#Fluffy Tarlos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chicgeekgirl89 · 10 months ago

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Rating: T Characters: Carlos Reyes and T.K. Strand Summary: In the early days of their budding relationship, T.K. and Carlos discover some of each other's more adorable characteristics. Or, five times T.K. learns adorable things about Carlos and one time Carlos learns something adorable about T.K. A/N: Thanks to @bluenet13 for the title help on this one. It's been on the back burner for a while and it was time for it to fly free. Also working on a reverse 5+1 companion for it, so keep your eyes open for that...someday... Tagging: This is more than seven sentences, but please accept it anyway. Thanks to @strandnreyes, @bonheur-cafe, @carlos-in-glasses, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @ladytessa74, and @lemonlyman-dotcom. Tagging @liminalmemories21, @welcometololaland, @carlos-tk, @louis-ii-reyes-strand, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, and anyone else who would like to share your Seven Sentence Sunday! Read on AO3

Glasses

T.K. is brushing his teeth in Carlos’ bathroom. Usually his daily oral hygiene wouldn’t be a notable event, but today it feels monumental. Because it’s Carlos’ bathroom. And T.K. is brushing his teeth. Because he’s staying over. Because they’re together. Like really together. Officially.

He smiles goofily at his reflection in the mirror, his mouth still full of white paste and toothbrush. He’s happy. Really, truly, deeply happy.

He opens up Carlos’ medicine cabinet one handed as he continues brushing away and realizes that while he remembered to bring a razor he did not remember to bring shaving cream. “Hey babe,” he calls around his mouthful as he turns around and pokes his head back into the bedroom, “can I borrow—“

His eyes find Carlos on the bed and he immediately chokes on his toothpaste and has to rush back to the sink to spit it out. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before turning and marching back through the open doorway.

Carlos looks at him, amusement on his face. “You okay over there?”

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

Because he is. Carlos is sitting in his bed, shirtless, hair soft and wildly curly after his shower, a paperback in his hands, and a pair of glasses on his face. Glasses that T.K. has definitely never seen before in his life. Glasses that are kind of knocking the wind out of him.

“Since the fourth grade?” Carlos says.

“But I’ve never…you’ve never worn them when I’ve been here.”

“I haven’t?” Carlos scrunches up his nose in thought and it makes him even more freaking adorable. “Are you sure?”

“I think I would remember my boyfriend morphing into Clark fucking Kent,” T.K. retorts.

Carlos chuckles. “I only wear them at night when my contacts start bothering me.”

“You should wear them more often.” The words are out of T.K.’s mouth before he even realizes it. He feels wildly out of control of himself right now and who could blame him? His already incredibly fucking hot boyfriend now looks like an incredibly fucking hot librarian and it is making T.K. think some very, VERY dirty thoughts.

Carlos raises his eyebrows. “Why?” A slow, lazy, self-satisfied smile spreads across his face. “You think they’re sexy?”

“God yes.”

T.K. is across the room in two seconds flat, scrambling onto the bed and pulling Carlos’ face to his for a bruising kiss. Carlos immediately drops his book and responds in kind, mouth open and inviting as his hands grip T.K.’s hips and pull him close. “You called me your boyfriend,” he says when they finally break apart for air.

“I did,” T.K. says, diving back in for another taste of Carlos in glasses. It’s completely different than regular Carlos. It’s nerdy. And hot. He loves it.

“You’ve never called me your boyfriend before,” Carlos says breathlessly, grinning so wide it’s like the sun has come out. “I like it.”

T.K. grins back at him. “Me too.”

Socks

“Oh my god,” Carlos says as T.K. collapses onto his chest and presses kisses into his sweat sticky skin. “How does it just keep getting better?”

“Because we’re amazing,” T.K. mumbles against his pecs, his eyes already heavy with sleep. “So. Freaking. Amazing.”

He takes a few breaths and feels his body relaxing as sleep pulls him down. He snuggles deeper into Carlos’ chest, eyes drifting shut. He’s nearly out when he feels Carlos shift beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he asks, tightening his hold on Carlos’ torso to keep him from moving.

“I’ll be right back. I just need to put some socks on,” Carlos says, pressing a kiss to his hair.

T.K.’s eyes pop back open and he props himself up to look at Carlos’ face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m going to put some socks on,” Carlos repeats.

Things still aren’t computing in T.K.’s brain. “…why?” he finally asks slowly.

“Because if we’re going to sleep I need to wear socks.”

He was looking for clarity, but now he’s even more confused. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I’m putting socks on to go to bed,” Carlos says, looking equally as confused.

“But…why?”

“Because otherwise I might catch a cold,” Carlos says with a laugh, gently pushing T.K. off so he can get to his feet.

T.K. blinks a couple times trying to get his bearings and then rolls over, sitting up with the sheet wrapped around his waist. “That is not how colds work. Like not even close.”

Carlos returns and sits on the bed to pull his socks on. “I know that,” he says.

“And yet you’re still putting the socks on,” T.K. says.

“My mom always made us wear socks to bed when we were kids.”

“Is she coming over?” T.K. asks incredulously.

“No.”

“Then why are you wearing them?!”

“Because she always made us!”

T.K. takes a breath. “Let me get this straight. You are going to get into this bed with me, fully naked, except for socks that you’re going to wear because your mom made you do it when you were seven?”

Carlos pauses. “Well when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I just like it okay? I’ve done it forever. I can’t sleep without them,” Carlos says defensively as he slides back into bed beside T.K. “Is this some kind of a dealbreaker for you?”

“Nope,” T.K. says. “Just trying to understand. If wearing socks to bed is what does it for you, then by all means wear the socks.”

“Thank you,” Carlos says, giving him a peck on the lips and turning out the light before pulling T.K. close and snuggling in to go to sleep.

T.K. gets comfortable and closes his eyes, but he can’t stop the thoughts running through his mind in the dark and quiet of the room. He sits up and turns the light back on. “I really need you to tell me that you understand that you can’t catch a cold from not wearing socks though.”

Romance

T.K. loves being in Carlos’ condo without him. He likes it better when Carlos is around obviously. But he feels so special that Carlos has given him a key and invited him to share his space. It means he trusts T.K. enough to let him be here alone where it’s peaceful and calm, unlike his dad’s house which somehow feels crowded even though there are only two of them there most of the time.

Carlos’ place feels more like home than anywhere else has in a long time.

He takes his shoes off when he arrives and dutifully puts them away, then grabs a mineral water and a yogurt out of the fridge before collapsing onto Carlos’ couch. “Ouch,” he says with a frown as something pokes into his back from behind the throw pillow.

He reaches behind him and pulls out a book. It’s not unusual to find books around the condo, Carlos is a big reader, but the brightly colored cover on this one makes T.K. pause and raise his eyebrows. The Spanish Love Deception is the title and when he flips it over to read the back he learns that Catalina Martín is in desperate need of a date for her sister’s wedding and her mortal enemy at work seems to be her only option.

He’s rifling through the pages when the door opens and Carlos walks in. “Hey,” he says, smiling as his eyes meet T.K.’s. “When did you get in?”

“Like fifteen minutes ago,” T.K. tells him as Carlos slips off his shoes and then comes over to press a kiss to his lips. “I found this behind the throw pillow.”

He holds up the romance novel and Carlos takes it from him. “Francesca must have left it here,” he says, referring to his sister. “Looks like her kind of book. I’ll text her and let her know you found it it.”

T.K. doesn’t think about it again for a couple of weeks until one night when his dad cancels their dinner plans and he spontaneously heads to Carlos’ instead. “Hey, it’s me!” he calls as he pushes the door open.

“T.K.?” Carlos appears at the top of the stairs, one hand behind his back, looking a little frazzled. “I thought you were going to dinner with your dad.”

“He bailed,” T.K. says, adjusting his overnight bag on his shoulder as he takes the stairs two at a time, giving Carlos a peck on his lips when he reaches him. “You okay?” he asks, taking in the weird expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Carlos says, even as a minor amount of panic is flickering through his eyes. “I just didn’t know you were coming.”

T.K. looks him up and down. “Do you have some other guy in your bedroom?”

“What?! No!” Carlos says quickly.

“Were you watching porn?”

“Of course not!” Carlos says, but there’s a deep blush rising up in his cheeks.

“What’s behind your back?” T.K. reaches for him, but Carlos steps away out of his reach.

“It’s nothing,” he says.

T.K. raises his eyebrows in amusement. “You know you are so freaking bad at lying, right?”

“Can we just drop it?” Carlos asks, desperation creeping into his voice.

T.K. takes a step forward so that Carlos is forced to back into the wall and then reaches around him and plucks the hidden object from his fingers. It’s another book, the cover bright blue with the title The American Roommate Experiment on the front. T.K. recognizes the name of the author as the same one from the book he found behind the couch cushions and his eyebrows rise. “Oh. You were reading porn.”

“It’s not porn,” Carlos says. “It’s a book.”

“Are you telling me there’s no sex in this book?”

“I…don’t know yet,” Carlos says, dropping his eyes. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

Delight is spiraling through T.K. as he fully realizes what’s going on. “That was your book a couple weeks ago. Not your sister’s.” He can feel his eyes start to sparkle with mischief. “You like smutty romance novels.”

“I don’t like them because they’re smutty,” Carlos says quickly. “I like them because…I like them.”

“You like them because you’re a big old softy romantic,” T.K. says, poking him gently in the chest. “Do you watch Hallmark Christmas movies too?”

The silence that follows tells him all he needs to know. “You do,” T.K. says happily. He could not be more thrilled about this new discovery.

“I grew up with four sisters,” Carlos defends himself.

“Please tell me you read Fifty Shades.”

“I would never,” Carlos scoffs. “Those books are not an accurate depiction of the BDSM community.”

“Oh my god you’re adorable,” T.K. tells him.

“No, I’m, no don’t call me that,” Carlos says, clearly embarrassed.

“You are,” T.K. tells him, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist. “You are the most adorable boyfriend the world has ever seen.”

“Are you going to let this go, or is this something you’re going to talk about forever?” Carlos asks.

“Mmm definitely the second thing,” T.K. says as Carlos sighs with long suffering. “Now how about you take me to your bedroom and teach me some of the things you’ve learned from these books?”

Scaredy Cat

Sharing new things with each other has become a complete delight for T.K. So when he finds out that Carlos has never seen a single one of the Halloween movies, he declares the need for a marathon during the month of October and immediately goes over to his dad’s to dig out his DVD’s. No way is he dealing with ads breaking up the masterpiece that is Michael Myers.

