Chicago Fire 1. Chapter 1

Allison couldn't stand the grief support groups, but her last day there someone unabashedly admitted to buying a pillow in the shape of an arm to help them cope. They said that since their boyfriend died no one had held them and for the days when the world felt like it was closing in it made the room seem bigger. They'd stared at Allison's heavy overcoat and gloves when they said it, but when the box showed up at her doorstep it sat in her closet for nearly a week. She ignored the nights spent twisting around beneath the sheets until her partner noted the bags beneath her eyes and asked what she was doing all night if not sleeping with a suggestive wink that made Allison's stomach turn.

That night she cracked the box open, sprayed the pillow with Mac's cologne and inhaled deeply. For the first time since he died she slept the entire night through, so even though it made her feel more alone than ever she snuggled up to it every night and wrapped it around her shoulders while watching television in the privacy of her own home. She wishes she wasn't broken, that every man's hand didn't feel as cold as her husband's the day he died, and that she didn't stop being a resident because she couldn't stand only being touched by people in tears, but she is, they do and she did.

* * *

><p>A new gang gains notoriety by having its initiates set buildings on fire and the more mayhem caused the more respect is earned. Chief Boden tells them that PD is doing everything they can and he expects the firehouse to double their efforts in making themselves available. His eyes flick briefly to Allison who had made a note that she didn't do sleepovers, but the attacks have all taken place in the early morning rather than the dead of night; as long as she doesn't work graveyards she'll be able get her rest in a mostly emptied on-call room. She picks the bed furthest in the corner to be safe and brings the blankets tight around her, but like an uncomfortable situation sniffing mutt Leslie finds her.<p>

"One bed one person."

She snatches the blanket back from Leslie's hand all while trying to shrug out of the arm pillow's velcro grasp.

"Mind your own business."

"Sorry." Leslie doesn't move.

"Feel free to fuck off," Allison supplies helpfully and glares at Leslie's back until it disappears.

* * *

><p>On their way back from dropping off the vagrants who were caught in a blazing abandoned house Leslie stares out the window and remarks casually that she keeps a stuffed bear on her headboard.<p>

"It's not like that. I get," she shakes her head, "anxiety if I go too long without…I touch dead people all day, alright? Sometimes, I don't know, just drop it."

Leslie takes off one of her gloves and places a hand atop Allison's, not losing her grip as the other turns the wheel. "I'm sorry, Rafferty." There's goose bumps on their skin that fade when Leslie moves her thumb. "If you ever get sick of the pillow I'm a really great cuddler."

"Fag," She says without glancing away from the road or moving her hand from beneath Leslie's.

When they get back to the station Leslie starts noticing how often Allison gives the semblance of being close, but whenever anyone brushes up against her they're really brushing up against nylon and fabric. She tries really hard not to think about the time she hugged Allison and as soon as their cheeks touched they both relaxed into it before Allison stiffened up again.

* * *

><p>The couple were in their early thirties and had been cleaning out the basement when the blaze went up. They find their bodies wrapped up in one another-leg over leg, arm in arm and foreheads pressed together. While loading them into the truck Allison calls them cowards for resigning themselves to death instead of finding a way out, but when Leslie reopens the back of the truck she's staring at them like they're the only things that exist.<p>

She straddles a bench while waiting for Allison to finish inventory, waving goodbye as the squad passes her on their way out, but jumping up to detach Allison from the herd.

"Whatever women's locker room fantasy is going through your head aint about to happen sweetheart."

"This shouldn't be weird, I'm not going to let you make this sound weird, but," she held open her arms, "do you want a hug?"

"You kidding me?"

"You've got circles under your eyes, you're zoning out, making inappropriate comments with civilians around and you've stopped bringing that pillow thing when you stay overnight."

"Well look who's paying attention. Got any other observations detective dyke?"

Leslie grabs Alison's wrists and pulls her into her arms, one hand on the back of her head and the other around her waist. Allison relaxes, stiffens, and tries to pull back but Leslie doesn't let her. She rubs tiny circles into the curve of her back as the quiet settles around them.

