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bellakitse · 4 years

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Omg please either “Wait, the tears are good tears?” or “I let you win” whichever inspires you more or you haven’t gotten yet. Thank you!!

We were meant for one another, come a little closer

TK stares at him, mouth open, and Carlos can’t help but stare back as his heart pounds loudly in his ears. He feels naked, like every feeling he’s been hiding from TK for so long is now on the surface for him to see.

Carlos and TK are best friends and roommates. When TK comes home from a failed date, it reveals long-time hidden feelings.

30 days of Tarlos - Day 23

Carlos is in the middle of scooping out some Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream into a bowl when his roommate and best friend comes through their apartment door, slamming it as he goes.

“Hey,” he greets him. Checking the time on the microwave, he frowns when he sees that it’s only 8:15. “I thought you had a date with that guy you met at the coffee shop last week,” he questions, turning around to face TK, he finds him scowling. “Oh-oh, what happened?”

TK exhales loudly as he takes off his jacket in a jerking motion that confirms his annoyance. “Well, let’s see,” he starts as he looks at him, placing his hands on his hips. “We can start with him trying to flirt with the waiter after he ordered for me without even asking what I wanted,” he tells him, nodding in agreement when Carlos cringes. He hates when guys do that Alpha male bullshit too.

“Or,” TK continues with an angry fake smile. “We can move on to the conversation portion of the evening that included the words, MAGA, and build the wall.”

“Oof,” Carlos winces one more time. “That’s gross.”

“Exactly!” TK growls, right before deflating.

Carlos watches as TK walks over to the couch, dropping down on it with a defeated groan as he covers his face with his arms. He looks down at his bowl of ice cream for a moment, grabbing an extra spoon before making his way over to the couch and his friend. He sits down next to TK silently, pressing his knee against his in support.

TK drops his arms from his face, and Carlos hates how defeated he looks when he turns to him.

“He seemed so nice at the coffee shop,” TK says with a shake of his head. “Charming and funny. Instead, from the moment he picked me up, it was all a nightmare. How do I keep getting this so wrong?”

“You’re not getting anything wrong,” Carlos argues, instantly getting a snort of disbelief in return.

“No?” TK chuckles humorlessly; he holds up his hand to count off on his fingers. “My last date spent the night telling me how hot my dad is. The guy before that thought that buying me a steak dinner intitled him to a blow job, and the guy before that turned out to have a girlfriend and was just using me as his gay experiment.”

TK looks over at him; his green eyes etched with pain and defeat. “The common denominator in all those dates is me. So, obviously, I’m the problem.”

“The only common denominator is that every one of those guys are assholes,” Carlos argues strongly, upset that he even has to explain this.

TK has been his friend since they were both rookies, him with the police department, and TK with the fire department. They met on a call, instantly hitting it off while dealing with a massive car pile-up. The attraction between them had been electric, and that very night, after running into each other at the local bar, they had ended up making out in Carlos’ car with their hands down each other’s pants. It could have been the beginning of something, but TK was coming off a bad breakup, and instead of needing a rebound or a boyfriend, he needed a friend, and that’s what Carlos had become.

Three years later, Carlos doesn’t regret it; he loves his friendship with TK, especially now that they’re roommates. He loves coming home knowing there is someone he cares about waiting after a long hard day, even if it’s just platonic.

Really.

Okay, so maybe he dies a little on the inside when TK goes on these failed dates, and perhaps he has to bite down on his tongue until he tastes blood to keep from asking for another shot when he finds himself sitting on the couch with his friend like right now, listening about how bad TK’s date turned out.

He’s never said anything before, and he doesn’t say anything now; instead, he pushes the melting ice cream towards TK, his insides fluttering when TK gives him a soft smile in return.

“Thanks,” TK says quietly as he takes a spoonful of the sugary goodness. Carlos feels his stomach clench when he lets out a soft happy moan around the spoon in his mouth. “So good.”

“Yeah,” Carlos gets out, his mouth going dry as TK licks the ice cream off the utensil.

They eat their ice cream in comfortable silence, leaning further and further into each other’s space. They battle it out over the last bite, laughing like idiots as they duel with their spoons.

“Ha, victory!” TK shouts, grinning happily as he eats the last bit of ice cream.

“I let you win,” he grumbles, unable to stop his own smile when it makes TK laugh again.

It trails off into a soft chuckle, TK leans his head back on the couch, looking over at him with gentle green eyes. “You always make me feel better,” he tells him, his voice low and soft. “Thank you, Carlos.”

Carlos nods, licking his lips nervously, feeling awkward from the way TK’s obvious affection for him makes him yearn for more.

“You’re welcome,” he says just as quiet, he takes a steadying breath before he continues. “Listen, Ty, forget about the idiot tonight, and the idiots that came before him.”

“I know,” TK sighs out sadly. “I just – “

“No, listen,” Carlos interrupts him, he sits up straight and places the empty bowl on the coffee table before taking TK’s hands in his. “Listen to me, okay? You, TK Strand, are amazing.”

TK scoffs at him, but Carlos can see the beginnings of a blush on his face.

“You are,” he insists, squeezing TK’s hand. “You’re brave, and kind, TK. You care so much about everyone and everything around you. You want to save the world, and you love so fiercely. You are so good, Ty. You’ve just had a bad string of luck, but you’re going to find someone that loves you as you deserve, I promise,” he tells him, swallowing hard, trying not to show how much it hurts to think of TK with someone else for real, loving them the only way TK knows how. With everything he has.

“Carlos – “ TK whispers with a slow exhale, his eyes wide as he stares at him in awe. Their faces are so close, Carlos can feel the small puffs of air across his skin.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart,” he tells him again. “You have to know that.”

He tracks TK as he moves closer, and yet he still gasps when he presses his mouth against his. They stay frozen for a moment, lips touching as neither of them dares to even breathe. Finally, TK, braver than he’ll ever be, moves, he runs the tip of his tongue over Carlos’ bottom lip, pulling another shocked gasp out from deep in his chest. TK makes a sound of his own; it’s needy as he presses his mouth against his, harder and more insistent.

Carlos reacts on instinct; he’s been dreaming for years of kissing TK again. He opens his mouth, his stomach clenching as TK makes a pleased sound, almost a purr, as he slips his tongue into Carlos’ mouth, flicking it against his.

TK shifts closer, getting up halfway from the couch only to drop back down, his knees on either side of Carlos as he straddles him before sitting on his lap. Carlos moans, his hands grabbing at TK’s hips blindly before pushing his hips up, thrusting is rapidly growing hard-on against TK’s.

“Fuck, Carlos,” TK gasps, breaking the kiss, his hands now clenching his curls, gripping them hard, and Carlos finds himself tilting his head back when TK pulls on them. He lets out a broken groan at how good it feels as he helplessly rubs against TK, the desire to come in his pants strong.

“You feel so good, baby,” TK whispers hotly against his mouth. He pulls Carlos’ bottom lip between his teeth and sucks on it in a way that makes Carlos see stars. It throbs pleasantly when he lets go. “Why the hell have I been wasting my time on bad dates?” he asks teasingly before kissing him softly.

Carlos freezes at TK’s words, it feels like a bucket of ice-cold water has been thrown on him. TK must feel him go tense all over because he stops instantly. Pulling back, he gives him a concerned look as he hovers over him.

“Carlos?” he questions worried. “Are you okay?”

Carlos shakes his head quickly, with his hands on TK’s hips; he softly pushes him back until TK is no longer in his lap. He stands, feeling his hand shake as he brings it up to his mouth, wiping away at the wonderful taste that is TK Strand.

“You don’t want this,” he starts, closing his eyes at the sting he feels behind them as he says the words out loud. “You’re upset about your bad date,” he continues, forcing himself to look at TK, his heart breaking at having what he wants so close and yet so far away. “I’m not going to take advantage of that no matter how much I want you.”

He looks down at his feet, willing the tears back.

“How much I always want you,” he whispers mostly to himself, he feels his face go red with embarrassment and sadness as TK takes in a sharp breath.

“Carlos – “ he starts softly, his green eyes looking at him with distress. “I –“

“You don’t have to say anything,” he stops him, mustering up a fake smile. “This was just a fluke. You needed something to make you feel better after tonight. Luckily we didn’t do something that you would regret in the morning,” he continues. He takes a step back when TK opens his mouth again, a severe frown on his face. “Let’s just forget about it and call it a night.”

“Carlos – “ TK tries again, his frown growing when he tries to take a step towards him, and Carlos’ takes a step back.

“Good night, TK,” he tells him before turning around. He doesn’t turn back as he heads for his room, he can’t bear to look at TK right now with his mouth swollen and tingling from their kisses. If he does, there is a good chance that he’ll get on his knees and beg his friend to love him the way he loves him.

֍֍֍

Carlos can’t sleep, he’s tossed and turned all night, reliving what happened in the living room hours ago.

He hears TK moving around the apartment while he hides in his room, he’s relieved and disappointed when he doesn’t knock on his door.

Flashes of their moment play behind his eyelids. TK’s mouth, the feel, and taste of it, his body pressed against Carlos, molding to him like he was the matching piece to make Carlos complete. He sighs in frustration as he gets out of bed; there is no point in trying to sleep; it’s not going to happen tonight.

He changes into running clothes and grabs his shoes from his closet before making his way out of his room quietly. Only to stop short when he reaches the living room and finds TK sitting there with the TV on mute, and only a side table lamp on, leaving the room in shadows.

TK looks over at him when he hears him, his expression miserable, and it makes Carlos’ heart squeeze painfully, hating that he’s responsible for that look on his face.

