The sound of his bedroom door opening wakes Matt. He can make out the familiar figure of his girlfriend in the darkness. She's standing in the doorway to his bedroom and trying, unsuccessfully, to close the door quietly without being detected.
"Sylvie?" he calls groggily, his voice hoarse from sleep.
Sylvie jumps and drops her clutch. She wobbles slightly as she attempts to catch it before it hits the floor.
"Hi!" she says, a little too loudly and a little too enthusiastically for - he checks his phone on his bedside table - two in the morning. His brow furrows when he realizes she is drunk.
He doesn't think he's ever seen her this far gone before, but he probably should have expected it. Knowing Sylvie, she would have been determined to keep pace with Kidd and Foster all night.
He can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches her abandon her clutch on the floor and staggers her way over to his bed. She sits on the end of the bed as she fumbles with the zipper of her boots. She manages to get one shoe off fine on her own, but she is struggling with the zipper of the second.
"Matt," she whines, dragging out his name, holding her leg out to him.
Matt chuckles. Sitting up, he takes her calf in his hand, undoing the zipper and sliding the boot off her foot.
He leans back against the headboard, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Despite being woken from a deep sleep, he is now wide awake and doesn't think he will be getting back to sleep anytime soon.
With her shoes discarded, Sylvie stands and shimmies out of her pants. And Matt can't help it; his gaze is immediately drawn to her legs. She stumbles against the bed, laughing, as she struggles to remove her feet from the hems of her jeans. Matt's hands fly up to catch her, landing on her waist as he helps to steady her.
A smile spreads across her face as she stares down at him, and she runs her fingers through his disheveled hair. "Hi," she says again, quieter this time, resting her arms on his shoulders.
"Hi," he answers, returning her smile, entertained by her drunkenness. "What are you doing here?" he asks.
Not that she isn't a very welcome surprise, but he wasn't expecting to see her again tonight or this morning, technically. Sylvie had stopped by the loft yesterday evening when she was on her way out with Kidd. They had been meeting up with Foster for a girls' night.
"Stella missed Severide," she tells him. And it's not exactly a lie, but it also isn't the entire truth. Stella had spent the last two hours of their night out drunkenly talking about how much she missed Kelly and just wanted to get home to him.
Sylvie's plan had been to return to her apartment at the end of the night, really. But when their Uber pulled up in front of the loft, she found herself stumbling out of the car after Stella. She missed Matt and hadn't had a chance to see him much the day before, and she wanted to spend the rest of her night with him.
"Oh yeah," Matt responds, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Is that the only reason?"
She straddles his waist, and his hands come up to settle on her hips. His fingers press against her, helping to steady her as she sways slightly.
Sylvie chews on her bottom lip, suddenly bashful. "There may have been a slight chance that I also missed you, just a tiny bit," she admits, holding her pointer finger and her thumb out in front of her face. She presses them together, so there is an imperceptible gap between them. Fuck, she is adorable.
She's slurring her words slightly. She really has had a lot to drink tonight.
"I saw you eight hours ago," Matt chuckles, and she frowns when he laughs, her face scrunching up pitifully. In her drunken stupor, she has taken what he said the wrong way, thinking that he doesn't want to see her. But he definitely does, and he really doesn't think it matters what he says to her tonight. There is no way she is going to remember any of this in the morning.
He leans forward, cupping her cheek, and he presses his lips against hers lightly. Of course, he missed her. It is the first full weekend they've had off shift in a while, since they got together, actually. So, of course, he wants to spend it with her.
"I missed you too," he tells her, sincerely.
And her eyes light up, delighted. "Really?"
"Of course. How is Foster?"
"Good, she's good," Sylvie nods. "Glad to be finished with med school for the year."
Sylvie shifts her weight in his lap, and his breath hitches in his throat. His hands grip her hips tighter, stilling her. She has no fucking clue what she is doing to him.
Sylvie quirks an eyebrow at him and repeats the motion, grinding against him, deliberately this time. And the look that crosses her face tells him that he is wrong - she knows exactly what she is doing to him, and she is enjoying herself.
"You're amorous this morning," he laughs.
"Are you complaining?"
"No, never," he replies, brushing his lips against her gently as he cups her face with his hands.
But he can't let it get any further than it already has, not when she is blackout drunk, and she won't remember this in the morning, and he hasn't had anything to drink tonight.
