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kiras-sunshine · 3 years

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Beside you in a blinding bliss

Tarlos. 4.4k

For: 911 couple’s retreat (@911CouplesRetreat) day 1 “you have never looked more beautiful” + hurt/comfort

Summary:

He places it on the floor, near his shin. The fake flame flickers a little, but it is dim, and it certainly doesn’t illuminate the bathroom.

“Now it’s an anniversary,” TK remarks, softly, with a tiny sigh.

ao3

author’s note: this includes slight descriptions of puking

***

The room spins as Carlos attempts to move and he has to grab the edge of the bathtub to steady himself. He is already sitting on the floor, but even the smallest movement makes spots appear in the corner of his vision and he has to take a couple of deep breaths to get rid of them.

He feels ridiculously weak, and the bathroom smells awful. He cannot get rid of the reeking, even though he has flushed the toilet multiple times since puking his insides out, and he just wants to curl up in a ball and forget the whole day.

The nausea still wallows threateningly in the pit of his stomach, but he isn’t convinced that the guilt wouldn’t be overpowering the waves of nausea.

TK didn’t seem angry or disappointed when he found him puking in the bathroom. If anything, he was just concerned and worried about him. Carlos cannot really blame him, he would probably have the same reaction if it was the other way around, but Carlos cannot help but feel like he has let him down.

It’s their first anniversary, and they actually had plans. Nothing too fancy, but they had a dinner reservation to a place they have meant to try for ages, and he had done the reservation months ago. Sure, it is only a dinner, but it is more about the meaning the date holds rather than about the food.

TK deserves the world, he knows that much and it’s ridiculous and slightly stupid, but he just wanted to give him a nice, stress-free evening and celebrate their love, but apparently even that proved to be too difficult.

Work was plain terrible. They were understaffed and the whole shift was filled with a call after a call, and he didn’t really have a time to sit down and eat lunch, so he grabbed a sandwich from a food truck and he knew it tasted funny, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the thought too long because the dispatch sent them to another scene.

With his luck, he ended up with a food poisoning.

At least, that is his best guess. He felt a little off when he left the precinct and by the time he got home, the nausea was too strong to keep bottled up inside, and since that he has spent most of the afternoon camping out at the bathroom floor.

Carlos sincerely hopes it is a food poisoning because it could mean he would feel better quicker and the last thing he wants to do is to pass on some stomach bug to TK. It would be a terrible gift as far as anniversary gifts go.

Carlos tries to suppress a yawn and for a moment, he ponders whether he could just lie down and fall asleep on the floor. It feels like every ounce of energy would have been drained out of him, and somehow, even sitting up seems to require too much currently.

His mind definitely feels a little hazy and he knows exhaustion is taking over, but he is almost sure he hears the front door open and close. Despite everything, it makes him smile. It helps to know that he isn’t alone.

A few moments pass before he hears the bathroom door crack open, and TK appears to the bathroom. He is carrying a grocery store plastic bag and Carlos is happy to see him again, but his stomach lurches with guilt as he sees the concern shining in his eyes.

“Your beloved car survived without a scratch,” TK tells him, in apparent form of greeting, as he sits right next to him on the floor without any hesitation. He leans against the bathtub and glances at him, but he presses a kiss on his temple.

Carlos flashes him a lopsided and quick smile.

TK’s driving skills are infamous among the 126, even if they let him drive the ambulance nowadays. Judd sent him a lot of pictures of the destroyed traffic cones when he tried to teach TK to drive the ladder truck. TK himself sent him pictures of the battered rear end of the truck.

Despite all of that, Carlos has always let him drive the Camaro when he has needed it, but still TK immediately took it as some sort of highest form of trust. Carlos does trust him, with everything and anything, so it is not unwarranted of him to think that way, but TK has developed the habit of declaring, after every time he has driven, that his car still remains un-crashed.

“And you?” Carlos asks, hoarsely.

“What?”

“I care a lot more if you survived without a scratch,” Carlos points out, kindly. It feels like an obvious thing to say, but he likes to remind him of it, anyway. He has to close his eyes for a moment because the room spins a little.

Any reluctance he might have towards letting him drive is because he only worries that TK will get himself hurt. But he has seen him drive, he isn’t that bad at it. He just has an unorthodox way of reversing.