"This doesn't have to be anything, okay? I'd rather you turn up on my doorstep in the middle of the night for a hug then run around like some kind of robot jerk." She lets go and hooks her thumbs through her belt loops. "And before you ask: no, this doesn't make you gay."

Allison sniffs, wiping her nose to cover a smile. "Admit it though, when was the last time you held a woman without groping her?"

"Why, you offering?" She pretends to grab at her, but Allison squeaks, skips backwards and starts down the hallway again.

* * *

><p>Kelly tucks a dollar into the strippers blink-and-miss-it g string, elbowing Leslie who is turning her five dollar bill into a swan.<p>

"You awake?"

"I'm not feeling it tonight."

He frowns. "Do you want to go to that new place on Lawry?"

"No I think I'll head home."

"Shay! This is bros night out, c'mon, you can't bail. Let's go to Molly's."

She stands up, kissing the top of his head. "Another night."

* * *

><p>Allison bends down to touch her toes then stands back up to stretch her arms high above her head. Herman's wife had started jogging every Saturday morning and she claimed it was helping her sleep. Allison isn't the jogging type, but she has to come up with a better strategy than hugging lesbians in the locker room, she has to.<p>

She's only been at it twenty minutes when she hears someone shout and the crunch of someone stepping on broken glass. She's not a firefighter or a police officer, but the medic in her knows the houses in this neighborhood were built for senior citizens and so she does the stupid thing and runs in the direction of the noise instead of calling for help first.

Smoke is spiraling from the windows and in the entryway four younger men are hawked over an empty wheelchair and a man on his stomach. In the man's hand is a shred of glass and when one of the thugs turn there's a line of red down his cheek.

"Law enforcement!" She shouts and although her shield looks nothing like an officer's it does the trick, the four take off running, shoving her into the bushes as they do so. She turns the groaning stranger onto his side, wiping blood from the top of a bald head that is almost skeletal.

Mac

"What's your name? Can you speak?"

He lets out one rattling breath and falls unconscious as something sizzles and sparks from the living room.

* * *

><p>Leslie wants to shout every obscenity she knows at whoever it is banging and kicking at the front door. She probably would've drank less if she'd stayed out with Kelly instead of coming home to curl up with a six pack and a stack of old cds, but who could say for sure? She rubs her eye with the heel of her palm and opens the door to Allison Rafferty wearing a track suit spattered with blood and smelling of smoke, palms nearly black with dirt.<p>

She scratches at the wood of the doorframe and clears her throat but her voice still comes out low and choked. "I need a hug."

Leslie opens her arms and Allison bullets into them like she thinks Leslie is made of oak, metal, and things tougher than skin and bone. She lifts her feet and wraps them tight around the other woman's waist forcing Leslie to sway them to the couch and press Allison into the cushions. She's done this a couple times under vastly different circumstances, but this feels more intimate. Allison sobs into her neck, kicking off her shoes and socks so she can feel the bottom of her feet on the back of Leslie's legs, gripping and squeezing like she's trying to turn her body into one big throbbing heart that will never stop beating.

"He looked just like Mac, towards the end, but he was covered in blood. They pistol whipped him, stage four and they just bashed his head in. I put the flames out, but he went. His nurse showed him and brought him back, but he went away right in my arms."

"It's okay, you're both alive that's what matters."

Allison unclenches her legs from around Leslie and touches her cheek with the back of her hand.

"You're so warm."

"Yeah, I fell asleep in my clothes. I feel really gross."

"Tell me about it."

"The bathroom's all yours."

"I won't find anything in there, will I?"

"Rainbow soap, homosexual agenda taped to the mirror, same old same old." Allison rolls her eyes. "Okay I'm not going to cuddle you anymore if you keep doing that."

"Keep doing what?"

"Rolling your eyes."

"I don't roll my eyes."

She pushes Leslie off, laughing to herself as the other stares at her in open mouthed fury. "You do it all the time!"

