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kiras-sunshine · 3 years

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if you would have been the one

Written for day six of Carlos Reyes week: what if/au

Summary:

what if they didn't end up together on the night of the solar flares + the prompt of “look, i know we agreed to be friends and everything but that’s what everyone says when they break up. i can’t take you asking me for advice on how to ask out the new person you’re interested in, okay? it’s killing me” AU

prompt is from this list

read on ao3

The bar is packed and even though there are a lot of people chatting around him and music is playing in the background, Carlos still hears and recognises his laughter immediately.

He leans against the table next to him and takes a long sip of his beer.

It is a beautiful laughter, free and bubbly, and Carlos loves to hear it. He is glad that he is happy, and he would do almost anything to keep it that way. Still, it feels like a sucker-punch to his gut sometimes, and he hates that he feels that way.

TK is surrounded by his teammates, Mateo, Paul and Marjan are explaining something to him with wide movements of hands and he is almost wheezing with laughter. The lights are dim in the bar, but it almost looks like he would be glowing.

He laughs so hard he almost spills water out of his glass and some of it definitely gets onto his patterned light blue shirt and black slacks. Judd calls out him, and it is mostly inaudible to Carlos, but it makes TK shake his head slightly and the smile never leaves his face. Grace soon appears with a bunch of paper towels and helps him to dry his clothes.

He is glad that he is doing okay, and that he seems happy. He looks like he is surrounded by family, and Carlos is definitely happy for him, but it also makes his stomach twist, in a bad way, because once, he was almost a part of that family, too.

He tries to look away because it’s pathetic. It is merely a crush and a ghost of an almost-relationship and he should have gotten over it already. He is being haunted by what ifs. It’s been a few months already since they, mutually, decided that they wanted wildly different things and they would never make it work.

It was a good, clean break-up as far as break-ups go, and they decided it together. There were no dumper and dumpee, it was just a rational decision and their relationship was so vague and undefined that it ended before anything even started.

There is no good reason why he is still hung up on him, but he is, and it is terrible.

TK is still patting his shirt with the paper towels when he looks up and spots him. He definitely recognises him because he smiles at him, warmly and genuinely. Carlos waves at him because it feels like a rational reaction to one’s ex spotting them staring at them.

Besides, they are friends. Sort of. He likes TK and he is pretty sure he likes him back on some level, and he isn’t that immature that he would pass on the opportunity of friendship just because things didn’t work out between them in other ways.

He wants to be his friend, and they would need to get along even if they hated each other’s guts because they keep having to work together. The following day, after they had decided to call it quits, he had seen TK and rest of the 126 five times during one shift and he had been convinced that the universe was out to get him.

So, for everyone’s sake, he has mastered the art of trying to hide that he still has embarrassingly big crush on the man he broke up with months prior.

Carlos turns around to face the table instead of the bar crowd and a certain firefighter, but it doesn’t take long until he feels an arm wrapped around his shoulder. TK lets his hand slide along his back, and it feels like his fingertips would send small electric shocks along his spine.

He is a tactile person, he knows it, and he has realised that TK is always touching the people he cares about. It’s his way of showing affection, and while he is sort of grateful that he still cares about him, the touching is killing him inside a little bit.

Only because it reminds him too much of their almost-relationship and he misses him. He misses the time when things were not awkward between them and the time when he was in the receiving end of other than greeting touches.

“Hey,” TK says, placing his glass on the table, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Even though they agreed to stay as friends, he hasn’t seen him otherwise except when bumping into each other while on calls or at the bar, but they haven’t really hung out. They have caught up with each other, exchanging a few texts and TK had invited him over for a dinner, but he had refused by coming up with an excuse. He still feels a little bad about that.

“I’ve been busy,” he replies and takes another sip of his beer.

It’s not exactly a lie. He has been busy with work and spent most of his free time with his sisters, but he hasn’t actively tried to make time to meet up with him, either.

He wants him in his life, as a friend, but he still has things he needs to work on before he can genuinely just be his friend, and TK deserves better than his pining.

