Chapter Text
Sydney plucks the bones out of the river whitefish one by one with tweezers: thin, nearly invisible in the light. The task is so monotonous it’s hard to focus, and she drifts into a daydream about this morning. A pulse between her legs flares instantly, and Sydney gapes at the fish: nope, the restaurant’s not the place for this.
Sydney returns to her meticulous prep, but her gaze drifts again, unlike her morning routine today, which refuses to blur.
“Oh,” Sydney sounds flustered and disappointed.
She tucks a loose braid back into her ponytail, smoothing it behind the hair tie. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, and against the kitchen’s chill, the warmth feels even sharper. The braid slips out again, and Sydney starts twisting it between her fingers, forgetting the fish in front of her. Her expression shifts: focused, furrowed — then soft, distant. Her lips part.
“Yo, Ma, you good?” Tina asks her boss, eyeing the fish. The sous chef’s worried Sydney might’ve nicked herself on a bone.
“Oh..yeah, yeah, I’m… just zoned out,” Sydney mutters, flustered all over again. She winces and dives back into work: “Great timing,” she scolds herself.
“Your phone’s been vibrating nonstop. You aware?” Tina nods toward the locker room she just came from.
“Oh, yeah? Cool, I’ll check it later.” Sydney bites the inside of her cheek.
“That the white guy?” Tina catches her.
“What?” Sydney tries to sound professional. She runs this kitchen, why’s the sous chef catching her like some kid cut class?
“That the guy? The one who looks like he just walked out of County — who tried to eat your whole face off before you even stepped into the restaurant this morning?”
“What? No… he didn’t.” Sydney snorts.
“If the shoe fits…” Tina gives her head a quick, flat swipe, miming a buzz cut.
Sydney blinks, scrambling for a reply that won’t make her sound insane to her older friend and Syd chooses silence.
***
10:36 AM
Sydie baby:
> Stop texting me. I’m working. I run this restaurant. You get that?
10:36 AM
Lip:
> Oh yeah? Talk dirty to me then. Am I the bad boy? You the strict boss?
10:40 AM
Sydie baby:
> I’m literally gonna block you.
10:43 AM
Lip:
> 😏💦
10:43 AM
Lip:
> You said different things this morning.
10:43 AM
Lip:
> Pretty sure you came so hard some of it’s still in my hair.
1:13 PM
Lip:
> Babe, I’m headed your way.
1:13 PM
Lip:
> Got you matcha. Answer me, babe.
1:14 PM
Sydie baby:
> You think matcha’s gonna buy my forgiveness for all that filth?
1:14 PM
Lip:
> Hell no. That’s why I clocked out early ✌️
***
Sydney honestly doesn’t get how he does it, but everything Lip does makes her knees weaken and her panties wet. How long is this shit even supposed to last? It’s laughable.
She’s drowning in responsibility right now. She has so many things to do. She can’t spend all her time on some guy.
Lip makes it to Family just in time. He devours the risotto Sydney made for staff today with such intensity, she almost feels sick. He ate her the same way this morning.
Richie’s thrilled. He’s not dropping the “chef’s new guy” topic anytime soon.
“Hey, this is my friend Phillip. Lip. He’s joining us for Family today.” Sydney tries to keep her voice neutral but with his hand on her waist, it’s harder. Everyone gets it.
“Whoa. Lip. So you’re the reason our chef’s not sleeping in the walk-in anymore.” Richie gives him a sharp clap on the shoulder and grins.
Lip arches a brow at Richie’s audacity, he knows exactly where this is going and just tightens his grip on the maître d’s shoulder. Sydney silently thanks every god she can think of for the miracle of Lip keeping his damn mouth shut today.
The second Lip finishes his plate, his hand slides under the table kneading Sydney’s thigh. He’s not done. Not even close. He murmurs in her ear, telling her to hurry up with her food. So Sydney chews slower on purpose.
Her hands start shaking. Her stomach clenches, lunch threatening to make a reappearance. She feels cousin’s gaze lock onto her.
Inviting Lip into the restaurant was a terrible idea?
