Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Carlos kills the engine of his Camaro when he parks in front of their garage.  The headlights disappear and the constant humming of the engine is gone, but TK is quite sure his heart is still buzzing.

Both of Carlos’ hands are still on the stirring wheel, but neither one of them moves.

“I had nice time today,” TK says, quietly, but he smirks when he glances at him, “if I don’t count the freaky natural disaster in.”

“Or ripping out your stiches,” Carlos shoots back, and TK knows his gaze searches the edge of his newly applied bandage that peaks a little out of the collar of his hoodie.

He laughs softly and hangs his head a little. “It was a crappy day until it wasn’t.”

TK knows it’s not the most eloquent thing he could say in the moment, but it is hard to describe any of the emotions he has felt during the day. From trying to save that lady in the bus and deciding that he wants to stay with the 126 to deciding that maybe he and Carlos are worth of taking the risk.

“That’s one way to say it,” Carlos agrees, and his gaze is soft in the dimly lit car. “But you know, I had great time, too.”

TK’s heart flutters at his tiny confession, and he has known since the moment they met that there is something between them, a connection of some sort. It’s almost like a force of nature, strong but persistent, pulling them towards each other. But nevertheless, it is nice to hear that he feels it, too, that it isn’t just all in his head.

“Do you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, twelve-hour shift,” Carlos exhales, lazily tapping his fingers against the wheel.

TK feels almost a pang of guilt that it is already so late, but Carlos seemed perfectly content laying on the hood of his car, watching the aurora borealis above their heads, and it seemed like there was no rush in the world.

Just the start of something new.

“What about the day after tomorrow?” TK asks, because he is determined to do this the right way this time around.

“A day off,” Carlos tells him, and judging by the glint in his eyes, he knows where he is heading with the line of questioning.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

The words are out of his mouth quickly, and almost illogically, he feels a tingle of nervousness set somewhere deep in his stomach.

TK knows there is not actually any rush to have a next date, but he wants Carlos to know that he meant it when he said that he wants to have an actual relationship with him. He wants to fix whatever hurt he caused by bailing him on the dinner he had prepared and going back-and-forth on him. Besides, he has never been known for his patience and he really wants to see him again, and preferably as soon as possible.

“Like a date?” Carlos asks, amusement colouring his voice.

“Not just like a date, it would definitely be one,” he says, rolling his eyes. He touches his right knee lightly, just brushing his fingertips against the fabric of his pants.

Carlos’ smile is lopsided when he looks down at his knee, probably still feeling the ghost of his touch. “Sure, I’d love to,” he replies, and he makes it sound like it would be the easiest damn thing in the world to agree.

TK cannot believe how blind he had been to his own feelings. Well, he wasn’t blind. He knew that he liked Carlos a lot, but out of fear and insecurity he managed to bury and repress those feelings somewhere deep and convince himself that he only wanted one thing from him, and friendship at best, but now that he has allowed himself to actually feel it, it is so much stronger than he could have imagined.

The thing they have is definitely new and delicate, but TK loves this stage. It’s exhilarating and exciting in all the best ways and there a million what ifs hanging in between them and those are the best ones because anything could happen.

“Great, and thanks for the ride.”

TK knows that by now, he is just stalling. Lingering a little longer in his presence, which is a bit ridiculous, but it still doesn’t lessen his reluctance to leave him. It makes him feel a little better that Carlos doesn’t seem to mind. He would have kept the engine going if he wanted to leave quicker.

“No problem,” he replies, softly, and his gaze never leaves his eyes.

TK is about to say that he probably should go soon, but thinking about leaving triggers something in his memory and he starts laughing. He guesses it’s the stress of the day finally finding an outlet and bubbling out of him, as the laughter keeps erupting from the back of his throat and he tries to stifle it down with very little success.

“Sorry, I just realised we never paid at the juice bar,” TK borderline wheezes as he notices the curious, but fond glance from him.

In their defence, they tried to pay. Kept insisting who should pay, but the machine went crazy at the moment they tried to do so, and after that they were just slightly distracted trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

For a moment, Carlos actually looks horrified, but it doesn’t take long until he is laughing, too. TK isn’t sure if he has heard him laugh so freely and properly before, but it is a beautiful sound. Perhaps the most beautiful thing he has witnessed the whole day. 

“No,” he manages to mumble in between bright laughter, “you’re right.”

“Your criminal tendencies are coming to daylight,” TK declares, deadpan, patting him on the shoulder, but instead of pulling his hand away, he lets it stay there. His fingertips resting against the beginning of his collarbone, and truth to be told, he doesn’t want to pull his hand away anytime soon.

“I guess that makes you my partner in crime,” he tells him with the most radiant grin he has seen on his face, and it makes his heart flip.

“I guess it does,” he agrees, softly. He lets his hand slide along his arm slowly.  “Seriously, I’ll go there tomorrow and pay.”

He knows he should rest and let the wound heal properly, but he also knows he will be climbing up the walls if he tries to stay inside the whole day without doing anything. Just the thought of it alone makes him restless.

“I thought the bill was supposed to be on me.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t end up being unemployed and you bailed on paying already once, cannot risk it happening twice,” TK deadpans, but as he shifts around in his seat, he hisses out of pain.

”Does it hurt a lot?” Carlos asks, almost immediately, and the concerned frown returns between his eyebrows.

“It’s a little sore,” he admits.

He didn’t feel a thing when he actually ripped off the stiches. He was too caught up on the adrenaline rush of saving another person, but afterwards, especially when the wound had been re-stitched, the wound started to pulsate with a dull ache.

TK has managed to put the pain into the back of his mind for most of the day, but he is exhausted, and he is too tired to pretend it doesn’t hurt. He takes a deep breath and leans into the seat of the car.

Carlos brushes his thigh with his thumb, tentatively and gently. “I hope it gets better.”

“Hmh, yeah,” he murmurs, already resting his hand on the handle of the car door, but he still feels reluctant to leave. The car is almost impossibly silent, but it is not a bad kind of silence, and he rather likes the atmosphere they managed to establish between themselves during the night. “Good night.”

TK reaches across the console to kiss the corner of his mouth, briefly but with all the intention in the world.

“Sleep well,” Carlos whispers, and TK finally manages to open the door.

***

The warmth of the midday sun immediately hits him when he steps out of the juice bar. The street is crowded with people, and he briefly wonders if he will ever get used to the heat and humidity of Texas weather.

He shields his eyes from the bright sunlight as he pulls out his phone and starts to type a text. He ends up sending a bunch of them, one after another.

we have been pardoned from our life of crime
they accepted my apologies, not my money
apparently the owner had seen us leave to
actually save lives and that means something in
their book
who would have thought?

It feels a little dumb, but he actually smiles down on his phone before he even gets a reply. It only takes a little less than a minute when the phone in his hand pings with a new message.

maybe we should save lives more often

TK snorts as he reads the message. He immediately sends a reply to it.

make a living out of it or something

This time it takes even less time before he gets Carlos’ reply.

or something

TK chuckles, but he doesn’t send a reply. He knows Carlos is still on shift, and sure he has no plans for the rest of the day and boredom is nearly inevitable, but he doesn’t want to bother him too much. Besides, there is newfound spark in his heart, and it makes everything little brighter, even boredom.

***

TK shifts his weight from one foot to another. He prays he doesn’t radiate too much nervous energy, because he isn’t certain if nervousness is even a right word to describe it.

It’s just a date.

One that he planned, and in no possible way, it could be counted as a first date for them, and so, there is no reason for his pre-date jitters.

It’s mostly just pure excitement. He has been looking forward to this and seeing Carlos again. It is almost like yearning and he had been caught by a surprise when he felt it for the first time. He cannot remember the last time he would have been this happy just to see someone. Those times that he has seen his crewmates emerge from a burning building unharmed do not count because that is a completely different situation.

He is just happy and excited to see Carlos again, not because he would fear for his safety or be afraid that he would never see him again, but just plain happiness of being in the presence of him.

It has been a while since he has felt that way, and it is a little scary, but in a good way.

The paper bags from a nearby taco truck rustles in the wind as he holds them in his hands, looking out to the parking lot.

There are people lining up to the truck. The air is filled with chatter, but it is still easy to let his mind wander as he looks around the half-desolated parking lot.

He and Carlos have already learned a bunch of things about each other, almost effortlessly and without too much thought put into it, but TK still has grabbed all those small details he has learned about Carlos with both hands.

And he wants to know him better. Learn big and small details, crucial and less important details, to truly see and understand him. But he cannot shake away completely the doubt that maybe Carlos will have second thoughts when he truly learns to know him.

TK knows he is usually great at first impressions, with a few expections. He has no problems charming people and make them like him, but his track record for making people stick around for him is not impressive. TK is aware that he and Carlos get along well, a lot more than well, and that Carlos seems to be just as into him as he is into Carlos.

But still, he cannot help but wonder about the possibility that he might not live up to the expectations that Carlos has created about him in his head.

TK knows it is silly and dumb, and that it is entirely his own insecurities and fears whispering into his ear, and that Carlos has never made it seem like he would be anything less than thrilled to learn something new about him.

Still, the possibility remains in his head, and he is so deep into the twirl pool of his own thoughts, he almost misses the fact that Carlos has driven in front of him, and he is already reaching across the console to open the door of his Camaro to TK.

TK tries to balance the bags on his arms, and he successfully gets in the car without spilling their food or drinks all over the place.

“Hey,” Carlos greets him, quietly, but his lips are twitching into a smile, and he looks down onto the bags.

“Hi,” he says, and maybe his heart skips a beat, just a little, and maybe he is feeling like damn teenager with a crush, but it is not a terrible feeling. He rather likes it, and it definitely beats feeling numb all the time.

“So, where to?”

It is slowly becoming equally parts ridiculous and frustrating that he doesn’t have a car. Not that TK would mind that much, but one of the few things he actually misses about New York is somewhat functional public transport.

“There’s this drive-in movie theatre on Franklin Avenue,” TK starts, trying his best to control the urge to bounce his leg. He isn’t that nervous and there is a high chance of spilling their dinner to the floor if he does so. “I hear it’s nice.”

