AN: Holy shit. I am finally finally BACK. I know I made you guys wait forever. I'm finally done with treatment and finally feeling better and it took me all weekend to get this out and it has NOT been proofread more than twice so please forgive me any formatting errors. Forgive me for the wait. Now that it's over I feel comfortable telling you guys I was diagnosed with cancer and it really really did a number on me. This is the actual penultimate chapter. I can't see things going beyond the next one. Please enjoy!

Boden was attempting not to smirk as he sorted out his desk. He'd left CFD and CPD top brass bickering about who would do what and where for the upcoming bouts. The date was set. So was the location. All the rest was posturing and mudslinging. Egos that needed to air grievances in the most immature manner. Firefighters never stopped brawling, no matter how much brass their uniforms wore. It was not his problem, not anymore, as he had successfully hammered out, to his utmost satisfaction, that tryouts would happen within each firehouse for each weight class before cops ever touched gloves with firefighters. This was good for his purposes and he'd said so when he spoke to Severide about the whole matter earlier. Boden resisted the urge to groan. Yet again he'd had to persuade the younger man of the prudent efficiency of his suggestion. It wasn't a decision without precedent either. Bouts had happened before and would continue to be a feature of Chicago public servant life. He could pit Squad against Engine, Engine against Truck and while Severide knew what he and Dawson were doing, Boden was certain that Casey remained clueless. This more than anything demonstrated how isolated the truck lieutenant had become and it saddened him, deeply. Casey was a good firefighter and an even better man. He truly did not believe Firehouse 51 would be better if Casey and Severide parted ways.

Before he could get too melancholic, Connie was knocking on his door with a visitor. Boden looked up and immediately straightened as Ingrid walked through his office door, her hair swaying gently in a bun of wavy curls that had one stubborn tendril stuck to her throat with sweat. He couldn't help himself. He stared at that spot just a moment too long before collecting himself enough to show Ingrid to a seat. Boden refused to let her stand and be imperious in his office. She'd done it before and he resisted the urge to posture in front of her. They needed to have a long discussion about Peter, their past, and how it was still causing conflict for both of them. Strange how he'd seen Ingrid more in the last few months than he had in the last ten years. Part of him was still that man, gloriously in love with a bright and spirited woman. But she wasn't that woman. He could see that she had never recovered from Henry's death. Or so it seemed to him. He knew Henry's death weighed on him. Boden glanced at Connie, asked her to bring Mrs. Mills some water as she closed the door but his ex-lover shook her head.

"I'm fine Wallace. I just came over in a hurry. I remembered that mornings are the best time to find you at the house."

It was the longest string of words she'd said without condemnation or irritation and Boden blinked. Stoic and as yet alarmed to feel his pulse go thready all these years later. He was a born and bred caregiver. It wasn't how Boden thought of himself, gruff and tight lipped. Caregiver conjures images of maternal tenderness and quiet kindness. But he had never stopped worrying about this woman. Had done all of the things as he had to make her life less complicated, not more. It was unfortunate that the son had the same tenacity and bullheaded insolence as the father, loathe though Boden was to think ill of the dead. He coughed quietly and leaned forward over his desk.

"I assume Peter has told you of his plans for the future."

"His sister did. Pete's not really talking to me at the moment"

"Ah"

"Don't say ah. Like you understand a thing about it. I would have appreciated a warning"

"Mrs. Mills —"

"Oh for Christ's sake Wallace! Don't treat me like a hysterical stranger. It's insulting. We used to— "

"I know what we were. I just thought to show some respect for who you chose—"

"I didn't choose. You walked away. Don't pretend otherwise."

"You loved him."

He said those words and silence replaced rolling anger as Ingrid frowned. Boden spoke around the ash suddenly clogging his throat. She must have heard the strain because just as quickly as her ire sprang forth it recoiled inwards. A brittle smile tethered her lips over her teeth. As though she tried to repress a denial and couldn't quite manage.

"I needed him. My kids needed their father." It was the closest she had ever come to refuting his words. Boden ignored it. Strove to bring the conversation back to the current situation.

