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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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“Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.” With Carlos’ the one wearing the sweater!

holly's august extravaganza day 19: whatever here that's left of me (is yours)

thank you!

34. “Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.” (from the fluff section of this list)

ao3 | 1.4k | hurt/comfort, post 2.12, supportive tk, softness

The morning after the fire, it’s TK who wakes up first, and for once it makes perfect sense. Carlos had barely been able to sleep, and though it hadn’t exactly been a picnic for TK either, he’s not the one going through the grief of losing years of his life all at once. Not to the extent that Carlos is, anyway.

TK sighs and rolls his head to look at Carlos’s sleeping face. He runs his thumb softly over the crease on his brow, wishing the simple motion could smooth it away and make everything okay again. Make it so last night never happened, and this is just a normal morning in their own bed, in their own house.

He tries to pretend for a little while, but the illusion is shattered all too quickly by a soft knocking at the bedroom door. Carefully, TK removes Carlos’s arm from where it is loosely slung over his hips and gets out of bed, checking to make sure he hasn’t disturbed him before padding across the room.

He keeps the door only cracked open to prevent too much light from getting into the room. His dad is on the other side, smiling sadly, a large box in his hands and several bags at his feet. TK braces himself for a joke; his dad has always been the type to fall back on humour in difficult situations, but he finds himself pleasantly surprised.

“I meant to give these to you guys last night,” he says, lifting the box slightly, “but things were so crazy that… Anyway. You left some clothes here when you moved out, so I figured you might want them.”

“Thanks, Dad.” TK takes the box from him, glancing down into it. There’s not much—a couple of hoodies, some screwed up t-shirts and button ups, a pair of sweats—but it’s all he has, and more than Carlos does. He sighs softly, then turns back into the bedroom and places the box down by the wardrobe. Carlos is still asleep when he glances at him, and all TK wants to do is curl up beside him again.

But when he goes to close the door, he instead finds himself with an arm full of bags.

“Those are from the crew,” he dad explains. “Paul stopped by with them earlier; he said to tell you that if there was anything you two needed, they all want to help out.”

TK nods. He’d thought the crew might do something like this, though that doesn’t make him any less grateful.

His dad shuffles awkwardly, clearly finding the silence uncomfortable. “Mateo wanted to contribute too, but we told him not to. You know, because—”

“Because he’s only just replaced his own clothes, I know.”

“Yeah.”

Silence again, and TK loves his dad, but he can’t deal with this right now. Guilt lies thick in the air, somehow worse than last night, but TK is in no mood to address it now. Maybe later, when they’ve had time to think about it all, but right now he’s too tired. Besides, there’s no way he’s getting into what he’s sure will become an argument when Carlos is sleeping just feet away.

TK takes a step back. “Carlos is still asleep,” he says. “So I’m just gonna…” He tips his head back, gesturing into the bedroom, and his dad understands, also moving back.

“Right, of course. I, uh, I have my follow-up appointment at the hospital today, but I’ll see you guys later. Maybe then we can talk?”

“Sure.”

Without waiting for an answer, TK gently shuts the door and turns to place the bags on top of the box. Carlos stirs when he climbs back in bed, his eyelids cracking open.

“Did something happen?” he mumbles, trying to push himself upright.

TK shushes him. “It was just my dad dropping some clothes off for us,” he whispers. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Carlos drops back off within seconds, TK watching the steady rhythm of his chest and listening to his soft breaths. He reaches out and lightly runs his fingers through Carlos’s hair, pushing back a few stray curls. It’s almost like any other morning, so TK closes his eyes and pretends for a little while longer.

TK would have been happy to stay in bed with Carlos all day, but eventually the grumbling of his stomach becomes too insistent to ignore. He heaves himself up once more and selects a shirt at random from the box of his old stuff, wrinkling his nose when he sees what it is. He’d left this one behind on purpose, the print too much for him to care what happened to the shirt. The same goes for most of the clothes in the box, but it’s not like he’s spoiled for choice, so it’ll have to do.

There’s a pair of jeans his size in one of the bags, so TK bundles everything up and trudges to the bathroom. He’s been running into fires his entire working life; he’s perfected the art of getting rid of unwanted smells, but this time is different. This time, no matter how many times he washes himself, the smoke and grime still feels like it’s sticking to his skin, a permanent cloud around him.

TK blames his dad’s shampoos, because it’s easier than admitting he’s imagining it.

Once he’s showered and dressed, he heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. Carlos joins him not ten minutes later, still looking exhausted, though he attempts a wan smile when their eyes meet. TK returns it and kisses him on the cheek, passing him a cup of coffee.

He studies his boyfriend as they stand in silence, his heart breaking at what he sees. Carlos is a big guy, but right now he’s never looked smaller, shoulders hunched and his eyes darting around the kitchen, as if taking it all in. They’ve hung out here together before, especially right after TK got shot, but it must feel different now, knowing there’s nowhere else for them to go.

Knowing that, technically, this is now their home.

Carlos sets his mug on the counter and scrubs his hands down his face, then puls at his sleeves like he’s trying to stretch them to fit. Which… Wait.

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie?”

Carlos flushes and tugs at the neckline—another demonstration of how uncomfortable it must be for him to wear it. The height difference between them is miniscule, but sizing is another matter entirely; TK’s hoodie is obviously pulled tight across Carlos’s chest and it doesn’t sit right on his body, too small for his build.

“Babe,” TK starts worriedly, “was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

TK blinks. “What?”

“I’m wearing it because it smells like you. I don’t— The only clothes I have left of mine smell of the fire, but this is yours and… I don’t know, I guess it makes me feel safe?” He laughs nervously, pulling at the hem as though he’s going to take the hoodie off. “Pretty stupid, right?”

TK puts a hand out and stops him. “No,” he says softly. He honestly has no idea how that hoodie smells even remotely like him after a month abandoned here, but if it makes Carlos feel safe, then who is TK to argue? “Not stupid at all. You should keep it.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care that I’m probably stretching it?”

“Why would I?” TK asks. “I left it here for a reason, Carlos. Plus, I’d sacrifice a thousand hoodies if I knew it would make you feel safe; one is nothing.”

It’s far from the most romantic thing TK’s ever said, but the way Carlos hugs him makes it feel like it. He presses kiss after kiss to Carlos’s cheek and the shell of his ear, comforting him like he tried to do last night.

“Besides,” he whispers after a moment, “this just means it’ll be big enough for when I inevitably steal it back from you.”

And, for the first time since the fire, Carlos laughs—really, truly laughs. The sound is muffled against TK’s shoulder, but it’s so goddamn beautiful, and TK would do anything to hear it again.

Even if that involves giving up every hoodie he owns.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #owen strand #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #anonymous

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ao3feed-geralt-jaskier · 3 years

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by hollyhobbit101

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

Words: 1355, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 29 of holly's 20th birthday august extravaganza!

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Technically canon divergent, set after the dragon episode

#ao3feed #fanfic #the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii

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theultimatefan · 6 years

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'Outlander' Cast, Tom Welling, Ian Somerhalder Among Top Celebrities Scheduled To Attend Wizard World Comic Con Chicago, August 23-26

Wizard World, Inc. (OTCBB: WIZD) continues its 2018 schedule by celebrating the 20th anniversary of the first Wizard World Comic Con Chicago, August 23-26 at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center. And the lineup of celebrities scheduled to attend is a stellar one, featuring Tom Welling (“Smallville,” “Lucifer”), Ian Somerhalder (“The Vampire Diaries”), six stars of the cast of “Outlander” (Sam Heughan, Catriona Balfe, Graham McTavish, Lotte Verbeek, Richard Rankin, Sophie Skelton) and Guardians of the Galaxy standouts Dave Bautista and Pom Klementieff headline the roster of celebrity guests scheduled to attend the comic con and pop culture extravaganza.

Welling, the “Outlander” cast (except McTavish) and Klementieff will appear on Saturday and Sunday; Somerhalder and Bautista will attend on Saturday only; McTavish is scheduled for Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Other celebrities scheduled to attend include the "Boy Meets World" foursome of Ben Savage, Danielle Fishel, Will Friedle and Rider Strong, David Krumholz ("Firefly," Serenity), Christy Carlson Romano ("Kim Possible"), Matt Ryan ("Constantine," "Assassin's Creed: Black Flag"), Nichelle Nichols ("Star Trek"), Michael Rosenbaum ("Smallville," "The Justice League"), James Marsters and Charisma Carpenter ("Buffy the Vampire Slayer"), Holly Marie Combs and Brian Krause ("Charmed"), Gregg Sulkin ("Pretty Little Liars," "Marvel's Runaways"), Henry Winkler ("Happy Days," "Barry") and Thomas Ian Nicholas (Rookie of the Year, American Pie).

Wizard World Comic Con Chicago will also feature non-stop live entertainment, gaming, exclusive Q&A sessions with top celebrities, movie screenings hosted by stars and directors and more. Details to follow soon.

Wizard World is the home of the most creative comics artists and writers on the planet. Artist Alley in Chicago will feature Diana Gabaldon (Outlander novels), Mike Grell ("Green Arrow," "Batman"), Ryan North ("Adventure Time," "Squirrel Girl"), Jonathan Glapion ("Batgirl," "Wonder Woman"), Bob Camp ("Ren & Stimpy"), Tony "KO!" Kordos ("Cyborg"), Mostafa Moussa ("Superman," "Fantastic Four"), Phil Ortiz ("The Simpsons"), Shawn Coss ("Cyanide & Happiness"), Arthur Suydam ("Deadpool," "Marvel Zombies"), Rebecca Rothschild ("Warshiner," "Mortal Combat X") and more.

Wizard World Comic Con events bring together thousands of fans of all ages to celebrate the best in pop culture: movies, television, gaming, live entertainment, comics, sci-fi, graphic novels, toys, original art, collectibles, contests and more. The 10th event scheduled on the 2018 Wizard World calendar, Chicago show hours are Thursday, August 23, 4-9 p.m.; Friday, August 24, noon-7 p.m.; Saturday, August 25, 10 a.m.-7 p.m.; Sunday, August 26, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Kids 10 and under are admitted free with paid adult.

Wizard World Comic Con Chicago is also the place for cosplay, with fans young and old showing off their best costumes throughout the event. Fans dressed as every imaginable character – and some never before dreamed – will roam the convention floor and participate in the famed Wizard World Costume Contest on Saturday evening.

For more on the 2018 Wizard World Chicago, visit http://wizd.me/ChicagoPR.

