#911 Lone Star fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluenet13 · 1 month ago

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Christmas One Gingerbread Cookie at a Time - Read on AO3

Love, loss, new beginnings, and bittersweet endings: a journey through Carlos and TK's holidays across the years.

December 2020

The car is quiet as they drive to a restaurant for date night. The silence only interrupted by Carlos' soft voice when he asks, "So, how are you celebrating Christmas?" His fingers tap anxiously against the steering wheel in a nervous gesture he had surely picked up from TK.

"Christmas?" TK raises an eyebrow and looks at Carlos questionably, but his boyfriend is doing everything in his power to focus on the road ahead of them and not on him.

Carlos sighs when they have to stop at a traffic light, reluctantly turns to look at TK, and smiles tentatively at him. "Yes, Christmas. You know, the holiday happening in one week. That ring any bells?"

"I'm Jewish, Carlos," TK says matter-of-factly, "I haven't celebrated a real Christmas since my dad tried when I was seven. He forgot to defrost the turkey, then burned the ham and had to call his own firehouse to turn off the fire alarm."

Carlos grimaces. "I know." He stops and swallows a few times. "That you're Jewish, I mean, not that Captain Strand can't be trusted with Christmas dinner."

TK smiles and reaches a hand to stop Carlos' fidgeting one. He squeezes once and lets go so it can go back to tapping a finger on the stick shift. "Why? Are you asking me to Christmas with the Reyes?"

He means for his question to be lighthearted, teasing even, for it to be a way to break away some of the tension in the car and put his boyfriend at ease. He doesn't have to always walk on eggshells around him. But the way Carlos instantly freezes and seems to have stopped breathing triggers warning bells inside his head.

Ever since Alex, he has been looking for red flags everywhere and he has been determined to stop after that fateful night at the police station, but, seeing Carlos stare wide-eyed ahead, his fingers no longer tapping but holding onto the stick shift for dear life, all TK can see is red.

Still, he tries to calm down his racing heart. Tries to breathe deeply a few times, which is decisively hard since he doesn't want Carlos to notice. A beat passes, then another and another, and only when TK is sure he can talk without bursting into tears or throwing himself out of the moving car does he speak again.

"I'm kidding," TK whispers, and his breath hitches on the last three letters. "I haven't even met your parents yet."

He wants to say more, thinks he should say more, but he isn't in control enough to trust what would come tumbling out of his mouth if he did.

Carlos doesn't say anything. He is grasping the steering wheel like his life depends on it, like it's the only thing tethering him to this world, to this reality, and he's scared of letting go and simply drifting away forever.

TK kicks himself mentally for making that comment, even if he doesn't know why it's affecting Carlos so much. And maybe he doesn't want to know. But he can't doom their relationship for the third time in less than a year, so he pushes past his own apprehensions and sets his hand over Carlos's that is resting in between them. He runs his thumb over the back of his boyfriend's hand and smiles to himself when he sees some of the tension that had been there a second ago leave Carlos's shoulders.

"I was joking, I promise," he tries again, wishing Carlos were less good at hiding his feelings so he could see some of it on his face. "I'm perfectly content with listening to Harry Styles on repeat and eating Sufganiyot my mom brought."

That finally makes Carlos look at him out of the corner of his eye, and TK chuckles at the incredulous look on his face. "Sufganiyot," he repeats, more slowly this time, "they're like a cross between a beignet and a jelly donut, and we eat them for Hanukkah."

Carlos seems to slowly mull over the new information before his face breaks into the most adorable and equally blinding smile TK has ever seen. "Do you want to come over on Christmas' Eve and help me bake some cookies?"

TK's first instinct is to decline the invitation. He doesn't like to be an inconvenience, or to be invited somewhere out of pity. But Carlos's smile is truly blinding, and TK doesn't think he's that good of an actor, so he must really want him there.

"Sure," he finally says. Because a night not so long ago, under a multicolored sky, TK promised himself he would be the reason Carlos' smile was there in the first place, and not the man that wiped it away. So now, as Carlos parks in front of the restaurant, he nods and smiles back.

Carlos jumps a little, clapping his hands together, and lets out an honest to God squeal. It's cute, but TK's not about to admit that out loud.

"You won't regret it. My Christmas cookies are legendary," he promises excitedly, before looking at his watch and ushering TK out of the car and towards the restaurant because they're already late.

-x-x-x-

TK does in fact regret it.

And in retrospect, he should have seen it coming. This is the same man that turned a casual dinner into a five course dinner that could rival the best three Michelin stars restaurant and made him want to run for the hills. But his smile had been so earnest when he asked that TK didn't have the heart to turn him down. Even if that smile, and everything that hid behind, sometimes still made him want to lock away his heart and throw away the key.

It's that smile that TK chooses to focus on now as he dips his hand in the bag of red and green M&Ms and dutifully sprinkles them over the dough still sitting in the mixer.

There are gingerbread molasses, Classic Sugar, and Chocolate Chip cookies cooling in various racks on the kitchen counter, Gingerbread Man on the dining table waiting to be cooked, Snickerdoodle Bars and White Chocolate Barks hardening on Carlos's bed because they ran out of space in the kitchen and Carlos is adding the jelly to one half of the Linzer Star Sandwiches while the tops finish baking in the oven.

The house looks like a poor man's bakery and TK belatedly wishes he had asked for more information when Carlos extended the invitation. Because apparently, to Carlos, baking cookies means baking hundreds of assorted cookies because it's a Carlos Reyes tradition to give a box to all his family members and friends, which also includes mailing one to those no longer living in Austin.

"Why did you wait until the night before Christmas if you wanted to bake enough cookies to rival an Oreo factory?" TK asks distractedly, his tongue sticking out as he concentrates on scooping the dough in the exact amount Carlos had shown him and setting them on the tray at the adequate distance so they don't, quote unquote, "run against each other, making one mess of a giant cookie like that one time his sister tried to help and ruined Christmas".

Carlos snorts and stops what he's doing to look apologetically up at him. "I usually start baking the week before Christmas, but work and other things have been keeping me pretty busy this year."

"So, you only invited me because you were behind schedule and needed an assistant?" TK shakes his head, feigning annoyance. "Unbelievable."

Carlos drops his spatula and turns panicked eyes to TK. He opens his mouth, but TK swallows whatever he was about to say with a kiss. "Hey, I'm kidding. I'm happy to be here."

Carlos' hands are sticky with powdered sugar and frosting, but he still cups TK's cheeks and kisses him again before he strays too far away. "I'm really happy you're here," he breaths against his lips when they part again.

TK nods, closing his eyes, and rests his forehead on Carlos'. "This sure beats listening to music and eating pastries alone," he says sincerely, before a cheeky grin overtakes his sweet smile, "and it got me out of trying new vegan eggnog recipes with my dad."

Carlos gasps, and dramatically clutches his chest. "You wound me, Tyler. Here I thought you genuinely wanted to bake together."

TK sticks his tongue out and fights the urge to remind Carlos he's never baked a day in his life. He likes eating pastries, not actually making them. Although, on second thought, he might actually enjoy baking with him. But he doesn't say any of that, instead he dips his finger on the frosting and smears it across Carlos' nose. "You're one to talk. I'm only here as your personal assistant."

"You're lucky you're not, or HR would have fired you already," Carlos mutters, catching TK's hands before he can smear more frosting across his face and licking it off his finger.

TK lets out a good-natured chuckle and accompanies it with a playful wink. "You'd miss me too much," he quips, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips as he reaches forward to snatch a gingerbread man out of the tray, ignoring Carlos' previous remark of no cookies until after dinner.

