#they could have had carlos struggling dealing with the aftermath of what happened to him

[thisbuildinghasfeelings]

@ladytessa74 got me thinking about the timeline again...never a good idea! 😂

What I particularly don't understand about the timeline is WHY? No one forced them to put specific numbers on things. WHY say the wedding is happening in 8 weeks and then make absolutely no effort to make that make sense for the rest of the season??

My theory is that when they wrote the first few episodes, they put the 8 week thing in because it worked for what they wanted to do in that first arc. They wanted the urgency of only 8 weeks until the wedding. Carlos wanted to make TK happy by giving him a wedding at his dream venue BUT oh no! He was still married to Iris! The 8 week deadline gave him just barely enough time to get divorced from Iris, made even more urgent when Iris went missing before she could sign the divorce papers! That was the sole purpose of the 8 weeks. I don't think they really thought it through further than that.

Even with all the wedding mentions for the rest of the season, having to quickly plan a wedding in 8 weeks was never a real issue after that first arc. It didn't change anything or drive the plot forward once those first few episodes were over. After the purpose of creating urgency in that first arc had been served, the fact that they had to put a whole big wedding together in just 8 weeks didn't matter anymore.

Of course, this still doesn't really explain why the writers don't care to maintain basic continuity on their own show. I wonder if it has to do with how quickly the whole thing is produced? A lot goes into making this show and a lot of it is happening at once. They're writing and filming episodes and doing post-production on episodes about to air all at the same time. Still seems like they should be able to maintain basic continuity, but it doesn't really seem like an ideal system. Who sets it up this way? It must be the network. I kind of doubt the creatives involved would actually choose to do it this way if they had any kind of a choice. Is the real villain here capitalism???

Anyway, maybe this is a silver lining to the ungodly long hiatus before season 5. It might give the writers time to more thoroughly think through the entire season before they start filming perhaps? Probably not...but I can dream.

[zecretsanta]

Fic: Shrapnel

[AO3 Link]

To: @dcomexperiment

From: @lightphieric

Happy holidays from one Eric appreciator to another! The prompt was Eric going through horror and angst, and what could be more horrifying for him than dealing with his own guilt in the aftermath of that infamous grenade launcher ending?

Some content warnings because this is rather dark: Canon-typical violence, death, and gore, mental breakdowns, vomiting, references to past child abuse, and implied sex.

—

Eric dropped the grenade launcher as Mira pulled him out of the way, and with it, he let go of the power and confidence it made him feel. That was a high he would never achieve again. Cowering behind the staircase, he plummeted back down to small and powerless. The explosion left his hands buzzing with numbness; his ears whined and his vision was hazy. None of that seemed to fade as the dust settled.

“Now announcing the current casualties.” The mysterious voice warbled distantly. “C-Team: Carlos, Junpei. Q-Team: Q. D-Team: Diana, Sigma, Phi. These six are now deceased. As a result, six X-Passes will now be revealed: Fight, Jump, Bro, Red, Milk, Blue.”

Eric stood on unsteady legs. He felt weightless and too heavy all at once. Behind him, Mira pushed herself up. He was afraid to look at her, terrified to see her furious expression. Meanwhile, as he looked upon the destruction he’d wrought, the corners of his mouth automatically lifted in a smile, and he couldn’t pull them down.

“What an idiot!” he said thoughtlessly, before floating into the center of the ruined library.

There wasn’t much left of Q or his chair. One leg was twisted in the spokes of the wheels, and the rest of his limbs didn’t seem to be around. Eric averted his eyes from the flayed red void that used to be the old man’s face, swallowing down the smell of blood and burnt paper behind his smile.

“Don’t touch,” Mira said with a cough. She grabbed Eric’s arm. She had never touched him so forcefully, although it didn’t seem to be in anger. He thought he liked it, even though his arm was too numb to feel the pressure of her fingers. 

“Why would I touch them?” Absentmindedly, Eric took another step forwards. Mira pulled him back before his shoe glanced the blood.  

“Come on,” she insisted. “Let’s get out of here. Better not give Akane a chance to beat us.”

Akane. That was the name she noticed was omitted from the death count. Someone who was still a threat to them. Of course.

