#how is tk alive?? someone should check on him

[parameddic]

That, uh...

"TK." Captain Vega was on the ground still, waiting for TK to clear the dumpster wall so she could follow. TK jumped the rest of the distance into the blood and the garbage, beside the man he'd been spending nights with whenever they were both free and both in need for company. Nikolai was unconscious, wounds wrapped up in a way that made TK think amateur, his frame somehow seeming small in the thin fabric of his coat. A coat TK didn't recognise. He'd grown used to a certain style, certain way about Nikolai that he'd come to expect and here he was bleeding in a dumpster, discarded for dead.

They'd got a call about someone groaning down here, in this alley. The caller had thought it was probably the wind.

"Talk to me, TK. What are we dealing with?"

"Aaadult male, mid 30s, Cap. Multiple stab wounds. Looks like someone tried to wrap him up, probably kept him alive." TK knew what sort of deals went down, to end up here. He knew the sort of people who were left for dead in dumpsters, he'd lived very close to them at one point of his life, he'd wanted - needed... but that wasn't the guy he'd been sleeping with. Right? He'd seen the scars. Knew he had a habit of collecting injuries (a black eye) at 'work'. Had he just been very stupid? "Pulse is thready."

"Alright, let's get him out of there. Nancy, get the backboard. We can't work on him in the garbage."

"Hello?" was he conscious at all? TK checked his pupils, "Nikolai, can you hear me?"

"'Nikolai'?" The backboard appeared over the lip and TK had to move out of the way as Nancy lowered it down, so they could use it to lift Nikolai out of this thing. "You know him?"

"Barely." That had kind of been the idea. "I met him at a bar."

"Allergies?" Captain Vega. They hoisted Nikolai out of the dumpster, a smooth maneouvre around their conversation.

TK started a line, hands quick and practiced, the thought of who is this guy firmly set aside for the time being: he was a patient, TK's patient, and they needed to work on him or he would die. "It never really came up."

They got him on the gurney next, never not moving. "What, you didn't stop to ask his blood type before you got it on?"

"Nancy," Tommy warned her, but she only afforded her the single word of warning, "These wounds don't look deep. He's lost a lot of blood but I don't think they got anything important. TK," (he was already moving in the right direction, for the phone they kept up the front of the ambulance), "call the hospital, let them know they should prep an OR."

"Uh, Cap?" Nancy had been trying to find ID, health insurance info, someone to call - the sorts of things they looked for when the patient was relatively stable in the back of an ambulance, as Nikolai was now, but she held up the slim leather wallet that had been in the dumpster with him. Empty. TK didn't recognise it, either. It might not even have belonged to him. Either way, someone didn't want him easily identified, and had had the forethought to take his ID.

TK knew how this guy moaned, he did not know who he was. The stark distinction made him sort of... cold.

"He's Nikolai," Captain Vega took TK's word for it decisively, "And he's hurt, and right now he's our patient. Let's go."

@hvndredstories

[morganaspendragonss]

fic request because i am d e s p e r a t e : tarlos carlos whump with supportive gabriel reyes ??? if you’re down to write him that is. i love ur work n ur whump n i think u would write a p good gabe. 🥰

holly’s august extravaganza day 1: against all odds (we're still here)

i'm always down to write gabriel! thanks for the prompt trick, i hope you like it!

ao3 | 2k | car accidents, whump, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

“I told you we should have brought the car.”

Carlos scowls over at TK, shifting one of the many bags he’s carrying higher on his arm. It cuts painfully into his skin, his good mood from earlier long since soured. The knowledge that TK is, of course, right isn’t exactly helping matters.

“In my defence,” he starts, for probably the fifth or sixth time, “when we texted your dad to see if he wanted us to pick up anything from the store, I wasn’t expecting a full list.”

“We could have told him no.”

“TK, he’s your dad and we are literally crashing his home right now. I’m not gonna tell him no.”

TK opens his mouth, presumably to retort with a comment about how his dad loves Carlos and loves having them around. Both of which are things Carlos knows perfectly well, thanks, but he’s still not interested in testing it by refusing to get Owen’s kale chips or that specific brand of shampoo which took half an hour—and two stores—to track down.

Whatever TK was about to say is abandoned when one of his own bags slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground with a depressing thud. It bursts open—because why wouldn’t it—and spills their purchases across the sidewalk. The only solace is that nothing breaks, but that’s where the good news begins and ends; Carlos’s eyes track a can as it rolls down the street and into the gutter, landing in a puddle of dirty water. TK looks forlornly between the dropped bag and those still balanced on his arms, then heaves a long-suffering sigh and crouches awkwardly, easing the other bags down as carefully as he can manage.

“Call an Uber,” he grumbles. “We are not walking home like this.”

On that point, they’re in agreement. Carlos spares himself a moment of idle amusement at TK’s predicament before beginning the arduous task of extracting his phone from his pocket without dropping any of his own shopping.

He’ll hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

*

Oh my god!

Someone call 911!

Are they even alive?

Just hold on, son, you’re going to be just fine.

*

Beeping.

Carlos frowns, slowly blinking his heavy eyelids open. It takes a minute to register his surroundings for what they are—a hospital room—and a further minute to notice the presence at his side. It’s his father, looking exhausted, turning his cowboy hat in his hands as he stares at the floor.

“Dad?” he croaks, wincing at the soreness in his throat. “What happened?”

His father’s head jerks up, his eyes going wide as he sees Carlos awake. “Mijo. It’s good to see you awake.”

“Dad, why am I here? What happened?”

He sighs, reaching out to pat Carlos’s arm. “There was an accident,” he explains. “A drunk driver lost control of his car and mounted the curb right where you boys were standing. He was speeding, so he hit you pretty hard. Your foot was crushed under a wheel, you have a fractured wrist, and you bumped your head when you fell so you probably have a concussion. The doctors say you should heal just fine, though, gracias a Dios.”

Carlos lifts his head to look down at his body, only just registering the casts on his arm and foot. There’s a dull ache radiating through his entire body and his head is pounding in time with his heartbeat, but he’s alive and he’ll heal. He should be happy about that, but the only thing occupying his mind is his dad’s silence on TK.

“What about TK?” he asks, part of him dreading the answer. “I remember him pushing me; is he okay?”

“He’s…” His dad hesitates, sending a cold slither of fear down Carlos’s spine. “Alive.”

Carlos stares, the beginnings of panic stealing his breath. “What does that mean?”

His father blows out a long breath. “It means you were right,” he says, meeting Carlos’s eyes. “He did push you, so he took the brunt of the hit. He suffered a serious open pelvic fracture and broken ribs, which punctured his lung. Last I heard, they managed to fix him up and they’re not expecting any further complications, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

“He hasn’t woken up?”

“Not yet. He will, you’ll see.”

“I want to see him.”

And Carlos knows what the answer will be to that—a resounding no. He also knows that he won’t be able to argue; his father is incredibly stubborn, and when he digs his heels in, there’s no moving him. But he needs to at least try—he’s not going to stop worrying about TK until he sees him, and probably not for a long time after that.

His dad sighs and fixes him with a firm look. “Carlitos, you and I both know that’s out of the question,” he says. “You’ve only just woken up, you need to give yourself time to heal before exerting your body even more. Besides, he’s in good hands and Owen is with him, so we’ll know as soon as there’s any change.”

“Joder, Papá, I know all that,” Carlos cries, frustrated, barely able to refrain from throwing his head back on the pillow. “I just hate that he’s here, hurt, and I can’t even see him.”

“Lo sé,” His dad smiles gently, something that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but really only gets on Carlos’s nerves. “Escúchame, hijo. Descansa. Cúrate. Then you can focus on TK.”

It’s easier said than done and his father knows it, but Carlos has no choice. The conversation is effectively put to an end by his dad reaching over and pressing the call button next to the bed. A nurse comes in and quickly sets about checking his vitals and asking enough questions to make Carlos’s head spin. His probable concussion becomes definite, but otherwise he’s in good shape, all things considered.

He can’t help but wish he weren’t.

*

Two days later, Carlos is deemed fit to be discharged, providing he has someone to help him and providing he agrees to rest and not do anything even close to strenuous. TK is also awake now but, according to Owen, he’ll be kept in the hospital for at least another week. The break to his pelvis was bad, so he’ll need a wheelchair for a while even after discharge, and his refusal to take strong painkillers means his recovery is going to be long and painful.

Carlos is itching to see him. It’s been torture cooped up in his room without knowing how TK was doing—there’s only so much relief messages passed through their fathers can bring. It had only been his father’s stern and steady presence that had kept him in that bed when he felt like he was losing his mind with worry.

But now, finally, he’s being wheeled into TK’s room and helped onto the chair next to the bed. Owen stands off to the side, watching the two of them with a mixture of affection and sadness in his gaze, and his dad hovers behind him, but Carlos only has eyes for TK.

He looks incredibly tired, but he attempts a smile when he rolls his head to look at Carlos, extending his hand out across the distance between them.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos says softly, taking TK’s hand in his good one. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Not sure if I’ve been worse. I think this might just beat getting shot to that title.”

“That’s not funny.”

TK just hums, his eyes drifting closed for a second. “Maybe not.”

“Why did you push me?”

TK’s eyes fly open at the question, confusion overtaking his expression as he stares at Carlos. He moves as if to sit upright before groaning in pain, his face screwing up. Carlos reaches out for him, but he’s beaten to it by his father, who places a reassuring hand on TK’s shoulder.

“Take it easy, son,” he says gently. “Don’t move too much.”

“I hate this,” TK mutters, his body relaxing bit by bit. His gaze is still clouded when he looks back over at Carlos, but he manages a soft smile all the same. “I pushed you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. The car would have hit me either way; I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get you out of the way in time.”

Carlos blinks at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sorry?” he asks, disbelief colouring his tone. “Ty, you’re in the hospital, seriously injured, because you chose to save me instead of yourself. Why would you do that?”

“You know why.”

Carlos does; of course he does, but it’s not enough to assuage the guilt still bubbling in his stomach at the sight of TK in the bed.

TK sighs, squeezing his hand. “You would have done the same for me,” he points out. “We both know you would have, so don’t you dare ask me to apologise for my choices.”

“I know. I won’t.” Carlos closes his eyes, deflating a little. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“And I hate seeing you hurt, so maybe you can do us both a favour and go home. I’ll be fine.”

Carlos must need his hearing tested, because there’s no way TK just said that. There’s no way his boyfriend told him to leave right after calling him out for hypocrisy. Except apparently he did, because he’s trying to disentangle their hands, and Carlos is not having that.

He grips onto TK even tighter and glares at him. “TK, if you think I’m leaving you here—”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts quietly. “I get it. But, babe, you need to rest and heal, and you can’t do either of those things sitting here.”

“Watch me.”

“No.” TK shifts his gaze over Carlos’s shoulder, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “Mr Reyes, can you make sure he rests?”

His dad laughs, leaning over to pat TK’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m sure once his mother sees him, she won’t let him out of her sight for a week anyway.”

TK grins. “Good to know.” He yawns and resettles himself slightly in the bed, his eyes fluttering shut. “Carlos, if you’re still here when I next open my eyes, I’m not kissing you for a month.”

“You shouldn’t make threats you know you can’t follow through with.”

“Don’t make me make it two.”

Despite himself, Carlos laughs. He leans over and presses a lingering kiss to TK’s temple, then stands as well as he’s able, leaning on his dad for support. “Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

TK already sounds half-asleep when he mumbles, “Love you too,” back, and Carlos can’t even be embarrassed by how ridiculously smitten he must look, even though he’s in front of both their fathers.

He allows his dad to move him back to the wheelchair and says a quick goodbye to Owen, keeping his eyes on TK for as long as he can. Just as they reach the door, he catches TK’s eyes opening to slivers, obviously checking to see if Carlos is actually leaving. Carlos shakes his head at him, causing TK to flush at the knowledge he’s been caught. His eyes slam shut again, his tongue poking out childishly, and Carlos laughs, a lightness settling in his heart even as TK’s room disappears from view.

It’s going to be a long few months for the both of them, but they have family behind them to help them get through it.

And they have each other. Which, given everything, Carlos thinks is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

[marjansmarwani]

in the hope of open hands

8.5k || ao3

Vignettes of Nancy and Marjan through season two as their friendship grows stronger and turns into something more.

Here it is, the Nancy/Marjan fic I have been threatening for ages, just in time for @bellakitse‘s birthday. Happy birthday Stef! I hope you had a wonderful one, that you enjoy this bit of Nancy/Marjan softness, and that you know how much I appreciate you 💕

This is my first time writing these two and I sincerely hope I did them justice. I love them both though, so I hope that counts for something. 

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

Michelle leaving wasn’t as shocking as it probably should have been.

But after everything that had happened - starting with a solar storm and wrapping around a worldwide pandemic - the paramedic captain putting in her two week notice was barely a blip in the grand scheme of things. Yes it would mean a change in the firehouse dynamics, yes it would mean that Nancy and Tim would have to adjust to someone new. But Marjan respected Michelle for making the decision she had - it wasn’t an easy thing to do to walk away from everything you knew and take a risk.

Which is why when Tim started on his latest round of complaining (it was so familiar she could almost trace the argument at this point) she responded in kind. She meant what she said - she admired her for making the choice, more than she could say. For all her bravado and daring in the field, she hadn’t taken too many gambles in her personal life. Yes, moving to Austin had been a risk, but it had been a calculated one. In everything else; friendship, romance, she couldn’t say the same. Marjan loved the adrenaline rush of a thrill, she hated the uncertainty of a new choice.

Nancy, at least, agreed with her.

“What a monster,” she concluded sarcastically after she listed off all the personal sacrifices Michelle had made, throwing a grin in Marjan’s direction as she finished. Marjan returned it without hesitation, their eyes meeting as Tim threw up his hands in frustration. It was becoming a familiar rhythm between them. Maybe it was the pandemic forcing them to find companionship within their everyday circles, maybe it was simply them realizing that as much as they loved their teammates, the women of the 126 needed to stick together.

Whatever it was, Marjan was glad for it. They had just started getting to know each other and before she knew it, Nancy Gillian was her friend. She could very easily become a close one too, Marjan thought, given time. Time she knew that she was willing to give.

----------

Marjan was swiping through the pictures she had just taken when she felt a familiar presence at her shoulder.

“Those are great,” Nancy said with a grin Marjan could hear even with her back to the other woman, “you’ll have to send those to me.”

“As long as you give me credit Gillian, a lot of time and effort went into these you know!”

She knew her friend was rolling her eyes even before she had fully turned around but when she got a look at her face she was not disappointed. She grinned cheekily at the paramedic before their attention was drawn to the kitchen by a loud and bright laugh from Grace. They turned to see her leaning back in her seat, one hand on Captain Vega’s shoulder and the other covering her mouth. Marjan smiled at the sight before tilting her head in their direction, “How are things going with Captain Vega? She seems like a badass.”

“She is,” Nancy confirmed, “it’s kind of awesome.”

There was admiration in her tone, but something else too.

“But?” Marjan prompted, turning her back on Captain Vega and Grace to give Nancy her full attention.

Nancy sighed, “I don’t know. It’s just been weird. Michelle was never warm and fuzzy, but we knew her. Captain Vega is...different.”

“You’ll get to know her too,” Marjan reminded her, “in time.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agreed with another glance towards her Captain, “I guess.”

“Well I know,” Marjan told her firmly. “You just need to give it time.”

Nancy smiled at her gratefully and Marjan felt a warmth of affection rush through her. “Hey,” she said after a minute, “the only downside of flaunting my superior photography skills is that I’m not in any of the pictures. Take a selfie with me?”

“Who can say no to Firefox?” Nancy quipped, but leaned down so that she was next to Marjan as she raised her camera. They both beamed at the camera as Marjan tapped the shutter button. When they were done she pulled the phone closer to look at the result. Their smiles shone just as brightly on her phone and Marjan grinned at it. She added a heart emoji for her story, but not before she downloaded a copy.

This, she decided, was a moment she wanted to remember. The beginning of better times to come, she was sure.

--------

“Why did we leave him? We wouldn’t have done that if it were anyone else!”

If it were one of you is left unsaid, but filled the spaces between them all the same.

Captain Strand reminded them it was all strictly protocol and Marjan knows he’s right but she can’t help but wonder too. She can’t help but look down at where her hand is resting on TK’s shoulder. It wasn’t all that long ago that they had almost lost him on a call. If the worst had happened, would they have left? Or would they have stayed; giving protocol the finger because that’s what you did for family.

Logically she knows the two situations were worlds away from each other. TK’s had been a freak accident in an otherwise controllable environment. The scene at the pool hadn’t been safe. There had been lava and fire everywhere; they had been ordered to abandon their recovery efforts for civilians too when the worst of it had happened. They had grabbed any survivors and they had left before the body count rose anymore. She knew it was for the best, she knew it was protocol.

That didn’t make looking at Nancy’s broken expression any less painful.

But she didn’t know what to say. What could she say to make the loss of her partner hurt less? Marjan had a team and she knew that if she lost any one of them she would lose a piece of her heart with them. Nancy and Tim had only had each other. They had had each other for so long and through so much and Marjan knew there was no way she could possibly fathom the loss that Nancy had just experienced. So instead of going to her as a friend probably should when Paul offered to spar with her she accepted eagerly. She used the punching bag as a target for her anger, for her fear. She was angry that Tim’s life had been cut short when all he had ever done was help people. She was angry Nancy had to face this. She was afraid of how this might affect her friend; she was afraid of finding herself in a similar spot someday.

But eventually the workout was over and she and Paul parted ways. She felt lighter as she stepped into the women's locker room, but not better. There was still a heaviness within her and she had a feeling it would be with her for a while. She crossed to her locker and dropped her bag onto the ground before sinking onto the bench with a weary sigh. She was just debating whether it was worth it to change at all or to simply go home in her workout clothes when she heard the sound of sniffling from beyond the row of lockers. She frowned as she stood up, stepping quietly around them until she came to a halt at the sight of the scene before her.

Nancy was on the wide bench by the showers, her feet up on the bench before her and her knees pulled up to her chin. She was sobbing; quietly but unmistakably. Marjan felt her heart break all over again as she quietly approached.

“Nance?” she asked softly as she drew closer, not wanting to startle her friend. Nancy’s face shot up and her eyes went wide at the sight of the other woman. She reached up a hand to wipe away the tears that were still rolling down her face, but Marjan shook her head.

“You don’t have to stop,” she told her as she carefully settled onto the bench beside her. “It’s okay to feel this, and let it out. And I’m not going anywhere, Nance,” she added after a moment, certainty filling her voice. “You’re not facing this alone.”

And with that, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the other woman - tentatively at first but she tightened her hold as Nancy leaned into her. They stayed there, on the bench in the locker room as Nancy cried in Marjan’s arms, attempting to let all the fear and pain and grief inside out before it ate her alive.

And as they sat there Marjan made up her mind. She would be there for Nancy for whatever she needed for as long as she needed it. She was not about to let someone she cared about so much face this on their own.

--------

Marjan found a quiet corner and settled onto the edge of a picnic table before pulling out her phone. She took a deep breath before she dialed, tapping Nancy’s name in her phone as she did. Her mind wandered as it rang and she half hoped the other woman didn’t pick up.

“Hello?” Nancy’s voice sounded in her ear and Marjan’s heart ached at how thick it sounded.

“Hey Nance,” she said softly, “I just wanted to call and check-in, see how you’re holding up.”

There was a pause in which Marjan was certain she heard a sniffle, “I’m fine,” Nancy said but Marjan knew her well enough to know that she was lying.

She also knew that if she pushed it she would clam up, so she changed tactics instead, “We’re all thinking about you. I wish we could have been there for you.”

The truth of I wish I could have been there for you floated between them unsaid.

“It’s not like you guys have any control over the wildfires,” Nancy said eventually, her voice a little stronger. “I don’t think I can hold that against you. Besides,” she added, her voice shifting again, “you shouldn’t be worrying about me. You should be focusing on staying safe. We don’t need any more funerals.”

Marjan knew what Nancy was doing because humor was a shield that she lived behind as well. But there was a waver in her voice and Marjan was suddenly forcibly reminded that this was not Nancy’s first time at a co-worker’s memorial service. The old 126 may not have been her partner, but they had been her friends and now with Michelle following her heart and Tim in the ground, every connection Nancy had to the time before the tragedy was gone, save for Judd.

“Well you don’t need to worry about us either,” she assured her. “We’re keeping it all by the book, strictly playing by the rules.”

“Yeah well, we’ll see how long that lasts,” Nancy retorted with a snort and Marjan swore she could practically hear her roll her eyes even over the less than stellar cell connection. “This is the 126 we’re talking about, after all. It’s only a matter of time before someone pulls some crazy stunt. Personally, my money is on you or Strand.”

“I resent that!” Marjan exclaimed indignantly, but the relief of hearing Nancy’s laughter on the other end firmly proved that to be false. She let the sound wrap around her, savoring every second of it before she spoke again.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Nance?”

“I am,” Nancy replied, “this sucks, a lot. But everyday it hurts a little less. And Captain Vega has been great, we’ve gotten a lot closer.”

“I’m glad,” Marjan replied, “I think you two will make a formidable team.”

“We can’t have a team of two though,” Nancy reminded her, “we’re going to need to replace...to hire a third eventually.”

“Eventually,” Marjan agreed, “but not yet. You have some time, don���t worry about it yet.”

There was silence after that. They sat on the line together, each lost in their own thoughts, anchored to the present only by the sound of the other’s breaths. Eventually it was Nancy that broke the silence.

“Thanks Marj, for checking in. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” Marjan replies without hesitation, “I wish I could do more.”

“It’s enough,” Nancy assured her, “it’s more than enough.”

The silence returned again but it was a comfortable silence. It was comfort amongst the chaos they were both separately facing, a safe harbor to return to. But it was shattered all too soon as Commander DeLeon called for the troops to gather.

“Nancy, I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah,” the paramedic said, “of course. Stay safe Marj.”

And with that she ended the call and Marjan was left with a smile as she joined her team for the latest briefing.

----------

“I hear you have a visitor.”

Nancy’s words pulled Marjan from her stupor and wrenched her attention from where she had been studiously stirring her tea.

“The guys told you?”

“About four minutes after I got here today. Those boys can’t keep a secret for shit.”

Marjan rolled her eyes at that, “It’s not a secret it just...never came up.”

“What, you mean there was never a time to say, ‘Hey guys, guess what? I’m engaged’?”

“And how do you think that would have gone over?”

“Probably better than meeting him by surprise outside the roller derby rink did.”

Marjan had to concede that point, at least.

“I wasn’t trying to keep him a secret,” she explained. “I guess I never really thought about it. It’s just been a part of my life for so long that I barely even think about it most of the time. And that is so separate in my head from my life here and I just...never thought of sharing it.”

Nancy didn’t say anything right away and when Marjan looked up at her it was clear that she was on the verge of saying something, but not sure if she wanted to. She waited for a few more moments before Nancy noticed her watching and gave her a smile that was tighter than her usual.

“That makes sense, I guess. It must be nice to see him after so long.”

“Yeah”, Marjan agreed, “it is.”

The smile Nancy gave her this time was more genuine, much more like herself. “I hope you enjoy his visit then,” she said before she jabbed her thumb in the direction of the ambulance bay. “I have to go take care of inventory, but we’ll take more later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marjan agreed, watching in confusion as Nancy walked away.

----------

All her life, Marjan had had a plan.

Now, in just one day and two conversations, that plan had been dismantled and for the first time, Marjan was facing an uncertain future. It terrified her.

She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle this. She knew she had made the right choice. She cared for Salim — she always had — and the fact that at some point, unbeknownst to her, she had to come to love him didn’t change anything. She was well aware that she had been the one to make this mess; but that didn’t change the end result. Salim had fallen for someone else. He had made his choice and Marjan refused to be the reason someone else got hurt. She refused to spend the rest of her life with someone she couldn’t trust; with someone who didn’t honor their commitments. That mattered to her — enough to upend her entire future, apparently.

The worst part was that she wasn’t even sure she could blame Salim. Or even their parents, for that matter. She didn’t think it was the fault of any one person; it was just something that had happened with time. They had been so young when this had all been decided, years before they had realized who they were. It had never bothered her, the idea of it. It had been comforting knowing that no matter what, she knew what the future was going to bring. She had been free to make her choices and follow her passions knowing that no matter what she had a future with Salim. She had never considered another possibility.

But now she was faced with a whole world of other possibilities and she didn’t know what to do with it. She had never really thought of the concept of romance before; she had never taken the time to consider who she found attractive. She had never seen the point, given everything. Maybe she should find it thrilling (and a small, distant part of her did) but mostly, she found it terrifying. She didn’t know what to do next.

Her pondering was interrupted by the sound of a knock at her door. She frowned, rising from the couch and approached it with trepidation. The list of people who came to visit her at home was very short, but she supposed it could be any member of her team. It could just as well be Salim, but she couldn’t fathom what he could possibly want.

She peered into the peephole, not sure what to expect, but pulled away with a smile and opened the door to reveal Nancy Gillian on her threshold, holding a bag.

“I’m not sure what kind of breakup category this falls under exactly,” she stated without prompting, “but I brought tea if it’s a ranting type and ice cream in case it’s the wallowing type. Either way, we’re ordering chinese.”

And despite it all, Marjan smiled. The first real genuine smile she had since that night at the hotel. “I think it’s a bit of both,” she replied as she stepped aside to allow the other woman entrance.

“Then we better get started,” Nancy quipped as she took the silent invitation. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

---------

With Nancy out on medical due to her broken foot Marjan had taken it upon herself to make sure the other woman was fed and kept up on the happenings at the station. So it was a Monday evening that Marjan found herself in Nancy’s kitchen, stocking the fridge with the groceries she had brought and giving her a play by play of the minefield incident. She had already gotten the basics from Captain Vega, but while her captain’s version had been professional and to the point, Marjan’s was a lot more colorful and action packed. When she had described Reese refusing to enter the minefield Nancy had thumped a hand against the counter.

“See,” she had exclaimed, “I knew he was too good to be true!”

Marjan chuckled, but trailed off as another thought entered her head, “Would you have gone if you had been there?”

“Yeah,” Nancy replied with a shrug, “it’s not on my top ten list of things to do and frankly I’d rather not, but those boys needed help. And that’s what we do.”

And Marjan was surprised by the feeling of relief that washed over her at those words. Not relief that Nancy would have done the right things — of that Marjan had no doubt — but relief that she hadn’t been there, that she hadn’t had the chance.

Relief that she was safe, that she hadn’t taken that risk.

It was stupid and Marjan knew it. Taking risks was their business, it couldn’t be avoided and it was what they had all signed up for. But the idea of Nancy taking that risk, of Nancy putting herself in such tangible danger left her with a feeling of dread she couldn’t shake.

She didn’t know what to say next but she was saved the trouble by the sound of Nancy’s phone ringing and her excusing herself to answer it. Marjan was left to continue to ponder these thoughts as she waited for the phone call to end.

“That was Captain Vega,” Nancy announced as she hobbled back into the kitchen, setting her phone back down on the counter. “She just called to tell me that she offered TK the position, and he accepted.”

“That’s good, right?” Marjan asked as Nancy slid back into her previous seat at the counter. “Having someone you already know filling the spot? It has to take away a lot of the uncertainty.”

“It does,” Nancy admitted, “but it’ll still be an adjustment.”

She trailed off and Marjan paused in putting away the groceries she had brought over. She crossed over to the counter and leaned on it, facing the other women and giving her a beseeching look. “And?” she prompted.

Nancy looked down at her hands on the counter as she replied, voice soft, “And filling the position with someone who will stick feels like it’s official. That Tim is really gone and we’re really moving on now.”

And Marjan didn’t know what to say to that. She had never lost someone like that. She had never experienced losing one of the people closest to you, having them ripped away without warning and being expected to carry on as normal because that was the job. She didn’t know what to say to make that better.

“You are moving on,” she finally settled on, “because that’s what you need to do. That doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten Tim. Getting a new partner does not replace the memories you have of the old one.”

“I know that,” Nancy replied, not meeting her eyes, “it just feels like he’s being forgotten. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Marjan reached across the counter to tap Nancy’s arm, “Hey,” she said, “he’s not forgotten because you will always remember him. And so will I,” she promised. “He’s not going to be forgotten.”

She allowed her words to settle around them, lending weight to her oath. The smile Nancy gave her in response was frail, but it warmed Marjan’s heart to see it. She patted her arm one more time before she stepped away from the counter, returning to the groceries at hand. She knew that she couldn’t possibly imagine what Nancy was going through, but she knew that she would be there for her every step of the way.

That’s what you did for a friend, after all.

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

“And then he told me to ‘live in it’ for a bit. Like, dude, what the fuck does that even mean?”

Marjan did her best not to audibly chuckle as she turned back to the living room with two mugs in her hand. Nancy was sprawled across her couch and fifteen minutes into a tirade about TK with no signs of stopping anytime soon. She accepted the tea from Marjan with a nod but continued on without missing a beat.

She was going on about the dangers of improperly arranged needles as Marjan settled into the chair across from her, tucking her feet underneath her and hiding her smile with her mug as she took a sip. Her attempts to hide her amusement are unsuccessful and Nancy finally stopped long enough to give her a glare.

“I am so glad me getting replaced on my own team is amusing to you, Marwani.”

Marjan rolled her eyes before setting down her mug. “Nance,” she said evenly, “you are not being replaced.”

“How can you say that?” Nancy questioned incredulously. “You saw them today. They are a perfectly well-oiled team. All I’m doing is getting in the way.”

“Nancy,” Marjan repeated, more firmly this time, “you are not getting in the way. You are an excellent paramedic, and they both know that. But your team has a new member now, and things are going to be different. It’s going to take some time to adjust, but you will.”

Nancy held her gaze for another moment before she looked away with a deep sigh. “I don’t know how to adjust to this,” she said softly. “Tim was my partner for so long. I’m not saying TK is a bad paramedic or that he’s a bad person he’s just…”

“He’s not Tim,” Marjan finished, her heart aching for the other woman as she nodded and blinked against the tears that had gathered in her eyes at the reminder. Marjan leaned forward in her seat, closing the distance between them as much as she dared. “Nancy, TK will never replace Tim. He can’t because he is someone different. You’re going to form a relationship with him too and it’s going to be different. That’s okay. It’s all part of moving forward.”

Nancy was quiet for several moments before she sighed and flopped back onto the couch dramatically, “Moving forward sucks.”

Marjan couldn’t hide the laugh that burst from her at that. “Yeah, it can,” she agreed. “If it’s any consolation though, I can almost guarantee that TK is feeling just as weird about this as you are. And if I know him, he’s going to try to find a way to fix it. And if he doesn’t, I can also guarantee that I will kick his ass, for you.”

