#TK Strand Whump

[angeltk]

TK STRAND IN EVERY SCENE 1.03: texas proud

[chicgeekgirl89]

Shiner

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Nancy Gillian

Summary: T.K. should have known Carlos would find out about his black eye sooner rather than later. Coda for s04e15 "Donors.”

Read on AO3

“No, but seriously though. How does a guy who looked like a vegetable at the accident scene just get up and hit you with a right cross?” Mateo asks.

T.K. shakes his head and then immediately regrets it when his right cheekbone starts to throb in time with his heartbeat. “I don’t know dude, one second he was unconscious, the next his fist was in my face.” He sighs. “How am I going to explain this to Carlos?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Marjan says, her eyes trained on something over his shoulder. “But you’d better figure it out pretty fast, because here he comes.”

T.K. whips around (another wince as pain shoots through his face) to see his fiancé walking toward him. And he does not look happy.

“Hey babe,” T.K. says faintly.

“Hey,” Carlos says, that sort of blandly pleasant look on his face that means he’s trying to hide what he’s really feeling. “Anything interesting happen at work so far today?”

“We’re just gonna go be…not here,” Nancy says as the crew all gets up and makes a hasty exit from the kitchen.

“I was going to call you,” T.K. tells him.

“Mhm,” Carlos says, stepping closer and catching T.K.’s chin in his hand, eyes searching the already purpling bruise on his face. 

“I was,” T.K. says. “I just hadn’t had the chance yet. How did you even find out?”

“You filed an assault charge,” Carlos tells him. “Word spreads fast. Especially when it’s you.”

T.K.’s eyebrows pinch together. “What does that mean?”

“It means my colleagues are good people who keep me in the loop on what happens around here,” Carlos says. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Guy was unconscious in the back of the rig,” T.K. says. “Looked like a botched organ transplant.”

Carlos wrinkles his nose. “Botched?”

“Like not done in a hospital,” T.K. clarifies and the disgusted look on Carlos’ face intensifies. “One second he was out, the next I was on the floor.”

“Did you black out?”

“Like five seconds. Barely counts.” T.K. adds the second part quickly, keeping his eyes carefully on Carlos’, searching for his thoughts.

Carlos huffs out a frustrated laugh, brushing his fingers gently over the puffiness under T.K.’s eye. “What am I going to do with you? How did I end up marrying someone who thinks five seconds of unconsciousness barely counts? And worse, how have we gotten to a place where I kind of agree with you?”

“Sorry?” T.K. offers up weakly.

Carlos pats the edge of the counter. “Sit.”

T.K. obediently hops up onto the edge as Carlos turns and opens the freezer, searching for an ice pack. “Tommy checked you out?” he asks.

“Tommy. Nancy. A nurse at the hospital.” T.K. sucks in a sharp breath as Carlos gently presses the frozen ice pack to his face.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “No concussion? No fractures?”

“No,” T.K. tells him. “It’s just superficial bruising.”

“You look worse than you did after the bar brawl. And that was two against one.”

“Nooo, don’t say that,” T.K. whines. “My uncle’s going to think I’m some kind of ruffian delinquent.”

“No he won’t,” Carlos assures him. “Two seconds with you and he’s going to know you’re a marshmallow, not the brawler you were pretending to be when we met.”

“That wasn’t pretend,” T.K. says defensively. “I can hold my own.”

“Mhm, sure you can,” Carlos says fondly, running his free hand through T.K.’s hair.

“Seriously though, do you think he’s going to think my dad raised a bad kid? I don’t want him to think that. My dad wants a relationship with him so badly, I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. Maybe we should cancel.”

“Tyler,” Carlos says, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re freaking out. Stop. He’s going to love you. We’ll just tell him the truth.”

“That I got sucker punched by a patient? Great, that makes me sound incompetent at my job.”

“Okay,” Carlos says. “We’ll get you a patch and tell him you’re trying out piracy.”

T.K. pushes away the hand that’s holding the ice pack so he can scowl at his fiancé with two eyes. “Why are you like this?”

Carlos puts the ice pack back on. “Because I truly don’t think it’s going to phase your uncle one bit. He’s got the same genes as your dad. He grew up with your grandfather. I’m sure he understands the Strand family penchant for mayhem.”

T.K. mulls this over for a moment and finds the sense in it. He’s stressed about making a good impression on the only extended family he’s ever gotten the chance to meet. But there’s no fixing this now, and he’s not going to give up the opportunity to learn more about his father’s brother.

He thinks back to how Carlos looked when he walked in. “Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“No, of course not,” Carlos says. “Concerned, yes. I wish I’d heard it from you rather than from Ruiz back at the station, but all that matters is that you’re okay.”

“It might not be fully gone by the wedding,” T.K. says, pulling a face.

“Oh, well then wedding’s off,” Carlos teases.

T.K. snaps his fingers. “Rats. I knew you were only with me because of my charming good looks.”

Carlos pulls the ice pack back again and winces in sympathy. “God this guy really did a number on you. If I ever find him…” 

“You’ll what?” T.K. asks, a smirk sliding into place. He knows full well that Carlos is all talk, he would never willingly commit violence against another human being, especially not in uniform. “Go on babe. Finish that sentence. Tell me what you’re going to do to my assailant.”

“I’m going to…bring him to justice like he deserves,” Carlos says a little primly.

T.K. rolls his good eye. “Wow. Thank you for avenging me like that. So sexy.”

“I think justice is incredibly sexy,” Carlos says flashing him that cocky smile he uses when he thinks he’s being funny.

It’s adorable. T.K. toys with a button on the front of his uniform. “I really like that I’m marrying someone who will come hold ice on my black eye in the middle of his shift.”

Carlos’ whole body softens in that way it does when T.K.’s words strike the part deep inside of him that never thought he could be desired or cherished or loved. He sets down the ice pack and gently cups T.K.’s face in both of his hands. “The middle of a shift, the middle of the night, the middle of anything. I’m always here for you. I promise.”

T.K. swallows, overwhelmed by the love radiating from those words. “Did you pull that from your vows?”

“No. It’s just the truth,” Carlos says simply. Then he frowns. “Although maybe it should be. That was pretty good, right?”

T.K. snorts. “Yes. It was.”

“Is it safe to come in here?” Nancy asks, poking her head around the corner. “I need girl scout cookies like…bad.”

“Yes, everyone is alive and well,” T.K. tells her as she steps into the room and opens up one of the cabinets.

