#sad fluff

“Congratulations! It looks like you’re actually around 9 weeks pregnant. It’s a wonder you couldn’t tell before now, Mrs. Reid”.

You could hear what the doctor was saying, but you hadn’t yet grasped the meaning behind the words, moving to look at the screen she had turned towards you. She hadn’t told you what she was checking for, just that your blood work had come back and she needed to verify something. This being the reason hadn’t even crossed your mind.

Pregnant. 9 weeks. Truthfully, you could tell her the exact day of conception, although you are still just silently staring at the screen in wonder.

Your doctor seems to understand that you need time to process the words, even if she knows you’ve been trying for over a year. She hands you copies of your first sonogram and information that you’re sure your husband has already gathered.

You hadn’t even gone to the doctor because you’d been feeling unwell - it was just an annual check up. You hated them, had always felt they were a waste of time, but Spencer always insisted.

Spencer.

You needed to tell him. Right now. You two had been trying for so long, and nothing had seemed to work. Of course the moment you two agree to stop trying, to just be natural, it happens. Just like Spencer had said it would. It was almost annoying that he was always right, and you could hear his voice in your head telling you the statistics like he had that day.

You two had agreed long ago that when you found out, if he wasn’t with you, that you wouldn’t do anything crazy to try to tell him. Instead, you left the doctor’s office in a daze, driving to the bakery Spencer loved but never had time to get to. You picked up his favorite sandwich and even got a pastry for yourself, before driving to see him.

Your mind wandered on the drive, barely paying attention to the traffic around you. It didn’t matter to either of you what gender your unborn child would be - you’d already picked out names. Godparents had been easily decided - Luke Alvez and Emily Prentiss being the most obvious of choices.

Thinking of that, your mind replays the day Spencer had sheepishly come back home when you two had first started trying, carrying a bag from a store you’d never heard of.

He revealed that he had been at the bookstore and saw something in a store window that he had to buy, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

You remember laughing loudly and how much your cheeks had hurt from your wide smile, claiming the three shirts he had purchased were perfect. Godparent shirts for Luke and Emily, and one that said “Favorite Aunt” for Penelope.

At first, when you two had discussed godparents, you’d been slightly worried on how you’d choose a godmother - not knowing how you could possibly pick between Penelope or Emily. But Spencer had said that Penelope was a sister he had never gotten to have, saying that her title would be Auntie P. to however many children you two had.

You’d have to take the shirts with you next month to Rossi’s house mansion. Spencer had gone back to the store and bought ridiculous shirts for every member of the team, even one for Hotch, in case he ever saw him again. You wondered if Rossi would like his “grandpa” shirt, or if he’d complain that he wasn’t old enough for that title. (Even though he had an actual grandchild).

Shaking your head from your thoughts, you park, taking a deep breath and grabbing the food. Slowly, you exit your car, meandering to where you know Spencer will be.

As you stand in front of him though, you find the words are stuck in your throat. You sit down, forcing yourself to breathe as you open your mouth.

“Hey love. I brought your favorite food! Um, guess what? I’m sure you already know - you probably knew before me. We’re pregnant, Spencer! Well, I’m pregnant… but I’ve made you a dad! 9 weeks - the last time…” you trailed off, blinking back tears.

“You were right, sweetheart. Like always. I’m- I’m so sorry, that it happened too late. But, well, it’s okay, right? Now I’ll always have a piece of you with me. I love you, Spencer Reid.”

You can’t stop the tears from streaming down your face now, but you continue to say every thought that’s been in your head since you got the news as you wait for his response.

A response you know you’ll never get.

"We'll be back darling," James called out to the two of you. The boys had to go finish some paperwork for tomorrows early mission, leaving you alone in the house with your son.

"I don't know why we couldn't have taken the bike," Sirius grumbled from the backseat of the Ford Escort. "It would have been far more exciting than riding this hunk of junk."

"Frankly my dear, I don't give damn," Remus readjusted his rear view mirror starring at his husband in annoyance. "And I quite enjoy having all my bones in tact to answer your question."

"It was one time!" Sirius shouted causing Harry to let out a giggle.

You stood on the front porch of your house with Harry in your arms watching as your three troglodytes argue with one another.

