Break Through Au
Word Count: 1.6k
Summary: You go out ice skating on the lake with your brothers and Things don’t go as planned for you three
Warnings: CPR/Death, Falling through Ice, Hospitals, Yelling
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You were on the ice with your brothers Will and Jay, even though you weren’t allowed to, you guys still went regardless.
It was 10pm, no one would be out here to get in your way or yell at you to get off the ice.
“Cmon Y/n/n, it's better out here” Jay said while attempting to slide farther out to the lake.
“I don’t know Jay, I kinda wanna stay over here. That way I get off easier than struggling to get off if I'm way over there.” you shrugged.
“Alright then, me and will be over there if you need us' ' He pointed towards the middle of the lake.
“Alright, I’m just gonna slide around.” You shivered. Maybe I should work more layers. You thought to yourself.
After a while you got bored and decided to go over to Will and Jay who were “fighting” over who got the better hockey stick.
Will pulled out his phone and checked the time. “Guys it’s 11 o'clock, she should head home now, if we all get a cold moms gonna know that we went outside without asking her, especially if Y/n gets sick”
“But I'm getting good at hockey,” you whined.
Will and Jay just have you that look. “Alright alright let’s go” You caved.
Because your brothers were better on ice than you were, they went up ahead of you.
“GUYS! I'M NOT AS FAST AS YOU SLOW DO-“ Before you could finish your sentence a loud Crack interrupted you.
That made the two Halstead brothers come to a halt and turn around to you. “No,” Jay whispered. “Y/n don’t move, just stay still we’ll come to you”
Before you could say anything the Ice broke.
Jays pov:
“Y/N, SHIT NO” I screamed, my little sister just fell through the ice.
Me and Will immediately slide over to where she fell in and I immediately throw my whole arm in the freezing water to see if I can feel Y/n
“Give me your other arm so I can pull you once you get her!” Will shouts.
“Once I touch something that feels semi to a human arm I pull. I can tell it’s Y/n because once I pull I feel a bit of weight.
“PULL WILL, PULL”
Once we were towards the edge of the Lake I pick y/n up bridal style and rushed over to land.
“Put her down here.” Will says.
“What the hell do we do?” I cry
“She’s not breathing, Jay, you need to run back to the house and call someone” Wills is studying medicine so he knows a couple of things about what to do in a life or death situation.
“WHO DO I CALL?” I shout
“I DO GIVE A FUCK, CALL 9-1-1 AND HURRY”
My body moves into autopilot as I’m running through the forest making sure I don’t trip on any rocks or roots.
My legs are burning and I can’t breathe but I can’t stop, if I stop Y/ns gonna die and it’ll be all my fault.
As I reach the house I punch in the code to the door and run upstairs to my bedroom.
I basically almost threw my phone into the air while trying to pick it up.
“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”
“It’s -it’s my sister, she fell into the lake and I don’t know if she’s breathing”
“Check if she has a pulse”
“My older brother is with her at the lake, he-he's studying medicine so he knows what he’s doing”
“What’s your name sweetheart?”
“Uhh jay, my names Jay”
“Alright Jay, How old is your sister and how long was she under water for?”
“I don’t- 5 minutes maybe, and her name is Y/n, but we all call her Y/n/n. I don't know what I’m gonna tell my mom, that my littler sister died because we didn’t listen to her?” I’m panicking.
“Jay, I’m gonna need you to take a deep breath, I have help coming on the way right now”
How did she get my location? I didn’t even tell her.
***
The paramedics arrived and Jay led them to the lake where Will was with you.
Will did successfully get you back but you were still unconscious.
Why didn’t we just listen?
***
“15 Year old Female Y/n Halstead, Hypothermia after falling through ice, Was unconscious on site and Has a history of Heart issues.” The paramedic listed off all the things
(Ik that Grey's anatomy is in Seattle but because the show is so old let’s just pretend that this happened with them, it’s been awhile since I’ve watched it so if I make mistakes Woops)
“Alright,on my count if we move her. 1…2…3”Alex said.
