C is for Cook

"Is meatloaf the only thing you know how to cook?"

Jimmy was standing at the stove, minding his own business, when Sylvie had sidled up to stand and stare over his shoulder. It was his night to cook, and there were only a few things he actually bothered with that he knew the rest of the house wouldn't complain about. Too bad Sylvie wasn't one of them. He looked over at her, a bemused expression on his face, before he resumed.

"No," he said simply. "But it's the easiest thing. And when we could have a call at any minute, easy trumps...whatever you'd prefer."

Sylvie made a face, still watching him mix ingredients silently. Then she sighed, rolling her eyes up to stare at the side of his face. "Does it have to be meatloaf?"

He snorted a little. "Everyone else seems to like it just fine."

"Well," the blonde started, turning around to lean back against the countertop, fixing him with a look. "I'm not everyone."

"We've established."

"And I'm not convinced you know how to cook anything but this."

Jimmy paused, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and pulled back to stare down at his shorter partner. "You want me to prove it?" She only lifted a shoulder, turning her head away to stare out at the idling firefighters. Jimmy's thoughtful look turned slightly devious. "Alright. Saturday after shift, you can come by and I'll prove it."

Her head whipped around. "What? No way, I've seen your place, there's nothing there!"

But Jimmy was already shaking his head. "Never said my place," he told her lightly, reaching around her for the glass dish she was blocking him from. "I had plans at my parents for dinner, you'll just have to come too."

Sylvie chewed on her lower lip, gauging the sincerity of his offer, before shaking her head. "Saturday's four days away, and I've seen your learning curve, you could learn to cook a four course meal by then for all I know." Jimmy glanced at her, a little shock in his eyes at the backhanded compliment. But still a compliment. "So…"

"So?"

"So I'll just have to prove to you that I can cook better than you before Saturday," she told him, and with a little flick of her ponytail, Sylvie flounce away, leaving Jimmy to stare after her. He turned back to making dinner with a shake of his head and a sigh, knowing that there wouldn't be any way to back out of it. A cook off with Sylvie Brett? How bad could it be?

Even so, he'd better bring wine.

Sylvie had been a lot of things before coming to Chicago. She'd been complacent and kept, worked her ass off at both her job and at home, and any free time she had was used for chipping away at her personality until she fit into a perfect soon-to-be-wife box that Harrison had made for her. Sylvie hated that person now; it was why she wanted a clean break from that life and moved. But there was one thing about it she missed, and that was cooking for someone else. It made her feel proud in a way that saving lives just didn't do. After she'd first gotten to Chicago and offered Joe cooking lessons, the last thing she thought she would ever want to do again was to cook for another person, but looking over at Jimmy, sitting at her kitchen counter in a tight fitting t-shirt and a glass of wine in his hand as he laughed at something she said, she realized how much cooking was more a part of her than she had thought.

Jimmy, for what it was worth, seemed to be having a good time just sitting and watching her. He'd show up with a proper gift, been on time, dressed casually, and Sylvie was starting to realize just how much she really liked him. Of course she thought he was cute before ( nay - hot ), but just hanging out with him outside of work, he really was a fun guy.

"My brother taught me how to play baseball," he was saying, after Sylvie had regaled him with her version of how she and her brother had been banned from sports for three years by their family. Sylvie turned her head to look at him, her eyes soft as he mentioned his brother; they shared a short moment of silence before Jimmy continued, his eyes filled with nostalgia instead of grief. "My mom hates the game, can't stand it, because my grandfather used to travel as a pitcher for some low-rent team back in the 60s and she'd never see him. But he taught Danny how to play, and he taught me. There was this one winter, snow so high we couldn't leave the house, and Danny thought it would be a good idea to practice: 'Season's comin' up, Jimothy, gotta practice'."

Sylvie, listening with one ear as she finally closed the oven, turned to sit across from him at the counter, picking up her own forgotten glass of wine. She snorted a little into the rim, giving his impression of his brother a look. "Jimothy?"

"He thought he was funny," Jimmy said with a wave of his hand, brushing her comment away as he continued his story, and she groaned as she realized where it was going.

"Oh God, what did you break?"

Jimmy grinned at her, taking a small, innocent sip of his wine. "Danny's nose."

"No."

"He beat the hell out of me for it, don't feel too bad for him," he laughed. It trailed off after a second or two, and Sylvie turned her head away to let him have his moment. She could only imagine what he must have been going through, to loose your brother like that, and right in front of you. Sylvie silently poured them both more wine.

He never admitted her cooking was better than his though, so when she showed up at his place in the morning with two sacks of groceries and ignoring that he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of threadbare sweatpants he wasn't really surprised. Jimmy stepped to the side, hair sticking up on one side, following her with his eyes as she walked into his apartment without even a good morning.

"I was thinking about what you said," she was saying, maneuvering one of the overstuffed bags onto her hip in order to set one down on his kitchen counter. "About breakfast being a waste, and I think I can change your mind."