“I did,” TK confirms with warm laughter, “I mean I only visited pharmacy and the supermarket.”

Carlos had every intention of texting TK that he wasn’t feeling well when he first got home, but he never got around to do it, and when TK arrived back to the apartment from his own shift, he gave him a full check-up before darting to buy some medicine that would make him feel better and stomach-friendly foods.

“You once got kidnapped from a parking lot,” he mumbles. Moving feels awful, but he rests his head against TK’s shoulder because holding his head up on his own feels impossibly tiring.

“True,” TK says, but his voice softens as he continues, “how are you feeling?”

“Like dying.”

It feels like an honest answer. It is only maybe a tiny bit of exaggeration, but he feels miserable. His stomach aches and cramps, and it is hard to focus on anything else except the nausea. Carlos lifts his hand a little, but as soon as he moves it, it starts to shake.

TK’s fingers immediately curl around his shaking hand and it almost makes it stop. He holds it firmly, but still gently and places their intertwined hands at Carlos’ lap.

Logically, he knows that handholding cannot cure nausea, but it almost feels like it. Feeling the touch of his skin helps him to focus on something else. His touch is almost like a concrete proof that he is not alone and that whatever he is feeling will pass, sooner or later.

TK lets out a sympathetic hum, and his hand feels almost too warm against his. “No dying on my watch, but you do look like crap.”

Carlos snorts. “I guess we’re officially out of the honeymoon stage.”

He means it as a joke, even though his voice comes out a little meek. In all honesty, he has no idea where the end or beginning of their honeymoon stage would lie. He still gets goddamn butterflies in his stomach when TK even as much as smiles at him, and he is probably more in love than ever.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful,” TK replies, and his voice is light and teasing, but it doesn’t sound like a complete joke to his ears, even though it must be.

Carlos can imagine the way he is looking. He looked pale already in the locker room of the precinct and he knows he is drenched in sweat. Generally, he feels gross. It still feels like a small miracle that TK is willing to sit pressed next to him, kissing his head and holding his hand, without any complaints.

“That’s the spirit,” he manages to crook out before his stomach lurches and he has to puke again.

The sudden movement makes him dizzy and the taste in his mouth is bitter and awful. It sort of feels like he couldn’t breath properly and he is gasping for air, but TK is rubbing his shoulders in a soothing manner and it helps a little to keep the panic at the bay.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “just breath. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

He isn’t sure if he loathes more the feeling of sickness or the fact that TK has to be there to witness it. If there is ever anyone in front of whom he has allowed himself to feel weak, it is TK, but he still cannot shake the uneasiness of being so helpless and small in front of him. He is also willing to bet that TK sees a lot grosser things at work on weekly basis, but that doesn’t mean he should witness it from him.

Carlos doesn’t really trust his voice to answer, so he just nods. He wants to believe that and as he catches his breath, he, at least temporarily, feels slightly better.

TK is still stroking his back. “Have you drunk anything?”

“No.”

He didn’t even manage to drink a gulp of water when he ate that damn sandwich before they were sent to another scene.

Carlos turns around again, placing himself back to the familiar spot against the bathtub. TK studies him with his gaze for a moment before he pulls a bottle of water out of the plastic bag. He hands it to him, and the bottle feels lukewarm in his hands.

“Try to drink a little bit, okay? If it feels bad or you cannot keep it down, I can hook you into an IV bag of saline. If you want to.”

His voice is soft and sincere, and full of concern, and Carlos cannot tell exactly how serious he is with his offer. All he knows that his first-aid kit has gone through a proper upgrade since TK started at his new job and he wouldn’t be that surprised if they had the equipment for simple infusion, too.

“I don’t think a food poisoning requires a paramedic,” he replies, slightly tentatively because he doesn’t want him to take it the wrong way. He opens the water bottle with shaky hands and takes a small sip out of it.

“Too bad that you’re dating one,” he remarks, but he watches him like a hawk as he keeps slowly drinking the water. “If the water’s fine, then you can take some electrolyte pills with it. They should help too.”

He lets out a non-committal grunt. Carlos doesn’t exactly mind that he is taking care of him. He rather likes it, and it makes him feel loved, but he doesn’t want to burden him after the twenty-hour shift he has just pulled off. “No need to bring work to home.”