Alex looked you over and started telling Jo things to do. “I want a head Ct, Keep me updated on her temperature and get me Derek for a consult.” Jo nodded.
Jay and Will followed Dr. Karev outside. “Is she gonna be ok?” Jay asked.
“She’s not out of the woods yet, but we won’t know more until she wakes up which will be a couple of hours”
***
“Jay Halstead and Will Halstead” A stern voice called to them that made them Gulp.
“What in the world happened, and why did the Atwater’s call me and say that something happened on the lake and I needed to come home?” Your Mom stoked with her hands on her hips.
Jay and Will glanced at each other and knew they had no way out of this so they just decided to tell the truth and get it over with.
“I have told you guys time and time again not to play on that lake during the winter,
If you want to go ice skating go to the bigger one. Y/n has been punished enough, and as for you too, just until we get home, me and your father Will real with you. Do you understand?”
“Yes mom,” The boys said together.
“Alright, either the Atwater’s or the Uptons are going to pick you guys up and take you home. I will stay here with your sister, your father should be at home by now”
“But mom-“ Jay said. “No buts, wait here”
***
It had been a couple of weeks since the incident and A lot had happened.
You were on the News, people came to your school and spoke about Ice safety. Jay and Will were indeed grounded but only for two weeks. The lake was now closed off while they were still doing an investigation. Which you didn’t understand why because it’s not like anything else happened but it was whatever.
“Y/n hurry up you’re going to miss the bus!” Jay shouted from downstairs.
“HOLD ON IM COMING” You grabbed your backpack and ran down the stairs.
After getting all your stuff in your backpack you got all your stuff ready to walk to the bus stop.
“Alright, what’s the rules?” Will questioned you.
“No wandering off to the other lake, don’t take off my jackets unless I really need to and don’t get anything that will drop my body temperature”
“Good.”
“Do you still have to put my hat and Jacket on for me? I’m 15 years old.”
“Because of recent events and mom being gone and I’m going to leave soon I need to make sure you're ok, plus your body temperature is still not to its normal temp yet so layers it is.” You rolled your eyes at what would be said.
“I will pick you up for your doctor's appointment maybe 30 minutes before school ends, and Jay will drop your lunch off at the front office” Will said as he started walking at the door.
“Bye will see you later”
Once Will was gone, you ate the last of your waffles and grabbed your hot chocolate or what Jays calls “Jay's famous Hot chocolate” but it tasted like any other drink.
***
“I miss having you out on the lake by the middle school” Your friend Ellie said.
“Me too, but ever since my mom died Will and Jay have been strict on what I can do since my dad won’t really do much and they're trying to get me to learn stuff before Will leaves for New York and Jay leaves to serve” You shrugged.
“But I did convince Jay to get you some fries and nuggets” You laughed
“You are literally the best, I really didn’t feel like spending all my money in my account today” Yeah the school food was expensive but it’s because you guys had fast food restaurants in your cafeteria so I guess it made sense.
***
“Hey Nugget” Will greeted you as you got into the car.
“Hi Will, can we please get McDonald’s after my appointment?”
“Sure, where’s Jay? I told him he could get out of school early since he has a free period this week.”
“He said he wanted to stay at school, so he’s probably just walking around the hallways or doing whatever Jay does” You shrugged.
You thought about it for a while, your life was somewhat falling apart. Will was leaving for New York. Jay was getting deployed so you weren’t gonna see him. And your mom was gone so all you had left was your Dad, and your dad wasn’t the best person now since your dad died.
“Hey Will?”You broke the silence
“Yeah Nugget?”
“I’m- I’m gonna miss you when you leave” Here comes the water works.
“Me too Y/n me too”
Life from now on was going to be way different for you , and everyone around you knew that. You were going to get through it and it was going to be Ok. Right?
Well that’s at least what you thought…
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I Want To. | Wellness Check
logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.
