping up and down when she handed him his special cupcake, bigger than the rest. He was ever thankful that she was a talented baker, promising to bring him and the band cupcakes during their tour dates here in LA.

The band had added 17 additional tour dates, beginning the tour in the summer instead of fall. They would have three months off from June to September, and would head to Europe in December. The success of the band was exciting, and stressful all the same for Noah. I saw the toll it took.

Two weeks ago, he finally told his girlfriend about his recovery. We didn't talk about Lily often at all, but he definitely did not want to discuss that subject. I gathered that it did not go well. All I learned was that she told him she needed space, and backed out of tagging along on the first part of the tour with them. She promised to catch up in September.

I saw how this affected Noah, and his sad days had been more frequent lately. Seeing him happy to be receiving his coin was a relief.

"Can I make a request for my 90-day?" He sat in his regular chair, directly across the circle from me, his too-dark eyes on mine.

"Within reason." I responded with a suspicious grin.

"Can you tell me one thing about you that I don't already know?" Everyone in group looked directly to me, including our two newcomers. All eyes seemed confused. As was I.

"Like what?" I crossed my legs, trying to hide my uncomfortable posture.

"Anything."

I blinked, my head swirling. Something he didn't know? We had learned quite a bit about each other over the last three months. In group or on the phone, we had played twenty questions more than once.

"Well," I sighed, knowing that my confession would be news to everyone, as I never talked about it. "my sponsor is my Dad."

He looked taken back, not expecting that. "Really?"

I nodded coolly. "Yep. Since I got sober three years ago." I relaxed a bit in my chair. "He's the reason I got sober."

Noah sat back and folded his arms, intent on listening to me. He gestured for me to continue.

"At 25, I was set down the worst road. I had been actively drinking since I was 16, and really struggling since 18. I dropped out of college, went through job after job, ended up in jail a few times. And that's the mild stuff. I won't bore you all with the gruesome details." I glanced around the room. The only person who knew even half of my story was Abel, and he was unfortunately not here today, so I felt vulnerable.

"My mother was an alcoholic, who died when I was very young from her addictions." I could feel tears threatening to come to the surface. My throat was forming a lump I just couldn't swallow. "My Dad, who swore to never drink again after she died, decided that once I hit rock bottom, to take me to her gravesite."

I looked down at my hands, feeling my voice shake. "He had purchased a plot for me right next to her when I turned 21, because he swore I would be with her sooner rather than later."

One traitorous tear spilled down my cheek, and I wiped it away feverishly. "So I had him drive me to a meeting. He stayed with me. Came with me to every single one."

I laughed at the thought. "He would sit in the car and listen to Country music while he waited. And every time I fell off, he drove me right back. He's my rock. He's the reason I'm alive."

I was still looking at my hands when I heard the clapping. My head snapped up to see Noah, his hands clapping together before everyone else joined. It was a liberating moment, but I was still vulnerable.

I checked my watch, noticing that we were over on our time.

"Thank you, everyone." The applause died down. "I appreciate each and every one of you. Unfortunately, we've got to get out of here before Angie comes in and rips me a new one."

At home, Angel and I were curled up on the couch, enjoying our favorite movie (it was my favorite, so it was his favorite by default), Silent Hill. I was tossing him single popcorn kernels as I ate and watched intently.

"See, baby, this is the part where all of the piece of shit cultists get what they deserve!" He looked at me with his honey brown eyes, clearly understanding every word I said.

My ringtone went off, and I almost ignored it, because we were so close to the end, and figured the call could wait until after. That is, until I realized it was Noah's ringtone. I had switched his a while ago to a song by his own band, so I knew when it needed to be answered at any cost.

I rushed over to the kitchen counter, not even bothering to pause the movie.

"Hello?"

"I need a fucking drink, Leena." His voice was cracked, and sounded wet. Was he...crying?

"No, you don't." My immediate response anytime he said that.

"No Leena, I'm driving to a bar. I can't fucking do this."

The panic rose in my chest, threatening to spill in the form of vomit. No, not now. Not after we've worked this hard.

"Noah Sebastian, I will kick you out of group."

"Who fucking cares?" I scoffed.

"Uh, you do, apparently. You called me."

"Mostly just calling to let you know I'm a fucking failure. So, sorry to waste your time."

My mouth worked faster than I could stop it. "Come to my place."

He was quiet. "Nah, bar sounds better."

"Noah, come see me. Please. And if you still want a drink afterwards, then I won't stop you."

I could tell he was perusing this. "You don't ever see me outside of group, remember?"

"Well, fuck that for right now. Come see me."

He groaned. "Leena, it's midnight. You should be asleep."

"Yet, I'm awake. 3AM ice cream, remember?"

There was silence, only the sound of a blinker in the background.

"Where do you live?"

Without answering, I dropped him my location pin.

"Says I'm ten minutes away." I sighed a breath of relief.

"Door's unlocked."

Despite my telling him to come in, he knocked. Angel stood at attention, to which I instructed him to sit and stay. I opened the door to find a soaking wet Noah. I didn't even realize it was raining.

He looked awful. Clearly had been crying, his clothes soaked through from the storm. I grabbed his arm and hastily pulled him in to avoid any more weather getting hold of him.

"Jesus Christ, dude." He just stood in my doorway, staring at me.

A low growl left Angel, bringing our attention to him.

"Angel, come." Robotically, he came to me and I pointed to Noah. "Let him smell you. He's protection trained."

Noah raised a brow. "What kind of dog?"

"He's a mutt. Bluetick Hound and Husky. 90 pounds of death if he doesn't like you."

I saw Noah stiffen slightly as Angel sniffed his legs, shoes, and hands. Once he was satisfied that he was safe, Angel stepped back.

"Go to bed." I pointed to the room and he took off, following the command.

"Hm, good dog." Noah's tone was surprised.

"I live alone in LA, I've got to do something to protect myself."

He nodded and stepped onto the tile floor after me toward the hallway. I noticed how wet he was.

"Wait here. I'll get you some dry clothes."

He looked at me incredulously. "You think they'll fit?"

I rolled my eyes. "Wait here."

I returned two minutes later with a pair of men's sweats and a faded Disturbed t-shirt. "They're my brother's. I'm sure they'll fit."

He nodded in appreciation and I pointed to the bathroom.

He returned moments later, soaking clothes in hand. I walked over and grabbed them from him and walked further down the hall to my laundry room. Checking the many pockets on his pants, I threw his clothing in the dryer and started it.

Padding back into the living room, I waved him over to the couch. We both sat on opposite ends, me leaned back, pulling the throw over myself, him dropping his head into his hands.

"You want to talk about it?" He just shook his head. I pursed my lips. "You want to watch a movie?" He looked up at me from over his shoulder.

"Like what?"

I smiled, picking up my remote. "Well, I just finished Silent Hill, but I've got all the streaming networks, so I can get anything."

He furrowed his brows. "Silent Hill? Like, the game?"

My jaw dropped. "You've never seen the movie?"

He just shook his head. "Can't say I have."

"Well fuck, let me just restart it."

He snorted. "Didn't you just watch it?"

"It's my favorite movie, ever. I'll watch it again."

He sat up straight, then leaned his back on the couch. I reached behind me on the side table, grabbing another blanket and chucking it at him. He smiled a small, sad look at me, and unfolded it over his lap.

During the movie, Noah's demeanor loosened ever so subtly. He started with his back against the couch, arms in his lap, looking unamused. By the first call of the Darkness, he was leaning forward, paying closer attention. At the first sight of Pyramid Head, he was interested. And by the hospital scene, he was asking questions.

"I still don't understand, why does Sharon look like Alessa? And why did the little girl say she was burning?"

"Would you be patient?! We're literally getting to that part right now!" He shook his head and leaned back, crossing his legs underneath him and his body moved slightly closer to my legs that were outstretched on the area between us.

His leg bumped my foot, and he looked over, noticing I was glancing at him.

"Oh, my bad." He scooched back to his side, and I snickered.

"I'm not going to combust if you touch my foot Noah, it's no biggie."

He smirked, mischievously. "Well, in that case." He then stretched his giant self out across the couch, pulling my legs up over his legs. He nestled in, pulling the blanket up to his chest.

It was at this point that I actually noticed.

"Hold the fucking phone." I quickly paused the movie and his head snapped to me.

"What?"

"You cut your fucking hair?!" His hair was easily eight inches shorter, sitting just below his ears. How it took me this long to notice is beyond me.

He laughed nervously, and ran his hand through his locks. "Yeah, after group, I went and got it cut. Felt like I needed a change."

I smiled brightly, reaching over and tousling it. "I like it. It suits you."

He leaned back, his face appreciative.

I played the movie, and he was absolutely enamored. It was always fun watching someone experience this movie for the first time.

Once the credits began to play, his eyes were much brighter. "Are you tired?"

I shook my head. "Nah, not right now."

"Want to watch another one?"

I stood up. "Sure, but I've got to pee and grab a water bottle. You want one?"

He nodded, swiping the remote and scrolling through the networks to find another movie.

I called Angel to his bed in the living room, and took care of my business. When I returned, he had 13 Ghosts pulled up on the screen.

"Can we watch my favorite now?" I smirked.

"Absolutely, it is also one of my favorites."

He pressed play, and I walked past him, my thigh catching the edge of the couch, causing me to stumble toward the coffee table.

Before I could connect with the glass, his arm was around my arm, pulling me back toward the couch. I landed square in his lap. It took me a second to process. He smiled at me nervously.

"Sorry, didn't want you getting a concussion."

I slid off his lap, but was now seated closer to him, by side nearly pressed against his chest. He turned his attention back to the TV, throwing his blanket over the both of us casually.

I pulled my bare legs up under the blanket, now very aware that all I wore was a pair of too-short gym shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and socks. I was home alone earlier, in my defense. My knee was pressing into the side of his leg, but he didn't seem to notice.

His body radiated so much heat, I instinctively sunk down further under the blanket. His gargantuan arm was draped over the back of the couch, the back of my head pressed against it.

I let myself get into the movie for a while. We made it about half an hour in before I felt him shift. He stretched his legs in front of me, now in near full laying position. His arm tugged my shoulder and I looked at him.

His eyes were honest, or so it seemed. "It's just cuddling. I haven't had anyone to cuddle with in a while."

I pondered this for a moment. My brain screamed against it, told me it was wrong and I knew where this could go. But he was so warm. He was so comfortable. I slid down, stretching my legs over his, my chest laying on his. My face had nowhere to go but on his collarbone while I tried desperately to watch the television.

Something tugged at me, which I tried to ignore for a while. I couldn't for too long before I piped up.

"How would your girlfriend feel about us 'just cuddling'?"

I felt his chest still, his breathing stopped for a beat.

"She dumped me." I snapped my head up

"What?"

He sighed, not looking back at me. "Why do you think I needed a drink?"

"Oh, Noah." I moved to sit up, but his arm around my waist held me in place while he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can we please just...not?" When he looked back at me, he had a single tear trying to escape from the corner of his eye.

"Okay." I softly responded and gently leaned back down. His arm secured me in place, while the movie continued to play.

About halfway through, I felt my eyelids getting heavy. His fingers that were holding my waist had been drawing small circles on my back for a few minutes, and I was fading quickly. The warmth, the comfort. He wasn't the only one who hadn't cuddled in a while.

"Are you asleep?"

This roused me. "Hmm? No. Just comfortable." My voice was raspy with sleep, my eyes only half open.

His chest shook with the rumble of a laugh. "You want me to head home?"

I slightly shook my head. "Warm." His hand rubbed up my arm now, coming to rest on the cap of my shoulder. I heard a low humming sound, and realized it was him, humming a tune that I couldn't place.

"It should be illegal to be able to sing that good." This made him snicker.

"Too bad, huh?" I sighed, relaxing. "Maybe if I wasn't so talented, you'd actually like me."

This made me slowly lift my head, narrowing my eyes at him. "You are an insufferable human Noah Sebastian." He smiled a goofy grin at me. "I am trying to relax, here."

