911lonestarangstweek

[911lonestarangstweek]

Hello :) will you be back this year?

Possibly! I would love to do it again but I think it is just me right now and I know I don't have the time or headspace to run anything (especially solo) just yet. Maybe in the next few months, depending on how things go! Keep an eye out for updates just in case!

[911lonestarangstweek]

911 Lone Star Angst Week Masterpost

Here’s all the fics I wrote for @911lonestarangstweek round 2. I challenged myself both by writing whump and by writing them all in present tense, so it’s been a great event!

For full tags etc, see AO3.

Day 1: C - Carlos + Choke Choke on the Memories [ T | 0.8k ]

In the aftermath of the house fire, Carlos has nightmares. Thankfully TK is there to comfort him when he wakes up.

Day 2: G - Grace + Gunshot Six Shots in a Loaded Gun [ T | 1.5k ]

A simple grocery run turns into a hostage situation, and Grace has to channel her ability to keep calm while dealing with other people’s emergencies into her own, very real one.

Day 3: J - Judd + Jealous Jealous of the Wind [ M | 3.2k ]

Judd doesn’t realise it, but he has a stalker. A stalker convinced that Judd ruined their relationship and who’s out for revenge. When they meet, it starts with Judd being kidnapped and only goes downhill from there, until Judd isn’t sure whether he’s ever going to make it home to Grace.

Day 4: M - Marjan&Mateo + Missing Isn’t Someone Missing Us? [ T | 3k ]

When Marjan and Mateo don’t turn up for a shift, the others know something’s wrong but can’t contact them to find out what happened and whether they need help. Meanwhile, the missing firefighters have to work together if they want to make it out of the perilous situation that they’ve found themselves in.

Day 5: N - Nancy + Nights Nights That Never Die [ T | 2k ]

Nancy’s heading home from the bar, a walk she’s done many times before, when she interrupts an assault. She tries to help but only gets hurt for her trouble, and so has to fight to keep both herself and the victim alive.

Day 7: P - Paul + Pinned Pinned Like a Butterfly [ T | 2.4k ]

The 126 are clearing a burning warehouse when something explodes and in the resulting destruction, Paul gets pinned. Unable to free himself and being confronted by the arsonist, will his friends get to him in time before the fire engulfs the entire building?

Day 8: T - TK&Tommy(&Tim) + Trapdoor Fall Through a Bleeding Trapdoor [ T | 2.5k ]

EMS 126 get sent to treat a man who slipped and hit his head, and Tommy and TK inadvertently stumble upon a crime scene.

[911lonestarangstweek]

there ain’t a language for the things I feel

4.8k || ao3

In the wake of a tragedy, the firehouse family tries to move on and pick up the pieces while holding onto hope that seems to slip further and further away.

But nothing’s over until it’s over and they’re going to pick up all the pieces and put them back together, just in case. —– Day 9 of @911lonestarangstweek: Free Choice

Me getting this done and up just at the end of angst week? More likely than you’d think.

Several people read parts of this as I was working, but @moviegeek03 needs a special thanks for helping me with some of the specifics 💜

————–

The house at the end of the street looked like all the others. 

Its blue siding blended in perfectly with its companions on the quiet residential street and as Judd pulled into the familiar driveway, nothing looked amiss. From the outside, it looked like nothing had happened. From where they stood, everything was fine and this was just a normal day and an average visit. Right now they could be heading to game night or dinner. They could be stopping by to say hello, popping by unannounced as they so often did. But the minute they opened the door that illusion would shatter and they’d have to face the grim reality waiting for them, so they all hovered at the edge of the front walk by some unspoken agreement as they allowed themselves to avoid this for just a few moments longer. 

But ignorance couldn’t last forever so eventually, they moved forward. 

It was Paul that made the first move, pulling out his keys and selecting the correct one as he approached the door. He slid the key into the lock without a word, all eyes on him as he turned it, pushing open the door to reveal the scene beyond it. There was another moment of collective hesitation on the threshold before Judd stepped forward, grabbing the yellow crime scene tape and pulling it down so they could enter their friends’ living room - or at least, what was left of it. 

The once familiar space was unrecognizable as the furniture lay in shambles; splinters of each piece scattered across the room. If they hadn’t known where they were they never would have recognized the space. Nancy toed at the remains of a chair, shifting aside the debris with her foot only to reveal the dark red stain on the floor underneath. She turned away and let the pieces fall back into it.

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[911lonestarangstweek]

could you write about TK being upset at Owen and going to Judd for comfort? Please and thank you

though we don't share the same blood

thank you both for the wonderful prompts! i hope you enjoy what i can up with 😊

@911lonestarangstweek day 9 - free day!

thanks to @aliceschuyler for being a wonderful human and staying up to beta this for me 🥰🥰

title from brother by kodaline

ao3 | 2k | angst, emotional h/c, sad tk, big brother judd

One of the things Judd isn’t expecting when he hears his phone ping one morning is a text from Carlos asking him if he could head over to Owen’s place that afternoon. It’s not that he minds at all but, of the two of them, Judd would have thought that it would be TK reaching out to him. He’s barely exchanged two words with Carlos outside of work and while he likes the guy, they don’t exactly have a close relationship.

And, friendly and casual though Carlos’s message is, Judd knows he’s the last person Carlos would call on to hang with. Which means one thing—TK needs help, and he’s too stubborn to ask for it himself.

Judd is over at the Strand house in minutes, greeted by a bewildered Owen, who clearly didn’t know about Carlos’s request. This confuses him; if something were seriously wrong with TK, then Owen surely would be in on whatever this is, too. Still, Judd isn’t going to question it, so he just passes off his visit as wanting to talk to TK about something.

Owen takes the excuse with a shrug and waves Judd in the direction of the kitchen, before heading back to his office. What Judd is greeted with, when he rounds the corner, is a sight he’d never expected to see again in his life.

TK, pushing Carlos’s arm from round his shoulders and deliberately putting distance between them.

Judd watches as Carlos tries again, this time just a light brush of their knuckles, but again TK rebuffs him.

“Don’t touch me,” TK says, stiff as a board, though his tone seems more tired than angry. He bites his lip, staring hard at his hands for a moment, then sighs heavily and marches out of the room, leaving Carlos gazing despondently after him.

TK’s a hot-head, Judd knows this. They all saw what happened at the station the day of the fire, but Judd also knows that TK isn’t the type to make a repeat offence. More than that, Carlos isn’t the type to tolerate a repeat offence, and this interaction was so obviously different, but in what way, Judd can’t tell.

Whatever it is, it’s enough to send his concern rocketing to a peak. He knocks lightly on the doorframe to get Carlos’s attention, and raises a brow when their eyes meet. “Everything good with you two?” he asks. “Because I ain’t a marriage counsellor, Reyes.”

Carlos huffs a laugh and shakes his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. “We’re okay. It’s just…”

He trails off as voices drift down the hall, Owen’s and TK’s. Neither of them are being overly loud or snappy so Judd can’t tell exactly what they’re saying; still, the way Carlos sighs and looks at him clues him in to all he needs to know.