"Well. I'm not sure what you want me to say to Peter. I think he just needs time".

"Is that seriously all you have to say? That I loved Henry and Pete needs time? I don't want—"

"Ingrid—"

"Wallace!"

Boden wanted to flinch under her incredulous gaze but didn't. That wasn't his way. Ingrid demanded answers and he had none. There was nothing to save in this conversation. He was rendered less than useless and he resented the feeling. Boden prodded the suppurating wound that was their mutual heartbreak relentlessly in the quiet that followed. They could not start every discussion with the same bitter accusations about their distance and its cause. For as much as Boden had told Peter Mills that he'd made a mistake twenty years ago. Boden didn't really think so. If he hadn't backed off, Mills would probably not have the memories, good and bad, of his father to lead him to firefighting, to Boden. He cherished the younger man as a son, whether Mills recognized it or not.

He watched Ingrid shrug and sigh as though she'd already given up on talking. It irritated him. She was the one who kept showing up and demanding he do something. What exactly was it she thought he could do about it?

"Ingrid, if Peter goes to another firehouse, I can't keep him safe. I imagine if he's going to pursue this career path you'd prefer he'd do it with someone you used to trust. What would you like me to do? Why exactly are you here?"

Another shrug. He watched her close her eyes and shake her head as a tear streaked down her cheek.

"This. All of it. Feels like punishment Wallace. Pete being placed in your firehouse. Seeing you again."

"Punishment for what? Our affair? We ended it Ingrid". Or I did he thought unhappily as she shook her head again more vehemently than before.

"No. Not that…"

Boden watched her swallow her words. Watched her eyes finally flick upwards to meet his.

"You ripped me apart Wallace. I loved you and you just moved on like I was nothing."

Boden watched her face crumble and turn away as he went absolutely still. He was not a man of impulse. Not unless a snap decision needed to be made in a crisis and his focus narrowed to the exigent circumstances and keeping civilians and his firefighters safe. He was steady. Stalwart and strong when a problem seemed insurmountable. He did not give in. Still, Boden felt his body lift him from the chair without forethought. Let him cross to the other side of his desk to sit next to a woman he had hurt for all the best and worst reasons. He went to clasp her hand and all he heard was a stuttering sob as she pulled it back.

"You left! You and your stupid nobility and now my son hates me! He won't even let me explain! Why does everything, absolutely everything in my life come back to you?!"

Quite without knowing it, Boden enveloped Ingrid in an embrace as she finally broke down, hitting and flailing in the exact opposite of all her composure and cool politeness. He gently held her wrists in one hand while he wiped the tears from her cheek. She glared while he tried to think of what to say.

"I loved you! I wanted you! And you humiliated me!"

"Ingrid—"

"Oh shut up! You did it because you wanted things to be easy. You wanted simple. You idiot!"

He found he couldn't really refute her assertion. He could remember the logic of that long ago decision. How it hurt him but helped Firehouse 51 return to a mostly even keel. It had made sense at the time. He was still fairly new to his authority then and didn't want to undermine any of his firefighters, least of all his friend. He recalled being acutely uncomfortable with the gossip. Having his private life on display and discussed had horrified a young and pathologically shy Boden. Looking at Ingrid's red, aggrieved face he felt ashamed and acutely contrite. Had his choice been that cowardly? Boden didn't think about it as he kissed her forehead softly and heard Ingrid gasp when he relaxed his cheek against hers.

"I loved you. Maybe I got everything else wrong but I did love you, Ingrid" he swore firmly.

He felt a shudder ripple through her body and the slight tug at his shirt as she collapsed further into his arms. He didn't really know what to do. She had always reduced him to this, to instinct and gesture where he wanted to be stoic. There was no simple resolution to the situation with Peter much as he wished he could toss the probie into the ring and allow him to hit him til he felt better. Somehow he doubted Ingrid would appreciate that suggestion. So he didn't say a thing. He wanted time to heal the rift. Good bad or indifferent, he wanted the space to be with her and figure out what, if anything, they could be to each other after so long apart. So when Connie knocked on his office door some interminable minutes later, Boden ignored duty and held his woman closer while she continued to cry.

