Matt showed up at just a few minutes after twelve o'clock on Thanksgiving. Foster wasn't due to arrive for another couple hours or so – she'd wanted Matt to have some time with just her parents, just not the whole day. She knew he was a little nervous, everyone was probably nervous meeting your partner's parents. She was already nervous about the idea of meeting his mother, which he hadn't even mentioned yet but would eventually have to happen. But Matt looked calm and incredibly handsome, dressed nicely but not too nicely – slacks and a collared shirt, but no tie – and he leaned in to kiss her softly.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Sylvie."
"It's happier now." She replied with a broad smile. Then she raised her voice. "Mom, stop pretending you're not ready to pounce and just come over here."
"You must be Matthew Casey."
"Mom, it's just Matt." Sylvie corrected quickly, knowing that Matt did not like being called by his full first name. She didn't know why, Gabby had never said, but Gabby had definitely mentioned how much Matt did not like being called 'Matthew'.
"Hello, Mrs. Brett. Sylvie's told us so many stories about Fowlerton, and the farm, I'm glad to get to meet you. I also took the chance that like your daughter, you enjoy both flowers and wine."
"These are beautiful, Matt, thank you." Mom accepted the flowers (Matt did well, too, Mom loved gerberas, loved the multitude of colors) but let Sylvie take the bottle of wine. She discretely checked the label, making sure Matt hadn't gone crazy and gotten something too fancy. He wasn't usually an extravagant guy, almost the opposite, but she knew he wanted to impress her parents. Matt caught her looking anyway.
"It's a pinot noir, and yes, that's an Australian wine. Not all good wine comes from France or California."
"I'm sure it will be wonderful." Mom assured him politely. "Sylvie do you have a vase for these?"
"Sure, under the sink actually, let me get it."
"Chuck, come meet Matt." Mom called.
"The game is starting." Dad replied. "Tell him to come in here and bring me a beer."
"Dad." Sylvie sighed, shaking her head.
"I like him already." Matt chuckled, kissing her cheek.
"He brought his own beer, from Indiana." Sylvie sighed. "Because Chicago can't have any good beer, apparently."
"Oh, Matt, you don't actually have to get him that, I'll do it." Mom said quickly, when Matt actually reached into the fridge to get a beer for Dad.
"It's no problem. Any snacks you want me to take over, babe?" Matt asked Sylvie.
"Get a churchkey, honey-" Mom started, then sounded concerned, "you'll tear up your hand like that, Matt -–are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Matt sounded bewildered, looking at his hand. Sylvie laughed a little, seeing the bottle-cap in his hand.
"She thinks you need a bottle opener, Matt – so you don't cut your hand taking the cap off the beer."
"Well, the metal is sharp and-"
"He's a firefighter, Cathy." Dad called. "And a contractor. I'm pretty sure his hands are fine with taking a cap off a beer."
"Sorry, I didn't even think." Matt said, looking at Mom. "But I'm fine, really."
"Sylvie said you had stitches recently."
"In my back, but I'm fine now. Had a little accident at work is all."
"You're about to miss kick-off son and I still don't have my beer."
"Chuck, honestly." Sylvie smiled though as Matt headed into the living area. He handed Dad the beer, and then extended his hand. Dad shook it.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Brett."
"Good to meet you. Have a seat, Matt. Watch the game with me." Dad paused. "I assume you're a Bears fan."
"Yes, sir."
"Alright. Whose your favorite guy for the Bears, all time?"
"Dad, you don't have to grill him." Sylvie called from the kitchen.
"George Halas, easy question." Matt grinned. "But if you mean someone who played for the Bears, I have to go Butkus. If you mean someone I've actually seen play in my lifetime, I remember watching Walter Payton as a little kid."
"You play football?"
"In high school, yeah." Matt nodded. "Middle linebacker, mostly."
"Explains the Butkus pick."
"Probably, yeah." Matt chuckled. Dad must have been content with whatever, though, because conversation turned to the game itself, following the usual ebb and flow of talking during a football game.
Matt had clearly won Dad over thus far. They were chatting like old friends, of course football gave them a nice comfortable middle ground to discuss. Dad worked in some subtle questions about Matt's life, asking if he'd lived his whole life in Chicago, stuff like that, but nothing too nosy or that Sylvie had noticed made Matt uncomfortable. Matt had asked a few questions of his own, mostly about the farm and some of the people in Fowlerton that Sylvie had mentioned – he must've been paying more attention than she'd realized, he even asked how the fundraiser for new church windows was going. Mom had piped in on that, happy to have an excuse (thankfully at half-time) to talk about her involvement in the various church activities.
"Are you a member of a church, Matt?" Mom asked, and he shook his head. Sylvie actually did not know the answer to that. She'd never heard Matt's faith mentioned by anyone. He and Gabby got married at the courthouse since they were in a hurry. Matt had still been in his turnouts even.
"I'm not a parishioner anywhere. I, uh, should probably go more often. Always figured I'd join when I got settled in a neighborhood, bought a house."
"You don't own a house?" Dad asked, sounding surprised.
"I owned a condo for a few years. It was destroyed in a fire last winter, finally getting that sorted out, so I should be buying again soon."
"So where are you living now? Renting again?" Mom asked.
"Actually, I live with my best friend – he took me in when I lost everything in the fire. Sylvie's probably mentioned him, Kelly Severide."
"I recognize the name Severide." Mom nodded. "He runs one of the other companies in your firehouse, right?"
"Yeah, he's on Rescue Squad."
"And you're on Truck, right?" Mom asked.
"That's right."
"That's the ones with the ladders, Sylvie said. Not the ones with hoses that pump water. Those are engines."