TK nods knowingly. “Work?”

“Yeah, always busy,” he agrees, and glances at him. He is looking down to his water glass and moving it around on the table, as if he were nervous about something. “Also, my sister gave birth, so babysitting,” he adds with a small smile.

“Congratulations,” he says, sounding sincere, as he clasps his shoulder and holds his gaze maybe a few seconds longer than necessary, but Carlos doesn’t look away either. “You’re gonna be a great uncle.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking yet another sip of his drink. “How’s your dad?”

He has seen captain Strand on calls too, and he hasn’t looked terribly ill, but he still wonders about him, too. It feels too personal to go up to him and outright ask how he is feeling, especially when he doesn’t even know what TK has told about them to him.

“Great,” he replies, and relief is audible in his voice, but he is also flashing him one of his most disarming smiles. It’s bright and warm, and it reaches his eyes, and it is definitely doing unfair things to his heart. “Chemo seems to be working.”

“That’s good,” he says with a half-smile.

TK opens his mouth but closes it abruptly when his gaze drops to his neck. Carlos yanks the collar of his shirt to cover the ugly purple-and-yellow bruise’s edge.

He has his hand raised, and almost instinctively seems to want to touch the bruise, but he yanks his hand back halfway.

“What happened?” TK asks, and his brow is furrowed as his gaze darts between the bruise and his face.

“Crashed into a door when chasing a perp,” he replies, looking at the beer bottle instead of him.

“Ouch,” he says with a frown, “it looks painful.”

Nothing had been dislocated or broken, but the pain had still been agonizing. His shoulder still throbs with pain if he moves it in a bad angle, but it is definitely better than it had been last week.

“It’s getting better,” he reassures, and TK smiles at him, and suddenly everything feels a little better. He likes this, just talking to him and being friends. He can definitely get over his unrequited feelings. “How are you doing?”

“Still sober,” he says, into his glass of water.

“Not what I meant,” he points out softly.

“I know,” he breathes out, and turns around to face the bar crowd, but he still leans against the same table, “but I’m okay.”

He turns around, too, because the shoulder starts to throb if he tries to crane his neck, and he cannot keep his eyes away from him.

“I’m glad,” he tells him, as a man walks past them, glancing up and down. It doesn’t take him long to realise that TK follows him with his gaze and the unpleasant feeling in his stomach returns.

He grins at him. “Have you met anyone?”

He has just taken another gulp of his drink and he almost ends up spitting it out. “Uh, not really,” he manages to mutter, but TK doesn’t seem to pick up on his awkwardness or he bluntly decides to ignore it.

“What about him?” He asks, nodding towards the man who just walked by, “he definitely checked you out.”

He glances back at the man who has sat down in one of the back booths of the bar. He is handsome, there is no denying that. He is tall, lean and it looks like he is in great shape and his brown eyes keep glistering and the mustard-yellow sweater looks great against his dark skin, but TK has his heart still in a chokehold and he cannot bring himself to genuinely get interested in someone else.

Also, the last thing he needs is to bring a third person into this mess he has created for himself. He is aware that the man’s gaze is still on him, but he decidedly decides to look rest of the 126, who have moved on to have a darts competition in the corner.

It’s Mateo’s turn and he does surprisingly well.

“Uh, no,” Carlos eventually says, shaking his head, as he realises that he never replied to TK and he doesn’t want him to interpret his silence as a sign of interest.

“Not your type?” He asks, and his face suddenly breaks into a delighted smirk. “What is your type?”

He wants to scream, a little. He is quite sure he doesn’t even have a type. Appearance-wise there is no common characteristics between his exes, and he usually just goes for guys who he gets along with and who make him laugh. “I don’t know,” he says, shrugging and hoping that TK would just let it drop.

He has no such luck, and he should have guessed it. He might not know TK completely, but he knows he is stubborn and determined, and a little bit of a jerk when he wants to be.