◆︎

It had been a minute since Kelly had lived with a girlfriend but he figured the same rules applies as living with a girl roommate. Toilet seat down. Coasters on the coffee table. Do your share of the chores. Don't smoke cigars in the house. All of this was fine. More than fine. It was Bri and she wasn't nearly as inclined to nitpick as some of his exes. He was trying to remember about his running shoes by the front door but honest to God that wasn't on purpose. He was trying not to think about Casey and the fight that Boden had finally sorted but top brass was meddling. He was trying to be civil to the man during shifts without Bri as a buffer. Kelly was trying more now than he had in years on anything that wasn't his job.

Which was how he found himself standing in the tampon aisle, with a melting pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food, sourdough pretzels and Advil, his mind a complete blank and semi-frazzled. She didn't intend to run him ragged. He knew that. If anything, Bri downplayed her injuries drastically while he continued to demand complete honesty. It was just that her pain, any kind of pain, still short circuited Kelly's brain into fight or flight mode. He did not react rationally. Especially because Bri was the kind of woman to tough things out. Say something was fine, like every other woman, when it was absolutely, definitely, not fine. Kelly was standing in the tampon aisle trying to remember what brand and what size and second guessing because he was so out of practice with this basic kind of shopping and his baby was in pain on top of pain and—

"Kelly…?"

He turned his head to the side and smiled reflexively at the pretty brunette who looked so amused at his awkwardness.

"Hey, Angie. How you doing?"

A delicate snort was her response. "Do you need help? "

What a loaded question since he was damn sure he was certifiable. Kelly shook his head no, still smiling. It was good to see Angie. There was no discomfort on his end with the breakup and he genuinely liked the wild and free spirited artist. Bri had showed him Angie's sketch of them and suggested framing it to go on her kitchen wall, their first picture together. It was so patently domestic and Bri had been so nervous, he'd corrected her by saying their kitchen wall in an exaggerated tone and steamrolled right over her sappy smile with a discussion about splitting the utilities and getting his name on the lease. She was still fighting him on the latter. He thought she was hedging her bets. She thought it was a logistical nightmare and not at all the same as opening the electric bill and giving her cash. Kelly shook off his distracted thoughts with a small chuckle.

"Ha. No but thanks I've got it. What you doing on this side of town?"

"Helping a friend is all. Speaking of which, do you and Leslie need anything?"

He watched her glance to the tampons briefly before schooling her face into polite disinterest and Kelly realized something.

"This isn't for Shay. It's for Dawson," he explained. "We moved in together and I just…don't know everything yet" he finished lamely.

"Oh but that's wonderful news! I'm so happy for you both! How is she doing with the ear and ribs and all that?" Angie babbled.

Her face was wide open and actively elated in a way that Kelly hadn't seen when he'd told the guys about the big move. Cruz and Otis had offered to help with the furniture if he needed it after a furtive look at Casey. Mouch had looked deflated and turned back to the television. Capp had made a joke about being into bondage and slapped him on the back. It felt pretty anticlimactic actually when it was a really huge deal for him personally. But maybe he was making too much of a big deal, he hadn't lived with a girlfriend since his fiancee. It was probably more about him being nervous than the guys not caring.

"Thanks Angie. That means a lot. Dawson is doing okay and I'm sure she would appreciate you visiting. She's going stir crazy being housebound. Oh and thank you for the sketch. It's really great".

In truth, Kelly felt awkward about the drawing. If it was a true rendering of how he looked with Bri from the outside, he wanted to hide it. Not out of embarrassment or anything, but because he wanted to keep his deepest feelings for her private. She looked so blissed out and happy to just be in his arms while he was kissing her hair. Both their eyes were closed, like they were lost in a moment; a brief happy moment in the midst of their personal chaos. They had the drawing above their bed instead of in the kitchen as a result and he felt much more at ease with it there.

