#carlos codas

[doublel27]

Blush~ (for the send me a word thing)

Thanks for the ask, Dalawa! You got Carlos Cow Eyes 3x14

~*~

They’d actually celebrated TK’s return to his first twenty-four hour shift last week. TK had blushed and insisted it was too much nonsense over work, which was easier than being alone with his thoughts, but Carlos had been too proud to let it go. Carlos had even ignored TK’s insistence that going twenty-four hours without a meeting wasn’t as big a deal when he went to one before and one right after. 

TK was maybe the strongest person Carlos had ever known, and the least he could do was celebrate his successes.

~*~ Send me a word in my ask box and I'll find a snippet for you in one of my WIPs

[wandering-night19]

I can't believe I'm finally posting this! I also know that if I don't post it now, I probably never will. It has truly been a labor of love to write this. It is 5 chapters and is mostly complete. It will be updated every Friday in October with the final chapter being posted on Monday October 30 in honor of my own dad's passing 9 years ago. A huge special thanks to @whenshereads for being the most amazing beta and for all the encouragement and seeing me through every breakdown I had about writing this. Also @steddie-as-they-go as always for listening to all the rants and being the reason I even wrote this in the first place. When I texted her the day after the finale to tell her I had an absolutely terrible idea she cackled and demanded it be written.

The Weight of Grief

43.7k . Carlos Reyes/TK Strand . Explicit

With all the loss they've suffered Carlos and TK deserve a happy ending. In their post-Honeymoon bliss they just weren't expecting to have to work so hard for it.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Tagging those who showed interest in the snippets under the cut.

@welcometololaland (seriously biggest cheerleader award) @carlos-in-glasses @liminalmemories21 @strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @lightningboltreader @jesuisici33 @thebumblecee @alrightbuckaroo @rmd-writes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @lutavero @heartstringsduet @thisbuildinghasfeelings @rosedavid

[carlos-in-glasses]

SWEET DREAMS AND FLYING MACHINES - a 03x08 coda

I've posted a new fic on ao3 - rated E.

The past becomes a thunderous echo when TK misses his mom’s funeral after his plane makes an emergency landing, while Carlos spirals thinking he’ll never see TK again. Safe on the ground, TK and Carlos hold each other up as they face the day’s trauma and begin a future that is somehow even more crowded with love.

Carlos bounces out of the hanger coltishly, his limbs loose as jelly, heading in the vague direction towards which the T.S.A. agent wafted an arm. It takes him a hideous moment to clock TK, alone inside an expanding circle made of fellow first responders and passengers wearing shock blankets, bewildered and milling around. There he is �� directly in the sunshine, glowing gold and alive. Carlos stops because the sight of him takes his breath. His heartbeat pounds in his ears. He doesn’t even feel himself launch into a run, but the warm air thumps against him as he moves faster than he has ever moved – his limbs firm now, muscles powerful, carrying him to the center of his world. Carlos runs, and as he runs the heartbeat in his ears changes to words. He hears his voice and he hears TK’s, whooshing in the wind.

Hey, wanna dance?

Yeah.

Read on ao3.

[welcometololaland]

A honeymoon, reimagined.

Carlos/TK | E | Chapter 8/8

(a big thank you to @celeritas2997 for listening to my 3094283948 voice messages on grief, talking things through and directing me to some great resources)

Also - thank you to everyone who has shared their experience of grief with me as I write this fic. I love all the stories that people have shared and I'm very grateful for your vulnerability and willingness to discuss something so personal.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 2: Day 1

Chapter 3: Day 2

Chapter 4: Day 3

Chapter 5: Day 4

Chapter 6: Day 5

Chapter 7: Day 6

Chapter 8: Day 7

“Do you want me to say anything?” TK asks, his voice rough as he feels another tear form, clouding his vision.

“No,” Carlos says softly, reaching between them to tangle their fingers together, even though both of their hands are sweaty from the heat. “I just need you here.”

“Always,” TK whispers, and looks up to see Carlos blink furiously, tears streaming down his face. 

They stand there for a few additional minutes, the silence interspersed with Carlos’ little sniffs. TK lets his mind wander, think about all the interactions he’s had with Gabriel over the years – everything from shaking his hand at a farmers market, irritated about being introduced as Carlos’ friend from work, to the dinner they had before their wedding, Carlos’ eyes interlocked with Gabriel’s as they shared a toast. It’s all muddied by a murder now, TK thinks, and it’s sad. Carlos deserved more time and Gabriel deserved to know his son better. That growth was all just starting to take shape when it was cut short.

“I love you, Papa,” Carlos says softly, inspiring a fresh round of tears from TK as he disentangles their fingers. Then Carlos sighs deeply and moves towards the shovel as TK steps back. 

He watches Carlos tip the displaced earth back into the hole, covering the wooden box until it’s completely gone from sight, packed in with a discernible mound over the top. Then Carlos places a small circular stone at the head of it, stands back up and crosses his right hand over his chest in an easily-recognisable yet invisible cross – his lips moving silently in the name of the father, the son and the holy ghost.

TK waits for a moment, then catches Carlos’ eye as he turns to him. “It’s done,” Carlos says softly, with an air of calm finality, before reaching for TK’s hand. TK lets himself be led back towards the house in silence.

Read chapter eight on ao3

[alrightbuckaroo]

Happy Wednesday, everyone! First one of the new year, wow. Thanks for the tags @carlos-in-glasses, @strandnreyes and @thisbuildinghasfeelings. I thought I'd have something less angst driven to share but I accidentally threw myself head first into Carlos' therapy scenes so now we Carlos being the most unreliable of narrators:

“I keep telling him I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” Dr. Ortiz asks, prodding the professional way. 

“What do you think?” Carlos asks, vehemently and with a tone that’s filled with irritation. He feels guilty for the remark as soon as he makes it. He follows with a, “I’m sorry, that was rude.” 

“Carlos,” Dr. Ortiz calls his name after a beat of silence. “Have you considered telling TK that you’re not fine?” 

Carlos almost wants to laugh, and say of course; but he can’t. Carlos looks away from Dr. Ortiz; suddenly finding the water stain nestled in the corner of her office far more interesting. 

“He’ll go back to worrying,” He answers. It’s not yes, but it’s not no. 

After the minor hiccup of his otherwise normal stoic demeanor that lead to breaking down on the living room floor; Carlos went back to doing what he does best. Avoiding his adversity and cloaking his vulnerability.  

