Archive of Our Own ^beta

1. The Call

They’re on a date at Pete's place fairly early in their relationship, cuddling up on the couch, when her phone rings. The screen casts a harsh glare on the dark room when she pulls it out. Her eyes adjusting, Nat glances at the it and sighs heavily. A hurried whisper of “I’m on a date,” is usually enough of a ‘leave me the fuck alone and figure it out yourselves, numbnuts.’ it meaning mom.

“It’s an emergency,” Mikey’s gruff voice carries through the phone.

“Oh shi— okay. One sec. Pete, babe, mind if I…thanks…” untangling herself from his warmth.

Ignoring the “Who’s Pete?” from the tiny device, Nat rushes over to the kitchen for privacy. Needing something to fiddle with, while Mikey starts in on the restaurant, she gets acquainted with what’s on the counters. Nat inspects the cleanliness of the sink and the photos stuck on the fridge (Pete and his roommate, his football team, his mom and his…ex girlfriend? Nope, definitely his sister). She thinks about cleaning up a few things and then takes a deep breath. It’s not her job to fix.

Mikey’s asking about some papers in the filing system Nat drilled over with him a thousand times, that’s obviously gone to shit. Then the subject changes over to the juggernaut — mom. And then it gets worse, when mom takes the phone from Mikey and it just dissolves into a mess from there.

“Who’re you with?” “Why won’t you help your brother?” “Do you understand that the restaurant is struggling without you here?” “Do you hate your family?”

“Mom, I don’t—” “I didn’t say that—” “No I do, of course, I love you guys—” “that’s not fair—” “so what Bear just gets to do whatev- forget it, I didn’t mean that.” The last one a desprate grasping of straws, never usually laying blame elsewhere - she really thought she was going to get a moment to herself tonight.

It’s a start-and-stop cacophony of pleading and placating. Pete can’t hear the exact words she's saying, but he can hear her desperation to be understood as her tone continues to rise and fall.

The call is over, and luckily she doesn't need to leave. She tries to play it cool when he asks about it. The relationship is still new, so it’s fair — she's still got her guard up, “just my brother, all good.” He hugs her tight, pulls her into his chest close, as they watch the movie. He’s right there if she needs him.

2. The Magazine

It’s Sunday morning a few months later at Pete’s apartment, and boy isn’t he grateful that she’s still there. As fucked up as Natalie might claims to be, she’s not. She’s the girl next door, but better. She’s got the best kind of bite. He wouldn’t have had the courage to talk to her if they really were neighbours growing up. He’s barely keeping up now.

Nat is stunningly beautiful, has the sharpest witty retorts (they have him snort laughing in public places), brilliantly smart with numbers and through it all she is fiercely brave and courageous and kind. She burns bright hot, he might get scalded and knows it would be worth it.

His dream girl is sitting on his counter, drinking his coffee, from his favourite green ceramic mug, in his old grey cotton t-shirt which slopes over her soft shoulder and he wishes he could keep her just like this for a moment longer.

Besides her, Nat has a Food and Wine magazine opened to "Carmen 'Carmy’ Berzatto".

Standing between her knees, Pete asks about him, and he’s glad he did. Smoothing out his bedhead with one hand and taking sips of coffee with the other, she gushes so proudly about ‘Bear’.

She's fiercely protective and loving about her little brother, clearly having had a hand in raising him. She's excited about all his adventures in this magazine and mentions a few other articles featuring other restaurants he’s worked in. Pleased that Carmy can experience what the whole world has to offer, while she quietly and gently builds a life for herself in Chicago — she’s happy for them both.

She’s in awe of what he’s accomplished so far. But Nat stares in concern at the blank look on his face in the magazine. These magazines are usually full of glossy sunkissed pages, a bright sheen to sell to housewives and critics, but there he is in grey. Lost to the kitchen, greasy and hardened. For better or for worse, he’s not the boy who left Chicago. Her little brother’s being a grown-up somewhere else.

