Chapter Text
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1 month later.
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As it turns out, those small comments Matt made about them being each other’s homes were more than sweet nothings.
It starts on a Sunday. Sylvie’s planning on making pancakes for them this morning. To her, pancakes require no special occasion but there is one anyway.
Today is their one-year anniversary.
Things have been crazy these past few months. From the chaos with Harrison to the fallout from Charlotte’s arrest, there’s been an endless supply of reasons to be in a glum, grumpy mood. Yet here she and Matt stand, despite all the odds, having made it a year together as a couple. One whole year. She can’t even believe it but when she realizes the dust has settled on any drama in their lives, that they’ve had a month of relative peace and happiness, she’d be a fool not to believe it. And damn, does it feel good. Good feelings require good foods to celebrate, so she soon finds herself in the kitchen dumping an ungodly amount of chocolate chips into a bowl of thick, beige batter (and still somehow feeling like it needs more chocolate). Matt’s still asleep in her bed but she’s hoping that he’ll stay asleep just long enough so that they can make this a breakfast-in-bed morning. She’s got other surprises in store for the two of them today— like, per se, tickets to a Hawks game and a dinner reservation at Sepia— but this one’s the first one.
It’s not like everything’s been nifty and fun over the past month. Sylvie’s been in contact with Charlotte’s lawyer. Charlotte’s guilty plea meant there was no need for testifying but she’s been in contact with her lawyer ever since. He’s a public defender (Charlotte couldn’t exactly afford a decent private lawyer) and a little unpolished but still a nice guy. In fact, she’d opened her phone first thing in the morning to see a voicemail from him. Something about Charlotte’s sentencing hearings. Her mind gets so focused on remembering the exact details that they almost lose their meaning and then soon after, she gets lost in a hazed train of thought about Charlotte and everything that happened with Harrison. She thinks back on it often, really. How could she not? What Charlotte did was… heartbreaking.
But she has other things to focus on right now. The only thing she can do now is make a mental note to keep Matt up to date and then let it go. A month ago, her mind was consumed with thoughts and fears of Harrison Graham and all the sticky complications. Even this past month, Charlotte’s future has been weighing on Sylvie a little, lingering in the back of her mind during quiet moments— if only out of curiosity. But no more. Not today. Today is hers and Matt’s anniversary, which means happy thoughts only. She’ll have to make it mandatory. That’s all she thinks about as she nods to herself, smiles, and starts pooling the batter (heavily infested with chocolate chips to the point where it might as well be chocolate entirely) onto the pan in even circles. There’s a low sizzle of the batter hitting the hot surface and it tickles her ears, but something else sneaks up on her and distracts her from any sizzling immediately. Matt Casey.
His arms wrap around her torso first and foremost. His touch burns so much she can practically feel it through the thick fabric of her extremely comfortable (she cannot stress that enough) robe. Then, he brushes her hair to the side with one hand, pulling part of her robe along with it, and his chin snuggles into the crook of her neck from behind her. The low and happy hum he lets out as a greeting is now the only thing she hears as he places gentle kisses to her neck.
“Morning,” he starts in a husky tone, the sound making Sylvie’s skin vibrate and the hairs on her neck stand up. “Pancakes?”
He’s usually like this, his sentences cheerful yet short in the mornings when he’s tired. It makes her smile even more, until any disappointment she should be feeling that he’s out of bed and the bed-in-breakfast option is ruined disappears completely. “Mhm,” she replies, nodding into his kisses that continue to be placed lazily onto her neck. “Chocolate chip.”
“Can’t wait.” Even when he’s behind her, Sylvie knows he’s smiling. She can practically feel the beaming, toothy smile against her neck. “Happy anniversary.”
“Happy anniversary,” she beams back. “May 26th. Pretty perfect day.”
“Oh yeah,” he nods along, his kisses coming to a halt as he spins her around to face him, “for sure. Best day ever.”
She can tell he’s humouring her but sticks her chin up ever so slightly. “I’m serious,” she continues. “Of all the 365 days in the year, I think May 26th is the best day there is. We couldn’t have asked for a better anniversary, really.”
“It is pretty perfect,” Matt agrees. There’s not a single hint of humour in his voice this time. Only something sweet and warm as he pressed a kiss to her lips, dragging against her bottom lip for a sloppy but wonderful lingering moment. When he pulls back though, something comes to mind that she doesn’t want to ignore any longer.