That at least pulled a smile out from the other woman and Marjan returned it, savoring the warmth that rushed through her chest at the sight of it.

“Thanks Marj,” Nancy said eventually. “For being here, for listening. I know this is probably weird, I mean he’s your friend and here I am trash talking him…”

“Hey,” Marjan interjected, “none of that now. Yes, TK is my friend, but he’s not the only one. You are my friend too Nancy, and I will be here as long as you need to rant about this or whatever else you need to do. You’ve been there for me, let me be there for you.”

---------

TK had come through just as Marjan had known he would and, even though she had to admit she hadn’t seen it coming, turning the ambulance into a memorial seemed a perfectly fitting tribute. A way to make sure that Tim was truly never forgotten, that he was always with them.

When Nancy arrived Marjan met her eyes. She greeted her with the others but held her gaze a moment longer, silently communicating with the other woman. She didn’t want to steal TK’s thunder but she wanted her to know that everything was okay, that things were looking up. And when TK said his piece and revealed the painted memorial and tears gathered in Nancy’s eyes, Marjan could feel matching ones in her own eyes as well.

They go back to Nancy’s place after that, just the two of them. There were offers for a whole group hang but Marjan could tell that Nancy wasn’t feeling up to that just yet. So when she politely declined she found Marjan waiting by her car, an eyebrow raised.

“What,” she asked, “you didn’t think you were getting rid of me that easily, did you?”

And so here they were now - mugs of tea on the coffee table before them while a cheesy sci-fi flick played out on the screen before them. They sat in comfortable silence, both content to simply exist in the other's presence for a while, until Nancy broke the silence.

“Thank you,” she said eventually, pulling Marjan’s attention away from the movie.

“For what?” she asked with a frown.

“For being here. For having been here this entire time. I...I wasn’t sure if I would ever have someone be there for me like this again. Not after Tim.”

“Nancy, you don’t need to…”

“No, I do Marj. Just, hear me out?”

Marjan nodded and twisted her body so she was facing the other woman, watching as she took a deep breath.

“These past few months,” Nancy started, “have been awful. This process of grieving and recovering has been a long one and as much as it has sucked for me, I can’t imagine it was all that fun to be around either. But you have been there for me the entire time, in every single way. You’ve become someone I rely on and I just, needed you to know that.”

WIth that she stopped speaking and they were left once again in silence. Marjan was floored by the statement. It wasn’t that she hadn’t known that she and Nancy were close, but hearing it laid out like that, knowing how much it had mattered to her put it all in a new light. But something Nancy had said bothered her. She leaned forward to place a hand on her knee, holding her gaze as she spoke.

“You are never a burden, Nance. Whatever you’re feeling, whatever the situation, I will always be there for you. It was never a hardship and it never will be. You’re very important to me too, you know.”

The smile Nancy gave her in return was soft and bright and when she shifted closer closing the distance between them as she turned back to the movie, Marjan let it happen. And if when she readjusted her seat she sank even closer to Nancy, the warmth of her body pulling her closer, that was fine too.

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

Marjan is no stranger to fear, but she’s never quite felt a fear like this one before.

When Judd called her to let her know that the 126 paramedic team and ambulance was missing, her first thought wasn't for TK. She loves him like a brother and she wanted nothing more than for him to be okay, but he wasn’t not her first thought.

Her first thought was Nancy.

It’s her name that drives the fear, the thought of never hearing her laugh again that steals her breath. It’s her smile and her warm, brown eyes that she is holding desperately in her memories, hoping she will have a chance to see them again.

And when they get the call that they were found and that TK is hurt but the other two are fine, Marjan can finally breathe again.

She was in her car heading to the hospital before she could even think, pulling in and entering the building with barely a thought and absolutely no plan. She was hovering in the emergency room entrance, trying to figure out her next step when she spotted a familiar figure across the room.

“Carlos!” she called and strode towards him. He looked up, startled, but his expression evened when he spotted her.

“Marj, hey,” he said, and he looked like a wreck. She stepped closer, peering at him with concern and allowing another fear to enter her mind for the first time.

“How’s TK? I heard he was hurt…”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed grimly, “he has a pretty nasty head injury. He’s getting some scans and tests done now so we’ll know soon, I just stepped out to call my mom back. Captain Strand is in the waiting room upstairs though if you want to go up.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised and not sure how to respond, “actually I…”

She trailed off but Carlos gave her a calculating look before he smiled and spoke again, “Nancy is upstairs too. She’s okay, not a scratch on her.”

Marjan couldn’t even be bothered to try and hide the relief she felt at that. She could feel some of the tension leave her body as Carlos chuckled softly, shaking his head, “I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

She opened her mouth to make a retort but found that she couldn’t even find the words. There is too much else in her head right now. But Carlos was still grinning that knowing grin at her and she couldn’t let him off easy, “TK has been a bad influence on you, Reyes.”

She’s known Carlos long enough to know that this is where he would usually fire back some clever retort. He doesn’t, but his expression softens at the mention of his boyfriend and he glances back towards the elevator that separates them. “I should go make this phone call,” he said instead. “I don’t want to be gone too long. Nancy is in one of the waiting rooms, second door on your left once you get off the elevator, 4th floor.”

Marjan nodded her thanks and reached out to give his arm a comforting squeeze before he walked away. “They’re safe Carlos,” she tells him, “it’s going to be okay.”

He smiled at her again before he turned and walked away and as she waits for the elevator she is left to wonder who those words were really for. She’s left to ponder that on the ride up, which seems to last so much longer than the four floors. Her heart was racing in her chest as she stepped out onto the correct floor, her feet following Carlos’s directions without much input from her mind. She was hardly breathing as she reached the correct door, but when she stepped across the threshold she could feel it all fall away at the sight of Nancy - unhurt and very much alive.

She is sitting in a chair off to the corner, staring out the dark window so intently she didn’t even hear Marjan enter. She didn't notice until Marjan paused a few steps from her and softly said her name. It’s only then that she turns from the window to see Marjan standing before her, and her breath catches.

“Marj, what are you doing here?”

Marjan stares at her for a moment before she splutters out a response. “What am I doing here?” she repeats indignantly. “Nancy, you were kidnapped and held hostage. Where else would I be?”

They stare at each other in silence for a few more moments before Nancy reaches for her and Marjan meets her in a heartbeat, sinking into the chair next to her and pulling her into her arms.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” she said into Nancy’s shoulder as she clutched her tightly. “Are you okay?”

“I wasn’t the one hurt,” Nancy replied softly, and Marjan hugged her even tighter.

“Just because you’re not hurt doesn’t mean you’re okay,” she reminded her softly. “Whatever you’re feeling now, it’s okay.”

There was silence for a few more moments before Nancy spoke again, voice so soft Marjan barely heard it, even being as close as they were.

“I was so scared,” she admitted. “I thought we were all going to die. For a while I thought I had lost another partner and now...I don’t know where to go from here.”

Marjan’s heart broke at the sound of the pain and fear still in her voice. She didn’t know what to say, so she settled for rubbing a soothing circle on her back.

“You’re all safe,” she said eventually, “and that’s what matters. Everything else we’ll figure out in time.”

The only response she got to that was a soft sniffle and Marjan couldn’t help the way her arms tightened around the other woman at the sound. She knew this would be hard, she knew there was not magic switch to throw to make it all better. She knew it would take time.

But she also knew that Tommy was unharmed and home with her family, that TK would be okay, and that Nancy was here and whole and in her arms. From this point, they could face anything. And none of them would do it alone. Tommy had Charles and her girls, TK had Carlos and Nancy, well...

“I’m not going anywhere,” Marjan reminded her softly, speaking the words into her hair and allowing them to fill this bubble they had formed. Maybe there were things to handle and people to call, but for now they had each other and that was more than enough.

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

The next few weeks are mostly spent together. There are shifts and calls and the Ryder’s accident but almost every moment in between, Marjan realizes, she has spent with Nancy.

She is a shoulder to lean on as Nancy copes with the kidnapping but Marjan would be lying if she said she didn’t find their time spent together just as soothing. The fear that came with the idea of Nancy in danger is never far from her mind in those first few weeks. Then they lean on each other when faced with the fear and possibility of losing Judd and Grace. They celebrate the joy of their survival and their news together too, just as they do most everything these days.

Soon enough that is behind them though and even without a trauma to cope with Marjan still finds herself in the other woman’s company more often than not. She also finds that she doesn’t mind it, and that often she is the one seeking it out. Somehow Nancy Gillian became her closest friend when she wasn’t looking but Marjan can’t say she is too upset by that. There are far worse things to have stumbled into, she thinks.

After all nothing involving Nancy Gillian can be anything even remotely short of good, in her opinion.

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

Marjan let herself into her apartment, Nancy on her heels.

“Marj,” she tries again, “it doesn’t matter what they think.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees, “but it does matter what McKenna thinks. She thinks her husband dying was my fault, Nancy. What if she’s right? What if I had been able to save him if I had been just that much quicker? All I needed to save him was another thirty seconds. How long do you think that exchange on the overpass took?”

“Marjan,” Nancy said again, firmly this time, “don’t do that. You know as well as I do that asking those kinds of questions doesn’t do any good. If you start dwelling on that kind of stuff it’ll mess with your head and you can’t have that. What happened was awful and I am so sorry, but you need to move forward. It’s the only thing you can do.”

Marjan stepped away from her, wrapping her arms around her body. “I know that,” she admitted, voice thick, “but that doesn’t make it any better. He died, Nance. He died right in front of me because I wasn’t quick enough to save him. No amount of logic in the world is going to change how I feel about that.”

She could feel the tears starting to form and she went to turn away from her friend. But in the next moment arms wrapped around her, preventing her from straying any further.

“It’s okay to feel it,” Nancy told her gently. “You can cry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Marjan wanted to tell her that she was fine, that she could handle this on her own. But when she looked up to say as much and her eyes met Nancy’s, her resolve crumbled. Before she knew it she had dissolved into sobs, soaking the material of Nancy’s shirt as she held her gently, murmuring soothing words into her hair.

She knew this wasn’t a permanent solution, she knew there was still more she would have to do to move on from this. But in this moment and the safety of Nancy’s arms, she let it all come out.

---------

“I can’t believe it,” Nancy said as she and Marjan stepped into her apartment, flicking on the kitchen lights to chase away the early dawn darkness. “Can you even imagine, your entire life, gone just like that.”

“Not their lives,” Marjan reminded her as she set down her purse and leaned wearily against the counter, “alhamdulillah.”

“I know,” Nancy continued, “and I know in the grand scheme of things they were so lucky and I am beyond grateful that they’re okay but...this is going to be so much to move on from. I can’t even begin to fathom that.”

“Me neither,” Marjan admitted. “But they’ll be okay. They have each other, and they have us.”

“Us, huh?”

Marjan looked up sharply to see Nancy looking at her, a small smile on her face.

“Yeah, you know — the 126. We’ll all be there for them.”

“Yeah, of course,” Nancy agreed hurriedly, looking away from her. It took Marjan all of three more seconds to realize what Nancy had meant and she cursed herself. This past day had been something, and her brain was fried. But she needed to address this, Nancy needed to know.

“I suppose that’s not the only ‘us’ though,” she hedged as she stepped closer. “I like them all an awful lot, but I can’t say I feel the same way about them as I do about you.”

“Oh?” Nancy asked and though her voice was purposefully casual, Marjan could see the hope in her eyes.

“I’ve come to care about you an awful lot,” she admits. “And, I don’t have a lot of experience with feelings like this, but I don’t think they are strictly friendly ones.”

Nancy was quiet for a second before she spoke again, “So either you're asking to be my arch nemesis or…”

Marjan rolled her eyes. “You are such a dork, I can’t believe I like you.”

“You like me?” Nancy replied quickly. “As in, you like me, like me?”

Marjan stepped closer, leaving barely an inch between them now. She could see every fleck of color in Nancy’s eyes, and it affected her in a way she had never quite experienced before.  

“I like you, like you, Nancy Gillian,” she said clearly, not wanting to beat around the bush. There was a time for being quippy and fun, and then there was this. She wasn’t willing to leave this to chance. She reached her hand across the small distance between them and found Nancy’s, tangling her fingers with her own. When she felt a squeeze in response, she smiled, leaning forward and resting her head against Nancy’s shoulder.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other in Marjan’s kitchen for a time she couldn’t quantify, but she savored every second that passed. Eventually Nancy broke the silence as she glanced out the window above the sink.

“It’s late, or early, I guess. I should go.”

Marjan stepped back, just enough to see Nancy’s eyes again, still clutching her hand with her own.

“Stay?” she asked. Nancy hesitated for a moment and Marjan pressed on, “It doesn’t have to be like that just...stay?”

The early morning silence drifted through the kitchen as Marjan studied Nancy. Then Nancy smiled at her and Marjan swore she felt her heart swell three sizes. She used their linked hands to pull them out of the kitchen and towards something new.

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

The next morning Marjan woke up to find that she was not alone.

She smiled at the sight of Nancy beside her, still sleeping soundly. She shifted to try and get a better view of the marvel beside but her motions caused the other woman to stir and soon she was greeted with the equally wonderful sight of Nancy’s tired eyes blinking at her.

“Good morning,” she said softly, not wanting to startle her.

“Morning,” Nancy murmured less gracefully, a yawn jutting its way through her words, “what time is it?”

Marjan shrugged, “Not sure. Doesn’t matter though - it’s not like we have a fire station to go to work in.”

Nancy huffed a dry laugh as she shifted so she was on her side, facing Marjan. “You know until you said something I thought that maybe all that was a dream. Actually, until you said something, I thought this was a dream. It still might be, come to think of it.”

Marjan rolled her eyes and leaned over to press a soft kiss to Nancy’s forehead. “Does that feel like a dream?” she asked.

“Actually, yes, if I’m being honest.” Nancy replied and Marjan scoffed, reaching over to pinch the other woman’s arm. She yelped in surprise but Marjan only raised an eyebrow.

“Still think you’re dreaming?” she asked.

“No,” Nancy replied, “but I am starting to wonder if this mean side of you is a normal morning thing.”

“I don’t know,” Marjan said with a shrug, scotting closer to Nancy as she lay back down, “I guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”

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

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take!”

“Nance,” Marjan admonished, “stop being so dramatic. It’s fine!”

Nancy shifted so she was facing her. “It is not fine, Marj! I hate this. Not getting to see you at work is one thing, but not knowing where you’ll be working or if you’ll have a good team to watch your back? Your team is a collective pain in my ass at times, but I trust them. But now I’m just supposed to be okay with you doing what you do not knowing who is there to back you up? I’m not.”

Marjan rolled her eyes but she had to admit that the clear concern the paramedic had for her softened the gesture considerably. “Think about it this way,” she said instead, moving closer and running a hand up her arm as she spoke, “we’ve already survived numerous natural disasters and cataclysmic events. What more could there be?”

“I think that’s called tempting fate.”

“I think it’s called logic,” Marjan countered. “Hey,” she added when Nancy’s expression didn’t lighten, reaching out to twine their fingers together, “nothing is going to change. We’re still us, no matter what stations we’re working from.”

“You can’t say that,” Nancy argued softly, “because everything already has. And after everything...I couldn’t handle losing you too.”

While the concern still touched her, the fear in Nancy’s voice bore into her chest like a dull knife. “I can’t promise anything,” she said eventually, “you know that. Neither of us can make that promise because neither of us can guarantee that we’ll be able to keep it. But I can promise that I will do my best to come back to you every single day, no matter what.”

“I know that,” Nancy assured her softly, “I just can’t help but worry.”

Marjan leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, moved by the weight of her affection for her. “I know that because I feel the same way. But I’ll be fine, Nance. We’ll both be, you’ll see.”

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

“What was that you were saying last night?” Nancy said to her as she opened her apartment door to let her in. “I believe it was something along the lines of ‘what more could there be?’ How does it feel to have tempted the gods, Marwani.”

Marjan scoffed and shut the door behind them as she followed Nancy into the kitchen. “It’s not like I caused the dust storm,” she parried back. “I didn’t actively put myself in that position. I wonder if the same could be said for everyone in this room or if maybe someone stole an ambulance and went out into a natural disaster of their own free will?”

Nancy froze before slowly turning to face Marjan, who was waiting with a single unimpressed eyebrow raised. “Okay,” she admitted, “that’s fair. And I’m sorry. It’s not like I’m mad at you for anything - you were just doing your job. I’m just…”

“Worried?” Marjan provided, “Because I was too. As soon as you guys had to pack up to head to another call I could feel it. I guess that’s something we’re going to have to get used to now.”

“Hmm,” Nancy agreed as she stepped into Marjan’s space, “that sucks.”

“It does,” Marjan agreed, reaching out her hands to rest on Nancy’s shoulders, “but you’re worth it.”

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

Marjan was woken up the next morning by the smell of breakfast coming from her kitchen. She frowned as she tried to remember what she had left out, but the sight of a rumpled and empty pillow beside her soon brought her clarity. She smiled as she pulled back the covers and climbed out of her bed, heading for the kitchen.

After the 126 hang at Captain Strand/Mateo/TK and Carlos’s house last night they had ended up back here, again. Marjan couldn’t say that she minded the new routine. It hadn’t been long but sleeping with the other woman beside her had become more and more of a habit as time went on and it wasn’t one she was looking to quit. Her smile only widened as she stepped into her kitchen to see Nancy at the stove sliding eggs onto two plates.

“Good morning,” she said softly as she drew closer, coming up behind Nancy and wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Good morning to you too,” Nancy quipped. “I was hoping the smell of turkey bacon would entice you out of bed.”

“It woke me up,” Marjan admitted, “but you not being there got me up. Turns out my bed is lonely without you.”

Nancy switched off the burner before turning, bending down to place a light kiss on her forehead. “I think I like the sound of that.”

“You better,” Marjan countered with a grin, “because it’s the truth.”

Nancy flushed brilliantly and Marjan’s grin grew, but any retort she could have made was interrupted by the sound of Marjan’s phone ringing.

“Hold that thought,” she murmured before stepping out of Nancy’s embrace and circling to the counter to grab her phone. She frowned at the screen as she picked it up, turning it so Nancy could see Captain Strand’s name on the screen.

“Cap?” She said in question as she answered. “Is everything alright?”  

“Everything’s fine,” he assured her and she couldn’t hide the deep sigh of release she let out at that, “better than fine actually. I have a plan, but I am going to need your help, if you’re willing. Well, you and the rest of the team.”  

“Sure,” she said, shifting the phone from her ear before putting it on speaker and placing it on the counter between them. “Name it, I’m sure we’ll be happy to help.”

“How do you feel about doing the 126 renovations ourselves? The red tape is going to take ages and I don’t know about you, but I’m eager to get the team back together as quickly as possible.”

She looked across the counter to see Nancy already grinning. “I think that sounds like a great idea Cap, just let me know what you need.”

“Just as many hands as we can get, though I hear you’re pretty good with mechanical stuff too so maybe a bit of that as well. Could you meet us at the station in two hours?”

“Sure thing Cap,” she replied, “I’ll be there and ready to get our team back.”

“That’s the plan,” Captain Stand agreed. “Oh, and one more thing. I hate to ask, but do you think you could pass it on to Nancy? I have TK out gathering supplies and I don’t want to put anything else on Captain Vega right now, and I’m embarrassed to say I don’t have her number.”

Marjan grinned across the counter to where Nancy was still standing, watching her with a warm smile.

“Not a problem Cap, she already knows. We’re together.”

Marjan doesn’t know if her Captain picks up on the double meaning of her words and she doesn’t care. All she does care is that she can say them; that they’re true. She cares that they are together. She might care more about that than she has really ever cared about anything.

She thinks that finally, she might know what love feels like, and she knows that whatever the future brings she’s ready to face it with her partner by her side.

[detectivereyes]

I Watched the Leaves Go From Green to Grey

Summary: When TK gets anxious, he gets into fights.

Notes: for the self-harm square on my @badthingshappenbingo card, or my interpretation of it bc i didn’t want to write a traditional “self harm” fic yk

beta’d by @marjansmarwani and also s/o to loml @seaoflittlefires for providing her objective perspective and fixing all my past/present tense issues 💗

word count: 2.3k

read on ao3

If you asked TK, the first time it happened was definitely an accident. 

He wasn’t planning on getting into a fight, and he wasn’t even that high. Instead he found himself riding out the tail end of a high in some dingy bar in the East Village, trying to numb the pain with whatever alcohol the bartender would give him with a quick flash of his fake ID. At only 16, he knew he didn’t look 21, but the bartender didn’t ask or didn’t care.

It started with a simple misplacement of his elbow, brushing up too close against the glass of whiskey belonging to the burly man sitting next to him. He didn’t even realize what had happened until he heard the glass shatter on the floor between them.

He started to stutter out some form of an apology but not before he felt a flash of pain hit his face, radiating through his lower jaw until his body collided with the ground. Though he was caught off guard, the pain he’s feeling didn’t feel wrong. In fact it made him feel alive.

He hopped back up, managing to throw in a few punches of his own until more of the burly man's friends showed up and he couldn't decipher which direction the blows were coming from. But with each punch or kick, he felt more empowered. Each freshly formed bruise serving as a reminder that he wasn’t actually numb. 

He was here, and he was alive.

Fortunately, he had managed to sneak out before the cops showed up. Unfortunately, the bruises did not go unnoticed by his mom or dad. Though they didn’t press too hard, he knew he would have to be more careful next time.

He never forgot the outlet getting into fights provided. A way to not only relieve the numbness, but relieve stress and have the pain on the outside match what he felt on the inside.

He didn’t get into fights that often, only when the pain built up too much and he needed to let it out somehow. Or sometimes he used it as a way to just quiet the anxious thoughts when substances no longer did the trick.

Even after he got clean, he would occasionally find himself back in some random bar that he hadn’t managed to get himself kicked out of yet. Every bar had at least one drunk asshole who he knew would be easy to pick a fight with.

He quickly learned the right words to trigger the perfect reaction. He also got better ducking and throwing his own punches, and hiding the bruises that did form on his skin until his parents no longer noticed or worried about him.

When he arrived in Austin, he figured it would only be a matter of time before he found himself in a dingy bar on the outskirts of town, opposite of the bar the team frequented to avoid any chance of running into a familiar face.

The numb feeling and colorless vision was too much and Judd’s words only served to exacerbate the pain he was feeling inside. He attempted to fight Judd, knowing his larger frame could do a lot of damage and would do the trick. But he should have known the other man wouldn’t fight back, instead holding him close so he couldn’t do any damage until Paul broke them up.

As soon as the shift ended, TK all but ran into the Uber. The tension in his body wound up too tight and he knew it wouldn’t settle until he got in a fight. 

The fight itself was a blur, but what happened next wasn’t. As he walked out of the police station with his bag of belongings and busted lip still pulsing in pain, Carlos’ words rang in his ear.

You should talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal.

Was it suicidal? He always saw it as a way to remind himself that he was alive, not trying to die. But he'd also never met someone who cared so much about his well being. 

The police officers he usually ran into during his fights never seemed to give a shit about why he did what he did. And if the guys he hooked up with noticed the busted lips or black eyes, they never said anything.

Carlos checked both of those boxes, yet seemed genuinely concerned with what TK was getting himself into.

That was when he knew things would be different here.

And they were for a time. For a while the color returned into his life and the pain that he had grown so accustomed to settled into a dull ache that he barely noticed.

But like everything else, the good could never last. And soon enough the pain grew more noticeable and he felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. He needed to know he wasn't numb. He needed to feel pain. He needed to fight.

So he found himself in another dingy bar, much similar to the one he went to when he got to Austin over a year ago. He knew he shouldn’t be there. He had to call someone. But Carlos was on shift and his dad was on a date and while both would have probably picked up in a heartbeat, he couldn't do that to them. And anyone else he could have called wouldn’t understood or known what to do. 

He knew what he had to do.

On muscle memory he ran through his routine, spouting out the perfect words to trigger the reaction he craved. 

After only a few blows to the face, the punches stopped and the fight broke up as the cops arrived. He scanned the area, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn't see Carlos’ familiar brown eyes, and managed to slip out the back before anyone noticed.

The Uber ride from the bar back to his and Carlos’ home passed by in a blur. If his driver noticed the purple bruises likely beginning to blossom on his face, she didn't say anything.

He made a beeline to the bathroom as soon as he walked through the door, hoping that the damage wasn't bad enough that he couldn't cover it up. There was no way Carlos wouldn't notice, but if cleaned it up a bit and came up with a good story, it might not be as bad.

Flipping on the light switch TK frowned at his reflection. While there were a few scattered bruises all over his body, the worst by far was the one forming around his eye, already turning a lovely shade of deep purple. Above his eye was a short but deep gash, stretching across his eyebrow.

Well, that definitely wouldn't go unnoticed.

TK sighed, rifling through the medicine cabinet until he found the box of butterfly bandaids. He knew it probably would need stitches, but if he could avoid a trip to the ER tonight, that would be ideal, and these bandages would do the trick for now. He carefully placed two on his eyebrow, hissing at the contact as the wound closed. He then shut off the light and settled on the living room sofa, waiting for Carlos to come home. 

By the time he heard the jiggling of keys in the door, a few hours had passed and he had nearly fallen asleep under the soft blanket on the couch. He panicked for a second, not quite ready for Carlos’ reaction when he saw TK’s face.

On impulse, he ducked under the blanket before the door swung open. He could see the light switch on and Carlos’ outlined shape from beneath the cover.

“Babe? What’s going on?” he asked. TK could sense he had stopped in front of the couch but was refraining from coming any closer.

“Don’t freak out,” was all TK could manage to say, and he could only imagine the confusion painting his boyfriend’s face.

“I’m freaking out that you won’t tell me what’s going on,” he stated matter of factly.

TK sighed before slowly pulling down the blanket and peeking his head out, giving Carlos a sheepish grin. 

Carlos’ eyes widened in concern as he sat down next to TK, gently running his fingers over TK’s swollen eye. “What happened, baby?”

“Combative patient,” the lie rolled too easily off his tongue. “Woke up while we were treating him and took a swing at me.”

“I see,” Carlos nodded slowly. “And these other bruises?” he added, trailing his hand over the blossoming bruises on TK’s neck and arms. When he reached his torso, he didn't miss the way TK winced at the contact. TK hadn't even realized how sore he was.

“Must have fallen a little bit in the scuffle,” he shrugged.

Carlos hummed along to TK’s response. TK tried to get a read on what Carlos was making of his story. It was a pretty good one if he gave himself any credit, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Carlos just wasn't buying it. 

“You know how people get when they’re caught off guard,” he quickly added, panicking when he realized he should be adding more details before Carlos could doubt him anymore. 

Carlos though remained silent, studying him carefully. 

“We’re here to help them but they don’t always realize that right away,” he laughed nervously, hoping Carlos wasn't catching on to his anxious rambling.

“TK,” Carlos trailed off, his eyebrows pinching together in worry. He knew something was off, and there was no getting out of it.

Before he could dig himself into a deeper hole, he decided to dam break. He launched into the whole story about how he felt so on edge after his shift and he didn’t know what else to do, which is why he fell back into old habits. Carlos listened intently as he explained what happened when he showed up at the bar and instigated the fight, and ducking out he could get caught.

“I’m so sorry, Carlos. Please don’t be mad,” he said at the end of his rant, still shaking with adrenaline while he waited to see how Carlos would handle hearing the truth. 

Carlos sighed, gently rubbing TK’s shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, TK.”

“You’re not?” TK said, sniffling. 

“No, but I am concerned at why you didn’t think you could call me. And then why you felt like you had to lie about it.”

TK shrugged. “I’m just kind of used to bottling it up, I guess.”

“But you should know you can talk to me about this kind of stuff.”

“I do! But sometimes it just gets to be so much that I don’t know what else to do and I need a way to let it all out.”

“What gets to be so much?” Carlos cocked his head to the side. 

“Everything,” TK quickly responded, as if that clarified anything he was saying. He knew he wasn't making much sense and Carlos was trying his best to understand. But TK didn't know how else to describe the way he was feeling. Like a row of tightly wound string, one pluck away from snapping. 

“TK, what happened that made you want to get into a fight tonight?” Carlos asked. 

“I,” TK started to answer but stopped himself when he realized he didn't even have a good answer. He'd never stopped to consider the reasons for why he felt this way. All he knew was that he felt like he was about to explode and he needed a good way to release it. “I don’t know.”

Carlos nodded, and TK could only admire the patience his boyfriend had with him. The tears started to well up in his eyes and he took some shaky breaths as Carlos pulled him close into a hug, letting him sob into his broad chest. 

“It’s okay if you don’t know,” he whispered softly into TK’s ear. “But I think it is important to examine why you do feel this way. And to realize when it starts to get bad so it doesn’t happen again.”

TK pulled away from Carlos’ embrace, nodding and wiping back the tears while doing so. “It just feels like there’s always this pain, and sometimes I don’t notice it but other times it’s so much that I need to do something about it. And I can’t do the other stuff I used to do to deal with it, but getting into these fights… I don’t know, it helps. Which probably doesn’t make any sense but it’s better than some of my other coping mechanisms.”

Carlos gave him a sympathetic look. “TK, it might not be drugs, but you are just as likely to get hurt.”

TK looked down, nervous squeezing his hands, unsure of how to respond to Carlos’ observations.

“It’s not healthy,” he continued. “I need you to promise me you will call next time. It doesn’t matter what time, or if I’m on shift, or I’m asleep. Talk to me about it. And talk to me about what you’re feeling all the time so we can try to prevent it getting this bad. Okay?”

TK nodded in agreement. 

“Hey,” Carlos tilted TK’s head up so they matched each other's gaze. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I know,” he gave Carlos a small smile. “I appreciate it, and your patience with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. We’re a team, and I want to help you in whatever way possible. I love you, TK”

TK melted under Carlos’ soft brown eyes and genuine smile. “I love you too, Carlos.”

[bellakitse]

Take Me Back to the Start

“I thought our fight was going to be our last words to each other,” he whispers, his eyes filling up. “I’m so damn sorry, baby.”

Carlos looks into those green eyes, wet with unshed tears and relief, and frowns. “I’m sorry, but who are you?” he asks and watches with growing dread as those eyes widen with shock and fear.

+

Carlos is in a car accident and forgets the last three and half years of his life.

M | 15.4K | AO3

Everything hurts.