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demitgibbs · 6 years

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Pride Begins in Provincetown

No one knows exactly when the first gay kiss was planted in America, but if one had to guess, Provincetown might be the best answer to come across your lips. Known for years as the epicenter of America’s gay scene, Provincetown holds the past and the future in a two-mile stretch of sand and sea. The Mayflower Compact was signed out in the Provincetown harbor as any historian might tell you, and before the little boat sailed onto its second landing in Plymouth, there’s no one who can deny or confirm what exactly happened in the dunes as the Pilgrims went ashore for a little exploring.

Fast forward nearly 400 years and there is no doubt what is happening in America’s gayest hotspot and 2018 is going to be better than ever. This year, Provincetown announces its first ever PRIDE event. That’s right, a stroll down Commercial Street anytime of the year might feel like PRIDE, but it’s never been official until now. The Provincetown Business Guild, an organization founded in 1978, will establish the annual event to take place in the unofficial national Pride month of June. Commemorating and celebrating Provincetown’s queer legacy. The PBG along with the town invites all Provincetown loving men and women to get their Pride on and bring along a newbie with them. If you know someone who hasn’t had a chance to visit, now is the time to bring them along and brush up on your LGBTQ history.

First stop is a contender for America’s oldest gay bar, The A-House. Beginning in 1871, the Atlantic House rented rooms and at the turn of the century was a hangout for artists and poets and queers. Today, The A-House is a unique combination of party central and neighborhood bar. Take a cruise on over to the Little Bar, dance the night away in the Big Room or join the leather men in the Macho Room. You’ll be proud you did.

Pride is officially happening in June, but you’ve got all year to celebrate. Starting in March,

the Ursamen bring the bears and their admirers Out of Hibernation for an early start on the party scene. April brings national attention for the Miss Gay Massachusetts competition and the annual Spring Stomp brought to you by Gays for Patsy.

Start May with a little science project: the new Broto conference is bound to get you mixing it up with scientists and artists finding their way to address climate change. Nauticon is not your Daddy’s comic-con, it’s a no holds barred party scene and all that’s required is an ID saying you are over 21. Leave time to come back in May for Memorial Day Weekend, the blast-off for a summer of fun and sun.

If you still haven’t made it home by June 1, stick around because that’s the day we enter Pride-land. There’s so much planning going on for events and fun, there’s not enough room in this article to list the possibilities. If you can imagine it, it will be happening Pride weekend in Provincetown.

July and August bring the sun bathers and body worshippers to the shores of Provincetown. From the clubs to a down-home parade, nobody does Gayberry better than Provincetown. Go-go boys meet firefighters (and sometimes, they are one in the same) at the annual 4th of July parade and fireworks.

It’s standing room only during Bear Week when the loveable, sexy, muscular, and burly men gather for the largest Bear Event in the world.

Carnival 2018 is themed Mardi Gras by the Sea and is sure to be the most extravagant summer festival ever held in Provincetown. Decadence is the theme of the party and the parade is open to everyone with an idea for OUTrageous.

What? Only half way through the year! That’s right. The action doesn’t stop as September

October, November and December keep the party going. Labor Day is just an excuse to dance yourself into oblivion before heading back to work. Throughout the month there’s Afterglow, Gay Pilots Cape Cod Classic, and the Provincetown Tennessee Williams Festival. By the last weekend of September, it’s time to strap it on for the Mates Leather Weekend.

October starts with an early Columbus Day three-day weekend and continues with the longest running transgender conference, Fantasia Fair. The last weekend of October brings together all the rituals and extravagance of what some may call Gay Christmas: HALLOWEEN! Masked or unmasked, there’s no better place to get spooked than here.

November gives us all an excuse for a cozy lumberjack look and some comfy flannel, as Provincetown celebrates the coolest of the seasons. Mr. New England Leather heats up the winter and there’s no doubt the competition is hot. Thanksgiving Weekend brings the best of Pilgrim Culture and Provincetown Pride as the town lights up the Pilgrim Monument and the Lobster Pots in Lopes Square.

You had better eat your Wheaties, if you want to keep up with all that Provincetown has to be proud of in 2018. The year ends with our hottest month, December. Join friends and make friends at the annual Holly Folly extravaganza and then shop till you drop throughout the month at our holiday market and Commercial Street retail spots. There’s nothing more festive than winter inspired food, drink, clubbing, and parties throughout the month, leading up to the final climax: First Light Provincetown. End the year with a bang, with Fireworks, a Polar Plunge, Drag Shows, the best clubs in the country all celebrating the end of the old and beginning of the New Year!

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/03/07/pride-begins-in-provincetown/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/171661265980

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hollybrunskill-blog1 · 7 years

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‘MUSIC FOR MARK’ - AUCTION OF PROMISES

What a triumphant result; what a heartwarming occasion...💖💖💖

FINAL TOTAL RAISED DIRECTLY FROM THIS AUCTION - £3920! THANK YOU to everyone who donated a promise, thank you to everyone who placed a bid, and THANK YOU to our lucky winners!! If you haven’t yet paid for your prize, you can do so now on our JustGiving page below. Please write for reference to which auction your payment refers. If you’d prefer to send a cheque, please contact [email protected] for further details.

💖 https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/holly-brunskill

A) 2 pairs of Bath Rugby tickets, European Quarter Finals home game v Brive/ 1 April 2017, kindly promised by Vicki Smith. FINAL BIDS JO T £100 and HALL £80

B) One week’s accommodation in a 3 bedroom town house on the coast, near Estepona, Spain, kindly promised by the Swan Family FINAL BID WOOD £500

C) One Ocado voucher with £50, kindly promised by Ocado. FINAL BID THOMAS £50

D) One night midweek stay at Paradise House (luxury boutique b&b) Bath, 2017 subject to availability, kindly promised by the Lanz family FINAL BID WEST £100

E) 2 x mohair throws by Neptune, (RRP £105 each), kindly promised by Emma Sims Hilditch FINAL BIDS ROLLS £50 and Jo T £80

F) Freshly home baked bread in a style of your choice, delivered locally to your door, kindly promised by Jon Brunskill. FINAL BID NASH £30

G) Three-course Sunday lunch for 4 people at Hayward’s Kitchen, Saltford Golf Club, kindly promised by Gemma Hayward. FINAL BID BEVAN £50

H) Lunch for 2 at Amarone, Bath, with a bottle of house wine (Mon-Fri), kindly promised by Jane & Kambiz Shayegan FINAL BID JO T £80

I) One bespoke celebration cake to the value of £150, by Daydreams UK (Crafting Creative Cake), kindly promised by Kate Parsons. FINAL BID WOOD £75

J) 4 tickets for the Bath Literary Festival; MARY BERRY! 20 May 2017 Bath, kindly promised by The Bath Festival (note can bid for one pair or two) FINAL BIDS WENDZINA £25, SWAN £25

K) 4 tickets for the Bath Literary Festival; SALMAN RUSHDIE, 25 May 2017 Bath, kindly promised by The Bath Festival (note can bid for one pair or two): FINAL BIDS ROZMUS-WEST £75 and WEBBER £100

L) 4 tickets for the Bath Literary Festival; ALI SMITH 21 May 2017 Bath, kindly promised by the Bath Festival (note can bid for one pair or two) FINAL BID WEBBER £50

M) Pimms and Croquet on the lawn for 4 people (including some instruction!) at Stanton Prior, Bath, kindly promised by the Hardwick Family. FINAL BID LAWMAN £50

N) A freshly picked seasonal bouquet of home grown parrot tulips, delivered locally in April, kindly promised by Tiffany Brunskill. FINAL BIDS SOLOMON £25 and SWAN £40

O) A place on a 5 week introduction to Croquet course at Camerton and Peasedown Croquet Club, kindly promised by Ros Key-Pugh

P) One trial violin lesson, kindly promised by Camilla Seymour. FINAL BID DUNCAN £30 (and £20 for late promise, trial piano Tom Worley)

Q) An afternoon of swimming for a family, in a private heated outdoor swimming pool in Saltford, at a mutually convenient time over the summer, kindly promised by Jean Katsimiha. FINAL BID S Webber £35

R) One week’s accommodation for up to 6 people in a fabulous holiday apartment in Port Isaac, Cornwall, kindly promised by the Lewis family: https://www.ownersdirect.co.uk/accommodation/p8035859. FINAL BID PAXTON £550

S) 2 one-hour private Shiatsu sessions at their home in Larkhall Bath, kindly promised by Jason & Fiona Cox FINAL BID NASH £120

T) 2 local (Larkhall or Bath with transportation) babysitting sessions, kindly promised by 16 and 18yr old sisters Amber and Katie Cox (pupils at Royal High School) FINAL BID WEST £30

U) 2 Hardback books “Comptoir Libanais” and “Comptoir Libanais Express”, kindly promised by their new restaurant in Southgate, Bath (each worth £20) - note two separate auctions FINAL BID WOOD £25 AND NASH £30

V) 2 Zumba cards of 5 classes each, in Bath (worth £20 each), kindly promised by Heidi Postlethwaite - note two separate auctions FINAL BIDS, 2 CARDS, HARDWICK £60

W) A one week’s static caravan stay for a family of up to 6 (two bedrooms and two people in the lounge) at Mullacott Cross, North Devon (10 minutes from Woolacombe); at a mutually agreed time March-November this year, kindly promised by Maggie Brown’s family FINAL BID PRIDDLE £220

X) Lunch for two at Combe Grove Hotel, kindly promised by the hotel FINAL BID JO T £100

Y) Gel polish manicure or pedicure, The Hair Studio, Timsbury, kindly promised by Emily Baxter. FINAL BID MACKAY £20

Z) 9 carat gold diamond and sapphire huggie earrings, rrp £275, kindly promised by Yasmin Mozafari’s father FINAL BID HANSEN £120

AB) 3 x Big Beach Bags, made by a fair-trade women’s cooperative Bangladesh, (RRP £29.95 each), kindly promised by Catherine Woodman, note 3 separate auctions FINAL BIDS BRUNSKILL £20, BROWN £30, SWAN £35

AC) Cut and blow dry, Melanie Giles Hairdressing in Bath, kindly promised by Mel Giles FINAL BID KENDALL £55

AD) 2 tickets to the Glastonbury Extravaganza, 5 August, kindly donated by Michael Eavis (note tickets not available until May) http://www.glastonburyfestivals.co.uk/vouchers-on-sale-now-for-2017-abbey-extravaganza/ FINAL BID PRITCHARD £70

THEATRE/MUSIC - BRISTOL AND BATH:

AA) 4 theatre tickets to see ‘The Addams Family’/ The Theatre Royal, Bath / June 2017, kindly promised by Lynda Elvin. http://theatreroyal.org.uk/page/3787/The-Addams-Family/1370 FINAL BID LEWIS £80

