Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He couldn't even make it a week.

Without her voice, without seeing her.

He was seeing her everywhere, but not seeing her. He even got out his pencils and started drawing and all he could think of were her scarves, her hands, and her calm. And her eyes, that warmth, her heavy lashes.

Of the lamb dish he never worked out.

She was haunting him, and so he decided to actually do something about it. He came back and he didn't ask for his old job back. Not that it was even on the table.

He asked if he could stage.

Cousin couldn't resist, of course, to be able to boss around the retired big Napa Valley baby. But Syd? She didn't look happy about it at all. It made him wonder if he was once again, just making things worse.

Now, he's just out back breaking down boxes. That's where he's at now. Avoiding her because he'll give it all away if he doesn't.

So he jumps a little when he hears someone out of nowhere asking him what he's doing.

“I'm sorry?” he asks, turning around to see a woman holding a beef sandwich staring up at him standing upright in the dumpster.

“You know, these sandwiches need some cheese.”

“I'm sorry,” he repeats again. Clearly she's from the South Side. “We don't put cheese on those. Is there something else I can help you with?”

“Do you work with Sydney?” she asks him, blinking while she waits for him to respond. “Sydney Adamu. She's my cousin.”

“Oh,” he says, tossing the box aside immediately, and making his way out of the trash bin. “Yeah...yeah, I know Syd.”

“We were supposed to have a drink last week, but she bailed. She was clearly upset. Something has upset her,” she says, looking him up and down. “Someone has upset her.”

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling like he has a target on his back now. “You think?”

“I called her father, and he said somethin'-somethin' about an agreement, and that she was in charge of this place now. Alone.”

“That's...that's not true. She has a whole team-”

“I really need for you to go into that restaurant,” she interrupts. “And get me some cheese. I know you have cheese.”

He laughs at the absurdity of this, hands on his hips as he shakes his head.

“Did I mention I was on my lunch break?” she says.

“On it,” he replies, nodding his head at her, as he goes into the back door and opens it then returns back to her, and he delicately takes the sandwich out of her hand and then heads back into the restaurant. He sets it down and puts it on a plate on the counter, and goes to the walk in and looks for cheese, he doesn't recall them using cheese on any of his recipes, except for parm, and then he leaves and looks in the chiller and finds the Boursin.

He goes back to the counter and takes the sandwich apart carefully and spreads the cheese onto the bread.

“What are you doing?”

Syd has appeared at his side, watching him spread the cheese on the sandwich, and then reassemble it and cut it into fours.

“I'm taking care of a customer,” he tells her, continuing to work, and then leaves to go to the meat station to get a cup of jus that's reducing.

“Did-did you just put Boursin on a beef?” she asks him, like he's committed a crime, her perfect eyebrows knotted together when he makes eye contact, and God, he has no self control left.

He doesn't even attempt to answer her, he just tries to stay focused and finishes the plate and then runs it back out to the alley, and hands the plate over to Syd's cousin.

“Where is the cheese?” she asks, examining the transformation of her sandwich.

“It's in there,” he tells her. “I also brought you some jus.”

“Good, because I like it wet,” she tells him, and looks around for somewhere to sit, as he directs her to the crates as they sit together.

She settles in and then studies him like she's sizing him up again before taking one of the sandwich quarters and dipping it and then taking a bite.

“Damn,” she says, with a mouthful. “That shit's good. Okay, North Side.”

“Yeah,” he tells her, nodding, watching her eat.

“Chantel?”

He looks up to see Syd standing over both at them, staring down at her cousin.

“Hi, cuz,” she says with a smile. “Got my beef. Got my cheese.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Syd answers. “What are you doing here?”

“She's on her lunch break,” he answers, as Syd cocks her head at him.

“Just came to see what's up, since you stood me up on Saturday,” Chantel answers. “Had North Side here who was standing in the dumpster finally get me what I needed.”

“Please tell me you didn't ask for cheese-”

“At the window,” she replies. “He actually called me ma'am,” she adds with a scoffing noise. “He said, No ma'am we do not serve cheese on our sandwiches. Ever. Not even if hell freezes over.”

“I warned you,” Syd answers, planting her tongue inside her cheek and rolling her eyes.