His hand came up to brush my hair from my face, his eyes locked on my tired ones.

"You're really beautiful Mileena, you know that?"

I raised my eyebrows, my eyes getting wider. He didn't seem fazed, just studying my face.

"Well...thank you?"

His fingers twirled some stray bands of my hair while his eyes just would not leave mine.

"Would you hate me if I kissed you?"

My stomach bottomed out. I was awake. All the way awake, now. I sighed heavily.

"We can't do that, Noah."

He bit his bottom lip.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both?"

I rolled onto my side then, slightly breaking the contact between us. He was sat with his head propped on the pillow at the end of the couch. He kept his arm on my waist, but raised himself up just enough to nearly tower over me.

"Would you tell me to stop again?"

He was testing me. I was going to fail if he didn't stop. He felt it.

"Probably."

"Would you make me leave?"

"Is this why you came over? Girlfriend dumps you, so you figure you'd come hook up with your sponsor?" Okay, maybe that came out a little sharper than I intended. But it needed to be said.

"I wasn't planning on coming here. I was set on the bar."

I sighed. He was right. He was on the brink, and I invited him in. Practically begged him.

"Noah, I just...we can't."

His hand reached up to cup the side of my neck, his eyes now fixated on my mouth. I caught the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip.

"Would you make me leave?" He repeated his question.

I didn't answer him, I just stared. I couldn't hide the want on my face anymore. I could feel my eyes pleading with him to just do it. Just make the move, because I couldn't.

With the luckiest break I've had in a while, he read my thoughts, and dipped his face down to brush our lips together.

This was different. This wasn't hungry. It was a hot burn, slow and steady. His hand came up to brush against my face, pulling me just close enough for him to press his face closer, solidifying the kiss.

Once I had the nerve, I moved my lips against his, my body melting against him. We moved slowly, our tongues only trying to make short appearances to taste the other's lips. His kisses on my lips slowed, his hand running down the side of my body, stopping to rest on my hip. Noah's lips began to trail off of my mouth, moving down to my neck, leaving soft kisses over my throat, making my breathing stop altogether.

I'm not entirely sure how long we stayed this way, his lips leaving trails of warmth over my jaw, neck, and collarbone.

I finally reached for him, my arm searching for the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath. My fingers grazed his skin, feeling the solidity of his frame. I felt him breathe out a sigh when I began leaving kisses on his neck. I let the tip of my tongue trace his adam's apple, smiling when the grip on my hip tightened with a nip of his skin.

After he had been tormented enough, he slipped his arm around my waist, flipping to perch over me, laying me flat on my back.

The kiss that came now was burning, hungry, and wild. My fingers pulled at his shirt, lifting it until he had to sit up and pull it over his head.

He wasted no time coming back to attack my neck, nipping and biting carefully, but enough to have me whimpering. He slid one hand up my side, beneath my shirt, and grazed the side of my breast, waiting for a reaction. I arched my back, trying to beg for touch.

His fingers grabbed my entire breast with one hand, pinching my hard nipple and rolling it between his fingers. I gasped at this.

"Oh, Noah..." I heard him hum, a sign of approval.

My hands grabbed his hair, pulling him back to my face. I kissed him while he used his other hand to lift my shirt, exposing both breasts.

It took no time for him to work his way down, taking my nipple in his mouth, leaving me breathless. His tongue circled the hardened bud, driving me absolutely wild.

I could feel his excitement pressing into the inside of my thigh, so I squirmed, causing a friction I'm sure he noticed. I felt the growl more than heard it.

His hand slid up my thigh, stopping on the inside, just before the hem. I could feel myself shaking in anticipation. He hooked the edge of my shorts, and with no mercy, pulled them down viciously, exposing my plain black cotton panties.

His hand glided over my core, feeling how damp the fabric already was. I was breathing heavily, silently begging for more.

"Jesus Christ, Leena." His mouth reached down and kissed my breast again. "So fucking wet."

His words had my brain scrambling. I hadn't been intimate in so long.

His fingers traced over the wet spot, teasing me until I was sure I was going mad.

"Noah..." His eyes looked up to me, my left nipple glistening from his saliva. "Fucking please."

The smile on his face was so wicked, I swear I saw the devil behind it. And this was my one-way ticket to hell. At least it's warm there.

His fingers slipped under the fabric, running up and down over my slit, nearly hitting that one spot I needed.

"This? This is what you want?" His tone was deadly, which had me reeling even harder. I fucking needed him.

I could only nod wildly. His index finger slipped inside, curling at just the right angle, hitting the sweetest spot, I could've burst right then and there.

"That's it. Good girl." His words had me moaning softly, his fingers working me over. Noah continued this until I was nearly seeing stars, his thumb now rubbing circles over my clit. I was ready, so fucking ready, eyes shut tight, climbing the hill and about to fall over. Then it was gone.

My eyes burst open, nearly ready to complain before I felt his hands pulling my panties down, his hot breath just centimeters from my core.

"I can't tell you how many times I've thought about this, Leena. I'll bet you taste incredible." Breathing was out of the question. Air no longer existed.

And that was it, he was on me. His tongue lapping up my pussy, humming while I gripped his hair frantically.

"Holy fuck, Noah."

"That's it baby. Scream my name. Be good for me."

My brain was no longer firing on any cylinders. I was on another plane altogether.

His lips latched onto my sweet spot and sucked like his life depended on it.

"Noah, oh my god! Oh my god, I'm going to come." My back arched off the couch, and my vision went white.

"Noah, Noah, Noah!" My voice was going hoarse. My toes curled and I began to feel the overstimulation, my hips bucking against him.

His arms pinned my legs down, leaving me nowhere to go. I fought for purchase against his skin.

"Please, please I can't. I can't!" He finally released me, lapping at my inner thigh one more time, causing me to shiver.

He sat back, a satisfied grin on his face.

When I looked up at him, I could see the clear bulge in the sweats, and smiled my own wicked grin.

I saw the confusion on his face before I sat up, simultaneously pushing him back on the couch, ripping the front of the pants down. It came to my attention that he wasn't wearing any boxers, so his cock sprung free instantly.

His eyes were fixed on me while I sized up his length, trying to work out how I was going to swallow this damn thing.

I slid the tip of my tongue across the top, eliciting a hiss from his lips. He stared down at me, watching my every calculated move.

With no warning, I wrapped my lips around him, and took him as far down as my throat would allow.

"Oh, fuck..." His eyes went half-masked, his mouth falling open. "Do that again. Jesus Christ."

It didn't sound like a question, so I diligently obeyed. My throat gave out about halfway down his length, causing me to gag. His hand grabbed my hair, nails in my scalp, holding me there.

"Yeah, baby. That's it." He let my head up, saliva dripping from my lips. "You're so good, Leena. Such a good girl."

His hand pressed me back down gently until I had a good rhythm going, my head bobbing, eyes looking up at him.

"Fuck, girl, I'm not going to last like this." I hollowed my cheeks, increasing the suction, and his eyes bulged.

His head flew back, his chest heaving wildly. "Just like that, baby. Don't stop."

I obeyed, suddenly really enjoying the submissive role. His hand guided me faster until I felt him harden to nearly stone.

"I'm going to come, don't stop...fuck don't fucking stop baby."

I felt the first hot stream hit the back of my throat, and I relaxed, waiting for the rest before sucking just a second longer, listening to him hiss in response. I let him out of my mouth with a pop, smiling at him sheepishly when I sat up.

He laid there, eyes closed, hands on his chest, working to breathe.

It took a while, but he eventually opened his eyes. His smile was lazy, and he lifted an arm to pull me down, now laying on his chest again.

He reached behind me and flung the blanket over us, kicking his pants the rest of the way off, and looked down at me.

"We shouldn't have done that, huh?"

I blushed, nuzzling my nose into his neck to hide it as best as I could. "No, we shouldn't have."

He ran his hand up and down my arm, now turning his attention back to the movie that was still playing.

"We'll do better tomorrow." Was the last I heard before my eyes drifted closed.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #fanfic

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diceriadelluntore · 29 days

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Storia di Musica #338 - AA. VV., Picnic-A Breath Of Fresh Air, 1969

La EMI fonda nel 1969 una sussidiaria, la Harvest, sulla scia di altre case discografiche, per intercettare le nuove sonorità, in un periodo, la fine degli anni '60, straordinariamente fertile dal punto di vista creativo. Per questo motivo pensa ad una compilation vetrina di alcuni artisti sotto contratto con la casa madre, affiancati da giovani promesse. Ne esce così un mix musicale intrigante e qualitativamente notevole del panorama musicale britannico. Tra l'altro il disco, un doppio, fu concepito e prodotto per costare pochissimo, per essere venduto nei negozi a 1,5 sterline. Ha delle particolarità: in primis la copertina, opera dei mitici creativi della Hipgnosis, che come tutte quelle agostane della rubrica presenta una spiaggia, in questo caso della Normandia. Un gruppo di uomini ha una maschera antigas. L'interno è ancora più suggestivo, in bianco e nero, dove gli uomini camminano sulla battigia e nel cielo si notano le copertine dei dischi da cui i brani sono presi. Tra questi fece scalpore la presenza di Embryo, inedito dei Pink Floyd. Registrato durante le sessioni di Ummagumma ma non incluso in quel lavoro, il brano ebbe una notevole vita live, cosa che spinse ad includerlo. La band non fu affatto felice della scelta, considerando quel brano alla stregua di un demo, tanto che spinse ad un parziale ritiro della compilation. Fu quindi in fretta e furia ristampata, senza riportare quella canzone. Per questo motivo le prime edizioni senza correzione sono un pezzo pregiato del collezionismo discografico. Ed è un peccato, perché il resto della selezione è favoloso. Si inizia con Into The Fire dei Deep Purple, da Deep Purple In Rock, la culla dell' hard rock. Poi perle del nascente progressive: Mother Dear dei Barclay James Harvest, dal loro meraviglioso disco omonimo d'esordio, quello con la copertina a mo' di rosore di una chiesa. C'è Eleanor's Cake di Kevin Ayers, Water della Third Ear Band, addirittura Syd Barret con Terrapin, da The Madcap Laughs, esordio solista dell' ex Pink Floyd, che uscirà addirittura un anno dopo l'arrivo nei negozi di questo disco vetrina. E ci sono altre perle di band minori, sicuramente per notorietà, ma che suonavano meravigliosamente. Se i Quatermass sono stati già protagonisti di questa rubrica, ricordo altri gioielli che all'epoca vivevano di grandi speranze. I Bakerloo, un power trio alla Jimi Hendrix Experience, qui con il torrido rock mozzafiato di The Worried Feeling, dal loro unico, bellissimo, ma sfortunato album Bakerloo; Again And Again de The Greatest Show On Earth, che pubblicarono due preziosi dischi nel 1970, entrambi con la copertina firmata Hipgnosis, capaci di un rock progressive segnato da una sontuosa sezione fiati; Tea And Symphony furono tra i precursori del progressive folk, con una formazione che mutava di continuo, furono inoltre una delle prime formazioni ad avere un proprio impianto luci per i primi spettacoli multimediali. Un altro rock trio presente è The Edgar Broughton Band, gruppo di Warwick, famoso per la voce blues, urticante e caratteristica di Edgar Broughton. Ebbero anche una sinistra nomea perché spesso organizzarono concerti in luoghi pubblici che finirono non poche volte in gigantesche risse con intervento della polizia, tanto che la band fu bandita da diverse città. Vista l'aura di culto, la EMI realizzò un cofanetto di 3 CD dal titolo A Breath Of Fresh Air - A Harvest Records Anthology 1960-1974 che mantiene alcune canzoni, tra cui Embryo, ne sceglie altre dagli stessi autori della prima e aggiunge qualche brano dell'ultima stagione del progressive. Vale la pena recuperare le canzoni del primo, per una playlist ante litteram di un momento eccezionale per la musica europea. E non solo.