He gave TK a peek into something he was always taught to keep hidden and suppressed. He felt the same way he did all those months ago, when the loft burned down and he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. 

As soon as he finished crying, a headache pulsing and making itself known, he regretted all of it. He regretted showing the way he couldn’t avoid the inevitable cracks and crumbles that spalled through his armor. He regretted the brief glimpse into his humanity. 

Then, TK suggested he start seeing Dr. Ortiz; and now, things are slightly different. 

Now, he’s walking this fine line of regretting his initial display of self attributed weakness, and regretting that he regrets something in the first place. He doesn’t know what he wants to make more of a meal of; his own words or his pride.

no pressure tagging: @reyesstrand, @heartstringsduet, @carlos-tk, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @orchidscript, @three-drink-amy, @bonheur-cafe, @basilsunrise, @never-blooms, @lightningboltreader, @paperstorm, @theghostofashton, @freneticfloetry, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @sanjuwrites, @ambiguouspenny, @whatsintheboxmh, @wandering-night19, @herefortarlos, and open tag :)

[chaotictarlos]

The Loft

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Explicit | Warnings/Tags: Canon Compliment, Season 4, Post 4 x 18, Could be a 4 x 18 Coda, Feelings, Angst, Hurt / Comfort, Anal Sex, Blow jobs, Anal Fingering, M x M Smut

Summary: TK and Carlos decide that they're going to stay home for their honeymoon instead of going someplace else.

Author's Note: This fic took a lot longer than I thought it would to write, but in the end I'm happy with how it turned out. I have ideas for fics to follow this one, and I might write them but I have a few projects I would like to get done before doing that. I am sorry that this took me so long to write, but I do hope that it was worth the wait. Nice comments are always welcomed, negative comments need to not be posted.

Thank you @lightningboltreader for being such a doll and beta'ing this for me!

----

TK stares up at the ceiling. His arms are wrapped around Carlos loosely, one hand rubbing up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him. Carlos’ head is on his chest, ear pressing against the spot where TK’s heart is the loudest. Carlos has been laying on TK a lot like this, needing to hear his heartbeat loud and clear, to make sure he’s alive. Carlos told him the other day that it helps ease some of the anxiety and dread he’s been feeling, and tonight is no different. TK will do anything to soothe his fiance.

They had crawled into bed shortly after Carlos came home and proposed to TK. This time the proposal hadn’t been followed by them making love, but instead reaching for each other's arms and just holding each other. They’re laying quietly, listening to their breathing, knowing that sleep isn’t going to come. Carlos is too scared to sleep - too scared to let sleep take him because of the nightmares he’ll have and TK stays awake to be there for Carlos when he needs him.

It makes for a long night but TK doesn’t care, it’s just another sleepless night in a week of sleepless nights and grabbing naps when their bodies are too exhausted to move anymore.

TK focuses on Carlos’ breathing, tracking the way he sounds when he breathes in and out in case it changes and TK’s full attention is needed. His heart hurts for his fiance and he wishes that there was something more he could do. 

"I know we planned to travel for our honeymoon but can we just stay home?" Carlos asks softly, his voice breaking the stillness of the night. 

TK doesn’t say anything at first, just processes the words that float between them.

"I just want to be with you," Carlos continues. "I don't need to go off to some destination to do that. I just want you, safe in my arms. I-"

"We can do that," TK says, cutting him off and running his fingers up and down Carlos' back. "I don't care where we go or what we do. I just want to be with you, Carlos. Even if we stay here, in our apartment, and enjoy being married together. It'll still be the best time of my life."

Carlos raises his head and looks at TK. TK knows he can’t make out much in the darkness of the night but Carlos didn't need light to make TK feel like he was staring into the depths of his soul.

"Are you sure?" Carlos asks and TK can hear the worry in his words.

"I am baby,” he says softly, cupping Carlos’ face and running his thumb over his cheek. “I just want to be with you and if you want to have our honeymoon at home we will.”

Carlos nods and lays his head back on TK’s chest. There’s a want bubbling up in TK to talk to Carlos, but Carlos will talk when he’s ready. For now, they’ll just lay here in silence.

It has to be enough for now.

READ MORE ON AO3

tags: @strangefurychaos @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @a-j-cowwley @meditating-honey-badger @paperstorm @otter-love-asl @kiloskywalker @angeltk @firstprince-history-huh @brouill3r @liminalmemories21 @herefortarlos @tavners

[marjansmarwani]

I need you so much closer

7.8k || ao3

Carlos Reyes was loved.

Yes, by TK, but not only by him.

— — —

Or, a 4x04 coda in which we get to hear from everyone else and fill in some missing scenes.

This was not supposed to be this long, but it’s done! All the love to @moviegeek03 and @justaswampdemon as always for helping from start to finish (and making sure it actually got finished). 

-------

Gabriel Reyes thought he knew fear. 

He had been a Texas Ranger for most of his life. He had been in law enforcement even longer than that. He had seen the worst of the worst; had stared down hardened criminals that would end his life just as soon as blink. 

He thought the peak of fear had been finding out that his son’s home had burned down while he was inside. The knowledge of exactly how close he had come to losing his only child had nearly been enough to topple him, and the fact that he had been at least partially responsible didn’t help. There was the day-to-day fear of his son’s job (because of course he had followed him into the same line of work), the occasional instances of bad things happening, and feeling that rush of fear. But this? Looking down at his son’s still body as his fiancé worked to keep his heart beating? Seeing his son lying there and knowing that the only thing keeping the blood flowing through his veins was the force of a distraught TK desperately pumping it through his heart? This was the deepest and most primal fear he had ever felt. 

Somewhere deep inside he had known that this was a possibility. From the moment TK had showed up at their door with that fear in his eyes the thought had been whispering in the back of his mind. But being here and seeing it, knowing that they had been not even fifty feet from Carlos that morning; that his son had been hurt and in trouble and he had been so close but had done nothing, made it all so much more real. 

He didn’t even need to ask TK for his professional opinion of the situation, he knew how bad it was. He also knew that if they had been just a few minutes sooner Carlos could have been fine.  Just as much as he knew if they had been just a few seconds later any hope they did have (tenuous as it may be) would have expired, right along with his son. It was a cruel trick on the part of the universe; to bring them here so close to saving him but just maybe a little bit too far. 