They are on an uneven playing field right now, and it doesn't feel right. Their relationship is still relatively new. They've only been together a few weeks. He'll feel like he's taking advantage of her if this went any further.
He's about to tell her all of this, but he doesn't get a chance to say anything because the next thing he knows, Sylvie's mouth is on his, kissing him forcefully, her tongue pressing past his lips. The kiss is clumsy and sloppy, and he can taste the alcohol on her tongue. He smiles into the kiss - she's been drinking whiskey.
Sylvie abruptly breaks the kiss, leaning back. She trails her hands over his bare chest, down to the waistband of the pajama pants he's wearing, and back up again. She rests her hands on his shoulders, using them to steady herself.
"Do you know what..." Sylvie trails off, losing her train of thought. She isn't looking him in the eye. Instead, she's staring at his chest. He looks at her with amused curiosity, patiently waiting for Sylvie to gather her thoughts again. "Do you know what Emily said when I told her we're together?" she finally finishes.
He smiles, "What?" Knowing Foster, she would've had opinions, and she definitely isn't the type to hold back. Matt just isn't sure if they would've been good or bad opinions. He's hoping they were good.
"She said," Sylvie swallows. "She was happy for us. Then she said," Sylvie pauses again. "She said she knew when she first started at fifty one that we were meant to be together. We are… right?" And the vulnerable expression that crosses her face as she asks him makes his chest ache.
He knows that it's the alcohol causing her to question them. To question his love for her. Because that's what her insecurities have always been about, his feelings for her. And he knows that since they've gotten together, it would never have crossed her mind if not for the copious amount of alcohol currently coursing through her system.
Still, he hates that his past actions could make her doubt his feelings for her. Even if her doubts are just drunk insecurities that she wouldn't give a second thought to when sober. He never wants her to doubt what he feels for her.
If she needs a reminder of just how much he is in love with her, he will gladly give it. Every day, for as long as she will have him because, even though this relationship is still new, he has absolutely no plans to go anywhere.
Matt nods. "We are," he agrees. "We're meant for each other. We're right for each other," he reassures her, echoing the words she spoke to him. "I'm in love with you, Sylvie."
"I love you too, Matt."
He caresses her cheek with his thumb, pressing their foreheads together as he smiles at her. Hearing her say those words still makes his heart race and his chest feel like it's going to burst. Matt doesn't think he will ever get sick of hearing her say those words, and he knows he will definitely never tire of telling her just how much he is in love with her.
Sylvie pushes herself away from him again, sitting back on his legs. Her hands wander to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. She tosses it to the other side of the room, not caring where it lands.
She's looking at him coyly as she licks her lips like she's expecting a reaction from him. And she definitely gets it. His breath catches in his throat as he takes her in. Matt is sure he looks like an idiot. Staring at her, his mouth hanging open, unable to say anything.
He's at a loss for words, and she is so damn beautiful. His hands rake up her sides, and she shivers as his fingers graze over the red and black floral lace of the bra she is wearing.
"I take it you like?" she asks as he gapes at her, and he can hear the glee in her voice.
"Yeah, I like," he stutters, running his hands down her sides, and this cannot be happening right now. "God, Sylvie. You're exquisite," he moans, and she leans down to kiss him, smirking as she does so.
He hasn't seen this particular piece on her before, and he has seen a lot of her lingerie collection in the past few weeks. He's pretty sure this is a new favorite.
The front is all straps, crossed over each other, held together by a three ring loop at her sternum. And sure, she might be wearing this for herself, but there is nothing practical about the bra she is wearing. There's practically nothing to it. This is something you wear because you want someone to see it and fuck.
"You planned this," he accuses lightly, jokingly.
"I wouldn't say planned," she responds, and she lets out a giggle. "Wishful thinking, more like." Sylvie brushes her lips against his, quickly deepening the kiss, and Matt responds eagerly.
Sylvie trails her hands down his stomach, dipping them under the waistband of his pajama pants, to wrap her hands around his growing erection. Shit, she's bold tonight, and he likes it.
Matt finally comes to his senses, and he reaches out to grab her hands, stopping her. "Sylvie," he groans.
"I'm pulling out all my best moves, and you're saying no?" Sylvie pouts incredulously, a hurt expression crossing her face. Matt barks out a laugh because these are hardly her best moves, nowhere near close. They aren't even in the same ballpark right now. He's not even sure he's seen her best moves yet.