The pot of English Pearls you had outside, hanging from the exterior of the railing, swayed with the wind. The sky was still clear but the wind gave its surprise shower away. "Surely, the storm won't be here till tomorrow," you thought.

"Be careful," you yelled as you saw them begin to pull out of the driveway. Harry waved his hands, shouting continuous "goodbyes" and "I love yous."

"I love you two so much," James smiled as he sent air kisses to Harry and you, his window still rolled down in order to hear your voices.

"We love you to dada!" Harry jumped up and down on your hip trying to see the car over the tall trees. All that could be heard as a response was a couple of laughs and coos for the young five year boy.

"Okay angel, I'm going to go start on dinner," you carried him inside, closing the door behind you. "Would you like to help or would you like to go play?"

"Can I play in living room?" He asked, looking at your hair as he fiddled with the strands. You thanked Godric he no longer had the habitat of pulling your hair anymore.

"Of course love," you set him down on the carpet, before heading to the kitchen to make dinner.

You opened the pantry to see what you could make tonight. Maybe a soup, or some sandwiches - in the end you decided to make tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Just as you finished cutting off the crust of Harry's sandwich, you heard the strum of pitter patters on the window. Quickly you looked out the window above the kitchen sink and saw that the sky had darken. Without a second thought you grabbed the empty laundry basket near the sofa and ran outside.

A confused Harry followed along behind you, soon falling behind as he mesmerized at the water coming down from the clouds. He soon dashed his way to happy green grass and enjoyed the rain drops.

You on the other hand headed to the side of the house, quickly pulling down the clothes from the clips on the line and shoving them into the basket. "Out of all the days it decided to rain, why on earth now?" You muttered as you tried to take down all the clothes as fast as you could, laughing a bit at James's soaked unicorn boxers.

"Mum can we play in the rain?" Harry asked as he spun around on the grass looking up at the rain falling from the sky.

"Just for a while darling, I don't want you to get sick," you replied before entering the house and placing all the clothes in the mud room. You stretched them out on the counters before heading outside to watch Harry.

The gentle fall of the rain from the roof through the gutter, soothed the house as its magic came to life. Your little garden you and your husband started began to dance with joy with the clouds tears just as your son did.

Harry giggled and laughed as he felt the squishing of the mud beneath his feet. He stuck his tongue out to catch raindrops, feeling a rush of happiness in the weather - when something caught his eye. A funny growing trail of rain water began to follow down the stoney path of their porch towards the empty road.

Jumping into stream on the path, he laughed as the cold water splashed against his ankles. You saw him jumping in the stream of water, and let out a soft smile. If only you have your camera right now to take a photo of this memory.

"Harry, darling," you called out, "I'm going to get an umbrella for you." Your son continued to jump in the stream completely infatuated with it, "okay mum."

Watching as the water flowed, Harry put his two feet together watching as the stream began to build up. Soon it tried escaping his little wall, until he placed both of his hands down and tried stopping it once more.

Looking around he tried to find something to help stop it, and when you came out with the umbrella an idea struck. Without another thought he quickly ran to your arms grabbing the umbrella and running back to stop the flow. You looked pleased at first, thinking he was going to use it to not get wet, but then you were soon let down. "If that is not James's kid I don't know at this point," you thought, grumbling as you walked back inside.

Although in his mind it did seem like a wonderful idea to use the umbrella, he then realized that it would fly backwards as the weight of the build of water was too heavy for him to hold.

Closing it, he threw it away and soon decided on finding another way. In his five year old mind, your son decided to use the newspaper on the lawn to stop the flow of the water. That idea also failed him, so quickly he went inside, startling you with the slamming of the front door as he ran towards his room.

Carrying four toy blocks in his hands he ran towards the front door, but was soon stopped by you.

"Harry James Potter!" You yelled, "look at the mess you made, where is the umbrella I gave you?" You asked as you pointed towards the muddy shoe prints on the floor.

"Mum I'm sorry but I-" He tried explaining but you kept talking about the mess on the floor. Harry tried wiping it away with his foot but it just made you sigh.

"Go," you pointed outside annoyed to which he gladly left to go complete his mission.