Carlos’ radio crackles to life, assistance needed at a convenience store. He looks at T.K. who waves toward the door. “Go. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at home later.”

Carlos’ eyes swing to Nancy’s. “You’ll take care of him for me?”

She gives him a mock salute, mouth full of Thin Mints. “Procuring bubble wrap as we speak officer.”

He looks back at T.K. and presses a gentle kiss to his lips, then transfers ownership of the ice pack over to him. “Be safe.”

“I always try to be safe.”

Carlos gives him a wry look. “Be safer. Try not to get a matching set, okay?”

“Love you,” T.K. says in response.

“Love you too.”

He watches as Carlos jogs out of the bay, radio in hand as he responds to the dispatcher. “You got a good one T.K.,” Nancy says.

T.K. smiles softly. “I got the best one.”

[wandering-night19]

So I've been on a little hiatus recently because I was dealing with someone anon hate and real life things...but I'm mostly back! And this is something I've been working on with @whenshereads for a little bit now and it's finally finished and posted! All the credit should go to her for the idea. This was super fun to write and work together on!

i'll be here if you will only come back home

14k . Carlos Reyes/TK Strand . G

TK is determined to give Carlos the homecoming he deserves. As always, life has other plans, and TK and Carlos have each other.

TK is no stranger to the ebbs and flows of grief, but watching Carlos navigate it is particularly challenging. The day-to-day things are always the hardest, where he recognizes the struggle of handling life in between the emotions.

Before, Carlos was an early riser. He had a schedule for when they went to the market and cleaned different areas of the loft. He would tidy up after TK, who tended to leave mail and shoes and jackets in random locations. He and TK would work in tandem to make meals and get them packed and ready for the week. He read his magazines and watched home improvement shows and enjoyed hosting game nights whenever the 126’s schedules aligned.

After, Carlos doesn’t sleep much, only closes his eyes for a few restless hours, usually on the couch. He opts to spend time with his mother or on the computer and forgets about food or cleaning, occasionally snacking on the provisions TK leaves for him. He takes the food to work that TK makes for him when he goes back on part-time desk duty. There is a pile of magazines left forgotten on the coffee table and the TV stays on the VCR setting even though TK took the tape.

Read more on AO3

Tagging anyone that has tagged me in anything lately. @thebumblecee @jesuisici33 @strandnreyes @liminalmemories21 @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses @mikibwrites @catanisspicy @rosedavid @heartstringsduet @chaotictarlos

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

(Much more than) Seven Sentence Sunday

Thank you @carlos-in-glasses for the tag! Seven Sentence Sunday is so amazing because I get to read the most amazing snippets and get super excited about future fics, but getting tagged is so lovely because it makes me feel like I have a little deadline where I don’t have to write anymore than seven sentences which really has helped motivate me to turn some ideas into writing!!

I hereby post my very first Tarlos snippet and my first entry to Seven Sentence Sunday!

It is way way longer than seven sentences but as it is my very first time posting and I’m just posting everything I’ve written so far (I literally just wrote it this evening) I hope you can bear with me🙃

Btw this is just pure whump and domestic caretaking/them seeing each other at their worst but it’s the idea that I had the most clear words for so this is what I’m starting off with

Andrea picks up the phone after the second ring.

“Hola mijo!” It’s a good thing you called actually, I was just about to prepare the tamales for lunch tomorrow. How are TK doing on the spices at the moment, is he picking up some tolerance yet? I don’t want to make them too spicy of course, but I really think he should taste them the way your grandma really used to make-“

“Hola Mama.” Carlos hurries. He feels bad for interrupting her but he wants to cancel their plans for lunch tomorrow as soon as possible so he can get back to TK. After today TK will probably be a bit more spice averse than usual anyway, he thinks with a frown, even though they have been working on him upping his tolerance lately.

“Actually mama, I’m really sorry for doing this so late, but I think we’re going to have to cancel tomorrow..”

“Oh no mijo, why? Is everything okay?” Andrea asks before Carlos can finish his sentence, concern lacing her voice.

“Yeah.. I mean, not really”, Carlos clarifies, picking the bridge of his nose. “Actually, TK’s not feeling so good at the moment.” That might be the understatement of the year, Carlos thinks but he doesn’t think TK would want him to lay out all the gritty details of his current condition. “He um, he had those tacos, you know, from that place out by Cameron Road, the one that they’ve been trying to shut down for year-“

Carlos is interrupted again by his mother gasping dramatically at the other end of the line.

“Carlitos!” She admonishes. “You haven’t warned him off about that place?!”

“Why is everybody blaming me?” Carlos feels his voice raising to a higher octave in exasperation. “He doesn’t even usually work in that district!-“

Carlos is once again interrupted, but this time it is by the sound of a painful sounding heave coming from the direction of the open door to their bathroom, followed by a pitiful whine. It shakes him out of his exasperation at being wrongfully appointed the blame for TK’s current misery. Logical or not, he does actually feel bad that he didn’t warn TK off about the taco shop that is by now known by probably all Austin locals, and not for serving delicious tacos - unfortunately.

He can almost hear his mothers pointed silence though the phone, and sighs. The Reyes kids all know better than to argue against Andrea, and she knows it - and exploits in too, although only in situations like these when there isn’t too much at stake. She too, has learned that especially when it comes to Carlos, her doing her best to listen even when she doesn’t fully understand, has repaired their relationship after too many years of just assuming that everything was alright.

He sighs. “I know, I really wish I had told him about it. He really doesn’t feel good mama.” Carlos says worriedly. It’s not that he’s feeling incapable of taking care of TK, but seeing him being in so much pain always makes Carlos feel a little bit desperate and talking to his mom about it makes him feel a little bit less out of his depth.

“I can imagine”, Andrea muses, also sounding like she hates that idea so much. Carlos sometimes still can’t get over how his parents took to TK so quickly, treating him almost as if he was their son too. “It’s a good thing he has you to take care of him Carlitos, I’m sure you’re the best there is at making feel at least a little bit better“ she reassures. Carlos forgets sometimes how well she knows him - or maybe he’s still getting used to believing it again. “I’ll tell your sisters that you two had to cancel,” Andrea continues, “and you let me know if there is anything I can do or if you need me to bring you anything.”

Carlos takes a deep breath, feeling his mom’s reassurances calm him a little. He can do this. “Thank you mama, I will. Although he probably would rather not have anybody seeing him like this, other than me and maybe Owen..”