[continue reading on ao3]

[chicgeekgirl89]

Day Zero

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

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

Rating: T

CW: Non-consensual drug use, mentions of addiction

Summary: After a lifetime of struggle, T.K. is finally clean. He's living with the love of his life, has found a family at the 126, and is creating a future he never thought he could have. Having his sobriety stolen away again wasn't part of the plan. A follow up to the events of 3x12 “Negative Space.”

A/N: I wrote this directly after 3x12 aired and then never posted it because it's such a sensitive topic. I'm hopeful I've done T.K.'s addiction and sobriety and the struggle he might have after the events of the episode justice.

Read on AO3

T.K. is high. He’s floating, drifting, his mind blissfully unaware of anything resembling reality. He knows he’s high, he’s been high so many times that the feeling of it is as familiar to him as breathing.

It should feel good. This is something he craves, not as constantly as he once did, but it’s always there, a sleeping beast, dormant inside him. Waiting. Always waiting. And now he’s finally gotten it again.

But something eats around the edges of the haze, something sharp, fearful. This is wrong. He doesn’t want to be high. He doesn’t want…how did he…what’s…?

He forces his eyes open, the room around him a swirl of confusing colors. He can hear someone yelling, something heavy falling nearby. It takes him far too long to realize he’s on the floor in his bedroom, the carpet under his cheek familiar. Carlos had been eyeing it at Pottery Barn for months even before he bought the loft. 

Carlos.

Carlos. 

Something warm is pressed up against T.K.’s leg and he slowly turns his head to find his boyfriend’s body splayed out on the floor next to him, eyes closed, form horribly still.

“Carlos,” T.K. croaks, fear and panic combating the effects of the drugs that are swirling through his system. 

There’s more yelling close by but T.K. can’t make out what’s being said. His mind is only capable of one thing at a time right now and even focusing on that is difficult. He tries to sit up, but his muscles feel like jello, so he drags himself across the floor, trying to get close enough to check on his boyfriend, fingers reaching out, still too far to do any good.

“Carlos!”

A familiar voice calls his name this time, and seconds later Gabriel Reyes appears, dropping to his knees, his hands going to Carlos’ face. For one horrible, terrible, god awful, heart stopping moment, Carlos doesn’t move and T.K. thinks he’s dead. Really and truly dead and gone.

But then he lets out a moan and sucks in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling and T.K. feels such crashing relief surge through him that he nearly passes out again. 

Gabriel turns and puts a hand on his shoulder. “T.K., are you with me?”

T.K. tries to make his mouth cooperate but his tongue too large, and the words in his mind feel like they’re slipping in and out of focus. Gabriel pulls him up into a sitting position, leaning him against the foot of the bed. “Strand! I could use some help in here!” he calls.

“Hang on!” T.K. hears his dad’s voice respond from the other room. “Marjan’s bleeding pretty bad, looks like she’s been stabbed.”

Marjan is here? T.K. is so confused, desperately trying to stay focused, to not let the darkness drag him under again. And if Marjan is bleeding he should help.

“Whoa, whoa, you stay right here.” Gabriel puts a hand against his chest and T.K. realizes that he tried to get up, although he didn’t make it very far since none of his extremities seem to be working well right now.

Gabriel has gotten Carlos sitting up and is propping him next to T.K., his eyes glassy and vacant, but open, awake, alive. Gabriel holds him up with one hand while he holds his cellphone with the other, talking rapidly to someone about multiple ambulances and backup.

T.K. can hear Marjan now, she sounds furious, and he can see Sadie, sprawled on the floor like the rest of them, but his brain still can’t piece together what’s happened, how they’ve all ended up like this. Things are fuzzy, muddled, like he should be able to understand what’s going on, but he can’t quite…

“What happened?” He finally manages to get the question past his lips, eyes sluggishly searching Gabriel’s for some kind of answer.

Gabriel is still focused on Carlos who is having a difficult time keeping his eyes open. “It was Sadie,” Gabriel says, his voice tight. “She burned down the gallery, blew up Gordon’s car, she did all of it.”

Sadie. Sadie did this? Sadie who’s been in their home for the last three hours? Sadie has been the one causing trouble. Sadie…

His dad crouches in front of him, concern all over his face. “Hey buddy, how you doing?”

“Dad,” T.K. looks at him, dread starting at the base of his spine and creeping rapidly up to his neck. “Did Sadie…did she…?”

“She drugged you. Both of you. It was in the soup. T.K. I’m so sorry,” his dad says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“The drugs, was it—?“

“Oxy,” Owen tells him gently. 

Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. 

There’s a yell, Sadie’s voice and then Marjan lets out a few choice expletives. “I’ll be right back,” Owen promises and T.K. nods. There’s nothing he can do anyway. There’s nothing anyone can do. They just have to wait until the high wears off.

“Carlos do not go to sleep,” Gabriel says sharply and T.K. looks over to see his boyfriend’s head lolling to the side, eyes drooping as Gabriel forces him to stay upright. 

“Sorry,” Carlos mumbles, eyelids fluttering. “Tired.”

“I know, but you have to stay awake, all right?” Gabriel looks up at someone else. “Can you get them some water?”

T.K.’s eyes follow Gabriel’s and he finds Catherine stepping out of the room to do as the major has asked. T.K. has no idea when she got here. He has no idea about a lot of things right now.

He’s not interested in the water she hands him, but Gabriel urges both of them to drink. T.K. manages one sip and then just holds it in his hands, feeling the coolness of it through the glass. Carlos does a little better, getting down a third of the glass under his father’s watchful gaze. He’s sitting up under his own power now, but he’s still listless and looks like he could topple over at any second. T.K. hates it.

He wishes he could do something, wishes he could reach out and hold Carlos’ hand or rub his back or kiss his temple, anything to bring him comfort, but he can feel himself slowly sobering up and with every passing second reality sits heavier and heavier on his shoulders.

Everything he’s worked for. Every meeting, every chip, every night he’s chosen to go home instead of going out to score…it’s all gone. Erased. Like it never even happened. He’s back to square one. Zero days of sobriety.

This is a part of him he has never wanted Carlos to see. Carlos who always believes the best of him, Carlos who has no idea how truly deep and dark T.K.’s past is. Carlos who has only ever been T.K.’s fresh start, who is now dragged down into the muck and mire right along with him. 

“I think…I think I’m going to be sick.”

He looks up to find Carlos a shade paler than he already was, eyes glassy, a greenish tinge to his skin. 