TK stares at him for a moment. He squints his eyes a little as he tilts his head to the side. He opens his mouth but abruptly closes it again. “You--,” he starts, but he ends up shaking his head. “I’m not taking care of you ��cause of some oath I’ve taken at work. I want to take care of you ‘cause I love you, and that’s really not work.”

Carlos looks down on his own hands, a little abashedly. It’s nothing he wouldn’t know already, but it is still a different thing to hear him say it. He knows TK loves him, he tells him it often enough and he shows it, too. It is almost a tangible thing that he can feel, and his love surrounds him every day, and he had no real doubts he would be doing any of this out of anything else except love. But he has lived most of his adult life alone, and it is difficult to accept help when he is used to managing on his own. He wants to accept it, but he cannot silence the part of his mind that keeps insisting that he is asking for too much.

He bites his bottom lip as he looks back up to TK. “Yeah, okay. I know. I’m glad you’re here.”

TK gives him a small smile, but it is definitely genuine one. It makes a different kind of warmth to spread in his stomach.

“Are we in the realm of possibility of leaving the bathroom?”

“Not really,” Carlos breathes out. He wants to leave the hard and cold floor, and possibly crash into the bed, but all of that feels like a distant wish. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” TK reassures, sitting back right next to him. “Nothing wrong with a bathroom.”

“You don’t have to stay here,” he points out, softly. He is a grown adult, and he isn’t in any sort of mortal danger. There is no reason why he couldn’t deal with a food poisoning on his own. Knowing that TK is at home would be more than enough. “This isn’t really how I imagined our anniversary to be.”

“There’s no way I’d leave you alone when you’re feeling this terrible,” he says, without missing a beat, and he sounds determined, “and I brought something.”

TK rummages through the plastic bag and pulls out something small that looks like plastic. He presses something at the bottom of it and orange light appears in the middle of it. Carlos wants to blame his exhausted and dehydrated brain for taking it so long to realise that TK is holding a led candle in the middle of his palm.

He places it on the floor, near his shin. The fake flame flickers a little, but it is dim, and it certainly doesn’t illuminate the bathroom.

“Now it’s an anniversary,” TK remarks, softly, with a tiny sigh.

Carlos is pretty sure his heart clenches with the love he is feeling. The candle itself is a pathetic sight, but it is the thought of it behind it that makes his heart feel too small for all the love it tries to contain.

“That’s—nice,” he says, little lamely, but he appreciates more than he can tell. His mind is still too foggy to form any more coherent sentences and his head suddenly feels a lot heavier than before.

“I had to improvise,” TK laughs, but he stops quickly when he looks at him. “You want to lay down?”

Carlos manages to nod, and suddenly TK’s hands are on his shoulders and he gently and slowly steers him into lying position, but he places his head on his lap. As soon as he settles there, TK’s fingers are already in his hair and he runs them along his scalp.

“You know, I don’t mind that much that our plans got cancelled,” TK says, softly, breaking the silence after a couple of quiet moments.

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better.”

He already feels miserable enough lying curled up on the bathroom floor and using his boyfriend’s thighs as a pillow. His self-pity is already covering all the pity he needs, and he knows he brought this on himself by eating the sandwich even when his instincts told there was something odd about it.

“I’m not just saying it to make you feel better,” TK huffs, almost amusedly, “of course I hope you’d be able to stand on your feet and not to puke everything out, but we can have dinner some other time.”

Carlos knows he is right. It is already a small miracle that both of them have the evening off, and he guesses the meaning and idea of the anniversary is more important than celebrating it on the actual day.

“Yeah.”

“It’s just a day,” TK says, almost casually.

It is ridiculous, but it breaks Carlos’ heart a little. He knows it is not TK’s fault if he isn’t bothered by the cancellation or if he doesn’t see their anniversary the same way as he does, but he cannot control the pang of hurt it creates.

Carlos knows he might come off as a reserved person, but he has always liked to make a big deal of any sort of celebrations he has shared with his loved ones. His sisters’ and friends’ birthdays. Their high school graduations. All the holidays. His parents’ anniversaries. TK’s one year of sobriety.