Another pitiful sound from the bathroom reminds him why he wanted get this conversation over quickly. “I gotta go mama, but thank you. And say hi to Ana and Luisa from us,” he quickly says, before hanging up. He has some shopping to do. But first he’s gonna go rub his poor husbands back for a little while.

I have no idea whatsoever of who has and hasn’t been tagged, so I’ll tag @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm in appreciation if their recent following me back because that made me really happy thanks guys (gender neutral)🙃☺️

Anybody else seeing this wanting to be tagged should consider themselves hereby tagged !!

[taralaurel]

Title: coming down

Relationship: Bobby Nash & TK Strand

Rating: T for themes

Word Count: 6.5k (chapter 1)

Summary:

When TK goes to rehab in California, he doesn't expect to meet a fellow firefighter. He also doesn't expect to get trapped in an elevator with the guy.

"Well, at least you're stuck with a trained professional."

"No," TK grunts, "you are."

"Right." Bobby chuckles. "Mind if I check your pulse?"

"I mean," TK waves a hand, "what else are we gonna do to pass the time?"

For Discord 9-1-1: May Writing Challenge: stuck in an elevator + "can I tell you a secret?"

Read on AO3

[librathefangirl]

TK Vs Tomatoes

ao3 (900+ words; chapter 1/2)

Coming home to the smell of cooking always brought an anxiety-filled warmth. With Carlos being the main chef in the relationship, TK making him dinner always came as a surprise that made even the simplest dish feel grand. It made Carlos feel even more loved. The anxiety came, of course, from the fact that TK was cooking unsupervised in their home – they did not need another fire, thank you very much. And no matter what the other man claimed, his reputation in the kitchen was not overexaggerated. This day, the anxiety surpassed the warmth. The loft smelled like smoke. Carlos had barely shut the door behind him before he was running to the kitchen. There was no fire, thank god. Just a badly smoking frying pan. Not that Carlos was about to jinx it. So, without relaxing, he turned off the stove and looked around. The kitchen was empty.

Prompt: "God, you're bleeding! How the hell did you do that?" "I was trying to cut the tomatoes!"

(Credit to my sister for the story title 😂)

Chapter 1: Spoiler: The Tomatoes Won

Coming home to the smell of cooking always brought an anxiety-filled warmth. With Carlos being the main chef in the relationship, TK making him dinner always came as a surprise that made even the simplest dish feel grand. It made Carlos feel even more loved. The anxiety came, of course, from the fact that TK was cooking unsupervised in their home – they did not need another fire, thank you very much. And no matter what the other man claimed, his reputation in the kitchen was not overexaggerated. This day, the anxiety surpassed the warmth. The loft smelled like smoke. Carlos had barely shut the door behind him before he was running to the kitchen. There was no fire, thank god. Just a badly smoking frying pan. Not that Carlos was about to jinx it. So, without relaxing, he turned off the stove and looked around. The kitchen was empty.

Carlos tried to keep the worst case scenarios out of his head – there were plenty harmless reasons the kitchen could be close to fire and TK nowhere to be seen – but really, this was TK. It wasn’t like the worst case scenarios were that unreasonably to consider. Getting shot, getting kidnapped, multiple comas, almost dying too many times? They had all happened under the few years Carlos had known the other man.

“TK, you here?” Carlos called out. Holding his breath as he waited for an answer – and prayed there would be one – he looked around the kitchen once more. His gaze froze on a bloody knife.

Fuck.

 “In here!” came – finally – TK’s voice just as Carlos noticed the blood trail leading towards the bathroom. In his initial panic, Carlos hadn’t seen it before. Now, it almost screamed at him. Between the knife and the trail and the still thick smell of smoke, a most likely scenario was starting to form in Carlos’ mind. Slowly, he let his anxiety fall from a level of call-911-NOW to one of run-to-him as he hurried to the bathroom.

TK was sitting on the toilet lid, a thick towel wrapped around his hand. A thick bloody towel.

“Hey, babe, how was your shift?”

Honestly, Carlos could strangle him sometimes.

“Please, don’t pretend everything’s fine when you’re bleeding all over our apartment.”

TK dropped the smile, his eyes fell to his wrapped hand with an embarrassed grimace.

“It looks worse than it is.”

Carlos wasn’t as reassured by that as he knew TK wanted him to be. His track record outweighed whatever assurance he had for him right now.

“That’s barely comforting,” Carlos mumbled as he kneeled on the floor. He didn’t care if blood seeped into his pants or not. TK was his priority. He gently took TK’s hand in his own, careful as the other man winced at the action, and started unwrapping the towel.

“God, you’re bleeding!” Carlos knew this of course. He’d known it before he’d even know where TK was. The bloody towel should have prepared him, but still, he hadn’t expected this. He sure as hell hoped it looked worse that is was. It looked bad. TK had had a few close calls in the kitchen before, but this... “How the hell did you do that?”

“I was trying to cut the tomatoes!” TK defended himself, and, yeah, Carlos knew this too. He’d seen the cutting board. None of this was new information, but information he had to process. Carlos took a deep breath.

“Okay, okay, yeah, just... Let me look at this.”

TK looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but let Carlos take his hand. He sat still and quiet as Carlos examined the wound. Screw how it looked, this was worse.

“Sorry,” Carlos mumbled as TK winced again when he cleaned off the fresh blood that kept coming. Finally content – but definitely not happy – with his examination, Carlos braced for the argument he knew would come.

“Babe,” Carlos said slowly, stroking TK’s wrist. “You need a hospital.”

“It’s fine.”

“It needs stitches!”

“You know, last time I checked I was the medic here,” TK protested, rolling his eyes this time.

“Well, maybe I want a second opinion,” Carlos countered. TK paled at the suggestion, just as Carlos knew he would, pulling his hand back from Carlos’ grasp.

“Please don’t call Tommy,” he pleaded, lip pouting out. If Carlos hadn’t been so focused with the looming blood loss, he would have teased him for it. Or fallen for the puppy look. Not today though.

“Actually, I meant Nancy.”

“Ah, god please no. She’d never let me live this down.”

“And what, you don’t think they’ll notice a huge bandage?” Carlos couldn’t help but quip, but then he softened. He gently stroked TK’s cheek. “Baby, we only care about you. You need a hospital.”

TK deflated and muttered something under his breath. Then he sighed dramatically.

“Fine. But only for you”.