Carlos hums, partly as acknowledgement and partly as a response. At least TK likes to interpret it as a delighted hum.

“What are they showing?” he asks, when he drives away from the parking lot, joining into the steady flow of cars on a street.

“New Hope.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a Star Wars fan,” Carlos remarks, complete with a surprised glance thrown to his way.

“My dad loves them,” he explains, and runs his hand through his own hair. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of quoting he does, even on calls.”

He stops at red lights and chuckles. “Oh, the whole ‘don’t tell me the odds’ thing? I’ve heard him say that a couple of times.”

TK lets out a soft groan, but it is mostly endearing. Both the facts that Carlos had picked up on it, and remembered it, and that his dad does it. It’s a bit ridiculous, but he is great at being a captain and sometimes, it blurs the lines a little. Whether he is working with his dad or his captain, but he has come to learn that the distinction isn’t always necessary.

“Yeah, exactly. I cannot remember how many times I saw all of those movies as a kid,” he says, looking out of the window. There is a small park that spreads across a block, and the setting sun is hanging just above the horizon, making the park and the trees drown in golden sunlight.

The sunlight and afterglow of a sunny day reaches inside the of the car too, painting Carlos’ arms and dark green t-shirt with golden light and it makes almost look like as if he were glowing, too, and TK has hard time believing it would only be a fraction of his imagination.

“It’s a good movie,” Carlos points out, casually, as he accelerates the car again when the light turns green.

“Mhm, it has become almost a comfort movie at this point,” TK admits, looking back at him. Admiring the way the last rays of sunshine of the day illuminate his face. “Strangely enough almost dying has made me stick with the things that bring me comfort.”

He means it in a joking way, but it comes out a little gloomier than he meant to. It definitely dampens the mood slightly; he can feel the immediate change. He almost has the time to regret ever saying it, but then he feels Carlos’ knuckles brush against his own, as he entangles their fingers together.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he points out, softly.

He knows it. He has now survived two near death experiences within a year, and he cannot deny that they wouldn’t have changed the way he perceives the world and his life. The way he lives it. The overdose had been a wake-up call, and he did change his life after that. Drastically.

The shooting made him reassess his life, the decisions he has made, too, but in a different way. It was more the fear of losing it all that made him want to do changes and question certain things. But he feels like the decisions he has made are permanent, not just fuelled by almost dying. It was more of a gentle nudge into a right direction.

TK watches their intertwined fingers. The way he holds his hand is just a bit clumsy, but he doesn’t care. He feels his skin against his own, and the warmth of his touch, and it is definitely more than enough to make the twirl pool die down.

“Yeah,” he agrees slowly, trying to gather the thoughts flying through his mind into somewhat coherent words, “but, uh, not all the things I do are ‘cause I want comfort. Some—are just because of what they are. The possibility of it all. And because I really want to.”

TK knows it sounds incoherent, vague and cryptid. Still, he hopes that Carlos realises that he is talking about them, their relationship. The last thing he wants him to believe that he is spending time with him just because he is still shaken up from almost dying or because he craves comfort.

It is almost the opposite of it.

It doesn’t feel like taking a risk. No. It doesn’t feel like it because he trusts Carlos, he knows he isn’t going to hurt him intentionally, and he knows that they are both trying their best. But still, it feels like bravery. That despite being hurt before, he is still ready to open up his heart again. Baring it to him and accepting all the possibilities that come with it.

“I know,” Carlos replies, easily, and squeezes his hand once before he has to pull his own away to use the stick.

“Good,” he says, with a sharper inhale than he meant to do.

“So, what it is about Star Wars that you like about?” Carlos asks, almost casually, as he peers to both directions before driving through an intersection.

 “What?”

He laughs, softly, but it still fills up the whole car. “My dad loves war documentaries. No matter what war they are about, he’ll watch ‘em,” he starts, “I watched them with him when I was younger, but I hated them. There’s no way I’d watch one now, so I guess there’s something in those movies that resonate with you if they still bring you comfort.”

Strange noise, a mixture of a huff and a grunt, escapes TK’s throat. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

It’s almost an odd feeling to be seen so thoroughly, even if it is only about movies. It still makes him feel like he truly listens to what he has to say, even if it is just mostly rambling.

Carlos hums as an acknowledgement, once again stopping at red lights.

The silence is comfortable, and it gives him a moment to actually ponder his answer. TK looks down to his own hands, pressing his thumb into his palm. “This is going to sound stupid,” he says, eventually, when he thinks he might have stumbled into some sort of an answer.

“I don’t care,” Carlos points out, almost kindly.

“I guess—it’s about the whole your parents don’t define who you are thing,” he says, almost slowly and tentatively. “I mean I’ve worked almost always with my dad, and he’s a massive reason why I wanted to become a firefighter in the first place, but especially in the beginning, in academy, I wanted to show that I could do it on my own.”

TK exhales slowly, looking down on his hands and the paper bags. “That the shadow of my dad’s heroism doesn’t affect the way I do my job.”

“That’s a pretty good answer,” Carlos tells him, even if his eyes are gleaming with amusement, “and I get it. My dad is a Texas Ranger and I’ve always convinced myself it has nothing to do with the fact that I chose this career, but I don’t know.”

Something about his reply awakens his own curiosity. He has noticed that Carlos doesn’t talk about his parents much. A mention here and there, but he never elaborates on the details he shares with him, and usually he steers the conversation to another direction.

Even now TK wants to ask follow-up questions, but they are already arriving at the drive-in theatre, and Carlos doesn’t seem uncomfortable per se, but it almost seems like he avoids looking at the general direction of him, and he is already going on about something about the tickets and other trivial things.

The last thing he wants to do is to pressure him. He wants to believe that he will tell him anything important when he feels ready, and TK is more than willing to wait.

The place itself is a lot nicer than it looked in the photos he dug up from the internet. It’s in a middle of the park, and the screen is not massive one, but there are fairy lights hung up all over the place in between the branches of trees and it illuminates the field with soft glow.

Carlos parks the car to the far side of the field. It might not be the best place for watching the movie, but it’s quiet and further away from other cars to almost create a sense of privacy.

“I didn’t know what you like,” TK admits, handing the takeaway bags to him, “so you can choose which one of those you want.”

Carlos gives him a look, as he accepts the bag, and TK can only interpret it that it wasn’t necessary for him to let him choose, but he wanted to do it. It’s the least he can do, and he is a little pleased with himself when he notices that Carlos chooses the spicy meat-free one that he thought he would like.

The movie starts, and they eat while they watch it, occasionally pointing out things or generally offering commentary to the events of the movie, but TK knew from the beginning that the movie definitely would not have his undivided attention.

“You aren’t even watching the movie,” Carlos points out, maybe little less than an hour into the movie, “and you’ve abandoned all the pretence of even doing so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks, half-innocently, but playfulness shines through his voice, and he lets his gaze wander along his face and arms.

“I’ve sort of lost the plot, too,” he admits, and a smirk forms on his lips as he turns to look at him.

“I guess watching the movie was never really the objective here,” TK replies, trying his best to suppress a persistent smile, but he knows it is a losing battle, “so I can forgive you for being too distractive.”

TK would have never chosen a movie he actually wanted to watch because he knew as soon as he came up with the plan that his gaze would probably wander away from the screen. He knows he sounds like a walking cliché, but it is difficult to look anywhere else, especially in the privacy of the car.

“Oh, really? I’m distractive?” Carlos’ laugh is light and sweet, and it definitely tucks something in the corner of his heart.

“Yeah, very much so,” TK agrees, with fake solemn, as he nods.

“I’m not too upset about missing the movie,” Carlos admits, turning slightly in his seat towards him. “This is nice.”

The butterflies are back in the pit of his stomach, but he tries to marvel at the fact that something as simple as a smile manages to make him feel as happy as he currently feels.

“Yeah, I know we have been on dates before but—,” TK starts but his voice trails offs as he swallows, “I wanted to show that I’m serious about this.”

“I know you’re,” he says, gently, but without missing a beat. When TK looks back at him, his eyes are so full of warmth that he almost has to look away immediately because the feeling it stirs in him is so overwhelming.

“Good ‘cause I still feel terrible about the dinner.”

Carlos’ eyebrows knit together in confusion, and he almost frowns. “The one we never had because—”

“I ran away, yeah,” TK finishes for him, a little lamely.

Carlos’ reaches across the console to pick up his hand in his. He lets out a sigh, but it doesn’t sound like it would be out of annoyance. His hand feels soft against his, and TK curls his fingers around his hand a little tighter.

“I cannot say it wouldn’t have hurt, but that was months ago,” Carlos points out, kindly, “I’ve forgiven you that and there was very little to forgive in the first place. We were just on different pages back then.”

He shrugs a little like it wouldn’t be a big deal, and TK knows he might have made it out to be a bigger deal in his head than it needs to be, but he hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of ugly, simmering guilt when he saw how the hurt flickered on Carlos’ face that night.

Carlos had been the only good thing in Texas besides his job back then, and he knows he was hurting, more than now, but it still had felt terrible to repay the kindness and consideration he had shown him with the slam of a door and radio silence.

“I’m pretty sure we’re on the same page now,” Carlos continues, when he stays silent, “and if it bothers you that much, we can redo the dinner.”

“You would do that?” TK asks, with a small chuckle, as he bites his lower lip.

He doesn’t know what he has done to deserve someone to be as understanding as Carlos is, but he tries not to dwell on the thought. He rather tries to focus on how to be worth of it and treat him in the same way.

“It wouldn’t be exactly torture to have a dinner with you, and I do cook a mean red sniper.”

“I’d like that, and I want to get to know you better,” TK replies, sincerely.

The dinner he had looked amazing already the first time, even though they never got around eating it. There is something inherently romantic and sweet about cooking for someone as a date in TK’s opinion, and he wants to have countless that kind of quiet and peaceful nights, just to learn something new about Carlos.

“Ask me something then,” Carlos suggests, shifting a little in his seat as he turns to face him a bit more.

“Anything?”

“Sure,” he shrugs with a disarming half-smile.

