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They really should have listened when Natalie told them to go home before midnight for once in their lives.
They really, really should have listened when Tina told them it looks like there'll be a rough storm tonight when she was leaving.
But no, they had to be their usual stubborn selves and try to finish the pumpkin and carrot risotto for the winter menu even though they had an entire off day tomorrow to do so.
Fucking risotto, Sydney thinks. She swears it's her worst enemy.
She stands beside Carmen with a hand on the freezing front door of the restaurant, frowning at the about four feet tall layer of snow outside as he talks with Richie over his phone.
"Swim through it? What the fuck is wrong with you? You can't swim through snow Richie." Sydney ducks her head, trying not to laugh in this very unfortunate situation. "You've tried?!" She laughs then, loud and abrupt, which makes him smile in turn, both very much believing that Richie would be stupid enough to try to swim through snow like a fucking cartoon character to get where he needs to go.
Here phone rings somewhere behind her, prompting her to finally look away from their white fluffy demise. She lays on the floor, stomach down and propped up by her elbows to take the video call.
"Hey Nat."
"Hey! Just checking to see if you got home safe. This storm is fucking crazy. We might have to stay closed after Monday."
"Oh, yeah, definitely," she scratches at her forehead, "but um, actually, ha, funny story-" Natalie finally looks at her phone screen when Sydney starts fumbling and notices the restaurant ceiling lights in the frame.
"Syd, please don't tell me you're at that restaurant."
"Oh okay, then I won't."
"Sydney."
"Natalie."
"Where's Carmy? He didn't leave you alone, did he?" Sydney notes the slight anger and concern in her tone and quickly tries to amend it.
"What? No. He didn't leave me. He's fighting with Richie." As if on cue, a slew of curses spill from his mouth and into the room, his cousin's name not far behind.
"Carm!" Her and Natalie both yell, scolding him for the sake of the baby babbling away in Nat's arms.
"The fuck did I do?"
"Your very precious, innocent niece can hear you." Carmen sighs in defeat and sits down beside Sydney on the floor.
"Sorry Sug."
"It's fine Bear. Probably heard worst from Ma anyway." He huffs out a short laugh as Natalie smiles.
"What did Richie say?"
"Well, for a second there he was convinced he was a superhero and did actively try to come get us. And I heard, what can only be described as Richie being eaten by snow. It sounded like an old man drowning." A shocked laugh shoots out of her from his dry joke, her shoulders shaking as she tries not to smile to hard.
"I would've loved to see that." Natalie comments, almost wistfully.
"Probably looked like a flopping fish or something." It's not that funny. It really isn't. At least it shouldn't be, maybe the cold that's slowly seeping in from outside is getting to her because she releases one of the most undignified, embarrassing laughs she's ever uttered right there on The Bear floor, complete with that awful snort that she tries to hide from everyone. She covers her mouth after, as if she told some deadly secret, her eyes shut so she doesn't have to see their faces.
"Holy fucking shit." Carmen mutters somewhere beside her.
"Sydney, you're a snort laugher?" Natalie questions through her own laughter.
"No, guys, please don't tell anyone that just happened."
"Can't do that my love."
"No promises."
"I swear you Berzattos are out to get me."
"Okay, okay, anyways let's get back on topic. I think I can send Pete-"
"No!"
"Absolutely not. It's still a full storm out there Sug. We have food and water, we'll survive." Natalie sighs, shifting as Mia starts to fall asleep on her chest. Sydney smiles, wondering if that's how her mom used to hold her.
"Okay fine, I'll lay off for tonight but tomorrow we're doing something about this. You two aren't spending the week in there. There's blankets and extra clothing in the office. Stay warm, take care of each other okay?"
"Geez, you're such a mom." Natalie rolls her eyes, exasperated.
"Oh yeah, I wonder why Carm."
"Alright, alright, don't get all worked up."
"You know, you freezing to death might actually be a good thing."
"Mhmm, then I can haunt you in the afterlife."
"You're so fucking annoying."
"Natalie Rose Berzatto, watch your language, there's a child present."
"Carmen Anthony Berzatto, you are the child."
"Ha."
"Okay, seriously, I gotta let you guys go. Be safe and oh, next time we tell you to leave the restaurant? Leave the restaurant."
"Yes ma'am." Sydney hangs up and there's a moment of silence as they listen to the angry wind whipping outside.
"So...Anthony?"
"Shut the fuck up." He stands, moving towards the kitchen.
"What? It's just so Italian!"
It's a long conversation with her dad that mostly consists of her begging him not to come get her, she's grown, she'll be fine and ends with him threatening Carmen on speakerphone that if she dies from the cold, he'll kill him and hide the body.