This process continued over five more times to the point you even tried barricading the open front door with your body to which harry swiftly made it through any open gaps left. Curse those stupid quidditch practices.

Finally you ended up giving up, leaving the front door open and sitting on a chair outside. You watched as Harry ran back and forth from the house to the path trying to stop the run off of water. The little wall made out of newspaper, towels, blocks, and boxes outside the path made you smile. Even if your house is a mess, its living with excitement.

Harry put his feet on the side of the other and placed his hands the same way as before trying to finish off this little wall. And as the water slowly began to reach his hands he soon realized he wasn't going to make it. There was still a gap left.

Disappointed and sad, he prayed that the water would stop at his finger tips but it didn't seem it was going to end that way. To his great surprise, you walked up from behind and placed your feet on the side of his hands.

"I thought you didn't want to make a mess mum?" Harry looked up at you, his face finally clear of the rain thanks to the umbrella you held above you.

"I learned that a little mess isn't something we should fuss about love," you shrugged, smiling down at your son.

"Mum, quick, its going to escape!" Harry said as he watched the water begin to turn over your sneakers.

You looked up at the umbrella and smiled before throwing to the floor and placing your hands next to your feet.

"I don't think we are going to make it Harry," you said as the water began to flow farther than your hand could stop.

"We need more blocks." Harry said, just before he was about to get up a pair of shoes appeared next to your hands.

"Look like you might need a little help."

"Dad!" Harry looked up to see his father. James was completely soaked from head to toe but he didn't care. He just wanted to be home.

"Darling I thought you had to finish some paperwork?" You smiled up at your husband.

"Canceled the mission because of the weather." He shrugged, "and plus how would you two ever survive without me? I mean look how the stream almost escaped- OW!" James crouched down to hold shin. "What was that for?!"

Harry tried holding in a laugh at his dads pained expression.

"That was for criticizing us," you smiled, "and this is for helping us." You gave him a peck on the lips causing a faint blush to appear on James's face.

"Ewwwwww!" Harry twisted his face in disgust.

"Oh pack it up Romeo," James said as he tried stealing another kiss from you.

Gosh you really did love you family.

Time moved differently in the weave. There was no telling really how long he had actually been in Mystra's domain, waiting to return the crown to her. He couldn’t wait to get back and hold Tav in his arms once more. Putting all of this nonsense with the crown, the brain, their adventure all behind them. To enjoy the fruits of their labor as they settled into domestic bliss. When he asked Tav to marry him, it almost came as a shock when she told him she just wanted to settle into a simple quiet life. For the past six months his only context for who she was as a person was the warrior who stood fiercely before them all. 

It brought great relief that she simply wanted to settle down. But still, he couldn’t imagine it. They found the crown and moved into his… their tower in Waterdeep. When they arrived he went to the temple right away so that he could be done with all this Karsus bullshit. 

After about an hour Mystra summoned him. 

“Gale, it seems you were successful in obtaining the crown.” Cautiously smiling, trying to gauge what he would do with it. Their last meeting was tense and he had taken quite an angry tone with her before. 

“I have come to return it.” He set the crown into her outstretched hand.

“I am pleased by your decision, Gale of Waterdeep.” 

“Dekarios.. You can just call me Gale Dekarios now.” 

A twinge of displeasure crossed Mystra's face. 

“Alright. And will you take up your place as my chosen once more?” There was expectation there. It was a question, but there was expectation there. Not many refused the offer of a goddess.. Especially one he had spurned before.

“Grateful as I am for the offer,” He rung his hands nervously, “I simply want to live the ordinary life of an ordinary man. All I really want is to go home to my wife. Free of the orb of course.”

A twinge of jealousy caused Mystra’s frown to deepen. Anxiety hit Gale. What if she refused to fix the orb afterall? Tav helped him to unravel the manipulations he experienced under Mystras thumb. But still that same guilt and fear of displeasing her froze him. 

“Very well.” Mystra seemed to draw the process out, but she finally removed the orb. “Enjoy the rest of your life, Gale Dekarios.” 