“What's your name, North Side?” Chantel asks as he hears her taking another bite.

“Carmen,” he answers.

“You look like a Carmen,” she says, pausing. “Carmen, you could at least look at me when you speak to me-”

She doesn't say it harshly, but he realizes that he's been staring this whole time. At Syd. He's embarrassed and flustered and he runs a hand through his hair without thinking and looks over at Chantel, and it's like he's back in ninth grade all over again.

“Yes, ah, definitely,” he tells her, nodding.

“You almost called me ma'am, didn't you?”

He laughs briefly at that, glancing away, then smiles a little at her, but doesn't answer.

“I'm so glad the two of you are getting to know each other,” Syd announces. “Carm, do you want to go finish prepping for service?”

“Yes, Chef,” he says, getting up from his seat on the crate.

“It was nice to meet you, Chantel.”

“Be seeing you, Carmen,” she tells him, taking another bite.

Syd sits down in the spot he left. He can feel their eyes on him as he walks away.

He opens the door, and glances back for one more look.

The scarf she's wearing.

It gives him another idea for the lamb.

Chapter Text

“How is it?” she asks her cousin, watching her eat the sandwich.

“It's really good,” she answers. “The cheese and the sauce make it spectacular, though. Do you need me to stage here, or what?”

“Whatever,” she says with a sigh, leaning back into the fence, trying to get a break out here from the weight of in there.

“You didn't tell me that he was fine as hell,” Chantel tells her, looking down her nose at her.

“Who?” she asks, shrugging her shoulders, playing into the clownery of it all.

“Girl...I will slap you with this last bit of beef,” she says, laughing at her, and she joins in as they laugh along together, bumping shoulders. “Now I know where you've been the last six months. Investigation closed.”

“Oh, well, thank you! I've been building this restaurant, and making it work, and dealing with FAH's shit! That's what I've been doing!”

“Okay, calm down,” her cousin answers. “He came back. Within a week. That's not nothing.”

She rolls her eyes and glances over and stares at the back door, like someone might overhear them. She's not used to talking about her feelings so openly like this. “I think he's trying to make up for it. It's the worst.”

“Because you're not letting him or because you're not letting him?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes at her. “That is what you do, you know. You self-sabotage-”

“I know,” she answers, and sighs again. “And I tried to not do that at all this time, I tried to keep it all business, and keep it profesh, and then-”

“Did you break him?” Chantel asks her, putting the empty plate to the side now. She's having a reaction to this statement, as though this is, like a thing she does, and she feels offended.

“No,” she says, fidgeting in her seat, because she's not sure now. “Maybe. I wanted to get a Michelin star, and he didn't, and it was...it was too much for him. But it was because he tried to do it alone-”

“Maybe he felt like he was alone?”

“He had a whole team around him! And me!”

“You know what I mean. You know how these men are. You remember that time your dad decided he was going to fix the radiator on his own?”

“Oh my God, don't bring that up right now,” she tells her, putting her head in her hands.

“Just had to try it,” Chantel says, rolling her eyes. “I think you have a type.”

She gives her a look-look for that and reaches for the empty plate. “I told him I didn't need him, but that I wanted him to be here,” she confesses.

“How flattering. No wonder he came back for more!” Chantel says, voice dripping with fake cheer.

“But he's...he's going to think I'm an idiot now. That...that I don't respect what he does, that I don't care about what he thinks or feels-”

She answers with a low laugh. “He was looking at you like he's ready to try on a whole idiot-”

“Okay, look-” she warns her cousin, with a menacing grin.

“Just sayin'.”

“Stop,” she answers, wrapping her arm around her cousin's shoulder and hugging her. “When are you and Christian coming for dinner?”

“I had to do my recon first,” she says, hugging her back. “I think it might meet my standards of service.”

“You can meet his cousin, Richie,” she tells her. “He's the other partner. And his sister, Nat. And his uncle.”

“That's a lot of family,” she says. “I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Maybe keep it simple. You and Carmen can have us over?”

“That's...no-” she says shaking her head, and she turns and sees Carm coming out of the back door, holding another box that he tosses into the dumpster.

“He couldn't even go five minutes without you,” Chantel says to her under her breath. “Carmen!” she calls out, waving at him as he bounds over.

