#but i feel like this is more likely tk happen after the third book | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marjansmarwani · 3 years

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like I was already brave enough to let go

7.2k || Chapter 1/2 || ao3

Enzo understands that leaving New York in the wake of everything is what's best for TK, but that doesn't make it any easier. Watching his stepson pack up all his broken pieces and move across the country hurts him in ways he can't describe, mostly due to the knowledge that there will be a distance between them that has never existed before. So he takes the time to check-in, to keep track of TK. To be there for him, no matter what.

He's just starting to wish that he had picked somewhere other than Austin, because he is quickly discovering he is not built for this level of stress.

After reading @futures-tense’s Enzo fic (that everyone should read, it is phenomenal) I couldn’t get thoughts of him and his relationship with TK out of my head, so naturally I wrote this. It fits into canon evetns and this is only chapter 1 of 2, because while I so have an outline for season 2 events, this was getting long so I figured I’d at least post what I had.

Massive thanks to @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon for all their help and support with this, you’re both the best!

-----------------

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when TK opened his apartment door, but the sad shell of the boy Enzo had come to love as his own wasn’t it.

Or maybe it was, but it hurt all the same.

“Hey kid,” he said softly, stepping carefully around him and into the apartment. He looked around the small space, taking in all the boxes haphazardly labeled and partially packed. “So, it’s true. Your mom told me but I don’t think I believed her. Never thought I’d see the day TK Strand willingly left New York for Texas, of all places.”

“Who says it’s willingly,” he said dully as he shut the door behind Enzo.

Enzo turned and studied him more closely, taking in the downturned eyes and anxious fingers thumbing the seam of his hoodie pocket, “Do you not want to go? Because you can stay here. I’ll talk to your mom, you can stay with us if you…”

But TK cut him off with a shake of his head, “No,” he said, “I think I need to do this. Dad’s right, I need a fresh start. I can’t...I don’t think I can be here anymore. When I think of staying here, I don’t see a way forward. I think if I stayed here I’d…” he trailed off, but Enzo felt a chill rush through him at the implication of what TK hadn’t said. He tried to meet his eyes but TK looked away, casting his gaze downward and away from Enzo’s sympathetic eyes.

It hurt him more than he could say to see TK like this. For all his struggles he had always been a happy kid. He had always been someone who found the joy in life where he could and he had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, for better or worse. Seeing him like this and knowing what had happened hurt Enzo in ways he couldn’t fully describe because he didn’t know the right words. All he knew for sure is that this was not the TK he had known and loved for 16 years standing before him. This was a stranger; someone he had only seen once before during a time he had hoped to never revisit.

He hadn’t asked what happened because he knew enough and he wasn’t about to make the kid revisit it just so he could fill in some blanks. He might not know everything but he knew enough to feel hot anger course through him at the thought of someone breaking that too big heart of his. TK had always been someone who loved fully and completely, and to see that thrown back in his face so spectacularly made Enzo—a typically steady and calm man — strongly consider homicide.

He had every confidence that Gwyn could get him out of any charges too, but he pushed that thought aside to focus on the scene before him.

“This isn’t your fault, TK.”

TK turned away from him, absently picking up some books from the table and dropping them into one of the boxes. “I know I didn’t make Alex cheat,” he says eventually, “but the rest of it? That is completely on me Enzo, no one else.”

He could sense that the kid had more to say so he let him go, watching from the doorway as he listlessly picked up other odds and ends from around his apartment, tossing them into boxes without any real care as to what the labels on the side said. He knew TK would speak up when he was ready and it was only a few more minutes before he did.

“Eight years,” he finally said, his rough voice breaking the silence of the half-packed apartment. “Eight fucking years of sobriety, all gone. And that’s all on me. It doesn’t matter what Alex did, I’m the one who made the choice. I am the one who let him have that power over me and…” he broke off, meeting Enzo’s eyes for a moment before looking away and swallowing. “I do need to leave,” he said eventually. “I don’t trust myself to stay here anymore. I don’t know if I’d survive it.”

Enzo could feel his heart breaking for the kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore — now 26 and an adult — but in Enzo’s eyes sometimes he was still the 10-year-old who met his eyes shyly when Gwyn first introduced them, the 14-year-old who had admitted to him in a terrified whisper that he thought he might like boys, the 19-year-old who had come to him because he wanted to enroll in the fire academy and didn’t know how his mother would take it. The feeling he had now was just like the feelings he had had then. This overwhelming love and desire to protect him from everything bad in the world; from anyone that ever told him he wasn’t enough.

And just like he had then, he stepped forward, closing the space between them to pull him into a hug. He held him close, pressing his face into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re making the smart choice then,” he said evenly. “And, as much as I’ll miss you, I’m proud of you for doing what you have to do. You’ve beat this once and you’ll beat it again, I have no doubt about that.”

He knew he wasn’t imagining it when the body in his arms sagged in relief. It made him clutch him that much tighter as he spoke again, hoping what he was about to say was a given but needing to say it anyway: “And I will always be here for you, no matter where you live. I’m always just a phone call away, you know that, right?”

TK’s voice was muffled by the material of Enzo’s sweater, but he could still hear the tears in it clear as day, “I do.”

“Good,” Enzo replied firmly, releasing his grip on TK and stepping back so he could meet his eyes. “Because I will be calling to check-in, that is a promise.”

---------------

Watching him leave was bittersweet, but he believed TK when he said it was something he needed to do. He took some solace in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone. Enzo and Owen Strand may have had their differences over the years (many, many differences) but if there was one thing Enzo had never doubted it was the other man’s love for his son. He knew that TK was in good hands, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He got confirmation they had arrived in Austin in the form of a text that included a picture of a shop selling cowboy hats that simply said, “turns out people actually do where these here. Yes, it looks as ridiculous as it sounds.” It is followed by another two days later that noted the crimes Texas has committed against pizza and though Enzo was still filled with worry, he allowed himself to smile and take it as a sign that he was healing, be it ever so slightly.

He gave it almost a week before he called. He wanted to hear TK’s voice; to have proof that he really was okay, but he also wanted to give him time. His patience was helped by the fact that Gwyn had spoken to her son but eventually, he decided that he needed to hear from him himself.

TK answered by the third ring, sounding out of breath. He greeted him warmly, and Enzo could hear the commotion of construction in the background. He raised an eyebrow, “What, did you decide to leave the fire department and become a contractor when I wasn’t looking?”

This pulled a laugh out of TK and Enzo took a moment to savor the familiar sound. It felt like far too long since he’s last heard it.

“No. Dad decided we should re-do the firehouse, to give everyone a fresh start. I figured I might as well help out. Besides,” he added with a shrug Enzo could almost hear, “demolition is the far healthier method of coping with feelings, right?”

“When done with permission,” Enzo quipped in response. “How are you doing kid, has the pizza chased you away yet?”

TK scoffed, “No, but it was a close thing. Honestly, I really haven’t had that much time to dwell. I’ve been helping with the demo and construction, as well as the candidate interviews and paperwork. I haven’t really taken too much time to think about anything.”

TK said it matter of factly and Enzo almost moved past it. But he knew TK better than most. “You don’t have to punish yourself, kid,” he told him gently. “All you need to do is heal.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” TK objected, “I’m just...trying to keep busy. To distract myself.”

TK might very well think that, but Enzo was pretty sure it wasn’t true. But he was willing to move past it, for now.

“Tell me about the new crew,” he said instead, and smiled as TK launched into stories about a daredevil from Miami and a possible psychic from Chicago. He seemed enthusiastic and Enzo didn’t realize how good it felt to hear that until he had. It was like there was a little bit of life back in his voice and though he knew TK still had a long way to go to make this better, he was relieved to see that he was at least on the way.

------------

For a while, everything seemed to be going great. TK called and texted him from time to time, sharing anecdotes from calls and his new crew, and each time Enzo thinks he can hear just a little bit more of his old self returning to his voice. Sure he complains about one of them, for a while, but that too seems to sort itself out.

He could tell there is someone new in his life too, even if TK is hedgy about it at best. But Enzo was the first one to know that TK was gay at 14; he knew how to spot the signs.

“Why won’t you tell me about him?” he asked him one day, voice light and teasing as he stuffed his papers into his bag. “Is there something horribly wrong with him?”

“No,” TK countered emphatically, “there is nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing,” he added, almost an unconscious mutter Enzo was not entirely sure he was supposed to hear.

“So if there is ‘absolutely nothing’ wrong with him, why aren't you going for it?”

There was silence on the other end as Enzo slid his bag onto his shoulder, patiently waiting the younger man out.

“You know why,” he eventually said, voice low and sad. Enzo grimaced at how pained his voice sounded and he dropped back into his desk chair with a sigh.

“TK…” he began, but the younger man cut him off firmly.

“No, Enzo. I...I thought I could. I thought we could have something casual and that I could handle it. But then he wanted more and I hurt him. I don’t want to do that, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s too good to get dragged into my shitshow.”

“Have you asked him what he wants?” Enzo asked gently.

The bark of laughter TK gave at that was sharp and harsh, “Yeah, that should go well. Definitely won’t lead to me having to explain to this guy I’ve hooked up with a handful of times all the ways I’m fucked up right now.”

Enzo sighed again, leaning back in his chair, “It won’t always be like this, T. Someday you will be ready to try again, but only if you let yourself consider the possibility. Can you at least promise me that?”

There was silence for a long stretch and Enzo was about to ask him again when TK’s voice finally responded quietly, “Yes.”

“Good,” Enzo responded firmly, “because no matter what happened, you still deserve happiness. And someday you’ll be ready to let it in again — maybe sooner than you think.”

The sound of acknowledgment TK made sounded skeptical at best, but Enzo would take it. He knew he was right and he knew that someday TK would realize it too. Maybe even sooner than he thought.

------------

It’s about a week later when Enzo’s phone rings, nearly making him jump as he is pulled abruptly from his stack of midterms. It took him a few moments of shuffling blue books to even locate his phone and when he did he frowned at both the time and the name displayed on the screen.

“Hey kid,” he said lightly as he answered the phone, “what’s up?”

He had hoped he was overreacting, that TK was just calling him late because he was on shift and had lost track of the time. He had hoped that maybe the universe was finally giving the kid a break.

The despair and fear so clear in TK’s voice quickly prove him wrong.

“Hey Enzo,” he said softly, “fuck, I know it’s late and I’m sorry to bother you, but I just really needed to talk to someone.”

“You are never a bother,” Enzo told him firmly, capping his pen and setting it down on his desk. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” TK began before stopping, taking a deep breath and trying again, “I don’t know for sure yet, but I know something is.”

And Enzo believed him. The fear in his voice is so raw Enzo could feel every ounce of it even from a timezone away. “I’m going to need more than that, kid,” he told him gently, leaning back in his chair as he waited TK out.

“I found something,” TK said eventually, “that I definitely wasn’t supposed to find. And it means something awful. Something I don’t know if I can handle. But it also means he doesn’t trust me,” TK continued, “and somehow that almost feels worse.”

Enzo frowned, pondering all the non-specific details in his mind. He didn’t know all that much about his stepson’s life in Austin, but he knew enough to know that while he was close to his new crew, he wasn’t close enough to be this upset by an omission from one of them. That left him with two possibilities: the mysterious man he was not seeing, or Owen.

And Enzo knew which option was more likely and it made his heart sink. TK might not be sharing but Ezno knew both the Strand men better than most. If there was something Owen felt strongly enough to keep from his son that TK was this upset about, it wasn’t good news.

“You don’t have to tell me what it is,” he said cautiously, “but is it something about your dad?”

There was a deep, shuddering breath before TK responded, “Yeah.”

And Enzo shut his eyes, the hurt and fear in TK’s voice telling him all he needed to know.

“I don’t know what this is about,” he said eventually, “and you don’t have to tell me. But I do know you, and I know whatever it is you are going to want to be there for him, because that’s who you are. Let him know that, and the rest will follow from there.”

There was silence again, but Enzo waited TK out. He was familiar with this rhythm; when something was bothering TK he often took his time to make sure he had the words right before he spoke. Over the years Enzo had learned to wait him out knowing that he would get to his point when he was ready.

He did a few moments later, “I do want to be there for him,” TK agreed, “I just know why he didn’t tell me. He doesn’t think I can handle it — and he’s right,” TK confessed softly, “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Ezno assured him firmly, “you can do anything you set your mind to. You always have.”

He let his words sink in for a moment before he added, “And I would talk to your dad before you make any assumptions. Let him know he can rely on you, let him know you want to be there.”

“You make it sound so easy,” TK said dryly, and Enzo huffed a laugh.

“In a way it is. It’s just words. It’s the actions behind them that are hard.”

There was silence again before TK spoke, his voice so quiet Enzo almost missed his next words, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Enzo reminded him, “sometimes fear is the appropriate response.”

But even as he said it, he could feel his heart breaking. He didn’t know what was going on and while he was sure he would find out soon enough, he couldn’t help but hate whatever it was. TK deserved some time to find himself, to heal and simply exist. He didn’t understand why the universe kept throwing such curveballs at him, but he wished with every fiber of his being it would stop.

“Sometimes it is,” TK agreed in a tone that made Enzo wonder even more what this was all about. But he didn’t ask; TK would tell him when he was ready. For now he would just be here for him. Sometimes that was all he could do.

--------------

As much as Enzo couldn’t help but worry about the younger man, sometimes the updates were a sign that things were getting better for him, slowly but surely.

One such time came as he and Gwyn were sitting on the couch together, Enzo making a case for watching Jeopardy with Gwyn adamantly refusing.

“No,” she said again with a firm shake of her head, “it always ends the same way.”

He shrugged, “I can’t help that you’re too competitive, or that I’m better at it then you are,” he added, giving her a sly grin.

“We can’t all have PhDs in history,” she said wryly, “some of us need to work for a living.”

He opened his mouth to fire back a retort but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Saved by the bell,” he said instead with a shake of his head as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He frowned when he saw the familiar name on the screen and turned it so Gwyn could see.

“Hey T,” he said cautiously as he answered, “everything good?”

There was a lot of noise in the background but he could hear TK’s voice clearly as he answered, “Yeah, I just had a question for you. These people don’t believe me so I need your cred as a Columbia history professor to back me up.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow at Gwyn, who had leaned closer to hear. She bit her lip against a laugh and he shook his head fondly, “I’ll do what I can. What’s the question?”

“Hang on,” TK said, “I’m going to put you on speaker.” There was the sound of fumbling before the background noise grew louder and TK’s voice returned. “Okay guys,” he was saying, “this is my stepdad Enzo. He’s a history professor at Columbia and if you don’t believe me maybe you’ll believe him. You want to ask him the question, Paul?”

“Man, you didn’t need to…”

“No, this is a point of pride now.” TK objected indignantly and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to see that she had fully pressed a hand against her mouth to stop any laughter from slipping out and giving away her eavesdropping. “Ask him,” TK prompted and there was a sigh before a new voice joined the conversation.

“Sir, we are so sorry to bother you. TK’s just being a sore loser.”

“Paul, right?” Enzo asked and got a sound of confirmation in return, “You don’t have to tell me that, I helped raise him.” There was an indignant noise in the background, likely from TK, but Enzo ignored it. “What’s the question?”

“Who invented the first movie camera?”

“Louis Le Prince,” Enzo replied without hesitation, unable to suppress a chuckle at the sound of TK’s triumphant ha! In the background. “You guys thought it was Edison, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Paul admitted sheepishly and Enzo chuckled lightly.

“That’s understandable. Edison was the first person to mass market it and the first to get recognized for it, but Le Prince was actually the first. But he mysteriously disappeared in 1890, right before he was set to take a trip to the US to talk about his invention. So he never got a chance to market it.”

There was silence for a moment before Paul spoke again, “So is there any proof Edison had him killed or…?”

“No,” Enzo admitted, “but that is one of the theories for sure. Another is his brother did it over the family will. Either way, Edison was not the first.”

“Huh,” Paul said thoughtfully, “that’s actually fascinating. Dude, I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“It’s fine,” TK said evenly, “I am more than a pretty face you know.”

There was a collective snort from the other end of the phone and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to roll his eyes. She shook her head fondly and he returned his attention to the call, “Any other burning history questions or was that it?”

The background noise lessened as TK took the phone off speaker. “No, that’s it. Thanks, Enzo.”

“Anytime kid,” he told him, “you know I love to flex my random history facts.” That got another laugh out of TK, but Enzo could still hear the background noise of a group in the background. The sounds of easy comradery set his mind at ease in a way not much else had since TK had left for Texas. “Why don’t you get back to your friends and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. I love you kid.”

“Love you too. Say hi to mom for me?”

“You’ve got it.”

With that the call was over and Enzo was left back in their silent living room, Gwyn looking at him with a soft smile.

“He sounds happy,” she said after a moment, her voice warm but thick. He nodded.

“He does. As much as I do hate to admit it, I think going to Austin may have the best thing for him.”

“You just hate that Owen was right.”

“And you don’t?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow.

“Well that’s a given,” she quipped, leaning closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed them as she rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m just glad he’s doing better,” she said softly after a moment, “I’ve been so worried about him.”

“Me too,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. That sat in silence for a few more moments, each lost in their own thoughts before he spoke again.

“So is that still a no to Jeopardy or…?”

She swatted at him and he grinned, ducking away from the light hit. Things seemed to have returned to their equilibrium, and that was a relief.

He just hoped it stayed that way.

-------------------

When he was wrested from sleep by the shrill sound of his phone ringing cutting through the late-night silence of his bedroom, Enzo groaned. He swore under his breath as he fumbled for the device, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he did. But when he managed to grasp his phone and saw the name on the screen, all thoughts of annoyance fled his mind. Owen Strand calling him was rarely a good sign. Owen Strand calling him at 2 am promised nothing short of disaster.