"I never said breakfast was a waste," said Jimmy with a sigh, letting his door fall shut and following her into his place. He sat down heavily into his couch, knees spread open and an arm tossed over the back of the cushions. He quirked an eyebrow at the blonde when she turned to give him a look. "I said I didn't like breakfast food."

"I don't understand the difference."

Jimmy rolled his eyes and picked up the book he'd been reading when she'd knocked on his door at 7 in the morning. "I have coffee in the pot if you want some," he said absently, trying to find his page again. "But if you were going to show up this early you should have just come home with me."

He didn't mean it the way he said it, and his head bobbed up to correct himself, but with his mouth hanging open, he caught the blush on her cheeks, and made the unfortunate decision to hesitate. "That's not...you know what I mean."

Sylvie cleared her throat, pointedly ignoring him as she focused on unloading groceries onto his counter space. "Would you put on a shirt already? I am a lady."

He snorted lightly, going back to his book. "You sound like Stacey."

"That's your sister-in-law, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah," but he didn't say anything else, like why she'd be at his place when he wasn't wearing a shirt. For a brief, stomach churning moment, Sylvie looked over at Jimmy sitting so casually on his couch, and wondered if he was sleeping with his dead brother's wife, but the thought disappeared as quickly as it'd come; leaving her feeling dirty and like she needed to apologize.

"How's she doing?" she asked quietly. "And the boys?" Jimmy talked about them on calls sometimes, he loved those kids, and with Danny gone Stacey sometimes dropped them off at the station so she could run errands or get some peace and quiet. "Is Eric doing better?"

Jimmy cleared his throat, like he was uncomfortable talking to her about his family problems, but he answered her question about his oldest nephew anyway, and she was grateful for it. "Yeah, he's doin' alright. Not getting into fights at school anymore, at least," he looked at her, finally tossing his book onto the cushion beside him and standing up. He stood next to her silently, staring down at her as she arranged everything, not looking back. "We're all getting better."

She looked up with wide eyes, shocked at the admission. He just stared back, the intensity of his gaze making her uncomfortable, but the only place she could look was down, which was a bad idea when all she saw was skin and overworn sleep pants. She turned away stiffly, reaching across the counter blindly for - what turned out to be - the bag of potatoes she brought. "Put on a damn shirt."

He tsk'd at her, rolling his eyes and turning away without a word. She heard him in his bedroom, rifling around in it while she absently cut potatoes into cubes, heated oil in a pan on the stove, scoffed at how little he had in his place furniture wise but somehow had a fully stocked kitchen. "You really do cook here, don't you?" she said to herself as she rummaged through the spice cabinet.

"I told you I did." Sylvie jumped, smacking her head against the open cabinet door as she spun around.

"Fucking Christ, Jimmy -"

"Shit, are you okay?"

His hands moved to her cradle her head in his hands even as she swore at him. She hadn't even felt it, but she fell completely still as Jimmy's fingers probed the spot above her eyebrow where she'd hit the edge. He had a shirt on, at least, though it probably wasn't worth the head injury. His fingers combed her hair back, crouching down a little to get one last look at the damage before he stepped away. "You okay?" he asked again, searching her eyes worriedly.

She nodded, after a brief moment of her brain being dead. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay."

He sighed and shook his head at her in mock disappointment, backing off. "Be careful," he told her. "I seriously don't want to be one of those people who has to call for an ambulance because of some stupid kitchen accident."

"I hit my head," she scoffed. "It's not like a put my hand into a blender while it was plugged in, don't be dramatic." He nodded to the pan she'd been using on the stove, bringing her back to reality and what she'd come there for in the first place.

"Pan's smoking."

Sylvie pushed him out of the kitchen and out of her way, continuing to do her thing as he conceded and sat in one of the barstools on the other side of the island to watch her. "So why don't you cook more often for the house?" he asked, tapping his fingers against his arm as he watched her hands slice and dice.

"I don't like cooking for other people," she said, and Jimmy raised an eyebrow at her, calling bullshit. Sylvie wilted a little. "I didn't think I did, I mean," she paused, head tilted to the side, and pursed her lips at the egg in her hand. "I know I didn't like cooking for my fiance."

Jimmy's eyebrows shot up. "Your what now?"

Sylvie sighed. "Harrison, he was my fiance back in Indiana. Left me three months before the wedding, so I stole his car and came here."

He shook his head at her slowly, mouth rounded into an 'o' and his eyebrows hiked straight up his forehead. "You have some baggage Sylvie Brett."

The blonde shot him a mean look. "And you don't?"

Jimmy grimaced, turning his head away to stare at something on the wall. She wondered for a little about what he'd say, all kinds of crazy scenarios popping up in her head. Like if he had a kid that he only got to see on weekends, or the reason he had so little in his apartment was because he was in Witness Protection against the mob and needed to disappear at the drop of a hat. Or he was in the mob.

"My brother's dead," he said finally. "I think that's enough baggage."

