writing blog

tumblr ate this and so did resizing </3 anyways.

content warnings: mention of suicide and mental health, Lara being avoidant

thanks to @juniper-is-in-the-house and @lordhuronns for betareading!

Lara doesn’t know what to expect when she wakes up.

Carmy’s body is half on top of her, acting like her own weighted blanket and personal heater all in one. She thought he’d go home before she’d wake up, like before, or pull away, act awkward and apologize, turn cold and pretend like last night never happened. Maybe he’d make a joke about how yesterday was not his typical behaviour, set some boundaries, tell her to stop acting like they were dating. 

After all, that already happened to her, more than once. She even thought he’d wanted to talk, to redefine their “relationship” or whatever, dreading the moment he stirred awake, memories of yesterday flooding back in his mind.

She’s rigid, lying on her back, this taller, heavier man snoring lightly, his weight almost crushing her. She’s trapped under him, not able to escape this new reality. She thinks she woke up in an alternate dimension at first, scanning the walls of her bedroom, trying to find any evidence that supported her theory. But no, nothing had shifted in the space-time continuum. Yesterday really happened. He took care of her. And, like an idiot, she recited that Darwish line. 

Fucking hell, will he remember that? Will he ask me what it means? Will he think that I think he’s my home? Jesus, did I imply that he’s my home? What the fuck did I just do?

She feels him stir awake, her heartbeat racing in anticipation of his reaction. What will it be? a) denial, b) rejection, or c) awkwardness?

She doesn’t realize there was a fourth option: d) none of the above.

Carmy buries his face in the crook of her neck, his hair ticking her chin. “Morning”, he mumbles, his voice raspy from sleep, his leg still wrapped around her waist.

Lara clears her throat, her voice surprisingly calm, despite her inner panic. “Morning. You, uh, you got any meetings with contractors or whatever?”

Please say yes. Please realize you have other shit to do, please have an excuse to leave my apartment asap so I can get ready and freak out in peace.

He sighs, shaking his head no, his curls whipping the young woman across her face. “Nah. Just gotta finish brainstorming ideas with Syd for the menu. But that’s not for another two hours.”

He pulls away, his bright blue eyes staring at her, his hand coming up to trace patterns on her face. “You wanna come with? Could help us out. Taste-test some things.”

Lara blinks, taking time to answer without sounding too mean. “I, uh, I mean, it’s you and Syd’ s project. I don’t wanna intrude.”

“You wouldn’t. I’m sure she’d appreciate feedback.”

The young woman chuckles nervously. “Yeah, last time I gave you guys my feedback, it didn’t end that well. Think it’d be better if I stayed out of it.”

Carmy’s brow furrows in confusion, before he remembers the argument she and Sydney had on New Year’s Eve, wincing slightly. “That’s not the same thing. It’s just tasting food to help us finalize the menu. Y-your palette’s not fucked like ours. It would help.”

She sighs. She doesn’t know what would feel worse, acting like she was Carmy’s “girlfriend” in front of Sydney and imposing herself on the sous-chef’s turf, or feeling like she didn’t know Carmy at all, watching him communicate with Syd, seeing a side of him she could never access. Either way, someone will feel like a third wheel.

She shakes her head. “Don’t think it’s fair to Sydney. She’s your partner in this. She deserves your full focus. She should be suggesting things and doing all of this.”

Her tone is definitive. She wasn’t budging on this. And she’s not just saying that to avoid him: she doesn’t think it was fair to impose herself on Sydney’s dream.

Carmy nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Okay, yeah,sure. I, uh, I could make you breakfast. Pancakes, French toast, whatever you want.”

Lara sits up, scratching the back of her head, not realizing that she adopted that nervous tick from the man lying next to her. “That’s nice of you, but I gotta head to work.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking at the date on his phone. “It’s Saturday,” he reminds her.

She nods. “Yeah, well I got some work to catch up on. Didn’t go yesterday, cause of..” she gestures to her lap. “First day sucks, I wasn’t really productive. Gotta make up for it.”

“Oh,” he mutters. “Okay, yeah, that makes sense. I mean, I could make you some coffee, and feed your cat, or whatever, while you got ready. Make things easier.”

Make things easier. Lara wants to laugh at this, his persistence to stick around making things anything but easy for her right now. She fights the urge to snap at him, telling him to get the fuck out. Instead, she looks down at him, meeting his gaze, his blue eyes shining, and she doesn’t have the heart to reject him again. 

She gives him a small smile. “Sure,” she says weakly.

The young woman gets ready for work silently, feeling the weight of everything unsaid between her and the chef, the shift in the universe created by yesterday’s events. She takes a quick shower, changes into her work clothes, and puts on her makeup, hearing Carmy rustle in her apartment. 

She walks out towards her kitchen, seeing him handing her a tote bag and her to-go coffee cup. “I, uh, made you lunch, with some stuff you had lying around.”

She blinks, taking the items tentatively. “Thanks,” she mutters.

The pair is silent, the only noise in the apartment being Zeitoun munching on the food Carmy laid out for him.

Lara takes a sip of her coffee. Damn it, it’s really good. How the fuck does he do that?

Carmy gives her a shy smile, as if he could read her mind. “I, uh, put some cinnamon in it. Adds complexity, or whatever.”

“Cinnamon, right. I’ll, uh remember that,” she tells him, heading towards her door, the young man following her.

“You, uh you want a ride to work?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, I can take the L. Quicker that way.”

He nods awkwardly as Lara locks up her apartment, his hands stuffed in his coat, his eyes on the ground. 

When they reach his car, he finally looks up at her. “I, uh, yesterday, it was…”

Lara looks at him, holding her breath.

“...it was fun,” he says, finally. “I, I like hanging out with you.”

The lawyer exhales softly. He’s not spewing out a love declaration, good, I can handle this.

“Yeah, I like hanging out with you too,” she lets out. The confession, as mild as it is, makes her heart race. 

Carmy nods nervously, his hand coming up to fiddle with his lip. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do,” she answers, before walking towards the train, kicking herself mentally for allowing him into her space like that, for letting things go so far. 

The next couple of weeks are hell for Lara. She tells herself that whatever the fuck this was with Carmy, this whole domestic, playing house act, has to be dialed back. Neither of them agreed to this. Neither of them want a relationship. It’ll only end up in one of them getting hurt.

She tries to get the curly-haired chef out of her head, she really does. But the more she tries to distance herself, the more persistent his presence is in her mind.