Were it anyone else, Carlos would have snatched the cookie right back, but seeing as it's TK, and he's been screwed since that night at the Honky Tonk, he just waits expectantly for his verdict.

TK breaks the cookie in half, offering one half to Carlos. He takes it but instead of taking a bite off it, leans forward and bites the exposed end away from TK's fingers, holding out his own half for him in return.

TK's eyes widen in shock at Carlos' move, but it quickly transitions into an infectious, delighted laugh. "Well played," he concedes, shaking his head in defeat before taking a bite off the offered half with a sigh of appreciation.

"Good?" Carlos asks, eyebrows raised expectantly.

TK finishes the cookie, and leans forward to kiss Carlos. "Delicious," he finally breathes out into the shared space.

Carlos rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face remains. "I meant the cookie," he jests, trying to fake annoyance but the affection in his gaze is unmistakable.

TK taps his chin, as if he was thinking it over. "Cookie was good," he confirms, his tone soft and warm. He leans in, swiftly licking the chocolate ganache off Carlos' nose. "Frosting was too. But you're so much better than both."

December 2021

On December 2nd, within an Austin apartment, a man leans forward, his hand trembling slightly as he lights a new candle. He's careful not to drop the shamash as he sets it back in the menorah, not wanting to incur the wrath of more than one version of his God. The warm glow of the candles reflects on his face, illuminating the tears streaming down his face, yet failing to reach the depths of his broken soul.

The space is quiet, except for the gentle melody of Christmas music resonating from the living room speakers. Discarded, burnt cookies lie in the trash, while an open recipe book on the counter remains set to a page featuring Sufganiyot. Despite the fact he still can't actually pronounce the word, he attempted to make them, yet the dough now rests in a bowl, half-submerged in water in the sink.

In a corner of the room stands a Christmas tree, its lights only partially aglow—the string ending somewhere in the middle. Sparse ornaments dot its branches, creating a feeble attempt at holiday cheer.

The rest of the apartment isn't much better and it mirrors the disarray. Pizza boxes occupy the coffee table, frozen meal cartons crowd the trash can, and the coffee pot wears the stains from previous mornings.

Settling onto the couch, the glow of his phone reveals a series of unanswered texts on his phone—Christmas party invitations waiting to be received, inquiries about lunch and dinner plans or post-work drinks demanding responses, family members and friends asking if he's okay and if there's anything they can do.

Shaking his head, he fails to respond to any message, except for a brief thumbs-up and smiley face sent to his mother confirming Sunday dinner plans. With a dismissive flick, he sends his phone flying to the other side of the couch.

The side of the couch that's empty and will remain empty, just like the unoccupied side of his bed.

That night, Carlos cries himself to sleep, his pillow the only thing absorbing his silent despair. He cries some more in the morning, then he washes his face, dresses up, and goes to work.

-x-x-x-

The following morning, a man arrives at his workplace in another part of Austin, awkwardly clutching tins of Christmas cookies, each adorned with matching ribbon and bow.

"When did you become the Pillsbury Doughboy?" teases one of his coworkers upon receiving a tin.

"Christmas cookies, sweet!" exclaims another, already savoring a bite of a ginger molasses treat.

"Did you bake this?" questions someone else, eyeing a Snickerdoodle Bar skeptically.

With a nod, the man meets their doubtful gazes. Beneath their skepticism, he senses their sadness. A shared sorrow that weighs on all of them, but nowhere as heavy as on his shoulders. It's an invisible cloak that threatens to choke him, gradually stealing his breath since that one fateful night when it all ended with a bang and not a whimper.

The previous night had been particularly bad, prompting him to bake. The first batch emerged too soft, the second too hard, the third burnt, and only the last batch turned out right.

He shed tears as he tasted the first cookie, yet he pressed on. His teardrops continued to glisten on the counter as he added ingredients to the mixer, frosted cookies and waited for others to cool down.

He didn't have a big family—no sisters, nieces or nephews, no brother-in-law, tías, or abuelos, to share the cookies with. But he had a work family and, thus, here he was, sharing with them the cookies born out of his despair.

Hesitantly, and then more animatedly, his friends sample the cookies, their expressions gradually softening into genuine smiles. He finds it in himself to smile back. And in that simple exchange of hesitant bites and shared smiles, a missing piece falls into place even if the greater picture is still missing.

An alarm goes off somewhere in the distance and it interrupts their conversation, though he wasn't particularly inclined to speak in the first place. Snatching a bite of a plain sugar cookie, he hurriedly exists, a solitary tear trailing down his cheek as he goes.

For the rest of the day, TK works, and that night, he bakes. Then he cries and eats broken pieces of gingerbread men with hot chocolate for dinner.

-x-x-x-

Weeks later, the two men step into the same Austin apartment, for the first time in weeks. The holiday decorations are gone and the place looks tidier than before.

"You moved me in," one of them says.

"Welcome home," his boyfriend responds, before leaning in until their lips meet.

They kiss like it's the first time all over again, but also like it could be their last.

Throughout the next few hours, their gaze remains locked in an unbroken connection as they reacclimate to the shapes of their bodies, the lines etched on their faces, and the cadence of their voices. All the while, TK's hand entwined with Carlos serves as an anchor to this lifetime, grounding him in the present, while Carlos' body pressed against TK is as a promise that, for as long as they're together, the chill of loneliness, and nearly dying, will never return.

December 2022

Carlos lugs the Christmas tree through the door, balancing it precariously as he kicks the door shut behind him. He glances around the apartment, noting the silence and lack of festive cheer. When his gaze lands on TK, he can't help but deflate a little. He's still sitting dejectedly at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone with a distant look in his eyes.

He sighs softly, deciding to give TK some space. Setting the tree in the corner of the living room, Carlos starts quietly decorating it, the sound of rustling branches the only thing breaking the silence in the house. Eventually, he goes to their room to get the remaining ornaments and out of the corner of his eye, sees TK staring intently at his phone, a picture of Gwyn and little Jonah on the screen.

Heart aching, Carlos skips the ornaments and walks to the kitchen instead. "Hey," he says softly, gently placing a hand on TK's shoulder, "Want to talk about it?"

TK looks up, his eyes clouded with unshed tears. "What's there to talk about?" He shrugs and leans closer to Carlos' side. "I just… I miss her so much, Carlos. I miss her every day, but I miss her a little more on Christmas because that's a time we were always together, even when I moved with my dad, and when we came to Texas. She always made sure to come visit even if just for a weekend."

Carlos pulls him closer and places a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry, TK." He wishes he could say more, but what can he say when he has never experienced the kind of pain that envelops TK now. He knows loss, all first responders do to some extent, but his parents are both still alive so he feels complete in a way that he knows TK will never be again.

"How do you feel about baking some of her favorite cookies?" He proposes, wanting to distract his boyfriend somehow. "I remember you said she always made some when she visited. We can include them in the gift boxes I'm putting together for our family and friends."

TK shakes his head, a small, sad smile on his lips. "Baking was her thing… and it's your thing too. Not mine."

Carlos sighs dejectedly and sits down next to him, their knees touching. "Would you be open to me baking some of her recipes? You don't have to help if you're not in the mood. If not, I can just bake the gingerbread man I was planning for today."

Looking uncertain, TK manages an almost convincing nod. He stands and returns a moment later carrying an old recipe book, its pages wrinkled in the corners and stained from many hours in the kitchen.

"Thank you, I promise to take care of it." Carlos grabs the book and starts gathering ingredients.

Meanwhile, TK continues scrolling through photos on his phone, a lone tear escaping every time he sees his mother's smile. Eventually he takes a deep breath and joins Carlos at the kitchen island.