TK huffs amusedly, but he already has a question in his mind. He has wondered about it a few times already, but he has never gotten a real chance to ask it.

“What’s the story behind this car?” TK blurts out.

“What?”

Carlos’ voice sounds almost flabbergasted, but it doesn’t seem like it is out of annoyance. More like he didn’t expect him to ask about the car.

“You don’t have to tell me, obviously, if you don’t feel like it, and I don’t know much about cars, but it seems pretty old, but it also looks like you’ve taken really good care of it. So, I wondered if there is some meaning to it.”

There is no way the car is new, but it doesn’t look worn-out either. TK is pretty sure he has never seen the car even remotely dirty. Rather, it always look shiny and there are no stains or trash inside of it either.

“It’s the first thing I ever bought with money that I had earned. Senior year of high school. I worked whole summer and delivered local newspaper during weekends. I could buy a new one, but this one still works and there’s sentimental value,” he explains, almost sounding fond. “And I fixed it myself.”

“You did?”

He doesn’t know why but he didn’t guess that he would know something about cars. It makes perfect sense now that he thinks about it. His Camaro is in perfect condition and Carlos does seem sort of stubborn, in a way that he could achieve anything if he just puts his mind to it and he is patient, and willing to play the long game.

TK has trouble of getting the image of Carlos fixing a car out of his head.

“Hmh, I grew up on a ranch,” he continues, lightly, and there is a smile dancing on his lips. “It’s almost impossible not to learn how to fix things by yourself.”

TK bites his lower lip, but he cannot stop grinning. “I’m not gonna lie, that’s kinda hot.”

Carlos sputters out a surprised but delighted laughter, and he looks down almost abashedly. “Maybe I should show you one day how to fix a car.”

“Maybe,” he replies, slowly dragging out the word, “fair warning, I probably won’t learn anything.”

Carlos tilts his head slightly, but now there is nothing abashed about the way he looks back at him. “Who said anything about learning?”

“Show off,” TK mumbles back, rolling his eyes fondly, but he is convinced that it is physically impossible to stop smiling when he keeps looking at him that way, as if he was worthy of all his attention and the only person he sees, and his heartbeat is picking up its pace.

“Gotta impress you somehow,” he murmurs, deadpan, sliding his hand up and down along his thigh, along the inner seam of his pants.

“I’m plenty of impressed already,” TK laughs, “believe me.”

No one is perfect, TK knows that. He is also aware that his crush growing more and more massive by each moment they spend together, and that it makes him biased, but he is convinced that Carlos is nearly perfect.

It is ridiculous, but he is pretty sure he is everything he could have ever asked for in a partner, and it is still, sometimes, unbelievable that Carlos seems to feel the same way about him. TK is not going to question it, but rather, cherish whatever the exhilarating and beautiful connection between them is.

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss his forehead. It is a gentle kiss, and full of affection, but it still sends a shiver down TK’s spine. “Did you grow up in New York?”

“Yeah, Manhattan.”

Carlos looks out of the windshield. There are other cars nearby, but it is still almost serene and there is certain stillness as the only moment is the movie on the huge screen and rustling of the leaves in the trees. “This is probably pretty different from it,” he says, vaguely gesturing their surroundings.

“It is,” TK confirms, quietly, “but in a good way.”

He can admit that he struggled to adapt to the pace of Austin after always living in New York, but he still doesn’t think it was a bad change. He likes Austin, a lot more than he ever expected to, and right now, exchanging soft looks in the darkness of his car, it is hard not to think that he made the best decision of his life following his dad to Texas.

***

If someone were to ask TK, on scale from one to ten, how much do you love your job, his reply would be that he is eating lunch at his workplace, despite the fact that he is only mere days into his sick leave.

He loves being at the firehouse. It might have something do the fact that he has spent a large chunk of his childhood hanging around at them, or that he loves his job and the way it makes him feel. Useful and worthy of something. Maybe now it is the fact that he misses and loves the found family they have created.

It’s a quiet shift, and everyone is doing small, but crucial tasks. Doing inventory, cleaning and checking up the equipment.

He would love to help, but since he is off-duty and his dad is watching him like a hawk, he cannot do anything else except help Judd to clean the dishes left from their lunch. Even at that, Judd only allows him to dry the dishes with a soft towel.

“So, you and Reyes, huh?” Judd asks, out of the blue, as he hands him yet another wet plate.

“Yeah,” TK breathes out. For some reason, it feels easier to look at the plate he is currently drying than Judd.

At no point they tried to keep it a secret. Most of his crew saw him hang out with Carlos at the bar and the smiles they exchanged at the scenes. Paul definitely knew after the night they took him out to clubbing, and from what TK has heard from his dad, Carlos wasn’t exactly discreet when he visited him at the hospital, so there definitely has been an abundance of clues to put together if one has bothered to look.

The way they hugged, and the soft kiss Carlos’ placed on his neck when he picked him up from the firehouse after the solar flares at least was enough clue for all of them, and he doesn’t mind at all that they all know. They are family, after all, and it is almost impossible to keep any secrets from them.

But this still feels different. He hasn’t talked about their relationship this straight-forwardly to anyone in their crew yet, besides his dad, and he is almost a little surprised it is Judd who decided to initiate this conversation, but at the same time it feels like the most natural thing to occur.

For the first time it occurs to him that Judd must have known Carlos for years at this point. He hasn’t gotten the impression that they would be terribly close, but acquaintances at least, and he is pretty certain Carlos is closer with Grace.

“He’s a good guy,” Judd continues, casually, as he rinses some glasses.

“He is.”

It’s not exactly news to him. He has been aware of it since the very beginning. Since the night he put in the effort of cooking him a proper dinner despite the fact that they had hooked up only a handful of times before, and that night and, despite everything, his own reaction still makes his heart clench with guilt.

But even without the dinner, he would know it. Carlos is kind, funny and considerate, and it shows in everything he does, and TK knows there is still a lot to learn about him, but he still feels like he knows enough about him to know that there is no bad bone in his body.

Admittedly, he might be a little biased and sporting a crush size of the state of Texas at this point, but still. He’s a good person and it makes him feel even worse for hurting him in the beginning, even though it was never his intention.

“That man has got the patience of a saint,” Judd says, now chuckling quietly, and glancing up briefly. It looks like he is reminiscing something as he hands him yet another plate.

TK watches small droplets of water to fall down of the plate to the floor. They form a smallest of puddles next to the tip of his shoe.

“Tell me about it,” TK murmurs, with a tiny smile, as he starts to rub the ceramic plate’s edge with the towel.

He knows Carlos didn’t have to give him that much time and opportunities to get his head straight, but he is more than glad that he did. He knows he needed the time and rushing into anything would have ended up just hurting both of them, but he wants to cherish this new chance.

Judd’s hands are still deep in the water and soap filled sink, but he brings his hands to halt, and for the first time during the conversation, he looks straight at him. His eyes are full of warmth, and for a thousandth time after joining the 126 TK wonders if this is what having siblings feels like.

“But just so that you know, I’m happy for you both. You deserve to be happy.”

There is no way for him to prevent the wide smile from spreading on his face. He cocks his head a little, trying to cherish the happiness exploding in his chest. It feels a hell of a lot like having family.

“Thanks. It—means a lot to me,” he manages to say, and Judd nods as an acknowledgement.

He starts to laugh again, but this time it is louder, and he sounds genuinely delighted. “Also, Gracie wants to invite you both over for a dinner at some point soon, and there is no way on this earth to get out of that invitation, so be prepared.”

“I’d not dream of it,” he tells him, in a light tone, and starts to pile the dry plates into a stack.

***

TK pushes his food with his fork along the plate, making tiny piles of rice next to the pool of sauce. The food is amazing, but it is hard to find his appetite when his mind is racing and on top of that, the wound on his chest is radiating dull ache along his arm and there is nothing he can do about it.

Carlos nudges him on his shin below the dining table, and TK flashes his eyes up to him. Carlos eyes are full of concern as he studies him with his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he tells him, flashing a rueful smile, as he places his fork to the plate. “My mom is coming to town.”

Something akin to surprise lingers on his face for a moment. “All the way from New York?”

“Yeah,” TK exhales softly, as he leans back into the chair. “Apparently she wasn’t too thrilled to hear that I almost died.”

TK notices the way Carlos’ gaze almost seemingly involuntarily wanders to the direction of his wound. He looks grave, but his whole face softens when he looks at his face again. “Understandable.”

“I’ve missed her and I’m glad to see her again,” TK clarifies.

They have been calling each other every week since he moved to Texas but speaking on phone is still different thing from seeing her almost on weekly basis. He has always been close with her, but most of the time she has been busy with her job, and it is warming his heart that she is willing to depart from her job for a week.

“But?” Carlos prompts gently.

It is odd how quickly Carlos has learned to read him, like an open book, and it is just as odd as how easy it is to talk about this, and almost everything really, with him. To share his doubts and generally let him know what is going on in his head.

“But,” he confirms with a feeble smile, “I’m pretty sure she blames my dad for me getting shot, which is already all sort of ridiculous, and I’m not too excited for her and dad being in the same space for too long. They are like caged animals when they are together.”

They start to lash out about even the smallest things and start to throw digs about each other’s life choices and parenting skills, and it is ugly and nasty, and if TK has learned anything from it, it is that he never wants similar relationship as they have.

“That sounds rough,” Carlos hums, sympathetically, abandoning his own cutlery to the table, too.

“Their arguing drove me insane as a kid,” he tells, running his hand through his hair and glances up to the ceiling of Carlos’ condo. “It probably won’t take long until I need to get out of the house again.”

“You can always escape here,” he points out, softly, but he doesn’t even hesitate for a moment with his offer, and it fills TK’s heart with gratitude.

He pushes his hand along the wooden surface of the dining table and picks up Carlos’ hand in his. He intertwines their fingers and just observes the way their hands fit together for a moment. “She wants to meet you.”

“You have told her about me?”

The surprise in Carlos’ voice almost catches him off-guard. Sure, it is still early in their relationship, and TK is completely prepared for the possibility that he isn’t ready for meet her yet, but he didn’t think Carlos would assume that he hasn’t even mentioned the existence of him to his own mother.

