rebyell

[rebyell]

[rebyell]

[rebyell]

[rebyell]

[rebyell]

[rebyell]

What Was and What Should Be, Chapter Two

She woke up hung over and alone. She wasn’t surprised by either condition. There was a note from Matt, though, on the stationery her grandmother had given her. She read it quickly, it just said he’d left around 4 am, to avoid her roommates and hopefully any awkward insinuations from Severide and Kidd. He hoped she felt okay and if she was still interested in that ‘when we date’ idea from last night, she should let him know next shift. God, had she really tried to… yes, yes she had. Thank God he had the self-control she apparently did not last night. He was interested though, or at least, he’d felt interested. And his note said he was, right? He’d also felt nicely sized – not like a circus freak, thank God, but nicely hung. She felt a little guilty thinking about that even just in her own head, but…still, nice. His note said next shift though, so she didn’t want to seem weird by texting him right now. She might’ve needed to be drunk to put the idea out there, but she wanted Matt Casey, and Gabby Dawson be damned – Dawson had abandoned both of them, and if she didn’t want Matt, well, other women, smart women, they did. Plus, and she’d never, ever, tell Matt this, she had felt awful when he talked about his date last night – rejection always stung, and something in his words or face or bearing, she was too drunk last night to quite put a finger on it, had said he believed what he’d been told: no one would want him, not the him who wasn’t just a hot guy in a bar random hook-up. But she couldn’t date him out of pity. She wouldn’t. It was just that knowing he was dating other women made her jealous. Seeing him date other women who didn’t appreciate him made her sad and mad both. She really did like him. She’d always liked him, but now she was sure she liked him. She’d hoped it would go away, then just wanted to wait for something, she didn’t even know what. But why wait? Dawson was gone, she was interested, and Matt was interested, why not? She didn’t have many regrets actually, except that she’d come on so strong. God, she hoped he didn’t think she was a slut or something. Not that Casey was likely to call anyone a slut, he really wasn’t judgmental like that (he probably couldn’t be, he’d been friends with Severide for like two decades).

She wandered out to the living room, unsurprised to find Otis was up before her, already doing some thing or other on the computer. He looked up and smiled at her.

“You got a ride last night, right?” He asked.

“Casey brought me home.” “Thought he had a date last night.” Otis remarked lightly.

“He did. It didn’t go well. Dropped by Molly’s after, seemed to be looking for company. Foster got me drunk and left, so he brought me here, and we went to bed. Joe still at Chloe’s?” “I guess so. You know, I don’t want to overstep or anything, but…is there something between you and Casey? I mean, something more than friends?” “Because he brought me home when I was drunk?” “That. And he talks more to you than he does to anyone else. Which is not often, because Casey is practically mute some days. But still, you guys spend a lot of time together. And he’s gotten really protective.” “So have you and Joe.” She pointed out.

“Well, we’re your roommates. That’s our job.” Otis replied.

“And he’s Casey – he’s protective of everyone in the house. The girls especially.” She sighed, thinking on Kidd’s occasional and Foster’s more regular frustration with Casey’s tendency to hover over them on the more dangerous calls. He wasn’t sexist, they all knew that, he was just…a worrier. He knew the physical capabilities of every person in the house, knew what he could physically ask them to do, and his knowledge of the differential in strength for the women seemed to make him just a little more nervous about them.