Quietly, Carlos turns the book so they can both see and hands TK a bag of almonds so he can measure the right amount.

In the next few hours, the broken pieces of TK's heart start to mend with each new ingredient added into the mix.

They work side by side in companionable silence, with Carlos guiding TK through the steps, their hands brushing occasionally, igniting invisible embers in their wake.

"I remember when I was little," TK says when they're forming the almond crescents to set in the tray. "Mom would let me roll the dough. I always made a mess, but she never got mad. She only laughed and said the messier the kitchen, the better the result."

Carlos chuckles, his eyes twinkling as he imagines a young TK with flour in his hair and his small hands sticky with butter. "Thank you for sharing that memory with me."

"Thank you… for doing this, Carlos. It means a lot," TK says softly, his voice thick with emotion.

"Anything for you, Tyler. We're in this together."

-x-x-x-

Later they move to the living room, the aroma of vanilla and almond heavy and familiar in the air.

Together, they finish with the lights and start hanging ornaments: glass globes and icicles, wooden figurines, iron snowflakes, and some vintage ornaments from past generations of Carlos' family.

Once they're done, just before they settle the star to finish the tree, Carlos asks TK to wait and rushes to their room. He comes out a moment later and hands TK a final ornament.

TK cradles the piece in shaking hands, and takes a deep breath. "This was my mom's favorite," he explains, his voice barely above a whisper. It's a Star of David made in fabric, with a picture of TK, Gwyn, and Owen in the center. He'd made it for his mom as a class project.

"I found it last week in one of the boxes Enzo sent, I thought you would want it near. I hope I didn't overstep," Carlos says, wringing his hands as he waits.

"You could never, but… are you sure you want it on the tree?" TK can't help but ask. "It's old and tattered, and everything else is so nice and sparkly."

Carlos smiles at the gesture but shakes his head anyway. "It's not about a perfect tree, TK. It's about one that's a little of you and a little of me… and us, and our families. It's about bringing a bit of her back into our lives."

TK looks into Carlos' eyes, seeing only love and sincerity there. "She'd love this," he says as he moves to hang the ornament, but Carlos stops him with a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Then let's put it at the top." He takes the ornament and raises on his tiptoes, settling it in place of the usual star.

Seeing it there, some weight lifts off of TK's shoulders and the tightness in his chest eases just a little.

Together they step back to admire their work, matching smiles on their faces as they stare up at the small symbol of Gwyn's presence in their lives.

Carlos wraps an arm around TK's waist, pulling him close. "Merry Christmas, TK."

"Merry Christmas, Carlos," TK replies, a sense of peace washing over him.

December 2023

Their first Christmas as a married couple wasn't supposed to be Carlos' first without his father, just as their first Christmas in their shared apartment wasn't supposed to be TK's first without his mother. But life's a bitch and here they are (or rather Tim is a bitch but TK and Carlos don't know about the omnipotent God destined to bring them misery and leave them parentles, and so still, here they are).

It's December 15th, the last day of Hanukkah and less than two weeks before Christmas, and the Reyes-Strand residence couldn't look any less festive. The menorah is lit, illuminating the corner of the living room and casting shadows across the rest of the space. But the Christmas tree is still at the farm, and the flour for the traditional cookies is still at the store. Instead, there's a poor excuse of a pre-illuminated, pre-decorated tiny tree sitting atop the coffee table, surrounded by unopened boxes from Amazon containing Walker’s Assorted Shortbread, Royal Dansk Danish Cookies, and White Fudge Oreos—a makeshift substitute for the cherished baked goods Carlos usually creates.

Carlos sits on the couch, staring blankly at the Hallmark movie playing on the TV, uncharacteristically unmoved by the decorations the protagonist walks past. His demeanor is as blank as his motivations and he wants nothing more than for the holidays to end and December to go on its merry way.

The months following Gabriel's passing were undeniably tough, but eventually, in between the shared pain with his mother and sisters, and the love and support he received every day from TK and their friends, Carlos found the strength to move forward. Slowly, he reached a point where he could smile again without guilt or the threat of an imminent breakdown.

It all had gone well, or well enough, until December arrived. Gabriel had loved Christmas, and with his life also went Carlos' inherited love for the holiday. Despite his own sadness, he tried to be present for TK and their friends as they got carried away in the holiday excitement. Everything worked out until a few nights ago when he was driving home from work, and "Feliz Navidad" started playing on the radio. It was his father's favorite Holiday song, and it pushed Carlos over the edge. He parked his car on the shoulder in the middle of the highway and cried until TK called him an hour later, asking if he was working overtime and had forgotten to tell him.

And so, every night since then, Carlos had come home from work tired and sad, carrying takeout and apologies. They ate in silence and watched in silence as the Hallmark magic failed to reach their living room.

This night is no different. When the credits roll on Hallmark's 'The Secret Gift of Christmas', Carlos automatically kisses TK on the forehead and mumbles something about being tired and going to bed early.

At this point in their routine, TK usually takes a hold of Carlos' hand and follows his boyfriend into the room, getting into bed together and running his fingers through his curls until he falls into a restless sleep. Tonight, however, he says he's too awake to sleep and stays behind.

TK waits until the bedroom door closes, a hushed silence settling over the room. Then he tiptoes into the kitchen and starts planning.

-x-x-x-

The following night, TK is reassured he's made the right choice as soon as he turns to Carlos, who is sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the 'Holiday Baking Championship: Gingerbread Showdown', playing on the TV. It took TK a few months of knowing Carlos to realize he loved baking shows as much as he loved baking itself. Typically, his boyfriend is a bundle of nervous energy and excitement when they watch. Tonight, however, he's quiet and subdued, and TK dearly misses his running commentary about the contestants and the treats they're trying to make. He even misses his uncharacteristic snark when someone messes up and his adorable muttering that he could have done it better.

As the living room clock ticks closer to eight o'clock it's TK who becomes the bundle of nervous energy as his conviction wavers, and he begins questioning his decision. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he has no time to wonder further as the doorbell rings, and Carlos turns to look at him uncertainly.

"Can you get that? Please," TK calls offhandedly, busying himself with some dishes that needed drying.

Carlos raises a suspicious eyebrow and gingerly lifts from the couch. "Are we expecting someone?"

"Just takeout," TK lies, shelving the plates and cups from breakfast but looking at the front door out of the corner of his eye.

"Right." Carlos stops by the antique mirror he inherited from his grandmother to fix his hair, straighten the neck of his Polo, and take a few deep, calming breaths.

A shriek welcomes him as he opens the door. Instead of a delivery driver, there's Judd and Paul struggling to carry a fresh Christmas tree in between them, Mateo fumbling with various grocery bags and a case of beer, Marjan holding Target bags of Christmas ornaments, and Nancy, arms full with a Yule Log Cake from their favorite local bakery. Grace and Tommy are standing at the back, alongside Charlie, Evie, and Izzy, the last of which is carrying three boxes of various gingerbread houses.

More surprising is the fact they're all dressed in Christmas Pajamas ranging from completely adorable to hilariously inappropriate.

"Hey everyone," Carlos says, his breath hitching, and vision blurring.

"Hi Reyes. Thanks for having us," they all say in chorus.

Their friends are already familiar with the Reyes-Strand residence as if it were their own and they waste no time making themselves at home. Judd and Paul expertly navigate the Christmas tree through the door, their laughter filling the air when they almost knock over a framed picture of the firefam plus Carlos last 4th of July. Mateo arranges the food on the kitchen counter with one hand, the other already holding a beer can, while Marjan untangles strings of Christmas lights and Nancy opens boxes of ornaments and arranges them on the coffee table. Grace and Tommy, with the help of Evie, Izzy, and Charlie, begin to set up the living room with festive decorations.