#aa.vv #harvest sampler picnic a breath of fresh air #1969 #recensione

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ago0112 · 3 months

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S3 The Bear, Sleight of Hand

This season is all about what's done in the in-between. There are so many background details and I know I haven't found them all. But why not start listing them? Some of them I'm not sure of the meaning yet so, please help a girl out and feel free to comment.

Has anyone else noticed the smoke? When Carmy is in the AA meeting the lady beside him on the right has a plume of smoke around her

When him and Ritchie are shown staring at each other with the wall of the kitchen shown dividing them. There is something smoking in the background. There is a 3rd place I saw smoke but cannot think of it so if you see it please let me know.

This one is hilarious! In Marcus's mom's funeral episode later on by the dish pit on the left it says in tape, Fuck you 1.03pm. If you run the episode time back to 1.03 Carmy and Cousin are walking down the aisle of the church together to get in a pew. Since they can't say it to each other at a funeral service lol 😆

When Ted is talking to Gary, Ted's jacket says Matter of Fak Supplies...they do supply the facts regardless if we like it or not this season

Paul Rudd cardboard cut out behind Sydney when she's changing and trying to figure out how to talk to Carmy

Bradley Cooper's picture on the picture board in Forever. (Same universe as the movie Burnt.)

The Computer shows them a recipe card. On the back it says FUCKED.

Boxes...boxes....boxes. Which I need more time with this one. Or please help me out someone. I know Fak is afraid of them.

Haunting. I need more time with this one. But our core cast of characters are in their own heads and it's eating them apart. They only get better when they ask for help.

That something seems to interrupt Syd and Carmy connecting. It starts wayyy back with a Claire and Carmy scene, i think, in e3? Where Claire talks about the cuts on the girl. They ask if each other is ok and Claire says something like, let's just ask each other a bunch of times if we are ok. (Carmy and Sydney's thing.) She's kinda annoyed by it and laughs it off. To summarize, she also says it's going to get worse before it gets better. So, let's move ahead when Carmy tries to talk to Syd about her dad she cuts herself on a knife and right before when Syd just walked in he cuts himself.

How Carmy can say I love you to other people like Ritchie, Nat, Fak etc. But Claire sends him into the deep end...like when he is forced to say it to his mom and Mikey.

2 of something. They keep highlighting things in pairs. Things work better with 2 or more people. The Faks. Nat and Ritchie , Marcus and Tina, Tina and Syd. Nat comments about Stars - Nat says one star is excellent but 2 is better. TK with the 2 wishbones.

There are probably tons more. Feel free to add to them or enlighten me on some regardless if you agree or not :)

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #the bear season 3

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unlikelyjapan · 1 year

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s2e3 rewatch notes

One more before the weekend...

"When I was a kid anything that would give me some type of excitement, or amusement or enjoyment would get fucked ... Sometimes they'd try too hard, or they'd make promises they weren't able to keep" - everything in Carmy's AA statement can be related to cooking, the restaurant, drawing, Claire - pretty much the sum of Carmy's parts now.

Second Carmy/Syd kitchen scene:

Carmy is always the first to ask about anyone's parents (but only to Syd) - just like he inquires about Syd's Dad, his first concern is to ask about Marcus' mom while they debate sending him to Copenhagen. Family and people, in general, are always at the forefront of his mind, while progression is always at the forefront of Syd's (even if she does genuinely cares and checks in, it's secondary)

Carmy's "I want to make a suggestion" to go out was so loaded - it was obviously a premeditated move that he wanted to do the food tour with Syd. "I think WE need to go out, and we need to try some stuff"

After he tells her he'll see her in an hour, Goodbye Girl by Squeeze starts playing, and the track ends as Tina realizes that Ebra isn't ever going to be by her side in class *dies twice*

Richie dropping off his daughter: I have a precocious 6-year-old daughter as well and.....they tried to squeeze way too many lines into Eva to advance Richie's storyline when it should have come via Tiff or something - I hate being a negative nelly, but this part is so botched/lifetime drama-y.

(His obvious tenderness is sweet though)

10:44am call with Claire: this is only 2ish hours after his AA talk - I guess the subject matter was resonating with him?

Her forcing the convo on how ingratiated she is with his family makes me throw up my hands and say "no wonder the guy had a fucking panic attack later!". I was just highlighting how in AA how his family tries too hard sometimes - this is a prime example with her "I know all the fuckin' Faks" jousting.

And my god, she knew he was about to tell her that he was busy today, and she claps back "can you not make this weird?" - it literally harkens back to his family's bullying and expectations that Carmy will pacify them. (I know she can't know all this, but damn)

This part of the conversation gets its own bullet point:

"You know, he [Fak] told me that you guys are really close and that he's your best friend" - I didn't realize the first go around how bold the attempt at enmeshment was. With Fishes as context, the toxicity levels in this conversation are off the rails.

Also, her demented smile when she says "really?" when he says "no...no, Fak's not my best friend" - aggghhhh!

"No, no. He is. He's probably my best friend"

What the hell is this? "That's interesting, to sit with, for you" with the continued weird little smile -this isn't flirting, this is her relishing in the fact that she can manipulate him.

Why didn't I clue into how caustically fucked this scene was the first time? I think I was so distracted by the whispy dialogue and cadence of the conversation that I actually blacked out of the dialogue. Thank goodness for subtitles, because this script is mildly psychotic to read.

I know Storer said that one of the themes of this season is "winning is losing" - Claire is definitely playing to win at all costs. Is s2e10 showing that she lost? Or am I sitting through this dialogue again next season? I NEED TO KNOW.

Anyways, Secret Teadrops by Martin Rev (google the lyrics) plays as sydney enters Kasama - God, the music suggests she was thrilled to be spending a day out of the usual context with Carmy, and her checking her phone constantly is killing me.

Twenty Five Miles by Edwin Starr starts playing at the start of the food montage, just as Sydney gets the text from Carmy that she'll be doing it alone.

"I've been walking for three days and two lonely nights, and you know that I'm mighty mad"

After the owner of Avec tells her that she needs a great partner above all else, the lyrics blare again with "although my feet are tired, I can't lose my stride" - she can't abandon faith in Carmy just yet.

After the Pelican meats scene where the butcher (I forget his name, sorry!) tells Syd that he and his wife lost their restaurant in Bucktown after a business partner cut and ran, the song again blares with "I'm SO tired, but I just can't lose my stride"

Syd starts to adjust her language to "I'm not exactly solo" in the next restaurant scene- ugh - painful.

Enter conversations about profit sharing. Naiya assumes that she and Carmy are INVOLVED involved, and when she finds out they're just "gentleman's agreement" partners, she basically tells her to watch her back. Syd registers the statement, but looks so dejected, like she knows she's on a fool's errand now.

The lyrics flare one last time simply with "I've got to walk on"

Cue Carmy's phone going to voicemail as she has the jitters on the loading dock. She looks so sad, but also resigned to her fate at this point.

Sydney calls Marcus right after trying to call Carmy looking for any kind of sign or reinforcement. We're at the triangle again, with Marcus interpreting it one way, and Syd....really not reading anything into it at all.

I feel like Fak making fun of Marcus for "looking forward' with that big, dumb smile on his face means he knows Marcus' affection for Sydney.... and I'm starting to realize all the plots I don't like are the result of Fak's intuition and/or meddling.

Syd awkwardly trying to poach BOH workers is adorably baller and shows how aggressive she is just now realizing she needs to become- and she's so terrible at it, and I love her.

Future Perfect by Duretti Column (what an awesome deep cut) playing - I love that this part of the montage is Syd diving deep into herself and her more analytically-bent creative process and fuck everyone else. It's just her carrying the creative load of the restaurant right now, but she's truly free.

Lyrics repeat "You tell me stories, you speak in pictures"

She's being absolutely present ("Don't live in the future") and letting the food and the city that birthed it speak to her honestly and it's just so beautiful. The old family pictures surface in her memory alongside the plates she's crafting - her own contribution to the chaos menu, her past and present combined, her future (The Bear) undetermined.

Back to The Bear with "Make You Happy" by Tommy McGee playing in the background - I feel like enough ink has been spilled on this scene, but honestly read the lyrics here - ack.

One small observation after Carmy says "I'll let you know" - in the background, Marcus looks completely defeated, Fak's suppressing a laugh or something, and we get Richie's "ooooooohhhhhhh!"while Carm gives him dagger eyes. Y'all....these are not great men.

Syd rightfully realizes she needs to get the fuck away from everyone in that instant if she's going to do anything productive with the inspiration she's culled from her day of exploration and calls in the favor from the kitchen. I love that it almost immediately cuts to her there with her emotional support spoon 🥺

The ravioli failure - i.e. the fantasy vision of the food she had on the plate during her journey day not matching the reality of what she can craft on her own = the fantasy vision of the restaurant/life she could craft with Carmy not matching the reality of what she can is forced to craft on her own.

Oof, taking a break for a few days now....

#the bear fx #the bear season 2 #the bear spoilers #the bear #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto

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violetpixiedust · 1 year

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something sweet for sydcarmy that i couldn’t get out of my head

the rigid slope of his sun-kissed nose bloomed a vibrant scarlet as it brushed against the ebony complexion of her petal soft cheek. the delicate curvature of her face was reminiscent of the stained glass cherubs that danced across the evanescent sunlight when it seeped into his weekly aa meetings, undeniably gentle, radiant. honey-suckle curls drooped down to meet hip length braids, framing the divine structure of her body below him, laid atop his rustled sheets.

the pair was askew, tangled, dewey with a veil of essence akin to the first morning fire ups at the bear. a husky moan left his cupid’s bow shaped lips, as manicured nails ran down the flushed expanse of muscle peaking through his rare pristine white tee. one calloused hand urgently pushed the hem of her tight red turtleneck up below her concealed mounds, fingers twitching against her unconsciously arched ribs. the other wandered below the little charcoal skirt that had taunted him endlessly during their menu experimentation in his minuscule kitchen that day. barely exposing a flash of ivory each time she whipped around to fetch a knife, paprika, salt, a clove of garlic that had ‘slipped’ off his counter top. a pretty little outfit he knew the woman in front of him wouldn’t be caught dead wearing around the likes of richie, marcus, gary, fak, even ebra- a soprano moan cut off his possessive train of thought, hyperactive mind practically melting into oblivion as his warm lips frantically kissed the exposed underside of her jaw, basking in her light scent of lavender soap and lilies. desperate to claim, claim, claim-

“carmy-“ his denim clad hips unconsciously ground down into hers at the crack of her voice, the sound of his name leaving her mouth like a prayer. the ribbons of their desperate moans intertwined in spite of the ache that pounded down the doors they had once desperately attempted to seal shut.

“syd. oh fuck. fuck! please-“ the wetness that had previously concealed his hazy cobalt gaze trickled down his freckled cheeks, staccato groans swallowed by her plump pout that had been decorated with brunette lip gloss, now smeared across his cheek.

“c-an i-i take this off-?” carmen shuddered as she raked her nails through his dampening curls, waiting not a second after her confirmation to tug the poor excuse of a garment down her sinfully bare legs, leaving a burning trail in its wake. carmen felt his heartbeat pound in his ears, the once dreaded feeling akin to his panic attacks now fuelled by unbridled desire, urging him forward as he marvelled at the sight of the younger girl in front of him. shell shocked as the quick absence of her shirt revealed a lacy lingerie set, ivory, scraps of fabric reminiscent of lacy chef whites barely concealing the most intimate parts of her. transparent enough that he could make out the dusky shade of her nipples through the wispy fabric, her sticky mound. it tumbled out of his mouth before he had the chance to bite it back.

“god, i love you.” and he would have been mortified, hightailing it out of his own apartment to avoid the sight of his sous leaving the bed of her pathetic loser of a boss- had the girl not taken charge, straddling him in under a few moments, fingers encircling his golden chain to hold him steady, as her lips slammed against his in a teeth clashing kiss, a valiant effort in pushing down what apologies would have inevitably come up. her tongue was doused in lambrusco, spurring carmy on as his tattooed arms pulled her impossibly closer to him. desperate to memorize the scent of her, the silhouette of her, the taste of her, before he faced the consequences of his confession. he only went slack when she finally breathed shakily in his ear, hushed, as if she was telling him a secret, missing the glimmering onyx of her doe-eyes as they softened incredibly at the very sight of him.