"I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"I'm inviting you to stop by. You're one of the few people who isn't awkward about our relationship. Come over. I mean it. Matter of fact…"

He knew he shouldn't do it. Shouldn't meddle in Shay's life but she had done it and kept trying to do it with him. And he really, genuinely liked Angie. She was hot and fun and just what Shay needed even if she couldn't go five minutes without fucking it up spectacularly. He sympathized with her on that part at least. He wanted to help even if he was still pissed at the way she'd handled him and Dawson dating.

"51 is having a series of bouts next Friday. Tryouts ahead of Battle of the Badges. Kind of like an end of summer bash. Me against Casey. Why don't you come?"

"Kelly, that would be weird. Wouldn't it?"

"I dunno. I'm dating Dawson who Casey likes and we both work with her ex Pete whose mom dated our boss while the entire boxing thing is because of our fucked up shit. What do you think?"

Kelly waited while Angie laughed, her whole face going red as she tried to rein it in. He was so matter of fact about it. He couldn't be otherwise at this point. The last conversation he'd had with Bri before her accident was all about the blonde lieutenant and how much he loved her. Going into each shift knowing that he'd done that, that Casey had finally confessed to what everyone else in the house knew to be true. And more than that, to explain his personal hangups for why he hadn't pursued Bri in the first place. It was a bit of a mindfuck. It made it difficult for him to stay angry much as he had every right to feel the way he did. Kelly didn't hate Casey. Not really. He was pissed off at him for making things difficult for his girl. He was still furious that Casey was blaming him for Andy's death when all he had to do was confirm over the comm that the fire was vented before letting his subordinate enter a firetrap. It was ludicrous how much the other man nitpicked his decisions at a job. It bred instability and insecurity into the team dynamics, the way Truck hedged around him even now.

"If you're sure it'd be okay. I'd like to come. If only to see you hit Casey," Angie joked.

Kelly couldn't help a short laugh. Angie had no loyalty to Firehouse 51 but had chosen to back him. It felt good and he grinned broadly as he replied.

"Great. Franklin St. Boxing Club. Bouts start at 3."

"Sounds good. Oh and here," Angie grabbed a bright blue box off the shelf behind his head and dropped it into his cart.

"I'm pretty sure Gabi and Leslie use the same brand".

Kelly grinned as she walked away. Well, at least he knew he was bringing home the right stuff now.

◆︎

It was a quiet day off and Casey stared out the window of his townhouse blearily, sipping his coffee as he watched kids and parents race to cars on his street. One little boy made him smile as he yelped and hopped backwards, looking at his mom and telling her to Come on as he fumbled, a gangly towhead with glasses. The mother, for her part, watched Patrick, she yelled his name loud enough for Casey to hear it, with equal measures of amusement and exasperation. She made no attempt to run. Instead, languidly, she rolled her son's backpack like a suitcase behind her as she shook the car keys in her other hand like a bell. A reminder that Patrick couldn't open the car door without her. One the little boy did not heed in the slightest.

She was beautiful in Casey's opinion. A little like Gabi when her hair was long. It swung in a dark brown braid halfway down her back. In all honesty however, she did not look like a mother in her jeans shorts and white tee, with some sort of short apron. It was covered in dried mud or something. The bright red Converse high tops made him think of… well he wasn't sure what they made him think of actually. Maybe his high school girlfriend, who he only ever saw with her clothes half off in the back of his car, her sneakers pressed against the window glass so hard it might shatter.

Casey coughed and turned away. He glanced around the living room, seeing echoes of Hallie in the furniture and colors. Reminders that he'd run her off with his simplistic views of right and wrong. He thought of the coke she'd flushed down the toilet and the kitchen where he brewed his current cup of coffee. All the repairs he'd made over the last little while trying to fill the empty spaces she'd left behind when she fled. It wasn't even a year since her escape but he was already forgetting things. He traced his hand over the couch, not leather at her insistence, and suddenly it occurred to him that he couldn't recall how she smelled. The perfume she wore to erase the copper smell of blood and hospital grade disinfectant. Or how she took her coffee in the morning, she was not an early riser. He did remember that. Then he glanced out the window again and examined the twisted bare tree in his front yard. No leaves. Withered branches and a trunk like a lean-to just as Patrick tripped and took a header straight to the concrete pavement.