Carmen smirks, "Yes sir. Trust me, if anyone is freezing to death tonight, I'll make sure it's me." Sydney scoffs, rolling her eyes at him.
"You better."
"Alright Dad, geez." She rubs her forehead, sighing. "We gotta figure this out. I'll text you later, okay? Don't stress." She hangs up after they exchange "I love you's" and tosses her phone on the kitchen counter. The wind whips again outside, this time a loud creak sounds through the building and she jumps slightly in her spot, looking up to make sure the ceiling doesn't fall down on her. When she's sure she wouldn't be buried in ceiling post and years worth of roof dirt she makes her way to the office and finds the supplies Natalie was talking about. She had put two boxes worth of things to fight the freezing Chicago winter when she's slaving over endless paperwork (seriously, she's such a mom). There's blankets and socks and even hot pads, settled in the cardboard. Sydney rifles through them, profusely thanking the older Berzatto sibling in her head as a shiver runs through her. She pulls off her shoes then slides on another pair of socks over the others and wraps one of the thick blankets around her shoulders before walking back out to the kitchen.
"Hey," she slides in next to him at his place in front of the stove.
A small smile tugs at his lips, "hey," soft and mellow. His gaze ripping her in two and stitching her back together again. How confusing. "I mean," a small huff of a laugh separates his words and he points to the front door, "only us right?"
She chuckles, "Classic Syd and Carmy mess up." He scrunches his nose and Sydney wants to squeeze it. Once again, how confusing.
"That's really corny."
"What the fuck ever man," she shoves his shoulder and nudges her head towards the pot of milk on the stove, "what are you making?"
"Hot chocolate." She scoffs, looking at him with faux shock and offence.
"Dude! You can't complain about me being corny when you're making hot chocolate in the winter like we're little fucking kids."
"Fuck all the way off. Hot chocolate is for adults too."
"Whatever you say."
"Stop acting like you don't want it." She grins.
"Okay, yeah. Maybe I do."
"Asshole."
"I learned from the best."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
"Colder than outside. Damn." She laughs for about the hundredth time in the last hour at his dry as the Sahara desert jokes and wonders if she secretly got drunk and doesn't know it. Whatever. If she's stuck here they might as well make the best of it. So she lets herself laugh, as loud as it is, even letting that ugly snort fall out and it feels a bit too freeing, almost scary how it comes out so easy with him. "I like your laugh."
"No, you don't. Nobody does, I sound like a fucking pig."
"I don't think so." She turns her eyes on him, letting herself melt into his aqua colored irises with reckless abandon and a determination that feels like an actual fire in her chest. "I don't know...the snort is just so...Sydney, I guess." He shrugs it off, like he didn't just say it like he knows her, feels her. Fuck, maybe he does. Maybe he's the only one who does.
"Oh, well. Thanks."
They both turn back to the stove. He places several ingredients in the milk. Sugar, cocoa powder, vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg. All comfort.
She hums, "Simple," as they lean back against the kitchen island with the ache of a million years pulling their backs into a slightly curved hunch. "I like that. We never do simple."
"That's 'cause we don't really know how too." She doesn't think they're talking about cooking anymore but she lets it lie, instead grasping on to the small sliver of courage in her bones and laying her head on his shoulder, letting her muscles unclench and her thoughts melt away. He relaxes too, placing his head on top of hers and they both close their eyes, simultaneously releasing an audible sigh, a happy, wistful little thing that floats on the air around them. "Warm enough?"
"Warm enough." She wraps her fingers around his elbow and holds his arm to her body. "You run like a fucking space heater."
It definitely was not in the plan today to get stuck in their restaurant, drink hot chocolate and, as always, push away the dormant hell of a restless slumber, together at one of their booths but they roll with it. Easily actually.
They were huddled together on the same side of the booth, hot chocolate finished long ago (Sydney had remarked that it was the best she ever had to which Carmen volleyed back with a prompt fuck you). "We need to share body heat to survive", she had joked and acted like that was the truth as she stood next to him - an unbelievable one because their heater works just fine - and not that she just wanted to be close to him. He didn't call her out on her shit though, just smiled and scooted over.
She pulls her legs out from under her to switch positions as she reads paragraph after paragraph of a book she's been trying to start for months, Emma. Its one of those classical literature pieces that are so not her cup of tea but Natalie had recommended and she desperately needed to focus on anything other than food, so sappy, confusing romance it is.
Carmen is sketching next to her, hands flying and shifting quickly over the off white paper. When she looks over and finds that he's drawing the very restaurant they're sitting in, she smiles knowingly. He's just as hopelessly obsessed as she is.