“You only go for midnight runs when you’re upset,” TK says quietly, taking in the running shoes in his hands.

“I can’t sleep,” he answers awkwardly.

TK nods, sadly. “Because I hurt you,” he sniffs, and if Carlos’ heart hurt before, now it feels like it’s breaking.

“No, Ty – “ Carlos starts, only to stop when TK shoots off the couch.

“Wait, let me speak first,” TK asks, pleading. “Please, afterwards, whatever you want to say, or whatever you want me to do, whether that’s moving out or not, I’ll do it.”

“Move out?” Carlos questions, his voice cracking, and heart racing at the suggestion. “I don’t want you to move out, TK.”

“Let me speak, and then we’ll see if you still think that,” TK gives him a humorless smile. “Please sit.”

Carlos does as TK asks, his heart still beating funny, his palms sweating with nervousness, he doesn’t know what TK wants to say, all he knows is that he can’t let him move out over this. Whatever happens, he can’t bear the thought of losing TK completely.

“Okay, first,” TK starts as he paces back and forth in front of him, his eyes wild when he stops to look at him. “I need you to believe me when I say that what happened earlier had nothing to do with my lousy date. That jerk was the farthest thing from my mind when I kissed you.”

“TK – “ Carlos says gently, only to jerk back when TK answers with a firm ‘No.’

“No,” he repeats. “If you believe nothing else, I need you to believe that. When I kissed you, the only thing going through my head was you, and how badly I wanted to kiss you,” TK looks at him, even in the half-lit room, he can see his green eyes, bright and earnest.

“And then when we kissed Carlos,” TK pauses, letting out a sigh almost to himself. “All I could think was, finally. I have waited so long to kiss you again.”

Carlos feels his breath catch in his throat at TK’s confession, his pulse racing as the first trickles of hope flicker in his belly. “What do you mean finally?” he asks, unable to keep that hope out of his voice.

TK comes over to sit down next to him, and Carlos turns to face him, his hands itching to reach out and touch him when he looks at him nervously.

“Went we met years ago, we started out so freaking hot,” TK reminds him, and he finds himself blushing from the memory and the small smirk on TK’s lips.

“But I was a mess from my shitty breakup, and you were just so nice and understanding that I couldn’t make you my rebound. It wouldn’t have been fair to you. So instead you became my friend, my best friend, Carlos,” TK stresses strongly. “You helped me get over it, giving me a shoulder to cry on, being supportive every step of the way.”

“I just wanted you to be okay,” he whispers, getting a beautiful smile back from TK.

“With your friendship, I was better than okay,” TK says softly, he hesitantly reaches out for his hand, letting out a breath when Carlos takes it. “I was finally happy again,” he smiles.

Carlos smiles back, a little shaky at his words.

“But by the time that happened, and I realized I was ready for more,” TK pauses, licking his lips. “When I realized I wanted more. We were already such good friends; it felt like I had missed my shot to turn us into something else.”

TK exhales softly; he looks down at their hands and gives his a squeeze.

“So,” he says slowly, dragging out the word. “All of this is to say that we can do whatever you want, you’re in charge, Carlos,” TK looks back up at him, and Carlos is blown away by all the emotions he finds swirling in his green eyes. “If you want to forget this whole night, I’ll never speak of it again. If you need space and need me to leave, I’ll do that too, whatever you want. But please, please, don’t think for one second that I was using you to forget someone else, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Carlos looks at TK, takes in his nervous expression, and the way he bites down on his bottom lip as he watches him.

Waiting for his answer, whatever it might be, he knows TK will do whatever it takes to make sure he’s okay, even if it breaks his own heart, and Carlos wonders how he was blessed to love someone so kind.

“I’m in love with you,” he says, and for once, Carlos’ heart isn’t racing. It’s steady with the sureness of his feelings. “I have loved you for years, TK, so the last thing I want from you is space.”

“Carlos, I – “ TK starts, his voice trembling, but the watery smile on his face is bright, and probably the most beautiful thing Carlos has ever seen. “I love you too.”

“I figured,” he answers teasingly, the laugh TK lets out is like magic.

“So,” he continues as he reaches up to cup TK’s face, his stomach fluttering when TK turns his head to kiss the inside of his palm. “You asked me what I want. Well, what I want is for you to kiss me like earlier and never stop,” he says with a grin, feeling the flutter turn into a clench as TK licks his lips, his eyes darkening with want. “Think you can do that?”

TK takes his hand off his face before pushing him back into the couch as he stands. Carlos holds his breath when TK straddles him again, pressing his body against his until there isn’t an inch of space between them. His body reacting instantly to the feel of TK already half-hard against him.

“Yeah, baby,” TK says as he closes the gap between them, his lips brushing over his as he speaks. “I can absolutely do that.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #30 days of tarlos #my writing #tk x carlos #ask #theatrevicki

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boykisserbuckley · 3 years

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Ok how about Buck + Concussion? Love any Buck whump I can get. Thanks!!

months later, i’m finally back at it with the bingo :)) here’s your fic!!

#thank u for being patient w me #asks #theatrevicki

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ipwarn · 4 years

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theatrevicki replied to your post “I mean even if they aren’t premiering the movie at the DC Fandome...”

It’s weird he hasn’t posted anything recently with the movie coming out and Fandome happening this weekend

Right? He’s playing Superman for goodness’ sake - well voicing him at least. You’d think that would warrant a single post. And up until today he was going to be speaking at the biggest online DC event etc. etc.

#theatrevicki #he better be so busy filming an action packed movie about a masked superhero #shot in New Zealand #that he can't even consider logging onto the internet

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bisexualbuck · 4 years

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I’ve read the first chapter of Leave My Body three times already!! I am in love with this fic!

THREE TIMES?????

what!! but?? i??? wait what??

#i am speechless #thank you so much oh my god #i posted it yesterday what the fuck #lmb comment #answered #theatrevicki

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terramous · 2 years

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we've never slept six feet apart

ABCs of whump: G is for Gunshot Wound title: happy. - black picket fence word count: 8.7k shout out to my beloveds @marjansmarwani @morganaspendragonss and @trkstrnd who looked over this and gave me validation while it was rotting in my google drive <3 !!MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!! AO3

Tommy didn't call it.

If it were anyone else, she would've before they even left the scene. Yet here they were, in the back of the ambulance, sirens blaring, Tommy pumping his fiancé’s chest as he sat numbly on the bench.

He was the one to break the silence.

"You can stop."

His voice sounded completely foreign to him, hollowed out and quiet even to his own ears. He supposed it made sense, he didn’t feel a whole lot like himself right now, emotion giving way to a chasm in his chest. He had no idea where the strength to speak came from, it was like the bones had been stripped from his body.

"I'm not doing that, TK."

It took him a few moments to be able to gather himself enough to speak again, his voice cool and even. It cut through the air like a bullet. "It's been twenty-five minutes. You know as well as I do that he's dead."

"I'm not stopping," Tommy insisted. "The hospital is only a few minutes away."

"Please," TK begged. "Leave him be."

There was blood soaked into Tommy's uniform, red spread all over the floor of the ambulance. TK's arms were caked in it. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to scrub it from his pores.

There was a sense of calm as Tommy stopped her frantic attempts.

"Nancy, no sirens," Tommy said, her voice soft and wrought with the same emotion that was currently eating TK from the inside out.

It was peaceful, or at least as much peace as TK could gather from the cessation of the sirens. Tommy clicked off the lifepak, detaching the bag from the end of the tube down Carlos' throat. There was a stillness in the air that TK knew came with grief. He wasn’t the only one grieving Carlos, he was a friend to Tommy and Nancy too.

A gunshot wound.

To the chest, a cruel mimicry of TK's own scar, of the wound he survived. Carlos' one was further down, more central–he'd bled out in minutes.

No amount of saline or CPR was going to rectify this.

Heroic measures up until the hospital doors. TK echoed Nancy's words in his head, what she had said the night Tim died, it felt like a lifetime ago. But nothing about this had been heroic, they weren't lifesaving measures, they were torture. A torture to have TK watch efforts he knew were futile, to hear Carlos' ribs crack as Tommy tried desperately to restart his heart.

There was nothing she could've done.

No one had said a word after loading the gurney into the ambulance. Tommy worked in silence and TK had just watched her. He had known Carlos was dead–that he wasn't coming back from this.

The hollowed out feeling in his chest just grew as he had watched Tommy try to resuscitate the love of his life. Carlos was his entire world; his sunlight; the centre of his entire universe, and she knew that, so it was no surprise that he had to be the one to tell her to stop.

Carlos was almost unrecognisable.

He was covered in blood, a relatively small perforation in his chest at the epicentre. His uniform had been cut away from his torso, his chest exposed and hooked up to the lifepak leads, defibrillator pads secured on his right shoulder and left side. They'd never been used, he'd never entered a shockable rhythm.

It was quick. Carlos had been dead well before they even got a backboard to him.

A gunshot. A crackle over the radio–gunman apprehended, officer down, requesting medical assistance.

A part of TK knew that Carlos wasn’t coming home the second he heard those words. He didn’t panic, didn’t sprint to the building.

He was staring down at Carlos’ partner–Elise Riviera–as she desperately tried to staunch the flow of blood from between her fingers. Freshly out of her training period, she had only been working with Carlos for a few months.

She was a damn good cop, and had a heart of gold much like Carlos’ own, but she was nervous on her best days. She had been frantic.

TK had only been at Carlos’ side for a minute or two, watching him gasp as he tried to breathe around a collapsed lung, before he watched Carlos go lax, his eyes still open, but the panic in his dark irises had subsided, emptiness in its place.