“Owen?” he said as he answered, skipping any and all attempts at pleasantries. “Is everything okay?”

He could afford to give the universe the benefit of the doubt, he decided; even if only for a moment.

When Owen’s reply came it was in a voice Enzo didn’t recognize. It was shaky and uncertain in a way that the other man never was.

“Enzo, hey. I’m sorry to bother you but Gwyn’s not answering her phone and…” he broke off with a shaky breath, “I really need to talk to her.”

“She’s in Beijing,” Enzo replied, sitting up and switching on the lamp beside him. “And given the time difference, probably in a meeting.”

He heard Owen swear distantly before he felt fear rise up in him. Owen calling him at 2 in the morning looking for Gwyn and out of sorts only added up to one thing, but Enzo so hoped he was wrong.

“Owen, did something happen to TK?” he forced himself to ask; the stress of not knowing was worse than anything else.

He could hear Owen take another breath, deep and shaky and filled with something else Enzo couldn’t identify on a phone call from half a country away.

“There was an...incident,” Owen said softly, voice still unsteady, “on our last call.”

Enzo’s mind was already spinning, stumbling from one horrible possibility from another.

“There was a man with dementia who broke into his old house and a homeowner who had a cardiac event and TK broke down the door and….he was shot.”

Enzo heard the words, he knew he did. But he couldn’t have. If he had heard them that would mean that TK had been shot and that was not something that could be true. His stepson was a firefighter. It was a profession that came with enough risks of its own. He had spent countless days worried and fearful at the thought of rescues gone wrong, of untamable flames and unstable buildings. Never once had he even entertained the thought of a bullet being a risk to watch out for. Bullets were supposed to be the problem of other people with other jobs — not his stepson, who already had so many dangers to face.

But it was true. The fear and pain in Owen’s voice told him it was true. There was an edge of both hysteria and despair in his words and that more than anything scared Enzo more than he could say.

“Where?” was the first coherent thought he could form.

“Just below his left shoulder” Owen repeated mechanically. “His...his lung collapsed before we were even out of the hallway. Enzo, he couldn’t breathe. He kept trying but he couldn’t and there was so much blood....” Owen trailed off and Enzo could hear the unmistakable sound of a sob in the background even as his own hands trembled and his eyes watered.

“Is he…” he started, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. He couldn’t speak the awful possibility into existence.

“He’s headed to surgery,” Owen replied. “I don’t know anything more than that, we only got here about 15 minutes ago. I just...I just hope it was fast enough.”

There was silence then as the two men allowed the same fear to consume them from opposite ends of the country. Enzo felt a morbid camaraderie with the other man in that moment. In the 16 years they had known each other it was safe to say that they had never exactly gotten along. They had always been polite and cordial for the sake of Gwyn, TK, and family gatherings but they were too different in too many ways that mattered to ever truly be friends. They had only ever agreed on one thing, and now that was the thing that tied them together — loving TK.

“You got him there as fast as you could Owen,” Enzo assured him without hesitation because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it wasn’t true. “You did everything you could. Any chance he has is because of you.”

“I think the credit lays more with the paramedics,” Owen objected, “but I appreciate the effort all the same.”

Enzo opened his mouth again, not quite sure what he was going to say but feeling the overwhelming need to say something, but he was interrupted before he got the chance to figure it out.

There was a noise on the other end followed by the sound of shuffling as Owen attended to whatever it was. When his voice returned, it was tight.

“That’s Gwyn on the other line, I’ve gotta take it. But listen, Enzo…”

But Enzo just shook his head, “Don’t worry about it Owen, talk to her. Just, keep me updated?”

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, “as soon as I know anything.”

Then with another hurried goodbye, the call was over and Enzo was left in the dark and quiet bedroom, alone. It wasn’t long before the tears he had felt threatening began to fall in earnest as he wrapped his mind around this reality and allowed himself to dwell on it. There was a chance — a very real and terrifying chance — that they could lose TK. That Gwyn and Owen could lose the son they had brought into this world and loved for 26 years. That Enzo could lose one of the people he loved the most. The thought of TK not existing anymore was too horrible to dwell on.

Enzo was a religious man. He had been raised by a small Jewish family in a large community and his faith had been something that he had always had. It had seen him through so much. But now, with this, he had to wonder. It didn’t make sense that TK — his wonderful, caring stepson who had dedicated his life to helping people — should have to suffer so much in such a short time on earth. It went against everything he had ever believed about putting good into the world. Why should TK — who had never done anything to hurt anyone — have to suffer so? Why should he? He didn’t want to know what life without TK looked like.

More than anything, he hated that he might find out.

When Gwyn called him a few minutes later he pushed his own tears aside. He murmured soft reassurances as she sobbed in a quiet corner of a Beijing office building, consumed with fear and grief a world away from her child who was slipping further and further from them with every passing moment. He gave her empty platitudes, reassured her the best he could.

But all the while the fear was drilling a hole straight through his chest. This, he decided, was the worst fear he had ever felt.

The worst part was there was nothing he could do but wait, and hope desperately for the best.

----------------

The next several days were some of the longest of Enzo’s life. Each day he woke up and went about the day. Each day he kept his phone volume on, not wanting to miss any news either way. Each day an update came from Owen and each day it was the same: no change.

He debated going out to Austin — he had been halfway through buying a ticket online half a dozen times — but each time he stopped himself. Logically he knew that being there wouldn’t change anything. He would still be waiting, he’d just be waiting there. He told himself he was needed here, that he couldn’t just pick up and go across the country with no warning. It was the end of the semester and he had students to help to finish the course or their dissertation. He told himself staying was the responsible option, but he knew that it was largely just a distraction. But he would take any distraction he could get and so he pushed the guilt of not being there to the side

He taught his classes, he went through the motions. He fielded calls from Gwyn, still stuck in China and frantic with worry. Each day he reassured her; reminded her that TK was strong, young, and healthy. Above all that, he reminded her, he was stubborn. No bullet or coma was going to take him from them before he was ready.

Of course there was the private fear, the one he didn’t want to share, that he didn’t want to hang on anyone else. The one he was afraid to say out loud.

It was the thought that maybe, after everything, that was exactly what he did want. That maybe this was an out and that maybe, he would take it. That maybe he didn’t want to be alive anymore.

But that was a possibility too horrible to accept. Maybe it was selfish, but Enzo knew that even if that was the case, he wasn’t ready. He doubted he ever would be, but he certainly wasn’t now. He knew both Gwyn and Owen would agree. No time was a good time to lose your child — step or otherwise — but now, after this — after everything — was not the time.

So he waited, and hoped.

Time seemed to blend together and before he knew it one day had become two, which had stretched into four. Each moment passed the same way — tensely, with no news.

He knew he had been distracted too — keeping his ringer on during class and checking in throughout his lectures and office hours. He had apologized to his classes after the second telemarketer had caused him to drop everything and lunge for his phone, citing a family emergency and word had slowly gotten around. Soon it wasn’t just him hoping for the best, but most of the Columbia history department as well. Their well wishes were touching, but nothing short of good news was going to make him feel any better.

So when his phone did finally ring on a Thursday afternoon, 5 days after the fateful call, he picked it up with trepidation. The name on the screen sent his heart racing and he nearly dropped his phone in his haste to answer it.

“Owen?” he asked tersely, “Any updates?”

Because since that night they hadn’t spoken. All updates had come in the form of texts and the thought of Owen finally having something to tell him one way or the other simultaneously thrilled him and nearly froze him with fear.

But it wasn’t Owen’s voice that answered.

“Hey Enzo,” TK said, the sound of his voice rushing through Enzo’s body like a current of electricity. He sank back into his seat with a wobbly laugh, feeling nearly a week's worth of tension fall away as he listened to the miraculous sound of TK breathing on the other end of the phone.

“Hey kid,” he said warmly. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he answered, “I really don’t feel too bad at all. A little sore, a little tired, but overall not bad.”

“I hear getting shot will do that to you,” Enzo retorted drily before sighing and running a weary hand down his face. “You scared the shit out of me, TK,” he admitted.

“Sorry,” TK replied softly, “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Enzo rushed to reassure him, “I know you didn’t ask for this to happen but...shit TK, I am not built for this. Do you think you could avoid getting shot in the future, for my sanity at the very least?”

“I’ll try,” TK responded with a chuckle, “I don’t remember most of it but I don’t think it’s anything I want to revisit.”

“No, I’d imagine not,” Enzo retorted wryly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts and taking comfort from the presence of the other even if it was only over a phone call from half a country away. “So,” he finally said, leaning into normal conversation for the sake of normalcy, “is your dad driving you nuts yet?”

“Yes,” TK responded emphatically, “he has been hovering non-stop, and he brought a date.”

Enzo could hear indignant sputtering in the background and Owen muttering something about him not bringing a date, that his date had simply come to visit him to see how he was doing and, maybe because of all the fear and stress of the past week, Enzo could only laugh.

“That sounds like your dad,” he retorted once he caught his breath, “and I wouldn’t count on that changing anytime soon.”

“She seemed cool at least,” TK allowed, voice teasing, “I don’t know why he was trying to keep her a secret.”

“Excuse you,” Owen’s voice objected from the background, “I am not the one who had a hot cop sitting by my bedside. You don’t get to talk about keeping secrets.”

“Dad,” TK groaned and Enzo’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, so the mystery man is a cop,” he teased, “and the plot thickens.”

Now it was TK’s turn to splutter, “Nope, we are not doing this. That is more than enough from both of you,” he declared and Enzo could hear Owen chuckling at his son’s indignation from the background. It was a slice of normal that he had feared he’d never get again. To be sitting here hearing TK’s voice, teasing him about something so simple as the guy he had a crush on seemed like a miracle and Enzo was grateful for it.

Everything was normal again, at long last.

----------------

Sometimes he thinks that turning on news alerts for Austin was the worst decision he had ever made.

It seemed practical, at the time. An easy way to stay in the know, to have an idea of what kind of calls TK may have seen on any given day. But now he was frozen in the middle of the hallway after one of his classes staring at a notification about a solar storm that had blasted through Austin, leaving devastation in its wake; regretting every decision that led him to this point.

He knew TK was still on medical leave. He knew that he should be home and resting after only being released from the hospital two days before. But he also knew his stepson and knew that whenever there was trouble, TK was usually not too far behind.

It was with that thought in his mind that he stepped out out the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall as he waited anxiously for the call to connect. The sound of a pleasant robotic voice informing him that his call could not be completed filled him with dread, but he forced himself to take a breath. It didn’t mean anything. The grid was likely overloaded right now; Enzo couldn’t say he knew for sure what kind of damage a solar storm could do but he was willing to guess that it wasn’t great for the electronic infrastructure.

Left with no other options he went on about his day, the familiar anxiety he had only recently shed slipping back over him like a worn winter coat. He tried calling a few more times, trying to ignore how the dread in his gut grew each and every time the call didn’t go through. He resisted the urge to ask one of his science colleagues to explain the specifics of a solar storm; reasoning that dealing with his own uncertainty would be far kinder than having confirmed facts. At least this way, he decided, he could tell himself he was overreacting.

It was far too many hours before his phone rang; an unfamiliar number appearing on his lock screen. He frowned at it but swiped to answer. He did list his cell number on all of his course syllabi, but for the most part his students stuck to his campus email, or — in desperate times — text.

“Dr. Cohen,” he answered, mentally placing bets as to whether it was actually a student or a robot trying to inform him about the extended warranty of the car he didn’t own.

To his immense relief, it was neither. Instead, a familiar voice answered, sending a rush of relief through him at the sound, “Hey, Enzo, it’s me.”

“TK,” he breathed, setting down the paper he had been reading and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

“More or less,” he answered sheepishly and Enzo was about to push for more than that when he caught the distinct sound of a hospital intercom in the background.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, are you in the hospital again?” he demanded and he heard a weary sigh from the other end before a quiet “yeah” was muttered.

“It’s not a big deal though,” TK rushed to explain, “I’m fine. I just pulled my stitches.”

There was another voice in the background that Enzo didn’t recognize and could barely hear, but what he could hear made it clear that the other voice was not impressed either.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” TK demanded, and Enzo was not entirely sure who he was speaking to, “Let her drown in a burning bus?”

“You just got out of the hospital!” Enzo objected when he could form words again, “What were you doing somewhere where there was a burning bus?!”

“We just went out for boba,” TK retorted, “I didn’t expect there to be a solar storm that caused a bus accident.”

And Enzo forced himself to take a deep breath because that was fair, he supposed. There was no way anyone could control anything like that. Still…

“The next time you move we’re going to need to do some research,” he declared. “Because if it is anywhere as chaotic as Austin, I’m going to have to object.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” TK assured him, “I think I’ll be in Austin for a while.”

There was a smile in his voice and Enzo somehow had the feeling he was intruding on something, even though TK had been the one to call him.

“What number are you calling me from?” he asked, testing his theory.

“I borrowed Carlos’s phone,” TK answered in a voice that said he knew what was coming and he hoped it would at least be quick.

“Oh,” Enzo replied, “and Carlos wouldn’t happen to be the name of a certain ‘hot cop’ your father mentioned, aka the mystery man I have been trying to get you to tell me about for months?”

“Yes.”

“And when you say ‘we’ were trying to get boba…”

“Enzo…”

“And he wouldn’t happen to be with you right now, would he?”

“Are you done?” TK demanded, and Enzo only laughed.

“Not nearly, kid; I’m just getting started.”

And despite TK’s muttering, Enzo could tell that he sounded happier than he had heard him sound in ages. He marveled at the fact that somehow, despite everything, TK had managed to find the happiness and peace he had hoped for him ever since he left New York all those months ago. Between the disasters he had managed to take his broken pieces and fit them back together, maybe even stronger than they had been before.

It was all he had ever wanted for him, and he was relieved beyond belief that he had found it.

“You know, this means I’m going to have to come down there soon,” he said instead, “I’ve got to meet this mystery man for myself.”

He could practically hear TK rolling his eyes, but his voice was impossibly warm when he assured him, “You’ll like him, Enzo.”

“Do you like him?” he asked.

“Yeah,” TK responded without a moment’s hesitation, “I do.”

“Then I already do,” he assured him.

If this Carlos had anything to do with the happiness he could finally hear returned to his stepson’s voice, he couldn’t do anything but.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #my writing #tk strand #enzo #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #userbones #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #buckybarnesalways #laelipoo #I know for sure I usually tag more people but it's been so long I can't remember

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youngbeezer · 3 years

Text

Do you Believe in Happily Ever After? | Joel Farabee

A/N: Hello again! I got such a great response to my first fic I posted which literally made me so happy, so thank you so much to anyone who gave me the time of their day to read my fic. Here is a new fic for mr. joel farabee!! This one is a little longer and I tried my best, feedback always appreciated, but I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Few curse words, overall just fluff

Word Count: 2160

Tagging a few people again so this doesn’t flop,,,

@ollywahlygator @joshsandersons @joelsfarabees @fratboyzegras @sorokns @butgilinsky @ricohenrique

I haven’t been to too many weddings in my life. I attended one for my uncle when I was around 10 years old but I don’t remember much from it. My mother also got remarried around 3 years ago, but up until this year, weddings weren’t a natural occurrence in my life.

This past year though.. I’ve attended two weddings, got an invitation in the mail today for another one, a close friend of mine just recently got engaged (so that invitation will be coming sometime in the near future), and one of my best friends’ wedding is tomorrow. Now I feel like everywhere I look, I am surrounded by love.

Now I’m not saying that is a bad thing, but when every one of your friends are either having kids, getting married, or in serious relationships, it starts to feel a little discouraging. Is there something wrong with me? Am I the reason why I’m still single?-- No, I refuse to think like that! I could get a boyfriend if I wanted to. Maybe my friends are right though… Maybe I’m not putting myself out there enough.

Anyway, one of my best friends, Karly, is getting married to her long-time boyfriend Travis tomorrow. I’ve met Travis, or as everyone seems to call him ‘TK’, a handful of times and I know he plays for the Philadelphia Flyers hockey team-- which is cool I guess, but other than that I don’t know much about his personal life or who he hangs out with.

Karly and I met running into each other at a cafe once. Yeah, yeah I know it sounds like one of those cliche romantic meetings, where two people bump into each other and immediately fall in love. I mean we did hit it off almost immediately and from there we became like two peas in a pod-- just not in the way you think. I’ve always wondered though, if maybe I ran into a handsome man at a coffee shop or walking down the street, would I be having my happily ever after right now?

I snap out of my thoughts when an incoming call from- speak of the devil, the bribe to be. Before I can even say my greetings, Karly jumps right into business;

“Ok! So since you weren’t able to come to the dress rehearsal or rehearsal dinner. I’ll give you the rundown on what you need to do.”

Oh yeah, did I mention that I am one of the bridesmaids? Sadly, I was not able to attend the functions before the wedding due to not being able to get time off from work. But, Karly was super cool with it, which brings us to the reason for this call.

“Ok so basically, your dress and everything is already in the bridal suite, so everything will be ready for you when you get here tomorrow. You’ll be walking down the aisle third with one of Travis’ buddies Joel-- he plays on the team with Trav and he’s such a sweet guy he’ll definitely help you out if you need anything.. You know now that I think about it you guys would be such a cute couple-”

“Uh Karly? I don’t think now's the time to play matchmaker, when we should be preparing for your big day tomorrow.” I cut her off.

“Alright, alright. But I will be coming back to that thought. Ok so anyway--”

After that I kind of zone out from trying to keep up with whatever Karly is spitting at me right now. While still on the phone, I pull out my laptop and search for the name ‘Joel’ with ‘Philadelphia Flyers’ next to it in search of this man who is said to be walking me down the aisle. Right away the name ‘Joel Farabee’ pops up with a wikipedia and multiple photos. Hm this guy is kinda cute. Just as I go to click view more images, Karly’s words register back in my brain;

“Ok y/n, did you get that?”

