lost in the depths

One thing that Mia learned real quick as a food aficionado was that it didn’t matter how much money you have or what kind of chefs you could afford to hire, if the food didn’t have soul and heart, it was trash. Another thing she learned? Some of the best food found anywhere tend to be foods made by the locals, the ones who learned to cook from their mothers and grandmothers and often times didn’t have to go to culinary school to appreciate the art of food and the power of bringing people together. It was for this very reason, that Mia never turned her nose up to hole in the wall eateries and undiscovered gems in the city. It was the truth in Mexico City, she didn’t see why it would be any different in New York City. Born into wealth and privilege, she has seen her peers refuse to eat at locations that didn’t have at least one Michelin star. Mia rolled her eyes even thinking about the foolishness, she was lucky, yes she had all the money she could ever dream of, but her  “tias y tios”, the guards at her home, the workers around the home, among others… all of them were narcos. Narcos who were born of humble beginnings and grew into their wealth, and because of that, they had exposed Mia to their way of thinking, their cultures and the biggest gift of all, their love of food. Street Food.

So here she was, walking into her favorite Mexican restaurant: Mariscos Del Sur. It was a restaurant set up near the coast, with perfect views of the water. Specializing in all sorts of seafood but also welcoming of the traditional Mexican dishes including the ever iconic tacos, the enchiladas and sopes and carnitas.  It was a place that was gaining notice and hype by word of mouth, and while she was always the most critical when it came to eating food from her homeland, it’s also the one she seeked out the most because she missed it. That’s why when she found this place, it was her own personal slice of heaven. She’s taken to a small table for two after explaining to the host that it would just be herself in attendance today, and she smiled when her drink was placed on her table not that long after. She was such a frequent guest they already knew her preferred drink, a paloma. She was looking at her menu trying to decide between the ceviche de camaron or the empanadas de camaron, when she heard the grating voice of one of her least favorite servers in the place. The girl’s voice was like the sound of nails on a blackboard and Mia immediately felt her mood sour.  She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw a beautiful guerito looking over the menu and asking for a recommendation. She perks up a little, trying to hear what the dumb gringa has to say, rolling her eyes when the girl offers up fajitas or the taco salad. The two most americanized recipes on the menu that were truly there to placate those with bland palates and weak stomachs. Mia waits for the gringa to walk away before leaning over towards the handsome gentleman and offering her unsolicited but very necessary advice.

“If you value true Mexican cuisine, you will absolutely ignore that girl’s suggestion because she is setting you and your stomach up for major disappointment.” Mia leaned back, shrugging. “I’m just saying, sure she works here but her taste is wretched.”

There was a slight frown on his face as the waitress had suggested probably the two least exciting things on the menu. But he still kept a smile, thanking her for the recommendation and requested a few additional minutes to figure out what he had really wanted. It didn’t help that the poor girl hadn’t helped his efforts in narrowing down the menu at all. He just hoped that by the time his agua de jamaica came to the table that he would be ready. Tommy was slightly caught off guard when he heard a voice chime in from beside him. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s advice, eyeing her as she spoke. “Oh believe me, if I wanted a taco salad, I would have gone to Chipotle. The only thing she told me was what not to order,” he joked for a moment before making eye contact with the girl. He extended his hand for her to shake, “Tommy. Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for proving that I wasn’t being crazy thinking she steered me in the totally wrong direction.”

“Did I drink so much coffee that I’m talking really fast or is everything just normal and my body is just so adjusted to how much I drink that this is nothing?” Cora went as far as the look at her hands, the limbs completely normal and not shaking. At least not shaking like she would if she didn’t have a cup first thing in the morning. “That really should be my cue to leave this conversation, but we’re walking in the same direction aren’t we? Why are you back? You literally have twenty reasons why you don’t need to come into work.” 

A day off. He wasn’t sure when the last day off he had really was. Now of course it didn’t really mean a day off of work considering work never seemed to stop for him. But it did mean that he could work from home and that he could take the longest lunches without anyone telling him to get back to work. Sure, he had lived in the city his entire life, but there were still so many restaurants he hadn’t been. Long before he was a cop, his true passion had always been food, seeking comfort in dishes of any shape or form as long as it had good flavor. The one he had picked out today had been on his list for awhile, he had only ever heard good things about it and he could tell just from the aroma in the air outside of the place that it was going to live up to the hype. Though quite honestly, as long as it wasn’t Chinese take-out for the fifth time in a row that week.

“Please keep pretending like you do know what to do for both of our sakes. I don’t think Shelby can handle another panicked called from me at 3AM.” Ophelia shifted, trying to stretch out her back, hoping to find some reprieve in how much her whole body ached. Most of the post-birth pain was gone and in the final stages of healing if not already healed, but since she was getting barely any rest, everything just felt heavy. “By all means, friend. They’re as small as they’re going to be since I fed Liam.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying anymore. I also think there are three of you which is a nightmare.” With a small pause and extreme reluctancy, Cora decided to hand back the coffee. Even if it was mostly finished. “The only thought in my head now is that I definitely would not look good in handcuffs and that is literally the biggest opening for you and I might actually extremely judge you for not taking it.”

