Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Are you going to stay up all night?”

He feels her hand softly touch his shoulder. Her voice is soft, and soothing. And this should feel good, right? This should feel nice.

But it doesn't.

What he should've done was have gone to the restaurant, instead. With everyone there busting their ass to make this happen, and instead he's up past three in the morning furiously sketching. Drawing the menu, and unable to sleep.

He closes his eyes briefly and breathes through his nose, trying to escape this feeling of panic covering over him. This was supposed to make things easier, but it's not.

Instead of answering her question, he starts explaining the menu to her. Every little detail, flipping back and forth between the pages and explaining the meaning, the intention behind each one. She isn't looking at him like she getting it, and he feels another stab of guilt. Hiding. She knows.

What was it she said when he ran into her at Potash? About the girl that broke her arm.

I wanted to understand it.

He talks about how Syd came up with the idea of the fishes, and he sees the small smile at the corner of her mouth.

“What?” he asks her.

“It's just...you talk about her a lot,” she tells him, her hand moving across his shoulder, as she bends down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Well, she's my-my-my CDC,” he says to her, blinking back at her.

“I know, you told me,” she says, smiling with teeth now. “She sits down at the table in the empty chair next to him. “You know, what if you just reclaimed all of it?”

“All of what?” he asks her, feeling his body get still, on edge.

“The stuff you used to do with Mikey. Your mom's stuff,” she tells him, reaching forward with a hand, putting it on his wrist, and slipping the pencil out of it. “Remember the cannoli your mom used to always make?”

She pushes back his chair and situates herself into his lap. He doesn't get it, she has to work tomorrow, too. Is this because he didn't have sex with her earlier?

“Yeah, I hate cannoli,” he says to her, swallowing as she settles into his lap. Also, he doesn't want to think about his fucking mom right now. He's stressed out enough as it is.

“But you can make them your cannoli now,” she tells him with a flash of her eyes.

“That's,” he sighs, feeling so conflicted. “That's not how we planned the menu, though.”

“You mean you and Syd?” she asks him, smiling brightly again, leaning her forehead against his. He can feel her breathing across his lips, and his heart starts to race. He doesn't like her talking about Syd. At all.

“You're the exec,” she goes on. “Are you going to tell me that's now how the kitchen works?” she says, practically whispering it to him, her fingers stroking his face.

“That's not how the kitchen works,” he says to her, stopping the movement of her hands with his. He gives her a conciliatory smile. “I can't do any of this without Syd.”

“Fair,” she says. "You like a woman to be on top." Then she hums. “But you hate talking about your mom, huh?”

“Yes,” he says to her nodding his head.

“Then we should stop talking about your mom,” she says, grinning, as she moves in to kiss him. He kisses her back. All of this is new to him. He likes how it feels, how easy this is. He used to be terrified of talking to girls, and that had gotten easier for him.

All this time, talking to Syd. How he was so interested in her, but she changes the subject when he tries to get too close. It makes him want to be closer.

His mind flashes an image in his head, of him kissing Syd, while he kisses her. He knows he should not, but he lets it build, his eyes closed, and then feels his heart racing, his mind and his heart going in two different directions while his body simply acts.

“I'm sorry,” he says to her, drawing back suddenly, not quite able to look at her. Why is he so fucked in the head? He can't be doing shit like this. It's not right.

“I'll come to bed, okay?” he tells her, searching her face now, nodding when she smiles at him a little.

She gets up off his lap and walks to his bedroom, and he presses his lips together, staring down at the drawings. He looks at the pencil again, the one he was holding before.

He wants to pick it up again, there's such an urge. To finish what he started, and then he closes his eyes, and sighs deeply, running a hand over his face.

A fake number. He gave her a fake number and now she's in his bed. He's trying to retrace the steps in his mind and why she was even at Potash to begin with, when it's not even in her neighborhood. He never asked her about that.

Maybe he doesn't want to.

Like he didn't want to even have to admit he gave her a fake number, like a loser, because this all seemed like too much effort, and then she made everything so easy.

He stands up from the chair, and inhales, and taps his fingers against the drawings on the table. These are for Syd.

These are good, and not messy like he is.

Chapter Text

The last thing he wants is for Syd to think he's shitty.

They've already had a conversation where she told him he's a literal piece of shit, but then she came back, so he kind of interprets that as he was being shitty in the moment.

But now she's gotten it into his head about Claire that he's not being sincere, and he needs to do the right thing.