Eric stared at Sean as they escaped the library. He was drenched in Q’s blood, and his helmet was charred, with a piece of Q’s wheelchair having lodged itself in an eyehole. The kid had never counted as an actual participant in the Decision Game. His death meant nothing, but there he was, twitching with the last shreds of life he had.

Eric rubbed his eyes with shaking hands when he thought he saw Sean reach his arm out to him. When he opened them again, the library door was shut, sealing the dead behind the facility’s walls.

—

Eric’s fingers kept slipping off the keys as he tried to plug in the X-Passes. After misspelling the word “blue” three times, he needed Mira to sub in. She did it without complaint; what a relief that she didn’t seem to hate him. 

He dictated the passes for her, reading them off the scoreboard on the wall. Seeing the names written up there in that cold, clerical font, it hit him that six people had really died here. A bitter lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down as the rumble and shriek of the X-Door opening reminded him what that meant.

Mira took a step back as the door opened, and Eric caught her hand in his. She looked over at him hesitantly. He smiled back. It was okay. Six people had died, but it was all so Mira could escape.

Everything bad that had happened, had happened for her.

He ran out the X-Door once it was open, laughing with glee, and Mira struggled to keep pace. Their bracelets unclasped and clattered to the floor behind them as they ran, leaving all evidence of their ordeal squarely in the past. Now, the future was waiting for them. In the antechamber before the lift, they found duffel bags containing their wallets, Mira’s favorite necklace and other valuables they’d brought to Dcom, a change of clothes for both of them, keys to a truck, two plane tickets home to Nebraska and two keycards to a room at a nearby motel.

“Are you tired?” asked Mira, leafing through her wallet to make sure nothing had been taken.

“Nope!” Eric lied.

“Good. That means we can head straight to the airport.” She placed the keycards in her wallet and hid it in her back pocket. “The motel is probably meant to be a secluded place where the winning team can clean up. But you didn’t touch the bodies, so there’s no need for that.”

“What bodies?”

Mira smiled slyly. Beautiful. “Keep that attitude up and we should be fine.”

The night sky was cool and dry and huge and oppressive. Eric scrambled to get inside the truck when they found it waiting for them not far from the exit point. Something about the enclosed space was comforting.

Mira insisted that Eric drive. “There’s debris in my bra and it itches like hell. I’m getting in the backseat. To change.” She reached over him to angle the rearview mirror down and gave him a long, lingering look before slipping into the back of the truck. 

Despite how intently Eric focused on the path before him, there were no roads or signs in sight. Zero had prepared them for the endless desert with a map and a compass, but their directions scrambled into alphabet soup in Eric’s mind. Eventually, Mira begrudgingly hopped into the passenger’s seat, taking over navigation. After what felt like hours of aimless circling, they happened upon a road.

The hour was late and the road was barren. Cars still passed them occasionally, signs of human life that sent a shiver through Eric; under the eclipse, their shiny metal roofs looked soaked in blood. Eric could almost smell it.

—

The TSA were the reason Eric hated flying. They had a way of making him think he was guilty of something. He would always sweat under the metal detectors, convinced he’d somehow forgotten about the automatic rifle he was carrying or the dead body stuffed into his carry-on.

And now, it wasn’t just paranoia. He really was wilting under the airport’s fluorescent lights, and he was sure the agents could see that. He was shaking, like he had been ever since he saw another person step out of their car in the parking lot. And he was sure there was something, something staining his clothes that would make him unfit to be seen by human eyes, much less to fly.

Luckily, he had that unyielding smile to carry him. He stepped confidently through the metal detector, grinning so hard it dragged an eyeroll from the agent operating it. She waved him through after the beep and he barely kept himself from toppling forwards as he passed her, bowled over by a sense of relief. A sound like rushing water filled his ears, drowning out most of the airport’s ambient noise, and he could only stand there recovering until he noticed that Mira was still talking to the agent inspecting their bags.

Why would they be hounding Mira? She was the picture of innocence. Eric tried to look intimidating as he stormed towards them. His face was hot and red, but he feared his smile was undermining his image. Mira turned at his footsteps and gestured towards him with a chuckle. “My boyfriend. Can’t stand getting to the gate any later than three hours early.”

The agent gave a salute as she gathered up their duffel bags and beckoned for Eric to follow her into the terminal. “Enjoy Nebraska, folks,” he said with a grimace.