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t look at Kidd and Foster like he looks at you.” “Maybe…maybe there’s something.” She admitted. “I was drunk last night and he brought me home-“ “He brought you back here, drunk, and you said ‘we went to bed’-” “Don’t, Otis.” She bit out, not liking the implication in his tone, like Matt would take advantage of her. Otis had known Casey for a decade, he had to know him better than that by now. “I was drunk, I made a move on him, and he said we’d talk about it when I was sober, and I basically passed out. He left. He was exactly the sort of gentleman that anyone who knows him would’ve expected.” “But you’re interested in him?” Otis’ nose wrinkled. “The two of you are going to be dating? Does he just have a thing for paramedics, or no, people in medicine, he was engaged to a doctor before.” “That’s none of your business. Matt and I still have to talk about things, when we’re both sober.” “Matt? You call him Matt now?” “Sometimes. It’s weird to call him ‘Casey’ and think of him as…you know, more than a friend.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but he is your boss. He’s out of line dating a subordinate. Again. He’s also not got a great track record with relationships.” “Not really my boss – he’s mostly just yours, and Joe’s. I mean, and the firefighters generally.” She sighed, and asked the only question she could think to ask at this point. “Are you gonna be weird about this because you don’t like Casey or because he’s your boss, or are you gonna trust my judgment? And his?” She paused, stuck on something. “Wait, do you actually not like Casey?” “As a boss, he’s great.” Otis shrugged. “I don’t know about as a boyfriend. That whole mess with Dawson was all over the place, on and off so many times, and she was mad at him a lot – you must’ve heard about how often he tried to tell her what to do, didn’t support her, we all did, at least in what she implied – and he was on and off with his fiancée before, too. I don’t think on-and-off is what you deserve.” “I think…” She trailed off for a second, trying to put into words the suspicions that had been forming for her ever since Dawson left so suddenly, and Matt’s admission that he couldn’t have stopped her, “I think he said so little and she said so much that we all sort of assumed things about their relationship. And I think he is the one who got most hurt in that. So maybe he deserves a lot of benefits of the doubt.” “Just be careful. He’s a good guy, just…I don’t want you to get hurt by him. Okay?” “Okay.” She didn’t have the heart to admit that she was more worried she was going to hurt Matt than the other way around. She didn’t really have a great ‘track record’ with engagements herself so she couldn’t exactly judge Matt. And Gabby left him, and none of them knew what the cause of the break-up was, just that she decided to go to Puerto Rico and she decided to stay permanently and Matt stayed in Chicago. So to her way of thinking, Matt got hurt more than Gabby did in that whole mess. At least Gabby had made the decisions, Matt just got left behind.

**************************************************************

She didn’t have that many, or any, regrets about kissing the face off Matt Casey until she actually walked into the house the following shift. Not that her feelings about Matt changed, but she had to face him now, and that could be awkward. She’d sort of spilled her guts, and then she’d also sort of groped him, and she hoped that she’d not just been really drunk, the kissing really had gone well, otherwise it could be weird now. Would he act differently now? He’d always acted differently with Dawson, no one could ever miss how he felt about her, even when he was annoyed or hurt or angry it was obvious. But he said hello with a warm smile, no different than usual, and went about working on some paperwork while eating breakfast, and seemed completely not awkward at all. It was a busy shift, for all the vehicles, so there wasn’t much time to talk, and she hadn’t yet figured out how she wanted to affirm for him that even sober, she had no regrets about that ‘we’re dating now’ declaration she’d made (well, how she’d made it, yes, regrets, but not the idea of it). So she was happy to leave it at he was being normal. Otis kept giving them both odd looks, as if he expected some major announcement, catastrophe, or something to spontaneously occur. She didn’t realize she was being quiet in the ambo until Foster called her out on it late in the afternoon.

“What’s up with you? You’re too quiet, something happen since last shift?” “You happened. Sort of.” Sylvie admitted, then realized she’d have to explain. “You got me drunk at Molly’s because I can never keep up with you.” “You didn’t drive there, so what’s wrong with ending up drunk at a bar?” Foster paused, a smile spreading across her face. “Did you pick up a guy at Molly’s? That’s good. Girl you need to get out there more.” “Oh, I got out there. And now I have to figure out how to talk to him about it, which, hey, I’ve basically jumped his bones so you’d think talking wouldn’t be that hard, but he’s…he’s Matt, and he’s-“ “Wait, Matt as in Matthew Casey, Captain Casey?” Foster practically shouted. “You’re stressing over the fact that you finally hooked up with Casey?”