TK notices Carlos standing by the door, shocked by the unexpected gathering of friends, and gestures to the others to go on without them. Concerned, he makes his way to his husband, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," TK says softly, looking into Carlos' eyes. "You okay?"

Carlos, still processing the scene in front of him, startles a little. Eventually he manages a nod and a tentative smile. "Yeah, just overwhelmed. I didn't expect…"

TK understands the unspoken words and pulls Carlos into a hug. "I wanted to make this holiday special for you, for both of us. Our friends thought so too. They have been texting all week asking to come over. They wanted to bring some Holiday cheer to us," he whispers, and his breath near Carlos' neck is warm and tingly and comfortable.

"Thank you." Carlos takes a deep breath, melting into TK's embrace. "I never thought I'd have this again."

TK sighs sadly and squeezes him a little tighter. "We can make new traditions, babe. We can celebrate with our friends, and just the two of us. We can create new memories," he pauses, letting his words reach Carlos before he continues, "and none of that is going to erase the traditions or memories you shared with your dad. Just like they didn't erase the ones I shared with my mom. They would want us to be happy and carry on enjoying the holidays."

Carlos nods into TK's shoulder, giving himself an extra moment to breathe him in before he pulls back. "How did I get so lucky?" He asks seriously, cupping TK's cheek and running his thumb over his bottom lip.

"I've been asking myself that same question for years," TK replies, without missing a beat. "We're a team, remember?" He closes the distance between them and kisses Carlos chastely, hoping to avoid the familiar groans and chants to "find a room".

"Besides, your smile? It makes it all worth it."

Before Carlos can respond, TK pulls him into their room and dresses them in matching pajamas before they rejoin their friends in the living room, the atmosphere already buzzing.

They decide to divide and conquer, and spend the next few hours setting up the tree, decorating it and the living room, baking chocolate chip and sugar cookies, and building three gingerbread houses because Evie, Izzy and Charlie couldn't agree on one.

Quickly, the room is transformed into a lively scene of laughter and friendly arguments, much like the Hallmark movies Carlos is so fond of. By the time the clock ticks midnight, the living room is no longer bare and shadowed, but adorned with twinkling lights, enough ornaments to rival Santa's workshop, and the fresh scent of a Christmas tree and recently baked cookies.

With the parents of the group having all gone home, way past the girls' bedtime, the exhausted remaining members of the group lounge in between the furniture and the floor, finishing the day eating cookies, broken pieces of gingerbread houses, and drinking spiked hot chocolate or apple cider.

When Carlos goes to bed a few hours later, he's still sad and a little bit overwhelmed, but he breathes a little easier. The holiday magic that seemed lost has been rekindled by the people who care about them the most.

December 2024

Carlos stands by the cabin's window, gazing out at the twinkling Christmas lights adorning the houses of their temporary neighbors. Snow had been lightly falling for hours, initially dusting the ground in a soft, white blanket. Now, it fully covers the yard, their car, and every road leading out of town and to the airport.

Resigned, he turns back to the room, which is filled with the comforting scent of pine and cinnamon. TK is bustling around, unpacking the luggage he had only packed this morning just before their phones buzzed with matching alerts informing them that their flight had been canceled.

After a challenging year in which they almost lost their way to each other, TK had convinced him to abandon tradition and embrace the new beginning that was thwarted before. No one had passed away recently, and their ghosts and demons were finally at peace.

So instead of spending a familiar Christmas at home, they had taken a flight to Aspen and spent a magical week getting familiar with each other and relearning the ways to make each other's hearts soar. The cozy cabin, with its roaring fireplace and rustic charm, had become a sort of sanctuary for them, a place where they could truly reconnect without other people and their jobs taking their attention.

Sensing eyes on him, TK pauses and looks up, a smile breaking on his face as soon as he sees Carlos staring. "You know, since we're snowed in, we might as well make the most of it."

Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What did you have in mind?" He asks, his tone light and playful.

TK grins and nods towards the kitchen. "How about we bake some cookies?"

"Cookies?" Carlos looks dumbfounded at the many boxes of homemade cookies Andrea sent "because it's important to keep tradition alive."

"We're alone in a snowed-in cabin, with nothing to do and nowhere to be, and you want to bake cookies? Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?" He asks seriously.

TK chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Do you have other ideas, Ranger Reyes?"

Carlos nods and beckons TK closer. "I wouldn't mind continuing what we were doing last night," he whispers, his breath hot on TK's ear. "We don't have a hot tub at home, after all."

"I like the way you think." TK leans back and kisses Carlos chastely, laughing when his husband chases him and stumbles as he leads the way to the fenced-in patio.

-x-x-x-

"This week has been perfect," Carlos murmurs sometime later. He wraps his arms around TK from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder as they stand in matching ugly sweaters and cozy sweatpants gazing at the Christmas tree they decorated on their first night here.

TK turns his head to press a kiss to Carlos' temple. "It really has. We should do it more often."

Carlos nods and pulls a small box from his pocket. "That reminds me, I have one more gift for you. I was going to give it to you when we were back in Austin to fight the post-vacation blues, but now feels like the perfect time."

TK's eyes widen in surprise as he takes it in. Carefully, he unwraps a delicate locket. Inside it's a picture of the two of them on their honeymoon, and their initials are engraved on the cover of the small heart.

"It's a promise that no matter what comes our way, we'll face it together. You're my home, TK. I'm sorry that this year I strayed a bit farther away." Carlos holds up the locket and clasps it around TK's neck, its length making it fall just above the insignia he's seen his husband wear every day since they met.

Tears well up in TK's eyes and he turns around, burying his face on Carlos' chest as he hugs him tightly. "I love you so much, Carlos. Thank you."

Carlos smiles, heart full. "Thank you, TK."

Lost in their own bubble, TK and Carlos lose track of the time. The cheers coming from outside are the only thing alerting them of the arrival of the new year.

Laughing, they turn towards each other. "Happy New Year," TK whispers, their foreheads pressed together.

"Happy New Year," Carlos echoes, pulling him into a slow, heartfelt kiss. One full of promise for the new year.

They move to the couch with a plate of gingerbread cookies and hot chocolate, and sit down, content to just hold each other.

Carlos turns to look into TK’s eyes, mesmerized at how they reflect the light from the fireplace. He chuckles softly, "We were supposed to be at Nancy's party, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything."

TK smiles, his thumb brushing the heart-shaped locket resting above the one beating inside his chest. "Neither would I. This feels right."

As the night gives way to dawn, the sound of distant fireworks and jubilant cheers fills the air, but in their cabin, the world revolves solely around the two of them.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fanfiction #tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlos fanfic #tk strand #carlos reyes #firehouse 126

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connieluvsr · 4 months ago

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DUTY CALLS / series / 1

pairing : police officer carlos reyes x paramedic tk strand

genre : 911lone star universe, fluff, angst, smut, more to be added

summary : “A glimpse into Carlos and T.K.’s dangerous lives, balancing the chaos of emergency calls with quiet moments. A series.”

warnings : violence, trauma and medical emergencies, mental issues health, substance abuse, natural disasters, homophobia and discrimination, injuries, profanity, frightening and intense scenes, sexual scenes, sweet moments of carlos and tk lol and HOT CARLOS

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59486755/chapters/151710301

a/n: hi and welcome to a series of daily stuff thats going on in carlos and tk’s lives, like unadded scenes if you prefer, i like to imagine that’s happening on a daily basis, and i absolutely despise that we don’t see them on the field together 99% of the time. hope you enjoy and happy reading!! i’ll be uploading this on my ao3 too, it’s tarlosstape (ik)

______________

911 Call Dispatcher: “911, what’s your emergency?”

Caller (panicked): “There’s a robbery happening right now! It’s at the corner store on Fifth and Maple. They’ve got guns—oh my God, they’re shooting! People are hurt! I—please hurry!”