Mira offered Eric his bag, and when he didn’t take it from her, she frowned and slung it over her other shoulder. “We were just making small talk,” she said. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“But you didn’t do anything wrong, Mira!” Eric sputtered. “You’re innocent!”

“Yeah, and making small talk can help convince people of that,” said Mira. She spoke slowly, like she thought Eric’s hearing was impaired.

Which it was. The rushing sound was only getting louder. “They should just leave you alone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mira grabbed his sleeve with a huff and sped her pace. She dragged him forwards for a while, before stopping in front of a deserted gate and double checking to make sure no one was nearby. She leaned in, her lips by his ear. So close. “You’re doing a shit job of acting natural,” she whispered. “Try to keep it together until we’re out of public, at least.”

“You’re a good person.” Eric couldn’t stop himself from babbling. “You would never hurt anyone.”

“Tell yourself that.” Mira grasped his hand harder and started again towards their gate.

Eric followed. If public displays of affection like this were part of acting natural, then he shouldn’t have a problem with it. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a terrible mistake had just been made, that he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.

They sat down at their gate, surrounded by people working on their laptops or talking or napping while they waited for the flight to board. The people blended in with the blue of the carpet under them and the sterile gray of the walls behind them. Eric knew they were all staring at him, like they hated him. Under their scrutiny, sweat dripped into his eyes and his teeth chattered. He flashed an appeasing smile at all the blurred shapes judging him, the same smile he’d been unable to shake for hours.

It finally fell as he set eyes on two people sitting rows away.

They were the only clear image in a sea of confusion: a young boy asleep, his head resting on the back of his grandfather’s wheelchair. The old man held the boy’s hand as he drifted off to sleep as well. Both of their chests were rising, falling. Peaceful, and alive. A hallucination. An impossibility, given that they were in the room with a killer.

He stood up like a shot before he even realized he was doing it. “Mira, get away.”

Mira sighed. “Eric, stop this.” She grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him back into his seat, but he shook her away like he thought he’d burn her.

“Get away from me, it’s not safe. I-I’m dangerous!” Eric swallowed painfully as the truth came crashing back onto him like a ton of bricks. He backed away from Mira into the thoroughfare, raising his voice so she could still hear him. “I killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” said Mira through grit teeth.

“Sean and Q!” He pointed at their analogues. “I killed – I fucking blew them up!” The boy and the old man remained asleep, but for the other passengers, Eric’s pointing arm drew a line straight to him. “God, fuck… I…” He brought his other shaking hand up to his forehead, wiping away the sweat stinging his eyes, then grabbing a fistful of hair. He pulled hard enough to tear away some strands, but he couldn’t feel the pain. He couldn’t feel anything but the blast of heat from the explosion on his face, the ringing in his ears as Sean screamed, a tug in his gut as he remembered the gaping holes in Q’s torso where his limbs used to be.

The only thing in his stomach was the beer he’d drank in the lounge, but it was enough. The alcohol burned its way back up his throat. Eric was thrown to his hands and knees by the force of his retching, and brown bile splattered onto the floor.

His fingers twitched against the soiled carpet, his left index finger gripping the cold trigger of a grenade launcher, the rest curling around a skinny neck, squeezing against the neckline of a helmet, snapping an arthritic spine. “Q… Sean…” He felt hard tile under his knees, vomit and overflowing water soaking into the fabric of his pants. “Chris…” Even though his legs had given out entirely, he imagined standing up and seeing his reddened face in the bathroom mirror. He saw Dad’s haggard beard and the wildness in his eyes.

Eric would avoid mirrors for the rest of his life if it meant never seeing that.

A kindly hand – thick-fingered, no long nails, not Mira – touched Eric on the arm. Eric thrashed as he brought his hands up to hug himself, shaking the stranger off. Other bystanders were not so charitable. He heard the beeps of people dialing their phones. There were footsteps, running back in the direction of the TSA. So many people gathered, ready to see him get tasered, arrested, committed, shot.

“I did it to protect us, Mira. Zero said ‘Kill one’ so I did!” He couldn’t stop himself from confessing, confessing, confessing. “But I was so angry… that little shit, he made me so mad. It was his fault!” A body appeared before him, small and covered with no blood, but lifeless all the same. Its face was blond and familiar. “It was Chris’s fault!”