“We didn’t ‘hook up’.” Sylvie defended. “He took me home, and I was drunk, and I may have…I kissed him, but he kissed me back, but then he said I was too drunk to make any decisions and I should let him know after next shift, this shift, if I still wanted to date him.” “So, do you?” “Of course I do.” Sylvie nearly rolled her eyes. “You and Kidd have both been practically shoving me at him for months. Then there’s Olivia at spin class. Plus, he’s Casey. He’s a great guy and it’s not like he’s not attractive.” “So, just tell him you’re interested.” “I don’t want to just…I have to figure out what I want to say. Should I just say I meant it and let him ask me out, or do I just ask him out directly? If I ask him out, where do we go?” “Ask him out. It’s 2019. Just take him out. Not to Molly’s.” “God, no. Someplace that isn’t full of every firefighter either of us knows, for sure.” “What’s his favorite place? Or do something he’d like, like…maybe hockey or something.” “I know that this band he likes is playing at the Aragon next week.” “Concerts are good.” Foster encouraged. “Fun, public, but shows that you like some of the same stuff – though you guys have worked together for like five years, you already know each other.” “Exactly.” That was part of her problem with figuring out what to do. “I’ve already gotten to know him, and he knows me, so most of the point of dating is already out of the way. I even know what kind of underwear he wears.” “How do you know what kind of underwear the captain wears if you didn’t hook up?” “Well, he did end up without his pants in my bed-“ “That is the definition of hooking up!” “Sleeping. But no, I know because like I said months ago, it’s complicated because I was his ex-wife’s best friend. So how do I date him now? And what if Gabby comes back, even for a visit?” “You can’t put your life on hold for a random what if.” Foster wrinkled her nose. “And Dawson left – you, him, everything. She had to know he wasn’t going to be a priest or whatever.” “Well, no, but not with me.” “It’s ancient history, like Kidd said. You like him. He likes you. Jump his bones already.” “We can’t just skip to sex.” “Why not?” Foster asked. “You skipped the getting-to-know-you parts of dating, now it’s time to see if the sex is good. You’re good friends, if you add in good sex, you’re pretty much straight into a serious relationship – just sprinkle in the occasional romantic dinner date or something.”

“What if it isn’t good?” “The sex?” “Then, we’ve ruined a great friendship, and one we can’t escape because we work together.” “I’ve known Casey a little over a year. He doesn’t strike me as the type for the sex not being good.” “How can you know that?” “He’s totally the controlled, calm, stoic guy during the day, freak between the sheets – bet he goes like a freight train.” Foster paused. “Not that I’ve spent a lot of time imagining, just saying he’s hot and a guy that hot knows his way around sex.”

“Exactly. He could have lots of women. What if I’m not…his type.” “I don’t think he has a type, except a kick-ass determined woman, and you’re definitely that. Plus, I don’t think even if it’s awkward or something, he’s gonna let it ruin a friendship. He has to be used to awkward.” “What do you mean?” “He lives with Lieutenant Severide. Who is dating, now living with, Kidd, who works for Casey. Think about it. Kidd and him have to have run into each other in the kitchen or something on a lot of mornings after. If that hasn’t made things awkward, one date with you will be fine. Plus, everyone knows he likes you.”

“Fine. I’ll just…ask him out. To the concert. But if it goes horribly awkward, I’m blaming you. You got me drunk and left me to end up going home with him.” Sylvie announced, just as they pulled up to the address they had for the person in distress.

“I bring only the best things into your life.” Foster responded with a laugh.

[rebyell]

Chicago Fire Fic: What Was and What Should Be, Ch. 1

Sylvie tried to find something to say that was light and encouraging. She actually appreciated that she was now one of the people Casey leaned on the most at 51 – he didn’t really have anyone outside the house, and he’d admitted that with Kidd having moved in to Severide’s place, he felt awkward talking to Severide about much, like he was horning in on their couple time. So he was going out more, trying to ‘move on’ apparently while also staying out of their way, working long hours on construction projects so he was only really sleeping there, but Sylvie really wanted to be encouraging his pursuit of happiness, not be a jealous meanie, who thought he was hot, and kind, and sweet, and hot – how had she not noticed how handsome he was when he was married? She’d been so convinced that he was so lucky to have Gabby, but damn, Gabby had been lucky to have him, too. So Matt was talking to her now, not Severide. This time, it had been an insensitive bitch (Sylvie’s thoughts, not his) who had basically cut him off at the knees when he mentioned he had a roommate. They’d been going out three weeks (Casey’s attempts at being discrete were ruined by the perpetual gossip queens at 51, so this was not news), and the woman had wanted to go back to his, and he’d gotten to the fact he was living with a friend (he had not, he said, gotten to the whole ‘I lost everything I owned in a fire and insurance is insisting that the court case be finished before officially determining I wasn’t the arsonist’). Apparently, he’d passed along, having a roommate at 37 made him a ‘loser’ who was ‘immature, financially unstable, or worse, both’ and that he’d never find a normal woman who’d date a guy nearing 40 who didn’t at least have his shit together enough to live on his own. She could imagine Matt, sweet, solemn, genuinely-cares-about-what-you’re-saying, and much more sensitive than most people knew Matt Casey, listening to a woman he liked call him a loser and then getting stuck with the dinner-and-drinks bill, and here he was, of course, blaming himself, believing this woman (though he didn’t say as much, it was pretty obvious, and she was drunk, so it must be really obvious) and it made her mad. Very mad. He was such a decent guy, and that face, and he was nicely built, and he was not a loser at all – even when she was sober she totally did not think he was a loser at all. He was kind and warm and very responsible and very mature and very hot. Okay, she was drunk, and focusing on the ‘attractive’ thing a little too much.