It always came back to Danny. Sylvie closed her mouth and looked away, wondering if he knew that was the only thing that could get her to shut up nowadays. He couldn't bully her out of his life, he couldn't ignore her away, so he picked his emotional instability to silence her into submission. It was sucky, but not like she could fire back with anything of the same caliber.

"So no illegitimate children anywhere?" she teased poorly. Jimmy's head whipped around, and before he could open his mouth she jumped at the opportunity to see how far she could take it. "That's a yes," she snorted. "No wonder you're so good with kids; I'm gonna guess high school? Maybe a boy, no way you wouldn't have more toys in here if you had a daughter. Boys don't really need stuff, and you've got an x-box, so."

"Why do you think I have a kid somewhere?" he asked in wonderment, his eyes wide. Sylvie smirked at his expression, spooning food onto plates as everything started to come together breakfast wise. He went on, his voice still filled with awe. "Do I look like the kind of guy who had a kid in high school?"

Sylvie pointed her spatula at him menacingly. "If you had a kid you wouldn't hate breakfast."

He shook his head, his mouth open, and Sylvie was completely prepared to take anything he had to throw at her. "Well, you're right." Except that. "He's six, I get to see him twice a week because his mom lives in Milwaukee. But he's an amazing kid; he'll be seven in August, already in second grade. His name's Ethan."

Sylvie felt her stomach drop. "That's…" but then she looked around, at the nothingness in his apartment. No photos or little kid drawings or stuff to do when you're small and had an overactive imagination. Her eyes narrowed. "That's a load of bullshit, isn't it."

His eyes glinted evilly. "I had you so good for a second there."

"You're an evil bastard, you know that?" she shook her head, and impulsively threw a piece of sausage at him. He ducked out of the way just in time, still laughing at her. "That's your baggage, you're secretly evil."

"Oh c'mon, it's not like anyone's bothered to get to know me since I've been at 51," he said defensively, and Sylvie raised her eyebrows at him, because hello she was his partner. "Don't pretend like you've tried, I had to learn from Hermann that you and Cruz dated. Hell, Chili didn't bother getting to know me at all, and we were sleeping together for a month before I realized she was batshit."

"Hey-"

"She almost got me fired and didn't care at all," Jimmy snapped, interrupting her with a pointed look. "Not to mention what she did to you. Chili was an unstable drunk."

"Woah, hey, easy Jimmy," Sylvie rattled off quickly, holding up her hands to get him to slow down. Man, when he got talking about Chili there was no stopping him. She must have hurt him more than anyone thought. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" she asked him, handing him a plate of food and finally going to pour herself a cup of coffee.

He shrugged. "What would have been the point? I would have just been the angry ex-fucktoy."

"Ughhh," Sylvie grimaced, holding a hand up to her ear, shooting him a look. "Don't put that image in my head."

"Of what? Me and Chili?" Truthfully? She'd hated Chili since the second she told her about kissing Jimmy; she'd hated her for the way Jimmy looked at her when he first showed up at 51 naked and covered in saran wrap; she hated her for getting there first, and now Sylvie was stuck in the friendzone, stuck to making him breakfast and talking about other women.

"It'd be like me talking about how enthusiastic Cruz was," she said, sipping nonchalantly on her coffee. Jimmy made a face and ate his eggs.

"Noted. Also never do that."

Sylvie watch Jimmy chew thoughtfully on his breakfast, gesturing at them with his fork after a few moments. "This isn't bad."

Grinning triumphantly, Sylvie stole a forkful of his eggs and vowed to get him back for screwing with her.

Her opportunity came that evening, when Jimmy texted her asking if she wanted to meet up at Molly's. And yeah, a drink sounded fun, because Jimmy was fun, and she was having fun getting to know him better. He met her outside, texting someone when she walked up and bumped her shoulder against his arm. "Hey," she said casually, trying to look over his arm at his phone screen so she could eavesdrop on his conversation. "Who you talkin' to?"

"Letting my mom know you're still coming to dinner Saturday," he said, showing her the conversation he had with his mom. "She's excited to meet you." Sylvie glanced at him, making a face.

"She doesn't think we're dating does she?"

"She keeps calling me Danny, so no," said Jimmy, giving her a pained look. He sighed and pocketed his phone. "Mom's a little out of it, anti-depressants and vodka will do that though." Sylvie turned her head sharply, opening her mouth to yell about how that combination was extremely dangerous, when he held up his hand to stop her. "Don't, I know, but she won't listen."

"I'm so sorry, Jimmy," Sylvie sympathised, taking his arm and steering him into the bar. "I got the first round, okay? Get a table?"

He broke away from her with a nod and headed to the back of the bar, claiming a high table. Sylvie watched him from the bar as he pulled his phone out again, her eyes sweeping over his profile before it was obscured by a group of people who walked in front of him. Sylvie turned back around and nearly jumped out of her skin when she found Otis standing directly in front of her with his eyebrows raised.

"Hi, Sylvie," he said pointedly, glancing over her shoulder. "You here with Jimmy?"