She thanks a God she’s not even sure she believes in that Carmy doesn’t reach out to her too often, the remodel taking up most of his time. 

She’s always been a shut-in ever since she moved to Chicago, spending her free time at the gym or at home, reading with Zeitoun curled up in her lap. She doesn’t mind this, telling herself she had a healthy routine, that consistency meant stability. 

Her coworker, Rachel, isn’t of the same opinion. Which is why, after what seems like hours of convincing, Lara finds herself attending a happy hour event organized by the Illinois Bar Association, held in a swanky bar in downtown Chicago. 

She walks into the venue after a long day at work, her thick wool coat over her arm, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She looks around, finding Rachel in a corner, talking to two men dressed in sharp suits, each person holding a martini glass in their hand.

Her colleague waves her over, nudging one of the strangers with her arm. “This is who I was just talking about, Mark! My amazing colleague, one of the best public defenders in all of Cook County, Lara!”

The man – Mark – turns around, meeting the young lawyer’s gaze. He’s tall, clean-shaven, his style meticulous and well thought-out. He looks like a typical lawyer: all straight lines, no edge. 

Mark smiles at Lara, reaching his hand out towards her. “So you’re Lara, huh,” he smirks.

The attorney gives him a polite smile, shaking his hand.

He gets closer to her, sliding an extra martini towards the woman. “Rachel told me all about you, but I gotta say, you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.”

Lara’s smile doesn’t falter as she takes a sip of the cocktail, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the man’s compliment. 

She doesn’t like judging a book by its cover, knowing how people have mischaracterized her, but Mark definitely fits the corporate lawyer archetype. His idea of small talk was bragging about the numerous contracts he helped fulfill for his clients, big-time corporations who are currently flattening out the middle class, completely oblivious to Lara’s disinterest in the conversation. 

He drones on and on about his penthouse, his brand-new car, hell, even his stock portfolio, and the younger woman finds herself zoning in and out, offering polite nods at times, pretending to be engaged in the conversation – although it was more of a monologue, at this point. 

“You doing something after this?” 

She blinks, taken aback by his question, like he broke the fourth wall. 

“Oh, um, I’m, uh, what?” she stammers, not knowing how to answer his question.

He gives her a boyish smile. “Not to be too presumptuous, just, Rachel told me that you didn’t go out much, and she didn’t mention a partner or anything.”

“I, uh, I don’t exactly, it’s uh,” she takes a sip of her drink, trying to gather her thoughts, realizing that it’s the first time she’s been faced with this task, explaining her current situation, “I’m, uh, I’m seeing someone. I mean, it’s casual, and not exclusive, but, yeah.”

“Why’d you mention it, then? If it’s casual and not exclusive?”

Her jaw drops for a second, before she clears her throat, trying to regain her composure. “I, uh, I don’t know,” she admits, taking a sip of her drink. 

She didn’t feel like Lara the lawyer, the cutthroat public defence attorney, but rather, Lara, the 20-something woman, who hasn’t let anyone get close to her in a minute, who hasn’t even faced her own feelings.

Mark senses her sudden vulnerability, and steps closer to her, his voice dropping. “Let me guess, you guys started hooking up, told yourself it was, what, a friends-with-benefits thing? And now you’ve caught feelings for him.”

Lara bristles at his comment, his thinly-veiled accusation, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his smirk growing. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” she says, after a few seconds of silence. “He’s got a lot of shit going on, he’s opening a restaurant soon, and I, I don’t have space for anything romantic in my life right now.”

Technically, that was true. They were both busy people. She found herself repeating those arguments in her head for the last few days, a constant loop. But now, saying them out loud, it felt a bit silly, juvenile almost. 

“A restaurant? What, he’s a chef or something?”

She nods, taking another sip of her martini. “Yeah, apparently he trained all over the world, was a big deal, but shit happened, and now he’s back home, opening a place here in Chicago.”

“Ah, well, you know what they say about working in a restaurant.”

Lara raises an eyebrow, not knowing where Mark was going with this.

“Oh c’mon, it’s basically an orgy.”

The young woman chokes on her drink, coughing a few times, before looking up at this virtual stranger. “What?”

He rolls his eyes. “The cooks are always getting it on with the waitresses. Front of house and back of house are always fucking. It’s messy. What, you never heard of that?”

She shakes her head, clearing her throat, the bitter taste of gin still burning her. “No, never heard that one before,” she says, her voice raspy.

Mark shrugs. “Maybe that’s why he doesn't want anything more, you know, serious. Maybe he’s fucking someone on his staff, he doesn’t wanna stop. That’d be like relinquishing his freedom.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, that’s what’s going on,” she mumbles, the air suddenly feeling too thick around her. 

She knew that wasn’t the case, knew that the issue with Carmy wasn’t related to his lack of commitment, but rather hers, but still, Mark’s comment struck a chord with her. Why should she care if he’s fucking a waitress anyways? They’re not exclusive, that was the whole point. He even told her he wasn’t fucking anyone else. Why was this bothering her?

She tries to breathe, but it feels like nothing’s entering her lungs. The room feels too hot, too crowded, the music too loud, the alcohol too bitter. “I need some air,” she says under her breath, not waiting for Mark’s reaction, before bolting for the door.

The cool February air hits her, cars whizzing by, the roads illuminated by the streetlamps. Lara’s taking a few deep breaths, fishing in her coat pocket for her cigarettes, lighting one up, casting a small glow on her face. She takes a slow drag, her free hand scratching her eyebrows as her thoughts swirl.

How did this get so fucking complicated?

Even though she’s outside, she still feels trapped, boxed in, like she can’t escape. She tries to calm her racing heart but it’s not working, her thoughts infiltrated by visions of the blue-eyed chef. 

We’re casual.

It’s not exclusive.

He probably doesn’t care.

Why did I wash his hair?

Why did I spend the holidays with him?

Why do I keep letting him in?

I fucked up.

I fucked up.

I fucked up.

I need to run away.

I need to leave.

I’m in danger.

She throws her cigarette on the ground, about to race to the train station and head home, when she feels her phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulls it out, and her heart drops when she sees who’s calling.

She answers the call, ignoring her shaking hands, trying to even out her breathing. “Hello?”

The other line is silent, save for the sound of passing cars, when Carmy’s voice breaks through. 

“...Hey.”