“You don’t have to disagree with her, you know.” Matt managed a sad attempt at a half-smile. Her confusion must have shown on her face. “You look like you’re trying to come up with a nice, supportive, Sylvie Brett way of saying she’s right – of all the fish in the sea, I’m the worst catch, so to speak.”

“Uhm, no, not what was I thinking at all. Trust me, you have to scrape the bottom of a really deep barrel to be the worst catch in the sea.” She meant that, truly, there were a surprisingly high number of shitty people in the dating pool. Like apparently this Miranda woman he’d been seeing. Seeing the look on his face, she kept going, “Not that you’re a bad catch at all, Matt Casey. You’re kind, and sweet, and very handsome, and you’ve got a good job – two good jobs really, so bonus for that – and you’re a great friend, and you have the most amazing eyes, has anyone told you that?” “You’ve been trying to keep up with Foster again, haven’t you?” He asked, a more genuine smile spreading across his face.

“No, well, yes, but she bought and she kept buying, before she left to go to some thing for a friend or with a friend or about a friend.” Sylvie explained. “But me being drunk is not why you have beautiful eyes. You just do. Me being drunk might be why I’m saying it though. But it’s better than saying the other thing I was thinking, so it’s okay, because the other thing I was thinking is you’re hot. And that would be awkward. Maybe. If you’re not okay with that. Not with being hot, I guess you’re okay with that, you’ve probably been hot like your entire life, but with me saying it.”

“Were you drinking beer all night?” He gestured to what was in her hand. She didn’t follow his jump in topic, but oh well.

“What? This?” She glanced at the bottle. “No. After round three of whiskey, I told Foster I had to switch to beer.” “Three? And how many beers?” “This is my third, but I’ve had like…two sips out of it. You’re not going to buy me a drink, are you?” “Well, I was going to offer, since you’ve listened to me complain, but I think now I’m going to offer to take you home instead.” “See?! Nice, sweet, kind Matt Casey – definitely a good catch.”

“Yeah, nice guys, what every woman wants apparently.” Matt scoffed, rolling his eyes a little. “Stay here, I’ll clear my tab with Herrmann.” “I’ll be here.” She assured, thankful a moment later that the bar was kind of loud as “enjoying the view of your butt,” slipped out because she was actually that shallow tonight, he had a nice butt. His turnout gear of course did not show it off, but sometimes his duty pants did. Tonight, his dress pants did. He’d gotten dressed up, they must’ve gone somewhere nice, and then he got dumped, and told he was a loser. He probably paid the bill, too, he was the type to always pay for a girl, definitely. Typical Casey. Treated like crap and paid for the privilege of it. He was back a minute later, she almost laughed because he’d be the type to never realize but he always got served like first in the whole place because that was just Herrmann and Otis being respectful of their boss like that – everyone in the house adored Casey, even when he was making them nuts with drills and stuff.

“What’re you grinning about?” He asked with a smile.

“You.” “Laughing at me, huh? Can’t blame you.” His smile was fake now, though.

“Sort of, but not like you think. Her loss, Matt. I mean that. Everyone here loves you and if she doesn’t, well, that’s just poop for her.” “Poop for her?” Matt laughed lightly. “You’re in a bar, you can swear.” “I don’t like to swear much.” She shrugged. “Except, well, you don’t need to know that.” “You ready to head home?” “With you?” “Well, I’m driving, but no, I’ll take you back to yours. Otis said Cruz should be back from his date with Chloe by now.” “What if he brought Chloe back to ours? He thinks Otis and I are both out for the evening.” “I’m sure they’ll be in the bedroom in that case.” He reassured as he ushered out of the bar.