He’s popped popcorn, pulled out all the throw blankets, and even gone so far as to make up a bloody looking mocktail to really get them in the spirit of the movies. Now he’s just eagerly awaiting Carlos who has gone out to fetch their pizza.

He’s pulling down plates from the cupboard (Carlos refuses to eat pizza straight out of the box like they’re “college frat bros”) when the door opens and his boyfriend returns, pizza in hand.

“Perfect timing!” T.K. says, eagerly taking the box from him and handing him the gory looking cocktail in return.

“Oh, wow,” Carlos says. “This is…something.”

“I found a recipe online,” T.K. tells him excitedly as he dishes out pizza slices onto plates. “I thought they would be fun!”

“So creative,” Carlos says, poking at the gummy eyeballs that T.K. ordered online and added for extra pizzazz.

“Okay,” T.K. says as they settle onto the couch, his excitement at an eleven. “So, John Carpenter and Debra Hill wrote this in like ten days, which is crazy, and Carpenter got paid ten thousand dollars to write, direct, and score it. They built a cinematic masterpiece, the go-to film for horror, and they did it in ten days for ten thousand dollars. Can you even believe that?”

“Sure can’t,” Carlos says with a shake of his head.

“We’re starting with the original Halloween,” T.K. tells him as he flicks on the television. “1963, Michael Myers versus a bunch of teenage girls. We’ll skip a few in the middle, Halloween: Resurrection isn’t worth anybody’s time, and while Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers does feature a young, fresh faced Paul Rudd, it has too many flaws to be worth watching.”

“So we’re skipping two out of…”

“Thirteen,” T.K. tells him.

“I guess I should have taken the month off of work,” Carlos tells him, sending him an odd, tense sort of smile.

Come to think of it, Carlos’ whole body feels a little tense too. If T.K. didn’t know any better, he’d think Carlos was nervous. But he chalks it up to worry over getting pizza grease on the couch and hits play as he snuggles into his boyfriend’s side.

They’re still snuggled together as Michael takes a knife to his teenage sister and T.K. doesn’t miss the way Carlos stiffens even further over the bloody scene. Or the way he seems to get more and more tense as the movie progresses. “You want another drink?” T.K. asks after Michael murders the Wallace’s dog.

Carlos shakes his head, his lips pressed together in a firm line, eyes a little wider than normal as he stares at the screen. He gasps audibly when Michael appears in Annie’s car and when T.K. looks down he finds that Carlos is gripping the edge of the couch cushions so hard that his knuckles are going white.

By the time Michael starts going after Laurie, Carlos’ breathing has gone rapid and T.K. carefully slips his fingers under the edge of his sleeve to find his pulse racing. Not a surprise given the contents of the movie, but Carlos’ face has gone almost white and and he’s sitting so rigidly T.K. is afraid all of his muscles are going to lock up.

“Carlos,” he says quietly, but Carlos doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the screen, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard.

“Carlos, are you okay?” T.K. asks again, reaching for the remote.

He’s too late. Michael appears out of nowhere and Carlos jumps to his feet with a shout, hands going to his hips as he paces a couple agitated steps back and forth.

T.K. finally gets his finger on the button to pause the movie. “Carlos, hey, look at me,” T.K. says, feeling legitimately concerned.

“No I—it’s fine. I’m fine,” Carlos says, hand making chopping motions as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as T.K. “Go ahead, turn it back on. I’ll just um, I’m just going to—“

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” T.K. says.

“No I’m—it’s good,” Carlos says even as a car honks outside and he flinches violently.

“It’s not fine,” T.K. says. “You hate it. Let’s watch something else.”

“We can finish—“

“Carlos, you look like you think Michael is coming after you personally. We’re not watching anymore,” T.K. says with a chuckle, using the remote to flip over to live TV, Bobby Flay declaring loudly that he will not be beaten at his own culinary game this time.

“Thank you,” Carlos sighs, collapsing back into the couch.

“When were you going to tell me you hate horror movies?” T.K. asks.

“Never,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair. “You were so excited and I thought maybe it would be okay.”

“But?”

“I begged my parents to let me watch It with my sisters when I was ten. I didn’t sleep for like a month after that and ever since…” he shivers, “I just don’t get why people like them.”

“It’s pretty cute you know,” T.K. says with a fond smile. “My big tough police officer being scared of horror movies.”

“Cute or pathetic?” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes, finally starting to look like himself again now that it’s vegetables being chopped up instead of people.

“Cute,” T.K. tells him definitively, pulling him close. “Now come here. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Paparazzi

The radio is blaring when T.K. walks in from his shift, so loud that for a second he thinks he’s walked into the wrong condo. A quick glance around reveals that no, this is indeed Carlos’ place, although there’s no sign of Carlos anywhere, and it takes him another moment to realize the music is actually coming from upstairs.

He climbs the staircase, the music getting louder with each step and by the time he’s reached the top it’s changed from something in Spanish to Lady Gaga and is blasting so loudly that it feels like he’s at a live performance rather than in his boyfriend’s bedroom.

That’s when he finally hears the singing. Not Gaga herself, although she’s hard to ignore. No. Someone is belting out the lyrics from behind the bathroom door, slightly out of tune, but with the most passion T.K. has ever heard.

He opens the door quietly, the sound intensifying as the spray of the shower joins the fray.

“I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN, I’LL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOU LOVE ME! PAPA-PAPARAZZI!” Carlos bellows from behind the semi-frosted glass of the shower door.

T.K. crosses his arms and leans against the wall, a grin on his face as he watches the blurry silhouette of his naked boyfriend scrubbing away at his hair while he sings along. He makes it through the rest of the chorus and another verse before he turns around and lets out a yell. “Jesus Christ!”

The water turns off immediately followed quickly by the music as T.K. laughs. Carlos opens the shower door, poking his sopping wet head out. “What the hell? How long have you been standing there?” he says, clearly torn between fury and embarrassment.

“Long enough,” T.K. says, handing him a towel before returning to his position against the wall, watching appreciatively as Carlos pulls it around his waist and steps out, water glistening on his skin.

“You realize that’s really fucking creepy, right?” Carlos asks as he double checks that his towel is secure.

“I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to the concert,” T.K. says fully aware that he is smirking and enjoying every second of watching Carlos squirm.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for that,” Carlos says, looking down at the floor, his cheeks flushed from more than the heat of his shower.

“Do you always sing in the shower?”

“No.” But he doesn’t meet T.K.’s gaze when he says it.

“Yes,” T.K. says gleefully. “Why don’t you ever sing when I’m here?”

“Because some things are better left in private,” Carlos tells him with a glower.

“Babe, come on,” T.K. says, taking a step forward and putting his hands on Carlos’ hips just above where the towel is sitting. “I love knowing stuff like this about you. It makes me feel like you’re mine. I get to see these little parts of Carlos Reyes that other people don’t.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you also put on performances in the precinct showers.”

“Definitely not,” Carlos scoffs. His hands come up to rest on T.K.’s biceps. “You really don’t think it’s weird? I know I’m not a good singer.”

T.K. kisses the tip of his nose. “It doesn’t matter. It makes you happy. And that’s all I care about.”

+ 1: Ticklish

Waking up with T.K. had been his dream for months, but he wasn’t completely surprised when it turned out not to be a reality. It turns out T.K. doesn’t wake up with anyone. In fact he barely wakes up at all. He has to be dragged out of bed and plied with coffee and a shower before he’s even remotely functional.

When questioned about how he can wake up and immediately go to work when the alarm bells go off at the fire station, T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy and says, “That’s different.”

So Carlos contents himself with waking up beside T.K., pressing a kiss to whatever part of him is poking out from under the blankets, and then greeting him more officially when he finally stumbles out of bed usually an hour or two after Carlos.

He’s just finished his workout when he hears T.K.’s alarm going off followed quickly by a muffled thud as T.K. predictably sends his phone flying to floor in his attempts to turn it off.

Carlos smiles and wipes a towel across his forehead before stowing away his weights and jogging back upstairs. T.K. is buried under the blankets, only the top of his head poking out. “Morning,” Carlos says softly, bending over to kiss his forehead.

T.K. reaches up and catches his arm, tugging him downward. “Come back to bed,” he mumbles.

“I’m all sweaty,” Carlos says with a laugh. “I need to go take a shower.”

“No staaay,” T.K. groans, tugging more insistently.

Carlos rolls his eyes but he concedes, sitting down on the mattress and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal T.K.’s face. “Are you going to get up?”

“It’s our day off,” T.K. tells him, eyes still tightly shut.

“It is.” Carlos leans closer, a fond smile on his face. “And if you don’t get up soon it will be over.”

He pokes T.K. in the ribs good-naturedly and immediately receives a sharp backhand across the face. “Ow!” he yells, rearing back and clutching his nose. “T.K. what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” T.K. yelps, and Carlos can feel him scrambling to get upright in the tangle of their sheets. “Oh my god! Are you okay? Let me see!”

He reaches for Carlos’ face, but Carlos pulls back. His nose feels like it’s been smashed into a thousand pieces, but he rubs at it experimentally and it seems to be intact. Another check shows no blood on his fingers, so he’s probably all right, but damn. It hurts. “What the hell was that for?” he asks grouchily, sending T.K. a glare.

T.K. looks sheepishly down at the sheets. “Um, well, I might be just a little bit ticklish?”

Carlos blinks at him. “No you’re not.”

T.K.’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Yes I am?”

“T.K. we’ve been together for like four months. I would know if you were ticklish.” He knows T.K.’s body intimately. Where he can touch to make him moan, to make him gasp, to make him arch his back. If T.K. were ticklish, it would have been revealed long before now.

“It’s just that one spot on the left side of my ribs,” T.K. tells him. “If your hands start to go there I just take them and move them somewhere else. You’ve never noticed?”

Huh. Carlos sits with that for a second replaying as many of their sexual encounters as he can remember. “I guess…I guess not. Why did you hit me though?” he asks with a frown.

“Ah.” T.K. blushes. “I always move your hands because I can get a little…violent when I get tickled. It’s kind of a panic response.”

“And instead of telling me this you just waited for me to discover it by accident and nearly broke my nose in the process?”

“I kind of forgot honestly. It’s just become a habit to move your hands,” T.K. tells him.

Carlos snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god what?” T.K. asks warily.

“Oh my god…that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Carlos says, full on laughing now.

T.K.’s face breaks into a smile and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “It is kind of dumb.”