“Ah. I take it cohabitation is going well?”

Carlos snorts. “You don’t know the half of it. And it’s not… TK isn’t… Captain Strand…” He shakes his head, clearly at a loss, and Judd’s brows climb higher up his forehead.

“We’re back to Captain Strand now, huh? Things must be bad.”

“Not exactly,” Carlos hurries to say, but he cracks a wry smile at Judd’s disbelieving look. “Maybe. It’s not for lack of trying, though. Captain Strand is just… He’s so oblivious, like he has no idea what he’s doing, or even that he doesn’t really care, and I can’t let it keep happening anymore.”

“And…” Judd hesitates, carefully noting the tightness in Carlos’s jaw and the irritation flashing in his eyes. “What is he doing?”

Now it’s Carlos’s turn to hesitate as he looks Judd up and down. “Listen, I respect Captain Strand, of course I do, but—”

“The man can be insensitive and self-absorbed,” Judd finishes, laughing at Carlos’s startled expression. “What? I respect him too, but you have to know that I’m right. He’s intelligent, but he can be as thick as two planks of wood when it comes to other people, ‘specially if that other person is TK.”

Carlos lets out a relieved breath and sags, nodding. “Yeah. It’s just… Captain Strand is so focused on the firehouse that he doesn’t seem to care about anything else that’s going on. It hurts all of us, me and Mateo included, but TK is taking it the hardest. I think it’s bringing some stuff up for him.”

“What kind of stuff?”

It doesn’t seem possible that Carlos can look sadder, but, somehow, he manages it, shrugging helplessly. “He won’t talk to me about it. I’ve asked, but you know how TK is. He just keeps trying to pretend that he’s fine, and, Judd, he’s really good at doing that.”

“He’s had practice,” Judd surmises, and Carlos nods.

“Too much, and I know it’s something to do with Captain Strand. The thing is, I’m pretty sure that what’s going on now, TK is doing it to protect him. He’s frustrated with him, sure, but TK has spent so long trying to hide his feelings from Captain Strand that it’s kind of, I don’t know, instinctual now? And he’s doing it to protect me, too, I know he is. We really are good, I swear, but he gets overwhelmed sometimes and then he starts pushing me away to keep me from seeing it. That’s what was happening when you came in; he doesn’t like being touched when he’s riled up.”

“Huh.” Judd waits, expecting Carlos to say more, but when he doesn’t, he frowns. “I get all that, but I’m not sure I know what I’m doing here.”

“You’re the big brother he never had,” Carlos says, as though it’s obvious. “You might be able to get through to him in a way I never could.”

A part of Judd doubts that—personally, he’d much rather talk to Grace than any of his older brothers. But he owes it to TK, and to Carlos, to at least try. So he nods, and tries not to wince at the relief that fills Carlos’s entire body.

“Thank you, Judd,” he says, sounding far too earnest for Judd’s liking. “He’ll be out back.”

*

“Let me guess,” TK calls, even before Judd has made himself known. “Carlos sent you to talk to me.”

“He’s worried about you, kid.”

“He shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”

Judd snorts. “Yeah, save it. If you want to lie to your boyfriend then that’s your problem to sort out, but don’t try pulling that shit with me. It ain’t gonna work.” He eases himself down next to TK on the back porch, watching him closely. Buttercup’s head is in TK’s lap and he’s rhythmically stroking his fur, though he barely seems aware of the action.

Judd knows from experience that it’s better to let TK talk in his own time, so they just sit in silence for a long while, watching the movement of clouds across the sky. Judd has never been a fan of sitting still for long periods of time, but he forces himself to bear it this time, telling himself that it will pay off, eventually.

It must be around half an hour since he first walked out that TK finally sighs and shifts, his hands tightening slightly in Buttercup’s fur. “He won’t apologise.”

Judd raises a brow. “Who, the Cap?”

TK gives him a small nod, not looking up. “It’s just…” He bites his lip and shakes his head. “It’s dumb.”

“It ain’t dumb.”

This gets TK to look at him, surprise and disbelief written all over his expression. He scoffs, but Judd isn’t going to let this go that easily.

“It ain’t dumb,” he repeats, forcing TK to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing this is about the fire, huh?”

TK nods, then pauses a moment and shakes his head. “If I was just the fire, I could handle it,” he says quietly, and if that doesn’t break Judd’s heart, he doesn’t know what will. “Carlos and I almost died because of what he and Mr Reyes did, but they—they didn’t know what would happen, and at least Mr Reyes said he was sorry, and it’s not like I want my dad to feel guilty or anything, but—”

He breaks off and lets out a sharp laugh that sounds suspiciously wet. “Fuck. I sound like a kid again.”

“No—”

“Yes. I don’t know how, but my dad seems to have this ability to turn me into a seven-year old all over again. How does he still have this affect on me, Judd? I mean, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old. It’s pathetic.”

“That’s a load of crap, and you know it.”

TK scoffs at him and turns away, but Judd has had enough of this, and maybe he understands now why Carlos called him. He’s not afraid to tell TK a few hard truths if he thinks it’s necessary, in a way that Carlos never could, partly because the guy’s just too damn nice even without being his boyfriend.

Not Judd, though.

“You have every right to be mad at your daddy right now, and I get the feeling that this is about more than the damn fire. I ain’t gonna sugar-coat it for you; he fucked up. I was there that night when he finally figured out it was you two Raymond was gunning for, and he admitted himself that he thought the firehouse was a diversion yet it still took a while for him to connect the most important thing in his life to you.

“In fact, it was almost Billy who worked it out for him. Bet you didn’t know that, huh? And I have to say, I’m a little mad at him for that, too, so I can’t imagine what you’re feeling. So this isn’t pathetic, but you know what is? You coming out here and moping instead of saying it to his face. You said it yourself, TK, you’re an adult; you’re not that snot-nosed seven-year old kid anymore, so maybe you need to start acting like an adult and stand up to him.”

Judd is breathing hard by the end of his speech, and he’s kind of proud of it. He thinks he’s made his point, but then TK just sighs and stares down at the ground, resignation on his face.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he asks, voice sounding heavier than it has any right to. “Last year after I got shot, I tried talking to him about how I felt after 9/11, but he blew me off. Of course I don’t want him to apologise for doing what he did, but I just want him to acknowledge that he wasn’t the father I needed him to be. But that’s never gonna happen, and, honestly? I’m not surprised he didn’t realise we were the target. That’s just how he is, and I’m done trying to change it. I’m tired, Judd.”

And Judd… Judd doesn’t know what to say. When TK and Owen first got to Austin, they always seemed so close; of course, since getting to know them, Judd has seen the cracks in their relationship, but he never…

That exhaustion in TK’s voice, in his face, in his entire being—Judd had never realised that things were that bad. He knows that nothing he can say will fix the way TK feels or will magically get Owen to apologise, and maybe there’s nothing anyone can do that won’t end in more resentment or guilt.