She doesn’t know what to say, how to approach this conversation, feeling tongue-tied. 

“You okay?” she asks. 

He stays quiet for a moment, before his voice comes out, a small and broken, “no.”

Lara’s heart races, her mind coming up with different scenarios, each one more unlikely than the last. 

She hears him sigh. “This is, this is stupid. You’re probably busy, I don’t wanna bother you.”

She’s about to answer, probably a white lie about how she’s home, or she just finished work, or anything, when the door to the bar opens again, Mark’s head sticking out. “Hey, Lara, come back in, I’ll buy you a drink.”

The lawyer whips her head back, glaring at Mark, who gets the message, and steps back in.

She hears Carmy’s breath hitch. “You, uh, you on a date or something?”

“No, no,” she says, almost too quickly, “just at a… lawyer event.”

“Ah.”

For a moment they’re both silent, waiting for the other to speak.

“I should, I should let you go, then, let you get back to it. Forget I called.”

She should agree, hang up, and get back inside, but something makes her stay there, on the sidewalk, her legs feeling too heavy to move.

“What’s going on, Carmen?” 

“It’s, uh,” he sighs heavily, “it’s, it’s been a year since Mikey…”

Lara’s brow furrows, before she pulls her phone away for a second, looking at the date: February 22nd. 

Shit. He shot himself a year ago today.

She hears the sound of cars coming from Carmy’s end, the whizzing getting louder, and her heart drops. She knows that his brother’s death affects him greatly, but to what extent?

“Where are you?” she asks, her tone urgent.

“I’m, I’m outside the restaurant.”

She nods, even though he can’t see her. “Okay. Okay. You’re okay, right? You’re not, you’re not gonna hurt yourself, or anything?”

“No, no, I just, I don’t… uh, I don’t wanna be alone right now?” He finally gets out. “Like… like I’m not gonna do anything but I don’t… I don’t think I should be like, by myself, you know?” He clears his throat. “Like when I’m alone, everything seems worse than it actually is, and, uh… I’m, uh… I’m not making sense, I’m sorry.” She hears his voice crack, and that does it for her. She starts walking.

Masterlist

cw: smut (period sex, unprotected sex), fluff

tags: @ximehs

Working at a restaurant’s not the same as building one from scratch, Carmy notices quickly. The chef has to delegate a lot more tasks, and has a lot of free time on his hands, which he uses to get lost in a certain attorney’s sheets. The process is even more nerve-wracking though, the anticipation of the results and people’s reactions causing him to ingest multiple Tums at a time. 

After a day of arguing with contractors and trying not to throw pans at people, Carmy texts Lara, wanting to clear his head.

Carmy: hey. u busy ?

The lawyer’s phone buzzes as she’s laying in bed. She groans, reaching for it, reading the text, before rubbing her eyes. 

Lara: on my period. pleasure factory’s closed.

There’s no answer from the chef. The young woman turns back on her side, her hands clutching the hot water bottle against her stomach, trying to soothe her cramps.

She drifts back to sleep, the only sound in her apartment coming from the show she was absentmindedly watching on her laptop.

A knock on her door wakes her up, but she makes no effort to move. Probably a delivery person who got the wrong door, she thinks.

She’s about to close her eyes, when the knocking starts again. 

She freezes. Who the fuck is knocking on my door? No one knows where I live.

The rapping on her front door is persistent. Whoever was doing that wanted to talk to her specifically.

Lara’s jaw clenches, her legs swinging out of her bed. She puts on her slippers, wraps herself in her blanket, and walks quickly to her front door.

“What, what, fucking what?” she mutters to herself, her voice getting progressively louder, as she aggressively opens her door, ready to unleash her wrath on whoever was disturbing her.

She freezes, face-to-face with Carmy.

The young chef’s eyes rake over her, concern gracing his features. She knows she looks like shit: her hair greasy, her face puffy, riddled with cystic acne, always breaking out during the beginning of her cycle, her body bloated and covered in ratty old pajamas.

Lara clears her throat. “I told you I was on my period.”

Carmy nods nervously. “Yeah, uh, I know.”

The woman squints, already in a bad mood. “I don’t care if I have ‘two other holes that work’”, she says, her free hand coming up to form quotation marks, “I’m not in the mood to suck your dick, and I don’t do anal.”

Carmy’s eyes widen, and he blinks, his face and neck turning a deep shade of vermillion. “I, uh, what?”

Lara doesn’t move, her hand still on the doorknob. 

Carmy gestures to the grocery bags at his feet. “I, uh, it wasn’t for that. I know you’re on your period. Just thought I could come over and uh, I don’t know, make you some food.”

She looks at him, her brow furrowed. “You wanna cook for me, and not …” she gestures to her body.

The young man nods, scratching the back of his head. “Y-yeah. I remember Nat having to stay home from school cause she had really bad cramps. Wanted to, I don’t know, make it easier.”

Lara looks at him for another second, scanning his face for any traces of dishonesty, before sighing, letting him enter her apartment.

Carmy takes off his coat and shoes, placing them neatly in their usual spot, before walking over to her kitchen, rifling through her cabinets as if it was second nature to him. 

The attorney sits down at the table, watching the chef work at ease in her space.

He turns around, stopping in his tracks. “What was that about? the whole “two other holes” thing?”

Lara clenches her jaw, running her tongue over her teeth, before muttering, “this guy I hooked up with used to say that to me.”

Carmy’s body freezes for a second at the thought of some other guy, who used to have access to her body, treating her like an object, before he resumes his movements, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips. “Jesus, what a fuckin’ asshole.”

Lara cracks a small smile at that. “Yeah. My early twenties were a whirlwind of douchebags. God bless low self-esteem.”

He shakes his head, pouring water into the kettle, before placing it on the stove. “Can’t believe you were ever insecure.”

The lawyer rolls her eyes, and Carmy chuckles at her predictable reaction. “I’m serious. You’re smart, passionate, and fucking accomplished. You’re also very pretty. Not that it matters, you’re just, yeah, you’re pretty.” He sounds less confident uttering the last sentence, and Lara bites her cheek, trying not to smile at how adorable and boyish he looks. 

“Yeah, well, wasn’t always the case. Guess confidence came with the title.”

“You’re still smart and passionate, even without the title. No one can take that away from you,” Carmy says, pouring hot water into a mug, adding a pack of chamomile tea, already knowing where she kept them, and handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, taking a small sip of the hot liquid, not knowing if the warmth in the pit of her stomach was due to the tea, the water bottle, or Carmy’s praise.