He was returned to the mortal plain. It was dark out. He must have been at the temple all day. He quickly tested his magic to make sure it was still intact. Surprisingly, it seemed his old prowess was returned to him and the deep scars that gave away the orbs' presence was gone. Relief settled inside him like it never had before.

He quickly walked to his tower, not wanting to waste any time. He opened the door to his home and called out. No one answered. There were candles blazing so someone must have been present. Making his way up the stairs towards the bedroom a startling noise hit him. 

Was that… no it couldn’t be. Practically running up the stairs he followed the sound of an infant crying. Listening at the door the voice of his wife accompanied the upset child. 

“There, there. Hush now. You’re all right, it was just a bad dream.” Tav’s voice seemed strained and withdrawn. How long had he truly been in Elysium?

He opened the door causing Tav to jump. Clutching the child closer to her, causing its cries to grow stronger. Eyes wide, she just stood there staring at him. Neither of them knew what to say. Just simply watching each other from their respective corners. 

“Did.. who is.. I.” His words fell short. Where did one even begin in a situation like this. He expected smiling eyes. For Tav to come running into his arms so they could make love all night. But she stood there, a hardness in her gaze. 

“It’s been a year.” Such a simple statement. It took an effort for her to keep her voice neutral but it hitched despite her best efforts. 

Eyes settling on the infant in her arms, he noted the deep brown waives that matched his own. This was entirely out of the realm of things he expected to come home to. Truthfully, he thought the orb rendered him infertile. Although, he didn’t really put the theory to the test he supposed. The child's skin had the same midday afternoon tones as its mother. There was no doubt this was their child. 

His focus was back on his wife’s face. He read a thousand nights of grief in those beautiful amber eyes. Cautiously approaching her, he held his arms out. “May I see..” Gods, he didn’t even know if it was a boy or girl. 

“Amidel. Your son’s name is Amidel.” She whispered. 

“Amidel.” Testing the name on his tongue he gently took his son from her. It felt awkward given his experience with infants was… well none. She nervously adjusted his hand so it cradled Amidel’s head a certain way. The infant watched, staring suspiciously at the strangers face. “How old is he…” his voice faltered, not sure if he really wanted the answer. 

“Three months.” She was now sitting on a carved oak chair, facing the fireplace. His heart broke into a million pieces. The sadness so evident in her features. 

“Gale, I thought you had changed your mind. I thought…” The tears came cascading down, pent up grief lacing every word. “I thought you chose the crown. Or at the very least you chose her.” 

“My love, time moves differently in Elysium. It wasn’t my intention to be gone for so long.” 

A flash of anger propelled her off the chair as she now stood face to face with him. 

“The last time you were there it took an hour. An hour is all I had to wait for you to return after your confrontation with Mystra.” She clenched her hands into fists. “Nothing.. Not a single gods damned thing could have prepared me for this past year.” 

He tried to place his hand gently on her cheek but she turned away as if his touch burned her. Her shoulders began to shake as she quietly sobbed. She was right. It should have only taken a day at the most. Disgusted by what was clearly Mystra's last play at influence in his life. But it didn’t matter. Nothing he could say could change how much Tav must have suffered this year. To live with the idea that she might have been abandoned, pregnant with a child that may never meet his father. There was no doubt that his mother helped her, but still. It was something they should have experienced together. A moment where she needed him the most, she was left alone. 

A servant walked into the room, surprised to seem him there. “Mr. Dekarios, we didn’t expect your return.” Taking measure of the energy in the room, the servant offered to take the infant and settle him down for the night. Gale obliged, relief that Tav had some help in his absence. 

The servant left with their son and he approached his wife. His arms wrapping around her from behind. She tried to pull away but he held firm. After a time of struggling and beating at his arms she finally relaxed into him. Her silent sobs now a loud quaking release of every sorrow she felt throughout his absence. He took note of how her body was no longer battle hardened. Instead it carried the tell tale softness of one recently pregnant. He held her tighter, breathing in her mothers sent as his own cries joined the cacophony of grief. 