He likes making his loved ones happy and sharing happy moments with them and showing by that how much he loves and appreciates them, and just how proud he is of them. TK has always appreciated everything he has planned for him, and he had gone out and the above with Carlos’ birthday and with that horrendous tumour cake for his dad.

And it had been nice, that he had finally met someone who appreciated that side of him, and matched with him and made the similar effort for him, but he should have guessed that at some point, eventually, he and TK would clash on it, too.

He knows TK loves him, and it is not like he would be second-guessing his feelings or commitment, but it feels stupid and selfish to hope that the day that is supposed to be about the two of them would hold more significance for him.

That it wouldn’t be just a day among the rest of them.

If there is a silver lining, it is that his nonchalant reaction is easier to deal with than plain disappointment of their plans being cancelled.

“It is,” he lies, quietly.

TK lets out a heavy sigh. “That came out wrong.”

“It’s fine,” he rushes to murmur.

It is the truth. It feels worse than it actually is because he is already wallowing self-pity, and he knows it will be fine once he manages to sleep through the night and when he doesn’t feel like his stomach is plotting to kill him.

“It’s not fine,” TK insists, accompanied by another sigh, but it is a lot softer this time. “The anniversary, it’s a big deal. Of course it is and I want it to be a big deal. And I don’t want you thinking that it wouldn’t mean a lot to me, because it does.”

Carlos quietly hums as a response because it sounds like TK has something more to say.

“You mean a lot to me, and I’ve been so—happy during this year and so obviously I want to go all out on the celebrations, but just—all I wanted, really, was to spend the day with you, and while this,” he continues softly and vaguely gestures towards the bathroom “wasn’t the plan, I’m still not disappointed. I get to be with you, and I love you as much here as I’d in some fancy restaurant.”

Carlos is certain he is so dehydrated that there is no possible way for him to tear up, but still, as he listens to his quiet rambling, his eyes start to sting. It definitely awakes a whole another twirl of emotions inside of his heart, but this time it is just raw happiness, love and plain affection.

A tiny bit of embarrassment mixes in with it all, because he misinterpreted his words and demeanour, but he wants to blame that on his own insecurities and the food poisoning clouding his mind. But he is still a little bit of in awe because somehow TK knew exactly what he needed to hear, and all of it is just overwhelming.

“The restaurant would probably smell better,” Carlos ends up deadpanning, because he is still a little speechless.

A surprised laughter escapes from TK’s mouth and he shakes his head, but he scrunches his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And it means a lot to me, too,” he adds with more serious tone.

Carlos has known since the beginning that they share a connection that is special and profound, somehow, and he has wanted him since he saw him, but he is still a little bit in awe that they have made it so far despite their rocky start.

He wants him to know it, too, even if his mind cannot come up with anything too eloquent.

“I know,” TK replies, simply, “and you’re in no shape to go to work tomorrow, so I took a day off too.”

He sounds almost delighted as he declares it.

“You didn’t really have to do that.”

It feels just a bit unfair that TK has to use one of his day offs to take care of him, and only because he ate something that had gone stale.

TK brushes his thumb across his forehead gently. “The twenty-minute trip to the store was nerve-wracking enough, I’m not going to leave you alone for twenty-something hours. And it hardly is your fault that you got food poisoning, babe. It’s just bad luck.”

“I’m not complaining if I get to have you all for myself,” he murmurs as he shifts a little on the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, but surprisingly the wave of nausea never comes. “I don’t know about the fault, but I cannot have that bad luck, I still ended up with you.”

TK laughs, and he is pleased because that is what he was aiming for. His laughter is beautiful, and he always wants to hear it, but right now it is the most soothing sound he could imagine.

“This has nothing do with luck,” TK says, gently, “but I sure feel lucky.”

Carlos just smiles at him.

“We could do new plans tomorrow,” he continues, running his fingertip along his collarbone. “I think we both have next Thursday off?”

Carlos knows that they have been together for a year and that it shouldn’t be too big of a surprise that TK knows his shifts by heart, but it still fills him with particularly fond warmth because they both have irregular shifts, so he has to learn his rooster, on top of his own, every week, and he does it every time.

“I guess we can celebrate our 371 days together too,” Carlos caves in, and through the exhaustion, he can feel the corner of his mouth twitching into a gradual but affectionate smile.