The young man turns around to head back to his cooking, before almost tripping, a ball of black fur at his feet. 

“Fuck, what is that?”

The ball unfurls, a pair of bright green eyes staring back at him, before running towards Lara’s feet.

The chef snaps his head towards the young woman. “You already got a cat?”

“Yeah, wanted to cross off my New Year’s resolution early”, she says, one of her hands reaching down and petting the cat’s head. “Meet Zeitoun.”

Carmy locks eyes with him, the smaller creature squinting at him, burrowing his face into his owner’s hand, a small frown forming on the chef’s face. “I don’t think he likes me.”

Lara snorts. “Cats take a while to acclimate to strangers. Plus, male cats can get super possessive.”

The man sighs. “Great, so I’ll always feel like he’s judging me.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Berzatto,” Lara says, “I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually.”

Carmy waves his hand dismissively, going back to his task.

She watches him work efficiently, trying to take a peek at what he’s doing, his broad shoulders blocking the view.

The only hint she gets is the sound of sizzling meat, and the smell of garlic and onions. Her mouth starts watering, trying to imagine what Carmy’s cooking up for her.

Zeitoun jumps on Lara’s lap, distracting her. She smiles down at the cat, scratching behind his ear, leaning down and kissing his forehead. The little creature purrs in response, enjoying the affection.

Carmy glances over at her, his chest tightening at the domestic sight, Lara letting her guard down, while he cooks for her. He looks at how she cradles the cat’s face and kisses it over and over again, showing the feline creature affection she never displayed in front of him, before shaking his head.

Jesus, don’t be jealous of a fuckin’ cat, Berzatto.

The pair stays silent for a while, as if this was their daily routine.

After a few minutes, Carmy slides a plate towards Lara, containing roasted asparagus, mashed potatoes and a nice cut of steak, cooked medium-rare, covered by caramelized onions.

The chef scratches the back of his head. “Uh, so, I read that women need more iron when on their period, so I chose a bavette cut. Asparagus has, like, vitamin B or something, so it helps your mood. And this,” he points to the mashed potatoes, “is an aligot. It’s like mashed potatoes with cream and cheese. Comfort food.”

Lara stares at the meal, trying to keep her jaw from falling. She thought he was just going to make her some spaghetti or something, but he went all out. And he researched?

“Shit,” she whispers, “that looks incredible, Carm.”

Carmy blushes, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from beaming at the young woman’s compliment. He knows he’s a good cook, has heard praise from all around the world, yet Lara’s words get to him.

“It was nothing, really,” he says, sitting down next to her, starting to cut up her steak. 

She chuckles at his gesture. “I can cut my own food, you know.”

He nudges his chin towards her lap, where Zeitoun was still seated. “Don’t think he’d like it much if you stopped petting him. Trying to get him to not hate me.”

“How sneaky,” Lara teases, watching as Carmy cuts up her steak, the knife slicing easily through the tender meat, before adding a piece of asparagus and some mashed potatoes to the bite.

He brings the fork to her mouth, watching as her lips wrap around it, before pulling away, chewing the food slowly, her eyes fluttering shut as she takes in the explosion of flavors, letting out a low moan.

Carmy looks away, the tips of his ears turning red at the sounds coming out of her mouth.

“Goddamn, chef, this is insane,” she says, after swallowing her bite.

Carmy’s lips stretch out in a small smile. “Yeah?” he asks shyly.

Lara nods, before looking back at the singular plate on the table. “You didn’t make yourself some food?”

Carmy shakes his head nervously. “N-no, this was for you. Wanted to help you, with your period.”

The young woman rolls her eyes, before reaching up and fixing another bite, Zeitoun letting out a meow of protest at the lack of attention, before bringing it to Carmy’s mouth. “We’re sharing, then.”

Before he can protest, she adds on, “I won’t eat if you don’t. And I know that the remodel of the restaurant is so crazy, you probably haven’t had time to eat anything substantial today.”

She was right, he hasn’t had anything to eat today, running on black coffee and cigarettes. He slowly chews the food, closing his eyes. “Yeah, not bad,” he mutters, before she slaps him gently on the arm.

He flinches. “Ow, what was that for?”

“You’re too humble,” she says pointedly.

“Fine, fine, it’s really fucking good,” he mutters, knowing she won’t let up.

The attorney smiles, and they take turns feeding each other in silence, Zeitoun purring while Lara keeps petting him with her free hand.

A beeping noise breaks them out of their trance, Carmy standing up, putting a tray into the oven. “I, uh, also made brownies. Sug always craved chocolate during her period. Should be done in about 20 minutes.”

Lara’s gaze softens, genuinely touched by his consideration. 

“You, you don’t have to do that, you know?”

He looks at her, a small smile on his face. “I know. I wanted to.”

Her eyes fill up with tears, although if he were to point it out, Lara would just blame it on the hormones or the cramps. “Why?”

Because I love you, because you’re the one person I wanna come home to, because you’re the one person that takes the time to understand me, you’re the one person who I see myself spending the rest of my life with, he wants to say. 

Instead, he shrugs. “You washed my hair at one in the morning. You rubbed cocoa butter on my hands. You sang to me in Arabic and held me until I fell asleep. You took care of me, without asking for anything, because you wanted to. Now, I want to take care of you.”

Lara takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart. Guys weren’t kind to her. Guys didn’t show this much care. Guys usually left once they got what they wanted from her, treating her like a disposable toy. But Carmy never did that. 

She clears her throat. “You, uh, you wanna watch a stupid show while we wait for the brownies to be ready?”

Carmy smirks. “How stupid?”

Lara chuckles nervously, knowing she’s got questionable taste in comfort shows. “A certain Canadian teen soap opera.”

Carmy’s brow furrows, before his eyes widen, recognizing the show she was describing. “Wait, the one with Drake in it?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, surprised he knew of Degrassi. “Yeah, but I’m watching the later seasons. His character graduated.”

“Right, right. Well, lead the way.”

Lara gets up, her cat jumping on the floor when he feels her shift. The two males follow her to her bedroom, where her laptop was still open, displaying a still from the show’s tenth season.

She slips under the covers, resting her back against the headboard, and Carmy hesitates, before joining her.

“Can’t believe you watch this shit,” he mutters, inching closer to her. 