His voice gave out on his brother’s name, rasping into a whisper. He’d been shouting and hadn’t even realized it, attracting a massive crowd which closed in around him. With no voice left to defend himself, Eric melted into violent sobs. The TSA arrived and he had no strength to resist them as they hoisted him up by the shoulders and dragged him away. He hung loosely in their grasp, just barely finding the strength to lift his head and catch what was surely his last glimpse of Mira, distant, disappointed and hating him.

Then a stabbing pain entered his neck, and the image of Mira turned to blackness.

—

He felt his whole body as he woke up. He wasn’t in pain, just very heavy. Denial couldn’t be the wind under his sails anymore. His voice rasped as he groaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of humanity returning to him.

“Hmm. You’re awake.”

Slowly, Eric turned his head. “Mira?” She sat next to him, regarding him coolly. The wall behind her was a warm white, the seat under her a rich cream. A small window framed her face, wisps of clouds floating by in the background. She was angelic, saintly, even; he felt like she’d saved him and taken him to heaven. “We’re on the plane?”

“Private jet, actually.” Mira gestured around her and Eric turned to look. The cabin was small and the rows were empty, besides them and a man sitting in the very back. He wore a red and black suit. It wasn’t clear whether or not he was watching them behind his sunglasses. “Pretty nice, right?” said Mira. “Free the Soul really came through. Dressing up as TSA and tranqing you was brilliant.”

“Free the…” Eric groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I’m sorry, whose jet is this?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest,” said Mira. “No one ever explained to me how these guys worked. Hell, you just murdered their leader. For all I know, this jet belongs to you now.”

Eric cringed as he remembered. He was a monster. He’d ended the Decision Game by killing two people. Some would say it was the right thing to do; someone had to have died or else none of them would have ever gotten out of there. But now he was out, and for the rest of his life, he was going to be a person who had killed. With that guilt weighing him down, his breakdown at the airport would not be his last.

He hoped she was kidding about the jet being his. The seats were the softest things he’d ever sat on and it looked like there was a fully stocked bar. Not to mention the beautiful woman in the seat next to him. All things he certainly didn’t deserve.

He looked at Mira with a pleading grimace. “Mira,” he said, “do you hate me?”

Mira exhaled through her nose and rolled her eyes. A laugh. “Hate is an awfully strong word for me,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything.”

“But are you mad at me?”

“I mean, I’m still a little annoyed.” Mira sighed and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. “But really, it’s on me. I have practice making myself look guiltless. You don’t. I should have coached you before we got to the airport.”

“The airport?” Eric bit his lip. She couldn’t have forgotten already, could she? “No, that’s not what I mean. Mira, I…” Now that he was lucid, it was harder to get the words out. “I killed two people.”

“One.”

“Huh?”

“Sean isn’t dead,” said Mira matter-of-factly. “Maybe ‘broken’ is a more appropriate word. He’s a robot, Eric. I put it together.”

She was inscrutable. She’d said a lot of weird things like this before, things that Eric had assumed were jokes. He’d genuinely thought she was the funniest person he had ever met, with her imagination and deadpan delivery. After the things Eric had seen the day before, he was starting to believe she had never been joking at all. “Oh,” he said. “That does kind of make sense.” It didn’t.

“He might be worth going back for, actually. See if he’s at all salvageable. And I guess Akane doesn’t deserve to be trapped there either… Stop pouting, Eric. I’ll spell it all out for you in simple terms later.”

Eric bit his lip and turned his head. He’d been so afraid of Mira despising him, but at least that would have made sense. She was looking at him with this calm, gentle, almost pitying look, and his brain couldn’t reconcile it. “But Q… Q is definitely dead, though,” he muttered. Did she not believe that either? Did she love Eric so much that she could ignore it? Or was she just that heartless?

“It’s funny that you’d think I’d care.” As Eric was starting to worry about what kind of woman he’d fallen in love with, Mira’s hand shot out and landed on his thigh. The touch was new and intriguing, the last thing he’d expected. And it made all his worries flicker out of existence. “You’re certainly not the man I thought you were. But the most surprising thing is that I think I like it.” Her other hand went under his chin, moving his head to meet her gaze. “You’re ruthless,” she said with a glint in her eye Eric had never seen before. “It’s quite something to see.”