That’s the first real thought Carlos has as he squints up at the lights over his bed through sore eyes. He can’t remember ever aching this much everywhere at once. He’s pretty sure even his hair aches, something he didn’t think was medically possible, but here he is, lying on what he’s sure is a hospital bed, and everything fucking hurts.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he tries to take inventory of the damage. His head is pounding, and when he moves it, he feels a tug over his brow that tells him there is a bandage there. Looking down without trying to lift his head, he catches a glimpse of a soft cast on his left arm from his wrist to his elbow. He tries to sit up to take in the rest of his body, only to let out a hiss when his ribs scream in protest at his sudden movement. Focusing on his breathing, it takes him a second to realize there is someone else in the room with him with their hand on his shoulder, helping him lay back down.

“Hey, hey, hey, slowly, Carlos,” he’s told with a gentle but urgent voice. “You have three cracked ribs from the accident. You can’t be moving like that right now.”

“Accident?” he questions through gritted teeth waiting for the wave of pain to pass. He gets a wince in return for his question.

“You flipped your car,” is the answer he receives. “The roads were wet, and we think an animal crossed your path. You swerved to avoid it, lost control of the Camaro, went off the side of the road, and flipped.”

“Jesus,” he whispers. He clenches his right hand as he tries to recall the accident described to him and comes up empty.

“I really thought I lost you.”

He turns his head at the words, finding beautiful green eyes pained and worried as they stare back at him.

“When I got the call,” he continues, letting out a shaky breath while running an even more trembling hand through his brown hair. “I thought our fight was going to be our last words to each other,” he whispers, his eyes filling up. “I’m so damn sorry, baby.”

Carlos looks into those green eyes, wet with unshed tears and relief, and frowns. “I’m sorry, but who are you?” he asks and watches with growing dread as those eyes widen with shock and fear.

 ֎֎֎

 His retrograde amnesia, the doctors say, is brought on by his head injury during the accident. They have high hopes it’s temporary, but they can’t know for sure.

All they can do is wait, he’s told in hopeful tones, and while he can appreciate the optimism, all that means to Carlos right now is that he’s lost years of his life. He woke up thinking it was 2019, and instead, it’s 2023.

He gets the cliff notes version of the state of the world. Global pandemic in 2020, bad. Trump lost reelection, awesome. Michelle found Iris alive, a miracle. She left town to go help others like her sister, admirable.

The guy with the pretty green eyes sits in the corner of his hospital room silently while Carlos’ parents catch him up on things. Carlos’ eyes stray to him more than once, always finding his gaze on him as he nervously bites down on his lip.

“Do you know who TK is, son?” his father asks softly, turning towards the man in question. His mother has walked over to stand next to this TK, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he flinches when Carlos shakes his head, letting them know he doesn’t.

It’s strange and frustrating. It’s evident by the sympathetic looks they give the stranger and how his mother rubs his back that the man is someone they care about. Someone who is connected to Carlos, and no one needs to say out loud how for him to read between the lines.

TK’s broken expression as he stares at him – what he’d said when Carlos first woke up, lets him know what he needs to know. He and TK are involved.

That part isn’t necessarily shocking. His life might be suddenly turned upside down and his memory in shambles, but he has eyes, and TK is breathtakingly beautiful. He imagines that he took one look into those pretty green eyes and lost all thought of anything else.

What’s hard to imagine is a relationship where his parents are obviously well acquainted with someone he’s involved with.

“I don’t remember,” he says softly, feeling horrible at the choked sound TK lets out as he stands up from his chair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, staring at the man across the room with regret.

“It’s okay,” TK answers with a wobbly smile that fools no one in the room. Finally, he exhales loudly, his eyes straying for the door. “I think I need some air,” he says, already turning on his heel, ignoring Carlos’ parents when they both say his name, leaving them alone in Carlos’ room.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos repeats quietly as the room is left in silence after TK’s abrupt exit.

His mother comes over to him while his father shakes his head at him. “Don’t apologize, mijo,” he says gently. “This isn’t your fault, and no one understands that better than TK. No one blames you for this.”

“He’s hurting,” Carlos points out. He might not remember TK, but the man’s expression hides nothing. On the contrary, his pain has been visible since the moment Carlos first opened his eyes.

“He loves you, Carlitos,” his mother says instead of denying his words. Her expression is achingly sad as she takes his hand, giving it a soft pat. “And he’s scared.”

Carlos doesn’t say out loud he’s scared too. There is a gaping hole in his memory in the shape of a man his mother claims loves him, a man who pulls at him in a way he can’t understand, and Carlos is terrified he’ll never know if he can’t remember him.

 ֎֎֎

 A slew of unfamiliar faces visits him. Paul, Marjan, Nancy, Mateo, Tommy, and TK’s father, Owen. He politely answers when they ask him how he’s doing and apologizes when he has trouble remembering their names. He gets waved off in return as they smile compassionately and tell him they’re just glad he’s okay. That it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know them even though they’re supposedly his friends – they’re just happy he’s alive.

He gets visited by Judd and Grace Ryder, and while he does remember them, it startles him to realize they are his friends now too. He remembers Judd from the 126 and is struck when he’s told the old crew is all gone. He can’t imagine what that must have been like for Judd, and he tells him so.

The tall man gives him a saddened smile that tells Carlos it’s still a pain that lingers. Judd tells him having his new team helps with that grief and how thankful he is that Owen and TK Strand decided to come to Austin years ago to rebuild the firehouse, giving Judd and the others a new family.

He sits up straighter at the mention of TK. He hasn’t seen much of him in the last few days, at least not while he’s awake. The guy is obviously giving Carlos space, but Carlos has caught him more than once at night when he is half-asleep checking in on him.

Carlos has taken to playing possum to not scare him off.

“Is that how we met?” he asks Judd. “Me and TK,” he clears up when Judd gives him a confused squint of his eyes. “Did he and I meet on the job?”

Judd and Grace share a look between each other.

“You really don’t remember anything about him, sweetheart?” Grace asks softly, her eyes pitying when he shakes his head.

“Man, I can’t imagine what that must feel like,” Judd says with a harsh exhale. “Poor kid must be losing his mind without you.”

He must make a face at that because Grace elbows Judd in his side hard in response.

“Not that it’s your fault, man,” Judd rushes to comfort him. “This was just really shitty luck. But you and TK have been through worse. You’ll get through this.”

Carlos swallows hard at the conviction in his friend’s voice. “My mother says he loves me,” he questions, still having a hard time believing it himself. While parts are missing from his mind, he does remember that there was never anyone serious in his life. No one who stuck around long enough for him to love, let alone love him back.

“He does, very much,” Grace says with a smile on her pretty face. “And you love him back just as much.”

“You’re actually pretty sickeningly cute together,” Judd tells him. “Always in your own little world where only the two of you exist,” he continues, getting a fond eye-roll from his wife. “It makes the rest of us want to pour water over the two of you, but after three years, we’ve learned to live with it.”

“Judson,” Grace scolds her husband softly, but Carlos tunes them out as he files away another piece of the puzzle.

Three years.

 ֎֎֎

 He gets discharged from the hospital two weeks later. His ribs are bruised but healing, as is his arm. The scratches and bruises on his body are mostly faded. He greets the news of his release with barely restrained glee – already half out of his mind after spending so many days in the hospital.

“You’ll come stay with us, Carlitos,” his mother says with a smile that feels over the top. “It will be so nice to spoil you.”

He looks from her to his father and then finally to TK, who is actually there during his waking hours for once. He takes in his rod-straight posture as he stands at the end of his bed, his jaw clenched.

Carlos raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re okay with me going home with my parents and not you?” he challenges, barely holding back a sharp grin when it startles the man in question.

“I want you to feel comfortable,” TK answers after a moment.

“You’re my boyfriend,” he shoots back, only slightly stumbling over the last word. “I should be comfortable with you, shouldn’t I?”

“You don’t know me,” TK points out, his jaw tightening even further, and Carlos has the urge to touch at the edges, to run his thumb over the smooth-looking skin until TK stops grinding his teeth.

Instead of soothing him, though, Carlos shrugs a shoulder at him, seeming more unbothered than he actually feels. “Maybe if you didn’t just visit me when you think I’m asleep these last two weeks, I’d know you.”

TK’s mouth drops, his eyes going wide as he sputters, and Carlos has to ignore the little vicious voice in his head that cheers at the reaction. Instead, he turns to his parents, giving them a shake of his head.

“If I’m going to remember my life, then I should probably start living that life,” he reasons, holding up a hand when his mother tries to speak. “And as far as I know, I wasn’t living with my parents when the accident happened,” he lets the statement hang, waiting to see if anyone will correct him. “I thought so. I’m going home, to my home.”

He looks back over at TK, finding his eyes locked on him once more. There is so much going on behind those eyes. Too much for Carlos to read it all when the man continues to be a stranger to him, but there is one thing Carlos does recognize. Tentative hope.

“So,” he starts, raising his eyebrow once more as he drags out the word. “Are you gonna give me a ride back to our place or not?”

 ֎֎֎

 “This isn’t the way home,” he points out the next day from the passenger’s seat of TK’s Ranger. The ride has been mostly silent except for the radio playing. His discharge had also been quiet, his parents doing most of the talking while they waited for his doctors to sign off on his papers. They’d made TK and him promise to call if they needed anything while also letting them know they would be checking in on them often. “You missed the turn on Lynwood,” he says, pointing back at the avenue.

TK makes a face, something very much like a grimace. “Yeah,” he starts to say slowly. “We don’t live there anymore – haven’t for a while actually.”

“We moved?” he questions, surprised. His place had been big enough for two people. More than enough for a couple just starting to live together. “Did you not like it?”

“I loved that house,” TK answers, turning to look at him. “I was so happy when you asked me to move in,” he continues softly. He gives him a sad smile. “But there was a fire, and we lost it.”

“A fire?” he repeats, swallowing hard at the sudden inexplicable fear he feels. TK looks over at him again, going instantly on alert. He takes a hand off the wheel, reaching halfway towards Carlos before coming to a halt.

Carlos watches as the hand hangs mid-air for a moment, feeling a twinge under his ribcage when TK drops it back on his lap instead of touching Carlos.

“We were in it,” he realizes, sure of it as something flashes through his mind, and he swears he can feel the heat and smell the smoke.

TK bites down on his bottom lip, his eyes focused on the road. Then, finally, he gives him a sharp nod but says nothing.

“We almost didn’t make it,” he continues, exhaling slowly, trying to bring his racing heart back down. “It messed me up for a while, didn’t it?”

TK pulls into a quiet street with modest two-story houses. He passes four of them before turning into the driveway of a moss-green house with a brown roof. Turning off the car, TK twists in his seat to look at him. “It did,” he answers honestly. “It got really close, and we almost didn’t make it out. We were shaken up for a long time, and as a result, there is a fire extinguisher in just about every room of this house, which you have me check to make sure they’re all in working order every couple of months.”

TK lets out a breath, raising a hand to run it through his hair. “But we got through it, and we found this place,” he points at the house. “And we fell in love with making new memories in it.”

Memories Carlos can’t remember. Neither have to say it out loud; the words ring out through the car regardless.

“It’s green,” he points out for lack of anything else to say. TK smiles, and for the first time since Carlos opened his eyes, it’s not brittle at the edges.

“To match my eyes,” he says softly, his voice sounding far away. He shrugs at him when Carlos gives him a questioning glance. “Your words, man,” he says, smiling again when Carlos wrinkles his nose at him. “Yeah, you’re kind of a sap that way. Come on.”

Carlos follows TK out of the car and up the steps of the house. Standing on the porch, he spots a swing. “My parents’ house has one of those,” he points at the padded bench. “I always wanted one for my house too.”

“I know,” TK says with a slight smile as he looks over at the porch swing. “You told me when we were looking for a new place to live. So I had it installed a few days before we officially moved in to surprise you.”

TK’s smile grows as he gets lost in the memory. “We spent most of our first night here on it instead of opening boxes. Eventually, I started to fall asleep on you, and you – “

TK trails off frowning, shaking his head at himself as he turns back to open the door.

“I what?” he asks. He puts his hand on TK’s forearm to keep him from turning the lock, swallowing when TK’s eyes thunder up to look at him, surprised by his touch. Carlos realizes he hasn’t done that before and resists the instinct to take his hand off. “I what, TK?” he asks again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You carried me inside and put me to bed,” TK whispers back. He blinks, but that doesn’t keep Carlos from seeing the sudden sheen in his eyes. Clearing his throat, he turns towards the door once more, opening it. “You’ve always been really good about taking care of me.”

TK takes a step forward, and Carlos lets his hold on him slip away. Following him, he finds himself in the middle of a living room painted in light colors instead of the dark walls he remembers from his other place. There are pictures and knick-knacks everywhere, plants at each corner of the room. The place looks well lived-in and busier than his usual style. His face must show some of what he’s thinking because TK snickers.

“Yeah,” he says with a smirk. “It took you a while to get used to my particular brand of chaos.”

Carlos walks over to the fireplace, finding it full of little trinkets. “This is all you?” he questions.

“You have bought me a lot of them,” TK answers with a shrug. He points at a small bronze bee next to a detailed firetruck. “That one you got for me because you thought it matched my tattoo.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at him as TK just shrugs at him again.

“Like I said, you’ve gotten used to my love for random stuff.”

“You mean I’ve gotten used to the fact that you’re a hoarder,” he tells him, smiling when TK lets out an offended gasp.

“Rude,” TK grumbles, but Carlos is pleased to see it’s said with a smile. TK hasn’t done much of that around him, understandably, and it makes Carlos ridiculously happy to be the cause of it now. It must show by the way TK’s expression softens as he looks at him.

“Do you want me to show you the rest of the house, or do you want to eat something first?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. “You haven’t eaten since the hospital this morning.”

“I could eat,” Carlos answers with a nod, his stomach grumbling at the suggestion. All he had this morning was the muffin on his food tray, too anxious to leave the hospital to eat anything else.

TK nods for him to follow him, leading him towards the kitchen. “You’re in luck. Grace dropped off a casserole last night, so you won’t be subjected to my cooking.”

Carlos leans against a marble counter, looking around at the beautiful kitchen, not a pot out of place, and knows instantly it’s his domain.

“You don’t cook?” he asks, getting a face back as TK pulls a glass dish out of the fridge.

“I mean, I wouldn’t starve,” he says as he turns on the oven, flashing him an amused grin over his shoulder. “And I have picked up some tricks from you. But we’ve both agreed it’s safer for our house and stomachs if you do the bulk of the cooking.”

Carlos smiles at the comment, entertained by it.

“This will take a bit to heat up,” TK gestures towards the oven. “Let me show you the upstairs.”

Carlos nods, trailing TK back out of the kitchen and up a set of stairs. He follows him as he shows him a room that seems to be part guestroom, part library, before continuing towards the end of the hall towards a master bedroom with a large bathroom attached.

“This bedroom is yours. I’ll be sleeping in the other room for now,” TK comments, standing back as Carlos looks around. From the open closet displaying their clothes together to the top of a black drawer with a series of pictures of them. Everything about the room tells the story of their life together.

Carlos picks up a picture frame. In it is a picture of him and TK on vacation going off the beach in the background. TK has a big silly hat on and a coconut drink in his hand, while Carlos has his arm wrapped around him, pressing a kiss into the man’s cheek. Both are smiling wide.

“That was Cancun a year ago,” TK says softly as he comes to stand next to him, looking down at the picture with him. “I surprised you with the trip and had to practically tape my mouth shut to not spill the beans before everything was ready. I’m not very good at keeping secrets, much less from you.”

Carlos looks over at TK, giving him a once-over. “You have no poker face,” he realizes, sure of it. TK proves him right by the startled look he gives him, letting out a huff a moment later.

“You always say that,” he tells him with an eye roll. “I just don’t see a reason to keep anything from my best friend and the love of my life.”

Carlos’ breath catches at TK’s description of him. “Is that what I am to you?”

“Yes,” TK answers without hesitation.

“We look so happy,” he says as he looks back down at the picture. There is no doubt in his mind as he looks at their smiles that he is in love with the man in the photograph.

“We are happy,” TK answers. He wavers for a second but then covers his hand holding the frame, and Carlos feels a shock go through him at the touch. “We have our moments like any other couple, sure, but we’re so damn happy, Carlos.”

Carlos twists towards TK, turning his hand to hold onto his. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out desperately, blinking back the stinging in his eyes at the loss he feels acutely, even if he can’t recall what he’s lost. “I’m sorry I can’t remember us.”

TK shakes his head at him, pulling him into his arms, careful of Carlos’ cast. “This is not your fault,” TK whispers firmly in his ear as he cradles the back of his head. Carlos sinks into his embrace, taking comfort in it. “We’re going to figure this out, Carlos,” TK continues as he pulls back to look at him. “I’m not saying it’s easy to look in your eyes and see very little recognition, but I’m not giving up on you or us.”

Carlos doesn’t know what to say to that, and it seems he doesn’t have to. TK gives him a small smile, pulling out of their hug while Carlos has to bite his tongue to keep from protesting as he loses TK’s touch, leaving him feeling cold.

“Come on,” he says softly, taking a step back. “The casserole should be warmed up by now.”

He follows TK back downstairs, watching him as he moves around their kitchen, serving up their meal, grabbing glasses when he points at the cabinet where they’re kept.

They sit down to eat the casserole quietly. It’s good, but Carlos barely tastes it, more preoccupied with sneaking looks at TK.

“You’re burning holes into me, Reyes,” TK says dryly as he looks up from his plate. “You know you can ask me whatever you want, right?” he questions gently. “I’m an open book. You just have to ask.”

“How did we meet?” Carlos questions instantly, dozens of questions ready to go on the tip of his tongue. TK seems to realize this by the smile on his face.

“On the job,” he says softly. “There was a car accident, a mother and son. We were the answering firehouse; you were the cop on the scene.”

“How long have you been a firefighter?” he asks, causing TK to wrinkle his nose at him.

“I’m not one anymore,” he answers. “I was one for over seven years between New York and here. But after almost a year in Austin, I switched from Fire to Rescue. I’m a paramedic now with Nancy and Tommy. You met them, right?”

Carlos nods, recalling the two women visiting him at the hospital.

“Tommy is my Captain, Nancy, my partner,” he continues with a smile that speaks of fondness for the women in question. “I became a firefighter in large part because I wanted to be like my dad, and I loved being one, but I always felt like something was missing. Becoming a paramedic was like finding the missing piece to the puzzle, you know?”

Carlos gives TK an understanding look, pausing for a moment before he asks his next question. “Did I ask you out, or did you ask me out?”

“Oh man,” TK chuckles, his cheeks turning slightly pink. Reaching for his glass, he takes a sip of water. “You need to understand that we didn’t start so easily as going on a date.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at that, earning another smile from TK, this one bashful.

“Okay,” he starts, exhaling loudly. “So our story goes like this – ”

Carlos listens as TK tells him of Michelle inviting his team to the local honky-tonk after rescuing the mother and child from the car accident. He tells him about Carlos walking up to him in a ridiculously tight shirt and asking him to dance. He blushes as TK shoots him a look, telling him he looked so hot. And blushes even further when TK tells him of the two of them sneaking off to make out in the bar bathroom, exchanging numbers after kissing each other senselessly before seeing each other two days later and having sex on the floor of Carlos’ old living room.

“Not much time for courting,” he says dryly, unable to keep the smile off his face as TK grins back at him.

“In your defense, you did try to court me,” TK says gently, affection shining in his eyes. “You invited me to a midnight dinner the next night.”

“Oh,” Carlos says, relieved. “That’s better.”

TK winces slightly in return.

“Or not?” he questions, getting a nod back from TK.

“I kind of freaked out on you,” he says, looking deeply sorry. Carlos can’t imagine it could have been so bad if three years later they’re still together, but he waits for TK to explain.

“I had gone through a horrible breakup back home – I was getting ready to propose, and he was cheating on me with some guy from the gym. I wasn’t looking for anything other than some harmless sex, so when you made this lovely dinner for me with flowers and candles, and you looking so fine in a dress shirt and slacks. I turned into a jerk, and the dinner was a bust.”

Carlos quietly processes what TK has just told him. He feels a pang in his chest at the knowledge that TK loved someone else enough to consider marriage. He scoffs quietly at the silly jealousy he feels from it. It’s completely ridiculous to be jealous of some random man from TK’s past when TK is here now in their home with him. He tries not to think too hard about what it means to feel this way when TK is still essentially a stranger to him.

“How did we recover from that?”

TK cringes again, and Carlos has to keep from reaching out and poking his nose as it wrinkles adorably.

“I got arrested, and you were the officer to process me?” TK says in the form of a question, groaning when Carlos’ eyebrows both go up.

“That sounds like a conflict of interest.”

“That’s what I said to you!” TK exclaims, waving a hand at him. “Thank you for finally agreeing with me!”

“Maybe I made sure to get your paperwork when you were brought in,” he suggests, theorizing.

“Do you think you would do that?” TK questions curiously.

“If I really liked you and wanted a reason to talk to you, sure,” he shrugs, knowing that while he’s usually a by-the-book cop, he has an impulsive streak. “And something tells me I did like you enough to do that.”

TK looks away from him, but it doesn’t hide his pleased smile from Carlos. He feels warmed by it again, and wonders just how many times over the years has TK’s smile caused his stomach to flutter.

“So how did getting arrested help us after that dinner gone wrong?” he asks, clearing his throat. “And what did you get arrested for?”

“A bar fight,” TK answers, wincing when he shoots him an unimpressed look. “I know, I know. It was stupid, and trust me, you let me know how stupid you thought it was. But like I said, I was going through a bad breakup, I had relapsed on substances as a result, and I was looking for something to keep my mind off my life being shit that wasn’t alcohol or pills.”

TK sneaks a look at him, holding his breath as he waits for him to react to his confession.

“Are you okay now?” he asks softly, letting out a sigh when TK nods.

“I haven’t used since my relapse,” he answers. “There have been moments of struggle, but I have overcome them.”

“I’m proud of you, TK,” he says as he reaches for his hand, not sure if it’s his place but unable to stop himself.

TK gives him a slight quirk of his lips. “You always say that,” he whispers, offering his hand a squeeze. “And I’ll remind you now that you’re a big reason for my continued sobriety.”

“No – “ he starts to shake his head, freezing when TK grips his hand that much tighter.

“Yes,” TK answers firmly. “You are my biggest champion. Your unwavering faith in me has saved me so many times, sweetheart. I know you don’t remember it now, but you need to know that.”

 ֎֎֎

 TK leaves for the basement after they finish their meal, claiming a need to do laundry. Really Carlos thinks he’s giving him space after the emotionally packed conversation they shared. Either way, Carlos takes the reprieve he’s given. He calls his mother to check in, assuring her he and TK are okay.

She gives him a loaded ‘hmm’ and an amused ‘nothing’ when he asks what’s that about.

After ending the call, he wanders around the house some more. It’s hard to find pieces of the life he does remember, but he figures losing everything in a fire will do that. He takes his time looking at the rest of the pictures around the house. He and TK are attached at the hip in just about all of them, more often than not smiling at each other instead of the camera.

TK comes back upstairs an hour later with a basket full of clean clothes. “Fresh towels,” he proclaims happily. “Just the way you like it for your showers,” he smiles before giving him a curious look. “We’ll have to wrap your arm with plastic for that – are you okay?”

Carlos nods, pointing at the framed photos on the wall. “Just looking,” he answers, pausing as something comes to mind for the first time and feeling silly for it. “Hey, do you know what happened to my phone?”

“It got wrecked in the accident,” TK answers as he crosses towards a cabinet. “But I got it replaced for you, and made sure everything was backed up from the cloud.”

He takes the phone from him, looking at it, and then looks back up at TK, who smiles back at him a little awkwardly. “Your passcode is my birthday,” he answers, rattling off the numbers to him before leaving the room again, heading upstairs with the laundry in hand.

“I really am a sap,” he mumbles to himself, punching in the code. He looks through his old messages first. Some are from his partner Mitchell, there is a recipe link from Paul, and a group message between him, his parents, TK’s father, and TK himself about dinner plans from over a month ago. The conversation between him and TK is endless, with many ‘I love yous’ and ‘be safe’ exchanged. There are also teasing remarks – quite a few racy enough to make his ears feel hot.

He turns to his camera roll and scoffs at himself at the sheer amount of pictures of TK in it.

“What’s that noise for?” TK questions coming back into the living room.

“I might be your stalker,” he answers, waving his phone when TK raises an eyebrow at him. “Pretty sure 90% of my phone is pictures of you, so yeah,” he points a finger at himself. “Stalker.”

TK lets out a laugh, throwing his head back, and Carlos can’t help but stare, transfixed by the image of him. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is without even trying.

Looking back at him, Carlos can see his green eyes sparkle with amusement.

“You should see my phone,” he says unbothered. “It’s all you, all the time. Nancy teases the crap out of me for it. So we’re pretty even on that front, don’t worry.”

“There are some dirty messages from you here,” he tells him, biting down on his lip when it makes TK smirk, even as he turns a rosy pink.

“I would bet my car that there are more than just dirty messages saved in there from me,” he answers, his smirk growing filthier as Carlos’ eyes widen. “Sometimes you work nights, and I get bored without you,” he tells him, his blush growing stronger. “Bet you haven’t found those pictures yet.”

No, but he sure as hell plans on finding them later when he’s alone, he thinks, going hot himself at the thought. “So you like to tease me,” he questions, earning himself a suggestive chuckle in return.

“As I like to tell you when you call me a tease. It’s not teasing if I deliver,” TK points out, grin firmly in place. “And I always do.”

“Of all the things to forget,” Carlos grumbles, mostly at himself.

TK’s smile slips away, a flash of pain crossing his face before he can hide it away. “It will come back,” he says softly.

Carlos tilts his head, studying him. “You sound so sure.”

TK gives him a gentle shrug of his shoulder in return. “When it comes to us against whatever crap the world throws at us, I’ll place my bet on you and me every single time.”

 ֎֎֎

 Carlos is in the bedroom waiting for TK to finish his shower before he can hop in himself. He smiles as he hears TK sing some song horribly off-key.

“Hey, rockstar,” he calls out when he hears the water shut off, grinning as TK lets out a shouted curse in surprise. He probably figured Carlos was still downstairs. “When you’re done with your concert, can you help me wrap my cast?”

He hears more muffled grumbling that causes him to chuckle at least until TK opens the door. His laughter halting in his throat as he takes in his boyfriend in nothing more than a towel, his chest bare with water droplets running down his defined abs.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he scolds him with a pout on his face that has no right being as charming as it is.

“I understand how we fell into bed so quickly,” he blurts out, blushing as TK raises a questioning eyebrow at him. “You’re stunning,” he continues, unable to hold back the thought. “I must have taken one look at you and just fallen head over heels for you.”

TK stares at him for a moment before shaking his head, a small reluctant smile taking over his face. “Leave it to you to have no memory of us and still manage to be ridiculously romantic,” he huffs, chuckling softly to himself. “You’re dangerous, Reyes.”

“I’m sorry,” Carlos apologizes, feeling awkward. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

TK crosses the room, coming to sit down next to him on the bed. “The fact that you’re still attracted to me doesn’t make me uncomfortable. On the contrary, it gives me hope,” he tells him with a half-smile. “Hope that you’ll come back to me here,” he says, tapping a finger against Carlos’ temple. “And here,” he brings his hand down to tap against Carlos’ chest over his heart.

“Don’t give up on me,” Carlos whispers, and even he can hear the pleading quality in his voice.

“Never,” TK answers gently, his green eyes bright and hopeful, and Carlos might not know him well, but he can see the love he feels for him in those eyes – it leaves him breathless. He realizes with a start how badly he wants to lean in, to close the gap between him and TK and see if tasting him will trigger the memories he so desperately wants back. He realizes with alarming clarity that even if he doesn’t remember, he very much wants to know if TK tastes as sweet as he seems.

He takes too long deciding, and when he shifts an inch closer, TK is already grabbing the plastic and medical tape he has on the bed.

“Now, let’s get this wrapped so you can shower,” he says sweetly, reaching for Carlos’ arm. “You’re probably tired after the long day. I bet you go right to sleep afterwards.”

Carlos thinks sleep is probably not coming with his swirling thoughts, but he gives TK a nod anyway.

“I’m going to the farmer’s market tomorrow morning,” TK continues once his arm is wrapped up. “We usually go together on our days off. Think you’re up for it?” he asks, giving Carlos a hopeful look.

Carlos nods again, wanting to keep that look on TK’s face and the bright smile that follows.

“That sounds nice.”

 ֎֎֎

 Carlos leans against the kitchen counter, staring through tired eyes as the coffee machine spits out a robust Colombian roast. Sleep, like he had expected, had been hard to come by the night before, with too many thoughts and too much space in his bed for him to settle in right. He might not remember sleeping with TK in their bed, but he has a feeling his body does, and it rebelled at the idea of TK being in another room away from him.

More than once last night, he had given serious thought to walking over to the guest room and begging TK to come sleep beside him. He hadn’t, and instead spent the night twisting and turning, flashes of moments running through his mind too fast to make a complete picture. It frustrates him while also giving him hope being home with TK will trigger his memories.

He hears footsteps coming down the stairs and turns his head just in time to see a sleepy, shirtless TK come into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and grumbling.

“Need. Coffee. Now,” he mumbles, passing him, going straight for the coffee maker, only to let out a whine when he sees the pot is nowhere near ready.

“Good morning,” he says dryly, a smile tugging on his face at the adorable image TK makes, pout in full display as he turns to acknowledge him.

“Coffee,” he demands once more.

Carlos opens his mouth to tease him, stopping short as something comes back to him instantly.

He’s in the middle of bringing his cup to his lips when he feels TK slide up behind him, his arms going around his waist, his face tucked between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he says fondly, twisting in TK’s hold to turn to him, smiling at his sleepy expression.

“Woke up without you,” TK pouts, his green eyes narrowed. “On our day off. That’s illegal; arrest yourself right now.”

“If I arrest myself, we can’t spend the day together,” he points out, chuckling as TK gives him a dry look.

“Maybe I just want you in handcuffs,” TK quips, a teasing smile playing on his lips when Carlos raises an eyebrow at him.

“We can play that game if you want. It was a lot of fun the last time,” he challenges back with a smirk of his own when TK lets out a sharp breath at his answer.

“Too early for this,” TK grumbles, his cheeks a pretty pink. “Need coffee.”

“If you let me go, I can get you a cup,” he offers, waiting as TK considers. Finally, his boyfriend shakes his head.

“Nope,” he answers, tucking his face into Carlos’ shoulder, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “This is better anyway.”

“Hey,” TK snaps his fingers softly in front of his face. When Carlos focuses on him, he finds him looking at him with a curious and slightly worried expression. “Are you okay? Where did you go?”