“Yeah, she’s my mom, we talk about anything important,” he explains, letting out a soft chuckle. “Even if I hadn’t mentioned you, dad already blabbered on about the officer waiting by my bedside at the hospital.”

For people who don’t get along, they sure love talking about his life.

“Sorry,” Carlos mumbles, abashedly glancing at his own almost-empty plate instead of him.

TK is not having any of it, because at no point he wanted to keep them as secret, and the fact that he turned up to the hospital even when they hadn’t agreed what they were means more to him than he can put into actual words.

“Hey, I’m glad you were there,” he rushes to say, and squeezes his hand tighter. “It meant a lot to me.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out softly. “It meant a lot to me that—I got to be there.”

TK cradles Carlos’ hand with his both hands, gently and slowly stroking his knuckles with both of his thumbs. “And I totally get if you don’t want to meet my mom yet.”

“Do you want me to meet her?”

TK almost huffs out of amusement because it is such a Carlos thing to say. To make sure he is comfortable and figuring what he wants to do before giving his answer.

“Yeah.”

It is the truth. Carlos has become more important to him than he could have ever imagined, and he wants all the important people in his life to get along, and by each day it is easier to imagine that there is a future for them, and that they are both in this for the long haul.

A warm smile gradually spreads on Carlos’ face, and it takes over his whole expression. TK bites the inside of his cheek because the way Carlos keeps looking at him is almost too much to handle.

“Then I’d love to meet her.”

***

Carlos’ hands are on his waist, almost pulling him closer, even though there is no space between them. TK is astride on top of him, both of his knees digging into his mattress on both side of Carlos. His own hands are in Carlos’ hair and neck, twirling his curls around his fingers and caressing any spot of skin that his fingertips come across.

He is kissing him like his life would depend on it, and Carlos seems just as eager to keep kissing him back.

TK has lost any track of time, and he honestly cannot tell how long they have been making out on Carlos’ bed, and it is hard to think about anything else than Carlos. All of his senses are just full of him. The way his skin feels warm against his own. The way he smells mixture of sweat and coconut soap. The way he sounds when he moans into the kiss. The way his lips taste distinctively like salt. The way he keeps looking back at him makes TK’s stomach flip with want.

Their kisses are hot, full of eagerness and desire, but they are still different than the ones they shared when they first met and started to fool around. Those were fuelled merely by passion and lust, and they were almost feverish and any of them could have been the last.

The passion is still there, but it is still calmer and more assured. Instead of attempting to get the instant relief, it is like an expedition. Trying to figure out what the other likes, and chart each other’s sweet spots. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” TK breathes heavily, as he manages to pull himself few inches away, but he still rests his forehead against Carlos’. He grins brilliantly. “I probably should get going.”

It was already late when he came over, and he can imagine that it is already closer to midnight, and the ride back to his dad’s house is at least fifteen minutes. He lets his index finger to trail down his neck, feeling his pulsating heartbeat against his fingertip.

Carlos nods slightly, but he runs his fingers along TK’s spine, gently. He tilts his head and holds his gaze intently. “Or you could stay?”

TK bites his lower lip, but his grin persistently stays on his lips as he tries to figure out what to say. He has never actually stayed the night over at his place. It was way too intimate thing to do in the beginning of their relationship, but now it feels like the most natural thing to do.

Just to sleep together in the same bed and wake up next to him in the morning.

It seems such a simple thing, but inexplicably it is something that TK craves. The closeness and affection of it seem so strong and he cannot say he wouldn’t have thought about it before.

The softness in Carlos’ gaze is unwavering, but he rushes to push a strand of TK’s hair away from his forehead. “If you want to.”

“I move a lot in my sleep,” he points out lightly, as a response.

“Okay.”

“I might kick you,” TK continues, “you might not get any sleep.”

“Sure,” he chuckles, softly, “but you do know that any of that isn’t going to make me take the invitation back.”

“Yeah.”

If he is sure of anything, it is that Carlos absolutely meant his suggestion and that he genuinely wants him to stay over. He rarely ever says something he doesn’t mean. It is comforting to know that there is always honesty and truth humming underneath in his words.

“And you don’t have to, okay?” Carlos rushes to reassure. “If you don’t want to or you feel uncomfortable—”

“It’s not that,” TK says, decisively, cutting him off. “I want to. I really do, but I’m just preparing you for all of it. So, when I elbow you in my sleep you know that you brought this on yourself by asking me to stay.”

TK knows he could have asked himself if he could stay. It is not a massive thing in the scale of relationships, but Carlos’ home seems to be a sacred space for him. A safe haven almost, and TK doesn’t want to intrude or cross some invisible line, or just assume that Carlos would want him to stay.

Carlos’ laughter fills the room and the happiness that it causes makes TK’s heart flutter.

“I want you,” Carlos whispers. “Not perfection, just you. Even if it involves getting elbowed and kicked in the shin while sleeping.”

TK leans in, just slightly, to kiss his lips. Briefly and softly this time. “I’d love to stay over.”

“Great,” he says, and TK feels his warm breath against the crook of his neck.

“I really don’t have anything with me,” TK points out as he rolls away from top of him to the left side of the bed.

He came straight over from work, and he has his duffel bag, but it is mostly empty because he left his dirty clothes to the laundry bin of the firehouse. The bag only has his phone charger, wallet and some chewing gum.

“You can borrow something mine to sleep in,” Carlos offers as he sits up in the bed, glancing over his shoulder at him. His eyes are gleaming with happiness but with mischievousness, too. “Not that I’d object to you not wearing anything.”

TK rolls his eyes, but he almost abashedly looks at his ceiling instead of him. The mattress tips a little underneath him as Carlos disappears to the bathroom, but he returns just as quickly. He is holding something, some sort of packaging, in his hands and he tosses it at TK, and he catches it easily. He sits up as he examines it.

“I even bought you a toothbrush.”

The thing he holds in his hands is unmistakably a brand-new toothbrush. It is still in its plastic package and the handle of the toothbrush is bright green. It is nothing special, a typical toothbrush, and it probably has cost a dollar in some supermarket, but somehow it feels the most precious thing anyone has ever given him.

He knows Carlos wants him to stay, he didn’t doubt that for a moment, but this feels like a concrete proof of it. It is also a proof that Carlos thinks about him when he is not around, and the idea of Carlos choosing a toothbrush for him, in some grocery store aisle, is endearing. It is also proof that Carlos has been wanting to do this for a while, too.

TK doesn’t know what to do with all of his feelings. It is almost overwhelming how happy the act of being gifted one toothbrush can make him. He is perfectly aware that all of his overwhelming happiness has everything to do with Carlos.

“You did,” he murmurs, stroking the plastic of the package with his thumb, before flashing his eyes back up to him.

Carlos is already back in bed, and he reaches to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I did say I want you to stay.”

***

TK has imagined waking up next to Carlos a few times. Still, nothing he has imagined compares to the reality of waking up pressed against him and having Carlos’ arms around him. Carlos’ body radiates heat and warmth and there is soft duvet entangled in his legs. TK feels strangely safe there, and even though he is wide awake, he is reluctant to move.

He ended up borrowing one of Carlos’ t-shirts to sleep in, and it is slightly too big on him on the shoulders, but he still feels it when Carlos kisses his shoulder blade. “Mornin’.”

TK’s heart flutters just at the sound of his voice. It’s hoarse with sleep, but his happiness is audible in it, and it matches the feeling that has consumed him ever since setting next to him the night before.

“Morning,” he whispers, but he cannot bite down the smile that spreads on his lips, “did you get any sleep?”

Carlos chuckles, but his lips have moved up to his neck and he keeps softly grazing his bare skin with them, and it sends shivers down TK’s spine. “You didn’t push me off the bed,” Carlos says, “and I slept really well.”

“Me too.”

TK feels more rested than in ages, and he genuinely slept well, and he cannot remember waking up during the night. He has no idea how long they have slept, but he guesses based on the way sunlight floods in from high in the window, they have managed to sleep longer than he would have expected.

He slowly rolls to his other side, to actually face him, but Carlos’ arm stays unmoved around him. TK has been awake for a moment, and he cannot say his brain would be foggy with sleep, but it still feels like his brain short-circuits when he catches the first glimpse of Carlos’ hair.

The bright sunlight makes his hair seem lighter color than usually, but all TK can focus on is that his hair is curly. It is not just wavy, but properly curly and longer than he would have guessed. It is with a startle that TK realises that he has never thought about what Carlos’ hair looks without all the hair products he usually uses. 

He knows Carlos showered yesterday before heading to bed and he didn’t see him do anything else to his hair except dry it with a towel. His hair was still slightly damp when he curled up next to him after midnight and it makes sense that his hair would have dried into its natural state, and he doesn’t know why his hair has caught him by surprise so strongly.

“It’s —”

“—curly,” Carlos finishes for him, scrunching his nose as he says it.

“I was going to say beautiful, but sure that covers it too,” TK hums, happily, as he drags his thumb along Carlos’ jawline.

Carlos closes his eyes for a moment, but he looks just tiniest bit of pleased when he opens them and focuses his gaze back onto him. “It’s unpractical.”

TK guesses there is truth in his words. There is unruliness in the way his curls lie on top of his head and some of them keep persistently falling on his forehead. He has never realised what people mean they say when someone’s hair is like a cloud, but right now, he is pretty sure he gets what they mean by it.

His hair does look like it would be a fluffy cloud or a halo above his head and TK is little more than mesmerised by it.

“That’s why you never let it be like this?”

It is one of those small things of intimacy about a relationship that he never really thought about before, knowing what each other’s bed hair looks like, but now that he has received this small piece of information, he wants to grab with both hands, and it feels special and precious.

“Yeah,” Carlos breathes out, “it’s a habit, really.”

TK rises his hand slightly and tentatively, but he stops just below his hairline, and caresses his cheekbone instead. “Can I?”

Carlos nods, almost immediately, as well as he can with his other side of his face being pressed against his pillow.

He notices a few pillow creases near the cheekbone that is still half-covered by the pillow, and somehow that detail is also enough to fill him with fondness.