 Sydney’s highschool cousin had begged her to provide some of her family famous crab cakes for a graduation kickback for one of her friends. The friend remembered having them from way back when 18 year-old Sydney still had to babysit them as ever-hungry 10 year olds and never forgot. Honestly, Sydney felt honored that her food made such a lasting memory on a stranger just like Camry had for her-

Anyway, the kickback was at 8 and it was 7:20 and Sydney had just put the last sheet of crabcake from the oven. She called out absentminded goodbyes as Tina’s quiet “Night Jeffes,” and Richie’s brash “Night Cousin” kinda floated behind her.

 As she waited for the batch of paprika-savry crab cakes to bake, she was whipping up a creamy tabasco base sauce to dip them in. Carmy was softly in her space, like usually. He was precious in sharpening all the knives of the kitchen, old school style with a grit stone set, he stood catty-corner to her. His drilling blue eyes didn’t stare directly at her soul but instead to the delicately-deadly curve of the knife. 

For once it was Sydney stuck side eyeing him with a soft focus. Her cooking had come to  a quiet moment of waiting. Waiting for her sauce to set, waiting for the last batch and waiting for the batch before to cool, waiting to taste test.

Camry chuckled when he heard her mutter out a quiet yet frantic “hot hot hot hot” as she let her impatience get the best of her to taste her sauce with the crab cake. He shut up at her moan of delicious pleasure. A soft but throat-y sound of pure satisfied bliss. He practically tasted the seasoning of such a sound in the air and a craving to hear it again and again hit his gut, spreading warmth all over his skin. 

He glanced up from the black grit of the stone to see her all eyes closed, swaying in the taste and her crafted fingers still clutched half of the cake. He took her in further, she was dressed down from her kitchen wear, instead wearing the outfit for the kickback ( - supervising, one last babysitting gig I guess. Because I know those brats are gonna get high off their asses) 

A pair of black jeans that should be illegal on her body, a gray cropped sweatshirt and sneakers that would lead to certain death by slip in a busy kitchen.

 His eyes followed every line of hers like he was seeing the best grain to cut for optimal presentation. The curve of her calf into the curve of her thigh, into the curve of her tempting ass into the concave of her back. His eyes skirt the plane of her stomach onto the lines that made her shapely waist. Over her petite chest to the curve of her lean shoulders that connected to the slope of her neck that was still stretched back in bliss from a euphoric bite of damn good food. 

She moaned over the second bite. Camry licked his lips at the way her lips kiss over the crumbs and speckle of sauce left on her lithe fingertips. Fuck, he wondered how those plump lips of her witty mouth would fe-

Carmy bit back a curse as the grit of stone scraped with a rude sting over the side of his thumb to the heel of his hand. Like some punishment for allowing her to take his attention with one whisper of a sound and to greedily take in her beautiful shape when the fucking knives are dull.

“You good Chef?” Carmy asked. He brushed past her with a light hand on the small of her back to get to the sink. She finally opened her eyes and her nose scrunched cutely in slight embarrassment for moaning like that over a freakin’ bite of crab.  

“Sorry, it's just I haven’t made these in forever. I forgot how good I am at making ‘em. Shit, that probably sounds so conceited.” Sydney chuckled a bit nervously and Carmy shrugged.

“I only eat veal, if I cook it. That fact’s gotten me beat up by Mike once or twice.” he joked. It made Sydney smile. She grabbed another one with a graceful swoop of her wrist; she dipped it and came to his side.

“What do you think?” she asked, excitement in her eyes that Carmy was going to eat something so casual of hers. Carmy licked his lips at her obliviousness, her hands were still busy as he washed them and absently wrapped a bandage around the meat of his thumb. 

But he would never deny a taste test from her. 

Sydney freakin’ squeaked when he leaned his head close and ate the bite from her hand. Her body stiffened as she felt his lips grace off the side of her pointer finger and thumb. She is forced to focus on his working jaw as he chewed over it and gave a hum of pleasure himself. The sound made her bite her own lips, she wondered how such a sound would feel against her throat.

“That’s some amazing sauce Chef. Oughta add it to the menu.” he commented, looking into her eyes once again. Sydney gave a stiled nod that almost brushed their foreheads together. 

“Thanks. It’s- jus-just uhm, well y'know something I’ve perfected since I was a kid. My great uncle taught me how.” She rambled with a shuffled step back. 