Someone runs to the kitchen and returns with a large bowl they usually use for salads and popcorn, but will probably never use again, the memories of tonight now marking its surface in place of the geometric pattern on its sides.

Carlos retches, his stomach emptying, and T.K. sits frozen, letting everyone else help. He should be the one rubbing Carlos’ back, he should be the one telling him it will be okay. But he can’t. He can’t do anything other than sit in a growing sense of shame and guilt.

Paramedics arrive, thankfully no one T.K. is familiar with. They ask questions and T.K. and Carlos answer in monotone. Naloxone isn’t necessary since they’re both awake and alert, and when saline is offered T.K. refuses, he doesn’t want anything else being put in his body tonight. He does manage to come out of his miserable haze long enough to insist Carlos accepts. If nothing else at least Carlos will be hydrated as he comes down; hopefully it will help to lessen the inevitable headache and malaise he’s going to feel.

They’re transported to the hospital, doctors prodding and poking, asking questions, a familiar rhythm that makes T.K. sick to his stomach. The doctors and nurses know what happened, they're being sympathetic, but it’s too much. The dance is too familiar and it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin. 

He lies on a gurney, staring at the hospital ceiling as his emotions war inside of him. He wants the high to wear off, he wants it gone now. But there’s a part of him that is desperately holding onto it, that wants the numbness and the disassociation, and the bliss of being free from the nightmare he’s living. This part of him, the starving beast that he’s beaten back into submission again and again, rears it’s ugly head and screams that it’s not worth it. That he’s not worth it. That he did everything right, got himself clean and it still doesn’t matter, because here he is again, right back where he started. 

He’s an addict. 

No matter how much work he does, it’s all he’ll ever be. 

In the midst of being treated some detectives arrive to talk to them, their dads, Marjan. His own version of the story is short. Sadie was there when he got back from getting groceries. He felt hot, kind of off, and the next thing he knew he was staring at Carlos on the floor. No one asks him why he, an addict, didn’t recognize what he was feeling. But they should. They should tell him he’s an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. That if he’d realized what was going on, both of them might have been spared at least some part of this nightmare. 

Carlos’ version of the story is far more painful. “I saw her on the footage,” he says, his words still slow and labored, as if he’s having trouble getting them out, but he pushes on determinedly. “We talked, I asked her why she did it, and she said it was for Owen. Then I realized T.K. had been gone for too long. But when I got up,” he swallows hard, “I couldn’t keep my balance. I saw T.K. on the floor…”

Carlos turns and looks at him with tears in his eyes. “I should have realized. I should have known it was her. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” T.K. says. The words don’t sound soothing, even though he means them to be. He simply can’t muster up the energy to be Carlos’ emotional support right now. Yet another thing to feel guilty about.

They get home around three o’clock in the morning and collapse into bed. Carlos falls asleep with his head pillowed on T.K.’s chest, one of T.K.’s arms wrapped around him, a sign of how vulnerable he feels since usually T.K. is the one curled up into Carlos.

T.K. doesn’t sleep. He lies there wallowing, his mind turning over and over, fighting with the rage and grief and failure that threaten to eat him alive and take his relationship along with it. 

Carlos shudders and T.K. rubs his arm until he settles. He’s struggling. Maybe not as much as T.K., but he was still assaulted against his will in their home for the second time in less than a year. T.K. knows he feels violated and guilty, even if the guilt is unfounded. The only person who should feel any guilt is Sadie. And maybe his father for dragging death onto their doorstep yet again.

T.K. watches the clock tick past four, past five. When it says six am he slips from Carlos’ hold and takes the longest, hottest shower of his life before wandering into the kitchen and brewing some extra strength coffee. 

He doesn’t feel great, but it’s nothing he hasn’t felt before. The mild nausea, the pounding headache, the heaviness in his limbs, it’s all to be expected. So are the guilt and shame and perseverating thoughts whirling through his mind. The beast inside him is awake, hungering for another taste, even though he’s barely come down off the last one. But he’s used to that too. He’s telling it to shut up and it’s working for now. 

If only he could be sure it will last this time. 

“T.K.?”

The groggy, pained call moves him toward the bedroom. “I’m here,” he says as he walks quickly through the doorway so Carlos can see him. His boyfriend has been through enough, he doesn’t need to wake up panicking that T.K. has disappeared on a bender. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is pounding,” Carlos winces and squints against the light coming through the curtains as he pushes himself slowly into a seated position. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” T.K. says. “Do you want some coffee? Or I can make tea?”

“You don’t need to take care of me,” Carlos tells him.

“I don’t mind,” T.K. says. It gives him something to do, something to focus on for a moment. “Tea?”

Carlos nods an affirmative and T.K. puts it together in short order along with some toast, and some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. 

“Thanks,” Carlos says as T.K. sets it all on the nightstand. 

“You’re welcome.” 

T.K. moves to the wardrobe and pulls out his uniform. “What are you doing?” Carlos asks.

T.K. hangs it on the wardrobe’s doorknob and moves to the dresser for clean underwear and socks. “Going to work.”

“You’re not staying home? I figured, after last night…”

T.K. takes a breath, tries not to let all the feelings battling inside him rear up and burst out of his mouth. Carlos doesn’t deserve that. “I need to go to work today,” is all he can say.

“Okay.”

The word sounds confused, maybe a little hurt. And it hurts T.K. to know he’s the cause of any of Carlos’ pain right now. But he has to go to work. If he stays here…if he stays here he’s going to fall apart. 

He pastes on what he hopes is a passably pleasant look. “I’ll be home by five. And I’ll keep my phone on if you need me.”

“T.K., maybe we should—“

“I can’t, Carlos.” The words are razor sharp and he feels brittle as he says them. “I…we’ll talk. We will. Later. I promise.”

He grabs his work bag and pauses long enough to press a kiss to Carlos’ forehead. “Rest today. I’ll be home in a few hours. I promise.” He looks into Carlos’ eyes, reminding himself that he’s no good to Carlos if he doesn’t take care of himself first, even if it hurts to do it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The moment he steps out the door he can feel his mind starting to clear. He’s going to have to deal with all of this eventually. But right now, there’s work to be done. 

[kiras-sunshine]

of bearded dragons and love

4x12 tarlos coda

for @actuallysara <3

words: 5.9k

summary:

TK runs his finger along the delicate golden chain of Carlos’ cross necklace. “Did you really think I would be mad at you for not wanting kids?”