But Judd can be there for TK. He wraps an arm around his shoulders and tugs him close, gently kissing the top of his head.

“I’m sorry about all that,” he says, patting TK’s knee with his free hand. “But he ain’t the only family you’ve got now. You’ve got me, and you know I’ll always tell it to you straight, alright? And there’s Gracie, and the rest of the team, and that boy of yours in there is chomping at the bit to help you out.

“But you’ve gotta let us in. You keep bottling stuff up like this, it’s only gonna end ugly, so next time you feel bad, talk to one of us. Anyone. Don’t let your daddy’s actions ruin things for you.”

“Easier said than done,” TK says wryly, but his eyes shine with gratitude, and something that looks suspiciously like tears. “Thanks, Judd.”

“Anytime, kid.”

[911lonestarangstweek]

Falling Through a Bleeding Trapdoor

Fandom: 9-1-1 Lone Star

Relationship: TK&Tommy&Nancy

Rating: Teen

WC: 2.5k  

Written for @911lonestarangstweek Round 2

Prompt: Day 8 – T – TK&Tommy + Trapdoor

Summary: EMS 126 get sent to treat a man who slipped and hit his head, and Tommy and TK inadvertently stumble upon a crime scene.

Tommy watches Nancy press her fingers to the side of the ambulance where Tim's name is painted, a gesture that Tommy isn’t sure whether is for luck or just a way of remembering her deceased friend. Either way, she’s noticed Nancy doing it ever since the ambulance was renamed.

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[911lonestarangstweek]

quédate un segundo más (1/8)

@911lonestarangstweek day 8 - t is for...tumour, terminal, treatment

title from voy a quedarme by blas cantó, translates roughly to 'stay a second more'

thanks to @halsteadmarchs and @tarlos-spain for the beta!

as shown above, this will be eight chapters if all goes to plan, and i hope to finish it before season 3 begins. much of what is written both in this chapter and in future ones is ripped directly from life and i am only writing from my own perspective and experiences of losing a loved one to cancer.

ao3 | 1.6k | angst, hurt tk, cancer, terminal illness, more warnings to come in future chapters

A rare genetic mutation.

That’s what the doctors tell him when the results come back.

A rare genetic mutation that has rendered his cancer practically undetectable until its latest stages, until all that’s left to do is wait to die.

TK’s hands shake as various leaflets on Managing Your Diagnosis and What To Expect and Looking After Someone With Cancer are placed in them. He feels two steps to the side of himself, his entire world halting in its tracks the moment those words had left the doctor’s lips.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he’d said, eyes wide and empathetic. “Your scans and blood results have come back showing evidence of a tumour on your pancreas. There are treatment options which we can and will—with your consent—pursue, however I have to inform you that your cancer is entering stage IV. It has begun to spread to your bladder and liver. I’m sorry to say that, at this point, treatment is more focused on managing your pain and making you as comfortable as possible; we do not anticipate recovery.”

It’s just… TK’s fine. He feels fine. Like, sure, he’s been a little more tired recently and he’s been getting these weird pains, but they always fade after a while, and he’s fine.

But he couldn’t deny the blood spotting his pee, the last straw which had finally sent him to the doctor’s office.

Too late, apparently.

A touch on his knee brings him back to reality with a start. TK looks up to meet the doctor’s kind gaze, and he wants to cry.

“I understand this is a lot to take in,” he’s saying. “If you have any questions, please ask.”

“I…” TK shakes his head, swallowing a couple of times before dropping his eyes to his knees, the words on the pamphlets blurred through his tears. “How long?”

The doctor hesitates a moment, then sighs regretfully. “I can’t say for certain. People frequently outlive their projected timeframes; equally, it could be less. However, given the way your tumour looks and the rate it appears to be spreading at, I would estimate around six months.”

Six months.

Six—six months.

“Oh,” TK says, and it feels wildly insufficient but it’s all he has. What even is there to say? He’s dying, and that’s...that’s that.

“Do you have a support system in place?” the doctor asks. “This is going to be a difficult process, and you are going to need other people to help you through it.”

TK nods slowly, not looking up. “M-My husband. Carlos. He was supposed to come with me today but he was called into work last minute. He’s a detective, so he couldn’t exactly refuse—not that that stopped him from trying.” He laughs wetly, remembering how he’d insisted that everything would be fine when Carlos had stalled leaving this morning. “And there’s my dad, and my team—my family. I’m a paramedic and I work in a fire station, so we’re all pretty close. I… Shit, I’m sorry. You don’t need to know all this.”

“It’s okay.” The doctor is still smiling, still so understanding, and TK wonders—just how many times has he had to do this? “I’m glad to hear you have solid support behind you; that’s going to be incredibly important for the coming months. I’ve also given you a few leaflets about support groups you can access, that your family can access, and, of course, your treatment team will be there every step of the way.

“Now,” he continues, returning to a semi-professional aspect, “I want to see you later this week to iron out how we’re going to proceed. For now, why don’t you go home and rest, allow yourself to process this? Does Friday at 10.30 work for your next appointment?”

TK nods absently, clutching the pamphlets tight enough to crease them. “That’s fine,” he whispers.

“Okay,” the doctor says, just as quiet. “Are you going to be okay to get home?”

“Yeah.”

But he doesn’t move. He can’t. In this room, he’s separated from the rest of the world—TK doesn’t want to go back into it, where he’ll have to tell everyone he loves that he’s… That he…

“TK.”

TK’s head snaps up at the doctor’s voice and he flushes a little at seeing his pointed look. “Sorry,” he mutters, scrambling to stand up.

The doctor stands too, much more gracefully than TK, and gets the door for him. “It’s okay. I’ll see you on Friday, TK, alright?”

He mumbles an affirmative then steps out of the office, taken aback for a moment by the bustle and noise in the corridor. It’s strange to witness it now, to see all these people who don’t know him from Adam going about their lives, while his has, in the span of thirty minutes, completely crumbled.

TK takes a deep breath (and how many of those does he have left?) and joins the flow.

*

He’s home.

That’s… He doesn’t remember it. He must have unlocked the front door because the keys are in his hand and he’s standing in the entryway, but TK has no idea how he managed to get from the doctor’s office to here.

He made good time though, judging by the clock on the wall.

Small victories.

With heavy steps, TK walks to the sofa, easing himself down and tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. It still doesn’t feel real that there's this—this thing inside him, growing and mutating and killing him. He’s not sure when it finally will.

Maybe in a few months, when his skin is sagging off his bones and his hair is gone and even the very act of breathing is a challenge.

Or maybe in a few hours, when Carlos comes home and TK has to break the news. TK can picture his face now, the way his ever-present smile will crack and break, the shock and hurt and grief that will take its place.

He thinks he understands his dad now.

TK closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, just for a moment, of everything that’s happened today.

Which, as it turns out, is a mistake, because that’s when he remembers the letter that came for them yesterday and the phone call they’re going to make after dinner.