“Hey, Case, ‘hawks tickets on Friday, you in?” Severide asked as they passed his table. Kidd had a weird look on her face, Sylvie couldn’t place it, but it was weird. “Section 110, 2nd row.” “Hell yes I’m in. I’m gonna take Brett home – she tried to keep up with Foster again – catch you back home.” “Sure, later.”

“You know, I think Kidd doesn’t like you living there. Or maybe she was just jealous Severide didn’t take her to the Blackhawks.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking about getting a new place. I’ll have to rent for a while.”

“Ooh, let me help again this time! I love real estate. You should totally buy in this market, you know, you could make money on a fixer, you can do the work yourself and everything.” “I would, if I get the insurance settled. Then again, I have nothing to go in a house. Or an apartment. I don’t even own a mattress, or an entire wardrobe that doesn’t say Chicago Fire Department on it.” “Oh, I forgot for a second. Sorry. How long on that?” “Lawyers say a month or so until the case is wrapped up, so maybe six weeks.” “It’s been almost a year – since last December. Good thing you’ve got Severide.” “He’s a good friend, letting me crash in the guest room for 10 months.” Matt agreed. She looked at him, he was so earnest and kind and hot. She was stuck on the ‘hot’ tonight. Then something occurred to her.

“I just realized you sleep in the bed Kidd used to sleep in. The same sheets even. Washed but still. That’s kinda weird. I bet they had sex in her room sometimes. So like, you sleep in their bed, sort of.” “Now I’m going to be thinking about that tonight. Thanks for that.” Matt chuckled a little. They pulled up near her building. He didn’t have a parking spot, so he’d had to take what was sort of near her building. They had official visitor spots, she remembered. Too few, but it was a weeknight, so there were some left probably.

“You can go in the parking. You can have a visitor spots. I’ll give you the code. But shhh, we’re not supposed to give it out, we’re supposed to buzz you in with your phones, but I don’t know if I can type the code right right now.” “Alright, what’s the code I have to enter?” He asked, but he hadn’t moved the truck.

“Uhm, you have to be at the gate.” “I know that, I’m just not getting stuck up there and then you can’t remember it.” “Oh. I remember it! I’m not that drunk.” “You’re pretty drunk. It’s adorable but also a little concerning.” “It’s Foster’s fault. She drinks a lot. Not like at work, Captain Casey, sir. Just, like, out, she drinks more than I ever have.” “I can tell. The code?” “Oh, yeah. 03-04-18-37. Then my apartment number. Do you know that?”

“Yeah. Between you, Otis, and Cruz, it’s on a lot of paperwork I see.” “There’s an elevator. Thankfully. I’m not sure I like stairs right now.” “Probably not.” Casey agreed, as he punched in the code and the gate rolled back. He found the visitors spots easily up on the almost top bit of the parking deck. How did he know that? She got distracted, or something, because he was holding open his truck door, looking at her expectantly.

“What?” “You’re not sleeping my truck, Sylvie. Let’s go inside.” “Your truck is comfy. Not new, but reliable, comfy, lived in. Like you.” “I don’t know if that’s a compliment. Probably true, though.” Matt shook his head.