Despite knowing somewhere deep down that this was the end, TK had been the one to start compressions. He’d stayed there kneeling on the ground until he was sure his knees would bruise as he pumped Carlos’ chest on his behalf.

Nancy and Tommy had worked around him, silent except for orders being given out.

Somewhere between putting his fiancé’s dead body on a backboard and loading him into the ambulance, it had really hit TK. His steps faltered and the crushing weight of nothingness swept over him–he was numb.

It was a nostalgic feeling, one he had felt back when he first came to Austin, a haze of grey that only those deep brown eyes had managed to cut through.

And yet, it was worse now.

He couldn’t see Carlos, not really, his face was mostly obscured by the endotracheal tube and strap securing it in place. His eyes were closed now, someone doing TK the courtesy of closing them, so he didn’t have to see that emptiness staring back at him.

Just this morning they had shared breakfast, and more than a few light kisses, never straying from the other for too long. Until they parted ways for their shifts.

He had no idea that was going to be the last time he saw Carlos alive. He’d seen Carlos before his heart had stopped but as Carlos choked on his own blood, he had been dying, he wasn’t alive.

He was alive when his hands had been on TK’s face, holding him close as they kissed. It was always magic to kiss Carlos Reyes, and now TK would never have that opportunity again.

Carefully, he took Carlos’ hand in his own, bringing it close to his face. He breathed in the scent of Carlos, still lingering on his skin, before pressing a soft kiss to his knuckle.

No one spoke, no one knew what to say. All three members of this team had lost someone close to them recently, they all greeted grief like an old friend. But this wasn’t sitting down for tea, this was Carlos, dead on a gurney in the back of their ambulance.

The feeling was familiar, the circumstances anything but.

Tommy best knew what he was feeling right now, after all, she had lost her husband so recently. But dimly, TK realised that she had a lot more time with him. They’d built a life together and had two beautiful daughters. TK and Carlos’ story was just beginning, and as quickly as it had started it had been cut short.

Sure, three years wasn’t a short time, but in the grand scheme of things they were supposed to have the rest of their lives together. That’s what the ring on his finger meant–the ring that was suddenly too heavy to lift, as if it weighed more than the Earth itself.

There was nothing that anyone could say that would make this any better, so no one spoke.

TK watched numbly as the gurney was unloaded from the ambulance, too used to springing into action, relaying information to the doctors, keeping pace with the rolling wheels.

He stayed seated this time.

“Be careful with him,” Tommy said softly, and finally for what felt like the first time in years, she took off her blood-covered gloves. They didn’t look blue anymore, just dark and marred with Carlos’ blood. “He’s one of our own.”

The faces of the ER staff were a blur, but they nodded solemnly.

TK didn’t know what to do with himself, but Tommy took his wrist in her grip and gave it a gentle tug. “Come on, let's go inside.”

He watched as Carlos disappeared between the double doors of the ambulance bay. He was gone–both literally and metaphorically.

Tommy guided him around to the entrance to the waiting room, not following Carlos. He’d walked through the hallways of that same hospital a million times, but he’d never gone to the morgue. He wouldn’t today; he didn’t have the strength.

So he just let Tommy take him wherever she wanted. He was a balloon caught in the wind, he had nothing left to anchor him, Carlos was gone and the string tying him to the ground was severed. He felt like he was floating, but he weighed a tonne.

Tommy sat him in the corner, next to the vending machine. It was a smaller row of chairs, two, then a tall houseplant, and the entrance to a supply closet. It was the most privacy he would be afforded in such a public place.

He was covered in blood that wasn’t his own in the waiting room with a hollow look in his eyes. Everyone knew why he was there.

The waiting was a courtesy. He wouldn’t be given updates, or information, they would hand him a bag of Carlos’ clothes, his keys, his phone, and his ring, and ask him if he wanted to see his fiancé’s body.

But that was a while away yet.

For now, Nancy silently sat beside him, placing her hand, palm up, on the armrest that sat between them. It was a silent offering.

“I’m going to radio dispatch–call in a relief team,” Tommy said. “You two sit tight, okay?”

TK said nothing. But apparently Nancy gave their captain the confirmation she needed because she offered TK a smile that didn’t meet her eyes, and gave him a soft pat on his knee.

It hung unsaid in the air, that she was going to have to be the one to relay the news.

Fire hadn’t even been at the scene. Medical was on standby in case things went South, which they did, because TK couldn’t have any peace in his life. He had his love for Carlos, their relationship bringing so much light into his life–and it had been so cruelly robbed of him today.

So no one knew, except the three of them.

A relief team would pick up their rig, take it back to the station. His father would come, someone would call the Reyes’. TK couldn’t help thinking that it should be him.

He and Carlos had been set to be married, he should be the one to tell his once future in-laws that their son was dead. After all, he had watched it happen.

But someone else would do it on his behalf.

He hadn’t even shed a single tear, but it was only a matter of time before the dam broke and everything came crashing down on him. It just didn’t feel real yet. It couldn’t be. He had seen Carlos this morning, had touched him, had felt the warmth of his skin against his own. Carlos was so alive, in every sense of the word, he couldn’t be dead.

He was in a room full of people but he was so alone.

Grief was an isolating feeling.

He would not be the only one grieving Carlos, but it felt like he was the only person on earth who knew him. That wasn’t the truth, of course, Carlos touched the lives of so many people, everyone he had ever met, and he would be so dearly missed. By none more than TK.

In that sense, he was selfish. To consider his grief more than that Carlos’ parents and family would have when they found out. They had known Carlos for his entire life, TK had known him for three years.

Those three years had been the most vital and important of TK’s life. He’d rebuilt his life and his sense of self in Austin, shaping everything around being alive and no longer just living for something to do until he kicked the bucket–whether at work or his own hands. He’d never even entertained the idea of growing old, having grey hair and wrinkles, until he met Carlos and realised that he wanted every moment with this man, as many years as his body would give him. He had only hoped it would forgive him for twenty-six years of abuse from a kid who didn’t fear death.

And now he was alone. Alive. But alone.

He had cheated death so many times, but it seemed that every time death couldn’t have him, it took someone he loved.

Carlos was the casualty this time. Collateral damage, just like he had described them after finding out that their fathers had planned and schemed behind their backs to catch an arsonist. A million lifetimes ago.

His radio crackled against his collarbone.

“This is Paramedic Captain Vega of Station 126, requesting for a relief team.”

Tommy stared, forlorn at her phone.

She had to make this call, there was no way around it. But there was nothing she wanted to do more than to just pocket her phone and go back to TK’s side, to console him.

Sighing, she clicked on the contact she was looking for. They needed to know.

TK was grieving the love of his life just inside, and someone had to tell everyone else. It couldn’t be him, she couldn’t place that burden on him now.

There was no option other than to bite the bullet and tap on the call icon, pressing her phone to her ear.

“Captain Vega, what can I do for you?”

She heaved a sigh, there was no easy way to do this. “Hey, Owen.”

The other captain wasn’t stupid, he caught onto her tone immediately. “What’s happened?”

“I think you need to meet us at Mercy General.”

“What? Is everything okay? Is TK okay?”

“TK is-” she had to cut herself off, TK wasn’t okay, far from it “-he’s unharmed.”

“Then what is it?”

She just had to get it out, as simply as possible, there was no use dangling the sword above Owen’s head for any longer than necessary. She needed to cut the rope, watch it fall. “Carlos is dead.”

“What?”

There was a tangible shock to his voice. It was understandable. Due to their line of work they prepared for the worst, somewhere in the back of their minds they knew that every call they went on, maybe not everyone came home, Owen Strand knew that better than anyone. It didn’t help to soften the blow.

APD had so many rules, hell, they even had bulletproof vests. None of the guidelines had been able to protect Carlos when he needed it.

“We were called to a scene, on standby just in case. I can’t even remember what the situation was, just that they didn’t know their perpetrator had a gun. Carlos was shot.” She took a steeling breath. “There was nothing we could do.”

“TK?”

It was a simple one-word, a two syllable question, but so much was left unasked. It was yet another question Tommy dreaded answering. “We treated him. TK is inside right now, Nancy is with him.”

“Alright.” Owen’s own voice sounded hollow, words echoed in a state of shock. This was not a conversation to have over the phone but no one had a choice. “I- I’ll tell the team. I’ll be there soon, just take care of my boys, okay?”

“Of course. I’ll see you when you get here. Take care, Owen.”

“You too, Captain.”

Tommy didn’t envy the other Captain in the slightest. Her hands were already shaking, tears already threatening to spill after a single phone call. She couldn’t fathom having to look their team in the face and tell them that someone they cared about so deeply–like their own family–was dead.

Tim’s death had hit the station like a brick wall coming toppling down on them, and sans Nancy they had barely known him. There was a sense of fear, for what this meant for everyone. What it meant for TK. TK, who had lost his mother so recently and now the man who had helped him manage his grief and strong-arm his way back into life, was gone too.

Death was cruel.

The best anyone could do now was to hope TK let them in, let them help him. Tommy didn’t like her chances, she bore witness to the shutdown, the shutters coming down on all the liveliness she had come to associate with her newest paramedic. He was like a ghost now, haunting his body.

Something in Tommy had died with Charles, now the last person she ever wanted to, felt the same grief.

So she allowed herself a few more minutes as she sank to the ground, back pressed to the pillar of the entrance to the emergency department. She could only afford a few tears and to wipe them as soon as they fell, she once again needed to be strong for her team, but she needed to let herself feel this.