“Whoa!” Carmy warned softly. His quick hands grasped her hips and pulled her back to him before she crashed back into the very full trash can. The movement collided her into his chest, his hands slid up to her waist and back to steady them before they ended up on the floor. 

“Uhm.” Sydney whispered as their noses bumped and she was nearly eye to eye with him. 

“Whoa uh-” he muttered back as Sydney’s hands fisted into the front of his shirt. 

It was awkward and exhilarating. 

Certainly, wrong and natural as they both found each other pulling their lips closer. Carmy closed his eyes tightly and Sydney refused to move her grip on his shirt because no-way was this real. Their lips placement is slightly off initially, they taste the same to one another and Sydney is pretty sure her foot is stepping on his.

Their next smack of lips was more of a moment to be connected yet adjusting. Sydney leads them to correct their posture, him leaning down more comfortably, one of her hands leaving his shirt to hold his cheek as their heads shift. Noses bumping once more but the kiss deepened deliciously. They got greedy with one another as they refused to separate for air. 

Sydney’s hand gripped down on his gold chain, locking him down as she started to trail her lips to his jaw. Carmy’s hand grabs at her breast and gives a soft squeeze as he forces her lips back to his and swallows her moan. 

 His other hand rubbed down her side until they gripped tightly on her hip. The combination of his caresses caused her to give a stuttering moan that sent lust running wild under Carmy’s skin. He turned them and lifted her with ease. Sydney pulls apart in shock as he sat her on the edge of an empty prep table with such swiftness. 

They are forced to breathe and look at each other now, their bodies still wrongly close. Sydney's hands slid down to hold his wrists as he still had a grip on her hips.

“Fuck.” they both whispered off wet, kissed bruised lips. They looked each other deeply in the eyes for a moment before Carmy turned away first. His hand instantly ran with worry through his hair as Sydney snatched her hands and crossed her arms, pressing into herself as she looked down at the titles. 

“Uhm, that wasn-”

“Shit, sorry w-”

They both hum to a quiet, lost for words at what they just did. 

And how they both liked it.

And how they both wanted it again. 

Sydney feels an embarrassed warmth under her skin to see her lip gloss over Cramy’s mouth and chin. Carmy went red and nervous as he saw how much he had hiked up her shirt.

“Sorry for uh… you good Syd?’ Carmy asked, still not looking at her. She slid off the counter, adjusting her clothes. She pointed her look past his head to the clock on the wall. 

7:55 pm.

“I’m good, Carmy. Are you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“I’ve got to go.”

Sydney has to bush close to him to get back to her counter to get the last batch and pack the food then getting the fuck out. Carmy flinched to see that his wet hands had left a drying imprint on her shirt. He passed her to the back door and collapsed into a resting crouch, lit a cigarette on instinct.

Five minutes later she was outside too, tupperware full of the best crab cakes and sauce he’s ever had and the girl that now owns his first kiss in 8 years.

 He hastily stood up and they gave each other tight smiles. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” Sydney asked. She frowns a bit, that wasn’t meant to come out as a question. It doesn’t matter though with how fast she is walking away.

“Yeah!”Carmy called nervously after her, she turned just in time to catch him ducking back inside. 

Sydney is sure that’s not the start. Because they showed up on Monday and worked with their usual stressed ease. They each had their usual bicker with Richie, they each worked on prep, Sydney wrote in her little notebook, Carmy ticked over leftover paperwork, they sat across from each other during family and never met eyes.

They did the same thing Tuesday. 

They did the same thing Wednesday.

If she was trying to determine something official, it would be that Thursday. 

At the end of the day she swiped a piece of leftover lemon cake and two spoons as everybody left. She went into the office and Carmy looked up in soft surprise as she sat it on top of some random receipt book from 2015.

“What’s up Chef?” Carmy asked and Sydney shrugged.

“Just cake. I… we need to talk abou-”

“Shit, yeah, uh-yeah. We don’t-”

“Yes we do Carmen. That's the whole communication thing we talked about when I first started.” 

“Oh, right.”

They both went quiet as Sydney cleared some space on the desk and sat on the edge. She dived into a bite of cake and ignored the nerves created from Camry staring at her mouth again. 

