#Engaged Carlos Reyes/TK Strand | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chicgeekgirl89 · 1 year

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Paper Rings

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Gabriel Reyes, Andrea Reyes, Owen Strand, Paul Strickland, Mateo Chavez

Rating: K

Summary: Five times T.K. and Carlos made progress on their wedding planning and one time they didn't.

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Venue

“Okay,” Owen whispers, darting a glance around the room to make sure no one is listening. “Here’s the plan: I’m going to tell them I have to use the bathroom. While they’re distracted, you sneak out the side door. I’ll get the car and meet you.”

“They have the keys,” Gabriel whispers back.

Owen thinks for a moment. “We could rush them?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “There are three of them, and they’re faster and stronger than us. We won’t make it.”

Owen sighs. “I guess I’ll have to hot wire it.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” Carlos says from where he, T.K., and Andrea are standing a mere five feet away in the ballroom they’re all checking out as a possible wedding venue.

“Damn it,” Owen mutters before turning toward them, a bright smile on his face. “Oh uh, we were just discussing how beautiful the…sconces are. Right Gabriel?”

“Oh yes,” Gabriel agrees. “Excellent uh, lighting in here. Very…bright.”

“Thanks for the input,” T.K. says with a smile and a roll of his eyes. “That’s definitely our main focus in choosing a wedding venue, good lighting. Right babe?”

“Definitely,” Carlos mock agrees, putting an arm around T.K.’s waist.

“You know, if we’re annoying you, we can leave,” Owen suggests in that voice he uses when he’s pretending to be sincere.

No one is falling for it.

“Absolutely not,” Andrea says flatly. “I want the two of you where I can see you. Every time you’re together you cause trouble.”

“But wouldn’t it make more sense for you to bring us along to the things we’d be useful at?” Gabriel tries. “We don’t know anything about wedding venues. A barn versus a ballroom? Who cares! Now when the cake tasting rolls around…”

“Yes,” Owen jumps in to agree. “I think we’d be excellent at cake tasting. And very bad at floral arrangements.”

“If you keep dragging us around now we’ll be too tired to help when it really counts,” Gabriel says.

Both of them look hopefully at the rest of the group. Carlos and T.K. exchange a glance while Andrea shakes her head disapprovingly.

“Look,” Carlos says finally. “We know that looking at wedding venues and researching photographers and addressing invitations—“

“You’re going to make us address invitations?” Owen interrupts in horror.

“Dad!” T.K. sighs, giving him an exasperated look.

“Sorry,” Owen says, holding out a hand to cede the floor back to his son’s fiancé. “Go on Carlos.”

“We know that doing all of this isn’t really your thing,” Carlos continues, ever the peacemaker. “But we want you to be involved.” He looks at T.K. who nods in agreement. “It’s important to us that we do this as a family.”

Owen and Gabriel both deflate a little bit. “Well,” Gabriel says slowly. “I think I liked the second space today better.”

“The vineyard?” Andrea asks.

“No,” Gabriel says. “No the…what do you call it? Homestead?”

“That was number four,” Owen says. “And I agree. You want something with indoor space. No need to invite the elements to ruin your day.”

“Is this even the right size?” Gabriel asks, starting to wander the space. “You need room for the guests spread out.”

“Well we’re keeping it pretty small,” Carlos says.

“But even still, you need space for food, for dancing, you don’t want your guests tripping all over each other,” Owen says. “And aesthetic wise this carpet would have to go. Do you think we can rent flooring?”

“We’re not renting flooring,” T.K. says, but his words fall on deaf ears as the two men start talking about the building’s structural integrity and clocking the number of fire exits.

T.K. looks at his fiancé an exaggerated grimace on his face. “We made a mistake, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Carlos says.

“Don’t worry. I’ll round them up,” Andrea says, patting Carlos’ shoulder. “Oye! You two! Vengan! No one needs you to check the fire extinguishers, vámonos!”

Suits

“Dude, you cannot wear that to your wedding,” Paul says seriously as he eyes T.K.’s suit.