Carlos leans forward and cups his chin, pulling him in for a real kiss. “You’re cute,” he says. “You and your ridiculous ticklish spot.”

“You’re cute too,” T.K. says, then wrinkles his nose. “But you kind of stink.”

“Oh I do?”

“Yeah you do.”

Carlos wraps his arms around T.K. while he yells in protest, holding him tightly as they fall onto the mattress together. It’s disgustingly adorable. And Carlos wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#Tarlos #Glasses and Smut and Your Naked Butt #911 Lone Star #Tarlos Fic #911lsfic #Seven Sentence Sunday #Fluffy Tarlos #Boyfriend Era #Sweet boys #Boys in love #Cuteness #5+1 Fic

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chicgeekgirl89 · 6 months ago

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Summary: Summer is for fun, but sometimes it doesn't always go as planned. Five times the summer handed Tarlos some minor inconveniences and one time it all worked out.

A/N: Did I change the title on this between Sunday and now? Shut up, it's fine. 😅

Read on AO3

Jellyfish

T.K.’s body is fever hot, the sun beating brightly down from overhead, still intense even though the hour is waning toward four o’clock. The sand underneath his towel provides a soft cushion for where he’s lying next to Carlos on the beach, both of them relaxing after a long walk down the shoreline.

Sweat slides down the side of his neck; he’s going to need a dip in the ocean soon to cool off. They’ve been here since early this morning, reading on the beach, playing in the surf, and writing their names in the sand with their fingers like two lovesick teenagers instead of a married couple on an anniversary trip to Galveston. It’s been a perfect day. The most perfect day.

T.K. turns his head to the side, taking in the sight of Carlos lying next to him. He’s shirtless, his chest glistening in the sunlight, a combination of the sunscreen he’s been making them reapply every hour like clockwork, and sweat from the heat rolling over his skin. His blue swim trunks stand out against the gold of the sand, matching with the blue and white stripes on his towel.

He’s got one arm thrown back, blocking the sun from his eyes, his ring shining in the light, the other hand resting beside him, a little bit of sand clinging to the tips of his fingers. His curls stopped being tame the second the ocean breeze hit them and they’re so soft and fluffy they look like a cloud. He looks like the epitome of a bronzed god.

It’s moments like this, little quiet, nothing moments when T.K. feels the immense gratitude of having a partner who is fun, dependable, and hot as fuck. He knows he’s beyond lucky, to have someone like Carlos in his life. It makes him so damn happy it hurts sometimes.

He looks down and takes Carlos’ hand, linking their fingers together. Carlos turns his head to the side and smiles at him, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. His lips are still cold from the lime flavored sparkling waters they’ve been drinking out of the cooler and they feel amazing against T.K.’s warm skin.

T.K. misses them the instant Carlos goes back to lying flat out on his towel and he doesn’t even think before he’s rolling over so that he’s on top of his husband, his weight pressing him further down into the sand. “You’re hot,” Carlos says, an amused smile on the lips T.K. wants back on him as quickly as possible.

“So are you.” T.K. smirks down at him with that cocky, sexy smile that usually initiates very fun things for them both.

“No I mean you’re physically hot. You’re sweating all over me, get off,” Carlos says, giving him a little push, but T.K. holds firm.

He leans down, capturing those cold lips with his own, his tongue tasting a heady combination of saltwater, lime, and coconut lip balm. His husband tastes like a fucking tropical vacation and T.K. doesn’t waste time diving in deeper for a stronger hit.

Carlos makes a small noise in the back of his throat and lifts his head up, meeting T.K. with an open mouth, his tongue soft, the kiss slow, but still simmering, both of them barely holding back, vaguely aware of watching eyes all around them.

T.K. lets his weight drop a little more, pressing their hips together, relishing the way their bare chests and stomachs slide against each other. He braces his hands on either side of Carlos’ chest, digging them deeply into the sand and staring into his eyes. “I want you so bad right now,” he says.

He can feel all of Carlos through his bathing suit. The fabric is so damn thin, being at the beach is practically like being in your underwear in public. The thought of it turns him on even more and he has to resist the urge to grind down in a way he knows drives Carlos crazy.

“There are families on this beach, T.K.,” Carlos says, but his hands come up to rest on T.K.’s hips, and there’s a glint in his eyes that tells T.K. he’s equally turned on right now.

T.K. takes a look around. The area has emptied out considerably in the last hour, lots of people heading home for the night. But Carlos isn’t wrong, there are still plenty of kids and adults nearby, building sandcastles and picking up seashells. They’re not alone enough for what T.K. wants to do right now.

He lets his head fall. “Ugh,” he groans. “Why do you have to be so fucking hot all the time? It’s not fair.”

He lets out a squeak as Carlos moves suddenly, rolling them over so T.K. is back on his own towel and now Carlos is the one on top. “It’s not my fault you find me irresistible,” he says with a smirk. “Or that you have to keep it in your banana hammock while we’re in public.”

“My banana hammock!” T.K. laughs. He’s wearing the same style of trunks as Carlos and although his are considerably louder, covered in smiling pineapples and coconuts, they are definitely not revealing.

“You’re a menace in those things,” Carlos says, poking him in the ribs right in the spot he knows T.K. is ticklish and making him squirm. “You think I’m hot, you should see how this whole beach has been looking at your ass all day.”

“Nobody is looking at my ass Carlos,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes. He wiggles a little bit, trying to get comfortable. Carlos is right, it’s slightly smothering to be the one on the bottom in this heat.

“They definitely are,” Carlos says, lowering his head so his mouth is right to T.K.’s ear. “But that’s too bad because this ass is all mine.”

He pushes himself up and grabs T.K.’s hand, hauling him to his feet and then pulling him toward the water. T.K. stumbles over the uneven sand, both of them laughing as they go crashing toward the surf. They hold hands, pushing past the breakers until they get into deeper water, letting the waves bob them up and down.

“There,” Carlos says as one lifts them up, their feet brushing against the sandy bottom before they land again. “Now this ass is all mine.”

He pulls T.K. in, their lips bumping together a little awkwardly as the under toe pulls at them, but quickly finding their usual rhythm. With their bodies now more hidden from the general public, T.K. wastes no time in jumping up to wrap his legs around Carlos’ waist, his wet hands slipping and sliding over Carlos’ back.

Carlos holds him up, hands gripping firmly under his thighs. Sometimes T.K. forgets how large his hands are, and holy fuck this has to be in the top five hottest things they’ve ever done. Their kisses are not chaste at all anymore, sloppy and a little frantic as the sea buoys them up and down.

He’s just trying to decide if anyone would really notice if he put his hand down Carlos’ bathing suit out here when Carlos rips his mouth away, a sharp gasp forcing its way out, his hands releasing T.K.’s legs.

T.K. grips on a little tighter and blinks at him in confusion. “Are you okay?”

“Something stung me,” Carlos says. “Ouch!” he yelps, his body jerking to the side.

T.K. lets go, his feet dropping back to the ocean’s sandy bottom. “Where did it get you?” he asks, concern erasing every drop of lust from his system.

“My leg,” Carlos says, pain slipping into the lines of his face, hand reaching out to grip T.K.’s shoulder for support. “Shit. Ow.”

“Okay, let’s get back up to the towels and I’ll take a look,” T.K. says.

Getting out of the water is way less fun than getting in was. Carlos grimaces in pain with every step and they have to fight against the pull of the waves chasing the tide back outward from the shore.

Once they’re ankle deep in the water, Carlos leans over to try and see the source of his pain. T.K. looks too and winces. Crisscrossing red marks slash their way up his calf like he’s been struck with a whip.

“Shit,” Carlos breathes out, and then a quick, “Sorry,” when he spots a mom and her kids nearby.

“Looks like a jellyfish sting,” T.K. says.

“It freaking hurts,” Carlos says, his muscles tight with pain.

They maneuver their way up to the dry sand and Carlos collapses on his towel, a scowl on his face as T.K. drops to his knees and takes hold of his leg, turning it this way and that for a closer look. “It didn’t get you?” Carlos asks.

“No,” T.K. says. “I think because my legs were up.”

“You’re welcome,” Carlos says, a slightly grouchy tease.

T.K. chews his lip as he thinks through his options. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogs back down to the mom and her kids. “Hey, can I borrow this for a second?” he asks, picking up a yellow bucket.

The mom nods her consent and he fills it up with seawater before running it back up to their towels. He gently pours it over the angry welts on Carlos’ leg and Carlos hisses out a sharp breath. “Ouch.”

“Sorry,” T.K. says sympathetically, sitting back on his heels when the bucket has been emptied. “That’s a start.” He reaches into one of their bags for the first aid kit he brought with them and pulls out two Advil. “Here take these.”

He watches Carlos swallow them down, hoping they help with the pain and the swelling. “Do you want to pack up and head back to the hotel?” he asks.

“Um…”

Carlos looks uncertain, which T.K. knows means he’s weighing his own happiness against T.K.’s. So T.K. decides for him. “Let’s go back. It’s getting late anyway. It’s not going to be much fun sitting here with your leg on fire.”

“Are you sure?” T.K. reaches up and squishes his cheeks. “Yes. Shut up. Let’s go.” He pecks his forehead with a kiss before standing and packing up their things.

Carlos tries to help but T.K. shoos him off, shouldering all their bags on his back until he looks like a pack animal. He manages to get to the car without dropping anything, and then gets it all in the trunk while Carlos slides into the passenger seat, wincing in pain the entire time.

T.K. drives them back to their hotel and when they get to the room T.K. sends his husband into a hot shower while he orders up some room service. When Carlos emerges he’s wrapped in a fluffy hotel bathrobe, his hair still damp and curly, his body scrubbed clean of sand and seawater.

“How are you feeling?” T.K. asks.

“Better,” Carlos says. “Still stings a little, but not as bad as before.”

“You okay if I get in there for a minute?” T.K. nods toward the bathroom.

“It’s a jellyfish sting, not a shark bite,” Carlos says in amusement. “I think I can make it fifteen minutes without you.”

“Are you sure? Because if you need me, I can just stay this sweaty, greasy, salty mess,” T.K. leans toward him and Carlos shoves him away. “Get out of here!” he says with a laugh. “You’re gross.”

“But you still love me,” T.K. says with a grin, backing away and wiggling his hips as he starts to push his bathing suit downward, pale skin, untouched by the sun, being revealed inch by inch.

Carlos whips a pillow at him. “Get out of here!”

“Love you!” T.K. yells as he closes the bathroom door.