“Hey,” he answers, looking over at her cousin, and then positively staring at her, his eyes glancing up at her scarf for a moment, and she touches it, like maybe something's wrong.

“Carmen, I just wanted to thank you for fixing my sandwich. And I was hoping I could make it up to you. Dinner on Sunday? Christian and I, he's my husband. TJ might have a sleepover. And anyone else you might like-”

“Okay, now I know you're playing around,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “You can't cook for him!”

“Yes, I can,” Chantel tells her pointedly.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” he says agreeably, glancing between the two of them. “Uh, Syd, are-are you-”

“Of course she is!” Chantel answers for her, as she smiles politely and nods at him.

She hands over the empty plate to him, and he takes it and waits as they watch him in silence. “I'll just...I'll just take care of this.”

“I'll work out the details with Syd,” Chantel calls after him, as he disappears inside the restaurant again. “Nice to meet you!” she adds then turns at stares at her cousin. “See? See how easy that was?”

“I'm...I'm actually going to go crawl in a hole and die now. Before service.”

“Not with that blue-eyed demon looking over your shoulder you're not. Wear something cute. Don't show up at my door in jeans and a sweatshirt, please?”

“You can't make that salad for him. He's, like, won awards.”

“Snooty,” Chantel tells her glaring at her now. “I bet he'd like my salad just fine. If you want to impress him, though, make him something yourself,” she says, shouldering her handbag.

“How did this turn from me inviting you to the restaurant to me now cooking dinner for you?”

“Life will come at you quick like that,” she answers, and starts to walk down the alley back towards the street. “See you Sunday!”

Now she just has to go back and do service and face Carm, and not completely freak out that her cousin just obliterated whatever remaining boundary was left there, the only thing protecting her from falling completely for him and she's still trying to be mad at him.

But she can't. No matter how hard she tries, she can't do it. She missed him, and she missed his presence, and knowing his eyes were on her, and maybe she's been wrong about this all along?

That he wasn't challenging her trying to compete with her, that he was watching her, and thinking about how great she was getting at this, that he wished he could keep up with her.

When all she's wanted since she came here was to do this with him.

It feels too scary to admit that out loud. She's going to keep it in her head for now. She's going to play it cool and keep Carm away from her cousin's trash salad, and hopefully this will let him get this out of his system, and things can go back to normal between them. Like they used to be.

She doesn't even want the star anymore. Not if it feels like this. She walks back towards the back door to the restaurant, and tries to come up with something that she can pull together-

The door swings wide open, and he's there again, his blue eyes staring at her, another empty box in his hand.

“I'm just going to finish this up, Chef,” he tells her, blocking her way back inside.

She gives him a small smile, as he steps aside and lets her pass.

Chapter Text

“Cola ribs. With risotto.”

“Ah,” he says, making his way into the kitchen, following after TJ. He watches her stir. “Can I help?”

“Sure,” she tells him. “You can help with the sauce, make sure it's not too tight.”

He breaks his eye contact with her, and she can see the small smile he's giving her, amused and surprised at the choice she's made.

“So, you've been here all day,” he says to her, standing next to her at the stove.

“I helped out, too,” TJ tells him, smiling at them both and looking back and forth between them. “I'm her sous.”

“Oh, so, being a cook runs in the family?” he asks, glancing up to look at her parents, as he sets down the bottle of wine he brought on the counter next to the open bottle.

“Thanks for having me,” he says to them both.

“Of course, of course. I'm Christian,” he says, offering his hand so they can shake. “Make yourself at home.”

“Carmen.”

She eyes the bottle of wine he brought and sees that it's her new favorite, one he heard her talking to Gary about two days ago. Chantel and Christian are both leaning back against the counter, holding their wine glasses, as Carm pushes up the sleeves of his sweater and takes the spoon from her to keep stirring the risotto while she finishes off the ribs.

“I doesn't really run in the family,” TJ says, glancing over at her mom mischievously.

“Child, you'd better be careful,” Chantel tells her. “Not in front of company.” Christian just laughs and takes a drink of his wine.

“You're a woman of many talents,” her husband says to her, leaning in to kiss her, as she smiles and kisses him back.