She returns to Jane Austen's crooning over how hatred is as passionate as love can be and gets lost in her thoughts of how much she used to hate the man beside her but had loved him just as much and, shit. Maybe the woman who writes about having a way too exaggerated amount of sexual tension for fucking pinkies nearly brushing is actually onto something. Life is strange.
Suddenly, she's pulled out of her reverie as the air around her shifts. She looks around, searching for something but there's no cracks in the windows or door, so no stray air is coming in. The power is still on, the kitchen looks fine. She frowns and turns to Carmen, about to say something but then she stalls, realizing he's what shifted. He's drawing something new now, a bear in a cage, scribbling with an almost feral aggression as his brow furrows, expression growing more angry and grief stricken as time goes on.
"Carmy?" He doesn't respond, focused on finishing his work, almost like he's trying to prove a point or win an argument. She tries again, this time resting a hand on the burning skin of his neck, trying to physically bring him out of whatever trance he's in. "Carmen?"
"Hm?" He hums but that's really the only healthy sign of life from him, his body still wound tight under her hand.
She speaks, making sure her tone is quiet, so as to not startle him too hard out of it, "what are you doing?"
"Drawing." Its a short response but it slurs, he's too deep in his thoughts to care about how his words are coming out. Usually she would leave him alone and let him figure it out but he looks disturbingly distressed and its making her stomach turn. She moves her hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp gently, trying to soften her presence beside him and hopefully the aura around them as well.
Carmen is still kind of an enigma to her but after a few years of working together, he's definitely less of one. She's chipped away enough by now to get a glimpse at his gooey, tender center. Like one of those chocolate caramels. All that to say, she knows what he needs right now. She's learned a little while ago that he responds to tenderness, not because he's immature or anything but simply because he likes it and she supposes it was probably a rare commodity in the Berzatto childhood, so while he tries to push it away half the time (because its unfamiliar) he'll readily accept it the other half of the time. She's not exactly a tender person on the regular but she likes to be for him, likes how it makes herself feel inside and ultimately, him as well.
She pushes her book away from her and shifts to drape her arms around his torso, squeezing hard enough to help anchor him, propping her chin on his shoulder. "I'm here. I'm right here." With one last strong stroke he lets the pencil fall from his hand, shoving the sketchbook away from him as he, quite literally, melts into her embrace, his whole body seeming to sink as he comes back into himself.
He clears his throat and takes a deep breath, curling his hands on the table into tight fists, "M'sorry."
She looks at his hands, "It's okay," she pushes the hair from his eyes, "where did you go?"
He's silent. She waits. Silence is either their salvation or damning, she thinks this will lead to the former tonight, in their shaved out corner of the world. Tucked safely inside the home that they built and bled for, she thinks they'll break necessary ground. If he chooses to tell her. If he doesn't, well, that's his choice also.
She puts a hand down on the table beside his fists and opens her palm right next to it. Silently symbolizing him to let it go. Let it out. He sees it and takes a deep breath, unfurling his shaking hands and taking hers to fiddle with it.
"That's um, that's what I see in my nightmares." She looks at the drawing of the animal locked up, her brow furrows.
"What, do you know what it means? Or?"
"Sometimes it means me...most times it means Mikey."
"I don't understand." He laughs a little and it makes her breathe a little easier as she props her chin on her hand.
"Yeah, I guess it doesn't make much sense." He sits back, still pushing her fingers around. "You know how we call each other bear?" She nods. "Well, its not just 'cause our name has bear in it. It also kind of represents like uh...how we feel things, I guess. O-our anger and our happiness and disappointment is always like, huge and disruptive. Something to be scared of, I think. People used to say 'Don't get close to a Berzatto, they bite.'" Sydney frowns, that's not exactly right. "When they saw us 'cause we were the masters of blow ups. You've unfortunately seen some of those." He drops her hand, pressing his forehead down on the table. "But, I don't know, I was different. Mikey fought, Nat soothed, and I stayed silent. Guess I was bound to be a chef with the way I let things simmer and boil." He breaks off, a small huff of amusement falling from the quirk of his lips. "So anyway, yeah, I kept it all inside, kind of just, let people run over me. Stayed quiet. My mom didn't really like that and then when I did talk, she would make fun of my stutter. But yeah, the bear in the cage is me and Mikey's minds, I guess? We uh, handled the hard stuff the same way. I mean, yeah he would fight and I wouldn't but, we both never really said how we were feeling, kept it locked in." He looks up at her then, rubbing at his chest. "I guess that's why I push people away, its easier that way. Don't open yourself up so no one really gets hurt when they inevitably leave 'cause they found out you're insane."
"Why do you think everyone is gonna leave?"