Zeitoun jumps on the bed, pawing at Lara’s chest, before laying down, glaring at Carmy, while Lara cradles him in her arms, unaware of her pet’s animosity towards the young man.

Jesus, her cat really hates me.

“Shut up. My period, my rules”, she replies teasingly.

 He lets out a playful sigh, knowing that he’d let her put on whatever cheesy show she wanted, anyways.

They sit in peaceful silence, watching the storyline unfold. Lara shifts closer to Carmy, her arm brushing against his. Carmy lifts his arm slowly, wrapping it around her shoulder, expecting her to give him hell for it.

Instead, she looks at him, a tired smile on her face, and kisses his shoulder lightly.

Carmen freezes for a second, before his hand squeezes her shoulder. 

Lara nuzzles into his chest, Zeitoun letting out an annoyed sound at the shift in position, moving towards Carmy’s lap.

He holds his breath at this, and Lara smiles softly. “Look at that. Told you he’d warm up to you.”

He holds his hand out slowly, watching as Zeitoun sniffs it, before running it gently over the cat’s back, surprised to see him purr and lean his body towards the chef’s hand. 

He smiles, letting out a shocked laugh. “Guess it’s a lesson in patience, huh?”

“Yeah. It takes time for cats to be comfortable with others. But once they do, they love you.”

Carmen keeps stroking the feline’s short fur, thinking about how fitting it was for Lara to get a cat. Of course she’d get a pet just like her: distant at first, takes time to let people in, but secretly craves affection.

They stay like this for a while, Lara cradled into Carmy’s chest, Carmy’s free hand petting Zeitoun, getting lost in the moment, feeling like they’re in a cocoon, shielded away from the rest of the world, before Carmy’s phone alarm goes off.

He groans lightly, shifting positions to get up. “I, uh, gotta take the brownies out of the oven. You need anything?”

She hands him her hot bottle. “Can you replace the water?”

He nods quickly, taking the silicone recipient, moving quickly, not wanting her to be cold for too long.

Lara hears him move in her apartment, a small smile on her face, before she meets Zeitoun’s gaze.

“What?” she murmurs. “We’re still just friends. It’s fine.”

But even her cat doesn’t look convinced, his tail wagging, already annoyed at the humans’ antics. The animal jumps off the bed, walking out of the bedroom, sensing that this dynamic is way too complicated for him to witness.

Carmy comes back minutes later with a plate of brownies and her hot water bottle, refilled.

She lifts her sweatshirt, places the water bottle on her stomach, sighing immediately at the sensation.

The young man hands her a brownie, and she takes it, letting out a moan when the dessert hits her tongue. Carmy looks away, not wanting her to see how the sounds coming out of her mouth affect him.

“Delicious, chef,” she says, her mouth still full.

He lets out a chuckle at this. “Glad you like it.”

He pops a brownie into his mouth. “Yeah, fuckin’ nailed it,” he mumbles.

They sit there, watching the screen in silence, before Lara lets out a small hiss.

Carmy turns his head towards her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she answers, her face scrunched in pain. “My lower back fuckin’ hurts.”

His brow furrows in concern. “Lie down on your stomach.”

Lara shakes her head in protest. “No, c’mon, you’ve done so much already –”

“--wasn’t a question,” he interrupts her, calm but firm.

She looks at him, surprised to see him almost using a dominant tone. He locks eyes with her, unrelenting. Lara closes the laptop, placing it on the floor, and lays down on her stomach.

Carmy slides his hands under her sweatshirt, the fabric riding up, his flat palms stretching out on her skin, his touch warm, and Lara immediately lets out a sigh.

“This okay?” He murmurs.

“Yeah,” she lets out, her voice barely above a whisper.

He starts gently kneading at the muscles in her lower back, feeling the years of stress manifested under him.

“You’re really tense,” he comments under his breath.

“Being a defence attorney isn’t exactly a relaxing job,” she says sarcastically, letting out a moan when Carmy hits a particular sensitive spot, his thumb digging into the sore muscle.

He smiles in satisfaction at her reaction to his touch. Between the food and the massage, he hasn’t heard her moan this much in one night. He’s used to pretty sounds coming out of her mouth, but this is different, and fuck, it turns him on even more. 

He keeps rubbing circles into her lower back, and she lets out a loud groan. “Ah, fuck!”

Carmy freezes. “Shit, did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head. “Just, be careful with that knot. Think it’s been here since the beginning of law school.”

He kneads the skin carefully, trying to loosen the muscle, but it won’t give. “Take a deep breath for me,” he murmurs.

Lara breathes in, and he starts to work a bit harder as she breathes out, melting into her mattress.

“You’ve got so many knots,” he observes. “How do you even get by? Your back must be killing you.”

“Think I got used to it,” she mumbles. “When it gets really bad, I just apply some Icy Hot and pop some Tylenol.”

He chuckles softly, “and that works?”

“Not really,” she confesses. 

“So what do you do to, uh, relax and stuff?”

“You mean apart from sleeping with a certain Michelin-star chef?”

Carmy lets out a low chuckle, pressing harder into the knot. “Fuck off.”

“Ah, shit!” she yells, the pressure on her sore muscle too painful.

Carmy removes his hands entirely from her, starting to panic. “Shit, sorry, fuck, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just, yeah, you’re right. Some wounds are too deep to be resolved in shallow ways.”

He looks down at her exposed back, blinking a few times before reaching down, and kissing the knot. He settles down next to her, pulling down her shirt so she doesn’t get cold. 

He rests his hand over her clothed back, tracing light patterns, staring at her face, noticing how relaxed she seems, how she looks younger like this. He wonders when she started to shift from a child to an adult, if she even got the privilege of being a child. When did she transform into this hardass, intimidating lawyer who didn’t let anyone in?

Lara notices him staring, suddenly feeling a lot more vulnerable – her sloppy appearance not helping either, before wincing, turning on her side, clutching her stomach. Stupid fucking period cramps.

“You want me to grab you some medicine?” Carmy asks her, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Nah, doesn’t do shit for me,” she shakes her head.

Carmy looks at her, his hand at her side. “What usually helps?”

She thinks for a few seconds. “Hot water bottle, tea. Used to smoke weed, but I’m trying to be more sober, recently,” she mutters, before looking away, like she’s holding back. 

She sighs. “I, uh, there’s something else that helps.”

Carmy shifts closer. “What?”

She hesitates, before meeting his gaze, her cheeks flushing as she utters out, “an orgasm.”