“I mean, it smells like you. Not that you’re lived in or comfy. You might be comfy. I’ve never sat on you.” She admitted as she slipped from the truck and headed towards the door into the residential part of the building. She was not sure the parking had always been this unlevel. She continued, “it smells like you. Like, good things. Like wood and sawdust and that guy smell, just whatever it is, that Matt smell that is just you, not anything else.” “I have a smell?” He caught her as she threatened to fall into him, the floor was really unlevel tonight and right in front of the elevator too, that was silly, who built it like that? “mm-hmm. It’s nice. See you smell like it right now. Sort of. You wore cologne though. It covers it up. It’s nice cologne, but I miss you smell.” “I did have a date tonight. I didn’t think ‘me smell’ was what I should go with.” “When we date, don’t bother with cologne. You smell sexier with the sawdust and you smell.” “Are we dating?” Matt asked with a chuckle. “I could stop being jealous of stupid mean women who say you’re a ‘loser’ then. And you wouldn’t get stuck paying for dinner with a woman who would call you a ‘loser’. Which isn’t good. Plus, then it wouldn’t be weird that I was checking out your butt tonight when you paid your tab.” “You were?” He wasn’t chuckling now, as they got out of the elevator on her floor. It wasn’t even many floors down from where they had been, but she was sure the stairs would be even more unlevel than the parking. “Mm-hmm. You have a cute butt in those pants. Also, you have the bluest eyes. I love your eyes. Did I say that already tonight? I’m drunk. I think I’m drunker than I think. Thought. I’m drunker enough to just decide we’re dating, so you can stop being with mean women and I can stop dealing with guys who don’t want what I want or whatever it is that means I keep ending up with guys who don’t understand me or the job. And since we’re dating, I can look at your ass and it’s not weird. And your eyes. And your…you.” “Is Cruz actually home? I could knock. I think you’re a little drunk to be left home by yourself.” “You can sleep over! If we’re dating now, it’s fine if you sleep over. Chloe sleeps over sometimes. And Lily too.” “That would probably not be a good idea.” “But if you leave, hey, what’re you doing, that’s my purse.” He just reached out and took her purse off her shoulder and was opening it. Rude. “And we’ve been standing at your door for a full minute. You have a key?” “Oh, yeah, it’s in there. Sorry.” “Let’s get you inside.” He said, as he found the key and opened the door. He guided her inside, even though she lived there. “Cruz!” He called out, but there was no answer. She figured that meant he was at Chloe’s, or maybe they were still out, it wasn’t that late, not really, she was just drunk kinda early. Because of Foster. Who was a bad influence. Whose bad influence led her to be here, being ushered around her own apartment by Matt Casey. Who was also her boss. Sort of. Not really. So it wasn’t a conflict really because he couldn’t give orders to ambo. Except sometimes. And he processed all their personnel paperwork and stuff. So some authority. But that didn’t mean he was her boss and she shouldn’t be attracted to him because of rules. He smelled good. Sexy. And he was probably really well built. She’d never actually seen him shirtless. But he had to be. She wanted to know. “Let’s get you some water.” His voice pulled her from her thoughts. Even his voice was sexy. “I’m not thirsty. I had lots of liquid, too much, I mean.” She was pretty sure if she drank anything more, she’d start to feel sick. Plus, she kind of didn’t want to sober up just yet. She was enjoying the feelings of being close to him. “You’re drunk.” Matt reminded. “water will help.” “But if I get less drunker, I won’t have the guts to do this.” She said, then practically fell into him to kiss him. Maybe it was his body heat, or his smell, or his Matt Casey-ness, but she was drunk enough to go with it and worry about whatever later, so she kissed him, good and long and hard. She kissed him and enjoyed that he kissed back and he was good at it. He kissed like he did everything else, like it was the only thing on the planet going on right at that moment, and damn it, she wanted him, wanted to throw him on the nearest surface and just kiss him until they both passed out from lack of oxygen. She always got wet easily when she was drunk, and she could feel herself getting really turned on, and she pushed impossibly closer to him, her hands roaming, trying to get their fill of him, all the things forbidden to her before right now, and speaking of forbidden, she fumbled at his fly, damn dress pants were harder to get than jeans, and she mostly ended up groping him through his pants, but just for a second because then his hands grabbed her wrists, firmly but not too hard, and he was pushing her away from him, which caused her to whine – she didn’t mean to, but she didn’t want to be away from  his heat and his smell and his Matt Casey-ness.