He was out the door and beside the boy just as quickly when his mother crashed into the ground next to him. Casey turned the kid onto his back, bright red blood and a deep laceration to the forehead greeted him. He stared down into deep green eyes welling with tears behind cracked glasses. The kid whimpered softly but did not scream which Casey found deeply concerning. In his limited experience with children, loud wailing usually meant the kid was fine but embarrassed. Patrick's subdued response after being so loud and lively suggested something was truly wrong.

"Where does it hurt Patrick?" He asked as he straightened the boy's limbs and brushed dirt from his clothes. Casey glanced down at untied shoelaces. Probably the culprit for the fall and patently ignored the woman quietly panicking next to him. Patrick didn't respond so Casey pressed. "Patrick, my name is Matt. I can help you but you need to talk to me. Where does it hurt?"

By now, he'd ripped cloth from his tee-shirt to stem the blood and ascertained that none of Patrick's limbs were broken. The neck wasn't twisted, but his breathing was shallow and slow. He glanced at the woman next to him. A couple of people were watching in horror as he gestured to his truck with one hand.

"There's a first aid kit in my truck bed. Can you get it?"

She blinked. Then nodded and scrambled away while he tried to get a read on Patrick's pulse. The boy still hadn't responded beyond a whimper when Casey realized that he didn't even know the woman's name. She ran back to him braid flying, the bright red box, so similar to his toolbox clutched in her slim hands. People scattered when they realized the situation was under control but the pretty brunette beside him still looked wan with fright.

"Should I call 911?" Her voice was breathy and high with alarm as he shook his head.

"We'll patch him up and I'll drive you guys to the ER. Doctor needs to rule out concussion just to be safe."

"Thank you…Matt is it?

"Yes, and you are?" He was already bandaging Patrick's wound and prepping to move the kid to his truck when he glanced back. She was picking up Patrick's backpack and her purse with shaky hands. "Kids fall ma'am. He'll be fine." He said this calmly with the casual reassurance of several years on the job, pulling babies out of burning buildings and crashed cars. Casey lifted the boy into his arms gently and started walking to his truck as she trailed behind with all their bags. She'd even remembered his first aid kit.

"Poppy. My name is Poppy Murray. Patrick is my nephew. If he…"

"We just need to keep him awake as a precaution. Here, get in. I'm going to lie him down with his head in your lap. I'll drive slowly okay?"

Casey examined her carefully for shock as she dumped the bags in his truck bed and buckled herself in. He placed the boy on her lap on the bench seat. It was unorthodox but the boy's silence concerned him and he didn't want to wait. In two minutes, he had buckled himself in and started reversing down the driveway.

"Do you always leave your house and truck unlocked?"

"What?" Casey turned his head from the road to see her fingering Patrick's blonde hair while staring right at the small boy.

"I mean. You ran out of your house to help. Thank you by the way. You patched up Patrick and you're driving us to the ER but I don't think I ever saw you lock up or go looking for keys or…"

"Ma'am"

Casey recognized the edge of adrenaline was riding her voice and she was trying to order her thoughts. Trying to fit all the actions of the last 15 minutes into a logical pattern after being rattled and he worked to console her.

"Poppy"

"Okay, Poppy. The house door automatically locks behind me when I leave and my friend has a spare if I'm ever locked out. Plus the truck is too old and beat up to be stolen. It's already running on borrowed time and elbow grease."

She laughed softly at that and looked up. Casey realized she had the same bright green eyes as Patrick, clearly a family trait, and freckles scattered across her nose like a sunburn peeling skin. She was beautiful in her white tee shirt and jeans shorts. Way too young to be Patrick's mom if he had to guess, her long legs pale and awkward with the weight of her nephew's head on her thighs. He cleared his throat and turned his head back to the road.

"Nearest emergency room is a couple blocks south. We'll get him sorted out. I know the staff pretty well there."