[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third
portion; 4.7k+
possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.
pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)
we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.
Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.
Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.
But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.
...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?
He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.
He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.
It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”
“You do the Wordle?”
“Oh, fuck you—”
“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”
“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”
“…I like Connections.”
“I fuckin' hate Connections.”
“Alright, damn!”
The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.
“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”
He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.
When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”
He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”
“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”
He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.
‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’
You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.
‘When's the shift?’
‘6:30 to 12:30’
Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?
‘yeah i can reach’
‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’
You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—
“You make your own bread.”
“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.
“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”
“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.
“Fuck is this?”
“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”
“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”
“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...
“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”
He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”
"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."
"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"
"...I think it's fine."
“Fine?”
“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”
“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.
“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”
“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”
“Courtesy of me.”
“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”
“You’re very good, Carmen.”
“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”
It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.
You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.
“Itinerary for today?”
“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”
“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.
He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”
“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”
“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.
“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”
You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.
“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”
It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.
You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!
Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.
Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!
And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!
...
God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.
This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—
“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”
You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.
You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—
“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.
“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!
“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”
You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.
While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.
You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”
He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”
You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”
“Right to the point with you.”
“I hate suspense.” You shrug.
“You liked Mikey.”
What the fuck?
You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”
“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”
“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.
“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”
“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”
He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”
“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”
You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”
“You know ‘em?”
You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”
“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”
Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.
“I dunno, Uncle J…”
Oh.
28 unread texts from Syd.
3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.
9 missed calls from Syd.
Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…
You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”
He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”
“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”
“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”
“I like to think ahead.”
“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.
“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”
He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”
“I remember what I'm told.”
His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”
“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”
“We’re acquainted.”
“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”
He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin’ come up, Chip?”
“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.
He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”
At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.
You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.
“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”
You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.
“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”
“What?!”
“That’s what fucking code blue means!”
“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”
“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.
“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?
“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”
You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.
“…Did—Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Have you called an ambulance?”
There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”
Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”
“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said— Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.
“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”
“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”
“That’s what they all do.”
“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”
“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”
“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”
You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.
“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.
You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?
“Alright— Relax—”
“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”
“Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”
“Everyone shut the fuck up!”
You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.
“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”
Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”
You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”
“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.
“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”
“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again—?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”
A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.
“It looks tight.”
There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.
“It is.”
He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”
“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”
He nods. He takes a second but he nods.
You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.
You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”
“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”
You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.
“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”
“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”
“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”
When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”
There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”
You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”
She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.
You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.
...
“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”
“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”
“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.
“She’s gonna hate me.”
“Who?”
“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.
“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”
“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”
“Not help—fu—ll.”
“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”
“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”
You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”
She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.
“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”
She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”
You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.
You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.
You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”
You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”
You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”
“I can’t— Move.”
“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”
She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.
“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.
You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”
“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.
You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.
“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”
She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”
“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”
“Condescending as fuck?”
“Yes, exactly, can you?”
“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.
You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”
“Why do I—”
“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”
He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”
You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”
Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”
“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet— A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”
They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”
“Yes, Chef!”
You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.
He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”
“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”
He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.
But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”
He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.
“Yes, Chef.”
I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.
I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.
And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!
Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3
Next Part
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2x12
spencer reid x morgan!reader
note: i got carried away with this one...
warnings: Sarah calls Spencer 'freaky' (lovingly), murder, eating/food
wordcount: 2388
Spencer was showing the girl’s his ‘physics magic’ when he got a little too comfortable and almost hit Hotch on his way into the bullpen. The girl’s pretended to not be involved as Hotch picked up the ‘rocket’ and looked at Spencer, “Physics magic?” “Yes, sir.” “Reid, we talked about this.” “I’m sorry, sir.”
The tense air in the room dissipated when Hotch placed the ‘rocket’ on the young man’s desk and said, “You’re starting to get some distance on those.”
The girls gathered back around the desk seemingly to have forgotten whatever they were doing that made them innocent to the physics magic happening.