“Nowhere,” he answers, trying to give TK a smile to ease his worry while inside, he’s reeling. The memory had been as clear as TK standing in front of him now, but more than that, he can remember what he’d been feeling at that moment. The love and adoration he felt for the man in his arms, not wanting to let him go even for a cup of coffee.

“Are you sure?” TK asks again, still concerned.

“Yeah,” he says again, this time his smile coming out a little easier as he wraps himself in the feelings caused by the memory. “Are we still going to the farmer’s market today?”

“Sure,” TK answers as he walks over to the coffee pot that is now full. He pulls out two mugs, pouring them both a cup. “If you’re up to it, that is.”

“I am,” he answers, taking the cup TK offers him. “I thought I could cook this evening,” he suggests, waving his cast at him. “With your help.”

TK shoots him a grin. “Sure, it should be fun to watch you bite your lip to keep from telling me I’m chopping the wrong way.”

“Do you chop the wrong way?” he questions, suddenly concerned.

TK shrugs a shoulder at him. “You seem to think so. You’re always warning me I’m going to cut myself and hover over me like the worrywart you are.”

“I’m suddenly reconsidering letting you help me,” he says honestly, getting another playful grin from TK.

“Too late,” he chirps. “I’m helping. Now I’m gonna head for the shower. We can grab breakfast at this bakery we like near the market.”

Carlos nods in agreement as TK starts to leave the kitchen. He’s about to let him pass when he notices a scar near TK’s left shoulder. “Hey, what is that?” he stops him, bringing a hand to the spot, running a thumb over it. He hears TK’s breath catch, but he ignores it as he realizes with a start what he’s looking at. “Is this a bullet wound, TK?” he asks, his voice coming out higher than usual.

He stares at TK with wide eyes as the man lets out a wince.

“Yeah…see what happened was – “

 ֎֎֎

 “So you’re telling me you have been shot at and kidnapped?” he questions for the third time since TK finished retelling him his unfortunate work calls. Since then, they’ve stopped by the bakery TK mentioned, bought their breakfast – a spinach pie for him and a cherry cheese Danish for TK, and now are walking around the market, reusable grocery bags in hand. Carlos is still at a loss, having trouble understanding how TK can recall the moments so calmly. When Carlos on the other hand, is quietly freaking out and wondering how to hide TK away from the world hellbent on injuring him.

“Yes,” TK answers simply, lifting his hand to offer him half his Danish. “Trade? We usually do because you like the last taste in your mouth to be sweet.”

He distractedly takes the offered pastry, giving TK the last bit of his pie.

“Do I have blood pressure issues?” he questions, looking over at TK as he pops the last bit of food in his mouth. “I feel like I have to because my BP is skyrocketing right now.”

“So dramatic,” TK scoffs, rolling his pretty eyes at him. “As if I would let you have high blood pressure. My dad is a health nut. If you had a high BP, there would be no salt in the house,” he continues with a cheeky smile that makes Carlos huff.

“Cute,” he says sarcastically. “Have I tried to bubblewrap you? I think drastic measures need to be taken here to keep you safe.”

He winces as his voice goes a little manic at the end there, causing TK to stop walking, the amused but exasperated smile on his face dropping.

“Hey,” he starts softly, reaching out to touch Carlos’ wrist, pressing the pads of his fingers against his pulse point, squeezing gently, helping Carlos center himself. “I’m okay,” he says slowly, his eyes locking with Carlos’.

“Yes, they were scary moments, ones I would rather not repeat. But when I was shot, you were there every day waiting for me to wake up.” TK squeezes his wrist again, making sure he’s listening. “And when I got kidnapped, you figured out where we were, and you rescued me.”

“I did?” he asks breathlessly. Leave it to TK to get to the root of Carlos’ freak out. The thought of TK hurt or in danger and Carlos helpless to save him.

“You did,” TK answers. He lets go of Carlos’ wrist, but Carlos instinctively takes his hand before he can get too far.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, holding his breath as he waits for TK to decide if he should pull his hand away or not. He watches his eyes flicker between their joined hands and Carlos’ face, a flash of something too close to sorrow playing over his features for a second. He’s just about to pull away himself and apologize to TK when he links their fingers together, giving Carlos a slight smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart, of course it’s okay,” he whispers back, his smile more honest and less pained. “Take this as a blanket invitation to touch me when you want or need, okay?”

Carlos startles at the offer, staring at TK as he looks back at him.

TK shakes his head softly at him. He reaches up, touching Carlos’ temple gently with his other hand. “This is hard for me,” he admits, brushing one of Carlos’ curls into place. “But I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on in your head. How scared you must be to have all these missing pieces in your memory. So yeah, Carlos, if holding my hand brings you any kind of comfort, if touching me helps center you, feel free to touch me anytime the urge hits.”

Carlos can’t speak in the face of such an offer when he knows TK hurts every moment Carlos doesn’t remember their life together.

“That might not be fair to you.”

TK gives him another gentle smile, his eyes shining with what Carlos can only call love. “You let me worry about what’s fair to me,” he tells him before wrinkling his nose at him sweetly. “Besides, I’ve never said no to your hands on me, and I’m not about to start now.”

They stay like that, neither moving as they get lost in the moment. It’s only when a sharp whistle pierces the air that TK breaks their eye contact, twisting around to find the source. Carlos doesn’t recognize the elderly woman waving at them from a few stalls away, but TK obviously does by the low noise he lets out.

“Shit,” he mutters, looking back at him. “That’s Martha; we buy jam and honey from her. She’s very old and very sweet and is extremely fond of us. She’s gonna take one look at your arm and fuss, and if we tell her about your memory issues – “

“She’s not going to take it too well?” Carlos finishes for him, getting a nod in return. “Okay,” he says, understanding TK is suggesting they pretend everything is fine. “Martha, you said?”

“Yeah,” TK bites down on his lip nervously.

Carlos gives TK’s fingers a gentle tug. “Let’s go say hello and get some jam. Does she have apricot?” he questions as they start to make their way over to her stall.

TK lets out a breath, smiling slightly as he leans into Carlos’ side. “Yes, she has apricot jam, which she always lets you taste even though we buy it from her all the time.”

“I like her already,” he says honestly. He can see the woman better now. He can see the happy smile on her face as they approach, followed by concern as her eyes stray to his arm.

“Carlos Reyes,” she gasps once they are close enough. “What in the world happened to you?”

“Car accident,” he says as she comes around her stall to get closer. He stands still as she touches his arm and then his cheek with gentle wrinkled hands as she peers up at him.

“Oh my dear boy,” she says softly, her tone caring like a grandmother. “Are you okay?”

He gives her a nod, tilting his head towards TK. “This one over here is taking very good care of me,” he says with a playful waggle of his eyebrows, smiling when she lets out a whistling laugh, her concern easing at his teasing.

“I’m sure he is,” she says with a laughing tone of her own. She turns towards TK, holding out her hands to him. TK places his hands in hers, holding on as she gives them a gentle squeeze. “You okay, dear?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, Martha,” TK answers her softly, sneaking a look at him. “He’s alive and whole, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Martha studies both of them with a gentle look. “Sweet boys,” she whispers. She pats TK’s hands again before letting go of them. “Your love is so special,” she continues with a smile that is then followed by a pointed look. “Beautiful, even though I see no rings yet.”

TK groans out the woman’s name through a tired smile. He looks amused, but it doesn’t hide the gentle blush taking over his face. “We’ve talked about this, Martha,” he reminds her, sneaking a look at him again before focusing on the older woman. “We’re happy the way we are, for now, there is no need to – “

“Rush things,” Martha finishes for TK, rolling her eyes at him. “Blah, blah, blah,” she mocks with her hand.

“Martha!” TK exclaims with a surprised laugh. Carlos looks away, not knowing what to say. He can feel his heart tick up at the subject. Obviously, it’s one the older woman is used to commenting on going off TK’s response, and Carlos wonders what his usual answer is. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that the mention of rings – his on TK’s finger, makes his stomach do a somersault.

“Young people,” Martha mutters as she opens a jar of jam, spreading some over a cracker before passing it over to him.

He takes it from her, popping it into his mouth, letting out a pleased sound as the sweet taste fills his senses. “Delicious,” he says to her, causing her to beam back at him. “Best jam ever.”

“If you put a ring on this boy’s finger already, I might give you my secret recipe,” she says to him, grinning brightly as he feels his face go red.

“Oh my god, Martha,” TK mumbles, turning his face to hide it into Carlos’ shoulder.

Carlos instinctively pulls him closer, trying to shield him from his own embarrassment.

Martha sighs deeply, pursing her lips at them. “Just the jam then?”

 ֎֎֎

 They get home past noon. The ride back is quiet and a little uncomfortable. Martha’s teasing prompting some new questions Carlos is itching to ask.

“I left some chicken out for a southwest salad for lunch?” TK tells him as they place their groceries on the counter. “What do you say?”

“Sounds good,” he answers as he takes out the avocados from the bag, separating the two ripe ones for the salad.

“Great,” TK says, flashing him a strained smile. He starts pulling out what he needs from the cupboards, beans, and corn, while Carlos gets the rest from the fridge.

They work together around the kitchen quietly, Carlos’ assistance limited by his arm. Finally, as TK cooks the chicken on a cast iron skillet, he can’t hold in his questions any longer.

“Have we talked about it?” he asks, holding his breath when TK shoots him a knowing look.

“We haven’t planned anything officially,” he answers, not needing Carlos to clarify his question. “But you know how much I love you, and I know how much you love me. We both know we want to spend the rest of our lives together. There is no doubt about that.”

Carlos takes in a sharp breath at the certainty he hears in TK’s voice as he speaks about their commitment to each other in the present tense, not in the past before Carlos’ accident. TK’s absolute belief in them is humbling, and Carlos is left in awe that someone loves him as much as TK does.

It must show on his face by the way TK’s expression softens. He reaches out, touching Carlos’ side gently for a moment, offering him comfort.

“The chicken is done,” he says as he pulls his hand back.

Carlos doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just watches TK move around the room, getting their salads ready. He takes the plate offered, heading for the dining room table, following TK.

“I have a shift tomorrow,” TK tells him as they eat. “But Captain Vega said I can call out if you need me here with you.”

He looks at him questioningly, but Carlos is already shaking his head. “I don’t want you to miss work because of me,” he tells him. It’s bad enough that he’s on leave for the next few weeks due to his arm and head injury. “I’m healthy enough to be left on my own.”

TK opens his mouth like he wants to argue, pausing when Carlos gives him a pleading look. “Okay then,” he says softly, agreeing. “I’ll tell her I’m good to go, but I’m gonna check in on you.”

Carlos nods.

“A lot,” TK warns him, and this time Carlos smiles.

“I expect nothing less,” he answers softly, affection spreading through him for the man before him.

 ֎֎֎

 They spend the rest of the afternoon and evening lounging around. Carlos’ parents call again, this time facetiming. He and TK press against each other as they talk to them, and Carlos catches the smiles his folks throw their way more than once.

“My parents seem to really like you,” he comments later as they lay back on the couch watching TV. They’re watching the end of an episode of house hunters, and TK has been complaining about the couple and their ridiculously high expectations for most of it. “How did that happen?”

TK turns to him, raising both eyebrows in challenge. “I’m sorry, do you not find me charming enough to win over Gabriel and Andrea Reyes?” he asks with a teasing smirk on his face. “Because I’ll have you know they adore me. Big fans of TK Strand those two.”

Carlos rolls his eyes even as he smiles. “I know. I can tell they love you,” he answers. “And I know you’re charming. You’ve already captivated me, and I’ve only been home two days with you.”

TK looks away from him at that, but Carlos can see the corners of his mouth tug upward anyway.

“I just remember how it used to be between my folks and me when it came to my private life,” he continues though he wants to forget the subject and focus on the smile on TK’s face. He wants to reach out and trace it with his thumb, hating how it drops as he continues. “I guess I don’t understand how we got to this point with them.”

“That’s probably more of a conversation you should have with your folks,” TK answers delicately as he fidgets with his fingers. “But I will say that though it took time, once they knew about us, they were very happy with our relationship, and it greatly improved your own relationship with them. That old hurt you’re remembering of not being able to share your life with them, that mended over time.”

“Thanks to you,” he answers softly, sure of it deep in his bones that TK had everything to do with it.

TK doesn’t deny it; he just gives him a kind smile. “I always have your back,” he tells him. “Just like you have mine.”

Carlos wants to say thank you, but it doesn’t feel nearly enough. The smile TK gives him lets him know he hears it anyway.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” TK says as he stands up from the couch. “When I get out, I’ll wrap your arm for you, okay?”

He gives him a nod and watches as he heads upstairs. He waits for a few minutes before he too gets up, turning off the TV and the lights, punching in the security code TK wrote down for him before heading upstairs himself.

A few minutes pass before TK comes out of the shower and into the bedroom, this time in a pair of sleeping shorts and a t-shirt, disappointingly not like the night before with just a towel around him.

“I didn’t even ask how you slept last night,” he says, running a towel over his head, looking at Carlos expectantly.

Carlos goes to tell him he slept fine, not wanting to burden him, but can’t bring himself to lie. “The bed is too big,” he says instead, getting a sympathetic look back from TK.

“We have slept together for a long time now,” he says softly. “We are used to our bodies next to each other. I didn’t get great sleep in the guestroom either,” he admits.

“You could – “ Carlos stops himself, biting down on his lip as his heart starts to race at the same thought he’s had since the night before. He can tell by the way TK’s eyes widen that he knows what he wants to say.

“Yeah?” he questions, pausing hesitantly as he licks his lips. “You wouldn’t be uncomfortable with me in bed with you?”

He lets out a small huff as he closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, he can’t help but smile. “I might not remember a lot of stuff right now. But I know for a fact that you have never made me feel uncomfortable, that much I do know.”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies the way TK has gone shy. “What about you? Will you be uncomfortable if we share the same bed?”

“More like relieved,” TK blurts out, going rosy in the cheeks as he speaks. “It’s been a long two weeks without you, sweetheart.”

His eyes darken for a moment, and Carlos feels his breath catch.

“Okay then,” he whispers, swallowing hard as his stomach clenches with anticipation, feeling a fundamental shift between them. “It’s settled.”

 ֎֎֎

 He takes his time in the shower, and by the time he comes out, TK has settled into his side of the bed, his eyes half-closed as they follow him around the room that is dark except for his bedside lamp. It casts a low yellow glow that gives the space a dream-like quality.

“You should know I have been known to cling to you like a koala in the middle of the night,” he warns him sleepily as Carlos gets under the covers. It sounds nice, and he tells TK that, earning a tired chuckle in return.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he sighs out as he turns to his side, facing Carlos with his eyes closed.

Carlos mimics him, turning towards him without turning off the lights just yet, his face inches away from TK’s. He doesn’t mean to stare at him, but he can’t help himself. This is the closest he’s had TK since this started, and he can’t help but want to take him in. He must be staring too hard because after a few minutes, TK’s eyes flutter open. They’re tired but bright in the darkened room. Like two beacons of light, they pull Carlos in. He inches closer until his forehead is pressed against TK’s. Their breathing is loud and heavy, and Carlos can feel every puff that passes TK’s lips touch his face.

He reaches up, giving in to the impulse from earlier, running a trembling finger over TK’s mouth, finding it as soft as he imagined.

“Carlos,” TK whispers, and when Carlos looks up from his mouth, he finds his pupils blown wide.

TK lifts a hand, grabbing at his bicep to pull him closer.

“Are you sure?” he questions even as he wraps an arm around TK’s waist, pulling him tight against his body, his heart racing at the soft moan TK lets out in response.

“If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to lose my mind,” TK mutters, pressing his forehead harder against Carlos’.

Carlos lets out a low groan right as he covers TK’s mouth with his own.

It’s not a tentative kiss.

He might not remember their first, but his mouth and body seem to have no such problem as he sinks his tongue into TK’s mouth. Desperate from the first taste for more.

TK gives as good as he gets; he licks and bites on Carlos’ bottom lip, smiling into the kiss as it makes Carlos gasp. Then, he presses a smaller, gentler one over the sting to soothe it, and this time Carlos’ toes curl at the sweetness of the gesture.

“I must want to kiss you all the damn time,” Carlos whispers frantically as he clings to TK. It gets him a soft, loving laugh from his boyfriend as their kisses slow down to a gentle back and forth of their lips.

“The feeling is very mutual, sweetheart,” he tells him, giving him one last kiss, followed by two smaller ones at the corners of his mouth. He pulls back then, reaching over Carlos’ side to turn off the light. They settle in for the night, neither pulling away from each other’s arms.

He feels TK fall asleep even as he remains wide awake and accepts another sleepless night as TK gets even closer, his face tucked away into Carlos’ neck.

With TK in his arms, this one is already a hundred times better than the night before.

 ֎֎֎

 Carlos is in the middle of mindlessly channel surfing when there is a knock at the door. Most of his morning has been aimless with nothing to do but think of TK and them waking up together in a tangle of limbs.

He had woken up to his breath being stolen by the beauty of a sleeping TK. He’d been helpless but to stare and study every detail of his face, committing it to memory, wondering how in the world he could ever forget such a perfect picture in the first place. Twenty minutes later, right before his alarm went off, TK’s eyes had fluttered open to find his gaze on him. The smile that took over TK’s face as he teasingly called him a weirdo for staring had caused something to squeeze tight under Carlos’ ribcage with a feeling he didn’t dare speak out loud yet.

Getting up from the couch, he opens the door to find his mother on the other side with a bakery box in her hands.

“Conchas?” she asks with a bright smile as she shakes the box back and forth.

Carlos smiles, giving her a head tilt toward the inside of the house, kissing her on the cheek as she comes in.

They head for the kitchen, and Carlos silently starts the coffee machine before pulling a jar of Nutella out of the cupboard.

“You remember that,” she says with a pleased smile as she grabs a knife and starts cutting the conchas down the middle to spread the Nutella over it.

“Mmhmm,” he nods, leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew.

She passes him a half of the sweet bread with a smile. “How’s it going, cariño?” she questions, her brow wrinkled with worry.

Carlos chews on his concha as he tries to think how to answer that. Physically he’s okay; his arm is healing, and he should have his cast off in a few weeks. Even mentally, the doctors aren’t terribly concern. They’re sure his memory will come back, and given the small but frequent flashes he’s had, he’s inclined to believe them.

Just this morning, he’d made TK’s banana and peanut butter shake – made with oat milk, two tablespoons of creamy peanut butter, and half a scoop of protein powder. TK had taken a sip from it, smiling as he told him it was precisely how he liked it, pausing for a moment as he realized Carlos remembered how to make it before his smile grew even larger. He was remembering, it was slow, but it was happening.

He could tell his mother all of that, but that wasn’t what was on his mind. What’s on his mind is the feel of TK’s mouth against his the night before and then this morning as he let him kiss him before he left for work. What’s on his mind is how right it felt to hold TK as they slept. What is on his mind is how TK’s smile or laugh causes Carlos to go warm all over.

“I think I’m falling in love, Mami,” he says softly, holding his breath once he’s let the words out.

Andrea puts down her treat, wiping her face with a napkin. When she lowers it, Carlos can see the hints of a smile playing on her face. “Well, I hope it’s with your boyfriend, or else this is going to get really awkward for you.”

“Mami,” Carlos groans at her teasing, getting a delighted laugh in return. He pushes off the counter to turn off the coffee maker, pouring the hot liquid into two mugs. “You don’t look particularly surprised by what I just said.”

Andrea smiles at him as she takes the mug he offers her. “Why would I be?” she questions. “Like temporary amnesia is going to destroy what you and TK have? Por favor.”

“What do we have?” he questions, curious to know how his mother sees his relationship with TK. If she really approves.

His mother seems to understand. She places her mug down, crossing the distance between them until she’s standing in front of him, taking his face in her hands.

“I will always regret not asking you more after you came out to us,” she starts, shaking her head when he goes to speak. “You were just a kid, my sweet boy, scared of what we would think, and we messed up so bad. Your father and I thought the best way to let you know it was fine was by acting like nothing had changed, when of course everything had changed for you. We should have asked about your romances, about your heartbreaks.”

“Mami,” he whispers, his heart in his throat as his mother gives him a sad smile.

“We didn’t realize we were hurting you by keeping quiet,” she continues. “I love TK as if he was my own, Carlitos, for a lot of reasons, but two above all.”

Carlos bites down on his lip, waiting for her to tell him her reasons.

“One,” she says with a teary smile. “Him coming into your life gave us a chance to fix our mistakes with you. He became so important to you, you couldn’t keep him from us, and as a result, we got to meet him, know him and get to know you too. The you we had been missing out with our ignorance, and I am so grateful for that.”

“And the second reason?” he asks, swallowing hard around the lump of emotion that has formed in his throat as he starts to get a picture of how he and his parents overcame years of silence about his personal life.

“The second reason answers your original question,” she says with a growing smile that is both loving and proud. “What you and TK have – it’s what I have always wanted for you since I first held you.”

With her hold on his face, she makes sure his eyes are locked with hers, letting Carlos see how sincere she’s being.

“You two have the type of love I always wished for you. Kind, patient, incredibly loving and tender, and above all else, genuine. You, telling me that you’re falling in love with TK all over again isn’t surprising in the least, mi niño. It was the only direction this story could go.”

 ֎֎֎

 Carlos waves at his mother as she drives away after dropping him off at the firehouse. He walks through the bay doors, finding both fire engines parked but an empty space where the rescue 126 rig should be. He sees a few of the faces that visited him while in the hospital over by the back of the firehouse but hesitates about approaching them.

“Carlos? What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

Carlos turns around at the voice to find the fire captain – TK’s father, his brain supplies, coming towards him with a concerned frown on his face.

“Captain Strand,” he greets him with a nervous smile as the older man’s frown deepens.

“We worked long and hard getting you comfortable enough to call me Owen,” he says with a shake of his head. “I know you can’t remember that we get along great right now, but please, let’s not revert to Captain or sir, I beg of you. It’s just Owen.”

“I’m sorry, sir – shit – Owen,” he gets out, cringing a bit as he feels like a school kid in trouble with the teacher. “I’ll work on it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Owen tells him with a smile that doesn’t hide his amusement in the least. “What brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome anytime, of course.”

“I was restless at home,” he answers with a shrug as he looks around the place. “I figured I’d come and visit TK, but – “ he trails off.

“He and his team are answering a call,” Owen finishes for him, his smile growing fond and meaningful. It makes Carlos want to squirm under the man’s watchful eye.

“What?” he blurts out finally as Owen seems to grow even more amused with him.

The captain lets out a chuckle, holding his hands up in a silent apologetic gesture. “It’s just that nothing has changed. You might have trouble remembering a lot of things right now, but you still seek TK out when you’re anxious.”

“How do you know I’m anxious?” he questions, surprised. He gets a sympathetic fatherly look from Owen that seems vaguely familiar in the back of his mind.

“Because you and I are friends,” he answers, slapping his back gently as he gestures towards the kitchen with a tilt of his head, asking him to follow him.

Carlos does, sitting on one of the stools when Owen points to it.

“And hopefully someday soon we’ll be family,” he continues with a smirk when Carlos jerks his head up to stare at him. “Officially anyway, we’re already family.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything as Owen pulls a slim pitcher with green gunk in it out of the fridge.

“I’m usually a good listener,” the fire captain tells him, placing a glass of the green liquid in front of him. “You and I talk sometimes.”

Carlos brings the glass to his mouth, taking a sip, instantly making a face that causes Owen to snort.

“You usually hide your distaste for my power greens smoothies better,” he says to him, laughing when Carlos scowls.

“You know I hate it and still offer it to me?” he questions, getting a cheeky grin and a nod.

“Just waiting for the day you finally have the guts to tell me you don’t like it.”

“Well, that day has arrived, Owen,” he says dryly, even as he blushes in the face of the older man’s enjoyment.

“At last,” Owen smirks, and it’s so reminiscent of TK it forces Carlos to smile back reluctantly.

“Strand men, troublemakers to the core,” he mutters, his eyes widening moments later. “I remember that,” he whispers, catching Owen’s eyes. “You two are brats.”

“Hey, now,” Owen says with faux offense, even as he looks at him brightly and hopefully. “Hurtful, truthful, but hurtful.”

Carlos huffs, shaking his head with amusement.

“You’re starting to remember,” Owen says kindly, his expression softening as he says it, relieved as Carlos gives him a nod. “That’s so good, kid. We all miss you, but especially my son.”

Carlos licks his lips nervously, parting them to speak when the beeping of the ambulance coming back echoes through the place.

“Speak of the devil,” Owen says quietly, the corners of his mouth tilting upward. “Go on then. He’s who you came to see, and I know he’ll be happy to see your face. He’s been worried all day about being away from you.”

Carlos quickly gets up, flashing Owen a grateful look before heading back towards the front of the firehouse. He watches as TK’s partner and Captain joke with him for a moment before heading off together, leaving TK alone by the rig.

“Hey,” he calls out, watching as TK’s head snaps up at his voice.

“Hi,” TK says back, walking over to him quickly. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, touching TK’s bicep, running his hand up and down his arm. “I’m fine. Nothing is wrong,” he continues, pulling TK towards him as his shoulders drop in relief. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispers, wrapping his good arm around TK, holding him to his chest. “I just missed you and wanted to see your face.”

TK pulls back just enough to look up at him from where he has tucked his face into Carlos’ chest. “Really?” he whispers, his green eyes bright and oh so pretty.

“Yeah,” he answers, licking his lips, his stomach clenching as TK tracks the movement, and he wonders if it’s okay for him to kiss TK here. If now that they have kissed, he can just kiss him when the urge hits. He thinks probably not, or he would be kissing TK nonstop seeing as the urge seems to always be there.

Instead, he takes a small step back to resist the urge to give in to the temptation and says. “Let’s go out tonight.”

TK raises an eyebrow at him, a small, shy smile playing on his lips. “Like a date?” he questions, his smile blossoming when Carlos nods.

“Yeah,” he exhales to calm down his sudden nerves. “Let’s go out on a date.”

“Okay,” TK grins, looking giddy. “I get off at 7. I’ll pick you up. I know exactly where to go.”

 ֎֎֎

 “This is really where you want to have our date?” Carlos asks dubiously as TK parks in the middle of an empty field – the burgers and fries they had picked up in a brown bag on his lap.

TK kills the engine, flashing him a grin as he unhooks his seatbelt. “It’s a special place for us,” he says mysteriously as he opens his door, stepping out of the car and grabbing their drinks. “Come on,” he motions for him to follow him to the back.

Popping the flatbed, Carlos finds a blanket laid out on the back of the truck.

“You prepped for this,” he comments, smiling when TK gives him a shy shrug of his shoulders. He takes the food from Carlos to allow him to get in first, following him seconds later.

“This is nice,” he says softly, looking around, picking at a loose thread of the blanket underneath them while TK unwraps their food. “Why is this place special for us?” he asks curiously. The field is elevated, and over the edge, there is a nice view of the city.

“This is where you and I officially started,” TK answers him as he looks up at the night sky. “We laid on top of your car looking at the sky and really began that night.”

Carlos looks up at the sky too. They’re far enough from the city that the stars gleam brightly. They’re beautiful, but Carlos just knows they were stunning the night TK is talking about.

Different shades of blue and green streak through the sky, lighting it up above them. They’re one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen. So stunning, and yet they pale in comparison to the man resting next to him on the hood of his car.

He looks up because he’s supposed to and has to resist the urge of turning his head towards what he really wants to be looking at.

“What are you thinking?” he asks finally, holding his breath as he waits for an answer.

“I’m thinking,” TK starts to say, his voice soft but pleased. “We make a pretty good team.”

Carlos’ breath catches his throat, a thread of hope spreading through him before he can tell himself to rein it in. Finally, he allows himself to turn his head, looking at TK, finding him smiling up at the sky.

“We really do, don’t we?” he asks, his heart skipping a beat as TK turns to face him, his smile growing the longer he looks at Carlos.

“’fraid so,” he whispers as he reaches for Carlos’ hand, intertwining their fingers together before he brings their hands to rest over his stomach.

Carlos blinks, but the memory doesn’t fade. If anything, it gleams brighter. He remembers leaning in closer to TK until their mouths were but a whisper away from each other. He remembers the half-moan-half-grumble TK let out the longer their lips didn’t touch until Carlos was chuckling into their kiss – moaning himself when TK licked into his mouth, pent-up passion engulfing them after weeks of being something like friends.

“You with me?” TK questions curiously as he takes a sip from his soft drink.

“We make a pretty good team,” he answers and watches as TK’s hand freezes midway to the fries between them. His green eyes snap to his, fearful, hopeful, and everything else in between as he stares at him.

“You remember that?” he questions, and Carlos can tell he’s holding his breath as he waits for Carlos to answer. So he does.

“We made out on the hood of my car like teenagers,” he says with a smile as the memory plays again. “You almost pulled on your stitches. I warned you that if you pulled them out again, you were going to have to call your father and explain how it happened.”

“I was excited,” TK grumbles, giving him a pout. “Making out with you is the most fun I have ever had making out with anyone. The stitches were fine but you invoking my dad totally killed the mood.”

“No, it didn’t,” Carlos counters with a grin. He pushes the food away so he can get closer to TK until their faces are only inches apart. “You kept kissing me. We kissed at every red light from here to your dad’s place, and then when we got there, we made out for another ten minutes until he turned the living room lights on and off.”

“That was so embarrassing,” TK groans, leaning his head forward to let it rest against Carlos’. They stay like that for a moment, their eyes locked on each other.

“You remember that night,” TK breathes out in awe. “It’s coming back.”

Carlos nods, his nose rubbing against TK’s as he does so. “It’s coming back, TK,” he whispers back, swallowing hard as he lets himself ask for what he fears the most. “Please don’t stop loving me.”

 ֎֎֎

 Carlos wakes up after ten. It’s later than he’s used to, but with still being on leave at least until he’s out of his cast, he allows himself the indulgence of a late morning. He lets his good arm reach over to TK’s side of the bed. It’s empty, he knows, remembering the touch of TK’s lips to his forehead earlier in the morning before he left for work. Still, he touches the cool sheets, turning to press his face into TK’s pillow, breathing in his boyfriend’s scent, smiling to himself as he remembers the night before.

They’d come home after their date out in the field, kissing at every red light just like the first time, and by the time they pulled into the driveway, Carlos was vibrating out of his skin with desire.

He all but sprained his neck, nodding his consent when TK asked him if he was sure he wanted them to be intimate before his full memory came back. The smile on TK’s lips as he let out a soft chuckle was worth how red in the face he turned at his own eagerness.