“At least you're great at hair,” TJ goes on, leaning over to watch the risotto.

“Did she do your hair?” Carm asks her.

“Yeah. Do you like it?” she asks him.

“It's very pretty,” he answers.

“And she does Syd's,” she adds, looking up at her, a wide smile on her face.

“Syd's hair...it-it always looks really beautiful,” he adds.

“I heard you're really good at video games,” TJ tells him, as he makes a confused expression.

“Hey,” Syd says to TJ quickly. “Can you find the strainer for me? Thanks.”

“Chantel told me that the two of you work together,” Christian says. “That you're both chefs.”

“That's right,” Carm replies to him, glancing at Syd.

“That means you spend like, what, seventy percent of your waking lives together?” he says with a laugh.

“That's about right,” Syd answers, taking the strainer TJ dug up from a bottom drawer.

“That sure is something,” he tells them, shaking his head, putting his arm around Chantel's waist. “Baby, we don't even get that much time together.”

“No, we do not,” she answers him, as they both sip from their glasses at the same time.

She gets the ribs out and turns up the heat on the dutch oven to reduce the sauce, and switches places with him, just like they do in the restaurant, and she feels his fingers on her back for a moment.

“Syd made these before,” he tells them, handing the spoon off to her. “It was the first great review the restaurant had.”

She frowns at him a little, surprised by that, feeling a little put on the spot.

“Oh, so this is something you serve in that award-winning restaurant of yours,” Chantel says, peeking over their shoulders a little to look at the food.

“Not really,” Syd remarks, searing the ribs. “Chef here didn't think it was ready.”

“Chef here was being a little bit of an asshole,” he admits, glancing over at her, then at TJ's eyes lighting up, and he looks over at her parents. “Sorry, I-”

“Oh, I'm allowed to say asshole,” TJ says with a beaming smile.

“No you are not!” Chantel tells her. “Christian, do something about this child.”

“You're going to lose your iPad privileges,” he warns her. “Like last time, remember what that felt like?”

“You're not supposed to bribe children like that,” TJ tells him. “It won't help me to achieve personal growth.”

“That's true,” Syd says, laughing at them. “Food is almost up. TJ, do you want to help set the table?”

“Not really.”

“We can all do that together,” Chantel says, starting to get the plates down, and handing them over to her husband. “And let these chefs cook.”

They gather the plates and cups and silverware, and head around the corner to the kitchen table, talking and laughing. They can hear the sounds of them arranging things together.

“This is nice,” Carm says to her. “It's great. There's no yelling or throwing things-”

“Family dinners at the Berzatto house, huh?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod, turning down the heat on the burner just a little, listening to the sound of the sauce thickening, the way it's coating the spoon now.

“Did you mean that? About the dish?” she asks, watching him.

“Yeah,” he says to her, nodding, and then smiling to himself. “Don't forget your ribbon of brine.”

“Fuck off,” she says to him, laughing. “It is weird, though, how much time we spend together.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I think...I think that's what I missed the most?”

“You didn't even last a week,” she tells him, as they both laugh together now.

“No,” he says, staring down at the sauce, and turning off the heat. “I just...I just couldn't do it without you.”

She stops what she's doing and stares at him now. Trying to figure out exactly what this means. What happens to them when you take the restaurant out of the equation.

“The whole point of doing this, was that I wanted to do it with you, Carm,” she says, adding the ribs back into the pot, leaning in close to watch as he coats them in the sauce.

“This dish, it's...it's us on a plate, isn't it?” he asks her, and then reaches around her to turn off the heat on the risotto.

“Yeah. It is,” she answers softly, feeling his hand on her lower back again.

“They're pretty perfect together, don't you think?” he asks, meeting her eyes.

“So do you think it's ready now, Chef?” she asks him, her eyes searching his. Waiting.

“I do,” he tells her, and he leans in, and kisses her, pulling her in close against him.

She kisses him back, her hands slipping up to his neck, and then reaching down with one to twist the knob and turn the burner off under the ribs.

It's slow, and sweet, and savory. Like the dish.

When they finally come up for air, they see TJ standing at the opening to the kitchen, watching them, smiling.

“See? I knew you had a crush.”