“I’m sorry for kissing you like that.” Carmy said after a minute and Sydney handed him the other spoon. 

“I’m sorry too. That was unprofessional of us.”

“No, it’s on me Sydney. I’m older than you, I’m your boss.” he added, going for a bite as well. They are quiet as they share it down to an empty plate and yellow crumbs.

“I’ve liked you for a long time Carmen. Admired you even. I think you can go anywhere and do anything and it’s great.” Sydney said. Carmy let out a bitter chuckle at her statement.

“Sydney you have a lot of talent, creativity and whatever else makes a great person. From the moment you walked in the door you started lifting this place up. I’m a piece of shit compared to you.”

“Still like you though.” 

“... I like you alot too…”

It’s quiet again, no cake to fill in the time and space. Both chefs felt like they were going to bust and the silence was the only safe space. 

Ever impatient, Sydney is the first to break it. 

“Ya know… The first time I made scrambled eggs I was like 8. I set the fire alarm off with how high I cooked them. There was salt and pepper everywhere, somehow they were both browned as shit and still runny. I’m pretty sure I broke my dad’s heart fucking up his cast iron pan like that.” Sydney rambled and Carmy gave a soft smile at that.

“I’m pretty sure I broke my nan’s heart cause I broke spaghetti noodles in half before I boiled em. I had seen someone do it on Food Network and Sugar had to save my ass from getting beat with a spoon. I was 7 I think.”

Sydney couldn't help but snort at that. 

“Yeah, but we got better with practice right?”

“Yeah.”

“Not to be mean, but you could improve your kissing skills.” Sydney said, pointedly not looking at him as he settled back in his chair in shock and awe.

“... is this a complaint?”

“No.”

“No?”

“... it’s an offer to improve I guess. With practice.”

“Sydney.”

“I’m just saying! I liked it, you liked it. You could use practice. I could use pract- oh.” Sydney is cut off by Carmy rising up. He stood in the space between her legs and crossed his arms. Sydney couldn’t help but blink in surprise as he bent in slightly to look her in the eyes. 

“We can’t.” he scolded quietly. His voice is soft yet stern.

“We can’t?” Sydney rasped.

“It’s unprofessional.”

“...It is unprofessional.”

“It’s getting too close, even if we did like it. I can’t just make out and fuck you in the Beef like I’m some asshole line cook that only floats Waffle Houses.”

Sydney huffed then crossed her arms as well, leaning back and squinting at him. Her head gently bumped the shelf above the desk as she settled back. She can’t meet his eyes though, so she focused on his nose and thinks about how it bumped her the other night.

“This joint wishes it was a fuckable Waffle House. Richie might actually get a life.'' She smarted. Carmy jerked his head to a tilt, trying to force her eyes to his in disbelief. 

“Sydney!”

“Carmen!”

“We shouldn’t and aren’t doing this here.”

“Fine.” Sydney shrugged, plump lips pursing in attitude.

She finally got the nerve to meet his eyes but smiled to see that he was checking out her mouth. Carmy pressed the inch of space closer so her legs encompassed his hips. His arms dropped so that one hand braced on the shelves behind her head and the other rested on her knee, making her leg enclose his. She felt the subtle bulge in his pants settle against the desk and the edge of her inner thigh. She glances down at it and lets her posture correct up in a deep breath. 

The layer of their jeans blocking skin was fucking infuriating. 

Once again, they were dangerously in each other's faces.

“So, we aren’t doing this here?” Sydney challenged.

“Nope.”

They ended up half stripping in the back of his car, bruising each other's necks with hungry lips. 

Sydney finds out his hair is just as soft as it looks and he groans when you tug at his nape but flinches when you go too far up his crown.

Carmy learns to draw out moans from her. You had to kiss her down from the bottom of her ear, follow her jar and end at the center of her throat.

Sydney learns that holding his cheeks makes him cry. Carmy learns she likes to hide her face in her braids when her moans are out of control. Carmy learns that he’s really fucking handsy. Sydney learns that she’s a biter.

Both of them have very talented yet untrained hands that excel in finding the right spots.

It became routine. 

They’d work on Monday, then come in on Tuesday. They work like Carmen didn’t nearly crash his car with how good Sydney sucked him off on the drive to his place Monday night.