“Hey-water?” Lip catches her tension and stops scanning her like prey. Now he’s just worried.
“I-I, yeah. I feel sick.” Sydney admits it honestly, for some reason.
“You got a first aid kit here?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s in the locker room.” Sydney’s already mentally walking through the safety layout where the box is, how fast she can get there.
“Hey, Richie, need your help.” Lip calls cousin, knowing Sydney trusts him.
And just like that they’re both gone, leaving a room full of eyes locked on her.
***
“Better?” Lip sits at her feet, fingers worrying the hem of Sydney’s white tee.
In the kitchen, dishes clatter in the sink: Manny and Angel cleaning up after staff Family.
Sydney gives a weak nod. And Lip instantly kills the overhead light, leaving only the desk lamp glowing in the office.
“You want me to leave?”
“No. I want you to meet him before dinner.” Sydney’s fingers dig into Lip’s forearm. They’ve been talking about this for two weeks. Carmy’s due any minute.
At first, Lip insisted on meeting Carmy the second she’d laid out the whole messy family business story. But Sydney was startled by his sharp reaction and anger unnecessary for her, and even less so for her would-be business partner. So Lip Gallagher dialed it back. Swallowed every snide remark about the best chef in the United fucking States. And settled, quietly, for just one thing: making it to dinner at the restaurant of the woman he really likes.
“You sure that migraine’s not kicking in?”
“I’m fine. Really.” Sydney laces their fingers together, then immediately feels stupid for how needy it makes her seem.
Lip is already leaning in, smiling against her lips at the softness, the familiar touch finally, his tender girl again, the one he last saw in his car just before she walked into the restaurant and became the tightly wound chef of the fancy kitchen.
And when Sydney giggles into his mouth, Lip only wants to push further: his hands tracing her thighs, his teeth grazing her neck, her jaw, even the curve of her ear — everywhere he can reach.
“Meow-meow-meow,” Sydney nuzzles playfully into his shoulder, their dumb inside joke, and Lip just pulls her closer, arms tightening.
“My little Sydie-kitty… come here. Give me more.” Lip murmurs it right into her ear and goosebumps race down her spine.
“Lip...” Sydney whimpers, her mouth falling open wider and he slides his tongue deeper. Now the silly “meowing” comes out muffled, barely words at all.
“Yo.” The sharp clang of a metal locker slamming shut.
“Carm...” Sydney squeaks, wrenching herself away from her boyfriend, instantly shrinking in front of her ex-chef. Her eyes—already large—go even wider with horror at the situation.
Sydney visibly shakes off Lip’s hands, making him frown.
“Sydney. Who’s your guest?” Carmy looms in the office doorway and quickly flips on the overhead light. His eyes lock onto Lip on the floor and Lip stares right back.
“Yeah, I wanted you two to meet. Remember?”
Lip is already on his feet in front of Carmy. Sydney’s sure Gallagher would love to tower over Carmy but they’re the same height.
“Lip.”
“Carmen.”
Their handshake looks more like the start of a fight and Sydney hates the surge of testosterone flooding her kitchen. She’s had her fill of Carmy and Richie’s shouting, and she knows: if the Berzattos just bark, the Gallaghers go straight to DEFCON 3. Lip promised to be “thoughtful and adult” she doesn’t like worrying about Carm yet again.
“Aren’t you mentioned family?” Carmy says to her.
“Yeah. Dad’s coming for dinner too.”
***
The Berzattos are getting to her. Nothing new. Richie and Carmy cornered her in the office, grilling her about Lip.
“Where’d he come from?” Richie murmurs, peering over her shoulder — Lip’s just stepped out the door.
“Dad introduced us.”
“Emmanuel?” Carmy’s startled his shoulders tense. At the mention of her father, his scowl deepens.
“Yeah, they work together.”
“And what... your dad actually approved of him?” Richie snorts. He’s a father — to a daughter.
“Richie, what’s your problem?” Sydney snaps.
They’re overstepping. She wonders if she’ll ever crawl out of this family tree the one she stupidly snagged her braid two years ago.