“Am I your type?” He asks, with a wide shit-eating grin.

“I don’t know, maybe,” he mutters as he takes a longer gulp of his drink than necessary, “also, I don’t really need your help with this.”

He just wants them to change the subject, but obviously TK gets it in a wrong way, because he laughs and bites his lower lip as he looks at him. “I’m sure you don’t. You, what, said hello to me and I was gone for.”

Carlos swears his heart jumps into his throat, and he struggles to swallow or even find words for a reply. Luckily, TK is on rambling mood and just continues on without waiting for a reply.

He gets along with all of his exes, and he hasn’t had ugly break ups, but this conversation they are currently having, is on a whole another level and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I think I’ve lost all of my game,” TK says, exhaling and scanning the crowd with his gaze, but he settles at looking his crew’s dart match.

“What game?” Carlos asks, with a grin, and the words are out of his mouth before he really even considers them, but it is so easy to fall in the easy-going banter with him, and he wants this conversation to find a new topic.

He loathes that it makes him a little happy that TK hasn’t found anyone else. It is completely selfish and horrible, but he is convinced that pretending to be friends and getting along with TK’s next friends-with-benefits guy would be a whole another circle of hell.

TK lets out a surprised huff, which is followed by a chuckle and gaping at him. “That’s rude,” he deadpans, gently slapping him in his tricep, “you talk to all of your exes like that?”

“Nope. Do you?”

It is completely out of curiosity, he wants to know how much of this convo is just TK being TK and how much can contributed to the fact that neither one of them knows how to act around each other any more.

“You’re literally the only one I talk to,” he retorts, but he shrugs immediately after. “I guess we’re special then,” he says softly, glistering in his eyes, and if Carlos didn’t know any better, he would say he is flirting with him, but he knows better.

“I guess so,” he confirms with a small and dazed smile, and rubs his own neck.

“But seriously I could use some help,” TK continues, softness gone from his voice. He drums the edge of his glass with his fingers.

Carlos briefly wonders what he has ever done to inflict this kind of suffering upon himself. Being in the receiving end of TK’s teasing and soft smiles hurts, but it hurts in a good way. Setting him up with someone else hurts, but not in a good way, it’s killing him.

“What did you like about me?” TK is definitely carrying the conversation on his own, while he wallows in self-pity and misery, but this time he expects an answer, if his expectant look is anything to go by.

He has focused all of his attention him, and there is no escaping of this, and he cannot come up with any ways to distract him. He guesses he could just kiss him and then he probably would stop talking to him, but he still has some self-preservation left in his mind. He guesses he could just admit that he still hasn’t gotten over him, but that doesn’t feel like a good option either currently.

Especially when he was the one who said if it is not meant to be, then it’s not meant to be. His heart hasn’t just caught up with his mind.

Which means his only option is to give him an answer to his horrible question. Besides of all the inner turmoil that his question causes, it is also a really difficult to answer.

It’s hard to break down, objectively, what it was that attracted him to him and what it was that made the spark between them to ignite because knowing that would probably mean he would know why he is still hung up on him.

He cannot explain why he is drawn to him. He just is. It’s that simple, it’s like a magnet pulling him and he cannot fight it.

“You had kind eyes and a nice smile,” he eventually replies, and it is not far from the truth. “And you were hot.”

When they had first met, on that call where the baby had gotten stuck in the tree, he definitely noticed his eyes first. He has always found them beautiful, a particular shade of green, and he had been wearing the whole firefighter gear complete with the helmet, and it had been a little hard to notice anything else except his bright eyes and amused half-smile.

Obviously, later, he had seen him without the gear, and he was, and still is frankly, gorgeous. He still isn’t going to elaborate more or ramble to his ex how hot he found him when they met. He still has some dignity left and he is half-convinced he is going to develop an ulcer if this conversation steers into that direction.

“Were?”

Carlos smirks into his bottle. “Are, whatever.”