“So he does have a sense of humour?” “Sometimes.” Spencer replied back to Emily, him and Y/n always seemed to be able to get him out of his usual stoic nature.
“So hey. Where’s the Morgans?” The brunette woman asked, Spencer once again had the answer, “Chicago. They go every year for their mother’s birthday.”
-
Derek and Y/n were walking out of the corner store and they got a couple things for their older sister, Sarah, before heading back home.
“You really think she’s got enough butter?” “Hey, y’know Sarah, if she doesn’t put it on the list, she doesn’t need it. She doesn’t make mistakes.” The younger girl said sarcastically, before they turned the corner to see Rodney and his guys.
“Y/n! Lookin’ good. I mean, damn, you’ve filled out in all the right places since you left.” “Step off, Rodney. Y/n/n get in the car.” “C’mon, D.” “I said get in the car.” Y/n accepted the defeat, whenever they got back to Chicago it was back to when they were kids, Y/n was a young helpless girl until big brother Derek came to the rescue.
“That’s okay, baby, I’ll get with you a little later, huh?” “In your dreams, Rodney.” “Most definitely. All night long, baby girl.”
Big brother Derek made his presence known, “You better step off before I make you wish you never walked up on me.” “Oh what? You two some bad-asses now ‘cause they pay you to wear that gun, Mr and Miss F.B.I?” “Rodney, he’s proved before he doesn’t need a gun to take you out.” “Past history? That’s a dangerous thing for you to count on, baby.” “Rodney. Walk away.”
Rodney laughs in Derek’s face, “Y/n/n, I’ll get at you a little later.” “Go to hell.” Rodney and his guys left around the corner, Derek motioned with his arm to get in the car, “C’mon, I’ll take you home. Then there’s something I gotta do.”
-
The five of them sat around the dinner table as Desi brought the cake in from the kitchen and Derek counted them in. “One, two, three” And they all sang happy birthday to their mom.
Their mom, of course, couldn’t have a moment just about her, even after Derek said ‘Go ahead, momma’ she didn’t blow out the candles before praising her second youngest’s effort.
“Did you make this yourself?” Desi replied, “Oh, Sarah and Y/n helped me.” “Momma, they wouldn’t let me help so I don’t know how good it’s gonna taste.” Derek said, teasing his sisters. But Sarah always made sure to put D in his place, “Oh, no, no, you remember that Christmas fiasco of 1994?”
“I remember that.” “The fire!” “Oh, that was bad.”
“Whatever, that was 12 years ago! Let it go!” “No, no, no, we still get cards from the fire department.” “Serious?” Y/n asked from her spot next to her older sister.
“Mama, you see how they treat your baby boy?” “You be good to your brother.” “Uh-huh, what she said!” “You got the ‘baby’ part right at least.” Y/n mumbled, intended for Sarah to hear but she spoke a little loud.
“Okay you know what?” “Hey!" “You better watch out!” The siblings fought over the table. “What? What?” “All right!”
Their fighting could only be put to rest by their mom. And when she did, they got back to her blowing out her candles, “Okay, wish, a wish..”
And cheering began as their mom finally blew out her candles.
-
“What is it?” The siblings laughed from their scattered places on the couch, watching their mom open her gifts. It was Derek’s turn and he explained to their mom what he got her and how she can use it. After some teasing Sarah and Desi started cleaning up a little so Y/n and Derek could catch up more with their mom since they don’t get to see her as much.
“We miss you two around here.” “I know.” Y/n leant her head on the older woman’s shoulder as she was holding Derek’s hand. Derek usually covered this for them, he knew Y/n felt guilty for not being around more so he was always the one to explain it to their mom.
“You’re careful right? I lost your dad. I can’t lose you two.” “You won’t.” “And watch after this one she was always the trouble maker.” “I do.”
She patted her son’s hand before she got back to the teasing, something the Morgan’s were very good at, “Good, cause you owe me some grandbabies.” “Look at her, she’s got the genius wrapped around her finger.” “D, give that up!”
