"Look— you don't gotta be his best friend," Mikey sighs, brushing you off as he straightens out the sweater over your shoulders, "but Carmy's our brother, Pumpkin, whether 'ya like it or not. A fuckin' punk, yeah, but still our brother."

Tuning out the hustle and bustle of the Berzatto house as countless cousins and Richie and the Faks pop in and out of every corner, Michael sighs as he looks down at you. You're the baby out of the four of them— him, Sugar, and Carmy, that is— and he's more than aware of just how apprehensive you've been seeing Carmy around after he'd left for Copenhagen out of nowhere.

It'd been a massive blow to you compared to anyone else; you and Carmy had always been attached at the hip since Donna brought you home from the hospital forever ago, so it'd been a real rock to your world when he'd left with little warning. Hell, it'd rocked him of all people, and Michael Berzatto never let anything shake him up that bad since your old man walked out for the final time.

"Just play nice," he mutters, grinning at your pout as he goes and ruffles your hair. God, you hate when he does that. He can't help getting on your nerves a little if it means it'll distract you from the overall chaos of Christmas dinner. "You play nice, and I'll keep Ma off your ass, okay? We all will." Because everyone knows— everyone squished into the damn Berzatto house right now, that's for sure— that Donna turns her ire on you whenever possible.

"Now c'mon, let's go find Nat... think she's losin' her mind about Ma outside." It doesn't take a genius to know that she definitely is, but then again... you all are. It's unavoidable.

But the two of you shuffle out the front door to find Natalie on the drive with a lit cigarette, and maybe everything feels normal for once. Even when Carmy emerges from the house asking for help with the guests, you remain calm as Mikey hands you a cig.

"Play nice," he reminds you while Carmy walks over. Here's to hoping tonight will be bear-able.