Neil isn't really much help, either, but what did he expect? Having to call someone your girlfriend is fucked; how long have they even been dating?

This fire suppression test is going to kill him. His anxiety is through the roof, and this morning, it had been nice for Claire to be so understanding.

The other shoe doesn't have to drop. No one is counting shoes. Because even after he'd come to bed, he couldn't sleep. It was still dark when he got up again and went to the table and got the drawings to a state of completion where he felt satisfied.

He had waited until she fell asleep, until she stopped talking to him about his mother and cannoli, and they shared more stories from when they were growing up, but it's so weird how she remembers all the details differently. Their family situation is kind of fucked, similarly. She told him about her mom just always getting whatever she wants, no holds barred, which was why she had to ask for help to move her, because if she hadn't, she would've made her feel guilty at every turn.

It's funny, 'cause he remembered her being so popular, but Mikey and Richie didn't pay her any attention like they did other girls. Really, they were kind of shitty about girls and women in general, it's a sore subject. He still remembers Richie calling Syd sweetheart the first day she started, and it made his stomach turn.

Like, fuck, no, Cousin, get out of here with that fake wannabe Italian shit. Offering her his hand and trying to be smooth-

He watches as they all line up together in the kitchen, and this is the moment. Make or break and his nerves are lit on fire, like the restaurant would be with a gas leak. He starts thinking about Mikey, about almost burning the place down, about Michelle telling him to keep going, and that's what he's doing here, right?

He's just trying to keep going. And he can't handle the waiting any more, the pressure of the moment, then it's over, and the relief he feels, he feels himself yell out into the restaurant.

And he has everything he needs right here in this kitchen.

The first person he sees is Syd, and she's practically jumping out of her skin, the biggest smile on her face, and reaches for her and hugs her tightly. And it's the closet he's ever been. The closest he's ever felt to anyone, and he doesn't want to let go, but he feels her hands on his arms, like she maybe has held onto him too long, too, and he doesn't want to think about that right now.

He wants to live in the moment, to feel this washing, this cleansing, of relief. He thinks about Mikey again.

This idea just comes to him as the team is doing the prep and getting everything ready. The lamb ragu and the pasta, and all the things he wants to make and do. To get better at something, like, that it could be good after all?

That he doesn't have to be so shitty. He leaves to call her, and she's working, so he texts her a message after and then heads to the store, buys all the ingredients and heads back to his place, and starts the food and hops in the shower to get the smell of the restaurant off.

He sees The Beef t-shirt folded up in his dresser when he opens it and thinks about Mikey again. About how all of this felt like maybe it wasn't possible, and he puts it on. It's not something he has to be scared of, anymore, the past.

While he's finishing up the ragu, he thinks about Cousin putting together the place setting and the flowers, and how if he can turn things around, he should be able to. He laughs at himself, at the thought of Cousin in suits now. Man, three days and he's like a new man.

The door is unlocked, so when Claire comes in, she drops her purse on the sofa and then walks right up to him and kisses him.

“See?” she says to him afterwards. “No shoes dropped.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head and smiling at her.

“Look at you,” she says, giving him the once-over. “The Beef? I thought you were all done with that?”

“Well,” he says to her, nodding. “It felt good to think about what Mikey always wanted. You know. For the restaurant. For me.”

“I get it,” she tells him, as he guides her to the table, and she bites on her bottom lip and sits down in the chair across from him. “You made me dinner.” She gives him a look that makes his heart melt a little. “Are you going to tell me what it is, chef?” she asks with a grin, putting the napkin on her lap.

“Yeah, it's lamb ragu with fresh bucatini,” he says to her.

“Fresh?” she says with a flash of her eyes, weaving her fingers together and leaning forward across the table. “Is this another of your family recipes? I sense a theme here,” she tells him.

“N-no,” he tells her, and finds himself suddenly frowning, watching her eyes on him, expectant. Waiting and seeming endlessly patient.

“Okay,” she says to him, mercifully dropping it and lifting her fork to try it, letting the silence hang between them, as he picks at the food. “It's really beautiful, Carmy,” she finally says. “Thanks for making it for me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says to her, and smiles, as he feels his heart racing in his chest, it's confusing, such an odd sensation to have. He tries to not think about Syd being in his kitchen. Telling him the story of the mean pasta lady.

He finds himself chuckling to himself as he thinks about it.

“What's so funny?” she asks him.

Chapter Text

They don't need him.

She doesn't need him.