He lets out an exhale, his good hand sliding down his body to cup himself through his sleep pants as he relives the night before.

TK helping him out of his clothes, laying gentle kisses over every inch of bare skin – he had laid back on the bed, his heart racing as TK took his own clothes off before he straddled his thighs, kissing him until he was a shaking mess underneath him. Only then had TK reached over to grab supplies out of the bedside table. And if he thought making out with TK was hot, nothing had prepared him for watching TK open himself up slowly for him with wet fingers, eyes fluttering shut, soft moans escaping his kiss-bruised lips as he found the right spot that made his thighs clench around Carlos’.

By the time TK was ready, reaching back to take him in his hand, lining him up to his opening, Carlos had been pleading, needing to be inside TK more than he has needed anything in his life.

Carlos lets out a low moan, tightening his hold on himself as he remembers the complete bliss he felt as TK sank down on him, taking in every last inch while Carlos stared up at him in awe as he started to move his hips.

Never in his life has he felt more connected to another person than to TK the night before.

He continues to picture it, recalling every beautiful sound TK made as he pushed them higher and higher, right up to the edge until he curved his body over Carlos’, his forehead pressed against his, his eyes wide as he stared down at him.

“I’m never going to stop loving you, Carlos,” TK whispered, drawing out a whimper from Carlos as he rolled his hips again. “Ever, I can promise you that. You can remember our life tomorrow or never again. I’ll always love you.”

Carlos comes in his fist with TK’s voice echoing in his ears just as he had done the night before. TK’s sureness of his love for him tipping him over the edge.

He lays there for a few minutes, waiting for his heart to stop racing before he gets up to clean himself. Without TK there to wrap his arm, it takes him longer to hop in the shower, but he manages. He has another week and a half with the cast on and honestly can’t wait to have it removed.

Once out of the shower, he’s looking through his dresser for clothes when his phone rings. Picking it up, he smiles as TK’s face appears on the caller ID.

“Hey,” he says, smiling into the speaker, his stomach doing a flip at TK’s voice, and he would roll his eyes at his silly schoolboy with a crush reaction if he wasn’t so happy and in love with the man on the other side of the phone.

“Hi,” TK says softly back, going quiet for a moment, and Carlos can just picture him biting down on his bottom lip. “I just wanted to check in with you. I had to leave for work early, and you were still mostly asleep. We didn’t get a chance to talk after last night, and I wanted to see how you were feeling this morning.”

Carlos smiles into the phone at the concern for him he hears in TK’s voice and wonders how he got so lucky to have such a caring partner.

“I’m good,” he answers as he keeps looking for a shirt he wants to wear. “I’m great, actually,” he continues honestly. “Last night was amazing.”

“No regrets?” TK questions hesitantly, causing Carlos to let out a snort.

“Only that we didn’t do that the night I came home,” he answers, grinning when TK lets out a laugh.

He pulls out a green shirt, throwing it on the bed with the jeans he’s already picked out. Then, opening the top drawer, he sticks his hand in to grab a pair of fresh underwear and socks, frowning when his hand finds a small hard box.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asks, and TK repeats himself as he suggests they do a movie night when he’s done with work. Carlos makes a sound of agreement as he stares at the small black box in his hand, his head racing as he realizes what it is.

A ring box.

“That sounds great,” he says, distracted, whispering a goodbye when TK tells him he has to go.

Ending the call, he places his phone down before focusing on the little box in his hand. He holds his breath as he opens the box to find a simple but beautiful wedding band, white gold or platinum, with a strip of small diamonds around it. On the inside is engraved ‘Eternally yours, te amo.’

The words hit him hard, and he has to take a seat at the edge of the bed as he realizes with startling clarity what he’s holding in his hand is his ring for TK.

He already knew he loved TK, has been falling for him all over again despite his lack of memory, and now, in his hand is the proof of just how much he loves him.

A hot tear lands on the hand holding the ring before he realizes he’s started crying, and by the time he reaches up to touch his face, he’s sobbing. It feels like the dam breaking after weeks of not even noticing it was filling up in the first place.

He cries over the moments he’s lost and is terrified he won’t get back. He cries as he realizes he could have lost so much more if he hadn’t made it out of the accident. He cries for TK, because if he feels this broken over a life he can’t remember well, he can only imagine what TK feels remembering it all. He cries in hope. Hope that forgotten life will come flooding back at some point. Finally, he cries in relief as TK’s voice promising to love him forever echoes again. Relief that even if the past doesn’t come back to him by some cruel twist of fate, he and TK still have a future.

He cries, and cries and cries some more, letting every last bit of it out.

 ֎֎֎

 If someone had asked Carlos how he thought he would get his memory back, he’s pretty sure his answer wouldn’t have been ‘on a random Thursday morning while brushing his teeth,’ but that’s precisely how it happens. He’s finished his shower, happy to no longer need to wrap his arm in plastic after having his cast removed a few days earlier.

It’s been three weeks since finding his engagement ring for TK and the minor breakdown that followed. He didn’t tell TK of either thing, not wanting him to worry or make him sad at his discovery. He knows it’s not the right time just as much as he knows that eventually, he’s going to put that ring on TK’s finger, memory back or not. He’s in love with his boyfriend – has fallen for him all over again.

His doctors are happy with his progress and the memories that are starting to seep through more and more as the days go on. They promise him if he just keeps living his life, doing what he usually does, they will all come back soon enough.

Carlos believes them, but he’s still surprised as he stares at his reflection, and it all comes back in an almost blinding flash. One second it’s not there, and then the next it is. He spits out the toothpaste in his mouth, barely passing a wet hand over it before he’s running out of the bathroom and down the stairs, tripping in his need to find the one person he needs the most right now.

“Scramble eggs for breakfast? We should probably go grocery shopping today since I’m off,” TK says to him as he turns to face him with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“TK stands for Tyler Kennedy,” he blurts out, watching as TK makes a face at the name before he realizes what he’s said, and his eyes widen. “And you always make that put-out face when I use it, but it’s followed by a smile because as much as you hate your name, you like it when I say it.”

“Carlos – “ TK whispers as he puts down his mug, and he can see it shaking slightly.

“When you are nervous or restless, you chew on the strings of your hoodies,” he continues. “And you bitch about Texas pizza, claiming it’s not real pizza because it’s not from New York.”

“Oh my god,” TK exhales, bringing a hand to his mouth as his eyes fill with tears.

Carlos swallows around the lump in his throat as his own eyes sting. “You play with my hair when I’ve had a hard day. You blush when I turn my cow eyes as you like to call them on you, and I love that I can make you blush even after three years.”

“You remember?” TK asks, and it breaks Carlos’ heart to hear the fear in his boyfriend’s voice, too scared to hope.

“I remember everything, baby,” he whispers back, taking a step toward him and then another. “And I love you, I love you so damn much TK – “

Carlos lets out a small grunt as TK slams into him, clinging to him as he starts to cry. He holds him tight to his chest, pressing his face into TK’s shoulder, rubbing his back, trying to soothe him as he continues to cry. It takes a few minutes for TK to calm down; by the time he does and pulls back to look at Carlos, his eyes are red from his tears.

“You remember me,” he says softly with a trembling smile.

“I’m so sorry I forgot,” he answers, reaching up to touch TK’s mouth when his boyfriend starts shaking his head, ready to tell him he doesn’t need to be sorry. “I know I don’t have to be and that it was an accident, but I’m still sorry you had to go through this. But you need to know, TK, that even without my memories, I still loved you, almost from the start. I loved you.”

TK wraps his fingers around Carlos’ wrist, pulling his hand away as he gives him a teary but beautiful smile. “I know that, my love. I know.”

Carlos nods as his eyes sting again, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I love you, TK. Then, now, and forever.”

TK lets out a shaky exhale, and when he tugs Carlos forward, he goes easily, sighing against TK’s lips as he kisses him gently. “And I love you, Carlos,” he says against his lips with another smile. “Exactly the same way.”

[burning-omen]

Thank you

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Words: 1,682

Spencer Reid x selectively mute! Male Reader

Requested by anonymous: "Could I get a Spencer Reid x Male!Reader where the reader is selective mute and tries to make up for the lack of being able to say kind things to people and ends up just being very affectionate with people and getting them gifts. And one point he’s giving something tk Spencer and end up either saying “You’re welcome” after he says thanks or just something small, which ends in wholesome shit cus the reader said something to Spencer when he rarely ever talks to begin with"

A/n: it gets crappy towards the end.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

You are selectively mute which for you meant that you just didn't talk much. Like Ferb from Phineas and Ferb, you only spoke when you were required to and a few other special occasions. But you were mostly silent other than those times. Your mother was deaf, only using sign language to communicate. She homeschooled you until college so you had no reason to speak until then.

When you were an adult you did try to speak more, but for you it was exhausting to force yourself to talk continuously so you went back to being the Ferb guy. You found friends who didn't try to force you to talk, some even tried to learn sign language for you. It was nice, having friends that didn't try and change you.

Everything was going good, you were happy. Then on a night out with your friends you see this nerdy little drifter in the bar, trying to find somewhere quiet to sit. And near you seemed to be perfect because he sat four seats away from you and your friends booth. You couldn't help but stare. He was so... Interesting. Who comes to a bar to read? Apparently he does. Another thing, he's finished that entire book. How?

A few other small things made him interesting, the way he'd keep pushing his messy hair out of his face instead of tying it back with the band around his wrist, the way that he was kicking his feet in a nonchalant way. He was... Cute.

Admiring someone was weird for you. You'd normally shoot down any type of attraction to anyone almost immediately, either convincing yourself that it's impossible that they would like you or that even if they did like you, your relationship wouldn't last long. But none of that came to mind.

Despite the very low chance that he knew sign language you decided to take a chance with him. You waited until he closed his second book(which only took a few minutes) before walking up to him.

But, halfway through walking over to him you got nervous and sat back down.

One of your friends, Warren, noticed this. He watched you stares longingly at the man who was only about 15 feet away. He looked around the man, then back at you.

"Dude... " He whispered.

You looked over at him.

"Go talk to- Well, interact with him. "

Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Without saying a word he stood up, you stared up at his with confusion but anxiety almost immediately took over as he hoisted you up and began to push you towards the man.

He stopped when you came up next to the man. Warren had a wide smile on his face as the man stared at him with confusion.

"Hi, I'm Warren. This is my friend, (y/n), he thinks your cute but he doesn't talk so we're hoping that your not straight and know ASL.. "

Oh no... Warren why.

You decided that when he inevitably rejected you that you'd go hide in a very dark closet for the rest of your life.

The man flushed red and looked at you.

You smiled weakly, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

Instead of the even more embarrassing rejection you thought you'd get after, you were met with a sweet yet nervous smile from the man.

"I'm Spencer. "

And that's how you met Spencer. Almost two years ago. After 'talking' for a bit your group decided that you all should head home, but not before giving Spencer your number and telling him to text you when he got home. Nearly two hours later he texted you. The two of you proceeded to text throughout the night and into the day. A few days later you went on a date, a few more days later you went on another. And another a few more days later. And so on and so forth.

A little later Spencer started to stay over your house and slowly, your house turned into your's and Spencer's as he unintentionally moved in. Well, basically moved in. He still left occasionally to get things from his practically abandoned apartment. Your place was closer to the BAU so he could get there a little earlier.

You and Spencer were a secret, well, mostly a secret. Your close friends(including Warren) knew and so did Spencer's mom. Spencer hasn't told his team yet. No real reason other than the fact that it never really came up. Of course there was teasing and suspicion when Spencer would come in late or leave early but that's just about it.

His work didn't effect your relationship as much as he thought it would. It was after he started dating you that he realized that in between cases, it felt like time was speeding up. There could be a month between 2 case but it would only feel like a couple of days, despite the fact that he could recall everything he did during the time in between. With you it slowed down. As soon as he'd walk through the door the world would go for a thousand miles a minute to, well, normal. Which was weird at first. He'd find himself trying to see if something was wrong. Checking closed cases with pure nervous intent. You had to get used to this in the beginning of you're relationship, but a few months in he stopped and accepted that he now had, what felt like, more time with you.

The only "real" problem (or what you thought was a problem) was the fact that you didn't speak. Your anxiety is where the gift giving began. You see, Spencer, despite him nervousness, could say that he loved you and say that he cared about and appreciated you. But you couldn't. So you tried to show your appreciation another way. And that way was giving gift.

At first it was just small or weird things. He needed pens? Well, here you go! A new journal? No problem!

Spencer had to be one of the most appreciative people in the world because everytime, every single time you gave him anything it always ended with a kiss and a promise that cuddles would be plentiful that night.

You kept the smaller gifts relatively close to each other with the bigger and more ambitious gift had to be spread out. One or two a month to keep Spencer from noticing their frequency.

Today was one of the days you'd give him a big gift. Nothing really big, but you were excited about it.

Both you and Spencer were sitting on your couch, watching Ant-man, talking about the many improbability of the movie. You needed to get Spencers attention. Spencer, who was going on about how there's no was the Scott should be able the still be alive after becoming smaller than air particles.

You gently ran your finger over his hand, drawing tiny circles over his knuckles then going farther up his arm, still drawing small shapes on it.

This is how you'd get his attention when he's focused. A lot of the time he won't be able to hear or see anything other than what he's focused on. You don't want to scare him so you do this. Just gentle, slow touches and he'll snap out of it.

It happened relatively fast this time. Only taking him a few seconds for him to come back.

He looked over at you, confused, then apologetic.

"I'm sorr-"

You cut him off with a quick kiss on lips, which flustered him more than one little kiss should've.

You held up one finger, telling him to wait a second. You stood up and walked to another part of the house. You came back a few seconds later with a tiny, dark grey box.

You excitedly sat down next to Spencer, smiling widely. You shoved it into his hand, practically bouncing in place as you waited for him to open it.

He looked at you suspiciously, then looked down at the box. He opened it slowly and found... A key? He looked back up at you, you were still smiling brightly.

"I-i don't understand... "

At the moment, you could not remember what the sign for move was for the life of you.

You rolled you eyes and pointed to the front door.

He looked at the door then back at you.

"You want me to... Leave? "

You rapidly shook your head 'no'.

You picked up the key out of his hand and pointed it to the front door.

"It goes to the front door? "

You nodded, relieved that he's starting to get it.

"A key to your front door... " He mumbled to himself.

After a few seconds he looked at you, then the key, then the door, then back to you.

"Are you asking me to move in with you? "

You nodded again, still smiling widely.

He looked at the door, then looked at you with a giant smile.

"Yeah, i-i think that'd be nice, "

Without thinking you pulled Spencer into a tight hug. Normally, Spencer's reluctant with touches of any kind but as you held him tightly he couldn't help but melt into the hug, wrapping his arms around your lower half.

After a few moments you pulled away.

He stared down at the key for a long moment.

"Thank you.. "

Still feeling the excitement from starting a new chapter of your relationship, you took a deep breath and blurted out, "you're welcome! "

He looked up at you, his eyes widen.

You didn't know what to do after that so you just shrugged.

He grinned widely before practically smacking his face against yours in an excited(not like that) kiss.

When he pulled away you were shocked, Spencer wasn't bold by any means so that was something very different.

"I love you so much, " You said quickly.

He looked down, blushing.

"I love you too. "

Both of you smiled, then got comfortable on the couch again and resumed the movie.

[kiras-sunshine]

Oh, you are the one I want

Written for Carlos Reyes Week day 2: “I’ll always be here for you” + romance

Summary: “but did you really think that if you call me in the middle of the shift sounding all miserable that I’m not going to come and check up on you?” 

Read on ao3

or

Carlos leans against the wall of the police station. It’s a sunny day and the sunlight is bright. The wall feels warm against his palm. He squints a little as he looks at his phone and selects TK’s phone number from his contacts list.

The line rings a couple of times before he picks up.

“Hey,” he says as soon as the line connects, and his voice sounds happy.

Carlos closes his eyes. It is ridiculous how much he misses him, even though he saw him yesterday. Still, just hearing his voice makes his heart flutter.

“Hey,” he eventually whispers.

He hears some rustling on the other end of the phone. He knows he is on a shift too, but he hoped it would be a quiet moment and that he would be able to pick up the phone.

“What’s up?”

He lets out a deep sigh. “I think--,” he starts but he lets his voice trail off. “I cannot make it today,” he eventually says, and a knot forms in his stomach immediately as he says it.

They had made actual plans because both of them had the evening off. A proper date night with a dinner in a restaurant and he had planned to take TK back to the field where they had watched the aurora borealis to star gaze this time because the forecast promised a clear and bright night sky.

He had been looking forward to it all. An actual date is a bit of rarity for them, not that he wouldn’t cherish any moment he gets to spend with him, but it is still a nice change to their hectic lives.

He wants to see him more than anything, but he is ridiculously tired, and nothing has gone as he hoped during his shift. They have been understaffed during his whole shift, and he has been rushing from call to call, and his stressed co-workers keep snapping at him. Every call he gets send on seems to bring the worst out of people, he has already dealt with drunken people, domestic violence case and an attempted robbery.

On top of that, he had been the first one arriving to the scene of a car crash that was the result of reckless driving and speeding, and the woman driving the car had serious injuries, and she had been taken to the hospital immediately, but he isn’t sure if he believes that she can make it out alive. It has been a while since he has seen that much blood.

He feels hopeless and defeated. He wants to see TK and forget everything about his shift, but he knows he cannot magically turn off his thoughts from work when he gets off shift and it will take even longer to shake off the events of the day, especially the car crash, from his mind and TK deserves better than rushed-down dinner with him shutting down and sulking.

“Okay,” TK says. His voice is quiet, but there are no traces of annoyance in his voice. He hears footsteps from the other end of the call, and he is quite sure he is walking to somewhere more quiet.

“I’m sorry,” he says, closing his eyes again.

He feels terrible for cancelling, but he knows, deep down, he cannot just put a brave face on and pretend to him that everything is fine. He would see right through him. It is almost uncanny how well he manages to read him, almost like an open book, and how thoroughly he has managed to learn to know him.  

It is a great feeling, being known and seen by someone he loves, and he cherishes the feeling of it, but it also means TK won’t fall for any facades of being alright. He loves him, maybe more than he can ever say, but he knows that his mind would circle just back to the events of the shift. Nothing kills romance faster than talking about gruesome accident scenes, and he knows he cannot avoid talking about it if they have the date as they planned.

A couple of his previous boyfriends always complained that he brings too much work to home and that he keeps constantly talking about his job. He sort of gets how that can be annoying and too much for people but talking it out is his way of dealing with his emotions.

He knows TK would listen to him, without any complaints, if he talked to him, but there is always a certain threshold of sharing the worst parts of his job with him because he understands it too well. He has seen his fair share of horribleness of life in his own job, and it feels almost unfair to dump the ugliest parts of his job on him, too.

“Don’t be,” he says, softly and reassuringly. “Are you okay?”

His voice is coloured by genuine concern and he knows that he is already caught on that something is bothering him.

“Yeah,” he replies, dragging his hand along his face, “just a rough shift and I need to do overtime.”

It’s not a lie, he convinces himself. It’s a simplified, cut-down version of the reality and thanks to the busy shift, the paperwork pile is a lot longer than he would like.

“You can tell me if you aren’t,” he says, simply.

It still makes his heart feel a thousand times heavier in his chest. He wants to see him, he wants to hug him, and he wants to pour all of the messy and unattractive feelings out of him, but he cannot do that in the middle of his own, or his, shift.

“I’m fine. Just—exhausted and people are being idiotic,” he tells him with an attempted laughter, but it ends up sounding hollow and joyless.

He is tempted to ask him to come over once his shift is over, but it feels a just a bit selfish to cancel all of their plans and still ask him to come over just because he needs him.

“Isn’t that how it usually is?”

His voice is lighter and even though he cannot see him, video chat would have given all of his secrets away immediately, he still knows he is probably sporting a tiny half-smile that tugs in the right corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “and I will make this up to you.”

TK deserves the world, and he wants to make him happy, but as he leans against the wall, he knows that not burdening him with his issues in the middle of the workday or immediately afterwards, might be the best way to do it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies, without missing a beat.

He exhales audibly as he watches people walking in and out of the main doors. He knows he should get back to work.

“I should go,” he says, reluctantly. Merely hearing his voice helps a bit, but he knows he cannot dwell on his thoughts too long if he wants to make through rest of his shift.

“Okay,” he whispers and pauses for a moment. “Carlos?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His voice is still quiet and gentle, but there is such certainty in it that it almost makes it sound powerful and it still sends the same thrill of happiness and warmth through his heart as it did the first time he heard he say it.

He squeezes his phone a little tighter. “I love you, too,” he says, unwilling to let the moment pass, but he still disconnects the call after a couple of seconds.

*****

Coming back to the dark and empty apartment hasn’t felt this much of a sucker punch into the gut for ages, but he knows it’s his own fault.

He throws the keys to the bowl he keeps on the table next to the door and crashes on the couch. He realises there is something underneath his back and he wiggles to pull it away from there. It feels like fabric and he realises that he holds one of TK’s black and plain AFD t-shirts in his hand, and he contemplates calling him, but he doesn’t know what he would say.

Instead, he keeps staring at the ceiling. He definitely loses track of time and he groans when he hears a knock on his door. He is almost tempted not to open the door because the only person he currently wants to see has a key and almost all of his neighbours know he is a cop and they always come to his door if they spot any sort of unrest anywhere near their building.

Still, he gets up and opens to door, and to his surprise, it’s not any of his neighbours, but his boyfriend.

TK is smiling, affectionately, and he is holding two pizza boxes on his left hand. His hair is sticking up a bit, and it looks like he has showered and dried his hair in a rush and instead of his normal short-sleeved button up and jeans, he is wearing a dark blue hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey, I thought we cancelled,” he replies, not very eloquently, but his mind refuses to cooperate because he wanted to see him, but he also didn’t expect to see him, and it feels slightly unreal to see him standing there.

“We did,” he says, and points him with his index finger, “but did you really think that if you call me in the middle of the shift sounding all miserable that I’m not going to come and check up on you?”

Carlos opens his mouth but closes it again, because he is not sure of the answer. He should have known. TK has a big heart, and he is one of the most caring people he has met, and he knows that he loves him, so he should have been able to count one plus one together.

Maybe he had subconsciously been aware of the possibility of this when he called him. Wanting to let him know that he isn’t alright without outright saying it aloud.

“I should have guessed,” he admits, biting down a smile.

“Damn right you should have,” he agrees, and his smile is warm and reassuring, and it reaches his eyes, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

He hands the pizza boxes to him. The boxes still feel warm and the smell is amazing. He still lets out a surprised laugh when he sees the logo on the top of the box.

“You hate that place,” he points out.

He has never met anyone who would have more opinions about what proper pizza is than TK, and he has listened to his rants about superiority of New York’s pizza and the awfulness of the small place he prefers countless times. He would have thought that TK refuses to go anywhere near that place because had been so appalled by the pizza they once ordered.

He rolls his eyes, but he seems amused. “Yeah, but you love it. There’s enough for two, but if you want to be alone, I will go.”

He just stares at him for a moment. It means a lot to him that he tries to give him space and respect his boundaries by not storming into the apartment with his key, but right now, he feels like space is the absolute last thing he needs.

He reaches to place the pizza boxes on the living room coffee table. He returns to the door and curls his fingers around his wrist and pulls him into a tight hug and closes the door behind him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

TK chuckles a little, but he wraps his arms around him too and keeps stroking the space between his shoulder blades with his hand. He just hugs him a little tighter and burrows his face into his neck and the fabric of his hoodie.

He breathes in his scent, and he smells faintly of fruity soap and his hair smells a bit like coconuts. It’s such a familiar scent that he almost feels like he has just arrived at home.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, still against his hoodie, “I might not be the best company right now, though.”

“Hey, none of that,” he insists, determinedly. He holds him a little tighter. “I already know something is bothering you, and that’s why I’m here. I’m all in. I want to be around it all, the bad days and everything. I want you.”

He is half-convinced his stomach somersaults at his words and his eyes are stinging. He is almost speechless, and he just presses a kiss against his neck.

“I want to share it all with you,” he eventually whispers and reluctantly pulls away from their hug. “I just thought it would be easier for you if I didn’t burden you with it.”

He holds his gaze, and his eyes are gleaming. “Yeah, because I always like to take the easy way out,” he deadpans.

A short laughter escapes his throat, despite everything. It’s public knowledge that TK is a walking trouble magnet, no matter what he does. He attracts trouble and he is stubborn and determined. He loves a challenge and when he decides to do something, there is no stopping him. Opting to take the easy choice doesn’t really suit him.

“You don’t have to compartmentalize your feelings,” he points out, matter-of-factly, but there is still kindness in his voice as he picks up the pizza boxes and carries them to the kitchen.

“I never not wanted to see you,” he says, leaning against the kitchen island as TK takes out plates and cuts pizzas into slices.

It feels important that he knows he didn’t try to push him away, he wanted to protect him, shield him. “I had a crappy day, and I didn’t feel like I was up for any of our plans and pretend that nothing had happened,” he adds, staring at the plates, “and I felt guilty for cancelling, but I would have absolutely ruined the date.”

TK places the pizza cutter down. He gestures between them. “If the roles were reversed, would you have understood?”

“Of course,” he says, without hesitation, and the ridiculousness of his own thoughts is starting to dawn on him.

“Yeah, so I get it. We are first responders, there is no way of predicting what we will see and experience on calls. There is no guarantees that we even make home after a shift is done. It’s no wonder if we don’t always feel like following our plans and pretend to be a couple who don’t have to face death and destruction every day.”

He lets out a deep breath. He walks up to him and loosely wraps his arms around him and rests his head on his shoulder. “You’re right,” he says with a huff, “I knew you’d understand, it’s just—I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be,” he says, in a tone that is the softest he has ever hear him use, “for someone who reads people as their job, you’re really atrocious at predicting how will I react,” he jokes, but leans into the touch.

“Seems so,” he hums.

It has nothing to do with lack of faith in him, and everything to do with how he has been treated in the past and what he has deemed himself to be worth of.

“It’s a small wonder this doesn’t happen more often,” he muses, as Carlos lets his hand fall away and he sits near him on the kitchen chair. “We should come up with a codeword,” he declares, with a beaming grin, as he sits down, too.

“For cancelling plans?” He asks, as he takes a bite out of his slice of pizza.

“Yes. Just one word that would mean that either one of us has had a horrible day at work, automatically cancelling all potential plans and letting the other know that we might feel less than okay,” he explains, giving him a pointed look, “and no question asked.”

He knows that they can communicate, and that they have gotten better at talking to each other lately, and somehow more often than not they are on the same wavelength and just understand where the other is coming from, but his idea makes sense.

“That’s actually pretty good idea.”

He loves his job and TK loves his, and he knows neither one of them wouldn’t change them for the world, but their jobs can be exhausting, they drain every last drop of energy and it takes a lot to do it everyday basis.

“What should be the word?” He asks, his mouth half-full of pizza.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, looking around himself, “it could be anything. It doesn’t have to make sense to anyone else,” he continues, and his gaze lands on the notepad that lies on the kitchen island next to the pizza boxes.

It has his, or more accurately, their grocery shopping list. He skims it through and looks up to him, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Broccoli?”

“Broccoli?” He echoes, but he ends up nodding. “Works for me.”

“Broccoli it is then,” he declares and picks up a slice of pizza. He glances at it suspiciously before taking a bite out of it. “If you ever need a proof how much I love you, this is it,” he grumbles, pointing at the pizza in his hand.

“Warms my heart, truly,” he says, with a thin smile, and strokes his calf with his foot.

They eat in silence for a moment until TK speaks again. His whole expression softens as he looks at him, but his eyes are grave. “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out and examines his own hand. He runs his thumb over his right palm. “We were understaffed, everyone was grumpy, and it was a busy day. A call after a call, and majority of them were the sort of scenes that could have been avoided if everyone just stopped and considered how their actions affect other people.”

TK keeps his eyes on him, and he keeps nodding as he listens to his rambling. “The worst part was this car accident. Another patrol car had been chasing them ‘cause they were endangering the traffic with reckless driving. She ended up crashing her car against bridge railing.”

He sighs, half out of frustration and half because he can still see the scene in his mind in such a vivid detail. “I was the first one to arrive and it was—bad. The ambulance was a couple minutes out and there wasn’t much I could do, but I tried to help and talk to her.”

TK slides his hand along the kitchen island and takes his hand into his own. He holds it gently, just letting Carlos’ hand rest on his palm and he has his fingers loosely wrapped around it. It’s a small gesture, but it feels significant and compassionate.

“The ambulance arrived pretty fast, but I felt so helpless and there was so much blood,” he lets his voice trail off as he swallows. “They took her to hospital, and I hope she makes it, but I don’t know. It had been a bad day, but that was the last straw.”

He looks at their joined hands. “I’ve washed my hands so many times, but I feel like I still have her blood on my hands,” he admits in a brittle voice, even though it feels a bit ridiculous as he says it aloud.

TK says nothing of the sort, instead he reaches to kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry, that sounds awful.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods. Sometimes there are cases that are difficult to leave at work, he knows this, but it never gets easier. It is still feels difficult to shake them off.

“For me, it sounds like you did your best,” TK adds, softly. “And I know you know it, but it’s not your fault. Any of it.”

“Yeah.”

Deep down, he knows it. It’s only logical that he cannot have control over other people’s actions, but it still feels different to hear it from someone else.

“And it’s okay not to feel okay immediately afterwards. It would be a lot more worrisome if you were not affected by your job,” he adds, just as gently as before.

He supposes he has a point. He smiles at him, hoping that even a fraction of the gratefulness and affection he is feeling gets across. “Thank you for being here.”

He reaches to kiss his cheek. He can feel his slight stubble against his cheek as he does so. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Always is an awfully long time, but it fills his heart with happiness to know that they are casually throwing words like that around, that they truly are in it for the long haul.

“Me too, for you.”

TK laughs. “I know, babe. You’ve proved that so many times already,” he strokes the back of his hand. They both glance the slices of uneaten pizza, but he at least has lost any appetite he previously had. “What do you want to do?”

“Sleep,” he replies without any hesitation. His exhaustion is still there, and he feels calmer now, more grounded and that is only intensifying his fatigue. “Or attempt at least.”

It might be that the memories of the crash scene might haunt him or that he feels eventually too restless to lay in bed, but he wants to try at least. And he always sleeps better when TK is there with him.

His smile is warm and bright, like the first beams of a rising sun. “We can do that.”