The storm outside rages, wind howling through the streets as rain pounds relentlessly on the city of Austin. Lightning flashes, casting brief, eerie shadows over the scene. The police scanner crackles as Officer Carlos Reyes listens closely while gripping the steering wheel of his patrol car. He’s already on his way, lights flashing, sirens blaring, the wet roads slick beneath the tires.

“Shots fired. Multiple injured,” the dispatcher confirms over the radio.

Carlos swerves onto Maple Street, skidding slightly as he pulls up in front of the store. His sharp eyes scan the chaos—shattered windows, civilians crouching behind cars for cover, and two masked gunmen, backing out of the store with bags of cash and weapons in hand. One man already lies bleeding on the sidewalk.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. He pulls his gun, stepping out of his vehicle and shouting over the storm, “Austin PD! Drop your weapons!” His voice cuts through the thunder and rain, firm and commanding.

The robbers hesitate for a split second, then one makes a run for it, bolting down the street. The other, more reckless, raises his weapon toward Carlos. Without missing a beat, Carlos fires, hitting the man in the shoulder, causing him to drop his gun and crumple to the ground. Carlos sprints forward, kicking the gun aside and cuffing the injured man before calling for backup.

More police vehicles arrive, but Carlos has already started pursuing the second suspect, rain blurring his vision. Just as he rounds a corner, he tackles the man, pinning him to the ground with practiced precision. Sirens wail in the background, backup arriving as Carlos handcuffs the second robber.

Minutes later, as the rain continues to pour, the sound of an ambulance cuts through the storm. T.K., Nancy, and Tommy pull up in their paramedic vehicle, the flashing lights reflecting off the wet streets. The trio quickly exits, medical bags in hand, ready to help the injured.

Carlos, soaked and standing over the now subdued suspects, turns as T.K. strides toward him. For a brief moment, they exchange a glance—a silent nod between them, full of mutual respect and understanding. T.K.’s eyes linger on Carlos just a bit longer, checking in silently, before he gets back to work.

Nancy is already kneeling beside the man on the sidewalk, assessing his gunshot wound, while Tommy coordinates with the other first responders. Despite the storm, they work with practiced efficiency, moving between the injured civilians, checking vitals, and applying pressure to wounds.

As the chaos slowly subsides, Carlos watches the team in action, relieved but focused. T.K. meets his eyes one more time before loading the injured into the ambulance, giving him a small smile despite the tension of the moment. Both know their jobs are far from done.

——————-

An hour later, Carlos stands in the dimly lit Austin police station, dripping from the relentless storm outside. The buzz of fluorescent lights hums overhead, echoing through the busy place as officers hustle between desks, phones ringing and paperwork piling up. Carlos leans against the desk, typing up his report, his soaked uniform sticking to his skin. He wipes a bead of water from his forehead and sighs, exhaustion creeping in.

Just as he finishes entering his statement about the robbery and arrests, a familiar voice calls from behind him. “Reyes,” Detective Ortega steps into view, clipboard in hand, her sharp eyes scanning him. Ortega is seasoned, with graying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a no-nonsense demeanor. She always gets straight to the point.

“Those two you brought in tonight—real pieces of work,” she mutters, sliding into the seat across from him. “We’ve got them booked, but I need you to walk me through what went down. The DA’s gonna want details, and I don’t want any gaps.”

Carlos nods, setting his report aside. “Two suspects—one I managed to detain on the scene, and the other made a run for it, but I caught up to him around the corner. The first guy—took a shot at me. I returned fire, hit him in the shoulder. Called in for backup right after.” He runs a hand through his damp hair. “They both had weapons, and there were multiple injuries inside and outside the store. Paramedics team handled the civilians.”

Ortega studies him for a moment, her expression unreadable, then flips through her clipboard. “Ballsy move, engaging them alone in that storm. You know the risks,” she says, her tone almost reprimanding but softening as she continues. “But good work. The one you shot is being patched up at the hospital under guard. The other one… he’s gonna talk. We’re looking at possible connections to a larger string of robberies.”

Carlos leans forward, crossing his arms. “This wasn’t just a random hit?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Not according to what we’re digging up. The guy you tackled—he’s got priors. Armed robbery, assault. But this particular group? They’ve been linked to a couple of heists in the city’s outer limits. We think tonight was them testing the waters, seeing if they could push into downtown. Your call-in might’ve stopped something bigger.”

Carlos nods, absorbing the information. “Glad we got them off the streets before anyone else got hurt.”

Ortega glances up from her notes, giving him a small but approving smile. “You did good tonight, Reyes. You and that paramedic team. The fact that you can keep your head straight in a situation like that…” She trails off, but Carlos knows the unspoken weight behind her words. She respects his instincts, but she’s always cautious when her officers get too close to danger.

He shifts in his seat, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “Thanks, Detective. I just want to make sure we stay ahead of this. If these guys have been pulling jobs outside the city, they’re bound to try again.”

Ortega raises an eyebrow. “Which is why I want you in on the follow-up. I need someone on the ground who knows the streets, knows how these guys operate. You up for it?”

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”

She scribbles something down on her clipboard, nodding in approval. “Good. Get yourself dried off, and then go home. You’ve earned it. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning.”

Carlos stands, ready to head out, but before he leaves, Ortega stops him with one last remark, her tone lighter. “And, Reyes… check in with that paramedic of yours. He looked at you like he was gonna have a heart attack when he saw you at the scene.”

Carlos feels a flush rise to his face but manages a smirk. “I’ll check in with him,” he replies, his voice carrying a hint of warmth as he walks away, shaking off the adrenaline of the night.

Carlos: Hey baby, you good?

A moment later, T.K.’s reply buzzes back.

T.K.: im fine, but are you? that was intense. just don’t get shot again pls

Carlos wipes his hair with a towel as he finishes typing a message to T.K., leaning against his locker in the station’s changing room. His fingers fly across the screen.

Carlos : Of course, coming home in a bit. Just gotta change out of these soaked clothes.

He tosses his phone on the couch and starts peeling off his wet uniform. The heavy storm outside has left the air thick and damp, even inside the building. He grabs a dry towel from his bag, running it through his hair and over his skin, before pulling on fresh jeans and a t-shirt. As he fastens his belt, he hears his phone buzz again.

T.K.: good, im waiting with hot tea and something hotter :*

Carlos smile got wider, feeling warmth flood through him. After the night he’s had, the thought of being home with T.K., sitting in the dry comfort of their apartment, is the only thing he’s looking forward to. He tosses the towel in the corner, ready to head out.

But just as he’s about to close his locker, his radio crackles to life.

“Reyes, we need you back in the field.” It’s Ortega, her voice sharp over the line. “There’s been another incident at the same location—deeper than we thought. The storm’s making it worse. Backup’s already on the way, but I need you to roll out.”

Carlos’s stomach drops. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, barely able to believe what he’s hearing. He was just there. The scene had been secured, the suspects apprehended, and the injured civilians taken care of. But now, with the storm intensifying, it sounds like the situation has escalated into something far worse.

He reaches for his radio. “Copy that. I’m on my way.”