"'Cause no one was really there in the first place. I mean, shit, my dad left before I even really knew what a dad was. And I mean, I know if anyone was there, it was Nat but she had her own issues with mom and a bunch of other things to deal with, like filling in the gap Ma left. I didn't want to burden her with my shit." He clears his throat. "It's actually kind of funny you know? Three siblings under the same roof, but all lonely. I guess I just got used to it, especially when Richie came along...and then Pete too."
"Did you...did you want someone to be there?" He rubs a hand down his face, turning towards her.
"Yeah, sometimes. Other times I just wanted a normal fucking family. One that doesn't scream and fight every time they're together. A mom that didn't drink so much she'd pass out in the hallway o-or get mad so easily. It was so confusing. I hated my dad but also really really wanted him to be there. Thought he could maybe fix everything. Make Mikey stop disappearing, emotionally and physically. Make Ma happy again. Stop Sugar from crying every night. But he didn't and I lived that nightmare every day until I left." He sniffs, hand rubbing anxiously at his chin. "It sucked." He looks down at his arm and points at a scar near his elbow. "One time she got so mad, she threw her wine glass against the wall beside my head. Thankfully, only one of the shards snagged me. She started crying, something about hurting her baby, but I just left the room. Mikey and Sug weren't there so I fixed it up myself." She stares at the healed over skin, slightly pinker and shiny.
"How old were you?"
"Uh, eight, I think."
"Were you scared?"
"We all were. Couldn't show it though."
"I'm glad you're okay...now. I'm glad that you're like, here. And um, yeah, I'm here for you, just...you know that right?" She asks, earnest and truthful.
"I do know that, I'm...here for you too."
"Okay, good."
"Thank you." She smiles as she takes in his expression, wide eyed and open, giving her all of him.
"Thank you." She looks away then, thankful that her blushing doesn't show.
"You know," she points at the sketch, "forgetting all the baggage that comes with it, it is a pretty badass drawing."
"Badass?"
"Well, as badass as Carmen Berzatto can get. No offense but you're just not that cool." He flips her off, chuckling.
"And you know what being cool is?"
"Excuse me? I'm very cool."
"You're most definitely the most awkward person I've ever met." She feigns offence, she's about to throw a jab back at him but what he says next stops her. "Its why everyone likes you. Its why I like you so much. Its charming." Her chest warms as she rolls her eyes.
"Oh yeah, sure. Everyone likes me? So not true. For example, did you not see everybody when I first got here?"
"They liked you...to an extent."
"That's bullshit and you know it. They hated me! Except Marcus."
"Well, except Marcus, and this is not an excuse for their behavior but I think maybe they were afraid of you and all that talent. Also, you are prone to stabbing so..."
"You're so full of shit!"
They wanted to watch the snow fall so they spread a bunch of blankets on the ground and settled in right in front of the front door, backs against the wall.
"Do you like the cold?" He nods.
"Yeah. You?"
"Mhmm." A few minutes pass.
Then, simultaneously, they ask, "Why?" Sydney smiles, never not in awe of how in sync they are.
"You first."
"Um..." He stalls, scratching his chin, "The heat kind of makes you feel like you're dying but the cold, well it makes you feel alive, even when you're shivering, it's like you can feel every part of your body, so uh, yeah." A puff of air leaves him in a rush and it almost sounds like a laugh but she knows it's not.
"That's very on theme for you. You like chaotic things." She gestures to the swirling snow outside, around and around it goes. He hasn't taken his eyes off it since they sat down, almost mesmerized.
"I...I don't know if I like it, its just, I know how to function in it. Nobody pays attention to you unless they need something when their just as stressed, trying to handle it just like you. And it's kind of, like especially in the kitchen, like you're really truly apart of a team. You probably haven't even shared more than a courteous hello to the person beside you and next thing you know you're trying to save the lobster dish together. Swimming against the current together. And everyone is asking you for something and your hands never stop so you don't worry about them fucking shaking and...it's all consuming. And then you don't have to focus on your problems, you can't." He blinks, hard. "But when its all gone and there's silence, thoughts get too loud and..." He shakes out his head. "Sorry, I'm rambling. Its your turn."
"What?" Her brow furrows, confused by the quick change of subject.
"Its your turn to answer. Why you like the cold?"
"Oh right, um..." She pulls her blanket snug across her shoulders. "Well, as a kid winter felt like a renewal for me, still does. Like a second chance, y'know? The world preparing and molding itself to be ready for spring. New life. Renewed hope for something better." He smiles, finally looking at her, fingers twitching in his lap.
"That's good. I like that."
"Thanks, poet was my back up career actually." She flicks a braid over her shoulder.
He plays along, "No fucking way."
"Fucking way dude. Could've been the next Edgar Allen Poe or some shit like that." His nose screws up. "You don't know who that is, do you?"
