A/N: Welcome to the SUPER CHAPTER. This chapter is about the length of two chapters lol but I just couldn't find any where to split it. So, enjoy this EXTRA LONG chapter. ;)
Happy reading!
angellwings
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: Food For Thought
She didn't think anything about it when she got dressed that morning. Sure, she thought it was weird that Casey kept getting distracted on the drive to the Firehouse. He almost missed a red light and a stop sign. Not at all normal for him. He's a very cautious driver. But she didn't for one second think his distracted driving was her fault.
At least not until a couple of hours into their shift.
Boden had kept her busy in the bullpen that morning. She was helping him compile suggestions for new regulations and fax them to all the necessary departments. It was a lot of typing, printing, and copying. Finally, they reached a stopping place. They couldn't do anything else until feedback came from all the appropriate people. She decided to take advantage of the break and go check in on Casey and Foster and the rest of 51.
Only she didn't get that far.
She passed Matt on his way to see Boden. His stare followed her. It was focused on the lower half of her body. There was no denying the heat in it. She felt like he might burn a hole right through her pin striped pencil skirt.
He spins in an instant and rushes her.
"Come with me," he urgently whispered as he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him.
He didn't wait for her to answer. Not that she would have protested. His voice in her ear and his warm breath on her neck left her momentarily stunned. She only realized he'd led her to his quarters after he'd shut the door and closed the blinds.
"What's going on?" She asked as she watched him turn the lock on his door.
"This," he told her as his arms went around her and he gathered her flush against him. He kissed her firmly and passionately. While his mouth ravaged hers, his hands pulled her purple blouse from the waistband of her skirt.
She leaned back from the kiss and the pop of it was shockingly loud in the quiet space.
"What has gotten into you?" She asked with a flush and a bright smile.
"You in that skirt," he answered as he began to clumsily undo the buttons on her shirt.
"What? Seriously?" She asked in amused surprise.
He nodded as he reached the last button and pushed the sleeves down her shoulders. "You look like a boss," he said with a smirk. "Like a high powered executive."
Turned out Matt Casey has a thing for pencil skirts. She filed that information away for later and kicked off her shoes. Eager to let him indulge in whatever fantasy he wanted. She'd never seen him quite this wild and wanton. She wanted to enjoy it.
And enjoy it she did.
He could get a call any minute so there wasn't time to completely undress. And there was no power on heaven or earth that would have convinced him to peel that skirt off of her. So in the afterglow, they lay smushed together on his cot with her skirt unzipped and bunched at her waist and his trousers and boxers discarded next to her blouse.
"Holy shit, Matt," she says breathlessly. "If I'd known you had a thing for business women I would have worn that skirt so much sooner."
He chuckles against her throat as he continues to trail scorching kisses across her skin. "If I'd have known I'd have told you." He raises his head and meets her eyes with a wolfish grin. "I had no idea until you walked out of the bedroom this morning. The minute I saw you in that skirt I knew I was fucked."
She laughs. "Well, now you're fucked figuratively and literally."
"Thank God for that condom in my wallet," he says with a smirk.
"Typical Matt Casey," she tells him as she affectionately skims her hands through his hair. "Always prepared."
"Damn right," he agrees. "The prepared never lose."
"Never lose anything besides their pants anyway," she says with a teasing wiggle of her eyebrows.
His responding laugh is shocked and loud. Too loud. She slaps her hands over his mouth to stifle the sound. She hates herself a little as she does it because a Matt Casey laugh is too beautiful to silence.
But they're at work. She doesn't have much of a choice. While she's on the subject…
"You need to get dressed," she tells him with a rueful grin. "You could get a call any time and you don't want to actually be caught with your pants down."
He sighs into her hand and reluctantly rolls off of her to clean himself up and dress. He tosses her the blouse and her bra so she can do the same. He picks up the seamless silky briefs she'd been wearing and holds them out to her. She grabs them from his hand but doesn't put them on. He tore the fabric getting them off of her so they're basically useless now. Instead of putting them on, she opens a drawer in his desk and drops them inside.
