Thank you, Pallada.
"You want me to call someone for you? To pick you up?" Mr Miller stood in the door, looking at Casey who was still sitting on the treatment couch with both arms now in a plaster cast each. Whereas his right arm was a normal cast that ended just before his elbow, the cast on his left arm reached his upper arm, restricting his ability to move immensely.
Hearing the gruff voice, Casey looked up. His face still rendered white from pain and stress. "If you could just hand me my phone, please. It's in my jacket pocket," he said, before pondering who he should call. A couple of weeks ago, without a second thought, he would have called Severide - but so much had changed in the meantime. He thought about calling Chief Boden, but he did not want to be a burden to the man who was his superior first and his friend second. Hermann had his hands full with all his kids, and even though he was friendly with Otis and Cruz - they were not his friends; not outside of station 51 anyway. It didn't even cross his mind to call his sister, and so it became quite obvious that his situation was more than unfortunate.
Mr Miller interrupted his thoughts by holding his phone in his hands. Realising that he was not able to really take the phone, Casey sighed.
"Could you please push the button on the right, and enter 5151." Mr Miller nodded and after three attempts he was able to unlock the phone.
"Just press 1 for a long time. It's the speed dial number to a friend of mine, and hold the phone to my ear, please." Casey felt his cheeks getting red, "If it isn't too awkward for you." Mr Miller just rolled his eyes and hold the phone to Casey's ear. He could hear it ringing three times before the call was declined.
"Dammit," Casey muttered, "Could you please press 1 again?" His heart was beating heavily in his chest and his icy fingers started to tremble ever so slightly. Mr Miller fumbled a bit with the phone, before he hold it against Casey's ear for a second time.
"What?" a gruff voice finally answered, and Casey wished he could use his fingers to end this call immediately, but he was tired and in pain and he really wanted to go home, so he took a deep breath and prayed that he made the right decision.
"Hi, Kelly," he started, "I know we have, uhm, our differences at the moment, but I really need your help right now. I am at Chicago Med. I had an accident, nothing major, but-," he took a deep breath, "I really need someone to pick me up." The line was silent and for a second, Casey imagined to hear Severide roll his eyes. After a couple of agonizing heartbeats, Severide finally agreed.
"I'll be there in ten," he said and ended the call. Casey let out a shaky breath.
"All set?" Mr Miller asked, placing the mobile phone and the green jacket he was holding all the time next Casey.
"Yes, thank you. My friend is going to pick me up soon." Casey looked down at his arms, "And I am really sorry that I cannot finish your roof today, but it-"
"Stop it," Mr Miller said harshly, "It was an accident and it can't be helped. So don't fret." He slowly went to the door where he left his walker. "But if you don't mind, I will be going home now. My back's hurting and Scrabble Showdown is starting in 35 minutes. " He waved a rough goodbye and left.
"Nothing major, huh?" Casey opened his eyes and looked to the door as he heard a familiar voice. He must have dozed off because he was surprised to see Severide standing in the door frame. He wore his trademark leather jacket and dark blue jeans, the car keys in his right hand.
"Nope," Casey said, trying to smile "I am still alive. Just two broken arm."
"Just," Severide snorted. "Have fun explaining this to Boden." He grabbed Casey's jacket and his phone. "You're ready to go, are you?" Casey nodded and got of the treatment couch slowly. He would not admit it but his whole body hurt. And he also would not admit that Severide not asking him how he felt hurt too.
Without saying another word, they walked to Severide's car which was parked near the hospital entrance. Severide was about to open the door on the driver's side when he noticed Casey awkwardly trying to grab the door handle on the other side of the car with his right hand. Which, of course, didn't work.
"Matt," Severide growled, storming to Casey's side and opening the door, "You have functioning vocal chords. Use them." Casey could feel his ears turning red as he sat down rather awkwardly. As soon as Casey was sitting, Severide slammed the door shut, went back to the driver's side and got into the car. He put on his seatbelt and checked the rearview mirror, before he grabbed the steering wheel. He was about to start the car, when Casey's voice let him stop.
"Kelly, I cannot …," he trailed of embarrassed "The seatbelt?"
Severide groaned, "Of course." He leant over and fastened Casey's seatbelt with quick but rough hands. Casey, on the other side, preferred to just look ahead, pretending to be somewhere else; preferably in a bed with very soft pillows and some pain killers, but the growling of the engine disrupted his thoughts. As he wasn't willing to let his sweet thoughts be chased away, he closed his eyes and hoped that the movement of the car would lull him into a deep sleep.
He started to dream about soft pillows.
And weightless blankets.
And arms that did not hurt.
And a family that would take-
"If you puke in my car, you'll walk," Casey opened his eyes lazily and looked to the left, studying Severide's side profile for a second, but he couldn't decipher the look on his face.
"I am not going to puke," he said, but even to his ears it sounded more like a question as he felt a bit nauseous while the pain in his arms seemed to have increased. He closed his eyes again, hoping his stomach would settle down while the car was slowly filled with silence again.
"5 more minutes," Severide said after a while, glancing to Casey. He had noticed that the Truck lieutenant looked even paler than before, but he did not know how to ask without asking, so instead he decided to take the corners more carefully and to keep a steady pace, hoping that that would help somehow.
As they reached Casey's home, he stopped the car and unbuckled his seatbelt at first. This time he didn't wait to be asked before he helped Casey with his seatbelt. Then he surrounded the car and opened the passenger door.
"You need a hand?," he asked, eyebrows raised as the other man was still sitting in the car; because as beautiful as Severide's car was, it was a pain to get out of it if you couldn't use your hands. So Casey agreed, wondering once again how he got into all of this.
"Alright, let's get this done," Severide said. For a trained fireman, he awkwardly bent down to put one hand on Casey's should and one hand on his hips, leaving burning marks of embarrassment on Casey's body. "On three." And together they finally got Casey standing.
"Where's your house key?"
Casey looked straight ahead to his house.
"Right front pocket."
"You want me to… Or do you?"
"Just grab it," Casey growled, eyes still focusing on anything but Severide's face that was so close in that moment. Before Andy's death, Severide would have made a joke and Casey would have laughed tears, but on this day they remained silent. And that hurt too.
Instead Severide got the keys in one swift movement, went to Casey's house and opened the door. Casey trotted tiredly behind him, wishing for nothing more than his bed and a cool drink. He was tired; too tired to think about their damaged friendship and too tired to deal with the pain that did not come from his broken bones but his heart. He kicked off his shoes, noticing absently how dirty his socks had become, before he turned around to Severide with the intention to thank him for the ride home. But after he turned around, he couldn't say a work. Instead he starred at Severide who had already closed the door, and who was still there, trying to get his heavy boots off.
