Work Text:
The noise of the kitchen– a rising cacophony pounding against her temples. Slick sweat runs across her back, in the crook of her arms. Cold. Wet. Multiple things take residence within her mind: Heat, movement, and time. There’s never enough time. There seems to be a thousand multiplying tickets begging for her attention, invading her station. And for all the experience she has, it’s still possible to get overwhelmed.
“I need a minute,” the words are spoken before she makes a conscious decision. It just needs to be done. Across the island, blue eyes find hers. An understanding nod. In the speed of two quick-footed steps he’s had someone replace her, if only for a moment.
She pushes past the freezer door, the heavy metal sliding shut behind her with a quiet ‘shush.’ She attempts to catch her breath, her fingers pressing against her closed eyelids as she counts: one, two, three. The chill nips at her skin, tiny pin-pricks across her arms, her cheeks. She welcomes it, finding something like quiet in the limited space.
“Syd? You okay?” She whirls around to face the door. She wasn’t expecting to be followed. She finds Marcus standing there, a sheepish smile breaking across his face, the freezer door just propped open, his torso peeking in.
“I will be,” she nods, a thankful smile playing across her lips. She wasn’t expecting his concern, but it’s nice to have it. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He winks, already taking a step back. “See ya back out there?”
“Yeah.” She murmurs. “You got it.”
.
Her days always end with quiet. The sound of water circling a drain. Murmured conversations. Headlights blinking past the windows. She finds herself thinking of the restaurant as a living thing – a real bear, with an open maw. It can’t care for itself, so it needs her to be attentive. She lowers herself to her knees to scrub the floors by hand. She looks up from within the oven to brush it clean and investigates underneath the tables and chairs. Keeping things well cared for – polishing teeth and manicuring claws – to put The Bear to sleep for one more night.
“Here,” she looks over her shoulder when a new voice joins her. Carmy, on his feet, watching her pick up the fallen rose petals she’s found underneath a four-top. “Have some.”
Her eyes land on the clear deli container he’s offering her, icy water sloshing against the plastic, a slice of lemon and lime dancing within its depths. She reaches towards her shoulder to pull her braids away, the ends swinging free across her back. She takes his offer with her free hand, her clammy skin cooling from the contact with the cold plastic.
“Thanks,” she accepts, bringing her knees to her chest to sit more comfortably. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” Carmy replies, crouching into a seating potion in front of her. “I’m sitting with you.”
“No, I mean, like, what are you doing? I haven’t seen you since we closed.” Carmy raises an eyebrow, drinking from his own container.
“What? You think I’m not pulling my weight?”
“Are you?” she presses.
“Inventory. Then out back, locking the trash.” He leaves his water on the floor next to him, leaning back against the table behind him to close his eyes and sigh. “Service was good.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs.
One of his eyes winks open, peering at her curiously. “You good?”
“Just tired.”
“No, I-I mean earlier. The freezer.” He looks at her, staring with that intensity he always has. “What happened?”
“Nothing, Chef.” She takes another drink of water. “Just another day.”
She can feel his mood change – she always does, it’s in the air, like static. She watches his jaw work, once, twice, three times. Then he’s at it again:
“Why aren’t you talking to me?”
“I’m talking to you.”
“You’re brushing me off.”
“I’m not.”
“Look, I-I’m sorry if I was being shitty.” “You weren’t being shitty.”
He stops, his hand dropping from where he held it suspended between them, working up to argue with her. It collapses against his knee in defeat. His shoulders sink. “I’m sorry.”
“I really don’t feel like talking about this anymore… I gotta get home – sleep or whatever.” She says, crawling out from under the table and climbing to her feet. “Tomorrow? Or was this your last day?”
“Don’t be like that,” he insists.
“I’m not doing anything,” she shrugs, watching him stand up too. They’re barely the same height. He might have a third of an inch on her or something, but he’s always shrinking before her, always looking so small.
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” he says it to the floor more than he says it to her. His arms crossed across his chest, making him appear guarded.
“Fine.” She bends down to pick up her water. “I’ll remember to add that all up for your final paycheck.”
She’s already turned away from him to head back towards the kitchen when she feels his fingers close around her elbow.
“Let me drive you home?” and it’s like he’s a breath away from begging her. She looks at him from over her shoulder, all wide eyes and pinking skin. She doesn’t hate him.
Her shoulders lower from her ears, a sigh escaping her. “Okay.”
.