“love you too, chef.”

#i haven’t been able to stop thinking of them since the first episode #they’re so perfectly imperfect #silly chefs #the bear fanfiction #the bear #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #carmen x sydney #sydcarmy #sydcarmy smut #carmy berzatto #sydney amadu #carmy x sydney smut #carmy x sydney fluff #pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

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nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) - epilogue

Note: We finally reach the end of this story. Thank you to everyone who read, liked, re-blogged, sent an ask, sent a reply, screamed in the tags, read on ao3, commented, kudos. I love you. This chapter is dedicated to you. I made a little playlist for the finale (found here on spotify) – and I admit, I listened obsessively to the final instrumental song during the last half of the chapter.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Content! (Explicit Language).

Synopsis: In the aftermath, you find the less jagged pieces of glass, and start to rebuild your life. The future sprawls outward, unknown, terrifying, and beautiful.

And in the end, Carmy asks you a single question.

(Read on Ao3) /// (Masterpost)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy returned to the Beef after his impromptu AA meeting. He stopped short in the kitchen after seeing Tina with her arm around a familiar middle-aged woman with dark hair. Tina turned around with an encouraging smile.

“Your girlfriend sent her.” Tina explained, squeezing Dani’s shoulder.

“She’s…” Carmy caught his tongue between his teeth.

You were his girlfriend. You talked about it this morning. You wanted to go on dates, be sexually monogamous, and someday introduce him to your friends and family. That was serious. You were serious about him. Now, you offered Dani because you knew there was a chance Marcus wouldn’t come in today. This wasn’t a random act of kindness. Everything he knew about you; he didn’t consider you to be impulsive or irrational. You were committed and tenacious. And he liked that about you. You sent Dani for a reason. He understood the gesture. You were starting your apology.

“I’m going to fill in for Marcus.” Dani said. “Unless you don’t want me to, of course. She was adamant that I don’t overstay my welcome.”

Tina gasped. “We would love to have you here for the day, right Jeff?”

“Yeah, yeah. For sure.” Carmy nodded, distracted. He felt unglued. His eyes ached from holding back tears at the meeting. He had a hundred other things to handle including Syd’s prep. He refastened his apron around his waist and popped a few chalky TUMS into his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy took his phone out of his pocket, the sounds of the bachelor party raged behind him, and swiped open the waiting text message from you.

It read: I’m sorry. I won’t bother trying to explain myself, because I think it would just sound like a bunch of excuses and there’s no excuse for how I treated you. I was an asshole.

Followed by a second text: Come by later maybe? I’ll cook something other than toast and we can talk about it.

He texted you in return: Okay. Cicero’s friends are using the Beef for a bachelor party. It could be late.

Richie said, “fucking asshole.”

Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m standing right here doing nothing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He should’ve know this night wasn’t going to be peaceful. He had some good news with your text for reconciliation, and the world had to kick him in the balls to keep the balance. Richie was in police custody. He hadn’t called you yet. He didn’t know how to have the conversation if Richie was about to be charged with manslaughter. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefingers as his migraine pounded his eyelids. Your contact photo smile at him from the screen. It was the group photo of your team at the North River Spring Festival.

He should get a better photo. He wanted a better photo. The desire struck him like a bolt of static energy jumping from the carpet to his socks. He started at the photo as if seeing it for the first time. It went beyond the picture, he realized. He wanted more time with you. He wanted to work through this weird obstacle so he could have new pictures, new memories, a future in whatever shape fit you both. All his anger from earlier seemed trivial now in the square of his blue-white screen and beneath the buzzing, harsh waiting room lights.

He pressed the call button on the screen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through the help of therapy and planning with your insurance company, you managed to keep your anxiety under control. You folded more origami cranes, you went grocery shopping, you talked to several people (employees, lawyers, and insurance) in regard to your bakery. You waited to hear from Carmy. You talked about your relationship…a lot…to your therapist. Eventually, she called you out with a single question: “how much of this self-sabotage is because you don’t feel worthy of what Carmen is offering?”

She gently, but firmly, reminded you that conversations cannot be held if someone is running in the opposite direction. Once you got off the call, you texted Dani, and asked her to offer support for the Beef. It took a few hours before you gained the courage to text Carmy an apology. He deserved more than a text, but considering his business, you saved everything else for later.

Carmy’s contact lit up your screen. Your heart thudded painfully into your ribs. What if he didn’t accept your apology? What if he changed his mind and called it quits? You swallowed down your anxiety. You weren’t going to solve anything by spiraling. You inhaled deeply, grounding yourself, and answered the phone.

“H-hey.” He cleared his throat. Exhaustion laced his tone. Your skin prickled in response. You wished he was nearby, close enough to touch, and you imagined carding your fingers through his curls in an attempt to comfort and soothe him.

You curled your knees up toward your chest on your couch, “bachelor party go alright?”

“Not really.”

You sat in silence while Carmy spoke. You tugged at a loose fiber on the blanket and twisted it until it snapped. When Carmy finished, all you could manage was a soft and meaningful, “fuck.”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“Well, I have to go to the police station in the morning to meet with the guy handling my case.” You began, stretching your legs out from underneath you, “I could come there tonight and keep you company? Have you – um – eaten?” You asked.

“No.” Your heart dropped. He coughed quickly, “I mean, no, I haven’t eaten. My stomach’s kinda fucked. It’s always fucked, honestly.”

“Alright, heard.” You wrinkled your nose, smiling. He chuckled softly, quietly, on the end of the line. The silence stretched like a dust filled horizon. You started grouping together your necessary things, your keys, your coat, your shoes, and wallet. There weren’t many restaurants open at this hour, but you had leftovers from your own dinner, and you packed those away into a plastic bag.

You said, “date night at the police station?”

“How memorable.” Carmy deadpanned. Yet you could hear the dry, sarcastic humor in his tone.

You and Carmy would be okay. You’d figure it out. You weren’t ready to give up. Not really. The chaos of your bakery momentarily fucked with your head, but it didn’t fuck with your heart. Your heart wanted Carmen Berzatto. You wanted to find the joy among the tragedy, the grief. You wanted to watch bad movies with him. You wanted to hold his hand in the grocery store. You wanted to smile at him from across the street with the knowledge that you’d see each other at night.

“Maybe we can borrow some of their handcuffs.” You teased while pulling your arms through your coat sleeves. Carmy made a strangled noise. You stifled your smile and your cheeks ached.

He said, “You have a way of gettin’ my mind off shit, I’ll give you that.”

“Happy to be of service.” You cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder, smiling, “I’m gonna head out. See you in a few.”

“Mhm. See you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bottle of ginger-ale hissed when you twisted the cap and passed it wordlessly to Carmy. His puzzled, blue eyes blinked owlishly at you. You resisted the urge to bop him on the nose with your index finger.

“For your fucked stomach.” You explained before reaching into the plastic bag at your feet. You pushed an empty soda cup from Arby’s out of the way with your foot.

“Why do you have so many fucking fast-food cups?!”

“It’s Richie’s car.” Carmy said after taking a slow sip of ginger ale. You snapped upright and leveled him with a stare. No, no way. You twisted your spine, looking at the back seat, and yes—you recognized this upholstery. Beige. Boring. Kind of cramped. Your mouth gaped as horror and comprehension dawned.

“We fucked in Richie’s car?!” You shouted in alarm, your cheeks warm. “You said it was your car, Carmy! I explicitly remember you saying it was yours.”

Carmy laughed, pressing the back of his knuckles against his nostrils.

“A white lie.” He said, clearing his throat, “would you have fucked me if I said it was my employee’s car?”

“I don’t know!” Your laughter bubbled up at the absurdity of it. It loosened the tension inside your chest. Carmy laughed with you—his quieter, more subdued—and your soul brightened to hear it.

“Jesus Christ.” You rubbed a hand down the length of your face and returned your gaze to his. “Did you tell him?”

“What?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Fuck no.”

“Good.” You reached across the center console and held out your hand, “this secret dies with us.”

He took your hand, squeezing it, and his expression softened. He didn’t let go of your hand. His thumb rubbed across the bumps of your knuckles. Your body inclined closer as if pulled to him by an invisible string, and you sighed. Your foreheads touched his. The air blasting from the vents in the center dashboard tickled the side of your face. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to weep. The weight of everything that happened this morning pressed onto your lungs.

This was the scary part. Letting him in, letting see everything you feared, all your real and imagined worries, and panic.

He whispered, “you ready to talk about today?”

You said, “I’m sorry for bolting and pushing you away when you were just like…” You swallowed with some difficulty, “being a good person and trying to be a good partner to me. I – I just – I got lost inside my head. I’m sorry.”

He squeezed your fingers.

“I get it. I – uhm – one time, I bailed on Syd after asking her to implement a hierarchy. It was a shitty thing to do, but I did it, because I felt like the fucking building was on fire and if I stayed for another second I was gonna lose my mind.”

“God, we make quite the pair, don’t we?” You asked with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, yeah…” He smiled, fond and sincere. “We really do.”

You leaned back int your seat. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Your words were clumsy, but you managed to pull them like floss through your teeth. You told Carmy your fears, your worries, your hopes. You told him your suspicions about who might’ve sabotaged your bakery. You told him about your financial concerns because the money your grandfather provided was gone. You were too proud, too independent to ask your mom to help but there was a likely payout from the insurance company. However, the payout wouldn’t be immediate. And you needed to pay your employees. You were worried about them. They were your team. They needed you and the business to support themselves and their families.

Carmy ate the leftovers with container in his lap and listened. Several times, you worried you were talking in circles, confusing him, and you stopped to backtrack. You talked, and talked, until your throat was dry and sore.

You took a sip of his ginger ale and wrinkled your nose at the carbonation that tickled up your nose. He smiled, bashful, and turned his face away from yours. He stared through the windshield at the deserted, dark parking lot. You started cleaning and placing the Arby’s cups and napkins into your empty plastic bag.

“What are you doing?” Carmy asked, bemused.

You sighed, “when I’m anxious, I have to do stuff with my hands. It helps.”

Carmy reached over and covered his tattooed hand over yours. Your fingers twitched beneath his palm. Your head lifted, meeting his eyes, his face was painted in a hazy, orange glow from the streetlamps. His long, pretty eyelashes fluttered against his mole-dotted cheek.

Carmy was achingly beautiful and lovely. Artists should carve marble statues of his expressive face; they should paint Baroque oil portraits of him. He inclined forward and kissed you. His lips were soft, and chapped, and you sighed into his mouth. His tongue stroked languidly over yours. Your heart doubled, then tripled in size, and you interlocked your fingers between his. Sometimes you felt like this emotion between you and Carmy was delicate. Like a meringue or spun sugar. Other times, though, it felt supermassive and unshakable like the roots of a tree.

You chuckled suddenly against his mouth, remembering you were in Richie’s car, remembering the first time.

His other hand cupped your cheek, “What?” He mumbled onto your lips.

“I’m reminiscing.” You explained, nuzzling your face into his hand, lightly kissing the calloused mound of his palm. “I can’t believe the start of our relationship began in Richie’s car.”

Carmy exhaled shortly through his nostrils. “I don’t count that as the start.”

“Oh?”

The windshield softly pattered with fresh, slow raindrops. You tracked their movements down the glass, watching imaginary races, marveling at how the rain and light reflected onto Carmy’s contemplative face.

“The cupcakes.” He said, grazing his knuckles across your cheekbone, “I remember – uh – thinking you were the type of person who could do anything. I was – I am –impressed by you.”

“And that was the start of our relationship?”

He looked toward the pattering rooftop, “it was the start of something.” He said quietly. A warmth unfurled across your chest. You cradled his jaw between your hands. Your leg nudged over the empty soda cups in the holder. Wordlessly, between gentle kisses, you climbed into Carmy’s lap. He hummed from deep within his chest when you pushed your fingers through his greasy hair.