He groans as if he's in pain and then watches her shimmy her skirt back down with a hungry gaze.
"So, now, not only do I have to look at you in that skirt for the rest of shift but I also have to live with the knowledge that you're going commando underneath it?" He asks with a deep swallow. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"Kill you?" She asks with the pretense of innocence. "Never! Torture you?" She presses her lips together for a moment to suppress a giggle. "Maybe."
"Shameless," he mutters with a fond smile as he finishes putting on his pants. "You are shameless."
He waits until she's collected herself and then opens the door. It's a good thing they dressed when they did because a call comes in a few minutes later, while they're both doing a more thorough clean up in the bathroom.
He presses a quick kiss to the top of her head and then runs out the door with a quick, "See you when I get back!"
It's a call for Truck, Ambo, and Squad. Once he's gone she heads to her usual spot. Stationing herself at Tower during a call has become her routine. She won't hear everything over the radio at Tower but she'll most certainly hear if anything goes wrong. She sits down and waits while Engine still roams around the house. Ritter starts preparing lunch, Herrmann takes advantage of the empty common room to do some paperwork, and she listens at Tower with rapt attention.
Truck and Squad have just arrived at the scene when Herrmann approaches.
"Brett," he says as he leans against a nearby wall. "You have a guest. He says he's from Fowlerton FD?"
"Fowlerton FD? Did you get a name?" She asks with a furrowed brow.
"Jordan something—"
She brightens and stands from her chair. "He was Hope's boyfriend—" Herrmann tenses and Brett rushes to clarify. "Not the ex-boyfriend. The actual boyfriend. He's a firefighter in Fowlerton. Matt and I met him when I went home for the funeral. Where is he?"
"Apparatus floor," Herrmann tells her with a nod. "Wasn't sure if I should let him in or not."
Brett walks across the firehouse and to the mostly empty apparatus floor. She smiles sympathetically when she spots Jordan waiting patiently. He's not dressed in turnout gear this time. Instead he wears a faded Fowlerton FD shirt and jacket with black trousers and solid work boots.
"Jordan!" Brett greets him happily. "It's so good to see you again!"
She's not sure what to do. Shake his hand? Hug him? No, not hug. She's only met him once. Once she's close enough she reaches out a hand for a shake but he apparently doesn't think it's too soon for a hug. He grabs her and pulls into a brief friendly hug.
"It's good to see you too, Sylvie," he tells her as he releases her and steps away to give her back her space. "Sorry! That was probably too much. I'm just relieved to see a familiar face."
Sylvie forces a breezy chuckle and waves a dismissive hand at him. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. Are you here for work?"
He nods. "Yeah, Chief made arrangements for a few of us to observe Firehouse 20, a few blocks away. He wants us to see how the big city does things. Thought I'd stop by after my shift and see this Firehouse 51 Hope loved so much."
"Hope definitely loved this place," she agrees vaguely. Her 'maybe a little too much' goes unsaid. "I have some time. Would you like a tour?"
"Yeah! That would be great," he says with a warm smile. "If you really don't mind?"
"I don't mind at all. This is actually great timing," she says with a smile and a tired sigh. "I need a distraction while most of the house is out on a call."
"You got left behind, huh?" He asks.
"Broken rib from the accident," she tells him. "I'm out of commission for a couple more weeks. I'm on light duty till then."
He winces. "Ouch. That sucks. Been there. I punched a wall when I found out about Hope. Broke a finger, cut my hand to pieces. Chief made me sit out a few shifts when he found out. Hated every minute of it."
She immediately looks alarmed. "Oh god. That's awful! How's your hand now? Do you need someone to look at it?"
His glance turns fond as he chuckles at her concern. "No, I'm good." He holds up his bandaged hand as proof. "Got it checked out back home a while back."
"Sorry," she says sheepishly. "You can take the girl out of the Ambo but you can't take the paramedic out of the girl."
"I'm sure that's what makes you so good at your job," he states with a grin.
His gaze starts to make her feel uncomfortable. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and clears her throat. "So, um, how about that tour?"