That lazy Sunday afternoon spent together, Pete actually reads the article - which is better than most people bearing the Berzatto name. One word catches his eye, the sentence reads ‘...my family inspires me: my mother, my older brother Mikey, and my sister Sugar...’

Sugar?

When Pete asks about the childhood nickname, the candied moniker, Nat’s eyes turn a tinge of brown he's never seen before. Devoid of emotion. A sunken lifeless window. He's the thief of her joy for even asking, and it shreds him. Immediately he tries to retreat from the topic: “You know what? Nevermind. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, babe.”

“No, no, um… it’s kind of a funny story…” Nat continues the explanation of how she was christened Sugar with a saccharine customer service voice.

It guts him, how they’ve declawed their fiercest protector. He’ll fight for her in whichever way he can.

3. Family Dinner - sort of.

Nat says they’re serious now, so he should meet her brothers.

Mikey’s been bugging her about the bozo she’s been seeing and she thinks it’ll be good for Carmy to see a decent man. A man without the mobster aura of Uncle Jimmy, the sleaze of Uncle Lee, or the machismo of Richie and Mikey. Carmy should meet a genuinely present and caring man unlike their own father. It’ll be good for some of the most important people in her life to meet too, she guesses.

It’s a disaster.

Mikey brings Richie, even though he was explicitly told not to. ‘DO NOT BRING RICHIE JERIMOVICH TO DINNER WITH PETE’ was texted in all caps a week ago (and pretty much every hour, on the hour, for the past 24 hours).

Pete told them he'd read a review in the paper about the restaurant and was lucky enough to get them a reservation.

Nat doesn’t know where to look. She definitely can’t look at Pete and his stupid cherub smile. Considering she’s left with Carmy’s unimpressed squint, Mikey’s shit eating smirk and Richie’s sardonic grin, she chooses to lift her gaze to the ceiling.

She examines the bespoke light fixtures and custom white ceiling tiles - exciting stuff. Mildly wishing she’d made this a drive-by meeting, a quick coffee or at some cheap fast food joint. She wonders why Pete would say that out loud? Why would he make it clear, to the immature fucks Nat calls family, that he’s a responsible adult? That was such a stupid move. Protecting your soft parts by any means necessary is the Berzatto way. Maybe she didn’t teach him enough before this dinner.

Mikey and Richie sniff out the blood in the water called Pete’s kind disposition and immediately decide he is chum. Carmy watches in amusement like an asshole, starting to complain about the food, the service and the restaurant design. When Pete tries clawing at conversation, Carmy tells him, “the plates make too much noise.” Nifty. Carmy looks though Pete, not at him. Evaluating or disinterested, it’s unclear to Pete.

Pete heads to the bathroom during dessert (and secretly goes to pick up the check).

“Gone to check your balls are okay? 'Cause we’re been busting 'em all night,” Richie yells, bumping his elbow with Mikey conspiratorially. They’re both digging into the first of the two desserts they each ordered. Nat’s never rolled her eyes harder at the two animals.

Their chuckles echo behind Pete and Nat can tell he’s resisting the urge to walk faster. Maybe she did teach him a thing or two.

She’s reached the end of her tether, she might put the fork though her own hand to distract and redirect the final portion of the evening (a trip to the ER might revive the night, make for a funny story.)

“I like his coat.” Carmy’s interjection helps wipe the knife thoughts away.

Cracking a sheepish smile, Sugar replies, “I bought him that,”

“I kinda thought so…” and just like that the conversation dies like her patience did about 45 minutes ago.

The polite chatter and laughter from the other patrons is deafening in her ears. She brain produces questions she can’t answers like ‘Why can’t we be like that?’, ‘Is it that much work to be normal and happy or at least polite?’ ‘Why’s she the only one good at pretending?’

Trying again, Carmy stutters out “He- he seems nice,” His big blue eyes blinking at her in reassurance.

“Really, Bear?” waiting for the trap to spring.

Carmy shrugs. ”He likes you,” he tilts his head over to Mikey and Richie, each finally on their second dessert.”Dealt with their shit all night. So he must really like you, Sugar.” Just like that the trap dissolves, disassembled.

