A/N: Finished chapter 20 today! So you guys get chapter 17! Happy reading!

angellwings


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Worth a Shot


Casey wakes up the next morning knowing something's different. He's in his room and his bed. It should all be inherently familiar but something has changed. There's a soft sleepy hum to his left that fills his chest with warm affection. He turns his head, following the sound, and finds the back of a blonde head.

Sylvie.

She didn't want him stuck on the couch last night so they shared the bed.

Very innocently shared the bed.

There's another hum from his bed partner a moment before she rolls toward him. He smiles with fond amusement as she buries her face in the crook of his neck and wraps her arms around his middle. He reciprocates the embrace and presses his lips to the top of her head. He should have told her how he felt much sooner and then maybe they could have been sleeping like this all along. It was the best sleep he's had in a while and it's not just because of the bed. It's also because of his companion.

He finds himself not wanting to move. He knows he'll have to eventually, but for right now lying here with Sylvie feels too good - too right. Since rolling into him, he's realized she fits. She fits against him like she's meant to be there. Like she's meant to fit any where he is, really. He's been trying to take things slowly with her since this all started, or at least since he decided to stop denying his feelings, but right now he can't help but hope this might be the first of many mornings like this. For once, he doesn't give a damn if that's thinking too far ahead or taking things a bit too fast. He wants it. He wants her. He wants as many mornings with her as he can get.

He's not sure what that means for how he feels but he thinks it takes him past "like" and well into the territory of "love". He knows it will take a bit more examination and soul searching before he's even close to ready to say it outloud. He still doesn't want to rush anything and they haven't even been on a date yet. Not only that, but Sylvie may not be in the same headspace as him. Moving too quickly on what he suspects he feels has the potential to scare her away and that's the last thing he wants.

What he wants is to finally get things started. He wants to feel like they'll stop standing still and begin moving forward together. Like the way he feels like they did last night. They trusted each other and talked and made a decision (even if it was a relatively small one) together. It felt like a big moment to him. So does today.

Starting today of all days like this seems fitting. Today is important, on many fronts. Sylvie gets an update from her doctor that should confirm she's on schedule to be back at work in two weeks. They go on their date. And then in the midst of those two things, Brett may walk away with a new car.

He checks the time on his bedside clock and bites back a groan. As comfortable as he is right now, it's time to get up. Sylvie has a doctor's appointment in two hours. They both need to get ready and find something to eat.

He rubs a hand up and down Sylvie's arm and speaks against the top of her head.

"Brett," he says loudly.

She stirs very slightly but doesn't wake up. If anything she burrows deeper into him.

He laughs lightly and tries again, louder than before. "Sylvie."

She groans tiredly but opens one eye and leans back to glance up at him. "Casey?"

"Good morning," he says, shooting her a mirthful grin. "How'd you sleep?"

She covers a yawn before she replies in a voice that's groggy from sleep. "Unusually good. I wonder why that is?"

"Couldn't say," he quips with feigned cluelessness. "Whatever it is helped me too. Slept like a log."

"Can't be the bed. We've both slept in it, separately," she says with a knowing grin while arching her back and stretching her arms over her head.

Any other time, he'd pointedly look away, but he and Brett had crossed a few lines already so he let himself take her in from head to toe. The curve of her spine and her neck evoke certain images that have haunted him at various points since he began sharing space with Sylvie. The blood heats in his veins and makes him restless. He pulls them both into a sitting position, with their backs against the headboard, and takes a closer look at her early morning state. There's no makeup on her face and her hair is mussed from sleep. She even has a few sleep lines on her face from the pillow case. Despite waking up, she hasn't put any distance between them. She's still curled into him with her legs bent at the knees. Her knees pressed against his thighs. The buttoned up top of yet another set of quirky print pajamas peeks out above the covers as they pool at their waists.

Basically, she's adorable. Breathtaking. Beautiful. Enticing.

He can't help himself from cupping the side of her face and pulling her lips to his for a soft kiss. He's careful not to push it too much further. As much as he wants her, he's serious about taking his time and getting it right. Now is not the time. Not before her doctor's appointment, not before she's about to face the idea of driving again - not before their date. He keeps the kiss soft and light, even when Brett's arms wrap tighter around him and all he wants to do is pull her into his lap. He pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against hers.

"We should really start getting ready," he suggests.

"Please, I'll end up sitting in that waiting room forever anyway," Sylvie says invitingly. "We have time."

He smirks. "Sure, we have time, but not enough time. I've been trying not to rush anything with you. That includes whatever you have in mind right now."

"Oh, what? Like it's not on your mind too?" She asks with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, no, it is. It's on my mind a lot, but the first time we go any further than we already have is not going to be a morning quickie," Matt declares, tossing her a determined look.

She releases an overexaggerated sigh and pulls away from him with a playful glare. "Why do you have to be such a good guy? And why do I have to find it so attractive?"

"You're not exactly lacking in goodness yourself or else you wouldn't think I'm right," He says with confident certainty.

Sylvie lets out a short affirmative grunt as if she's agreeing with him but she wishes she didn't have to and he finds himself completely charmed by it. She pulls back the covers and then grabs her phone off the nightstand to check the time.

"Coffee, shower, dress," Sylvie says to herself as she steps out of bed. "Then the doctor."