Matt's gotten so used to seeing Brett waiting on him at Tower when he gets back from a call that he almost doesn't know what to do with himself when she isn't there. Add to that the high he was on just before the call came in and he's completely thrown. His distress must have been palpable because, as he's standing there staring at Tower, Herrmann taps him on the shoulder.
"She's giving some guy a tour. Some Jordan guy? They're in the bullpen."
"Jordan?" Matt asks with a furrowed brow. "From Fowlerton?"
"That's the one," Herrmann answers. "Seems a little too friendly, if you ask me, but then again...what do I know?"
Anxiety and tension crawl up and down Matt's spine. "Thanks, Herrmann."
He turns on a dime and marches toward the bullpen. The urge to set eyes on Sylvie is too strong to deny. It's one thing to run into Jordan in Fowlerton, but it's a whole other thing to have him find her here. He crosses into the bullpen and immediately spots Sylvie sitting at her temporary desk. Jordan is leaned against it, next to her, while her head is thrown back in a laugh.
She sees him as he approaches and her beaming smile is almost enough to drown out the worry. Almost but not quite.
"Jordan," Matt says, reaching out for a handshake as he stops in front of them.
Jordan holds up a bandaged hand with an apologetic wince. "Don't mean to be rude, but I probably shouldn't."
How convenient, Matt thinks as he bites back a scoff. That slight may not appear intentional, but it felt it.
Matt nods. "No worries, I get it."
"How'd the call go?" Sylvie asks, nervously biting her bottom lip.
He smiles softly at her and nods. "Fine. Fire in an abandoned building. No victims."
She nods and gives him a thoughtful glance. "Electrical or squatters?"
His eyebrows raise and his soft smile widens. She wasn't at the scene but she still wants to be involved. She still wants to figure it out. God, she's impressive. "Electrical seems likely."
"Good," she says with a relieved sigh. "I would hate to think there was an untreated burn victim running around out there somewhere."
Jordan chuckles and tugs playfully at Brett's ponytail. "You're exactly as good as Hope always said you were."
She smiles politely but twists out of his grasp. The anxious laugh she lets out tells Casey all he needs to know. Sylvie is not at all comfortable around Jordan. That's good because neither is Casey. Last time he worried it was jealousy, this time he knows it's not.
Casey leans against the desk on the other side of Brett and discreetly pulls her chair closer to him with an arm around her shoulders.
"So," Casey asks. "What brought you to Chicago, Jordan?"
"My chief sent me to observe at Firehouse 20. Shift ended and so I thought I'd come over and see the famous Firehouse 51. Once I got here, Sylvie offered to give me a tour," he explains with a casual shrug.
"Firehouse 20 is an interesting house," Matt replies with a smirk.
"Yeah, it's a house full of glory hogs," Jordan declares with an eye roll. "Not my style. But they're solid as far as the work goes. It was certainly educational." He huffs and glances down at his watch. "I should go. Gotta head back to Fowlerton tonight."
"Oh, okay," Sylvie says as she feigns disappointment. "Well, thanks for dropping by! It was good to see you again!"
"Yeah, you too," he says with a smile that's just a little too flirtatious for Matt's liking. "Give me a call if you're ever in Fowlerton."
"Yeah, um, sure," Sylvie agrees halfheartedly. She pastes on a smile as she nods.
"Let me walk you out," Matt says firmly as he stands and motions toward the bullpen doorway.
"Oh, no. I can find it—"
Matt doesn't bother to let him finish. "I insist."
The walk to the apparatus floor is full of nothing but stony silence. Everyone they pass in the hallways stares at them like an accident scene they have to slowly roll by for a good look. They all know Matt and Brett are seeing each other and by now Herrmann and Ritter have told the whole house about Jordan. Matt's also not delusional enough to think he's hiding his protective anger. This man came into his house and made Sylvie uncomfortable. There is no way in hell Matt is gonna stand by and let that happen.
He opens the main door to the firehouse and holds it open for Jordan. His hand waves him through the doorway expectantly.
"Send our best to Fowlerton FD, will you? We appreciate you all looking out for Brett during that one week she worked with you," Matt says with an overly polite grin.