He flashes him another smirk, but it seems just slightly meek and it doesn’t linger. “Huh,” TK says, quietly. He looks a little taken a back, but in a good way. “Any tips?”

Carlos is convinced he might be in hell already, but he is already too deep in this conversation to make any sort escaping attempts. “Just, uh, look at them. Make them feel like they are the only person in the world,” he ends up saying, and he just cannot tear his eyes away from his, and TK is making no attempts to do so, either, and they just keep looking at each other.

At that moment, he feels like the only person in the world for TK, and it is definitely becoming too much. He fakes a cough, and the moment passes. He drinks the remaining of his beer. “Worked for me at least,” he murmurs against the bottle.

TK nods, and he is about to say something else, but Marjan and Mateo come to his rescue. They start to talk, rapidly, about their darts game and how TK needs to participate too, and Carlos has never been more grateful that TK’s attention is not on him.

“Carlos,” Marjan says, and gestures towards the scoreboard that she holds in her hands, “tell us TK’s full name for this wonderful scoreboard.”

He skims through the list and it looks like they have written everyone’s first and middle names for good measure there, and he half-suspects the dart game is only a elaborate scheme by the crew to find out his name.

It’s not even that big of a deal and he doesn’t quite get why he is so secretive about his name, but he is sort of impressed that he has managed to keep it under the wraps for so long and watching the team try to figure it out is sort of amusing.

He can see from the corner of his eye that TK is shooting him a pleading look, and he wouldn’t have needed to see that, because he wouldn’t have told them anyway.

“No.”

He guesses TK needs someone on his corner for this ridiculous crusade, too.

“What?”

“Loyalty bounds,” he replies, cocking his head a little.

Marjan groans but TK rises his hand to high five him, and he meets his palm in the middle.

Mateo takes the score board from her. “How are you guys even like that after a break-up,” he mutters as he scribbles just TK on the list.

For a moment, everything feels tense and awkward again, but luckily Marjan starts to talk again.

He listens to his friends intensively, and Carlos gets the faint idea that this might be his only chance to escape this conversation before he has to give him more tips how to hit on guys who are not him, and he feels terrible and selfish and he knows it is completely asshole thing to do and TK doesn’t deserve it, but he walks out of the bar when he doesn’t notice.

He hoped that fresh air would make him feel better and help him to clear his head, but the day has been hot, and the air just feels heavy and thick and does nothing to help the heavy feeling in his chest.

He just breathes, looking at the parking lot that bathes in the last rays of the setting sun. He wants to be alone, but he hears how the door of the bar creaks as someone pushes it open.

“Are you okay? You kinda disappeared,” TK says, and he does sound concerned and weary.

He opens his eyes and turns around to look at him. He looks almost out place, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants and his eyes keep darting around the parking lot. “Yeah, sorry. I needed to get away.”

He nods solemnly, biting his lower lip. “Was it because of me?”

There is sharpness in his voice that wasn’t there before, and it almost catches him by a surprise.

“What?”

He sighs deeply and runs his hand through his hair. “I know everyone always agrees to be friends after a break-up, and I don’t want to lose you, but you look almost borderline nauseated when you see me and now, you’re literally running away. So, just say the word and I will leave you alone.”

He shakes his head as he looks at the pavement underneath his shoes. There are small cracks on it. He sighs and sits down the edge of the pavement. It’s not the best place to sit down, but TK tentatively follows his lead and sits down next to him.

“I want to be your friend,” he starts, because apparently, he is not as good at hiding his emotions as he hoped, but still, he has understood it all wrong. “And you’ve done nothing wrong.”

It breaks his heart that he thinks he doesn’t want anything to do with him and only pretends to get along with him.

“Okay,” he says, under his breath, but his voice still sounds a little flat and emotionless.

Escaping the conversation had been a desperate attempt at avoiding talking about anything real he still might feel for him, but he knows he deserves to hear the truth, even if he will end up thinking differently of him.

Besides, pretending he doesn’t feel anything more than friendship towards him was always immediately off the table if it hurted him.