TK slowly runs his fingers through his hair. Strands of his hair feel slightly rough, but mostly it is just smooth, soft and light. He has never been able to do this before with Carlos, and he is going use the opportunity the best way he can, and based on Carlos’ small smile, he doesn’t hate it either.

“You actually like it?”

Carlos’ question is worded like a joke, and the way he says it is light and just bit colored by amusement, but there is something about his tone that makes TK think that his question is actually genuine.

“Of course, I do,” he says, gently, as he loosely twirls one of his curls around his finger, “why would I lie?”

He is falling for him, fast and hard, and he is perfectly aware that it is happening. It is a bit past the stage of just having a crush on him, but TK is still convinced that there is not a part of him that he wouldn’t like.

Every person is like a mosaic, a combination of different qualities and events that have shaped them to be the person they are today, and TK knows there is still a lot to learn about him, but he has adored each small piece he has discovered about him, but he finds himself falling for the big picture. Falling for Carlos for simply being himself.

“I don’t know, what is the stage in relationship when you can announce that you hate the other’s bed hair?” Carlos half-deadpans, but the smile dances on his lips, and his gaze wanders to his hair.

TK laughs, but he pulls his hand away from his hair to gesture his own hair that probably resembles a bird nest. He doesn’t know how bad it is on this particular morning, but it definitely feels like it is sticking to various directions. 

“This is a mess,” he says, attempting to flatten his own hair by pressing his hand against it, “but yours is not. I mean you always look great, but this is really nice, too.”

“You don’t look bad yourself,” Carlos murmurs, but his whole face softens as he just looks at him.

It is not a bad feeling to be looked by him, and there is nothing but warmth and tenderness in his eyes, but sometimes it is little hard to wrap his mind around the fact that something about him makes Carlos think that is worthy of being in the receiving end of his soft and affectionate looks.

TK hopes it stays that way, because he loves the feeling that ignites in the pit of his stomach when Carlos looks at him that way, and even now he cannot help but smile beamingly at him. His gaze doesn’t make him feel self-conscious, but he still bites his lower lips as he holds his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Carlos replies, “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

Carlos’ hand is still resting against the small of his back. He has slipped his hand under the hem of his t-shirt and he keeps tracing his spine with his fingers.

“Me too,” TK whispers, while his heart somersaults in his chest, “and you’re not getting rid of me now. Your bed is so much better than mine.”

“That’s the only reason?” Carlos teases as he presses a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Maybe not the only reason,” he admits, slowly, but he cannot hide his grin, and Carlos mirrors it.

“Breakfast?”

Carlos is already kicking the duvet away from his feet and sitting up in the bed. He still lies there, but he places his palm on his thigh and the touch makes him stop moving.

“You know, if I always sleep this well when I’m here and you keep making me breakfast, you’ll spoil me rotten, and then I’ll actually never leave,” he jokes, half-mumbling against his pillow, but he keeps his eyes on him for the whole time.

“And you say that like it’d be a bad thing,” he remarks, kissing his messy hair before actually dragging himself out of the bed and down the stairs.

TK stays there for a moment, just marvelling at the feeling it sparks in his chest. It is hard to describe it, but it is definitely full of bright happiness and adoration, and he knows it has the potential of growing into something stronger and bigger, the sort of all-consuming and unconditional feeling that blends into everything he does. 

***

Carlos’ lips are on his neck, softly kissing different parts of it. Pressing a kiss on his pulse point and trailing another one lower, right below his collarbone. A shiver of bliss and pleasure runs down on TK’s spine as his kisses grow longer, wetter and more wanting as Carlos gradually moves lower down on his body.

The sensation of his lips against his skin is nothing new, but it still drives TK almost mad with simmering desire. He suspects Carlos knows this because he has taken up the habit of taking his sweet time with just kissing him like there is nothing else in the world he should do and making it as his personal mission to ensure that he covers every inch of his neck in kisses.

TK loves it, he adores the anticipation and teasing of it, and he always makes sure that Carlos gets his fair share of those sensations too. He is way too caught up in his building-up pleasure to realise that Carlos is pressing a kiss there and here on his chest, and before TK realises it, he is placing a tender kiss on his bullet wound scar.

It has been a week since he got the stitches removed, but the scar is still pinkish, and it is just slightly more sensitive than rest of his skin and he involuntarily tenses up when his lips graze the edge of it.

TK hopes Carlos doesn’t realise it. He tries to shrug it off and he doesn’t stop the movement of his own hand against Carlos’ back muscles, but his pretence and hoping are in vain. Carlos is tuned right into the frequency of his body, and he instantly picks up on the slightest change.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks, looking up at him, his voice full of genuine concern.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” TK replies, truthfully, but he pushes the back of his head deeper into the fluffy pillow of Carlos’ bed, hoping that it would swallow him whole.

Carlos rolls slightly off from top of him, leaning most of his weight on his knee and elbow. His gaze trails down on the scar, but his face remains almost blank. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Most of the ache subsided with the removal of the stitches and as long as he doesn’t try to stretch the scar, everything is okay. His soft kiss didn’t cause him any pain, it only stirred up feelings that he has tried to bury somewhere deep.

Trying to hide anything underneath the gentle and curious gaze of Carlos is proving to be nearly impossible. Especially when TK is not opposed to sharing those repressed feelings with Carlos, but he would have liked to choose another moment for this particular heart-to-heart.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos murmurs, fully settling next to him on the left side of the mattress. He kisses his shoulder slowly. “I should’ve asked whether it bothers you and if I could touch it.”

TK immediately turns his head to look straight at him. He seems absolutely earnest with his apology and the last reluctance to explain himself crumbles in him. TK exhales slowly, looking up to the white ceiling of Carlos’ bedroom.

“It doesn’t bother me if you touch the scar.”

He attempts it as a clarification, but he knows it probably creates just more questions in his mind. Still, Carlos patiently nods as if it was the clearest explanation in the world and gratefulness fills his chest.

TK doesn’t really know where to look, but he wants to make it clear that none of it can be blamed on Carlos. TK rises his hand and links their pinkie fingers together as soon as he finds Carlos’ hand near his arm.

“I’d have said something if I didn’t want you to pay attention to it,” he continues, “and you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all in my head.”

“That doesn’t make it any less valid,” Carlos points out, almost casually.

TK sucks his own lower lip as he contemplates it. “Yeah—it’s just that scars are visible reminder that something bad happened, you know?”

He hums softly as acknowledgement.

“I’ve been through a lot, but most of it didn’t leave behind any physical marks. Something that a stranger could pick up on. My addiction and all that—that’s nothing but invisible scars. This,” he says, running his index finger across the uneven scar, “is a concrete and undeniable proof, and a reminder, that, uh, I’ve been—damaged.”

TK is aware of his own rambling and that at least part of it probably doesn’t make much sense, but it feels freeing to let the words fall of his tongue. Maybe they don’t fall off completely randomly because there is some sort of understanding shining in Carlos’ eyes.

“Scars can be hidden, but once they are out in the open, it’s hard to conceal the trauma behind them and it’s making me uneasy that—anyone could see it just by looking at me.”

It’s ridiculous considering how high up in his chest the scar is. It can easily be covered with a shirt or with his uniform and most people he meets will never know that there is a scar below his collarbone. But it is the idea of it that makes him uneasy.

TK has never liked to let people know that he is suffering. Keeping up a façade and shutting down rather than showing raw emotions is what he is good at. It brought him almost sick satisfaction when he was able to keep his addiction as a secret from his parents when he first started using.

It was undetectable in the beginning for the naked eye, just like most of his suffering.

The silence that takes over the bedroom is not suffocating, but still, rather than continuing the silence, he wants to fill up the room and space between them with words.

“I guess this is the part where you tell me that I’m being ridiculous,” he feebly jokes with a breathless laugh.

The way Carlos glances at him is exasperated, but still so full of fondness. “I’m not going to tell you that ‘cause you’re not ridiculous. It takes time to get used to new scars.”

“Especially ones that are this ugly,” TK mutters, half-jokingly, still trying to deflect anything more serious.

It is not that off-mark to say that the scar on his chest is not pleasant to look at. It is uneven, spreading unevenly and diagonally along the skin of his bicep. Some of the scarring is thick and other parts are thin and delicate, almost like a web of a spider, almost as if it were trying to grow and cover more of his skin.

It’s a fresh scar and it will change over time. It will fade and become more unnoticeable, but right now, it is the only thing he can see when he looks at his bare chest. It is not the first scar he has received from work related injuries, but it is definitely the most severe.

“To me, it’s beautiful, because it’s a part of you,” Carlos says, in a low voice. He squeezes his pinkie finger with his own a bit more tightly. He intertwines their ring fingers too.

It’s dumb but his comment almost makes TK blush. He can feel it creeping up on his neck, trying to reach his cheeks and he fondly rolls his eyes. It’s the sincerity in Carlos’ voice that gets him the most.

“And obviously it’s a reminder of what happened, but it doesn’t have to be just a mark of what you went through. It can also symbolise that you survived and tell a story of that.”

Carlos pokes the bee tattoo on his forearm gently. “Just like your tattoos tell a story of something.”

TK huffs almost involuntarily. It is peculiar that they can look at the same thing, but still interpret it differently. He cannot shake off his own thoughts just like that, but he likes Carlos’ version, too.

He adores discovering the way Carlos looks at the world and it is endlessly fascinating to notice something new or think about some everyday thing in a completely different light just because he has heard Carlos’ insight on it.

Maybe that is why they make a good team. Because they are similar but still different, and they manage to complete each other. TK is fond of that thought, too.

“I guess,” he agrees, giving him a warm but small smile. He exhales deeply. “I’m sorry for ruining the mood.”

It’s not a big thing, he knows it, and he doesn’t think Carlos is actually upset about the turn that their make-out session took, but remorse still exudes into his tone.

Carlos shakes his head and lets go of his fingers. Instead, he lazily cups TK’s face with his one hand. “I’m glad we talked about this. And as long as you’re here, nothing’s ruined.”

TK laughs, gently poking him in the forearm. “You get sappy when you’re tired.”