“No, but for not telling you,” Carlos replies almost immediately, but he inhales sharply, as he fidgets with the collar of TK’s dark blue t-shirt, letting his fingers graze his neck, “for letting you down. For not living up to your expectations.”

Carlos’ voice fades away as he speaks, becoming more and more quiet, and being only barely a whisper in the end. As if he hates the fact that he has to admit that. That he has majorly disappointed him by wanting a different thing.

ao3

[sanjuwrites]

banner by @chaotictarlos

this one's a bit different from what i usually write, but i'm excited!

Thanks to @chaotictarlos for the tag!

“Baby?”

TK hums into his neck, in the middle ground between awake and asleep. He’s still got the back of Carlos’s t-shirt in a death grip like Carlos will change his mind and slip away if he lets go.

“What did you mean when you said that’s why you ran?”

TK shifts, more awake than asleep now, shifting so he can see his fiancé’s face. “What? What do you mean?”

“You implied you ran that first night because you thought I was your soulmate. What did you mean by that?”

TK smiles a little, and burrows himself deeper into Carlos’s arms. “Oh, that.”

Carlos looks down at TK, a smile involuntarily gracing his face at the sight of TK’s. “Yeah, that. Come on, tell me what you meant, baby.”

“Okay, okay.”

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

TK somehow makes it home in one piece, his shirt still unbuttoned and wearing a belt that wasn’t his.

So, TK lied.

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

“Wait, wait, wait. You lied?”

“Shhh, let me finish.”

[wtfuckevenknows]

just another hold the line coda

Oops, I did it again 🎶

canon compliant | 1891 words | General Audiences

As the title says this is just another Hold the Line coda, inspired by this sleepy prompt I found on Tumblr: “That’s the fifth time in the last two minutes that you’ve yawned.”

When the 126 finally got back from fighting the wildfires near San Angelo, TK didn't even wait for the truck to be in park before jumping out. 

As they were rolling into the bay he had already arranged for his dad to stay with Judd and Grace so they could keep an eye on him, much to Owen’s complaints. All he wanted to do was grab his stuff and get the hell out of here and into his boyfriend's arms. 

He didn't make it very far though. After yelling a quick “See you later guys” over his shoulder, he turned around and stopped dead in his tracks. 

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[carlos-in-glasses]

Complete fic of 10 chapters

The Heart Behind the Shield

Bad Call (2x08) meets Abandoned (4x04) when TK and Carlos attempt to understand what they’ve been through and realize certain old wounds are bleeding into the new. They have both been held captive, faced death, made it home. Secrets, moods, hot messes – they love each other more every day. And they both still need their parents.

Chapter 1: Commanding Officer

Five days after Carlos almost died, he and TK become intimate again while Carlos recovers at home. But after TK leaves for a shift, Carlos receives a visitor who makes him feel like a child.

Chapter 2: Narcan

TK struggles at work and has a heart-to-heart with Tommy, which causes him to reflect on an important moment with Owen from years ago.

Chapter 3: Light of Mine

Isolating himself, Carlos tries to process what happened at the Keyes house.

Chapter 4: Son-in-Law

Lost over how to help Carlos – and how to cope with his own trauma – TK seeks advice from two people who love them both.

Chapter 5: More or Less

Two years earlier, Owen supports Carlos through a very eventful day.

Chapter 6: Going Steady

After Carlos and Owen rescue TK, TK feels ready for a change.

Chapter 7: In Their Silvered Jug, These Bruise-Blessed Flowers

Carlos and TK come home to each other and have a talk that has been years in the making.

Chapter 8: Mijo

When the visitor from this morning returns, TK watches Carlos lower his shield.

Chapter 9: You Know Where to Find Me

Two years earlier, Carlos reflects on two life-changing moments from before and after he met TK.

Chapter 10: Love Conquers All

While TK works through his feelings about rescuing Carlos from near-death, he finds himself mourning for Gwyn and missing Owen. Carlos supports him through it – and the day might just end the way it began.

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[nancygillianmvp]

if there are tears to weep

3,330 words. rated t. summary: TK and Carlos attempt to find solace in the aftermath of 4.04.

As soon as the ambulance doors close, Carlos softens his posture and allows himself to sink into the stretcher bed he’d insisted wasn’t necessary only moments earlier. As the paramedic buzzes around Carlos taking vitals, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth and starting a line to run fluids, TK adjusts his grip on his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. 

They have so much to talk about, but for now, all TK wants to do is wrap his hand around Carlos’, holding on tightly—if it were up to him, he’d never let go again.

Carlos pushes the oxygen mask off his face to talk, “I didn’t think,” he pauses, his breath hitching and tears flowing, “I was ever going to see you again.”

TK reaches out and gently replaces the mask, brushes a blood-stained curl off his forehead, kissing him gently, “Shh. Breathe, just breathe. You’re safe now, baby. You’re safe now. ”

When they arrive at the hospital, one of the paramedics turns to TK, looking at him with a sympathetic expression he’s all too familiar with. This is the ‘family has to wait in the waiting room, no exceptions’ conversation he has with his own patient’s loved ones every shift. 

“This is as far as you can come. I’m sorry, man. Someone will come to update you as soon as they can.” 

And then they wheel Carlos through the double doors, and he’s alone. His hand feels strangely empty as he stumbles to the waiting room where Andrea, Gabriel and the 126 are waiting; everyone is there. Everyone except the one person he needs right now. Everyone except his dad. 

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Gabriel holds his wife close in a set of chairs across the room, she’s clutching her rosary close to her chest and praying quietly, and TK knows if they were to see him or he was to go over there, Andrea would be on her feet with her arms open to embrace him. But as Gabriel said earlier, he’s not the only one who loves Carlos; they’re hurting too, so he sinks into an empty chair around the corner, alone.

But he’s not alone for long. Soon Nancy takes a seat on his right, taking his hand, “Whatever happens, dude, we’re here.”

And Captain Vega sits down on his left,  “Whatever you need, we’re here.”

Paul, Marjan, Mateo, Judd and Grace sit opposite him, offering to get him food, tea, coffee, a change of clothes, or anything else he might need.

As supported as he feels, he can’t help but feel something—someone—is missing.

“Can someone find my dad? He’s not answering calls, his voicemail is full, and he’s not here.” He asks.

Judd stands up and takes out his phone, “I think I have an idea where he might be. Hang in there, kid.” 

“Do you need anything else?” Paul asks, and TK nods. 