She nodded. "Yeah, we're hanging out." He looked skeptical, his eyes darting back to Jimmy again, and Sylvie rolled her eyes. "We're just hanging out," she insisted, pressing her palms against the countertop and leaning forward on them. "Otis? Can I get some drinks?"

He made a face but it was gone so fast she might have missed it if she blinked. "Comin' right up," he said begrudgingly. "Beers?" She nodded. They were fast and simple and she was back at the table in a matter of minutes, plinking a bottle in front of Jimmy with a flourish as she hopped into the seat across from him.

He thanked her, putting his phone down. "Otis harass you?"

She sighed. "I don't know how much longer I can pretend that his...crush on me isn't a big deal," she muttered, taking a pull from her beer. Jimmy shook his head.

"You should have confronted him about it months ago, Brett. Pretending it's not there wont make it go away."

"But it's Otis," she whined, feeling pathetic about the whole thing. "I'm not just going to come out and say it, that would be cruel."

"Sure, it's cruel now. But six months ago? A year ago? You've let it go on too long." Sylvie rolled her eyes, but she knew he was right. He'd always been right about Otis. How he became the only person she could talk to about it, she didn't know. Hours together in an ambulance and they had to talk about something. Might as well be gossip. Jimmy shrugged and lifted his beer to his lips. "You know I'm right."

"I'm just hoping it'll fade away," she admitted guiltily. "At first I didn't want to say anything because, I mean, Cruz and I had just broken up. What kind of guy does that to their best friend after they break up?" Jimmy shrugged politely, but she could tell he had some choice words to say about Joe as well. Again, Sylvie sighed. "It's not Joe's fault that he didn't tell me about Otis' feelings. He has no right to interfere anyway."

"Yeah? Well I get to interfere all I want, and I'm telling you, Brett, you need to stop it before it gets weird."

"Like you and Chili?" she snapped, instantly regretting it when his eyes narrowed dangerously. He finished his beer, sliding out of his chair as he did.

"I got the next round."

"Jimmy," Sylvie groaned, lying pathetically across the tabletop as he turned to go to the bar, kicking her feet childishly "I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

He glanced back at her with a bemused look, shaking his head as he faced the bar and waited for Otis. Sylvie huffed, sitting up far enough to prop her chin on her hand. She flicked her eyes to the side as someone slid into one of the other seats at the table, quirking an eyebrow at Severide.

"You and Jimmy hangin' out?" he asked, the same way Otis had earlier.

"Am I not allowed to hang out with him or something?"

Severide started shaking his head, and stopped, grimacing a little. "Well, I mean he did just go through something huge in his life. He's probably not looking at you as a friend right now."

Sylvie straightened up, holding a finger up sternly. "Okay, first of all, Jimmy could use a friend. God knows no one else is right now. And second," she added another finger. "If Jimmy wanted to get laid, he'd have his pick of the bar. Girl's are all about trying to fix the broody hot danger guy; I'm just here to vet the crazy ones."

Severide held his hands up defensively, laughing harder as she went on. "Alright, alright, so you're just hanging out. I only came over to see how he was doing." Because she was right and she knew it, no one was talking to Jimmy right now. Not in the aftermath of trying to get Boden fired. It had been tough, really tough, but they all got through it; they were stronger for it.

Jimmy came back with round 2 before Sylvie could answer, nodding in greeting to Severide. "Hey Kelly," he said. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Your son Ethan," said Sylvie, latching onto the opportunity to make Jimmy pay for that morning. Severide choked on his drink, while Jimmy just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, did you know Jimmy had a kid?"

"I don't have a kid."

"He plays baseball, lives in Milwaukee with his mom, and he's seven years old-"

"He's six," Jimmy corrected, giving her a look, then back to Severide to follow up casually. "And he doesn't exist."

"Just...stop talking." And they did.

For like three seconds.

"So Jimmy was in high school -"

"I never got anyone pregnant in high school."

Severide lifted a hand before she could fire off something else, agreeing with Jimmy. "I can vouch for that, I've seen his high school yearbook picture."

But Sylvie paused, narrowing her eyes on Jimmy. "Interesting choice of words: never got anyone pregnant in high school, huh? Jimmy Borrelli, do you actually have a kid somewhere?"

"Interesting," said Severide slowly, looking over at Jimmy with a quirk of his eyebrow. Jimmy just shook his head at her, fighting off a smile.

"No, Sylvie Brett, I do not have a kid somewhere."

"But you've gotten someone pregnant?" Jimmy looked at Severide, giving him a little 'come on' gesture.

"You're kind of a slut, Kelly, you know how it is."

Severide looked at her with a small, slightly guilty nod. "This is true, it's just a fact of life that sometimes those little guys just break through and-"

"You are both gross, and you are paying for my therapy."

Severide left with a snort, leaving them alone again. Sylvie wrapped her hands around her beer bottle, still not having touched her new one, and stared at the label. Jimmy reached across the table and touched her wrist. "Hey," he started, trying to get her attention. "We were just screwing with you, you know that right?"