A relief team from the 129 was sent. They picked up the rig, offered their condolences and left.

Tommy returned not long after radioing for the relief team. Undoubtedly she had called his father, to inform him of the day’s events, that his future son-in-law was dead, and his son was in the waiting room, covered in his blood. As soon as she hung up the call, the weight was placed on Owen’s shoulders to inform the 126, no one’s shoulders grew lighter, the weight shifting hands but never leaving, only spreading.

No matter how many hands gripped the weight settling over him, nothing would lift it.

The best anyone could do now, was to cope. And for Tommy that meant taking care of her team. They were her kids, as she had jokingly reminded them on many occasions. The first time they had all rode in the ambulance together, they had become family, and it had since extended from a work relationship, beyond and into their personal lives.

She would always take care of them, especially on shift, she was their captain after all. So TK couldn’t say he was surprised when she offered to help him get cleaned up.

They went to the bathroom together, a small single stall next to the reception desk.

Tommy took off his gloves, quickly moving to place the blood-covered nylon in the rubbish bin. It was a stark change, to see his hands, palms and fingers, completely clean. There was a ring around each wrist, where the blood stopped, dried and unmoving, where it had sat against the edge of where glove met skin.

He was still, staring at his bare hands, as Tommy pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and ran it under the tap, before carefully wiping at the blood on TK’s arms.

She paid no mind to the blood on her skin as she worked, clearing the mess from TK’s own. A few wipes, she would wring out the handkerchief in the sink, the water running a muddy and faded red before disappearing down the drain.

As she did the best she could of cleaning his arms, she moved to his neck and face. He hadn’t even known there was blood there, but she was quiet and gentle as she tended to him.

It was as she was wiping his cheek that he looked at her, really looked at her, since Carlos’ partner had radioed for medical assistance.

For a flash, she is Carlos and they are in the APD precinct. Deep brown eyes and a careful touch. Just as quickly, they are in a hospital bathroom covered in Carlos’ blood.

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he’s said since the ambulance. His voice is rough and watery with the tears he was forcing himself to swallow.

Confusion crossed Tommy’s expression, her ministrations halting. “For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” she said firmly, “not at a time like this.”

There were so many things he needed to say, but he couldn’t find the words. If he thought he was barely functioning before, nothing could have prepared him for the laborious task that was every breath without Carlos.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to keep living.

It was possible, he knew that much. He had watched so many of the people he loved lose people and keep living, but he didn’t understand how he was meant to. Carlos had been his rock, his biggest comfort when his mom passed, that wound was open, still bleeding, and he needed Carlos now. He needed Carlos if he was going to get through this but that was the one thing he absolutely couldn’t have.

He knew that his friends and family would take care of him through this, they had been by his side through less world-shattering events. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that they should just leave him alone, let him destroy his life because nothing he could do would ever hold a candle to the pain inflicted on him today.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. The scar over his collarbone ached, not for physical pain but mentally, as what it stood for. Had Carlos survived too, his scar would not be dissimilar, but TK would never get to see it. That wound would never close, Carlos would never heal.

Death had already robbed him of so much, did it really have to take Carlos too?

Owen had delivered news like this more times than he had ever thought himself capable. Patients in the field, his fellow firefighters, calling his ex-wife to inform her of TK’s overdoses, him getting shot, his hypothermia, Tim’s death. He had tried to just stay calm, stay focused, and relay the information. But it never got easier.

His hand was shaking as he set his phone down on his desk. This was the last thing he ever wanted to hear. In his life, he had heard so many doctors tell him his son might not make it, to prepare for the worst, say goodbye. There was a sense of finality now though, the man he had come to think of as a son, someone who had shown TK so much love and care, was dead.

There was no way around those words, unshakable and permanent.

He needed to tell the team, but he didn’t think his legs could hold him. Carlos was dead. Those three words, a branding iron to his heart and his head.

TK was grappling with losing the most important person in his life so soon after losing the other. Owen wasn’t an idiot, he knew both Gwyn and Carlos outranked him. He had never been a perfect father but those two were the kindest people he had ever met, and they loved TK just as fiercely as he did.

And TK had lost both of them, so permanently and so close together.

It stayed unspoken between Tommy and himself, but he knew, deep down, that TK had watched Carlos die.

Catching the eye of his team through his glass wall, he noticed their tense postures, quizzical expressions. They had noticed. Of course they did. It was only a matter of time before they made their hike up to his office and he had to utter those words.

Carlos is dead. He rolled the words around in his mouth, but no matter what, they didn’t feel right, they weren’t meant to fit together like that. It left a bitter taste on his tongue, one he wasn’t sure that mouthwash could ever clear.

He afforded himself a deep breath, hoping to harden his resolve. He didn’t need to start crying now, but something inside of him just felt so raw knowing that they had lost Carlos. Death had never been fair, Owen had witnessed too much of it to ever consider it anything but ruthless, but this was a new level of cruelty.

Looking over to Tommy’s unoccupied office, he felt a pang in his chest. This wasn’t like Gwyn, who died at the other end of the country, TK had been there with Carlos as he died. So had his team.

He remembered Tommy apologising to him, while TK was in his second coma, blaming herself. He had managed to reassure her then, that no matter what happened it wasn’t her fault, but this time that comfort wasn’t his to give her. She would blame herself, even if there was nothing she could’ve done.

TK would forgive her, Owen was certain of that much, but he’d never forgive himself. There were very few things on this Earth that Owen Strand could confidently say terrified him, the effect that Carlos’ death would have on TK was currently at the top of his list. TK had tried to throw his life away over so much less.

Someone had to call the Reyes, or maybe just APD and they’d relay the message.

God, everyone had lost so much today.

Owen had sat on the precipice of losing his son more times that he cared to count, but despite everything, TK had always come back to him. He’d always hated the idea of burying his own son, but that was just a thought, a worst-case scenario. It was reality for Andrea and Gabriel Reyes. They were going to have to live his worst nightmare.

So he shouldered his own weight, and left his office, closing the door quietly behind himself as he moved to the stairs.

He wanted to fend it off for as long as he could, to avoid repeating the words he’d heard over the phone, but his team needed to know, and he had to be the one to deliver the news.

Never had two feet on the ground floor felt like a death sentence before.

“126, can I have you all in the sitting area, please?” he called out in his most normal voice, his captain skin that he wore as a façade to cover turmoil beneath the surface. He needed to hold himself together, he couldn’t afford to feel any of this.

Not when everyone needed him to be their pillar. Even as he was about to bring the roof crashing down on their heads.

Sometimes hell is you, a group of people you trust with your life, couches and words weighing heavily on your tongue.

“There is no easy way to say this. I fully understand if any of you would like to go home after you leave this room.”

He wasn’t imagining it when he saw everyone tense, eyes trained more intently on him now. He knew that Paul knew, much clearer than the others, what the next words out of his mouth would be.

He didn’t even know how to say this, how to word it for a group of people. It wasn’t something typically reserved for an announcement, just soft words in private corners.

“I have just been informed that APD Patrol Officer Carlos Reyes was killed in the line of duty.”

Gasps ricocheted throughout the space, everyone’s eyes growing wide. Marjan’s hand came up to cover her mouth, tears already gathering in her eyes. Judd’s grip on the cloth in his hand tightening tenfold, his knuckles going white. No one spoke, but a thousand words hung unsaid.

Grief was no stranger, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Owen hung back like a shadow as TK unlocked the door to the loft.

TK didn’t look at him, too busy trying to figure out where he was meant to step. It felt like a tomb.

It looked the same as it did when he had left it that morning, but instead of dawn sunlight pouring through the windows, the space was illuminated only by the moonlight outside, casting a cool tone over everything. Usually it was a space filled with warmth, courtesy of Carlos who seemed to radiate love and warmth as naturally as the sun gave out light.

The air carried a different weight now, settling heavily in TK’s lungs with every breath.

It was a picture perfect display of how Carlos lived. Furniture laid out tidily, well-thought out and planned, but still filled with TK’s own belongings, still scattered everywhere. If he dared open the fridge he would see Carlos’ meticulous layout, a careful plan that he swore up and down improved the cooking experience. He’d only bought groceries last night–the fridge would be fully stocked.

TK couldn’t cook like Carlos, he wouldn’t be able to use up all those ingredients, one of Carlos’ final efforts was already going to waste. The iron grip around his heart tightened once more.

“Just get some clothes, okay?” Owen said. TK knew he was just trying to seem comforting, reassuring TK that it was okay that he was struggling right now, but it felt condescending. He needed time, he couldn’t just pluck the strength to walk into their shared bedroom out of thin air. He already felt like he was going to pass out standing just beyond the threshold.

But he would never put that to words, not to his father.

If, for even a second, he indicated that he could not handle this, Owen would reach out a hand and whisk him back into the corridor. They would ride back to his father’s house in silence, whether or not he gathered any clothes.

He would not be allowed to stay at the loft, at least not alone. It was a safeguard, to keep him from doing anything stupid, and he didn’t have the energy to care about it. At some point he had gotten used to his father tiptoeing around him, pulling away everything that could possibly hurt him–even if it were his own two hands. He didn’t mind, he wouldn’t have been able to spend the night here if he wanted to.

The air was too heavy, space too barren without Carlos. He felt like he was suffocating just trailing his eyes over every sign that Carlos had been here.

Every step he took deeper into the loft was harder than the last.

The dining table was the first anchor he found, something to lean against in hopes of holding himself upright. Palms pressed to the cool lacquered wood surface.

