"I would like to apologize for every time I teased you about being a little lost at Catholic funerals." Matt half-whispered as they moved from the church to the church hall for the post-service reception and Christmas caroling. She had noticed Matt kept glancing at her in church, clearly trying to follow her lead on things, though thankfully the order of service cards had been printed up and were in the pews so he could also read along.
"You did fine. Except don't think I didn't notice you weren't singing along."
"You have a great voice. I don't." Matt shrugged.
"Uh, I heard you at that concert, and I think you have a perfectly fine voice."
"Anyone can sound decent with a full-volume band, all you really hear is the band. I haven't sung for anyone since I was in school."
"You used to sing? How old were you?"
"It was before my voice even broke, Sylvie, I had a decent voice when I was a kid. That's all."
"It's Christmas, even if you think you don't sing well, you should sing along with the carols tonight. It's half the fun, everyone being a little off-key."
"You know, I didn't realize you were serious about your parents literally knowing every person in town." Matt chuckled, nodding at where her parents were chatting to a large group of people, all moving slowly towards the church hall. "I think it's nice. Not nice enough I'd want to move here, don't get me wrong."
"I don't even want to move here, and I know these people. I even like most of them. I just don't…"
"It's okay. I'm a Chicago guy. You're a Chicago girl now. It fits."
"Yes, it does." She leaned up to kiss him softly.
"You two." Mom was suddenly next to them. "Every time I turn around you're kissing each other. Come on, we have a party to start."
The Christmas caroling event always took hours. There were silent auctions for lots of things, including all the donated gingerbread houses, to raise money for the winter charity programs. People exchanged small gifts, and the sheer amount of baked goods that changed hands was amazing. She must've introduced Matt to half of Fowlerton, and the other half pretty much gawked for at least a couple minutes. She didn't mind. Let 'em talk. They couldn't find any fault with Matt Casey. All in all, it was a great night, especially since Matt had actually blushed a little at how much positive attention his gingerbread factory got – it also raised the most money, unsurprisingly. So then after the winners of the silent auction were announced, people had to come back by to comment on the build again. Perhaps falling back on his time as an alderman, Matt had been perfectly gracious and even explained his construction to people who asked, though Sylvie noticed that he kept his hand locked around hers the entire time, keeping her tethered to his side. She didn't mind. In fact, she was quite happy to let all of Fowlerton know exactly the kind of guy she'd found in Chicago. Unfortunately, as it got past ten o'clock, he was also visibly getting tired. He'd probably only slept a couple hours, and those in the car, for the last 40 hours or so.
"We don't have to stay to clean up." Sylvie told him, after most of the people had left. He was automatically starting to put up chairs and things as the clean-up crew started working. Typical of Matt, he just pitched in right away. She was about to explain to him just as Mom came over, holding of their coats and already wearing hers.
"Sylvie, Matt, time to head out. Matt, dear, you don't have to do that. We did set-up, we don't have to do clean-up."
"Are you sure they don't need help or anything?"
"This is a well-oiled machine by this point, sweetie. Besides, you two must be tired, Sylvie said you were coming straight from shift, and you have to go back tomorrow to make it back for work on the twenty-sixth."
"Plus, Mom will do homemade hot chocolate and we get to eat Christmas cookies when we get home." Sylvie sweetened the pot a little to tempt him to not ask more questions about needing help, because if he asked Kellie Ross or Lacey Pruitt, or Mrs. Pruitt for that matter, they'd say of course they need help just so they could have more chances to stare at his butt, which looked very nice in this suit. Let them be jealous, but that butt and all the looking at it was hers.
"I guess I can't turn that down." Matt grinned and they quickly headed to their cars.
Matt was practically asleep by the time they all finished hot chocolate. Given he was the one without a room for the night, everyone else took the hint and also called it a night relatively early. Mom brought out the spare sheets and Matt insisted on making up the couch himself. At least he was in the living room, not the family room – no one would get any sleep in the room with the Christmas tree because Mom left it lit and had about 9000 lights on it. Still, she felt bad that he was so tired and was sleeping on a couch.