Sylvie glanced at him, a weak smile flashing across her face. "No you weren't," she corrected him. He squeezed her hand a little, giving her the courage she didn't know she needed. "Confession? I've been pregnant, and even though things didn't work out - maybe especially - listening to you joke about it hurts."

Jimmy nodded, eyes turning down, but he didn't let go of her, he kept his hand on her wrist as she finished her beer and reached for a second. He didn't say anything to her until she was halfway finished with that one. "Jessica," he said, just the one word, and Sylvie paused with her beer against her lips, holding her breath. "She called me, after Boden fired her."

Sylvie put down her beer bottle abruptly, leaning forward with wide eyes. "Chili?" she whispered. "No." Jimmy pursed his lips and nodded.

"Yup," he sighed. "I don't even know why she bothered to tell me," he glanced at her with a wiry smile. "She kind of hates me, you know?"

"That's impossible," Sylvie told him immediately. "You are impossible to hate. Sometimes I want to punch you in the throat, but never hate. No one could hate you."

He nodded to her, the ghost of a smile around his mouth as he pulled his hand back and stood. "Something stronger this round? I could use a shot."

Sylvie groaned. "We have to be on shift in the morning, I can't do it hung over." But he was still staring at her, like he expected her to cave at any second. "Fine, one shot." she was so weak.

Sylvie forced a bagged lunch into Jimmy's hands the next morning, with dark circles under her eyes and still smelling like whipped cream vodka. It must have gotten into her hair while they were drinking at Molly's, and she'd woken up more hungover than she'd meant to be that morning and no time to shower. He was lucky she did this for him.

Jimmy looked at her, an eyebrow raised in silent confusion. "It's lunch," she explained, like he was slow. "I made you lunch. It's my last chance to prove how much better I am at cooking than you are, and after tonight we'll both know it."

He sighed, but when he looked down at the bagged lunch she'd shoved at him, he smirked. "Thanks for the passive aggressive lunchbox, Sylvie." She tsk'd. "We've had fun the last couple days, haven't we?" he admitted, turning to put the food in the fridge. She followed, nodding in agreement.

"I feel closer to you than ever," she sigh dramatically, batting her eyelashes at him, Jimmy flicked her on the nose gently, sidestepping her.

"You're gonna give my parents the wrong impression, talking like that," he teased her. Sylvie whacked him on the shoulder as he passed her, clicking her tongue indignantly.

"You're the one who's letting them think we're dating," she sniffed. Otis and Stella looked up at them from the table, each wearing expressions that varied from horror to delight.

"You two are doin' it?" asked Stella, her eyes bouncing from Jimmy to Sylvie. Jimmy just smirked at her, but Sylvie pressed her foot against the back of his knee with a sneer.

"No," she groused, dropping into the couch. Jimmy followed her, lounging into the corner with his arm resting along the back of the cushions while Sylvie kicked her feet into his lap. "Jimmy's taking me to his parents for dinner."

"When you say it like that it sounds like we're dating," Jimmy pointed out. Sylvie rolled her eyes.

"Could you imagine the two of us dating?" she scoffed, gesturing between them. Jimmy only grinned at her, but Stella 'hm'd and looked away. Sylvie leaned to the side, fixing the other woman with a suspicious look. Her own heart was pounding, because she did imagine the two of them together sometimes. 'Cause her life was boring and sad. Stella shrugged.

"I can see it," she said innocently, making Jimmy twist around to stare at her too. "You'd be pretty cute, I think."

Otis made a face, shaking his head. "I don't know, really? They work together, wouldn't it get weird?"

Jimmy turned back around and fixed Sylvie with a pointed look, moving her feet off his lap and standing up with a heavy sigh. "As much fun as this is, I need to go inventory the rig."

"I hate you," Sylvie hissed at him as he shot her a wink and left her alone with Stella and Otis arguing about her non-existent love life with Jimmy. It took about five minutes before she was sick of it. "I'm gonna go help Jimmy."

She made it out of earshot before she could ear Otis' response to Stella's - "You see how easy it would be for them to get away with it?" and standing outside the open doors of the rig to watch Jimmy inventory their supplies.

"Couldn't take it, huh?"

"They're like children, I swear," she muttered. "And I mean at first Stella was serious but by the end of it she was just trying to rile up Otis."

He glanced at her, pausing his gauze count. "You think she was serious?"

Sylvie shrugged and crossed her arms, leaning against the door of the ambulance. "She wasn't around for you and Chili, or me and Cruz; just us as partners. It probably doesn't seem strange at all to her."

He snorted lightly, grinning down at his inventory list. "Good strange maybe," he muttered, making her eyes narrow.

"What was that, Borrelli?"

"We'd be hot together and you know it," he fired back, making her laugh, especially because he was pointing at her with a C collar and looking so serious she knew there was no way he couldn't be kidding.

"Maybe if you hadn't answered my confession of love with 'I'm flattered' you would have a shot. But you ruined it, now I just think of you as a brother."