“Why not?” Mateo asks. “I think he looks dope as hell.”

“Yeah why not?” T.K. asks, brushing off the front of the floral patterned jacket, then turning so he can see the matching pants better in the mirror. “I like it.”

“There is no way Carlos is going to let you wear that,” Paul says with a shake of his head.

T.K. just smiles. “Hey babe?” he calls.

“Yeah?” a reply comes from across the room where they’re separated from Carlos by a curtain.

“Can I wear a sage green floral suit to the wedding?”

There’s a pause and then, “Whatever makes you happy.”

“See?” T.K. says with a smirk. “He wants me to be happy.”

“Uh huh. Mrs. Reyes?” Paul calls. “When Carlos paused just then, did he make his ‘contemplative, thoughtful face’ or did he make his ‘blank look of long suffering’ face?”

“I have to say it was the latter,” Andrea calls back.

Paul gives T.K. a look and T.K. frowns. “Well if he could just see how great I look in it, he’d probably change his mind,” he says loudly.

“We agreed not to look,” Carlos calls back.

“No you agreed. I was forced to comply,” T.K. mutters. He sighs and looks the suit up and down again. “Maybe for the rehearsal dinner.”

The decision to go together to look for wedding attire had been born out of time constraints and Andrea’s desire to see both men try on suits. Their dads had been fired after the venue fiasco, so they’d each brought along a couple friends and family members to give opinions. The decision not to see each other on the other hand, had been entirely Carlos citing tradition. T.K. wasn’t a fan.

On the other side of the room Carlos examines himself his own mirror. “I think I liked the first one better,” he says.

“Ohhhhhhh my god, just pick a suit, they all look exactly the same,” Francesca whines from where she’s reclining in a chair between their mom and Adriana.

“Cesca!” Andrea scolds.

“I’d like to remind you that you were not invited to this,” Carlos tells her. She and Adriana had shown up out of the blue, having tracked Andrea’s phone to the tux shop. So despite firing both Owen and Gabriel, they still had unwelcome guests at this appointment. “Unless you’re going to be nice, you can just be quiet.”

“You need opinions,” Adriana says, not looking up from where she’s scrolling her phone. “Tía’s just going to say you look great in everything.”

“Well he does,” Andrea says. “I have beautiful children.”

Carlos snorts and rolls his eyes, then studies himself again. “I’m putting the grey one back on.”

“Ugh!” Adriana and Francesca both groan in displeasure.

On the other side of the curtain, things are looking up. “Now that is a good look,” Paul says when T.K. comes out for the fifth time.

“Yeah, you think?” T.K. asks, brushing his hands over the three buttons on the vest. This suit is blue, with a light pinstripe running through it, and he’s really liking the look without a jacket.

“You look fly,” Mateo says, giving a low whistle.

“We could do matching pocket squares,” the store associate who’s been helping them says. “To tie the two suits together.”

T.K. nods and straightens the grey tie around his neck, looking contemplatively at himself. “Carlos!” he calls. “Did you find the one you want?”

“I think so,” Carlos says.

T.K. turns and immediately strides toward the curtain.

“Whoa, hey! Where are you going?” Mateo asks as he and Paul jump to their feet to follow him.

“To see Carlos,” T.K. says.

“But he—“

“T.K. don’t—“

“Babe, I’m coming over!”

Carlos has about three seconds to react before T.K. comes through the curtain. “T.K.!” he cries, spinning away with a hand over his eyes.

“I’m not looking!” T.K. calls back.

There’s a shuffling sound and then a small thump and Andrea says, “T.K.! Cuidado mijo!”

Seconds later Carlos feels someone press up against him until they’re standing fully back-to-back, familiar fingers sliding between his own. “Hi,” T.K. says.

“Hi.” Carlos fights back a smile. “We said no looking.”

“I know, but someone needs to see how the suits look together,” T.K. says. “My eyes are closed, I promise.”

“Paul?” Carlos asks.