“Hm.. oh yeah! Got it. What time should I be there tomorrow?” I ask, praying that she didn’t already mention that and realize I wasn’t paying attention.

“8 AM sharp,” she responds all giddy.

I suddenly remember that my best friend is actually getting married tomorrow. Feeling giddy as well I reply, “Sounds good. I am so happy for you Karly and I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look tomorrow!”

Karly does a little shriek in response and reiterates her excitement as well. We then say our goodbyes and I wish her a great last night as an unmarried woman before hanging up. I got back to what I was working on before the call and all my jumbled thoughts entered my brain, totally forgetting about a certain someone named ‘Joel’ as I exited the browser.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning I arrive at 8:17 AM at the wedding venue and as soon as I exit the Uber, I start booking it to the bridal suite. When Karly says to be somewhere at 8 AM sharp, you be there at 8 AM sharp, and I’m not particularly fond of facing her wrath today, especially on her wedding day when stress levels are through the roof.

There’s just one problem though… Since I wasn’t able to attend the rehearsal, I have no idea where I am going.

Trying to recall the directions Karly told me on the phone last night (when I wasn’t paying attention), I take a sharp turn around a corner looking the opposite direction and suddenly collide with a dead end. Wait- no that’s not a dead end, it’s a person.

Immediately going to spit out an apology, I stop dead in my tracks when I make eye contact with the handsome man I bumped into.

“Oh shit! I am so sorry. Are you alright?” I see his lips moving, which are very nice to look at by the way, but my mind doesn’t register his words as I stare dumbfoundedly at this handsome stranger. Who, now that I think about it, looks a little familiar.

When I still don’t answer, the familiar stranger clears his throat before giving me a once over of my whole body, which does little to bring me out of my trance. If anything I now start to feel my whole face flush from noticing him obviously checking me out.

His face then seems to light up in recognition before asking, “Wait, are you y/n?”

When he notices my look of confusion on how he knows my name he continues, “I’m Joel, Joel Farabee.” Scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, I notice a slight blush coating his cheeks before he adds, “We’re paired to walk down the aisle together… Um, also I think Karly is looking for you. She was kind of freaking out a little.”

With that last sentence my whole body comes back to life realizing that I am late and Karly is going to kill me. Hurriedly I exclaim “Oh my gosh! I am so late and I have no idea where the hell I’m going.” I frantically search around for any directions to point me to the bridal suite.

Joel kindly puts his hand on my shoulder, which immediately ignites a fire on the skin he is touching, before he reassures “Hey, you’re good. Just take your first right down this hall and then it will be at the end of the corridor, you can’t miss it. Seriously. She hung up streamers and balloons everywhere with a poster on the door that says ‘Bridal Suite. NO BOYS ALLOWED’.”

Letting out a soft snort I gently thank Joel before rushing in the direction he pointed me to. Before turning right, I sneak a quick glance over my shoulder to find Joel already glancing my way. My heart does a little flutter when we make eye contact and he gives me a little lopsided grin before going on his way.

What just happened…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As soon as I walk through the doors of the suite, I am immediately ambushed by the bride to be on why I was late, until she notices the deep blush covering my cheeks, which then prompts another ambush on what made me blush.

I change the topic as quickly as I can and direct our attention on getting ready for the ceremony. Karly looks absolutely beautiful in her white gown and her hair all dolled up. She doesn’t even seem remotely nervous for today as well. Most weddings I have been to, the bride is always going batshit crazy making sure everything is perfect or worrying that her soon to be husband might back out. That just shows how happy and comfortable Karly and Travis are in their relationship. God, I wonder what it must feel like to have that kind of love that is so solid and healthy. Suddenly my mind starts drifting to what it would be like to have that type of relationship with Joel.

Oh who am I kidding? I just met the guy. Sure, when his hand touched my shoulder my whole body felt like it was on fire. And yeah, maybe when he gave me that little lopsided grin it gave my entire stomach butterflies. Oh jeez. Today is gonna be a long day…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ok now I feel like my whole body is going to explode. He is looking at me like I’m now the bride and he is the groom. And suddenly, I’m wishing that were the case. We are getting closer and closer to walking down the aisle together, and every step we take towards one another my stomach does a little flip.

When we finally reach each other, he offers his arm for me to take as he speaks, “Wow… Uh yeah wow, you look gorgeous.”

Blushing, I respond with a quiet “Thank you.”

“Guess I was the lucky one eh? In case I end up tripping and making a fool of myself, no one will even be paying attention because all eyes will be on you.” There’s that little lopsided grin of his again.

“Well aren’t you a sweet talker.” I responded.

He just gives me a subtle wink before we ascend through the doors and down the aisle where Travis is waiting for the big moment. He gives us both a little smirk before we part ways like he knows something we both don’t.

…

Eventually Karly walks down the aisle looking like an absolute princess. The officiator says his whole ordeal, Karly and TK both say their vows to one another, there are lots of tears, and Joel and I can’t seem to keep our eyes off of each other.

After the ceremony, we all head in the direction of the reception hall where the real fun begins. Don’t get me wrong, the wedding was spectacular, the way everyone expected it to be. Now as music filled the air with a giddy sort of elation, the newlyweds looking beautiful and so happy while dancing, friends and relatives chatting between one another about this and that; I can’t help but feel a little bittersweet about it. I want this. I want that giddy elation to be surrounded around me, I want to wear that beautiful white gown, I want the guy to be looking at me like I just hung the moon while we had our first dance. Where’s my happily ever after--

“You know you never properly introduced yourself?”

Startled, I spun around to find the source. Joel.

I give him a sweet smile before returning my gaze back to the happy couple and responding, “Y/n y/l/n.”

He follows my gaze and lets out a little sigh before expressing “They’re perfect for each other, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they really are.” Before I can get another word in Joel blurts;

“Do you wanna dance? Like,” He stumbles a little with his words, “like with me?”

Letting out a soft giggle, I happily reply, “I would love to.”

Seemingly relieved, Joel takes my hand and leads me out onto the dance floor as soon as a slow song comes on. He puts his hands respectively on my waist while I put mine around his neck inching him closer to my body. We dance with each other for a while, even after the song is over and a fast high tempo song blasts through the speakers. It’s like we are lost in each other, just savoring this ‘moment’ together.

Eventually after the fourth song comes on and we are still dancing, Joel pulls away just a little to look me in the eye before softly whispering “Do you believe in happily ever afters?”

Seeing that look in his eyes again, the one where it seems like he is looking at me like I just hung the moon? I answer in that same soft whisper, “Yeah… yeah I think I do.”

#joel farabee #joel farabee imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #joel farabee fic #ahh i just wanna dance with joel farabee and immediately fall in love with him #hope you liked it :)#my writing

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mageofseven · 4 years

Note

Back again with the request of the brothers and undateables reaction to MC drunk texting them that they love, Love them ❤️

Oh thank you so much for resending this! I'm sorry about the mishap before. I hope you'll enjoy these~ Since you didn't specify, these are written from the perspective that MC and the boys are in a relationship when they text the boys.

Also, I decided to split these up into two posts so this one will only have the Brothers in it, but I will put up a post for the Undateables real soon!

Lucifer:

The man sighed at his desk, signing what felt like the thousandth paper that night. It was only 1am so the night was still young; he knew he'd be at this till morning only to have to go through his duties tomorrow without rest. It was not unusual for him, but the oldest brother was still feeling a bit burnt out.

Ding.

He paused for a moment before setting his pen down and picking up his phone from the corner of the desk.

'Daaaddy. Mammnk dispered'

Ignoring the name they gave him, the man just stared down at the text. He gave another big sigh.

'MC, where are you?'

'I djnno. I went tk a party with Mammm and Asmo and thyy jsyt went poooff.'

God, his brothers were idiots. What if something happens to MC while they're off doing whatever?

'I'll track your phone then. I'll be there soon'

'Nuuu. I jsut wanna get my phone bacc from Mamsmm'

Oh dear Diavolo...

'Love, you're texting me off your phone.'

'Ooo. Yur rite!'

'I am coming to get you now.'

'Okaaaa bye Daddynm. Love yuo.'

The man rolled his eyes, but smile slightly down at the screen. What was he going to with his Love?

Mammon:

Shit! Where'd they go?! He took MC with him to the casino to help distract the other gamblers as he played cards-- hey don't judge!! He promised to buy them a few drinks afterwards. So there they were, sittin' and drink together when this guy he owes money to starts running up and yelling at him! Of course Mammon had to bail! He told MC to run with him but at one point he turned around and the human wasn't there! He's been rushing around and searching for them for the last twenty minutes. Where did they go??

Bing. His phone went off. The moron facepalmed. He has his phone! He should have been calling them or something.

'Baaaabbby. Im loneyl.'

'Oi! Where'd you go? I told you to follow me!'

'But I waz tlkin to thhe fnny man! He evn boght more deinks.'

Shit. They're still back at the bar. But with him of all people??

'Babe, why ya drinking with that jerk??'

'Im not. Hss wife cam e adn got him.'

Wife? Oh thank Diavolo, Belinda came through for him!

'Stay put, got that? I'm heading back now.'

'Kk I love yuo babbny 😘'

Mammon blushed as he read that last message.

'Ya, ya, just stay put, human.'

Leviathan:

Okay so Levi himself is not really a drinker in most circumstances. He pretty much sees it as another thing normies do and use as an excuse to spend time with other normies. Like, why would he care about something so stupid anyway?

Still, that doesn't mean there aren't exceptions to that kind of thing. Like the new bottle he won from a contest run by the creators of the anime I Partied So Hard That I Ripped Opened The Frabric of Reality And Was Met By My Future Wife Who Is Secretly A Cat Girl From Venus! I mean, it's seriously cool! It's the same brand of Venustian wine that Nyanitia loves in the anime!

Levi was so excited when it arrived that he practically begged MC to come to his room to drink it with him as he played his new video game from Akuzon. Honestly it didn't end up like he thought it would though. The wine barely did anything to him at all. I mean, yeah, the third brother didn't have a lot of experience with alcohol but he thought he would at least feel a little different than normal. Eh, whatever. The effect is kinda lame but it's still from the anime! If it's good enough for Nyanitia then it's good enough for him.

The demon shrugged it off and got absorbed in his video game to the point where he even stopped talking to MC, which wasn't unusual. After dying a couple times, he threw his controller down.

"Uggghh, can you believe that MC--"

The boy just noticed that he was alone. Oh... was he really that boring to hangout with? The Avatar of Envy started mumbling a lot of insults to himself as he picked up the bottle.

"Was my gaming that bad? Or was it the wine?" He mused sadly. "No, I bet it was the wine. It barely did anything to me so I doubt it effected them either...."

He starts reading the label on the back, skimming till he reads a section on alcohol level. Level for demons: mild.

"That explains it..." He grumbled, continuing to read in his head.

Level for Angels: low medium. Level for Humans: HIGH. WARNING. KEEP OUT OF REACH OF HUMANS.

Oh...oh no. What's gonna happen to his Henry?? Are they gonna die?? Is Lucifer gonna kill him??? GAH! Where did they go--

Beep. His phone!

'Leeevvvvvi. I fels wooozy.'

Panicking, the boy typed back.

'Where are you??? Are you dying???'

'Nuuuu. I'm jsyt wwwoooosh.'

Gah! What does that even mean?? Before the demon could respond, he got another message.

'Leeeevvvvi chan I lvoe you~.'

The boy's face and ears blazed red. I mean, yeah, it's not the first time he's heard/read them say that but still! Now isn't the time for this!

Another message.

'Sweeeeetue. Coem love me 😢'

The demon let out a panicked yell and charged out his door. His foot collided with something and he heard a whine.

"Sweeeeetie why?" MC laid on the floor of the hallway, pouting and looking more hurt emotionally than physically.

Still panicking, Levi picked up the human and brought them back into his room. He laid them in his bathtub and start researching the affects of Venustian wine on humans.

Boy nearly collapsed from relief and exhaustion when he found out they only had a sip and shouldn't have any health issues from it.

Ends up apologizing a million times over and becomes extra protective of them for the next couple weeks and is paranoid about every food and drink placed in front of them.

Satan:

It was an average evening for him. He was in his room, reading in bed as he waited for MC to come home. Asmo managed to convince them to go to a party with him. Satan didn't really want them to go tonight, but he saw their eyes light up with just the idea of it and the blonde couldn't bring himself to say a thing. Like him, MC didn't really have any experience with parties prior to this, but unlike him, they had a great interest in them. How could he ask them not to go if this was an experience they had wanted for a long time?

Ding.

The man laid his book down next to him and reached for his phone that he laid on the closest stack of books.

'Satn, peple are sk mean 😥'

The demon launched into a sitting position.

'Who needs to die?' He texted back, protective instincts springing up inside himself for them.

'Nno. Teh people here just amke me feel so lft out.'

He sighed. MC was too sensitive for that kind of environment.

'Kitten, tell Asmo to take you home now.' Satan texted before adding 'Tell him I said so.'

'Btu hes tlkin to a succubus'

'I don't care. Tell him what I said.'

'Okaa 😔'

The demon waited a few minutes, but didn't get a new message.

'Kitten?' He texted them.

Minutes when by. Nothing. The blonde got out of bed and started pacing. When that didn't help, he started to transform from the anger at his brother. He decided to text Asmo.

'Bring them home now or so help me, you will face a different type of hell when you get back.'

No reply from his brother either. The Avatar of Wrath was ready to start breaking shit.

Ding. He quickly checked his phone. It was MC.

'Bb I love you.'

The blonde stopped in his tracks. Why--after over 20 minutes of waiting-- was that their only response?

The demon reached out for his door knob, ready to go out and hunt for them, when his door swung open, revealing his brother, who was holding up an intoxicated MC.

"Ugh, you ruined my night!" The fifth brother complained.

Satan, still in his demon form, was ready to deck the other man at best and at worst, who knows. He didn't get the chance to find out because instead, MC tumbled forward and into his arms.

"Satan," They whined. "I wanna.... I wanna lay down."

The blonde took a deep breath before looking to his brother.

"Just leave. Now." He slammed the door closed on the other demon before laying MC down in bed and joining them. He pulled the blanket over them both and held his Kitten close to his chest.

"I should have...stayed home." They mumbled.

He kissed their forehead.

"It's fine. You're fine now, Kitten."

Asmodeus:

After a long, but fun night at The Fall, the Avatar of Lust had his fill was ready to get his beauty sleep. Sadly, he had lost track of his Doll. Oh dear, where could they be? Despite being so late, there were still plenty of people out and he was having trouble tracking them down.

Beep. The demon checked his phone.

'Azzy, I lvoe you🥰'

Asmo giggled, texting back.

'Aww! I love you too! Now where did you run off to? I miss my Dolly~.'

'By eth bahroons'

The man headed off that way and found MC on the floor in the hallway that led to the bathroom.

"Well, what are you doing down there?" He teased.

MC started giggling.

"I fell."

Seeing that they weren't hurt, the demon simply bent over and helped them up. The human instantly leaned against him and hugged him close.

"I love you, Azzy." They told him, closing their eyes as they enjoy the embrace and pressing their cheek against his.

Asmo let out a small laugh then pulled back just enough to kiss his Doll on their cheek.

"Oh you're just too adorable, you know that?" He told them before leading them to the front of the building. "Now let's go home, okay?"

Beelzebub:

Beel woke up for a midnight snack and headed to the kitchen. It was a quick in and out thing, not wanting to be caught by his brothers. He grabbed a whole cabinet full of snacks and carried them back to his room.

Ding. His phone went off and as he opened the door to his room.

The demon laid his snacks on his bed and got in before grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

'Beeesly, I love oyu~'

The redhead smiled happily. It was MC.

'I love you too. When are you coming home?'

No response. The demon simply opened up a bag of chips and started eating. It's fine; he can be patient.

Instead of getting a response however, he was greeted by his Muffin at door.

"I'm baaack~." The human giggled, stumbling just slightly as they walked up to the bed and flopped down before snuggling up to the big demon.

Beel kissed the top of their head, smiling at them.

"Did you have fun with Solomon, Muffin?"

"Mhmm." They said, closing their eyes and stretching out their legs, causing some of the snacks to fall to the floor. He didn't mind.

"That's good." He sat the chip bag on the stand so he could use both hands to hold them close.

The two of them laid there, cuddled up together. The big demon stroked their hair till they heard the human's breath slow and were asleep.

"G'night, Muffin." He whispered. "Dream sweetly."

Belphegor:

It was the middle of the night and Belphie was asleep. That might sound normal for the Avatar of Sloth to you, but in actuality, this was unusual for him. The sleepy boy slept so much during the day that he was usually awake starting from whenever he woke up from his after-dinner nap up until around 4 or 5 am.

Tonight, however, Belphie really wasn't feeling it. Ya know, the whole 'awake' thing. He didn't feel like being conscious. The same reason he didn't wanna be awake was the same reason why he wasn't sleeping very deeply either.; MC wasn't there with him.

That scum Mammon took them out somewhere and they didn't even tell him. He had to hear it from Beel. The 7th brother has been grumpy since then and didn't wanna do anything so he hid away in his attic and fell asleep.

Bing. Bing. Bing.

The demon let out a frustrated sigh. That was the 9th text he got in the last two minutes. He picked up his phone from the other side of the bed and begrudgingly read his messages.