“Good,” Carlos said, and he wasn’t sure what part he meant most. Good as in thank you for letting me get you the proper care. Good as in thank you to the women he knew always looked after his danger prone fiancé when he couldn’t. “Come on then. We can even stop for some takeout on the way back. I’m not letting you back into the kitchen tonight.”

“I blame the tomatoes.”

“Of course you do.”

“Hey,” TK mumbled as they settled into the car, taking Carlos’ hand with his good one – the other now wrapped in a fresh towel and pressed tightly to his chest. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“I know,” Carlos sighed, squeezing his hand. “But I’ll always worry about you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

---

Apparently there will be a part 2. My sister demands it! Not sure when though...

[guardian-angle22]

is it a season of 911 lone star if tk doesn't get hurt in some way? nah

[letthewhumpbegin]

911 Lone Star, s1e12

[nisbanisba]

I never write and am not likely to ever complete this but have some Nancy & TK texts while Carlos is sick

———————-

Tk: hey rain check on tonight? My husband didn’t tell me he got sent home with the flu and he’s kinda scaring the shit out of me (photo: thermometer reading 102.7F)

Nancy: oh nooooooo poor Carlos!! Is he ok, do you need me to come over

TK: thanks nance. I gave him ibuprofen and Tylenol and I’m making him drink Gatorade and he’s doing a little better

TK: he says he’s dying but he’s also offered to make me some dinner if I didn’t eat yet

TK: he cannot sit up without assistance but sure babe could you make me a lasagna

Nancy: I mean if anyone could do it it’d be Carlos

Pt. 2 here https://www.tumblr.com/nisbanisba/748608526613659648/i-wrote-a-little-follow-up-snippet-to-my-previous

[afiendishthingy]

Carlos is resuscitated, given Narcan.

9-1-1 Lone Star: 4x04 “Abandoned”

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #22

Whoops, I missed it by like an hour. It's fine!

My sincerest apologies to any Texans reading this, I have definitely just fudged all of the geography (and we’re just going to pretend that the 126 responds to any call anywhere near Austin) :’)

xxx they never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” There isn’t an immediate answer, but Grace thinks she can hear someone breathing. “Hello, can you hear me?”

There’s a short pause and then, “Grace? Thank god, I hoped it’d be you.”

Grace’s stomach drops and she sits up a little straighter. “TK, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, I--we need help. We got in an accident and Carlos, he--he’s stuck, I tried to get him out but I couldn’t do it and he’s stuck and I--”

“Hey, hey, hey. TK, slow down honey. Where are you?”

“I--I’m not sure, exactly. Uh, we were headed--headed west on 71, maybe fifteen minutes outside of Austin?” His voice is taut, and Grace knows the tone well. It’s the kind of tone that comes when someone is on the verge of panic and trying very hard not to be. “Is that--will they be able to find us? I don’t--”

“That’s good enough, TK,” Grace says, typing quickly. “Help is on the way. Can you tell me what happened?”

“The car rolled. Something darted into the road, just came out of nowhere. Carlos swerved to miss it--oh, god, Grace!”

“Hey, TK. TK, I need you to listen to me. The best thing you can do for you and for Carlos is to stay calm. Take a deep breath for me. Are you still in the vehicle?”

TK takes a deep, shaky breath. “No. I was able to get out.”

“Okay, good. Are you injured?”

“No, Grace, I’m okay. I’ve got a--a burn on my arm, from the airbag I think, but I’m okay.”

“What about Carlos? Is he conscious?”

“Yeah, he, um. He says he’s not hurt but Grace, he’s stuck and I’m--” He lowers his voice. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “People who are trapped in a vehicle have higher rates of critical injury. Broken bones, blood loss…Where are they?”

“The 126 is on their way to you, TK.” Grace speaks calmly, doing her best to sound reassuring. “They’ll be there soon. Can you--TK?” 

The line disconnects suddenly, and Grace’s heart jumps. She immediately reaches for her phone, pulling up TK’s number so that she can call him. 

It goes straight to voicemail. 

xxx 

“Grace? Grace, are you there?” TK looks at his phone. No signal. “Damn it!”

“What’s wrong, TK?” 

TK takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down a little before he turns to Carlos, walking back to the wrecked car. “Lost signal. How are you doing, you still breathing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Carlos says, and smiles a little. “Ready to be out of this car. What about you, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, babe,” TK says. It’s mostly true. His chest and stomach hurt a little, but it’s probably just from the seatbelt. “Grace said the 126 is on their way, it shouldn’t be long now.”

“Good…Hey, I’m really sorry I totaled your car.”

“Carlos, the car is the least of my worries right now.” TK can’t help the anxious edge to his voice. He looks down, running his fingers nervously through his hair. “It’s replaceable. You’re not. You’re sure you’re not feeling dizzy? No pain?”

“TK, look at me.” TK looks up to see Carlos staring at him, brown eyes wide, brow pinched. “I promise you if anything starts to feel wrong, I’ll tell you.”

TK is about to answer when his attention is drawn by the distant sound of sirens and he lets out a long sigh of relief. “Here they come, thank god. We’re gonna get you out of there.”

The engine has barely stopped before Owen is off of it and running to TK’s side. 

“Hey, TK, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” TK says. “We need to get Carlos out of the car.”

Owen lifts his eyebrows. “We don’t need to do anything.”

“Dad, I can help. I want to help, he’s my husband, I--”

“I know,” Owen interrupts, putting his hands on TK’s shoulders. “I know, believe me. But right now, you are not a first responder, you are a victim. You need to let us work.”

TK feels a surge of frustration. “I am not a victim.”

“Hey, TK.”

TK turns at the sound of Tommy’s voice. She nods at Owen. 

“I got ‘im, Cap.”

Owen nods back, then turns to the 126 crew. “Alright, let’s get started on that extraction.”

“Come on, TK,” Tommy says gently. “Let’s get you checked out.”

“I’m fine Captain Vega. I need to be with Carlos, I--”

“Hey, hey. We’ve got ‘im. Nancy is over there making sure he’s alright while they get him out. Now I need to make sure you’re alright, too. Bandaging that arm, for instance.”

TK looks down at the nasty burn on his left forearm and sighs. “Fine.”

It’s with no small share of reluctance that he allows Tommy to lead him to the back of the ambulance, though he keeps his eye on the car and the 126 and Carlos, barely paying attention as Tommy takes his vitals. 

“Heart rate’s a little elevated,” Tommy says, “but you’re under a lot of stress, that’s to be expected. I’m gonna wrap that arm up for you now, okay?”

