#Sorry but all these prompts are probably gonna be pre-canon Brettsey

[sylkiddsey]

Prompt: “Hold Onto Me”

Set in the early/ middle of season 8

Sylvie’s going to kill Stella. She’s actually going to corner her behind the rotting benches on their side of the field and murder her.

She did this. She implanted this stupid idea about her and Matt; Matt freaking Casey who has to be the worst possible person to have somewhat feelings for.

Okay, maybe Olivia is the one to blame since she said the stupid six words that can’t stop ringing through her brain like a bell. Still, Stella didn’t disagree. She also didn’t slap Sylvie across the face for even considering wanting Matt. Instead, she smirked and now she won’t let it go.

Now, she begged Sylvie to join the CFD softball team who annually plays against CPD. It’s strictly a pissing contest whose only prize is winning and bragging rights. It’s something Severide created so he could kick Jay Halstead’s ass.

Her best friend, her evil intentioned best friend, encouraged her to join this year. She insisted it was because Sylvie played softball in high school. Her friend knows she has a good arm so of course she’d want her on the team.

Wrong, this decision; this torture, is all because of Matt Casey. Stella convinced her here, so she had no choice but to stare and pine for the man who brings a whole new definition to the word swoon.

He’s hot on any given day, that much is obvious. It’s just a fact because any girl who encounters him on a scene, sweaty, stern and sometimes dirty, gets star eyes. They look at him like some Greek god and Sylvie’s human.

Matt’s incredibly attractive but this scene, this look is ungodly. When she first saw him, she rubbed her eyes so hard she saw spots. She thought she was hallucinating but this man was real.

The second-hand cheap uniform that’s oversized on her fits him amazingly. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up so all she can see is tan skin. Plus, his backwards baseball cap stirs something inside her that she didn’t even know existed.

Not to mention, his semi-competitive nature is a real turn on. All of it is entirely inappropriate considering he’s Gabby’s ex-husband. Matt’s her friend and she reasons with herself that any woman would admire this look. Hell, maybe Hailey and Kim are right there with her.

However, based on their starry looks for their respective partner’s, she doubts it. Unfortunately, she’s probably the only one foaming at the mouth. Well, she has seen the blonde female patrol cop making heart eyes at him.

There’s that at least.

God, she’s going to kill Stella after this. There’s no way she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted her to have to see Matt like this. Just because she’s so happy with her own firefighter man does not give her the right.

Although Sylvie has murder on her mind, she’s also sadistically glad to play alongside him. She’s damn good and it’s thrilling to see his reaction. He even swatted her ass in congratulations after she ran into home base when Cruz advanced to first.

He’s never done that before, and she really can’t say she hated it. Although it was a little awkward when Hermann did the same thing. It’s endearing how into the game Hermann gets. She loves seeing his carefree self.

All and all, playing on the team is fun and they are definitely kicking PD’s ass. They are up by five runs in the bottom of the fifth inning. Jay and Atwater are good and Hailey’s surprisingly fast, but Adam and Kim can’t stop flirting to really do any good. Plus, the patrol cops Platt threatened so they’d join the team are clearly not into it. They rarely make contact with the ball or catch anything in the outfield.

Realistically, her team is in much better shape. Matt and Severide are athletes and Stella and Foster are so competitive it turns into skill. Cruz is one of the best third basemen and Gallo has hit more home runs than anybody. Even Ritter is quick on his feet.

She’s sure they are going to win which is probably why Severide gives in and lets her pitch another inning. His arm is sore, so he forfeits his pitcher status so that means she’s up again.

So far, she’s striked out most of PD aside from a few badly called balls. Trudy Platt makes a very biased umpire, but what can you do? Severide, aka the self-elected leader, pulled himself out while bases were loaded. Hailey had just reached first, pushing Atwater to second. Now, Jay is up to bat, and he looks determined.

His used helmet tips down and he adjusts, getting into a proper swinging stance. “Show us what you got Brett.”

What is it about men and trash talk?

She bends her knees and winds her arm. Ideally, it should pass through the strike zone without that bat making contact. She reels back and shoots forward, throwing the pale-yellow ball as hard as she can.

Jay swings, but misses, the softball landing in Cruz’s catcher mitt with a thwack. Platt declares her throw as a strike.