“He’s telling the truth,” Paul confirms. “Almost killed himself getting up on that pedestal with his hand over his eyes.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Carlos tells him.

“And you love it,” T.K. says, squeezing Carlos’ fingers. “So?” he says to the rest of the group. “How do we look?”

“Extremely stupid,” Adriana says immediately. “But also hot.”

“Yeah you look great together,” Mateo says.

“Mom?” Carlos asks, but he doesn’t get a response.

“She can’t talk, she’s crying,” Francesca says on her behalf. “It’s just suits ma! You’ve seen them both in suits before!”

“But not their wedding suits,” Andrea finally says in a watery voice. “My boys, you’re really getting married.”

They really are.

Cake

“And so THEN I said that we should probably find a different way to get him out, but Nancy said we should keep trying…”

Carlos listens to his fiancé ramble on at a mile a minute as they walk toward the next bakery on their list. They’ve already been to three today and T.K. is so hopped up on sugar that he hasn’t stopped talking in over ten minutes.

Carlos is also feeling a little bit over-sugared; they should have taken his mom’s advice to spread these out over a couple days, but he’d wanted to get it checked off his list and today was the only day they were both free during regular business hours for the next two weeks.

“And can you believe he wrote that song in a single day and then recorded it, I mean it’s unbelievable—“

He’s still reeling from their first three appointments; the first place had wanted $600 for a basic cake plus more for anything custom, the second had tasted stale and flavorless, and the third had been good, but the owners had rushed them through the appointment, giving both Carlos and T.K. a bad vibe.

“Maybe I should just bake it,” he says, interrupting the flow of T.K.’s tangent, which has moved onto something about a meteor shower next week.

T.K. pauses for a moment and shakes his head. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“Knew what was going to happen?” Carlos asks.

“I knew that you were going to get all picky and not like any of the cakes we tasted,” T.K. says.

“Be honest, have you ever had a good wedding cake?” Carlos asks. “They’re always dry and tasteless and it seems like a huge waste of money. We could put it toward our honeymoon instead.”

“Baby,” T.K. stops walking and takes both of Carlos’ hands in his. “It’s not that I don’t think you could bake a wedding cake. It’s that I don’t think you could bake our wedding cake.”

Carlos just raises an eyebrow and waits for T.K. to explain his cryptic statement.

“I love you,” he starts and Carlos rolls his eyes. “But I also know you. And I think, that in the days leading up to our wedding, you might start to feel a little…stressed. I really don’t think you want the added responsibility of baking a cake for a hundred people, do you?”

Carlos’ shoulders slump. “No. But what we’ve seen so far today isn’t very promising.”

“Well then we’ll just have to keep trying,” T.K. says as he loops his arm through Carlos’ and starts walking again. “I will selflessly commit to visiting every bakery in this city until we find you the perfect wedding cake.”

Carlos laughs. “You just want more cake.”

“Eh, that’s just a perk,” T.K. tells him with a wink, pulling open the next bakery’s door.

The space is bright, and modern, display cakes placed artfully around the room. “Hi,” the woman behind the counter says brightly. “Are you Carlos and T.K.?”

The appointment goes perfectly. The designs are unique but within their price range, the owner, Katie, is beyond helpful and takes her time, and everything they try is so good they struggle to choose a favorite. They leave two hours later with signed paperwork and an additional box of cake samples to take home.

“See?” T.K. says. “Told you we’d find one. I get to have a wedding free of cake stress, and you get to check something else off your list. It’s a win-win.”

“I should never have doubted you,” Carlos says.

Engagement Photos

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” T.K. calls as he rushes into the loft, hurling his bag to the floor and kicking off his shoes into a haphazard heap.

A last minute call had put them well into overtime and he knew that his fiancé was going to be sweating his late arrival since they were now fifteen minutes late for their engagement photo session.

“I just have to jump in the shower and then I’ll be ready, ten minutes tops, I sw—“

The rest of his assurances die on his lips as he enters their bedroom and finds Carlos laying out his clothes on the bed. “Hi,” T.K. says, eyes slowly looking his fiancé up and down.