"Sylvie, don't." Matt cut off her thoughts. "I'm not taking your bed and leaving you out here."
"But you didn't sleep on last shift because of that call, and I got several hours. So if-"
"Nope."
"Is this enough blankets, Matt? You'll be alright? That window leaks a little, it can get a little chilly in here." Mom checked. Matt chuckled, but nodded.
"I'll be alright, Mrs. Brett. I've slept a lot rougher than your pretty comfy-looking living room sofa." Matt shook his head.
"We'll see you in the morning then. Merry Christmas, Matt. Merry Christmas, Sylvie." Mom leaned in to kiss Sylvie gently, but thankfully skipped that with Matt. He was pretty comfortable so far around her family, but for all his naturally affectionate nature with her, Sylvie had noticed he was pretty hands-off with people he didn't know very well.
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Brett."
"Good night, Mom." Sylvie watched her head down the hall towards the bedrooms, then helped Matt finish arranging the bedding. Thankfully, he was a little less than six feet tall, so he'd mostly fit on the sofa.
"I don't want you to be too tired when you're back on shift-"
"We'll be back home tomorrow night." Matt reminded her, starting to look pretty close to asleep on his feet. "Besides, I can sleep anywhere. I lived in a storage unit when I was eighteen, you know, so living room sofa is fine."
"You lived in a storage unit?" She kept her voice gentle, afraid that he'd stop sharing if she shook off his half-asleep state. He'd already changed into his pajamas. Normally he slept in his underwear, but of course, not at her parents' house. He nodded his head as she helped guide him to sit, at least, on the sofa.
"Not too far from that house we looked at in Smith Park, actually." He leaned up to kiss her softly. "Good night, babe. I'll see you in the morning."
She had a hard time falling asleep that night. She was here, in her bedroom, looking at the walls she'd known pretty much her entire life before moving to Chicago, with all the safety they'd always promised her. All she could think about was Matt, eighteen years old, living in a storage unit, and so…blasé about it apparently. She'd known for years about his 'family situation' as the people at 51 always talked around it (no one wanted to gossip, but no one wanted a new person to ask some stupid question and hurt – or piss off – Casey unnecessarily either) but she'd never really considered what had happened to him after that. He was in high school. Who did he live with, who took care of him, did he end up in foster care? Was he…loved or cared for at all? Her heart broke thinking about her Matt, and yes he was hers now, who was kind and warm and good down to his bones, truly good, with just no one to tell him he mattered, that he didn't deserve to be homeless and living in a storage unit, that none of it was his fault, or at least that things would get better. He mentioned extended family sometimes, and the aunt he'd lived with his senior year, and what about his sister in all this, and her thoughts just swirled for a while. She wondered how long he'd lived there, if he'd been there on a Christmas Eve like this one just twenty years earlier. She was tired, though, and eventually exhaustion caught up with her, and she slept.
She didn't exactly sleep late, but at 8 am when she got up – and in true Christmas tradition wore her pajamas out to breakfast – everyone else was up. Leo had whatever video game console he owned now hooked up in the family room and he, Allison, Dad, and Matt were playing Mario Kart. Mom was in the kitchen making breakfast, looking pretty pleased at her view of her family on Christmas morning. Matt was the only one not in his pajamas, though he was still barefoot, looking relaxed with mussed hair and dressed in an old paint-speckled pair of jeans and a CFD t-shirt. At least she knew he wasn't trying too hard to impress her parents and Dad wouldn't think he was some sort of city-slicker who was always dressing up. He was also apparently really bad at Mario Kart, but he was also laughing at himself and she loved his laugh. He didn't laugh nearly enough. She went into the kitchen to check if Mom needed any help.
"He's doing just fine, Sylvie." Mom nodded towards Matt. "I was pretty sure I liked him at Thanksgiving, but he's fantastic, sweetheart. It's hard to think he came from a family like you described."
"He's been through a lot." Sylvie knew far more about Matt's various struggles than Mom did, or really ever needed to. "He's a lot stronger than I think anyone knows. He's not let it make him bitter, though, and that's part of what I love about him. He's such a good man, Mom."