"I will. You know, it's funny," Jordan says as he stops in the doorway and turns to face Casey. "If she had stayed instead of coming back here, she probably wouldn't be in any danger. One decision really can change everything."
"If she'd stayed, she would have been miserable," Matt replies with a narrowed gaze. What is this asshole getting at?
"True, but — I don't know — don't you think that sometimes we don't know what's best for us? Just because it's what we want doesn't mean it'll be a good thing," Jordan says with a deceptively casual shrug. "Food for thought, I guess."
What thought? The thought that Brett should leave everyone she knows and loves for the hometown she's already left twice? That's ridiculous. Besides, Brett is the best judge of what she can handle. She's an adult with an extremely intelligent head on her shoulders. It's up to her, not some guy who used to date her high school best friend.
"Listen," Matt says through a clenched jaw. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but Sylvie's been through enough. If you plan to pile on then you and I are going to have some serious issues because I'm not going to let that happen. Is that clear?"
Jordan smirks and snorts derisively as he finally steps outside. "As crystal. Look, I get it. You want me to stay away from your girl. Fine. Not a problem. I will for now. Eventually, a time will come when she's not your girl and when that time comes I'll be around."
Matt's eyebrows raise and a sardonic grin forms on his face. This cocky asshole. He disliked him before but now — holy shit — the hatred is strong.
"No," Matt tells him. His tone leaves a dangerous veiled threat hanging between them. "You won't be. Even if she decides she wants nothing to do with me, I'll still be watching her back. And I'll make sure you don't get anywhere near her. Have a good day, Jordan. Don't come back."
Matt pulls the door shut with excessive force. He turns to make his way back to Brett but stops short when he finds Herrmann and Severide standing behind him with their arms crossed over their chests. They both look as foreboding as possible. They backed him up even though he didn't stop to ask.
"That asshole never steps foot in 51 again," Matt tells them with a seething exhale.
"Roger that," Severide agrees. He looks as pissed as Matt feels. "I'll make sure Boden knows."
"I got bad mojo off of that little prick the minute he showed up," Herrmann states as he continues to glare at the closed door. "I'm with you."
He's not surprised but he is grateful. This Firehouse has always shown up for him. It's a constant he hopes never changes.
Sylvie isn't sure what just happened. Things started out innocent enough, but over the course of the half hour or so Jordan was here he grew increasingly more forward. She asked him more than once to give her space and he would — for a few minutes. She sped through the tour and tried to usher him out the door but instead of leaving when she told him she needed to get back to work he followed her to the bullpen.
She politely played along for as long as she could stand it. He did tell a few genuinely funny stories about life in the Fowlerton FD and the excessively silly calls from small town characters she knew well. But otherwise being near him felt uncomfortable at best. He asked a few intrusive questions that she skillfully avoided. All in all, she did not enjoy his visit.
She was a moment away from asking him to leave when Casey showed up. Her relief at seeing him was only rivaled by her anxiety about Casey handling yet another thing she should have taken care of herself.
Why is she so damn helpless lately? She never wanted to be the damsel in distress and yet over the last few weeks that's all she's been.
It's really beginning to piss her off.
By the time Casey makes it back to her she's had several minutes to stew in her self-loathing. She knows herself and she's quickly approaching her boiling point. Her anger that, until now, has been hidden by her anxiety and fear is surfacing. She's a volcano about to blow. Unfortunately, Matt happens to be too close when the explosion goes off.
"I could have handled that, you know," she snaps as she turns away from him to unnecessarily shuffle the paperwork on her desk.
He blinks at her in surprise before nodding his agreement. "Of course you could have."
"I mean you don't have to swoop in and save the day every damn time. I have taken care of myself for thirty years, Casey. I am more than capable and fending off unwelcome advances," she grumbles as she slams the stapler down onto a packet of new regulation information for the Chief.
She's made copies for Casey, Severide, and Herrmann too. Which means she has an excuse to continue to take her frustration out on the stapler.