The phone call they were going to make after dinner.

TK wants to scream at the unfairness of it all. They’ve been waiting for that moment for so long, the moment in which they found out they were finally cleared to adopt a kid. And now…

Gone.

Carlos is going to be crushed.

As if the universe is reacting to that last thought, the door suddenly swings open, marking Carlos’s return from his impromptu shift. For a moment, TK panics. He’s not ready, dammit, he needs more time to plan and to figure it all out, how he feels and what he’s going to say, but—

But, in the end, it doesn’t matter. He could have had the most detailed and well-thought out plan in the world and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Because all it takes is one look at Carlos’s smile for TK to fall apart.

Carlos is by his side in an instant, gathering him in his arms and sliding to the floor with him when TK can no longer support himself on the couch. TK fists his hands in his husband’s shirt and cries into his neck, all the emotion that’s been slowly building all day exploding from him all at once.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Carlos shushes, which only makes TK cry harder, because how is he supposed to tell him that it’s not?

He shakes his head and clings onto him tighter, feeling Carlos do the same to him in return. TK’s always felt safe in his arms and it’s no different now; he thinks that, if he can just stay here forever, maybe things will turn out okay after all.

But the moment ends, as they tend to do. When TK’s sobs have run dry, Carlos carefully pulls back from him, his hands rising to cup his face and wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” he asks softly, so much worry in those damn eyes that it hurts. “Is it… Did the doctor say something? Are you okay?”

TK opens his mouth, but the words refuse to come out. All he manages is a wordless shake of the head, and even that turns Carlos’s expression into the picture of devastation. He can’t bear to look at it, so he wraps his arms around Carlos’s waist and leans into him again, resting his head on his chest.

Carlos holds him and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll get through it,” he promises. “Whatever it takes.”

And it turns out that he does have a few more tears left in him; TK squeezes his eyes shut and breathes out shakily as a couple of lone drops fall down his cheeks. “We can’t,” he whispers hoarsely. Carlos stiffens and shifts as if to look TK in the eyes, but TK doesn’t let him. If he has to look at Carlos, he doesn’t think he’ll have the courage to say it. He hesitates a moment longer, a huge lump forming in his throat, but eventually he manages it.

“It’s cancer,” he chokes out. “Stage IV. Incurable. They think… I’ve got six months.”

It’s like time stops.

They’re both motionless on the floor of their front room, neither saying anything, barely breathing as the weight of it settles between them.

TK doesn’t know how long it lasts for, but suddenly Carlos sobs and grips onto him with a bruising strength. Carlos’s body heaves and shakes with the force of his cries, and it’s TK’s turn to hold him as tears drip down Carlos’s cheeks into his hair.

And, in that moment, it becomes real.

[911lonestarangstweek]

Pinned Like a Butterfly

Fandom: 9-1-1 Lone Star   Relationship: Gen, Paul focused Rating: Teen WC: 2.4k   Written for @911lonestarangstweek Round 2     Prompt: Day 7 – P – Paul + Pinned

Summary: The 126 are clearing a burning warehouse when something explodes and in the resulting destruction, Paul gets pinned. Unable to free himself and being confronted by the arsonist, will his friends get to him in time before the fire engulfs the entire building?

Paul follows Marjan up the stairs of the burning warehouse to the second floor, moving quickly as they know they only have limited time to clear the building before they’ll need to pull back. They reach the landing and start by checking the two closest doors, the voices of the rest of the crew occasionally coming through the radios as they report in about their own findings and statuses.

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[911lonestarangstweek]

hi. first I wanna say I am enjoying your august extravaganza fics so much. reading them is kinda my favourite activity of the day 😍 just noticed that your promt requests are open so I wanted to send you one. this promt has been on my mind recently but I suck at writing 😅 anyway tarlos in "you have to go" situation. they are in some kind of dangerous situation and for some reason one of them (preferably tk, yes I am a sucker for tk whump😅) can't get out to the safety and the other has to leave them behind. like "go save yourself" situation. no mcd please, if possible. thank you 💕 have a good day!

'cause soon enough we'll die

@911lonestarangstweek day 7 - p is for...pinned, panic, promise, pain

anon i don't think this is what you wanted but once i started with it i kind of couldn't stop rip

this fic was inspired (read: stolen) from a couple of plotlines in emmerdale and coronation street. their wedding vows were also inspired (stolen verbatim) from said plotline in corrie 😊

thanks for the beta @halsteadmarchs!

title from we might be dead by tomorrow by soko

ao3 | 2.3k | major character injury, angst, hurt tk, worried carlos, happy ending

Of course they couldn’t have a peaceful wedding.

It had seemed like the perfect day at first—a cloudless sky, birds singing in the trees, the barn on Carlos’s family ranch done up until it was barely even recognisable—and everything was, for once, going exactly to plan.

Except, they hadn’t planned for a helicopter to crash onto the ranch.

From what Carlos can tell, most of their guests—few though they admittedly are—are okay. The helicopter had only glanced the barn and the majority of the structure is still standing, so most people got away with minor cuts and bruises. Carlos thinks he heard Tommy saying someone had a broken arm, and maybe another had a head wound, but he’s not sure.

Because, terrible though it may sound, he doesn’t really care about anyone else right now. All his attention is focused on one person lying two feet away from him, buried under a mountain of debris and with his skin turning ashen.

TK.

“Babe,” Carlos calls, coughing a little from the dust. “TK, babe, can you hear me? Please, TK, talk to me.”

TK doesn’t answer him, so Carlos tries to claw his way through the fallen beams and tangled decorations to get to his… Fuck, what even are they now? They were just about to say their vows when the accident happened so technically, they’re not married yet; technically, TK still isn’t his husband.

Not important right now, he reminds himself. He’s made it to TK’s side but there’s still too much debris for Carlos to see clearly how badly injured he is. He casts about for something to help him shift it, but his eyes land on Judd instead.

Judd, who was officiating their wedding.

Judd, who currently has a trickle of blood running down his face and a hand clamped tightly around his thigh. Carlos swallows down his sudden flash of panic and changes course, heading over to him.

“Judd!” he shouts, almost crying with relief when Judd opens his eyes and squints at him. Up close, he doesn’t look as bad as Carlos had feared, relatively speaking. The blow to his head will definitely have caused a concussion and blood is escaping between his fingers on his leg, but it’s not much, and it’s not bad enough that an artery would have been hit.

“Reyes,” Judd grunts, a little slurred, but mostly clear. “Y’good?”

“I’m fine, but—”

“Yer bleeding.”

Carlos frowns and looks down at himself. Sure enough, his right sleeve is torn and there’s a decent amount of blood welling from the sizable wound, though it barely hurts. Adrenaline, his mind supplies, but the wound is nothing compared to whatever has happened to TK.