“Maybe,” Carlos admits, happily.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

If anything, TK actually likes it. A lot. He is glad that he is comfortable enough around him to let down his guard and lose some of his filter. Besides, all of his soft words and remarks always make his heart feel too big for his ribcage because it swells with adoration and something bigger.

***

Carlos keeps looking upwards to the bright night sky as he leans against his Camaro outside of Strands’ house. He glances at his clock, but he knows he arrived ten minutes earlier than he was supposed to, and he doesn’t mind waiting.

He has learned that TK isn’t the most punctual person he has ever met, but he usually shows up on time, and even if he is late, it is usually only by a few minutes. So, he doesn’t usually keep him waiting and even if he did, TK would be worth the waiting.

Suddenly, the front door opens, but instead of TK, a woman steps out. She is wrapping her dark brown woolly cardigan around her more tightly as she walks towards him. For a moment, Carlos is just tiny bit confused until he sees her face.

She has to be TK’s mom, there is no question about it. The resemblance is almost striking. She has the same green eyes and jawline, and for a brief moment Carlos is so taken aback by it, he almost forgets to panic that he is meeting his boyfriend’s mom for the first time.

Not that he would have a lot of time to have a crisis about it, because she crosses the short distance between the door and car quickly.

“You must be Carlos,” she says, as an apparent greeting as she stops next to him.

“Yes, Carlos Reyes, ma’am.”

Gwyn laughs briefly and waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t call me that. It makes me feel ancient.”

He nods solemnly as a reply, but he doesn’t know what else to say. It is impossible to shake the good manners that have been drilled into his head since childhood.

Gwyn’s gaze is moving up and down on him, and while she tries to be discreet about it, it certainly feels like he is under scrutiny, and it makes him slightly nervous. Carlos doesn’t have a need for everyone to like him, but he thinks it is rather crucial to have his boyfriend’s parents approve of him.

He does get along with Owen well enough and they have worked on countless calls together, but there is still slight awkwardness in the air. It might be just that he is imagining it because it is odd for him to have his professional and personal parts to blend in to one, and he hasn’t met Owen outside of work as TK’s boyfriend either.

The closest thing to that was when he bumped into him in the hospital while TK was comatose, but Carlos thinks that doesn’t count because their relationship was still so new and undefined. He wasn’t even sure if TK wanted him at the hospital back then, but it would have made him feel even worse if he didn’t show up at all.

The silence between them seems to drag along for ages, so he fake coughs. “Do you like Texas?”

“It’s different for sure,” she says, looking around the driveway as she speaks, “but I do understand why Owen wanted to move here and why TK is liking it here.”

Once again, Carlos finds himself struggling to figure out what to say next. He sends whatever silent prayer out there that TK will drag himself out of the house, because this is a conversation he shouldn’t have without reinforcements.

“Uh, we are glad that they decided to move,” he says, eventually, “they have done great work with the firehouse.”

“So, I’ve heard,” Gwyn replies, casually, but she looks at him almost pointedly and there is something piercing about her staring, even though her eyes are mostly filled with warmth and kindness. “You know, TK talks a lot about you.”

“He does?”

Carlos blurts it out half-involuntarily. He knows TK has told about him to his mother, but it is still a different thing to hear it from her, and TK never specified how much he talks about him. It makes his heart almost flutter.

“It has been a while since I’ve seen him this happy,” Gwyn continues, but the sigh that follows is heavy. “God knows he was never this happy with Alex, but as a mother I worry.”

“I understand.”

He has no idea who Alex is, but he assumes it is the nuclear bad break-up that TK referred months ago at the police station, and he knows it is TK’s story to tell someday, when he feels comfortable enough to share it and he doesn’t want to hear it a moment sooner.

Still, he understands her worry on some level. Parents worry about their kids when they are adults, and he knows there wasn’t much time between TK’s break-up and when they first met. Carlos quickly became aware that TK initially was looking just for rebound, and that he was that for TK in the beginning, and he is just grateful they got the chance to develop it further than that, and that they became so much more than that for each other, but he gets how it might seem little sketchy from outsider’s point of view.  

“Nothing to do with you, personally,” Gwyn hurries to say, with a wave of hand, “Owen likes you and TK adores you, so I know you’re a good guy, but my son has the habit of following his heart, to the extent that he just throws it ahead and hopes that someone catches it.”

Carlos remains quiet because he assumes she has something else to say, and while her description of TK is not unkind, there is almost an edge to her voice as if she thought that quality in him was the source of most of the suffering in his life.

He doesn’t want to say anything that she could misinterpret, but in his opinion, having a big heart is more of a strength than a weakness. Sure, maybe he is biased because it is one of the things that drew him to TK. That he still cares about people and is ready to do anything to help others and that he is still willing to open up his heart even though it has been crushed before.

Having faith in other people’s goodness and humanity is something Carlos has always gotten hard time about in his line of work, but it is beautiful and almost comforting to see something similar in TK.

“Eventually, when they don’t, he gets crushed. And I don’t want to see him hurt, again. He’s my son and he has had enough grievance in his life,” Gwyn finishes, her arms still crossed, and there is graveness in the way she keeps looking at him.

It is easy to believe that she is a force of nature in the court room. She has stated nothing but her own observations, but it is easy to read between the lines. It is not an outright threat, or anywhere near it, but the message is clear enough. If he is not serious about him, he should back up now and not later.

“I know,” Carlos replies, and she looks almost surprised as she raises her eyebrows, probably wondering how much of his past TK has shared with him, “And with all due respect, I do intend to catch it, if he lets me.”

He is not in the habit of doing things half-way, and it applies to his relationships, too. He is all in, and it might sound like a cliché, but he is convinced that what he and TK has is special, and he is not going to mess it up by not trying.

She lets out a soft exhale. “I don’t think it’s a question of letting anymore.”

“Then I’m catching it,” he replies, without missing a beat.

Gwyn opens up her mouth and it seems that she is about to say something else, but the front door opens and TK steps outside. He quickly spots the two of them, talking, next to the car and Carlos can hear his groaning when he hangs his head back and glances up to the sky.

“Mom, leave him alone,” he calls out, as he heads towards them.

It is little more than difficult to tear his gaze away from TK. He is wearing just slightly worn-out black cuffed jeans and a dark green short sleeved button up. It is dark, but he can still see that it brings out his eyes, and his eyes are always beautiful, but right now, they are captivating.

Gwyn seems to notice his staring because amusement gleams in her eyes.  “Have a nice night.”

Gwyn’s voice brings him back from his thoughts, and he manages to look away from him to flash a quick smile at him. “It was nice meeting you, ma’am.”

It rolls off from his tongue automatically. He doesn’t give it another thought until he hears himself saying it, and he hopes she doesn’t take it the wrong way. He cannot just turn off everything he has been taught because she asked one time to not to do it.

Luckily, she just gives him an amused half-smile and whispers something to TK as she passes him by.

“I’m sorry,” TK whispers, as he kisses him briefly. “I didn’t notice she decided to ambush you.”

He seems genuinely apologetic, and sure it wasn’t the ideal way of meeting his mom, and Carlos has no idea what sort of impression he made on her, but he hopes it wasn’t completely horrible, and still, none of that is TK’s fault.

“It’s okay,” he tells him, opening the passenger side of the car for him, but TK just stares at him, unmoved.

“Did she give you a hard time?”

Carlos lets go off of the car door handle, but the door remains open. He sighs, but he offers him a tiny lopsided smile.  “Very strong vibes that if I break your heart, they will never find my body and she will walk free of any murder charges,” he jokes.

TK grimaces and he is fumbling for his hand, and Carlos more than willingly lets him to slip his fingers in between his own. His hand feels warm against his palm, and there is something inexplicably comforting about the way he holds it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“It’s sweet that she cares,” Carlos points out, ignoring the apology that he doesn’t need. He shrugs lazily. “And she was nice.”

It is not a complete lie. He can imagine getting along with her too, as soon as they are able to shake off the initial awkwardness and maybe have a different type of conversation.

 “Still, that probably wasn’t the way you wanted to meet her,” TK scoffs, his eyes darting towards the front door.

He seems genuinely frustrated and annoyed, and Carlos doesn’t want to put any more wedges to his relationship with his parents, but deep down, it warms his heart to see a more protective side of him. Obviously, he doesn’t need protecting, especially from TK’s parents, but it is still nice to see that he has his back, even if it is about a small thing like this.

“No, but life rarely works out the way we want to.”

It sounds more morbid than it did in his head, so he just smiles at him as he holds his gaze. He wants TK to know that everything is fine, and he isn’t that bothered about their small discussion. It was awkward, but not a total disaster.

“I’m sorry she felt the need to give you a shovel talk or whatever,” he murmurs, grabbing his other hand, too. He looks straight back at him, and his eyes are gleaming brightly. “I promise I’ve not made it seem like it’d be necessary,”

“I know, and it’s not your fault,” he reassures, gently, “all she said, indirectly, was that I shouldn’t lead you on if I wasn’t serious about us.”

“Oh,” TK breathes out, but he frowns, as he glances at their shoes. “It’s not a bad advice.”

He is right. Generally, that is a good rule to follow in life and it probably saves from all sorts of unnecessary heartbreak, but sometimes heartbreak is worth the risk, and it doesn’t really apply to them because he knows they are both serious about their developing relationship, he has no doubts about it.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

It is not a love declaration, nowhere near that, but it might as well be, because the look that TK gives him when he looks up almost knocks him off his feet, simply because there is so much softness and gratitude wallowing in his eyes.

“Good.”

***

It feels good to be running again, and TK has missed the burning feeling in his thighs as his feet hit the pavement in steady rhythm.

It is even perfect day for running, it’s cloudy and not too hot, but he cannot drown the sounds of the surrounding world and his own panting because, unusually, he is not wearing his headphones.

He is glad that Carlos agreed to come along when he asked if he wanted to join in his run, and even though they are not able to talk much while running, it still felt impolite to wear the headphones. Now, he misses them because his panting is starting to resemble wheezing and it is impossible not to hear it or to ignore the concerned glances, which Carlos keeps shooting at his way.