Carlos was never too caught up on the idea of celebrating the anniversary on the exact day, but it could have been nice. He guesses the anniversary is more about what they make it out to be, because after all, it is theirs. And knowing that TK is at least as much into the idea of it, warms his heart a lot.

“Exactly,” TK chuckles, “it will be the best 371-day anniversary you’ve ever had. And we can have dinner today, too, once you’re ready to depart the toilet. I’ll come up with something.”

“Trying to give me a double food poisoning? That’s cold.”

He tries his best not to smile, but it is impossible, and a grin breaks out on his face quickly. TK pretends to be shocked and offended, but his smile persistently stays visible, too, and the softness of his gaze never fades. He nudges him gently with his elbow.

“Hey, you’re on a strict stomach-friendly diet and just for that, I’ll mix the applesauce with the rice.”

Carlos frowns at the mere thought of that.

“The other option is bananas and toast. Mint tea is supposed to help, too.”

His stomach is wallowing still, but he is rather sure that all of that would sound unappetizing, even if he was feeling perfectly fine. He is also aware that he will at least try to eat whatever monstrosity TK comes up with because it is still made by him.

“Sounds—bland.”

“It’s supposed to be,” he remarks, “it won’t be a mind-blowing culinary experience, but when anything I’ve cooked for you would’ve been. The difference is that this time it’s going to help and make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” Carlos whispers, more seriously and sincerely than the situation probably calls for, especially when TK is cracking jokes about his own cooking skills, but he wants him to know he is grateful. More than those two little words can convey.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, “are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a little,” he lets out a sound that only half-resembles a chuckle. “I’m still sorry I ruined tonight.”

TK might not blame him, and maybe, despite his own thinking that this would have been preventable, it is one of those uncontrollable things. Yet, he thinks he deserves an apology.

“Nothing’s ruined, really,” TK starts, “and this isn’t a terrible anniversary. Little unconventional for sure, but we’re together, in love and there’s candlelight, so I think we could’ve done a lot worse.”

“I know,” Carlos breathes out, “the candle really saved this.”

It sends TK laughing again. “And if we’re being completely honest, we have a tendency to mess up dinner plans. Especially the big ones.”

“True.”

“I’m willing to bet that if we ever get married, a natural disaster will strike,” TK jokes.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Carlos feels how TK’s muscles tense up, and he goes a little still. His fingers stop moving in his hair, but at least he isn’t pulling his hand away.

Marriage isn’t something they have ever outright discussed. Obviously, they are both in it for the long haul, and he has always assumed that marriage is something they are slowly heading towards to. He knows TK has his own baggage about his failed proposal, but it makes him happier than he could say that TK can make jokes about marriage already.

Because Carlos can definitely imagine himself marrying him. He can more than imagine it, he wants to do it. He knows there is no rush, and that taking their time is a good thing, but he would marry him in a heartbeat or in ten years. Either way, he knows it would be something that will bring immense joy to him.

“Bold of you to assume it would be only one natural disaster,” he comments, a brilliant grin spreading on his face, “it will probably be at least two.”

TK immediately relaxes. He lets out a breath and continues to run his fingers through his hair. “There should be a safety manual for the whole thing.”

“Oh, definitely,” Carlos laughs, still little weakly, “evacuation plans and everything.”

After the active volcano, it feels like nothing that the universe throws at their way would surprise him anymore, and he knows they have had their fair share of weird and ridiculous calls, and that they have survived all of that so far, but a wedding would definitely be the biggest dinner possible, and it seems like tempting fate.

“We’ll send it with the invitations.”

He still feels weak and sick, but the feeling of pure happiness is starting to overpower both of them.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Carlos admits, quietly.

“Yeah, me neither.”

#tarlos #911couplesretreat #tarlos fic #lone star fic #i'm writing again and i still have no excuses #i hope you guys like this or that it at least brings some joy to your day

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movedto-jewishbucke · 4 years

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Day 4: What’s Your Emergency?