TK hisses a little as she wraps a bandage around his forearm and she looks up at him. 

“Sorry about that. All done.”

“Thank you,” TK says, standing, ignoring the pain in his middle as he does so. He can ask about that later. Right now, he just wants to be as close to Carlos as he can. Tommy follows him, bringing a gurney along as they move nearer to the car.

It takes another ten minutes to get Carlos out. He’s got some scrapes and bruises, but as they load him onto the gurney he, miraculously, actually seems fine, smiling and even cracking a joke. The relief is almost too much for TK, and he actually gets lightheaded as they get onto the ambulance. 

“You’ll both need to be checked out at the hospital,” Tommy says as they start toward the hospital, “but your vitals look good, Carlos. The two of you are extremely lucky. I’ve seen a lot of car accidents in my time, and not many people are able to just walk away.”

“We’re gonna be okay, baby,” Carlos says, looking over at him as best he can with the neck brace on and reaching over to take TK’s hand in his own. He frowns a little. “Hey, TK, you alright? You’re clammy.”

“Uh…” TK takes a deep breath, then closes his eyes, leaning forward to put his head between his knees. “I’m a little dizzy. It’ll pass…”

He feels a hand on his arm and Tommy says, “TK, I’m gonna take your vitals again.”

He blacks out for a second as the blood pressure cuff tightens on his arm. He’s distantly aware of Carlos’s voice. 

“TK? What’s wrong?”

And then Tommy’s, in that professional tone she gets on serious calls. “His pulse is high and his blood pressure is dropping. He might be bleeding internally. TK, you with me?” 

And then everything fades. 

xxx 

[angeltk]

TK STRAND IN EVERY SCENE 1.10: austin, we have a problem

[chicgeekgirl89]

Saturday Night’s All Right for Fighting

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Gabriel Reyes, Andrea Reyes

Rating: T

CW: Blood

Summary: When Carlos responds to a call involving a bar brawl, he's surprised to find his fiancé injured and in the middle of it. But that's not the only surprise waiting for him...

For the @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: Lacerations

For @bluenet13​

Read on AO3

Carlos doesn’t want to be at yet another bar brawl. They’re messy and loud and chaotic and they take forever because everyone is drunk and angry and it’s impossible to get a straight story out of them. 

He’s been watching the minutes tick by ever since a call for assistance at The Driskill Bar came in. A couple other units had responded immediately, but if they need back up, he’s the next closest one. His shift is so close to over, he can practically taste freedom. If he can just make it a few more minutes he can head back to the station and clock out without having any part of tonight’s drunken revelry. 

Ten minutes.

Nine minutes.

Eight minutes.

“Three-six-three H-20 this is dispatch, please respond.”

He sighs and clicks on his radio. “Dispatch, three-six-three H-20.”

“Three-six-three H-20 please respond to a disturbance at 604 Brazos Street,” the dispatcher says.

Damn it. Carlos allows himself a half a second to let his head thunk back against the headrest in defeat. He was so close.

“Three-six-three H-20 responding,” he says, flipping on the lights and sirens as he hits the gas and speeds along through the rapidly darkening streets of Austin.

There are five other cruisers already at the Driskill when he pulls up and an ambulance is rolling in behind him. Shit. This is a big one. He double checks that everything is secure on his belt as he heads inside Drunk people are sometimes more crafty than they look, and he doesn’t want anybody grabbing something they shouldn’t.

The Driskill isn’t what he expected. It’s clearly not some dive bar where drunken locals go to drown their sorrows after a long day. The place is posh and polished, all gleaming wood paneling, leather booth seats, and the floor isn’t even the slightest bit sticky.

That being said, it’s is a disaster. Tables on their sides, drinks and food all over, and people everywhere in varying states of distress. A couple officers are still wrestling with unruly patrons while others are doing cursory checks of anybody who might be injured.

He goes to help a woman who is lying on the ground, her blonde hair all a mess. “Are you hurt?” Carlos asks as he pulls her to her feet.

“No, no I think I’m okay. Thank you,” she says, straightening out her dress. 

“I’m going to ask you to take a seat over there until an officer can talk to you,” he tells her, holding out a hand in the direction of a couple of booths that are untouched by tonight’s violence. “If you find you’re in any pain flag down an officer or a paramedic.”

She nods and carefully picks her way over to the seats as he turns and looks for another place to be useful. 

There’s an officer near him struggling to cuff a burly man who keeps yelling something about, “That little bitch!” so Carlos lends a hand.

“That little bitch! He’s gonna pay for this!” the man continues to yell as they get him to his feet.

“Sir!” Carlos says sternly. “You need to calm down!”

“I’m not gonna calm down! He nearly strangled me!”

Carlos looks at the man’s massive neck and finds that a little hard to believe. “Who?” he asks. “Can you identify your assailant?”

The guy glares at him. “Yeah. It was that little bitch right over there.”

Carlos follows the line of his gaze and feels his stomach drop as he takes in a familiar tousle of brown hair. “Oh…no,” he says slowly.

“What’s wrong?” the other officer asks.

“That’s my little bitch,” he says and then quickly corrects himself. “I mean, my fiancé.”

As if he can feel the weight of Carlos’ gaze, T.K.’s grey eyes snap up and lock on Carlos’, relief flickering through them. 

“You can go,” the officer tells him. “I got this.”

“Thanks.”

Carlos strides across the room, broken glass crunching under his shoes, heart beating rapidly in his chest. When he reaches T.K. he’s shocked by what he finds. 

His lip is bleeding, his left cheekbone red and swollen.“T.K. oh my god,” is all Carlos can manage as he gawps at the damage to his fiancé’s face. 

“Hey babe.” The words are tired and maybe a little embarrassed.

Carlos reaches out and gently cups T.K.’s chin, trying to get a closer look at his injuries. Despite his care, T.K. winces in pain and Carlos recoils immediately. “I’m sorry. T.K., I—are you okay?” 

He’s glad those are the words that come out because what he’s thinking is, “What the fuck is going on and why are you in the middle of it?”

“I’ve been better,” T.K. says wanly, shifting uncomfortably on the barstool he’s sitting on, and it’s then that Carlos realizes he’s cuffed. And also covered in blood. 

“Are you bleeding?” he asks, panic ripping through him, his hands going to T.K.’s shirt, searching for injuries.