"Only when I'm talking to you."

Leslie picks up a sock and throws it at her.

After that morning it becomes more of a regular thing. Allison will text 'Busy?' and Leslie will shove her dirty clothes into a hamper, find something not romantic but not loud to play and then text back 'no' even when she feels like texting back 'yes'. Once in a while Allison will call with the wind making her voice cut in and out and Leslie won't bother to do anything, but hang around the door so she can open it as soon as she hears footsteps. The latter doesn't happen often and Leslie is grateful because while Allison teases she doesn't think Leslie will do anything inappropriate…and Leslie won't, but when an attractive woman wraps her legs around her and sighs certain alarm bells go off and she can't help that.

Leslie tells Gabriela because she has to tell someone and it's not like she has a bevy of straight women to go to for advice. She puts it off for as long as possible, but there's only so much hugging and holding a lesbian could do with a homophobe before problems began to arise-problems like Allison continuing to be a homophobe loudly and in public.

"You fall for emotionally unavailable women," Gabriela says between sit ups, "it's like your thing."

"Rafferty is not emotionally unavailable, emotions are the only thing I'm getting out of this little arrangement."

"I'm telling you shut it down before you get hurt."

But Leslie has a sick feeling that ending it will be what hurts.

* * *

><p>Allison always smells like soap when she turns up at Leslie's which is sad and comforting all at once. It means she went home, took a shower and laid in bed first but couldn't fall asleep. Leslie shouldn't have to be a last resort, but she's the one who had stood in a locker room with her arms out and offered to be used.<p>

"I love your mattress, I should get one. Mac would've slept on the floor if I let him he liked 'em so firm."

"I know a girl who knows a guy, I can get one for you."

Allison sighs, nestling her back closer to Leslie's front. "That'd be nice."

"Rafferty? Have you thought about going back to one of those groups?"

" No."

"Not even once? You found out about the arm pillow from them and that was working until I showed up."

"I don't need a support group."

"But-"

"Can it." She turns around to face Leslie. "If you're getting sick of me, say so yeah? You don't have to pretend you care by handing me off to someone else."

"I'm worried. We're partners I'm allowed to worry about you."

"I get it, I'm cramping your style." Allison barrels on. "The old bed not getting as much traffic as it used to?"

Leslie might've responded maturely if she'd been given a chance, but suddenly Allison claims to be sleepy enough to not have to spend the night, thanking Leslie in a tone that implies infinite amounts of ingratitude. Leslie doesn't argue, make herself a drink or call Gabriela because maybe this is the best case scenario and the universe is looking out for her for once. What they're doing can't be healthy for either party and it's better it ends before it turning into something more for one and not the other.

When the arsonist gang tracks down Allison they spot a person shaped lump in her bed and throw a Molotov cocktail through the window.

Thumpthumpthump goes the front door. Leslie throws her pillow at the ceiling and thinks _make up your goddamn mind_.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison Rafferty in her bed, watching her television, going through her things. Allison Rafferty in a Chicago Bears nightshirt wearing only an anklet beneath it as she paints her toes and boos the opposing team. Leslie has had dreams like this, a couple nightmares too. She takes a shower and presses her forehead to the tiles, trying to think of work or anything but the outline of Allison's body and how perfectly it fits in her arms. She'd sort of hoped this would end up like her friendship with Gabriela and down the road they'd laugh about this, but her thoughts refuse to veer in that direction. Her brain conjures up images of Allison jumping into her arms and Leslie taking her right there on the floor without a word spoken between them.

She bites into her index finger to keep her moans from echoing and forgoes a nightshirt for baggy pajama bottoms and a suffocating long sleeved shirt then edges herself to the other side of the bed and locks her arms to her side. Just as she's drifting off Allison rolls towards her and sleepily pulls her arm into position, pushes up Leslie's shirt to the bottom of her breasts and rubs the pajamas bottoms up with her feet.

