Work Text:
Instinctually, the door nearly slams closed right again when Y/N sees the pair of sheer blue eyes staring back at her, as if illuminating the darkness of the odd 2 AM hour. Her better judgement prevents her arm from completing the action though, leaving her standing in front of him like a deer in headlights. His eyes might as well be a pair of headlights, the brightness which makes them look unreal being exactly what attracted her to him in the first place.
Not that she'd ever admit she finds any attribute of his attractive...
"Hi..."
"Hello..."
She wants to point out what an inappropriate time it is for him to be showing up at her place but a greeting is all she can muster with her jaw tightly clenched.
Come to think of it, with the terms they're constantly on, no date or time would be appropriate for such a visit.
But she plays along regardless, choosing this weird form of entertainment over the agonizing battle with insomnia she faces every night.
"How was work?"
"How was New York?"
Their voices simultaneously cut the silence short just to bring forth another long stretch of it.
"Good..." It frustrates her - the sync, the same tone, the same choice of words. It's eerie, as if he's reading from the same script her brain is operating with.
That being said, in hopes of curing said frustration, she makes an impulsive decision she regrets right away, "Wanna come in?"
She doesn't have enough time to regret it properly though, cause his response comes as quickly as a gunshot, "Yeah."
It's safe to say any and all tension and awkwardness was lifted after swimming to the bottom of a wine bottle together. The night (or rather the early morning) started out with them sitting on opposite ends of the single couch in Y/N's living room. Hell, they could have been standing on opposite sides of the room and they still would've been at a proximity too close for their liking. It's not a luxurious home she's got, but if he were to comment on it, she would've quickly kicked back with a comment on the paycheck he's giving her and the rest of his employees.
It's a good thing he kept his mouth shut - such a conversation would've ruined the mood that's currently set over them. Said atmosphere has also brought them ever so closer throughout the past hour. As if they are opposite sides of a magnet, they've been inching ever so closer to each other, only realizing their newfound closeness when Y/N's shoulder, shaking with laughter, brushed against his.
And the rest is a blur. All that happened after that realization and before 7AM is missing from their memory cards.
Sydney practically chased him out of the kitchen less than three hours into the workday. He knows it's half out of worry for his health, and a bit more than half because she's pissed over the fallout between him and her best friend. Still, he clings to the former as to keep on believing at least one person in the restaurant is on his side when not even he is on his own side. It's laughable that he expects that to be Sydney - Y/N's best friend of all people - but he'll allow himself to grasp at straws this one time.
Walking into his apartment during the daytime gives Carmen a rude awakening of all he pretended to ignore night and night again when he dragged himself home from work after closing hours. There are articles of clothing strewn about, packets of takeout, old newspapers he's never read, mugs of coffee and a ton of other dishes he's yet to wash, a bed he hasn't made in forever. For as meticulous as he is in his work, the pig sty that is his apartment would be shocking to his colleagues.
So, exchanging the jeans for a pair of sweatpants, he decides to get to it.
Starting off with the dishes he hasn't washed nearly as much as they've needed and deserved, he clears out the small kitchen of any trash before moving on to the living room where he soon makes the discovery that his vacuum cleaner is a thing of the past. Pressing the power button a million times does him no favors so he unplugs it, making a mental note to purchase a new one as soon as possible.
In the meantime, he moves on to the bedroom. The box-like room is begging to be relieved of all the clothing, most of which in a dire need of a wash, laying around basically every inch of the floor and furniture. Once he's successfully piled that whole mess in a laundry bin, he gives himself a moment to sigh before he tackles the task of making his bed.
All is well until he jolts back, hissing as he looks down at the finger he just pricked on something he initially believes is a loose spring poking through the mattress. Upon inspection, however, he retrieves a small diamond earring from between the pillows.
What feels like a whole other life flashes through his mind.
Following that night at her place, the fucking around had become a lot more regular. They'd alternate between their respective homes and sometimes bringing the workplace in cahoots as well.
Terrible work ethic, they're aware. But Carmy's gotten used to it by now.
A quick roll in the hay with his employee doesn't deter him from his title, nor does it have any impact on Y/N's performance as a chef. It's always been smooth sailing, or at least that's what they'd like to think, having this view of themselves as professionals.
Hey, professionals fuck up occasionally too. Well, occasionally and regularly in this case.
"Can I ask you something?" His chest slowly rises and descents, unbothered by the weight of the head resting on it.
"Lay it on me, Berzatto." She replies in a soft hum, drumming her fingertips on his bare abdomen.
"I feel like we started this all out of whack..." He starts off, waiting for a goading response from her.
Y/N's eyebrows furrow, "That's not a question."
It's an expert dodge, but not one he'll let her get away with. "I'm getting to it." Getting an affirmative hum in response, he continues, "I think we skipped a few stages before jumping into bed. I mean, we're not even friends."
He feels her shrug her shoulders, "Who says we have to be."
Carmy chuckles, the vibration of it tickling Y/N, "Fair point. But....do you think we have to be friends for me to take you out to dinner?"
Air gets caught in his throat when she shifts so that she's sitting up and able to look him directly in the eyes while still making sure the blanket remains around her unclothed torso, "Ok...um, first of all: That's very disappointing, Berzatto. You're one of the - if not the - best chef in the US and you're gonna 'take me to dinner'?"
The fact that she genuinely looks upset - although, he's not sure it's actually genuine - gets a laugh out of him. It's a frequent occurrence when he's in her presence. Whether it's a one-liner that wasn't even meant for him but he still overheard, or it's something directed towards him, it always manages to get at the very least a chuckle out of him. Prior to her, that was rare, and it still is when it comes to other people. It's just her. It's only her superpower.
"Second of all: Isn't that a very obvious display of poor work ethic. A boss and an employee dating is often not regarded in the best light. Rightfully so." She tilts her head to the side moments before her eyes suddenly widen, the realization of her hypocrite statement striking her.
He doesn't let her correct herself before starting to argue her points with calmness he can barely obtain. In truth, he want to burst out laughing, but he manages to keep it to himself. "Ok, fine, you're right. I probably shouldn't have phrased it like that. The point still remains though - do we or do we not have to be friends in order for me to take you out on a date?" Seeing that he has her in a position where she's unable to further dodge the core of the discussion, he continues, "And, although you're right about it being a display of poor work etiquette, it sounds kinda rich coming form someone who's currently laying naked in my bed."
Her eyes narrow, "Fuck you..."
"Too late for that." He gives her a cute, innocent smile that only pisses her off more, "But, I'll have to say, it's not a violation of any rules as long as no one knows."
She gives him a cocky look, sizing him up, "Oh yeah? Does that mean we'll stop screwing around in your office at work?"
Although she gets the answer she was hoping for, she gets it only after he's tackled and positioned her under him, hovering over her, "No, fucking, way."