"Have you met his family, yet?"
"I've met his sister a couple times, but only briefly. I've met his niece more times than that, he and Violet get together for breakfasts or dinners once or twice a month. His mom isn't in his life very much." Sylvie short of shrugged in acceptance. She looked at what mom was cooking, and smiled. "You're gonna need more bacon. Matt usually eats pretty healthy, but I think he thinks bacon is a food group. He says if eating too much bacon is what kills him, he wins life. Unless Dad and Leo have stopped eating bacon, you're gonna need more."
"I guess I'll make more bacon." Mom laughed lightly. "Don't repeat that in front of your father, I don't need him telling that to the doctors. Matt's just a bit younger and more active than your father these days."
"Does Dad like him?" Sylvie asked after a moment. Dad had never liked Harrison, and she probably should've paid attention to that earlier in the relationship.
"He does. Oh, you know your father, he'll never say that outright, but he does. He was impressed with him yesterday, you know. And I don't just mean that miracle in gingerbread he managed. I mean how he treats you, how he talks to you, how he looks at you – and Sylvie, how much that man loves you. That's all we wanted for you. Well, your father also likes that he has a stable income, you know he worries about how expensive it is to live in a big city like Chicago."
"I don't need Matt to take care of me." Sylvie replied. "At least, not financially. I think…I've come to depend on him in a lot of other ways, though. But it feels natural, like finding a new balance that I've been looking for, a support that helps me build higher from a stronger foundation. Is that really corny?"
"No." Her mom was almost crying, though. "That's love, baby girl. That's the kind of man you marry."
Her mom's words kept playing in her head off and on throughout the rest of the day. They opened presents before anyone besides Matt even got out of pajamas and they gorged themselves on food all day, and broke out some of the presents to play with just like they were little kids. Matt was great at jigsaw puzzles, which Mom liked because no one else really loved them like she did. He was a ruthless Uno player but an incredibly apologetic Sorry player. He was great at Clue. He showed Dad and Leo at least two repairs the house needed (okay, one needed window repair and one renovation project Mom wanted done but Matt had pointed out that the kitchen was getting to the point it needed new flooring), and somehow he did it without Dad taking any offense. No, Dad seemed grateful for the advice, and asked what he should be looking for in a guy to fix it. Basically, it was a perfect Christmas Day. She wasn't all that excited to leave after dinner. Mom had loaded them down with leftovers, though, so at least one part of Christmas was traveling with them. They left after a round of hugs and handshakes, and Mom hugged Matt this time, and he looked surprised but pleasantly so. Sylvie was happy enough she let Matt drive back to Chicago, content to revel in the lingering feelings of another great family holiday.
"Sylvie, you mind going straight to mine? I know, the leftovers-"
"Are probably safer in Severide's fridge than in mine. I love Otis and Cruz, but they'll jump on a Mom-made meal faster than you can blink. It's fine, Matt."
"I'll just ride to 51 with you in the morning and take my truck up to 29."
"God, 29." Sylvie had successfully not thought about the mess up there for the last two days basically. "Three more weeks, right?"
"Yep." Matt turned a little, keeping his eyes on traffic but also looking at her. "We can survive anything for three more weeks. Then I'll be back at 51 and you'll see so much of me you'll be sick of me."
"That will never happen." Sylvie paused, then smiled as she teased him, "Everyone's missed you. I think they even miss your drills. Mostly, we miss your handsome face."
"Uh-huh. I bet the guys are all thinking about how much they miss my 'handsome face'." Matt laughed, shaking his head.
"They just miss you, Matt. You're ours. 29 can't have you."
"Really? Possessive much?"
"I am. You're mine, Matt Casey. I own you now." She leaned over, cursing the center console a little because his truck was better for this sort of thing. She ran her hand up his thigh, then moved over to the bulge at his groin. "Especially this part, and I plan to prove that to you just as soon as you get us back to your bedroom."
"Why is there this much traffic at 10 pm on Christmas Day?" He asked almost plaintively, but he was grinning at her as he said it.