It is not his best moment when he strikes a hand across the table, throwing a decorative wooden fruit bowl against the wall. The impact was loud, he could almost hear the wood splinter, the clatter against the floor piercing through him, shattering through the air.

His strength leaves him then. His knees met the rug under the table, his arms hanging limp at his sides as he allowed himself, for the first time, to cry. It was not his choice, he had tried to hold himself together for so long.

Through the ambulance ride, the agonisingly long time in the hospital waiting room, even as he looked in the devastated expressions of his friends, family, and Andrea and Gabriel Reyes, he hadn’t let himself cry. He knew that if he did he would never stop.

At some point, the dam was bound to crack, the water pressure becoming too much for his concrete resolve, and he shattered.

His sobs were loud, the only noise in the entire space, so open that it reflected his misery back at him tenfold.

He couldn’t breathe, erratic hands coming up to grasp uselessly at his throat and chest as he heaved out more wails than breaths.

The neighbours would probably think he was being attacked, or some wild animal was stuck and hurt, screaming for release. But it was just him, on his knees in his own home, unable to reign in the pure agony that filled his being. He didn’t think it would ever stop.

His father crossed the loft, coming to his side. He took his son into his arms and held him fiercely as he choked and cried.

There was nothing that he could say that would make this any more bearable, so he said nothing, just offering TK a physical presence, an anchor, a reminder that he wasn’t completely alone in this.

All they could do was ride it out, let the grief come pouring out of TK until the exhaustion finally won.

He figured he would never stop crying.

At the end of the day, he left the loft, head hung, his father’s arm wrapped around his shoulder. He didn’t grab any clothes.

Due to no involvement of his own, TK ended up staying with his dad.

He expected it, no one would let him be alone right now, but even then, his shoulders were heavy with guilt. He saw the way his father looked at him.

He’d taken up residence on the couch–not being able to handle the idea of sleeping in any bed without Carlos on the other side. The first night he had settled into the guest room, but when he reached out to the other side of the mattress, expecting for his hand to meet the warmth of Carlos laying next to him.

But there was nothing except cold sheets.

So he made his tearful trek downstairs, comforter wrapped around his shoulders, and he lay on the couch in the dark until the universe took pity on him and exhaustion finally seized him.

He hadn’t bothered trying to sleep in the guest room since, and neither Owen nor Mateo seemed to be inconvenienced by him. Which was likely because they were worried and not much else.

It reminded him of a different life in which he had spent a lot of time on the couch, recovering from his gunshot wound with his doting father forcing a menagerie of all things green and healthy onto him. And he’d spent the entire time sending texts back and forth with Carlos, trying his best to ease his worry.

Mateo had taken to spending his time off on the couch with TK and a bowl–or three–of popcorn. TK had sat through far too many superhero movies to count over the past week, he couldn’t recall any of the plot, or the character names, but he appreciated the company. And Mateo seemed happy to sit with him.

Even though he barely spoke and would randomly start crying.

At one point he had fallen asleep, his head in Mateo’s lap and a hand playing with his hair. It was comforting to not be alone, but also not being treated like he was falling apart, even if he was.

He was never left alone–not entirely. When Mateo was on shift, usually his father would be around the house, and if that wasn’t possible, there would be a random visitor. One time, he had stirred from his midday nap to find Judd sitting at the nearby armchair, scrolling on his phone.

Neither of them said much.

Tommy’s visit yielded more conversation. Worry poured off of her in waves, she tried to get him to go for a walk with her, but he couldn’t muster up the strength. There were lots of questions about his well being, and a wrapped sandwich pressed into his palm.

The grief was eating him alive, but he didn’t need to tell her that.

TK hated funerals. He’d been to so many in his life, but they never stopped being as difficult to attend. From the second he fastened his black tie he had a lump in his throat.

Carlos’ funeral was the worst.

Everyone offered TK their condolences, as he numbly shook their hands and thanked them. Carlos’ family, far more APD officers than he cared to count. It was a big event, a grand show of people, a testament to how loved Carlos was.

Swathed in a sea of people in black, TK couldn’t seem to gather his bearings. A few people hugged him, mostly his own friends, he stayed boneless and pliable in their grasp.

Andrea’s hug lasted the longest. He knew she was trying to see if she closed her eyes and pretended, that it would feel like she was hugging her son and not the man in front of her. But TK was two inches too short, his posture too slouched, his shoulders too narrow, his hands too cold. No amount of pretending could make him who she needed him to be, but he was content to let her try.

As she finally released him, she extended a hand to cup his cheek. Her eyes were red-rimmed, much like his own. He figured they both had been crying non-stop this entire time.

“How are you doing, mijo?” she asked, her voice full of care, and concern.

He hadn’t had the energy to take even the most basic care of himself. He had sat on the bathroom floor all morning, Owen had to shave his face for him, the numbness in his chest reaching his fingers and making even holding a razor an impossible feat.

But now he stood before Andrea, clean shaven and two seconds away from collapsing under the weight of his own grief. His limbs were so heavy, but the folded up piece of paper in his back pocket was the heaviest.

“I’m holding on,” he said. His own voice was rough around the edges, hoarse with the sobs and wails he had let out the night before as his father had tried to soothe him. There was something mortifying about your father standing in front of you and trying to help you decide which tie to wear to your fiancé’s funeral.

At the end of the day, black is black, and Owen chose for him.

“That’s the best we can do,” Andrea said softly, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I’m proud of you. I know he is too.”

“Thank you.”

Gabriel’s hug was briefer, it was silent, but he held TK like if he let up his hold even a little, then he too would disappear. TK was no idiot, he knew that the Reyes considered him family, and now he was the closest thing they had left to their son.

The thing about funerals though, was that TK never cried at them. So while everyone else had tears streaking their faces, TK’s eyes were dry as he joined the group of pallbearers. Gabriel, Judd, Paul, Carlos’ captain, his other partner–Nathan, and himself.

He hadn’t attended the viewing, too distraught to handle looking at his fiancé’s dead body again. Perhaps he should have, just to have anything in his memory that wasn’t how he looked in the ambulance, covered in blood and medical equipment.

But it wasn’t Carlos in the box, he couldn’t let himself draw that connection, if he did his legs would have given out from underneath him. He needed to be strong now, one last time, for Carlos.

He would be buried with his engagement ring on, his parents had insisted on it.

TK and Carlos would be joined by that much at least. Their promise of forever, they would never be united in matrimony but there would never be room in TK’s heart for anyone else, they were forever, a linking of souls more potent than an exchange of vows could ever be. Even if Carlos didn’t get to see it.

There was something about this aisle that felt like TK was being raked over hot coals, pain shooting up his legs with every step. It was so akin to the aisle he and Carlos had talked about, yet it was its antithesis.

Both journeys ended with a promise of forever, but that one was a devotion of love, this a marker of loss.

He still had to cancel the caterer.

That realisation hit him harder than anything else that day, his steps faltering. He hadn’t even realised that his father had slotted into place behind him until the weight above his hands, on his shoulder, lifted.

He was ruining Carlos’ funeral. No one would ever say that, they wouldn’t blame him, but he knew. Gabriel on the other side was holding it together and he was burying his son today, TK should have been stronger.

As soon as they set Carlos down the numbness came rushing back to meet him.

There was a simple monotony to everything, so many eulogies given. Those by friends, by family, by coworkers. All telling stories of how Carlos’ existence had touched their lives and changed it for the better. There would never be a greater display of how much people loved Carlos Reyes.

TK’s own wasn’t anything special. He was watching himself from outside his body as he told a room full of people–mostly strangers–many tales of the man he loved more than life itself. He told them how Carlos had saved him more times than either of them had thought, how those deep brown eyes and that unimaginable kindness for a stranger had allowed him to rebuild himself in Austin, had made it possible for TK to want to live again. He confessed, hand tightly clenched on his necklace, Star of David hanging between his fingers, that although he had never been easy to love, Carlos’ patience had been unwavering, he had never given up on TK even when he gave up on himself.

He regaled them with the tale of his father finding out about their situationship because Carlos visited him while he was in a coma. How despite not knowing where they stood, he still couldn’t bear to be away from TK when there was so much unknown, how much he had feared to lose him before they were anything.

“Never in my life has anyone loved me like Carlos,” TK stated simply, it was a fact. Nothing could ever compare to the experience that it was to be loved by Carlos. “I never thought I could deserve that kind of love, but he showed me that I not only deserved it, but that it would be a given for the rest of time, that he would love me like that forever. I will never stop being grateful for him, I will never stop loving him. I am grateful to have been allowed to be loved by him, I just wish we could have had more time.”

There were flashes of the Chinese place on Spring Street as Owen all but forced TK to sit at the dining room table, shoving a plate of food under his nose–some kind of pasta dish. But it wasn't Chinese and there wasn't a pair of chopsticks in his hand and Owen wasn't his mother.

"Eat something, please." He sounded desperate. TK didn't dare meet his eye.

"I'm not hungry," TK said, setting down the fork he hadn't even noticed his father pressing into his hand.

"I know you're not, but you have to eat."

TK stayed silent, not really looking at anything, his head angled towards the table. There was nothing he could say that would dissuade his father, but the very idea of eating anything made him feel like he was going to be sick. Nausea had been his constant companion for weeks now, there was something about his current situation that was just deeply sickening. When he thought about Carlos for too long, he often found himself curled around the toilet, usually with Mateo's comforting hand on his back.

"Please, TK,” his father started again. “You haven't eaten."

"I have."

"Not enough,” Owen said. “When was the last time you ate a meal?"