BB) Pair of tickets / Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra with Freddy Kempf (piano) / Colston Hall, Bristol / 17 May 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson: http://www.colstonhall.org/shows/moscow-philharmonic-orchestra-picture-perfect/ FINAL BID SHEARN £70

CC) 2 tickets, Madeleine Peyroux, 27 May, Bath, kindly promise by The Bath Festival. http://bathfestivals.org.uk/the-bath-festival/event/madeleine-peyroux-2/ FINAL BID SMITH £70

DD) 4 tickets, “Brahms From First to Last”, 23 May, Bath (Ann Murray, mezzo soprano; Samuel Hasselhorn, baritone; Malcolm Martineau, piano), kindly promised by The Bath Festival. http://bathfestivals.org.uk/the-bath-festival/event/bathsongs-brahms-from-first-to-last/ FINAL BIDS NASH £40, SEYMOUR £25

ZZ) 4 tickets for the musical “Thoroughly Modern Millie” including back stage tour and meeting the cast! June 2017, Bristol, kindly donated by our own Katie Thomas, stage name Katherine Glover, playing Miss Dorothy! http://modernmillie.co.uk/ FINAL BID WEBBER £200

MUSIC - LONDON:

EE) Pair of tickets / London Chamber Orchestra with Pekka Kuusisto (violin) and Vladamir Ashkenazy (conductor) / Cadogan Hall, London / 14 June 2017, kindly promised by LCO: http://www.lco.co.uk/concerts/ FINAL BID BRUNSKILL £20

FF) Pair of top category tickets (worth £55 each) / Recital of Richard Goode / International Piano Series / Royal Festival Hall, London / Wednesday 31 May 2017, kindly promised by Tracy Lees: https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/whats-on/108183-richard-goode-piano-2017 FINAL BID IRENE £100

GG) Pair of tickets / Vienna Tonkünstler Orchestra with Angela Hewitt (piano) / Cadogan Hall, London / 26 February 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson: http://www.cadoganhall.com/event/zios1617-vienna-tonkunstler-orchestra-1/ FINAL BID BROWN £20

HH) Pair of tickets / Vienna Tonkünstler Orchestra with Alexander Sitkovetsky (violin) / Cadogan Hall, London / 28 February 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson: http://www.cadoganhall.com/event/zios1617-vienna-tonkunstler-orchestra-2/

II) Pair of tickets / Vienna Tonkünstler Orchestra with Emma Johnson (clarinet) / Cadogan Hall, London / 2 March 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson: http://www.cadoganhall.com/event/zios1617-vienna-tonkunstler-orchestra-3/

JJ) Pair of tickets / Norwegian Chamber Orchestra with Leif Ove Andsnes (piano) / Cadogan Hall, London / 17 March 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson: http://www.cadoganhall.com/event/zios1617-norwegian-chamber-orchestra/

KK) Pair of tickets / Dresden Philharmonic Orchestra / Beethoven’s Choral Symphony / Cadogan Hall, London / 31 March 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson: http://www.cadoganhall.com/event/zios1617-dresden-philharmonic/ FINAL BID BEELEY £50

LL) Pair of tickets / Brussels Philharmonic with Jérôme Pernoo (cello) / Cadogan Hall, London / 9 April 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson: http://www.cadoganhall.com/event/zios1617-brussels-philharmonic-2/

MM) Pair of tickets / Moscow Philharmonic Orchestra with Freddy Kempf (piano)/Cadogan Hall, London / 18 May 2017, kindly promised by Andrew Jamieson FINAL BID BROWN £50

NN) Pair of stalls tickets / ‘The Music of Bond’/ Royal Philharmonic Orchestra / Royal Albert Hall, London / Tuesday 11 April 2017, kindly promised by Ed Milner. FINAL BID BROWN £90

OO) Pair of top category tickets (worth £55 each) / Recital of Boris Berezovsky / International Piano Series / Royal Festival Hall, London / Tuesday 28 February 2017, kindly promised by Tracy Lees: https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/whats-on/109055-boris-berezovsky-piano-2017

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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so so many thanks to everyone who read even one of these stories. i am forever grateful for all the support i've received; every comment, every kudos, every reblog, every like - they all mean so much. i'm overwhelmed, honestly, but in the very best way. ily all 🥰

day one: against all odds (we're still here) for @trkstrnd

Carlos will hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused on his task 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.

a simple trip to the grocery store quickly turns to disaster for tk and carlos

day two: out, damned spot for anon

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

day three: the meetings for those in my wake for @freddieholic

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news, and almost always about their son. Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas, which is why she thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Gwyn, it’s TK. He's... They think we should say goodbye."

day four: a friend in me for 📍 anon

Carlos has come to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But, right now, as she sits hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, he's never seen her look so small.

the story of how nancy and carlos become the new champions of 126 games nights

day five: truth is heavier than fiction for anon

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

day six: slowly, and then all at once for @pragmaticoptimist34

The realisation that he loves Carlos hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

And at the worst possible moment.

We are getting updates on the active shooter situation at the Four Seasons Hotel. Austin Police Department have closed off the area and officers are currently preparing to enter the building to detain the suspect. It is as yet unknown if there have been any civilian casualties, but—

“Paul, turn the damn TV back on.”

“No.”

five times tk can't admit his feelings about carlos, and one time he finally does

day seven: the promise of tomorrow for anon

Up until five minutes ago, Carlos had been terrified of never having TK in his arms again. Now, the thought of letting him go scares him just as much, and TK seems to feel the same, if the way he’s clutching at Carlos’s jacket and pulling it tight across his back is any indication.

Carlos hugs him close, sinking down to his knees as TK falls into the chair behind him, letting the rest of the room fade away to nothing as he realises that they weren’t too late—that TK is here, with him, alive and mostly whole.

day eight: we'll hold each other soon for @221bsunsettowers

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away.

It's the last good memory Carlos has, and he's going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he's going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK's smile.

day nine: now i am just but the wayward man for anon

Ben is glaring at him again.

Klaus is very familiar with this specific glare—it’s the one Ben breaks out when Klaus is being ‘stubborn’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘a fucking asshole junkie with no self-respect who only cares about the next high and, really, it’s a fucking miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Klaus’.

He has to hand it to him. Ben really does have him down to a tee.

winter is approaching and klaus has nowhere to go. his siblings are his only option—meaning he effectively has no options.

day ten: i can't imagine my life without you for 📍 anon

It had come completely out of left field—one minute everything was fine, the next Carlos had turned to him with guarded eyes and a clenched jaw, and said six words that sent TK’s whole world crashing down.

“I think we need a break.”

nobody likes to be asked 'trouble in paradise?', particularly when the answer is yes.

day eleven: start again from the beginning for anon

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

day twelve: let me love you when your heart is tired for anon

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

day thirteen: couldn't utter my love when it counted for 📍 anon

TK takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken. For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

after the boba date, tk lets carlos go. they're friends, which is working just fine, until a horrific accident threatens to take even that away from them.

day fourteen: if i walk out the door (a thousand eyes) for anon

TK gets this feeling sometimes, a sort of prickling at his back, like someone’s behind him, breathing down his neck. At first, it was only a once-in-a-while situation, so he thinks nothing of it; when it becomes an everyday occurrence, he starts to wonder, but he’s probably just being paranoid. The shooting, kidnapping, firehouse explosion, and the fire at his and Carlos’s house had all taken their toll, and TK’s just generally more on edge these days.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the feeling, not even Carlos. There’s no reason to fuck up everyone else’s peace with something so stupid. It’ll go away eventually; TK’s sure of it.

That is, until one of the lots just down from the firehouse gets occupied.

day fifteen: find you here inside the dark for @fanfic-corner

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

day sixteen: accidents happen for @ilovemosss

So, Jason reflects, it may not have been the best idea to take Pythagoras out training while they’re all suffering from a severe lack of sleep. Being the more logical of them, Pythagoras, to his credit, had attempted to talk him out of it, but Jason ignored him.

He very much regrets that decision now.

day seventeen: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team) for @laelipoo

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the little blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

day eighteen: in perfect harmony for @anyotherheartwilldo

Here’s the thing—Carlos doesn’t believe in signs. He used to when he was younger, raised on his abuela’s stories, but as he’d gotten older his father had taught him that what mattered was the choices he made. He’s the only one who has a say in the way his life turns out, and if he wants something, he has to put in the work to get it.

But there comes a point—namely, after his fifth thwarted attempt to propose to TK—when he begins to wonder if the universe really does have something against him.

proposing to tk proves far more complicated than carlos had first thought.

day nineteen: whatever here that's left of me (is yours) for anon

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie? Was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

post-2.12, carlos finds comfort in tk's hoodies.

day twenty: can't smile without you for anon

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

a before, during, and after of tk's kidnapping in a hole where your memory goes

day twenty-one: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide for @freddieholic

“Can I ask you something else?”

TK stiffens at the sound of Mateo’s voice, a nervous note to it that wasn’t there last time. Something tells him he knows exactly what Mateo wants to ask; still, he turns to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as casually as he can manage. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Mateo trails off, biting his lip and avoiding TK’s gaze. “I mean, do you… I mean—”

“You can say it, you know,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “If you want to know if I’m thinking about heading out and getting high, then just ask.”

five times tk turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms when he wants to use + one time he finally asks for help

day twenty-two: know me crazy, soothe me daily for anon

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him about it. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally."

in which carlos gets a little over-protective and tk is mildly exasperated

day twenty-three: lover, be good to me for anon

Carlos holds his arms out, and TK comes willingly, setting what Carlos now recognises as a tray of food carefully on the bed. “What’s this?”

TK stares as if it’s obvious. “Date night.”

“What?”

TK pauses, then gasps. “You’re right.” He pats himself down frantically, then pulls an object out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. It’s a little electric tea light—real candles long since banned from the bedroom—and Carlos watches in bemusement as TK flicks it on and sets it down on the tray. “Now it’s date night.”

his fiancé being bed-bound isn't going to keep tk from date night

day twenty-four: bring you in from the cold for anon

As a cop, Carlos has always been uncomfortably aware of his own mortality. He’s considered his own death more than is probably healthy, but when you’re facing down the barrel of a gun almost every single day, it’s kind of forced on you.

He’s imagined himself being shot, stabbed, strangled, and everything in between.