He kissed you slowly, tenderly, like you were two dancers learning the steps to a new song. There was no urgency to it. He exhaled heavily into your mouth and his hands held your face or your hips. The rain drummed against the roof in a staccato that mirrored your own rushing heartbeat.

You whispered, “are we going to be okay?”

His nose bumped yours. “Fuck if I know. Richie might go to jail.” He blinked up at you, “but, um, do you mean me and you?”

You nodded. Your future rolled out in a thousand, unique directions. As long as Carmy was next to you, on whatever path you were on, you figured you’d be alright. You would overcome this tragedy with your bakery. You’d stand by him in whatever happened with Richie. You’d swim through the waters of good days and bad ones – together.

“I – I think so.” He smiled tentatively. “I hope so. I’m not very good at this.”

Your throat tightened and prickled. “Neither am I. We’ve established that.” You cleared your throat, your fingertips played with the curls at the nape of his neck, and your tongue poised at the back of your front teeth. You loved him. You knew it, in all its raw simplicity and perfection, you loved him. You blinked away the moisture in your eyes, your world soft and blurry.

He caught a tear on his thumb, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just relieved.” You admitted, shaking your head, “we should probably get back inside.”

“We should.” He agreed.

You leaned back in the limited space; your spine nearly touched the steering wheel. Carmy watched you with amusement and fondness suffused within his blue eyes. He drew you close, letting you tuck your face into the crook of his shoulder, while his cheek leaned into your forehead. You felt his steady heartbeat beneath your palm.

Once you left the car, you would return to reality and all its problems and stress and heartache, and you suspected that Carmy wanted to linger here for a moment longer. And you weren’t going to deny him. You peered through the window. The rainfall blurred Chicago into a mix of dark blues and whites and nebulous red streaks of passing cars. It was surreal and otherworldly. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that everything that happened this morning was a dream. You could start over, wake up in Carmy’s bed, and make him toast. But your phone lit up with a notification in the passenger seat and the illusion was shattered. You sighed, chastely kissed the hollow dip of Carmy’s throat and he murmured sleepily in response.

You said, “I can stay here if you need to go home and get some sleep.”

“Nah, no. No.” He rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm, “I’m good.”

You climbed from his lap and collected your phone. It was Ted. He was asking if he could send up a GoFundMe for the bakery repairs. You swallowed, texted him a reply, and pulled your coat over your head for a makeshift umbrella.

Carmy said your name. His brow furrowed like he was solving a complex math problem.

“Hm?” One of your hands held the door handle, the other your phone.

“There’s this dumb thing that Mikey…um…used to say to me when we were kids…” He began, “whenever I was scared, or nervous, or whatever…he’d – um – he’d say, ‘let it rip’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You smiled at him. And it was like the sun shining through a snowstorm. Let it rip. The washed out, gray and blurry parking lot framed you in muted, orange light. Your coat draped lumpy over your head. He swallowed. Let it rip. He didn’t know what being in love felt like. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Right? He’s never dated. He’s never had an actual relationship. His heart is an idle muscle, fatigued and weak from years of disuse, from loving his brother who shunned and rejected him.

“I think that uh—” He licked his dry lips, “whatever happens with your bakery, I mean, you’re gonna be okay. You’re invincible.” And I love you. The worlds felt right. They felt true and honest.

“I’ll be here, you know? No matter what happens.” Because I love you. He couldn’t say it. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Let it rip. Mikey’s words encouraged him, goaded him, urged him to be courageous. He rolled his lower lip between his teeth. I actually, really, love you.

Your expression softened, “Thanks, Carmy.”

You opened the car door and disappeared into the pouring rain toward the police station. Carmy squeezed his hands around the steering wheel until his knuckles flushed white. He leaned his forehead against it and sighed. Love threatened to split him open. It threatened to pour out into everything he said, or did, as it perched—unspoken—between his teeth. He glanced to the empty ginger ale bottle and the organized trash pile. His heart squeezed as if in a vice. He pulled his collar up, tucking his neck into his shoulders like a turtle, and opened the car door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Carmy talked in low, intimate tones in the lobby. You talked about your pasts, school, accomplishments, and fond memories. He told you about the strange payments to KBL that Mikey made. You unintentionally avoided conversations about the future. It felt too unknown, too vague, with Richie’s conviction looming over your heads.

When you left him to find a bathroom, you noticed Richie standing by the police desk. He cradled the phone against his ear and spoke roughly, his eyes bright. You approached him. The phone clattered into the holder and Richie pinched the bridge of his nose.

Upon seeing you, he said, “Did they arrest you for tax evasion or some other rich person charge?”

“Mhm, yeah.” You leaned against the tall counter, searching his face. “You doing alright?”

“I’m fucking great.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You grabbed a sticky note off the desk and wrote down a phone number. You hoped the guy would wake up, that Richie wouldn’t be charged with manslaughter, but you also wanted to prepare for every possibility. In this situation, you could help a little.

“This is my mom’s number. She runs a law firm. If you need like legal representation or whatever.”

Richie’s eyes glittered with amusement. “I’m flattered. But I don’t think I’m ready to be your stepdad.”

“Stop being a shithead.” You held the note out of reach, though you recognized his attempts at humor were his only defense. “I will eat this note and you’ll be stuck with some state-appointed bonehead with mustard stains on his suit.”

He sobered, “Alright, alright.” A beat. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the help. Okay? I do.”

You slid the note to him. He folded it and tucked it away into his track pants.

“You lookin’ out for me just cuz of you and Carmy or what?” He asked, avoiding your gaze.

You bounced the pen against your fingertips. “I think you’re alright, Richie.” You said. “I mean, you can be annoying, and rude, and brash—”

“Wow, those are all words I’d use to describe you.” Richie cut in.

You laughed, shaking your head, and tossed the pen aside. A police officer approached you, telling Richie he needed to go back to the holding cell, and offering to escort you to the lobby. But, before Richie walked away, he reached out and briefly—briefly—held your fingertips in his hand and squeezed them.

He said quickly, “Look after my cousin, yeah?” The officer nudged him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going! I’m going!” Richie threw his hands in the air. Your heart clenched as Richie turned the corner with the cop following him. There was nothing left to do but wait. You chewed the inside of your cheek and sulked back to the lobby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By dawn, Carmy fell asleep on your shoulder. You watched Chicago bleed with misty, orange light as the sun rose over the buildings. The storm passed and left everything damp and glossy. You leaned your cheek on the top of Carmy’s head. He stirred beneath you but did not wake.

A handful of hours passed before an officer approached you.

“The detective handling your case wants to see you.” They said.

You nodded. A sense of dread filled your stomach and clawed your throat. You could do this. You needed to do this. Carmy believed you were invincible. He believed you could bounce back from anything. You eased yourself slowly out of the chair, careful not to jostle Carmy, but he jumped awake with a startled gasp.

“Sorry, sorry,” you winced. “They want to see me now.”

“Oh.” He grumbled, his voice thick with sleep, and he blinked blearily. “D’you want me to come?”

You stared at him with your mouth softly agape. This is what a partnership was. It’s not being alone when the shit hits the fan, or when you need to pick up the pieces and rebuild. You were comfortable being on your own, being independent, and self-reliant. In fact, you prided yourself on it. But everything—your grandfather’s death, the bakery, your employees, your friendship with Carmy—it showed you how you could rely on others. You trusted him. If you turned away from him now, he wouldn’t hold a grudge against you.

But, you realized, you wanted him there. You would be more comforted by his presence than without it.

“Sure.” You responded thickly. “If you don’t mind.”

He shook his head and stood. Without thinking, you reached for his hand and grasped it tightly. Carmy said nothing. He didn’t let go. He held your hand through the tan and cream-colored hallways. He held it in the detective’s office. He squeezed your fingers when the detective said they pulled traffic photos. He said they found a match of the license plate of the car parked nearby that the assailant was recorded getting in and out of.

As the detective informed you of the license plate registration, your ears started to ring. You blinked furiously, trying to arrange his words, trying to make sense of everything, trying not to cry in front of this stranger.

“We’ve sent the report over to your insurance, they’ll be handling everything from here on out.” The detective said, “however, if you want to press charges, then we can start filling out that paperwork today.”

“Charges?” You repeated slowly.

“Depending on the damage your insurance company reports, the willful and intentional destruction of property is a felony.”

You swallowed. “I see.”

“Can we have a sec?” Carmy asked. The officer spared you a quick, assessing look and then nodded. The moment you heard the door click shut behind you, you collapsed, drawing yourself inward and weeping. Carmy’s arm encircled your shoulders, holding you, and the plastic arm of the chair dug into your ribs when you leaned into him.

He kissed your temple. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted, your words fragile and flimsy. “I need a minute.”

“Okay.” Carmy nodded, “okay.” He gently stroked his hand along your head to the back of your neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The broom scraped along the glass, tinkling when you scooped it into the pan, and you dropped it like snow into the large, black garbage bag. Your underarms and face dampened with sweat. You wiped some away your old t-shirt collar. Ted walked around the corner from the kitchen, red faced and smiling, holding a garbage bag in each hand. The tarp that covered the main window flapped noisily with every car that drove by or errant gust of wind.

“I don’t want mushrooms if we’re ordering pizza.” Leslie said while holding her phone and leaning against her broom. “I’m willing to go half mushroom, half no-mushroom.”

Dani asked, “How are you vegetarian and you don’t eat mushrooms?”

“It’s the texture!” Leslie said, grimacing. “Ted, back me up on this one.”

“I like mushrooms.” Said Ted.

You suggested, “We could get two pizzas.”

“and bring the extra slices across the street?” Dani asked knowingly, her face crinkled in a smile.

You pointed the dustpan at her. “I never said that.”

“If we get two pizzas, then we should get the one with the sausage chunks and spinach.” Ted said, “I love that one. It’s sooo greasy.”

You fished your cigarettes out of the back pocket of your jeans. “Order whatever.” You said, putting a cigarette between your lips, “Dani has my card.”

Their conversation about potential appetizers faded into the background noise as you stepped out of your destroyed bakery and into the Chicago sunshine. The sky was chlorine blue without a cloud in view. It was like the rain last night never happened. You lit your cigarette while walking toward the Beef. Carmy texted you about Richie’s release, saying they’d be open today and he’d take Dani’s help again if Marcus didn’t show.

You smoked half your cigarette and stubbed it out before entering through the backdoor. You were relieved to see Marcus and he offered you a brief, genuine smile. You sidled next to Carmy by the stove, the heavy and pungent scent of sauteed garlic and smoke in the air and settled your palm between his shoulder blades.

“Hey, what’re you making?”

“Spaghetti.” Carmy said while twisting the can opener. He dumped the sauce onto the pan. A weird, lumpy, and strange shape sat among the bright, red tomatoes. He scooped it up with his fingers, peeling away the plastic, and you watched with a furrowed brow.

Carmy met your eyes, then shouted in alarm and confusion, “Cousin!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One Month Later…

The sheets were blessedly cool against your warm, sweaty back. The origami crane twirled faintly in the air, encouraged by Carmy’s fan, that oscillated and tickled your skin. A ribbon of sunlight poured through the curtains. Your bare chest heaved with each labored breath. Your skin tingled in the afterglow. Carmy pressed his lips between your eyebrows, your nose, and then to your mouth. He stretched out beside you, collecting you into his arms again, and kissed you slowly.

He always acted with urgency and demand in the kitchen. And outside the kitchen, he was restless. His leg bounced, his fingers tapped or tore through his hair. Yet, in this moment, of calm and quiet shared between only you—Carmy was unhurried. He took his time. He touched you until you came, he kissed you leisurely, he breathed your name shakily into your mouth. And when he buried his cock into you, you felt an unnerving yet pleasurable pressure in your chest. As if all the love you felt for him was trying to break free from your ribs.

His fingertips trailed down your spine. Each bump, each ridge, intimately known to him. He knew your body like a map. You sighed, content, and chuckled at the warmth that radiated from your heart.