He raised an eyebrow, tossing the C collar behind him as he hopped out of the ambulance, standing a little too close to her. "A brother?" he asked, one hand on the door to the rig behind her, staring down at her as he leaned in. Sylvie didn't back down, just nodded casually, eyebrows raised defiantly at the challenged, almost animal-like look in his eyes.

"Oh yeah," she said, like this was all just so inconvenient. "I have about as much sexual awareness of you as I did of Mills." He snorted.

"Oh really?" She nodded. "So if I…" he trailed off suggestively, running his hand over her waist and along the small of her back, pulling her nearly against him. Sylvie shrugged, hoping he couldn't hear her heart pounding in her ribcage.

"Totally cool with it."

He glanced down a little, to the hands she didn't realized were clutching his sides. She snatched the traitorous appendages away, balling them into fists at her hips. She wasn't 100% sure she wouldn't punch him when his eyes flicked back up to look at her knowingly. "Not phased at all?"

Sylvie made a face at him, watching his eyes fall back to her mouth, bracing herself for what he might do next. "Not even a little."

They pulled away from each other at the sound of alarms overhead, sharing a look before they walked past each other to climb into the cab of the ambulance. "We're not gonna talk about what just happened, right?" Jimmy called over to her as he opened the driver's side door. Sylvie's hands were shaking from adrenaline as she fumbled with her seatbelt, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Forget it ever happened."

They were doing a lot of that lately.

Sylvie was still pulling confetti out of her hair in the bathroom when Jimmy walked in, pulling the wet, glitter stained t-shirt he was wearing off his body. He nodded to her, grabbing a towel out of his bag and rubbing it over his hair. "You'd think people would be more considerate."

"It was Pride, Jimmy."

"We were in the middle of traching a guy in the field, was the glitter canon really necessary?"

Sylvie snorted, examining her hair for any pieces she was missing. He stepped up behind her, and she froze as his fingers slid along her shoulder. He pulled a piece she'd missed from the nape of her neck, reaching around her to place it in the pile she had on the sink. "Missed some."

She covered up her pounding heart by fluttering her eyelashes at him jokingly. "I want to look my best when I meet your parents." He snorted at her, smirking and tossed his bag onto the sink to pull out a fresh shirt for the evening. Thank god their shift was done, no way she could take any more adrenaline fueled closeness with Jimmy. It was like every time they made eye contact today her body screamed at her to shove him against the nearest solid object and give him something he couldn't forget.

His skin disappeared beneath the fabric of his button up shirt, looking nice and casual and making her mouth dry at the sight of him. "Well, I'm gonna go get ready," Sylvie said quickly, backing away from Jimmy. He twisted to watch her leave, toothbrush hanging out the corner of his mouth. "Meet you out front in like twenty?" He nodded.

"No problem."

But it was a problem. Sylvie was standing in her bra and slacks, having stopped changing mid-way through when she realized she didn't know what to wear. She'd brought two dresses with her to work, and one of her favorite sweater/skirt combos, thinking she'd just decide what to wear in the moment. Well, that moment was here, and she was stuck between all three. Someone cleared their throat behind her, and Sylvie barely glanced over her shoulder to see Capp standing behind her, looking at her strangely.

She didn't even care that she was half naked.

"Hey, Brett," he said slowly. "What are you doin'?"

Sylvie sighed heavily, gesturing to her locker. "Trying to decide what to wear."

"Huh." There was a beat, then she felt Capp move to stand beside her, looking seriously at her choices. "What's the occasion?" he asked. "Date?"

"Just Jimmy."

Capp made a funny sound in the back of his throat that could have been a laugh. "So a date with Jimmy? Heard you were meeting his parents."

"It's not a date," she insisted with an eyeroll. But Capp just shook his head.

"Sure it isn't," he agreed - except his tone was strangely sarcastic, and it made her turn her head slowly to stare at him. "You're just stressing out over what to wear, and I heard you've been cooking for him every day this week -"

"I haven't -"

" - Plus there was that little stunt we all saw yesterday morning at the ambo, when you guys almost kissed."

"People saw that?"

"Go with the grey," said Capp, reaching out to take the soft grey, cowl neckline dress out of her locker, holding it out to her. "It's flattering, and it makes your eyes pop." Sylvie blinked, taking the dress from him, a weird little smile on her face.

"Thanks...I guess."

He smiled back, completely genuine and not at all teasing her like anyone else at the firehouse would. "No problem. Let me know how it goes with Jimmy."

Sylvie kept the smile on her face until he left, when he did - her smile fell, leaving her face looking sour. Oh, so everyone knew about the ambulance, huh? Damn. There was probably a pool going on or something; perfect, just what she needed. She changed quickly, muttering to herself the whole time, fixing her makeup and letting down her hair.

Jimmy was waiting for her at his car, his hands in his pockets, leaning against the hood with his ankles crossed. His eyes ran over her a few times when he noticed she was headed his way, but for the life of her she couldn't tell what he was thinking. He did smile at her, opening the passenger's door when she was close.