“Love you too!”

Handprint

T.K. is splayed out chaotically in their bed when Carlos checks on him before heading off to work. His husband had come home exhausted last night after working a grueling double shift. T.K. had barely even said hello, stripping off his clothes as he walked into the bedroom and then face planting directly into their mattress.

By the time Carlos had come in he’d been snoring away, socks still on, his head halfway down the bed instead of up on the pillow. Carlos had gently coaxed him into place before snuggling in beside him and T.K. hadn’t woken up once.

He has moderately more success this morning. He kisses T.K.’s ear, then his cheek, pleased when T.K. sucks in a waking breath and curls up a little bit. “I’m heading out,” Carlos says softly. “Are you guys still going to the pool today?”

The entire 126 has the day off and the plan is to spend it poolside. Tommy is bringing the twins and Grace is coming with Charlie. Carlos is bummed that he has to work instead of participating in the fun.

“Mhm,” T.K. says, his reply muffled by his pillow.

Carlos cards his fingers softly through T.K.’s hair. “Maybe you should skip. You’re exhausted. There’s a new season of Grand Designs out. You could stay home and relax.”

“No, I wanna go,” T.K. says, his eyes still closed. “It’s fine. We’ll just be hanging by the pool. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” Carlos runs his thumb over the shell of T.K.’s ear. “I left a towel and sunscreen out for you. Make sure you put it on every hour, okay? And take a hat.”

T.K.’s fair skin is prone to sunburn and Carlos is always extra cautious with him when they’re outside.

T.K. cracks an eyelid. “Okay Mom.”

Carlos chuckles softly. “Sorry. Have a good time. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Love you, be safe,” T.K. mumbles, already snuggling back into bed.

“Love you too.”

Carlos makes a mental note to check-in with Nancy in a few hours to see if T.K. actually makes it to the pool outing or not. He wouldn’t put it past him to sleep through his alarm and miss it entirely.

When he and Lexie stop for coffee mid-morning he fires off said text and receives an affirmative from Nancy: T.K. has made it to the pool. So Carlos texts him directly.

Carlos

[11:42am] How’s the water?

T.K. ❤️

[11:45am] *Selfie of T.K. in floral swim trunks with Marjan, Nancy, and Mateo*

[11:45am] Water’s great. Wish you were here!

Carlos smiles, but feels a little twinge of concern at the dark circles under T.K.’s eyes. He still looks tired. Hopefully the group is taking it easy and T.K. will come home feeling refreshed.

Carlos

[11:46am] Glad you’re having fun. Don’t forget to sunscreen.

T.K. ❤️

[11:48am] *picture of T.K. holding sunscreen in one hand and giving the finger with the other*

Carlos

[11:49am] Good job.

Carlos finishes his shift without any major issues and heads home on time for a change. He stops at the market for some bread to go with dinner and spies some beautiful sunflowers, so he grabs those too. Something to brighten up T.K.’s evening.

When he gets home he sees T.K.’s bag by the door, his flip flops lying next to it haphazardly instead of in the shoe bin where they belong. This is slightly odd because T.K. is usually pretty good about putting his shoes away.

T.K. is also nowhere in sight, so he must be in the bedroom or bathroom. Carlos heads for the kitchen to drop his groceries, calling out for him as he goes. “I’m home babe! How was the pool?”

There’s a long silence and then a very faint, “It was good,” from the direction of the master bath.

Carlos frowns as he pulls the bread and flowers from his canvas tote. T.K. sounds off. “You okay?” he calls back.

Another silence. “…yeah…”

Something is off. Carlos picks up the flowers and heads toward their bedroom. “You sure?” he asks as he approaches the closed bathroom door. “You sound weird.”

“Don’t come in here!”

Now T.K. sounds panicked and Carlos feels an immediate need to bust the bathroom door down. “What? Why not? T.K.? What’s going on?”

“I…”

When no answer comes Carlos squares his shoulders and grabs the door handle. “I’m coming in.”

He pushes just as T.K. says, “No wait!” but it’s too late, Carlos is inside the bathroom, his mouth falling open in shock at the sight of his husband.

T.K. is sitting on the closed toilet seat, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, a bottle of aloe vera frozen in one hand. His face is so pink it’s practically glowing. And that’s not the only thing that’s pink.

Carlos’ eyes travel with horror down his torso, past the towel, over his legs all the way to the tops of his feet. T.K. is sunburnt from head to toe save for one stark, white handprint across his stomach.

“Please don’t yell at me,” T.K. says, misery all over his face.

It takes another second for Carlos to find his voice. “I’m not going to yell,” he says, far too shocked to be angry. If anything he’s deeply concerned. T.K. must be in a lot of pain. “Babe, what happened?”

“I put on sunscreen when I got there but then I…I fell asleep,” he says, his voice full of sadness. “For like, a couple hours I guess? I was just so tired and when I woke up…”

He gives a sad little shrug. “Oh baby,” Carlos says sympathetically, taking a step forward and dropping to his knees in front of him. “The hand print?”

“My hand was on my stomach.” T.K. looks down and his face crumples. “It’s going to be like that all summer, isn’t it?”

Carlos nods, pushing down the bubble of laughter inside of him. Now is not the time.

“I was trying to put aloe on but it just, it hurts,” T.K. says with a pathetic little sniffle.

“Do you want me to help you?” Carlos asks and T.K. nods.

Carlos gently pulls the bottle from his fingers and globs out a sizable amount into his palm. Starting at the top he runs his hands gently over T.K.’s face; his forehead, the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbones, letting the aloe sit on top of the raw skin instead of rubbing it all the way in. Even T.K.’s ears have a rosy hue and Carlos takes the time to cover them as well before moving onto his chest.

From his shoulders to the tips of his fingers, over his pecs and down his abs, Carlos moves slowly and deliberately, careful not to miss a single patch of tender skin.

Despite his gentleness, T.K. keeps flinching and making smalls noises of pain, so Carlos talks to distract him. “How was the day otherwise?” he asks. “Did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah it was good,” T.K. says, his voice rough. “Charlie had a blast. She had this little toy duck that she would toss in the pool and Izzy and Evie would go get it for her. It was super cute. She’s getting so big, even since the last time we saw her.”

“Yeah it’s been a couple months hasn’t it?” Carlos says, smoothing his hands over the top of T.K.’s thighs. “Crazy how fast they grow at that age. We’ll have to offer to babysit soon so I can see her again.”

“Maybe in a couple weeks after they get back from vacation,” T.K. says.

“Sounds good. I’ll send Grace a text.”

When he finishes, he stands up and washes the goopy aloe off his hands in the sink then goes back to kneeling in front of T.K. “Be honest with me, is this a hospital situation?”

“No, I don’t think so,” T.K. says. “Tommy made me drink a ton of water and sit in the shade after we realized. There’s no blistering, I think it’s just a really bad sunburn, not sun poisoning. I don’t have a headache or feel nauseated or anything.”

Carlos is going to send the literal and metaphorical mom of the group a bouquet of flowers for taking care of his absent minded husband. “Okay, what else can we do then? Some ibuprofen maybe?”

“Tommy made me take some.”

“When?”

“Um, like three hours ago?”

Carlos looks at his watch and makes a note of the time. “We’ll do more in an hour then. Did you take a cold shower or bath when you got home?”

T.K. nods. “I took a bath for a while.”

“Good. Then how about we get you up and into something better than a towel?”

Carlos helps him into a very loose pair of shorts, T.K. wincing every time the material even so much as brushes against his skin, and then settles him on the couch. “I got bread to go with the soup my mom brought us for dinner,” Carlos says. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, can I help?” T.K. asks, looking like he’s going to try and push himself upward.

Carlos waves him off. “No. You stay right here. It’s literally going to take fifteen minutes to heat up. I think I can handle it.”

He heads into the kitchen and spies the flowers. “Oh I forgot,” he says, returning to the living room so T.K. doesn’t have to try and crane his head around to see. “I got you these.”

T.K.’s face brightens immediately. “You got me flowers?”

“I did.”

“You’re my favorite husband.”

“I’d better be your only husband,” Carlos warns teasingly, setting the flowers on the coffee table so T.K. can see them before returning to the kitchen.

They make it through dinner without too much fuss, but bedtime comes with new challenges. T.K. can only lay flat on his back without any sheets or blankets touching him, even after Carlos doses him with more ibuprofen.

“I feel like I’m going to glow in the dark,” he says sadly as he lays perfectly still, arms and legs spread out awkwardly while Carlos changes for bed.

Carlos chuckles. “My little neon sign. You do light up my life, so that seems appropriate.”

“Haha,” T.K. says without any mirth.

Carlos sits down next to him. “What can I do? What do you need?”

T.K. flops his head to the side. “I want you to hold me. But you can’t touch me,” he says miserably.

“What if I just play with your hair, like this?” Carlos says, reaching up and toying with a few strands.

“That feels nice,” T.K. says, his eyes closing.

“Good,” Carlos says, pleased that he can provide a little relief to ease T.K.’s discomfort. “You know you’re still very cute. Even when you’re glowing like a stoplight.”

T.K. makes a face. “Will you still love me when my skin is peeling off like Lou II’s when he molts?”

Carlos huffs a laugh. “I’ll try.”

Amusement

The boiling heat of day has slipped into the balm of early evening in Austin, Texas. It’s cooler than usual, only seventy-five degrees tonight, a welcome relief from Austin’s blazing summer.

Tonight the sunset isn’t the only thing lighting up the night sky. The Catan crew is out instead of in for a change, visiting the carnival that’s come to town. As the sun has dropped below the horizon, the rides and games have lit up in a dazzling display of color, whirling and blinking rainbows punctuated with screams and laughs and cheers from guests of all ages.

Carlos’ hand is intertwined with T.K.’s and his husband is swinging it back and forth as they wander between the carnival games. T.K. is chattering away to Marjan about Lou II’s latest outfit; a pair of lizard size swim trunks. Carlos had caught him turning their bathtub into a mini water park and just slowly walked out and closed the door behind him. He loves his husband, but some things are better left unseen if he wants their marriage to survive.

Nancy and Mateo are walking ahead of them, their hands also entwined, and Paul is to Carlos’ right. It’s been the best kind of day. Fun and friends and time together without any of the stresses of work to weigh them down.

T.K. is practically bouncing as he walks. So far Carlos has watched him down two corndogs, fries, cheese curds, half of Carlos’ burrito, and a pink cotton candy. He’s currently slurping on a blue raspberry slushee, his tongue now so electrically blue that Carlos isn’t sure it will ever be normal again. He’s hopped up on sugar and fun and Carlos is going to have to have extremely enthusiastic sex with him tonight to get him tired enough for bed.