“It’s nothing,” he says, looking back to Judd. The panic in his eyes must be clear, as Judd attempts to sit up a little straighter, his gaze seeming to focus more. “TK, he—he’s trapped. There’s all this stuff on top of him and he’s not responding to me and I really need your help to get him out of here before something else happens. Please, Judd, help us.”

And it’s like, as soon as Judd hears that TK is hurt, all the ill effects from his wounds leave him. Carlos leads him through the rubble to where TK is lying, gasping when he hears a small groan come from him.

“TK, are you with me?” he whispers. TK’s eyes flutter, and Carlos’s breath catches in his throat. “Come on, baby, that’s it. Open those eyes for me.”

It takes what feels like an eternity, but eventually TK’s face scrunches up and he moans, his eyes clouded with confusion when they finally blink open. Carlos smiles at him, stroking a hand down his cheek.

“There we go,” he murmurs.

“What happened?” TK mumbles, wincing a little as he tries to move.

“That doesn’t matter right now, let’s just focus on you, okay? Where does it hurt?”

But TK, naturally, completely ignores the questions, zeroing in on Carlos’s own injury. “You’re hurt.” He tries to bring his hand up to touch Carlos, but the movement shifts some of the debris on top of him, and TK cries out in pain, somehow, alarmingly, growing even paler.

“We need to get this off you.” Carlos grabs a beam, prepared to do whatever it takes to get TK free, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Carlos, no,” Judd says firmly. “It’s not safe; you could hurt him more or bring the rest of this place down on top of us.”

“So help me!” he cries, rounding on Judd. “You’re a firefighter; you know how we can do this safely.”

“Carlos—”

“Judd, TK doesn’t have the time. Look at him!”

Judd glances back over at TK and, judging by his sharp intake of breath and the way he bites his lip, Carlos knows he’s won this argument. TK’s eyes are barely open now, their discussion costing him precious seconds, and his breathing is turning shallow and strained. Even if somebody outside has called for help—and, really, with a wedding full of first responders, it’s impossible that they haven’t—TK doesn’t have the time to wait for them to arrive. Not unless Carlos and Judd do something, now.

“Alright,” Judd says eventually. “But I’ll do it. You just keep him awake and talking, you hear me?”

Judd’s tone leaves nothing up for debate, but Carlos doesn’t have any intentions of fighting him on this front anyway; his shaking hands would only delay them further. He bends over TK and takes his face in his hands, stroking his cheekbones lightly.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart,” he whispers. “We’re gonna get you out of here and you’ll be just fine, I swear.”

TK nods, but the fear in his eyes tells Carlos that he doesn’t truly believe it. Carlos forces himself to keep smiling for him, but the truth is, he’s not sure they’ll make it out of this okay either; he tries to push that thought aside, but it sticks firmly in the front of his mind, growing louder with every passing second.

“We—” TK breaks off, his expression contorting as coughs wrack his body. Tears spring to Carlos’s eyes at the pain TK is clearly in, but he blinks them back, shushing him as he struggles to breathe. When the coughing subsides, TK’s breathing is coming in harsh pants; still he keeps talking. “We never— Our vows— We—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Carlos bends down to press a kiss to TK’s forehead, not caring about the thin layer of dust settling over him. “We’ll have another chance. And, hey, our parents will get to plan another wedding—they’ll love that, right?”

“No.”

Carlos frowns, but before he can ask TK what he meant, Judd pulls at another beam, and TK lets out a horrific scream of pain. Tears cut line through the dust on his cheeks as his back arches and his eyes screw up, and all Carlos can do is watch helplessly, stroking TK’s hair.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, over and over until the words lose their meaning; until they’re coming out as sobs instead of words. It takes a long time for him to realise Judd has stopped working, and the pained look on his face almost shatters him all over again.

“Why have you stopped?” he demands. “Judd, we have to hurry!”

Judd sucks in a sharp breath, a glimmer of tears in his own eyes. “This place is too unstable. If I do anything else without the proper equipment, it’ll come down on all three of us. And…” He breaks off, studiously avoiding Carlos’s gaze, making him panic even more.

“And?”

“There’s something...in my side…” TK gasps, drawing Carlos’s attention. “It’s pretty—pretty deep. We can’t… We have to do them now.”

“Do…” Carlos gasps as the implications of TK’s words sink in. “No, Ty. Absolutely not. We’re going to do it right, not because you think— Not because of this.”

TK just smiles, like he knows Carlos is going to agree anyway. “We have to, babe. Just in case. Please.”

And Carlos has never been able to say no to those eyes a day in his life. He swallows hard, trying and failing to blink back tears, and nods. “Alright. Alright. TK, you—you mean everything to me. Someone once said that, that, um, that love is one soul in two bodies. And that’s us, yeah? I can’t exist without you. You are...the most beautiful person in the whole wide world, and you look a million times better than I do.”

TK laughs at that, though a flash of pain also crosses his face, and Carlos makes himself smile through the tears too.

“It’s true. And I… I…” He stops and shakes his head, unable to say those final few words. But TK is looking at him so earnestly, eyes wide and pleading, and Carlos doesn’t have it in him to deny him. They come out as a whisper, but he knows that TK hears him.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

TK’s smile is blindingly brilliant. Carlos finds his hand and squeezes it, gasping out another sob when he feels a weak squeeze in return. “Your turn,” he whispers.

TK nods, only for his expression to drop in the next second, panic filling his eyes. “I can’t—I can’t remember!” He gasps, body jerking as anxiety tightens its grip on him. “I had them written down but I—I can’t—Carlos!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not, I—” TK breaks off into a coughing fit, heaving and gasping for air. Carlos tries to hold him still; he’ll only hurt himself more if he keeps panicking, but he can’t deny how scared he, too, is.

He can’t lose TK. Not on their wedding day.

Not ever.

TK sobs. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You won’t,” Carlos says through tears. “I’m not leaving you.”

Something like a smile tugs at TK’s lips, though it’s strained and full of sadness. “We can’t leave each other. Because we’re the same person.”

Carlos nods. “Yeah. One soul in two bodies.”

“I like that.” TK’s breathing a little quieter now, which both relieves Carlos and scares him to death. It’s like he can feel the life slipping away from him and he doesn’t know how much longer TK can hold on for. He wishes he knew what was taking help so long to get here, but, as ever, his focus gets pulled entirely back on TK as he begins to speak again.

“I remember my vows,” TK murmurs. “Not all of them. But the end was me, thanking you, for never giving up on me. For giving me a home. Thank you.”

Carlos has to force down a sob, though he can’t stop the waterfall of tears streaming down his face. He can’t stand the idea that these might be the last words TK ever says to him; the ache in his heart is already too great to bear, and he knows he won’t survive if they don’t both make it out of here.

A throat clears behind them, and Carlos turns to see Judd holding out two simple gold rings. “I thought you might want to—you know.”

