Hi everyone, thanks for sticking with me. Hope you enjoy this next chapter, had the moment fun writing it. Just so you all know, I started this ages ago, before things were kind of back on with Dawson and Casey (hurrah though!). I started it in the height of their not talking to each other phase. Sarrabr4 and Ghostwriter, I'm happy you're still with me on this Mycalmhidesastorm – damn right! Let me know what y'all think!

'Come on up,' Casey told Dawson, who waited below. He answered the door feeling breathless and taken aback, to find Dawson looking somewhat bashful with a tray covered in tinfoil.

'Is that…?' He asked, smelling it. Dawson smiled.

'Lasagne.'

'For me?'

'No, I just wanted to make you sit and watch while I ate it.'

'Very funny, come in.' She put the dish on the kitchen table, reached into her bag and pulled out a sixpack of beer, grinning guiltily. Casey laughed out loud and opened the fridge in response, to where his own stack of beers were cooling.

'I was planning a quiet night in.'

'You didn't want to go out with the boys?' She asked. Severide had asked; they were starting at Molly's and planning a boozy night, but Casey couldn't face it. He'd been avoiding everyone since his suspension. He didn't want their questions, their concern, their outrage on his behalf.

'Nah, not tonight.'

'Fair enough,' she said, in a tone that suggested she knew exactly why he wasn't going out. 'Hey, d'you reckon we could microwave this? It got a bit cold…' They opened the beer, got out plates and started clearing the table of papers and envelopes, and Casey was overwhelmed with such a feeling of normalcy that he was just chatting away, asking Dawson about everything, from House 51 to Brett's flat, to Antonio. Dawson had been quiet at first, but she pulled herself up onto the countertop and relaxed.

It was so normal, in fact, that Casey had to bring himself up short, before he got too carried away. He turned away from the microwave, to where the lasagne was now steaming.

'Dawson?' he asked. 'What're you doing here?' He hadn't meant to be so direct, but that was the overwhelming question. Dawson held his gaze for a moment then looked away, started neatening the knives and forks on the table so they were at ninety degree angles to the table edge. She shrugged. 'I mean, I'm really happy to see you… really happy you're here… It's been a bit shit, if I'm honest.' He cleared his throat and waited out the painful silence that followed.

'Well, I shouldn't be, should I?' He laughed at that. 'God help us if Severide comes back, he'll kill us. Well, he'll kill me and just ignore you. But no – I just… Things got bad, and I wanted to clear the air. Properly. After everything with Mauden and… us… I just wanted to make you were ok.' She brushed past him and picked up the lasagne using the sleeves of her jumper. He felt suddenly terribly bad; she'd been the one asking after him, checking he was ok, trying to clear the air and he'd just sat back and ignored it.

'Gabby, I'm sorry.' He caught her arm so she'd look at him, see his sincerity. 'I'm so happy you're here. I don't think you realise how happy.'

'C'mon,' she cleared her throat, 'else we're going to have to microwave this up all over again.'

Over dinner, they talked about Mauden, about the hearing, about the progress of the report, but he knew there was something she wasn't telling him.

'Gabby, what is it?' He had to duck his head to look into her eyes. 'You're so bad at keeping secrets…'

'I saw him.' Casey put down is fork. 'He came by Molly's a couple of days ago. I was on shift but I was just closing up. He just came in and sat at the bar wanting a drink.'

'And?'

'And nothing. I didn't give it to him because I'd already taken the stock. Like, that usually doesn't matter, but he seemed to buy it. He was just asking after everyone. He asked after you… He didn't threaten me or anything, he was fine. He was just smiling, y'know?' She shuddered. 'Never stops smiling. And then Cruz and Brett came in, thank god, and Cruz was all like, what the hell're you doing here? – because you know they've all got your back, right? No one's doubted you – and he got up and left, told us all to take care, and was gone.'

Casey forced himself to finish of his lasagne, even though it was suddenly making his stomach turn.

'I don't want you being there by yourself again.'

'I know.'

'And you go everywhere with Brett.'