Mira kissed him then with more passion than she ever had. Tongue, too. Eric worried for a moment about the man sitting in the back row, but eventually the world around them melted. Their surroundings didn’t matter anymore. The past didn’t, either. He smiled against her lips and let himself forget once again.

—

They got back home and made love for two days straight. Mira was commanding and intense, everything Eric had ever wanted. At the same time, her stark lack of experience eased his own insecurities. She tested out several pet names for him; as she purred them into his ear, he felt like he was worth something for once. They paused only to cook breakfast together, watch the new episode of Mira’s favorite reality show that she had missed while in Nevada, and sometimes just to rest and chat. Mira would lay her head on Eric’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, and mention things like Q or Sean or the Decision Game. 

But none of that mattered. The past was all a dream. Nothing existed but her and now and domestic bliss. Eric would just laugh when she tried to bring up anything else.

“What happened to you?” Mira asked him. “How did you get to be so… happy?”

It wasn’t happiness so much as it a delirium. But it was a good one. In Eric’s eyes, Mira’s apartment was awash in pinks and gentle yellows and she was haloed in a soft, hazy blur. His head felt stuffed with cotton and he could hear those distant waves behind his eardrums. It was a trance. It was wonderful. He never wanted it to break. 

As their two perfect days wore on, Mira’s eyes dulled with boredom. She lamented, “You have more important things to teach me than this.” Eric supposed he knew that this couldn’t last and that soon they would have to get back to their lives. But that life would be perfect, too: booming careers, a happy family, and so much love, forever and ever and ever. They were happy, and nothing would be able to stop them.

Not even a knife across his throat.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Home is Us

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Owen Strand, Judd Ryder, Tommy Vega, Mateo Chavez

Summary: In the aftermath of the condo fire, Carlos and T.K. seek comfort in one another. Post ep for 2x12 "The Big Heat."

A/N: This is my rather belated post ep for 2x12. And it would not have happened without @bluenet13. Literally. I agonized over this SO MUCH and she listened to all my whining and didn't let me cut the part about Marlon Blendo so I owe her everything.

AO3

The night air was cool and still, the stars sparkling brightly in the sky, but the stench of smoke obliterated any sense of peace or calm. T.K. could feel Carlos’ hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force as they burst out the front doors and onto the lawn, both of them gasping and coughing.

Tommy came running toward them. “Are you all right?” she asked urgently, eyes and hands searching for damage. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m, I’m okay,” T.K. choked out. “Carlos?”

He shook his head, coughing violently. “I’m fine too.”

“T.K.!”

His dad came charging toward him, wrapping him up a fierce hug. “Oh my god,” he breathed into T.K.’s hair and then his other arm was pulling Carlos in too, squeezing them both with every bit of strength he had. “Are you boys all right?”

“We’re good, Dad,” T.K. said, even though he was shaking violently, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast he felt lightheaded. “What the hell? How did you guys even know we were in trouble?”

“Raymond said something earlier today and I just put the pieces together,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, I should have figured it out sooner.”

There were sirens screaming up now, ambulances and firetrucks, and Tommy put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Okay, there will be time to talk about this later. Right now all of you need to get checked out by the paramedics. No objections,” she said quickly when several mouths opened to protest. “A little oxygen never hurt anybody. Come on now.”

T.K. moved follow her and then realized Carlos wasn’t behind him. He turned to find his boyfriend still rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead at the burning building. “Babe?” T.K. reached for his arm.

Carlos startled at his touch and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

He was quiet as they sat on the back of the ambulance, answering questions with yes or no answers, eyes and body listless as they checked him over for injuries. T.K. had never seen his boyfriend look so small. 

They were both given oxygen and then Tommy reappeared, blankets in hand that she wrapped comfortingly around their shoulders, her mom tendencies coming out in full force. “Is everyone else all right?” T.K. asked, pushing his mask to the side.

“They’ve all got some first and second degree burns, but they’ll heal up all right. How are you two doing?”

“It could have been a lot worse,” T.K. said. 

“Carlos?” Tommy asked, her eyes softening and taking on a new level of concern.

He met her eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.”

She looked at him a moment longer and then reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to go check on the guys. You two stay right here and do as you’re told, got it?”