“Just a little.” T.K. lifts his right shoulder a bit and Carlos walks behind his back to find deep lacerations slicing their way up his right arm. He swears and fumbles for the key on his belt, hands slipping as he tries to get it into the slot, a combination of nerves and the blood that is oozing from all the cuts.

“Are you allowed to do that?” T.K. asks.

“Shut up,” Carlos growls at him, too frantic to think about things like procedure. Right now he needs to figure out how bad this bleeding is and get it stopped.

He finally gets the cuffs off and tosses them to the floor. T.K. brings his hands around to his front, grimacing as he takes in the damage. “That actually looks worse than I thought it would,” he says, examining his arm. “I don’t think it hit an artery though. Bleeding’s too slow.”

“Who cuffed you like this?” Carlos asks, anger lacing his tone. Because whoever it is, he’s going to rip them a new one. There’s procedure and then there’s common sense. And cuffing a guy who is bleeding this badly is not common sense.

“Babe, it’s okay,” T.K. says as Carlos searches for something to staunch the bleeding. 

He finds a pile of rags behind the bar that appear clean and uses one to firmly apply pressure. T.K. makes a strangled noise of pain. “Sorry, sorry,” Carlos says. “Paramedics should be in here any minute.”

“Great. I was hoping everyone we know would find out about this in the next hour,” T.K. says, his joke about the rampant gossip mill in the AFD falling flat since Carlos is really concerned about the amount of blood he’s losing.

“T.K. what are you doing here?” Carlos asks. 

“Not what it looks like.”

“I am…trying to believe that,” Carlos says, even as images of the last time he saw T.K. looking like this in police issued handcuffs flashes through his mind. “I thought you were going to dinner at your dad’s?”

“Right,” T.K. says, looking cagey. “What I said was I was going to dinner with Dad. I just…didn’t specify whose.”

Carlos is beyond confused. “You only have one dad, T.K.”

“Son, I am telling you, that is not proper cuffing procedure.”

The voice, that combination of outrage and annoyance, that’s the voice that cheered at his baseball games, taught him how to fix a fence post, and bemoaned the Astro’s fate at the breakfast table. Carlos turns around, his already frayed nerves feeling like they’ve caught on fire. “Dad?!”

“Oh, Carlos, hello!” his dad calls from across the room. He’s sporting the beginnings of a black eye and looks like he’s trying to take shallow breaths. “Can you please tell this probie to stop cuffing me for half a second so I can show him how to do it the right way?”

The officer dealing with his father looks young and is clearly nervous. “It’s okay,” Carlos says, suddenly feeling weary. “I’ve got him.”

The officer bolts, probably to find someone who won’t give him an earful about doing his job correctly. Carlos grabs his dad by the arm and pulls him over to T.K. “Okay,” he says, officer persona sliding back into place as tries to get a grip on what he’s seeing. “What is going on here?”

Gabriel frowns at his son. “Aren’t you going to uncuff me?”

“Not until I get some answers.” His dad thinks he’s too soft? He’s about to find out just how not soft Carlos can be when he’s pissed.

T.K. and his dad exchange looks. “We were having a drink,” his dad starts.

“I was having a club soda,” T.K. says quickly.

“Yes, right,” Gabriel says with a nod. “And then that animal over there,” he nods toward the burly man Carlos had helped take down moments ago, “started making some…rather indelicate comments. So I politely suggested he stop.”

“Politely?” Carlos asks skeptically.

Gabriel looks offended. “Of course politely! Unfortunately he didn’t appreciate it.”

“So I, also politely, told him where he could go if he wanted to keep making comments like that,” T.K. says.

Carlos can feel his resolve slipping as he watches the two of them concoct their story. He’s not going to go soft though. No, he’s going to go ballistic.

“Well he didn’t appreciate that either,” Gabriel says with a chuckle. “So he threw a punch. And we punched back.”

“In self defense,” T.K. says quickly. “We didn’t start it. But then a few other people got involved too and then…you can figure out the rest.”

“How did this happen?” Carlos asks, indicating the deep wounds on T.K.’s arm.

T.K. grimaces. “Once things really started popping off, big boy got a little feisty. He smashed a bottle and came at me.”

“That was a close one,” Gabriel says, his face serious now. 

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath so he won’t scream. “How did you get him off of you?”

T.K. immediately starts looking shifty again. “Um…your dad wasn’t the only one I was meeting tonight.”

He nods at something over Carlos’ shoulder and Carlos is afraid to turn around and look. When he finally does, he feels whatever shreds of police officer persona he was still holding onto evaporate. In fact, his cop swagger dries up so fast he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get it back.

“Mama?” he says weakly.

She’s sitting with another officer, her hand on his knee, eyes intent on his face.

“She broke a pool cue over that guy’s head,” Gabriel says, his eyes shining with pride. “Saved T.K.’s life.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Carlos mutters. He turns and looks at the two of them. “Stay here. Do not move.” Then he walks across the room until he’s standing directly next to his mother. 

“You just have to tell her how you feel,” she’s telling the officer. “You can’t expect her to try and figure it out for herself.”

“But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?” the officer asks.

“Well then at least you’ll know.” She pats his knee gently. “And then you can move forward either way.”

This is too much. “Mom.”

She looks up, a smile blossoming on her face as she sees Carlos standing there. “Carlitos! What are you doing here?”

“My job Mom,” he says.

“This is your mom?” the officer asks, clearly confused.

“Yes,” Carlos says. “Apparently it was family night at the bar and no one invited me.”

“Okay, I’ll just…leave you to it then?” the office asks, clearly realizing he’s now in the middle of something.

“That would be great, thank you,” Carlos says. 

Andrea gets to her feet as the officer wanders away. “Is T.K. all right?” she asks. “They’ve kept us all separated.”

“He’s hurt, but he’s okay. Are you all right?” Carlos asks, visually searching her for injuries. Unlike his father and T.K., she doesn’t seem to have a scratch on her.

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” she says, waving him off. “Not my first bar fight.”

Her response spawns more questions than answers, but now isn’t the time.  That’s when she finally spots T.K. and her husband. “Oh there they are!”

She walks toward them, forcing Carlos to follow. “Ay Dios mío, you both look terrible,” she says when she reaches them.

“It would have been worse if not for you,” T.K. says, even though the blood seeping through the rag on his arm indicates it’s pretty bad. 

Carlos is reaching for another rag when the front doors open and paramedics finally start flooding in.