No amount of good is worth how terrible this feels. Amusement and enjoyment. It was a waste of time. He's said it, and it's too late to take the words back.

She didn't need to hear it from him like that.

It makes him feel cruel and nasty inside, like Cousin had said, he's just like his mom. How could he possibly think he could offer her anything good, when he can't even finish service in the restaurant? , Look at what he did.

Look what he did!

The restaurant that he let them all bust their asses making happen, and then he bitched and complained like a child when he finally came up for air and realized that he hadn't been a part of any of it.

This guilt is going to eat him alive. He can't even think about saying sorry, even think about speaking the words. The only thing he knows how to do right, and he can't even do that.

His mind whirls around, trying to find a calm place to land. Fuck, he's so fucked.

He should've ended things with her like he wanted to, but she made it so easy, and even now, he just wants that feeling, he doesn't even know what to call it.

How could she say that to him on a voicemail? That he should be proud of what he'd done when he was so checked out.

Saying that she loved him?

Loved him for what? What had they actually done this whole time besides fool around? He sniffs and feels the cold of the walk-in around him, at how long he's been in here, and how his fingertips are starting to feel numb. He stares at his phone still lying on the floor where he dropped it.

Is it that? Does he just want to be numb? It would be better, wouldn't it, than all the shouting and the chaos, and it reminds him of his mom. He was locked in the fridge, so he couldn't crash the car and bring the whole house down.

He presses his lips together thinking about it, squeezing his hands tightly, feeling the stiffness in them from the cold. She didn't even ask. She didn't even ask if he was okay. A medical professional.

A bitter, petty sound escapes from his chest and travels up and out of his mouth, comes out as an aborted attempt at laughter.

That story she told him about the girl with the thousand cuts, and how she laughed because she didn't feel anything yet. That was for him, wasn't it? It was like a fucking warning, or something, about how broken he was. She saw it, and she still went along.

He doesn't understand. Was it all just some kind of game to see how far along it would go? Shoplifting. The thrill of something that wasn't safe, like driving when you're terrible at it? All these thoughts come racing into his mind as he hears the saw whirl and cut into the door, sending sparks flying.

Wait, was he the one getting taken for a ride?

He can't believe he left Syd alone. There isn't any excuse for that, it's eating him alive. He needs a smoke; he needs an entire pack of cigarettes to get through this night.

No, he's done with all of that. He's done with amusement and enjoyment of any kind. He will hurt people if he does that. Even hurting Claire isn't what terrifies him here. Bad, and he doesn't know how to deal with that, but it's not what kept him awake at night.

It was the idea of letting down Syd. Syd, who he wants and can't have. Syd who he made a restaurant for and with even though he doesn't know how to do that, not really.

She's the reason he doesn't want his mother around, that he doesn't want to have to deal with her at all. That whole side of him, she's seen enough already in this restaurant, how messy he is.

He thought if he fixed this restaurant, if he made it look different on the inside, that it would fix other things, like his family. But it hasn't.

Cousin just had it out with him, made him feel like he was a teenager all over again. Like Mikey was telling him what's what and making sure he had the last word, always.

They're going to dump this ass, aren't they?

The Michelin star. She wants that. She would stay for that if he was able to do that for her? She would need him again.

He's so pathetic, he thinks, staring up at the ceiling, playing this waiting game. He doesn't even know what he'll say to her when he's out. He's said sorry to her before, did it earlier this very night. He can do that again.

The worst part is, he didn't even get to watch. He didn't get to see her finish service out and he wanted to be there beside her. They had started out rough, but they had recovered, they were doing it together. They were working and had fallen back in sync, it felt so thrilling, he felt invincible...

And then he'd locked himself inside. The final straw. It was his job to get the handle fixed, and it's a metaphor for this whole fucking opening.

It's all he wanted, to just be able to do this with her. To not ruin everything by acting like a teenager around her, but that was what he had done.

If he'd just had the courage to meet her at Kasama instead, maybe all of this would have turned out differently? Or, no, he would've screwed that up, too. She is here for the restaurant, for the star, not for him.

It's all a waste of time to think otherwise. It's just how he's made.

It's who he is.

Chapter Text

He might need some amusement and enjoyment.

And he's going to need a lot of courage, because he doesn't know what to do with himself right now. He's feeling strangely optimistic though.

She said yes to be his plus one for this dinner. It's about the restaurant, but also not about the restaurant. It's about her, and making her feel appreciated, and letting her know how he sees her and where she belongs.