“Not tonight, Sylvie.” “Why not?” “You’re too drunk to make this sort of decision.” He paused. “And I’m not the kind of guy who takes one woman to dinner and sleeps with a different woman on the same night.” “She should’ve hit that then, her loss.” “If you really want this,” Matt sighed, but smiled at her, “you’ll still want it when you’re sober. I respect you way too much, and value our friendship too much, to not wait for sober enthusiastic consent. I mean, I always do, would, but especially with you.” “Why are you such a good guy?” She asked, half in complaint, half out of just sheer affection for this sweet, solemn, lovely man. Who was also really hot, hence her half complaint. “But I think I love it about you, you know? You’re good. Not nice, I mean, you’re nice, but you’re not nice like you have good manners and act the part, you’re good. Down to your bones. Do you know that? You’re good down to your bones, Matt Casey, and that’s why I love you. Well, that and you’re hot with beautiful eyes.” “Let’s get you to bed. With some water. I’ll text Cruz, see where he’s at.” “Don’t bother him, he’s with Chloe. Otis will be home at like 3. I’ll be fine. Or you could stay.” “On the sofa.” He gave her a sharp look, as her hands wandered down his body again. She couldn’t help it. He should be touched. She was drunk, but she also noticed that while his mouth said ‘no’ his body was saying ‘yes’ – he liked being touched.

“With me.” She shook her head. “Not like…I respect your ‘no’. Just in the bed.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “You don’t trust me?” “Drunk? Not entirely.” He chuckled. “So you’re good and you’re smart.” She laughed. “But I promise. No roving hands tonight. But I want a cuddle. Just a cuddle. I miss the cuddling.” “Yeah, it’s hard to go back to sleeping alone. Come on, this is you, right?” He gestured to the bedroom he’d led them down the hall to. She nodded.

“That’s me. I’m gonna brush my teeth first. Be right back.”

“I’ll get that glass of water.” She came into the bedroom, unsurprised to find he’d already turned back the covers. He was the type to do that. He was also the type, it turned out, to turn around when she started changing clothes. Which she’d probably appreciate when she was sober, but tonight it was just silly and adorable. She’d let him see the whole show anyway. She was in her PJs, nearly fell into bed, then looked up at him.

“Your turn. Oh, I could get something from Cruz’s room for you-“ “It’s fine. I’ve slept worse.” He shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes from what she could tell and guess. She couldn’t see it, the angle was bad and his shoulders were between her eyes and his actions and oooh, he had nice shoulders. He took off the outer, nice, shirt he was wearing, too.

“Your pants.” She prompted, then explained at his look. “I mean, they’re nice, don’t wrinkle them. I promise to keep my hands to myself, you can take your pants off. Though I’ll be tempted. It felt nice, the like second I touched it.” “Thanks, I think.” He chuckled again. “You know, this sort of thing is easier when you girls crash at a guy’s – I can just give you some boxers and an old t-shirt.” “I could give you my underwear.” She laughed. “I don’t think it’d suit you.”

“Or fit.” He grinned.

“Take your pants off. Unless you’re not wearing underwear. That might be too much temptation.”

“You’ve known me for almost five years.” He laughed, shaking his head. He also stood to remove his pants, and she unashamedly checked out his ass. “If you think not wearing underwear is an option, you don’t know me nearly well enough for us to do this. Or even think about going where all that kissing out in the living room was going.” “You’ve never not worn underwear?” “You have? I mean, gone out with no underwear?”

“Yep.” She popped the ‘p’. “It was kind of a dare. But it felt kind of…naughty and I kind of liked it.” “Damn it.” He blushed a little, but she didn’t know why.

“I was just joking.” She reassured, not wanting him to think she didn’t know him very well. “I mean, I totally did that, but I mean I knew you’d be wearing underwear. I even knew it would be black boxer briefs, plain black, always, and always Jockey. Dawson joked about how predictable you are.” She realized he looked taken aback or something and he was definitely blushing more now. “I just mean I know who you are, Matt Casey.” “Yeah.” “And you are comfy and warm and you smell good and I’m drunk enough to ask so just get over here for cuddles.” “Drink some of that water. I’ll stay until Otis or Cruz gets home, okay?”

[rebyell]

Sibling War

My first foray into “publishing” anything I’ve written. It was just too much fun to not share.

Fandom: Batman (General)

Dick Grayson SIBLING WAR! Answer how you feel about you and your siblings.