"Is that surprising?"
"No, actually." She chuckles. "But it's cool, I won't judge you."
"I appreciate that." She turns her gaze from him and back to outside. Thinks about them, how they got here, how they're still here after everything that life threw at them. But mostly, she thinks about her mom, what she would've looked like now, deep into her fifties, if she would've had the same exact smile she saw in old pictures, sometimes faintly appearing in her dreams. Wonders what her mom's expression would've been when she first saw the restaurant, their restaurant. Wonders, wonders, and wonders. She's tired of not getting an answer.
"Why do you do that?" She jumps a little in her spot, turning to look at him.
"Huh?"
"When you think no one is looking, you get this look on your face." She stares at him, still confused. "You start frowning and your eyes get all clouded."
"Oh uh, I guess I just don't want people to worry about me." She shrugs, scared he'll dive too deep in her mess of a life and drown.
"Well, people worry 'cause they care so I guess you lost that war Sydney. You have a lot of people that care. Who will listen. I'll listen." Its quiet but completely unashamed in its value and weight and she's momentarily silenced. Mesmerized by this boy sitting on the edge of the diving board, asking to jump in.
"I just...I really wish my mom was here." She watches him dive in with wide eyes. "I wish she could see all this y'know? I wish I could've seen her be proud of me." She wipes a tear from her face, quickly as if that would make it seem like it never actually got out. She doesn't like crying over this, it only serves to remind her of how small of a memory she's sad over. She'd rather remember her mom in the balmy light that her father tells her of, not the wisps of a dark hospital room and a beeping EKG, counting down the seconds of her mother's too short existence. That's how she's always done it, ignore the tears until she blinked them all away. It works but she still hears that beep, beep, beeeeep in her head every now and again. She desperately tries to forget it now, the lump in her throat growing larger.
There's some shuffling and then hands on her cheeks, thumbs rubbing circles on her skin. She opens her eyes to find that he's caged her between his legs, locked them into their own little world as his eyes bore into hers, head slightly tilted down to meet her red rimmed gaze. She sets her hands on his knees, gripping them tight and tries to take a deep breath but it just comes out as a stunted whimper, littered with years long grief.
"Hey." He whispers even though they're the only ones here. "I didn't know your mom but I'm pretty sure she was proud of you. By just watching you grow for as long as she got too. Okay?" She stares at him, a deep frown shifting her whole expression and for the first time she lets it as he holds her face in his scarred hands, finally letting go of that feeling that she had to be strong for everyone, strong for her dad so he could be happy, so he wouldn't have to worry about her struggles of being motherless while he struggled over being wifeless. She, for once, lets herself feel that pain, begins to swim in it instead of floating, 'cause she's starting to realize that when you let the water take you where it wants, when you don't fight against it, you just get further and further from the shore until one day, you can't see dry land anymore.
Another whimper, more broken than the last, erupts from her throat and its so loud in the empty room. Her hurt is immeasurable, insufferable, mountainous and it floods out and spills around them like a tsunami breaching land. "C'mere."
Its a crash, a head on collision, smashing and breaking and tearing into each other like they always do as he becomes a one man dam against the flood, stopping it, making it still, giving it a place to be and stay so it doesn't pull her apart completely, deplete her till she dies. Because the death of Sydney Adamu means death for Carmen Berzatto. They are independent, codependent individuals. They don't touch, they don't kiss, they don't give in to this because its too risky, way too far into the deep end but then again even just, the thought of that is what holds them up, if they can't at least stand next to each other even as they keep their wants silent, they might just cease to exist. But, he supposes that maybe their finally giving into the risk now as she lets out one gut wrenching sob after another while he holds her. She's shown him her whole hand and he's doing the same.
"I'm so tired of missing someone that'll never come back." He holds her tighter, nodding into her shoulder as a tear of his own runs down his face at her words. Mikey runs across his mind's eye, smile bigger and brighter than the fucking sun, never to be seen again.
"I know, fuck, yeah I know Syd." His hands run up and down her back, over and over, giving her some sort of constant as he holds onto him like he's the one thing keeping her together.
"Yeah, I know you do." She sniffs. "I just wanted to see her, to talk to her, to fight with her, shit anything! As long as she was there, as long as I could touch her and feel her...but she wasn't. She's barely even a fucking full memory honestly and I-I..." She stutters, losing grip on her words as her throat pushes out another wave of sobs, it wrenches from her as a near scream, like her Aunt Anna did at her mom's funeral all those years ago.
His stomach sinks and his heart breaks in tandem with hers as they press together. He picks her upward enough so she can pull her bent knees out from under her and wrap them around his waist then pulls her closer so there's no space left between them, so the only air they can breathe is each others. His shirt is getting soaked but he can't bring himself to care about that, or about anything that doesn't pertain to Sydney at this moment.