“What?” He brushed your hair away from your face, “I’m not that funny, am I?”

“I’m laughing because I’m happy, you dummy.” You teased, “‘cause I love you.”

Your eyes widened in humiliating terror. The words had slipped free, unbidden, uncontrolled, like a wild animal that chewed through its leash. Carmy’s breath shuddered against your mouth. You resisted the temptation to wiggle out of his arms and escape to the bathroom door.

He replied, “Oh, good.” He cleared his throat.

You squeezed your eyes closed. You were mortified. You should tell him that it’s fine if he doesn’t feel the same—you don’t expect him to. The love offered was unconditional. He’s got a hundred, million things on his plate with franchising the Bear and establishing himself and working on his mental health. You’d love him even if he broke up with you tomorrow. You’d still love him, want him to be happy, and healthy, and whole.

“I – um – I love you, too.” He said quietly and carefully, like the words themselves were fragile, “I’m not just saying that because you said it first.”

You cautiously opened your eyes to measure his expression. His face was ruddy, flushed, damp curls falling into his forehead and obscuring his pretty blue eyes that were nearly swallowed whole by his pupils. In all your time of knowing him, Carmy wasn’t the type of person to lie.

“I really, really do love you.” He licked his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Y-yeah.” He smiled, lopsided and warm. “I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four Years Later…

Carmy watched as you tossed another stone into Lake Michigan. All your attempts to skip a stone had thus far failed despite his teaching. The stone splashed and created a deep, bellowing ‘gur-glup’ noise as it dropped through the water and sank. You crouched to find another rock. The wind tugged at your long coat, trying to wrench you away, and whisk you into the sky like a strange fairytale.

“How about this one?” You asked, holding up the flat stone, and wiggling it between your fingers. The warm sunlight caught the angles of your face. His breath snagged inside his throat.

“Looks alright.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His fingertips touched something warm and velvety-soft and hidden. His heart stuttered nervously. He’s been carrying this thing around for weeks. Yesterday morning, over breakfast in your shared apartment, he thought of asking you from across the table. You were so lovely, and beautiful, wearing your pajamas and slicing strawberries for your waffles.

Two weeks ago, he asked Sugar for advice. All she said was, ‘you better ask before she does.’ Then, kindlier she said, ‘the location doesn’t matter so much, Carmy. You’re over thinking it. Just ask her.’

He was afraid, he realized. He wasn’t afraid you’d say no. He was certain you’d say yes. But he was afraid of messing it up—of being a bad fiancé, or husband, instead of boyfriend. He was afraid that if things in his life went too well, then he’d be punished for it. He couldn’t be too happy. It wasn’t allowed. His therapist told him this was anxiety and gave him some worksheets to do at home.

You whirled around, smiling, as your stone skipped two splashes before sinking. “A new record!”

His lungs felt as if they might capsize under the weight and glory of being in love with you. His fingers curled around the box inside his pocket. Let it rip. You were smiling at him. He stopped thinking. He dropped to one knee.

“Holy shit!” Your hand slapped over your mouth and your eyes glimmered with unshed tears. He bumbled out your name, blushing hard, and his fingers trembled and nearly dropped the box. He stuttered through The Important Question.

“You’re my partner in every other sense of the word,” He said, “so…I guess…I figured we might as well get the tax benefits too.”

“In it for the money, huh?” You laughed, wiping your tear-streaked face with your palms.

“Yeah, you know me…” Carmy swallowed, “focused on the business side of things and all that.”

He wondered if the ring was too shabby, or not your style, or too gaudy or a thousand other things. He wondered all of it as you lowered onto your knees in front of him.

You reached into your coat and held aloft a wooden box. “You weren’t the only one thinking about the future.”

He blinked in surprise. He thought Sugar was joking. The wooden box clicked open to reveal a simple, golden ring. He imagined himself wearing it, seeing it whenever he chopped vegetables, or washed his hands, and he was overcome with a deep, deep sense of joy and pleasure. Everyone would know he was loved. They would that he was spoken for and that he was tied to the most incredible and brilliant woman he’s ever met.

He suddenly visualized his life sprawling out in every direction like the roots of a giant tree. He leaned his forehead to yours, smiling, and thought of Mikey. A bittersweet sense of melancholy gripped his heart.

I love you. Let it rip.

The sunlight broke through the clouds. The lake glittered like a thousand diamonds were strewn across its surface. He held your smiling and tear-damp face between his hands. This was only the beginning. The start of the next chapter of his life with you. And whatever happened along the way, you would face it together, hand-in-hand, as always.

“So, what do you say, Carmen Berzatto? We figured out dating, and living together, should we figure out being married next?” You asked with a small, flustered grin.

“Absolutely.” His hands slid and cupped the back of your neck and pulled you toward him. He kissed you. And he was scared, terrified—even, but it was the good kind. The kind of scared that made your stomach flutter before the drop of a rollercoaster. He smiled, then laughed, against your lips. His eyes burned with tears as you slid the engagement ring onto your finger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus Author’s Note: I decided to leave it open-ended in terms of Who Trashed the Bakery. Was it dad, wishing for revenge? Was it Delilah, wanting to get rid of her ambitious competition? Or was it someone your grandfather knew, who was jealous, and didn’t want you to succeed? Or was it random? Someone looking for a thrill? Whoever you think it was—you are correct. All possibilities are true. Including whether or not the Reader went forward with an investigation to press charges/go through the court stuff.

Again, I cannot express my gratitude enough for the folks who read this story, who loved it, as I loved it. <3 Thank you. You mean so much to me.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic

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hwaswh0r3 · 5 months

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'*•.¸♡ABOUT HWASWH0R3♡¸.•*'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚INTERESTS AND BASICS˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Interests/Hobbies

— Art, Piano, Watching Movies, editing

Basics

—Black (AA), old enough, active on here and TikTok, will NOT sugarcoat opinions, I will be respectful though, If you recommend me something to read or watch I’ll probably look into it. Occasional Anime watcher, mainly jjk and dmcb. you can message me about/send me anything, I’m talkative so I’ll always answer and probably within twenty minutes…

More importantly

—This blog supports Palestine, Congo, and Yemen. !sraeL supporters shouldn’t interact.

—Anti Taylor Swift and anti Mamamoo

—Anyone can interacts; I don’t post smut or porn links so wtv

DNI

—racists, anti-anything lgbtq related, dsmp fans, pro shippers of any real people, Swifties, Drake fans occasionally (depends), Jackson Wang fans…

Music Artists I Like.・。.・゜✭・.

♩Kpop/Krnb Artists♩

—BTS, Red Velvet, Ateez, ITZY, Twice (ot8), New Jeans, Fromis_9, KIOF, NCT127, DEAN, Baekhyun, Tabber, SAAY, LEEBADA

♪Non Kpop Artists♪

—PARTYNEXTDOOR, Syd, Beyonce, JID, J. Cole, Kendrick Lamar, Summer Walker, H.E.R., GIVĒON, Ethel Cain, Sleep Token, Melanie Martinez, willow smith, Rhianna, Daniel Caesar, Bruno Mars, Megan Thee Stallion, 6LACK, offset, Thea Weeknd, Lil Tecca, Lil Yatchy, THE INTERNET, TV Girl, Frank Ocean

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* Favorite Shows and Movies

Shows

—The Boondocks, Girl From Nowhere, Criminal Minds, Abbott Elementary, Bobs Burgers, Scandal, The end of the F*****g World, All American, Living Single, Girlfriends, New Girl, Accused, Pose

Movies

—Waves (2019), The Diary of a Teenage Girl (2015), Moonlight (2016), Thirteen (2003), Girl Interrupted (1999)

*＊✿❀FAVORITE YOUTUBERS❀✿＊*

Berleezy (♡), CoryxKenshin, ImDontai, Druski, Danny Gonzalez, Kurtis Connor, Drew Gooden, Spikima Movies, North of The Border, Kiwi Tapes, EmKay, r/slash, Chad Chad, tuv, j aubrey, SunnyV2, OverSimplified, Adam Neely

. ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ . Only other Socials

—@hwaswh0r3 on TikTok

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unladyboss · 11 months

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WHY IS CARMY TRYING TO MAKE THE

BEAR WORK?: TO MAKE SYDNEY HAPPY

At this stage I'd say Carmy is trying to make the bear work, only for Sydney.

Sydney really wants the bear, so he wants to give her the bear

We see in season 2 episode 1, he tells Richie that the restaurant is not fun for him.

He doesn't love it.

We see that Richie asks him what is fun for him and he looks longingly at pictures of family consisting of wife and baby. This hints that he'd like to put his all into a family of his own

We see him tell the AA group in episode 3 that he's not getting any fun or enjoyment out of it

We suspect the person he'd like to do those things with is Sydney. However what he knows of Sydney is that she wants the restaurant.

We see from his interactions with Sydney that she'll tell him what she really wants and from her lips to his ears it gets distorted

In season 1 episode 3 brigade he said that's what you wanted. She says no, I wanted to do more (to help him)

In season 2 episode 8 he did the chaos menu at home with Claires input because he thought that's what Syd wanted, when in actuality Syd wanted to do it with him.

Even his mother had to tell him to stop doing things and listen to her, in the FISHES episode. He told her he was listening but when she asked him to repeat what she had said it was just a watered down version of what she wanted without the important details.

The show puts a LOT of time into saying LISTEN and LISTEN BETTER.

I think most of that is for Carmy

Because while it's true that Sydney wants the restaurant, from day 1, it was obvious that she went to the restaurant for him.

That all she wanted was to do it all WITH him

We see in season 2 episode 2 that he was doing all that he was doing to make her happy

Because he didn't listen properly, he doesn't realise that she wants him as well, so when the opportunity for 'fun' comes up, and forces itself in his space (Claire ),he decides he should take it because he may not get to do it with who he really wants to do it with, Sydney.

There are so many stories being told in The Bear, all at one time.

One of the most intriguing is SYDCARMY.

It's intertwined into a few subpolots that I'm trying to soak in all at once

#the bear #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #love #slow burn #carmy x syd #sydcarmy #romance #relationship #carmy x claire #food #desire #carmy loves syd

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currymanganese · 1 year

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I did a pre-relationship prequel to my two other Sydcarmy fics, in which Carmy gets some triggering news and Syd helps to take his mind off of it. Songs mentioned within the fic are found below:

It was still early in the morning, Carmy and Syd were the first to come in, as they usually were, and as they gave the kitchen a quick walkthrough and a once-over they were spit-balling ideas for slight changes and additions to the menu for the upcoming Mother's Day weekend. It wasn't too long before Nat arrived, falling into companionable conversation with the two before she made her way to the office.

She caught Carmy's attention just after they'd finished closing and saying goodbye to the rest of the team later that day, and took him aside privately. He and Syd were going to head to her Dad's apartment as Carmy had begun to make a habit of driving her home at night; Nat didn't want Syd to overhear.

"Hey, Bear...Um, Mom's sixty-sixth birthday is coming up next month..She asked me to invite you? She said she wanted to host the dinner herself, if you don't mind...." Carmy's face screwed up in confusion, "Mom?? Donna?" he choked out. Syd sat waiting a little aways in his car, but was still able to make out the sheer bewilderment on his face. "Yes, Donna, that's our Mom's name Carmy." Nat rolled her eyes slightly and went on, "Look, I'd understand if you don't come, that's fine...But, um, she has been doing a lot better lately, a-a-and if you ever wanna see for yourself the door's open, no pressure, Bear, okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright." Glancing over in Syd's direction and nodding, she tacked on, "Mom said you can bring a plus one if you show-"

Carmy cut her off instantly, "Nat, stop. Just stop. I'll think about it okay, but it'll just be me if I do show up." He sounded pained as he refuted what she'd implied, "You know it's not like that between me and Syd, and even if it was..." He sighed and shook his head, he didn't say any of the quiet parts out loud, "I know you love Mom, Nat, and I love her too, but I don't trust her yet..I care about Syd too much to let her have a front row seat to our family shit-show if the dinner goes belly up like it always does."