[tarlosprompts]

What about Carlos hurt on a call and TK freaking out and more or less moving in after Carlos gets home from the hospital bc he doesn't want to leave him alone for a second. Sorta a makes him realize how deep his feelings are and how much he loves him and can't live without him kinda deal

Claimed by Red💋

Part 2 of another prompt! Here’s Part 1

Warnings: past violence, high anxiety, slight dissociation

Anxious Nights

TK didn’t want to leave Carlos when the ambulance rolled up to the hospital. Carlos hadn’t woken up on the ride to the hospital and that had TK on edge. Michelle had tried to explain to him that the shoulder wound would heal up fine, it didn’t seem like there was much damage...except for the fact that there was now a hole going from his boyfriend’s front to his back. What if Carlos didn’t regain full motion of his arm? 

Michelle had also tried to explain that Carlos probably wouldn’t wake up on the ride to the hospital because of how hard he hit his head. She tried to explain that head wounds bleed more and that it wasn’t that serious. She tried to explain that Carlos would probably only have a mild concussion, but TK couldn’t listen to her. All he could hear were the bad thoughts, the what ifs. What if Carlos hit his head hard enough to forget him? What if Carlos damaged his brain? What if Carlos didn’t wake up?

Watching Carlos get wheeled through the double doors where he couldn’t follow was almost as bad as watching Carlos go down on the scene. TK didn’t really know what to do with himself. He stood in the middle of the floor, staring at those doors. 

A small hand rested on his shoulder, “TK, you with me?” TK turned his head to Michelle, a frown on his face as it had been for the past thirty minutes. “We need to get you checked out, TK.”

“I’m staying here,” he muttered, staying in place.

“As soon as they know something, they know to find me. Carlos would want you to get yourself checked out.”

“I’m staying,” TK responded. 

Michelle rolled her eyes at the stubborn man. “Fine.” She turned to her radio, “bring me an ambo bag, I need to check TK out after his escapades today.” Turning back to TK, she led him over to a chair that faced the double doors. “I need you to take your turnout off.” 

TK followed her instructions and proceeded to sit down as Gillian placed a bag next to Michelle. “Go ahead and head back to the station. Do you mind having someone bring over mine and TK’s bags?”

“You got it, Boss.”

Michelle pulled out a light and flicked it in front of TK’s eyes. She did most of the exam nonverbally as TK’s anxiety showed itself through his extremities moving rapidly. “Does anything hurt? And I need you to be honest, TK.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “I have a mild headache and some sore muscles. Nothing that won’t fix itself.” 

Michelle studied him a moment more before nodding to herself. “If anything starts becoming unbearable, you need to let me know.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

_____________

Three Hours Later

TK’s leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since he’d sat down. He’d tried pacing the room, but his dad had put a quick stop to that when he arrived with his and Michelle’s bags. Now he was stuck between the paramedic and his father as he waited for any news on Carlos. 

TK ticked his fingers as he looked up at the clock on the wall. How long did it take to let people know their loved ones were alright? It shouldn’t take three hours for someone to assess Carlos and let his friends and family know. 

TK tensed as a doctor walked through the door. “Family of Carlos Reyes,” he called. 

TK was immediately on his feet. “Is he alright? Can we see him? How bad was it? Is-”

“TK,” his father placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Michelle Blake,” the doctor turned to the woman.

“That’s me. Anything you want to say, you can say in front of my friends.”

“Very well. Carlos sustained a through and through in the right shoulder. We cleansed the wound and exrayed it to make sure nothing was broken. We sewed it up and it should heal fully in four-six weeks. Mr. Reyes also sustained a head wound from his fall. That required four stitches but should heal just fine. We also assessed for a concussion. Because he lost consciousness we have diagnosed him with a Grade 3 concussion. He will need to be monitored closely so we have admitted Mr. Reyes for the next twenty-four hours. If all goes well, he should be able to return home within the next day or two as long as he has someone to watch over him. If there are no questions, I can lead you to his room.”

Seeing no questions, the doctor turned and walked them through the double doors. As they walked, TK could feel his anxiety climb. Concussions were nothing to joke about. Would this affect Carlos later on? As they approached the room, the doctor turned to him. “He was awake thirty minutes ago but he may not be now. He does need his rest, so please, do not wake him up. Visiting hours are technically over, but I can let a nurse know that one of you will be staying the night. The other two would need to leave in the next thirty minutes”

Michelle smiled at the doctor, “would you mind informing them that TK Strand will be staying with him tonight?”

The doctor gave her a kind smile and nod. “Will do. He is in room 740. To enter and exit the building use the main entrance, not the emergency doors.” With that, the doctor was off. 

TK, Owen, and Michelle walked the rest of the short way to Carlos’s room in silence. Michelle was the first to the room. She quietly opened the door and peeked her head in. She motioned for the Strands to be quiet as they entered. Once in the room, TK could see Carlos sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed. He immediately went to Carlos’s bedside, hands fluttering once again, not knowing what to do with them. He didn’t want to wake Carlos as he did need sleep to recover. 

TK heard a quiet shuffle behind him before he saw a chair appear behind him out of his periphery. TK sat down, hands finally settling on clasping Carlos’s left hand. TK couldn’t take his eyes off of Carlos’s face and chest. Carlos was alive. He was breathing. He was resting. 

“He’s going to be okay, Son.”

_____________

Two Days Later

“Tiger, you don’t need to stay with me. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you a doctor? Hell, are you a paramedic? No? Oh that’s right, your a stubborn ass cop. We were told you needed to be supervised at home for the next week and that is what we are doing...unless you want to go back to the hospital?” TK raised an eyebrow as he parked the car in front of Carlos’s house. Seeing his boyfriend’s grimace, he responded, “I thought not.”

TK helped Carlos out of the car and into the house. He moved to take Carlos to the bedroom, but Carlos stopped. “I’d like to sit in the living room and watch movies with my boyfriend while he pretends like he isn’t trying to coddle me.”

TK’s glare held no heat. “Fine. Sit,” he ordered. “Don’t even think of getting up. Let me go grab our bags.”

In no time, TK had their bags in the house and pillows and blankets brought out from Carlos’s room and piled around the man. “Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds? Food? Should I get more blankets or-”

“Tiger, Baby, calm down. I just want to cuddle with my amazing boyfriend. That’s all I need.” Carlos’s brown eyes pleaded for him to concede. 

TK nodded quickly. “Yeah, yes. Yes, I can do that. I can totally do that.” TK quickly turned around before heading to the couch, “let me just grab some water and snacks. That way we don’t have to move. Can’t let you get dehydrated. I’ll bring over you meds too so that they’re in reach. We can’t stay on the couch for the rest of the day, you’ll need your rest in an actual bed to get better, plus the couch isn’t that comfy. Should we just go to your room? I can pull up movies on your laptop. It would be more comfortable and better for your recovery and we could still cuddle. We should-”

“TK, Tyler...Tyler I need you to breathe. I’m alright. If it would make you feel better, we can go to my room,” Carlos hated that TK was becoming more anxious by the second. He didn’t know what he could do to ease that anxiety. 

“Okay, yeah, okay. Let’s do that. Let me-let me come help you up.”

Carlos didn’t fight TK’s need to help him get up even though Carlos was seventy-five percent sure he could get up by himself. He let TK mother hen him into the bed and fortify him with pillows. He didn’t even object to the snacks that TK brought in, though Carlos never was big on eating things in bed. As TK straightened up to go get something else, Carlos caught his hand. “Baby, this is everything we need. Please lay down with me.”

Carlos could see the energy buzzing beneath TK’s skin. The last time he’d seen this much energy tightly coiled in his boyfriend had been the night he’d first called TK over for dinner that turned into a disaster. He didn’t like this side of his boyfriend. 

_____________

TK tried not to fidget in the bed, but he felt like he needed to be up and moving and making sure that Carlos was alright and bringing him anything he needed. He needed to be busy. After his hand started tapping on his leg for the fifth time, Carlos reached down to lace his fingers with TK’s. “I’m alright, Amore. I just want to relax with my boyfriend. I am fine, I’m going to be fully healed in a matter of weeks. There’s no need for you to worry yourself sick.”

“I’m not-I’m not worrying myself. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Babe, you literally can’t sit still. I don’t want you to be anxious over this. I’m fine.”

“But you weren’t! What if he had shot you in the head? He aimed for you and I couldn’t do anything and then I couldn’t see you. When I did-” TK’s voice cracked, “when I did see you, you weren’t moving, Carlos. You were not fine!” 

“In my defense, I did hit my head and I was unconscious.” Carlos was trying to lighten the mood slightly, but the look TK gave him, sobered him. “I watched you fly five feet through the air when the propane tanks blew. You didn’t move for a couple of seconds. I was worried about you, but you’re alright. You’re sitting here, talking to me. And I’m sitting here talking to you. Tyler, it’s alright to worry about me, but you don’t need to be in fight or flight mode because I’m not in danger. I’m healing.”

TK was silent for a while and all Carlos could do was look at him. He couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. TK extracted himself from the hold Carlos had on him. “I’m going to make some sandwiches and change clothes to be more comfortable in bed. Do you want to change or are you alright?” 

“Tiger,” Carlos sighed.

“Right, I’ll bring back a sandwich for you.” TK darted out the door.

_____________

Six Days Later

“I’m not an invalid,” Carlos sighed.

TK rolled his eyes in return. “I never said you were.”

“Yeah, you just treat me like one. If the roles were reversed, you’d be verbally fighting me about it.” 

“I just want you to heal correctly. Is that too much to ask?”

“You are allowed to go home now. You don’t need to watch me anymore.”

TK turned his back to Carlos as he pulled his shirt off to change. “What, so you’re kicking me out? For caring?” When Carlos didn’t respond, TK turned with his new shirt in his hands to look at the man. Carlos’s eyes were wide. “What?”

Carlos stood up, walking towards TK. “Baby, your back,” Carlos whispered, turning him around to run his hands over the healing bruises. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“It didn’t really hurt. Must have been the blast’s force. I’m fine. I had more important things to think about.”

“Tyler, you should have at least told me.”

TK turned back to face Carlos, “so you could refuse my help? I don’t think so. It really didn’t hurt that much, ‘Los.”

Carlos shook his head. “We’re partners, Tyler Kennedy Strand. We tell each other when we’re hurt. That’s how this works. You need to think about yourself too, not just me and my injuries.”

TK broke eye contact. His breathing was beginning to become uneven. “You could have...If that gangster had better aim, he could have killed you, Carlos. And I don’t-I don’t know how to live without you anymore. You-you’re my rock and I don’t know if I could stay sane or-or sober if you were gone. I love you...God I love you so much. I didn’t even realize how much I loved you...I don’t want to live without you. I don’t like it when you’re hurt. I can’t focus on me when you’re in pain because I want to fix it. I love you so much that when you’re hurt, I’m hurt and-and not just this time because I was also hurt, but-but because I care so deeply for you that it scares me. I’ve been so anxious because I wanted-I wanted to make it so you weren’t hurt. I wanted to take your pain and your injuries because you don’t deserve them.”

There was a shine in Carlos’s eyes as TK stared at them. A small smile was on the man’s face. “I happen to love you just as much. I feel your pain because I care so much for you...but it’s not scary because I know that you feel the same way. With our jobs, we can’t promise not to get hurt, Tyler. But we can promise to try out best. I think-I think we need to work on your anxiety, though, because it isn’t healthy to spend seven or more days filled to the brim with anxiety. I love you, so much Cariño.”

TK licked his lips as he leaned closer to Carlos. “Does this mean I can stay?”

Carlos bit his lip as a smile began to form. “However long you want...you already have a key, Baby.”

[punksarahreese]

Act now, feel later | Marjan Marwani

Canon storyline; Marjan runs into trouble when the crew isn’t there to help

CW: Car accidents, injury, stitches mention, blood/medical gore

For @neworleansspecial’s 911 Lone Star premiere flash event

***

“Look out, Austin, we’re in for another storm this weekend! The forecast is calling for 35 mile per hour winds and heavy rain; time to postpone those family barbecues.”

The radio host’s words made Marjan sigh, it didn’t rain often in Austin but when it did it was always an event. She imagined it would be a long weekend, the rain already coming down enough that it was obstructing her vision. She had left home early that morning for that exact reason, assuming the highways would be a bit backed up due to the weather.

Backed up would be an understatement, though, because it took Marjan about 15 extra minutes to get through a jammed road. She was just turning the corner of a quieter backroad, one she had started to use as a shortcut to work after Mateo showed it to her, when she came across an unexpected sight. It had her slamming on her brakes, throwing her car into park without a thought. Swinging the door open, she called out and hoped she would get a response.

Across the road, balanced precariously on the shoulder, was a minivan. The front half of the vehicle was pretty crushed, rammed into a tree like it had been the one thing to stop it from rolling further off the road. There was another car stopped and someone was waving her over, their replies barely heard over the rain pelleting the ground. Marjan felt her heart sink as she got closer to them, hearing the terrified cries of a child from within the vehicle.

“Did you call 911?” she asked the man standing there, who looked just as worried as Marjan felt. She had just barely had the forethought to grab her small first aid kit from the backseat, though she guessed it wouldn’t be much help in this situation.

“Y-yes,” he looked alarmed when she immediately thrust the kit into his hands, dropping to her knees in front of the flipped vehicle. She winced at the wet feeling seeping through the fabric of her pants as she kneeled on the cold asphalt, hoping she wouldn’t accidentally catch some glass in the process. She leaned towards the shattered driver’s side window first, peeking in at the driver.

“Sir, can you hear me?”

She could see that the man had a head wound that was bleeding profusely, hoping it wasn’t as bad as it looked. He stuttered out a reply and looked as if he was going to turn to look at her, which had Marjan reaching in to stop his movement.

“Don’t move,” she said quickly, “You might have a head injury. Can you take a deep breath for me? I’m a firefighter, okay, I’m going to try to help you.”

“Are… m-my kids..?”

“How many kids were in the car, sir?”

“Two,” he replied, “Elliot is five… Isla is one. God, please... tell me they’re okay.”

Marjan told him to stay put, asking the man who was watching idly to ensure the father didn’t move until EMS arrived. She had heard whimpering in the back seat while she was talking to him, and the cries from earlier had been from another voice. That told her both kids were still alive, though she wasn’t sure in what shape.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, the back door would not open. Grunting a little under her breath, Marjan gave up after a second and went around to the other side of the car. She managed to get the passenger side sliding door of the vehicle opened a bit, though it took her a good two minutes of forcing it open.

“Elliot? Can you hear me?’

“D-dad?”

“Your dad is in the front seat, sweetie,” Marjan answered, “My name is Marjan, I’m going to help you out so you can see him, okay?”

“O-okay…”

“Is Isla okay?” Marjan asked, trying to keep the boy talking as she shimmied into the van. She could see him by that point but the toddler’s seat was rear facing, obstructing her view of the other baby. Elliot’s face was tearstained and had a few cuts but he was surprisingly alert, which was reassuring. Sniffling, he glanced over at his sister.

“She’s sleeping.”

That had Marjan pursing her lips, whispering a little prayer for Allah to protect this baby while they waited to get them out. A quiet baby was never good in an accident, especially since she had heard Isla crying when she had gotten out of her own car, which made her silence deafening. She was close enough to reach out to Elliot, wincing a bit when she felt something dig into her arm. Marjan probably should have been more careful but the searing pain barely registered as all she wanted to do was check on the kids.

“Does anything hurt?”

“A-arm. Head ouchie too, where’s daddy?”

“I’m going to get you out to see him,” she promised, “Can you unbuckle your seatbelt for me?”

As Elliot fiddled with his seatbelt, his injured arm clutched to his chest, Marjan reached across to check on Isla. She craned her neck, seeing the toddler was indeed unconscious like her brother said. Her dark hair was in her eyes, no sign of blood but she was unresponsive to touch. Pressing on the inside of her elbow, Marjan couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when she felt a rapid pulse through the baby’s sleeve. She was just about to ask Elliot if he was ready to go when she heard a familiar voice.

“Marjan?”

It was TK, his face appearing from the other side of the car as he glanced through the shattered window. His helmet hid his face partially but he looked concerned to say the least, trying to wrench the other door open so he could help her.

“TK, I have never been more happy to see that pretty face of yours,” she let out a shaky laugh to ease her own nerves, “That door is jammed. Elliot here says his arm and head hurts but he seems pretty okay otherwise. I have an unresponsive toddler over here, she has a pulse but I’m worried about head trauma.”

“Okay,” TK disappeared from the window and she just barely heard him shouting to the crew over the sirens. She hadn’t even registered the sounds around her until TK said something, before her whole mind had been intent on keeping these kids alive until someone got there. She felt a hand on her shoulder, glancing behind her to see her captain in his full gear looking at her incredulously.

“We wondered why you were late,” Owen said, “Can you get to the kids?”

“I think I can reach Isla, she’s strapped into a rear-facing harness seat so it might take a minute. Elliot could climb out from the other side if someone helps him or gets that door open.”

“Copy that,” she heard Paul’s voice from where TK had been moments before, gloved hand making sure there was no glass sticking out from the already destroyed window. With the others actively taking care of the rest of the family, Marjan could focus on the baby in front of her. She was still breathing, thankfully, but she didn’t stir when Marjan started yanking at the straps of her carseat. She tried to work quickly, loosening them enough to get the buckle undone. It was a tight squeeze in the vehicle, with the side airbags having gone off and glass and metal littering every free space. She eventually got the seat undone, shimmying even closer to pick up the baby without jostling her body too much.

“I got her,” she called out, trying to carefully shift backwards so she didn’t move Isla too much. She wasn’t sure why the toddler was unconscious but a head injury was as good a guess as any, so the less movement the better. Glancing behind her, Marjan stepped out of the van and almost bumped into TK who appeared behind her.

“She okay?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “Where’s medical?”

He led her to where Tim had parked the rig, Elliot already wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the seat across from his dad. The man had a C-collar on but was babbling away to Nancy, probably asking about his daughter. Michelle met them halfway, taking the baby from Marjan, who was a bit reluctant to let go.

“One year old female, unconscious and tachycardic,” she breathed as she followed after the paramedic, worried. She stumbled a bit as her foot caught a downed branch, “She was conscious when I got here but went quiet soon after.”

“We’ve got her,” Michelle promised as Rosewater took the infant from her to check her stats properly, “Marjan?”

She looked up, brow furrowing at Michelle’s concerned look. She wanted to ask why she wasn’t helping with the patients, instead she gestured for the firefighter to follow her to the side of the rig. A bit more sheltered from the rain, Marjan looked at her quizzically. The other woman reached out to grab gently at her arm, apologizing when she yelped a little.

“You’re bleeding.”

True enough, Marjan’s sleeve was ripped up her forearm and the side of her arm was bleeding. Upon further inspection, she winced when she noticed a particularly sharp piece of glass protruding from the wound. She hadn’t really felt it before, adrenaline running too high, but now that it had been pointed out she was aware of her pain. It stung, a lot, and she imagined it would be a nuisance at work that day. She blinked harshly against the raindrops that had started obscuring her vision, trying to look at Michelle for answers as she surveyed the wound.

“You’ll need quite a few stitches,” she said matter-of-factly, “Can I take the glass out and wrap it until then? The last thing I need is you bleeding out on me.”

Marjan wanted to protest, to claim she was fine because she could feel the crew watching. It's not that she thought they’d judge her, of course not, it was just that she hated appearing weak. She didn’t want them to worry about her or ask if she was okay, to her that would be embarrassing. It was a pride thing, which was shameful to even admit to herself. Still, she felt herself getting a bit dizzy, using her good arm to grab onto Michelle for stability. Her adrenaline was crashing, now that the victims were all safe and being taken care of.

“Careful,” Michelle’s voice was soft like always, “C’mon.”

Accepting the help, Marjan let herself be led to the other ambulance, not bothered by the hand Michelle kept on her back to steady her. She was attentive, always was, and Marjan was grateful for that. The one person besides Paul who saw through her confident façade was the paramedic, who more often than not would stop to ask her how she was doing before she left.

Aside from the fact that she was an adrenaline junkie, it was clear to Michelle that saving people was the reason she did things without considering her own safety sometimes. She knew Marjan got a bit more emotionally attached to calls than she wanted to admit, which was the cause of her frequent insubordination and fearlessness. She was desperate to help people and not afraid to put her own life on the line for it. The firefighter felt so much but didn’t let herself show it, which often led to her crashing when everyone else had gone home.

Alone in the back of the rig, Michelle pulled on a pair of gloves as she sat across from her. Watching idly, Marjan wasn’t as prepared as she thought for the pain she would feel. It was burning, feeling like she was ripping her skin open more with a smouldering blade. This was a time where she wished she had been wearing her gear, the thick jacket would have prevented this wound all together. With one quick move of the forceps, Michelle pulled out the glass with a gentle apology. Pressing a piece of gauze to the wound to staunch the blood, she looked at the other woman seriously.

“You’ll come to the hospital with us and get this looked after,” she used her free hand to grab the bottle of sterile saline from the shelf, “And then you’ll take the day off.”

“Michelle, I-”

“No arguments, Mar,” the nickname was said sternly but she knew there was affection behind it, “You helped them, let yourself be helped now.”

Marjan couldn’t help but squeak a little as the saline burned when it came in contact with her wound. She felt tears sting her eyes, much to her chagrin, and just nodded when Michelle looked at her again. She didn’t want to cry, even though she was sure it would be warranted given her discomfort. Gritting her teeth, she tried to keep her tone even.

“Okay…” She watched idly as Michelle packed the wound, winding sterile gauze around it with practiced ease. She was being gentle, probably worried about her accidentally passing out. After the excitement of a call wore off and the pain set it, injured first responders would often hide their discomfort until their bodies couldn’t take it anymore. What with the way she had been dizzy and the slight tremor of Marjan’s hands, Michelle wanted to keep an eye on her and maybe check her blood pressure. When she was done with the wound care, she patted Marjan’s knee and studied her pained expression for a second.

“Hey, you did well; even if going in there on your own was foolish.” Her tone was half teasing as she continued, “You’ve played the hero enough today, now let me take care of you.”

[221bsunsettowers]

Carlos/TK: You Had a Speech, You’re Speechless

Summary: It was just supposed to be a quick trip to the bank. Carlos should have been right back. Now all TK can do is wait to hear his husband's voice again.

Thanks to @brilliantbanshee for the prompt/couple choice, and @prodigalleverage @meloingly @magnusluvsalec and @itswoxo for helping me choose which direction to go in, and for being so excited to read this story!

Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo

Fandom: 9-1-1 Lone Star

Pairing: TK/Carlos

Prompt: Communication Suddenly Cut Off

(No major character death, though there is major character wounding. Blood and a gunshot wound are mentioned.)

(can also be read on Ao3)

"Mmm, baby, you were right, that was exactly what I needed," TK sighs happily, laying his fork down on his now empty plate.

"I thought you might be hungry after that long shift," Carlos smiles, and TK leans across the table to kiss his husband, smirking as he whispers in Carlos' ear,

"Now I'm ready for some dessert," TK smirks as a flush quickly spreads up Carlos' cheeks,

"Hold that thought, please," Carlos begs, nipping at TK's bottom lip, chuckling at the moan his action elicts. Standing up, Carlos reaches into his wallet, extracting a check with a smile and a sigh. "My abuela still insists on doing everything on paper, so I got a check for Christmas." Bending down to kiss TK again, he gestures at the bank across the street. "I need to deposit it so I can tell her it's safe and sound in the bank."

"You are too adorable to be real," TK grins, shaking his head, planting a kiss on Carlos' cheek. "I'm going to enjoy the last few sips of this horchata, and then when you get back here, we can head on home."

"What, you don't want to come wait in line with me?" Carlos teases.

"If I come with you, I won't be able to keep my hands off you, so unless you want to scandalize the local bank tellers..." TK trails off with a mischevious grin, laughing as Carlos immediately blushes again.

"If I wasn't an officer of the law, I'd be cutting right to the front of the line, sweetheart." Carlos leans down for one more kiss, before heading across the street and up the bank's front steps.

TK can't stop smiling as he leans back in his chair, taking a sip of the iced horchata in front of him. He finds himself just watching the bank entrance, waiting for Carlos to emerge, imagining the epic eye roll and immense amount of teasing he would get from Marjan if she could see him now.

The waitress comes over to pour him a refill, and TK glances away from the bank for what he will swear was less than a minute. By the time he looks back, the door is swinging shut behind a group of men.

And then his phone rings.

Carlos' picture flashes on the screen, a photo from their wedding day, a candid Michelle had caught of Carlos' just gazing over at TK, eyes soft and smile stretching across his face. TK grins, immediately answering, but before he can get a fond word out he hears something that almost makes him drop his phone. The sound is muffled, smothered by wherever Carlos must have quickly hidden his phone, but it is clear enough that TK forgets how to breathe.

"This is a robbery, people, so cooperate or someone's getting hurt!" a man's voice yells. "I will shoot you if I have to!"

Later, when an officer is taking TK's statement, TK will find he can't remember this part of the story. He will suppose he must have gone on autopilot as he got the attention of the waitress and told her what to say. The waitress will still remember the instructions exactly, the fear and excitement of the moment having kept them fresh in her brain. She was told to call 9-1-1, say there was a robbery at the bank, tell them there were hostages so not to use their sirens, make sure to tell them Officer Carlos Strand-Reyes is one of the hostages, that he has opened a direct line from inside the bank to his husband's cell phone.

What TK will remember is the absolute terror that came from being able to hear everything happening inside, but not being able to do anything. He couldn't offer Carlos any comfort, couldn't tell him he loved him, had to keep himself muted and listening to the constant stream of terrified shouts and hostile yelling, and no word from Carlos. He knew Carlos was staying quiet so the robbers wouldn't see the phone, so they wouldn't figure out he was a cop (and TK will be forever grateful it was Carlos' day off and he didn't have his uniform or badge on him), so he could take advantage of a moment and try to stop what was happening (and damn Carlos' beautiful, kind, giving heart, TK thought, a thought that will rack him with guilt later, but one he will always find at the forefront of his mind whenever Carlos is saving someone else at the risk of his own safety-and yes, TK recognizes the irony given his professional choice).

The second police officers begin their sprint up the street, TK is running towards them, heading right for the highest ranking one there. In the three years he and Carlos' have been together, the year and a half they have been married, TK has gotten to know everyone at the station, just like Carlos' knows every member of TK's team. Thanks to the waitress passing on the message to 9-1-1, all TK has to do is hold out his phone and they know they have their best shot at figuring out the safest way to end this situation.

Having to let his phone go feels like severing his lifeline to his husband, but TK knows it's his best weapon against those who could actually take Carlos away from him forever.

All he can do now is wait, and he's never felt more helpless in his life. He runs his fingers over his wedding band, normally a soothing motion to ground him, bring him back, but today all it does is remind him that his husband is somewhere he can't follow.

A hand on his shoulder, and TK whirls around, collapsing into his father's arms. "Hey, ssh, it's all going to be okay, son," Owen murmurs into TK's ear, rubbing circles on his back as TK shakes in his embrace. TK buries his face in Owen's shoulder, trying to shut the world out for even a second, but it doesn't work. Carlos is in trouble, Carlos is in danger, Carlos is in a room full of people who don't know how beautiful and perfect and important he is, he could be collateral to them, a casualty along the way, and TK is spiraling as he feels the tightness of a panic attack clutch at his chest.

His father guides him to the curb, gently pushes his head down between his knees, and reminds him to breathe, count his breath, match his breath, there you go, and TK can hear Carlos' voice echoing the words with Owen, and TK breathes. It's enough to keep surviving, but it's not truly living again until he has Carlos back in his arms.

Suddenly there is yelling, everyone is in motion, moving towards the bank doors, and then there is a gunshot.

One single gunshot.

And somehow TK knows. Call it soulmates, call it a fated bond, call it whatever you like, TK is screaming before the cops rush up the steps, he is wailing before the bank doors open, he is sobbing before hostages are hurried outside and the robbers are shoved to the floor.

Carlos turns, slowly, as TK is sprinting towards him.

Carlos turns, meets TK's eyes, and collapses onto his knees. He looks down in numb shock at his left hand, pressed against the bullet hole in his stomach, as blood pours from between his fingers.

And then Carlos' body collapses completely, until he is face first on the cold tile floor, and TK can't even produce words, just a tragedy of heart shattering sounds as he desperately lunges up the stairs and drops to his knees next to his husband. TK's fingers find Carlos' pulse before the paramedics can even reach out a hand, and he sags in terrified relief, because Carlos is alive this second, but what about the next, and that next second is why TK allows himself to be moved to the side as the paramedics get to work. He knows he cannot assist on this one, he's barely breathing himself, just out of sight of the love of his life.

Stumbling into the back of the ambulance, TK grabs Carlos' hand, the actions of the paramedics a blur around them. "Stay with me, baby," TK begs, fingers back on Carlos' too slow pulse. "I love you so much, please don't leave me, Carlos, you can't, please baby, stay with me."

Around him TK hears a whirl of sounds, but Carlos is silent.

*** And this is how it has been since, everything around TK a whirl, and the voice he needs the most locked behind an operating room door where TK can not follow.

Owen made TK sit and get a few sips of water in him. Members of the 126 had come in and out as they were able, making sure at least one of them was there at all times. TK had called Carlos' family, who had been out on a day trip and immediately turned back around (TK was just so glad they had heard what had happened from him and not from a television set). Clean clothes and coffee had appeared, and TK had been coaxed into taking two minutes to change his clothes and scrub Carlos' blood from his hands (an action that had left him sobbing in Judd's arms by the bathroom sink).

Owen has just run to the bathroom himself when TK is approached by a group of people, maybe ten or so in all. "Hi, we're so sorry to bother you," a young woman says, and TK looks up at her, exhaustion and confusion clearly showing on his face. "The nurse said you're the family of the man from the bank who saved us."

"I wanted to say thank you!" pipes up a small voice in the middle of the group, and TK cranes his neck to see a little boy holding the hands of two men. "My Daddy and Papa said that he made sure they made it home okay." The little boy reaches up to one of the men, who hands him a stuffed animal tiger, which the boy then hands to TK. "Can you give this to him when he wakes up?"

TK cradles the tiger in his hands, and chuckles wetly, nodding. "My husband actually calls me Tiger," TK says softly, and finds within himself a smile to give the boy. "He will love this."

"Have you heard anything?" another member of the group asks, and just then a doctor comes out, and TK makes a beeline towards him.

"Family of Carlos' Strand-Reyes?" the doctor inquires, and TK puts a hand up.

"I'm his husband," TK says, voice shaking, running a hand over his tear-streaked face. "Is he okay?"

"He's going to be fine," the doctor says with a smile, and TK feels his body sag in such relief, he would have hit the floor if his father hadn't suddenly appeared behind him to keep him standing.  "The bullet was lodged inside, but it was as easy a removal as one could hope for, and no internal organs were damaged. Your husband is extremely lucky, Mr. Strand-Reyes."