TK shrugged, his eyes still trained on the plate in front of him. He didn’t even have a concept of how much time had passed between anything, the haze of grey blurring it all together. He hadn’t so much as felt a hunger cue since he lost Carlos. Grief was the ultimate appetite suppressant.

"TK,” his father sighed, TK hadn’t paid close attention to him lately but he seemed exhausted, “you can't keep this up. I can't watch you kill yourself."

"Why not?" TK's voice was soft, hollowed out and emotionless.

"Because it's not what he would have wanted."

"We'll never know what he wanted, because he's dead." The word stung, like poison on his tongue. He wished he could spit it out. He realises, numbly, that this is the first time he's said it out loud. Carlos was gone, lost to TK, not here, but never had he said the words ‘Carlos is dead’.

He didn’t even have to look at his father to watch his expression fall, he’d seen it so many times in his life that it played in his head. "You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. He's dead, I'll never know what he wanted."

"He would want you to live, TK. He loved you, hell, I guarantee you he still does. Don't let a terrible accident kill you too, he would never want that."

It had been weeks now. Weeks without Carlos, weeks since TK last felt like he was a person. He hadn’t gone back to work, the idea of seeing the ambulance again twisting his insides until he was eventually sick.

He could barely stand on his feet, let alone do his job. Tommy would never allow him to try anyway, he can’t take care of patients if he can’t take care of himself.

But he didn’t care about that. Everything in his world stopped turning the second Carlos died and he was left, alone in the back of the ambulance.

"I know you can't see it right now, but there is still so much to live for, TK."

TK sighed, pushing the plate away from him. He couldn’t even try to eat now if he wanted to. "Like what?"

"The 126, your job, your team, your baby brother, me; you still have us TK."

He knew that his father was just trying to give him something, anything, to hold onto. He needed a lifeline if he were ever going to climb out of this hole, but he didn’t grab hold of anything he was offered. As far as he was aware, this hole was his life now, and nothing beyond it would soothe the pain inside of him.

He didn’t need a lifeline, he needed to go back in time and somehow change the outcome of the day that ruined his life. That was the only way he would be able to carry on, only if he had Carlos by his side.

"I don't want any of that. I just want him."

He was crying now, for the first time in days he actually had the energy to cry. Hot tears ran down his face as any of his attempts to speak were reduced to sobs. The air shifted, no longer bearing the strict worry of his father, as the older man rounded the table and took TK in his arms.

Neither of them spoke. Owen just rubbed TK's back as he sobbed–as if he were holding his young son, and not a fully grown man. He cried like a child though, the kind of tears only shed when this is the worst pain you've ever experienced. When he was four it was stubbing his toe on the edge of the counter at the firestation, when he was twenty-eight it was the loss of his soulmate.

He would never cry like this again, no pain could ever compare.

“I went back to work today,” TK said, leaning his head back until it rested against the stone behind him. He fiddled with the bouquet of flowers in his hands. It felt weird to talk to the open air like this, he didn’t even look at the headstone.

He knew what he would see, the inscribed words, he’d traced his gaze over them a million times. At least this way he could close his eyes and pretend he was leaning against Carlos.

It was bittersweet. He knew he would never get to touch Carlos again, but at least he could come to the shady corner of the cemetery and pretend, even if for a short while, that they were together again.

Wherever Carlos was, was home to TK.

“I’m surprised Tommy let me come back. Last time I stepped foot in the ambulance I had a panic attack so bad no one could get me out of the bunk room for an hour. Then Dad had to drive me home. I wouldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t stop seeing you there,” he admitted, his voice surprisingly strong. It hadn’t been embarrassing to admit his weaknesses to Carlos in a long time. It was another life in which he would have hesitated about saying any of this, to anyone.

He pulled a few of the pink petals from the tallest flower in the bouquet. He couldn’t remember the name. It was just to swap out the old bouquet, the white rims of the stargazer lilies already going brown at the edges, their stems losing their firmness. He wonders idly who brought them. Carlos’ grave was a frequented site, he was loved by many, missed by even more. “But today went well, I did more driving than anything. Tommy wants me to ease back into it, which is fine.”

“I miss you,” he said, his voice breaking as the tears came back. They always did. He feared he would never even be able to utter Carlos’ name without crying, but it made sense. At least it proved to himself that he was still hurting so deeply over his loss, that he wasn’t moving on too quickly.

“I know you can’t say anything, but thank you,” he muttered around his tears. “I never told you enough, you know, when you were here.” He still couldn’t say it. He doubted he ever would try to again. “But I really don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you. Even when you’re not here you give me the strength to keep living.”

TK pulled his knees up to his chest now, setting the bouquet down on the ground next to him. “I’m eating again, much to my dad’s relief. He wanted me to tell you ‘thank you’, from him. I really scared him there for a while. Which I understand, I wasn’t even trying to stay alive, all I was doing to prevent myself from dying was breathing.

“I’m doing better now, I think. I’m still not okay, far from it, but I’m trying. I even got lunch with Marjan and Paul yesterday. They weren’t very subtle, they catered it to me: we got boba and mostly just walked around town. Then we got sushi. It was nice; I missed them. I know they were worried about me too.”

He didn’t think he’d spoken this much since Carlos died.

Sans his eulogy, every conversation he had was stilted and short, he lacked the energy to talk to people, even his father. Most of his life lately had been lived in silence, everyone else taking it upon themselves to fill in the conversation.

It was nice. They all understood that he would need a lot of time before he was normal again, if that ever happened, and they never even hinted at anything that meant he was going too slow. No one urged him to get over this or pushed him to do something he wasn’t ready for. Healing from this would take the rest of his life and his family understood and respected that.

They missed Carlos too. They always would. But just because Carlos wasn’t around anymore didn’t mean that TK was alone.

He had felt like it for so long, the pain and darkness seemed never ending. He was still in it now, but he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, he would make it there eventually. With the ring on his finger, he would take Carlos there too.

Forever didn’t start at a wedding, it had started in the middle of the night, drenched in rain when TK and Carlos had first met.

“I just love you.”

TK smiled softly, opening his eyes to look up at the sky, a bright blue with white clouds rolling past. Sunlight filtered through the tree foliage that draped over Carlos’ grave.

“But you already knew that.”

#max.doc #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #userkimmy #reyesstrand #actuallysara #theatrevicki #userac #tuser paige #jazzyjess #userbones

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codswalloping · 5 years

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8."This isn’t what I wanted.”/61. ”I told you not to fall in love with me.”

for @theatrevicki, David/Patrick, rated G, canon-related texting fic set the night before “The Olive Branch”

David [10:48pm]: this isn’t what I wanted

Patrick grabbed for his phone when he heard the text message notification; he had been about to switch it off for the night. It was too difficult to sleep, waiting to see if David was going to reply to any of his messages. It was too difficult to sleep anyway, turning things over and over in his mind for the thousandth or the ten thousandth time, regretting everything he’d texted to David ever since Rachel had left. Regretting everything.

Patrick [10:49pm]: Okay don’t worry I kept the receipt

David [10:50pm]: no the bracelet is lovely that’s not what I meant

David [10:51pm]: I mean THIS isn’t what I wanted

David [10:52pm]: ...

Patrick [10:55pm]: Okay

Patrick [10:56pm]: You’re going to have to be a little more specific

David [11:01pm]: sorry there was a thing with Alexis I’m back

David [11:02pm]: remind me to bill her $75 for the conditioner I just found out she’s been stealing from us

Patrick [11:03pm]: I’ll add it to her tab

Patrick [11:04pm]: What isn’t what you wanted

David [11:06pm]: sorry she’s still being a b I might have to go kill her brb

Patrick considered various possibilities in the ten minutes that followed. He really didn’t want to move back home. Toronto was much too expensive. He wasn’t sure his car would make it all the way to Edmonton where his best friend from college lived. Quebec, maybe, but he’d have to brush up on his French again, it had been a while…

David [11:17pm]: SORRY

David [11:17pm]: Alexis really is a lot stronger than you’d think for someone who lives on cafe smoothies, I’m in a lot of pain rn but I’ll come in to the store tomorrow so we can talk

David [11:19pm]: if that’s okay

Patrick [11:20pm]: of course it’s okay

Patrick [11:22pm]: When you said it wasn’t what you wanted did you mean the entire relationship or

David [11:23pm]: NO omg Patrick

David [11:23pm]: I meant I didn’t want you to send me all this stuff that’s all

Patrick [11:25pm]: Sorry yeah I know it was a bad idea

David [11:26pm]: I mean

David [11:27pm]: I do like the stuff

David [11:27pm]: I don’t know what I mean it’s late I should just shut up

David [11:28pm]: I’m really bad at this

David [11:29pm]: I told you not to fall in love with me

Patrick blinked at his phone for a very long time, staring at the little lit-up screen in the dark and letting dozens of possible responses run through his head.

David [11:32pm]: omg I didn’t mean to say that AT ALL omg this is all Alexis’s fault please ignore the last message DO OVER

David [11:33pm]: I meant I told you you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me not what I just said

David [11:34pm]: I don’t use that word

David [11:34pm]: Like, ever

David [11:35pm]: And obviously you’re not I mean I don’t know what I mean it’s late and Alexis is working my last nerve and we should just talk tomorrow

David [11:38pm]: Patrick?

Patrick [11:39pm]: I’m still here

Patrick [11:39pm]: It’s fine

David [11:40pm]: Good

David [11:41pm]: I really feel like I just wrecked everything I told you I was bad at this

Patrick [11:42pm]: You didn’t wreck everything.