“Could somebody go by the apartment and get us some clothes, toothbrushes, that sort of thing, please?” 

He sinks into the chair while his friends—his family—buzz around him, offering support in every way they know how, though there’s nothing they can do. He feels a pit in his stomach, every worst-case scenario runs through his brain at a million miles an hour and being a paramedic, he has so many more worse-case scenarios to ponder than the average person. 

Worse still, he can’t help but wonder how it felt for Carlos every time he’s been in the hospital. He starts to think of how alone Carlos must have felt when Nancy called him to the hospital while they were broken up, but before he can dwell on it further, the doctor comes out with an update. 

The 126 and Andrea and Gabriel gather around with him to hear the update, with Nancy and Paul on either side of him, holding his hands, and he suspects, ready to catch him if the news is bad and his knees give out. But the doctor has good news, well, as good as the news can be given the circumstances. 

She runs through a list of injuries Carlos has sustained, including cracked ribs and an intracranial hemorrhage. But none of that matters when she says, “So far, he’s stable and being transferred to the neuro ward for monitoring. Would you like to see him? He’s been asking for his fiancé; that’s always a good sign.” 

TK follows Gabriel and Andrea to the ward. Gabriel wastes no time going to his son’s bedtime, but TK hesitates in the doorway, pressing his nails into his palms and anxiously bouncing from foot to foot. Noticing TK’s hesitation, Andrea hovers beside him.

The sight of his fiancé laying in that bed looking so small and vulnerable, hooked up to half a dozen machines and monitors and IV medications, with an oxygen cannula in his nose and a mess of blood still staining his hair, is enough to make TK’s stomach heave. He doesn’t want this to be their reality. He’s not used to being the one by the bedside rather than in the bed, and he’d trade places with his fiancé in a heartbeat.

“What can I do for you, mijo? I’m here.” Andrea says, turning to face him, forcing a smile across her tear-stained cheeks and squeezing his hand. He blinks away tears of his own, and his soon-to-be father-in-law’s words stick in his mind; ‘if there are tears to weep, we do it when the time comes, not before.’  

“It’s okay to cry, mijo.” She says, “It’s okay.” And that’s when he finally lets himself cry. The tears come slowly at first. His nose burns and a few tears roll down his cheeks, but then he starts to sob with his entire body as the weight of all that’s happened finally hits him. 

Andrea puts an arm around his shoulder and hands him a tissue from a pack in her purse, “Let it out; it’ll be okay; our boy is strong.”

“Thank you, Andrea.” 

“No, thanking me is not necessary,” She says, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “He’s lucky to have you, and we are too. Gabriel and I always wanted another son, and now we have one. We have you. You’re as much a part of this family as Carlitos is. Even if it won’t be official until you stand up at that altar in eight weeks and become a Reyes, you’re already one in my heart.”

“I am?”

“You have no idea how much you’ve changed my boy’s life, TK. He was a shell of the man you know now when you first met. You saved him. I won’t pretend we’ve been perfect parents; Gabriel and I have made mistakes, unforgivable mistakes, and I can never make up for the hurt I’ve caused him, but somehow you put him back together, and you brought us back together. I can’t ever thank you enough for that, mijo.”

“I don’t know what to say. I—I can’t let Carlos see me like this, not after everything…”

“Shh, you don’t need to say anything,” She says, dabbing at the tears on his cheek’s with a tissue and leading him to the small waiting area by the nurse's station and sitting before pulling a takeaway container and a fork from her tote bag, “Now, when was the last time you ate something?” 

TK reluctantly sits in the chair beside her, “Is this fried rice? From the place near the loft?” 

“Carlos said it was one of your favourites,” She replies with a motherly smile.

“When did you have time to stop for takeout?” 

“I didn’t. I asked Paul if he could pick it up as he was already going to the loft to get clothes; you need to eat, mijo.” She opens the lid and gently pushes the fork into TK’s hand.

TK pushes the food around the container with the fork absentmindedly, still too anxious to eat. “He was so mad at me,”

“Why would he be mad at you, TK?”

“I went to see Iris without him. I just wanted to show her I was enough for him so she could sign the papers, but then she went missing—again—and he was so mad that I’d gone to see her at all,”

“Oh mijo, I don’t think it was you he was mad at; not really. I think he was mad at himself and at the system for letting Iris down again. You can get past this; just talk to him, TK,” She assures him with a smile. “Are you ready to go see our boy?”

TK nods and follows her into the small hospital room, to Carlos’ side. Carlos is still partially sedated, and there are a couple of nurses in the room adjusting his medications and oxygen, but the energy changes when Carlos finally spots his fiancé.

“Hi baby,” He says with a sleepy smile as he reaches for TK, clutching his hand tightly and pulling him close, “I’m sorry. For everything, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Carlos.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, TK.”

“I do, but now isn’t the time.” TK sinks into the plastic chair at his fiancé’s bedside. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Can I get you anything? Ice chips? Juice? Tea? Jello? Do you need anything from the apartment? Or what abou—”

“Take a breath, TK. I have everything I need right here in my hand,” Carlos says, smiling down at their interlaced fingers and squeezing TK’s hand gently. “Everything I need but sleep. I know you all just got here, but I’m just so tired. Will you stay with me, TK? I don’t want to be alone.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. Get some rest. I love you.” TK says, stroking Carlos’ hand gently as his eyelids flutter shut.

“Love you,” Carlos mumbles sleepily.

Andrea presses a kiss to his forehead as she and Gabriel go to step out, “Sleep tight, mijo. We’ll be right out there when you wake up.”

Later, early in the evening, around 7 o’clock, the beep of an IV pump startles Carlos awake, but TK is already silencing the alarm and pressing the call bell for a nurse to come and fix it, all without loosening the vice-like grip he’s had on his fiancé’s hand every possible moment since he was found.

“You can go home; it’s okay,” Carlos whispers. His voice is hoarse, so at first, TK thinks he must have misheard. Carlos did not just tell him to go home, not after everything they’ve been through today. “I’m okay, TK. I’m okay . You can go home away from the beeping and the smell of sanitiser—” 

TK doesn’t mean for it to happen, but he’s been holding in so many emotions all day, and Carlos’ refusal to accept what’s happened is the final straw that breaks him. “God, Carlos, you’re not okay. None of this is okay. I’m not okay, and I know it’s selfish because you need me to be okay for you right now, but I’m not okay. I can’t be okay because you were dead, Carlos. Do you get that? You died in my arms, and I didn’t think I’d get you back, and I felt your ribs breaking under my hands while I was giving you CPR and I—“

“I’m sorry,” Carlos says sleepily, his brown eyes wide and brimming with tears as he looks up at TK.

