Chapter Text
“Oh, thank fuck! Ladies and gentlemen, coming in at the final hour, our Mother of Victory has yet to forsake us -”
That, Syd knows, is Richie.
From right next to her, Nat sighs heavily before fixing her eyes back on the computer screen. Moments ago, she announced that they’d have enough for more variety in the walk-in, and that Syd could return to their regular-sized portions. It’s better, good even. Good as in some nights, Nat can leave early to kiss Sophie goodnight. Good as in there’s a mailbox filled with letters from potential investors and an even bigger pile of resumes they have yet to look at. Good as Tina’s hunger for this (and the invisible pressure that exists for women like them) burns alongside Syd’s so there’s no need to justify the late night messages, the both of them coming and leaving at ungodly hours of the morning and night, the constant (constant) checking in.
But Syd’s still an anxious asshole so good still means hell-adjacent and carrying around her emotional-support box of Tums.
“I swear he’s gotten worse since Japan.” she groans as she sinks down the back of her chair. She feels her back moan in response, reminding her that it’s been asking her to sit for hours.
Nat’s accompanying condemnation of the absurd levels of Richie-ness, so late after a long service, doesn’t come. Syd removes her forearm from over her eyes and sees that Natalie’s biting down a smile. It makes her sit up instantly.
“What?”
Nat shakes her head, strands falling out of her claw-clip, unable to hide a smile. “Nothing. I just- it’s nothing.”
“Fuck yeah, Cousin! This is purpose. Direction. Marcus, bring your ass here now!”
“Don’t hurt ‘em now, chef.” Syd thought Marcus had left already.
“Natalie…”
“Syd…” She fixes Syd with a disgustingly coy smile. “Sit up and take your dirty jacket off, please and thank you.”
“Natalie…”
There’s a knock at the door. It’s Tina, with her own offensive smugness. “Chef Syd…delivery,” she teases, arms swaying back and forth and shit.
“T, it’s your job to sign off on those if I remember correctly.”
“Not this time, chef. It’s a special delivery. Custom order - that’s your job.”
“It’s also in my job to fire people chef -”
But then the two women attack her. She’s stripped of her stained chef jacket and her scarf is lowered and two braids are brought to the front to frame her face. She swears there’s a spritz of perfume - her own, stolen from her locker!
Then, there’s another knock at the door.
Syd keeps her eyes fixed on Natalie, hoping that she reflects murderous intent instead of how fucking shy she suddenly feels. It’s hitting her all at once: that it’s Carm at the door, that they all planned this ambush, that there is still a mortifying slew of unanswered messages from him.
“Carmen!” Tina doesn’t seem to care about losing her job. “Looking good, looking fine.” She directs the next part towards Syd. “Chef, your package is wrapped real nice.”
Syd hopes the cool of her palms will temper the heat in her cheeks. Natalie, sweet Saint Natalie, interrupts and starts to usher Tina out of the office. “Okay, that’s enough from all of us. Great execution. Carm you look nice, I’m sure you got it from here.”
But then, all the good Nat’s ever done disappears because she shuts the fucking door behind her.
Syd sighs and slumps in her chair again. She turns her head, and the angle is weird, but it is indeed Carm. Indeed, looking real nice as fuck.
A laugh bubbles out of her when she sees what he’s holding.
“Carm… ” her voice comes out sticky with affection because he’s dressed up in a tux at eleven at night, holding a bouquet of some of her favourite flowers.
“Hi, Syd.” and his voice drips with the same affection and she’s somehow endeared by the single syllable that is her name.
He shifts on his feet, scratches at the back of his hair. She’s glad that he’s kept it untouched.
“Um, sorry for all of… that, involving everyone. It was more eventful than I planned. But-but, maybe eventful isn’t too bad. I figured you deserve eventful. Like the festivity, I mean.”
Even though Syd misses him in the cooling breath of the kitchen - a thought she only allows herself to think a couple of times a day because Tina is right there toe to toe with her, really in it - Syd really likes how he looks in warm, lamp light. It’s so quiet - romantic even, if Syd wasn’t a ball of nerves. Post retirement, Carmy looks softer and comfier. It helps melt at any residual fraughtness that Syd has over him being gone. She wants him nearer so she taps the arm of Natalie’s chair as an invitation.
He sits and moves the flowers towards her. “Um… these are for you.” He’s the one that’s blushing. Syd can still feel hers, biting at her cheeks.
“These are beautiful, Carm.” Syd’s known a lifetime filled with flowers: college graduation, the visits for her mom, the bunches upon bunches that are now covering every inch of her apartment floor post-Michelin, but this arrangement has them all beat. She can’t be surprised when she’s seen the guy make such beautiful things with his hands. It makes her excited to see what else he tinkers with.
“They’re flowers from your scarves. Well, um, the ones that I’ve noticed,” And he’s right. The violets and chrysanthemums and daisies.
“Seriously, Carm-”
“And I know we have plans for next week… but that's a week too long y’know?” It’s the last thing he said in their chat. Syd remembers because she pressed her phone into her chest and fucking giggled into her pillows. She was interrupted by a message from Tina saying that one of their line cooks was calling in sick for the week.
“I’m sorry for not replying to your texts. That’s shitty of me,” she gives. Because as much as she has indeed been busy, there’s an even larger part of her that’s so fucking scared of this. That it’s with Carm, that she feels so intensely about it, that one of them will mess it up and then they’ll be ruined and semi-functional for the rest of their lives.