The rain beats down hard as Carlos arrives at the scene. The corner store, once just the site of a robbery, now looks like a disaster zone. Water floods the streets, pooling up to his ankles as he steps out of the car. Emergency lights flash through the downpour, illuminating the chaos. The wind howls, bending trees and sending debris flying down the street.

Carlos quickly scans the area. A power line has come down across the road, its live wires sparking dangerously close to the rising water. Civilians are trapped inside nearby buildings, unable to leave with the flooding making the streets impassable. Ortega’s already there, barking orders at a group of officers trying to cordon off the area.

“Carlos!” Ortega shouts as she spots him approaching. “We’ve got a mess. That live wire hits the water, and this whole area could turn into a death trap. We’re evacuating the nearby buildings, but we’re running out of time. The rain’s only getting worse.”

Carlos nods, quickly assessing the situation. He watches as emergency responders scramble to move people out of harm’s way, their boots splashing through the rising flood. The power line swings in the wind, just inches above the water now.

“We need to keep the civilians as far from this as possible,” Ortega continues, her voice barely audible over the storm. “I need you to take that side,” she gestures toward a nearby alley where a group of people are huddled under an awning, trapped by the water on both sides.

Carlos doesn’t hesitate. He moves swiftly toward the alley, wading through the water as the rain slashes across his face. The civilians look at him with a mix of fear and desperation, their eyes wide as the storm rages around them.

“Everyone, listen up!” Carlos shouts over the wind. “We’re getting you out of here, but you need to stay calm and follow me.” He motions toward a narrow path that leads away from the main street, where rescue teams are setting up a safer evacuation route.

One by one, he helps the civilians through the flooded alley, guiding them away from the live wires and into the arms of waiting responders. The rain keeps coming, harder now, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning cracks in the distance, casting brief flashes of light over the darkened city.

As the last of the group makes their way out, Carlos glances back toward the power lines. The water’s rising faster than expected, creeping dangerously close to the sparking wire. He radios in quickly. “Ortega, we need that power cut now. It’s about to hit the water.”

“Working on it,” she responds, tension thick in her voice.

Carlos watches, heart pounding, as the line sways in the wind, just inches from the flood. Minutes pass like hours, but finally, the sparks stop, and the line goes dead.

With the civilians evacuated and the power line neutralized, Carlos allows himself a brief moment to breathe. The rain keeps pounding, but at least, for now, they’ve managed to prevent a disaster.

Hours later, the rain has eased, though the city is still reeling from the storm’s impact. Carlos stands at the edge of the scene, drenched and exhausted, watching as the last of the emergency vehicles pull away. The corner store, now eerily quiet, remains a stark reminder of how quickly things can spiral out of control.

Carlos finally makes it home, the rain still drumming against the streets as he steps inside. He’s soaked to the bone, every inch of his body heavy with exhaustion. The quiet of the apartment is a stark contrast to the chaos of the night, but it feels like a different world as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the storm.

The soft glow of a nearby lamp casts a warm light over the living room. T.K. is asleep on the couch, a blanket half-draped over him. His chest rises and falls gently, completely unaware of Carlos’s entrance. The room is peaceful, but a glance around shows signs of waiting: two plates of food on the table, untouched, and a cup of tea sitting beside one of them, long gone cold.

Carlos feels a wave of warmth, despite the cold and wet clinging to him. He quietly shrugs off his jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door, careful not to wake T.K. The sight of him asleep, clearly having waited up, tugs at something deep inside Carlos—part relief, part gratitude. It’s been a hell of a night, and this is exactly where he needs to be.

He moves to the table, noticing the now-cold dinner that had been thoughtfully prepared for him. He presses his lips together, feeling guilty for being so late without any explanation. Still, the effort T.K. put into making sure he’d come home to something comforting doesn’t go unnoticed.

Carlos walks over to the couch, crouching beside T.K. for a moment, watching him sleep. The tension of the night begins to fade as he just breathes in the calmness of the room.

Gently, he places a hand on T.K.’s arm, not wanting to startle him but knowing he should get him to bed.

T.K. stirs slightly, blinking awake. His eyes flutter open, and it takes him a second to register Carlos kneeling next to him. “Hey…” his voice is groggy, still heavy with sleep, but his brow furrows when he sees how soaked Carlos is. “You’re… completely drenched.”

Carlos gives a tired smile. “Yeah, the storm got a lot worse. I’m so so sorry I’m late.” He gestures to the table. “I see you waited up for me.” He whispers softly, kissing his forehead.

T.K. sits up, rubbing his eyes, glancing toward the cold tea and untouched food. “I wanted to make sure you had something to come home to.” He looks Carlos over again, concern creeping into his voice. “But you look like you just swam here.” He adds worried.

Carlos chuckles softly. “Feels like it.”

T.K. moves, standing up and placing a hand on Carlos’s cheek, the warmth of his touch a welcome contrast to the cold that has been biting at him all night. “Come on,” T.K. says quietly, “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into something warm. Don’t worry about the food.”

Carlos nods, his body grateful for the offer. He follows T.K. into the bedroom, where the familiar comfort of home begins to sink in, each step pulling him further from the chaos of the night.

As they enter their bedroom, T.K. helps Carlos out of his wet clothes, carefully peeling off the soaked layers and tossing them into the laundry basket

“You really are drenched,” T.K. comments, running a hand down Carlos’s arm. “You need to get warm. Take a hot shower. Unless you want to catch a cold.”

Carlos smiles, appreciating T.K.’s gentle touch and concern. “A hot shower sounds perfect,” he replies, his voice still heavy with exhaustion. He glances back at T.K., a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You wanna join?” He smiles as he kisses his neck softly.

T.K. shakes his head, stifling a yawn. “I’d love to, but I’m too tired. I’ll just wait for you here.” His eyelids droop slightly, betraying his weariness.

“Okay.” He nods, heading toward the bathroom.

As Carlos steps into the shower, the hot water cascades over him, easing the tension in his muscles. He takes a deep breath, allowing the warmth to wash away the chill from the storm and the stresses of the night. He can hear T.K. moving around in the bedroom, but the sound quickly fades.

After what feels like too long, Carlos finishes up and steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He can still hear the rain outside but feels a sense of calm settling over him. He takes a moment to look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, pushing back the fatigue and ensuring he’s presentable for T.K.

Once dressed in a pair of comfortable sweats and a soft t-shirt, Carlos heads back into the bedroom. He usually just wears boxers, but he feels he should be warmer tonight. The dim light casts a soft glow over the room, and he sees T.K. sitting on the edge of the bed, head tilted back against the wall, eyes barely open.

“Hey,” Carlos says softly, a smile creeping onto his lips at the sight of T.K. trying to fight off sleep.

T.K. stirs at the sound of Carlos’s voice, blinking a few times before forcing a smile. “It’s 1am. we should be up at 9am maximum.”

Carlos chuckles softly, gently nudging T.K.’s knee with his own. “Fuck, I know.” He sighs and wraps his arms around TK, closing his eyes, TK does the same.

“I’m so sorry we barely have time with each other, sometimes I wish I had a boring job.” Carlos adds, kissing his head.

“Don’t worry.” TK whispers as he lets his head fall on Carlos’ shoulder.

“Everyday is the same, we wake up, go to our jobs, maybe if we’re lucky we have the same case on that day, then see each other at night where we don’t even have time to eat.”

With a sigh, TK replies in whisper “Carlos I’m too sleepy to reply to that.”