Carlos has on dark jeans and a grey button down, a narrow tie completing the look. His curls are artfully tousled the way T.K. likes them best and he smells incredible. He’s hot, and judging by the look in his eyes, he knows it.

“Hi,” Carlos says, a small smirk quirking his lips as he straightens up and leans over to give T.K. a peck on the lips.

“You uh, you look great,” T.K. tells him.

“Thanks,” Carlos says. “You look like hell.”

“Long shift,” T.K. tells him, feeling the weight of it in his bones. He’s not actually sure how he’s going to muster up the energy to smile for six hundred photos, but this is important to Carlos and Andrea, so he’s going to figure it out.

Carlos reaches out and touches a spot behind T.K.’s ear. “Is this blood?”

T.K. winces and pulls back. “Yeah last guy was a gusher. Took us forever to get the rig cleaned out, that’s part of why I’m so late.” He pauses and cocks his head. Carlos looks calm and assured, not frantic the way he’d thought he would be. “Speaking of which, why aren’t you freaking out? If we don’t get these done today we won’t have them in time for our save-the-dates.”

“I already called and asked if Maria could push us a half an hour. She said it was no problem,” Carlos says.

T.K. feels himself sag in relief. “Have I mentioned that you are the best fiancé in the entire universe?” he asks.

“Mmm I think maybe once or twice,” Carlos says, running a hand over T.K.’s hair and cupping his face. “But I like hearing it. And you don’t need to keep apologizing, it’s not your fault that your shift ran long. It happens.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to think this isn’t important to me,” T.K. tells him. “I know I wasn’t initially very…open about engagement photos.”

In fact he still thinks they’re kind of stupid. But Carlos and Andrea really want them, and he’ll do anything to make Carlos happy, even if it means getting dressed up and fake smiling for two hours.

“I know you care,” Carlos says. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Well I’m still going to make it up to you later,” T.K. tells him, tugging gently at his tie.

“Oh, I fully intend to let you,” Carlos says, eyes going a little dark. Then he puts his hands on T.K.’s shoulders and turns him toward the bathroom. “Now go shower.”

“Love you!” T.K. calls over his shoulder.

“Love you too!”

Gift Registration

Beep.

“Oh my god, please stop,” Carlos says, taking hold of T.K.’s wrist to prevent him from scanning yet another random item. “This isn’t laser tag.”

“But it’s fun,” T.K. tells him as he breaks Carlos’ hold and spins around to zap another box, effectively registering them for a decorative glass swan that Carlos immediately removes from their list via his phone. He’s also had to remove an industrial cappuccino maker, a box of tampons, five XXL t-shirts, and a cotton candy machine in the last fifteen minutes alone. When he’d suggested they go register for some wedding gifts, he clearly hadn’t thought through the childlike joy that a hand held scanner would give his fiancé.

“So what exactly do we think is the limit on what people will buy for us?” T.K. asks as he scans a set of dinner plates with little flowers on them.

“I’m pretty sure a Maserati or a Lambo are probably off the table,” Carlos says with a wry smile.

“You’re the one with the car fetish babe, not me,” T.K. tells him, smiling when Carlos immediately looks around to see if anyone heard him.

“It’s not a fetish,” Carlos replies, his voice low. “It’s just an appreciation for fine machinery.” He immediately realizes his mistake and tries to correct. “T.K. don’t—“

“I appreciate your fine machinery,” T.K. says with a grin, setting the scanner on a shelf so he can slide his hands into Carlos’ back pockets and tug him closer as his fiancé rolls his eyes.

“You just can’t pass up an opportunity to be a flirt, can you?” Carlos asks.

“I really can’t,” T.K. says, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Seriously though, we don’t need any of this stuff. We already have towels and pots and pans and champagne glasses.”

“It might be nice to upgrade some of our things,” Carlos says, picking up a box. “Marlon Blendo the Second?”