"Right." Matt chuckled a little. "Most people mix them up, use them sort of the same, but yeah, we specialize in…well, sort of the jack-of-all-trades of the fire service. Searches, rescues, overhaul, venting, the ladders, that's all us. You could come by the firehouse sometime you're in Chicago, everyone would love to meet Sylvie's family."
"Oh, we wouldn't want to impose."
"Bring some cookies or brownies, no one will see it as an imposition." Matt assured her.
"Have you always been a firefighter?"
"Always wanted to be. Takes a while to become one, though. I started with the CFD in 2003 – I was 21. Before that I did the construction thing full-time for a few years."
"Good trade, construction. Someone's always building something. Sylvie says you do home additions and stuff mostly." Dad declared evenly.
"Yes, sir." Matt nodded. "I'm my only full-time employee, so I don't build whole houses or anything. I have regular crew guys I can hire, but with my schedule at the firehouse, I don't keep a crew on all the time."
"Are you planning to buy a house in the city or maybe someplace a little farther out, with a yard and some room to grow?" Mom asked, and Sylvie almost cut her off because that was perilously close in her opinion to asking if Matt was looking to settle down and start a family right now.
"Games coming back on." Dad remarked, pointing at the screen, and that was it. Typical men. Any other conversation not about football would wait until dinner. At least then, Emily would be here so it might feel less like a job interview for Matt.
Actually, Emily was a great dinner guest just in general. She had lots of stories to tell, and Mom had been very interested in hearing about her time in medical school and how she ended up a paramedic. It also gave Mom a chance to get to know another important person in Sylvie's 'Chicago life' as Mom called it. Matt and Dad were content to continue talking about football apparently. Sylvie was really pretty sure that Matt liked her parents, and she could tell Mom and Dad liked Matt. Mom had just finished an only slightly embarrassing story about Sylvie and Leo fighting over the last piece of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving when Sylvie was fifteen, when she turned to Matt and asked him the first question of the day that made him pause,
"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Matt?"
"Uh, just one. An older sister, Christie."
"Does she live here in Chicago?"
"She does – in Lincoln Park."
"Are you close? Sylvie and Leo were a little too far apart in age to be close friends."
"I wouldn't say we're close, no." Matt hedged. "After our dad's death, we drifted apart until just a few years ago. I see my niece, Violet, pretty regularly – more often than I see my sister, in fact."
"Oh, how old is your niece?"
"Sixteen. I don't know how she got that old on us."
"And your mother? Is she still in Chicago?"
"Lives out in a suburb now, on the south side, Matteson, if you know where that is."
"But you don't spend your holidays with them usually?"
"Not usually, no." Matt paused, glancing at Sylvie. "My mom is a bit…we don't always get along. I love her, but I don't always fit in her life very well. And Christie is busy raising Violet, splitting time with her ex-husband and then she's pretty serious about this new guy, at least, last I heard from Violet."
"Speaking of pie, Cathy, I think it's time you cut that pie and bring me a piece." Sylvie wanted to kiss her father right now. Matt had started to look downright uncomfortable, which of course, he had some reason to be, his family was a pretty big sore spot for him.
"Emily, Matt, I hope you like pumpkin. It's Brett family tradition."
"I love pumpkin pie." Emily reassured.
"Uh, I just love pie?" Matt shrugged with a small grin. "I can cook, I never got much hang for baking, though."
"You cook?" Dad asked.
"He's a fantastic cook." Emily piped up. "Everyone in the house loves it when Captain Casey cooks, which isn't very often, but still – he made the most amazing chicken parmesan, I mean, Mouch talked it up beforehand but really, it was great."
"Guess, being a bachelor, that's a useful skill." Dad concluded easily.
"I think it's a lot like building anything, making a meal. I've always liked building things, putting things together. And yeah, it made me a very popular roommate with other guys for a lot of years." Matt laughed. Mom served the pie, and conversation shifted to lighter topics again, and Matt went back to being his usual charming, mostly confident self. Emily left around 9, citing the need to get up for work early in the morning. Matt followed soon after. He had said his rounds of good nights and that he was so happy to have met Mom and Dad, shook Dad's hand again and let Mom hug him, and Sylvie had just leaned in to kiss him goodnight, very softly because her parents were no doubt watching (well, Mom was definitely watching like a hawk, she'd been watching for appropriate signs of affection all day), when Mom asked one last difficult question.
"So, Matt, are you going to come to Fowlerton for Christmas with Sylvie?"
"I didn't know you were going to Fowlerton for Christmas." Matt said to her, eyebrows raised.
"I guess I am." Sylvie hoped her face conveyed that she hadn't actually known that for sure until her mother just decreed it. Welcome to the Brett family, sometimes you got voluntold. "And yes, I'd love it if you could come with, Matt."
"We would love to have you. You'll stay in a guestroom of course."
"Mom."
"I like to be upfront with expectations, Sylvie, you know that."
"I'll be fine with a sofa, Mrs. Brett, wherever. But, yes, Sylvie, I would be happy to join you for Christmas in Fowlerton. I've never done a small-town Christmas."
"Matt, you've barely left the city limits of Chicago in your life." Sylvie pointed out with a small laugh. "Except to go fishing."
"Well, that's settled then. We're leaving before Sylvie goes to work in the morning, Matt, so we'll look forward to seeing you next month, then."
"I'll look forward to it as well." Matt kissed her again. "I'll call during shift tomorrow if I can. I've got meetings with Chief Gayan half the day."
"Okay. Be careful tomorrow."
"You, too. Goodbye, Mr. Brett, Mrs. Brett – I guess I'll see you at Christmas."