Carmy freezes, his hand hovering over her side, his heart pounding as he takes in her words. “Oh.”

Lara clears her throat, the air feeling thick around her. “I, uh, I mean usually I’d just, uh, masturbate, or, uh, use a shower head, but yeah, think it helps release endorphins or something, relieves cramps.”

“Right, right, endorphins”, Carmy repeats, swallowing his saliva, trying not to picture Lara in the shower, steam all around her, letting out sighs of pleasure, her hands trailing down to her…

Jesus, pull it together.

“I,uh, I wasn’t saying that to be presumptuous or to assume o-or to pressure you to do anything” the young woman says quickly. “It’s just, you asked what helped, a-and I wanted to answer as honestly as possible.”

He shakes his head. “I know, don’t worry, there’s no pressure here,” he says, a small smile on his face. “I, uh, could I help you? I-I mean, if you wanted to.”

Lara blinks, taken aback by the chef’s offer. The men she slept with found periods disgusting, not wanting to be around her, texting her after a few days, asking “is the coast clear?”

“You, uh, you wanna, you wanna make me cum?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carmy wants to laugh at this, wants to point out how the normally confident woman, who was always comfortable in bed, seemed suddenly so unsure, unlike her usual self, but he restrains himself, knowing it’s not the time to do so.

“I-I mean, yeah, if you’d let me.”

She blinks, before standing up slowly, going into her bathroom, coming back out a few minutes later with some towels in her hands, laying them in the middle of the bed. 

She sits down on the edge of the bed, running her hands on her thighs. “You, uh, you sure you wanna do this? I mean, I, I don’t really look pretty, and there’s gonna be blood.”

Carmy scoots, joining Lara on the edge of her bed, his hand on her knee. “Y-yeah, I mean, if I can help you relieve some pain, why not? You, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout your appearance, and the mess.”

She exhales nervously, pulling down her pajama pants and underwear, the sanitary pad rustling as it moves down her legs, and laying down on top of the towels, her bottom half naked. 

This feels like a fucking examination, she thinks, fiddling with her cuticles, imagining herself as a frog splayed out in a high school science class, waiting for some shaky-handed student to dissect it.

Carmy lays down on his side, propping an elbow to face her, observing her movements, how vulnerable she seems in the moment.

She feels his eyes on him, and she blurts out, “We, you don’t gotta, we can skip foreplay, if you want. Just get right to it.”

Carmy blinks, surprised by her request. “You sure? Might make things more enjoyable for you.”

She chuckles nervously. “I, uh, you’re gonna get blood on your hands.”

He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I know. I don’t mind.”

His hand comes up, tracing her Medusa tattoo, waiting for her answer.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, Carmy thinking she’s changed her mind, when she murmurs “okay.”

His hand trails higher on her thigh, Lara’s legs spreading wider in anticipation, feeling something wet drip down between her legs, falling on the towel – a mix of blood and arousal. 

Carmy’s hand cups her mound, his middle finger running through her slit, her folds opening, feeling the heat emanating from her.

Lara gulps, her eyes fixated on Carmy’s face, trying to gauge his reaction, to see if this is too much for him.

He’s focused on the task at hand, his thumb finding her clit, circling it softly, watching as her breath hitches ever-so-slightly. 

He bites back a smirk, knowing that this isn’t the time to tease her. His middle finger dips into her pussy, feeling wetter and warmer than usual.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, “you, uh, that feels amazing”. He pumps his finger in and out of her slowly, watching as Lara’s hands grip the edge of her sleeves, trying not to show how his touch affects her, differing from her usual behaviour. 

“That okay?” he asks, his voice low, trying not to break whatever spell she’s under.

“Yeah, yeah, feels,” she takes a deep breath, “really good.”

“Good. Don’t hesitate, if you wanna stop or whatever, okay?”

His free hand comes up, cupping her cheek, his blue eyes studying her face for any sign of discomfort.

Her eyes flutter shut at the touch, her hips twitching slightly, trying to get more of him.

Carmy takes the hint, slipping in his ring finger, his digits curling inside her.

“Fuck”, she lets out, barely audible, feeling a spark shoot up inside her, Carmy’s fingers grazing her g-spot. 

He swallows, the sound of her breathy moan going straight to his cock, scissoring his fingers, moving a bit faster inside of her.

She lifts her hand, grabbing his wrist.

Carmy freezes. “Everything okay? Did I fuck up or-?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, it feels really good. Just, uh, I’m warmed up.”

His breath hitches, Carmy slowly pulls his fingers out. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll go clean up, grab a condom, and we can, uh, get to it,” he says, standing up slowly, walking to the bathroom, washing his hands, before coming back, reaching for her nightstand drawer, where she always kept the condom.

“You, uh, we don’t have to use one tonight,” she speaks up shyly.

Carmy looks at her, his brow furrowed. They always used condoms. Lara insisted on it, not being on the pill, and even though the both of them were clean, she didn’t want to take precautions, due to the nature of their arrangement.

“I’m usually fertile ten days after the start of my period, and I’m on day one. Sperm lives inside the vagina for five days, so…”

He stares at her, confused.

She sighs, giving him a small smile. “I just, I won’t get pregnant.”

His eyes narrow, thinking about it for a second, then seems to trust her. “Okay, what about STD’s and stuff?”

“I got tested when we started hooking up. All clean. Haven’t done anything with anyone else.”

“Y-yeah, me neither,” he admits, his hand scratching the back of their neck. They were allowed to fuck other people, as long as they were being safe, yet neither of them saw the need to seek out intimacy elsewhere.

Lara props herself on her elbows, still naked from the bottom-down. “I-if you don’t wanna, it’s fine. We can still wear a condom. Just thought, it might be more pleasurable.”

“N-no, I do,” he exclaims, a bit too loudly, before wincing, noticing how desperate and awkward he sounds. 

He takes a deep breath. “I just wanna make sure that it’s okay with you.”

She gives him a smile. “Wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want it, too.”

Carmy sits down next to her on the bed, looking down at her, his thumb grazing her cheekbone. “You sure?” he whispers.

She nods once, slowly but deliberately. “I’m sure.”

He exhales, taking off his clothes swiftly, his cock already achingly hard from the moans coming out of her mouth all night, before laying on top of her. He tugs at the hem of her sweatshirt. “You, uh, you wanna keep that on?”