“Hey, uh. I feel the need to tell you this while it’s still fresh, but I have an update on the Charlotte situation,” she starts suddenly, her stirring coming to a halt. Because she’s done the whole delaying the truth thing before and it didn’t work so part of her needs to tell him right away now (and she certainly doesn’t want their anniversary to be bogged down with thoughts of murder so she’s willing to rip the metaphorical bandaid off). “I got a voicemail from her lawyer this morning.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You know,” he responds after a beat, “we don’t have to talk about this now if you don’t want to. Today’s our anniversary, we’re supposed to be smiling. Say the word and we’ll just bring this up tomorrow.”
“No,” Sylvie refuses immediately, not rudely but with passion. Her hand falls to his chest as she gives the small shake of her head. “We tried that whole delaying the truth for another day, remember? We hated it. No, I want to talk about it now. Deal?”
He fights back a smile as he responds, “Okay, deal. So what’s the update?”
“Her lawyer said Charlotte pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter. Maximum sentence is 16 months, apparently.”
“Really?”
“Really,” she confirms. “She explained that the whole thing was an accident and they’re just sorting out details now. They want me to be a character witness at her sentencing hearing.”
“Are you going to say yes?”
Sylvie’s first instinct is to say she doesn’t know. She almost does say that, actually, but manages to bite her tongue before she can. Because she does know. She knows that she’d regret not going for the rest of her life. She has to go. “I am,” she says finally with a decided yet thoughtful nod. “Charlotte made a mistake. A huge, terrible, bloody mistake… but still a mistake. She shouldn’t be punished for the rest of her life for it. Everyone makes mistakes. All she needs is a second chance. I just want to make sure she knows she deserves that.”
A warm smile pulls at Matt’s lips all the way up to his ears. “I know you do,” he replies softly, leaning over to capture Sylvie’s chin with his thumb and index finger, and then kisses her tenderly. And dammit, she can’t help the way she smiles into it. Matt smiles into it too until it’s barely a kiss anymore. “And I love you for it.”
“I love you too,” she coos back. Then, after a second more intense kiss, pulls back to add, “But I’m going to have to rough you up a little bit if you’re the reason these pancakes burn.”
“Copy that,” he chuckles, dutifully backing up and letting her flip the pancakes in the pan and then take them off the heat, completing the batch. “But when we’re done with breakfast, you and I are going to take a trip.”
“A trip? But I had a whole itinerary planned for todY! I’ve put you through too much this past month so I was going to really knock your socks off to make up for it,” Sylvie protests with a pout.
“I know, I saw you with your laminator last night. But how many times do I have to tell you there’s nothing to make up for anymore?”
“I don’t know, try the first three items on the itinerary and then you’ll find out,” she tries arguing with a wink (because without needing to say anything, he knows just as well as she does that the first three things are just pancakes, sex, and more sex).
“We can still do all your stuff. This will only take a few minutes, I promise.” When she doesn’t look convinced, Matt tilts his head and adds, “Do you trust me?”
Sylvie smiles and rolls her eyes playfully. “Duh.”
“Ok, then get your coat on. We’re taking a trip,” he tells her with a knowing grin.
“Do I get to know where exactly we’re going?”
“Somewhere that will ruin your bunny slippers,” Matt replies cryptically. “You might want to get dressed.”
“That’s it? No more hints?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Ok,” she sighs, kicking her slippers off to find socks and shoes. “But just know that this is what you’re missing out on for items 1 and 2 on my list.”
She wraps the stack of pancakes in saran wrap, puts them in the fridge, and then unties the soft belt of her robe. The fabric falls off her shoulders almost immediately and she leaves the robe at her feet, walking away from her kitchen in nothing but the lingerie she’d bought for him. She’s not usually one for this stuff— in fact, she can only think of a handful of times where she’s been confident enough to wear lingerie for a guy without completely freaking out afterwards over how she looked— but it’s their anniversary. Special days require special body armour.
It’s three pieces, dark red and black lace sharing equal parts over the garter set strapped onto her. And as she walks away to her room, casually and without daring to look back, she already knows Matt’s drooling.
Good . She likes teasing him as revenge for putting a pin in her plans. Besides, the drooling just makes her love him all the more fiercely.
He’s already dressed so he waits for her patiently as she finds clothes to wear over the set. Soon, she’s coming out in jeans and a sweater, acting like nothing happened and he’s giving her that wild-eyed look like he’s about to start fumbling over his words. That alone makes her feel like she’s on top of the world. She loves it.