Carmy leans forward, elbows on his knees and leaves his hand palm side up, asking for her hand. Syd settles her palm in his and there’s that instant comfort that makes her forget just how tautly his jacket stretches over his back. Well, only momentarily .
He raises his gaze to set it on her, basically pinning her to the chair. “I know Syd, I know.” His thumb begins to play with the frayed edge of her plaster.
“I know what doing this,” he squeezes her hand, “means for us both.” The edge of the plaster lifts and he uses his other hand to reach into the desk’s drawer. He finds the box of plasters easily, and she moves to take it but he shakes his head. “I got it,” He does, changing her plaster with strong yet nimble fingers.
“And yeah, we’ve admitted it. That’s the hardest part. But-but I’m focused on the follow through now. The actions, y’know. I want you to… feel that I’m serious about this, that I want you, that you can-can lean on me.”
And because they hug and kiss now (and Syd is pretty sure there’s a lump growing in her throat), she allows her body to slide into his lap. Both her legs thrown over one of his; her arms circling his shoulders. He’s right there behind her, his arms naturally encasing her against his chest.
“So I thought that we could do something tonight. I checked with Richie and Sug, and they said that today’s service wasn’t too bad for you. So yeah, maybe you’d be up for something. Um, like something very lowkey.”
“I mean, nothing says lowkey like a tux dude.” Syd’s not actually complaining; this is a close second to his white shirt and jeans - a combo that’s become borderline pornographic given how much it features in her dreams.
“Fuck off,” he says and any idea of a bite behind it is erased when he kisses the inside of her elbow. “I told you I was serious. And-and all of Richie’s shit is worth it, I like seeing you all flustered.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carmen.”
“Like, how you play with the ends of your hair- ”
“My god, shut up!”
“And bite at your cuticles, like when you wore that bow in your hair -”
“Carmen, seriously.” He does stop but he’s smug enough about it to laugh, the vibrations echoing into Syd’s chest.
Then, they let it be quiet for a bit, just Carmy lighting swaying them in the chair and Syd resting her head on his shoulder.
“Thanks for saying that,” she whispers. “I think a lot of my fear was coming from you back-pedalling or changing your mind y’know. So, you saying that helps a whole lot.”
“I know, I know. But Syd,” he lifts her head to cup one side of her face. “I’m insanely serious about you. Before I retired, you’re the one thing I’ve chosen for myself in a fucking long time. Not from fear or hurt or trying to be something-someone else, simply because I wanted to. So yeah, I’m trying to be careful and steady but -”
She kisses him this time. Her hands immediately go for his hair and there’s still that absurd swoop in her stomach when their lips meet, telling her that it wasn’t some flook the first time. She plays with the edge of his lips, brushing the tip of her tongue along it and he really likes that because he grips her chin to lick into her mouth. And it’s warm and sweeping and Syd had never gotten wet just from a simple kiss but she feels it gather in her underwear.
And to make matters worse (better, really), Carmy is groaning and pressing curses into her mouth.
Syd pulls away and their lips separate wetly. “How the fuck did you get good at that? I thought that you were a prude.” It slips out of her unintentionally but it might not matter, because Carmy doesn’t appear to have heard anything with his eyes glazed over, still trained on her mouth.
She pecks at his lips to get his attention. “Um, yeah. Prude...” He scrunches his eyes closed. “Fuck. I mean, there’s been a handful but… it’s never felt like that before, Syd.
“A handful, huh?” she teases, and hopefully the right amount of flippant jealousy comes off when she bites at the edge of his chin.
“Uh, yeah some chefs back in Europe,” he provides and she laughs because somehow that’s hot to her.
“Oh, shut up. I’m sure you have fucking… legions,” he bites back by gripping the highest part of her thigh, which could technically be her ass. He turns shy about it and sinks his hand further down her thigh but Syd moves it to settle on her ass, firmly.
“Legions?!” she gasps, against his jaw as she peppers kisses to his ear. She can feel how erratic his pulse is; how he grows hard underneath her. She’s really fucking glad that her estimates based on the vague print she peeped when he went without his apron were correct.
“Sydney, you know what you look like.”
She stops her ministrations. “And what do I look like, Carm?”
He sighs. “I don’t know how to say it. You look like… like all of it, I think. You’re insanely hot, then you’re cute and then you're stunning. It’ll be a random Tuesday and I’ll look at you and think, she’s fucking stunning. Like you-you smile and it’s… it’s everything.”
And damn him. Because when she opts for shallow, manageable waters, he’s always there pulling them into all-consuming depths. She kisses him sweetly, a peck for the fucking Romeo in her hands now.
“I really like your face too. And your hair, even when it’s crazy. And your hands… your arms, really. Like, truly fuck your arms.” There’s a peck for each of those god-given gifts.
“For real?” he smiles into her kisses and she nods.
Then he suddenly fucking lifts her; arms under her knees and circling her back.
“Carmen!” It’s insanely hot but also ridiculous, she’s at her place of work for god’s sake.
“Sydney Adamu!”
She huffs but it’s barely there because she’s cheesing so hard.
“Come on, let’s get you some dinner and maybe an episode of that show you’re always talking about.”