"You look pretty," he told her, the compliment not helping to settle the butterflies in her stomach.

"Thanks, I had some help picking it out." Jimmy narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Dawson?"

"Capp."

He snorted, shaking his head as she climbed in. He shut the door and got behind the wheel, glancing at her briefly before he started the car. "He's got good taste."

Oh.

Her fingers kept twisting and smoothing out the hem of her dress as he drove, a nervous tick that she wasn't sure didn't come from Capp calling this a date. Jimmy let the radio fill the silence for a little while, until he started telling her about what she should look out for when it came to his family.

"Mom won't be totally there, but she's really nice," he was saying, sounding like the apologetic son making excuses for the mother he adored. "And my dad, well he's not one for cooking, which is why I'm coming over at all. Usually mom does it but she hasn't been well…"

"You really don't have to explain, Jimmy," she said, interrupting him with a sympathetic look in his direction. He shrugged. "I'm serious, I understand. Your parents need you."

"Losing Danny was really hard on them," he confessed, sounding nonplussed, like it wasn't hard for him too. He glanced at her as he pulled up to a stop sign, his eyes flicking over her with an unreadable expression on his face. "I'm really glad you're coming with me," he told her sincerely, making her blush. "Thanks."

He wasn't going to listen to her telling him how not a problem it was for her, so she didn't say it; instead she smiled at him, settling into her seat with a comfortable sigh. "You owe me," she said instead, making him grin. "I'm serious, Borrelli; if this dinner isn't fantastic you're going to have to be my slave for like a month."

"Oh, right, for all the trouble you're going through?" he asked with a scoff, glancing at her. She nodded, smiling cutely. "Poor Sylvie…"

He trailed off, still grining, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence until Jimmy started to pull off into a residential neighborhood. Sylvie sat up, looking around in awe at the old neighborhood; with the sun starting to set behind the houses it looked totally sweat, like a Hallmark card.

"You grew up here?" she asked curiously as he pulled the car into the driveway halfway down the block.

"All my life," he answer simply, climbing out of the car. He rested his arms on the hood as Sylvie got out, staring out at his parents house with a different, almost nostalgic, look in his eyes. "I'm really glad I don't live here anymore though."

She stared at him as he stared at the house, her fingers climbing over the doorframe and resting her chin against them. "Was it bad?" she asked softly, not wanting to bring up anything that might ruin the evening. He just shrugged.

"Not always," he answered. "Everyone is loud, and rude. No one knows how to keep their mouth shut, or when." He looked over at her, a small smile hovering around the corners of his lips. "But everyone's been around since Danny died, taking turns looking in on my parents. I can't imagine having a better family."

And in this light, Sylvie had never been so in love with him.

They both started sharply as the front door of the house banged open, heads snapping around to find a middle aged man looming in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame with his arms folded across his chest.

"You two ever gonna come inside?"

Jimmy glanced at her, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. "Shoulda seen that coming," he told her, sounding a little embarrassed. Sylvie grinned and him and stepped back to head up to the house with him, bounding up the stairs to introduce herself to the man in the door while Jimmy followed behind. "Hey, Dad. You up for some company?"

Mr. Borrelli snorted lightly, and looking closely Sylvie could see how much Danny had resembled their dad; the lighter hair and blue eyes were all Danny. He nodded to her, looking her up and down for a moment before stepping to the side and letting them in. "You must be who my wife keeps going on about," he told her, patting Jimmy on the shoulder when he was close enough to touch. Jimmy slung his arm over his dad's shoulders, pulling him in tightly.

"Yeah, this is Sylvie," he said, holding his hand out to her. "She's my partner on the ambulance. Syl, this is my dad Tony."

Sylvie watched Tony lean into Jimmy side for a moment, lowering his voice. "You're mom's in the den," he told Jimmy quietly, pulling away when Jimmy nodded, jaw tight. "I think she'd like to meet your friend."

"I'll let her know I'm here," said Jimmy, sparing Sylvie a small, apologetic smile as he stepped around her and headed into the house. Tony watched him for a second, a dark look on his face.

"I almost lost both of them," he said, then looked at Sylvie, pinning her with a pained, angry stare. "Did you know that?"

She nodded, shoulders hunching as a sudden chill coursed through her limbs. She had watched Jimmy run in after Danny from the sidelines, and thought nothing of it - it wasn't anything any other firefighter wouldn't do. But after Boden went in after him, and the roof collapsed, she'd been damn near inconsolable. If she had thought it would help, she would have screamed Jimmy's name until the universe brought him back out of that building safe and sound. "Yes, sir," she answered quietly.

He nodded, and Sylvie watched him go from angry to ashamed in an instant. "Don't tell Jimmy," he told her quietly. "But I'd rather it was Danny dead than him."