All he does is hold her jacket out for her and help her get into each sleeve, his breath catching ever so slightly on the back of her neck and making her skin light on fire.
For a moment, with the way he looks at her when she turns around, she’s optimistic that maybe they’ll have to save this surprise for later and revert back to her plan. But unfortunately, he knows her coy smile and lip bite all too well and fights it. Matt’s only action is to run his hand down her back, smoothing her coat over, before he goes to open her front door for her. “After you, Miss Brett.”
And dammit, she thinks sex will wait for later because he looks so damn excited. So, she accepts the invitation happily and embraces the mystery, stepping out the front door and smiling sweetly at him.
When she gets into the passenger seat of the car, he turns to her instead of pushing the key into the ignition. “I need you to promise me you’ll keep your eyes closed,” he starts.
“The whole ride?” The tinge of disappointment in her voice is more than noticeable.
“It’ll ruin the surprise,” he explains simply. “Please?”
She presses her lips together but shakes her head amusedly as she complies. Her hands fly to her face and cover her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you, Matt Casey.”
“You have no idea how lucky I am,” he agrees victoriously, pressing a quick and appreciative kiss to the small part of her forehead that isn’t covered by her fingers.
After that, he turns on the ignition and pulls out of his spot. Throughout the ride, she can feel the turns of Matt’s truck: left, right, then left again, then straight for a while. She loses track at one point but even amidst her curiosity, never, not once, does she ever lift her hands from her eyes.
After fifteen minutes or so, she feels the car slow down and come to a stop. He’s parking.
“Ok, we’re here. But keep your eyes closed.” Matt abruptly gets out of the car and Sylvie panics for a second.
“Hey wait, I can’t get out of the car if my eyes are—” she begins to shout out but is interrupted by the sound of her door opening too. She feels his presence beside her immediately, even with her eyes closed.
“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “I’ve got you.”
He reaches over to unbuckle her seatbelt, and she has to lift one of her hands from one of her eyes only for a moment to slip the seatbelt off. Her eyes still remain shut though, even as Matt takes her hands in his and helps her down from the truck.
She moves to put her hands on her eyes again once he shuts the passenger door behind her, but he quickly stops her and puts his own hands over her eyes instead.
“Ok careful. I’ve got you. Just keep moving forward,” he assures her from behind her shoulder, guiding her over every curb and every turn that follows in their path.
He removes his hands for a second to open a door of some kind and for a moment, she can tell he’s guiding her through it.
Then, after a deafening moment where they’re no longer moving and her eyes are shut without the help of any hands, he takes a deep breath and exhales heavily.
“Ok, open your eyes.”
His palms move away from her eyelids and Sylvie can finally open her eyes. It takes a minute to adjust to the sudden regained light exposure, but after a blink or two she’s able to look around the room and figure out where they are.
Only it’s not a room. It’s a hallway that they’re standing in, which leads to several rooms. She can see them all from this vantage point. The staircase to the second level is right in front of her off to the right, the living room even further to the right and nearly behind her. The fraction of the family room that she can see is off behind the staircase, and the kitchen is on the left in front of her, right across from the family room. This house is familiar somehow. Why is it familiar?
And why are they here?
“This looks familiar…”
“That’s because it is,” Matt begins to explain. “We responded to this house fire a few years back. You and I even spent an afternoon in that backyard waiting for a cat. Remember Mr Larson and his wife?”
“And Dusty the cat, yeah,” she nods, absently taking a few steps forward and silently observing the place. “I remember. I can’t believe no one’s taken this place for themselves now.”
“Eh, well Mr Larson didn’t want to sell it to just anyone. He kept it, but they moved him into an old folks home a few months ago so he hasn’t had any use for this place since the fire.” At that, Sylvie turns to him with a hesitant look, to which he lifts his eyebrows and motions with his chin as if encouraging her to look around. “Go on, you can take a look.”
She looks around the house, pivoting slowly but only taking two steps forward. Matt’s still behind her, giving a half-assed look around the place as if he’s already seen it a million times. She takes another few steps and sees an old countertop in the kitchen, chipped at and wobbly. She sees walls that look like they’ve been burnt to a crisp, a hole in the family room’s ceiling, empty rooms with dirt and dust and chipped paint. It’s almost exactly as it was three years ago, if her memory serves her well, only now it’s just… worse for wear, to say the least.