TWs: drug/overdose mention

summary: All TK has to do is ask and Carlos would bend over backwards to do it, but when he shows up to TK’s apartment after being summed there in the middle of the night he starts to question if maybe there are some things he wouldn’t do for his best friend.

author’s notes: this is a college AU (Carlos & TK are 21) and I, uh, feel this is not what the creators of 911lsweek meant when they created this day but... here it is. it’ll be available on ao3 sometime in the near future. enjoy!

Carlos wakes up to his phone's siren ringtone and he knows who it is before seeing the caller ID, because there's only one person who has that ringtone and he's also the only person who'd call him in the middle of the night. He swipes the phone off the nightstand, answering as he does, and presses it against his ear. "TK?"

There's silence on the other end and he starts to worry maybe he was butt dialed - or worse, he didn't answer in time - but then he hears crying. "I fucked up, Carlos."

It's not the first time he's heard him say those words, and it won't be the last, but they still sting like it's the first time, the first overdose, and this time he's disappointed because TK had been doing so well. He had been working the steps, going to meetings, and he had been sober for a month which is the longest he had ever been sober in the three years Carlos has known him.

"Where are you?" He places him on speakerphone and starts pulling on his clothes, wanting to get to him before something worse happened. No matter how many times TK relapses, he'll always be there to pick him back up again because they're best friends and he loves TK way more than he's willing to admit even to himself. Nothing will happen between them, because TK has a boyfriend who loves and takes care of him, except when he relapses.

When he relapses, the only people TK has is him and Marjan because his boyfriend can't deal with him when he's high or drunk or both, which pisses Carlos off but he doesn't say anything at the risk of TK choosing his boyfriend over him.

"God, I fucked up so bad," he cries.

Carlos' heart aches at the sound. "Everything will be okay," he whispers, trying his best to keep himself calm so he can soothe TK, "just tell me where you are."

"My apartment. God, Carlos… I… Oh my God."

"Okay." Carlos presses the phone against his ear again and eases out of his bedroom, careful not to make too much noise in case Michelle is sleeping on the couch again, and heads for the front door with his keys in hand. "Where's Matt?"

"I… He's…"

Then he starts full-on sobbing and Carlos regrets asking, but more than regret he's feeling anger because of course his boyfriend would leave TK to fend for himself.

"I'm getting in my car right now and I'll be there soon." Despite the dying sounds his beater car makes, it comes to life after a second and he breathes out a sigh of relief. It's on its last legs, but he's not willing to take it to the junkyard yet. "What'd you take, TK?"

"I'm sober."

"Don't bullshit me, Tyler." There's a sharp intake of breath on the other end and he knows he hit a nerve, but he can't be bothered to give a shit about how he feels about being called his first name right now. "What did you take?"

"I'm fucking sober. Sober as a goddamn Mormon."

Then the line goes dead.

"Fuck." He tosses the phone into the passenger seat and presses just a little harder on the gas pedal, willing his shitty car to go faster and praying that it doesn't breakdown.

Just make it to TK's, please.

And by some miracle, it does.

The first thing he notices when he slips into the bedroom is TK sitting in the corner, rocking back and forth like a scared child, and staring blankly at the wall. The second thing he notices is the blood and he sucks in a deep breath, his eyes tracking the trail from TK to the bed across the room.

"What the fuck did you do?" His heart breaks when he looks back at TK and he knows if his mother, who had never so much as raised her voice at him, knew where he was at and what he was about to do, she would beat him within a half inch of his life, but it's TK.

"I don't know. I just… he was… he… everything just… what did I do…"

Carlos glances briefly at the bed as he moves to kneel in front of TK and he grabs his shoulders to stop his rocking before moving his hands to cup his face, which is covered in dried blood. "If I'm going to help you, I need you to be honest with me. What did you take, TK?"

Silence fills the room for a few minutes before TK meets his gaze. "I'm completely sober," he says through gritted teeth.

Maybe it's the way he says it or the way he's looking at him, but he believes him and only time will tell if that is the first wrong decision he'll make tonight.

"Okay," he whispers, rubbing a thumb across his cheek as fresh tears begin to roll down his face, "I believe you." Carlos hesitates, glancing down at the blood caking his hands and arms, before pulling him against his chest and kissing the top of his head. "Everything will be okay, but I need you to tell me what happened."

#911lsweek #911lonestarweek #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #fic: murder. he wrote #mywriting #mine

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