“And honestly,” he starts, staring at his own hands, “I cannot give you advice how to hit on other people, it’s killing me.”

It feels good admitting that aloud, but the parking is desolated besides them and the parked cars, and it is so quiet.

“Why?”

At first, he isn’t sure if he heard him correctly. He turns his head around, but it sends a flash of pain in his shoulder, and he ends up turning a bit towards him. TK is slouching and staring at the ground, but Carlos keeps glaring at him, because he figured it would be quite obvious why he has hard time giving him dating advice.

He takes a deep breath. “Because I’m still not over you,” he admits, quietly and it comes out softer than he intended, but honesty feels good.

TK’s head snaps up at that and suddenly his gaze is back on Carlos, and he feels strangely vulnerable, right there and then, underneath his gaze. “Oh.”

Carlos lets out a laugh, but it ends up sounding like a sad attempt of laughter. “I know, pathetic, really.”

“It’s not,” TK says, gently, but his gaze darts back to the cars that keep reflecting the sunlight just slightly, “because if you’re pathetic, then so am I, because I think I haven’t gotten over you, either.”

He blinks at him, taking in his words and now he is sure he didn’t hear him right, but there is no other explanation. TK stays quiet, but he shrugs and flashes him a sheepish smile.

“Aren’t we a pair,” he says with a chuckle.

The heavy feeling in his chest has evaporated into nothing, but the absurdity of this whole conversation is making his mind short-circuit and he is just a little loss for words.

“It’s been two months,” TK complains, attempting to hold back his own laughter, but it erupts a little in the end. “And I’ve tried to get over you, but nothing has worked so far.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, gesturing between them, “this was not my best decision.”

In retrospect, maybe if they have never even stared anything, they would happier and not in this situation, but it fills his heart with different kind of heavy sadness that he seems to regret the whole thing.

He guesses he notices his shift in his mood, because TK’s face falls a little and he places his hand on his forearm. “No, that came out wrong. I don’t regret you, I only regret letting you go. Only an idiot does that and I’m like a certified idiot at this point,” he rambles on, ruefully.

“You’re not that bad,” he says, nudging his shoulder with his own, “I should have given you more time.”

He has maybe spent a couple of sleepless nights thinking about various what ifs. Mostly that is just a waste of time, but he knows they could have done some things a little differently. If he could go back in time, he would try to understand him a little more because the timing was truly atrocious.

He squeezes his arm slightly. “Stop it, you didn’t do anything wrong. It would have been unfair to ask you to wait around while I got my shit together.”

“I did end up waiting anyway,” he remarks.

He isn’t convinced if it can be called waiting, because he certainly didn’t wait for him to change his mind. Sure, he had hoped that things would have worked out differently between them, but in reality, he had just waited to get over him and his crush.

He sharply sucks in his breath and looks back at him. His whole face softens and there is a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Is it wrong if I’m kinda glad that you did?”

His heart skips a beat at the implication of his words.

“No.”

His face breaks into a full smile, and it illuminates his face at least as much as the sunbeams of the sunset. He slides a little closer to him on the edge of the pavement and he cups his face with one hand. His movements are tentative, but seemingly thoughtful. He lets his hand slide along his cheek, and he ends up holding his chin with his fingers.

“Can I?” He asks, and his voice is barely a whisper, as he searches something from his eyes.

He has to admit that TK is a little more than good at making him feel that they are the only people in the world. “Yeah.”

His lips meet his in an instant. It’s soft kiss and his lips are warm against his own. He faintly tastes like lime and even though the kiss above all is a comforting one, and it still sends a thrill through his spine. Most of all, it feels like coming home.

“I missed you,” he murmurs when TK only slightly pulls away.

“Me too,” he tells him gently, brushing his cheekbone with his thumb before he pulls further away.

“Turns out you’re very hard to stop thinking about,” he says, in a light tone, almost jokingly, even though it is the truth.

He remembers when he described TK to Michelle all those months ago and said that he cannot get him out of his head. That had been a more accurate description than he would have imagined.