He’s looking forward to it.

“Ooh babe! Do you have any ones?” T.K. asks eagerly.

“I think so,” Carlos says, pulling out his wallet and handing T.K. about five dollars’ worth. “What do you need them for?”

“I’m gonna go win you one of those giant teddy bears!” T.K. says, already grabbing Marjan’s hand and dragging her toward a ski ball game.

“T.K. we don’t have anywhere to put that!” Carlos calls after him, but T.K. either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care.

“Ooh I wanna go help!” Mateo says, running after them and pulling Nancy with him.

Paul looks at Carlos. “These are the people the city of Austin trusts to save lives. Everyday.”

Carlos shakes his head. “Sometimes I don’t even know Paul.”

Thankfully T.K. does not win a giant teddy bear, having to settle for a small frog keychain instead, which makes them both happy.

They go from the game to the petting zoo which takes forever because T.K. feels the need to speak to each animal individually and Marjan won’t let go of one of the bunnies that she declares “needs to come home with her” until Paul points out that rabbits chew everything.

“Carlos, just think about it,” T.K. says as they finally walk away. “A baby goat would be so fun to have. And then it would grow up and become an adult goat and we could get goats milk and make goat cheese! You love goat cheese!

“I do love goat cheese,” Carlos says with a chuckle. “I do not love the idea of a goat living in our loft. We already have one pet. That’s enough.”

“If you had fresh goat cheese for our game nights that would be on another level,” Nancy says.

“Well then why don’t you get a goat and keep it at Owen’s house?” Carlos suggests.

“Oh, I don’t think Cap would like that,” Mateo says. “Can you imagine if it got hold of one of his Gucci loafers? That thing would be goat kabobs in a heartbeat.”

“Mmm, goat kabobs. Now we’re talking,” Paul says, licking his lips.

“All right, who’s going with me on the Twister?” Marjan says as they walk past a swirling mass of lights and machinery.

“Yes!” T.K. says immediately. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Y’all are crazy,” Paul says. “That thing looks like whiplash waiting to happen.”

“Okay grandpa,” Mateo says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m in. Carlos?”

Carlos absolutely does not want to go on the Twister. It swings over their heads, screams filling the air above them and he suppresses a shudder. He’s not a fan of this kind of ride at all. “Come on babe!” T.K. tugs at his hand, glee shining in his eyes and Carlos gives in.

“Okay, yes, let’s go,” he says and T.K. squeezes his hand excitedly.

“Yes! Nance, you coming?” Mateo asks.

“I think I’m going to sit this one out. I get motion sickness when I spin like that,” Nancy says, her face showing her distaste at the thought.

“Can I interest you in a more sedate ride on the carousel?” Paul asks, holding out an arm.

“Why yes, dahling, that would be delightful,” Nancy replies with a mock southern accent, looping her elbow through his as they wander off in search of a more relaxed ride experience.

They join the line, which is made up primarily of teenagers who are either horsing around or making out. “There’s a ride like this out on Coney Island,” T.K. says. “My dad took me out there one time when I was like eight. We rode it six times in a row.”

“I used to come to this carnival when I was a kid. I think I puked every single year,” Mateo says, a fond look in his eye.

“If anybody pukes on me during this ride…” Marjan says warningly.

“Relax Marj, nobody’s puking on you tonight,” Mateo tells her with a roll of his eyes.

As they approach the front of the line, Carlos notices that his husband has gone quiet. He looks at T.K.’s face, realizing that he looks a little peaked and there seems to be a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” T.K. says brightly. “Just hot out here.”

It’s not that hot, but Carlos chalks his odd expression up to too much excitement and sugar.

They board the ride and strap on their seatbelts, their legs cramped up awkwardly because the seat is so low. Carlos and T.K. are smushed together on one side with Mateo and Marjan opposite them.

Carlos grips onto the safety bar as soon as the attendant lowers it. “This is going to be fun!” T.K. says gleefully, the lights flashing over his face that definitely looks paler than it did before.

The music starts up, something by Aerosmith, and then the next thing Carlos knows they’re moving, whirling around, his legs mashing into T.K.’s even more than they already were, their car whipping around and around so fast that everything besides Mateo and Marjan’s faces becomes a blur.

Carlos can’t help himself, he screams right along with everyone else. It is kind of fun, other than the constant smashing into T.K. and the cramp in his thighs. He hasn’t been on a ride like this in years and it’s a little more painful than he remembers, but also pretty fun.

When it finally slows to a stop Mateo lets out a whoop of glee. “Let’s go again!”

“Hell yeah!” Marjan agrees.

Carlos turns, expecting T.K. to give an equally affirmative response, but instead he’s met with a T.K. whose lips are pressed tightly together. And where he was pale before, now he looks slightly green.

“T.K.?” Carlos asks in concern, but T.K. just gives a sharp shake of his head in response.

The second the safety bar goes up, T.K. is gone, running to the exit as Carlos struggles to free himself so he can jog after him. By the time he reaches his husband, T.K. is retching over a smelly garbage can. Carlos puts a hand on his back and tries not to look too closely at what is coming out of his mouth.

“Easy, easy,” he says, rubbing a comforting hand between his shoulder blades when T.K. starts a second round of puking.

It’s several minutes before T.K. lifts his head and takes a step away from the garbage can. He swallows hard, his face still a sickly shade of green.

“Here,” Marjan says, offering him a bottle of water she’d run to get when she realized what was happening.

He takes a sip and swishes it around in his mouth, spitting it into the garbage can instead of swallowing. “Let’s sit down,” Carlos suggests gently, guiding T.K. toward a picnic table that’s only moderately covered melted ice cream and powdered sugar from funnel cakes.

T.K. sinks onto the bench, his head in his hands. “I don’t think I should have had that slushee,” he says in a muffled voice.

“Yeah, I’m not sure it was the slushee that put it over the top love,” Carlos says sympathetically, rubbing his back again.

“Good job bro,” Mateo says seriously. “You barfed chunks in the garbage instead of on people or the ground. Impressive.”

“Ew, can you not say ‘barfed chunks’ ever again?” Marjan asks in disgust.

“Whoa what happened?” Paul asks as he and Nancy rejoin the group.

“T.K. got sick,” Mateo shoots a look at Marjan to emphasize his less disgusting language, “on the Twister.”

“Can’t hold your carnival food anymore huh partner?” Nancy asks.

T.K. glares up at her. “You suck.”

“And yet, I am the one who made the mature, adult decision to ride the carousel and avoid this situation,” Nancy tells him in a superior tone. “And also not wolf down snacks like I’m still fifteen years old.”

T.K. opens his mouth, but then looks panicked and immediately closes it again. “Okay, on that note, I think it’s time for us to head home,” Carlos says.

T.K.’s head whips up and he swallows hard. “But we didn’t go on the ferris wheel yet!”

“You really want to risk barfing your guts out three hundred feet in the air?” Paul asks skeptically.

T.K.’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Yeah, I guess that’s a bad idea.”

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” Carlos says, pressing a kiss to his temple and then helping him to his feet.

T.K. makes it through the ride home by leaning his seat back as far as Carlos will allow (safety first) and closing his eyes with the air conditioning blasting on his face. By the time they arrive at the loft he looks more like himself, although he still curls up into a little ball on the couch while Carlos finds the Pepto Bismol and makes him some ginger tea.

“I’m never drinking blue raspberry slushees again,” T.K. says. “I want to forget this ever happened.”

“Your tongue is going to be blue for days,” Carlos says. “I think you’re going to be reminded every time you brush your teeth.”

T.K. groans and buries his face into a throw pillow. “I’m sorry I made you leave.”

“You didn’t make me leave,” Carlos says, patting his calf gently. “You were sick. Of course we were going to go home.”

T.K. says something that Carlos can’t make out. “What?”

He raises his head. “I said I was stupid.”

“You were having fun. Sometimes we don’t think through our decisions when we’re having fun.”

T.K. shifts a little. “Thanks for being nice to me while I’m sick.”

“Thank you for not puking in the car on the way home.”

Mini

“Tío, Tío, Tío watch me! Watch! Are you watching?”

“I’m watching Marco, I’m watching,” Carlos assures him.

Marco takes his kid-sized golf club and plants it into the pathway before putting his other hand on his back and scrunching up his forehead. “Look! See? I’m an old man!”

Carlos chuckles. “I see.”

“Tío T.K.! Look! Do you see me?”

T.K. looks up from where he’s writing down their scores from the previous hole on their scorecard. “Wow! Where did Marco go? All I see is this little old man! Oh no, Carlos, his mom is going to be so mad we lost him!”

“No Tío, it’s me!” Marco giggles and straightens up. “See? I was just pretending!”

“Oh phew!” T.K. pretends to wipe sweat off his brow. “Thank goodness.”

“My turn!” Carolina yells, running across the green.

“Whoa, hang on, we have to let the other people finish first!” T.K. says, jogging after her so he can catch her hand and keep her from interrupting the teenagers in front of them.

The kids have been calling him Tío since the first time they met before the wedding, but something about it still gives him a thrill. There’s something so familial about the term; like he belongs to them. Like they want him to be part of the family.

They’d offered to watch the kids for the afternoon so Ana could spend some alone time with Andrea while they’re in town. So far they’ve had tacos for lunch, visited the playground, and made it through three holes of mini golf without too much drama. Carolina spilled her Sprite at lunch and made a bit of a sticky mess, and Carlos had to grab Marco’s hand to keep him from running across a parking lot to see a dog, but other than that, T.K. thinks they’re doing a pretty great job.

“I need my ball!” Carolina says as soon as the teenagers move on.

“Please can I have my ball?” Carlos corrects gently.

She looks up at T.K. with her big brown eyes, the same ones he sees in his husband’s face every single day, those same, pleading, cow eyes and says, “Please?”

And god, it’s probably good they’re not actually parents yet because she could literally ask T.K. for a pony right now and he’d go get her one.

He hands her the pink ball she picked out when they arrived. “Thank you!” she says brightly. She carefully uses her little fingers to set it down on the green and then brings her club back with a big swing.

“Whoa!” T.K. grabs the collar of Marco’s t-shirt and pulls him back a step so his sister doesn’t hit him in the eye. “Watch out for Tiger Woods there.” So far it seems like most of parenthood is trying to keep your kids from accidentally killing each other.