“Can’t we just tell everyone to give us cash?” T.K. asks as they wander down another aisle where he immediately zaps a dog bed shaped like a cheeseburger.

“I think that’s probably frowned upon,” Carlos says.

“We’re a cop and a paramedic. We don’t need…” T.K. taps a box close to him, “a breadmaker. We need to pay our bills.”

“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” Carlos says dryly. He looks around the store. “I think we’re done here, right? We can go home and look online.”

“But I want to scan more stuff,” T.K. says, pointing the scanner at a pink and purple unicorn bean bag chair.

“What if I buy you boba on the way home?”

T.K. raises his eyebrows. “Are you bribing me like a toddler?”

“Bribery, love, is there really a difference?” Carlos teases.

T.K. considers this for a moment, then sets the scanner down. “Fine. But I’m getting a large.”

Invitations

“Mom I don’t think—No I’m not! We said we—“

T.K. listens from the couch as Carlos switches between English and Spanish. He’s been quietly arguing with his mom for nearly half an hour and he looks spent. He’s run his hands through his curls so many times that they’re sticking up all over the place and his forehead is pinched tightly in the middle, creating a V over the top of his glasses.

“I’ll ask T.K. No, Mom, that’s it. I’ll talk to him. Okay. Okay. Adiós.”

Carlos hangs up and sighs, letting his head flop forward onto the table.

“You okay?” T.K. asks when he doesn’t get up.

“My mom wants to add ten more people to the guest list,” Carlos says, his voice muffled by the stack of invitations he’s mashed his face into. “Three family friends, my great aunt and uncle, and five cousins from New York.”

T.K. frowns. “I didn’t know you had any family in New York.”

Carlos lifts his head, a look of long suffering on his face. “I didn’t either. I’ve never even met them. So I don’t know why my mom thinks they should be invited to our wedding. We told her we wanted to keep the guest list small, but this is the third time she’s called this week and I—“

“Hey,” T.K. stands and joins him at the table, rubbing a hand over his back. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She’s not usually like this. She’s turning into some kind of Mom-zilla.”

“She’s excited. She wants to show you off.”

Carlos still looks miserable. “I didn’t know that weddings were this much work. When my sisters got married I just kind of showed up.”

“Why don’t we take a break?” T.K. suggests. “It’s late, all the wedding stress will still be there in the morning.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Carlos sighs, looking down at the stack of invitations in front of him. When he looks up again his face has gone from exhausted to something that T.K. can’t quite interpret. “Marry me.”

T.K. blinks a couple times. “Pretty sure that’s what we’re already doing babe.”

“Marry me now,” Carlos says, and there’s a tinge of desperation in his tone.

T.K. checks his watch. “At 10:37pm? I don’t think there’s anywhere to get married right now, except for Vegas. And that’s a really long drive. You’ll be late for work tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” Carlos says, looking a little manic . “I don’t care about any of it. I just want to marry you.”

It’s so genuine and sweet and T.K. feels his heart melt a little bit, even though he knows Carlos very much does care and that’s how they’ve gotten here in the first place.

“Let’s go to city hall tomorrow,” he continues, reaching for T.K.’s hands. “We don’t need flowers or favors or…or…or save the dates. We just need each other, right? That’s all that matters?”

“Yes,” T.K. says with a soft smile. “That’s all that matters.”

Carlos sags in relief. “You really don’t care about the rest of it?”

“Carlos I proposed to you in the middle of the night without a ring, of course I don’t care,” T.K. says, running his thumb soothingly over the back of Carlos’ hand. He chooses his next words carefully. “But baby, I think you do.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything, he just sits staring down at his lap in defeat, so T.K. continues. “You’ve worked so hard on all of this and it’s going to be amazing. We don’t need it, but we deserve to have an awesome wedding that our friends and family can be a part of. And if you wake up tomorrow morning and decide you still don’t care, then I will run down to city hall with you the minute they open the doors.” He pauses. “But remember that your mom will murder us. And then Marjan will bring us back and murder us again. So our wedded bliss will be short lived.”