"Speaking of the doctor," Matt says as he gets up from the bed to join her. "How's your rib feel?"

"As long as I don't make any sudden movements, I'm fine," she tells him. "And getting better every day."

Which is exactly what the doctor confirms later that morning. She's actually healing faster than the doctor expected, but as a precaution he's still keeping her out of any strenuous work for two more weeks. Casey's relieved, but Sylvie is frustrated. He can't blame her for it even if he agrees with the doctor.

She sighs as they settle in to a booth at a quaint diner near the doctor's office. "I am grateful to be back in the firehouse but I'm so bored of the bullpen," she tells him. "Plus, I'm much more comfortable when Foster has an incompetent partner, as awful as that is to say. Rafferty's too good at her job. I mean, there's no chance that somebody somewhere will leave her at 51 and reassign me, is there?"

He's almost certain he looks at her like she's lost her mind. Probably not the best reaction as it might come off as invalidating her fears but he can't help it. That's a ridiculous suggestion. "Hell no," Matt insists. "And yeah Rafferty's extremely capable but you're one of the best there is, Sylvie Brett. There's not a snowball's chance in hell of it happening in the first place but, even if somebody tried it, Boden wouldn't let it happen and I wouldn't let it happen. It's just two more weeks. You'll be back in 61 with Foster in no time."

Sylvie smiles slowly at him and then chuckles. "Thank you. I also appreciate how preposterous you made that whole scenario seem."

"Sorry," he says with a wince. "I didn't mean that I didn't understand why you might-"

"No, Casey, I'm serious. I liked it," she repeats, grinning brightly at him. "It was the kind of knee jerk, highly offended reaction, that makes a girl feel important."

Knee jerk, highly offended reactions had a history of not working out in his favor. He's glad this one did. "You are important," he insists as he meets her eyes. "Important to 51 and...important to me."

She blushes, nods, and glances down at her menu with a wide smile. "You're important to me too, Matt Casey." There's a beat of quiet. It's a moment that's pleasantly charged with anticipatory tension until Sylvie's eyes widen with childlike delight and her finger jabs at the menu. "Oh my god, they have funfetti pancakes. I don't care if it's on the kid's menu, I'm ordering it."

He chuckles softly, feeling completely enchanted by the woman sitting across from him, and shakes his head at her. "I hope you're at least getting eggs or bacon with those pancakes."

"Of course," she replies. "Protein is very important. Especially if the rest of your meal is covered in sprinkles."

She looks so deathly serious that he can't keep himself from laughing. "Makes sense. I'll remember that."

Their knees bump under the table as they place their order with the waitress. Sylvie stretches her legs, so that they rest between his feet, crossed at the ankles. It's not a big deal, they're not even really touching, but it feels like an expression of how familiar they are with each other. Maybe now that she's comfortable, he can bring up something that might be a bit emotionally charged.

"So," Matt says as he wraps his hands around his coffee mug. He feels nervous. He and Sylvie have talked about emotional topics before but talking about real challenges with a romantic partner has always been a crapshoot for him. "Are we still looking at the same kind of cars as last time? Or could you maybe be talked into something that sits a little higher off the ground?"

"Higher off the ground?" Sylvie asks. "What? Like an SUV?" Her face scrunches with distaste and he finds it much too cute. "I really don't see myself driving something that big. I mean, I can. It's just a little much for one person."

"But if you're higher off the ground, in something a little bigger," he clarifies. "It's safer. Might feel safer too."

She bites the inside of her cheek and nods thoughtfully, but doesn't reply. He's afraid he might have offended her or crossed some sort of line. So he rambles on in a gentler tone.

"You don't have to. I'm not trying to tell you what to do. It's just I think last time, maybe, you didn't feel secure and it might have contributed to what happened."

Her eyes lift from the table and she raises her mug to her lips. She keeps the mug hovering at her mouth and stares at its contents. Her eyes look a little haunted and he hates it.

"You might be right," she replies. "Something taller or slightly larger than a sedan might help. Maybe it's not even about safety. Maybe I just need something that won't remind me of the wreck."

He reaches a hand across the table and pulls one of hers away from the mug, squeezing it as he pulls back down to the tabletop. "You could try a wagon or one of those crossover vehicles. Whatever you want. But I think you might do better if we don't limit ourselves to a small sedan like what you had before."

"Worth a shot," she says with a thick swallow and a self deprecating grin. "Can't go any worse than last time, right?"

"Nah," he says, giving her a reassuring smile. "You'll be great. You'll see."

"You have to say that," she quips with a crooked smirk. "Since we are technically on a date."

"I'm right," he insists. "Downplay it all you want, but you're stronger than you think you are. A little car shopping is nothing. It doesn't stand a chance against you."

Her eyes glisten at the encouragement. Her smile is small but poignant. He knows he's managed to find the right words and there's no single descriptor he can think of to express how powerful that makes him feel. Doing right by Sylvie Brett is dangerous. It lights him up from the inside out - like an incendiary device has been triggered in his veins. It hits every nerve center he has as it explodes and leaves him more energized than he was before. His heartbeat is pounding against his ribs and his pulse is racing, leaving him to wonder how many more times he can experience this sort of thrill before he keels over completely.

He doesn't know, but he's more than willing to keep trying until he finds out.