But he’s not sure he ever pictured dying in a walk-in freezer after getting trapped there by mistake.

day twenty-five: heaving through corrupted lungs for anon

TK is itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

when carlos falls ill, they think it's just a bad cold. but when tk goes to check on him, he's in for a nasty shock.

day twenty-six: slowly becoming lovers for @pragmaticoptimist34

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

tk and carlos, getting to know each other and falling in love

day twenty-seven: and curse the gods for @girlwhowasntthere

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

day twenty-eight: ignoring every warning for @moviegeek03

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he's hurting.

day twenty-nine: can you beat back the night? for @girlwhowasntthere

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

day thirty: ease my mind for @silvarafael

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

day thirty-one: scars turn to memories for anon

Their front door is open. It’s wide open, and the wood of the door frame is broken, splinters littering the driveway and the floor of the front room. TK’s heart stops in his chest as he surveys the scene, his brain going blank, struggling to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Everything is quiet in the front room, not even a table setting out of place. TK creeps further into their home, his every nerve on edge as he barely breathes for fear of alerting whoever’s here of his presence.

And then, he remembers.

Carlos was off shift tonight. He was here. Alone.

#masterlist #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

hollyyy okay i do have a prompt for you bc i don’t think i sent one before?? it’s kinda vague and i’m willing to consult if you want more details but i’m thinking maybe something where carlos is getting treated in the er for something (minor; something like a sprain or cut idk dealers choice) and then tk is dropping a patient off in the er and spots him and he’s just like oh hello??? and carlos is trying to be all casual about it like “hey tk, how are you?” and tk is just not having it

holly's august extravaganza day 30: ease my mind

thank you jamie! combined with your bthb prompt though it's far more fluffy than angsty anyway 😊

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: fingore

ao3 | 1k | fluff, hurt/comfort, hurt carlos, worried tk, minor injuries

“Okay, Officer Reyes, you’ll need to keep that strapped for a month, and we’ll be in contact shortly to arrange a follow-up appointment to check your progress.”

Carlos nods absently, flexing his hand in an imitation of one of the exercises the doctor had shown him. It sends a sharp pulse of pain through his hand, starting at his two broken fingers and ending somewhere in his wrist. The nurse discharging him smiles sympathetically as she hands over his paperwork.

“You might want to wait a couple days before starting on those,” she whispers, almost conspiratorially. “Trust me—I have experience in these matters.”

She winks, and Carlos snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, me too. Kinda. A few months back my fiancé—he was my boyfriend then—broke half his hand, and then rebroke it after it had healed because he’s an idiot who can’t take a day to rest.”

The nurse giggles, and Carlos has no idea why he’s telling her all of this. He chooses to blame it on the painkillers they gave him, though admittedly said painkillers were very mild and wouldn’t send him loopy enough to lose control of his tongue.

He just likes talking about TK, is all.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake, then,” the nurse says, patting him on the leg. “You’re good to go.”

Carlos thanks her and slides off the bed, grabbing his APD jacket from the chair it had been slung over. He pulls his phone out and checks his messages, smiling when he sees one from TK.

TK, 14.38: I get off in a few hours, see you tonight babe. Love you, stay safe x

Briefly, Carlos considers calling him and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and, unlike TK, Carlos did not injure his dominant hand. It barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He settles on a simple, Love you too xx, then pockets his phone, looking up and around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

He’s considering ducking behind a pillar and waiting them out, but Nancy chooses that moment to appear next to TK, her eyes almost instantly landing on Carlos. He tries to frantically shake his head at her, but he’s too late; she’s already smacking TK’s arm and pointing right in Carlos’s direction.

TK’s head snaps up and his eyes instantly narrow upon catching sight of Carlos. He straightens, folding his arms, and raises a pointed eyebrow. “Carlos Reyes, you had better be here to question someone.”

Carlos then makes the fatal mistake—he plasters a smile on his face and raises a hand in a wave, realising too late that it’s his left.

AKA, the hand that is very obviously bandaged to hell.

TK doesn’t waste a second in striding over, shifting back into paramedic mode despite the blatant worry all over his face. Carlos sighs and bears it as TK gently takes his wrist, raising it to inspect the bandages.

“What’s the damage?” he murmurs, still looking at Carlos’s hand.

“Two broken fingers, and I have to keep them strapped up for a month before they want to review. It’s nothing, Ty.”

“Nothing?” TK demands, taking a step back and staring Carlos down. “When I broke my hand last year it was ‘you need to be more careful, babe’, and ‘how do you keep getting yourself in these messes, babe’, and ‘I didn’t realise I distracted you to the point of injury, babe, maybe I should stay in the guest room for a while to make sure it doesn’t happen again’.”

TK pauses for breath, glaring as Carlos tries and fails to bite back laughter. He’d feel bad for all the teasing his boyfriend had endured back then, but, well, it had been funny.

“But now you’ve hurt yourself, suddenly it’s nothing?” TK huffs, a pout forming on his lips. “I’m not going to stand for this, I hope you know that.”

“Okay, first,” Carlos laughs, “even you have to admit that what you did was kind of funny. Second, it’s literally just two fingers and they’re going to heal up fine. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m barely hurt, and I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your shift worrying about me when you have an important job to do.”

TK softens and he glances down at his shoes, a small smile playing at his lips. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Because I know you. And because it’s what I would be asking if I were in your shoes.”

A few seconds of silence pass between them—seconds of understanding and love—but the moment is broken by Nancy yelling TK’s name across the foyer.

“That’s my cue,” TK says, though he makes no move to step away from Carlos. He gives him a searching look, eyes lingering on his bandaged hand. “You sure you’re gonna be okay? I could—”

“Ty.” Carlos shakes his head, smiling gently. “Go. A couple broken fingers is not a good enough excuse to get you off your shift; I’ll get an Uber home and I promise not to do anything that would make it worse. I’m okay. I promise.”

TK sighs, still looking reluctant, but he seems to accept Carlos’s assurance. He takes his injured hand once more and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of it, cupping Carlos’s face gently. “For the record,” he says, “I always worry about you.”

Carlos leans into the touch, nuzzling into TK’s palm. “The feeling is mutual.”

Nancy calls for TK again, and they’re forced to break apart.

“I’m coming!” TK shouts back, and Carlos spots Nancy rolling her eyes behind TK’s back.

“You really had better go, babe,” he says, laughing. “I think Nancy might kill you if you don’t get back there right now.”

TK grumbles, but he does go this time, sparing one last smile back at Carlos. Carlos nods at him, trying to reaffirm the promise that he’s really, truly okay and, by the look on TK’s face, he understands.

But then, they always understand each other.

Eventually.

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Prompt idea: Tk’s past drug use causes him to have seizures and Carlos always looks out for him when he has them and being all protective and hovering in the aftermath? x

holly's august extravaganza day 22: know me crazy, soothe me daily

thanks to a friend of mine who gets these types of seizure and who kindly talked me through what it's like 💚

ao3 | 880 words | hurt/comfort, fluff, seizures, mentioned past drug use, protective carlos

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

One minute they were sitting up in bed, talking like they would on any normal evening. The next, TK’s expression had gone completely blank, his eyes staring straight ahead. He’d started rubbing his hands together and mumbling under his breath—Carlos didn’t catch exactly what he was saying, but it sounded like the same thing over and over.

He’d reached over and shook TK’s shoulder lightly. “TK,” he’d called, panic setting in when TK didn’t respond. “TK, are you okay?”

Still no response, and Carlos had been on the verge of calling 911 when TK had shuddered and blinked, confusion clouding his eyes. It had been a minute at most since whatever it was had started, but it was long enough to make Carlos never want to witness it again.

Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be that lucky.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him what had happened. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally.

“That one was a complex partial seizure, but those don’t happen too often. Usually they’re just absence seizures; I’m surprised you haven’t noticed before.”

As it turned out, Carlos had noticed; he’d just thought that TK gets a little spacey sometimes. The absence seizures apparently only last for a few seconds, and sometimes TK isn’t even aware that he’s having one.

Carlos feels guilty for not noticing anyway, even if it was nearly impossible. From that first moment, he resolves to keep a better eye out—to take care of TK properly, like he’s supposed to.

“Carlos, I’m fine.”

“But, you just—”

“Blanked out for a few seconds, yes.” TK sighs and looks at Carlos with a fond, but moderately exasperated expression. “Seriously, it’s literally like a blink for me; the only reason I know it happened is because Mateo is on the other side of the room now.”

Carlos sighs and purses his lips—it’s the same routine they do every time he notices one of TK’s absence seizures. And he knows that they have no impact on him, but he can’t help but worry.

Sue him—he only found out about his boyfriend’s serious medical condition after six months of dating; he thinks he’s allowed a little worry.

Not that TK seems to think so. He laughs and shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Carlos’s cheek. “Relax, babe,” he says. “I’ll probably have another in like ten minutes, it’s no big deal.”

Carlos scowls at him. “That’s not nearly as reassuring as you think it is.”

TK’s grin lets him know that he already knew that.

The complex partial seizures are less common, but much worse. There’s usually no warning, though TK has said that sometimes he hears things that aren’t there, or gets a feeling of deja vu right beforehand.

But for Carlos, there’s no warning at all. It’s terrifying, every single time, to see TK just freeze up, like his brain has separated from his body and gone offline, even though they’ve done this a handful of times now.

He learns very quickly, however, that they’re nowhere near as terrifying as the times when TK doesn’t freeze up.

“TK, what are you doing?”

TK doesn’t answer, that familiar blank look coming over his face. Except, this time, it doesn’t stop there. This time, he starts walking, heading—horrifyingly—towards the stairs.

“TK!”

Carlos has been warned about this. He’s been warned that, sometimes, TK will do things during seizures, like walking around or picking at his clothes. That doesn’t mean he’s prepared to see his boyfriend attempting to go down the stairs without being in control of his own actions.

He follows after him, arms outstretched to frame TK’s body but not quite touching him. Carlos keeps his eyes firmly on TK’s feet, waiting with a lump in his throat for the moment when he misses a step and falls—not that Carlos would let him.

Thankfully, the moment never comes, and they reach the bottom without incident. Even so, Carlos is pretty sure his heart doesn’t stop pounding until TK starts to come out of it. He stumbles when he does and Carlos wastes no time in steadying him, holding him gently but firmly against his body.

TK looks around, a tired frown appearing on his face. “What...?”

Carlos rubs his arms, guiding him over to the sofa to sit. “You’re alright. You had a seizure and decided to come downstairs, but you’re alright.”

“Oh.” TK sighs and burrows into Carlos’s side, his eyes fluttering closed. “Tired.”

“I know.” This is the familiar part; TK is often tired after these episodes, and Carlos is more than happy to let him sleep on him if that’s what he needs. “Sleep, sweetheart.”