"We both are," TK exhales, and he knows he's crying again. He can hear the group around him clapping and cheering. "Can I see him?"

"Of course, he's being moved to his room now," the doctor assures him, and TK clutches the stuffed tiger to his chest, practically nipping at the doctor's heels as they walk towards Carlos' room.

Carlos is so still on the hospital bed, but he is breathing without assistance. TK can hear the beautifully familar sound of the in and out of his husband's breath, finally he can hear Carlos, finally he can hear his husband again. Collapsing into the chair next to the bed, TK tucks the stuffed tiger in the crook of Carlos' arm, before carefully resting his head on Carlos' chest, encircling his husband's wrist with his fingers. The steady beat of Carlos's heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm of his pulse, lulls TK finally into a semblance of sleep.

"Two tigers, huh? How'd I get so lucky?"

TK whips his head up, blinks his eyes, and then there is Carlos', eyes open, talking. TK can hear his voice, he can hear his husband's voice, a little weaker than usual, but still the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.

"Carlos," TK chokes out, and he is immediately climbing onto the bed, avoiding wires and wounds, and wrapping Carlos' in his shaking arms, feeling Carlos' arms come up to hold him close.

"Sweetheart," Carlos breathes out, his voice ruffling his husband's hair, and TK clutches at him tighter, before picking his head up and kissing Carlos', deep and slow, pulling back just enough to rest their foreheads together and meet Carlos' eyes.

"I love you, so much," TK whispers against Carlos' skin, pressing kisses along his jaw, another on his lips. "You're a hero, you know. That's where that tiger came from. You saved a whole lot of people, including the dads of the little boy who brought it for you."

"I'm sorry," Carlos starts, and TK kisses him again, this time stopping the words on purpose.

"Do not apologize, baby," TK assures him, running his hand down his cheek. "You have the most amazing heart, the most beautiful soul. You've always been my hero. I wouldn't have expected anything else from you."

Carlos smiles, and TK can see he's fighting to stay awake, the flow through the IV bringing him back under for more healing. TK brushes a kiss across his husband's forehead, before snuggling in under Carlos' arm, bringing his head back to Carlos' chest. "Get some sleep, hero," TK says, lacing their fingers together. "I'll be right here."

"I love you so much too," Carlos murmurs, and TK hears every word.

@bikingthroughhawkins​ @officereyes​ @i-had-bucky​ @highqualitykhakis​ @meloingly​

You can still request concussion, shot with an arrow, confrontation, ambulance ride, dehydration, magical curse, or stabbing for TK/Carlos, Buck/Eddie, Geralt/Jaskier, or Magnus/Alec :)

[lonestarbabe]

Learning to Speak

Chapter 1: Channeling the Noise

[A03]

Moments of TK in therapy.

“Has anything important happened since your last session?” Melody Janson asks, a warm expression on her face. T.K.’s seen her for a couple of sessions already, but he’s still getting used to her therapy style. He’s been to a lot of therapists in his time, some of them good and some of them bad. He isn’t quite sure where Melody falls yet, but he likes her as a person, which is enough that he’s going to take the sessions semi-seriously, even if his willingness to share about himself is still limited. There are still some things that he can’t say and he’s not sure he will ever be able to say. He’s made peace with the antsiness of the things that go unsaid. The thwarted words bounce on his tongue like it’s a diving board and they are waiting to plunge into the icy waters of hard conversations.

“Depends what you consider important.” He pinches his lips together. He continues when she doesn’t say anything. “I don’t know. It’s been the same mostly. For all the action I experience, my life is boring most of the time.” Boredom is one of the things that makes him want to use, so he craves the moments of action, but there are never enough of them. He could tell her about calls he’d had on the job— like the baby in the tree—but he hadn’t done a whole lot in that rescue. The brunt of the work had been all his dad, ever the hero, and T.K. doesn’t feel like bringing up his dad because Melody always hones in on that topic. As nice as she is, she’s a vulture when it comes to certain discussions, which is probably what he needs, but he doesn’t want to need it. Some days he loves therapy, and other days, he hates it.

“Have you still been feeling restless?”

“Since birth,” he jokes. “I don’t know how to keep myself busy. Time is slower when I am sober. I only used oxy that once, but it feels like it’s sent me a million steps back.” One slip up, and he feels like he’s ruined everything. It feels like things will never be back to normal, and how can they be? He’s moved across the country to a hot and stuffy place that lacks the cool veneer of New York City. He misses Manhattan nights already. He doesn’t need stars. The New York skyline has always been more dazzling, and since he was a kid, it told T.K. stories that the constellations could never tell. New York may not be a natural wonder, but it’s a wonder nevertheless.

“Progress can be slow and isn’t always linear,” Melody reminds him. “How have the urges to use substances been?”

T.K. shifts in his seat. The urges are there, and that’s enough to send a wave of self-hate through T.K. It bothers him that he’ll never rid himself of those urges. He can lessen them, but he can’t stop them from existing. “Okay, I guess. They’ve been more manageable lately. I’m still fucked up, but I always will be.” Melody raises her eyebrows at “fucked-up,” and he knows it’s not because she’s concerned about his foul-mouth. He can tell she’s noting that to talk about later.

“What techniques have you been using to keep them manageable?” He has a whole toolbox of techniques that he’s collected from various stints in therapy, but some of them have become rusty, and it’s taking time to make them usable after neglecting them.

“I’ve been able to notice when I feel on edge more.” It’s like looking at the radar to predict a storm. He was never able to do that before. He’d always ignored that feeling of creeping closer to a cliff until he was staring down at the abyss below and gravity pulled him over.

“Sounds like you’re learning a lot about yourself. When I saw you in our last session, you were very on edge. You said you were feeling antsy about being in Austin. How are you feeling this week about being here?”

“It’s never going to be home, but I’m getting used to this place. I’m not getting lost as much, and it has a weird charm.”

Melody understands what he means immediately. “Yeah, it sure does. Have you been keeping up with thought-behavior logging?” The thought-behavior log is a worksheet that she gives him each week to explore how certain situations can lead to beliefs that produce unhealthy behaviors and negative feelings.

T.K. nods. “I’ve been filling it out, but I don’t know that it’s doing anything.”

“You did say that you were more aware of when you felt anxious. That’s progress. Did you make any helpful observations when you were logging your information? Even something small can be important.”

“That distractions are good for me.” Getting his mind off what was wrong with him is the best way to pretend that he was okay. He isn’t sure if that was an unhealthy way of coping or not. Knowing himself, it probably leaned towards unhealthy.

“What kind of distractions do you mean?”

“Anything I can find.” Anything but that one thing that he shouldn’t do, shouldn’t even think about.

“What’s the first one that comes to mind?” She’s persistent enough that she can get past the resistance that T.K. can’t help but have when some tries to get to know him.

“I met a guy— Carlos— and he’s been keeping me busy enough that I can keep my impulses in check.” He adds, “It doesn’t hurt that he’s hot. Between seeing Carlos and my job, I don’t have too much time to think. I can’t be tempted if I don’t have tempting thoughts. It’s a win-win.” T.K. is enjoying the no-strings relationship he has with Carlos. He’s glad they haven’t decided to complicate things by defining a relationship. He’s not ready for a real relationship. He gets attached too fast and that only leads to heartbreak.

“So these distractions are the main tool you use to stay sober?”

“I guess. It’s been working so far. I haven’t relapsed.” He’s thought about substances— a lot— but he hasn’t acted on those thoughts. He doesn’t let himself be proud of that fact because staying sober never should have been a challenge to begin with.

“I think that would be a good topic to add to our session today. But before we dig too deep into that, I want to know what else you’d like to cover today. Is there anything you think we need to talk about beyond this new relationship and the other distractions you may have going on?”

“It’s not a relationship,” T.K. tells her. “It’s… complicated.” T.K. chuckles to himself. “I’m sure you’ll want to unpack that.” So much to unpack, so little time.

“You’re as much responsible for our agenda as I am.” He doesn’t want that responsibility. He wants someone to shove him through this process as quickly as possible so that he doesn’t have to think about it anymore, but Melody has explained how important it is that he takes an active role in the process, so he’s trying to meet her halfway.

“I guess we can add it. It can’t hurt.”

“Okay, T.K.,” she says, “I think we should also touch on how you’ve been feeling about your sobriety.”

“We can talk about it, but I’m feeling fine.” He’s not happy, but it’s not like he’s ready to swallow a handful of pills— again. He wants to be sober. He wants to be alive. I’m good.

“You seem apathetic about most of these topics,” Melody observes. “Why do you think that is?”

“It’s just been that kind of week.” Work’s been hard. He isn’t sure what to think of his new coworkers yet. He likes them, but he doesn’t know them yet. It doesn’t take long for firefighters to bond with how much time they spend together, but T.K. is overwhelmed with having to basically reset his whole life and try to make sense of his new situation.

“What kind of week is that?” Therapy is a lot of questions, so many questions.

“The kind where I don’t want to think.” He wants to clear his mind and forget he exists because that’s easier than having to sort through the influx of feelings that he has. It’s the perfect kind of mood for substances to creep in and screw everything up.

“I see. Is something weighing on your mind?”

T.K. shrugs both shoulders. “Just the usual stuff. Work, getting used to this crazy place. I haven’t slept well.”

“Have you been having trouble adjusting?”

“It’s hard not knowing anyone. I’m good with people, so I can fit in, but it’s still hard. ” He puts on a big smile and acts like his normal goofy self and that seems to endear other people enough, but it doesn’t bring them too close. He’s not sure if he’s ready to get too close.

“That’s something we can explore some more because you’ve expressed in past sessions feeling like you don’t have a good support system here in Austin.”

“Another item on the agenda?”

She nods, a pleasant look on her face. “Does what we have sound like enough?”

“We’ve got a lot on the agenda,” T.K. says with a sigh. “So, yeah, sounds like enough.”

“You always rise to the challenge. Remember that we can always be flexible to suit your needs, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Let me ask, what is the most important of these items for you, T.K.?”

“Let’s start with the distraction thing,” T.K. tells her because he’s not sure where he wants to begin and the first thing on the list seems easy enough. Might as well just knock them out in order. “Or the guy thing. They’re pretty much the same topic.” His heart gets fluttery when he thinks of Carlos, and he’s not sure if it’s in a bad way or a good one.

“Okay, the male distraction. Do you want to tell me about him?”

“His name is Carlos. I met him on a call.”

“What do you like about him?” He’s nice to me. He has the best smile. He was the first person who made me forget that I was an outsider in Austin.

“I think the sex might be better than drugs.” He says the sex part before thinking about it, and then he feels weird because he’s talking about his sex life with a woman he barely knows. He’s always been pretty open about that kind of thing, a trait he inherited from his parents, but it’s different in a clinical setting. The faded, geometrically-patterned chair feels stiff under him like it’s judging him.

Melody’s face doesn’t change from neutral. “What about sex is satisfying to you?” Everything. T.K. doesn’t really believe that sex is better than drugs, but it is close and it helps him to pretend that it is better than drugs. Sex is a release. It allows him to escape his head for a while and give in to his carnal urges. “Like I said, it’s a distraction.”

“What does it distract you from?” Everything.

“If I think about it too hard, that defeats the purpose of distraction, doesn’t it?” He doesn’t like to use the words addict or drugs or substances, which probably doesn’t bode well when drugs are what got him in therapy in the first place, but at the end of the day, the drugs are a symptom of the feelings he has that he can’t deal with. Those stiff words hang in the air and then he keeps thinking about them, and if he thinks about them, he figures that he’ll give in eventually, and he doesn’t want to give in. He doesn’t want to disappoint his dad, lose his job, or hurt anyone else. He doesn’t care much about himself, but the way his addiction impacts other people holds him back when he’s on the edge between resiting and relapsing. Sometimes, it is enough. Other times, it is not.

“What do you think will happen if you talk about it?”

“I’ll lose control?” Control— that sounds deep and pathological, and therapists like that, right? He’d had a therapist who had been obsessed with the control thing, so he ran with the idea, thinking it was something he could hurry Melody through. His real answer is somewhere behind a wall in his mind that he doesn’t want to peak through let alone tear down. He keeps a lot behind that wall, just beyond the point of easy access. It’s a cluttered wasteland, but with the wall, he doesn’t have to look at the mess of life. He can pretend it’s not there, and if he can’t easily access it, he won’t think about it.

“Lose control of what?” she pushes him.

“Just in general,” T.K. tries.

“What is it about control that alarms you so much?” she asks again, and the question is oddly unsettling as flashes of him being high or drunk rush through his mind. He brought this up, and now he’s regretting the can of worms he’s popped open thinking it was just a normal can. He suddenly and ironically feels like he’s lost control of this line of thought. He should have thought this through, but he didn’t. That’s what he’s always done; he didn’t look before he leaped. He’s not afraid of losing control, he realizes with dread. He’s afraid of taking control. Maybe Dr. Bundting wasn’t such a quack about this control thing after all.  There’s something alluring about spiraling. He disarms himself so that no one can do it for him. He hands his life over to substances so that he doesn’t have to take the reigns and navigate through it himself.

T.K. crosses his arms over his chest. “No one likes to lose control.” Except for freaks like me. T.K. feels his chest clench, and his heart is pounding.

“The question seems to bother you. Was there something I said that made you uncomfortable?”

“It’s complicated.” Complicated is the way T.K.’s life works. Nothing is clear-cut, and it makes deciding what the fuck he is doing with his life eight million times harder.

“Can you explain what makes it so complicated?”

“It’s weird,” he tries, but Melody has never been stopped by that excuse before, so he’s not sure why he thinks it will work now.

“Austin is weird,” Melody says with a reassuring smile. “We like weird here.”

T.K. takes a breath. “I used to lose control all the time, and it didn’t bother me. I liked being out of my mind and not caring about anything.”

“And how does it make you feel about yourself when you’re in that state of mind?”

He swallows. “Like I’m defective.” He adds a laugh so it doesn’t sound so pathetic. “But also like I’m alive. It takes away the worries for a while.” He shakes his head. “But, mostly defective.”

“You remember how we talked about core beliefs?”

T.K. rolls his eyes. “I’ve been hearing that word for years.”

“Then you probably know where I am going with this. What makes you think you’re defective?”

“I can’t do things that normal people can.”

“What can’t you do?”

“Handle things in a normal way. When anything goes wrong, I spin out.”

“You’ve been managing your cravings. That doesn’t seem like spinning out to me.”

“It’s more of a feeling, and then the feeling is what makes me want to do things that I shouldn’t.”

“Can you define what ‘spinning out’ means to you?” Wanting to give in and wreck my life just to escape my head for a while.

“I go crazy. My mind starts to race, and before I can think better of it, I’m doing something dumb.” He hates to think about all the stupid things he’s done just because he doesn’t have the mental clarity to resist those impulsive urges.

“What kind of ‘dumb’ actions are you referring to?”

“Relapsing, fighting, fucking up opportunities— those kinds of things.”

“You called those actions dumb, so can you tell me what do those actions have to do with your intelligence?” Because I am an idiot who can’t control himself.

“Because I should know better than to do them. That’s pretty dumb, right?”

“You seem to use that kind of language a lot about yourself. Do you think addiction or mental illness makes someone dumb?”

“I know it makes me dumb.” My mistakes could have all been avoided if I only used my head.

“Okay, so your addiction makes you feel dumb, but if you saw my other patients behaving because of their illnesses, would you call them dumb? Or did your dad’s PTSD, for example, make him dumb?”

“He went through a lot, so it makes sense that he would react in the way he did. He wasn’t acting dumb, not really. He was just trying to survive after a shitty situation put his life in danger.”

“And what’s different about you? When you talk about your dad, you blame the circumstances, but when you talk about yourself, you attack your core characteristics.”

“I made choices. That’s what created his problems. My dad was powerless. Something happened to him while I happened to me.”

“I’m all for taking accountability, but don’t you think you’re showing yourself none of the mercy that you offer your dad or other important people in your life?”

“He deserves that.” I don’t.

“What has he done to deserve that? You’ve talked about how his actions hurt you, so why do you forgive him for those actions that hurt you but not your own actions that hurt you?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. He never meant to hurt you.”

“Did you mean to hurt yourself?” she prods.

“I tried to…” T.K. trailed off. “I nearly died.”

“If you got to choose how you feel, would you choose to hurt?”

“No. Who would?”

“So, that brings me back to the question, why can you forgive others more easily than yourself.”

“It hurts me more not to forgive him.”

“Does it not hurt you more to not forgive yourself?”

“Because maybe he’s not perfect, but I’ve burdened him with my issues, so I owe him forgiveness. It’s not his fault that I’m overly sensitive or whatever. He made mistakes.” But I am the mistake. “But he’s a hero, and the hero’s kid always has to make room for the heroics, but I was always too selfish to see that..” T.K. doesn’t mention how he still has a kernel of resentment for Owen, one that he has never been able to forgive away.

“What about you? You save people every day. Aren’t you a hero? If being a hero is why you are merciful with your dad, shouldn’t you extend that to yourself?”

“Yeah, but it’s my job to save people, and I haven’t sacrificed anything to help others. My dad lost his whole crew on 9/11. That’s a sacrifice.” What about my loss? the childish part of him wants to say, but he’s learned that that part of him is the one that drives him further from his dad. When he lets his inner child say his piece, the tension between T.K. and Owen smothers any goodwill they’ve forced into existence through years of close proximity and the common goal of saving other people’s lives.

“It takes sacrifice to be a hero?”

“Yeah, if you don’t lose anything from doing something, it’s not a big deal.”

“You sacrificed many moments with your Dad. You sacrifice time and energy at your job. Wouldn’t that make you a hero too under your definition?”

“It’s not like I had a choice.”

“Why not?”

“Firefighting was the only thing I’ve ever considered.”

“Okay, and why’s that?”

“Because I knew it was what I wanted.” He didn’t need to think. While other kids his age had been debating what they wanted to be, he never had to make that grueling decision. He just knew. My fate had been decided for me already, and it was nice not to have to think about what kind of future I wanted. It had always been written for me.

“What was it that you wanted?” A dad.

“To be like my dad.”

“And are you like him?”

“Not in any of the good ways.” T.K.’s sure that he and Owen are both headstrong. They’re both passionate and like grand gestures. T.K. knows that he’s a lot like his Dad but not in the ways that would make him proud.

“In what ways aren’t you like him?”

“Well, for one, I’m constantly making bad decisions. I nearly died before I came here, remember? I was so dumb. What was I trying to accomplish by nearly killing myself?”

“You’re back to using the word ‘dumb.’ Do you know the early meaning of dumb?”

“Probably not,” T.K. admits.

“In Old English, it referred to someone who was mute.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And people conflated the inability to speak with the lack of intelligence. Dumb was a word used to degrade and mock those who couldn’t speak because other people didn’t understand muteness”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“While the behaviors that result because of your mental illness may feel dumb as in stupid, you’re conflating your inability to speak with the lack of intelligence. Mental illness doesn’t rob you of your intelligence; it robs you of your ability to speak and communicate your feelings. Your ‘dumb’ behaviors are attempts at communication, but in these sessions, we figure out how you can break your silence.

“So I’m learning how to talk to people?”

“Not just how to talk to people but also how to talk to yourself. Your self-dialogue fuels your feelings and behaviors, so if we can change that dialogue, we can change your experiences with the world. What I want to accomplish with you goes beyond just talking.  What I’m teaching you is how to communicate healthily, which can come in more forms than just verbal language. There are lots of ways to speak, and what you need to do is find the ones that work for you.” Melody’s words linger with T.K. as he carries on the session, and he wonders if happiness is that easy. Is it nothing more than learning to speak?

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 266: Sad Naruto Flute Music

Previously on BnHA: Tamaki ate a horse; Dark Shadow punched Re-Destro through a wall; Gigantomachia didn’t want to wake up from his nap; Tokoyami climbed inside of Fatgum’s stomach like a little emo joey and mused about Hawks; Hawks was all “am I evil or no? history shall decide!” and sort of kind of maybe tried to kill Twice; and then Dabi showed up and set the two of them on fire before you could say “stop, drop, and roll.” All of this was a real chapter that really happened. Anyway but then Hawks saved Twice by pulling him out of the fire, which I totally didn’t notice during my first readthrough last week, so that’s nice. But then Dabi stepped on Hawks’s face and used his quirk again. So that was not so nice. We’re really having ourselves an arc, here.

Today on BnHA: Well you know the old saying. Save a man from burning and you feed him for a day, stab him while he’s running away and you feed him for life. Oh, the chapter? Right. Well Hawks is perfectly fine aside from getting a sexy scar for his troubles, which I’ll have you know I did predict. Twice however is not so fine, which, fun fact, I did not predict. If you’re just joining us. Yeah. I boofed it. Anyway so Hawks escapes Dabi using the power of mysterious main character logic, and then he stabs Twice, and Twice dies, very slowly and sadly and in Toga’s arms. That’s it that’s the chapter. You’ll love it. It’s full of feels. And death. Lol I’m in a mood right now I’m sorry guys. I’m gonna go write some healing Bakugou essays.

so as mentioned on the “previously” section above, Hawks saved Twice’s life! meanwhile Dabi apparently arrived in time to listen to Hawks’s “here I go... time to kill you... really gonna do it... here it comes...” speech for at least several seconds before he finally decided to make his grand entrance, as evidenced by him quoting Hawks’s “sentiment” line right back in his face before setting him on fire. so basically Hawks is still okay and villains gonna villain. this is my conclusion and 4 out of 5 dentists approve but you can form your own judgements as well and that’s fine!

(ETA: this is all your fault fifth dentist.)

anyway so before we begin, full disclosure, I was warned this chapter would make me cry. so that ominous pronouncement is gonna be weighing on my mind while we embark upon our weekly manga journey today, but alas such is life! at least life in March 2020. did we really expect any good news at this point. I want a refund on this whole year but apparently I should get in line

so here we go. someone is narrating and it’s not quite clear who

but the “you’ve just been unlucky” part is a reference to what Hawks was telling Twice in chapter 264, so unless Dabi was listening in on that part too, I would think this would have to be Twice? even though Dabi’s the one whose face is so prominent here, all handsome and crazy

omg Hawks is holding on to his feather and using his tk to blast away while holding Twice

what a fucking thing to do. is the fucking feather still on fire. and somehow he hasn’t instinctively let go of it?? THIS BOY I SWEAR TO GOD

and so he’s definitely going to have a scar there now it looks like! pretty sure this makes him an honorary Todoroki. aww

and also Twice seems to possibly be unconscious, so I guess that was Dabi’s narration?? you mean to tell me Dabi was basically sitting outside for like a full five minutes. were you fixing your hair. getting ready to livestream?? “hey there villain nation it’s me ya boi, so I’m here in the Hilton Gunga Heights and omg like a shitton of heroes have attacked us out of fucking nowhere, and now the number two hero is getting ready to fucking murder my bro Twice, and he hasn’t even noticed I’m here yet. shit is totally crazy, anyways before we go on just a reminder to click on the link below to check out our official league merch, and if you haven’t already, click on the button to like and subscribe, it really helps us out.” and then boom, just in time to save Twice from Mr. To Stab or Not to Stab

(ETA: now that we know it’s actually Twice what am I gonna do with all these Dabi social media jokes. huh?! Horikoshi you ruined everything!!)

oh this chapter is apparently called “Happy Life.” that’s fun I’m sure we’re going to have a really fun time here

(ETA: so fun the funnest.)

Dabi doesn’t really seem fazed though

yeah he’s fucked we know don’t have to rub it in ffff

(ETA: Dabi. we underestimated him, Dabi.)

so Hawks is all “you nearly murdered your bro just fyi” and Dabi is all “smirk it’s fine cuz I knew you were going to save him cuz ~that’s ~what ~heroes ~do” wow you guys. I just realized that between Dabi and Hawks, this has the potential to be the single snarkiest fight we’ve ever had in this manga. my hype for this chapter just went up 10x

also even though I just summarized these last few panels I’m also going to post them so we can all shamelessly admire hot wounded Hawks

hot damn. you were right, AFO. wounded heroes are the sexiest. I may be paraphrasing a bit

also two things, (1) looks like he called some of his feathers back (so then WHERE WERE THEY??), but it’s not much. and (2) he was wearing gloves this whole time that’s right I forgot. so maybe his hands are okay?? the hell are those made of, damn

oh my freaking lord

this is one attractive chapter I’ll give it that. also raise your hand if you’re surprised that Dabi never actually trusted Hawks. yeah that’s what I thought

well shit looks like we’re finally getting some Hawks thoughts! unsurprisingly, they are all “I’m fucked”

please note that while talking!Hawks is continuing to be all sassy, thinking!Hawks is busy tallying up Jin’s injuries. this is a good sign, maybe. I hope. lol

anyway but speaking of Jin, what is going on

oh lol he’s making a break for it

this is so bad you guys. this is so so bad. if Twice lives that’s all well and good, but if he escapes, Hawks is 100% right about how dangerous he is. they could literally capture 90% of PLF in this raid and it would hardly even matter. also in the meantime the #2 hero is about to be roasted alive so that’s also not great for the hero side all things considered

ohhhhhhhhhhhhh no. I don’t like this. no no no

why did we suddenly cut to outside and someone’s screaming (?) echoing from offscreen. I’m trying to think of not-terrible explanations for this and coming up short. uh

now we’re back to Hawks/Twice/Dabi, only I don’t see Hawks yet. but Twice is just barely dodging the flame blast, and meanwhile Dabi is all

is he talking to Twice?

yep he’s talking to Twice

that’s fine. that’s all I need. for Twice to “go wild” while my nine-year-old son is outside with his batteries all fried and innocently waiting for someone to lead him back to where his other child soldier friends are waiting for him. like. say what you will about Hawks and betrayal, but there was a fucking reason he was trying to take Twice out first

hmm but we’re getting this slow-motion panel now and FUCK ME I SWEAR TO GOD IF A FEATHER PIERCES HIS HEART OUT OF NOWHERE I’M GONNA LOSE IT

WAIT WHAT

EXCUSE ME BUT

? ??????????

well you sure have been made to look the fool now, Dabi. thought you’d won just because you had Hawks cornered in a narrow room and you set him on fire while standing in between him and the only exit. rookie fucking mistake. you scrub. you clod. you halfwit. how could you let this happen. wow I can’t believe Dabi let Hawks escape unscathed except for a sexy scar and that’s the end of the chapter

LMAO

oh my god. well good news everyone this chapter did indeed make me cry

(ETA: listen. I’m going to hell, I know. but it’s still funny as fuck.)

“he went outside with the blast... and flanked me?!” ...sure. sure let’s just go with that. seems reasonable

actually no, sorry, I literally went back two chapters to see if there was another way out of this room, and nope

by the way that last panel is apparently from Dabi’s POV if I’m understanding this right. just standing behind Hawks waiting for youtube live to connect

but anyway. so no exit. meaning Dabi apparently torched a hole right through the wall and Hawks just sat there and was all “okay this hurts like a mother but if I wait it out a few more seconds I think I can... there we go!” you know, logic

so now there is a ton of action happening which I can’t quite understand, but also Dabi is shouting Hawks’s real name for some reason

why do I feel like this is definitely the last page before somebody definitely fucking dies. shit. shit

oh thank god so far so good. and also, lol

BECAUSE HE READ THE DATABOOK, HAWKS. that’s probably how he figured out you were a spy too. we’ve been had

oh snap?!

don’t do this to me Horikoshi. don’t give me hope. don’t act like you’re gonna actually address this topic sometime before the heat death of the universe

AND HE’S OUT

MY BABY OFF TO DESTROY PEOPLE. ;_; shitttt hahaha nervous laughter Ralph Wiggum sitting on the bus etc.

GODDAMN IT HORIKOSHI

I don’t want Twice to kill anyone but it doesn’t mean I want him to die either! just!! can’t I have it both ways?? please stop with this I can’t take it also what is Spinner doing. and also YAY GIRAN SIGHTING hot damn the sex appeal of this chapter is fast approaching critical levels

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT FUCK

fuck me. [eyes post from last week] the real announcer jinx was the metas we made along the way

well we’re cutting away again!! because of course we are!! Horikoshi won’t show violence unless it’s a dog exploding or a little boy accidentally murdering his entire family

[taps megaphone] this thing on. all right then. [clears throat] NO ONE WANTS THIS

FOR FUCK’S SAKE

“I KNOW YOU’RE ALL DYING TO SEE WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN, SO HERE, LET’S CUT TO A RANDOM PAGE OF TOGA AND COMPRESS BEING CAPTURED BY A MAN WITH HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPO ARMS”

oh damn but are they really captured though??

forgive me for being skeptical. not to doubt you, Hungry Hungry Hippo Man. I’m sure you’re absolutely right and your sentence cut off at the end there because you remembered that they changed their name to Pliff, and not because you’re being stabbed or burned or impaled or whatever the fuck

!!!

HE LIVED BITCH

yes he totally lived and this definitely isn’t so that he can get one final scene with Toga before he suddenly keels over and dies. shit. at this point it’s fucking inevitable. you had to go and drag his girlfriend into this. I’m so sad you guys I can’t even deal with these emotions I’m just gonna stubbornly joke about stupid shit until I figure out what the fuck else to do

OH MY GOD!!!!???

HE DIED BITCH!?!??

he’s already dead he’s already fucking dead fucking shit

ohhhhhh it’s pouring down sads now

my bird son really went and fucking killed the sweetest little dumpling in the manga. I wrote like 5 thousands essays defending you, Hawks. we gonna have to get you a damn good lawyer now

why is sad flute music from the Naruto OST playing

he’s not gonna need it where he’s going Toga. because they already have plenty of handkerchiefs on the farm. and lots of room for him to run around and play with other villains too

lmao fuck

I really did this to myself, why did I actually start playing Sadness and Sorrow fuck my life. real actual tears

and it SEEMS TO ME, YOU LIVED YOUR LIFE, LIKE A CANDLE IN THE WIND~~~

[sad makeste noises]

AND I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO KNOW YOU

BUT I WAS JUST A KID~~

...

your candle burned out long before

your legend ever did.

[mellow keyboard tones]

welp. ... 2020 ladies and gentlemen

[morganaspendragonss]

in the name of being brave

There's very rarely a good 911 call, if such a thing even exists, but Carlos thinks domestic calls have to be the worst. He's just thankful that they got there in time, and Kristen in safe in the ambulance rather than zipped up in a body bag.

or

the carlos plotline we (and he) deserved

ao3 | 1.2k | 2.05

warning for references to domestic abuse

There’s very rarely a good 911 call, if such a thing even exists, but Carlos thinks domestic cases have to be the worst. Worse than vicious bar brawls and random muggings and ten car pile ups with too many casualties and no-one to blame but a patch of ice on the road. Situations like these are ugly and raw, and they break Carlos’s heart.