She starts to head towards one room— an office maybe, she thinks— but she then hears Matt’s footsteps pick up quickly from behind her and his hand stretches out past her shoulder in panic.
“Oh no, I—” he slides in front of her and clicks the door shut, his muscles tense as his free hand (since the other one is still clutching that doorknob for dear life like there’s a lion in that room) scratches the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. That’s, uh… that’s where the rats live.”
“The rats?”
Her single arched brow makes him swallow hard. “Yep. Apparently Mr Larson hasn’t done anything to this place to prepare it for selling so the rats just sort of … took refuge.”
“Yeesh.” She gives him a crooked smile and then turns away from the room again. Matt’s behind her once more, watching as she observes this place.
This place. This nostalgic, wonderful, disgusting place. It’s definitely in rough shape and needs some patching up but it’s visible to anyone who’s seen enough HGTV shows (and she’s seen them all) that the bones of this place are structurally sound. If it’s lasted through a fire and hasn’t been condemned then it can make for a solid home.
Home. This is a home. And suddenly, her mind feels on the cusp of something big as her brows furrow.
“Matt… What are we doing here?”
“I, uh…” There’s a moment where he’s silent, although Sylvie can hear the tiniest creak of hesitation in Matt’s throat before he finally says the inevitable. “I bought it.”
“You wh—” Sylvie’s not sure if spontaneous combustion is a thing but if it is, her brain just did it. She stands there, sputtering like a mess as she rips her gaze from the house and faces Matt. Her words more contained and understandable this time, she finishes her thought. “You… bought us a house?”
“Yeah,” Matt confirms. His hands stay fisted in his pockets, a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks as he tries to gauge her reaction just like he had at Molly’s a month ago when 51 surprised her with jailbird hats. Only this time, there’s something more confident about his gaze; more hopeful. And God, it’s like his eyes are dazzling. Because Matt Casey can’t just surprise her with a whole ass house . No no no. He also has to go and look at her like that, making her stomach flutter and her mind lose all hope of coherent thought. “I know I was so eager to take contracting work from Harrison— and believe me, baby, I wish I never had— but I was only taking extra jobs and working more shifts to pay for, well… this.”
“Y-you bought this,” she stammers, her eyes still wide. “For us?”
“Yeah.” A beat passes where he’s still gauging her reaction. She knows damn well what reaction is— or what it’s going to be. All she needs to do is get past this damn shock stage, which she finds herself cemented in right now. She hates that because unfortunately, all her shock does is make Matt more nervous. “Look,” he continues with a sigh (a defeated one too, like he thinks she’s going to say no). “I know it’s crazy and I should have spoken with you first and the rats are…well, there are rats which is already a red flag. And I can fix this up for free and sell it to someone else now that Mr Larson let me buy it for practically nothing, so I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way. Moving in is a big deal. I get that. But I want to build a life with you here, Sylvie. I want us to have a home . So, uh… What do you think?”
It’s like she said: she already knows her reaction. Her answer . Matt’s her home and has been for quite some time. Really, it’s long overdue that they cut out the inconvenience of separate apartments. She doesn’t even need to think twice about moving in with him. She’d do it in the blink of an eye, spend ages picking paint samples and moving furniture, get a set of keys and say stuff like “Honey, I’m home!” That’s the life she wants with him and now here he is, standing in front of her with all his gentle kindness and love, and he’s offering all of that to her. Matt Casey is quite literally a dream come true. So sure, he is all she needs but this house— this smelly, damaged, beautiful home they have history with— it’s perfect for them. Sylvie knows in her heart that this is what she needs too. Her. Him. Them . This home. God, that’s all she’ll ever want or need in life.
Now if only she could get past this whole shock stage already so she can say all of that (and, preferably, to kiss the crap out of the man she loves).
“You bought us a house,” Sylvie repeats, the shock wearing off as her eyes stray to the ceiling and her jaw picks itself off the floor. When the shock wears off slowly, she lets her voice get louder and more excited. “You— you bought us a house! ”
“You said that already,” he points out with an anxious laugh.
“Well I need to keep repeating it to myself or else I might think it’s a dream,” she defends herself with a nervous chuckle of her own.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” Sylvie confirms softly after a moment and then, letting herself get louder again, repeats it. “Yes, of course I’ll move in with you!”