“I’m just so tired,” Carlos says, looking defeated. “I don’t know if I can deal with six more months of this.”

“Then let me help,” T.K. tells him. “I will call your mom tomorrow and work out the guest list, okay? And we can divide up whatever else is on your list to get done this week.”

Relief washes over Carlos’ face and he leans forward, wrapping a hand around the back of T.K.’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” T.K. says, their faces still only millimeters apart. “Do you want to get ready for bed?”

Carlos nods and hums an affirmative, leaning in and brushing their lips together again and then again.

T.K. smiles against him, acutely aware of the half lidded, familiar look in Carlos’ eyes. “Is me taking over wedding duties a turn on?”

Carlos nods and kisses T.K. a little more firmly this time.

“So not actually bed then?”

Carlos shakes his head and gently pulls T.K. to his feet. No more invitations are addressed that night.

#Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Carlos Reyes #TK Strand #Tarlos Engagement #Tarlos Wedding Planning #Soft boys #Sweet boys #Domestic Tarlos #Fluff #Fluffy Tarlos

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nancygillianmvp · 1 year

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nothing a kiss better can't fix

2,196 words. rated g. summary: Carlos has a hard time admitting when he's sick, but when he's hurt on the job he's forced to let TK take care of him.

Carlos wakes a while before his alarm, but he doesn’t mind. There’s a certain serenity in the silence and the solitude in the hours before the sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains and rouses TK from his slumber. Today especially, he appreciates starting the day watching his perfect fiancé sleep so soundly.

TK’s been getting over the flu for what feels like an eternity, and seeing him this peaceful is a very welcome sight. In actuality, it’s only been about five days, but after the hypothermia, even a simple cold seems to be enough to send TK to bed for three days straight, so now Carlos can’t help but worry the whole time whenever TK gets sick, and watching his fiancé feel so awful, but being unable to help has left Carlos feeling defeated.

It’s the same crushing defeat he felt all those months ago as he sat in that horrid plastic chair in the ICU and watched the man he loved—a man he thought no longer loved him—fade away. The same helplessness he felt watching the plane he’d just put the love of his life on hurtle towards the ground, smoke billowing out of the engine.

He never wants to feel that powerless again. And thankfully, for now, at least, he doesn’t have to. TK has finally recovered—sure, he wasn’t actually sick for more than a week, but watching the ones you love unwell feels like an eternity—and is going back to work today, and a weight has lifted off Carlos’s chest; he feels like he can finally breathe again.

It takes everything in Carlos not to snooze his alarm—or better yet, turn it off altogether—and stay in this serene moment for as long as possible. But he can’t. He has a big case he’s helping detective Washington with at work, so he reaches out and gently pushes back TK’s hair to kiss his fiancé’s forehead.

“G’morning, love,” TK whispers sleepily as he stretches his arms out, slowly waking up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, TK,” Carlos tells him as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. The room spins, and his vision goes fuzzy around the edges; then Carlos stumbles, landing back on the bed. Everything sounds muffled and distant.

“Babe?” Comes a far away sounding voice as the bed moves beside him, probably TK scrambling to sit up. “Are you okay?”

keep reading on ao3 or under the cut

Carlos takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “I think I just stood up too fast. Go back to sleep, and I’ll see you tonight. Love you.” TK looks over at him with an eyebrow raised and an air of scepticism in his expression.

“Are you sure?” TK asks, reaching out to feel his forehead and check for a fever. “Well, you don’t have a fever.” He concludes, but it doesn’t seem to comfort him.

“I don’t have a fever because I’m fine, TK,” Carlos tells him squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Go back to sleep; I’ll see you after my shift.”

TK stands up and strides toward the closet. “Just let me check you over, babe. Can’t be too careful.” He tells Carlos as he reaches for a backpack—the over-the-top first aid kit he keeps around ‘just in case’.