“Yeah, for now at least. I get cold on my period, don’t wanna be uncomfortable or anything.”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. Just wondering,” he says, before placing his body in between her legs, the young woman spreading her thighs to accommodate him. 

He hovers over her, one hand next to her head, the other gripping his cock, lining himself with her entrance, before slowly pushing in.

Camy lets out a low moan, her wet and warm walls gripping him in a brand-new manner, the sensation overwhelming him. 

He sinks into her, dropping his forehead on her shoulder, not wanting to move yet, letting her get adjusted to the feeling.

Lara’s hand reaches up, her fingers tangling gently in his hair. “You can move,” she tells him.

He lifts his head, pressing his forehead against hers, before moving his hips at an achingly slow pace.

“Fuck,” he lets out, “you feel so fucking good.”

Lara’s hands go up, intertwining at the man’s nape, her legs wrapping around his waist. 

She’s never like this, always maintaining an air of confidence during sex. But tonight, with the period hormones coursing through her, and Carmy’s continuous care, she feels particularly needy, showing Carmy just how much he affects her.

She brushes her lips against his softly, Carmy coming down, kissing her languidly, feeling her whimper against him when he hits a deeper angle.

“Look so pretty like this,” he mumbles against her lips, breaking away, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her neck.

“Fuck, Carm,” the young woman sighs, her hands caressing his hair.

He feels a shiver running through his spine, wanting to hear her say his name like that all the time, her voice imprinted in his memory.

He lifts his head, meeting her gaze, one of his hands coming down to grip her hip, his other one slipping under her sweatshirt, cupping her breast, his thrusts a bit faster now, sharper. 

“Tell me what you need,” he grunts out.

“F-fuck, Carm, need you to --” she arches her back as he hits her sweet spot.

“Tell me. Whatever you want, tell me, I’ll do it,” he lets out, his voice strangled, his thrusts punctuating his words.

“I-I, I need you to suck on my tits while you fuck me, please,” she whines, the words coming out quickly.

Carmy’s breath hitches. She’s never been this needy, this submissive, before. He feels her walls clench around him, and before he can second-guess himself, he slips his arm around her back, shifting positions, sitting up, having her straddle his lap, his cock still deep in her tight pussy.

Lara lets out a small yelp at the swift change in positions, still surprised to see how Carmy easily manhandles her. 

The young man’s hands graze the hem of her shirt. “Is it cool if I remove this?”

She nods, lifting her arms as he slips it off her. She’s burning hot now, the sex transforming her body into a furnace.

He dips his head down, wrapping his lips around her hardened nipple, rolling his hips against hers, resuming his thrusts.

Lara lets out a loud moan, almost embarrassed at how responsive her body is to him. Her skin was more sensitive during her period, Carmy’s touch setting her on fire. 

He alternates between nipples, sucking, licking, and biting, his hands caressing her back, feeling the goosebumps form on her skin.

Lara’s resolve snaps, her breath coming out in short, desperate gasps, as she feels herself near the edge. “Fuck, Carmy, you’re so good to me,” she whines.

He feels her clench around him, feels her thighs start to shake, knowing she’s close.

“You sound so pretty, wanna hear more of you, please,” he says, biting lightly at her nipple.

“Ah, fuck, Carm, you’re gonna –” She shuts her eyes, his thrusts turning her into an incoherent mess.

He doesn’t stop, instead licking up her neck to her jawline, nibbling at her ear. “You can let go, I’m close too.”

She lets out a high pitched whine as he increases the speed of his thrusts, one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, the other grabbing her ass, their chests pressed against each other.

“Carmy, fuck!” She cries out, her pussy spasming against his cock, her chest heaving as she’s hit with her orgasm.

The young man groans, the filthy moan coming out of her mouth pushing him over the edge. He gives out two sloppy thrusts, and spills into her, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck. 

He stays like this, buried in her, his arms wrapped around her body, his hold on her loosening after he’s hit with his orgasm, but not letting go. 

Lara breaks the silence. “That was…”

“Yeah?” Carmy mutters, his head still buried in the crook of her neck, his softening cock still inside her, suddenly aware of how vulnerable they are right now.

“It was really good,” she murmurs. 

“Are, uh, are your cramps gone now?” he asks, his fingers tracing along her spine.

“Yeah. Feel better. Drained, but in a good way. Did you, did you like it?” She asks.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Fuck yeah. Didn’t know you could be so uh…responsive. Fucking wild.”

She blushes at that. “Yeah, me neither. Think my legs are gonna be sore tomorrow.”

He looks down, where their bodies are still intertwined. “You need some help getting cleaned up? Least I can do, since it’s my fault.”

She nods, and Carmy pulls out slowly, making sure he wasn’t hurting her.

Lara stares down at their groins, a mix of their fluids spread, feeling a bit uneasy, realizing what they just did. Not only did they have sex while she was on her period, but they had raw sex, and he came inside her. She tries not to let it show, though, not wanting to ruminate on what this all means.

“We should go shower, we look like a scene outta American Psycho,” she says instead, keeping her tone light.

“Yeah, good idea”, he mutters, discarding the towel in her laundry hamper, before wrapping his arm around her waist, steadying her as they walk into her bathroom. 

Carmy adjusts the shower’s water temperature before they both step into the small space. He grabs her loofah, squeezing some of Lara’s shower gel onto it, lathering it, the smell of shea butter, vanilla and warm spices surrounding them, before reaching for the young woman’s thighs.

She doesn’t protest or question him, still buzzing from her high as he meticulously scrubs her skin. Lara flutters her eyes shut, letting him clean her up, moving her body to access different areas. He’s gentle with her, taking the time to wash her.

“You ever do that with anyone else?” she asks, her voice calm.

Carmy’s movements slow down, a hint of a smile on his lips. “What, clean someone up? No, why?”

She shakes her head, her eyes slowly opening. “No, not clean someone up. What we did before. The raw sex. And the period sex.”

Carmy exhales sharply through his nose, trying to focus on the task at hand. He lifts the back of her knee, scrubbing at her inner thighs. “No. Neither. You?”

She shakes her head. “Me neither.”

A beat passes, before Carmy speaks up. “Yeah, uh, you were a lot of firsts for me.”

Lara freezes for a moment. “I, I wasn’t your first-first, right? Like, you didn’t lose your virginity to me?” She thinks back to the first time they hooked up, where he had frozen up while she was going down on him, or the first time they had sex, where she freaked out over the hickeys he left on her skin. God, did I ruin his first time by being a bitch?