Nat relented and squeezed his arm reassuringly before saying goodnight and walking towards Pete's car. He waved goodnight to Pete and entered his own vehicle, apologizing to Syd for the delay. "Um, no problem..Is everything okay?" she asked. At his mild grimace she laughed, "I'll take that as a no.....You can talk about it if you want, or not.." she quickly added. Carmy sighed as he pulled away from the curb. "No, I'm okay, thanks..I'm good," he got out eventually, but he didn't sound convinced even to his own ears.

After another deep sigh he finally admitted to what had made his hackles rise, "Mom's birthday dinner is coming up." It wasn't that they were still estranged or anything, his mother had since come in to the restaurant a few times since opening, and had maintained her best behaviour. His 'step-father', 'Uncle Lee', that sack of shit, had died in the previous year, and by some miracle, instead of spiralling further into drink and grief, she'd started AA a few months after Nat's baby boy, Michael, was born. She was supposedly seven months sober, they hadn't managed to prevail upon her yet to begin seeing the therapist that Carmy and Nat had started seeing, but still she'd made respectable progress. Syd knew about said progress so she replied, breaking up the long pause, "Uh, okay...Your Mom's dinner, this is gonna be a problem because?"

"Mom's hosting it."

"Ohhhh." Syd nodded in understanding and whispered, "Shiiit!"

"Yep." Carmy replied. Syd had innocently assumed that Nat had asked him to arrange a dinner for their Mom at The Bear. She had heard enough about Berzatto family dinners by now, to know that Donna stepping into the role of host and homemaker was a whole other 'sensitive' ballgame, to put things mildly.

As Carmy drove they continued on in peaceful silence until he pulled up before her home. She had been sneaking looks at him during the short trip though, and she didn't like the way he clenched his jaw the whole time, and the way he held on to the steering wheel as if he was holding on for dear life. So before she exited she took a gamble and asked, "Uh, Carmy you wanna come upstairs and hang out for a while? My Dad's coming home soon and I can fix you two something to eat, the three of us can have dinner together.."

Carmy fought back the look of surprise on his face and beamed at her, "Uh, okay..Sure. Thank you!" "Very smooth Carmy", he hated on himself internally, but couldn't help smiling all the way up the flight of stairs to the apartment. Although he'd met Syd's father many times by now, either at The Bear, or in the handful of times they'd tried out new recipes at Syd's place instead of his own, Carmy surprised himself at his own lack of nervousness. It'd be the first time he and Syd hung out together this late at night.

At the door, they both shrugged off their jackets and toed off their shoes. There were some slippers under the small table in the hallway that they put on before they ventured further into the house. Syd was feeling every bit as nervous as Carmy was not, but she was glad to she that she'd successfully taken his mind off of things for a while. She washed her hands and bustled about in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for a simple chicken rice pilaf. Carmy contentedly sat on the other side of the kitchen island and watched her set to work as they made small talk and cracked jokes.

They'd been swapping stories about the weirdest meal requests they'd received from customers when there was a quiet lull in their back and forth. Carmy slipped on a slightly far away look on his face. He swiped his hair back from his forehead, carding his fingers through the strands, and suddenly blurted out, "Do you know she threw up on me in a parent-teacher meeting in middle school?" Syd was absolutely aghast, and gently eased the knife she'd been attacking some chicken parts with down to the cutting board. "Your mom?" She began shaking her head and grimaced, "No Carmy, please tell me she didn't do that."

At her horrified expression, and partly because of his own embarrassment at making such a random non-sequitur of a confession, Carmy couldn't help barking out a laugh which also set Syd to some nervous giggling. Her brow was still furrowed in disgust but his heart somehow felt lighter as he continued, "Yes, she did. Um, some older kids had started beating on me after school whenever Mikey couldn't come pick me up...Uh, they'd, um- called her in to talk about it and she was still hungover, I guess."

He said it with a smile, as if it was funny...A wave of sorrow over his fucked up childhood hit Syd directly in the chest, so she turned away so he couldn't see her blink back tears. "Fuck! I'm so sorry.." was all she could manage to say. Carmy soothed her, "It's alright..It's alright-" and it killed her to hear the genuine smile in his voice. In the past she'd agonize over sensitive conversations like this if they ever came up with friends, they somehow always left her feeling like she never knew the right words to say to comfort someone, or had her thinking that maybe God skipped her over when handing out extra emotional intelligence.

She steadied herself though, and turned to him wearing as neutral an expression as she could've mustered up, she didn't want him to think she was pitying him after all...He was still smiling at her when it all suddenly clicked and she spoke her intuition before she thought better of it, "That wasn't even the worst thing she's done to you, is it?" The smile fell away from his eyes immediately before it evaporated from the rest of his face. He pursed his lips, swallowed, and shook his head. There was her answer, no. It wasn't. He began to blink rapidly, as if trying not to cry, and Syd cursed and flayed herself internally for making him feel even worse instead of breaking up the tension with humour like she usually would. She nervously turned back to the kitchen and washed her hands at the sink. "Uh..D-do you want something to drink? I'm sorry, I forgot to ask earlier-"

Carmy cleared his throat and reined in his raw emotions, "Um. No. It's okay, it's fine, really." Sensing the distress that was pouring off of her in waves, although her back was turned, Carmy kicked himself internally for bringing his Mom up again, and struggled to reassure her, "Syd, don't worry...I'm okay, it was a long time ago..I'm fine, really." And they both knew he was lying. Syd's heart was hammering away in her chest as she racked her brain to find a way to cheer him up and change to subject, but her nerves calmed somewhat as she took in his words.

What always made her feel better when she was at her absolute worst? Could she share that part of herself? Fuck it, it was worth a shot, she thought and breathed out, "Uh..Hey, I'm not tryna' be a dick or rub this in your face or anything..But, um, do you wanna maybe meet my mom?" Carmy looked mildly confused for a second and said, "Um, sure?" Syd laughed at his befuddled look and dried her hands on a kitchen towel, "Relax, it doesn't involve a ouija board, I promise. Just give me a minute-" Syd made a mental fist-pump as she heard him burst out laughing as she went to her Dad's room to fetch their family photo album, and to collect her phone from her bag.

Before she set her items down she started to excitedly stammer on about her Mom, "Umm, this sounds kinda pretentious, but my Mom was like an amateur 'world music' collector, although Dad said she hated that term, she said it was too like, white people-y, um I mean Eurocentric, but uh- she left behind a lot of old records from all over the place- they kinda, well not really kinda- they really fucking help me when I'm really stressed out- they're pretty chill actually-so, uh, it doesn't sound as good as vinyl-and some of them were CDs too- So I digitized whatever I couldn't find on streaming and also made a playlist. I could share it with you if you'd like- shit! I'm rambling aren't I-"

Between Syd's concern for him and the adorable way she was sharing something that was so personal about herself, just for him, Carmy was fucking melting. He was smiling at her while blushing profusely, he blinked and interrupted her, "Uh, no. It's fine, I'd love that Syd. Thank you, that'd be great, I mean it." Syd breathed a small sigh of relief and made a dramatic show of placing her Mom's photo album on the counter before him, "Young sir, I present to you, Her Majesty, Hélène Lovell-Adamu." He thanked her as she connected her phone to the living room's bluetooth stereo and placed her Mom's music on shuffle, and he quietly thumbed through the album before she turned back to continue preparing the meal. Her mother was gorgeous, she was also so shockingly young. He felt a pang of regret that she would never get to see the wonderful woman her daughter had become.

He'd never heard the first song that began to play before, he hadn't expected that he would have, and he paused to listen. A woman's soulful voice dispelled the silence,

"Never knew what a fool I was until I met you,

Never knew I'd give my heart and you would be untrue,

The whole world told me I was wrong to be with you,

But my mama told me- I would never fall,

I was born to shine!"

Out of his peripheral vision, Carmy could see Syd had stilled as the second verse began. She turned to face him as the vocalist continued,

"Ever since I was a child, they tried to keep me down,

Everything that I did- it was oh so wrong!

Let me tell you something- I'm gonna do what I wanna do!

Cause my mama told me I would never fall,

I was born to shine!"

Carmy was shocked to see Syd's eyes were watering, she blinked it back and laughed nervously over the chorus,

"Shine, baby, shine!

Let them see where you're going to!

Shine, baby, shine!

Let them follow you!

Shine on!”

"My Dad said- this was one of the choruses my Mom used to sing to me before bed...When they knew that she was getting worse..I don't remember that."

"Fuck!" Carmy's face crumpled and he couldn't help but swear. "Yes, fuck, indeed-" Syd softly agreed. As the music continued, the sound of her Dad's key jangling in the door lock broke the moment, Syd dried her eyes with the fabric of her shirt's sleeve using her forearm and turned back to the stove where the pilaf was already bubbling away. Carmy cleared his throat and stood as Mr. Adamu entered through the front door, and greeted him when he came to investigate the source of the music and the lovely smell wafting from the kitchen.

He greeted Carmy in return and as Carmy sat back down, he looked between him and Syd, his expression giving nothing away, and he sat next to Carmy at the small island countertop as if Carmy lived in the place for just as long as Syd did. "Goodnight baby, what are you making?" Carmy couldn't be sure, but her Dad sounded amused for some reason.

"Chicken pilaf," Syd lowered the heat and spoke over her shoulder, "it should be ready in about 15 minutes."

"Ooh, thank you. I'm looking forward to it," came his easy reply.

"Today was a long day, what was business like for you guys?" he prompted Carmy as he placed his hands on the counter and nodded at Carmy.

Carmy began relating some of the foibles and triumphs of The Bear's kitchen that day and Syd's Dad noticed the photo album that Carmy still gently held in his hands. "Huh," he thought to himself, "she brought out her Mom and her own baby photos for him." He smiled and laughed along to Carmy's choppy recounting of the day's events, and at Syd's interruptions when she supplied moments Carmy had missed. Emmanuel Adamu hadn't known what to make of Carmy and his partnership with his daughter at first, he'd resented him after seeing her hurt and angry after she'd quit because of his foul tempermental outburst at The Beef. To his shock and trepidation they'd patched things up relatively quickly and they plunged into opening the new restaurant together.

It didn't take long for Mr. Adamu to suspect that there was something that the two of them were hiding from him, or at least lying to themselves about, where their relationship was concerned. He had an inkling that there was something between them the first day he met Carmen during lunch at The Bear, both he and Syd came out front to serve his meal, grinning proudly and shushing him when he insisted they didn't have to come out and see him. They didn't stay out front for long, but in the short time that Syd introduced them to each other and they exchanged pleasantries, he saw the way Carmy looked at her when she spoke. Carmy looked at her as if he hung on to her every word, and as if he was memorizing her face to map down every detail.

Later on, to make matters worse, or better, provided that everything worked out between them, when they came over to try new recipes together he saw his 'no-nonsense' little girl, now a young lady really, snorting and laughing at Carmy's dry jokes, his mundane comments, and his shy smiles, as if she was in the audience at a Richard Pryor special. Once, he'd even seen Carmy reach out to smooth Syd's eyebrows with his thumb, after she'd slightly mussed her natural brows after pulling on a sweater over her shirt before they left the apartment after one of their home cooking sessions. Carmy had pulled his hand back quickly at Syd's momentary look of confusion, before motioning to his own brows with his hands, "Um, you kinda messed up your eyebrows." Syd had then yelped and scampered off to fix them. Although she denied everything anytime he brought Carmy up to tease her, he was beginning to hope he might actually see his and Hélène's own grandchildren yet. Despite his approval, however, Mr. Adamu decided to bide his time and not to meddle between the two of them.