'I will, I already am. This was a couple of days ago. Matt, stop it. Look at me.' Casey met her eye and forced himself to relax his jaw. He was shocked.

'The thing is, he must've known when I was on shift. I don't know how he'd know that, unless…'

'Unless he'd been watching you?'

'Yeah.' She shook her head. 'I know its stupid. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I dunno. The guy gives me the creeps. I don't trust him, I don't trust anything about him. Why would he ever do that, send you back up to search for people – he must've known that if you were ok, you'd be gunning for him. He must've known he was going to get suspended. So why'd he do it?' Casey's brain was whirling. He told her about what'd happened when he'd taken the trash out, and then they were both laughing at their own paranoia, and the mood was simultaneously sky high and dark with worry. It might have been the beer and the wine, but Casey couldn't stop smiling despite himself, lightheaded with relief. I can always trust you, he thought in her general direction, as they started loading up the dishwasher.

'Time is it?' Dawson muttered, squinting at her watch and chuckling at herself.

'Shit, it's gone midnight. Severide could be back…'

'This early?' She asked, a twinkle in her eyes that he'd missed so much. 'Only if he's got company.'

'This is very true.' Casey took that as a signal to pour more wine. 'But hardly unheard of. He'd kill us though, you're right. He'd be so pissed at me and you'd be on cleaning duty no matter what I say.'

'You can't say Kelly Severide isn't a loyal friend.' They moved to the sofa, both convincing each other that this was their last glass, and wilfully ignored the prospect of Severide coming home.

By one in the morning though, Casey was getting anxious. Making Dawson leave was pretty much last on the list of things he wanted right now, but if Severide came back. It wasn't worth the explaining and Dawson would take the brunt of Severide's annoyance. She thought the same; their eyes connected as she drained the last of her wine.

'I'll walk you home,' he said regretfully. But then, waiting in the hallway as Dawson put on her coat, with the front door open, Casey heard a scuffle in the stairwell. For a moment, his heart stopped, thinking: Mauden, but then there was a giggle, followed by Severide's unmistakable chuckle.

Casey crept back into the flat and closed the door silently. He turned to Dawson, leaving the horror unmasked on his face.

'Oh god,' she whispered.

'Quick, into my room,' he ushered her in, then leapt back into the living room to the turn lights off, back in the bedroom, closed the bedroom door just as Severide's key turned in the lock.

They stood there in complete darkness, hearts in throats, listening as Severide and his guest stumbled into the flat.

'Lasagne?' Severide muttered drunkenly, clearing spotting the baking dish, 'he never makes lasagne…'

'I'll make you lasagne, baby,' came the female's voice. Casey bit his knuckle to stifle his laughter and, taking Dawson by the wrist, led her through the darkness to his bed. His heart hadn't left his throat, where it fluttered with excitement. He felt light-headed, giddy in her company but he also knew in his wine-addled state that he needed to treat this situation with the utmost sensitivity.

'Lieutenant,' Dawson whispered from beside him, 'it would seem you've got us in another rather precarious situation…' At the softness of her voice, her proximity to him, he was wildly turned on. It was overriding any thoughts to be serious and mature.

'Seems I have. Seems like maybe this Lieutenant just likes getting himself stuck in darkened places with his candidate…' She was closer, he could feel her breath, was sure she could feel his heart beating.

'Except I'm not your candidate anymore.' If he leant just a little bit more, he would feel her lips.

'You're my-' There was a smash from the living room and both of them leapt apart. Casey fell off the end of the bed, and the moment dissolved into laughter. She reached out for him in the darkness, her fingers brushing his cheek before she found his shoulder and pulled him, laughing, back onto the bed.

'Shhh!' He gasped.

'Shhhh!'

As their laughter died down, and the reality of their situation sunk in, they both became sombre and the tension between them rose to a nervous, giggly awkwardness. He found her a t-shirt and pajama bottoms to wear, reassured her that he wasn't looking at her in the darkness, as she changed. Then he stripped to his boxers, put another t-shirt on and they slid beneath the covers. Casey kept poker straight, not trusting himself if he brushed up against her.

'Night, Matt.'

'G'night Gabby.'