'Belpphi'

'Beelphi

'Belphii'

'Babb'

'Babe'

'Babr'

'Beeelpie'

'Heeyy'

'Mr Moomooo man pay atttention ot me 😢'

"Mr. Moomoo man?" Belphie said out loud, scowling down at the screen. If he wasn't mad at MC, he would have cracked a smile.

'What's wrong with you?' He texted.

'Mammmn lfet me all alone 😔'

Belphie eyes went wide.

'What happened?'

'Mammo owes mnoey to this big Moloc guy and eh chased Maaamkn away.'

Ugh. Mammon's a dumbass.

'Where are you?'

'I dunno. He lefy me on a bench. Teh park?'

'The one by the school?'

'Mmaybe?'

The demon let out another big sigh.

'I'll be there soon. Don't move.'

'Okyy'

A couple seconds later, they sent another text.

'I love yuo, bb. Im srry 😔'

Belphie frowned. His anger at them was dissipating.

'Yeah, I love you too, butthead. Now stay there.'

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc

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justapoet · 3 years

Note

Hi mary! Can I request for tarlos: 37 "How weird is it that I just realized I want to marry you?" thank you in advance! xx

Sara!! Thank you so much for sending this ask! I really hope you like it :)

Prompt list: "How weird is it that I just realized I want to marry you?"

Send me a prompt!

2.2k | read it on Ao3

let's have conversations in the dark

Time seems to stand still whenever you need it to rush, and TK had learned it from a young age. The clocks seem to play a trick and decide not to move the way they're supposed to, just to prove whoever was staring that, even if time is merely a human concept, it still holds power over their existence.

It's something he had learned to deal with, only because he really needed to. Since he was a kid, his father would end up in a hospital, and he would be in the waiting room, staring at the clocks and hoping for the moment he would look back and see that it wasn't too bad to wait in there.

Time would pretend not to exist while TK would ask anyone above their heads to bring his father back home.

And, yet as a kid, TK would stare at the clocks and count the seconds until the time he knew both his mother and father would leave work. He would sit by the kitchen counter with his dinner and stare at the pointers, his leg bouncing and his heart racing, expecting the minute they would walk in through the door and look at his new "super-awesome" dinosaur pajama.

Time would go too fast until they would say it was time for him to sleep, and the nights would go too slow just for him to see that none of them were home by the morning.

Growing up, TK would try to fool the clocks, pretending he was having fun when he needed time to go faster and lying about how boring things were whenever he wanted the minutes to freeze for a few hours. It was silly, he could see, but also endearing ― according to Enzo.

He would slowly learn how to deal with it, though, not playing tricks on time anymore ― he would take a deep breath and just accept things as they were, hoping that the waiting would turn out to have a happy ending. TK would go out for a walk, watch a movie or a random show, or start some new book he had left on his shelf for far too long.

He would make peace with time until the moment he began to wish that time didn't even exist at all.

It was funny when he looked back to see how much things changed in a couple of years. The nights he would wish that never came so he could stay awake a bit more would become his only refugee and shelter from his parents' fights or absence, and the hours he spent crying would be just known for him and the walls. The sunny days he loved so deeply would become torture, people asking why he didn't go out or acted like a typical teenager, enjoying life and the young years.

And when he couldn't even remember how the days passed by, TK would wish the clocks to stop moving. Just for a bit ― just so he could rest. Just so he didn't have to cry for one more night.

It was weird just how that time wasn't a long time ago. And even more when, sometimes, those thoughts would take up TK's mind, hours, and seconds.

He was getting better, though, in both time and misery management. Sure, the clocks still stopped whenever he needed or desperately wanted it to go faster and rush whenever he wanted more time, but he was getting better at dealing with his agony and deception.

Especially when, after a shift from hell, even if it was only a twelve-hour one, TK got to get home to Carlos.

It was a Friday, and the both of them had the weekend off. Although they had planned to take a trip to Marble Falls, less than an hour from Austin, so they could relax and have some time to enjoy each other's company, Carlos getting sick had terminated that they wouldn't get too far out of the house.

Carlos got pretty upset over it, apologizing and saying that he didn't mean to ruin their plans ― and TK had only hugged Carlos close to his chest, trying to take the groundless guilt out of the man's mind. He dismissed every apology, saying that the only thing that mattered was that Carlos would get better so they could plan their trip again.

It had happened on a Wednesday, and TK had taken Thursday off after they had to take a ride to the ER within the late hours of the night ― or early ones in the day, for that matter. Carlos was running out of air and vomiting everything he didn't have in his stomach, and his fever was high enough for TK to cry when waiting for the doctor ― and, when she came, he couldn't get himself to pay attention as he should have.

His boyfriend was whimpering, crying, and asking for them to go home, and TK wasn't strong as he needed to be at that moment. The clocks wouldn't tick by, and Carlos would ask how long they've been there every five minutes, and TK would only wish it was nothing, and he only needed some fluids and regular medication.

TK knew it wasn't too serious ― he was experienced enough to know that ― but seeing Carlos in pain was a hell-sent experience. He would get withdrawn and make himself look small, silently begging for it to stop and searching for any contact TK could offer. TK would offer him a smile, some comfort words, and would caress his sweaty, messy curls just to get a shadow-ish grin in response.

It was worthy, though.

When Carlos got discharged, a few hours after he was admitted, TK messaged Grace so she could talk to Tommy and Judd ― who would tell the rest of the team ―, and Andrea and Gabriel, letting them know that he was okay. Both Grace and Carlos' mother had offered to make them some soup, and TK knew better than decline any offer, sending a thumbs up and a heart.

Against his will, he had gone to work Friday morning, his heart getting lighter when Grace knocked on their door minutes before he had to go. Carlos was still sleeping, curled upon himself, and TK pressed a kiss to his forehead before hugging Grace tight and leaving to the fire station.

And no matter how much he trusted Grace or how deeply he loved his job, he had spent the whole shift staring at some clock whenever he could. He wanted to go home, ask how Carlos was doing, and then let the other man curl himself against his side to feel some sense of protection ― he just wanted to see his boyfriend again and make sure he was there.

So, TK had taken a shower at the station before accepting Judd's ride to get Grace and check on Carlos, thanking God when he waited in the car, and Grace was already by the door. He loved them both, he really did ― but he didn't want to be cordial at the moment.

TK walked up the stairs silently, thanking God that their room was further in the hallway than it was in the condo they'd lost to the fire. His bag and shoes were left by the locked door, and he had thrown his hoodie somewhere in the living room.

He stepped lightly inside their bedroom, smiling fondly at the sight of Carlos lying on his back with one of his arms thrown over his face and the other in the vacant space that belongs to TK. His chest was rising and falling more smoothly than it was on the two previous days, and the paramedic couldn't help but sigh in relief at that.

Not wanting to wake his boyfriend up, TK made his way to their bathroom to take his clothes off, except for his boxers, and brush his teeth, stretching his back and letting the day settle behind him. Knowing he wouldn't fall asleep so easily ― worrying was inevitable ― TK walked to the bookshelf they had in their bedroom, taking one of the books he had bought and had yet to read it.

Then, he took his steps to their bed, where Carlos had already moved his arm from, and sat with his back pressed against the headboard, taking one of the blankets and covering his legs. He smiled at the man beside him before making himself comfortable and opening the first pages of the book, sighing in relief to be home.

TK didn't make it to the third page when Carlos groaned and turned his body, stretching his arm and loosening it to fall over the paramedic's lap and the book he was reading. TK blinked in surprise, turning to Carlos and then chuckling softly, his heart swelling with how much he loved that moment.

"Miss'd 'ou," Carlos grumbled, getting closer to TK and making him slip down a little so his boyfriend could hug his waist, at least. The paramedic closed the book, then, putting it over the bedside table, and turned lowered his eyes again, watching Carlos' sleepy face.

"I missed you, too, babe," TK said. "How are you feeling?"

It took Carlos a bit to process the question, his fogged brain still too deep in unconsciousness. When he did, he snuggled even closer, his head almost placed over TK's stomach and his arm not hugging him but still thrown over his frame.

"I'm good," Carlos said. "I missed..." he stopped, almost drifting to sleep again. TK thought he would, but then he took another breath, leaning closer to TK's fingers on his hair. "You," the man completed, and TK smiled fondly.

"Me too, love," TK said. "Are you comfortable like this?"

"Uh-hu," Carlos answered and then frowned. TK watched, his fingers scratching his boyfriend's nape. "Are you�� I am not― the door," the man grumbled, and TK noticed he wasn't in their room anymore but somewhere in his sleep-fogged mind.

"What?" TK asked anyway. Carlos groaned, and TK thought he would pull away, but he seemed to think twice and froze in place.

"Did you get the... the rings?" Carlos mumbled, and TK frowned with a smile.

"The rings, sweetheart?" he asked, moving down a bit each second to be lying down like Carlos. His neck would be thankful in the following morning.

"Yeah," Carlos agreed, and TK was more than sure that he didn't know what he was agreeing to.

"Which ones?" TK asked again, watching as Carlos' lips parted so he could breathe better between each sentence.

"The... Uh," Carlos mumbled, now against TK's chest. "Saturn," he completed, and TK held back a chuckle that could wake him up. Instead, he passed his arm around Carlos, hugging him close, and took another of the blankets to cover his boyfriend.

"Saturn? I don't think I have them, love," TK said, an inch of supposed sadness in his voice. When he thought Carlos had fallen asleep once more, his boyfriend snuggled even closer.

"'ts okay," Carlos said. "Love you," he mumbled, and TK's breath got caught in his throat as if it was the first time he had heard Carlos say that he loved him.

He looked down at the man cuddled around him, and his mind settled with the peace he hadn't felt in forever. Time, well-known for its games and tricks, seemed to realize just how wide, gigantic, and precious that moment was, stopping in its tracks and lingering in the air just like those promises TK never dared to break apart.

Suddenly, there was silence and a quiet realization of the loudest of TK's feelings ― suddenly, there was just who they were, in all their greatness and insignificance, and it was enough.

It was enough, and it was real. Unlike the concepts of life, death, time, it was real, tangible, there, and theirs. Unlike the unknown presence of an unexistent villain, the clocks seemed to realize that there was something there that no one could ever put in words. Unlike all the demons, and the waiting rooms, and the sleepless nights and the feeling they hold, there was peace.

And there was a certainty TK could never see coming.

So, he smiled because there was nothing else to summarize what he was feeling.

"How weird is it that I just realized I want to marry you?" he whispered to the silence, Carlos' breaths slow and steady, indicating how he was already deep in his sleep. TK sighed, staring at the man he loved as if he was the most precious thing to be something on Earth, and lifted his head to press a kiss to the messy, brown curls.

He stretched his other arm, then, and took Carlos' hand in his, watching as, unconsciously, his boyfriend's fingers tangled around his own, a sigh escaping from his parted lips.

"I love you," TK confessed, his voice echoing in the room. "And I'll get the rings, too. Soon," he said again, his heart thundering in his chest with how sweet and sure the words sounded out of his lips. Carlos didn't move, and TK closed his eyes so he could join his lover in his sleep. "Promise."

And time didn't dare to rush their beating hearts, lulling them to sleep in peaceful silence and a glowing ticking of frozen clocks.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #prompt fic #my fic #prompts #my writing #my fics

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years

Text

never been one for goodbyes

In the aftermath, the 126 take comfort in each other.

a series of vignettes about the 126 trying to come to terms with the events of s2e2

i may or may not have cried while writing this. spoilers for lone star s2e2 to follow

ao3

Judd doesn’t sleep that night. He pretends to for a while, for Grace’s sake, but when he’s certain she’s asleep again he slips out of bed and moves on silent feet to the patio, making a pit stop in the kitchen for whiskey. His fingers shake as they wrap around the glass and he finds he can’t steady his breathing. It doesn’t help that the air outside is foul, volcanic ash and smoke mingling to clog up his throat, but Judd doesn’t care. He won’t be out here for long, just enough to clear his head before he goes back to bed so Grace won’t find out.

Clearly, though, he’s not as subtle as he thought, because soon enough there are footsteps approaching and hands rubbing gentle circles on his shoulders.

“Come back inside, sweetheart,” Grace says, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

He shakes his head, swirling his drink. There’s ash in that too, but it doesn’t matter. He wasn’t drinking it anyway.

“Judd.” Grace sits next to him, taking his trembling hands in hers. She’s looking at him so softly, and it breaks Judd in two.

“I can’t,” he chokes out. “I saw it, Grace, I saw him get hit by that rock, and I just -”

He breaks off and looks away from her, scrubbing roughly at his eyes. Grace nods and squeezes his hands, like she knows what he’s thinking. Hell, she’s probably thinking about it too; Grace had been on the line that night.

Judd had never seen his brothers’ bodies, but he’d seen Tim’s - or what was left of it. And now… Now, he can’t help but imagine their faces transposed onto his, fire reflected in their glassy eyes just as it had been in Tim’s tonight. He feels guilty for it, because Tim was Tim, not his old crew, but he’s stuck back in that night again and his hands won’t stop fucking shaking.

“I can’t do this again, Gracie,” he sobs, curling in on himself to try and contain the hurt.

Grace’s arms come around him. “You’re not alone, Judd,” she murmurs. “Not now. Not ever.”

And Judd lets go, leaning into her chest and coming apart in her embrace.

He would have been content to stay out here until the sun came up, but Gwyn eventually insists upon him going back inside. He gives in fairly easily, truth be told; Owen is tired of fighting right now. She doesn’t try to coax him to bed, which he’s grateful for, but she does sit with him, a silent, stoic presence at his side.

“Where’s TK?” she asks after a while. “I didn’t notice him coming in with you.”

“He’s with Carlos, I think.”

“You think?” There’s a quiet note of panic in Gwyn’s voice, and Owen hates himself for causing it. Hates himself more for understanding it, maybe even sharing it a little. “Owen -”

“He’s fine,” he says. “Or, he’s not… He’s with Carlos. That’s what he said, and I believe him.”

Gwyn nods, lips pursed. “Okay.”

They lapse into silence again, Owen feeling the weariness and heavy, heavy grief settling deeper into his bones with each passing moment. He and Tim hadn’t even been that close, but Owen has a duty of care. Everybody who clocks in, clocks out. It’s one of his rules, a rule he’s broken very few times in his career.

The first time was 9/11, his entire firehouse wiped out save for him.

The second was when TK got shot, and Owen thought his world was imploding all over again.

Today was the third time, which makes it three times too many in Owen’s book. It can’t happen again. It won’t.

“Owen,” Gwyn says, and she’s looking at him with those wide, pleading eyes that Owen knows he can’t refuse. “Remember what I said earlier? Please don’t bottle this up.”

Owen swallows thickly. “I won’t,” he says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a lie.

TK doesn’t know how long they spend on the stairs, curled around one another. Long enough for his legs to start to cramp, and it’s only the thought that Carlos must be just as uncomfortable that finally persuades him to let go.

“You okay?” Carlos asks as he straightens out, the first words either of them have spoken since TK walked in.

TK hesitates, a ‘yes’ halfway to his lips, but the lie is bitter on his tongue and he knows he can’t fake it. Not with Carlos. So he simply shakes his head and looks down at the floor, focusing on nothing in particular.

He hasn’t cried yet; he doesn’t know if he will. It’s usually these kinds of nights when the pull to his addiction is strongest - nights like Alex leaving him and finding out about his dad’s cancer and sudden, pointless heartbreak - but he’s just...numb. He keeps playing the call on repeat in his head, from the initial panic to the shock at seeing Tim, and he doesn’t feel it.

He doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

Carlos takes his hand and gently pulls him upright, offering himself as support. TK takes it, leaning heavily on Carlos as they shuffle to bed, the silence between them a comfort to him. His fingers fumble as he tries to strip off, and Carlos helps with that too, without TK even trying to ask him.

“Thank you,” he manages, his voice coming out hoarse and weak. In response, Carlos offers him a small smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, which are wide and expressive and horribly sad.

They fall asleep together as the sun begins to come up, TK’s head resting on Carlos’s chest and Carlos’s arms secure around him.

It feels safe. It feels like home.

Nancy’s been staring at her phone for the post half hour, her thumb hovering over the call button. She needs to do it, she knows this, if only out of basic human decency. But she’s not sure if she has it in her to say the words, not when she’s still expecting Tim to come walking down the hall and joke about her messing up his stuff.

None of this will be here in a week. Less, even. Captain Vega had promised to give her time, but Nancy doesn’t know if she has the strength to let go. They’d been a team, her and Tim, and Michelle before she left. Now it’s just Nancy, alone in the darkened firehouse, listening to the replacement crew go about their shift as if nothing had happened.

On impulse, and a sudden need to get it over with, Nancy presses call. It rings a few times, Nancy realising that it’s the early hours of the morning and she might not pick up, but then there’s a familiar voice coming down the line.

“Nancy?” Michelle says, her voice heavy with sleep. “Everything okay?”

“Michelle,” Nancy gets out, then stops, the lump in her throat choking her at the prospect of telling Michelle that Tim… That he’s gone.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Michelle sounds more awake now, concern bleeding into her tone. “I saw the volcano on the news; you’re all okay, right?”

Nancy doesn’t respond straight away, and clearly it’s enough to tell Michelle all she needs to know. “Who?” she asks.

“I… It happened so fast. I didn’t even realise at first.” Nancy sobs. “He’s just… He’s gone, Michelle.”

“Who, Nancy?” There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Not… God, Nancy, don’t tell me it’s Tim.”

Nancy can only choke out an affirmative before another sob crawls its way up her throat, and suddenly she’s sliding off the bench onto the cold floor. Michelle’s crying too, she can hear it faintly down the line, and it’s a small comfort to know she’s not totally alone in this.

Mateo doesn’t bother to change before speeding out of the firehouse, letting his legs carry him wherever. He can’t shake the feeling of guilt from his body, like if he’d just tried harder, been faster, done more, he could have stopped it.