It wasn’t long before the paramedics released them with instructions to take it easy, stay hydrated, and head to the emergency room if they experienced any concerning symptoms. T.K. was still in disbelief that they’d escaped so unharmed. It was nothing short of miraculous, if you believed in that kind of thing.

Carlos spoke as they walked away from the ambulance, his voice quiet. “I should uh, I should call my parents,” he said.

“Do you want me to do it?” T.K. asked.

Carlos shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “No. No it’s um, they should hear it from me.”

He dialed, taking a shaky breath as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hey Dad.”

The conversation was painful, even from T.K.’s end. He couldn’t make out Gabriel’s words through the phone, but he could hear the unbridled fear in his voice. Carlos on the other hand sounded almost monotone, relaying the story and pertinent information in painfully exact detail, but without an ounce of emotion behind it, slipping back and forth between English and Spanish as he explained.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before,” Carlos said, when he hung up.

“Yeah.” T.K. looked at his boyfriend who seemed to be refusing to look back. “Carlos? How are you doing?” he finally asked. 

“I’m good,” Carlos said, eyes darting toward him and then away. It was clearly a brush off and they both knew it. So T.K. waited.

And then he watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him, anguish and fear spilling out like a wave until they were both clinging to one another as Carlos’ quiet sobs wracked his frame over and over again.

“Shh,” T.K. soothed, struggling to provide some kind of real comfort when he felt so raw himself. “Breathe. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“I should have known, I should have made the alarm company come out today.”

“Carlos listen to me, none of this is your fault.” T.K. pulled him in tighter, desperate to do something to ease his pain.

“If I had just looked around, if we had waited ten more minutes to go upstairs—“

“We had no way of knowing.”

Carlos pulled back, still shaky. “You can’t really believe that. There’s always something. I should have done better.”

T.K. cupped his face in his hands. “Baby why are you beating yourself up over this so much?”

“Because I’m supposed to protect you!” Carlos said, the words coming out on a ragged sob. “That’s my job. To keep people safe. And when it came down to it I couldn’t protect you. The person I care about most in this world I couldn’t—”

T.K. used his thumbs to wipe away some of Carlos’ tears, clearing his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. “Listen to me. We’re a team, remember? We protect each other. You and me. Not just you.”

Carlos shook his head, face still contorted in misery. T.K. pulled him back in again and pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay to be upset. But you cannot blame yourself for this. This was not your fault, do you hear me?”

Carlos nodded against his shoulder, but T.K. wasn’t completely convinced his words had gotten through.

Carlos took a shuddering breath and stepped away, wiping at his eyes and T.K. watched the wall go back up; the one Carlos had carefully constructed around him that meant he was always completely even-tempered and never out of control. “We should uh, we should go check on your dad and everybody. Tell them thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” T.K. said, feeling like he probably should be saying something more, but unable to find the words.

Carlos was already moving toward the group gathered at the back of the ambulance and T.K. had no choice but to follow him. “You guys all right?” T.K. asked as Judd pulled him in for a side hug.

“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Judd told him. “Everything check out with the paramedics?”

“We both ate a little bit of smoke, but we’re okay,” T.K. said. “Honestly though,” he swallowed hard, “we probably wouldn’t be here without you guys. So thank you.”

“You’re just lucky your dad drives so fast. I didn’t know he had it in him, what with him being such a city slicker,” Billy said with a chuckle.

“My driving is impeccable and I always drive the exact speed limit. Except in emergency situations,” Owen said, casting a look at Carlos.

Carlos managed to scrounge up half a smile but didn’t say anything.

A truck came screeching to a stop just behind the ambulance and Gabriel Reyes jumped out. The man looked truly shaken, eyes wild as he ran toward them. “Carlos! Mijo are you all right?”

“I’m okay Dad,” Carlos told him as they hugged.

“Gracias a Dios. You’re all okay?” Gabriel asked, looking around the group.

“We got out just in time,” Owen said. “Minor injuries only.”

“Which is more than we can say for the condo,” Judd said. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more Carlos, he had that place rigged up good.”

Carlos shook his head. “You did everything you could and we’re…” he swallowed hard and T.K. could tell he was blinking back more tears, “we’re very grateful.”

“Have they taken your statements yet?” Gabriel asked. 