“Atta girl!” Stella hollers from the short-stop position. She smacks her hand into the glove and winks.

Okay, maybe Sylvie won’t kill her. She’s too encouraging for that.

Jay murmurs, scuffs his sneaker against the dirt and then repositions. He holds the bat behind his shoulder, and she winds up again, throwing the ball a little higher this time. Jay swings and misses, Platt declaring a second strike.

One more and he’s out and CFD bats again. She can easily do this.

“You got this, Brett.”

She looks over her shoulder. Matt’s playing first base because, duh, he’s just that good. He grins at her which causes a wave of nervousness to rush over. Before, she felt confident, but now with Matt’s very blue eyes tracking her every movement, she has butterflies.

God he looks so good. This Saturday evening hue does wonders for him.

Once Jay repositions again, she winds her arm back. She rotates her joint in a circle and releases the ball once it’s straight. It soars in the air harder than the previous ones and she watches Jay’s shinny blue bat make contact. Her eyes drift back onto Matt so she can watch him in action. She registers the harsh clinking noise and hears a simultaneous gasp amongst PD players inside the dugout.

She’s not sure what that is about until the ball comes flying back in her direction and beams her directly in the side of the head. Everything goes dark and before she can process anything, she tastes rich dirt on her lips.

There are a lot of voices all around her, but the throbbing inside her skull and eye socket makes it hard to process any of it. Jay can really hit the ball which should’ve been obvious. The man hits doors with battering rams for a living.

He has some power.

“Sylvie, can you hear me?”

Oh great. Matt, of course he’s here. Of course, the man she can’t get out of her damn head just witnessed her not so graceful face plant into the dirt.

This is humiliating.

His warm, rough hand grazes the back of her head. Despite not being able to open her eyes, she knows his face is right in front of hers. His voice sounds close, and she can also smell the faint scent of the cologne he probably put on before all this.

He grips her shoulder with his unoccupied hand. “Hey, I need you to open your eyes.”

The tone of his voice somehow lessens the pain, so she tries to blink. At first, everything is blurry. All she can see is redness and several sets of feet. After she lets her eyes adjust, she realizes she’s on her stomach. Her right eye is also swollen and throbbing.

“Hey, she’s coming to!”

Stella? Sylvie rolls herself onto her back covering her bad eye. Stella’s crouched next to her, shouting at Foster who is rooting around in the dugout. She’s probably looking for a first aid kit.

The game has apparently stopped. Everyone is crowded around her like she’s some zoo extraction. It is so embarrassing.

“Sylvie, hey? Are you alright?” Matt asks, allowing his hand to cup the side of her face. His worried features are blurry, but still tense.

“Geez, is she okay?”

Jay’s bent at the waist, hands on his knees by her feet. His expression is a mixture between worry and guilty.

Matt shoots him a tense glare, voice low and angry. She’s heard him talk like this on scenes with uncooperative people. “What do you think? You beamed her in the head.”

She’s sure poor Jay didn’t mean to do it. He just had a great hit and maybe if she wasn’t admiring Matt, she could’ve ducked.

Matt turns his attention on her again, narrowed eyes growing soft. His fingers brush some dirt off her face. “Hey, can you talk to me? Do you know where you are?”

Unfortunately, she does.

Her stomach churns at the reality of all this along with the pain. She feels herself grow pale.

“I’m going to be sick,” she murmurs, turning onto her right side by Stella. If she’s going to lose her sandwich Cindy packed for all of them, she’d rather Matt not witnesses that. She’s sure Stella won’t appreciate it, but this is also kind of her fault. She talked her into this.

When she’s on her side, the nausea dissipates. After she feels better, she rolls onto her back. Somehow, she ends up in Matt’s lap with his arm supporting her shoulders.

Emily runs over with the pitiful first aid kit someone left behind in the dugout. When she unpacks it, there is only a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a warm ice pack.

Sylvie feels something wet roll down her face. She touches the skin above her eye and realizes it must’ve split open from the ball's stitches. She’s bleeding.

“You need a hospital, partner,” Foster says. “You’ll probably need stitches and a CT.”

Yeah, she’d agree she has a concussion. A cop’s strength will do that to a person.

“I’m so sorry, Brett,” Jay apologizes.

She gives him a thumbs up and mumbles, “It’s fine.”