Maybe if he’d helped Tim evacuate his patient. Because, really, Tim shouldn’t have even still been there by that pool. Someone should have helped him. Mateo should have helped him.

He’d heard what the others said. It was nobody’s fault, it was a freak accident, he shouldn’t blame himself… Thing is, Mateo can tell they don’t believe it either. He can see they all feel just as guilty as he does.

Still. Mateo knows it’s not their fault. He just wishes he could believe the same about himself. They’re not the ones who have to prove themselves, after all, but he’s still the probie. Still the one who’s out on his ear if he fucks up - like letting a team member get killed on call.

His feet come to rest outside the church, his breath coming in harsh pants and his whole body aching after running for however long. The sun is well and truly up, so it must have been a while.

He hasn’t been to church in a while, but there’s nothing like a guilty conscience to convince a man to go back. Is it selfish, this desire for redemption?

Does he deserve it?

Paul holds her until her tears have dried up and she’s almost collapsing on him, exhausted to her very soul. He holds her after, too, sitting on the gym’s floor with her as she stares blankly into space.

“You can go home, if you want,” Marjan eventually manages, pulling away to wipe at her eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

“I’m good here,” Paul says.

Marjan looks at him then - properly looks at him. She’s not as good at reading people as Paul is, but she’d been a fool to not see how much he, too, is hurting. It makes her feel guilty for forcing him to be there for her, when he’d lost Tim just as much as she did.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Which is a stupid question, because are any of them okay? But it’s also the only question left to them; it’s a reassurance and a comfort and an answer wrapped together.

Paul smiles fleetingly. “No. You?”

“About the same.”

Paul nods and Marjan leans into him, not caring that they’re both sweaty and grimy. They sit in silence for a long while, until the sun is high in the sky and then some, taking comfort in the presence of someone else next to them.

And, carefully, they hold each other together.

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howtosingit · 3 years

Text

SNEAK PEEK: Next to You (That’s Where I Want to Be) - Chapter Seven: February | Bewitched, Body and Soul

Hello, friends! I know that it has been 7 weeks but who’s counting a long time since I updated this fic, and I have no excuse other than the fact that my writing muse has been off hibernating while my brain went “let’s freak out about the show airing and care about literally nothing else.” So fun!

I’m slowly finding my way back into the groove of writing, but I don’t want to keep you all waiting any longer for some content from this AU, so here is the entire first scene of the next chapter! Thank you for your patience, your kudos, and your support, and I hope you enjoy this little taste of what’s to come 🤗

(If you have no idea what I’m talking about but find yourself intrigued, check out the fic masterpost to read the first six chapters!)

SNEAK PEEK (2.2K) UNDER THE CUT...

📚 📚 📚 📚 📚

“Why is it completely impossible to find a decent man around here?”

Carlos glances up from the book in front of him to find Michelle standing at his side, glaring down at her phone as she swipes through something on the screen.

“‘Around here’ as in… the library?” he teases, gesturing past the desk in front of him and out towards the third floor study area. Since it’s still pretty early in the semester, the couches and tables aren’t filled the way they will be next month for midterms. Carlos likes working the checkout desk when it’s not as busy; it gives him more time to keep up with his own reading for class.

“What?” Michelle asks, looking up from her phone to glance around the space. “No, not the library, Carlos.” She shakes her phone, letting out a frustrated groan before tossing it down on the desk in front of her. “I’m serious, there are no decent men left in the world.”

“Well, hey-”

“Straight men, Carlos.”

“Ah,” he says, pressing his lips together to keep from laughing. After a few years, he’s very familiar with Michelle’s tragically complex dating history, so he knows to just go with her on this one. “I can’t really speak to that, sorry,” he adds unhelpfully.

“Yeah, yeah, Mister ‘I’m so in love with my boyfriend I make everyone around me want to puke’,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes as she shuffles through a stack of returned books on the cart nearby. “We can’t all just accidentally move in with our soulmates like you did.”

Carlos feels heat on the back of his neck, but he also can’t stop the smile that pulls at his lips, or the way an image of his roommate flashes through his mind. He feels like he’s been wearing an unbreakable smile for the past three weeks, and he refuses to be embarrassed about it.

Because TK Strand is his boyfriend, and it’s honestly everything he’s ever wanted.

It’s a little crazy how easily they’ve fallen into their new relationship, but in hindsight, Carlos realizes it’s not that surprising. For the past six months, they’ve formed a bond unlike any he’s ever known. TK is the person that he wakes up to - even though their beds are on opposite sides of the room - and falls asleep talking to. He’s the person that Carlos seeks out when he’s stressed or excited or just wants someone nearby. They talk about anything and everything, they laugh until their stomachs hurt, they cry while watching movies together. There is nothing that stands between them now; no walls, no fears, no ex-boyfriends. To Carlos, they sometimes feel like two sides of the same coin, while also somehow still being their own individual coins. It doesn’t really make sense when he tries to understand it, but it overwhelms him in the best possible way.

He knows that Michelle is happy for him, even though she likes to joke about how disgusting and in-love he is right now. But, that still didn’t stop her from giving him a bone-crushing hug when he first told her, his face as red as a firetruck when she affectionately whispered “I told you so, Carlos” in his ear before planting a kiss on his cheek.

In his “honeymoon period” - as his friends have taken to calling his current state of being - he can’t even be mad that she was right.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when Michelle’s phone dings on the desk next to him, her answering growl at the message causing his brows to furrow and his lips to pull downward into a frown. “What’s this about, ‘Chelle’?” he asks, preparing himself for one of her classic tirades.

“I don’t understand why guys have to get so cagey and weird about Valentine’s Day plans,” she begins, her lips pursed in annoyance as she continues to glare down at her phone. “Like, I’m not trying to coerce you into a date on this one freaking day just so that you feel obligated to marry me and give me children one day, you know? I just want chocolate and wine and some good sex! Why does that have to be such a thing?”

Carlos stares at her, trying to figure out how to respond. To be honest, he’s never really seen the point of Valentine’s Day. Sure, he absolutely loves romance - he used to dream about finding his fairytale prince, after all - but he’s never really seen the point in fixating on one day when real romance happens every day. He feels like a lot of people bottle up all of their grand gestures for a few major holidays, but forget to make simple gestures the rest of the year, and he’s never really understood that. It doesn’t help that he’s never had a person to share one of those holidays with, but as he sits and listens to Michelle, he realizes that that’s no longer true.

That thought causes something resembling fear to settle at the bottom of his stomach. For the first time in his admittedly short relationship with TK, he feels wildly unprepared.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts, determined to leave his stressing out about it until later. Right now, it’s Michelle’s turn.

“I mean, did you tell them that?” Carlos asks, gesturing to the phone when Michelle just stares at him. “The person you’re talking to?” he clarifies.

“Yeah, but he’s just being an ass now,” she scoffs, tossing her phone down again. She starts pacing behind him. “Talking about how he doesn’t ‘know if he’s free’ or how he ‘might already have plans, so he has to check and let me know later.’ Like, he’s obviously pretty careful about making plans on Valentine’s Day, so he totally knows if he already has them or not!” She’s rubbing tiredly at her face when the phone behind her rings and Carlos watches as she throws her hands up in frustration before moving to answer it. “Whatever, I’ll just buy my own chocolate and wine and spend the night at home. Who needs a man to have great sex anyway?”

Carlos is saved from answering when Michelle picks up the phone, all traces of frustration disappearing from her voice as she speaks to the other person on the line. With a shake of his head, he turns back to the front of the desk, adjusting his glasses as he finds his place in his book once again.

He makes it through a few more chapters before he’s once again interrupted, this time by the soft rapping of knuckles on the counter in front of him. He jumps slightly, pulled from his pages as a wide smile takes over his face when he looks up to find his boyfriend leaning against the desk just off to his left, staring at him with a soft smile. “Hey, you,” TK says, his face resting on his palm as it rests on the counter.

“Hi,” Carlos whispers back, and he knows that if he could look in a mirror right now, his eyes would be squinty from the way his smile takes over his entire face. He can’t help it, he’s always just really, really happy when he gets to see TK. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long,” TK answers, sliding along the counter until they’re directly in front of one another. “When I came up, your face was all scrunched as you were reading, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Carlos clearly hears what he’s not saying - I just wanted to look at you - and his heart starts somersaulting in his chest. He bites down on his bottom lip, hesitating for only a moment, before he stands from his chair to lean over the desk and press a gentle kiss to TK’s lips.

“I like it when you disturb me,” he says when they part.

“And I like it when you kiss me,” TK says, glancing down at Carlos’s lips before staring up at him, his green eyes wide and beautiful as a faint blush covers his cheeks. With a lovestruck sigh, Carlos leans forward again, unable to help himself. This time, he lets the tip of his tongue peek out between his lips, hoping just a little taste of TK will keep him satisfied until he’s done with his shift.

TK groans when he pulls away again, trying to chase Carlos’s mouth but finding himself blocked by the desk between them. “Why do you have to be working right now?” he complains, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Stick around a little longer and I might not have to work at all,” Carlos teases, reaching out to run his thumb along TK’s pronounced lip. “You’re going to get me fired for inappropriate workplace behavior.”

“Now, wait a minute!” TK cries, stepping away from Carlos’s touch and crossing his arms over his chest. “I just came by to check out my favorite librarian, sir. You’re the one who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

Carlos rolls his eyes at his boyfriend, but he can’t stop the smile that appears on his face to mirror the one on TK’s, the man obviously pleased with his own joke. It makes Carlos want to take on the world for him, just to see him smile like that every minute of every day.

“I find it hard to focus when you’re around,” he admits, shaking his head as he looks around them. It’s still early in the afternoon, so there are very few people in the study area, and only a couple passing through. He glances behind him to see that Michelle has disappeared, probably to fulfill an archives request or something. “You think I’d be used to it by now,” he continues, picking at his fingers as he avoids eye contact with TK, “but I don’t know that I’ll ever be.”

“Hey,” TK says softly, reaching out for him. Carlos immediately takes his hand, linking their fingers together and laying them on top of the desk. TK’s thumb drags against his skin, and he feels little bursts of electricity on every one of his nerve endings. “You know I feel the same way, right?” his boyfriend asks, ducking his head to make eye contact. “Like, I think 98% of what goes on up here is just Carlos Carlos Carlos all the time, on a constant loop,” he says, gesturing to his head with a sardonic smile.

“Especially when you’re wearing those glasses and scrunching your face about something in one of your books,” TK adds on, lifting his free hand to trace along Carlos’s eyebrows. “I’ve had endless dreams about this crease between your eyes, it’s really beyond ridiculous.”

Carlos shivers when TK adjusts his glasses on his face, running his fingers along the edge of the frames as his eyes slide around to take in his features. It’s exhilarating, terrifying, and somehow affirming all at the same time, to be admired by the man before him.

They’re really doing this, the two of them. They’re falling in love, and it’s just as easy as breathing.

“We really are disgusting, aren’t we?” he jokes, parroting the claims made by all of their friends in the past few weeks.

“Oh, totally, without question,” TK nods, his eyebrows scrunching adorably as he lets out a laugh. “I would definitely want to punch us if we were other people.”

“I’m glad we’re not though. Other people. I’m glad we’re us.”

“Damn it, Carlos,” TK whines, dramatically folding himself in half as he pushes away from the desk like someone’s forcing him to do so, “I really am going to get you fired if you say things like that to my face.”

Carlos doesn’t respond, watching as TK glares at him for a moment before his smile breaks through. With a shake of his head, he dives back towards him, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. Before Carlos can even remember to kiss back, he pulls away again.

“Okay, I’m taking control of this situation,” TK says, shaking his head when Carlos raises his eyebrow in question. “Nope, stop it, put that eyebrow down and stop looking adorable, Reyes.” TK begins to slowly walk backwards away from the desk, a new look of determination on his face. “I’m going to go downstairs to get you a juice, and then I’m going to go sit in that chair furthest from this desk and study until you’re done.”

He looks proud of his new plan, clapping his hands together in triumph as a ridiculous grin takes over his face.

“And then what?” Carlos can’t help but tease, his tone challenging.

“And then,” TK fires back, his grin transforming into a smirk, “you and I are going back to our room and we are definitely not going to get any studying done whatsoever. How does that sound?”

Carlos lets himself have this moment, lets himself feel the way his body and soul comes alive as he looks at the man in front of him. The man of his dreams, now the man of his reality.

“Perfect,” he finally says, unable to hear it over the pounding of his heart.

Every moment with TK sounds more perfect than the last.

📚 📚 📚 📚 📚

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #about my writing #next to you fic #sneak peek #this is basically like a one-shot #so that's fun #also rafa's picture from this morning provided some really great motivation #what can I say? - I love seeing that man in glasses #so everyone thank rafael silva - for this and everything else he does

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danwhobrowses · 3 years

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AEW: Booking Hangman's Title Win

Hangman Page seems all but destined to be the man who takes the belt from Kenny Omega. Two different stories have unraveled since their break as a tag team with Kenny the heel world champion and Hangman the babyface man of the people. But it does feel like this long story still has plenty of chapters to go, and while we wonder how this story will continue to unfold, this is how I would do it.

Kenny unravels as Hangman Rises Omega's road to All Out is a turbulent one, and since chances are he won't go to NJPW, NWA or ROH to continue his belt collection, I think the Belt Collector's time is about to come to an end.

July 17th will mark the end of his Impact reign, losing to Sami Callihan at Slammiversary. Don has already been 'fired' from Impact so he will have little leverage to save him this time around, I don't think even TK can give him any special treatments either. Then in August 14th, he will lose the Mega Championship at Triplemania XXIX to Andrade El Idolo. Not only does this give Andrade gold to carry around on AEW but also will cement the fact that he can beat Omega - which will come into play much later.

This leaves the illustrious belt collector with one: the AEW World Championship. Because Omega's character has been super cartoonish, I expect him to grow very self-conscious about the fact that people want to take his title, think Gollum crossed with that coach in The Waterboy. Unhinged Kenny will juxtapose a much more mentally together Hangman, who keeps on winning clean. This all leading to the third destination

Kenny Omega vs Hangman Page at All Out.

Elite Mind Games Although he is the top of the ranks, Hangman has often dodged the question regarding the world title. Deep down Hangman is still has mixed feelings regarding the Elite, and whether he is worthy or able to defeat Hangman; he's fallen short multiple times after all. This is Kenny's in to get the mental edge over Hangman.

Because their split didn't have a full stop, Kenny will pretend to his adversary that they are still friends, he will lure Hangman to doubt himself by giving him what he desperately wanted last year: forgiveness from the Elite. Feigning the olive branch with the Bucks, the Elite will poison Hangman's mind to be unprepared for shenanigans, they will draw him away from the Dark Order and at All Out, Hangman will go to face Omega alone.

All Out - Kenny Retains...just It could start as a clean contest, but the moment Hangman starts looking like he will succeed, the madness of Omega will once again show itself. Without anyone to help him, Hangman will be forced to push his babyface fire to the limits, he will fight through the entire Elite: the Good Brothers, Nick and then Matt. He'll hit the Buckshot, the Deadeye, 1, 2, Don stops it. Hangman will dismantle Don but then it's Kenny's turn, V-Trigger, One Winged Angel, 1, 2, 3.

On the second battle, Kenny wins once more, but it took every trick in the book he had to bring him down, the opponent he felt was a sure thing after his mind games, and it shows on his face. But it also shows on Hangman, because he fell for all of it and now he's alone again.

The Madness of Kenny / The Isolation of Hangman Becoming so close to losing will put Kenny at his most possessive, his most desperate. Kenny will grow erratic and hostile with each title defense, cheating all the more blatantly and willfully, a collection of OC, PAC, Andrade, Archer and Kazarian all knock on his door for specials like Grand Slam, Full Gear and the 2nd Anniversary but Kenny survives through his madness until he is a full shadow of himself.

Hangman though descends beyond rock bottom, not even feeling like he deserves forgiveness for pushing away the Dark Order. Hangman too will completely lose himself, losing his motivation to even wrestle let alone associate with anything relative to the Elite. We'll only see him at rare times, hiding in dark corners trying to avoid Marvez or completely drunk out of his mind in a pile of bags or coats, a sad sight to behold.

"If you all sit there and ignore it, you're all cowards!" Along the list of opponents waiting to face Kenny, Eddie Kingston must be near the end. Kingston, Moxley, Penta, PAC, Christian and Kazarian all at different times found common ground to try and defeat the Elite, but the distractions have proven too much.

Kingston will unsuccessfully challenge Kenny, but after his defeat he'll run into Hangman and dress him down, a scolding never before seen because Hangman is the one that he is disappointed with the most. Hangman overcame the numbers, he had Kenny scared but he has simply sat there and let the Elite continue this reign of terror while he throws a pity party for himself. Refusing to let Hangman regress either, Kingston will push Hangman into fighting him, so he can let out his frustrations and fears, but the Elite will be wise to this too.

Before Kingston and Hangman can have their rubber match, the Elite will attack Kingston and kayfabe injure him, preventing Kingston from making any more progress with Hangman. They'll feign their reasoning to not involve Hangman and feel like the deal is done, because Hangman - despite being in the top 5 - has disappeared once more.

Evening the Numbers At this point of booking I would see Kenny being the sole titleholder in the Elite. The Bucks already lost their tag titles a while ago and they fell short in a Trios tournament, so now they're mainly dedicated to keeping Kenny as world champion.

