BURNED - A Chicago Fire Fanfiction

Chapter Thirty Four

ZAHRA

I stood in the kitchen in silence, working on the night's dinner. I opted for making a recipe of my mom's: million dollar chicken casserole. Cooking Mom's recipes used to always make me feel better, I just hoped it was still the case. "Hey," I looked up from the kitchen island to see Mills standing on the opposite side. "Need help?"

"No thanks," I mumbled. "I got it."

"Come on, Spock, let me help you." I let out a sigh. "I'm a good cook."

"Okay." Mills softly smiled and made his way around the island. "Wash your hands."

"Yes, ma'am," Mills chuckled and walked to the sink behind me to wash his hands. Once finished, he returned to my side. "What are we making?"

"One of my favorite recipes my mom used to make. It's called Million Dollar Chicken Casserole. Normally, it's very basic, but it's been tweaked over the years to make it stretch. I've already cooked the chicken, it just needs shredded. The bacon is cooked and needs chopped, I've got to mix the cheese, sour cream, cream of chicken, chicken base, green onions, the vegetables, and the shredded cheese."

"Give me the cream cheese and cream of chicken. I can use a hand mixer to shred the chicken and it'll help keep it from flying everywhere." I handed Mills his ingredients and got to work on my own stuff. "Any side dishes?"

"Baked potatoes are in the oven," I nodded.

"Cool." The space between us fell silent as we worked. Mills turned the hand mixer on low and shredded the chicken with ease. "Mind if I put on some music?"

"Is that allowed?"

"As long as it's not too loud, yeah." I gently shrugged and Mills out his phone on the table, flipped through his Spotify playlist, and began to play some music. My ears instantly perked up when I heard the familiar beat to Ricky Martin's Livin' la Vida Loca. "Oh, this is my shit right here!" Mills smirked and began to dance in place. "She's into superstitions, black cats, and voodoo dolls." I looked over at Mills, watching him awkwardly dance while shredding the chicken. "I feel a premonition, that girl's gonna make me fall." I shook my head and continued mixing my bowl.

"What is going on in here?" Herrmann asked as he and Mouch entered the commons.

"I'm cooking dinner, Mills is acting a fool," I answered, an amused smile plastered across my face.

"Ricky Martin, Mills?" Herrmann smirked. "Really?"

"Don't hate on the classics, Dorothy," Mills argued as he danced.

"He's got you there," I chuckled.

"It is a classic," Mouch nodded.

"I bet that guy's a total asshole," Herrmann scoffed. "Most people turn into jerks when they make it big."

"And that's his prerogative," I retorted. "I mean, Alec Baldwin's a jackass and yet you still watch his movies."

"Mills and Spock: two, Herrmann, zippo," Mouch laughed. "So, what's for dinner?"

"Baked potatoes and Million Dollar Chicken Casserole."

"...What?"

"Trust me, it'll make you feel like a million bucks."

"And we definitely need it," Mills nodded. "After that last call? Phew."

"Mills," Herrmann warned.

"It's okay," I reassured. "I'm good now."

"You sure?" Mouch asked. "I mean, what you saw was graphic. It's okay to not be okay after a call like that."