TK hums and curls impossibly closer, his head tucked against Carlos’s chest. Soon enough, his breaths even out to soft, sleepy puffs, and Carlos wraps his arms around him protectively.

He might not be able to prevent TK from going through this, but he can help him afterwards. And that, he thinks, must count for something.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #holly's august extravaganza #anonymous

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

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.

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for fingore square? As someone who broke their finger during the pandemic....can I request that with some hurt TK?

holly's august extravaganza day 28: ignoring every warning

thanks for the prompt brit! the fingore square had been requested by the time i saw this message but here's the fic anyway! hope you like it 😊

thanks to @silvarafael for the beta!

ao3 | 1.3k | minor injuries, hurt tk, big brother judd, mostly just tk being a dumbass

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

He mostly just wants to put the shame of it all behind him. After all, it’s not like the entire firehouse saw him get so distracted talking to Carlos on the phone that he slammed the ambulance doors shut on his hand—

Oh, wait.

It had been weeks of teasing and jokes that TK wasn’t sure were all good-natured. Even Carlos, the traitor, had joined in once or twice (or three, or four, or five times…), and it was only Carlos’s frustratingly effective cow eyes and TK’s own displeasure at the thought of sleeping alone that had kept him from the couch.

Technically, the doctor had said that he should stick to light duty and keep the hand brace on for another few weeks, which he kinda, sorta isn’t doing.

But he’s fine.

He makes a point of saying so to Nancy when she sends him the third exasperated look of the day—and they’re only two hours into shift.

“Whatever you say, dude,” she replies drily. “Just don’t come crying when you re-break that hand because you’re a dumbass who won’t admit when he’s in pain.”

The slight smirk on her lips is enough for TK to gather that she’s referring to the first time he broke it, and...maybe she has a point.

(“I’m okay, I just need to shake it out for a minute.”

“TK, none of your fingers look the way they should. I bet you anything you can’t even move that hand right now, but, by all means, go ahead and shake it.”)

(He did. It did not go well.)

“I’m fine,” he repeats, scowling, which gets him a totally unwarranted head shake and eye roll. Well… Whatever. Nancy can think what she wants; TK is going to finish his shift and he’s going to manage it perfectly well, thanks very much.

And he does. Admittedly, his hand is aching more than it probably should be, but he just needs to rest it when he gets home, which—ah.

Problem #1: He and Carlos still haven’t finished setting up the new house.

Problem #2: Today is their only joint night off for the rest of the week, which leads to,

Problem #3: They’d agreed to spend the night sorting some furniture and unpacking a few important boxes.

Logically, TK knows he should tell Carlos that he doesn’t feel up to doing any heavy lifting tonight. He’d understand, there’s no question of that; Carlos would likely spend the entire night fussing instead, probably mixed with a bit of loving exasperation at TK for having pushed himself too much. But he doesn’t want to let him down, not again. Not after the months spent fighting with the insurance companies and struggling to find a house, and especially not after Carlos had supported TK while the firehouse was closed down.

He flexes his hand experimentally. It’s a little stiff and the soreness brings a grimace to his face, but it works.

He’s got this.

TK is, maybe, just a little less than fine.

Like, 85% fine. 70% absolute minimum.

But it’s okay, because now he has a day off to ice his hands without Carlos hovering like a mother hen. Normally, he’d hate the idea of spending the day without his boyfriend, but the less Carlos knows about this situation, the better for both of them.

The ice helps, and the dull throbbing that’s become his normal for the past couple of days almost disappears. TK knows he shouldn’t push it, but his need to be busy always wins over training and common sense, so.

So.

The next shift is a little easier, and TK figures he’s probably healed enough to head to the gym for a while. Get his strength back up, and all that.

He’s very, very wrong.

Ten minutes in, and TK hits the punching bag in a way that elicits a crack from his knuckles that not even he can write it off as fine. His hand hurts and his fingers are starting to look horribly swollen, and shit, Carlos is going to fucking kill him later.

Maybe…

Maybe he can fix this. He’s a paramedic; he can strap up his own fingers. Sure, it’s his left hand that’s injured, but he can handle it. He just needs to get out of the gym, through the firehouse, loot the ambulance, and bandage himself up without running into anyone who will ask questions.

Simple.

Except, because the universe hates him, TK quite literally runs into Judd on his way out of the gym. The knock sends an unpleasant jolt through his injured hand, and TK doesn’t manage to contain his wince in time to hide it.

Judd doesn’t even bother asking what happened; he simply sighs heavily and gets out his phone, tapping away at the screen.

TK cranes his neck to try and see what he’s doing, but Judd holds his phone close to his chest, blocking his view. “What are you doing?”

“You obviously got your dumb ass in a mess again so I’m texting your boy to come get you.” Judd shoots him an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes at TK’s horrified stare. “What, you’d rather he find out about this later or something?”

“No, it’s just—I was gonna tell him!”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, so TK doesn’t bother trying to defend himself. He huffs and folds his good arm across his chest, scowling at Judd.

“You can stop looking like that,” Judd remarks, gaze fixed back on his phone as it pings with a new message. “Carlos is on his way.”

“I hate you.”

“Shockingly, I can live with that.” He pockets his phone and takes TK’s shoulder, almost pushing him down the stairs. “Come on, kid. Let’s get some ice on that.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” TK says, though he knows Judd isn’t going to let him out of his sight until Carlos arrives.

“Yeah, that broken hand says otherwise.”

There’s a barely contained laugh in Judd’s voice, and TK has the sudden urge to punch his smirk away. Which would only really prove the point, so he has to resort to glaring at his back and ignoring the warmth at the thought of Judd taking care of him like the brother TK never had.

When Carlos shows up ten minutes later, the concern in his eyes betrays the deep exasperation painted all over his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” TK protests anyway. “It’s not like I asked for this to happen.”

Judd snorts—rude—and Carlos grins over at him, sharing a head shake—even ruder—and TK lets out what even he can admit is a pathetic whine.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Carlos says, not sounding sorry in the least, “but you have literally ignored every single recommendation from the doctor. The only thing you haven’t done is actually ask for it.”

“They’re recommendations, Carlos.”

“And you’re a paramedic, so you should know that ‘recommendation’ is a kind way of saying ‘order’.”

For the second time, TK has no defense. He huffs and looks down at his shoes, hoping that he paints a miserable enough picture to get his boyfriend to take at least some pity on him.

Somehow, it works, as Carlos takes him in a careful side hug. “Sorry,” he repeats, more earnest this time. “Let’s get you to the ER, huh?”

TK nods reluctantly, allowing Carlos to steer him out of the firehouse. “Can’t believe I’m going to have to take even more time off,” he grumbles.

“Well, think about it this way.” Carlos rubs his arm in a soothing gesture, though his next words are anything but. “At least you’ll have more time to finish up with the house.”

TK groans. His day did not need to get any more painful.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #judd ryder #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #brit tag

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Can you write a fic where Carlos is attacked while he is home alone and TK comes home after a shift and finds him super badly hurt?

holly's august extravaganza day 31: scars turn to memories

thank you anon! who else isn't ready for it to be september yet? i'm certainly not 😅 a masterlist will be coming out tomorrow with all fics listed. thanks so much for everyone's support this month, and i hope you enjoy this final fic (for august)!

thanks to @halsteadmarchs for the beta!

ao3 | 1.5k | angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, major character injury, knife violence

There’s someone in their bedroom.

TK is stuck in the doorway, just watching as the love of his life is brutally attacked in their bed, in their home. He tries to shout, to move, to do anything, but some invisible force is pinning him in place, making him a mere spectator to the horror show in front of him.

Carlos’s head rolls on the pillow, his eyes instantly alighting on TK. His lips move, though the only sound that comes out is a wet gurgle, followed by blood spilling from his mouth and down his chin. Tears drip hot down TK’s cheeks as he sees the desperation in Carlos’s expression, which soon morphs into confusion and then betrayal as TK doesn’t save him.

He can’t—he can’t—and he’s trying but the light is starting to fade in Carlos’s eyes and he’s dying, he’s dead, and TK still can’t move, he—

He wakes with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed. His heart is pounding and his face feels tight with drying tears, trembles wracking his entire body as the dream replays all too vividly in his mind. He’s been having the same one since that night four months ago, when he’d arrived home from shift to find Carlos…

To find him…

TK shakes his head, trying to shove the memories from his mind, but it’s a lost cause. He presses the heel of his hand hard into his eyes, but he can’t stop the tidal wave from rising up and claiming him, dragging him back into a waking version of his nightmare.

He takes a tentative step forward and peers into the darkness, slowly sliding his phone out of his pocket with a thumb on the home button, ready to call 911 at the slightest sign of movement.

And then—

Carlos.

TK barely remembers to be quiet as he rushes to the stairs, desperately praying that the intruder has left Carlos alone. He knows that Carlos is more than capable of defending himself, but he would have been in bed, maybe asleep and definitely alone; TK doesn’t want to imagine what might have happened to him.

But, as it turns out, he doesn’t have to. TK stops dead in the doorway to their bedroom, all the breath knocked out of him as he takes in the sight before him.

The room is a mess, lamps knocked to the floor, the bed in disarray, and dark stains cover their sheets.

And on the floor, spread-eagled in a pool of blood, lies Carlos, and TK feels his world crumble.

His hands won’t stop shaking. TK grips onto the kitchen counter as he waits for the coffee pot to finish and closes his eyes, breathing carefully. It’s like the anxiety started when he first caught sight of the open front door and then never left, latching onto him and growing like a weed.

He hasn’t really had a good day in months, but it seems like today is going to be an especially bad one. Nausea climbs up the back of his throat as he remembers the sensation of Carlos’s blood on his hands, sticky and warm and there was so much of each, every bandage he pressed to a wound being soaked through in seconds.

His body is almost bent in two, his forehead pressed against the counter as the panic of that night returns in full force, almost choking him. TK gasps, his entire body trembling, before he loses his grip and crashes to the floor, the sobs that have been building in his chest since the moment he woke up finally letting loose.

“Carlos! Carlos, baby, stay with me, please, please.”

TK blinks back tears as his shaking hands hold another bandage to one of Carlos’s many wounds, crying out in despair as it quickly turns red. It was his last one, and now he’s down to grabbing anything he can find to attempt to staunch the ever-increasing blood flow.

He thinks the 911 operator on the phone with him is trying to calm him down, maybe, but TK stopped listening a long time ago. His training has been the only thing keeping him focused; if he had to just sit here helplessly, TK thinks he would have lost his mind by now, though it can’t have been more than five minutes since he found Carlos.