By the time Syd was plating up the meal and Mr. Adamu grabbed some drinks from the fridge, the music had segued from K. Frimpong's Hwe Hwe Mu Na Yi Wo Mpena, to Poncho Sanchez's Baila Baila, and Paco de Lucia's Rio Ancho. As they sat down together, Stevie Wonder's With Each Beat of My Heart started up. The food was a delight and the company was even better, although Carmy felt himself flushing at the way the ballad's lyrics eerily reflected his own emotions. Syd and her Dad kept up the flow of conversation between bites, and Carmy was happy to just listen in to them as the playlist glided to Bob Marley's Stir It Up. At one point, he'd clearly missed a turn in the conversation though, he'd been looking at Syd, but Syd was now looking at him wide eyed, was she embarrassed about something? And Mr. Adamu, who sat to his side, turned to face him as well. At Carmy's apparent confusion, Mr. Adamu helpfully supplied what was previously said while Carmy was lost in Syd's eyes, "Sydney was telling you, that she doesn't know if it means much, because she doesn't really remember her-"

"Dad!"

Sydney's father pressed on with a twinkle in his eyes, "-but she thinks that her Mom would have liked you if she'd met you." There was a long pause as Carmy went crustacean red-pink. He chuckled nervously and Syd groaned inwardly, silently berating herself, "Oh my God, why the fuck would I say that aloud?!" Carmy perked up a bit though, actually met Mr. Adamu's eyes and quietly asked, "Um..Would she?" Mr. Adamu teased mildly, "I couldn't say for sure...." He began laughing at the obvious dismay on Carmy's face, "I'm sorry, ha ha! I couldn't say for sure, but Hélène considered anyone who loved her daughter a dear friend."

A happily awkward pause stretched on as Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder's Soukora began to play. Mr. Adamu made an obviously bogus claim that he forgot to buy toothpaste before coming home, and excused himself, saying he was heading down to the corner store to pick up a few things, leaving Syd and Carmy to clear the dishes. As the music swept through the apartment, neither of them knew what the lyrics meant, but Carmy could swear that his heart stopped.

Ali Farka Toure sang on,

"My love it is night now,

Wait for me my love.

I love you.

And I love the night.

I like it when it is peaceful at night,

Wait for me my love,

it is night now.

Just wait for me my darling."

Their eyes were locked on each other's faces, they sat stock still during the length of the song, and during the instrumental crescendo Carmy felt as if someone clamped a vise around his heart and SQUEEZED. He didn't know it at the time, but in that moment Syd felt the exact same way. When the song ended Syd awkwardly cleared her throat as Kassav's Wep came on and she began collecting plates and utensils, Carmy stood to help her and they brought the items to the kitchen sink in silence. Syd rinsed them under the tap water and Carmy loaded them into the dishwasher.

They hadn't yet made eye contact since they'd left the table, and the playlist shuffled to The Meter's Love Is For Me. Carmy finally turned and met Syd's eyes, "Syd..thank you for everything tonight, I needed it." Sydney's eyes were soft, and her voice was even softer, "No problem Carmy, it was my pleasure." They looked at each other for a long moment and drifted closer together, until they were a hair's breadth apart, and they eyed each other's lips as the lead singer sang,

"I believe everything about you baby!"

- and the band replied,

"I believe!

I believe!

I believe!"

And at that moment, of all times, Mr. Adamu walked into the living room. The spell was comprehensively broken. Carmy was as red as a cherry and he and Syd practically leapt apart as if someone had dashed a bucket of cold water over them.

"Don't let me stop you two." Mr. Adamu smiled. "Of course Syd's Dad would say something like that!" Carmy thought to himself as he and Syd began sputtering and wheezing out in nervous brays of laughter. Carmen ran his hand through his hair and looked between Syd and Mr. Adamu before he said, "Um, I should get going...Thanks a lot for tonight Syd, thanks for having me Mr. Adamu." He shook hands with Mr. Adamu, grabbed his jacket, put back on his shoes, and left.

"You're not gonna see him off downstairs? Did you get to kiss him?" Syd's Dad asked 'innocently'. "DAD!" Syd felt like an idiot as the first notes of The Funkees' Now I'm A Man began drifting from the stereo. She turned to the kitchen sink and hoped her father didn't see her tearing up in her disappointment. She felt so stupid, after all the denial it had finally hit her like a ton of bricks, of course she loved Carmy. Who else would she love? Her father remained standing where he was, but he didn't give up easily this time, unlike in times past. He pushed, "Sydney baby, I want you to be honest with me, but most importantly, I want you to be honest with yourself. That man who just left is your best friend, right?"

"Yes, Dad." Syd weakly replied, she was sniffling a little. "Do you at least know he's your husband?" Sydney wheeled on her father, "Dad, please! I don't wanna talk about this right now- I haven't. We haven't-! Nobody's even brought that up! He hasn't even told me he likes me, fuck!"

"Watch your language, baby." Her father still had the audacity to be smiling, she hastily apologized and fought back the fierce urge to roll her eyes so strongly that they'd be mistaken for centrifuges. "Alright Sydney, I'll leave you alone, but I didn't bring that up because of anything Carmy did or did not say, you told me what time it is...You brought out your Mom, and had The Meters on and your baby pictures out, what else should I think?" Syd huffed and her father drew closer to her and swiped away her tears with his thumbs. "It'll all work out baby, don't worry. He loves you." Her father kissed her on the cheek and left the kitchen to go wash up before bed. He left Syd standing in a daze, and she gripped the edge of the kitchen sink as Daisy Voisin's grainy voice sang Alegría Alegría.

The next day, Carmy studied Syd's face more closely than he'd ever paid attention to anything, hoping to see in her eyes any flicker of recall of the night before and the 'almost-kiss' they'd shared. Syd was a tough cookie to crack though, she acted like her usual self, although there was a tinge of stiffness to her usual pep and she seemed to avoid his eyes. Carmen was feeling down right miserable, he'd hardly slept when he went home, and he was at risk of gnawing on the pots with the way the urge to get some time alone with Syd, and the need to talk to her, was affecting him.

Therefore it came as a surprise when his phone lit up just before family was served. He was alone in the office at the time, "Hi, Mr. Adamu- how are you?" He was on pins and needles already, the man had almost caught Carmy necking with his daughter, in his own kitchen, he could not feel more embarrassed if he tried. "I'm good Carmy, but would you mind if I saw you for a few minutes? I'm in the area, and I promise it won't take long." Anxiety was clawing at Carmy's throat, he had a good idea what this meeting would be about, but he still spoke up and said, "Uh, sure." Mr. Adamu told him where they would meet up, a small cafe that wasn't too far away, and Carmy found Syd and asked her, "Can you hold down the fort for me, Chef? There's something I need to do for a bit."

"Sure, no problem Chef. Be careful out there, don't talk to strangers." She was gonna be the death of him, she'd given him a small smile as she said it, and he felt as if he was a starving man who'd just finally been given a proper meal. He smiled back at her, at her little comment, and left before he could chicken out of the appointment with her father. When he arrived at the café, Mr. Adamu was already sitting and waiting, browsing a newspaper. He took a seat across from Mr. Adamu in the booth, and nervously flexed his fingers beneath the table, "Hi, Mr. Adamu." Syd's Dad held up his hand palm-forward, "Hey Carmy, please, all my friends call me Manuel, please, call me Manuel."

Carmy seemed taken aback, "Really?" Manuel laughed at Carmy's nonplussed expression and he chuckled as he spoke, "No, not really. My friends call me Elroy, but you can call me Manuel for now." This managed to draw a smile out of Carmy and he seemed a little less jumpy. "So.." Sydney's Dad continued, "You're a bright young man, you know what this conversation's gonna be about." Carmy replied, "Yes, Sir, um, I mean, yes Manuel, I think so." Carmy actually blushed and chuckled a bit. "Well, don't worry, I won't threaten to kill you okay? Sydney could manage it if she ever needs to." Carmy and Manuel both started snickering at the Dad joke, the ice finally broken. Manuel ordered a coffee from the waitress and asked if Carmy wanted anything, his treat? Carmen thanked him and politely declined, he was still so nervous he wasn't so sure he could keep anything down. "All I've asked you here for is to find out one thing, I know who you are to Sydney already, but who do you want to be for her?" Something about the way her father asked his question, not giving the stereotypical, "What are your plans for my daughter?”-spiel , warmed Carmy's heart.

His eyes were wet in an instant and he blinked, her Dad knew he loved her already, didn't he? He ran his hand through his hair, and had on a pained expression on his face before he brought his hand down to touch his fingertips to just below his mouth and almost whispered, "I want to be someone she can trust..I want to be her husband." He looked at Manuel earnestly and added on, "I'd like to be your son-in-law." Manuel nodded and said, "Good. Good.." and then he went in for the kill while he shrugged and smiled, "Okay? Well do something about it." Carmy started cackling immediately. He thought to himself, "God! Between the ribbing sense of humour, and the forthrightness, Syd really is her Dad's mini-me."

An earlier conversation with Syd that seemed ages ago echoed in his mind,

"I, uh, don't wanna be shitty.."

"Okay. So don't be."

Carmy was surprised to find himself actually enjoying the conversation, but he tried to explain himself a little, "Uhh. I would love to, but I-I don't exactly know how to go about that..And I don’t want to hurt her.." Manuel looked as if he was waiting for Carmy to go on, so he did, "Um, growing up..I always thought that my family, t-that my family and I were things to spare- to spare the people that I liked from...not welcome them into. And-uh, shit, I've never had a serious relationship before..." Syd's Dad noticed the way Carmy's hands were twitching above the tabletop now, Carmy realized and began to self-consciously clasp his hands together, feeling like a green fool. Mr. Adamu hadn't stopped smiling at him, but his expression softened at Carmy's disclosure and his blatant discomfort. He sighed, "I understand son, I really do. And maybe someday we'll look back at this and laugh when I tell you about Sydney's mother and what falling for her felt like...But for now- for now all I want you to know is life's too short to worry too much about some things okay, you know what I mean?"

Mr. Adamu had unconsciously began to gently massage his own, now bare, ring-finger with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Carmy glanced down and nodded his understanding, clearly some absences were never filled, and time did not heal all wounds. Manuel sighed and broke the silence, "It's time for me to go, but let me just say this is the only hint I'll give you- she really likes you." Carmy smiled at that and Mr. Adamu laughed at the blush that slowly spread across his face, he was so transparent, no wonder his daughter enjoyed teasing him. He stood and wished Carmen good luck while folding his newspaper and Carmen stood and shook hands with him as they said their goodbyes. After Mr. Adamu had left though, Carmy needed to sit for a few minutes and gather his thoughts. He ordered a donut to go because he was sure he'd make it back to The Bear when family was over. He had so much to say to Syd, and no fucking clue how to say it. He suddenly remembered Syd nervously stammering about her mother's music collection in an effort to make him feel better, and he smiled to himself. Well, no pain, no gain - for her he had no choice but to figure things out.

That night, as he drove Syd home, they were both so uncharacteristically quiet he was sure that there were graveyards that were more sonorous than the way they were acting. He absolutely hated it, and she did too, but he only broke the crypt-like silence when they'd arrived safely to her place, and as Syd was about to say her thanks before cracking open the car door to leave. "Syd...Can I talk with you for a sec?" Carmy pleaded. He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, and Syd was just as nervous as he looked, although she hid it better, so she smiled and said yes. And though the words were difficult at first, in the end they'd talked, and talked, and talked, and talked* until Carmy traipsed slowly alongside her and walked her to her door, they bumped shoulders the entire walk. They kissed each other goodnight, although it was really already 1:26 in the morning. As Syd closed the door and began shrugging off her belongings, she bumped into the small table in the hall. "Baby?" her Dad called to her from behind his bedroom door. "Sorry Dad," she replied, before giddily blurting out, "Carmy asked me out."

"That's nice baby, you two have fun."

"I never said I told him yes." Syd squeaked out.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say, baby. I love you, goodnight now, you hear?"

"I love you too Daddy, goodnight."

Syd and her Dad both heard the amusement in each other's voices, and their eyes shone, just like their smiles.

Notes:

English translation of Soukora's lyrics found here:

https://chocolatnegro.wordpress.com/2012/05/27/soukora-talking-timbuktu/

*had their first kiss

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