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chicgeekgirl89 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 8: Meant to Be

A/N: This is it! The final chapter! Thanks to everyone for supporting this one for so many weeks! Read on AO3

“What if Tommy fires me?”

They’re curled up in T.K.’s bunk after another long day. His leg is slotted between T.K.’s and T.K.’s head is pillowed on his chest. One of Carlos’ arms is falling asleep and there’s a crick in his neck from staying in one position for too long. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, but Carlos couldn’t care less. He’s nervous, and he needs the physical reassurance of the two of them being together.

His six weeks are up. And he’s done good work, work he’s proud of, work he thinks the guests and crew have all appreciated. But yachting is fickle, and there’s no guarantee that Tommy is going to ask him to stay on when he meets with her tomorrow.

T.K. stops moving his hand up and down Carlos’ stomach and tilts his head up so he can look at him. “She’s not going to fire you.”

“I sent that lady’s steak up medium even though she specifically put on her preference sheet that she wanted well done. And that birthday cake for the third charter. It was leaning to the side because the buttercream was too soft.”

“Babe.” T.K. gives him a look. “Those are not fireable offenses. You didn’t punch a guest or do damage to the boat or threaten mutiny.”

“I set the kitchen on fire.”

“You did not! That was a wiring issue!”

Carlos groans and rubs a hand across his face. “People have been fired for less.”

“Not on the Firebug. It’s going to be fine, I promise. Tommy is going to sing your praises and offer to keep you on in perpetuity.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Carlos insists. “What if she has someone else in mind and I have to leave?”

“Like another one of Iris’ ex-husbands?”

“T.K.”

“Carlos.”

He chews the inside of his cheek. He’s scared to ask, but he has to know. “If I have to leave, are we going to…?”

They’ve only been together a month. Long distance boatmances don’t work. Ever. People get bored, people get lonely, people cheat…it’s not if they’d break up, it’s when. And it feels like his heart is cracking in half even thinking about it.

T.K. is quiet. So quiet that Carlos starts to panic even more intensely. He’s about to open his mouth to beg T.K. not to break his heart, but then T.K. says, “I won’t let you go.”

Carlos’ heart stops. Words won’t come, that spark that T.K. puts into his gut intensifying to a point that he can barely breathe.

“If Tommy fires you then I won’t let you go,” T.K. repeats. “I don’t…I don’t know how that would work. But I wouldn’t let you just leave.”

He sits up fully, looking agitated now. “I can’t—I don’t want you to go. I don’t want this to be over. Do you?”

Carlos sits up too, careful not to hit his head this time. “No, T.K. No I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave any of this. I—the way I feel about you, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I’m not, I’m not trying to freak you out but, I—“

The word “love” sticks in his throat, not quite ready to come out yet, even though it’s all he can feel radiating through his entire body. “I care about you so much,” he says instead. “I want to be with you.”

“Then stay,” T.K. almost whispers the words. “If Tommy tells you that you have to go, then find a way to stay anyway.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! You’ve seen Titanic, right? Stowaway below deck or something. Get creative!”

That gets a half a chuckle out of Carlos. “Okay.”

“Thank you. Good.”

Some of the tension melts out of the room. “She’s not going to make you leave though,” T.K. assures him again. “She’s going to tell you to stay, probably going to beg you to stay. So can we go to sleep now and stop worrying about it now?”

They settle back down, shifting their bodies until they’re comfortably entwined again. T.K. lets out a sigh and snuggles into Carlos’ chest clearly content.

Carlos stares at the bottom of the top bunk, his mind still tumbling around and over itself. He’s not going to be able to sleep.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” T.K. says.

“Yes,” Carlos sighs. “Sorry.”

T.K.’s lips find the skin of his right pec. “How about now?” he murmurs.

A shiver goes down Carlos’ spine. “Still thinking.”

T.K. lifts his head and traces the shell of Carlos’ ear with the tip of his nose, his warm breath fanning down Carlos’ neck. “Now?”

“A little bit.”

“Mmm, I guess I’m going to have to resort to more drastic measures.”

He trails a finger down Carlos’ stomach and Carlos sucks in a breath. “Starting to forget,” he says, his voice catching.

“Good.” T.K.’s hand slips beneath his boxers and Carlos lets out a small, “Oh”— his eyes closing as T.K. takes hold of his body and his mind.

T.K. hums contentedly. “Now that’s more like it.”