“Why don’t you try and get some more sleep? We’ll talk more in the morning.” TK says, pressing a gentle kiss to Carlos’ cheek and adjusting the askew oxygen cannula on his face, carefully tucking it behind his ear. 

“M’kay,” Carlos mumbles as his eyelids flutter shut, and soon his face relaxes into the most peaceful expression as he drifts off to sleep. TK can’t help but close his own eyes, it’s only early in the evening, and he’s vaguely aware that Andrea, Gabriel, Paul, Marjan, Nancy and Mateo are still in the waiting room, but after the day that unfolded, TK is bone tired—so tired he doesn’t even care that he’s shivering cold and his stomach is growling. 

TK dreams of his mother wrapping him in a blanket and stroking his hair and is surprised to wake up a couple of hours later, carefully draped in his favourite throw blanket. Andrea smiles at him from across the bed, where she sits stroking Carlos’ hair.

“You’re awake, TK,” She says, speaking softly enough that Carlos doesn’t stir in his sleep. She produces a thermos from the giant tote bag at her feet, “How about some dinner?” 

“You brought dinner?” 

“It’s just soup; you have to eat something, mijo. Otherwise, you’ll end up in a hospital room of your own, and I think we can both agree you’ve spent enough time in these beds for a lifetime. And at my age, I’m too tired to be visiting both of my boys.”

She stands and brings the thermos over to TK with a spoon, “Thank you,” he says as he accepts the soup with one shaky hand while his other hand still wraps tightly over his fiancé’s. 

“This should warm you up,” Andrea says, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“What time is it?” TK asks as he sips the warm soup.

She glances at her watch, “It’s ten-eighteen,” 

“You’re still here this late?” TK asks, surprised. He’s spent more time in the hospital than most over the years, and his father has never stayed so late—his mom, on the other hand, would have been by his side all hours if he’d allowed her to be, or more accurately if visiting hours had allowed her to be. All day he’s wanted nothing more than to call her and hear she’ll be on the next plane out to be there for him, but at least he has Andrea here with Carlos, and to his surprise, with him. 

It’s not like he hasn’t become close with Carlos’ parents—Andrea in particular over the past few months especially. TK’s been comfortable enough to pop around for lunch or afternoon tea with them when Carlos is on shift, or even just to bake with Andrea and hear stories about Carlos’s childhood and look at old photo albums with Gabriel, but for them to be more of a support system for him than his dad while dealing with their own fear and grief will always stay with him.

“My boys need me, so I am here,” She says simply as she adjusts the blanket around TK’s shoulders, “I will be here as long as you need me, mijo, either of you.”

“It means the world that you’re here. Thank you for all of this ,” TK motions to the soup and the blanket, “Thank you for caring.” 

“Always, TK. The mother in me can’t help but worry and fuss, but please tell me if I ever overstep, okay? I would never dream of replacing your mom or trying to take her place, but if you ever need me, I’m here,” 

In lieu of a response, TK reaches out to envelope her in a one-armed hug, and for a while, they sit in comfortable silence while TK finishes the soup.  And when Andrea can’t stop yawning in the chair across from him, TK turns to her, “Are you sure you don’t need to get home? Carlos assures me these chairs are terrible to sleep on. Not that I’m not grateful you’re here, but we shouldn’t both have a sleepless night. I’ll keep him safe until morning. Thank you again for everything.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? I’m only a phone call away, no matter what time it is, okay, mijo. Why don’t you let me sit with him for five minutes while you get a change of clothes and brush your teeth, and then I’ll head home.” 

The way she offers is so motherly, so TK relents and digs out a change of clothes—his comfiest sweatpants and one of Carlos’ t-shirts that’s perfectly oversized—from the duffle Paul brought over, along with a toiletries bag with his toothbrush.

When he returns from the tiny bathroom attached to Carlos’ room, Andrea kisses him on the forehead on her way out the door, “Goodnight, call me if you need absolutely anything, okay?”

“Goodnight,” TK says, settling back at Carlos’ bedside before deciding hospital air conditioning was much too cold for just a t-shirt and heading back to the duffle bag in search of a hoodie.

As TK unzips the duffle, he remembers something Paul said earlier when he dropped it off,  “I picked up a copy of The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe off the bookshelf, too. Carlos keeps his books so pristine, but this one has become pretty worn over the years, so clearly, it’s somebody’s favourite. I don’t know if it’s yours or Carlos’, but it’s the kind of book you need when things are like this.” 

TK finds a soft, well-worn, pink hoodie that’s always comforting to wear, pulls it on over his t-shirt, and then settles back in the chair at Carlos’ bedside with the book. 

There’s a bookplate inside the cover with ‘this book belongs to Carlos Reyes’ written in neat child’s handwriting with a marker. He runs his fingers over the words, trying to imagine how old Carlos was when he wrote them and remembering a photo atop the Reyes’ mantle of a mop of brown curls and reading glasses popping up over the top of this very same paperback when Carlos was maybe seven or eight years old. 

Carlos startles awake just after four am, shouting and flailing his arms against an invisible assailant. The fear in his widened eyes breaks TK’s heart as he rushes to his feet to comfort his fiancé.

“Carlos, you’re safe. It’s me. It’s TK. You’re safe. You’re safe with me, baby. Breathe. Just breathe.” 

“I thought I was back there—I thought he was—I'm sorry,” Carlos stutters, and TK can feel his pulse pounding in his wrist, but as Carlos reaches out and pulls him closer, pressing his face into his neck, the rapid heart rate normalises. “Hold me?” 

TK positions himself carefully on the edge of the narrow hospital bed beside Carlos, there isn’t really enough room, but he makes it work as best as he can. He reaches his arm around Carlos’s shoulders, gently pulling him close and feeling the tension melt away as he softens, leans in and rests his head against his chest. 

TK eyes the book on the chair beside him, remembering how Carlos would climb into bed and hold him close while reading him poetry while he recovered from hypothermia and how safe and comforting it felt, so he reaches for the book and opens it to the first chapter.

“Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy.”

“Is that my copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ? Where did you get that?”