Carolina completely misses the ball, but it doesn’t deter her from trying again. And again. Finally on the third attempt she makes contact and sends her ball rolling toward an open mouthed whale. It only makes it a couple feet, but it’s enough to satisfy her turn.

Marco goes next, his orange ball managing to go a little further. “My turn!” Carolina says, running up the green toward her ball.

“Hey, what about me and Tío T.K.?” Carlos asks from where he’s just dropped his green ball down.

She glances back at them. “You can go later.”

Carlos takes a step toward her but T.K. shakes his head. “Let her go. It’s fine.”

“Don’t you think we should teach her to take turns?”

“I think that’s her parents’ job. We’re just the fun uncles who take them mini golfing and get ice cream after.”

“Ice cream?” Marco’s head whips around. “We’re getting ice cream?”

“Maybe,” Carlos says.

Marco looks at T.K. who nods and mouths, “Definitely.”

“Yes!” He pumps a fist in the air and then runs after his sister who has managed to get her ball through the whale’s mouth by whacking it repeatedly and then finally pushing it the rest of the way. “Carolina! We’re getting ice cream!”

“Probably should have saved the ice cream detail for later. I’m not sure we’re going to make it through all eighteen holes now,” Carlos says.

“Were we really going to make it through all eighteen in the first place?” T.K. asks with skepticism.

Carlos looks at the kids who are struggling to get their balls into the cup. “Good point.”

They both take their turns while the kids are occupied with jumping off a big rock between this hole and the next one. Carlos manages to get his through the whale in one hit, while it takes T.K. two to get his onto the other side.

T.K. watches as Carlos holds Carolina’s hand so she can walk along the raised edge of the green like a balance beam while also listening to Marco talk about Minecraft. There’s something about watching his husband talk to kids that makes his heart a little extra soft. They haven’t revisited the idea of having their own kids yet, and T.K. won’t pressure him, but he can tell in little moments like this that whatever his qualms are, Carlos would make a great dad. He’s so patient and kind and he listens with this kind of intensity that makes little kids feel important.

It’s really special to see.

They head for the next green. This one sits next to a waterfall that splashes merrily into a pool at the bottom and runs down a small river and under a narrow bridge that Marco immediately runs to and stands on. “Look at me!” he cries.

“Okay be careful,” Carlos says. “We don’t want anyone falling in and getting wet.”

“My turn!” Carolina yells, bringing her club back again for another big whack.

“No I want to go this time!” Marco says, jumping down and charging toward them.

“Maybe on the next one we can let Marco go first,” T.K. suggests.

She looks at him, her stare cold. “No. I go first.” Then she takes a big whack at her ball and sends it immediately into the water.

“Okay then,” T.K. says, going to fish it out.

In the end Carolina simply picks up her ball and walks it across the bridge and into cup on the other side. Marco manages an astonishing swing that sends his ball flying to the far edge of the green and makes par for the first time.

“Wow, good job buddy,” Carlos says to him. “You got it right in there.”

“Yeah!!! I’m so good at golfing!” Marco crows, pumping a fist in the air.

“I’m good too!” Carolina says. “I’m good at golfing!”

“Lina look, I can hit my ball in so fast!”

T.K. sets his red ball down to take his turn. “Is this what it was like for you growing up?” he asks Carlos. “With your sisters?”

“Similar,” Carlos says. “Except there were two of them. And Marco at least has the upper hand being the oldest. Trust me when I say, I never got the first turn. And if you ask my sisters they will disagree and say I always got the first turn. That I was the spoiled baby.”

“Well, they’re not wrong. You’re a little spoiled,” T.K. teases.

Carlos opens his mouth to snark something back, but Carolina lets out a blood curdling scream, causing both of their heads to whip around in panic. “A bee!” she shrieks in terror. “A bee, a bee!”

Both T.K. and Carlos immediately go running toward the kids, but the have to go over the bridge to get there. Carlos takes it first and T.K. follows him over, sliding a little bit on the downslope, but catching his balance easily enough.

“It’s okay,” Carlos consoles her. “Did it sting you?”

She’s wailing loudly but shakes her head, just scared, not hurt thank goodness. Carlos wipes her tears away.

“You know, bees are actually really scared of people,” T.K. says, squatting down in front of her. “It was probably just saying hello.”

She stares at him with angry, watery eyes. “Bees sting you.”

Maybe this isn’t the right moment for a lecture on pollinators.

T.K. gets to his feet, crisis averted and Carlos starts to stand up as well, but neither of them have counted on Marco.

“I see the bee!” he yells.

Carolina screams in fear and bolts away as he charges forward, his club swinging as he goes. It catches Carlos, who is slightly off balance halfway out of his crouch, across the chest.

It’s like watching something out of a cartoon. Carlos’ eyes go wide, his arms pinwheeling wildly as he attempts to catch his balance and fails. T.K. reaches out but he’s too late; Carlos’ momentum sends him flying backward and he lands with a loud splash in the pool at the base of the waterfall.

“Oh sorry!” Marco says, freezing in place and looking scared that he’s just done something really wrong.

“Carlos, are you okay?” T.K. calls anxiously.

“Yes,” Carlos says, his voice full of annoyance. “I’m fine.”

“Sir!” One of the golf course employees comes charging over in his electrically yellow t-shirt. “Sir, you are not allowed to be in the water features! Please get out!”

“I’m trying!” Carlos growls back, uncharacteristically, yet understandably, short tempered.

He pushes himself upright, water swirling around his calves and T.K. reaches down a hand to pull him back up onto the green. “You’re sure you’re okay?” T.K. asks. “Marco hit you pretty hard. And you fell on your back.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos says. “Just…very wet.”

He’s drenched. His clothes are dripping all over the green and he wipes a hand over his face to clear the water that’s running down from his curls.

“Tío, you said we couldn’t get wet,” Carolina says pointedly, crossing her arms in indignation that her tío has broken the rules.

“I’m really sorry,” Marco says.

“It’s okay Marco,” Carlos says. “It was an accident. But that’s why we have to be careful with golf clubs. If you’d hit your sister you could have really hurt her.”

“Can we…still get ice cream?” he asks tentatively.

“Um…”

T.K. steps in. “I think we probably need to take your tío home to get some dry clothes first. But then yes, I think we can still get some ice cream.”

They head home so Carlos can change and then back out for the promised ice cream.

Marco, Carolina, and T.K. had all gone for cotton candy with sprinkles, while Carlos went for a more sedate chocolate soft serve, of which T.K. had stolen several bites.

They dropped the kids off with Ana and now they’re home. T.K. isn’t sure he’s ever been this tired in his entire life. He hadn’t realized how constantly being called for and answering a thousand questions in a row about everything from “what’s that?” to “is there ice cream in heaven?” could wear you down faster than back-to-back shifts.

“Wow, he really got you good,” T.K. says.

Carlos has taken off his shirt to ready for bed and there is a long bruise running across his chest where Marco struck him. He looks down at it and shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“How’s your back?” T.K. asks.

Carlos had claimed he was uninjured after his spill earlier, but T.K. had seen him wincing when he picked Carolina up to put her in the car.

His husband puts a hand on his back self consciously. “I think I landed on a golf ball. And maybe tweaked something a little.”

“Let me see.”

He turns around and T.K. steps closer so he can take a look, wincing when he sees a perfectly round, dark bruise just to the right of Carlos’ spine. “Yeah I think you did land on a golf ball. That’s going to hurt for a while.”

“I don’t know how my sister does it all day,” Carlos says, turning so he can try and see the bruise in the mirror.

“You’re so good with them,” T.K. says. “They adore you. But yeah, they’re freaking exhausting, right?”

“So exhausting!”

The both chuckle. “Come on,” T.K. says. “Lie down and I’ll rub your back. See if we can fix whatever you pulled.”

Carlos immediately flops facedown into their mattress. “You’re so easy for back rubs,” T.K. says with a laugh as he climbs on top and straddles Carlos’ ass.

“I like back rubs,” Carlos says as he turns his head to the side, mashing one cheek into the duvet so he can talk.

“Oh I know.” T.K. digs his fingers into the muscles of Carlos’ shoulders and immediately gets an appreciative groan.

“You know the kids really love you too,” Carlos says after a minute, his eyes closed.

“Because I bribe them with ice cream,” T.K. snorts.

“No.” Carlos shifts a little bit. “Because everyone loves you. Because you’re the best. You’re going to be a really good dad.”

T.K. freezes. It has to be a slip of the tongue. They haven’t talked about kids at all. He forces his hands to work again. “Oh you want to get kinky, huh baby? I can call you daddy if you want me to,” he says, choosing to deflect the statement with humor.

Carlos rolls over, forcing him to stop. “No I mean like, for real. You’ll be a really good dad.”

T.K. narrows his eyes, very unsure of how to proceed. “The last time we talked about it, you said you didn’t want kids.”

“I remember.”

“So….I feel like we’re having a different conversation now.”

Carlos looks up at him, his face soft. “I don’t know. I guess we are?”

T.K.’s heart is beating a mile a minute. This is the most awkward position ever to be having this conversation in, but neither of them moves. “Okay. That’s…wow. Do you, should we talk about that?”

Carlos shifts a little. “Maybe not right now? But you know, soon. Maybe.”

Okay. Okay. T.K.’s mind is reeling but he tries to slow it down. “So what I’m hearing,” he says, sly grin spreading across his face. “Is that you might want to make a baby with me.”

It breaks the tension and Carlos rolls his eyes. “You are so weird, you know that?”

“C’mon Carlos. Let’s try it.” T.K. humps him a few times, thrusting enthusiastically with his sweat pant clad hips.

Carlos grabs him around the middle and rolls them over, claiming the top position. “Shut up,” he says firmly, dropping his head so he can kiss the stupid out of T.K.

“Wait, but is your back okay?” T.K. says, suddenly remembering how they got here in the first place.

Carlos gives a long, slow roll of his hips that has T.K. arching up to meet him. “Look at that, I think your hands fixed it,” he says with a smile.

“Good.” T.K. smirks. “Then try and put a baby in me Carlos Strand-Reyes.”

“…That is not the turn-on you think it is.”

Camp

The stars are shining brightly overhead, the moon lighting up the night with its near fullness. Fireflies flicker in the darkness, their glow magical as they sparkle between the trees.