The dull ache of his bullet wound scar is nothing new, and he is slowly getting used to it, but right now his whole chest burns. It is awful feeling and the sensation spreads in his chest, and it feels like his lungs are not inflating properly, no matter how much he tries to force them breath normally.

Slight nausea washes over him, and he knows he is sweating profusely. Droplets of sweat keep falling down his face and he feels weaker than in weeks. He swallows hard when small black spots appear in his vision. He knows he should stop, but he feels miserable knowing that he still hasn’t healed enough.

Their run isn’t even really running. It is mostly jogging, and Carlos is definitely holding back as he lets TK to set the pace. It isn’t terribly fast, and TK still feels like dying and he loathes it.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Carlos suggests, tentatively as he slows down his jogging even more when they arrive to a small park. 

“No,” he replies, shaking his head, but he stops too. Taking a deep breath sends sharp pain up his left side and he ends up hissing. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Carlos says, pressing his lips together, and his tone makes it clear that he isn’t believing anything he is saying. “You look exactly like the dictionary definition of fine.”

His breathing is still heavy, and it takes a lot more of effort than usually just to keep breathing and his muscles feel weary. Still, stopping for a moment makes him realise that he doesn’t have it in him to continue running. He would rather just lie down in the dirt of the parkway.

Concern seems to be radiating off Carlos and the guilt that washes over him for making him worry again makes him feel even more defeated.

“Maybe I could sit for a moment,” he grumbles, as he spots one of the park benches nearby.

He manages to walk there without collapsing, which he considers to be a small win, and as soon as he sits down, Carlos sits down next to him.

He tries his best to steady his breathing and being off his feet seems to help. Most of the spots from his vision have disappeared and as he exhales and inhales steadily, trying his best to ignore the pain, he realises that the park is actually beautiful.

There are tall and thick trees that shade most of the park, but the way their leaves rustle in the wind is calming. The grass field looks well-taken care of and there are symmetrical flower beds filled with colorful tulips. Some kids are playing soccer in the far corner of the park, and he can hear their excited yelling.

“Sorry for ruining your run,” TK murmurs as soon as he trusts his voice to speak again.

The pressure in his chest seems to have eased up a bit, and air seems to flow in and out of his lungs just a bit more effortlessly.

Carlos places his hand on his knee. He strokes the outer edge of his kneecap with his thumb. “You haven’t ruined anything. You got shot and your lung collapsed. That was less than a month ago. No one is expecting you to be fine yet.”

TK looks at his long fingers and the way they rest against his leg. He is wearing running pants, but the material of them is so thin, he feels the touch of his fingertips as if there was nothing in between. It is a light touch, but it still makes his entire body hum with contently.

“There might be a valid point there,” TK huffs.

If someone else was healing from the same injuries as him, he would tell them that healing takes time and that it cannot be rushed. He knows it, deep down. But still, somehow, it feels different when it is him who is attempting to get better.

Not being able to work and not being able to do everything without help is slowly driving him up the wall. It feels like he is letting people down by asking for things. TK knows it is not the best mentality to have, and that he is damn lucky to have people in his life who are more than willing to help, but he fears that it is becoming too much. That everyone has been doing so much for him already, and that getting injured is just something else he is making everyone around him go through.

“If I wanted to go on a proper run, I’d have gone alone,” Carlos points out, softly, but he is bumping his own knee against TK’s.

“Rude,” TK mutters, with fake exasperation, but he cannot help but grin at him, bit breathlessly.

“This was just an excuse to spend time with you,” he explains, letting his hand slip away from his knee. His face breaks out in a grin that it is almost bright enough to outmatch his own. “And see you in your workout gear.”

TK immediately knows that Carlos is trying to cheer him up, distract him from his pain and uncomfortableness, and he is not ashamed to admit that it is working. His grin doesn’t disappear anywhere, but he glances at his shoes almost abashedly.

“You don’t need an excuse for either of those things, you know,” he says, looking back at him again.

The concern is still settled into his expression, but he looks good and almost relaxed as he leans into the backrest of the bench. It feels impossible to look away from him and TK is little glad that he doesn’t have to do it.

Carlos chuckles, warmly and genuinely. “I also had the ulterior motive of making sure that you don’t pass out in some bush or ditch when you eventually, stubbornly, push yourself too far.”

TK half-expects himself to feel annoyed that Carlos thinks he needs looking after, but he feels nothing of the sort. He feels just seen and known, and it is not a terrible feeling. It is actually pretty comforting and while he knew the whole time that going for a run wasn’t maybe the smartest idea, he is grateful that Carlos didn’t try and stop him.

TK kicks some dirt with the tip of his shoe. It leaves a mark on the pathway, sort of like deeper brown scratch in the otherwise lighter road. His breathing is getting steadier, and he doesn’t feel like puking his insides out anymore, but it is less overwhelming and easier to focus his attention on one thing at a time.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a bit,” TK says, flashing him a small and hopefully reassuring smile. He traces the mark on the ground with his shoe again. “I just hate feeling this useless.”

“You’re not useless,” Carlos retorts, without any hesitation. “You’re healing, there’s a difference.”

He is a certified paramedic, and he has done the work for years. He knows the miraculous and near-impossible healing capabilities that a human body has, but he has also seen how fragile a human can be, and it is exactly how he feels right now.

Fragile.

Gaining his strength back will take time and it is already happening, gradually, but he hates feeling weak and that he is the one being helped, instead of being the helper.

“I guess. I just miss work.”

“I get that,” Carlos says, and his voice sounds genuine. He stays quiet for a moment, looking at the trees and their branches that move along with the wind, almost like in synchronisation, before he focuses his gaze back onto him.

His eyes are full of understanding and affection, and TK isn’t sure if he is worth any of it, but he cannot look away from him and seeing all of that, just reserved for him, wrecks him, but in the best way possible.

“But you’re more than your work or the amount of people you save.”

Suddenly, it feels like there is a lump in his throat and it is impossible to get rid of. TK knows there is truth in Carlos’ words and that they should be a self-evident thing that he should believe it without any doubts, but it is challenging because in the eyes of others, his job is usually what people see.

The 126 is like family to him, but that family was forged by their shared profession. They saw him as a fellow firefighter first and that will always be a thing that defines their relationship, and it is okay. His relationship with his dad is obviously strongly affected by the fact that they work together, and TK thinks they wouldn’t be as close if he wasn’t his captain, too.

He knows his mom always introduces him as his son, but that she always mentions that he is a firefighter, as if saving people at work is the only good thing he has ever amounted.

It feels different with Carlos.

Sure, they met at work, and they consistently keep bumping into each other during calls, but he has never seen him as just a firefighter or fellow first responder. From the get-go, he has seen him, and that his job is just one of the many parts of him.

He sincerely hopes that he has made Carlos feel the same way.

“I know it. On some level,” TK sighs, running his hand through his sweat dampened hair. He leans into him, their shoulders brushing and bumping together. “And the sick leave isn’t all that bad.”

It has given him a time to stop and figure out what he wants from life. He is pretty sure he has it figured it out by now, and that almost everything he needs is right there with him on the wooden park bench.

“Good,” Carlos murmurs, softly, and despite all the sweat, he presses a brief kiss on his temple. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Maybe if we stay here just a while longer?”

TK feels considerably better, but there is no way he is getting up yet. Besides, the park is nice, and he rather prefers the feeling of being able to breathe. Carlos probably has better things to do than sit on a park bench without doing anything particular, and TK feels just a tiny bit guilty about forcing him to do it.

“For you, I got all the time in the world.”

It is cheesy and bit ridiculous, but his words still make TK’s heart skip a beat out of purely non-medical reasons.

***

Carlos is cutting the red bell peppers into cubes, and it is something he has done countless times before. He does it always the same way, with the technique that his mom taught him when he was old enough to hold a knife in his hand, and he doesn’t have to pay much attention to the movement of his wrist. It is almost automatic.

He is glad that it is almost automatic, and that he chose a dish that he practically knows the recipe by heart because that means he can pay more attention to his boyfriend than cooking.

TK is sitting at one of the stools near the kitchen island, leaning on it with one elbow. It is almost a constant, TK’s presence in his kitchen, and he cherishes it. Every time TK is over at his place, and he starts to cook, TK gravitates towards the kitchen too. Sometimes he helps with something, but most of the he just keeps him company, babbling and talking about food or their days.

Carlos loves it because it reminds him of home. The kitchen was always the heart of their ranch and his mama always kept asking about his and his sisters’ days at school while making them sandwiches or some other snack and while Carlos has liked living alone in his condo, he has missed having someone to share all those small moments with, too.

He puts down the knife and turns around, about to ask TK to hand a bowl from one of the cupboards, but the words die on his lips because TK is already offering him the exact plastic and white bowl he meant to ask for.

TK hands it over with softest of smiles, and Carlos cannot help but mirror it, but he is little flabbergasted by his realisation of how much attention TK seems to pay to his cooking. He has cooked the same dish for him a couple of times and it seems that TK has picked up the parts of the recipe and instructions.

Maybe they do make a good team after all.

TK continues to tell about the latest argument of his parents that he woke up to in the morning, and Carlos pushes the cubes of bell pepper into the bowl as he listens to him. He picks up the carrots from the fridge and starts to slice them.

“They were arguing about power sockets and to which one mom should plug her computer into while having one of her online meetings,” TK says with an exasperated sigh and roll of his eyes, “the sockets were literally maybe a foot away from each other, but still they managed to make it a whole thing.”

Carlos hums sympathetically and glances at him over his shoulder. Slight annoyance is still visible on TK’s face, but it starting to melt away. He still presses his lips together into a tight line and gently thumps his fist against the palm of his other hand, apparently deep in his thoughts.

Carlos looks back at the carrots that still needs to be sliced and continues with his task.

“I promise we won’t end up like that,” TK says, lightly and almost offhandedly.

Carlos cannot explain exactly why, but his words throw him off his rhythm. Maybe it is the way that TK has casually started to talk about future, a shared one, when just a few months ago the thing between them was undefined and new and it seemed to terrify him.