“Fine, but quickly, I’ve got to get to work. I can’t be late today.” Carlos relents, sinking further into the mattress as TK takes a stethoscope from the bag.

“This might be cold,” TK warns as he places a stethoscope against Carlos’s bare chest. Carlos draws in a sharp breath when the cold metal meets his skin, but he sits still and patient and complies with TK’s vitals checks, a process he’s all too familiar with. If there’s one person who worries more than Carlos does about TK, it’s TK whenever Carlos is sick or might be sick. He can’t so much as sneeze in his fiancé’s presence without being treated to a complete checkup and the suggestion of a day’s bed rest.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call in sick? I could take an extra sick day and take care of you? I could bring you matzo ball soup, and we could watch that new season of grand designs you’ve been looking forward to.” TK asks, and it’s so tempting. He wants more than anything to say yes, to stay here. But he’s not sick; he doesn’t have time to be sick. He never gets sick.

“I’m sure. Be safe today.” He tells TK. He’s not a superstitious person by nature, but this is his one exception. He tells TK to be safe before every shift because the man he loves seems to collect near-death experiences like baseball cards, and he can’t bare the thought of one more ICU vigil, kidnapping, or plane crash in their future. Wishing him safety before they part is a little way for Carlos to comfort his nerves when they’re apart. “I love you.” He whispers into TK’s hair as he kisses his head and stands again; this time, the world doesn’t spin.

As Carlos gets ready for work, he chalks his dizziness up to a poor night's sleep. He doesn’t think of it again until he’s following Detective Washington down a staircase following a lead on a case, and suddenly the world is spinning. He’s stumbling, and it’s too late to catch himself, feeling the hard concrete edge of every stair in his back as he tumbles, landing at the bottom in a heap of limbs and hurt pride.

As if falling down the stairs in front of a superior officer wasn’t bad enough, Detective Washington radios dispatch for an RA unit despite his protests—he may be bleeding, but he really doesn’t think an ambulance is warranted. He can’t be seen showing weakness on the job by calling an ambulance over a stumble and a scraped knee. What would his father think?

Worse still, dispatch assigns the 126, Captain Vega, TK and Nancy. Because, of course, it would be TK and Nancy’s shift. Just thinking about it has Carlos groaning internally—between the two of them, he will never live this down. And worse than that, TK will be going out of his mind worrying the whole time—as yet unaware that it isn’t warranted—it’s a type of fear Carlos is all too familiar with, the stomach drop every time that he gets a text from Nancy during a shift, or he hears of an EMT down over the radio with no further details, and TK takes a while to answer his call, the bone-chilling fear when TK is late home from a shift. It’s a fear he hates to be the cause of for TK.

It feels like it takes an hour for the 126 ambulance to pull up on the scene, but Carlos knows it’s just because he’s stressed and still feeling a little off from his fall. Nancy parks the rig, and she, Captain Vega and TK calmly walk across to him. TK walks stiffly, visibly tensed, as though he were awaiting bad news whilst trying to remain professional and calm.

Carlos can practically feel the tension lift from his fiancé’s shoulders when they lock eyes from a distance, and TK sees he’s conscious, breathing, and barely bleeding. TK’s face softens instantly, “Carlos, babe, what happened? Are you alright?” He blurts out, the pace of his speech at odds with his calm, professional demeanour.

“Seriously, it’s nothing, TK,” Carlos says as he leans against the back of the 126 ambulance with his worried fiancé methodically checking him over.

“It’s not nothing, Carlos. You’re bleeding .” TK tells him, trying to gently guide him towards the stretcher. “Now, will you please sit down and let me treat you?”

“I’m okay, TK. Breathe,” Carlos says, taking his fiancé’s hand. “This is nothing a kiss better can’t fix.”

“Is a kiss better for a certain flu-riddled fiancé of yours, perhaps exactly how you ended up in this situation, dude?” Nancy asks with a raised eyebrow and a laugh.

“First of all, I’m not ‘flu riddled’,” TK tells her, putting dramatic air quotes around his words. “And second, how do you know about that?”