He stares at them for a moment before nodding and taking them. One he slides onto TK’s finger first, then he helps TK put his one on, keeping their eyes locked together the entire time. Slowly, Carlos bends down so he can kiss their joined hands, and if TK notices the wetness on his cheeks, he doesn’t say anything.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Always.” Then, turning to Judd, “You have to—”

But his words die in his throat when he feels TK’s hand go slack. Carlos whips around to see TK’s eyes shut, and he can’t tell if he’s breathing, he can’t—

A gloved hand lands on his shoulder, and suddenly a firefighter is trying to pull him away. Carlos struggles in their grip, fighting to get to TK, but they’re too strong, and suddenly Judd is in his face, blocking his way forward.

“Carlos, you have to go!” he shouts, forcing him back. “They’re gonna help him, but you need to get out of here first!”

And, once again, Carlos is helpless to do anything but allow himself to be pulled out of the collapsed barn, crying uncontrollably as TK disappears from sight.

Then, moments after he and Judd are out, just as the firefighters are preparing to re-enter, the barn groans and shudders, it’s last remaining supports finally giving out. And Carlos watches as the structure crumbles, its entire weight falling right where TK was lying.

*

They say it’s a miracle.

A miracle that TK was still breathing when they pulled him out of the collapsed barn.

A miracle that they were able to bring him back each time his heart stopped in the ambulance.

A miracle that he pulled through surgery and survived their wedding night.

A miracle that, even now, two weeks later, the worst is still yet to happen.

The word has lost meaning, now. Carlos isn’t sure if he believed in miracles to start with, but after so many of them, he’s certain he doesn’t.

It’s no miracle that TK didn’t die in that barn. Neither luck nor fate had any part in it, and nor did any god.

See, Carlos doesn’t believe in miracles or luck or fate or gods.

But he does believe in TK. Always in TK.

Which is why it’s no surprise when, two weeks, four days, and seven hours after Helicopter N182XZ crashed into the Reyes family ranch, the so-called final miracle happens.

TK opens his eyes.

[911lonestarangstweek]

your heart is your masterpiece

post season 2 fic for @911lonestarweek ‘s day 7

p is for paranoia

words: 5.1K

summary:

The first few weeks after the fire went in a haze. He couldn’t sleep or eat properly and constantly seeing nightmares placed a thick mist on his mind, and he couldn’t focus on anything, and the idea of how the fire started didn’t even cross his mind.

read on ao3

[911lonestarangstweek]

ANYWHERE AWAY FROM HERE (TARLOS FIC 2/?)

Summary: TK had learned to deal with it. It had been nearly 20 years. 20 years of pain, trauma, hiding it. All of it. But maybe, he was ready to share his story with Carlos. To let him in on what really happened to him on 9/11.

A/N: Continued thanks to @firefighterreyes for giving this some more fuel and encouraging it to be longer than I intended. Here is the next chapter! Thanks to everyone for comments and feedback. Special thanks to @lire-casander, @alilypea, @mtnofgrace, and @marjansmarwani for feedback as I've been writing backchannel (it is much appreciated).

And since it is still @911lonestarangstweek...will go with "overwhelmed" for today's 'O' prompt.

Everyone vividly remembered that day. Flashbulb memories frozen in time. Where were you on that day? What were you doing? How did you hear?

For TK, he often wished it wasn’t so vivid. Wasn’t frozen. That he didn’t remember where he was and what he chose to do. What he regretted.

None so much as having to share it with Carlos.

“So, it happened on 9/11…”.

Continued on A03

[911lonestarangstweek]

911 Lone Star Angst Week 2.0 - Day 6

Day 6: Overcoming Owen - Owen was fine, really.

There wasn't an obstruction in his throat, stealing his breath, making him see spots in front of his eyes.

Owen was not fine.

Many thanks to @alilypea who beta read this one as well (basically she's beta read everything by now haha).

And special tagging to @firefighterreyes and @bellakitse because they're awesome people too.

For Day 6 of @911lonestarangstweek

[911lonestarangstweek]

my father told me

angst week day six- o is for organ donation and owen @911lonestarangstweek

“T.K, I can’t believe that you are doing this,”

“Well I thought if I could, why wouldn’t I?”

“You know you are saving my life when you don’t need to right?”

“I wasn’t just going to leave you to die when I knew I could help,”

-

an au in which owen doesn’t get lung cancer but instead gets terminal liver cancer and needs someone to save his life, when his son steps up.

ao3 | 3004 words | 1/1 chapters 

this is dedicated to brit @moviegeek03, who helped me with some of the accuracy elements as well as jamie @firefighterreyes who i talked to both about this. this has been sat in my google drive for the previous month and I’ve been so excited to release it.

there will be waves of medical inaccuracies throughout this work I used information from the NHS to try and make this accurate but it’s unlikely.

He didn’t think that it would get this bad.

He didn’t want to put his son in this position.

But he didn’t.

T.K. volunteered.

And there was no going back as he watches his son being wheeled to the theatre.

Keep reading

[911lonestarangstweek]

Hi! I don't have Tumblr (I'm ElineHasAllTheFeels over on AO3), but adore your writing and cannot resist requesting something! I would absolutely love to see a fic in which Carlos comes home from a shift, and it was a very rough one, and he's trying to hold it together, and TK doesn't notice so is being his overenthusiastic self, and that eventually leads to a breaking point. Bonuspoints for soft caring TK after he realizes? Anyway, I'll read whatever you write, you are just. Wow. Wow!!

would you believe me if i told you that i've got flaws?

thank you so so much for all your support my lovely! i hope i've managed to do your prompt justice 💚💚💚

@911lonestarangstweek day 6 - o is for...overwhelmed

title from trying my best by anson seabra

ao3 | 1.4k | angst, hurt/comfort, hurt carlos, supportive tk, soft tarlos

It’s on his fifth failed attempt at getting his key into the lock when Carlos finally gives in and admits defeat. He leans forward with a heavy sigh and rests his head against the door, closing his eyes for a second and debating just lying down where he is. The idea certainly has its merits; he wouldn’t have to move another inch, and Carlos is tired enough that he’s certain he could fall asleep standing up at this point.

But, whilst he could do that, he knows he’d feel worse in the morning for it, not least because of the well-deserved telling off he’d get from TK. Plus, his bed is calling to him, and Carlos’s back aches pre-emptively at the thought of sinking into the soft mattress.

Out of options, Carlos wearily pushes himself upright and knocks—actually knocks—on his own front door. If he were less exhausted, he might even feel humiliated, but he’s well past that now.

He just barely manages to muster up a smile when TK opens the door, not wanting to dampen his boyfriend’s mood.

“Hey babe,” TK says, a bewildered frown appearing on his face. “Why did you knock? Are you okay?”

Carlos nods. “Lock jammed,” he explains simply, the easiest lie he can come up with considering his keys are still visibly dangling from his hand. TK purses his lips but seems to accept it, then steps aside and lets Carlos trudge past him.

In all honesty, he just wants to go to bed, but those plans screech to a sudden halt as he notices the elaborate set-up in the front room. The good silverware is out, there’s a fresh flower arrangement on the table, and a steaming, delicious-looking meal has been plated up ready for his return. It’s incredible, and, in any other situation, Carlos would be kissing the living daylights out of TK for going to all this trouble.