“He’s already teething?” It was too much. First, Ophelia was not ready to be a mother. Giving birth literally snuck up on her. Now her son was already teething and it only felt like three days ago she got back from the hospital. She let herself fall over the armrest, falling back onto the couch, her head hitting something that wasn’t just the couch cushion. A small elephant toy was pulled out from her back, not Liam’s lion, and Ophelia just tossed it somewhere, closing her eyes that needed the rest. “My boobs hurt.”

“Hm… that actually sounds like the perfect getaway. Exactly what I need.”

“Nope. Mine.” Cora ducked out of the way, putting herself further than arm’s reach from him, smugly taking another sip–a much smaller one this time. “You take away my coffee, I blackmail you. I don’t know with what, but I will find something to blackmail you with.”

“Yes!” Ophelia first said, staring into his eyes but the longer she looked, she wasn’t sure. “No. I don’t know. I’m so tired.” She paused, closing her eyes and pulling herself into Nate, trying to hide in his shoulder. “Can you check, please.”

“No, they’ll just think I’ve finally lost it. A side effect of working with the stubborn Chandler Wyatt.” One swig and half of the cup went down her throat effortlessly. If it really was possible just to have an IV drip of coffee straight into her system, Cora would probably try to figure it out so it was only beneficial to her and everyone around her. “Look the more I admit to myself that we actually did the thing, the less weird it will be, and we can move on with our lives. It’s not weird, though. It’s just that I totally know what you look like naked. I’m fine.”

( . *// @peysidiots 

“Do not give me that look right now. Liam has been up all night and I can’t find his lion and I’m tired and fuck do you think I left it at my parent’s house? I couldn’t have. Where are my keys?”

( . *// @peysidiots 

“If I had known that you getting laid would have gotten the stick out of your ass, I would have fucked you a long time ago.” Easy. That’s how Cora would describe it. It was easier working with Chandler. Even a small ‘thank you’ slipped out of her mouth when he handed her the third coffee refill for the morning, with her very obviously trying to ignore the small jitters she got when her hand brushed his.

“Are you really going to make me beg?” Ana asked, a pout already prepared on her lips. Not that there wasn’t a constant pout on her lips. The girl’s lower lip was just always pushed out a little more, the innocence on her face not reflecting anything that was inside, but no one knew that more than Park Dae-Jung, or only affectionately to Ana, DJ. She refused to call him by his American name because to her, it was her name for him. Ten years of friendship, ten years of feeling the skip in her heart when she would see his soft smile, granted Ana the privilege to call him whatever she wanted, a name that no one else could use. They were AK and DJ, and they always will be, especially if Ana had anything to do with it. She had come to terms with her feelings a long time ago and the fact that nothing was ever going to happen. Not with the level of obliviousness that she put up with. 

She threw herself back onto his bed, her long hair spreading everywhere and her gangly arms spreading across the bedspread. Her hand ended up on a beanie and Ana attempted to fix her mess of locks so she could put the piece on. She’s always opted for the silent beg, laying there impatiently until DJ would reluctantly agree to go because she wouldn’t talk until he did, especially when he would make fun of her ideas. It never mattered to her though. Ana wanted her ice cream and there was nothing that was going to stop her from getting it. The beanie was pulled over her eyes, his smell was now the only thing she was inhaling. It wasn’t uncomfortably hot yet, but that wasn’t going to stop Ana from being a dumb teenage girl wearing a beanie of the boy she likes, feelings that would never be returned. She will always feel the small flutter in her heart every time she was around him, a scent that was so unmistakably DJ that could never be replicated. His smile that was soft, but somehow still always reached his eyes, the kindness that he showed her through his actions that were always reflected in his eyes, but never through his speech. Ana loved him and she knew she would never stop. Through all the teenage angst and issues, that was always the one thing that was clear.

Peter mimicked the pout that had played across her features. “Maybe,” he blinked his eyes a few times before shrugging nonchalantly as he waited for the begging too ensue. Perhaps not even beg, so much express how much she really wanted it. Even if it was silent pouting, how her lips pursed and her features grew soft when she really wanted something was worth every moment spent. He watched her grab the beanie that had been carelessly thrown on the bed sometime within the last week. When she pulled it over her eyes, he could feel the grin. Maybe it was dumb of him to think it, but Ana looked better in that beanie than he ever could. It might as well have been hers considering the inordinate amount she wore it. In fact, he was sure the last time it was worn was by her, hence the reason it was just tossed on his bed instead of put away like he would have done. Peter knew that in no time it would find its way right back onto her head.

He took this moment to his advantage, being awfully still as she continued to pout until he would give in. Without really thinking about it, he reached his hand over to her face and pinched her cheeks together to make her lips purse even more. “There we go,” he smiled contently holding her cheeks in place with one hand before lifting up the beanie so he could see the full expression written across her features. “This is the level of begging I want from you,” his cheeky grin still present before completely pulling the beanie over her face again and pushing himself off of the bed. Peter braced himself for some sort of smack from Ana when she got her wits about her. There was nothing he could do to make it obvious about how much he liked her. The amount of times he had flirted with her like that, it was painful. How could she not see it?