“When are you going to just admit I know everything,” Nancy tells him with a grin before adding. “Also, you’re both, like, hella predictable.”

“It’s irrelevant because I don’t have the flu,” Carlos interjects. Frankly, he doesn’t have time to have the flu and having the flu won’t get this case solved.

“Babe, you have a fever of 102 degrees,” TK tells him gently, “You’re clammy and congested, you were dizzy this morning. You have the flu.”

“I’m fine, really,” Carlos says, wincing as TK presses a sterile gauze pad up against his bleeding elbow. Being able to admit when he’s sick has never been Carlos’s strong suit. Every time he suppresses a sniffle or covers up a cough, he hears his father’s words from his childhood, “Never let them see weakness, son.”

His father hadn’t been talking about being sick, but Carlos took his words to heart. He learned ways to appear strong in all aspects of his life, and that included never being sick. Sickness was seen as weakness, and Carlos wasn’t soft, so he didn’t get sick; he pushed past it ‘like a man’, doing his best never to let on, no matter how unwell he felt. It’s a thought process he’s still working on unlearning.

“You’re not fine, babe. Hold pressure on this.” He instructs, placing Carlos’s hand over the gauze. “I’m going to patch you up, and then I’ll talk to Captain Vega about taking off the rest of the shift, and I’ll take you home.”

“I can’t let you do that, TK. I’ll be alright. I’ll drive home and hang out on the couch until your shift is finished.” Carlos says and receives a trio of sceptical glances in response.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” TK says as he removes the gauze from his fiancé’s elbow and presses the steri-strip Nancy passes him over the split skin.

“See, I’m all better now, TK,” Carlos tells him with a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to worry.”

“You can’t be all better just yet,” TK says, leaning in so only Carlos can hear. “You haven’t had your kiss better.” He reaches out and brushes a singular stray curl off Carlos’s forehead—Carlos swears his hair has a mind of its own, he slathered it with gel and brushed it neatly into place only a few hours ago to look presentable for work, but already the curls were making their escape—and presses a gentle kiss to it. TK’s cool touch against his warm forehead is fleeting but, nonetheless, comforting.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take off the rest of the shift?” TK asks, giving pleading puppy dog eyes to Carlos.

“I’ll be alright, TK.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being home alone; what if you have a head injury, a concussion. You hit your head pretty hard if that bruise is anything to go off.”

“You checked me for a head injury. And then you made Nancy check me and Captain Vega, too. I’m okay, TK.” Carlos points out. TK has been more than thorough in making sure Carlos was ok.

“But none of us has X-Ray vision, and you won’t let me take you for a scan.”

“Tyler. I’m okay. I’ll get a Lyft home if it makes you feel better?” He offers, and TK relents. So he takes a Lyft home, changes into sweats and gets comfy on the couch. However, he soon starts to regret his decision when he realises all he has the energy to do is sit and overthink the impression his fall might have made on detective Washington and if it might affect his chances of becoming detective in the future. Not to mention the splitting pain in his head. So he calls TK.

“TK?” Carlos asks as his fiancé picks up the phone.

“Yes, babe.” TK answers. “Is everything okay? Do you need anything? I called your mom; she’s on her way until I get home.”

“You called my mom for me?” Carlos asks. Nobody has ever done that for him. He’s never had anyone who cared enough to notice if he was sick, let alone call his mom to take care of him. Whenever he thinks he can’t possibly love TK more, he proves him wrong in the best possible way.

“Of course, I called your mom. It’s ok to let people take care of you when you’re sick. It’s not a sign of weakness.” TK says, and relief washes over Carlos. How does TK always know what he’s thinking?”

“Thank you for calling her.” He tells him.

Andrea interjects from the doorway, having just let herself in, “It’s a good thing he did, Carlitos. Just look at you, mijo.” She says as she takes a tupperware of soup from her tote bag in the kitchen. “Mama is here now, with your Abuela's famous chicken soup. I’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

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