T.K. honestly had thought he’d see a lot more of this kind of sight when he’d left the city lights of New York behind for Texas. The stars at night are big and bright after all. It was Carlos who’d pointed out to him that the next line of the song refers to the deep heart of Texas, not the deep heart of downtown Austin. Their loft doesn’t provide much opportunity for stargazing in the night sky what with all the light pollution.

The air is still a little warm, but the bugs aren’t too bad tonight thankfully, and there’s a slight breeze that’s keeping things on the nice side of pleasant. The smell of their campfire fills the air and the sound of crickets and the rushing of the river on the other side of the trees make for peaceful background ambience above the snapping and popping of their campfire.

“Babe. Your marshmallow is on fire.”

T.K. lifts his stick and blows out the inferno that has engulfed his marshmallow. “That’s how I like ‘em,” he says, waggling his eyebrows in the firelight as he reaches for graham crackers and chocolate.

It tracks that T.K., with his zest for life and penchant for jumping into action doesn’t have the patience to let his marshmallows roast over the coals, while Carlos, with his desire for order and perfection takes the time to make sure his is a perfect golden brown before eating.

T.K. sandwiches his s’more together, struggling to be patient long enough for the marshmallow to cool so he doesn’t burn his entire mouth. He’s planning to put it to good use when they finally retire to their tent for the night and he’d rather not miss out on fun camping sex with his husband because he was in a hurry for treats.

“Oh shit.”

Carlos’ surprised exclamation pulls T.K. from staring at his s’more in the firelight just in time to see his husband’s gooey marshmallow plop off his stick and into the fire. “Aw man,” Carlos says sadly, watching it go up in flames.

T.K. finally takes a bite, chewing with his mouth open to try and release some of the heat. “See? You should have just set it on fire in the first place,” he says around a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker.

“I’ll make another one,” Carlos says, reaching for the bag.

“Gee babe, I don’t think we have another four and a half hours for that,” T.K. says pretending to check his watch.

“Ha ha,” Carlos says drily, impaling a fresh marshmallow on his stick.

“Come on. Try mine.” T.K. holds it out so the s’more is within Carlos’ reach. “You’ll see. The char really makes it taste campfire-y.”

Carlos leans forward and takes a bite, sticky marshmallow clinging to his chin as he chews. T.K. feels something flutter low in his belly. Why is this so sexy?

“So,” he says, clearing his throat, “what do you think?”

Carlos wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “Smoky,” he says. “I still think my way is better.”

“Well one of us has a s’more and the other one doesn’t. The evidence would suggest otherwise officer,” T.K. says, taking another bite.

The poke and tease each other a little more, Carlos eventually managing to get his marshmallow toasted to his unrealistically high standards. When they decide to turn in for the night T.K. takes his job of putting out the campfire very seriously, putting his firefighter training to good use as he douses it repeatedly before joining Carlos in the tent.

It’s lit only by the glow of the battery operated lantern they’ve brought. Carlos has already stripped off his shirt and is kneeling on top of his sleeping bag as he searches for something in their duffle ag. “Babe do you know where my toothpaste went? I thought I put it in the side pocket, but it’s not there.”

T.K. plops onto his knees on top of his own sleeping bag. The tent is small, cozy, intimate in a rugged, slightly dirty kind of way. Carlos is still searching, so T.K. shuffles forward a little bit, crowding into his space.

Carlos looks up, an amused smile on his lips. “Hi?”

“Hi.” T.K. grins back, biting his lip coyly.

“We’re in a tent,” Carlos says, his expression saying he knows full well where T.K. wants to take this.

“We are,” T.K. says, letting his eyes slide down Carlos’ tank top clad chest to the zipper of his jeans and back up. “Totally, completely, alone in a tent. No one around for miles.”

There’s another campsite on the other side of the trees, but T.K. thinks his version of events sounds far sexier.

“I smell like campfire,” Carlos says, but his eyes drop to T.K.’s lips and he leans in a little bit.

“Come on baby. Let me live out my Brokeback Mountain fantasy,” T.K. says, letting the back of his hand trail down Carlos’ arm. “Two sexy, star crossed cowboys. Finally alone.”

Carlos’ mouth captures his, smoky and sweet and hot and T.K. devours him eagerly. He pauses between breaths to rip his tank top from his pants and pulling it off over his head so that they’re both shirtless.

Carlos hasn’t shaved in a couple of days and his stubble scrapes pleasantly across T.K.’s skin. “You’re so fucking hot,” T.K. murmurs, sliding into Carlos’ lap, desperate to be even closer to him.

“Mmm, take me for a ride cowboy,” Carlos responds.

The words shoot straight to T.K.’s dick and he pushes Carlos down on top of their sleeping bags a little harder than necessary. “Pants. Off,” he orders, already reaching for his own zipper.

It takes a lot of wiggling around and some awkward angles to get naked, but finally they’re devoid of their clothes. T.K. sits back on his heels and drinks in Carlos’ body. Sometimes he feels like it’s such a miracle that he’s married to this man.

“Are you going to sit there staring all night?” Carlos asks, throwing one arm up behind his head.

“Shut up cowboy,” T.K. says. “I’m in control of this rodeo right now.”

“Oh you are?”

“Yeah,” T.K. sends him a pointed look. “I am.”

He bends Carlos’ right knee up and kisses it, enjoying Carlos’ sharp intake of breath as he moves his lips slowly along his inner thigh, alternating between nips with his teeth and short brushes of his tongue. When he finally reaches the softness where Carlos’ hip joins his pelvis, Carlos’ entire body tenses and he bites out a very sharp, “Fuck.”

“Is that what you want?” T.K. asks, fully aware that his breath is ghosting over some very sensitive parts of Carlos’ body and driving him crazy.

“Yes,” Carlos gasps, arching his back. “Fucking yes.”

T.K. gives that sensitive crux of skin one more sweet kiss and then gets to work. It’s sweaty and hot and slightly dirty and T.K. feels heady with the fun of it all.

He’s laying drowsily with Carlos draped across his chest, still naked and fully considering dragging him down to the water for a late night skinny dip, when he hears something. He instantly stiffens, his ears straining to make sense of a scuffling sound outside the tent.

“Carlos,” he says, tapping his chest. “Carlos do you hear that?”

Carlos is so blissed out that he’s mostly asleep, but he turns his head and presses a kiss to T.K.’s sweat sticky chest. “Your heart’s still beating really fast,” he mumbles.

“No, not that. Something outside.”

“It’s probably a squirrel.”

“What if it’s a bear?”

That gets Carlos’ attention. His eyes open all the way but he doesn’t move. “There are almost no bears in Texas T.K.”

T.K. hears the swishing of grass moving again and sits up, Carlos rolling off of him unceremoniously. “Almost doesn’t mean zero.”

“It’s basically zero,” Carlos says as T.K. gets to his feet and starts digging around in the messy piles of fabric they’ve made. “What are you doing?”

“If we’re going to get attacked by a bear, I don’t want to be naked.”

“It’s more likely a javelina than a bear,” Carlos says with a roll of his eyes.

“Javelinas are worse than bears! Put some clothes on!”

He throws a pair of underwear at Carlos and almost hits him in the face. “These are yours,” Carlos tells him.

“It doesn’t matter, just get dressed!”

Carlos rolls his eyes but then there’s an odd chittering sound and they both freeze. “Is that a javelina?” T.K. whispers, his eyes huge.

“I…don’t know what that is,” Carlos says, finally starting to look a little disconcerted.

T.K. yanks his hoodie over his head. “Put. Some. Clothes. On.”

“Yeah, okay,” Carlos says, scrambling to try and find some pants. “Did you put all the food stuff away?”

“Yes!” T.K. says, then thinks. “I mean, I think I did.”

“You think you did?”

“Well I was kind of excited about cowboy role play…” He shakes his head. “No I definitely put everything away.”

“Well then hopefully whatever it is will move on quickly,” Carlos says.

They both sit in silence, listening hard. “Do you think it left?” T.K. whispers when they don’t hear anything.

“I think so,” Carlos says.

T.K. gets up and reaches for the tent flap. “What are you doing?” Carlos asks.

“I’m going to go make sure our stuff is okay.”

“T.K. just leave it. We can check in the morning.”

“If it got into our stuff we should try and take care of it now so it doesn’t come back!” T.K. argues, unzipping the flap.

“T.K.! T.K. don’t!”

But T.K. ignores him, stepping outside.

The moon is even brighter now than it was before, lighting up the whole area. T.K. glances around and doesn’t notice anything amiss. He checks their food supply, all of it still locked up tightly, just like he’d thought.

He’s about to head back in when he senses a large presence behind him. “Ah!” he cries, as he turns around, only to find his husband has joined him. “You scared me!”

“Well I couldn’t let you come out here by yourself!” Carlos looks around. “Everything seems okay.”

“Yeah it was probably a raccoon or something.”

“So not a bear?” Carlos teases.

“No, but if you don’t shave soon I might mistake you for one,” T.K. says, patting his stubbly cheek.

They’re wandering back toward the tent and T.K. is thinking about getting naked all over again when they hear the same snuffling sound from before, this time accompanied by squeaking. “Carlos.” T.K. grips his husband’s shirt and shrinks against him as Carlos pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight.

It flashes over the grass, their doused campfire, the tent, and then lights on something bumbling across the ground. T.K. takes in a sharp breath. “Oh look at it!”

It’s a skunk, but a tiny one. Its little mouth opens and it lets out a squeaking sound before toddling toward them. “Oh it’s a baby,” T.K. says, taking a step toward it.

Carlos grabs the hood of his sweatshirt and yanks him back. “T.K. that is a skunk,” he says.

“Yes I know that, thank you,” T.K. tells him with a roll of his eyes. “I may have been born in a city, but I know what a skunk looks like.”

“Okay so then you should know that we don’t mess with skunks,” Carlos hisses.

“But what if it’s lost? And babies can’t spray anyway until they’re like three weeks old,” T.K. says, sending another look at the tiny skunkling.

“T.K. you have no idea how old that skunk is. Leave it alone.”

“I’m not going to touch it!” T.K. crouches low. “Hey little buddy. Are you lost? Where’s your mama?”

There’s another squeaking sound and a second baby appears in the light of Carlos’ phone. “Oh look, you’ve got a buddy.”

“T.K. come back here,” Carlos says in a loud whisper.

“But they—“

His eyes open wide as several more babies appear, five in total and then…

“T.K. look out!”

Carlos runs toward him, the flashlight bouncing everywhere, but it’s too late. The most repugnant smell in the entire world fills the air as the mama skunk spots them and lets loose in an attempt to protect her babies. “Oh fuck!” T.K. chokes out, gagging on the fetid air.