She snores loudly, scrunching up her nose with each breath and scratching Leslie's stomach each time she drifts from deep sleep to light sleep and back again. When Leslie wakes her up to tell her Allison pinches her, mumbles, "Shut up pillow" and carries on for the rest of the night.

"A lot of hours you're requesting Shay." Boden puts his glasses on and pulls up the schedule. "You and Rafferty getting along?"

"We're fine. You said until the firebugs were caught you needed all the extra help you could get."

"Indeed."

He waves her out.

The little boy opens his eyes and his father smiles at him as they bounce along in the back of the ambulance. When he reaches over to squeeze Leslie's shoulder his hand feels freezing all the way through her uniform.

She only meant to have one drink before heading home, but midway into a conversation with Otis about the latest inspection one of her exes walks in. She's pre-gamed just enough to be both obnoxiously honest and unforgivably coherent-two qualities Leslie has never been able to appreciate when she's trying to stay in a good mood. She spins Leslie's barstool to face her then presses herself between her legs.

"Hi."

"Trina."

"Wow, I was just talking about you a month ago, no really!" Leslie bites her tongue. "I was saying that you had this total curse, right, because you're so good in bed you make people think you're in love with them, but you never are." Otis drops his rag and finds something to busy himself with. "I kept falling for it though over and over." She tugs Leslie's collar. "What are you doing tonight?"

She comes home relatively sober to voices in her kitchen. The entire reason she'd gotten out of the house was to give Allison some time with her friends and it isn't their fault Leslie had uncharacteristically decided to come home early.

And yet…

She quietly eases the door shut and listens in. The three of them are standing around the island with glasses of wine, the bottle nearly empty between them. Allison tops herself off and says that it could be worse, she could've had to shack up with someone like her last partner.

"Don't you think it's weird they made you stay here, though? Like what if she requested it."

Allison took a sip from her glass. "I don't think she would."

"Whatever, I wouldn't go to sleep without locking my door."

"….Mhm, that's why I keep to myself."

Leslie puts a chair under the knob of the door conjoining the bathroom to the guest room and locks her bedroom door, but not before leaving a neat stack of blankets and a pillow in front of it. Allison knocks a couple times until she gets the hint and sets herself up in Otis's old room. The bed creaks as she fidgets within it until Leslie can't stand it and pulls out her phone.

"Trina? Turns out I'm not as busy as I thought."

The bathroom light turns on when Trina is on her front, biting into the pillow as Leslie thrusts into her with her fingers, slowing as a shadow passes over the bottom of the door. She sets her jaw and quickens her movements until Trina is calling out, begging her to keep going, unable to see that Leslie's focus is elsewhere. When the light turns off and the other door slams shut Leslie gets off the bed before Trina is finished.

"You should leave."

"Huh, why?"

"Because."

Leslie reaches for her pants and begins to pointedly put them on. Trina stands with a sheet pressed to her front and lifts her free hand as if in preparation to slap her, but at the last minute curls it around her own shoulder and mutters 'over and over' while searching for her clothes. As soon as she's gone Leslie removes the chair and walks into the guest room. The lights are on all the better to illuminate the fact that Leslie forgot to put a shirt on in her haste and Allison is pacing in front of the window with tears in her eyes.

"I need a hug, Rafferty."

"Ugh," Alison crosses her arms and turns to the window, her head shaking back and forth because there's nothing funny about the fact that Leslie's waist is blotted with hickies and Allison is crying like she cares about whatever bimbo put them there. There's nothing funny about the way Leslie walks towards her, wondering what it is that makes women fall apart in her arms. This time it's Allison who tugs her close though, so maybe things can change.

Allison cradles Leslie's face and kisses her to discover her mouth is just as warm as everywhere else. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Us," Leslie corrects, kissing her again, "what the hell is wrong with us."


	3. Chapter 3

Allison closes the door behind them and leans against it while Leslie walks into the recently redecorated apartment. It's warm in a way Leslie's place isn't because even though it's crammed with her stuff it's stuff that doesn't set her apart from anyone else. Allison's coffee table has novelty coasters from her trip to myrtle beach, a wall of circles shiny around the edges and faces of people Leslie will probably never meet on the front. The fish tank pressed into the corner has tiny athlete statues and a football floating at the top dispensing pale flakes.