Carlos chuckles. “I hate you.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

——————

a/n: hope you enjoyed ! chapter 2 is already posted!

wc: 3k

#tarlos #911 abc #911 show #911 lone star #911 spoilers #911 fox #911 fanfic #911 lone star fic #911 lone star fanfiction #911 discourse #911 season 8 #911edit #911 season 5 #tk strand x carlos reyes #carlos reyes x tk strand #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 fandom #911 lonestar

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thisbuildinghasfeelings · 1 year ago

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Hi! I will be starting us off with the fic rec game this week! I can't believe we're already on Week 4...and the penultimate week of Season 1!

Here are the prompts for this week’s fic rec game:

Fics occurring in mid to late Season One (This week’s episodes: 1x07 Bum Steer & 1x08 Monster Inside) and featuring:

Buttercup!

Billy and Owen as friends/rivals/frenemies/etc.

Owen, TK, and the rest of the 126 coping with Owen's cancer diagnosis and what it might mean for the future

TK in his gunshot-related coma

Carlos coping with his strong feelings after seeing TK in a hospital bed

the 126 gathering in a hospital waiting room

The rules are simple: every week there will be a different prompt, and everyone is encouraged to share a fic (or a few!) recommendation that meets the prompt and tag a few fic-reading friends. The game can be played all week, so no pressure to post right away. I will kick us off with a few recs and then I’ll tag some folks below to get us going! Please feel free to use the banner above, to make your own, or to not use one at all!

Finally, please use the tag ‘Rewatch Read-Along Week 4’ and at the end of the week @911lonestarrewatch will post the link to the tag for the comprehensive list of fic recs!

Thanks to @guardian-angle22 for the banner!

Collateral Damage by @paperstorm

This is the 1x08 installment of the Missing Moments series giving us the events of the episode from Carlos' point of view. It also contains a line that's a favorite of mine, when Carlos says to coma TK “I haven’t convinced you to let me love you, yet.” 😭 I think about this line all the time!

Lucky Dog by @lightningboltreader

This is an adorable little AU meet-cute featuring Buttercup as TK's wingpup.

Something to Lose by @thatnerdemryn

A look into what was going on in Carlos' mind when the shooting happened and as he sat by TK's hospital bed. He's feeling some strong feelings!

echoes by @redshirt2

Carlos bonds with the 126 for the first time in the hospital waiting room. I particularly love this one because it emphasizes how much love entered Carlos' life when he met TK. He didn't just get a soulmate, he got a whole family!

take me back to the light by @reyesstrand

This post-1x08 fic was written immediately after the episode aired so it's essentially a lovely little canon-divergent AU now. It particularly makes me wish that Carlos had been there when TK woke up from his coma and also makes me wonder how that might have changed things. At the very least, I think TK would have felt some feelings at actually seeing Carlos next to his hospital bed!

Tagging some fic readers who might have recs to share: @lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @carlos-in-glasses @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @redshirt2 @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo @herefortarlos @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @heartstringsduet @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @fangirl-paba @reyestrandd @chicgeekgirl89 @firstprince-history-huh @noxsoulmate and OPEN TAG for anyone else who wants to share some fic recs!

#Rewatch Read-Along Week 4 #911 lone star rewatch 2024 #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #911 lone star fanfiction

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snowviolettwhite · 4 months ago

Note

🧸🧸🧸

little boy don't you cry, cause the child in you is still alive - 911: Lone Star Early 2010s FanFiction AU (Chapter 12 Snippet) For Make Me Write & Fuck It Friday

Sorry it is late and trying to get back into writting

Meanwhile, outside in the hallway.

“Owen, what happen? Why is our kid in the hospital?”

“A teacher found him trying to start a fight with an older boy, he was yelling at and shoving him. He ran off before she could stop him.”

“Owen, I spoke with the school too. I already know all of that. How did find him and why does it look like he has been crying?”

He does not know how to break this to his ex-wife and the mother of his child. “All I know is what the school told me, but I found him in an abandoned building. All his stuff was scattered around. There was a bottle of oxy an- and he was practically gone. He had overdosed. I had to give him compression and Narcan. He came back to us throwing up and was crying non-stop. He clung onto me and couldn’t feel his legs, I had to carry him on the ambulance. I managed to get him calm, but he still hasn’t told me what happen.”

Gwyn, heartbroken and shocked “Owen, he overdosed on drugs Oxycodone. Where would he even get his hands on that? When I learn who gave him those drugs they are going to pay? That older must have been bullying him or something. It could have triggered this whole reaction. When I find that drug dealer and whoever was causing him pain, they are in for it. Tk is going to grounded for a long time. He was going through this all alone and we didn’t notice at all. Oh, our sweet boy.

---

Tagging But No Pressure:

@anewkindofme @missmagooglie @the-flaming-nightmare @aroeddiediaz @tommykinard6 @warpedpuppeteer @lochnesswriter @babygirl-diaz @laneybishop89

#911 lone star #tk strand #owen strand #gwyn morgan #911 ls #9 1 1 lone star #911: lone star #911 lone star fic #911 lone star fanfiction #fuck it friday #make me write

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eclectic-sassycoweyes · 2 months ago

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❄️Catch Me Before I Let Go❄️

A teaser of my coming 🎁 for the wonderful @ironheartwriter for the Tarlos Secret Santa gift exchange!

Dearest Lana - it’s me I’m your Santa in Secret (no more)!! I don’t regret to inform you of that, because it has been an absolute delight so far to think up something wintery and fun for you from the prompts you gave me! I do regret to inform you however, that I am running a bit behind😔

The Christmas Chaos simply caught up with me with unexpected intensity and I’ve had to ask the wonderful mods for an extension. I am doing my very best to be able to give you the fic in it’s finished form before New Year’s Eve!! To make up for it, and to hold you over until then, I have prepared this teaser for you including the above collage/mood board, and below a summary and a lil’ snippet to gift you on my posting day<3 I hope brings you both intrigue and enjoyment!

Best wishes for a happy holiday,

Your very own Secret (no more) Santa,

Mar💚🥰🤶

Summary:

As a former member of the school swim team and someone who generally likes to be in charge of whether his feet are moving or not, Carlos Reyes prefers water in its liquid form. As such, a ski resort should not be on his top ten spots to visit. He’s insistent to make an exception though, in order to treat his adventurous, snow-loving husband to some fun downtime before they embark together on the next big step for them, of parenting TK’s little brother, Jonah. He’s booked a cozy wooden lodge in the closest ski resort to Austin, and he’s going to be his most fun and adventurous self while also making sure that his husband is absolutely spoiled. There’s just a few things he hasn’t taken into account: 1) Carlos has never skied before in his life. 2) Carlos really hates doing things he isn’t already good at, especially if they include the risk of falling on your face and 3) One very annoying, and very hot, ski-instructor named Josh who is outrageously obvious in his flirting up a storm with TK.

-In which TK and Carlos go skiing for the holidays, Carlos grapples with the old notion of letting go of control, and has also convinced himself that he has something to make up for.

*****

On the third day Carlos is officially deemed ready to take on the real pistes. At least according to TK. And to.. Josh. Carlos knows it’s probably immature but he still has trouble accepting compliments from the ski-instructor without somehow taking it as the opposite.

Something about the chipper look on his face when he tells Carlos that he’s ‘doing super good’ or he’s a ‘really quick learner’ makes him feel five years old. Carlos might not know the first thing about skiing and yeah, they might have literally paid Josh for his advice and encouragement, but where does he get off telling Carlos what he is and isn’t ready for or that he just needs to try and ‘let go a little’? Ugh. It’s condescending.

Yesterday Carlos finally managed to slide down the training hill without face planting or tackling any small children along the way, only to be met at the bottom with Josh giving him a way too enthusiastic thumbs up and saying ‘good job!’ Carlos’ own brain had unhelpfully applied the ‘buddy’ to the end of the sentence, making Carlos feel like he was a little kid who had just managed to actually kick the ball at soccer practice for the first time. Carlos had to muster up all his willpower to smile politely and grit out a genuine-sounding ‘thank you’.