She realises he’s been assessing. It takes a lot to withstand this family. Running at the first sign of dysfunction is a clear sign you’re not cut out for it. Carmy continues, “kinda reminds me of Cousin Steve, y’know. Good guy.”

“Oh yeah, Steve-O,” Richie hoots, sucking the last of the strawberry cheesecake off his spoon.

Mikey’s spoon clatters onto his plate, he can’t help, but reply, “Good guy.” sitting back in his chair, stretching a little, the way he does when he’s full.

Natalie can’t help, but echo, “The best,” tucking her hair behind her ears, thinking of the nice life Cousin Michelle and Steve have made for themselves in New York. She doesn’t want what they have, she wants something like it.

All of them pause a beat. They’ve never really done this sort of thing before, have someone incredibly earnest join their close ranks like this.

Usually significant others are from around the neighbourhood. They know what they’re getting with a Berzatto. They have an awareness of the dysfunction and probably have their own kind - like Tiff or Sugar’s ex from high school, or some of the girls Mikey’s been around with or better yet, Carmy’s approach of silently crushing on a girl like Claire and then never bringing anyone over ever.

Mikey straightens in his chair, nods over to the nerd paying the check in secret. “He good to you? You like him?”

She stares at Mikey thoughtfully: her big brother, her biggest protector, the biggest idiot she knows, loves, and wouldn’t want to be without. Natalie gives a tender answer — a genuine one.

“Yeah, Mikey. He’s a good guy. I like him a lot.”

“Okay,” he nods sagely, “then he can stay.”

“Excuse me. He can stay? Fuck you, you don’t get to make decis-”

Carmy tries defusing, “Mikey, you knew that was gonna set Sugar off, why’d you have to say stupid shit lik-”

“-Look, just like in the old country, a brother should have a say in-” Richie chips in and the conversation instantly becomes devoid of any sense.

“-this is my life, Mikey, you can’t just say stupid shit like-”

“I was fucking joking, take a fucking chill pi-”

“Sugar, you know that’s not what Mik-”

“-you gotta’ think about your dowry Sug, take this shit ser-”

“-what does Tiff even see in you? How’re you even engaged?”

“Dowry, really Richie. My sisters worth more than-”

The vacated chair is pulled back and Pete sits down. The argument takes a second to dissolve.

“Back then, marriage was a negotiation with the whole family-”

“Cousin, shut up!” Mikey always has the final word.

As Pete winds his arm across her shoulders, he sees the relaxed Nat he’s used to at home, instead of the tense mess that arrived at the restaurant. Still chipper he checks in, “all good?”

Interestingly enough, the boys see her relax too.

“Yeah. Just being silly,” she lets off a demure giggle, her soft eyes dart from him and swing over to her brothers and cousin in warning - ‘behave and stop acting stupid’.

“So Nat was telling me you guys just came back from New York.”

She squeezes his hand, grateful for the distraction. They watch the dynamic duo fly and the young adoring brother listens intently. It’s an increasingly ridiculous tale about the New York Stock exchange. Pete plants a calming kiss to her forehead, right there in front of her family like it’s normal to be…loving and affectionate and happy.

He’s staying and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

4. Family Retreat

Pete’s scared to meet Nat’s mom long before the time to actually meet her ever comes.

Nat shares innocent stories that are very telling. Her mom banned her from the kitchen for a mistake she'd made as a child, then bowtied it together with an ironic ‘we’ll never let you forget it’ nickname.

Her mom’s comments about the way she dresses — Nat’s constantly worried if something’s too long or short or tight or baggy. Pete can hear a voice that is not her own when Nat says, "It should sit just right, y’know? l should invest in a good tailor, right? Or maybe a sewing machine?” It’s never quite good enough, but she’s been saying things like that less and less.

Stories of visiting home include the sound of picking up and disposing of clinking wine bottles, picking her mom up from off the couch, picking up the short straw, and picking up the endless slack from everyone. She’s drained from the experience, but she does it anyway.