But the weight of the day is getting heavier with each passing moment, so all Carlos can do is stare dumbly at the scene in front of him.

“You didn’t forget anything, I promise,” TK says hurriedly, clearly misreading Carlos’s reaction. “Well, unless I did too, but it can’t have been that important if we both forgot. Anyway, Grace has apparently been cooking like crazy while she’s on maternity leave, so Judd brought a ton of leftovers over, and I thought we could make a date out of it. If… If that’s something you want, of course. We don’t have to.”

The thing is, Carlos knows TK wouldn’t be offended if he told him that he’s not feeling up to it. It’s just, he can tell that TK has been looking forward to tonight lal day, and Carlos doesn’t have the heart to disappoint him. Besides, it’s just a quiet meal at home with the love of his life. He can handle that, surely.

“No, this is—this is great, babe.” He forces another smile, then goes to sit down before TK can notice how fake it is. “Thank you.”

TK scoffs. “I did nothing,” he claims, but he’s glowing with pride and happiness, and Carlos knows he made the right call. TK’s joy is infectious; maybe, just maybe, tonight will be good for him. Maybe it’ll be just what he needs after the shift from hell—though that description doesn’t really do justice to what he went through today.

Carlos is happy for TK to take the lead as they eat, content to listen to him chatter away about...about...shit. He realises with a start that he can’t remember a word TK has said in the past however long they’ve been sitting at the table. Everything has been muted, Carlos’s entire focus on mechanically lifting bites of Grace’s cooking to his mouth, chewing, and swallowing.

He doesn’t even know what he’s eating, but he thinks it tastes good, so he doesn’t really care.

But, now that he’s aware he’s been spaced out, he can’t stop himself from overcompensating, and suddenly everything is just too much. TK’s voice is too loud, the clink of forks on plates too sharp, even his own breathing too harsh and grating on his ears.

Carlos clenches his teeth and puts his cutlery down for a moment, reaching down and gripping onto the table leg to try and centre himself.

But it doesn’t work and TK keeps talking and Carlos’s ears are ringing and his chest is too tight and he just, he just—

He stands, the movement violent enough to send his chair crashing to the floor. The noise adds to the cacophony surrounding him, and Carlos doesn’t even stop to explain, the need to get out too strong. He almost sprints up the stairs, his brain on such a lag that it feels like he’s seeing things in double time, and doesn’t stop moving until he’s somehow under the covers, clutching onto the sheets with all his strength.

For a moment, he feels safe in his little cocoon. But then the silence is stifling and the sheets are too harsh on his skin, yet he also can’t stand not having the blanket over him, and the rustle when he tries to move is too much. He’s a second away from screaming or bursting into tears, he can’t tell which, and the only thing he can do is curl up in a tight ball and squeeze his hands over his ears, hard.

It works, just, and Carlos feels himself starting to calm down. The newfound peace gives him some kind of clarity, and he begins to burn with shame for the way he acted. He can’t believe that he let his emotions get the better of him like that; he can’t believe that he went and ruined their evening over, what? A rough shift? He’s been a cop for years now—he should be able to deal with these things better.

Maybe his dad is right.

His skin is starting to crawl again, made worse when the bedroom door slowly opens. Carlos can’t see it, but he hears every shift of wood on carpet loud and clear, and his entire body tenses up as he feels another pair of eyes on his back. It’s awful, the sensation too much even in his protective ball, but it’s over as quickly as it came, the door shutting again with a soft click.

Carlos can tell TK has left too, and he relaxes bit by bit as his body recognises that he’s alone again. Guilt floods over him once more—what sort of person can’t be in the same room as their boyfriend without freaking out?—but his spiral is interrupted by his phone chiming on the nightstand.

He debates ignoring it, but with his job and his friends and his family, there’s always the worry that every message could be an emergency. So he reaches out, sliding it towards him and squinting at the screen, just in time for another text to come through.

TK, 21.32: i’m sorry about tonight, i should have noticed you weren’t feeling good sooner

TK, 21.34: you looked like you’re not really up to being around anyone so i’ll be down here

Carlos frowns; what the hell is TK apologising for?

Carlos, 21.35: You don’t need to be sorry, it was me who freaked out. And you can come to bed, it’s fine.

There’s a pause, the three typing dots appearing and disappearing multiple times before a response finally comes through.

TK, 21.39: carlos. stop it.

TK, 21.39: you’re overwhelmed and struggling and that’s okay. i want to be there for you, but can you honestly tell me that you can deal with having someone else with you right now?

Carlos doesn’t get a chance to respond before a third message arrives, but it’s honestly a good thing because he can barely see his screen right now. Tears take him by surprise, a mix of emotions he can’t quite identify swirling in his chest.

And, when he’s finally able to see TK’s text, the barely-gone tears emerge all over again, a love so strong rising in him that he can’t contain it.

TK, 21.40: besides, the couch down here is way more comfy than our old one. really, you should be jealous of me. anyway, i’m here for you babe ❤ whatever you need. love you 😘

[911lonestarangstweek]

Til I Can Gain Control Again

SUMMARY: A revised timeline, out-of-order version of 1x08 for @911lonestarangstweek, where I basically swap the kidnapping/concussion with the shooting. Michelle still leaves at the end of season 1 but Tim lives!

(Wanted to post it last night, but surprise power outage got in the way)

Part V: Narcotics

Carlos didn’t really understand addiction before starting his relationship with TK. After his reluctant admission that he had relapsed after a break-up, Carlos hadn’t pressed for any additional details and took note of what kinds of beverages TK preferred so he could have things on hand when they met up at the condo.

He didn’t realize narcotics were involved until TK was kidnapped and refused painkillers for his headache, almost having a panic attack when the doctor suggested they might be necessary to help him heal properly. Owen helped him to calm down and he made it through without needing anything stronger than NSAIDs and a lot of time resting in dark, quiet rooms. Because he was the team’s “danger magnet,” Michelle got him the name of an addiction specialist so they could come up with a plan to manage pain in case he was ever injured again.

Owen made sure the doctors had a copy of the plan and had gone over it with both Gwyn and Carlos, as they would be playing a role in helping to manage the medication once TK went home. He and Carlos talked every day as part of their routine so they could both say good morning and good night to TK. Unsurprisingly, they has some conversations about what it was like to watch someone you love struggle with addiction.

“He’s really been doing well since we got to Texas, and I know you are a huge part of that Carlos. I can’t thank you enough,” Owen said during their morning conversation.

Carlos shrugged from his seat beside his boyfriend. “I don’t know if TK told you, but he was struggling when he first came here. I think he felt he had to hide it. He told me a little bit about his relapse early on but I had no idea.”

Owen sighed. “I think he did have to accept it was a part of him, and by telling everyone he couldn’t put it aside anymore.”

Carlos nodded and brought TK’s hand to his lips. “We’ll all be here for him this time too.”