Leslie drops onto the couch and the black, white and gray specked fabric engulfs her. It's ratty and worn, but comfortable and obviously not meant for show. Everything surrounding it seems like the sort of thing that could've been made by someone with limited supplies, but hours to kill. Leslie could see herself getting used to a place like this.

"It's not an open house, don't get comfortable."

"Too late." She puts her feet on the coffee table, shoes and all, but Allison only comes over and sits herself on Leslie's lap, tilting her chin up to kiss her.

"I'm serious, if I ever see a toothbrush that aint mine…"

"You really know how to charm a girl."

"No, I don't." She pushes up Leslie's shirt her hips moving subtly to match the sudden squirm of the woman beneath her. "That's sort of the point."

This shouldn't be getting to Leslie like this, but it is. She sucks in a breath that sounds more like a gasp when Allison moves her head to the side, always on top, always in control. She'd probably have a heart attack if Leslie pinned her and did all the things she'd wanted to since hell, the first time she'd seen her actually.

Her phone buzzes '_Gabriela Dawson calling'_ and Leslie hates that she ever installed the voice option onto it. Allison nips briefly at her lower lip then pulls back.

"Yeah?"

"Are you busy?"

"No, what's up?"

"I passed! I totally passed! And with Mills on the truck it means I'm the new candidate for 51!"

"Dawson that's fantastic, congratulations."

"Matt and I are on our way over now, I'm thinking burgers and beer tonight and tomorrow Mollys to celebrate with the rest of the guys."

Allison drops to Leslie's side, dragging her fingers down the others arm. "I'm not at my place right now."

"Well where are you, we'll come pick you up."

"I'm at All…Rafferty's."

She closes her eyes as Gabriela pauses then, in a significantly less enthused tone of voice, "Text me the address."

She hadn't even been sure there was anything to tell Gabriela. So they'd progressed from hugging and holding to kissing and groping, otherwise not much had changed. They still give each other a hard time at work and don't jog through the park in matching outfits. Allison still wears gloves all the time so Leslie is pretty sure she isn't sleeping with anyone, but does that make a relationship? A glance at Allison tells her she's thinking along the same lines. Leslie kisses the side of her head.

"I'm sure there have been more uncomfortable dinners in the history of dinners."

"See if you can snag an invite to one of them instead."

* * *

><p>The first thing Matthew says is that besides for the scorch marks and new framing the apartment doesn't look like it's ever been on fire. Gabriela punches his shoulder while laughing, Allison takes a long pull from her bottle and it pretty much sets the tone for the night. Leslie and Gabriela let Allison and Matthew fool around with the barbecue while they munch on chips and avoid talking about anything but firefighting for a while.<p>

Gabriela snatches the bag from Leslie. "So elephant in the room."

"Yeah, um, I'm not ready to talk about it."

"When are you going to be ready?" She pulls the bag out of reach when Leslie lunges for it before handing it over.

"I don't know! Why do you want to put labels on everything?"

"Because you're fooling around with a gay hating widow you work with and who I have to work with now too. Hello."

Leslie looks out onto the patio where Matthew who is gesticulating with a spatula while Allison sips her beer and nods slowly like she's only comprehending half of whatever he's ranting about. When she glances through the sliding glass Leslie catches her gaze and gives her a thumbs up.

"I'm working on that first part."

Allison flips her the bird and Gabriela snorts. "Won't hold my breath."

* * *

><p>Antonio turns up at the station a week after Gabriela starts her candidacy and while he puts his arm around her shoulders and asks how things are going his rookie partner finds his way to Allison and Leslie in the back of the truck.<p>

"Allison Rafferty?" Leslie points and looks back to her clipboard. "Officer Walker Sims. I understand you've had a couple run ins with the Fifths, local gang running around starting fires? Detective Dawson and I would like to bring you in and see if you can id the men you saw."