Matt looks down at her, gently caressing her head. “I’m going to take you to Med.”

“What about the game?” Severide asks.

Both Stella and Matt glare through his soul. Although, she’s not upset with him at all. She doesn’t expect they stop the game all because of this.

“She’s bleeding and concussed. I think you’ll survive forfeiting the game,” Matt retorts.

“No, keep playing,” she insists, wincing at how talking aggravates her injury. “Cindy or someone from the stands can take me.”

“No way,” he argues. “I got it.”

Oh god. This can’t get any worse. She loves how much he cares, but he’s killing her.

Stella must notice because she pipes up. “It’s okay, Casey. I can take her. You keep playing.”

Matt begins maneuvering her in his arms. She groans as he just barely jostles her. She’s seeing stars.

“No offense Kidd, but I don’t think you can carry her to the car,” he replies.

Carry? She can probably walk.

“Casey, I can walk,” she protests, but he doesn’t listen. He slides one arm under her back and legs.

“No, you can’t Sylvie,” he replies. “Hold onto me.”

She has no choice but to do what he asks. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he hoists her in his arms like she’s weightless. The movement makes her dizzy, so she rests her head on his broad shoulder.

Despite how embarrassing this is, she can’t say she’s miserable. This is surprisingly nice.

“Kidd, can you grab my keys from my bag and help me get her in the truck?” He requests.

“Sure.”

Sylvie ignores the commotion around her and focuses on how nice it feels to be in his arms.

:::

She winds up behind a curtain in Med’s ER with one of Matt’s old t-shirts against her bleeding eye as she waits. Unfortunately, the ER is overflowing with people who are in worse shape so she’s stuck waiting. It doesn’t matter that Matt already made an enemy out of one of the doctor’s she doesn’t know after he demanded she get some ice; she still has to wait.

The bleeding has slowed, but she’s definitely dizzy. Matt had of course carried her in despite the many many times she insisted she could walk. He never listened because he carried her until he gently sat her on the gurney.

Now, he’s standing next to her with one of her hands tight in his. He took off the hat at some point, so his hair is disheveled and messy. It’s not a bad change.

She really didn’t think he’d stick around, but they’ve been waiting almost an hour and he’s stayed by her side. She’s somewhat reclined back with her knees propped up and her left-hand holding pressure against her face.

He told her ten minutes ago that Stella texted that she and Emily were trying to visit, but with the ER so packed, the nursing staff wanted all unnecessary visitors out.

She understands and as much as she loves her friends, Matt is great company too.

She squeezes Matt’s fingers to lessen the pain because her eye is throbbing and swollen. He must notice the additional pressure because he turns his head and frowns.

“Hey, is it getting worse?” He asks.

“No, just throbs every now and then. I guess that is happens when you take a softball to the eye socket.”

So far, he’s been standing next to her, leaning on the railing every once and awhile after stretching his back. Now, he reaches for one of the plastic chairs with one hand and drags it next to her. He sits down, resting both elbows on the railing and moves his free hand to her head.

He sweeps some hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, Halstead hit you hard, Brett.”

She bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, I know Casey. I felt it.”

Matt chuckles, letting his hand rest on the top of her head. “I bet. You dropped to the ground instantly. I don’t think anyone had time to react.”

God, that’s so embarrassing.

She groans. “Just great. That’s not humiliating at all.”

“Oh, come on,” he replies. “There is nothing embarrassing about getting hurt. It was Halstead’s fault. Not yours.”

“He didn’t mean to hit me. It was a good hit,” she says. “I should’ve ducked or gotten out of the way. It’s not Jay’s fault.”

He leans back but keeps ahold of her hand. “I don’t care. You shouldn’t have gotten hit like that. You’re going to need stitches and you probably have a concussion.”

She ticks one finger in the air. “Definitely have a concussion. Paramedics know these things, but hey, at least I didn’t break anything.”

The second she makes the joke, she regrets it. Matt’s expression shifts and she berates herself for making light of the Arnow fire.

“I…I’m sorry,” she whispers, squeezing his hand. “I shouldn’t have…”

He shakes his head and shifts his gaze down. “No, no, you’re right. I guess it’s kind of hypocritical of me to be upset with Halstead for hurting you when I did the same.”