“Paul brought it. He stopped by the loft to pick up some clothes and toothbrushes and stuff for us and said it looked like one of our favourites,”

“Looked like?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not the one with the Sherlockian powers of deduction,” TK responds with a shrug, “Was he right, though?”

“He was. I read this easily a dozen times as a kid. I loved the escapism of it. Looking back now, there’s a certain irony of a closeted kid finding solace in a book about a magical world in the back of a wardrobe,” He says with a small laugh, and it’s music to TK’s ears.

TK stays curled around Carlos reading aloud to him until the morning when the warmth of first light first breaks through the slated hospital blinds. As he reads, the beeping machines, IV lines, and the reality of the situation slip away, making room for magic, adventures and Narnia, even if only for a few hours. 

[alrightbuckaroo]

Anger Has Told Me Her Real Name is Grief

Chapter: 1/1 | Rating: General Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | Word Count: 855 | Carlos is letting his grief manifest into anger; no matter how much he doesn't want it to.

On the card, in solemn black letters are the words, “Sorry for your loss”.

Carlos chuckles softly to himself; it’a sound filled with void and discomfort. He doesn’t think loss can begin to describe how he’s feeling; to describe that black pit that’s growing deeper and deeper. Last night all he wanted to do was drown in it. 

That’s the thing about grief; it’ll crawl down your throat and make itself at home. It’ll find a way to rob you of words you never thought you knew. It’ll find a way to to cut open a part of you that you never knew was there. It’ll find a way to keep the blood flowing, no matter how much you try to stop the bleed. 

Carlos rips the card in half and throws the remnants in the trash can. He closes the trash can lid hard. Not hard enough to startle, but hard enough for TK to notice; because he's TK.

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tagging some moots i really want to share this with <3

@heartstringsduet, @carlos-in-glasses, @chaotictarlos, @reyesstrand

[chaotictarlos]

all night long

ship: Tarlos | fandom: 911 Lone Star | author: chaotictarlos | read on ao3

Rating: Explicit | Warnings/Tags: M x M Smut, sex, gay, sex, anal sex, anal fingering, oral sex, possessive tk strand, 4x02 Coda, The New Hot Mess, 4 x 02: The New Hot Mess

Summary: TK has some feelings about seeing Carlos in plaid

Author's Note: Carlos Reyes in plaid is my weakness and I had to write something about that soooo this was born. I hope you enjoy the fic! Comments and kudos keep me going.

Thank you to @noxsoulmate for beta'ing this.

-

TK groans as Carlos pushes him against the wall, his hands dropping down to start to undo Carlos’ pants.

“Whoever invented plaid and allowed you to wear it is a gift,” TK groans as he trails kisses along Carlos’ jaw to his neck where he leaves a very impressive bruise. 

He knows they should probably talk more about what Carlos had said on the couch about being broken, but right now he’s thinking with his downstairs brain and that is fully winning out.

Not that either of them minds at the moment.

Carlos shoves a leg in between TK’s and rolls his thick thigh up against TK’s thickening cock.

“If I knew you would have this kind of reaction to a simple pattern, I’d have worn it sooner,” Carlos teases, moving his hand up from cupping TK’s neck to being tangled in his hair.

TK groans as Carlos uses his grip on his hair to yank his neck back and attach his lips to his pulse point.

“Baby, please,” TK gasps, dropping his hands down to grab onto Carlos’ perfect ass. He squeezes the handfuls that he gets and pulls him in closer so that their bodies are flush together.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

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tags: @strangefurychaos @ronensass @sapphire11 @first-kanaphan @angeltk @noxsoulmate  @beautifulhigh @rangergurlgleek1211 @detective-giggles @tarlos-spain @lonestardust @bubblesandroses8 @thebumblecee @mooshkat @importantbailiffpaperpony @bonheur-cafe

[doublel27]

let me be the one at day's end - T - 4.9K

TK/Carlos, Carlos & Andrea - 3x14 Coda/Deleted Scene, mother-son relationships, emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of gun violence, anxious/worried carlos, established tarlos

How Carlos finds out about the shooting incident and the aftermath that follows.

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As far as summer days in Austin go, today is fairly close to perfect. The heat is holding steady at 95F with a decent humidity. It’s actually nice enough to be out at the farmer’s market. He was off his shift early enough to pick up his mom and head over to get some supplies for dinner.

Carlos sighs as his mother goes another round with the vendor over the price. “Ma, do you want the jicama or not?”

His mom tsks loudly and spears him with a look. “I’m just saying it’s highway robbery.”

“What are you gonna do? Report them to Dad?” Carlos asks her, amused.  

His mother sends him her sweetest smile, the fake one, that’s beyond dangerous. “Why when I have a cop right here?”

The vendor’s eyes go wide and Carlos’s hisses, “Mama, stop.” 

As proud of his job as he is, Carlos understands that for many people cops are a dangerous gambit. Especially people who look like his family and that of the vendor. Carlos hands over the cash and the jicama ends up in the bag with the other vegetables. “Thank you.”

As they move on, his mother weaves her arm through his, just like she would have done with his father. 

“She could have gone lower.”

Carlos shakes his head with a laugh. “You got them for half-price, Ma.”

“The art of negotiation is lost on people these days.”

Carlos hums and pats her hand as they make their way through the market. They hit a few more vendors and his mother manages a few more discounts as she stocks up on microgreens his father will just complain about and yams. In the end, they’ve both collected enough for their respective dinners tonight and the rest of the week. Carlos pauses at the edge of the parking lot to fix the produce. He kneels to begin the reorganization.

“Thank you for being willing to take your old mama out to go shopping.”

Carlos looks up at her from where he’s rearranging the various produce items in the bags so nothing gets crushed. “You’re not old, Mama.”

Her hand runs over his hair as he bends again to finish making sure the microgreens are at the very top.  “My baby is twenty-eight. I used to think I was very grown up at twenty-eight.”

“You were married and had Rosa and Lourdes,” Carlos says, invoking the names of his oldest sisters. He stands, lifting the bags again. He grins at his mother, very glad neither of them are anywhere near the farmers market. “I mean, they’re enough to make anyone feel old.”

She laughs, a warm and rich sound, and Carlos is greeted with a soft elbow in the side as she weaves her arm through his again. “Aye, that’s my line. So, how are things going?”

“Good,” Carlos answers, quick and reflexively.

His mother sighs deeply and brings her free hand to her forehead. “Dios mio, you’re just like your father.” 

Her tongue clicks softly. “How is TK?”

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