He waits, holding his tongue as the medics examine his father and wrap up T.K.’s arm with something better and more sanitary than threadbare bar rags. “We’ll be ready to transport in a little bit,” the paramedic says as he packs up his things and moves onto the next patient down the line.

“Okay,” Carlos says now that they have some space. “I need someone to explain to me what’s going on here.”

The three of them look at each other and Carlos crosses his arms over his chest. “Anytime now.”

“Your parents invited me to dinner,” T.K. finally says. “We had just gotten to the restaurant when the power went out.”

“We didn’t want to miss out on our time together, so we came here instead,” Andrea tells him.

“We made sure it was all right with T.K. first,” Gabriel says quickly. “We know about his recovery and we would never want to do anything to jeopardize it.”

“I still don’t understand why the three of you were together in the first place,” Carlos says. 

“Can’t your parents spend time with your future husband?” Andrea says a little too innocently. “He’s family. We’re allowed.”

It would be sweet if Carlos couldn’t see right through it. He spears all of them with a look. Surprisingly, it’s Gabriel who breaks first. “Just tell him Andrea. He’s not going to let it go. That’s the same look he had on his face every time he wanted ice cream after dinner.”

Carlos does not appreciate his childhood being dragged into whatever scheming these three are up to, but he ignores the comment for now.

Andrea sighs. “We were meeting to talk about your birthday.”

“Your mother wants to have a party,” Gabriel says. “We were having dinner to plan it together.”

When he’s in less of a state of shock he’s going to appreciate that his parents wanted his future husband’s input and took him to dinner to get it. But right now, all he feels is anxious and mad. “My birthday,” he says slowly, eyes going to T.K., searching for the truth.

“Your birthday,” T.K. confirms.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Andrea says. 

Carlos lets out a startled laugh. “Well I am surprised.” His mind is still struggling to put everything together. Half an hour ago he’d been mentally headed home. And now he’s stuck with this mess. “The three of you ended up in a bar brawl because of my birthday.”

“As previously stated, the bar brawl wasn’t intentional,” Gabriel says.

“Okay,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair, then grimacing when his fingers catch awkwardly on the gelled down strands. “I’m going to go try and sort this out with the officer in charge. Don’t say anything. Don’t go anywhere.”

It takes a long conversation with the commander on the scene, a call to his boss, a call to his dad’s boss, and a chat with the owner of the bar who has shown up to survey the damage, for Carlos to get things straightened out. His dad’s good standing with the rangers and his own good standing with the APD work in his favor tonight, and he promises to have everyone come by the station in the morning to give their statements.

He’d thought that would be the biggest hurdle of the night. He was wrong.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Gabriel protests as the paramedics stand by, waiting to find out who’s riding in their ambulance and who’s not. “It’s just some bruised ribs and a black eye. I’ve had worse from playing with the grandkids.”

“Your ribs could be broken,” Carlos argues. “You need to see a doctor.”

“Boys stop arguing,” Andrea chastises. “You will go to the hospital and I will follow behind in the car.”

“You are also getting in the ambulance,” Carlos tells her.

“What? Me?” She laughs. “No, I don’t think so. The car is fine. Someone will need to drive it there anyway.”

“Okay, to be clear, I am the one in charge right now,” Carlos says, feeling like he’s about to snap. “If you don’t do what I’m asking you to do, I’m going to leave you here with all these other officers to fend for yourselves. Your options are to go sit in a cell for the night or to go to the hospital.”

“I think it’s a good idea if everyone gets checked out,” T.K. says softly.

Carlos can see pain in his eyes, the way his body is sagging a little on the barstool, and he feels a renewed urgency to get his fiancé taken care of as soon as humanly possible.

“Fine,” Andrea say shortly. “But I am not putting on one of those terrible hospital gowns.”

Carlos bundles them all into an ambulance and follows along behind in his cruiser. There are no lights and sirens necessary, and Carlos can’t decide if the silence is better or worse. It’s forcing him to sit in his anger and worry and exhaustion for far longer than he’d like, and he is not in a good mood by the time they get to the hospital.

His mom is completely fine, thank god. His dad does have a broken rib and a minor concussion, but no facial fractures. They’re both seen and cleared quickly and Carlos bids them a somewhat curt goodnight before going back to his fiancé, who is being sewn back together with thirty-four stitches. The wounds are deep and jagged and it takes a long time for the resident to get them all done. 

Carlos holds T.K.’s good hand and wonders for how long this fresh image of T.K. on a gurney is going to haunt his nightmares this time. They’ve been through enough hospital trauma for him to know sleep is going to be hard to come by for a while. He consoles himself with the fact that at least this time his fiancé is conscious. 

“I was going to tell you,” T.K. says as the last few stitches are finally going in, “about the surprise party. I knew you wouldn’t want it, so I was going to tell you and have you pretend to be surprised.”

“It’s crazy that the people that raised me still think surprising me is a good idea,” Carlos says ruefully.

“They’re just excited,” T.K. says. “And I think they’re trying a little extra hard to show that they’re supportive of the two of us. Of the engagement.”

“Well maybe next time they could show their support with a little less violence,” Carlos says, forcing a smile as he rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of T.K.’s free hand.

“Your mom probably saved my life tonight,” T.K. says. “At the very least she saved my face.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Which is the second best part of me.”

Carlos knows when he’s being goaded, he can see the sparkle in T.K.’s eyes. “I’m not going to ask you what the other one is. There are people around.”

T.K. bites his lip. “He’s a doctor. He knows things. It won’t bother him. Right doc?”

“I have learned not to get in the middle of this kind of conversation,” the doctor says diplomatically as he snips the last thread. “You’re all set T.K. I’m going to get a nurse to come in and go over the wound care instructions with you, all right?”

“Thank you,” T.K. says, turning his arm this way and that to examine the stitching. He waits until the curtain has closed behind the doctor before looking up at Carlos, eyes full of mischief. “The best part of me is my—“

Carlos quickly puts a finger over his lips. “I know what you think your best assets are,” he says, an amused smile on his face. “You don’t have to tell me.”

T.K. pulls back, uncowed. “Can I tell you yours then? It’s your d—“

“T.K. stop!” Carlos says, full on laughing now even as he nervously looks around to make sure nobody is in earshot.

“There you are,” T.K. says. “You’ve looked so stressed all night I thought maybe you’d forgotten how to laugh.”