[911lonestarangstweek]

en oo sun, et oo mun

1x03 coda for @911lonestarangstweek ‘s day 6

o is for open

words: 5.8K

Summary:

“Is this a date?”

“You said yourself you asked me out and I said yes,” TK clarifies, still looking at the neck of the bottle instead of him. “So, it’s a date. Sort of. Maybe.”

read on ao3

[911lonestarangstweek]

all your perfectly delivered lines

a pre 2x10 fic for @911lonestarangstweek ‘s day 5

n is for nervous

words: 11k

summary:

It stings knowing that he has been lied to, and Carlos feels ridiculous for not even realising it properly before today, and only when he is literally proven wrong. Not so pleasant feelings wallow in his stomach, but most of all, real and burning hot concern appears into the mix of it.

read on ao3

[911lonestarangstweek]

come deliver me back home

@911lonestarangstweek day 5 - n is for...nightmares

title from home by barns courtney

ao3 | 1.2k | hurt/comfort, nightmares, hurt mateo, soft & supportive tarlos

Mateo is dreaming that he’s trapped.

His friends are staring at him from outside, ignoring his pleas as he bangs on the window and begs them to help. The smell of gas invades his nostrils and a candle is burning just feet away, but he can’t move to blow it out. All he can do is call out to his friends and wait for the inevitable.

Fear builds in him as time ticks on, Mateo aware of his every breath.

And then—

And then—

A rushing sound. Heat, searing his skin. And a flash of bright, painful light, before—

He wakes up with a gasp. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest and his mouth is dry, sweat beading on his skin. Mateo can almost feel the heat of the explosion and the sight of it lingers whenever he closes his eyes, so he knows he’s not going back to sleep again.

It’s the third night in a row that his sleep has been interrupted by nightmares of the explosion, of all the ways things could have gone wrong that night. Mateo’s been able to hide it pretty well so far, and he’s got no intention of letting anyone else in on it if he can help it. With everything Cap’s been dealing with trying to get the station back up and running, plus Mateo knows that TK and Carlos have been struggling ever since the fire at their place, so none of them need him falling apart on them, too.

And he knows he could talk to someone else—Paul, Marjan, maybe even Judd—but he barely sees them anymore. He’s still stuck at the 129, and with the way all their shifts have been lately, it’s becoming harder and harder to find free time to hang out in.

Besides, they all have their own problems. Judd and Grace are preparing for the baby, and Marjan and Paul are… Well, Mateo is sure they’re busy.

And his thing isn’t that important. It’s barely even a thing. He’s fine.

He’s fine.

Mateo reaches out for the glass of water on his nightstand, ignoring the way his hand trembles, only to groan when he finds it empty. For a brief moment, he debates staying in bed, but the mere thought seems to make his thirst worse, so he sighs heavily and throws back the covers, shoving himself to his feet.

His steps are uncoordinated as he stumbles through the darkened house. He rubs his eyes, a huge yawn creeping up on him, which must be why he misses it.

Voices.

Two voices.

Mateo freezes in the entry to the kitchen, stopping short as he finally spots TK sitting on the counter with Carlos standing between his legs. Their foreheads are pressed together and Mateo can hear them talking quietly, and he suddenly feels like an intruder on something he’s definitely not supposed to be witnessing.

Neither of them have seen him yet, so Mateo tries to creep backwards out of the kitchen. He can handle bathroom water for one night if it saves him from this kind of embarrassment.

He’s been living in Cap’s house for a while so Mateo thinks he pretty much has the floor plan down pat. But it’s dark. And he’s tired. And he’s walking backwards.

So he misjudges the number of steps needed to clear the corner, and his heel hits the skirting board. Mateo can’t suppress his cry of pain and shock as he stumbles and falls, sprawling in an undignified heap on the floor.

The whispers still, and Mateo only has a second to commiserate over his situation before the kitchen light clicks on and he suddenly has both TK and Carlos staring down at him.

“Uh. Hey guys,” he mumbles, trying and failing to contain his shame. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks, a worried frown creasing his brow. TK doesn’t say anything; instead, he just drops to his knees and runs a critical eye down Mateo’s body, clearly searching for any injuries.

Mateo flushes, TK’s gaze sending his embarrassment hurtling to a peak, and he pushes himself upright, almost falling straight back down as he trips over his feet in his hurry. “I’m fine,” he says hurriedly. “I’m great. Don’t worry. I’ll just, uh. I’ll just go, and you guys can get back to, um. Whatever you were doing. Sorry to interrupt.”

He turns to leave but Carlos stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Mateo,” he says softly, and suddenly Mateo understands exactly what TK means by the ‘Carlos cow eyes’.

Because, holy shit. It’s honestly a good job Mateo isn’t a criminal; there’s no way he’d be able to keep his mouth shut with those eyes. As it is, he stutters and stumbles through another deflection before his entire body sags, Carlos’s ridiculously empathetic gaze rendering his tongue useless.

Carlos smiles encouragingly and puts an arm around his shoulders, steering him to the kitchen counter. A steaming mug is almost immediately placed in front of him, and it takes Mateo a second to work out that it’s not, in fact, coffee as he was expecting, but hot chocolate.

He lifts his brows at TK, who just shrugs.

“What?”

“Hot chocolate, dude? I’ve never seen you drink this before.”

“It’s comforting,” TK defends, though his expression doesn’t show any signs of offence. “Don’t tell Marj.”

Mateo grins, the moment of levity taking some of the weight off his shoulders. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate, barely suppressing a groan at how good it tastes—this is very clearly not the powdered stuff he’s always used himself.

“Maybe don’t tell my dad either,” TK says wryly. “Carlos makes a mean hot chocolate, but my dad would freak if he knew how much sugar was in it.”

He snorts. “Got it.”

A comfortable silence falls over the three of them, but Mateo can feel the way TK and Carlos’s eyes keep falling on him, both of them utterly failing at disguising their worry and concern.

“What are you guys doing down here?” he asks, hoping to delay the inevitable. “When I first saw you, I thought… But…” Mateo trails off, wincing, but TK’s easy laugh settles his embarrassment slightly.

“We have a perfectly good bed for that, ‘Teo,” he points out. “We just…” He exchanges a glance with Carlos, then turns back to Mateo, a knowing look in his eyes. “Good sleep is kind of a luxury these days, you know?”

Mateo nods; he does know. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Same here.”

And it’s incredible, he thinks. Because, as the three of them stand in a kitchen that’s not their own, drinking from someone else’s mugs and delaying going back to the guest bedrooms containing all that’s left of theirs, Mateo feels closer to both TK and Carlos than he ever has.

Their situations aren’t the same, he knows this. Mateo can’t compare to the trauma that comes with almost dying; he can’t imagine the nightmares that must come with that. But he’s learning that, maybe, that doesn’t matter as much as he thought—that, maybe, it’s enough just to understand.

They’re all here, and Mateo knows.

For now, that’s more than enough for him.