Right at his side. Peers. Partners, he hopes.

Breathing out he looks at himself in the mirror and he thinks about his conversation with Cicero, but really, what happened before that and how he was just spraying off the area in back around the dumpsters and it felt like he was getting things in order again.

Cleaning up his side of the street.

He'd just been enjoying that, and the sunshine, before Cicero showed up making things all about money again.

Money and his mom. His two least fucking favorite subjects if he's being honest with himself. Really, the first step for him was to ask Syd to the dinner tonight.

He doesn't know why it didn't occur to him before to do that? Well, he does, he was obsessing over shit like a fucking robot, and not looking at what was right in front of him is what he'd been doing.

Syd still hadn't signed the agreement, and he knows something is up with her, when she showed up in that outfit, with those excellent short, pleated pants. And the bow. Oh God, don't get him started on the bow.

He wants to know all about Syd with the bow.

Maybe he will be able to find out tonight? It was a combination of that, and her being straight with him and telling him she wasn't his babysitter, wasn't it? Basically, politely telling him to get his shit together, and it had rocked him, he's not going to lie to himself about that.

The way she was so fucking calm when she did it, too.

That he can admit he's not cut out for this, that he made a mess, and he thought they would all need him. And the truth is, he needs her, they all do. Not the other way around.

If he could hand off the whole fucking thing to her, he would, but he's not sure how Cicero would handle that. Computer? Fuck that guy, definitely not.

She was trying to tell him something last night, he thinks, as he straightens the cuffs of his dress shirt underneath the jacket. He's not sure it was going to be something he wanted to hear, but he has nothing to lose at this point.

Losing the restaurant he can handle. Losing Syd? Nah.

He doesn't really do dress up stuff like this, not since Mikey's funeral, which he drove to, but didn't actually attend, just watched everyone pile out of the church like a bunch of memories coming flooding back all at once. Or haunts, maybe?

He is tired of feeling haunted. He knows he still owes Claire an apology, too. He will be sure to do that right after he finds out if this other shoe is going to drop.

He should've done this sooner, he shouldn't have waited, and hesitated. He should've gone to Kasama. Should've just done it, and not tried to play it safe.

It's bad, it's gotten bad and distracting, and he's in the restaurant with her every day, and he's watching her, and she doesn't need him at all, professionally or personally.

And it's been driving him crazy.

All they do is live, and eat, and breathe this shit. Isn't she tired of it, too?

Doesn't she want something else, something that's not within the walls of this restaurant? That's what he wants to ask her. Just ask and see what she says.

Of course, he wants her to say she wants him. But that's a long shot. He wants to tell her how much she means to him, how much he needs her. And not just physically.

Although, he's stopped pretending he doesn't want that, too. Sometimes he thinks he can barely hide it, that she's going to see, and he'll be found out.

He thinks about kissing her. About putting his arms around her again. Making her laugh. Making her...making her come.

Taking the pack of Nicorette out of his pocket, he pops a piece in, feels the bitter taste and it takes his mind off of it. The memory plays in his head of her trying it, finding the taste repellent.

She might think the same thing about him at this point.

He stares down at his phone and sees the text thread, from Fak, sharing that there's a party at Syd's new place after the dinner. So, they're all going to be up late.

Fuck, he hates parties. Fuck, he wants to see Syd's new place. He stares at the address, at the stupid image that Fak added of a Grizzly bear holding a keg. Fucking Fak. Giving Claire his number. He swears, if they try to sabotage this night, he will-

He looks at the time and realizes he doesn't want to be late. He wants to get there before she does so he can introduce her to everyone.

His reflection stares back at him, one last time. He straightens out his shirt cuffs again and looks at the top of his dresser. The past and the future right there. Something Syd left behind when she was over here last. And Mikey's prayer card.

He says a little prayer for himself.

Chapter Text

“Is that all?”

He stares back at her, dumbfounded. She must be messing with me, he thinks. She's just blinking at him, as he sits there on her couch. She even has her arms crossed like she's going to give him a demerit, or something.

“Yeah, Syd,” he says to her, sighing. “That's all I've got.”

“Okay,” she says to him, with a shrug.

“Okay? Really?” he asks her, sitting up straighter on the couch. “What do you think, Syd?”

“About you telling me you need me?” she answered, making a scoffing noise. “Duh.”

“Duh,” he said, pursing his lips together, nodding.