He's the one to kiss her first this time, cupping her cheek with his hand and deepening the kiss immediately. It probably isn't the best decision on his part. Because he can already feel his resolve waning. He is trying to be respectful and not take advantage of his drunk girlfriend, and she's making it so hard for him.
He feels himself giving in and tries to rationalize it to himself. Sylvie is obviously okay with this, so it is fine for him to be okay with this, right?
She will probably tease him in the morning, for not being able to resist her, for having absolutely no restraint and giving in to her so easily. But as he watches her unhook her bra, sliding it off her shoulders, he finds he doesn't really care anymore. He'll take whatever she throws at him tomorrow.
Sylvie's arms wrap around his neck, her body molding against his as she kisses him. She rolls, so she's laying on her back against the pillows. She keeps her arms wrapped around his neck tightly, giving him no other option but to follow her, and they both laugh as he lands on top of her.
Matt shifts, propping his weight up on his elbows, as he situates himself between her legs, and she wraps them around his waist. Sylvie's hands tangle in his hair, pulling him to her, angling her mouth against his, instantly deepening the kiss.
It takes every ounce of self control he has left in him to break the kiss and tear himself away from her, and she whines his name when he does. He brushes his thumb across Sylvie's cheek as he looks down at his girlfriend. Her lips are red and swollen, and her eyes are glassy, and he thinks she might be seeing two of him.
Matt groans, dropping his forehead against hers. He can't do this. This is a really bad idea. "Sylvie," he whispers. "We really shouldn't be doing this."
"No, Matt," she says, one hand fisting in his hair, the other cupping his cheek. She rocks her hips up into him, and he hisses, his teeth clenched. Shit. "We should definitely be doing this. I really need you, please."
He groans again, giving in and kissing her. She is playing dirty, and she knows it. He's learned in the few short weeks they've been together that he is terrible at saying no to her. It should have been expected really, he's never been able to deny her anything, even when they were just friends. He's always been powerless against her.
His mouth trails across her jawline, kissing down her neck when he stops suddenly, furrowing his brow. Did she just snore?
And yep, when he pulls back to look at her, Sylvie has fallen asleep. He chuckles to himself as he sits up because he should have seen this coming. The right amount of alcohol makes her horny; too much makes her sleepy, and she's flopped from one to the other real quick.
He lays beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist as he pulls her back flush against his front. Then, pressing a kiss against her shoulder, he closes his eyes, and he hears her let out a content sigh which makes him smile as he feels himself drifting off to sleep.
... ... ...
Sylvie is still sleeping when Matt wakes in the morning. He carefully disentangles her limbs from his so he doesn't wake her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before making his way out of his bedroom. He pulls a shirt over his head as he enters the kitchen. Severide is already awake, standing by the stove making breakfast.
"Mornin'," Matt greets, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Was that Brett I heard coming home with Stella last night?" Severide asks, a curious expression crossing his face.
"Yeah, she's still asleep," he answers, nodding back toward the hallway, a grin spreading across his face. He grabs a couple of ibuprofen and a glass, filling it with water. Sylvie will definitely need them when she wakes up. "How's Kidd holding up after last night? Better than Sylvie?"
Severide chuckles, shaking his head. "Doubt it. Stella's asleep on the bathroom floor, so that should tell you exactly how my night went last night."
Matt cringes, then smiles, thinking about his early morning wake up call. "My night, morning-" he shakes his head. "Whatever - was pretty great," he says, a cheesy grin plastered on his face, and Severide glares at him.
Matt certainly got the better deal out of the two of them last night.
"There's enough here for you and Brett if you want to join. Just as long as you help," Severide tells him.
"Yeah, sure." Matt nods agreeably. "I'll just take these in to Sylvie." He's about to return to his bedroom with the water and the pain relief for Sylvie when she pads into the kitchen wearing one of his shirts.
He's momentarily at a loss for words. He could definitely get used to seeing her like this every morning. Even with the extreme bed head, and the smudged makeup she never had the chance to remove, he's struck by just how beautiful she really is. Her wearing his shirt and nothing else only adds to it.
"The two of you talk way too loud," she grumbles, leaning against the kitchen counter. Hanging her head in her hands, she massages her temples as she groans.
"Here, drink this," Matt says, handing her the glass of water and dropping the ibuprofen into her hand. "And take these."
She takes the pills and quickly downs the glass of water, handing it back to him. She reaches out for his coffee cup, and he raises an eyebrow at her, pulling the cup back slightly but eventually, he lets her take it. Because of course he would, and she takes a few large gulps. "Thank you," she smiles at him.