"I didn't say you weren't," he replies slowly. His gaze is both concerned and confused. "And it wasn't my intention to swoop in. You just looked like you needed back up. That's all."
He flinches each time she hits the stapler. The sound of her hand hitting it with excessive force echoes through the bullpen.
"Look," Casey says as he steps closer and slides the stapler out of her reach. "I'm sorry if I overstepped, but he was clearly making you uncomfortable and I didn't think you should be alone with him. I wasn't thinking about saving you, Sylvie. I've seen you look after yourself in far more stressful situations than that. I know you can handle it." He hesitates for a moment but continues on with a nervous gulp. "But just because you can doesn't mean you have to. All I was doing was trying to help. I swear."
His eyes are earnest and clear of any sort of deception. She knows he's not Harrison. Casey's not playing any mind games with her. In fact, he pulled the exact opposite move of what Harrison used to do. Harrison used to tell her she couldn't do things but Matt—Matt just reassured her he knew she could. She breathes deeply and reminds herself her life is different now. She may feel as helpless as that girl she left behind in Fowlerton, but she isn't. She never will be again.
She slumps in her chair and puts her head in her hands. She's still frustrated but it's no longer directed at Matt. Guilt joins her frustration as she gives Casey an apologetic glance.
"I'm sorry," she says with a sigh. "I know you were only trying to help. And you're right, I wanted the help. I'm grateful for it."
He gives her a skeptical glance. "Are you sure? Cause the stapler begs to differ. You seem pissed off."
She chuckles dryly when she realizes he's still keeping the stapler from her and then lifts one shoulder with feigned carelessness. "I am pissed off."
"At me?" He asks worriedly.
"No, not at you just…around you," she answers as she waves a hand at the small space in between them. "I'm angry, Matt. My life is out of control. I'm crashing with you, you're driving me to work, I've got a psycho out there who probably wants to kill me and some guy showing up at work to throw unwanted come ons at me...and because of my damn rib I can't even go to the gym and blow off steam." She fists her hands and holds them in her lap, channeling all her pent up tension into them. "I've got all this anger and nowhere to vent it! And when you walked in here I just...I lost it. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."
He takes in a contemplative breath and then pulls up a chair next to her. He nods slowly as he speaks. "I get that. And I can't say I blame you. You've been through a hell of a lot lately."
"Great!" She says as she gives him a sugary smile. "So can I have my stapler back?"
He laughs and shakes his head. "No, I'm worried I'll end up hearing stories about how you stapled someone's hand or head or something equally horrific."
His understanding is working wonders for her mood.
She huffs with a playful glare. "Jerk. Now what am I supposed to do? Spin classes and kickboxing are out. All I have is my stapler."
"I tell you what," he says with a teasing grin. "I have a two-hole punch and a stack of reports that need to be punched and put in folders. That's probably just as satisfying as a stapler. And less dangerous."
"Is this you trying to help me or finding someone to pass off your work to?" She asks with a quirked brow and a mirthful glance.
"I can't do both?" He asks, laughing lightly through the question.
She manages to hold back her own laugh while flicking a paperclip at him. "Like I said, jerk!"
He dodges it and grabs her hand to keep her from flicking another one at him. "It was worth a shot! You really can't blame me for trying!"
He's right. She can't. Especially not when he made her feel so much better just by teasing her.
Boden suddenly comes out of his office and approaches her desk.
"Brett, Casey," he greets with a nod. "I just got a call from Voight. Atwater's on his way over with an update on Hope's case. I thought we'd talk to him in my office."
"An update?" Brett asks hopefully. "They just took over the case a couple of days ago. How can they have an update already?"
"Voight works in mysterious and questionable ways," Casey says with a scoff as he stands from his chair. "You probably don't want to know."
She nods and follows Boden and Casey into the office. An update doesn't necessarily mean good news. She tries not to get her hopes up too high. The disappointment of her meeting with Spencer is still lingering. She never wants to go through that ever again.
She wants this time to be different, but she's not counting on it. Historically, she's not that lucky. Her gaze falls on Casey and a small warm smile spreads across her face.
But, then again, maybe her luck is changing.