“This was…not how I thought my evening would go,” Carlos says, reaching over and brushing T.K.’s hair away from his forehead. “And you know I’m not good at changing plans on the fly.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, it’s not how I saw my night going either,” T.K. says. He looks at Carlos intently. “Are you mad at me?”

Carlos does an emotional inspection of himself. “No,” he sighs. “No I don’t think so. Concerned about how many punches you have on your hospital rewards card. But not mad.”

It’s hard to be mad at T.K. He’s so sweet and soft and he looks at you with those Bambi eyes…and it’s extra hard to be mad at him when he’s hurt.

“Are you mad at your parents?”

That’s a more complicated question. “Maybe a little? They’re my parents. I expect better from them.”

“But not from me?” The sparkle is back.

“From you I expect chaos,” Carlos says, throwing T.K. a knowing look. “From them I expect…decorum.”

T.K. snorts. “Yeah I think decorum went out the window when your dad threw his beer across the bar and jumped on top of a six foot dude with skull tattoos.”

Carlos groans. “I’m going to be hearing about this night for the rest of my life.”

“Your mom is actually a lot more like Francesca than I would have thought,” T.K. says, referencing Carlos’ wild child sister.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Carlos says.

“Hey.” T.K.’s face softens. “Don’t be mad at them for too long, okay?”

The rest of his words remain unspoken, but Carlos can read them in his eyes anyway. You never know how long you have with them. His heart twinges painfully with the few memories that he has of Gwyn and T.K. together. He nods. “I won’t.”

The nurse arrives and Carlos listens intently to all her instructions since T.K.’s eyes are starting to droop a little, the adrenaline of the last few hours finally wearing off.

As they’re passing through the waiting room on the way out Carlos is surprised to see his parents sitting there. “I thought you were going home,” he says.

“We wanted to make sure T.K. was all right,” Andrea says as they both get to their feet. She turns her eyes to him. “How are you doing mijo?”

“All stitched up,” T.K. says. “A couple weeks and I’ll be back to normal.”

“I also wanted to…apologize.” Gabriel seems to struggle at getting the word past his lips. “For my part in what happened tonight. You’d think after all this time I’d learn to keep my mouth shut.”

T.K. shakes his head. “No one should have to deal with that kind of language. If you hadn’t started it, I would have.”

Something about the exchange flares warm in Carlos’ chest. The way his parents are caring for T.K., it’s the same way they’ve always cared for him and his sisters. It’s not perfect, but it’s full of love. 

“Are you heading home now?” his mother asks.

“I have to take the cruiser back to the station first,” Carlos says. “We’ll pick up the Camaro there and then head back.”

“Oh that’s going to take too long!” Andrea says, worry furrowing her brow. “T.K. is practically dead on his feet. No, no. We can drive him back to your place.”

“Your car is at the bar,” Carlos points out.

“I had that nice young officer I was talking to drive it here,” Andrea says, as if this is completely normal. “You go take care of things at work and we’ll make sure T.K. gets home safely.”

Carlos looks at T.K. who seems to be waiting for his cue. “It would get you home faster,” he says. 

“I don’t mind if they take me,” T.K. replies. 

Carlos fixes his parents with a stern look. “No stopping anywhere along the way. Straight home.”

Andrea rolls her eyes. “You give the man a badge and he thinks he can boss his parents around.”

“Ma!”

“We’ll get him home safe and sound,” Gabriel assures him. “Scout’s honor.”

Carlos blows out a breath and turns so that he’s facing T.K. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I know,” T.K. says, closing his eyes as Carlos kisses his forehead. 

“We’ll take good care of him,” Andrea says, gently putting an arm around T.K.’s shoulders and guiding him toward the door. “Tell me T.K., what kind of soup do you like? I will whip up a batch and bring it to you when we all meet at the station in the morning.”

How is it possible to feel like his parents are the most annoying people in the world right now, and also that T.K. is the safest he could possibly be with them by his side?

His father stops next to him. “He defended me tonight. He’s a good man.” He pats Carlos’ shoulder. “You made a good choice.”

T.K. has never felt like a choice. He’s fate. Destiny. All the dreams Carlos was too afraid to have, made incarnate. Slightly more of a chaos demon than Carlos would have imagined, but a dream come true nonetheless.

But that’s not something he can explain to his father. “He chose me too,” he says instead. “He chose you and mom, our family.” He looks up and meets his father’s gaze. “Thank you for choosing him back.”

His dad wordlessly squeezes his shoulder and follows the other two out the doors.

Carlos watches them go, three of the most important people in his world together and something inside of him cracks. Another little piece of the wall he built up so long ago, the one made of words like broken, unlovable, inadequate…the one he’d created to keep himself safe, falls away.

He’s making a family. And it’s good. 

[wandering-night19]

I really wanted to write/post something for nurses week, so I stole a piece from a bigger AU I’ve been working on. Enjoy some Nurse TK and Doctor Carlos.

you dream of some epiphany

2.2k . Carlos Reyes/TK Strand . Teen

TK feels like there should have been a warning. He should have known this was going to happen. He’s been doing this long enough that he usually has a pretty good read on patients.

Read on AO3

[decafdino]

You'll Hear Me Howling Outside Your Door

A 9-1-1 Lone Star Fic

"Get up."

Enrique doesn't move, but he does take on a pleading look in his eye. "You don't understand. He's been lying to you, Carlos."

TK whimpers from the chains rubbing against his skin as more weight is put on his back. His head is bleeding sluggishly from a gash on his temple. The sight makes Carlos' grip tighten.

"He's not what you think he is. He's one of them."

"Get up," he repeats. He takes a step forward, the barrel of the shotgun aimed at Enrique's head.

"I know this is hard to process—"

"I said, get up," Carlos says, cocking the gun in a practiced motion. "Get off of him before I shoot you."

"Carlos, you don't understand. He's—"

"I know what he is." His gaze flicks to TK's for a split second, and it hardens his resolve. "He's my husband."

In which a werewolf and a hunter save each other, fall in love, and save each other some more.

---

First addition to my @badthingshappenbingo for the square "Rope Chain Burns". Read here.

[taralaurel]

"I forgot the limes"

Alright guys, TK forgot the limes in the car...when he goes back down to get them, does he

A) drop the limes & trip on one, taking a tumble down the stairs

*insert imagery of guests (or Carlos) following trail of limes up the steps*

B) get attacked (mugged, carjacked, a lime fiend, who knows - you can Reblog & tag vote if you have a favorite)

*insert imagery of guests (or Carlos) following trail of bloody limes to TK*