She’s so stupid. How could she bring this up? It’s not Matt’s fault. She’s never blamed him ever.

“Casey, you didn’t…” she chews on the inside of her lip. “It wasn’t your fault. I would never blame you for what happened.”

He meets her stare. “I called you in, Brett. I told you it was safe. That’s on me.”

She knows he holds so much guilt over that day, especially Otis’s death. It’s unnecessary because it wasn’t on him. It was the factory’s negligence that caused the blast.

“You thought it was,” she replies. “Everyone did. There was no way for you to know. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah,” he replies, but she can tell he doesn’t believe it. He probably never will.

She switches gears and lets her gaze settle on his hand, watching as his rough thumb grazes her pointer finger in soothing patterns. Originally, she thought this injury was a curse, but it’s kind of a blessing. It’s nice to see how much he cares.

He’s a great guy.

“You know,” she whispers, looking up at him. She wants this next confession to really sink in. “More than anyone in the world, I’d trust you with my life. I really would, Casey.”

The signature solemn Matt Casey looks changes. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a small grin. “I appreciate that.” He clears his throat, and she swears his cheeks turn a little red, but that might just be her impaired vision. “When Boden came over the radio and said someone was hurt…I was really hoping it wasn’t you. I mean, I didn’t want Foster or anybody else to be really hurt, but I don’t know.”

She holds her breath in anticipation. The confession startles her to her core. What does that even mean?”

“I guess what I’m saying is…worst case scenario for me was that it was you who was hurt…well, aside from the absolute worst…”

She gently interrupts him. They both know what he means. “Yeah, I know.” She decides to shift the tone. “I knew I’d grow on you eventually.”

Huh, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. She is concussed and the pain meds just now kicked in. She’ll blame her loose filter on that.

Matt chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I wouldn’t say you never did. I mean, I’ve liked you since the day I met you.”

Platonically, she reminds herself.

She purses her lips. “No, you definitely didn’t. We barely knew each other. I was just…”

Gabby’s best friend.

God, she’s the worst person ever. She shouldn’t be holding Matt’s hand right now. It’s wrong.

She tries to ease her hand away, but his grip never waivers.

Whatever. If he’s okay with it, so is she.

It’s all friendly anyway.

“Okay,” Matt concedes. “Maybe it took me a couple years to really appreciate you in all your glory, but I had a lot going on. Now, I don’t know…I guess it’s easy with you. I mean, talking and hopefully, building a friendship.”

His sentence trails off with a question. She can’t believe he would think for one second that she doesn’t consider him as a friend.

She does.

The pain meds are leaving her feeling fuzzy. She grins, readjusting the shirt that smells like Matt against her eye. “See? I knew you’d fall in love with me.”

Oh my god.

She lifts her head and the room spins, but she’s too immersed in her panic to clock her symptoms.

Did she really just…

To her surprise, Matt doesn’t look appalled by her stupid slip-up. He’s actually grinning in amusement.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean…pickles.” She shakes her head, averting her gaze onto the tiled ceiling. “Platonically of course. I meant platonically fall in love. I say the same thing to Severide which I obviously don’t want him in love with me. Not that he would. I mean, he’s madly in love with Stella which I want! I want my best friend so happy. I’m not…oh my god.”

She feels like a human car crash. Every move she makes causes more damage.

“Brett,” Matt laughs.

“Obviously you’ll never fall in love with me,” Sylvie says. It’s true. “Nor would I ever in a million years want you to, Casey.” Unfortunate lie.

He raises his eyebrows. Did she offend him?

“You’re not my type. You’re not unattractive obviously…I mean, I’m not saying I don’t think your…”

Now would be the best time for her blood vessels to pop if she does in fact have a brain bleed. It would shut her up, but also give her an excuse to hide behind after all that word vomit.

“Sylvie,” he interrupts, lightly patting her head. “You’re drugged up on pain pills. Probably best you stop talking.”

Yeah, definitely not a bad idea.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. You can um…I can wait alone. I don’t want to put you out. You probably have things…”

“You better not be trying to push me away now,” he says. “I like being here for you, okay? And I like that you seem to like it too. Just let me.”

Gosh, he’s so earnest. It amazes her.

“I do like you here. I appreciate it,” she says. “I really do.”

She does.

Appreciate him.