A/N – Set during episode 2.08 "Rhymes with Shout". If you haven't seen it, it might be better if you do as I reference a lot of things that happen without going into a whole lot of detail. I absolutely loved the episode and it's my favorite, but there were some moments where I asked "What led to that?" or "What are we missing that I would have loved to have seen?" In particular, some of the scenes before, after, and in between interactions between Casey and Dawson (I adore them, they are my CF OTP). So, this is my attempt to fill some of those very intriguing gaps with what I'd want to see.
Disclaimer: Simply put, I do not own Chicago Fire or anything having to do with it except my own imagination.
Somewhere Along the Line
He knew he had royally screwed himself sometime in his life. This was a fact. He did not dispute this as he'd had ample evidence to confirm it. The thing he was having trouble with was pinpointing where exactly he had misstepped so badly. Had it been last year? Or had it been even before that?
As he watched Gabriella Dawson walk out of his quarters after Alan Chout without once looking at him, Matt Casey sat back, letting his head smack against the wall behind him. There really was no reason, no reason, that there should be this much trouble trying to get his point across without having to emblazon it on a banner and park it on the front of 51 for the entire house and world to see. He'd do that if needed, though, as last resort.
To make matters worse, that interrupting little runt, Chout, had had the gall to eyebrow him as he'd left like he'd won. Which, he kind of had in that moment, really. Matt let out a resigned sigh as he let his head snap back into the wall again, the slight sting of it not even registering in the sea of frustration he felt. Gung-Ho Joe really needed to roll that tongue of his back into his mouth, otherwise Matt would pin it in there for him happily, the service free of charge.
It didn't escape him these past few weeks that his attempts at hinting at wanting more with Gabby had met the formidable wall of apprehension she'd built up. Those very hints had been swallowed up by it with barely a blink. And she'd built that wall against him with good reason, as much as he hated to admit to that epically blundered moment last year at her cousin's Christmas party. But he'd seen the chink in the armor today – he'd seen the look in her eyes again that he'd seen all those months ago. The one he'd ached to see again the second she'd told him she had no expectations upon his return. But she'd been about to beat that wall of apprehension down.
Until that goddamn Chout.
With a huff, Matt threw his notebook onto the foot of the bed and got up. A few moments of pacing didn't help with the little lump of whatever that sat in his chest. Rather than sit and stew in it, he went the opposite direction Gabby had gone, determined to not let this get to him. Patience… he needed to find patience. And something else.
"What's going on, Lieutenant?" Herrman asked with his usual drawl, looking at Casey warily as the man marched into the kitchen as if on a mission.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," the younger man growled. Mouch lifted a brow from his place on the couch as he looked over to Herrmann, who shrugged.
"And that's a problem?" he asked, sitting back in the chair and observing Casey closely now as the lieutenant slammed a coffee cup onto the counter and poured himself a cup. Herrmann'd had his suspicions for a little while now when it came to his lieutenant…
"God yes," Casey muttered. Herrmann smirked to himself. The suspicion was more like a sound hypothesis now. He nearly laughed as the man in front of him brought the coffee cup to his lips, stared at it instead of drinking it, growled again, and set the cup hard back down on the counter.
"Suit up, we're running drills," he said, the order in his voice booking no argument, as he strode purposely out of the room. And just like that, Herrmann's amusement melted into a groan of unpleasantness.
"Drills?" Mouch asked, trepidation evident all over his face. Herrman let out a sigh as he stood.
"Let's go Mouchie. The sooner we start, the sooner we're done," he said. The other man grumbled as he shut off the TV and followed after his friend.
Twenty minutes later saw the members of Truck 81 in the middle of running ladder drills, Matt leading the charge. The physical exertion did help somewhat with the frustration. It would at least keep him from snapping at people or drawing attention to his mood. Matt ordered the others to switch out and went to find a different pair of gloves. As he walked away, he'd heard a bit of grumbling behind him.
"… looks like Casey's got some serious steam to blow off," Herrmann had said in answer. Matt snorted softly as he opened up one of the doors on the truck. Steam was a bit of an understatement, but he appreciated that his second in command had his back. He quickly grabbed a set of heavier gloves and made his way back to the crew to see them lower the ladder once again.