"Let me clear it with the chief."

"Great."

They collar one of the guys who spills about his friends, but not the leader and while their faces are all over the news Antonio admits it could be a while before they turn up anything. He suggests Allison not be alone if she can help it and doubles the patrols in her neighborhood even though he's doubtful they'd bother her again.

While waiting for the paperwork to come through at the hospital Leslie offers up her place.

"Because it went over so well the first time."

"It's different now."

"How?" Leslie reaches for her, but Allison crosses her arms. "Not here."

"After work then." Allison shakes her head. "We gotta talk about it at some point."

"We're friends with benefits what's there to talk about."

Except Allison doesn't treat her like a friend and neither of them are really benefiting. Leslie doesn't know that after the fire Allison rented out a storage cube to keep what wasn't destroyed only to realize they all reminded her of Mac. In the storage cube is a wine rack that had held jars of candy and miscellaneous items because they were more into liquor, but now just the sight of a tumbler makes Allison's mouth dry.

Allison doesn't know that since the first night they kissed Leslie has been living in her sneakers and the closest she gets to taking anyone home is driving Kelly and whoever is glued to his side home when they're too out of it. It's nothing she's been doing intentionally, but whenever she spots someone attractive at the post office or mall she thinks of Trina moaning her name and shadows beneath the door.

* * *

><p>It's not exactly a date, but they don't live that far from one another and even though Leslie prefers to go through the park and Allison sticks to housing developments they both end up unsynchronized at the same coffee shop anyway. They usually sit outside and talk about nothing in particular or argue about their favorite teams with the tips of their shoes touching beneath the table, one hand around their drinks and the other crawling across the table until they're too deep in conversation realize to notice when they're intertwined.<p>

Leslie checks the clock on the wall and goes up to the counter to order hers (never assuming Allison will show up), straightening up when Allison comes to a full stop in front of the door. She's visibly shivering, the usual headstrong way in which she carries herself replaced by something Leslie has learned to recognize.

She speed walks past Leslie into the bathroom and wraps her arms around her as soon as Leslie locks the door.

"I saw them. They were casing a place, I took out my phone to call Antonio, and they spotted me."

"What happened?" She took off Allison's cap, searching for bumps. "They hurt you?"

"They were on bikes, jostled me a little, but Leslie don't. I already talked to Sims."

But how long would it take him to get there? They already said they didn't have enough to bring them down yet. Leslie holds her for a little longer then makes up an excuse to leave.

* * *

><p>People do stupid things all the time, Leslie has done more than a few for no good reason. She finds them not far off Allison's route, picks up a rock and chucks it into one of their spokes. By the time Sims turns up there's an imprint of a pistol on her stomach, the same imprint found on the man they attacked in his own home. When Antonio lifts her onto her feet her vision blurs from being knocked on the ground so questioning goes straight out the window.<p>

Leslie is expecting the most romantic of moments, she doesn't watch chick flicks as a rule but she figures that when someone puts themselves in the line of danger to get back at the scum bugs who hurt the person they have not so platonic feelings for the scene pretty much writes itself.

Except what Allison sees is another person with bandaged limbs who can smile and tell her it'll be alright like saying it will make it true. The leader of the Fifths was in custody and they could hope it would discourage the gang, but instead of Allison they had someone new to focus their rage on if it didn't.

"What were you thinking?"

"Well first I thought 'Fuck yeah' then I thought 'This is going to hurt'."

"You're not funny." She grips the handlebars of the bed. "You should've let Sims handle it."

"They would've been gone if I hadn't stalled them."

"And you wouldn't be here. Jesus christ, it's like you don't even care what happens to yourself."

Leslie tries to smile and winces, rubbing her finger against Allison's knuckles. "I have you for that."

_No you don't_, _not as much as you think_.

She kisses Leslie hard on the mouth, wishing it would hurt instead of making her lift her head off the pillow and thread her fingers into Allison's hair. She promises to call Leslie when she gets home, but never does.