This was not the first time their mom had heard about Spencer. Derek loved bringing it up to deflect questions off of him.
"That Doctor you work with? Are you two together now? Why didn't you mention it, baby?"
But suddenly a loud and persistent knocking on the door broke the family from their chatter. “Saved by the bell! Get it, D, you’re closest.” Detek swatted at his little sister before getting the door. And it was Sheriff Gordinski.
“Gordinski?” “You armed?” “Excuse me?” “Are you wearing a gun?” “No, not right now.” “Then turn around.” Derek laughed, he’s an FBI agent who does Gordinski think he is? Was all Y/n could think.
“You’re under arrest, Derek.”
-
“C’mon Wally, you got to tell me something, my team is on the case!” “I don’t answer to you, Morgan.” “You called in FBI? I’m FBI.”
The woman was standing, towering over Wally as he sat on his desk not giving her a second glance, he never respected her and he wasn’t gonna start now.
“Special Agent Hotchner, FBI, I’m looking for-” He brilliant and stoic voice of her boss, Hotch, cut through the background chatter of the station.
Y/n quickly discarded Wally after seeing the team making her way over to them and interrupting an officer at his desk that Hotch originally asked, “Oh, Hotch- Chuck, I got this.” She liked Chuck. He was one the alright guys, he’d helped her get out of a lot back in the day.
“How’re you guys doing? I’m Wally Dennison, CPD.” “Unimportant. The only reason he’s left hand man is ‘cause he does whatever Gordi tells him to.” Hotch seemingly moved right past the comment, “Where’s Agent Morgan?” “Detective Gordinski’s in with the suspect now.” “I need to see him.” And for the millionth time, Wally gets in over his head and has no idea what and where his place is. As he walked away the girl mumbled, “I don’t like them calling D a ‘suspect’” into JJ’s shoulder as the older woman gave her a side hug.
-
Gordinski finally came out from wherever he was, letting Hotch go in to talk to Derek. Gordi went on to tell Gideon how helpful his profile was in arresting Derek. Worst part was he never cared to hide his distaste for the man, calling Derek a ‘son of a bitch’. That racist bastard! Was all Y/b could think.
Spencer could see the signs of anger in Y/n the way she was scratching her skin, he always hated it when she did it. Luckily she only did when she was mad, which was not a lot, but right now she was really mad. Spencer cut her off when he saw she was going to say something that definitely shouldn’t come out of an FBI agent’s mouth.
“Detective, a profile’s just a guide.” “This one guided me to him.” “They’re really more useful in the elimination of suspects-” “Not the inclusion. Gordi, you got the wrong guy.” She mumbled, not quietly.
Gordinski walked the team through his flawed work, he showed them the coincidences he’s found and the circumstantial evidence he’s collected.
Spencer reached down and grabbed Y/n’s hand from where it was scratching her skin and brought it towards him to hold, biether thought too much of the gesture, but JJ did and made sure she’d tell Garcia about it when this was all cleared up.
“There are key pieces of the profile that don’t fit, Detective. The age, 25-35, Morgan was 15 or so at the time.” “Also says that age is the hardest to predict.” He had a point there, “-And I should never exclude someone simply because of a discrepancy with the age.”
“What about the speculation that since he didn’t manage to leave any evidence at the scene of the crime that he most likely has a criminal record or previous law enforcement knowledge? Derek wasn’t even in the bureau yet when the first body was found.”
She knew Gordi was gonna break the news so Y/n did it for him, maybe that in some way will she Gordinski that Derek wasn’t hiding that, “Derek, had a criminal record.”
-
Gordinski was back at his desk now, the team had a quiet discussion without his input. Finally.
“Y/n, you bring Prentiss and Reid to talk to your family. Learn all about him, especially at the time of the first murder.”
“I don’t have a car, one of the cops brought me down.”