 They’d work on Wednesday. Pretending that the reason Sydney was walking so carefully is because she dropped a pot on her foot and not that Carmy fucked her thighs numb back at his apartment last night on Tuesday night.

The reason Sydney had to wear her braids in a high bun instead of her usual scarf this Thursday morning? She overslept and didn’t have time to grab one. Not the fact that it slipped off her bucking head last night and is under Carmy’s couch right now.

The reason Carmy wore a long sleeve rolled up to his forearms instead of his usual short sleeve shirt this fine weather Friday? He had to fight the alley cats throwing out the trash. Not the fact the ‘cat’ was most definitely named Sydney as she rode him in the back seat while they were parked outside her and her father’s apartment building. 

Friday was their exception. 

They alway went home separately and alone on Fridays. The dinner rush was too taxing on their bodies to be hungry for anything else but a sandwich, a beer, and to drop dead into bed. (Friday didn’t stop nudes however. It didn’t stop Carmy from getting hard at the videos of Sydney muffling her loud moans of his name into her childhood pillows. It didn't stop Sydney’s gut from tightening up at the obscene shot of Carmy beating his dick to the sound of her name) 

Work was work on Saturday. 

It was Sunday mornings like this. Where they woke up cuddling in Carmy’s bed. Him smoking out the window into the cool morning air and Sydney listening to his heartbeat in his chest in the soft light of sunrise. 

That she thinks about this, about how they got here.

She feels guilt forever getting in a situation like this. She’s fucking her boss, fucking her idol, fucking a man five years older than her, fucking a white man, fucking a Catholic, all the without a ring nor relationship in sight. Her father would burn The Beef down to the ground with Carmy inside of it and expose her to church ladies for correction. Her mother would just cackle out of the grave.

 “At least you didn’t dirty the kitchen, Syddie Kitty.” Sydney can picture her teasing out of plum-colored lips over a wine glass as funeral dirt shakes out of her locs.

Sydney turns over so that she and Carmy are pressed chest to chest. Her chin rests on his sternum so she can look over his face. His hand absently rubs a firm circle over the knot in her lower back as he continues to stare at their city waking up. 

He’s beautiful. 

She’s beautiful. 

Carmy huffs a laugh as he dodges her trying to take the cigarette out of his hand, blowing the cloud high as he snuffs it out. She sticks her tongue out and dodges back, making the kiss he aimed for her lips land on her cheek instead. 

Before they can tease each other again, Carmy’s phone rings. He cringes at the tone he has set for Sugar echoing over them. He grabs it and just stares at the screen as it vibrates and lights up with the picture of his sister.

Sydney taps her hand on his wrist, thumb ghosting on the green accept slider. Carmy is quick to deny the call, toss the phone back to the side table and twist into Sydney's body.

“You can’t keep doing that.” Sydney says after a while. He burrows further into their hold until she melts back. 

What would Sugar think? Every time he declined her calls or avoided weekly family dinners was because he was in the hands of his younger sous that he still hasn’t introduced her to. Yeah, the one Richie has been complaining about changing everything. That she was the only one that made him feel like he could breathe and that he hated church. 

He knew what Richie would say, that's for sure. He’d be all smug and smartassed and judgmental. Announcing that he knew all along baby Carmy despite the prestige of his NORMA bullshit, was just a bitch who fell for pussy and would drive The Beef and the lives the revolved round it into the ground for it. 

Both chefs are shamefully selfish this Sunday morning.

They make savory crepes and drink coffee with Good Eats playing in the background.

They shower together about it. 

Carmy drops her off at the farmers market.

Carmy cleans the Beef alone with a toothbrush as one of Mikey’s old mixed CD’s plays on the old Beef stereo. 

Sydney tosses her laundry in the washing machine as her dad plays Charles Jenkins & Fellowship aloud and remarks that he missed her at service again. 

Carmy shows up 8 minutes late to dinner at Sugar's with the wine his big sister likes. 

Sydney fries fish and makes smothered green beans for dinner, her father sets the table for them to play cards and watch Down in the Delta. 

Both chefs pray that this stays their routine. 

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