Sylvie nodded again, looking down at her shoes, agreeing softly. "Me too." But she knew it didn't mean much. She would have picked Jimmy over almost anyone. Tony brushed his hand over her arm for just a second, pressing his against her back and forcing her to start walking. She looked up in surprise as she was lead into the living room, eyes landing on Jimmy. For a half second she dreaded that he had heard them, but his eyes were light when he looked back at her from the kitchen.

"Sylvie's helping me with dinner, and Mom just went outside to the garden." Tony squeezed her shoulder tightly before he let her go, a smile on his face that matched his sons.

"She's been going out there more. It's good for her."

Jimmy nodded, pausing a second to look at his dad seriously. "How you doin', Dad?" Sylvie moved around Tony and headed into the kitchen to join Jimmy as his father hemmed and hawed about how fine he was. She touched his back as she walked behind him, earning a glance but little more as she stopped at his side.

Tony made noise about finding some music and left them quickly, leaving Jimmy to sigh and turn to her. "So, what he say to you?"

She mulled around the idea of telling Jimmy how grateful his dad was for him. She nearly told him that she was half convinced her dad was trying to flirt with her - and maybe a few months ago he would have been better at it, but now he just sounded broken. She wanted to tell him what a good son he was. Instead she shrugged. "Nothing, really."

He looked like he didn't believe her. But after a tense moment of staring he turned away to start dinner. "C'mon, Brett. Make yourself useful."

And she was reluctant to admit it, but Jimmy could cook. Nothing outlandish, but simple homestyle dishes he must have learned to do when he was little. He would brush up behind her and screw with whatever she was trying to stir or check on, and in retaliation she would smear flour across his face.

Only when his made-from-scratch lasagna was in the oven and she was wiping her hands with a damp towel did Jimmy say anything to her that wasn't crude jokes or firehouse gossip. He was looking at her oddly, rising a pan in the sink as she stood by him and watched.

"Do you still have feelings for me?" he asked her seriously, causing her head to snap up too quickly. Her mouth dropped open wordlessly, just as he looked back at the dirty dishes he was working on. "Because that first call we had, when I came back after Danny's funeral, I've been thinking about that lately," he sounded so nonchalant about it, and she couldn't make her brain work fast enough to stop him. "I didn't realize I had fallen in love with you until then, you know?" He glanced at her again, a small furrow between his eyebrows. Jimmy handed her a slightly soapy, wet dish for her to dry, not letting go when she took it automatically.

"Yeah," she answered softly, stomach twisting into knots. "Yeah, I do still…"

He nodded back, letting go of the dish and turning back to the sink. "Alright, cool."

That snapped her out of her stupor, blinking at him quickly and rolling her eyes. "God, you are just the worst."

"Oh sue me, I'm terrible at flirting."

"I think this ranks right up there with 'I'm flattered'," she scoffed, tossing her damp rag at his head. "Who taught you how to talk to girls? And don't you dare say Danny, because he's married and there is no way someone as hot as Stacey would go for a line like 'alright, cool'."

He shook his head, trying not to smile outright as she berated him. Sylvie turned around, leaning her back against the edge of the counter so she could look up at him, her head tilted to the side and a fond smile on her face. "So, you love me?"

To his credit he didn't blush, only looked at her. "Yeah," was his simple response, not even embarrassed. "Hard not to." He smirked a little. "I mean, everyone else does right?"

She smacked the back of her hand against his arm lightly, shaking her head. "Is that why you invited me over? So you could finally confess your feelings?"

He shook his head. "Nah, just a bonus," he told her, drying his hands and turning to face her fully, one hand resting on the counter next to her. "This week has been pretty great," his head tilted slightly, staring at her in that way he did when he was trying to figure her out. "Hanging out, getting closer. I like you, Sylvie," he admitted sincerely. "I want to be with you."

Sylvie shifted under his gaze, eyes on his lips as he poured out his feelings. This was going to be so bad for the house, but she needed it, painfully. She reached for him, raising up on her toes to press her lips against his and feeling his hand against her waist as he kissed her back. Her hand was clutching at the open collar of his shirt when she broke away, ruining the fold with her grip; and she pulled back a little further when Jimmy leaned in to kiss her again.

"Don't," she warned him, eyes still lidded. "This isn't real."

He frowned at her. "What do you mean? Of course it's real."

But Sylvie shook her head, remembering what Severide had said to her the other day at Molly's. He wasn't thinking of her as just a friend, and her pathetic ass just couldn't see it. "You don't want me, Jimmy," she told him, still not looking at him, but at the buttons on his shirt. "You just want to feel something better than what Danny dying left you with. And I'm sorry, but I can't be that buffer -"

"You aren't -"

"Just," Sylvie interrupted him with a deep breath, straightening to her full height and praying he wouldn't tell her what she wanted him to. "Don't."

He was staring at her with a pained, disbelieving expression on his face. "Sylvie."

"Just…" and it killed her to say it as she pulled away, resting her hand flat against his chest. The oven dinged, letting them know dinner was ready, and from the other end of the house she heard a door open and Jimmy's mom come inside, whistling cheerily. She spared him a weak smile, stepping away. "Forget it."