It’s a Berzatto Thanksgiving Affair. A chance to break bread and be in peak madness. When Sugar tells her younger brother over the phone, Carmy’s half-convinced Sugar invites Pete to scare him away.

Or maybe it’s the final test to see if he can stay indefinitely.

The timers. The wine. Mikey and Richie. Tiff. Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Lee. Cousin Michelle and Steve (jury's still out on whether Steve is gay. He stopped wearing suits to family dinners like two years ago, so at least he’s comfortable). A whole host of Faks. Tina and a few of her family might stop by later, some other guys from the restaurant too.

Carmy’s not coming this year, claims he hasn’t got the money. When Uncle Jimmy rang him up, offering up the cash, he said he didn’t have the time. The conversation went a little like: “They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in the Netherlands, Unc,” “but they do give you time off right? Call it holiday, not vacation over there.” “Look, I gotta go.” “You’re coming for Christmas. Christmas is for family. No arguments.” “Bye, Uncle Jimmy. Enjoy the turkey.”

Classic Avoidance.

Nat thought it’d be a catastrophe having Pete there. And it still was. But holding his hand, when it got to be too much, was so freaking nice.

When her mom kicked her out of the kitchen, Pete sat outside with the only girl of the Berzatto household, and he hugged her so tight, she felt put back together again.

The noise from the full house behind them can be heard through the open kitchen window. It’s faint from the back of the yard and Nat’s grateful it feels like a distance memory.

“Having fun?” Natalie asks thoughtfully pulling her coat tighter around her.

“It’s different, I like it.” Still smiling his Pete smile.

“Fuck off! Different?” Incredulous, she's surprised by him underselling the shitshow - they’ve been together long enough he can drop the niceties, maybe he really is that nice.

“You all have something to say,” Pete shrugs. “You live interesting lives. Danny, my older brother, he’s probably talking about golf and his 401K.”

“Sounds reasonable and respectable to me. You have a 401K. I have a 401K. He might have some good advice.” Laughing at herself playing adult, whilst feeling like a child in her mothers backyard.

“It’s fucking boring, Nat.”

She playfully gasps in answer “Babe, you swore! You never swear!”

“It is that fucking boring. You can come next year.” He can’t help but repeat the sad truth. “It’s so fucking boring.” They dissolve into giggles, enjoying their own little bubble.

He takes a tentative step into the messy truth: “So now I've met your mom.”

“Yeah…” Nat's brown eyes shine, barely meeting his gaze, choosing to stare at the rose bush just besides him. Her apprehension is painful for him to watch.

“You’re both very beautiful. I see where you get it from,” He can’t help, but look right at her. They say you shouldn’t do that with the sun, and they should have added Natalie Berzatto to the list - she is blinding.

“Worried I’ll turn into her?”

“No. Not one bit.” He squeezes her hand, hoping to transfer the way he feels about her through skin-to-skin contact, but it’s not working so he’ll settle for this “Nat, you’re so incredibly your own person. I don’t worry about that. But I think you’re worried about it. So I’ll remind you every day, if you want, that you're not.”

Blinking away the tears is the hardest challenge Nat’s faced yet. Once she was pulled up for speeding and tried to convince the cop she was old enough to drive - she was 15. Mikey was in the hospital after a big fight and their mom was too drunk to answer the phone without slurring. By the skin of her teeth, 15 year old Sugar pulled through. Turns out this was a little tougher

“I love you, Peter.”

“I love you too, Natalie.”

They rest in the quiet Chicago fall, winter tickles their ears and they keep each other close.

Mikey comes out a couple minutes later and tells Pete to beat it. Which is the polite version of what he actually said: “Fuck off Petey, I need to talk to my sister, the Virgin Mary, and my brother.” Pete scrambles back into the house, faintly blushing, while Mikey promptly takes his seat and demands, “call Bear, Sug.”

With mild aggravation, Sugar calls Carmy and they wish him a Happy Turkey Murder Day. With the trio all together, Mikey drops the mike.

“Petey pop the question?”

