Disclaimer: Any television shows, movies, books and other copyrighted material referred to, along with the characters involved, are the properties of their respective owners. This story is completely fictional and isn't intended to be taken seriously.
You can't pinpoint when exactly you fell in love with Gabriela Dawson and that is probably the biggest problem in the fact that you have fallen in love with Gabriela Dawson. It actually kind of pisses you off. It's literally the biggest lesbian stereotype and you fucking hate that you have fallen into it.
Whatever. Its not like she feels the same anyway, so for the time being you're content to court her without her knowing. You get the satisfaction that you make her feel happy and she gets the satisfaction that she has a best friend that would literally run through fire for her.
"Strip club tonight?" Severide asks you as you make an appearance in the break room.
"Uh, duh," you reply. Really, you don't want to go to the strip club. You have no interest in it because the women who will be taking off their clothes is not who you wish you would be watching take off all their clothes. But oh well. You like women and you like almost naked women even more and its not like you can ask Dawson to give you a lap dance without her probably ignoring you for the rest of your life. And that is not something you want to happen.
"Ten bucks says the girl from last time asks for your number again," Severide continues, grinning at you as he wiggles his eyebrows up and down. You roll your eyes. That was the last time you had gone to the strip club and really, it was disastrous despite the fact that you had gotten a really cute brunette's number. But that could have also been because Clarice had popped back into your life and that had literally ruined the entire week afterward. Either way, you never called the girl back.
"Fool's bet. Of course she's going to give me her number again," you say as you lean against the counter. You grab an apple from the bowl of fruit that's next to you and bite into it.
"Kind of cocky, aren't you?" you hear Dawson ask from behind you. You try to keep the delighted smile off your face but you know you kind of failed because Severide rolls his eyes and turns his focus back onto the football game he had previously watching.
"It's not being cocky if you know its true," you say back, turning to face her. And it's kind of true. Because even though you aren't as much of a player as Severide is, you do have a way with the ladies and up until the past few months, you haven't had a reason to want to settle down. Dawson calls it commitment issues but really, its because you know none of the girls you've dated in the past after Clarice have been able to hold a candle to who you really want.
"Why am I friends with you?" Dawson jokes. You smirk and lift a shoulder in response.
"Because who else would bring Chinese food to your house because you don't want to miss an episode of American Horror Story even though the Chinese place is five miles out of my way?" you say. And, yeah, she kind of has you whipped like that. You don't even want to imagine how it would be if you were actually in a relationship.
Dawson rolls her eyes.
"Whatever. Be safe. If you're gonna get silly, wrap up the willy," she says, giggling lightly at the end. You laugh and roll your eyes.
"Yes, because my fingers can get a girl pregnant," you say. She shrugs her shoulders.
"You never know," she replies.
"I'm magic," you say, wiggling your fingers in front of her face. She laughs and bats your hand away from her.
"All right Casanova, I'm going to check inventory for the ambo," Dawson says, stepping out from behind the counter.
"Okay, I'll be out in a little bit," you reply. You sit on the couch next to your roommate as you watch her walk away.
"Why don't you just ask her out already?" Severide mutters, his eyes not moving from the TV.
There is a plethora of reasons you will never ask Gabriela Dawson out. She's straight, she's practically in love with Matthew Casey, and she's your best friend are good areas to start with.
Instead, you shrug and take another bite of your apple.
"Because it's a rule in the lesbian community to never, ever put your self in the position of dating a straight girl. It leads to nothing but heartbreak," you answer. Severide raises one eyebrow but doesn't reply back.
Yeah, you're not buying that either.
Its one in the morning and you're sitting next to Severide in the strip club trying to watch Candi and Scarlett shake what their momma's gave them, but you can't because you're drunk enough to want to text Dawson and she's taking up enough room in your head to where you can't appreciate how round and firm Candi's ass is. Which is a shame, because you're sure it's actually really nice.
But apparently what you want and what you actually need to be doing are once again at odds with each other. And fate may be playing a little with you because your phone is buzzing in your hand and Dawson's name is flashing on the screen. You open the text right after you watch Scarlett drop it low.
Are you done watching women getting naked yet?
Well. If you're being honest, you've hardly watched them at all. But something tells you Dawson doesn't need to know that. Instead, you type kind of and that you wish she was here. Clearly you're past caring what you text under the influence. And not even a minute later, you have your reply.
Aw, you're sweet. I've got no interest in watching dollar bills being shoved in random g-strings, but I do have a couch and the complete first season of Grey's Anatomy if that interests you?
Yes it does. Because anything with Dawson included interests you. Unless its hearing about her and Casey getting drinks at Jensen's together because that makes you sad more than you'd like to admit. Jensen's is your place with Dawson.
You lean over and tell Severide that you're going to head out and reassure him that you'll be fine leaving and that you aren't overly intoxicated.