It’s in the way the victim shakes as they’re led over to medical, bruised and broken and scared. It’s in the way the worst parts of humanity come to a startling light, the only remorse in the fact that they got caught. It’s in the way that sometimes they’re too late, and their only job is the hollow justice of getting the abuser locked up.

He’s grateful that tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

Carlos sighs and hands the guy off to another officer, reaching for his radio. “Dispatch this is 363-H-20, Officer Reyes, suspect is in custody,” he reports. “Clearing the scene.”

“Thank you, Officer.” Grace pauses, and when she speaks again, she’s dropped her professional tone. “How’s Kristen?”

Carlos glances to the ambulance where Kristen is sitting, wrapped in a shock blanket and staring blankly ahead. He wants to go over and check on her, but he knows what he must look like to her.

A tall, vaguely imposing man with a gun? Even with his uniform - or perhaps especially with it - Carlos knows he’s probably the last kind of person she wants to see. He’s got no desire to cause her any more pain.

“She’s alive,” he settles on, and he imagines it’s all Grace was expecting to hear. “She’ll make it through this.”

“Thanks, Carlos.”

The line goes dead and Carlos breathes out shakily, eyes still locked on Kristen. He barely notices when Rachel comes up next to him, and jumps when she squeezes his shoulder.

“You alright, Reyes?” she asks, though her eyes tell him she knows exactly where his head’s at. 

He manages a tight nod. “Yeah. It’s just… All this. It sucks, you know?”

The words sound pathetic even to his ears, but Rachel just smiles sympathetically. “Yeah, I know,” she sighs. “Come on. Let’s get this bastard put away and then we can drown our sorrows at the nearest bar.”

A barely-there smile tugs at his lips. “You know we’re still on the clock, right?”

“Coffee, then.”

“Deal.”

*

Carlos swallows nervously as he navigates the hospital, shaking fingers smoothing down the non-existent creases in his uniform. It’s been more than 24 hours since the call with Kristen, and his superiors seem to want to get this one closed as soon as possible. Not that Carlos blames them.

It’s a fairly open-and-shut case anyway, but they still need Kristen’s statement. Carlos had been assigned to get it, having been the one who ran point on the arrest, and he’s not sure if he’s glad or not. On the one hand, he does want to see how she’s doing. On the other, it’s barely been a day since she was jumping out of her third floor apartment, and the last thing he wants to do is make her relive it.

But someone has to do this, and Carlos would rather be here than not.

He takes a steadying breath before knocking gently on the doorframe to Kristen’s room. She’s sitting up in the bed, picking at the sheets, and Carlos attempts what he hopes is a reassuring smile when she looks over.

“Hello,” he says quietly. “My name is Carlos, I’m with Austin PD. Can I come in?”

Kristen surveys him warily for a moment longer, then nods, eyes tracking him as he moves to the seat by her bed. Technically, this isn’t protocol; he should really remain standing, but protocol can hang for all Carlos cares.

He pulls out his notebook, resisting the urge to tap the pen against the pages. “How are you doing?”

She shrugs. “They’re discharging me later.”

It’s a non-answer if Carlos has ever heard one, but he chooses not to push. “Have you got somewhere safe to go?” he tries instead.

“My mom’s taking me to her place,” she responds. “She’ll be back soon, I think she just went to get me some clothes. I don’t feel safe at home.”

Carlos’s chest aches. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He knows where I live.” Kristen’s voice shakes and she’s holding onto the sheets in a death grip. Carlos grimaces and swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Well, thanks to you, I can promise you that you won’t have to worry about him again,” he says. “He’ll be going away for a very long time.”

Her smile is fleeting, barely lifting the corners of her mouth, but the sight eases some of the weight in Carlos’s chest anyway. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. “And the woman on the phone. Without her, I -”

She breaks off, scrubbing at her face. Carlos offers her a smile of his own. “I’ll pass the message on,” he promises. 

Kristen nods, taking a couple of shaky breaths. Carlos shifts awkwardly in his seat; this is the part he’s been dreading since the second he set foot in the hospital.

“Ma’am?” he says. Kristen looks up at him, hunching in on herself as she seems to anticipate his next question. “I’m sorry to ask, but would you be willing to tell me about what happened, exactly? If you’re not ready, I’ll understand - I’m sure I can figure out something to tell my supervisors.”

She hesitates, then shakes her head. “No. It… It’s okay. I’ll do it.”

“You sure?”

She nods, taking a steadying breath. “I’m sure.”

*

TK is already in the house when Carlos gets back that night, and he’s instantly warmed at the sight of his boyfriend puttering around the room, putting away the groceries he’d promised to pick up. It’s something Carlos could get used to very easily.

TK looks up at the sound of the door clicking behind him and a grin spreads across his face. Carlos goes over to the kitchen island to meet him, kissing him in welcome and all but collapsing into his embrace. TK must notice the way he clings on tighter than usual, as he starts rubbing soothing circles on Carlos’s back.

“Rough shift?” he murmurs.

Carlos hums. “I’ve had better days.”

TK nods, steering Carlos to the sofa as he begins to sag in his grip. They collapse onto it together, Carlos curling into TK’s side, his head resting on his chest.

TK’s fingers play with his hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Carlos hesitates, then shakes his head. “Not right now,” he answers. “Maybe later.”

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”

He smiles up at TK, tilting his head to kiss the inside of his wrist. TK smiles back, adjusting his grip so Carlos is practically lying across his lap. Carlos closes his eyes, relaxing into his boyfriend and finally letting the tension drain out of his body.

He’s pulled off to sleep not long after, soothed by the calming presence of his boyfriend and the promise of safety in his arms.

[marjansmarwani]

sleep is never coming

2.8k || ao3

Owen has been having the same dream for months now. Every few nights he falls asleep and is returned to one of the worst moments of his life in vivid technicolor. After one of these nights, he finds himself in the kitchen: seeking some tea in pursuit of sleep when he is suddenly not alone. But maybe the young officer who just stumbled into his kitchen from his son's bedroom is the best person he could talk to about this. Maybe it takes someone who loves his son as much as he does to truly understand the fear that is keeping him up at night. ----- Angst Week Day 1: "How do we fix this?" + Anon request: "It's just a nightmare."

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

The bang is sudden, unexpected, and earth-shattering. Owen whips around, searching for the source of the sound but stops mid-turn, frozen in horror at the sight before him. His son slumping over; clutching his collarbone, gasping in pain, and slowly falling to the ground. He tries to move towards him but he feels as if he is trying to move through molasses, too slow to reach him in time. Too slow to help him; just like he was too slow to prevent it. 

It’s the same, every time. He can trace the movements, he knows the script by heart. First, TK falls; then comes the blood. Far, far too much of it oozing from the entry wound, spreading across the ground beneath him and sliding down the wall behind them. There’s more blood too, in a place it should never be: coming out of TK’s mouth as he struggles to breathe, as his wide and terrified eyes seek Owen’s. 

He wants to reassure him, he wants to tell him it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t want to lie. He made a promise many years ago to never lie to his child, no matter what. And as much as he wants it to be a truth, it may not be. He doesn’t know that everything will be okay and that terrifies him. 

There is movement and commotion and voices shouting instructions and updates but all Owen knows for sure is the sensation of watching TK’s eyes close, or seeing the moment he stops breathing. He knows for certain the exact moment he watches his son die because it is the moment his heart shatters. 

There is deadly silence then, for a beat. And in the breath after, he wakes up. 

He shots upright in bed, sucking in a harsh breath before running a weary and shaking hand across his face. “It’s just a nightmare,” he reminded himself, “it’s not real.” He knew this: he’d been having that dream for months now. 

While true, the reminder did nothing to quell the racing of his heart. He sighed and threw the blankets back, climbing out of bed and heading towards the bedroom door. There was no use trying to go back to sleep; past experience had shown him that much. His only hope was to head to the kitchen, make some tea, and hope for the best. Just like he had every few nights in the month since the accident. 

He suppressed a yawn as he walked into the kitchen before checking that the kettle still had water in it and turning on the burner. He leaned against the counter as it heated, rubbing at his tired eyes. He couldn’t keep going on like this. He needed to sleep through the night, he needed to make sure he was on the top of his game. He owed it to his team. 

But every time he tried, he got a front-row seat to one of the worst moments of his life. Nothing — no fire, no accident, not even 9/11 — would compare to the fear he had felt watching his son collapse after being shot. He knew worrying about him was normal, he knew dwelling on it was to be expected. He just hadn’t banked on reliving it every other night. 

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps coming down the hall until a sound of surprise had him looking up to see a tousled, shirtless, and embarrassed Officer Reyes standing at the threshold of his kitchen. 

“I’m sorry Sir, I didn’t know…” 

Owen waved off his stammered apology, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Carlos. And please, it’s 3 am and you’re in my kitchen—I think you can call me Owen.” 

Carlos gave a nervous laugh but walked further into the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Owen, “It is 3 am so if you don’t mind me asking Sir...Owen, what are you doing?” 

Owen gestured at the kettle that was just starting to steam, “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to see if some tea would help. Would you like some? I could use the company.” 

“Oh,” Carlos looked taken aback, “um, sure. Thank you.” 

Owen turned to the cupboard to pull out two mugs and the box of chamomile tea. He held it up to Carlos, who nodded. “So,” he began, setting everything down on the counter next to the stove, “any particular reason you are in my kitchen at 3 am?” 

Carlos chuckled and stepped closer, settling onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter, “I just woke up and wanted a glass of water. I figured you wouldn’t mind and I had no idea I’d run into anyone.” 

“Normally you’d be right, but I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately.” 

Carlos was quiet then and Owen could see the dilemma playing out in his head through his expression. It was in Carlos Reyes’s nature to fix things, and he was trying to decide whether or not prying into his boyfriend’s father’s insomnia over 3 am tea was crossing a line. Owen decided to make the decision for him. 

“I’ve been having some dreams that are keeping me up. Well, a dream I guess. The same one, every time.”

Carlos studied him as Owen paused to pull the whistling kettle off the burner, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Owen shook his head, “Thanks, but one of us losing sleep over it is enough. No reason to keep you up too.” 

“I’m already up and after the shock of finding you in the kitchen I am wide awake,” Carlos pointed out dryly. “We’re both here so you may as well talk about it, if you want to.” 

Owen considered as he poured the water over the teabags in the mugs. Did he want to? Keeping it to himself clearly wasn’t working. He didn’t want to burden anyone else with this; a part of him wondered how anyone else could possibly understand. The fear and pain of watching your child almost die was unlike anything else. Still, he conceded, in this particular situation, who was better suited to understand this fear than Carlos? He knew how hard the accident had been hard on him too, despite trying as hard as he had to keep up a brave front. If anyone could understand where he was coming from, it would be the young man sitting at the counter with him. 

“I keep reliving that night.” 

He stole a glance at Carlos to see if he needed to be more specific but the newly clenched jaw told Owen that he knew exactly what night he was talking about. He slid the other mug across the counter before wrapping his hands around his own, “sometimes it feels like it’s every time I try to sleep. I close my eyes and I’m just there again.” 

Carlos let out a shuddering breath and tightened his grip on his mug, “I know what you mean. I...had a similar problem, right after it happened. I don’t think I got much sleep at all while he was in the hospital. I would wake up afraid, not remembering that he was okay, that it had all turned out fine. I just had this fear that I couldn’t shake. Sometimes I don’t think I ever will, not completely. The only thing that helped with the dreams, at least, was the fact that TK was lying next to me, alive and okay, eventually.” 

“Well I’m sure neither of you would appreciate me coming to check on him every time I have that dream, would make for some awkward encounters,” Owen retorted, trying for a joke that fell flat, judging by Carlos’s forced smile. He sighed and ran a weary hand over his face, “How do we fix this?” 

“Time, I guess,” Carlos responded with a shrug. “I wish I had a better answer, but I think that’s the only one there is.” 

Owen took a sip of his tea, rolling the idea around in his mind before he shook his head, “I don’t know if time is going to be enough. I don’t think time will ever completely erase the guilt.” 

“The guilt?” There was genuine surprise in the young officer’s voice and Owen snorted. 

“I’m not only his father, but his captain. I told him to breach the door. I gave the order, and I was standing right there. I had all the information but I didn’t put it together fast enough to stop it, to save him. There is not a single way of looking at this that doesn’t make me responsible.” 

Owen isn’t sure what reaction he expected out of his son’s boyfriend, but it certainly wasn’t what he got. He didn’t expect him to scoff and counter his claim with one of his own: “How do you think I feel? I’m a cop and I was on the scene. We knew there was a gun and yet it slipped through the cracks. It’s more my fault than anyone’s if anything.” 

Owen blinked for a second, processing everything that Carlos had just said. “That’s insane,” he retorted incredulously, “you had two civilians in your care and the logical assumption to make was that once the grandfather collapsed the gun was no longer an issue. “Besides,” he added wryly, “whoever heard of anyone shooting at the fire dept? Everyone loves us.” 

Carlos snorted at that before his expression turned serious again, “The same goes for you: how did you have any way of knowing that things were any different than any other time? You followed protocol, you did everything you should have. TK did everything he should have; he did the job he was trained to do. Chances are, nothing could have prevented what happened.” 

Owen considered his words as he swished the tea in his cup, watching as the leaves that had settled at the bottom rose upwards into the warm liquid again. “You might be right,” he allowed, “but I don’t like it.” 

“No one likes feeling helpless, Owen,” Carlos pointed out wryly. “But sometimes that’s all we can be.”

Owen looked up from his tea to study the younger man, who met his gaze and held it. “You’re pretty wise for someone so young, you know that?” he said after a few moments. 

“That’s just your sleep-deprived brain talking.” 

Owen chuckled at that and Carlos grinned in response. “What do you think TK would say if he knew we were both up at an ungodly hour worrying about him?”

“He would be very against it,” Owen said with certainty, and Carlos hummed in agreement. 

“Unfortunately for him, I don’t think either of us is going to stop anytime soon.” 

“No,” Owen agreed, “but that’s what happens when you love someone.” 

Carlos froze, choking on his tea mid-sip before setting the cup down as he coughed and stared at Owen, who chuckled. 

“It’s okay Carlos, I don’t know if you’ve said it yet, but it doesn’t matter. I know you love him and if I know my son, he feels the same way. I’m just happy you two found each other. It makes me feel a lot better knowing that he has someone else who cares about him as much as I do looking out for him.”

“But not enough to help you sleep at night, huh?” 

“Apparently not,” Owen agreed wearily. 

Carlos gave him a smile, “What about the fact that he has both of us looking after him now? Does that make you feel any better?” Carlos paused a moment and met Owen’s eyes before continuing, “Because you’re not alone in this Owen, and neither is he. You have a family here in Austin. I may have only been around for a few months but it doesn’t take long to see. You, TK, the rest of the crew: you all look out for each other. Does that help at all?” 

Owen looked down at the counter, overwhelmed by the truth of the statement. It wasn’t that he didn’t know that, it was more that sometimes it was hard to remember. It didn’t seem like so long ago that he had arrived in Austin, that they had all met. Yet he knew what Carlos said was true. He did have a family here in Austin now, and it was growing to include a certain officer more and more each day. 

“As long as we’re clear that you’re included in that too, Carlos,” he said, after a beat. 

The younger man opened his mouth but Owen held up a hand, “Nope, no arguments. You’re just as much a part of this as anyone else. It was already true, but this whole tea thing has really sealed the deal, no backing out now.” 

There was another beat of silence, and then Carlos smiled. “Thank you, Owen,” he said softly. 

They trailed off into comfortable silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts and sipping their tea. It was some time before Owen happened to catch a glimpse of the clock over the stove. He swore, breaking the reverie they had been in and causing Carlos to startle ever so slightly. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I just hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. Or early, maybe?” He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair before turning and looking at Carlos whose eyebrows rose when he saw the time. 

“Do we even bother trying to go back to bed at this point?” he asked, and Owen chuckled. 

“How do you feel about breakfast?” he asked instead. 

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan,” Carlos agreed, pulling himself off of his stool and crossing into the kitchen, “anything particular you had in mind?” 

It was shortly after that that a groggy TK stumbled into the kitchen, taking in the scene before him between blinks as he fought to clear the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. “What are you two doing?” he asked, voice still slightly raspy with sleep but filled with confusion. “Am I dreaming?” 

Carlos grinned and stepped around the counter, pressing a light kiss on TK’s cheek as Owen spoke, “Can’t say that you are, no. I can say though that I am surprised to see you up — it’s pretty early.” 

“Which is why I was confused when I woke up to an empty bed,” he retorted pointedly, glancing at Carlos. “So I figured I should see where you’d gotten to.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” Carlos told him sincerely, “I just woke up and came out for a drink and ran into your dad in the kitchen. We got to talking and realized neither of us could go back to sleep, so we made breakfast.” 

He turned as he spoke, gesturing to the counter which held a platter of eggs and pancakes. “I was just going to come and wake you up in a bit, to see if you wanted any.” 

TK glanced from the counter to Owen and back to Carlos, eyebrows raised, “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” he asked eventually. 

“Pretty sure,” Owen said with a shrug, and TK nodded. 

“That makes sense,” he agreed, “I don’t think I could even dream up something this strange.” 

“I don’t know son,” Owen said lightly as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot, “the mind can be a pretty interesting place. But the food is getting cold, come on.” 

TK glanced at Carlos again who smiled at him and pulled him forward to one of the stools. He slid onto it and accepted the plate passed to him by his father with his baffled expression still in place, though it seemed to be morphing to something closer to fondness with each passing second. 

“So,” he said softly, leaning closer to Carlos as Owen busied himself at the stove, flipping the last batch of pancakes, “you and my dad get along now, do you?” 

“We do,” Carlos confirmed confidently, shooting Owen a grin. 

TK looked between them, “I don’t know if I should be happy or worried about this.” 

“Probably a bit of both,” Owen told him lightly as he slid the last pancakes onto the tray and set it down before them.” 

“That sounds right,” TK agreed. “What did you guys talk about?” 

There was quiet for a second as Carlos and Owen glanced at each other. “Just stuff,” Owen said lightly, “general things, everyday stuff; you know.” 

TK didn’t look convinced but he didn’t press, reaching instead for the plate of pancakes and serving them onto the plates before them. “That’s fine,” he said lightly, “keep your secrets. Since you’re friends now, I guess.” 

Carlo shook his head fondly as he accepted the pancakes placed on his plate and Owen smiled. Maybe it was just morning optimism, but things looked better in the dim dawn light leaking through the kitchen windows. Maybe this talk, this reminder that his family was so much more than just him and TK now, would be the thing that would help him to put this behind him. 

Maybe tonight he would have a dreamless sleep — maybe this had been just what he needed.

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Hi! Just wanted to say I love all your Tarlos fics! I’ve literally read them multiple times they’re so good. Just wanted to know if you could possibly write something with Carlos getting hurt and TK wants to take care of him? It’s fine if you can’t.

prompt:  How about TK taking care of Carlos? I love the whole role reversal.

I’m down to explore some role reversal :)

TK’s the last person to hear about the crash, which he’s going to be pissed about when his heart isn’t threatening to tear at his skin and burst completely through his chest. It’s Probie who tells him, saying it more-so as an off-handed comment. 

“It sucks about what happened to Carlos today,” is what Probie said when he and TK were the last two changing out for the day, and TK remembers feeling suddenly cold from his words. He had asked what happened, yet he doesn’t remember anything past “wreck” and “SUV flipped.” His hearing had faded to a dull ringing with each of Probie’s words, and he moved through the motions of changing as if a puppet on strings, not fully in control of his muscles. 

He’s waiting for Carlos now, standing outside the station, and when the ambulance finally pulls in, his heart stutters in his chest, almost painfully, and he follows it, standing at the back of it, too afraid to breathe as he waits. When Michelle finally opens the back and he spots Carlos alive and well, albeit visibly exhausted and pained, he exhales so deeply, a long sigh that releases all of the tension built-up in his chest. 

“TK? What are you still doing here?” 

He moves forward as his answer, offering a hand to Carlos to help him out of the back of the ambulance, and Carlos takes it, a frown painted tight across his lips, only pulling to a wince when the large step down jostles his fractured ribs, and TK’s quick to drop a gentle hand to Carlos’ side. 

His eyes find the black and purple bruises littering Carlos’ face first, and his gaze trails down, studying the small cuts on Carlos’ neck and arms, stopping where his hand is resting on Carlos’ side. He can feel the bandage through Carlos’ shirt, and he’s slow to bring his gaze up, conflict etched across his face. 

“What happened?” 

“I tried to pull someone over who appeared drunk,” Carlos starts, voice reflecting the fatigue clinging to him. “As soon as I flicked my lights on, he gunned it. I went after him, but I didn’t know he had a friend in another vehicle helping him.” 

“And that lovely friend plowed into the driver’s side of his SUV at a speed close to 90,” Michelle finishes, dropping a gentle hand to Carlos’ shoulder. 

“Flipped three times,” Carlos groans. “And both bastards got away.” 

“Are you...” TK swallows thickly, looking past Carlos to Michelle. “Is he okay?” 

Michelle hums softly. “He will be. His ribs took the worst of it, so he’ll be in pain for a few weeks.”

“And he’s standing right here,” Carlos bites out, pulling TK’s gaze back to his with his voice alone. “Now, again, what are you still doing here? You should be home by now. I heard about the four back-to-back house fires--”

“I’m fine,” TK insists, taking Carlos carefully by the arm. “I heard what happened, and I...” He what? He heard that Carlos was in a wreck, and the mere thought of the one, new constant in his life being hurt, or worse, was enough to almost bring him to his knees? 

“I wanted to make sure that you’re okay,” he finishes softly, and Carlos smiles that intriguing, warm smile that leaves TK weak at the knees. 

“I’m all good, TK. Thanks for checking in.” 

Carlos makes to leave, to carefully tug his arm free because he’s exhausted, but TK’s fingers tighten just a fraction, just enough to have Carlos’ smile falling slightly. “TK?”

“I’ll take you back,” TK starts, moving his hand from Carlos’ arm to the small of his back. “And I can stay the night--”

“--you don’t have to,” Carlos tries, a little unsure of how to approach TK in this almost unreadable state. “I’m sure I’ll be--”

“--I want to.” 

The finality in TK’s voice is enough to have Carlos arching one brow, impressed, a little confused, and entirely too tired to fight this any further, so he shrugs, a mistake because the small movement brings pain bleeding from the seat-belt bruise ripped across his chest. He doesn’t miss TK’s frown, his once soft, determined expression dropping to vulnerable concern, and he motions outside. 

“Lead the way. Strand.”

*****

“Pain meds, water, pillows fluffed,” TK paces the small length of Carlos’ bedroom, mentally ticking off basic caretaker tasks, and Carlos can only watch, eyes half-lidded, favoring his right side to ease some of the pressure off his fractured ribs. 

“TK--”

“Phone set to do-not-disturb,” TK continues, rolling the pill bottle around his hand, bringing it to his eyes, “alarm set for six hours from now for your next dose of--”

“--TK!” 

TK’s steps falter, and he slowly pulls his gaze toward Carlos, brows furrowed. “Did I miss something?” 

“No,” Carlos draws out. “You’ve gone through everything in frightening detail at least three times.” He can’t help the yawn that slips past his lips as he pats the empty side of his bed. “Just, stop pacing and come here. You’re giving me a headache.” 

“You have a headache? Do you feel sick?” TK asks, dropping to the edge of the bed and leaning over to press the back of his hand to Carlos’ forehead, frown deepening when Carlos swats his hand away with a huff. “Carlos--”

Carlos sits up fully, ignoring the dull pain still clinging to every inch of his body, and he leans toward TK, lips pushing to TK’s, a deep groan vibrating low in his throat, and he’s slow to break the kiss, intentionally slow. “If I were sick,” he whispers, hot breath brushing against TK’s lips, “would I be doing this?” 

TK sighs, moving fully onto the bed and dropping against the pillows with a huff. “Sorry, it’s just...” 

“Your dad,” Carlos supplies, easing himself back down against the pillows, sighing quietly. It’s been a few weeks since he’s was woken up to a sobbing, broken TK banging on his door, and he knows that TK’s trying to take care of Owen, but he also knows that TK’s been constantly teetering close to the edge. 

“I’m okay, TK,” Carlos says, turning his head from the ceiling to stare at TK, eyes trailing across the tension jutting out from his jaw and up to his eyes. “And I appreciate all your help, but I’m not sick like your dad.” 

“I know,” TK drags out, draping one arm over his eyes. “I’m just tired of seeing people I care about in pain.” 

“Oh,” Carlos’ voice takes to a light tone, almost singing the small word. “You care about me? Wow, Tyler Kennedy, that sounds like--”

“Shut up,” TK spits out, though there’s no heat to his tone. He moves his arm away, propping up on his elbow, and a small smile pulls at his lips. 

“I’m not in pain, by the way,” Carlos adds, losing his battle against his fatigue with another long yawn. “Because of you.” His eyes flutter shut, and while he misses TK’s smile growing, he doesn’t miss the warm lips that brush against his forehead.

[thebipolarbisexualnerd]

Carlos caught in a hostage situation. TK worries.

So my brain isn’t really made for action scenes so I truly did my best with this one.  Hope it’s okay and has enough drama mixed with reality.  Thank you so much for the prompt!!  

A meth lab blowing up wasn’t something TK saw coming in Austin.  

It was an old house in the countryside they were called to on a Sunday afternoon.  There were no other houses around to be affected by the explosion which was good, but the explosion was still an unfortunate way to break up the quiet weekend.

“I thought down south Sundays were used for wholesome, family activities?” TK snickered over the radio as they drove to the scene.  

“What, mixing drugs together isn’t wholesome enough for you?” Judd replied with a grin over to him.  “That’s what my grand-daddy and I did every weekend.”

“I can’t be an accomplice to something like that,” TK gasped with wide eyes and a glint of mischief.  “I’m dating a cop now and all, or didn’t you hear?”

“I think everyone has damn well heard by now,” Paul grumbled with a roll of his eyes.  “More accurately, everyone has seen the two of you going at it in some place or another.  You two are a couple of horny teens.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous now,” TK told him, shaking his head.  “If you were dating someone half as hot as Carlos you would be the same way.”

“I think it’s bad relations to speak of cops that way,” Owen cut into their banter and it was clear he was more amused than anything.  “Heads up guys, we’re approaching now.”

Sure enough the house was coming into view at that moment and while it wasn’t the worst fire TK had seen it was still a doozy.  The entire back half of the house was on fire with flames flickering into the sky and heavy smoke billowing around the entire area.  Police and EMS were already on the scene by the time they jumped out and TK found himself automatically looking for Carlos among the chaos.  He saw him talking to his captain solemnly and decided for now he most definitely had to stick to his own job.  It only took a few moments for him to focus and follow the crisp orders called out.   It was his favorite part of the job, the way everything else seemed to fade away.  

Or at least it did until his boyfriend’s name was called harshly over the police radio. 

Carlos wasn’t answering his radio and TK could swear his heart wasn’t beating as he stared at the house like he could find some answers in the blackened siding and the rising smoke.  Carlos had gone in there to apprehend the head of the household in an undamaged part of the house, but he hadn’t reappeared yet and that tone of voice told TK something was wrong.  He should be helping to wind up the hoses and store them back on the truck or checking on the two kids they found in the house, but all he could do was stare with his heart in his throat and pray nothing harmful had come to his boyfriend.  

“Carlos!” Michelle’s cry turned his blood cold as the confident paramedic captain sounded genuinely scared.  He glanced toward her to see her gaze fixed to the upper level of the house.  TK followed her gaze to see Carlos’s outline in the window with a large shadow behind him and the glint of a knife being held to his throat.  It was a scene out of a nightmare and no matter how hard TK pinched his arm he couldn’t wake up from this.  

“Oh God,” TK muttered as he felt his breathing quicken involuntarily.  This was escalating quickly into something much more serious than mixing drugs gone wrong.  The man was screaming something about letting his family walk away from this and that he wanted his money to be safe.  He was probably high on the drugs he manufactured and wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.  All TK could see was that knife pressed to Carlos’s windpipe and he found himself unable to move.  

“TK, he’ll be alright,” His dad put an arm around him, but TK could barely feel anything right then.

“He can’t die,” Was all he could whisper into the chaos.  There was so much he wanted to do with Carlos and so many memories he wanted to make.  He could picture the whole thing with Carlos, a wedding, kids, and a long, long life.  He wasn’t ready for this morning to be the last time he woke up beside him.  

The confrontation seemed to last ages as the police hesitated to do anything too drastic with one of their own caught up in the crossfire.  TK wanted to rush in there and tackle that asshole to the ground, but he  had the same fear of Carlos’s throat being slit open before he got a chance to save him.  More police arrived to surround the house and the man must realize how outnumbered he was by now and how he was likely no longer getting out of this alive.  He shoved Carlos out of the window on the second floor before taking his own life.  

That fall caused time to come to a stop.

TK was racing forward before anyone could think to stop him with the paramedic team right behind him.  He swore he had never sprinted to quickly in his life as he did to Carlos’s side as the officer landed in some thick bushes.  

“Carlos!  Oh God, talk to me please!” TK pleaded as he reached him and carefully got him free of the branches of the bushes.  

“People are fucking crazy,” Carlos said hoarsely as he laid on the ground panting.  “Seriously not how I thought my day would go.”

“What hurts?  Are you okay?” Any medical knowledge TK had gained from years on this job left him in a rush as he asked the most basic questions and waited for his brain to be capable of rational thought.  

“ ‘M okay I think,” Carlos smiled up at him and brought a hand up to cup his cheek.  “I’m sure you were twice as terrified as I was.”

“Holy fuck, don’t do that to me,” TK leaned forward to press his forehead to Carlos’s shoulder as he tried to stop shaking as the adrenaline left him completely.  It was only a moment later that he was gently pushed away by the paramedics and TK could do nothing else but sit on the grass and try to catch his breath.

“He okay?” Judd asked him as he came to check on him.

“Okay enough,” TK responded with his gaze fixed on the stretcher they were loading Carlos onto.  “Tell my dad I’m going with them?  Carlos has to have at least one broken rib from that fall or something.”

“Go be with your guy.  We’ll see you later,” Judd patted him on the shoulder as TK got his feet underneath him and hurried to walk alongside the gourney and hop into the ambulance.  They were both going to have to take the day to recover from this one.