The silence from Carmy over the phone could either be speechlessness or indifference, again, hard to tell.

“What?” her brows scrunch together, a familiar scowl that matches one often seen on Carmy’s.

Barely containing his wicked glee at this turn of events, Mikey claps his hands together, announcing to the backyard “Petey asked Uncle Jimmy, Ma and I, if it was okay to ask for your hand, Bear.”

“What?” in shock the sister repeats.

A tinny reply over the phone: “Wait, so did he ask? Or did he ask, if he could ask?”

Exasperated, Mikey grabs the phone from Sugar. “Look, Bear, if you were here, you could have asked him all these stupid kinds of questions yourself.” His patience tested, he faces his sister: “So whaddya think, Sug? Let it rip?”

She watches Mikey’s cloud of breathe dissolve. Natalie is so overwhelmed, she doesn't know whether she needs to take a breath in, or a breath out, or if she should cry, or scream, or run away. Or all of them at the same time.

“Hey guys!”

They’re interrupted by Pete’s mildly distressed presence at the patio door.

“Yeah, guys, your mom says dinner’s ready. She was waving a knife when she said it, so I think you better hurry.”

Mikey smirks at him. The boy’s still treading water okay.

Natalie beams at him. The boy is still treading water.

Mikey turns his smirk over to Sugar. Natalie whispers to her brothers,

“Let it rip.”

5. Syd

“Okay, start again. I’m Syd. The sous. And you are?”

“I’m Pete. The husband.” He’s met with no response and a scrutinising expression often given to him by Carmy. He can’t tell whether what he said didn’t make sense or he’s just proven himself as useless. He tries again. “Husband of Natalie.”

He’s offered a blank look.

“Nat. Carmy’s sister. Sugar.”

Pete watches the realisation blossom on her face. “Ohhh, Sugar. Carmy’s sister, yeah yeah. You’re the husband. Cool, cool. I’m so sorry. Hi, hey,” Sydney flails a little bit longer. “She’s called Sugar all the time here. I think— I think I really thought that was her name. Wow. Cool, good to know. So are you like a chef or something?”

Again, his usefulness is being assessed, and they just about got over the ‘no I’m not the new produce guy’ thing from two minutes ago. Despite it all, Pete is intrigued by her word salad; another person with something interesting to say. He thinks Mikey would have liked her more than he did him, and much quicker too.

“A chef? No! Just husband. A husband of Natalie.”

“You don’t call her Sugar.”

He’s taken aback at how quickly she’s cottoned on and how point blank she’s asked.

He tells it to her straight, “No, I don’t. My wife hates that nickname. Can’t shake it. And just can’t seem to tell anyone who knows it that she does. Hate it, I mean, not shake it.’

It’s both a loving and damning exercise, telling Syd this tidbit about Nat, but if she’s planning to stay, she might as well know. He’s weighed the cost-benefit analysis against Carmy’s moon eyes (if Carmy got a say, Syd’s sticking around) and Nat’s anger (lethal) if they’re overheard.

“Okay, Nat. Natalie. Got it. And you’re Pete. Nat’s Pete.”

“Yes I am. And you’re Sydney. Carmy’s Syd”

“I’m not- I’m not Carmy’s- I’m not Carmy’s anything.”

“You’re definitely something.” Pete looks around the restaurant knowingly.

“I’m sous. Um, I’m the sous,” she stutters.

He has a homemaker mother; an anxious, determined sister; and a few years under his belt with a brilliant wife. Pete can tell there’s a ping-pong match going on behind the woman's eyes.

“So you said. Aren’t you guys running the family restaurant together?”

“Yeah and-”

“Jeff, we’re running out of fennel, which is fucking up the line— oh hey, Petey. How you doing, sweetheart? You good?” Tina checks in.

Pete greets her with a hug. “Hi, Tina. All good, just met-”

“Heard, chef, I’ll be there in a minute,” Syd replies mechanically as Carmy calls “Syd” a few times from the kitchen, the ball still bouncing.