David [11:43pm]: ok

David [11:44pm]: because we still have to run a business together and that would be awkward

David [11:57pm]: and also bc

David [11:58pm]: …

Patrick stared at the glow of his screen until he thought he would go blind. He knew David had almost certainly fallen asleep while texting, that he wouldn’t be getting another message until the next day, but it was after one before he finally shut off his phone and closed his eyes against the dark.

The words ran around in his brain like an annoying little earworm of a tune: fall in love, fall in love, in love, I told you not to fall in love. By the time morning came (he’d probably slept for at least a couple of hours, though it didn’t feel like it), Patrick was sure of two things: 1) He was definitely, completely, head over heels in love with David Rose and 2) He thought he had a chance of making this work out for him after all, if he played his cards right.

#theatrevicki #thanks for the prompt!#david x patrick #my fic #fic prompt meme #ugh what even is tumblr formatting

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gloriouslokius · 5 years

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theatrevicki replied to your post “a few weeks before i moved to california, i had a short fling with a...”

I think if you’re interested, you should text him! He put the ball in your court. If you’re not interested, leave it. Probably not a good idea to try friendship. Might be too complicated but go for it if you think so! Just be upfront with him.

It’s been like three years since we were seeing each other. So I know a lot has changed, and when I first saw him several months ago my stomach did this weird little flutter thing. So...obviously I still have feelings. I’m also a much more anxious person than I was then...so this is tearing me up. Lol

But I think I will text him tomorrow when I get off work. See what happens, I suppose.

#theatrevicki #jess replies

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juleswritesthis · 5 years

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theatrevicki replied to your post: theatrevicki replied to your post “I can’t...

But nothing was as bad as the teen choice awards he hosted—what— two years ago? Or was that the MTV awards!?

I confess I didn’t watch that live. Too cringey. Neither the People’s Awards. Those are just too ridiculous. Even for Darren its a no.

#theatrevicki #I guess I have limits

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sunshineoptimismandangels · 5 years

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theatrevicki replied to your post “theatrevicki replied to your post “He seemed more nervous than usual....”

All of them were so good, appropriate for the venue/vibe, and different. He did an excellent job!

He did! I want a video of all his acceptance speeches this year now.

#theatrevicki #sag awards 2019 #darren criss

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lire-casander · 4 years

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Can I send another bad things happen bingo prompt? Is that allowed?? If so, and you’re feeling it, how about Pinned Down By Wreckage for 911 LS with TK and maybe Owen/Firefam feels? Love your work!!

thank you so much for the prompt, honey! i hope you like it!

[cannons ablazing shower these moonlit skies] [3,374 words] [teen & up audiences] [beta’ed by @meloingly. any remaining mistakes are my own] [title from This Time Around by Hanson] [they’re out like a family, the 126 firefighter family, until, all of a sudden, they’re clearly not][tk strand, carlos reyes, owen strand, paul strickland, marjan marwani, mateo chavez, judd ryder, grace ryder, michelle blake, tim rosewater, nancy gillian] [angst, mentions of being pinned down by wreckage, hurt, comfort, blood, accidents, some fluff] [written for @tarlosweek2020, day 4: colors + tarlos & owen + fun] [written for @theatrevicki who asked for pinned down by wreckage with tk and owen/firefam feels from my bad things happen bingo card]

read on ao3

or keep reading under the cut

cannons ablazing shower these moonlit skies

The Austin fair is in full capacity when TK and Owen arrive, getting out of their Uber ride under the lights of the Ferris Wheel and the sounds of people merrily enjoying the prizes won at the different stands.

“This is so different from New York,” TK exclaims as he looks around, awed by the music and the people and the place. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone anywhere like this fair.”

“Not even Chelsea Piers?” his father asks, amused. “I remember you loved the attractions when you were little.”

“I don’t think I’ve been to Chelsea Piers since I was eight, dad,” TK confesses. “I didn’t want to go without you, after the divorce.”

Owen looks at him aghast. “You never said anything! We could have gone together, anytime.”

TK sighs, rubbing a hand on his eyes before replying. He tries to free his voice off any bitterness — he’s an adult now after all, he should be past those petty infantile things by now — but he can’t help the tired whine that tinges his words as he speaks, “You were never around, after. It’s okay, dad, I’m well over it,” he continues when he sees his father looking down at his words.

They’re doing better these days — they’ve been working hard on getting over the past that has shaped them both into the men they are now. TK has already forgiven his father for his absence after the towers collapsed, even if from time to time a longing for what could have been somehow finds its way into his heart, because he now understands what it’s like to belong to a chosen family. Back in New York, back within the 252, he had never felt part of it — he’d always been his father’s son — another Strand to fall into step and feed the legend started one fateful morning no one ever wanted to have lived through. With the 126, TK has found he is much more than another man in his family lineage — he’s a person worth loving for who he is, not for his last name. He’s part of something bigger, something he’s chosen for himself. He’d die for any of them, the same way they’d die for him.

He now understands his father, but the kid inside himself still complains from time to time about the missed childhood opportunities, about the pain he endured whenever he needed his father and Owen wasn’t there.

“See, Marjan’s there!” he says, signaling at a spot on the waiting line for the Ferris Wheel, where his teammate is licking remnants of cotton candy off her fingers. “And Mateo!”

Owen snickers. “Go, go, have fun!”

“Oh, no,” TK pushes him forward. “This is your moment too. We’re celebrating your remission. Come along, they’re also waiting for you!”

TK knows his father has wanted to keep to himself the worst of his treatment — the fears and the pain and the side effects of a new medicine that has, eventually, been the one to break through — never sharing the brunt of it with anyone, not even his newfound family. The 126 has never been anything but supportive, but Owen Strand has shied away from them in the moments of pain. He didn’t want to burden them with the grief that comes with this kind of fight, he’d once told TK during one of their long nights up, riding out the effects of a chemo session that proved too strong to be held in by his body — he hadn’t wanted anyone to come along this journey. TK had told him that he wasn’t alone, as much as he’d tried to keep everyone at an arm’s distance; he’d assured his father that neither of them was alone in this quest to survive. TK knows how hard it is to trust someone with his life — he’s done it before and it went to hell as fast as it could. Both he and his father have trouble trusting people, but the firefighters and EMTs at the 126 aren’t people — they’ve proven time and time again that they are family.

And family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. Ever.

When his father had come back from his latest appointment with some results in a closed envelope he didn’t want to open, TK had been there for him, urging him to read the news, good or bad, as well as Paul, Marjan, Mateo, and Judd — even if Paul had arched his left eyebrow at the sight, Marjan had touched her hijab nervously, Mateo had bit his nails and Judd had simply sat there, eyes piercing through Owen Strand as though he knew what was going through that mind.

Maybe he had been able to, because this group outing has been Judd’s idea. TK hadn’t believed it when Cowboy Judd — sturdy, rough, feeling-less Judd Ryder — had suggested the Austin Fair to celebrate that they had their captain back as healthy as he’d ever be. But it hadn’t been a bad idea, and now here they are, both Strand men, finding themselves among the throngs of people enjoying the colors whirlwind-ing around them.

It’s time to start enjoying these colors, TK thinks to himself, as he places one hand on his father’s arm.

Together, they walk towards the line, where they’re greeted by an excited Mateo and a laughing Marjan. They’re still halfway through the line; Marjan explains that they’ve come half an hour before and the line was already infernally long. She also tells them that Paul is somewhere winning a teddy bear for Grace, since Judd is unable to actually shoot anything for his life.

“Who would have guessed that about Cowboy Judd?” TK jokes, stepping besides Mateo and snatching one of the candies he has in a plastic box.

“Hey, those were mine! Go get some for yourself!” Mateo jabs back, but it's to no avail. TK munches on some jelly beans.

“Don't tell me you're already stealing candies from the kids,” comes a voice TK has come to love endlessly in the months heʼs spent in Austin. Ignoring Mateoʼs protests that heʼs not a kid, TK turns around and smiles broadly at his boyfriend, walking toward them alongside a smug-looking Paul, a beaming Grace, and a sulking Judd. She is holding two stuffed animals in her hands, while Judd tries his best not to pout.

He’s failing.

“Carlos!” he calls out, waving at the group and stepping forward. He greets Carlos with a soft kiss on the lips. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Making my life hell, that's where,” Judd mumbles.

“Judd is just mad that he doesn’t have good aim,” Grace laughs. “I love you anyway, even if you can't win a teddy bear for me at the fair.”

TK laughs, echoing Graceʼs own laughter, as he hoops his fingers through Carlosʼ belt loops, making him get closer. “Did you win a teddy bear for Grace?”

“No,” Carlos replies with conviction.

“No?” TK teases with another soft smile.

“Nope, I won a plush cow for Grace,” Carlos explains, moving his head toward the woman, who holds the toy up for everyone in their group to see.

“But we have another surprise tonight,” Marjan speaks, looking up from her feigned attention to the cotton candy with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Buttercup!” she calls.

TK steals a glance in his fatherʼs direction, not wanting to miss a single second of his reaction when the dog shows up along with Mateo, who had disappeared in between the jokes about Juddʼs aim. Owen looks taken aback at first, and then a tear dares to escape his eyes when he sees that Buttercup holds another plush toy in between his teeth — a blue and white cloud with the words well done Cap embroidered on it.

“Weʼre all proud of you,” TK whispers to him, leaning in from his embrace with Carlos. “You did it, dad.”