* * *

><p>She takes her vacation to give the PD time to round up the rest of the Fifths and because even though her car is in its spot Allison doesn't answer the door when Leslie rings her bell. She leaves just in time to miss Walker Sims take the steps two at a time.<p>

Walker is a rookie with a face like he's in a constant state of mourning, but he looks good on paper and Allison can't think of a reason to say no when he asks her out so she doesn't. After the fourth night they've spent alone together he shows up at the firehouse in the sweater Allison bought for him and she realizes who he reminds her of. Matthew watches her get into the car and frowns when she kisses him.

He squints. "Aren't her and Shay," he rolls his hands around each other while looking at Gabriela, "more than partners? Not that I'm judging. No, no I'm judging."

"Not so much apparently."

"Shay know?"

"Let's put it this way, they caught the rest of those guys a couple days ago. See her around?"

* * *

><p>Boden tells her that adults don't just not show up for work and that if she needed more time she should've came to him and asked for it. Like a kid after they've been given the "I'm not angry just disappointed" speech she sulks out of his office and runs straight into Allison. They duck into a utility room and words start spilling out of their mouths and the fact that they're the kind of words that would've been shouted in any other setting makes it difficult for the anger to manifest.<p>

When Leslie asks scathingly if his hands are cold she isn't expecting Allison to nod.

"Maybe we can go back to the way things were before. I'll do the support group thing even," she undoes the fly of Leslie's pants, contradicting her own words, "all we'll do," Leslie holds onto the metal rack behind her as Allison's hand moves between her legs, "is touch. We won't do this. You want more," she kisses Leslie's jaw line, "so we won't do anything like this until you think I'm better."

"Mhm."

"What if going there makes me not interested in this. You down with that?"

"Yes," Leslie grinds into her palm, not looking away from Allison who seems almost disappointed. "You getting better is all that matters. It's never been about what I want."

Allison's teeth clench briefly and she curls her fingers inside Leslie. "What do you want right now?"

Sirens drown out the ensuing noise they make, but all things considered Leslie figures Gabriela had a point about how getting things out in the open was good for everyone although maybe for some more than others. She straightens her clothes with a smirk and follows Allison out to the truck.

* * *

><p>For a while Leslie wonders if the meetings are working since Allison continues to show up at her place on a regular basis. The homophobic comments have cut down, but they stop having coffee and the nights they spend together Allison drifts away from Leslie sometime in the night. It's almost strange not waking up to a dead arm and hair in her mouth.<p>

Allison invites Walker to the 51 versus 42 baseball game and when he shows up she jumps into his arms, bare wrists across his naked neck.

"Get your head outta the clouds Shay!" Herman yells as the ball goes whizzing past her straight into the umpires mitt.

She knocks the next one over the fence and dances her way across the bases.

"Beginners luck."

"It's the fifth inning."

"Yeah and four more to go. Be a doll go drag Cruz and Mouch away from the concession stand, will ya? We got a game to win."

She makes a detour to the stands where Allison is talking to Walker. He excuses himself and before she can ask Allison tells her that he was just stopping by to tell her he got rid of some things in a storage cube. As if it all goes together she tells Leslie that she used to date women before she fell in love with Mac and that working with someone who shoved their conquests in her face while dealing with his loss had made it easy to forget.

"I'm sorry I dumped all that on you."

"I could've been more on you about getting help. I liked being your crutch."

"I liked it too."

Leslie sat down between Allison's toes and rested her elbows on the bench behind her. "How much?"

"A lot."

"Define a lot, act like I'm stupid."

"What do you mean 'act'?"

Leslie mimes a knife to the heart, but her hand flattens when Allison's hair falls over her face as she kisses her.

On the field Matthew, Gabriela and Kelly look away from the stands then leave their bases to talk among themselves. Herrman watches from the pitcher's mound as their competition trots past them, then throws his mitt into the dust.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Alright that's definitely it for this story, haha, Peace&Love


End file.

Chicago Fire, Hurt-Comfort, Romance