Tina waves at Pete and backs up into the door to The Beef kitchen “Jeff’s gonna get to it, stop fucking around you guys” is heard behind the door.

“All I was trying to say, is that it’s nice to meet someone important to Carmy.” Pete goes in for a friendly hug, which Syd gingerly accepts.

Carmy crashes through the same door just Tina exited- instantly clocking the physical contact.

“What the fuck Pete?! We’re running a restaurant. Stop harassing my Syd- Sy- just stop harassing my sous Syd. So we can get back to work.” The blue eyed glare is pretty deadly, despite the jerky wording.

“I wasn’t harassing-”

Natalie glides through from the kitchen. “Who’s harassing who?” amused by the antics her husband has inspired.

“Pete’s harassing my- Syd. He’s harassing Sy-”

“He wasn’t harassing- he tried to hug me. Actually he did hug me?” Syd questions how she let that happen, he’s a disarmingly friendly man. “I was fine. Stop it, Carmy. Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Oh my god Pete! You can’t just go around hugging people.” snorting at Carmy’s impression of an overprotective pitbull, Sugar rolls her eyes.

“It was just a hug. I just hugged Tina,” the Berzatto’s have a way of teasing Pete that leaves him unsteady on his feet.

Syd scurry’s past him, keeping a reasonable enough breath, to stand next to Carmy - her safety when the floor is lava. The crazed look in Carmy’s eyes slightly fades. There’s a lot to feel crazy about in The Beef, so it's still a pretty impressive feat from the girl in the scarf.

“Your husband was super nice, Nat, promise.” Syd says.

“He is super nice.” Sugar winking at him, proud of his good first impression, par for the course for Pete.

Carmy rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath “yeah, he’s plenty nice.” Arms cross defensively across his chest. If Syd notices his biceps, in all honesty, that’s really his fault for displacing them.

“Carmy stop being a big baby and play nice. Everyone gets to meet Syd. You can’t keep her holed up in the Kitchen all the time, okay?” A teasing coaxing energy only a big sister can possess and only from her would Carmy remotely tolerate it. Despite the scowl on his face Carmy turns a faint red.

Confused how this conversation has derailed, Syd changes the topic to more familiar ground, meeting “Chef, the fennel is-”

“Way ahead of you. I spoke to Tina and-”

The chef duo walk and talk their way through the door and back into the kitchen - in sync.

“Babe, I didn’t-”

“I know sweetie. I’m glad you met Syd. Don’t worry about him, he’s always overreacting when it comes to her” Nat gives him a reassuring hug.

“She seems great. Real chef energy, like Carmy. They’ll be great together,”

“I think so too. If he gets a handle of that pitbull impression.”

“Summer wedding?”

“Spring? They’re transitional season people.”

“Bet.”

+1 Ceremony

At Syd and Carmy’s winter wedding, Baby Bear is in attendance. The kitchen keeps switching between Cub and Baby Bear, undecided on the adoring nickname. Pete and Nat prefer Aurora. It got shortened down from ‘my little star miracle angel’ as Pete’s mom liked to call her. She shines brightly in the eyes of her parents and everyone that showers her with love.

The baby was christened a month before the wedding at Donna’s insistence. Despite being under duress, the christening was a good excuse for their families to be in one room.
The chaos of the Berzatto family is the picture of a merry and passion-filled brood, for once instead of the usual overwhelming and oppressive presence. Shouting at ushers and seating arrangements. Laughing over childhood stories and parking woes. Fussing over the catering for later. A rolodex of yelling and noise and joy and delight.

Pete’s family arrived an hour early to get good parking, help set up, and ensure the service could start on time, if not early. The sea of matching beige, grey and pink, in keeping with the invitation, is nothing less than to be expected from his family tree. It’s comfortingly predictable.

Pete’s glad he can be a safe place for Nat to rest, and she reminds him to snatch joy wherever he can find it. Their Baby Bear gets to have all of it, all the good things and hopefully none of the bad. Pete and Aurora have a Mama Bear on their side. They couldn’t be happier to be Berzattos too.