“He’s from the South Side, right?”
“Yeah, his family’s from there.”
“Gallagher, you said? Their dad Frank? Old Frank Gallagher?” Richie lets out that obnoxious, know-it-all snort-laugh of his.
“Richie-Rich, I don’t know. I don’t know. We’re not acquainted.”
“But he is acquainted with your family?” Carmy cuts in again.
“He knows my dad, yeah. They’re colleagues.”
“Well then—he knows us now too, doesn’t he?” Richie asks.
The migraine hovers somewhere nearby. Sydney swallows, scanning the office for her water bottle — nowhere in sight. Carmy steps out and returns moments later, her metal bottle in hand.
“Pill?” Carmy crouches down in front of her.
Sydney blinks, trying to orient herself among the migraine’s early signs. She nods. And Carmy reaches into the top desk drawer for the meds.
“How long have you… been together?” he asks, popping the pill from the blister pack. His voice tight, teeth barely parted.
“A few weeks.”
Carmy exhales sharply and his short snort cracks into real laughter. Richie visibly relaxes in the office doorway.
“A few weeks?! Shit, I thought you were introducing us to your fucking fiancé!” Richie barks, slapping Carmy on the shoulder.
“A few weeks…” Carmy echoes, shaking his head.
Sydney washes down the pill, genuinely baffled: How the hell did she earn this circus of idiots right before dinner service?
“Be sweet. To Dad. And to Lip.” Sydney hands her thermos back to Carmy to put it away.
“Sure.” They keep exchanging glances.
***
Dinner service runs smooth. Richie keeps popping into the kitchen grinning, bearing compliments “for the chef.” Sydney doesn’t stop smiling. And by the end of the night, the smile sticks — especially when her maître d’ delivers a tiny note from Table 12 from Dad and her friend. Sydney bites her tongue to keep from giggling at their earnest overflowing words of love.
Carmy catches her mood fast and matches it: easy, open, smiling right back at her all through service. For once, Sydney feels happy. Exactly how she’d dreamed it would be.
Carmy’s tuned into her like he’s reading her mind: whatever Sydney needs, he already knows, already does.
“Thank you,” Syd mouths silently as he passes, his hand sliding down her spine.
The thought that this happiness is fleeting, that in a few weeks Carmy will stop showing up in the kitchen altogether pierces her side like a stitch.
***
“Chef Adamu!” Her father strides onto the kitchen floor half an hour after last call, applauding her with a warm, wide smile.
Sydney giggles and darts forward to hug him. Her guy stands just behind — shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He’s not sure he’s allowed to be here yet. Lip knows this kitchen is off-limits during service, especially after tonight’s introductions.
“Kitty,” he murmurs, barely audible. But Sydney hears and glides straight to him, into his arms.
“I’ve never had anything like this,” Lip confesses softly against her neck, presses a light kiss there, then pulls back. He doesn’t want to draw attention Sydney made the work boundaries very clear today.
“Hey, Mr. Adamu. So good to see you!” Carmy calls out from the far end of the kitchen — cigarette smoke clinging to him from his break.
“Carmen.” Sydney’s father doesn’t match the warmth.
Dad turns with a strange expression on his face, one meant not for Sydney, but for Lip. Sydney is too caught up in the embarrassment of how tightly Lip’s arms are wrapped around her waist and hips to notice the exchanged glances between Lip and Emmanuel.
“How was dinner?”
“Even better than I remembered.” Emmanuel bows slightly to his daughter again.
“Every new dish is all Syd’s.” Carmy sounds proud too.
“Damn right,” Lip murmurs into her ear and once again, Sydney finds it impossible to focus on anyone else in the room.
Her shift is officially over, right? She’s not the strict head chef anymore. Tina asked off early, Marcus slipped out somewhere, Sugar never showed up today. Can Sydney really let herself go soft moldable in this man’s hands?
Her eyes accidentally meet Carmy’s and she realizes he’s been watching her. Immediately, she awkwardly slides Lip’s hands off her hips, remembering the professionalism she always fights so hard to maintain.