1. Who's the smartest: Tim 2. Most spoiled? None of us 3. Most sensitive? Me 4. Worst temper? Jason 5. Most social? Me 6. Most stubborn? Damian. Tim. Jason. Me. Okay, so it’s a tie. 7. Who's Dad's favorite? He doesn’t have a favorite 8. Most likely to fight someone? Jason 9. Best Cook? Tim 10. Best Clothes and shoes? Damian, I think 11. Who was the bad kid? None of us were bad  12. Who has the biggest heart? Tim 13. Who’s the quietest? Tim 14. Who's the most talented? Damian 15. Who was born 1st? Me 16. Who is the most funny? Me  17. Best hair? Me  18. Most likely to have the most kids? Me, I think  20. Who is the loudest? Jason 21. Most expensive taste? Tim  22. Most bossy? Damian

Tim Drake Wayne I’m only doing this because Dick was wrong on most of these

SIBLING WAR!  Answer how you feel about you and your siblings.

1. Who's the smartest: Me 2. Most spoiled? Dick 3. Most sensitive? Dick 4. Worst temper? Dick 5. Most social? Dick 6. Most stubborn? Dick 7. Who's Dad's favorite? Dick 8. Most likely to fight someone? Jason 9. Best Cook? Anyone but Dick 10. Best Clothes and shoes? Me 11. Who was the bad kid? Jason 12. Who has the biggest heart? Dick 13. Who’s the quietest? Me  14. Who's the most talented? Dick 15. Who was born 1st? Dick 16. Who is the most funny? Anyone but Dick 17. Best hair? Dick 18. Most likely to have the most kids? Dick 20. Who is the loudest? Dick 21. Most expensive taste? Me, probably, though Damian’s close 22. Most bossy? Dick. It’s totally Dick. 

Damian Wayne

SIBLING WAR! I am correcting Drake’s errors as well.

1. Who's the smartest: I am 2. Most spoiled? Grayson  3. Most sensitive? Grayson 4. Worst temper? Drake 5. Most social? Grayson 6. Most stubborn? I am 7. Who's Dad's favorite? Grayson. Grayson is everyone’s favorite. 8. Most likely to fight someone? I must confess I am 9. Best Cook? Ostensibly Todd has been feeding himself for many years, so he must cook. The others cannot cook. Grayson thinks making cereal counts. It does not. 10. Best Clothes and shoes? I have impeccable taste  11. Who was the bad kid? Todd 12. Who has the biggest heart? Grayson 13. Who’s the quietest? Drake 14. Who's the most talented? I am 15. Who was born 1st? Grayson 16. Who is the most funny? I am 17. Best hair? Hair is a competition now? My hair is surely at least as good as anyone else’s. 18. Most likely to have the most kids? Grayson. He is the only one thus far to express a desire to have any children. 20. Who is the loudest? Grayson.  21. Most expensive taste? I have impeccable taste 22. Most bossy? Grayson. He claims it is his duty as the eldest.

Anonymous submission

SIBLING WAR! Defending my good name - and pointing out the biggest jerk

1. Who's the smartest: Drake 2. Most spoiled? Definitely Dick. Bruce buys anything he looks at for more than 10 seconds. 3. Most sensitive? Dick. He tortures you with discussion of your feelings. 4. Worst temper? Dick. If you’ve seen him pissed, you know I’m right. 5. Most social? Dick 6. Most stubborn? Possibly me. Close to a four-way tie. 7. Who's Dad's favorite? Dick. He’s the golden child. Everyone but Dick knows and admits this. 8. Most likely to fight someone? Me - shortest fuse but not the worst temper 9. Best Cook? Me. I’m competent but the others are pathetic. 10. Best Clothes and shoes? Everyone but Dick ties. Dick, your clothes suck. Let your girlfriend dress you. It’ll be an improvement. 11. Who was the bad kid? Me 12. Who has the biggest heart? Dick. He feels all the feelings for all the people all the time. It’s pathetic.  13. Who’s the quietest? Damian. Quiet and dangerous. 14. Who's the most talented? Dick. Hate him for it, but he’s aggravatingly athletic. He was a professional from like 2 years old. 15. Who was born 1st? Dick 16. Who is the most funny? Me. Dick is the worst. His idea of humor is awful puns.  17. Best hair? Me 18. Most likely to have the most kids? Dick.Possibly with the most number of women, too. 20. Who is the loudest? Dick. He never shuts up. 21. Most expensive taste? Drake. He grew up with money and it shows. 22. Most bossy? Dick. He even gets by with bossing Bruce, sometimes. If Bruce is too tired to smack him for it.