Maybe it is the indirect implication that their lives are intertwining in a way that they are in each other’s lives thirty years later, just like Owen and Gwyn.

Maybe it is both of those things because sometimes it is still difficult to comprehend completely that they made it to this point and that instead of running away, TK chose him. Him, his life and his future and it is way more than he even dared to hope when they first met.

So, the mentions and references of future still fill his heart with joy and make it beat just a bit weirdly for a second, but this time it also makes lose his focus on the exact location of the knife and he ends up cutting his left index finger near his fingernail.

He hisses, not out of pain, but annoyance mostly and slowly but surely a tiny trail of dark red blood starts to slide along his finger. He pokes it with his thumb but it only stings and he hears the legs of the kitchen stool move against the floor as TK hops off from it. 

He is almost immediately by his side and frowning out of concern as he studies him with his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a cut,” he explains, holding up his bleeding finger.

It is just a cut and not even terribly deep one, only a superficial scratch on his skin really, but the concern on TK’s face doesn’t disappear anywhere.

“Let me see,” he says, gently grabbing his finger as he examines the cut. He pays a lot more attention to it than probably necessary, looking at it from different sides, but he is still careful not to touch the cut. His eyes flash up back to him. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

“In the bathroom.”

He barely finishes saying it before TK is already going up the stairs. Carlos looks after him, unsure what to do with the cut because in his opinion, the first aid kit could stay where it is, but TK returns only a moment later carrying the kit in his hand.

He opens the kitchen faucet with one hand and gently puts his bleeding finger under it and lets the water pressure to rinse the tiny droplets and trail of blood away from his finger. Carlos bites the inside of his cheek as he watches him work.

He doesn’t need TK to do this for him, but there is determination in the way he rips of a few paper towels and starts to dry his finger with careful dabs of the paper, so he lets him do it and tries his best to bite down the fond smile that threatens to come out.

TK finishes meticulously drying the cut before he rummages through the first aid kit to find a small bottle of disinfectant spray. He sprays it on the cut, and it stings considerably less than Carlos expected it to and some of the disinfectant is sliding down on his finger, but TK is dabbing it away with the paper towel.

“I didn’t realise being a firefighter makes you an expert on kitchen related mishaps,” Carlos deadpans, because the concentration and thoroughness of his actions is endearing, even though it is slightly over the top.

If he had been alone, he would have held a kitchen towel against the finger until it stopped bleeding and searched for bandage later. It is a small cut, easily ignorable, but it warms his heart that TK wants to do all of that for him.

It makes him feel cared for and it is not a bad feeling at all.

“It doesn’t,” TK confirms, but flashes him a brilliant grin, before throwing the paper towel to the trash, “but being a paramedic does.”

He seems completely obvious to the surprised look Carlos shoots at his way when he starts going through the contents of the first aid kit again.

He is mostly surprised that it hasn’t come up earlier, but as he thinks about it more, it isn’t that big of a surprise. On the calls that they worked on before TK’s sick leave, he was usually ordered to help with the patients or assist the emt crew, and he certainly seemed to know exactly what he was doing when he tried to save the woman on the bus during the solar storm.

And it fits the image that he has in his head. He is always ready and willing to help people and there certainly are similarities in both of those professions. Always saving people.

Still, the new piece of information shifts the image he has of him in his head. Not for worse or better, necessarily, but making it more complete. More real and accurate, and perhaps, because of that, more perfect.

Carlos is perfectly aware that their relationship and any feelings that they have developed for each other, no matter how strong they are, are still new and even though it feels like that he knows him, he is only grazing the surface of TK, and vice versa.

It is a bit terrifying, to be aware of the amount of things they don’t yet know about each other, but mostly it is just exhilarating because he wants to learn everything there is to about him, even if it takes years or decades.

Maybe they have grazed only the surface so far, but he wouldn’t mind diving in.

“I’ve dual certifications,” TK explains, opening up the packet of plasters. “I used to do both jobs back in New York, but I haven’t done it since.”

Carlos stays quiet as he watches TK dump all of the plasters out of the packet to the counter and starts to look for a suitable one. He instantly disregards some of the biggest ones and swiftly finds a narrow plaster. He starts to peel it open, but he glances curiously up to Carlos, apparently aware of the weight of his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, innocently, with half-shrug but he tries his best not to move his hand because TK is holding it once again and placing the plaster exactly on the top of the small cut.

“That’s not your nothing look,” TK retorts, gently, as he wraps it carefully around his finger.

“I cannot be in awe of my boyfriend?” He asks, softly, tilting his head to the side as he holds his gaze.

It takes a lot of work to become a firefighter or paramedic, and those are by no means easy jobs to do for years, and Carlos has known that TK is smart and hard-working and that he feels passionately about his job, despite temporary doubts, but still finding out about his dual certification fills him with some sort of fondness and awe. Maybe it is pride.

“You—” he starts, but his grin grows into a brilliant one and he looks down on their socks, trying to bite down his delighted smile, but all he manages to do is to let out a huff that sounds like a soft laughter, “shut up.”

Carlos just grins at him back, but TK pokes his injured finger with his own. “It’s almost as good as new.”

The beige plaster is tightly on around his finger and Carlos is convinced he didn’t see one drop of blood after rinsing it under the water. It probably left only a tiny wedge of skin and not even an actual wound behind.

“Thank you,” he says, sincerely, leaning in closer to press a kiss on his forehead. 

***

His parents were intent to invite Carlos over for a dinner as soon as possible, and while Carlos instantly agreed to their invite, TK could tell he was nervous when he showed up at their door with tiny and white flowers for his mother.

He wasn’t sure if the nervousness was visible for his mom and dad because Carlos hid it well, but he could spot the tension in his shoulders, the way he pressed his lips together when he thought no one saw and his fidgeting hands. Still, all of that melted away relatively fast, and he is pretty sure Carlos actually enjoyed himself when the atmosphere got more relaxed.

His parents were insisting to tell all the most embarrassing stories of his childhood while they ate dinner and his mom pulled out his baby and childhood photo album from somewhere and proudly showed it off, while TK hoped the ground would swallow him as whole.

It was a weird mixture of embarrassment and happiness that he hasn’t felt before. Hell, he is pretty sure none of his previous boyfriends has ever seen any of his baby photos, no matter how long they dated. The night was filled with laughter and TK is certain his cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Thanks for putting up with them,” TK whispers, as Carlos shrugs on his deep green jacket near their front door.

“I had fun,” he says, resting his hand on the doorknob, but still lingering for a moment longer in his presence.

“Yeah, me too,” he admits, quietly, and feeling the happy fluttering in his stomach that he has become familiar with lately.

“See you tomorrow, Ty,” Carlos whispers, before leaning into kiss his temple before he heads out of the door.

He is left to stare at the door with a dumb and lovestruck smile on his face.

“Ty?” his dad repeats, in amused disbelief as soon as he closes the door.

He groans, hanging his head back, before facing his parents. Both of their eyes are gleaming, and they look way too smug and pleased with this new piece of information. Like damn cats that ate the canary and TK already knows that the teasing from them will be relentless.

“I haven’t heard anyone call you that—” she starts, her voice full of exaggerated surprise, and she keeps glancing between him and Owen.

“—since you were old enough to declare us in kindergarten that you didn’t want to go by Tyler anymore,” Owen finishes her sentence, matter-of-factly.

“Or Kennedy for that matter,” she quips, unhelpfully.

“I still don’t want to go by either of those,” TK clarifies, pointing both at them with his index finger.

His full name never felt like his own, and in kindergarten there were five other Tylers and he absolutely didn’t want to be called Kennedy either because it seemed like an old man’s name, so TK was the only choice he agreed to and it has stuck ever since, and it truly feels like his name.

His dad holds up his hands in defensive manner and her mother laughs, but there is still curiosity shining in her eyes. “Oh, Carlos gets a free pass?”

“It’s different,” he says, sighing softly, “he found out my full name and he knows better than call me by my full name.”

He doesn’t want to specify that he found out his name by processing his arrest after a bar fight, because he is pretty sure his mom never found out about that night. Besides, Carlos had asked if it was okay to call him Ty, and maybe with any other person he would have said no, but it is difficult to deny him anything, and he makes it sound special, beautiful.

“Nothing to do with the fact that you are starting to fall in love?”

“Nope,” he says, instantly and already heading towards the stairs, but apparently his parents think that their conversation is far from over.

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing if it had,” Owen calls out, over his shoulder, almost offhandedly, and the lightness of his tone is still there, but something makes TK believe that he truly means it.

He stops in his tracks and turns around to look at both of them. “Really?”

They have always tolerated his boyfriends, but every time he introduced someone to them, he could tell that they didn’t genuinely like them or approve of them, even though they always bit their tongues and never outright stated it to him.

He was half-prepared to hear some sort of lecture about being careful and not moving too fast after his latest heartbreak, and he knows Carlos is different from all the others he has dated in the past, and that he is amazing and deserves all the praise, but he still wasn’t expecting this reaction from his parents. 

“He’s definitely the best one you have brought home,” Gwyn adds, softly, with a loving smile on her face.

“By far,” Owen agrees, with a mock frown, but his smile refuses to go away completely, “too polite for his own good, but he’s a great guy.”

He huffs, amusedly and fondly, as he looks down on his socks.

“He cares about you. Anyone can see that,” she continues, quickly glancing at Owen as she speaks, “and you look happy.”

He is happy, there is no denying that. Obviously, some days are still tougher than others, but he feels more at home than ever in Texas, he loves his crew, and he knows that spending time with Carlos just increases the amount of happiness his heart harbours, making it brighter and warmer.

“Maybe I am,” he admits, almost abashedly.

“That’s all we want,” she says, gently and it almost looks as if tears were forming and glistering in her eyes, but she tries to blink them away quickly.

“And that’s achieved by embarrassing childhood pics and stories?” he asks, deadpan.

“It’s our right and duty as your parents to embarrass you,” Owen declares, proudly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he murmurs, begrudgingly smiling, as he walks past them towards the kitchen and tries to dodge Owen’s hand, but he still manages to ruffle his hair as he did when he was still a kid, and it is hard to feel anything but content.