"How much of last night do you remember?" he asks, wrapping his arms around her waist, his hands resting dangerously low on her backside, and he returns her smile warmly.
Putting down the mug, Sylvie wraps her own arms around Matt's shoulders, leaning into him. She glares at him playfully and says, "I remember giving you my best moves and you turning me down."
Matt guffaws. "You fell asleep! I was trying to be chivalrous," he says, his hands roaming over her back.
"What if I don't want chivalrous?" she states teasingly. She rocks forward onto the balls of her feet, brushing her lips against his.
Severide scoffs beside them. "Oh god," Sylvie groans and ducks her head into the crook of Matt's neck as if she's only just remembering they aren't alone in the room. Matt'll admit that he forgot they weren't alone for a second there as well.
"Why is it you get that," Severide mutters, waving the spatula in his hand in their general direction. "And I get Stella puking in the bathroom all night. The two of you are disgusting," he finishes before turning back to the stove.
Matt chuckles. "Jealous?" he asks.
Though Sylvie is more concerned for her friend. "Oh, no, is Stella okay?"
"I'm fine," Stella answers as she joins the group, ambling into the room from the direction of the bathroom, looking a little worse for wear. "Why is everyone talking so loud in here?" she asks. She pours herself a cup of coffee and then hangs her head in her hands just as Sylvie had done when she entered the room.
"That's exactly what I said," Sylvie agrees as she extracts herself from her boyfriend's arms and moves to stand next to Stella. Stella leans her head against Sylvie's shoulder. "Bet you're regretting those extra shots now, huh?" she teases as she brushes Stella's hair back from her face.
"Don't you start!" Stella complains. "I heard enough of that from Kelly last night. Did I hear someone saying my name?" she asks, changing the subject.
"Oh, Severide was just telling us how disgusting he thinks Matt and I are," Sylvie informs her friend.
"You and Casey? No, totally cute," Stella replies, and Sylvie can't help but laugh.
Matt watches Sylvie as she takes a sip of her coffee. His coffee, he thinks to himself. She's smirking at Severide over the top of her cup. "Looks to me like you're outnumbered here, Severide."
"Hey, if all that's going to happen when you stay here is that the three of you are gonna gang up on me, you'll be banned from the loft, Brett," Severide threatens, feigning annoyance.
"Oh yeah," Sylvie hums, smirking wider at Kelly, refusing to back down. Of course, she knows this is nothing serious, just banter. And Matt will definitely be on her side, and even though Stella is engaged to the other man, she will unquestioningly pick Sylvie in the matter. "I think you'll find yourself outnumbered there, too," she laughs.
Severide glowers at Sylvie playfully, his eyes narrow, and he admits defeat.
Matt has kept quiet through the exchange, entertained watching his roommate and his girlfriend as they bicker. And it strikes him just how easily she fits in with them here. Like she's been here with them all along. He rests his hand on her lower back, and he leans over to press a kiss to her temple.
"I need to sit down," Stella announces, taking Sylvie's hand and dragging Sylvie to sit on the couch with her. Matt's hand falls back to his side, and Sylvie throws a small smile over her shoulder at him as she lets Stella drag her away.
"So, I thought you were anti sleepover at someone else's place?" Matt hears Stella ask Sylvie. His head snaps up curiously, wondering what that is about, and he's only just realized that last night had been the first time she's spent the night at the loft. They've previously only stayed at Sylvie's apartment.
Sylvie looks over at him, catching his eye. A smile tugs at her lips over the top of her coffee mug when she realizes he's already watching her. Matt returns her smile fondly. Snapping out of her thoughts with a shake of her head, she turns back to answer Stella. "I guess I'm over that. Must have just been a one time thing."
"Casey!" Severide calls, breaking Matt out of his trance.
"Yeah," he responds, turning back to Severide, helping to finish breakfast for the four of them.
This relationship is still fairly new, and despite the fact that they had been dancing around each other for months - more than a year, really. And although Matt thought he knew Sylvie pretty well before they finally worked out their issues, he still feels like he's learning something new about her every day.
He'll take her out after their next shift if she's up to it. He wouldn't mind a repeat of last night when she hasn't had so much to drink, and they are a little more evenly matched.
Because last night, he discovered he quite likes Sylvie Brett when she's been drinking whiskey.