Its a few minutes before she can gather herself to lift up off his shoulder enough to look at him. He looks at her too, one hand still on her back as the other rubs at her thigh pulled snug against his hip. "Um, sorry about that." He shakes his head.
"There's no need to be sorry bear." It just slips out but it feels so right to call her that, she's been apart of this family for a long time, even if she doesn't know it. He leans forward, connecting their foreheads and her braids fall around their faces like a curtain, making him smile.
"So...I'm a bear now?" She bites on her smile and like a thirsty man in the desert, he drinks in the sight.
"Yes." He nods. "I think you've always been a bear." He rasps and her eyes go a little wide, shining in the limited space between them as her mouth falls open in a small 'o' shape. "Maybe more than I am with the way Nat adopted you." She narrows her eyes.
"No one is more of a bear than Carmy Berzatto, trust me." He looks down at the hand still rubbing her leg. "That can be a good thing, y'know?"
"I do. I wouldn't have called you that if it couldn't be." She straightens up, pushing her hair behind her shoulders and running her hands along his biceps, subtly tracing the '773' tattoo she knows is under his sleeve.
"Carmen." She connects their eyes with a finger under his chin, then her whole palm settles on his cheek. "I guess, because of the whole y'know mom thing, I get really scared that I'm gonna lose everyone." Her gaze skips down to her lap. "That I'll lose you. I...can't lose you Carmy." His hands travel to her backside again, forearms bracketing her in and she melts into his form, a bit hunched over to meet his upturned gaze against him.
"You won't." He shakes his head, earnest and open but it's not enough, she needs to hear him say the words, be specific.
"Say it." She pleads in a desperate whisper. He stills at the sound.
"Sydney, you're not gonna lose me. I promise baby." His voice is strong, sure, something she can hold onto and that knot in her stomach, that's been settled there for years, starts to loosen. She knows he can't promise something like that, she knows, but it feels good to hear someone cares enough to try to fight fate.
"Okay." She sniffs as another, smaller wave of tears starts to leak out. "You won't lose me either. I promise." Her words are wet coming out of her throat, coated with fear and joy and assurance and nothing seems to matter except them and this moment and that breath of relief he releases with a small smile. He wipes her face with gentle fingers as his own eyes glisten. "Ew, we're so fucking dramatic. I feel like I'm in a hallmark movie." He chuckles and his blues meet her browns. Both effervescent and striking and sparkling in their own way.
Eyes are a window to the soul, they say, and as Carmen Berzatto loves big and loud and everywhere, his eyes will strike you down with an unbearable power from all the way across a room, burning and lighting you anew like one of Zeus' thunderbolts. As Sydney Adamu loves quietly and slowly and longingly, her eyes seem to grow on you. They seem normal, like every other pair of brown eyes then with every new smile and frown and expression, you'll realize they're a rainbow of vivacity that are, by extension, a roadmap to her very being.
They've never been closer than they are now, eyes closed, noses touching. And maybe in another life where they hadn't endured all the heartache that they had, if they'd been "normal", it would be easier to drop their guards, give into this, this fucking red string tying their hearts and stop trying to pull it apart because it just tears a hole through them in the process. But no, it probably wouldn't have meant as much in that other life, they probably wouldn't even have met. In that other world, without the death of her mom and the flying forks and the absence of his dad and Mikey dying, they would've been fine and he'd be with Claire the rest of his life and she'd be with that guy Derek she had a huge crush on in high school.
Alas, in this world Claire and Derek will never be enough. In this world, where Carmen and Sydney broke and griped for some sort of purchase, the universe, in return, had to bend and sift them towards one another, make sure they found each other in the darkest of nights so they could ignite the fire in the others soul again. Find the light, be the light and when it flickers, fighting against the wind, they're each others feeding flame. Alas, in this world, Carmen and Sydney are inevitable, inescapable, undefeatable. Heartbreaking and heart mending all at the same time.
He swipes at her tears one after the other, lovingly and honestly patient under their warm restaurant lights, his own tears subsiding in the process. "Alright, it's okay." He whispers.
"That damn hot chocolate was too nostalgic dude. You fucking asshole, you got me crying a river, shit." She digs her palms into her eyes as he laughs and she clears her throat, letting out a small giggle herself from the high of whatever this moment is that they're having. She removes her hands, salty tears still flowing a little but she wants to look at him. He caresses her cheek, running his nose along hers and kisses her, short and soft. Just a press of their lips really, and, if anyone did ask, it could be brushed off as a platonic offer of comfort. But for them?
Oh.