We'll have one more special where Kenny successfully defends his title again, let's say it's Winter is Coming. As the Elite celebrate a full year of Kenny's title reign in the ring, the music changes. Out comes Hangman, next in line due to the rankings, the Elite look concerned but confident that they can take him, but then around the ring they realise they have company: the Dark Order surround the apron and that leads to a brawl. The Dark Order have the advantage but Kenny is using the belt as an equalizer, taking out anyone that moves, but as he turns he eats a Buckshot Lariat and the show closes on Hangman standing tall, his eyes driven and focused on the prize.

Revolution: The Win Personally I would've liked to have done this for Full Gear or All Out, because there'd be the narrative there of either the beginning of Page's self-doubt (Full Gear when the Bucks kept mocking his physique in comparison to PAC) or his first failure to capture the title (All Out vs Jericho), but I don't think we can wait another full year for this, so it happens at Revolution. And Revolution is still sensible too, it was the tease of divide between the Elite and Hangman during their tag battle and it's the PPV after Kenny's anniversary as champion.

When Revolution's main event goes down Kenny is uncaged and will look to put Hangman away early, and every time Hangman fights back he becomes more and more scared. Every attempt at shenaniganry by the Elite will also be blocked off, either by the Dark Order or returning enemies like Mox, Eddie, Death Triangle, Daniels and Kazarian, not in Lumberjack style but in a way where we see that the narrative is AEW vs The Elite. This is the time where Hangman kicks out of the One Winged Angel, we'll tease it in the match but have him reach the ropes so the fans think he can't possibly kick out of a second or third one. When the lid blows off and Kenny is all out of options, he'll try begging, low blows, belt shots, chairs, anything he can muster to keep Hangman down, even mocking Hangman with a Buckshot variant of his V-Trigger for that extra spice of scumbaggery. But it comes to a final clash, both men on either side of the ring, wounded, exhausted, barely able to stand, but not looking away. One Last Move. Hangman's Buckshot, Kenny's V-Trigger, both collide but the Buckshot breaks through the V-Trigger, 1, 2, 3.

The majority of the locker room (I mean I don't expect the likes of IC, Andrade, Miro and Pinnacle to be all happy days about it) and maybe even the crowd can then invade the ring to celebrate with Hangman to close the night, completing the story while bringing up several other talents and keeping story opportunities for Hangman and the Elite to venture off on their separate ways.

Personally I feel like this - if done how I imagine it of course - would be a perfect closing of the Hangman saga, but others may not think so, and maybe AEW has thought of something I haven't which makes it even better, only time will tell. But I felt like getting that off my chest.

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tootiredmotel · 4 years

Text

That damn front door (or “Hey, TK”)

Read on AO3

Word count: 6.8k

After months of living with his dad, TK finally gets his own place, only to find that his next door neighbor is that handsome police officer he's been crushing on from afar.

---

“Any other day. Any day but today. Why today?” TK muttered as he turned off the ignition and pulled up his hoodie. “It never rains in Austin. Except for today. Why.” He sat there for just a minute, head against the back of his seat and fingers fiddling with the cord of his hood, all the while entranced by the drizzle hitting the pavement and the raindrops racing down his windshield. TK was never one to turn down a rainy day, he loved them, but only when he had the choice to stay in; Hulu or Netflix browsing and some hot chocolate, or perhaps practicing on the guitar that no one knew he owned, while any and all outside distractions were blocked out by the curtain of white noise that was a steady rainfall outside his window? A perfect day in his book. He’d get plenty of those in New York during the late summer, and he made the most of them on the few days he had off from work, but in the five months he’d spent in Austin, not once had there been a rainy day such as this one.

And it just had to be the day he was moving into his new house.

It was 6am on a Sunday, his one day off, and his dad had all but dragged him off the bed. Owen was otherwise occupied that day with a certain professor of psychology, but he had helped TK pack and stuff all the remaining boxes into the car the night before (not to mention, he was lending TK the Cherokee in the first place), so he couldn't exactly complain. He could still, however, curse under his breath as much as he wanted, which is exactly what he did as he willed himself to get out of the car and run back to the trunk.

He was struggling to get it open (because of course, it was going to give him trouble now) when he heard another car pull up behind him. He hoped and prayed for lightning to strike him down then and there, as it would be less embarrassing than being seen for the first time struggling with his car by one of his new neighbors, but the trunk popped open before he could finish the thought; perhaps a little too suddenly, since it almost hit him in the chin. It was a day of almost-bad luck for him.

Half curiosity and half paranoia forced him to take a peek over his shoulder, but the rain and darkness of the early morning wouldn't let him make out the person in the driver's seat of the Camaro. The car was still running even though it was parked, meaning the person was maybe waiting for the rain to let up, therefore, they'd see TK's entire ordeal. So TK, being TK and looking to make an impression, took a box, then another, then piled a third on top before realizing his abysmal mistake. The tower of boxes came up to his nose if he held his head up.

With much effort and coordination between his left arm and his torso, he managed to shut the trunk, cursing his father for not investing in the hands-free feature for the car. He then heard the Camaro turn off behind him and the driver's door opening, prompting TK to resume his silent request for lightning to make quick work of him.

"Here, let me help you with that," He heard the person's voice through the spattering of the rain. Any second now, lightning, TK thought.

Not wanting to come off as rude, he turned around and let them take the top two boxes before immediately facing the ground to hide his face under his hood.

It was him. It was the hot cop.

Every once in a while (multiple times in a week, if he was lucky), TK would spot this hunk of a policeman on calls or patrolling around town, but he’d never get the chance to talk to him. He was damn good at his job, and TK had once or twice seen him respond to the name 'Reyes'. That's all he knew about the man, apart from the fact that his patrol uniform was just tight enough around his shoulders to make TK stare without meaning to. And now, he knew that his smile could make even a day this bleak look brighter.

TK muttered a quick thanks as he briskly made his way towards the door of his new modern home, Hot Cop Reyes following close behind. Once under the small roof of the entryway, waiting for TK to open the front door, Hot Cop balanced the boxes against his torso with one hand and used the other to shake the rain out of his curls. He must've noticed TK staring out of the corner of his eye, because he smiled at him again, and TK turned away so as to not be blinded by the sight. He was fumbling to get the key into the knob when Hot Cop spoke up.

"Are you new to Austin?"

God, even his voice was hot. TK had heard him yelling orders before, from a distance, and that was enough to make his breath hitch; hearing him up close, casual and easy and right over TK's shoulder, it made the hairs at the nape of his neck rise. Good thing he was wearing a hoodie.

He snapped himself out of it to mumble a reply. "Uh no, I- I've um, I've been here a few months."

Smooth, TK.

He finally got the lock open, wondering why every single door that stood in his way that morning was out to get him, and led Hot Cop inside.

There wasn't much in the house yet; a couch, a wall-mounted TV, a half-stocked fridge, a couple of kitchen appliances, and enough in the bedroom and bathroom to last him until he could buy whatever was left with his next paychecks; but the cream and brown tones of the walls and the little but functional furniture he had made TK feel good enough about the small house to not make any excuses or apologies about not being settled in yet.

TK set his box down next to the door, and Hot Cop followed suit.

"I'm Carlos, by the way."

Finally, TK thought, turning to find Carlos with an outstretched hand and a tight smile that only broadened when he saw TK's face. There was a knowing glint in his eyes, and TK figured there was no more use in hiding, so he pulled back his hood and shook Carlos' (strong, callused, and yet, somehow, soft) hand.

"TK."

"Yeah." Carlos slightly tilted his head to the side. "You're fire department. You're pretty good at what you do."

TK's heartbeat picked up. Had Carlos (gosh, he loved knowing his name) noticed him too? Like, how TK had noticed him? He let the sliver of hope boost his confidence a bit. "You're not so bad yourself, Carlos."

---

Had he told Michelle to meet up at an earlier hour, Carlos didn't even want to think about what could've happened. Had he not stopped to check his mail on his way out, he might have already left. For all he knew, if he hadn't been at home that particular day at that particular time, TK could've burned down the whole neighborhood.

He just knew his heart dropped to his stomach when he heard his neighbor's fire alarm go off.

His feet were rushing him toward the house before his brain could even fully process the situation (something he would later mark up to police training instincts). Carlos quickly assessed the structure: he couldn't see any smoke, at least from the front of the house, and he could only detect a faint smell of burning from the front steps.

He tried the knob and found it locked. "TK! TK, I'm coming in!"

With one hand reaching for his phone to call for help, he slammed his body against the door, knocking it open at the third try. He instantly found himself drowning in white smoke and the stench of burning... fish?

"TK!" He called out again.

A cough from the kitchen and a tired "Here," was his response.

Carlos made his way over, still staying low and covering his nose and mouth with his elbow. TK stood in front of the stove, cooking mitt and rag in his hands, defeated eyes on the blackened salmon in front of him. Mirroring his stance, Carlos stood next to TK, and after about two minutes could no longer suppress it. He chuckled.

"Don't laugh."

"I'm sorry," Carlos muttered behind his fist, laughing more.

"Dude, seriously, don't laugh," TK repeated, starting to smile himself.

Carlos leaned back against the counter, now on the verge of hysterical. "The fireman almost burns down his new house while cooking a fish, mano, that's hilarious."

TK playfully threw him the cooking rag, telling him to shut up in between chuckles that turned into coughs. After a good while of laughing along, TK exhaled. "I should probably open some windows."

"I think so, yeah," Carlos sarcastically played along, earning himself a cooking mitt to the shoulder.

As TK began opening windows around the house, the wheels in Carlos' head began to spin. He was a pretty experienced cook, and next to him on the counter were a couple more fish. Michelle would understand if he texted her that there was an emergency with his neighbor and he wasn't going to make it to eat before their shifts.

He spoke up before his nerves had a chance to betray him. "Hey, TK."

It was weird. So very weird, Carlos thought. Weird how drawn he felt to this man. Weird how much he wanted to be in his company. They'd only spoken a few times since TK moved in, but spending time with him was just so easy. Carlos was... let's call it curious.

"You want some help with this, man?" He asked, inspecting the salmons.

TK looked over his shoulder as he opened the last of the windows, scanning Carlos up and down. He was probably taking note of his uniform, but Carlos could've sworn his gaze held something else. "Don't you have a shift?" He questioned, walking over.

"Not until 8. I usually leave about two hours early to run some errands." That was technically true.

TK stopped mere inches in front of Carlos, leaning against the same counter. His eyes searched for something, scanning Carlos' expression (he figured TK was debating whether to let him stay or not); out of nature, and maybe looking to impress a little, Carlos straightened up to his full height, while still maintaining a soft (hopefully friendly-looking) smile.

"Yeah alright." TK finally said, and Carlos couldn't help how his smile became wider as TK turned away from him and toward the fish. "You a good cook?"

"I would hope so", Carlos replied, shooting a quick apology text to Michelle, letting her know that he wasn't going to make it to the food truck today. "My tío Andrés and tía Valeria own a restaurant out in Luling."

"Where is that?"

"About an hour away, Guadalupe county, right along the San Marcos river."

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that's where you grew up?"

"God, I miss going to the river."

"Ya know, in New York, if you wanna swim, rivers aren't really an option. You either hit up a public pool or hike to a watering hole somewhere."

"Did you ever do that? Hike to a swimming hole?"

"A few times. There was this one weekend-"

And thus the conversation rolled on. Carlos spoke about his family, about growing up in Texas, about becoming a cop; TK spoke about his adventures in New York, about his dad, about all the nutjobs one has to deal with in the big apple (Carlos made sure to take note of him mentioning a guy he dated). The hour and a half it took to prepare the meal seemed to go by in a blink, the two of them chopping and stirring and working around each other like a surprisingly well-oiled machine, all the while exchanging stories and laughs and smiles and more than a few stolen glances. Every accidental touch and brush of skin in passing would send chills up Carlos' spine, and as he guided TK through properly cooking the salmon he stood just a bit too close behind him, but TK didn't seem to mind.

Just as they put the finishing touches and seasonings on the dish, Carlos caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall. "Shit."

"What is it, what did I do?"

TK's panicked expression as he took a step back from the fish made Carlos chuckle. "Nothing man, it looks great," Carlos noticed TK exhale before he continued, "but I have to go."

"Wait, you're not gonna eat?"

But Carlos was already gathering his belongings. "I have 20 minutes to clock in, TK."

"Ah shit, I'm sorry dude, if I hadn'-"

"Don't worry about it, really." He turned around halfway to the door, walking a few steps backwards as he said, "I had fun."

"Yeah," TK smiled at him. "Me too."

Carlos smiled back and began showing himself out, but stopped one last time at the doorway, thinking about how to ask him to do this again without being too forward. "Hey, TK?" TK hummed in response, and Carlos threw him a look over his shoulder. "Next time you try cooking something new just... check if I'm home first?"

TK's toothy grin made his heart leap all over the place. "Will do, Carlos."

Carlos kept smiling to himself even after shutting the door and rushing to his car; he thought he heard TK call out to him from inside that he was going to save him some leftovers.

Much later that night, his suspicions were confirmed. When he arrived home after his excruciatingly exhausting shift, at around 2am, he was met with two tupperware containers on his front steps, along with a quickly scribbled note on top that read:

"It turned out delicious. Could be thanks to you. Buen provecho! -TKS"

That night, Carlos enjoyed what was one of the best after-midnight meals he'd had in his life. It could've been thanks to their combined talents in preparing it that made the dish so good, but it could also have been because, the whole time, Carlos was thinking about the cute gray-eyed fireman right next door, about how much he loved spending time with him that afternoon, and about how much he wanted to spend some more.

---

"You've done a great job with this place TK."

TK turned around and smiled at his dad, who was taking a look around from his seat at the counter.

"Learned from the best," He replied, making his way from the cupboard to the fridge.

"I know it's only been, what, three months?"

"And a half."

"Three and a half months," Owen corrected himself," but the house feels pretty empty without you, son."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure it does," TK brought over their glasses and shot his dad a look, the one with a raised eyebrow that both generations had mastered. "Especially with how much time Professor Hottie has been spending there."

After a sip of his water and a second to look at the ground, Owen replied, "No comment."

Their shared laugh was interrupted by a light knock on the front door, and a voice casually calling out "Hey, TK." Not a second later, Carlos let himself in, not taking his eyes off a large book in his hand as he put the spare key back in its spot, on top of the outdoor wall lamp. It was commonplace for them to do this by now, they'd walk into each other's houses with little to no announcement (which led to a couple of slightly awkward, partly naked encounters at the beginning, but neither of them made much of a fuss about it), whether to rant about something that happened on one of their calls, or to try out a new recipe one of them found, or simply to hang out. TK could've sworn, however, that he had told Carlos his dad was coming over for dinner that night, although, with everything they tend to talk about from day to day, he wouldn't even take his own word for it.

"So my tía came to town and I asked her to let me borrow this for a while," Carlos started as he shut the door behind him, and Owen sent his son an questioning look. "It has a bunch of my family's recipes, so I thought you and I could-" The instant he looked up and noticed the present company, Carlos shut the book closed and held it at his side, standing up straight and donning his stoic policeman face. "Captain Strand."

"Officer."

At Carlos' deer-in-headlights expression, TK tried his best (and utterly failed) to contain a snort.

"At ease, Reyes." Owen continued, rather amused. "Surprised to see me here? You do know he's my son, right?"

"Yes, yes I did, sir. Um- I just didn't- I didn't know you would-"

Now this was a sight to behold for TK. Carlos Reyes, embarrassed in front of his dad. He let a smile grow onto his face, not really to mock or poke fun at his friend, but more because he couldn't help it. Smiling around Carlos came naturally at this point; besides, the situation was kinda funny.

"I'll just leave you to it."

TK's smile faltered, slowly vanishing as Carlos walked back to the front door. Owen seemingly noticed his son's expression, though, since he quickly spoke up while rising from his seat.

"Won't you join us?"

Carlos turned around with wide eyes, looking to TK for any indication as to what to reply. TK simply shrugged; why his dad was inviting Carlos to stay for dinner, he had no clue, but he didn't really have any reason to complain about it.

"I don't want to impose, sir."

"Please." TK watched as his dad motioned for Carlos to take a seat, before saying, "Call me Owen."

Carlos took tentative steps toward the counter. "Are you sure, sir?"

"Owen," He corrected again, "And of course, there's more than enough to go around! TK, tell him what we're having."

"Well, Carlos," TK sent his friend a teasing smile as he played along with his dad, reaching into the oven to pull out the appetizer. "The menu tonight consist of vegan cheddar and broccoli quinoa bites, to start-"

Owen's eyes lit up as he muttered, "I love me some quinoa."

"And in a bit, we'll be having some grilled asparagus and shiitake tacos."

Owen leaned towards Carlos. "I'm a bit of a health nut, hope you don't mind."

"Sounds delicious, TK." Carlos stared pointedly at him, his eyes conveying 'I can't believe this', or maybe 'I can't believe you'. TK decided it was the former. In an attempt to provide a bit of comfort, TK softly squinted at him with an easy, closed-lip smile, hopefully letting him know there was nothing to worry about.

That exchange must've taken longer than it seemed, because they were interrupted by Owen clearing his throat before speaking up.

"So, Carlos," He pointed at the book Carlos was still holding, "You were saying about the book?"

"Right." He placed the book on the counter. "My tía Valeria, she owns a restaurant, she has been holding on to this for years, and I asked her if she could let me borrow it for a few weeks." The book was old, handmade, and on the genuine leather cover were scraped the words 'Recetas de los Reyes'. "It has all of my family's best recipes going back four generations. I thought maybe..." He trailed off, smiling softly at TK.

TK, seeing in Carlos' eyes that this meant more to him than he had initially let on, told him, "Carlos, I would love to try your family's recipes with you."

TK noticed Carlos' brow relax and his smile widen. He noticed how handsome his laugh lines were, how he bit his lip as he looked down. And he noticed how softly his hands moved across the book as he opened it and began scanning through, before realizing he was probably staring too much.