“I-I think,” she starts to tell him, gesturing towards him with a hand. “That the restaurant survived, and that we still have this. That we're still friends, right?” she goes on, with a shake of her head.

“Friends, right,” he tells her nodding rapidly. “That's good. I do like that we're friends.”

He stands up, the nervous energy of the moment finally getting to him, and he rubs his hands along his jeans, and wants to reach into the pockets, but he doesn't chew the gum anymore, he gave it up.

“Carm,” she says, to him, crossing her arms again. “I don't know what to think. That's the truth. I feel like I've aged about a thousand years, and holy shit, it's been, like, what...two years?”

“A little under,” he admits flatly, swallowing. “And that's because of me. That's on me.”

“I think we both contributed,” she tells him, frowning now. “And two restaurants, later. Really, three if you count The Beef.”

“Fuck,” he says to her, laughing, covering his mouth with his fingers. “We're fucking nuts.”

“We're fucking nuts,” she agrees with him, a slow smile forming on her face.

“How the fuck did we survive all of this?” he wonders, blinking, biting on his bottom lip because nothing he said to her just now, that didn't even cross his mind. He was just a bundle of nerves trying to get his feelings out.

“But now we know,” she says to him. “What not to do, and that it's not just all restaurant, all the time, right?”

“No,” he tells her, sighing again, burying his hands in his pockets. “So, if there's anything you want to share with me-”

“You want me to tell you I need you back?” she asked him, raising her eyebrows. “Why do you think I'm still here, Carm?”

“Because we share something,” he tells her, rocking on the balls of his feet, nerves getting the best of him. “We wanted the same thing, and we kept going until we found it.”

“Great,” she tells him. “We had to learn to do that together.” He watches her eyes narrow and then flutter. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “And I think we should keep doing it,” he says, watching her start to smile at him, as he finds himself mirroring her own.

“And I think,” she says to him, lowering her arms and taking a step closer to him. She presses her lips together for a moment before starting again. “I think that...we should fuck.”

He feels himself lean forward, his eyes getting wider, because he's not sure he heard her correctly. “I'm sorry,” he says to her. “Could you repeat that, please?”

“If you make me say it again, Carm, we're not doing it,” she tells him, with a tilt of her head, a naughty smile playing on her lips. The kind of smile he's dreamt of a thousand times.

No more waiting, then. He grabs the bottom of his t-shirt, and takes it off, right over his head.

“Oh, you meant right now,” she says, as he walks towards her, tossing the shirt to the ground as he grabs her and kisses her like he means it. He feels her sigh into his mouth, and pulls back to look at him, to run her fingers along his face, and then down his shoulders, along his arms.

“The chemistry is definitely there,” she says to him, before she kisses him back, hard, almost making him lose his balance, and he tilts his head so that she can get better access, and walks them backwards, until he runs into a wall.

She starts giggling, and he can't help but join in, and he helps her undo the buttons of her shirt, opening it up in front of him, watching her slowly slide it off her shoulders. It's making him so impatient, and she finally drops it to the floor. Maybe she's nervous, but it's also such a tease and it turns him on.

He stares at her breasts, perfect, and the lacy bra containing them, lovely, go away, while her fingers run along the line of hair below his navel, and it makes him shiver. She starts to unbutton the front of his pants.

“Have you wanted to do this for a long time?” she asks him, working the denim apart.

“Yeah,” he says to her, lifting a strap off her shoulder and sliding it down her arm. “You?”

“For fucking ever,” she tells him, staring up at him through her lashes, as she gets him free of his underwear, and looks down as she strokes him, watches him start to come undone and moves in to kiss him, just as he moans into her mouth. “Turns out I have a really accurate imagination.”

“Oh, fuck, Syd,” he says, and kisses her back, slipping his tongue into her mouth and reaching around her back to fumble at trying to take her bra off. She ends up doing it for him, and now they're chest to chest, he can feel the length of him pressed up against his stomach by hers, and he's never been so hard in his whole life.

His hands slip down below the waistband of her shorts, and he feels out the roundness of her ass, and he lifts her up until she's in his arms, and they both topple over together, landing in a pile on the floor as he tries to break their fall.

“Are you okay?” she asks him, since she ended up on top. He definitely thinks so. His elbow kind of hurts.

“That always looks so easy in movies,” he tells her, squinting, making her laugh, and then they're both laughing, until their faces are so close again.

And it goes quiet, and serious, as they stare at each other. “I want this to last forever,” she tells him.

He answers her with a kiss.