Owen nods, speechless for the first time in a long while, taking the toy from Buttercupʼs mouth and holding it close to his chest. He laughs, a wet and broken sound, and it's all they need to initiate a group hug — Judd throwing his arm around Owenʼs shoulder, Mateo finding his natural place under Owenʼs own arm, and the rest fitting in an embrace that fills TKʼs heart with love. He knows Grace and Carlos arenʼt taking part in this display of affection for now, letting them have this bit of a moment for themselves, but he knows they will, soon.

This moment is just for the firefam theyʼve built, one way or another.

TK allows the colors to wash over him, sweeping up the pain and the doubts, replacing the gray — the black and white his life had become — with pinks and yellows and purples and reds; replacing the half-life he’d been leading with an existence full to the brim of love and mirth.

The colors turn to grey a few seconds later, as he’s stepping away from the group hug to seek for Carlos and kiss him, and his movement is aborted midway when a loud rumble interrupts the vivid noises of the fair and short-circuits the happiness around them. When he looks at the source of the noise, he sees one of the attractions — the one that looks like a boat flying from left to right, eliciting squeals of delight and terror from the kids riding it — vibrating under pressure, a whirring sound reaching his ears.

“I don’t like how that sounds,” he manages to say out loud moments before the structure begins to shake.

Everything happens so fast that TK doesn’t even have the time to register what they all are doing.

One moment they are all hugging his father, celebrating he’s healthy, and the next they are running towards a crumbling attraction, wishing, hoping, praying to reach there in time before it falls down and destroys everything.

There are six kids on top of the attraction when it starts to fail, sitting in the boat that’s high up in the sky when the structure gives in, bending awkwardly at its hinges until the boat tilts. TK can see their faces — terrified at what’s going to happen if nobody gets close enough to take them out before the attraction loses its ground and collapses. Luckily for them, the 126 is around, and even though they aren’t geared up for the task, they’re quick enough to reach the attraction before it completely tumbles down.

Marjan is the first to reach the structure, hijab firmly in place, and she tries to calm the kids with soft words while she assesses the situation. TK and Judd follow up closely, arriving near one side of the attraction, hinges not so strongly nailed to the ground, while Paul and Mateo get close to the other side and gauge the situation of the metal.

“We need to get the kids out,” their Captain orders, hot on their heels. They work together as a team — the way they have been working for the past months — as Carlos and Grace try to control the Peeping Toms crowding the surroundings, even Buttercup barking at the masses to step backward.

TK obeys orders better when he’s in the firefighter mind space rather than when he’s wearing civilian clothes, but given the circumstances, he slips into first responder mode as quick as he can and helps the children out of the attraction and into the welcoming arms of Grace, who’s trying her best to balance a cell phone sandwiched in between her shoulder and her face as she calls 911 and helps the kids to get away from the crumbling structure. Soon enough, there’s no one inside the attraction, and Judd is ushering him away from it when all hell breaks loose all of a sudden.

There’s a screeching that chases TK as he tries to run away from the metallic structure, but he isn’t fast enough. He stumbles on his own feet in his haste to get away, and he manages to push Judd away before falling face down on the ground, followed by the attraction and the inhuman crackey noise that accompanies the movement. For a second everything’s black and he feels blissfully safe, but the next thing he knows, there’s a searing pain eating him from his shoulders down, and it takes all he has to not scream in pain.

“TK!” he hears, distantly, as though he’s fallen miles away from the rest of the people he loves. There’s a pressure on his back — right on his scapula — that makes breathing hard, the pain is almost unbearable. And he’s been shot before, so he knows a bit about pain threshold. “TK, don’t move!”

He wants to laugh at the statement, cry out that he’s literally pinned down to the ground, but he finds out that his voice doesn’t really cooperate — he can’t make himself say a single word that’s not laced in a high-pitched sound that comes straight out of his throat. There are screams around him, and he can see the dust swirling as rushed footsteps move across the ground, both away from him and getting closer to where he lies.

“He’s still conscious,” he hears, Judd’s voice seeping through his dulled senses. “TK, can you hear me? Don’t move!” Judd instructs him when TK tries to nod. “Bro, you’ve been quite the hero today. But, uhm, there’s been a bit of a setback and the attraction has fallen down... on you. I’m sure you can feel it,” Judd whispers, nervous. TK wants to comfort him, tell him that everything will be fine in the end, but he remembers that Judd has told him not to move, and he can’t really speak, so he attempts a whine that comes out strangled.

It leaves him breathless.

“Does anyone have an ETA on the house coming to the rescue?” he hears his father asking, voice clipped and sounding so far away. He hears more shuffling, and he sees what he thinks are Mateo’s shoes as they run around him. There are hands prodding at the metallic structure, as though weighing it down.

“Not soon enough,” Carlos replies. TK can see his feet moving in front of his waving gaze — the sneakers he gifted the cop for his birthday last month, the ones that took him nearly a week to find — and then Carlos is kneeling right beside him. “Ty, I’m here, do you hear me? You’re going to get out of there, I promise. You’ll be fine.”

“I—I know,” TK manages to cough out, a supreme effort since he can feel his lungs pinned down against the hard stony ground. “If only you could—could lift this up.”

“Don’t speak,” Carlos instructs him, but it sounds way less sharp than Judd’s words from before. “You’re carrying a ton on your shoulders, and that’s not a metaphor.”

TK keeps coughing. Now that he’s managed to speak, even if for a short-lived moment, he’s aware of the dust and the shit floating around at country fairs. He’s inhaling it all, along with his need to get out of this predicament.

“I’m going to sue everyone in this fair,” he thinks he hears his father threatening at some point, but that could be the dizziness playing tricks on his psyche — he’s beginning to feel the lack of oxygen. Every breath is an ordeal, and he knows it won’t be long before he finally faints. If it happens before they free him from his metallic trap, TK’s aware that his father and Carlos — and probably the rest of the team — will freak out enough to make a scene. He wants to reassure them that he’ll be out in no time, in one piece, but he’s starting to think that maybe that won’t be the case.

Time stops making sense after that.

He falls in and out of conscience, and whenever he comes to, it’s to the worried sound of Carlos’ voice muttering encouraging words that seem directed to himself more than they are to TK. He can’t say how long he remains in that position, with the weight of the world on his shoulders and the terrifying knowledge that he might very well close his eyes one last time and never open them again if help doesn’t come soon.

There’s ruckus around him at one point, Carlos being pulled away and fighting quite violently to keep his place next to the fallen attraction, and all of a sudden there’s a hydraulic jack lifting the attraction — ever so painfully slow — until he can breathe once again. TK knows the drill; they won’t lift it up in one go, the sudden lack of pressure could be just as bad as the pressure was, and since he’s been pinned down by the wreckage of at least a ton of metallic structure they can’t possibly know whether he’s bleeding externally — or internally.

They have to be careful, but he has never been known for being patient.

“Move, move, move!” he hears faintly, Michelle’s voice breaching through the myriad of noises clogging his head. “Tim, Nancy, come on, now’s not the time to be slow!”

He feels hands on his aching skin, barely touching him. Nobody is turning him around, too scared that there might be some side effects of enduring the falling of a fair attraction on his back, but he can hear Michelle’s soothing voice all the time as she checks him before deeming him fit to be lying on his back.

“Ev’rything hurts,” he mumbles. He isn’t sure his voice reaches them; when he looks at them, through half-lidded eyes, he sees Tim checking his vitals and Nancy handing Michelle a needle with some translucent liquid. “No painkillers,” he manages to say, clear enough for Michelle to look up from her hands to his face.

“Don’t worry, TK,” she reassures him. “It won’t compromise your sobriety. You can trust me.”

He wants to trust her, but he also knows himself. He can’t risk it — it’s not about sobriety, it’s about his own sins repeating themselves over and over again in his life. It’s about his own lack of self-restraint when it comes to substances. It’s about his own shame.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” he hears Carlos say, and when he opens his eyes just a fraction of an inch, he can see his boyfriend already kneeling back by his side. “Trust Michelle, she won’t give you anything to make you fall back into old habits.”

“I didn’t want—I didn’t want to say it out loud,” he braves out, voice thickly laced with pain. He feels the needle sticking through his skin, reaching his vein, and he wants to scream, but he’s suddenly too exhausted to speak.

“It’s okay, Ty,” Carlos smiles at him. “You’re in good hands. Just let go, okay? You can sleep now.”

“Donwanna,” he slurs, eyelids too heavy.

“I’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And TK lets go of his pain, embracing the numbness brought by the painkiller Michelle has administered him. Later, when the doctors discharge him after a few days in the hospital with a few broken ribs and a prescription to rest for at least seven days, he will admonish everyone for being so worried about him when he had been obviously fine — fine my ass, Judd will say, brows furrowed in frustration, fine under a shit ton of metal — and he will tease Carlos to no end — the doctor said a whole week without sex but I think I’ll up it to two, his boyfriend will threaten him — but TK won’t be able to meet his father’s gaze.

Owen Strand’s eyes will hold all the pain caused by almost losing his only son three times in the same year, and TK won’t be capable of enduring the grief that his father will be undergoing.

But that’s a few hours from now, and for now, he’s content with Carlos’ hand in his, with Tim and Nancy placing him on a gurney under Michelle’s expert orders, his father petting his hair as he’s rolled away into an ambulance.

For now, he allows himself to fall into the welcoming hands of the painless numbness darkness provides.

#Tarlosweek2020 #day 4: colors #day 4: tarlos & owen #day 4: fun #lire's fiction #you asked #you ask and lire answers #tarlos fic #cw angst #cw hurt/comfort #cw blood #cw accidents #cw fluff #cw pinned down by the wreckage #bad things happen bingo #bthb #pinned down by the wreckage #theatrevicki

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