TK knows, in the back of his mind, that it’s a miracle Carlos is still breathing. There’s so much blood… No-one can lose that much and be okay. They’re on borrowed time, every second of delay in getting Carlos to a hospital increasing the likelihood that he won’t make it out of this.

“Come on,” he begs, pressing down harder, as if he can force the life back into his husband. “Don’t die, please don’t die, not now.”

But his pleas are in vain; Carlos’s breath stutters and rattles, and then stops altogether.

A second later, the room is bathed in blue and red as the wail of sirens heralds the arrival of help.

He comes out of the flashback with a gasp, finding himself curled into a ball on the kitchen floor. TK sits up with a groan, resting his head against the cupboards and tries to figure out how to breathe again.

One, two, three, four, five, in through the nose.

One, two, three, four, five, out through the mouth.

One, two, three, four—

One, two—

One—

It’s pointless.

TK forces himself to his feet, chest still tight with anxiety, and staggers to the couch. He collapses onto it and stares sightlessly at the wall in front of him. It’s still mostly dark outside, only the barest slivers of light entering through the windows, and TK wishes he could go back to sleep.

He won’t try—he’s too scared of the nightmares for that—but he’s so tired. He hasn’t slept properly since that night; is one night without feeling his husband’s life ebb away under his own hands really too much to ask?

Is it too much to want just a few hours of peace to pretend that reality doesn’t exist?

“I can’t lose him, Dad,” TK whispers, curled in on himself in the waiting room of the hospital.

His dad rests a hand on the back of his neck, fingers gently brushing TK’s hair, but it brings little comfort. Usually, his dad’s hugs and gentle reassurances would work miracles—even after their house burned down, when TK was furious at him, he couldn’t deny that it calmed him, just for a moment, to relax in his dad’s embrace.

But now… Now, TK doesn’t think there’s anything in the world that could make him feel better.

He has no clear memories from the moment paramedics swarmed the house; all he can remember is the pain and dread as they worked on Carlos, the fear as TK gripped onto his husband’s hand in the ambulance, unable to stand the thought that this could be it.

“I can’t,” he continues, shaking his head. “I don’t—I won’t survive it.”

“We’ll get through this, son.” His dad squeezes TK’s neck gently, then moves his hand to rub circles on his back. “We will.”

But all TK can think is how grateful he is that his dad didn’t say something stupid, like “It’ll be okay.”

Because it won’t.

Nothing will, anymore.

A silhouette steps into TK’s line of sight, and then he’s being lifted, his body pliant to the shadow’s ministrations. He’s resettled against a strong chest, arms wrapping around him and a kiss landing on the top of his head.

“Did you dream about it again?” Carlos murmurs, rubbing a thumb over TK’s knuckles. The gesture is soothing, and it does more to loosen the knot in TK’s chest than anything else could.

He nods wordlessly, sitting up and raising a hand to Carlos’s cheek. The raised scar tissue is barely visible in this half-light but TK feels it clearly as he brushes his fingertips over the mark. His hand drifts down Carlos’s neck and to his chest, where even more scars litter his skin, and TK’s heart aches—but then, something incredible happens.

Carlos smiles.

He fucking smiles, his eyes understanding and sad and maybe a little haunted, but it’s full of love; the same love TK feels for him.

And it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

TK kisses him gently, briefly pressing their foreheads together before burrowing closer into his husband, his ear pressed to Carlos’s chest. And his heart is beating, strong and steady, just like it always has.

And everything is going to be okay.

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

holly's august extravaganza day 26: slowly becoming lovers

for sonia (@pragmaticoptimist34)! i have to confess something - i got so caught up in writing this that i actually forgot to include either of the other two prompts you sent me 🙈 i hope you like it anyway!

second confession - it was supposed to be longer and then it kind of got away from me so i had to draw a line somewhere oops

thanks to @ravens-words, @cosmiicmalex, @halsteadmarchs and liz (sorry, i don't know your tumblr!) for enabling me and to @noxsoulmate for beta'ing!

ao3 | 2.9k | falling in love, fluff, tiny, tiny hint of hurt/comfort, soft tarlos, set between s1 and s2

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

i. food preferences

“You have to be joking.”

“It tastes like soap, Carlos!”

Carlos groans and drops his head into his hands, shaking his head at this latest revelation from his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who has just made his life—or at least his cooking—a hell of a lot more complicated. “My mamá would have a fit if she could hear you now.”

He almost regrets the words as TK’s eyes alight with interest; he’s been dancing around the topic of his parents for a while now, but it’s not like he can deny what he said. His mom would be having a fit, or possibly attempting to kill TK with a wooden spoon, if she found out that Carlos’s boyfriend was not only a gringo, but one who hates coriander.

“I swear, you won’t even taste it when it’s mixed into the food,” he tries, because coriander is a staple of his cooking, and he can’t even fathom not using it.

But TK just levels him with a firm look. “Yes, I will, Carlos. I’ll always taste it.”

Carlos rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s theatrics, but sighs, relenting. “Fine. I suppose I can—” He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, as TK throws his arms around him and plants a noisy kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, grinning cheekily.

“Yeah, yeah,” Carlos grumbles, but he can’t help but smile.

There’s very little, he’s finding, that he wouldn’t do for TK.

ii. nicknames

It slips out by accident one day.

“TK,” Carlos groans, followed by a gasp as TK moves just right, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. “TK, Ty—”

TK instantly freezes on top of him and Carlos’s eyes open, concern rising in him as he takes in the pensive look on his boyfriend’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” TK shakes his head and forces a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m good, I promise.” He ducks down to kiss Carlos again, but the mood is all wrong, and Carlos gently pushes him back, raising an eyebrow. TK holds out a moment longer, then sighs and rolls away, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid.”

Carlos tuts, reaching over to brush a hand through TK’s hair. “Bet you $20 it’s not.”

“Hope you have $20 then, Reyes,” TK says wryly. He looks over at Carlos and sighs again, biting his lip. “It’s just… You called me Ty.”

“Oh.” Carlos’s eyes widen and he props himself up on an elbow. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking; it won’t happen again—”

TK presses a finger against his lips, cutting him off abruptly. He smiles softly, then removes his finger and caresses Carlos’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he says. “More than okay, actually. I… I’ve always hated my name, but, I don’t know, I guess it sounded right? Like, when you said it? I think I’d kill anyone else who tried, but I really liked it coming from you.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because—”

Carlos is again cut off, this time by TK’s lips on his. TK moves so that he’s straddling Carlos again, hands pressed against his chest. “I’m sure,” he whispers, a grin playing at his mouth. “Now, weren’t we in the middle of something?”

iii. religion

Christmas sneaks up on him that year. Between helping the city recovering from the solar storm, work in general, the pandemic, and building his relationship with TK, Carlos has completely lost track of the months, until it’s a week before the date and he has nothing planned.

Really, it’s never been a big deal for him; he and his family used to attend mass and make an event out of it when he was a kid, but now he’s an adult, he’s often working, and he hasn’t been to church regularly since he was a teenager. But this year is different. This year, he’ll be spending it with TK, their first Christmas together, and he wants to make it special.

But he’s left it too late—nothing he orders online will arrive in time, the shops are becoming a nightmare, and he honestly has no clue where to even start. So Carlos resigns himself to another quiet Christmas, frustration and disappointment welling in him at the thought of telling his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out one night over dinner, the thought having been gnawing at him for days.

TK raises a brow. “For?”

“Christmas,” Carlos sighs, looking down into his stew. “It’s our first one together and I had all these plans, and then I just sort of… I didn’t forget! But things have been so crazy, and—”

He’s cut off when TK lays a hand on his. When Carlos looks up at him, TK seems to be fighting back laughter, which is confusing at best and potentially mildly insulting at worst.

“Babe,” TK says, grinning, “it’s okay. You might not believe me, but I forgot too. Christmas wasn’t really a thing growing up—my mom’s Jewish, so I used to celebrate Hanukkah on the years I stayed with her, and Dad was working more often than not. I don’t care, I promise.”

Carlos blinks. “You’re Jewish?” Surely he would know if… But they’ve never discussed religion before, and Carlos had kind of assumed TK had the same ideals as him about the church. In hindsight that was stupid and presumptuous, and Carlos can’t quite believe he’d do something like that. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but TK just shrugs, going back to his stew.

“Half,” he says. “I don’t really practice anymore but I still keep the beliefs with me, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

TK smiles at him, and Carlos suddenly realises that this holiday season will be special after all, even if they don’t celebrate anything. Because he’s with TK, which is the most special thing in the world.

iv. how they sleep

Carlos has been sleeping alone for a long time. He’s had a couple of short-term boyfriends and the odd hook-up here and there, but he’s never had someone else in his bed regularly—certainly not regularly enough to get used to it.

TK was hesitant at first to stay over, but once he started to be more comfortable, it was almost a given that they’d be sleeping together whenever their shifts allowed.

And it had been an adjustment.

TK had warned him he tended to move around and be clingy in his sleep, but Carlos hadn’t quite understood what that meant, until now. He is, essentially, trapped under TK, his arms pinned to his sides and one leg thrown over his hip. TK’s head is pillowed on Carlos’s shoulder and his breath is fanning in soft puffs over his skin.

The only way he can move is if he wakes TK up, and there’s no way Carlos is going to do that. His boyfriend looks so peaceful, and Carlos is more than happy to be clung onto like a koala to a branch if it keeps that expression on his face.

In fact, he thinks he can get used to this very easily.

v. pda

In private, their days are filled with gentle touches and stolen kisses. Carlos will be cooking breakfast and TK will slip his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck. TK will be doing one chore or another and Carlos will brush a hand over his back or gently nudge him as he walks past.

But in public, it’s a whole other story.

It’s almost reflexive, the way TK reaches for Carlos’s hand as they’re walking down the street. It’s something they do all the time at home, and even with their friends, but this time, Carlos immediately tenses, seemingly automatically pulling his hand away.

“You okay?” he asks, frowning.

Carlos takes a deep breath, then obviously plasters on a smile, retaking TK’s hand—and TK can feel the tension in the gesture. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” TK gently lets go of Carlos and smiles reassuringly up at him. “It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with touching in public.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. This is all on me; I should have asked.”

“But—”

“But, nothing.” He carefully bumps their soldiers together. “You’re entitled to your boundaries, I’m just sorry for overstepping. Tell me next time, please?”

Carlos hesitates, but nods, a gentle press of their arms a silent acknowledgment of agreement and understanding.

vi. scars

Carlos, TK has noticed, likes to pay extra attention to his bullet scar. Whether it’s pressing a gentle kiss over it when they’re in bed, or brushing it with his fingers when wrapping an arm around him, it happens too often for TK to believe it’s anything but intentional.