"Okay. Thank you Matt. Really"

He made a small sound to signify it wasn't a problem but kept his eyes on the road, while Patrick moaned and Poppy adjusted her legs underneath his head in response. His earlier inappropriate thoughts flashed through his mind and Casey stifled the urge to adjust himself. A little boy was injured and in pain and he thought his aunt was too gorgeous and he was too happy knowing that Patrick wasn't her kid. He was not going to be like Severide. No. Not at all.

"You should probably call his parents in case the ER needs insurance information," he offered.

"I will when we get there," she whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, Casey saw her kiss Patrick's forehead and murmur something that made the little boy murmur weakly in response. It tugged at him, the way Heather with Ben used to pull at a small forgotten corner of his childhood. His mother cuddling him before she went to prison. He realized then that he hadn't spoken to Heather or his mother or his sister and felt ashamed. He was better than that. He was better than the bad mood he'd shown around Firehouse 51 the last little while.

Casey clenched hard on the steering wheel and stared forward. Wishing for so many things without a solution in sight.

◆︎

Dawson flung a pillow at Antonio's head in a fit of temper, her left hand twinging be damned.

"What did you do hermano?!"

"Nothing! What's wrong with you? I told you that CPD top brass were going to get involved. Boden has it handled."

She dropped onto the couch with a groan while Antonio stood over her, annoyed, his hair ruffled like he'd been pulling and tugging on it. It was obvious to her that the fun of conspiring with Boden on the boxing matches had waned in the face of increasing bureaucratic bullshit. Antonio was like her, actions speaking louder than words. The long weeks of plotting and waiting weren't his style and his agitation proved it. Dawson sighed while her brother paced the living room. She was crampy and achy and seriously wanted chocolate. Antonio's surprise visit while Severide was out made her suspicious. Like he'd planned it to avoid her lover. She glared up at her brother.

"So why are you here? The whole point of this was to get Sev and Casey talking to each other."

"Yeah with their fists. Not exactly your best idea Gabi".

"Hey! You work with dumb jock cops who use their guns like their dicks. You've got no room to talk."

Antonio chuckled hoarsely as he sat down beside his sister and pulled her into his embrace. She conceded to the hug reluctantly.

"Fair enough but we're in this mess just so you can keep Lieutenant Severide at 51. Is he worth all this?"

Dawson leaned into her brother's chest. She felt bone weary and achy. Her ribs still chafed under skin and her ear hurt like hell. She welcomed a good dose of coddling. Antonio was a Rottweiler when it came to his family. He may not like her plan but he'd helped execute it to the best of his ability and then some. It wasn't his fault that the ego of more than one man in the top brass couldn't abide being left out of a public servant dustup. It was the Chicago way. Along with corruption, deep dish pizza and the L train.

"You can call him Kelly you know."

Antonio snorted.

"Watch it. In case you haven't looked around lately, we live together. The reason he's thinking of leaving 51 is because he doesn't think he can get his job done effectively with Casey acting the way he is. Kelly doesn't really want to go. He's agreed to the fight remember?"

"Gabi, he also told Boden he'd do a detail at the Fire Academy so he could take care of you. You shut that down. What's the matter with you? You need help around here and you know it."

"I know him. I know once he has one foot out the door, it wouldn't be hard to kick it shut. I won't be his excuse for leaving the job and people he loves. I won't". I won't become his biggest regret she thought silently.

"Dios mio you two are the most pigheaded duo I've met and our parents are still married Gabi"

She parents were one of the most combustible couples she'd ever witnessed which was saying something given her job. Her mother had once chased their father out of the house with a butcher knife when he came home reeking of booze and cheap perfume. He'd famously jumped out of the truck and started walking down the highway in the middle of one of his wife's tirades when they were on vacation before the kids were born. It was a story often told at family gatherings when her mother started getting loud and her grandmother wanted to put her in her place. There was no love lost between her father's mother and his wife. Dawson got the impression that her parents had been wild on the streets of Puerto Rico long before they ever made it to the windy city. She didn't believe that she and Severide could even come close to the tempestuous courtship of Ramon and Camilla Dawson.