"You think there's anything vegan in there?" Owen asked, peering over the book.

"I highly doubt it, Guatemalan diet is ridiculously meat-heavy. I mean look at this, the first three recipes are for churrasco."

TK felt a certain warmth in his chest at the picture in front of him: his dad and Carlos wrapped up in conversation, sharing a moment and some quinoa bites. He watched them for a few seconds with a smile that he couldn't explain if he was asked about it, before taking an appetizer for himself and then finishing up the tacos.

Once seated around the dining table, after already starting with the main dish, Owen spoke up.

"So, if you don’t mind me asking, how long have you two been-"

"Oh, we met that same day I moved in," TK chimed in, having been ready since earlier for the 'how long have you known each other' interrogation. "We started hanging out a couple weeks later."

"Does he know about the fire alarm incident?" Carlos asked him.

"I'm sorry, the... fire alarm incident?"

"That's a no, then."

TK and Carlos then launched into the story, followed by multiple recounts of cooking mishaps they'd had over the last three months: the dried out turkey, the spilled tres-leches batter (of which there were probably still remains in the nooks and crannies of the kitchen), and that one time they almost flooded Carlos' house, although that one was less about the cooking and more about the chaotic dish-washing that came after (to put it simply, they both ended up soaked and covered in soap suds). Owen himself had more than a few stories of his own, which earned him a lot of shushing and 'dad-that's-so-embarrassing’ facepalms from TK.

Just as their laughter was dying down from the story of TK getting reprimanded two days into the job for accidentally taking out six firefighters with the hose (five of which found the whole ordeal hilarious), Owen's phone chimed. TK began clearing the empty plates, Carlos quickly standing up to help, as his dad checked the message.

"Ah, I'm sorry boys, I'm gonna have to skip dessert. Michelle needs me to fill out some stuff at the firehouse. Says it's urgent." He stood up and held out his hand to Carlos, who handed TK the dishes he was holding so he could shake it. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you, Carlos."

"Likewise capt- Owen." They shared a chuckle. "Say hi to Captain Blake for me."

"Will do. I'll see you out there. TK," He called to his son, who had heard the exchange from the kitchen where he was dumping the mountain of plates he'd had to carry to the sink. "Walk me out?"

As he made his way back, Carlos passed him and let him know he'd get started on the dishes. TK thanked him and approached his father, who put an arm around him as they walked to the front door.

"You found a good one, TK."

With a mystified chuckle, he asked him, "What do you mean, dad?"

"I mean I like him." Owen looked back at Carlos and contentedly put his hands in his pockets. He turned back towards TK as he opened the door. "You've had much worse boyfriends."

TK almost choked. Simultaneously, he heard Carlos fumble and drop a dish in the sink, awkwardly clearing his throat afterwards.

"And none with a better ear apparently." Owen commented.

TK could feel his ears, his face, his entire body probably, heat up at the thought, before quickly correcting his dad without meeting his eyes.

"Dad, he's not m- we're not-" He couldn't even get the words out, but his dad knew him so well that he didn't have to.

"Really?" Owen whispered incredulously. "Could've fooled me. I mean with how much you've been talking to each other while on calls, all the looks and the smiles-"

"Goodbye dad!" TK gave him a quick hug before practically shoving him out the door. He heard him quickly call out "See you at work, son!" before the slam of the door cut him off.

Shit, was he right? Did they come off as a couple? Maybe there was a certain domestic vibe to them, but that's because they mostly hung out at their houses! Had his team gotten the same impression? Surely, there would've been a lot more teasing if they had...

When he noticed he was lingering at the door just a bit too long, he made his way back to the kitchen. Carlos kept washing the dishes as if he’d heard nothing, so TK decided to just shove it to the back of his mind for now and tried to restore the mood.

"Ya know, maybe it's a good thing my dad left," He remarked casually as he pulled dessert out of the oven. "Or else there wouldn't have been enough chocolate chip zucchini bread to go around."

He heard Carlos behind him quickly put down the dishes and, in a split second, he was standing next to TK, drying his hands and ready to pounce on the small loaf of bread. TK had to all but run away from him to get the first bite, and they ended up sitting on the counter chairs munching on the entire thing.

"This how you thought you'd spend your Tuesday night?" TK spoke up after a while.

Carlos laughed into his beverage before putting it down. "Having a vegan dinner with the captain of the 126? No, definitely not.” He took a bite with a smile. “Thought it'd be you, me, a bit of google translate, and a growing grocery list."

TK couldn't help but grin at the domesticity of the thought.

"The food was amazing though," Carlos commented, mouth still half full from the last bite of bread that TK let him have. "And your dad's a fun guy."

"Yeah. Trust me, he knows. Goes to his head sometimes."

"No me digas." Carlos laughed.

TK loved hearing his bits of spanish come out here and there, and proceeded to ask with a smile. "What's that mean?"

"It's like saying 'you don't say', but not... in a sarcastic way."

At that moment, TK realized that he’d found himself noticing more little things about Carlos that night than he ever had before. Like how much he gestured with his hands when he explained something, and how he tended to puff his chest out when he did so. Like how his right eyebrow always sat just a little higher than the left. Like how wickedly sharp his jaw was and how his eyes seemed to sparkle when he laughed. He let his mind and his gaze wander, giving his dad's comment the benefit of the doubt, before cutting himself off. There was no way, something would've happened between them by now. He couldn't believe the man.

"Who? Your dad?" It was then TK realized he'd said that last remark out loud. "What are you thinking about, TK?" Carlos asked, leaning his elbow on the counter and letting his head rest on his shoulder, eyes and attention fully fixated on TK.

It made his heart race, it made his guts turn, but he figured there was no harm in talking about it.

"My dad, he uh, he thought-” He cleared his throat, focused on the plate of crumbs in front of him. “Well, he assumed we were.. a thing, I guess." It wasn't until he fully made his way through the sentence that TK let himself look up at him. Carlos momentarily raised his eyebrows as he blinked, as if in realization, before donning a slight smile and looking away from TK.

"Right. Yeah, I thought I heard something like that."

"And that's..." TK searched Carlos' gaze, prompted him to finish the sentence, practically begging him to voice his thoughts about it. "Ya know, it's..."

Carlos looked back up at him, seemingly searching for something too, before letting his gaze fall again. "It's... it's ridiculous."

"Is it? Is it so ridiculous that I do want to date you? That I kinda want to kiss you right now? Would it be so ridiculous if we were a thing?" These were all the things going through TK's mind at that moment, all the things he could've said, instead of feigning a chuckle in agreement, saying "Right? The guy's crazy."

TK hoped and prayed he wasn't giving away how much his chest hurt as he asked his friend (and nothing more), "Don't you have an early shift tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir, I do," Carlos exhaled as he checked his watch. "Who needs an agenda when I have a TK?" He lightly patted TK on the arm as he stood up and made his way out, exchanging a quick and quiet "See you."

And just like that, all was back to normal, or so TK had hoped it would be. The next day at the station, various coworkers asked him what was wrong, if he was okay (Judd even pulled him aside and asked if he'd had some sort of relapse). The rest of the week he tried his best to seem as upbeat as possible, though that wasn't very hard with friends like Mateo, Marjan, and Paul. Owen did approach him however, and asked him if everything was okay between him and Carlos, having noticed that they weren't talking as much on the field. TK blew it off as "they were quick calls, we didn't have much time" while fully aware that his dad knew him better than that, but thankfully he dropped it. TK had no choice to be aware of the fact that he was, indeed, avoiding Carlos as much as possible, and he hated it. Hated that he was doing it, and hated that Carlos had become such a big part of his life that no one would let him ignore it. He hated that he needed Carlos, hated that he wanted him, and hated, most of all, that Carlos had given no indication of feeling the same way.

---

"Chica, I don't know what to do." Carlos rubbed his face in his hands, throwing himself back against his couch. "He's been avoiding me all week, something changed that night."

"You talk to him, Carlos," He heard Michelle's voice through his phone, which lay on the coffee table in front of him. "You will not know what changed, if anything, until you ask him."

"What if he just doesn't want anything to do with me anymore?"

"You said things were going great with him, that you were building up to asking him out, right?”

“Yeah, I was,” Carlos emphasized the word. “But then when his dad assumed we were dating, he acted like he couldn’t bear the thought.”

Carlos heard Michelle sympathetically click her tongue before speaking. “Oh, I’m sorry Carlos.”

“No it- it’s fine. If he doesn’t like me like that then, that’s okay, I just-” He fiddled with one of the cords of his sweatpants as he (figuratively and literally) swallowed his pride. “I miss him.”

Michelle allowed a few seconds of silence before saying, “I still think you should try talking to him.” As she spoke, Carlos began noticing a faint sound. “Maybe you clear things up, or maybe things slowly get back to norm-”

"Wait, wait, shh." Carlos cut her off. The sound was music, coming from outside, toward the back of his house. "Sorry, let me call you back, Michelle."

Without letting her reply so much as an "okay", Carlos hung up the call and began making his way to the back door to investigate. As the music became louder, he made out that it was a single guitar, and the sound was too bright and clear to be coming from a speaker. He walked out onto the small, board-fenced backyard that he didn't use much, with only a couple of chairs and a barbecue grill, and quietly followed the sound toward his left. He stopped in front of the fence where his yard met TK's and stood there for a second, entranced by the melancholic, unfamiliar melody, the strings becoming softer and softer until there was only silence in the early evening air.

Carlos waited a few seconds before knocking on the fence. "Hey, TK?" he called over gently so as to not startle him.

He figured it didn't really work when he heard a loud exhale on the other side. "Yeah?" The voice he'd missed hearing so much replied.

"Was that you playing?"

TK took just a little too long to answer. "No?"

"Liar." Carlos chuckled. "Can I come over?"

"Yeah, you know where the key is."

Carlos felt a clench in his chest when he noticed the apprehension in TK's voice, but he turned around to go to his house anyway. He stopped short when he noticed the stack of chairs against the wall though, and decided that there was a quicker way to get there.

He took the chairs (thankful that they were on the sturdier side) and carried them over to where he was previously standing. He used them as a step to boost himself over the 7 foot fence, landing swiftly on the other side before turning to a surprised TK.

"Who says I need the key?"

TK laughed, clearly amused, using the hand he had propped up on the guitar to cover his face. Carlos grinned at the sight.

"You know, for security purposes, those should really be higher," Carlos said, smoothing out his t-shirt as he walked over to TK. "That was way too easy."

"You're a show-off."

"Yeah, maybe a little."

Carlos took a look around TK's much nicer backyard. There was a small, still barely-grown vegetable garden to one side, and close to the house was one of those wooden table and bench sets. This was where TK was sitting, on top of the table with a black acoustic guitar in his lap, his hair a fluffy mess under one of his hundreds of hoodies. The last moments of golden hour upon him made his skin gleam and his cloudy eyes twinkle, and Carlos only noticed he was staring when TK scooted over to let him sit. He chose to sit on the bench rather than on the table, letting TK have space if he so wanted it.

"You never told me you could play."

"I’ve never told anyone I can play." TK responded, starting on another, sweeter, simpler melody. "Not even my dad."

"And he never found out?” Carlos propped his elbows up on the table behind him, resolving to watch the sunset overhead. “Even while you were living together?"

"This is the first time I’ve taken it out since we got to Austin."

Carlos tore his eyes away from the swirl of colors in the sky to shoot TK a shocked glance, or what was meant to be only a glance. Once his eyes landed on him, he couldn't rip them away, as if spellbound by TK, who was casually focused on the chords he was playing, chords that seemed infinitely complex to Carlos.

"I guess some people just don't lose their touch." Carlos remarked more to himself than anything, but it made TK smile, which made him grateful to have said it out loud. Carlos had long realized he'd probably do anything if it meant making TK smile. He watched him for a little longer, still unfamiliar to the melodies his fingers carried, and let him finish the song before speaking up again. "I always wanted to learn. Guitar, piano, something." He turned back towards the sky, now darker but just as colorful as it was three minutes before. "I was always taking care of my siblings, and then I got into the academy so young, I just... never really had the chance, I guess."

After a few seconds, Carlos noticed TK silently handing him the guitar from the corner of his eye. He took it and placed it on his lap as TK shifted from his seat on the table to the bench, a leg on either side of it, facing Carlos. He took Carlos' left hand in his own, positioning it on the arm of the guitar. He slowly and carefully placed Carlos' three middle fingers where they needed to go, one on the first fret of the third string, and the others on the second fret of the fifth and fourth strings.

"Now strum," He told him, and Carlos did so. It rang out beautifully. "That's E major." A bright and youthful smile grew onto Carlos' face.

TK repositioned Carlos' fingers into a new chord, an A major, now on the second fret of the second, third, and fourth strings. He strummed again, his smile widening and his insides flipping at the thrill of both making music and of TK's hand on his own (not to mention his knee against his thigh, and his breath on his shoulder; pretty much every bit of proximity was driving Carlos crazy).

Still, he played on under TK's tutelage, and soon enough was strumming what could be considered a song after learning a third chord (D major). After a while of practicing a specific progression, once he was finally getting the hang of it, TK began humming over his shoulder. Then he started singing softly, right by Carlos' ear and sending chills down his spine.

"If I lay here... If I just lay here... Would you lie with me and just forget the world..."

"Hey, I know this." Carlos managed to say without breaking the strumming, allowing TK to keep singing with an amused smile on his face as he watched how much Carlos was enjoying himself.

"I don't quite know... How to say... How I feel..."

Before jumping into the next verse, Carlos turned to TK. He was still bobbing his head along to the strumming, but he managed to join into the lyrics.

"Those three words..." They sang in unison. "Are said too much..." Neither of them could help their gazes traveling down to the other's lips, only a few inches away from each other. "They're not enough..."

When the chord change for the chorus came, Carlos stumbled and simply stopped playing. The sour notes lingered in the air around them, like something in wait, in need of being fixed. Something to be cleared up and made right. A crackle of energy, of magnetism, yearning to be fulfilled.

Finally, it was TK that uttered the words "Fuck it," cupping Carlos' face and softly kissing him. Carlos took a mere millisecond to respond, carefully putting down the guitar and turning to pull him closer. The kiss was gentle, slow, careful, both of them savoring every movement and change as if it was the most beautiful melody on Earth. Their lips fit perfectly into each other as if in harmony, and every touch was like a new instrument joining into the grandest symphony ever heard.

They eventually parted, both repeatedly coming back for smaller kisses until they were left leaning their foreheads together. TK's hands still slowly roamed Carlos' torso, while Carlos caressed TK's cheeks and hair.

"Guess my dad wasn't so crazy after all..."

Laughing, Carlos let his head drop onto TK's shoulder, which TK took as an opportunity to bury his nose into the crook of Carlos' neck and wrap his arms around his shoulders. Almost instinctively, Carlos returned the embrace, and that was, perhaps, what felt the most right. How perfectly their bodies fit into each other, how blissful and comforted they both felt in the other's arms, and they both just wondered why the hell this hadn't happened until now. They stayed there until the sky was almost fully dark, and it was Carlos who pulled away and stood up in front of TK.

He held out his hand and cleared his throat. "Tyler Kennedy Strand,"

"Wait, how do you know-"

"Irrelevant," Carlos interrupted his question, to which TK responded with an eye roll and a grin. "Tyler Kennedy Strand, will you go out with me?"

TK took his hand and stood up in front of him. "Yes, Carlos Reyes, I will go out with you." He intertwined their fingers and brought his other hand up to the back of Carlos' neck, kissing him again with just a little more fervor than before, running his fingers through his hair. TK pulled away only to whisper: "Not tonight though."

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superman86to99 · 4 years

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Adventures of Superman #506 (November 1993)

Superman vs. Superboy! I mean, vs. Superman, since the Kid still insists that Superboy is definitely NOT his name and never will be. The two Supermen meet while the younger, radder one is dealing with some sort of deformed flying babies that are trying to kill him, which is the sort of thing that happens to you when you wear an “S” emblem on your chest.

These turn out to be deformed flying babies THAT EXPLODE, but the Kid is able to push them away with his (very non-Superman-esque) telekinesis powers. He then deduces that these things must have come out of Project Cadmus, the top secret genetic experimentation facility that created him, and brushes off the elder Superman to get back at those geeks by doing what he does best: being a brat on live TV.

So I guess the “top secret” part of Cadmus’ description is no longer accurate, thanks to the Kid. On the other hand, I kinda feel like the people of Metropolis deserved to know that there's a nearby government facility churning out genetic atrocities into their sewers.

The Cadmus gang sends Guardian to bring their wayward creation home so they can talk to him. Obviously the Kid isn't very interested, and for a while it looks like we might get the fight scene teased in the cover, but then Superman the First convinces Superman the Second that he should at least hear them out. And, while at it, ask Cadmus to tell him exactly what the hell he is. If he’s Superman’s clone, why does he have those weird TK powers? The Kid agrees, but... he doesn't like the answers he gets.

The Kid finds out that he's NOT a clone of Superman since, as established a while back, Kryptonians are damn hard to clone. So, since Cadmus was determined to create a new Superman after the original appeared to be dead, they instead took a clone of a regular, non-super man and genetically modified it to approximate Superman's powers (for instance, translating Superman’s “aura” into a telekinetic field). But who was that human DNA donor? Surely it was someone good and cool!

Just after the Kid wonders that, the quite evil and deeply uncool Director Westfield bursts into the lab and demands that this "super-punk" be taken into custody, probably so they can flush him down the toilet like Cadmus' other failed experiments. Superman makes Westfield see that making Cadmus' whistleblower disappear wouldn't look very good right now, but they can't just let him run around unsupervised. So, at Guardian's recommendation, the esteemed telepath Dubbilex is assigned to follow the Kid wherever he goes. I smell a sitcom! (Or a spin-off comic.)