Matt’s already smiling before she finishes her sentence but now, his smile erupts into full-on laughter. Her arms go wide and fling themselves around his shoulders as quickly as she can, delivering a hug she thinks will never be enough. Soon, her waist is wrapped up in his arms and she’s being lifted off the ground, the two of them spinning around in a fit of giggles.
“I’ll get rid of the rats, I promise,” he swears to her, his voice muffled and buried in her neck when he puts her back down. “I’ll fix this place up in no time.”
“I know you will, baby.” An involuntary giggle leaves her throat yet again and she nods into the crook of his neck before pulling away and kissing him firmly.
He’s still smiling and laughing into the kiss but then again, so is she. It makes the whole thing a little messy and her cheeks hurt so much that her lips have to cling onto his for dear life but Jesus, she swears it’s the best kiss ever. Every single one she gets with him is. Matt drags his mouth down to her bottom lip which catches her breath but it doesn’t get any more heated than that. How can it be? He’s kissing her and it’s like they’re floating on air. It gets to the point where she’s smiling once again before pulling away and meeting his eye.
Maybe that’s what does it. Maybe it’s just the fact that she made the mistake of looking into those bright, hopeful eyes of his and getting hit with a sudden burst of love that almost feels like a punch to the gut for some reason. But one way or another, Sylvie’s laughing along with him one minute and the next, she’s feeling her laughter slowly die down and fall into… crying?
“Y-you’re crying,” he points out lamely, his brows arching with worry. “That was not the reaction I was expecting. Are these happy tears or sad tears?”
“I don’t know,” she admits, her eyes darting between nothing.
“Ok, ok. Is it something I said?” He pulls her in closer, his hand finding her upper arm.
“No, not at all. This was perfect. I’m sorry,” she blubbers. She really does feel like kicking herself a little. She promised herself a month ago that those tears would be the last tears she ever shed over Harrison. Now, here she stands, being proven wrong. Well, half wrong at least.
“You don’t have to be sorry, baby,” he assures her with gentle hushes, rubbing circles on her back. “It’s ok. You can let it all out. Talk to me.”
“It’s just… It just hits me like a wave sometimes, you know? That realization that I don’t have to feel small or scared anymore. And I know I shouldn’t always make comparisons but Harrison took . That’s all he did. He’d just take things from people. But now I’m here with you, on our anniversary, and— God, look at you. Look at what you’ve done for us.” She gestures around the house. Even at the rat-infested room they locked. “I bet you don’t even realize how amazing you are. You’re everything Harrison wasn’t. You give . You give so much, Matt. Not just to me but to everyone around you.”
He swallows hard. Matt’s always been great at making it look like he accepts compliments well but Sylvie sees that tic in his jaw and the pink in his cheeks and knows that he’s at a loss for words. “Well you always find the good in people,” he replies humbly.
“Mm-mm,” she dismisses immediately, shaking her head and wiping the tears from her eyes. “You make it easy. I don’t need to search for it with you. It’s all there. Right on the surface.”
“C’mere,” he lets out immediately in response, almost as if coming from a guttural place. He pulls her in close and her head finds comfort on his chest. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she replies softly through her sniffles. “And I love this place. Our place. It’s perfect. Even the rats. I really do love it.”
“I know,” he assures her with a weak chuckle, rubbing circles on her back. “I know, baby.”
After that, she can smile again. As soon as she does, she feels the tension leave Matt’s shoulders and body, and then he sinks into the hug even more.
They stay like that for a while, hugging and swaying gently in the middle of this house. For a while, the dripping of the leak in the ceiling and Matt’s heartbeat against her ear are the only two sounds Sylvie can hear. She wouldn’t have it any other way, really. Even though this house needs a lot of work, she can envision their life here already. A home that would make Mr Larson proud, a life that will undoubtedly make her even happier than she is now— which, if you’d asked her this morning, would not have been possible. Harrison’s emotional abuse has been long healed but the realization that she’s built this love with Matt Casey, something so precious to her, is the real reason she was crying. All of the chaos and damage that Harrison left in his wake can’t beat that.
In that sense, she really has won at life. She really has beat him. Because all it takes is Matt to whisper in her ear three simple phrases and suddenly, she doesn’t feel sad at all.
“We’re home how,” he whispers soothingly. “You’re safe here. I love you.”
And yeah , she thinks as they sway gently in celebration of the year they’ve weathered together happily and by choice. In a heartbeat, and only for him, she’d do it all again.