It works in the moment, but by morning the anxiety starts creeping back in. Which is how he finds himself deep cleaning the fridge so he can put off his meeting with Tommy just a little bit longer.

He wrinkles his nose as he reaches deep inside and finds the offending leftovers that have been stinking up the place. He rolls his eyes when he sees Mateo’s name on the takeout container and doesn’t bother opening it before pitching it into the large black trash bag at his feet, already full of other expired, half eaten, or slowly rotting food.

He’s been at it for an hour and the fridge is practically gleaming at this point. So is the rest of the galley for that matter. He’s running out of excuses to avoid going to the bridge.

He takes the garbage out to the dock and then comes back in, washing his hands in the sink as slowly as possible.

“Hey.” Iris pokes her head in. “Did you go see Tommy yet?”

Carlos just looks at her.

“Coward.”

“I know.”

“She’s going to ask you to stay.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to. I just know it.”

Carlos sighs. “Why do you and T.K. both think you know what’s going on in Tommy’s head? You’re not in her mind. You can’t know for sure.”

“Because we both know you’re a fucking good chef and Tommy’s a fucking smart captain and she’s going to stupidly fucking fire you.”

Her words do not help. “I don’t want to go back to the Precinct,” he says, feeling slightly ill at the thought.

“You won’t have to. Buck up and go talk to her.”

Carlos shifts his weight nervously. “I will. I’m just going to deep clean the oven first.”

“Oh no you’re not.”

She grabs his arm with surprising strength and pulls him toward the stairs. “Let’s go Reyes. Texans are a lot of things, but we’re not lily livered.”

“Okay, ow! Let go of me!”

She releases him and he rubs at his arm. “That’s going to leave a bruise.”

“Oh please. Like you and T.K. haven’t been up to worse.”

His face heats and she pushes him toward the staircase. “Go. Get it over with.”

With no choice left he trudges up the stairs alone. Acid pools in the pit of his stomach as he knocks on the bridge’s door. “Captain?” he says quietly, poking his head inside.

“Carlos! Come on in,” she says warmly, setting aside a laptop on which Carlos assumes she has been doing captain things.

“I brought you some Mexican wedding cookies,” he says offering her a plate.

He’s not above bribery.

“Oh thank you! They look incredible,” she says, taking them from his hands. “You really are so talented.”

“Thank you,” Carlos replies, worry still twisting back and forth inside of him.

She fixes him with the kind of mom look that says she can see right through him. He resists the urge to squirm uncomfortably. “So Carlos, how have you enjoyed your time on the Firebug so far?” she asks.

“It’s been great,” he says honestly. “This crew is amazing. I’ve felt very welcome.”

“Good,” she says. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been very impressed by your work here. I know we said initially that we would do a trial period of six weeks. And you’ve clearly proven your worth several times over. So Carlos,” she straightens up, looking a little more formal, “I’d like to officially offer you a contract to become part of our full time crew.”

“Yes.” The word comes out of his mouth so fast it surprises them both. “I mean, yes, thank you I’d like that.”

She smiles. “Good. Because if I have to go the rest of my life without your abuela’s ropa vieja, I might die. Not to mention I’m pretty sure I’d have one very sad and lonely second stew on my hands.” Her eyes twinkle and Carlos tries not to look embarrassed.

“Captain—Tommy,” he amends. “I really, I can’t thank you enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a job where I felt so welcome and I—thank you for letting me stay.”

“Thank you for being the best chef I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with. Both in talent and temperament.” She nods toward the door. “You’d better go tell T.K. He keeps coming up here with ‘questions’ for me that are thinly veiled attempts at trying to figure out if I’m asking you to stay on.”

Carlos huffs out a laugh. “That sounds about right.”

“And he wasn’t the only one. It’s felt like I have a revolving door on this place all morning. If I’d decided not to keep you, I might have had a mutiny on my hands.”

Warmth blooms in his chest. They like him. They want him to stay.

And he likes them too.

“Thank you Tommy,” he says, her name firm and clear this time as he stands and shakes her hand.

“You’re welcome. Now get out of here. Go find your man.”

He thumbs his radio as he heads back down the stairs, this time much lighter and bouncier than on his way up. “T.K., T.K., Carlos, what is your location?”

It’s not T.K. who answers. Instead Paul’s voice drawls across the radio waves. “Ooooooh must be good news if he’s looking for his boyfriend so fast!”

“Yes! The tamale master lives!” Mateo squawks.

“Oh thank god. I cannot deal with another chef with an ego,” Nancy says.