Oh.
It's so much fucking more.
"Do it again." She commands, eyes wide, gaze cemented on his perfect Cupid's bow as they teeter on the edge of something that's sending fireworks off along their spines. He obliges, once again short and soft but this time the press is a little sweeter because she points her lips out to greet him. Sharing a litany of words in a millisecond connection.
I can't live without you.
I don't wanna live without you.
You're all I need.
You're all I want.
Fuck you for spoiling me for anyone else.
Fuck me for loving that you did.
She claws a hand into his shirt and pulls, "Again, Carmen, fuck." He kisses her again, harder this time and their lips slot together easily but they don't move after that. She tastes the cinnamon that still lingers on their mouths and digs a hand in his hair, that golden halo she's longed to touch for what feels like ages. He sighs softly, at the feeling of her fingers and the luscious luxury of her lips between his. After a few seconds, they realize they still haven't moved. All this time, all that ground broken and they're still questioning, still hesitant. He's sick of it.
He, quite frankly, digs in. Pushing and pulling her lips whichever way he wants and she lets him, happy to be led, to lose her daily anxiety of "what do I do?" for a moment. He disconnects and connects them over and over, her lips pouting to chase him each time but he doesn't stay away for long. His hands are at her sides, squeezing and kneading the skin there to match what his mouth is doing. Suddenly, he pulls away, the wet smack from them pulling apart making her dizzy. He studies her, a finger tracing across her bottom lip.
"You're so fucking gorgeous, Syd." How unfair of him, being so fucking nice and fucking sexy, fuck. Fuck!
"Carmy." She whines. He traces her brow then drops his hand to replace it with his lips. He kisses her all over her face. Her forehead, that space between her eyebrows, her eyelids, her cheekbones, her nose. She groans. "Just fucking kiss me again bear." He stops, finding her eyes and swallowing roughly as his pupils darken into the other part of him she been dying to see. The one filled with passion and want and greed. Those grand Berzatto emotions.
She suddenly realizes she didn't understand what she was asking for when he kisses her again and she's suddenly scared she doesn't know what to do with all of him laid bare for her. But fuck, does she want it anyway. Their bodies become one and she can barely breathe as he works his mouth on hers. She claws at him as he grips at her all over. Then in some sort of fire bred epiphany, she realizes he's not kissing her, he's consuming her. Its sloppy and uncoordinated and mesmerizing and obscene and she just might pass out from all of his intensity. He's lapping her up like he's been presented with his favorite meal after not eating for years. It stuns her, she's not used to being kissed like she's a solution.
He yanks himself away to give attention to her neck and she tosses her head back, eyes closing of their own accord. She imagines they look like one of those ancient paintings, where the woman is paralyzed by the sheer vigor and adoration and hunger that was shown by the man they loved, holding them, caressing them, making them theirs. And shit, does she feel like that now.
Its too much as he kisses down her chest, "Carmen." She moans, they waited too long for this but she needs to catch her breath. "Carmy, bear, hey." She tugs at his hair to pull his head up. She smiles at his glazed over eyes. "I just...I need a minute okay?" She pants, open mouthed and he nods, catching up. She leans back on her hands and throws her head back once more, breathing hard through her nose to calm herself down. She can't believe she finally, actually kissed him, that they're actually here, that they made it to the deep end and they're not drowning.
She lays down on the blankets and pulls him down with her. He settles on top of her, covering her, head nestled in the the valley of her chest. He takes a deep breath, making a little sound of contentment and she grins, he's such a fucking softie. She throws an arm over her eyes, sighing her own happy sound.
"Sydney?"
"Hmm?" She angles her head to look down at him, fingernails starting to scratch between his shoulder blades without her thinking.
"I like when you call me bear." She laughs, snorting the whole way through and he looks up at her then, awe bordering his retinas.
"I can tell. I like when you call me bear too. And baby. That was probably the hottest damn thing I've ever endured." His nose screws up.
"Really? Baby? That's all you need to do it for you?" She chuckles again, noting the mischief in his tone.
"Should there be more?"
"I guess not. All it takes is you walking in a fucking room to do it for me." Groaning, she threads her fingers in his hair.
"What am I going to do with you Carmen?" Their gazes link and they stay like that, watching each other, touching each other, sharing warmth.
"I think I'm doing this all backwards." He speaks after a while, threading his hand with her free one and bringing it to his lips.
"What?"
"This. Us. I'm doing it all backwards. I already love you Sydney."
"Well then, I guess we're a perfect match. I already love you too."
Carmen frowns in his half asleep daze. Something is poking at his face. Repeatedly. He opens his eyes quickly because seriously, what the fuck is that? He squints against the sunlight as his niece comes into view, placing her little palms on his cheeks when she sees he's awake.