He doesn’t understand it at first.

Then he discovers Carlos’s own scars.

“What’s this?” he asks, tracing over the thick raised scarring on Carlos’s side. It stretches along the curve of his waist and round his back, and TK has no idea how he hasn’t noticed it before.

Carlos cranes his neck, letting out a hum when he sees what TK’s looking at. His head flops back down on the pillow and he closes his eyes, absently stroking up and down TK’s sides.

“It was...three years ago, maybe?” he says. “I got stabbed on a call. They told me it was pretty touch-and-go for a while, but they fixed me up and I was back at work in a month.”

His eyes are still closed, body completely relaxed, but TK can’t take his eyes off the scar. He reaches up to his own scar, and he gets it.

Carlos’s eyes crack open. “TK?”

“I’m good,” TK murmurs. He breaks his gaze from Carlos’s abdomen and smiles at him. “We both are.”

And if, after that day, Carlos notices him paying more attention to that scar, he doesn’t say anything.

vii. penguin or panda

“You’re out of your mind!”

In Carlos’s defence, a zoo date had seemed like a good idea. He knows TK loves animals, and he himself grew up around them, so in theory, a trip to Austin Zoo should have been the perfect time to get to know each other better while enjoying the day.

Turns out, TK has some very strong opinions on animals, and is willing to budge for absolutely no-one.

“I can’t believe you think penguins are cuter than pandas! I mean, look at them, Carlos!” He gestures emphatically to the panda enclosure, where one is napping on a log. It’s pretty cute, Carlos has to admit, but…

He shrugs. “But remember when the penguins were all huddling together?”

TK makes a noise of outrage, and Carlos has to laugh, then some more at the wounded pout he gets for it. “Is this really a thing for you?” he asks. “Like, is this going to be the dealbreaker for us?”

TK folds his arms and levels him with a stern look. “That depends,” he says. “Meerkats or koalas?”

And, just because he knows it will rile TK up more, Carlos grins and answers, “Meerkats.”

(They don’t break-up over it, but Carlos isn’t so sure that TK will be forgiving him any time soon.)

viii. special interests

“Say you could go back to a moment in history, but only once,” TK says, out of the blue, breaking the comfortable silence of the front room. Carlos stops carding his fingers through TK’s hair and looks down at him, curious. “Where would you go?”

Carlos opens his mouth, but TK doesn’t give him a second to answer. “Is it cliché if I said I’d go to Stonewall? I mean, I’d really like to see dinosaurs in the flesh, or—oh! I was, like, obsessed with pirates as a kid; I thought they were the coolest things ever, and I pretty much idolised Anne Bonny. But I’m pretty sure I’d die immediately if I went to either of those places, so…”

He trails off, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”

“No!” Carlos rushes to say. “No, you’re not. I love history, I just… What makes you ask?”

“It’s something we got into at the station earlier. Mateo brought it up first, I think?”

Carlos hums, pursing his lips in thought. “I guess…” He sighs and shakes his head. “It’s too hard. There’s so many places I’d want to go and people I’d want to meet.”

“But if you had to pick?” TK pushes, sitting upright and looking at Carlos with interest.

“I really want to meet Eleanor of Aquitaine, but if I could only go to one place…” He hesitates and thinks it over some more, but then his eyes catch on the masks hanging along the stairway, and he’s sure. “Tenochtitlan, but before Cortés arrived. It was a whole society, and I just think it would be so cool to see it up close and to know what it was like first-hand. I mean, I’ve read a lot of books, but we don’t have much from the Mexica people, a lot is from the conquerors, and—”

Carlos stops and huffs a laugh. “Now I’m the one boring you,” he says, but TK shakes his head, eyes bright.

“Tell me more.”

ix. coffee order

TK accepts the coffee without even thinking about it, even taking a sip before he realises he never told Carlos what his order was. He curses himself but resolves to drink it anyway; TK isn’t too much of a coffee snob, and he’s certainly not going to reject anything his boyfriend brings him.

He takes a second sip, and he’s so caught up in making a mental note to tell Carlos next time that it takes a minute for the taste to register. And…

It’s his order.

He looks sharply up at Carlos, who is smiling into his own coffee—therefore dispelling any notion of this being an insanely good guess. “How did you know?” he asks, bewildered.

The tips of Carlos’s ears turn pink, but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he looks up at TK. “Our first real date,” he says. “You mentioned that this was your go-to order.”

And TK can’t do anything but stare, because their first date was weeks ago, and Carlos still remembered, and it’s just…

He thinks—no, he knows—he’s falling in love.

x. fears

“Weirdest fears, go.”

TK has to laugh at the perplexed look Carlos sends him at the question, the straw of his boba hanging out of his mouth. Now that they’ve figured a sort of rhythm out between them, they decided to try the boba place again—there have been no emergencies or disasters so far, so TK is counting it as a win.

“Come on,” he continues. “Last time we were here, you said we barely knew each other—which was true—so now we’re going to fix it.”

Carlos’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “By telling each other our weirdest fears?”

“Exactly!” TK grins. “I’ll go first if you’re too chicken. Mine is slicing my hands open or cutting some fingers off with ice skates.”

“What?” Carlos breathes, disbelief all over his face. “I’ve never been ice skating but I’m pretty sure your hands aren’t supposed to go anywhere near the blades.”

“I didn’t say it was rational.” TK sips his boba, raising an eyebrow at Carlos. “Your turn.”

Carlos swallows, suddenly very interested in the table. “I, uh. When I was a kid, my Tía Lucy had a snake get into her pipes. She only discovered it when she went to the toilet one morning and it was just...sitting there in the bowl. I was terrified for years that the same would happen to us, and it’s kind of become a reflex to check.”

“Oh my god.” TK can’t help but burst out laughing, even though he feels bad for it as Carlos covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a real thing for you, I just…”

But Carlos’s shoulders are shaking too and, bizarrely, TK really does feel closer to him now.

It’s a good feeling.

xi. long-term commitments

Carlos is surprised when TK is the one to bring it up first.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asks one day, head in Carlos’s lap, staring up at the ceiling.

Carlos pauses the show he’s technically supposed to be watching and quirks an eyebrow at his boyfriend. “Sure,” he says. “What about the future exactly?”

TK hesitates, and his voice comes out a lot quieter when he next speaks. “Like…” He sighs, a small flush rising on his cheeks. “The future. Our future. Us. Maybe...marriage, or…”

He trails off, practically whispering by the end of it. His gaze has shifted from the ceiling to the frozen TV screen and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, body stiff with tension. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Forget about it.”

But Carlos is learning to read TK, and he knows he was looking for reassurance. “I mean, yeah,” he says. “I think about it. Do you?”

TK stares up at him, wonder in his eyes. “After New York, I thought… But yeah. Yeah, I do.”

They share a smile as they lock eyes, and Carlos knows that they’re on the same page here. That, distant though they may be, both of them can hear wedding bells in their future.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #911ls #lone star #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #holly's august extravaganza #pragmaticoptimist34

70 notes · View notes

morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

Hello, fic request coming through if you are still doing them! Okay, Carlos has not been feeling well so he stays in and doesn't go to his shift. TK still has his shift, so he wants to stay with Carlos to keep an eye on him but Carlos says he is fine. TK is uneasy at work just wants to go back home, he calls Carlos but he is not answering. Tommy says TK can go check up on Carlos, while he is at home, he finds Carlos in bed and when he goes closer, Carlos is not breathing. Paramedic!TK coming through. Super angst ensues but Carlos makes it in the end after some time in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 25: heaving through corrupted lungs

thank you for the prompt!

thanks also to @noxsoulmate for the beta! 💚

ao3 | 2.9k | major character illness, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, brief references to past, canonical character death

“Strand, I know we’re not on a call right now, but you could at least pretend to be focused.”

TK flushes as Tommy’s somewhat less-than amused voice reaches him from the back of the ambulance. He hurriedly locks his phone and shoves it in the glove compartment, though not before checking every messaging app he has for word from Carlos.

There’s none, of course, just like it’s been all day. Logically, he knows Carlos is probably sleeping—god knows he needs it—but that isn’t going to stop him from worrying, or from sending check-up texts every ten minutes. It does, however, stop Carlos from answering, which isn’t very conducive to TK’s ability to concentrate on work today.

“Sorry, Cap,” he says. “It’s just—”

“Carlos is sick and you’re being paranoid, as usual,” Nancy chimes in, audibly rolling her eyes from the driver’s seat. “Look, dude, if he said he’s fine, then he’s probably fine.”

“Well, I’m the paramedic in the relationship, and I say he’s not fine.” TK sighs and forces himself to resist the urge to pull out his phone again. “Carlos likes to lecture me about hiding injuries, but he’s exactly the same when he’s ill; he could be on death’s door and still saying he’s okay. But he hasn’t said anything today, so I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried about him.”

“Welcome to relationships,” Tommy comments. “Seriously though, TK, are you going to be okay to finish this shift? There’s still ten hours to go and we cannot afford for you to be distracted out there.”

TK doesn’t answer right away; on one hand, he’s itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

He’s staring out the window, considering his options, when he realises that he knows these streets. Like, actually knows them. They’re right around the corner from his and Carlos’s home, and an idea strikes TK like a lightning bolt.

“Hey, Cap?” he asks, twisting around in his seat to look at her. “How about we take a lunch break now instead of driving all the way back to the station? There’s a great place nearby, and it’s less likely that we’ll be interrupted by a call before we get food.”

Tommy eyes him suspiciously, clearly not buying his innocent act. “What are you talking about, TK?”

“Mine and Carlos’s place is literally two streets away; we could drop by and I could check in on him and make sure he’s okay. Plus,” he continues, already spotting the argument on Tommy’s face, “I’m not lying about the food. Carlos cooks in bulk, so we’ve got loads of leftover casserole in the freezer.”

Tommy pauses, indecision clear in her expression. She narrows her eyes at TK, scrutinising him. “Will this mean you’ll stop being so distracted?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright.” She sighs and nods, and Nancy switches directions to head towards their home. “I’m holding you to that, Strand.”

TK spends the entire drive, short as it is, drumming his fingers on his knees and trying to keep the ever-growing panic at bay. Carlos is going to be fine.

He has to be.

He jumps out the ambulance before Nancy’s even fully stopped it, cursing himself as he fumbles with his keys. Tommy pats his shoulder soothingly; it doesn’t really calm him down, but TK appreciates the effort and her unconditional support. When he gets inside, he simply waves a hand in the general direction of the freezer, hoping Tommy and Nancy get the message, and barrels upstairs, Carlos’s name bursting from his lips.