Carmy chuckles lightly, bringing her out of her spiral. “God, no. I, uh, lost it when I was 16.” He says the last part quietly, Lara sensing that there’s more to the story.

“High school girlfriend?” she asks.

He snorts. “No fuckin’ chance in hell. I was too awkward to talk to girls. Had a stutter. Wasn’t smart, or cool, or popular either.”

Lara frowns, imagining an even more introverted, younger Carmy in front of her, wondering if they’d have been friends in high school.

“So, how did it happen?” She leans her head against the shower wall, her wet hair sticking to the tile, her voice drowned out by the sound of the shower spraying around them.

Carmy hesitates, putting her leg down, before tracing abstract patterns on her hips. “There was this girl in the neighbourhood, she was known for being, uh, easy? I-I don’t mean that in a like, mean way, just, she hooked up with everyone. And, Mikey and Richie, they thought I was gonna be a virgin forever. So they talked to her, to get her to have sex with me.” 

They called it “popping his cherry”, but Carmy didn’t feel like using that term, still embarrassed at the memory.

Lara’s brow furrows, the thought of his older brother and his cousin pressuring him like that making her stomach feel queasy. “And, uh, you went through with it.”

He nods. “Yeah, I just, wanted to feel normal for once. Wanted ‘em to stop messing with me.”

She reaches for his hand, still tracing patterns on her hip, almost distractedly. “How was it?”

He snorts. “Awkward. Don’t think I lasted more than ten seconds. At least she was nice. Didn’t make fun of me for it. Kinda, kinda regret letting them make me feel bad about it, though. Wish I could’ve waited, maybe I would’ve felt more ready.”

Lara squeezes his hand lightly, trying to reassure him, before grabbing the loofah, starting to scrub at his skin.

“I’m sorry. Deserved better than that,” she says softly.

Carmy’s heart clenches at her words, her care and consideration for him, even when he was younger, before they knew each other. He shakes his head, not wanting her to worry too much. “It’s fine, I mean eventually, shit got better, right?” he says, a small smile on his face as he watches her clean him up, droplets sticking to her eyelashes.

They stand there in silence for a few seconds, the water spraying around them, the shower fogging up. 

“What about you? When’d you lose it?” Carmy asks.

She sighs, trying to find the words to say. “19, late bloomer.”

He blinks, surprised that she lost it later than him. “Oh. College boyfriend?”

She shakes her head. “Nah. I, uh, I was tired of waiting. Asked a friend of mine. Got it over with.”

Carmy stares at her briefly, not knowing what to say. He knew she had a casual attitude about sex, but he was almost surprised that she was like this from the start.

Lara looks away, her gaze fixed on the shower drain. “What? It wasn't that big of a deal to me. I trusted this guy, and he was respectful. Just, felt like I was missing out.”

His expression softens. He knows what it’s like, to feel behind, inadequate, like there’s something wrong with him because he hasn’t done the same things others did. “Yeah, I know.” He focuses on her hands, gently rubbing circles on his chest, before she gestures for him to turn around.

He complies, his back facing her, his head dipped down. “Guess we both deserved better first times,” he murmurs, his voice barely louder than the shower jet.

Her movements slow down for a second, before picking up again, her hands running the washcloth over his shoulders, then down to his back.

“Yeah, guess we did”, she answers finally, letting the water rinse off the suds on Carmy’s body, before turning off the shower.

She steps out, grabbing two towels from the cabinet, handing one to Carmy, wrapping the other around herself.

Lara walks over to her bedroom, picking up her discarded clothes, pulling them on, Carmy doing the same. 

He watches as she climbs into bed, lying on her back ,while he’s standing in the middle of her bedroom. 

“I should, I should go. Let you rest,” he says quietly, heading towards the door.

“C’mon, it’s late. I’m not gonna kick you out.”

He freezes, before turning around, locking eyes with her. “You-you sure?”

Lara sighs. “You literally cooked for me, gave me a massage, and fucked me while I was on my period. I’d have to be a heartless cunt to kick you out after all of that.”

Carmy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, slipping under the covers next to her, careful to leave some distance between their bodies.

This is stupid, he thinks. You literally came inside her and now you’re scared to share a bed with her?

He turns on his side, facing Lara, before scooting closer to her, his hand reaching out, settling on her stomach. 

“Is, is this okay?” he asks, his voice barely audible, watching Lara’s expression in the dark.

She nods once. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

He exhales, inching closer to her, resting his nose in the crook of her neck. 

She doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, before pushing herself off him slowly, laying on her side, staring at him, her finger coming up to trace his features.

Her index finger gently traces the slope of his nose, his pronounced cupid’s bow, his pouty lips, his defined jawline, before her palm lays down on his chest, her eyes half-lidded, staring at him.

Carmy holds his breath, not knowing what’s going on in Lara’s mind.

“What?” he murmurs.

She doesn’t answer immediately, and he thinks she’s fallen asleep, until her voice comes out, whispering, like she was telling him a secret.

“Asmiatuka min jahli watanan, wa naseeto an alawtan tuslubu,”

He blinks, confused at the change in language. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a quote by Mahmoud Darwish, a Palestinian poet. It means ‘Out of my ignorance, I called you a homeland, and I forgot that homelands are taken away.’”

Carmy stills, not sure if he heard her right, his brain trying to process the words she just told him.

Shit, I crossed a line, she thinks. Lara lets out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, must be period brain, making me feel all weird and mushy,” she says, shaking her head, starting to pull her hand away, but Carmy doesn’t let her, his hand coming up and grabbing it, letting it stay over his chest.

“That’s beautiful," he murmurs, squeezing her hand, before cradling her cheek, his gaze boring into hers, her big brown eyes illuminated by the moonlight. Lara leans in, the hand that was resting on Carmy’s chest trailing to the back of his neck, her lips pressing into his softly.

This kiss is slow and tender, Carmy’s hold on Lara tightening, his arm coming to wrap around her waist, pulling her to his chest. Lara’s hands travel to the back of his head, her finger tangling gently in his hair. 

When he finally pulls away, he stays silent for a minute, before murmuring, “thank you, for the poem.”

Lara smiles shyly, coming up and placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Thank you, for taking care of me tonight.”

He hums, kissing her cheek. “Anytime.”

‘Being pregnant with Lip’s (planned) baby would include…’