You're halfway to Dawson's in the back of a cab before you text her back with a simple smiley face.
When the door to her apartment opens and she sees you standing there, you have to admit that the smile on her face was different than any other smile you've ever seen her give and then you fall in love with her all over again.
You don't have time to be pissed off at your self before she's grabbing your hand and leading you to the couch. You stumble slightly, because you're actually fairly wasted, before you fall down into your designated spot on Dawson's couch.
"You're drunk," Dawson notes as she settles down next to you. She takes the remote to turn on the DVD player and then scoots closer so she can rest against your side. This isn't an unusual position for you when you're over this late.
"Mm, kind of, yeah," you murmur as you put your arm around her shoulder in effort to get more comfortable. And then you lean your head against the back of the couch because if you're going to be honest, you could fall asleep right where you sit.
"Did you have fun with Severide?" she asks as the main menu pops up on the TV screen.
"It was okay. This is much more fun," you tell her. She has to know that. She has to know that you would pick spending any kind of time with her over anything else.
"We haven't even watched anything yet," Dawson laughs, knocking the back of her hand against your thigh. You shrug.
"I like you better," you say simply. And then you feel her lips against your cheek, warm and sure.
"I like you better too," she whispers. She hits play and gets immersed into the drama that is Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd.
It isn't long after that when you feel yourself being woken up. Dawson is staring at you with kind of a half smile and you're pretty positive the room is spinning.
"Come on, let's go to bed. Our shift starts early tomorrow," she says. You don't say anything as you follow her into her bedroom and strip down to your underwear and the thin tank top you have on underneath your t-shirt.
"Night Gabs," you mumble as you climb into the bed. You feel the bed dip next to you as she lays down and the warmth from her body radiates around you.
"Night Shay," she says back. You want to tell her that you appreciate her inviting you over. You want to tell her that she looks beautiful in her pajamas and you want to tell her that you love her.
But you don't. Instead, you turn on your side and pull her into your chest and let her settle against you before falling asleep.
She has to know, though. There is no way she doesn't know.
It's six in the morning when you hear your alarm on your phone go off. You hate that sound because it means getting out of bed and right now, you really don't want to get out of bed.
But you have to and you do and after you pull on your clothes from last night, you press a kiss to Dawson's forehead and tell her to go back to sleep. You've got to get home and grab a shower so you can head into work.
And as you walk the few blocks from Gabby's apartment to yours, you can't help but think of what it would be like to do this every morning; to wake up next to her and hear her mumble sleepily to go back to bed.
But you already know it would be perfect.
A couple weeks pass and you still wonder how, why and when you fell in love with your best friend. Was it when she defended you and your sexuality to the cops that used to hang around Jensen's after normal hour folk had gone home, or was it when she picked up every little piece of your broken heart after Hurricane Clarice?
Was it because she has the most beautiful eyes you've ever come across or was it because the visible muscles in her stomach are literally the sexiest things you have ever seen?
Did you fall quickly? Or was it gradual, over a long enough period of time that you didn't even realize what you were doing or what had happened until it practically slapped you in the face once you realized she wanted Casey?
Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?
"Hey, you okay?" Dawson is right in front of you now. She's got a small frown on her face and even though it means she's upset, or at least, not visibly happy, you think it's the cutest thing you've ever seen.
She's the cutest thing you've ever seen.
"Yeah, I'm fine," you say, shrugging. Her frown increases.
"You've been mope-y lately," she says. She takes her hand and brushes some of your hair behind your ear. You almost shiver but you don't.
"It's just been a couple of blah days," you reply. Actually, its been a couple of blah months. Because each day you see your chance lessens and lessens. Each day, the knowledge that if you were to tell her just how head over heels in love with her you are, she would freak out and you'd probably never talk again other than on a professional level. And that would kill you. Because having her in your life as a best friend is better than not ever having her.
"Can I do anything?" Her hands are on the underside of your jaw now, framing your face. You're glad you were already sitting down because you'd bet your bank account that your knees would have weakened to the point where you wouldn't be able to stand had you not been sitting down. She makes you feel that good.
"No, not really. I'll be alright," you mutter. She stares at you long and hard and you're half tempted to look away because this is actually kind of nerve wracking.
"Let me know," she mutters back. Then she's kissing your forehead and your eyes are closing because the feel of her lips on your skin, even somewhere innocent like your forehead, has you melting. "I love you."
And when you open your eyes again, she's gone. You're alone in the back of the ambulance and you kind of want to shoot yourself in the foot because you didn't say it back.
But it hits you square in the face then, that it doesn't matter where or when or how you fell in love with Dawson. You just are and attraction and love start from the details. So yes, its because of her beautiful eyes, her drool worthy body, her loyalty to her friends and family, her goofiness, and even her temper that you're in love with you.
You're head over heels, wholeheartedly in love with Gabriela Dawson. And you know she has to know.