“You owe me Reyes,” Iris pipes up.

“Ahhh true love lives!” Marjan’s excitement is palpable even over the radio’s static.

“Ya’ll stop teasing him or he’s gonna leave us for some other boat,” Judd admonishes. “Your boy is up top Reyes. Glad you’re sticking around.”

Carlos immediately reverses direction, thumbing his radio once more. “Thanks guys. Happy to be staying.”

He hits the top deck, squinting in the white brightness of the sun. It’s hot already, the gulls crying overhead as he heads toward the prow of the boat.

T.K. is standing at the railing, looking out toward the open ocean, his back to Carlos. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his crew t-shirt so that it looks like a tank top, and Carlos doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his waist and press a kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. It’s hot, almost feverishly so, warmed by the light of the sun and Carlos delights in the way it feels against his lips, pressing them there again and again before finally burying his face into T.K.’s neck.

T.K. chuckles. “I’m sweaty and gross.”

“I don’t care,” Carlos says, nuzzling in further.

They stay that way for a moment before T.K. shifts, turning in Carlos’ arms so he can look up at him, a fond smile on his face. “So I guess you’re staying,” he says, lifting his hands so he can run them slowly up and down Carlos’ arms. Always touching. He always has to be touching and Carlos can’t get enough of it.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, throwing on a smug, flirty smile. “I’m staying.”

“Because of the weather?”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek, ready to play along with T.K.’s game. “The weather’s not bad. But no.”

“Because of your undying love of obscenely wealthy Americans and their bizarre, and sometimes imaginary, dietary needs?”

“Well, you know I like a challenge. But that’s not it either.”

T.K.’s gaze drops to his chest, his look going from flirty to almost timid. “Then why are you staying?”

“Well,” Carlos says, drawing T.K. a little closer, “turns out I kind of like this crew. And it would be a real shame if they all starved.”

“They do get really cranky if they’re not fed,” T.K. agrees.

Carlos lets him sit in that for a second and then says, “But that’s not the only reason.”

He gently lifts one of T.K.’s hands and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “There’s this.” He lets it go and leans forward pressing a kiss to T.K.’s hair. “And this.” He cups T.K.’s face in his hands and kisses the tip of his nose. “And this.”

T.K.’s eyes are closed, his chin tipped up, lips slightly parted, that breathless, wanting look on his face. It’s so soft, so vulnerable and open, and it takes Carlos’ breath away. He marvels at it for a moment before closing the space and capturing T.K.’s mouth with his own, relaxing into the taste of sun and salt and a hint of lime from the flavored water T.K. drinks.

“You’ve changed my whole world T.K. Strand,” Carlos murmurs when they break apart. “Six weeks with you and everything is different. How is that possible?

“I’m inherently charming,” T.K. says, a dreamy smile on his face.

Carlos huffs a laugh. “Yeah, you are.”

T.K. searches his face. “I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. Is that crazy?”

“Maybe a little,” Carlos says. “Or maybe…we’re just meant to be.”

T.K. nods. “I think we owe Iris dinner.”

A smile, full and pure. “I guarantee she’s planning to hold this over us for the rest of our lives.”

“Worth it.”

“Definitely worth it.”

The radios crackle. “T.K., T.K. Nancy. Stop making out with your boyfriend and go do the sheets in the master.”

T.K. rolls his eyes. “Busted,” he says.

“The work never stops in yachting,” Carlos says, gently putting some distance between them and offering him a single hand instead. T.K. makes a grumbly noise, pulling a face before he takes it and follows him toward the interior.

But when they reach the galley floor and T.K. starts to let go, Carlos’ grip tightens and he pulls him further down the staircase. “Where are we going?” T.K. asks.

“To the master,” Carlos says innocently.

They reach the door and Carlos locks it behind them before pushing T.K. up against it and kissing the shit of out him. When they finally break apart T.K.’s lips are swollen and his hair is a wreck. He looks thoroughly debauched and Carlos isn’t even close to done.

“Didn’t I hear you tell Tommy this wasn’t going to interfere with our work?” T.K. asks, his eyes sparkling.

Carlos drops to his knees and unzips T.K.’s shorts before throwing him a cocky smile. “I’ll be quick. And I think you’ll probably work even harder after you celebrate a little, don’t you?”

T.K. laughs. “I think I might.”

#Come Sail Away #Yachting AU #Tarlos #Chapter 8: Meant to Be #THE FINAL CHAPTER!#911lsfic #Tarlos Fic #911 Lone Star

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