"Uncle Bear!" He grins, pulling the near two year old in so he can cover her face with kisses. She giggles.
"What's up baby bear?" She starts to babble her toddler language, some real words, some not, but all strewn together into some story about her stuffed animal, Cookie. He nods along, enamored by her excitement and catches Sugar leaning on the doorway to the kitchen in the corner of his eye. He sits up, pulling Mia with him but he's stopped from standing by a leg thrown across his lap.
That explains Natalie's smirk.
"Not a word Sugar."
"I didn't say anything!" She holds her hands up in defense and he narrows his eyes at her. "But you might want to take care of that," she gestures to the makeshift bed with a snicker, "before the guys come through. They'll eat you both alive." He raises a brow.
"And you won't?"
"Oh no, no, no. I'm much nicer. I'll just use it for blackmail." She holds up her phone, implying that she has photographic proof and he groans as Mia tries to climb his shoulder. "I gotta say bear, you two looked really cozy together. You're practically glowing right now, anything you want to tell me?"
"Mind your business Sug."
"Ha. I hate you."
"That makes me extremely happy, thank you."
Suddenly, Sydney groans beside him, "Carm, who the fuck are you talking to?" Mia climbs on top of her when she hears her voice, almost like she just noticed her presence. Sydney's brows crease in confusion until she hears "auntie Syddie!" almost yelled into her ear. She smirks, eyes still closed.
"Auntie Syddie is still sleeping."
"No. Talking!"
"No. Sleeping." Mia topples over laughing between them and Carmen shakes his head, looking at Sugar who's beaming across the room. His favorite girls. His family.
"Nat, honey?" Pete calls out and Mia perks up, starting to run to where she heard her dad.
"Front of house my love! You got incoming!"
Sydney sits up, removing her leg and looking at him. He looks back. "Hi."
"Hey." She circles her arms around his neck and turns to look at Natalie, still watching them.
"Morning Nat."
"Morning Syd." She sing songs mischievously and Sydney flips her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head.
"So, you really wanna watch me have a morning make out sesh with your brother or?" Sugar's eyes widen just as much as Carmen's at Sydney's boldness. But he can't marinate on his shock too long because before he knows it, before his sister can even respond, she's kissing him again and his mind goes blank. He pulls her leg over to straddle him and she exaggerates a moan, making them both chuckle into the kiss. He takes her down to the ground, hovering over her as they continue, fully enjoying and participating in this little show she's putting on.
"Okay, gross guys." Natalie remarks, turning away. "You know Richie is coming in a sec."
Sydney pulls away, "Richie can go fuck himself, my love." Natalie laughs, finally leaving them alone. "So," she starts to speak between kisses, "what are doing - mm - with your week - fuck - off?"
"Oh, you know. There's this girl at my job, might ask her to stay the week at my place. Watch some movies, cook her some stuff. All that corny shit y'know?"
"Lucky girl."
"What about you?"
"Well, there's also someone at work for me, hoping he'll ask me to stay over."
"Lucky guy."
"Mhmm." She smiles, rubbing a thumb across his cheek. "Hey y'know, actually since you mentioned movies, I think we owe our favorite little bear a Disney princess marathon."
"We do, don't we?" He grins and Sydney smiles back, she knows how much he loves spending time with his niece.
"We do." She places her lips on his and two seconds later their peace is obstructed.
"I fucking knew it!"
"Oh jeez. Too fucking loud Richie!" Sydney yells back.
Richie turns to Marcus, Pete, and Fak behind him. "Pay up, you fucking lizards!" The three guys sigh, starting to dig in their pockets.
"Richie! Language please!" Natalie scolds.
"Sorry Nat! But I was right about the two sickos!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"They bet on us?" Carmen whispers to her.
"Yup. Fuck 'em. Should we make a break for it? I'll get Mia."
"Yes ma'am."
They hop up from their spot quickly and rush through the kitchen door, passing everyone in a frenzy as they pull on their coats. Sydney hoists Mia up on her hip, "Carmen! Get the bag!" She commands as she rushes out of the now not buried back door, Mia laughing up a storm at the excitement.
Carmen slings the baby bag over his shoulder, quickly kissing Nat on the cheek. "You can pick Mia up tomorrow, love you Sug, bye!" He speaks as fast as he's moving, and like a tornado went through the kitchen, they sit in the aftermath after he leaves, still a little shocked by what just happened.
"I should be mad but I could really use a break honestly." Natalie leans her head on Pete's shoulder.
"They're so fucking weird." Richie comments.
"Agreed." Marcus responds.
"You think we should mop the dining room floor?" Fak questions. They all visibly recoil.