TK laughs so hard he lets his head fall back. “That’s probably first time anyone has said that about me,” he says, flashing a brilliant smile, but his smile fades away and he looks graver. “I know you deserved better than what I did, but I never not wanted you. I was just—in a messy and confusing place in my life and I didn’t want to get hurt again.”

Carlos stays quiet, because he feels like he might not have finished talking and he has heard these things before, and he just wants to give him the space to say what he wants to.

“And I didn’t want to hurt you either, and I thought maybe you would be better off without me,” he says, quietly, but he looks back up to him.

“That’s quite an assumption to make on your own,” he tells him, kindly.

He knows he could have backed off of whatever they had at any point, and usually he doesn’t want to bother with people who have gone through messy break ups because he doesn’t want to end up being the rebound. He could have backed off when he learned about his addiction, but he had not, because he had seen TK as himself and he knew he was worth chasing for.

“I know, I’m good at jumping into conclusions,” he jokes, but sighs deeply. “And as you know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but the universe must have been mocking me by throwing you at my way because--,” he lets his voice trail away.

“You’re you and I got a glimpse of what we could be, and it was almost too good to be true, and I got fucking terrified, and it threw me off the loop and I was a coward,” he finishes, and he has been talking rapidly the whole time, and he ends up sounding breathless.

“You were not,” he corrects him. “You were trying to protect yourself and there’s nothing wrong with that,” he adds, softly, and takes his hand into his own. “And I’d have never wanted you to do something you were not ready for.”

TK glances at their hands, almost wistfully, but he doesn’t pull his own away. “I guess. And what I’m trying to say is that I still want you if you will have me.”

A wave of relief goes through him and he lets out a long exhale. He looks at the skyline that has been painted bright orange and golden by the sunset and he feels calm even if his heart keeps fluttering in his chest and he cannot physically fight the smile that tries to form on his lips.

“I’m generally not opposed to second chances,” he says and raises their intertwined hands so that he can kiss his knuckles. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

This time, Carlos is the one who kisses him. The kiss itself is still gentle, but there are stronger emotions humming underneath it, and he is squeezing his hand a little tighter, as if fearing that he would disappear. TK’s hand ends up in his neck and he is stroking his hairline with his fingertips and he parts his lips slightly and TK laughs into the kiss.

“I thought--,” TK tries when they depart to breath, but he is still resting his head against his forehead. “I thought I had messed up any chance with the back and forth,” he admits against his lips.

“This better be the last back-and-forth we do,” he says, with a chuckle. “I only want this if you’re all in, too.”

“I am,” he promises, and he sounds so sure of it, he cannot even doubt his words.

TK kisses him again, and it is the sort of all-consuming kiss they shared in the very beginning, and all of his senses are just full of him. The way he smells the cologne he uses and the way his fingers feel just slightly rough against his cheek and his slight stubble tickles his chin. He is his one and only thought.

“This evening took a turn I wasn’t expecting,” he says, when they pull away from each other once again. He tries to catch his breath, but his stomach keeps somersaulting at just the way TK keeps glancing at him.

“I know,” he laughs.

“You know, we can still take it as slow as you want,” he says, when his mind feels just a bit clearer, because he knows that just because they have decided to give it another go, it doesn’t mean any of the issues that existed already would magically disappear.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, but he grins. “Would you like to go out with me? Honest to god date and all that,” he asks, excitment colouring his voice.

“I’d love that.”

“Great,” he says, planting a kiss on his forehead. “Also unrelated to asking you out because I’m going to plan a proper date and not just some impromptu thing, but do you want something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Sure,” he replies, and stands up. He helps TK up too, even though he doesn’t require help, but he likes to do it, anyway. “Tacos?” He asks, nodding towards a taco cart that is located a couple of blocks away.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Suddenly, tacos feel like a beginning of something new.

#carlosreyesweek2021 #tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #it's yet another mess i wrote and i'm posting it

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