“I can take you.” Wally seemed to cut in out of nowhere, and with how much he annoys Y/n she was quick to jump on him for it, “Wally, we don’t need-” “No, actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Gideon said. “Right. Lead the way, Walls.”
-
“Is Derek alright?” “He wouldn’t let us go down there, Y/n luckily convinced him to let her go.” Y/n’s mom added on to her older sister's initial question “He’s fine. Our boss is with him.” “He’s okay, momma.” Y/n reassured further after Emily.
“Did they he and Y/n tell you Gordinski’s been harassing him since he was a kid?” “Whys that?” Spencer asked, innocently, not realising he was asking Sarah, “You’d have to ask the bastard.” Y/n was sat in the chair in front of him, reaching her hand back and patted Spencer’s arm in sympathy, as their mom shared her disappointment with Sarah’s harsh words.
Wally had some things to say that only made Sarah more riled up, “What are you even doing in my mother’s house?!” “They asked me.” “Not really.” Spencer mumbled, eating the piece of cake.
“I don’t understand how they could think he did this.” “Someone may be trying to make it look like he hurt those kids.” “And the police believe it?” “But he’s an FBI agent.” Desi cut, Y/n was about to gently tell her sister that in an investigation that doesn’t really matter, but of course Spencer cut in with his ever present knowledge.
“Actually, law enforcement officials are just as probable statistically to commit a crime as anyone else.” Y/n placed her head in her hands, she loved hearing Spencer talk about what he knows but sometimes- he just can’t read a room “Look at the cross-section of a society, there’s a general population and a small fraction of this percentage is-” “Momma, he’s not saying they believe D is involved in this.” “Oh, no, no! Yeah, not at all! I’m merely speaking theoretically.”
Sarah almost looks at him like he’s crazy, and Desi speaks up from where she’s standing behind their mom, seemingly only talking to embarrass her little sister. “You're Dr. Reid?” “Mhmm.” “Derek and Y/n have talked about you.” And her head falls back onto her hands. “Really?” Spencer says, smugly from his spot above his best friend.
“Derek loves kids. Every time he’s here he goes to the youth centre.” “Youth Centre?” “The Upward Youth Centre.” “Does that have some sort of significance for him?” Spencer cut into Emily and Mrs.Morgan’s conversation to ask, “What are you saying? There’s something in it for him, other than giving back to poor kids of your neighbourhood?” “Sarah, these are me and D’s friends. They’re only here to help. When they ask a question, it isn’t to denigrate or demean anything Derek’s done.” “We just have to know everything so we can figure out where to look next. Does The Youth Centre hold any special significance to him?”
“The Youth Centre saved his life.”
Sarah and their mom explained to Emily and Spencer and maybe even Y/n, since she was too young at the time, the history between Derek and the law and Gordinski.
After hearing about Carl, Emily decided she was headed there next, leaving Y/n and Spencer with her family.
-
Spencer and Y/n were left at her mom’s house till the case eventually closed, and Derek got closure and justice for the boys. But until then,
Y/n knew what the team was doing with this, Y/n was too connected to the case and Spencer stayed with her because he could keep her at a level head.
They continued looking through old stuff of Detek’s and some of all the siblings, Spencer loved seeing the pictures of when Y/n was a child. At this point their job was more so to keep Sarah from freaking and keeping her mom from worrying too much about Derek.
“What’s this one?” “Aww, that was Y/n the week after Derek left for college.” The photo was of a young Y/n with a pout on her lips, it was Spencer’s favourite, she still made that same face from time to time. It was cute.
The women slowly left the dining table and made their way to the living room, watching how the two at the table didn’t even notice. Spencer was too busy looking for more adorable photos and Y/n trying to gather the incriminating ones.
“I thought Derek was just teasing her, but she really does like that freaky genius boy that much.”
~taglist ~
@chrissyclg @pillsbury-doughgirl @the-holy-trinity-l @theillestvillain3 @random000000sblog @flow33didontsmoke
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