"One more time around and we'll call it quits," he said. Otis and Mouch groaned again and he smiled at them. "A round at Molly's is in it for you." The idea that maybe he'd be able to catch Gabby at the bar after shift teasing his brain a bit… Otis shrugged his shoulders, accepting it as he reached down to grab a ladder rung.
"Well then, what are we waiting for ?" Mouch asked, reaching down to pick up the ladder again.
"Bribes. They work every time," Herrmann said with a roll of his eyes.
"It is Chicago, in case ya hadn't noticed," Mouch pointed out, to the chuckles of everyone else.
Matt sat at the bar nursing the beer in front of him, courtesy of the newly engaged Joe Cruz. Otis had grumblingly notified all of the new comers – mainly the rest of the firehouse – of the celebrated information and that Gabby had ducked out not an hour before saying she had to work the next night's bar shift so she'd leave the guys to it.
The disappointment weighed heavy on Matt, just as the frustration had earlier. Their passing look in the locker room earlier that morning had steeled his resolve that they needed to talk, and he'd hoped to do it on some common ground. But now, Matt internally debated whether to call her or not. He wanted to see her, but was he willing to interrupt her plans to do so? Whatever they were? A clearing of a throat made Matt look up from peeling the label off of his beer bottle.
"You look like a man with something on his mind, Lieutenant," Herrmann commented quietly, setting up five shots in front of him and pouring them out. "Can your ol' pal Herrmann help ya out?"
Matt let out a chuckle as he leaned onto his elbows and looked up to the other man. "Can you rewind time?" Herrmann looked thoughtful with a frown.
"How far back ya thinkin'?" There was a flicker of concern on Herrmann's face that caught Matt off guard and he sat back.
"Eh, don't worry about it Herrmann. I gotta figure it out myself," Matt told him. Herrmann shrugged.
"Alright. Suit yourself," he said, quickly serving the five shots to the five men sitting in front of him. Matt watched as they all swallowed them down, smiling wryly at the look of distaste on all the faces.
"Jesus… why did we let you choose the shot, Mouch?" Severide complained. The other man shrugged.
"Beats me. I'm more of a beer man, myself," he told them. Herrmann laughed and placed a brew in front of the man.
"So…" Mouch begain, lifting his beer. "Safe room question. Ya think if I asked Dawson to dinner, she'd say yes?" The men around him guffawed.
"Mouch, I think that shot is going directly to your head," Severide said, clasping a hand on the man's shoulder. Mouch shrugged again.
"Well, the girl is not… ahem… involved right now. And she's cute as hell. I'm thinking why not give it a try?" he asked.
"What about Mari?" Herrmann asked. Mouch let out a sad sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"We haven't been talking as much lately. I think the distance is starting to take its toll," he said softly. The other men all looked at him with sympathy.
"Well, Mouch, you'd be joining good company in that I'm pretty sure damn near every man that's ever come into 51 has thought about asking Dawson to dinner… at least…" Clarke said with a slightly inebriated chuckle. When his eyes caught on Mills, the younger man cleared his throat uncomfortably, wanting to change the subject. He could take any sort of gossip since it was how the guys were after all. But the current subject matter still stung a bit.
"Even your mysterious, married ass self, Clarke?" Severide asked with his gap-toothed grin. Clarke shrugged.
"Pretty sure that girl is catnip to more than just the mysterious, married ass types," he noted with his usual, unreadable look. Herrmann looked at Matt out of the corner of his eye, noting the tenseness in the other man's position.
"Ain't that the damn straight truth," Herrmann said with a chuckle, feeling a bit reckless in stirring that particular pot. He remembered all too well the Jay situation. "And now we've got to worry about Molly's client hangers-on." Severide chuckled too.
"Yeah, well, Dawson's a ball-breaker. She knows how to take care of herself," the squad lieutenant said. Clarke grinned, the alcohol loosening him up slightly.
"Says a man with experience," he needled, with a cheeky wink. All the other guys' eyes went to Severide, particularly, another lieutenant's. Matt gritted his teeth. The information he was learning tonight….
"What?" Mills asked the question for all of the guys, even if he did sound a little more emotionally invested in the question than he wanted to let on. Severide chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.