“Get in the tent!” Carlos manages, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside. It’s no good. The tent, their clothes, everything they’ve brought with them is well and thoroughly skunked.

After an hour of trying to air things out at the campsite they give up. They pack up, drive home, throw most of their belongings into a dumpster outside of the loft, including the tent and their duffle bag, and now, at four am, they’re both seated in their tub, baking soda infusing the water as they try desperately to get rid of the smell.

“This is the least sexy bath we’ve ever taken,” T.K. says.

Carlos is in front of him and T.K. is using the Dawn dish soap they usually save for accidental grease stains on clothes to try and rid his beautiful curls of the scent. It’s only kind of working.

“So much for our sexy cowboy role play,” Carlos grumbles back.

They’re both mad and trying very hard not to take it out on each other. “Hey,” T.K. says. “Don’t let this tarnish the memories of sexy cowboy role play. It was one of our best ones. You are a very hot cowboy.”

“I don’t smell like a very hot cowboy,” Carlos says, giving his arm a sniff and wincing.

“It’ll wear off. Eventually…”

BBQ

Summer in Texas comes to a slow end, like trying to squeeze the last drops of honey from a bottle, clinging on thick and golden to the final drop. The days slip from blisteringly hot to only moderately uncomfortable as summer wanes and the Ryders invite everyone over for an end of summer barbecue, Judd promising it will be the best meal they’ve ever eaten in their entire lives.

“Babe, we’re going to be late,” T.K. says, checking his watch as Carlos finishes covering an immaculately constructed charcuterie board in saran wrap.

“I’m almost done,” Carlos says, gently pressing the end of the saran wrap into place underneath the board. “There. Perfect.”

T.K. puts a hand on his back and looks down at it. “Stunning. Best you’ve ever made. Now can we please go? Mateo said he’s going to eat all the wings if we get there soon. I want wings Carlos.”

“Okay, okay,” Carlos laughs. “Let me get my shoes.”

He’s slipping them on when his phone vibrates and he pulls it out to look at a text message. “Oh, wait a second.”

“What?” T.K. asks, practically bouncing on his toes. If Mateo eats all the wings before he gets there he’s going to be so mad.

“Grace needs paprika.” Carlos crosses to their spice cabinet and pulls out a half full container of it. “Got it.”

“Okay, great, so we can go now right?” T.K. lifts up the charcuterie board and heads for the door. He doesn’t spot that the corner of the carpet is flipped up until he’s tripping on it. “Oh shit,” escapes his lips as he tries to regain his balance, taking a couple more steps before he catches himself.

“Oh my god!” Carlos lunges toward him his hands outstretched unhelpfully since he’s too far away to catch the charcuterie board or his husband before they hit the floor.

T.K. straightens, the board still in his hands. “We’re good. I’m good.”

Carlos lets out a sigh of relief. “Please be careful.”

“I will,” T.K. says. “It’s fine. I got it. Party is still on.”

They make it across town to the Ryders’ without further incident. T.K. balances the board on his lap while Carlos drives carefully, taking turns with a speed that a senior citizen would be proud of. When they arrive at the house he parks the car and then runs around to take the board gently out of T.K.’s hands. “What, you don’t trust me anymore?” T.K. asks as he climbs out of the car.

“I do trust you. You can take the paprika,” Carlos says, nodding to where it’s sitting in the Camaro’s cupholder.

“Gee, thanks babe,” T.K. says drily, grabbing it and heading for the front door.

“My heroes,” Grace says when she opens it, the sounds of the party spilling out with her from inside. “These deviled eggs are not going to devil without some paprika. And somebody used up the rest of ours in his dry rub without telling me.”

“Happy to help,” T.K. says as they step inside. “Didn’t think we’d be saving the day with paprika, but here we are.”

“Oh my god, Carlos you made that?” Grace asks, when she spots the charcuterie board in Carlos’ hands. “That looks incredible.”

“I just threw it together,” Carlos says, a blush coloring his cheeks.

“He spent three hours on it,” T.K. says, squeezing his shoulder, an amused look on his face. “Many Youtube tutorials were watched. The salami roses have been shaped to perfection.”

Carlos’ face takes on that slightly strained look that it does when he’s miffed at T.K. but trying not to let it show. “It was one Youtube video T.K.,” he says tersely.

“Well your hard work paid off. Go ahead and take it on over to the table. I’ll just finishing whipping these up and be right over.” Grace nods toward their dining area, the table already laden with chips and drinks and other treats.

Carlos deposits his board on the table next to a pasta salad and some carrots and celery, gently pulling off the wrapping and adjusting a few olives that have slipped out of place.

“Hello boys!” Owen says as he wanders in through the slider door, Buttercup hot on his heels.

“Hey Dad,” T.K. says.

“Owen,” Carlos acknowledges.

“You have arrived at the perfect time,” Owen says. “Judd just pulled some wings off the grill and they look delicious. I also brought along some marinated tofu that I think you might find equally as appealing. We’re going to do a little taste test comparison.” He glances down at the table. “Are those roses made of salami?”

“Hey you two, get your asses out here! We’ve got Giant Jenga going on!” Nancy yells from outside.

They head out, saying a hello to Judd who is wielding a pair of tongues at the grill and Tommy who is supervising all the kids. Izzy and Evie are playing with Charlie in one corner of the yard, while the rest of the crew is crowded around a towering stack of massive Jenga blocks in another.

“T.K.! You’re with me and Marj,” Paul says immediately.

“Whoa whoa whoa, why do you get to pick your whole team? How is that fair?” Nancy protests.

“Okay fine. You want Captain Chaos on your team?” Paul offers.

“Hey!” T.K. cries. “I’m a paramedic! I have excellent fine motor skills!”

“Yeah, fair point. You can have him. We’ll take Carlos,” Nancy says.

“Yeah!” Mateo says, slinging an arm around Carlos’ shoulders to welcome him to the team.

“Play nice children,” Tommy says as she walks by with a bowl of watermelon.

The game starts off with everyone in good spirits as most of their games do, but the tension quickly ratchets up as the tower grows more and more unstable.

“Careful, careful,” Nancy says, watching Carlos closely as he gingerly attempts to pull a piece from close to the bottom.

The tower teeters dangerously and Carlos freezes. “Oh you’ve got no shot Reyes,” Marjan says, glee in her eyes.

Carlos takes his hand off and wipes his sweaty palm on his shorts. “Hey, you can’t choose a different block,” Paul says quickly. “You touch it, you take it.”

“I’m not taking a different block. I’m adjusting my strategy,” Carlos says, taking a breath and going back in again.

The tower teeters, but it doesn’t fall as he slides the block out and carefully places it on the top. He turns around with a sly grin on his face. “Next.”

Marjan steps up, her eyes narrowed with concentration as she studies the tower.

“All right, food’s ready!” Judd calls. “Come and eat!”

“And don’t forget to try the marinated tofu!” Owen reminds them all.

They abandon the game for now, leaving it stacked where it is as they all head to fill their plates with the steak, chicken, and ribs that Judd has cooked up.

Carlos is chatting with Paul about a book they’ve both been reading when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Charlie has wandered over toward the Jenga tower and is trying to pull out one of the blocks with her little fingers. But the tower is currently only balanced on one, singular block, and it sways dangerously.

Carlos cuts off mid-sentence and dashes over, catching her around the middle and lifting her up and away as the tower of heavy blocks comes crashing down right where she was just standing.

The rest of the group turns around at the sound of the crash, everyone’s eyes wide. Charlie giggles, tucked safely under Carlos’ arm, unaware that she was just saved from a probable concussion and/or stitches.

“Okay little lady, that’s enough danger for you today,” Judd says, coming over to take her from Carlos. “You tell Uncle Carlos thank you. He just saved your life.”

“Thank you,” she says with another merry giggle, still unaware how close she came to ending this party with a trip to the ER.

“And that’s a lesson for the rest of us on child safety,” Tommy says. “No more Giant Jenga towers unattended with children around.”

“Nice save Carlos,” Paul says.

“And he didn’t even drop his beer,” Mateo cheers.

“Whoa, hey, nope!”

Distracted by Charlie’s near accident, the food has been left unattended and they all turn back to find T.K. has only just managed to grab the platter of barbecue, holding it high up out of Buttercup’s reach. Buttercup looks up at him curiously and sits down politely, his face expectant as he licks his lips and waits for T.K. to give him a treat even though he very nearly just made off with their entire meal.

“Damn. Okay, Crisis Number Two averted,” Marjan says.

“Thank God for the Strand-Reyes boys. Just saving this party again and again,” Grace says.

“Amen,” Tommy echoes.

The rest of the party goes on without further incident. Everyone tries Owen’s tofu and most of them regret it. They rematch for Jenga and T.K.’s team wins. Charlie and Buttercup chase Evie and Izzy around the yard while everyone watches and cheers them on and Charlie cries when Grace tells her it’s time to go to bed. She gives everyone a hug and then goes back around for seconds before asking if Buttercup can sleep with her.

The sun sets and Judd turns on the patio lights and they talk and laugh and eat Tommy’s cherry cobbler with Blue Bell ice cream on top and it’s truly the best kind of summer night.

It’s late by the time they get home, both of them tired and overly full, but so deeply happy and content. T.K. flops onto their bed and looks up at Carlos. “We,” he says, “are heroes. We saved that party three times today.”

“I mean kind of,” Carlos says, sliding beneath the sheets beside him.

“No, not ‘kind of.’ That party would have been a disaster without us.”

“Well you do always bring the party,” Carlos says, an amused smile on his lips as he leans in for a kiss.

T.K. obliges him and then snuggles in close. “This has been the best summer. I love being married to you. I love hanging out with our friends and going to the beach and having cowboy sex.”

Carlos laughs. “And getting stung by jellyfish, sunburnt, skunked…”

“Yeah but we did all those things together. None of it was so bad because I was with you.”

“Speak for yourself! That jellyfish sting hurt!” Carlos teases.

“Carlos!” T.K. smacks him gently across the chest. “I’m trying to be sappy here!”

“I know, I know,” Carlos says, tweaking T.K.’s nose fondly. “You’re right. It was a really good summer.”

“The best summer.”

“Sure, the best summer.”

T.K. flops onto his back and sighs contentedly. “I hope all our married summers are like this.”

Carlos smiles and pulls him in close. “Yeah. Me too.”

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #Long Hot Summer #Summer Fic #911lsfic #Tarlos Fic #Whump

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