As a last order of business, the Kid decides to give Superman his trademark to the Superman name, which his manager Rex Leech doesn't take too well. So what are they gonna call this teenage “S” emblem-wearing hero now? Superman has an interesting suggestion: SUPERBOY. Our young friend still isn't a fan.

But after storming out and thinking about it for a couple of pages (and trying out the name on some guys robbing a jewelry shop), the Kid realizes he's "earned" the title of Superboy and accepts it. Character development! And just in time for his solo series. ("That Non-Superman Clone Who Also Calls Himself Superman" wouldn't look good on a cover.)

Plotline-Watch:

The final page shows a shadowy figure shaped like the recently introduced Bloodthirst outfitting someone with a weapon-teleporting gizmo, then calling him "Bloodsport"... except that this dude is quite paler than the Bloodsport we met way back in Superman #4 (in an issue inked by current writer Karl Kesel, so you'd think he'd remember the character). This looks nothing like Idris Elba! What gives?!

Superboy is still bummed out because his friend Tana Moon left Metropolis without telling him where she was going, which is now known as "ghosting". In the end, Rex talks about sending Superboy on a promotional tour to establish his new brand, and the first destination of that tour will be... exactly where Tana went to hide from Superboy. This is now known as "time to get a restraining order."

Clark Kent is slowly morphing into a hipster the longer he rooms with Jimmy Olsen. For a long time I assumed all the bands listed in the panel below were made up, but turns out the only non-existing ones are “James Rock” and "Axel Rose". Luckily, Superboy was happy to give Clark's old apartment back to him (apparently only Pulitzer-winning journalists can afford it), so Jimmy won't hipsterize him for much longer.

Westfield gladly assigns Dubbilex to Superboy because it means there won't be a telepath at Cadmus to read his thoughts and find out about his evil plans (like sending the ugly flying babies after Superboy). Very clever, Westfield! Except for the fact that he thought that right in front of Dubbilex, who clearly "heard" the whole thing.

Incidentally, there's an apparent error in this issue when Superboy thinks "They won't take me without a fight!" and Guardian shows up and says "That's too bad, son. Because I don't want to fight you." How did Guardian know what Superboy was thinking? Obviously, Dubbilex patched Guardian through to Superboy's mind to assist in finding him. Now where's my damn Baldy Award?!

Is it me or is this page reminiscent of the cover to Superboy Prime's first appearance during Crisis on Infinite Earths?

Patreon-Watch:

Special thanks to your Patreon pals Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, and Samuel Doran, and welcome aboard to Bheki Latha (our first $6.50 patron ever!), Mark Syp, and Ryan Bush! You are all excellent. This month they got to read a long-ass post entitled 45 Things I Learned by Reading the “Death of Superman” Novel (Part 1), in which I talked about the stuff Roger Stern added to the canon in the first part of the Death and Life of Superman book. This includes Superman’s private thoughts on the JLI (and Guy Gardner in particular), what Lex Jr. calls Supergirl in bed, and Professor Hamilton getting romantic. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

But now: the Don Sparrow show! Take it away, Don.

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

The end of an era, at least temporarily, as Tom Grummett draws his last Adventures of Superman issue, moving onto Superboy (and I think still doing Robin at this time?) with Karl Kesel. He’ll return for the quarterly Superman: Man of Tomorrow and other things, but it’s a long gap until he does.

A pretty good cover, with Superman and Superboy about to tussle. Though it can be seen as cheaping out on the backgrounds, I always love radial rays as an effect.

Inside the issue, we have a great splash page of Superboy getting attacked by botched clones, and I love the gesture here—having his head snapping away from the camera adds to the motion and action. Great stuff.

Though he won’t be drawing her again for a while, Grummett excels at the new, shorter-haired Lois in these pages. Superman soaring to the skies is a great panel as well, and I especially like the way his cape and fist slightly break the panel barrier, giving it a sense of motion, again.

The sequence of Guardian acrobatically flipping from one ledge to another is very well drawn. Ditto the splash on page 13, where Superboy loses his temper. The body language in this whole sequence tells the story very well, as Superman is calm and patient, confident in his ability not only to reach Superboy with his words, but also withstand him physically.

The way Superboy snaps the carpet, but controls it mentally with his Tactile Telekinesis is a great example of his unique powers in use. It reminds me of a technique they tried on the CW Supergirl show (but almost immediately abandoned) where they made like the Kryptonian fabric of their capes was like “smart fabric” and could be used as a weapon.

Lastly, the dreamy, child-like expression on Superboy’s face during the Peter Pan exchange is wonderful, and a fitting end for Tom’s run on the book. [Max: You mean the William Shatner exchange, Don.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I almost never like it when they reference pop culture stuff in Superman comics, particularly music. Karl Kesel isn’t the worst offender in that department (that would be JM DeMatties a few years down the line, who had Clark Kent bizarrely asserting he loved the Beastie Boys) but Clark’s discussion with Jimmy about an apparently fictional musician working with a rolodex of early nineties names makes me cringe (as does trying to imagine how awful a “Hip Hop Lyle Lovett” or “Grunge Frank Sinatra” would sound).

The car poster on the wall of Jimmy’s bachelor pad looks for all the world like Robin’s Redbird, also a Tom Grummett creation. (Fun fact: Tom once told me he still gets {very small} royalty cheques from the Batman & Robin movie, because Robin’s motorcycle was called the Redbird, though that might no longer be true with Paul Levitz no longer in charge of such matters.)

Superboy (in no less than his third time calling those pink creatures “spuds”) references John Candy and Joe Flaherty’s “Farm Film Celebrity Blow Up” where the guests would frequently “blow up real good” and it does my SCTV loving Canadian heart good.

It’s interesting (and a little sad) that they again note that Superboy knows things (pop culture, etc) without ever having experienced it. I feel like there’s a lot they could do with this concept.

This issue reads very much like the end of the Superboy “Reign” issues, as Superman is more of a secondary character to the kid. All of it begs the question of why Superman, or Guardian put up with Cadmus. Superman has said in previous issues that he has moral problems with how Cadmus treats life with their cloning experiments, and they’ve attacked him in the past (and also stole his corpse!) so other than the fact that it’s a launchpad for Superboy’s series, there’s really no reason any of these heroes should associate with Cadmus. Especially Guardian, who comes off as little more than an errand boy here. He wants to bring Superboy in, but won’t promise Superboy won’t be harmed or imprisoned?

Nice to see Superboy return to his “Slammin’” catch phrase!

An interesting bit of foreshadowing when Superboy asks Big Words whose clone he is, and who immediately enters but Westfield. [Max: That’s right, Westfield! Not Luthor! Sorry, sorry.]

#superman #karl kesel #tom grummett #doug hazlewood #superboy #project cadmus #paul westfield #dubbilex #guardian #carl packard #rex leech #roxy leech #bloodthirst #bloodsport #hip-hop lyle lovett #grunge sinatra

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movedto-jewishbucke · 4 years

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summary: Following a bad breakup and an overdose, TK Strand starts to reevaluate his life with the help of his therapist and he realizes the relationship with his father isn’t healthy… for either of them. Concerned that he might relapse due to his father’s over-involvement in his life and needing a fresh start, he decides to relocate to Austin, TX. author’s note: this is not an anti-Owen Strand blog or fic

updates: every other Tuesday; chapter 2 will be up May 12th tag list [comment or send an ask if you’d like to be added or removed]: @cupidmarwani

available on ao3

Something he likes about his therapist is that she never pressures him to talk if he doesn’t want to. Unfortunately, this means a lot of their sessions consist of them staring at each other, waiting for someone to break the silence - like now. He knows what he wants to say, what he has to say, but he’s scared because voicing it to another person makes it more real and means he actually has to follow through. Right now, he doesn’t know if this is something he actually wants because it’s such a big step, but he knows this is something he needs if he wants to get better.

“I think I need to start over.” He lets out a deep breath, because it’s like a weight has been lifted from his chest. TK slowly shifts his attention from the flower painting hanging behind his therapist’s head to her warm brown eyes.

Is it weird for him to think she seems more motherly than his own mother? Maybe that’s another issue of his that he needs to bring up… with a different therapist.

“Okay.” She nods slowly and adjusts her notebook so it’s balancing on her knee, which gets his anxiety spiking but before he can say something, she starts talking again. “What does starting over look like for you?”

In the two weeks he had been thinking about what he needed, he had never gotten into the planning stages. He knows he needs to start over, but he doesn’t know what that looks like or where to begin.

“I just…” He sighs, tearing his gaze away from her, choosing to look outside at the Manhattan traffic which seems way less chaotic than his life feels. “I love my dad,” he says, still refusing to look at her, “but ever since I overdosed, he has been a lot to deal with.”

That’s not entirely true and TK knows it, so does Dr. Cohen because she’s the one who very gently pointed out that their relationship went beyond a normal father-son bond. Why she would point this out when Owen is paying her bills, he doesn’t know; maybe she pointed it out because she cares more about his well-being than her paycheck.

“I know he loves me and just wants to make sure I’m safe.” But he’s an adult with a career, an apartment, a drug addiction, and a codependent relationship. It’s too much to deal with, and now that he’s aware of their codependency issues it’s a lot harder to ignore all the ways Owen violates his privacy for the sake of “protecting” him. “Sometimes, he makes me want to relapse.”

At this, he chooses to look over at her to see if she gives a hint as to what she’s thinking or how she feels about him saying he thinks about relapsing because of their relationship, but her expression is blank.

“What does he do?”

What doesn’t he do? He shows up at his apartment uninvited and with no warning, which is bad in and of itself but it’s made worse when TK has a guy over.

“One time, he went through my apartment to make sure I didn’t have drugs.” This had happened about three months ago, after he had overdosed for the first time in years, and at the time he had made excuses for him and downplayed his own feelings. Now, he’s angry at himself because he allowed him to violate his privacy in such a monumental way, and he wishes he had brought it up to Dr. Cohen when it had happened instead of brushing it off as “not a big deal.”

More recently, Owen has shown up at his workplace which would have been fine if he had at least asked or given him a heads up, but he didn’t. “Before my overdose, he would always show up to my work unannounced and it was fine, but now it seems like he’s invading my privacy.” He shrugs slightly and slowly meets her gaze. “Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

“What you’ve just told me are very obvious privacy violations,” she says, flashing him a small smile that is gone as quick as it came. “I can’t imagine anyone who would be okay with these things happening to them.”

TK focuses on a stain on the floor, mulling over her words and trying to decide if she’s right about him not overreacting. “I’ve tried talking to him about these things,” he mutters, seemingly to himself because his eyes are still trained on the stain. Is it a coffee stain? He hasn’t ever seen her drink coffee during their sessions though. “He didn't… he told me he was just worried about me and that any parent in his shoes would do the same thing.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have brought this up because it’s draining to think about, let alone talk about, and he’s starting to get the feeling that she might be judging him. He can’t say she would be wrong to judge him; he’s an adult who lacks any sort of independence from his father and sometimes he judges himself for that.

“Your father is very prone to… ignoring boundaries, as we’ve discussed in previous sessions, and that is not your fault.”

She pauses, taking a deep breath and shifting in her seat, and this gets him to look up at her instead of the stain. What kind of stain is it?

“I don’t know your father but I think he sees his actions as normal, healthy behaviors so when you confronted him, suggesting they weren’t, he chose to double down instead of consider the possibility that he has been unintentionally harming you.” She pauses again and he thinks she’s giving him time to process her words, but he’s not quite sure. “I think your father can’t let himself consider that possibility because based on our conversations, he has made keeping you safe and alive his primary purpose in life.”

He wants to object, to point out that Owen is a firefighter and that is his primary purpose in life: to save other people, not his family. But he knows that isn’t true and hasn’t been true since his first overdose eight years ago.

Instead of commenting on Owen’s other behaviors or acknowledging what she said, he chooses to do what he does best when the current topic starts to be too much for him to handle: change topics.

“I just think I need to start over.” He sinks into the plush chair and pops the string of his hoodie into his mouth, which reminds him he should invest in one of those fidget toys he sees his students with so he can stop ruining his $30 hoodies when he gets anxious.

“Why do you think you need to start over?”

Another thing he loves about her is that she handles his topic changes smoothly and doesn’t force him to talk about shit he doesn’t want to; he’s given the freedom to process his problems at his pace, not hers.

“I love this city,” he states, glancing out the window to watch the traffic again. “But if I don’t leave, I don’t think I’ll ever get a shot at being my own person,” he pauses and looks back at her, a frown tugging at his lips when he says, “or recovering.”

Owen is trying his best when it comes to dealing with all of his baggage, he knows this, but it’s too much sometimes and as much as he hates to think it, his dad threatens his recovery more than helps it.

“You said it yourself in our third session,” he starts, leaning toward her, propping his elbows up on his knees, “we’re codependent.” TK pops his hoodie string back in his mouth as he thinks over his next words, trying to figure out what he’s wanting to say. “We need space,” is what he finally comes up with, blurting it out the second it comes to mind.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room is the ticking of the analog clock that sits on her desk, and he’s not sure if she’s wanting him to say more or she’s trying to figure out what to say. Then, she speaks.

“And you think relocating is the best way for you to get space?” She sounds skeptical which gets his anxiety going and he starts chewing on his string again, worrying that he voiced the wrong solution to his problems and upset her.

Truth be told, he doesn’t know what to do to get out of this rut he feels he’s in, because every decision he comes up with he feels is the wrong one but moving is the one idea that doesn’t seem bad. He wants to scream but he’s not sure how that will help the situation, so he stays quiet until she speaks again.

“Walk me through it, TK. How do you think relocating will help your recovery, your relationship with Owen, and other issues in your life?” She doesn’t sound angry, she sounds like she genuinely wants to understand his thought process, but he still feels like a child who is being forced to explain his decisions so he can understand how idiotic it is.

“I just can’t juggle my job, my recovery, and a dad who is too invested to the point that I want to relapse,” he says, flinching a bit at how loud he spoke. He wants to scream but he’s not sure how that will help anything and it might just make her kick him out, even though they still have thirty minutes left and the session was paid in advance.

“Everywhere I look I’m reminded of what I don’t have, what I lost.” He pulls his foot up into his lap, picking at a chunk of dried dirt on the sole. “When we broke up, I lost my friends because they were his friends first.”

The only friend he has is the fifty-year-old German librarian at his school, but it’s a stretch to call her his friend because he sees her more as a grandmother figure than someone he’s going to watch the 15th installment of Fast & Furious with.

“I love my students.” This year he’s teaching freshman English and they’re not quite as bold in how they address him like his senior class was the year before, but he still enjoys teaching them. He loves hearing their feedback on each unit and their thoughts on how he should make it better for the next class or year and he enjoys reading their essays on the books they’re forced to read because his students are funny and a little mean.

“I love the Jewish bakery on 7th because they make the best bagels and lox.” He has been going to their bakery every morning before school for four years now and he knows the family quite well, but the most they know about him is that his name is TK and he likes sesame seed bagels and iced caramel coffee. It’s weird, because he knows their only daughter died in a car accident three years ago and they’re raising their 9-year-old grandson, and that Mr. Goldstein went into remission three weeks ago. It’s not because they haven’t tried to get to know him, though. They have, but he has shut them out because he doesn’t want them to get too close or they might realize he’s a fuck up.

“I love my Iranian neighbor.” She was the first one to welcome him with a plate of an Iranian dish he can’t remember the name of and a warm hug when he moved into the apartment complex. When he realized she was alone he started visiting her. Every Saturday, they go to the park to watch the birds then they stop by the market so she can stock up on groceries. She teaches him her family recipes and her language, and in exchange he offers her his company which he knows she appreciates because of the way her face lights up when she sees him. No one has visited her in five years and his heart aches to think that she will be alone if he leaves.

He sighs, flopping back in the chair and focusing his attention on a crack in the ceiling. “I can’t go to the Italian restaurant on 4th anymore because that’s where I proposed.” It’s not like he’s banned from the restaurant, he just feels like throwing up every time he passes by the storefront because he’s reminded of the worst and most embarrassing moment of his life.

It’s not just the restaurant, though.

It’s the spin cycle place where Alex used to go and where he met the love of his life; it’s the Mediterranean place they’d eat lunch at on Tuesday; it’s the bookstore on 4th where they met; it’s his own apartment where they would steal kisses in the kitchen as they danced around each other trying to get dinner prepared, or the bedroom where Alex would spoon him while they watched old horror movies.

If it’s not reminders of Alex and the life they could’ve had if he hadn’t cheated, it’s reminders of his failed overdose and everything he has lost because of it.

“My job doesn’t know I’m an addict.” But they do know he isn’t a good fit for the school and isn’t able to perform his duties effectively anymore, so he’ll be out of a job at the end of the academic year. He can’t blame that entirely on his addiction though; the school has been looking for a reason to fire him since his first year when parents complained about him being openly gay. Unfortunately, he gave them the reason they had been looking for because after his overdose his job performance tanked to the point that his students were behind the rest of their grade and parents were, once again, complaining about him. (But at least this time it wasn’t about his sexuality.)

“I need to get out of here,” he whispers, closing his eyes and folding his hands across his stomach. “I need to start over somewhere new, somewhere I can be independent, somewhere I can focus on my recovery, somewhere I can… I don’t know.”

He just needs a fresh start in a new city where no one knows his name or his grocery list of fuck ups.

#tk strand #911 lone star #911ls #mywriting #fic: new beginnings #i feel bad cause i didn't edit this but i just didn't feel like it lmaooooo #anyway i wasn't sure if i should put this in the tarlos tag or not since this chapter is literally just tk strand goes to therapy :)#mine

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