"Relax. It was back when she first started. What, six years ago?" he informed them. Herrmann laughed.
"And we all know Kelly Severide's patented 'warm welcome' to 51 for all those of the female persuasion," he said with a wink, causing all the others to laugh as well.
"Yeah, well, Dawson saw right through that. Told me that I could use 'get breakfast' as code for 'quickie' all I wanted but it wasn't going to happen," Severide grinned as he remembered her knowing smirk, taking another swig of the beer.
"Good on her," Mouch said with a chuckle. Severide rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, well, it also helped that I met her brother directly after that conversation when he picked her up," he laughed. Each of the men knew Antonio Dawson in one way or another, and each was well aware of his protectiveness of his little sister. He was also not a Dawson to mess with.
"I'm curious, Severide," Otis said, leaning into the conversation now with interest. "How many times has the 'get breakfast' code worked?" The good-natured ribbing of Severide's womanizing ways was off and running, thankfully changing the subject that had been making Matt more and more uncomfortable as he'd quietly listened. The last thing he needed to hear was all of the flirtation and pining stories that he'd never wanted to realize had actually been there. It had been hard enough wading through all of Mills' over those few months.
And yet, she'd chosen you, until you shot her down… came the whisper in his head.
Without warning, Matt slapped a twenty onto the bar. Herrmann looked over.
"Going somewhere?" he asked. Matt smiled wryly with a small shrug.
"Long day. And I've got something I've got to do," he said. Herrmann raised an eyebrow, slinging the bar towel over his shoulder.
"Get outta my bar then, ya bum," he chided good-naturedly. Matt gave him a quick wave before quickly departing. Herrmann let out a small chuckle to himself as he looked to Mouch.
"That beer's on me," he told him, pointing to the bottle on the bar. Mouch looked confused.
"What'd I do?" he asked. Herrmann shook his head.
"Nothin'. Just a good deed for a good deed," he told the other man with a grin. Mouch looked even more confused, but shrugged and picked up his free beer. Herrmann made a note that he likely owed Clarke a beer as well for his part. He couldn't wait to tell Cindy this later…
In the end, he didn't call. He'd stared at his phone for a good 5 minutes wondering if he should as he sat in his truck outside of Gabby's house. Then he'd stared at her house for another 5 minutes, until the evening chill started settling into him. Matt could see the low lighting illuminating the inside, so bets were she was home.
He replayed some of the events of the past few days – Peter Mills, not afraid of comforting her at the news of Shay's transfer, the over-enthusiastic Chout, shaking her hand in awe and not afraid to express his admiration for her to everyone who would listen, the way he'd felt as she looked at him after they'd pulled her from the burning van, the sincere affection in Mouch's voice when he'd innocently inquired about asking her to dinner, the certainty in Clarke's voice when he mentioned that the entirety of y-chromosomes in the firehouse seemed to be tuned in to the fiery paramedic, the roguishness in Severide's voice when he'd described hitting on Gabby that first time… and Herrmann's foregone conclusion that it would only continue to be this way.
But Matt didn't want it to be that way. He wanted to be the one comforting her, admiring her, protecting her, taking her to dinner… He wanted her. Everything he could get. Matthew Casey was in love with Gabriella Dawson. And he had been for a long time.
It didn't take any more thought to get out of the truck and cross the street. He wanted to say so much to her, much more than he'd been able to hint at or get out in awkward moments where they each redacted their truest feelings.
As he reached for the doorbell, the door suddenly opened and he could only stare wide-eyed at the woman now standing in front of him. Gabby looked absolutely beautiful – red-lipped, dressed to kill and ready to go out and do… whatever. And watching the hitch in her breath, the same wide-eyed stare she was giving him, and that look in her eyes… all he wanted to do was to make sure she didn't go do whatever. Not without him. Ever.
Somewhere along the line, he'd done something to make up for that huge misstep in his life. And now his chance was standing right here. Matt Casey was certainly not going to let this one slip by him. He stepped forward, and when his lips finally touched hers in a heated kiss, that little knot of something in his chest finally released. For the moment, action seemed to do just as well as words.
End
A/N: Apologies if this was a little rough. First time getting back into the writing swing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I liked writing Dawsey. ;)