“Carlos, babe, you here?” It’s a stupid question; TK had seen the Camaro in the driveway and Carlos is far too ill to want to walk anywhere—or so TK hopes—so he has to be home. But the silence draws out, and TK’s heart is pounding a mile a minute by the time he reaches the door to their bedroom.

“Carlos?” He pushes open the door, sighing in relief when he sees his fiancé sprawled across the bed, dead to the world. It’s a little weird that he hasn’t woken up yet given how loud TK was shouting, but it’s probably just because his body needs the rest. TK would bet that the apocalypse could happen outside the window and Carlos wouldn’t so much as stir.

He tip-toes towards the bed, a soft smile spreading across his lips as anxiety gives way to fondness and love. It’s not until he’s within touching distance of Carlos that he registers just how still he is; just how silent the room is.

This morning, Carlos’s breathing was loud and harsh, punctuated with periodic sniffs and coughs.

Now, he’s not making a sound.

And, as TK drops to his knees and bends over his fiancé’s body, he realises that his chest isn’t moving.

Carlos isn’t breathing.

The panic is back in full force as TK frantically presses his fingers to Carlos’s pulse point, praying for something—a flutter, anything—to indicate that Carlos isn’t… That he’s not…

There’s nothing.

Instinct takes over, TK linking his hands on Carlos’s chest and starting compressions even as his vision blurs with tears and he chokes on the sobs building in his throat.

“Cap!” he yells, not taking his eyes off Carlos. “Cap, up here!”

A minute later, Tommy and Nancy burst into the room, both halting in shock for a moment before jumping into action. Nancy moves to the other side of the bed, already pulling out the ambu bag, while Tommy comes to stand by TK.

“What do we have?” she asks, professional as ever, though there’s a clear worried undertone to her voice.

“No pulse, no respiration,” he manages, voice thick. “Skin is warm to the touch. No clear cause, but patient was congested and moderately feverish during the past few days.”

Tommy nods and gently pushes at TK’s shoulder. “Alright, you did good, TK, but you should let us take over now,” she says gently. “Come on, Nancy and I can handle this.”

TK ignores her, continuing compressions with renewed force. “I have to help him, Cap. I have to.”

“And you have, but now—”

“No!” Later, TK will be ashamed of the way he lost control like that, and he’ll have to apologise to Tommy, but the only thing he can really, truly focus on now is Carlos. He keeps pushing, feeling Carlos’s ribs give under his hands, and forces himself to keep going even though his stomach turns at the idea of causing him any pain. “Come on, baby,” he mutters. “Come on, Carlos, please.”

Time is running out; TK can tell by the way the silence is starting to feel heavier and heavier, by the looks he knows Tommy and Nancy must be exchanging over his head. Carlos’s time is running out, and TK is staring down a future he doesn’t know he can survive, and—

“I have a pulse!” Nancy shouts, and the words don’t register in TK’s head until Tommy’s hands are forcibly pulling him back and Carlos’s chest is moving and his eyelids start to flutter.

Tommy slides into the space left by TK, practiced hands checking Carlos’s vitals. “Carlos, can you hear me?”

She gets no response save for a weak groan, then Carlos’s body goes slack again and his head lolls limply on the pillow. TK takes a panicked step forward, but he’s just as quickly pushed back as Tommy secures an oxygen mask over Carlos’s face.

“Nancy, get the backboard and the gurney ready. Heart rate is arrhythmic and respiration is laboured; radio Austin Memorial and get their cardiac unit on standby.”

Nancy dashes out of the bedroom, and Tommy grabs her own radio. “Dispatch, this is RA 126 responding to a cardiac event at 2204 Allred Drive. Patient is unconscious and breathing, however at the time of arrival, he was in cardiac arrest. Duration unknown.”

“Copy that, RA 126.”

Nancy arrives with the backboard, and TK feels like an invisible observer as he watches his two teammates work. He’s stuck, barely breathing, as he watches Carlos struggle and fight for his life; he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he dies, here and now.

TK moves as if in a nightmare as they get Carlos down the stairs and into the ambulance, eyes constantly locked on his fiancé. He thinks Tommy might say something to him, but he doesn’t hear it and he doesn’t bother to ask—terrible as it is to admit, he doesn’t care right now. He can’t care; there’s no more room inside him for anything else but Carlos.

He wraps a hand around Carlos’s wrist, two fingers resting on his pulse point, and prays that he’ll never have to feel that absence again.

Tommy sits beside him in the waiting room, a silent show of support while they wait for news on Carlos. Or until they catch another call; whichever comes first. Nancy is…somewhere. TK thinks she might have gone to grab some coffee or a snack, but he honestly has no idea. He’s kind of lost track of things, the hospital’s plain white walls turning time into water as they wait, and wait, and wait.

“I know how you feel, you know,” Tommy says, unprompted. “The night that Charles died, I… I spent so long blaming myself. I wasn’t there, you know? And I just kept thinking that if I had been there, if I hadn’t stayed out at Grace and Judd’s, then I might have been able to do something to save him.” She levels him with a firm, yet motherly look, and TK drops his gaze to the floor. “I know now that there was nothing. It kills me to admit it, but what happened would have happened either way, and it’s the same here. Carlos is young, healthy—there was no reason to suspect anything might happen. Certainly nothing like this. You did everything that you could, TK, and you have to hold onto that, no matter what the outcome.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, giving up on keeping the tears at bay. Tommy reaches out to wrap one arm around him, but he jerks away, curling in on himself. “It’s not the same,” he whispers, voice thick. “It’s not— I knew, Cap. I knew he was ill and I still left him.”

“You said you guys thought it was just a bad cold.”

“No, I knew. I’m a paramedic, how could I have missed this?”

“These things happen, TK,” she says softly. “It’s cruel, and it’s senseless, and, more than anything, it’s unavoidable. We can go in circles blaming ourselves for it—and I know it’s worse for us; we think we should be able to see everything because it’s our job, right?

“The thing is, we’re the most blind when it comes to the people we love. We think we see everything and we always worry over them, but ultimately we just want to believe that everything’s going to be okay. That they’re going to be okay. It’s hard to accept when they’re not.”

“I should have done more.”

“You did all you cou—”

“No, I didn’t.” He lets out a sob, twisting away from Tommy’s touch once more when she tries to comfort him. “I should have insisted on staying home; I should have thought about going to check on him earlier. We have no idea how long he was lying there, dead—he was dead, Tommy—before we arrived, but if I had been there then I could have gotten him help.”

TK takes a shuddering breath and looks up at his captain, meeting her eyes for the first time since they were in the ambulance. “Tommy, if he dies, then I swear I’ll never forgive myself. Never.”

Tommy looks like she wants to say more, but just as she opens her mouth, her radio crackles to life. She sighs regretfully but stands, clasping TK’s shoulder gently.

“He’ll be okay, TK. Believe in that.”

Looking at Carlos, TK has never believed in anything less. He’s so still and pale on the bed and TK keeps having to check that his chest is still moving, despite the steady beep of the heart monitor and the constant thrum against his fingertips. He hasn’t let go of Carlos’s wrist since he was allowed into the room, and he doesn’t intend to let go until Carlos is back with him, awake and alive and okay.

He’s trying to believe in that outcome as a certainty, but he knows better than that. Carlos might be young and healthy, but the fact still remains that his heart stopped—coming back from that is far from guaranteed.

It’s been three days since the incident, and Carlos’s parents have been in and out, always bringing TK food and trying to engage him in conversation. He tries, for them, but it’s not easy and the attempts always fizzle out before long; TK just doesn’t have it in him anymore to talk and pretend to be positive. Any hope he ever had has abandoned him, the only thing keeping him afloat his grip around Carlos’s wrist.

A tupperware container drops into his lap, and TK looks up to see Andrea standing over him. She reaches across to caress Carlos’s cheek, then sinks into the chair beside TK, giving him a pointed look.

He sighs, attempting a weak smile for her. “I appreciate it, Andrea, but—”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head firmly. “No more buts; I won’t hear them. My son might not be able to make sure you take care of yourself, but I am more than capable of taking over for him. I am very strict about food, ask any of his sisters.” Her stern look softens and she pats his arm gently. “Venga, mijo. You’ll feel better for it.”

TK looks down at the dish in his lap, doing his best to keep a grimace off his face. It looks and smells delicious, like all of Andrea’s cooking, but the sight of it makes his stomach turn, his gag reflex activating at the very thought of putting any in his mouth.

“Andrea, I…” He shakes his head and picks the container up with his free hand, handing it back to her. “I can’t.”

And it’s not just that TK can’t handle any food at the moment, though that certainly plays into it.

But they’re tamales.

The Reyes family recipe tamales, passed down through generations, which Carlos has been slowly attempting to teach TK. Which Carlos always makes on special occasions, and sometimes just for the hell of it.

Which Carlos made the night he proposed.

Andrea looks set to argue, but TK forces an end to the conversation by making her take the container and turning back to Carlos.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, knowing he’s disappointed her. “It’s just hard.”

She sighs and rubs his back. “I know. Just don’t come to me when Carlos wakes up and realises you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

That almost gets a laugh out of him, and TK looks over to smile at Andrea. It’s a brittle thing, but it’s a smile all the same, which is more than he’s managed in three days. She smiles back at him, and it helps him feel not so alone in all this.

A weak groan is all the warning he gets before, “Are you turning down my mother’s cooking?” reaches his ears, and TK gasps, whipping around to stare at the bed.

Right into Carlos’s eyes.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, tears springing to his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Hey, baby.” Carlos’s voice is rough and rasping, his eyes fluttering closed again a second later, though TK can tell that he’s still awake. He reaches to the table and pours a cup of water, encouraging Carlos to lift his head and drink through the straw.

“Slow sips, that’s it,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb gently along Carlos’s wrist, still holding on tightly.

Once Carlos has drunk his fill, he opens his eyes again and looks up at TK, gaze searching his face. “I love you,” he rasps, smiling gently, “but did you really just say no to my mom’s tamales?”

TK splutters, but he can’t keep the smile off his own face, shaking his head fondly at Carlos. “I love you too, idiot,” he says. “And tamales don’t taste the same without you there to eat them with me.”

“Good thing I’m here now, then.”

TK hums. “Guess it is.”

(Later, after the nurses and doctors have come and gone, TK will pick up the tub of tamales, left behind by Andrea when she went to tell everyone the good news.

He and Carlos will split one, pressed close together in the bed to avoid getting crumbs on the sheets. Carlos will be smiling at him the entire time, and TK will kiss him over and over, relishing the sensation of Carlos kissing him back.

And it’ll be the best damn tamale TK has ever eaten.)

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