Josh seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on Carlos, and luckily so did TK - his happy smile and rosy cheeks and the hands that Carlos could just barely feel the pressure of as they gripped at his waist over thick layers while he kissed him with lips that felt cool and moist from the snow had quickly improved his mood and made him feel genuinely proud of his accomplishment.

Despite this, Carlos feels a little less sure about whether he’s really ready for the real thing, especially now as they’re on top of the hill and looking down, the daunting stretch of it is looking longer and more steep than it had seemed from the foot of it. He’ll be fine, he tries to reassure himself. If nothing else, he believes in TK and TK believes in him. According to TK (and Josh but Carlos is trying to reach a state of cool indifference when it comes to him mainly by trying not to think about him too much) it’s good to try the real piste sooner rather than later, to experience the thrill of actually skiing so as to not risk growing tired and frustrated before you’ve even experienced the real fun of it.

Better to fall on your face a few times than to stay on the training piste the whole trip and go thinking you’ve had enough of skiing for good. Carlos is trying to be on board with that sentiment even though he really isn’t the type to normally throw himself into things without feeling like he’s at least prepared enough that the chances of success are somewhat high.

‘Learning by doing’ and ‘crack a few eggs along the way’ are not normally sentiments that resonate with him. He will be the type for those though, for TK. For his wonderful and adventurous boyfriend who has put up with Carlos being a sobbing mess half the time during the past few weeks, carrying the weight for both of them as they’ve embarked on the process of adopting his little brother, and with Carlos’ absent mindedness and late nights even longer. So at least for this week, he’ll be adventurous for TK while he does his best to treat him to everything he desires.

Besides, it’s not like they’re doing the biggest pistes just yet - the plateau they’re on constitutes the starting point to the smaller slopes and they’re doing the smallest one to start with. TK will be with him the whole way, probably bored as they slide slowly down the hill with Carlos pushing the front of the skis inwards to break the whole way.

He’s already survived the trip up, gripping TK’s hand tight the whole way and trying his best to appreciate the view, mostly managing to appreciate the view of TK appreciating the view, as he found that looking down made him a little lightheaded and made his heart speed up in his chest uncomfortably.

As Carlos refastens the buckles of his ski-boots (he’s already done it twice, once when they arrived at the pistes and put on their skis, and once right before getting on the ski-lift, images of his skis falling off on the way up and landing right on somebody’s head making him guilty of negligent manslaughter on account of not tightening his boots enough), Carlos ends his little pep talk by sternly telling himself to pull it together. He can do this. This is their second to last day on the trip, and TK deserves to have some fun too, instead of having to spend his whole trip in the training area with Carlos and all the children.

Speaking of TK, Carlos rights himself and looks around for him. He didn’t want Josh to witness him neurotically double and triple check the buckles of his boots, not feeling sure that he would react nicely to Josh butting in to offer unsolicited advice or, God forbid, crouching down to help him tighten them. So he’d mustered up a confident smile and told himself and TK to go ahead and Carlos would find them.

Now he’s kind of regretting that. Carlos might allegedly be ready to slide down the smallest of the ‘adult’ hills, but the thing is, he still hasn't completely mastered the whole ‘moving on purpose in a normal walking pace’-thing. He still feels like it’s the skis, not him, deciding when he’s standing still and when he’s moving (and if he’s honest, which direction he moves in).

Spotting his husband and the ski instructor that Carlos is not currently sparing thoughts for, by the starting point of the slope they’re supposed to try first, Carlos starts slowly making his way there. Luckily they seem to be caught in conversation and Carlos hopes that it stays that way so he doesn’t have to be observed inelegantly and very slowly approaching them. Nothing more awkward than waving and then being stared down for five minutes while you’re sweating and fighting to get within talking distance.

Once Carlos is within hearing range, he picks up bits of their conversation. “Oh,” he hears Josh’s voice say, and Carlos swears he can hear, even from just that one word, that the ski instructor is flirting with his husband. “I don’t suppose they make calendars for those too..?” And at that Carlos has to stop walking to roll his eyes (he can’t do both at the same time).

Not this again, he thinks angrily. He can’t believe he’s had to witness TK being the victim of this god-awful pickup line twice in the span of their less than five years long relationship and had to fend the guy off (leading to some spectacular sex the first time, but still). Can’t these idiots come up with something better?

Carlos picks up his pace, he needs to stop this conversation before it goes any further and show this Josh-guy, Mr. ‘I’m a hot and blonde ski instructor who probably never gets caught in my head and is a lot of fun’, who TK belongs to. Even if somewhere deep within himself Carlos is finding it hard to measure up at the moment.

Carlos is sweating and panting, his brows furrowed in concentration trying to make his legs move faster, his thighs protesting as he slides one in front of the other in quick succession, using his poles to try and make sure he’s actually causing a forward movement instead of just looking like he’s using the skiing machine at the gym. At one point he gives up and turns so his side is to Josh and TK, awkwardly lifting his skis to take broad steps sideways.

He’s already preparing what to say in his head. Maybe if he interrupts the exact same thing as last time, TK will find it funny and get that wonderful crinkly and shiny eyed laugh he reserves for Carlos’ jokes that always makes his chest feel two sizes bigger, and they can laugh about it later tonight and hopefully have a repeat of the spectacular sex it resulted in last time.

Deciding he’s as close as he’s gonna get if he’s gonna make it in time before the conversation moves on, he turns towards them again. Trying to make it look deceivingly effortless as he closes the rest of the gap between them, he paints on his cockiest smile and shouts, loud enough to make sure they can hear him even though he’s barely within hearing range, “And his husband is a Texas R-“

Unfortunately he doesn’t get further than that because the thing that could absolutely not happen, happens.

In his eagerness to interrupt the blatant flirting aimed at his husband, Carlos had accidentally turned his skis in the direction of the light downwards slope toward one of the bigger pistes, and, quickly losing forward momentum as soon as he didn’t give it his full attention, has now started to slide backwards. And this time he isn’t in the training area anymore and he won’t be caught by a fence.

He sees TK’s eyes widen as his form gets smaller and smaller, and Carlos tries desperately to break, but he can barely break while going forwards, let alone when he’s going backwards, and he isn’t succeeding. In fact, he’s picking up speed, and a glance over his shoulder tells him he’s fast approaching the edge where the plateau changes to one of the steeper slopes.

In a last resort to prevent disaster Carlos lets himself fall ungracefully into the snow, but unfortunately, it’s too late. The concerned faces of people clad in ski suits of all colors swim in and out of his vision as he tumbles down the hill. The world spins dizzyingly around him like he’s the immobile center of a spinning snow globe depicting a ski-resort themed winter wonderland.

Through his dizziness, Carlos manages to send a prayer to the universe that he won’t bump into someone and cause some sort of mass casualty event, as he keeps tumbling for what feels like ages. At some point the tip of his left ski seems to catch on something causing a sharp pain to shoot through his ankle, making him cry out in pain.

The world spins a few more times and then he's landing on his back at what he assumes is the bottom of the slope. Squinting dazedly up at the clear blue sky he tries to catch his breath. Trying to move his leg which is bent at an odd ankle so he can sit up, he grimaces and lets out another cry as he’s reminded of twisting his ankle on the way down, the sharp pang settling to dull throb as he stops trying to move.

Turning only his head he sees the bright orange shape of TK in his ski suit zig-zagging down the hill at impressive speed. His hero, his wild heart, come to save him.

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