"We take care of each other in our own way, that's all. You used to have that with Laura."

"Yeah yeah. It's just this thing has gotten way bigger than any of us intended. Too many moving parts. I don't like it".

"Go big or go home yeah?"

"Maybe. Gabi, hermanita, I know you. I know your big heart. Is Kelly Severide worth it?"

She took a long moment to think about the question. Antonio didn't want a yes or a no. He wanted an explanation. Loyal as he was in helping her with everything, they've never discussed his meddling part in Kelly's upset with her before the accident. She had been in the hospital after all. He'd jumped to conclusions when Kelly told him about her crying and although he could have offered advice, Antonio had made Kelly feel like shit instead. Of course he was worried. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that he thought she was jumping into a relationship with the squad lieutenant too quickly. Impulse control and the Dawson clan were like oil and water.

But she didn't really need to think about it.

"Yes, Kelly is worth it. He's selfless and stupid smart. He's as fallible as any man and makes mistakes. But he also shows up. He always shows up. He pushes me Tonto. He makes me better than I am. I'm in this with my eyes wide open. I didn't fuck up Firehouse 51 for a good lay. I did it for a good man."

Antonio smiled wryly and she squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. She was unaccustomed to confessing her private feelings about boyfriends to her brother. They usually weren't worth the bother. She went to say more but just then the front door rattled as a key turned in the lock and the Dawsons both turned to see Kelly walk into the living room looking more than a little triumphant and weighed down with plastic bags.

"I bought three quarts of ice cream, Advil, Aleve and Tylenol and I stopped by that bakery you love so much and got that bread you're always raving about, fudge brownies that are nowhere as good as yours and a bottle of red wine. What do you want first?"

She forgave him for ignoring Antonio who was snickering like a loon as he dropped the bags off on the coffee table. Rummaging through his purchases, she pulled out the box of tampons and stood up quickly to kiss his cheek in thanks. He leaned into it, and she could smell that scent that was all him, no cologne as the room and her brother disappeared for just one brief moment. Dawson pulled back with a smile.

"Open the wine. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He kissed her softly before Dawson scampered for the upstairs bathroom. Faintly she could hear them arguing about opening the brownies, Antonio was a sucker for anything chocolate, and she knew in less than ten minutes her guys would turn on the tv and find a game to yell at, instead of each other. You could set your watch by testosterone levels. It reminded her of something. She couldn't figure out what as she gingerly used her left hand while replacing the tampon, washing her hands and tidying her hair. She always felt like an oil slick during her period. Everything took so much more effort to look presentable.

Quietly, she crept back down the stairs. To her surprise, Kelly was directing Antonio around the kitchen, putting things away. Then as Kelly poured wine into three wineglasses, her brother scooped ice cream on top of a brownie. He covered it all with whipped cream while Kelly watched in confusion.

"I used to do this for her when we were teenagers and she felt bad" Antonio confessed.

"Oh yeah? Is there anything else I should know?" Kelly asked while offering the other man a wineglass.

"Eh. You'll figure it out eventually. Cheers"

"Cheers."

It was a small gesture but a gesture all the same. A quiet olive branch as her brother gave her lover personal information from their childhood. No one made better sundaes than Antonio when she was sad. A fact she'd never told him. Dawson sat on the stairs and listened to them talk for a minute. They weren't fighting. Antonio was telling Kelly funny stories about her as a kid and he was paying attention, asking questions. Outright laughing at her misspent youth. None of them had been goodie two shoes back then. She listened until her ribs started to hurt from her crouched position. Plus she really wanted some wine.

When she entered the kitchen, they were debating what to get for dinner and she had to hide her delight that Antonio was sticking around to hang out with Kelly. She wasn't foolish enough to think it was on her account. They were taking stock of each other. Sizing each other up like brawlers in a ring. Antonio wanted to know more about the man she loved and she was grateful as she shared a look with her elder sibling. A slight nod was all she got in response but that was okay as she sipped the wine and ate the brownie in front of her. She realized then, what they're bickering reminded her of. It felt like home.

Thank you for reading!