“Yeah, about half an hour ago,” T.K. said. Officers had come around while they were still sitting at the back of the ambulance and written down what little they knew. Nothing like telling complete strangers that you hadn’t realized your house was burning down around you because you were upstairs having sex with your boyfriend. 

“Then there’s no reason you need to be standing around here,” Gabriel said. “You know the ranch is open to you both. Your mother is worried sick, she would be very happy to have you.” He turned to look at Owen. “But perhaps you would rather be closer to work? The ranch is a bit of a drive.”

“Well of course you’re welcome to stay at my place,” Owen said. “There’s plenty of space and Buttercup would love to have you around. But I’m sure Andrea wants you close to her.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I think they’re better off here in town. Andrea will understand. There will be a lot of paperwork to deal with in the coming days, they need to be readily available.”

“Well of course, but I’m not sure how much I can provide in the way of hospitality right now. The investigators didn’t really clean things up when they left,” Owen said meaningfully.

“Not a problem,” Gabriel said, taking out his phone. “I can have a crew there in the morning. It should never have taken this long in the first place. You know sometimes they drag their feet on these things.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” Owen said, waving him off. “Worth it in the end.” 

The dads debated a while longer before they decided an exhausted T.K. and Carlos would stay with Owen for the time being to be closer to work and to their former condo for whatever overhaul was necessary. By that point neither of them really cared where they ended up as long as there was a shower and a bed waiting for them. 

Owen elected to stay at the scene with Gabriel so Judd drove Carlos and T.K. home. Neither of them said much, still in a state of shock and Judd was mindful enough not to try and fill the truck with conversation.

The house was dark, Mateo asleep for the night. Buttercup looked up as they came in and gave half a tail wag before settling back down again.

“I think I left a couple sweatshirts and pairs of pants here,” T.K. said, searching through the drawers in his dad’s guest room. 

“Mmhmm,” Carlos said. He’d sunk onto the end of the bed and was staring blankly at the wall. 

“Hey,” T.K. stopped his search and went to him, cupping his face in his hands. “Why don’t you go get in the shower? I’ll find us something to change into and bring it to you.”

Carlos nodded tiredly and disappeared down the hall. T.K. stood for a moment chewing on his lip. He felt lost, adrift, trying to process and deal with his own feelings of grief and stomach churning worry, and Carlos seemed miles away. T.K. didn’t know what to do except to try and meet his physical needs.

He managed to scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would do the job. They might be a little tight, but at least Carlos wouldn’t be sleeping in the stench of his smoky clothes.

T.K. knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside and putting the clothes on the counter. “You all right?” he asked.

Carlos sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

T.K. gathered up Carlos’ soiled clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer, intending to add his after he had his own shower. He heard the water turn off and a minute later the bathroom door opened. “I’m done,” Carlos called softly down the hall.

“I’ll be quick,” T.K. said, switching places with him. 

The water felt good and he watched as soot and sweat and ash slithered down the drain. He took longer than he meant to, almost lulled to sleep by the soothing pound of the water against his back. Eventually it grew cool and he turned it off, stepping out to try and squeeze into a pair of sweatpants that belonged to his dad and a t-shirt he didn’t recognize but had found in the clean laundry.

T.K. left the bathroom still toweling off his hair. He crept quietly toward the guest room; Buttercup didn’t even move as he stepped over him in the hallway. Opening the door he winced when it squeaked, fully expecting to find Carlos completely sacked out in the bed, more than ready to join his boyfriend in blissful sleep.

Instead he found the room empty and a spiral of fear shot through him so fast it took his breath away. “Carlos?” he whispered, as if the man would suddenly materialize from a dark corner or the tiny closet. 

When there was no answer he turned and went back the way he’d come, stepping over Buttercup again, searching the kitchen and the living room before he made his way to the back patio. “Hey,” he said softly when he spotted Carlos sitting on the edge of the outdoor sofa.

Carlos didn’t respond and T.K. felt his worry grow heavier. “Carlos?”

His boyfriend’s shoulders hitched slightly and T.K. walked around the patio furniture to find him hunched over, tears streaming down his face. “Oh baby,” T.K. said, dropping to his knees, hands frantically reaching for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said hoarsely. “I just…I can’t…I’m trying to pull it together but—”

T.K. slipped onto the couch next to him and pulled him into his arms. “You don’t have to be okay,” he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion. “No one expects that of you.”

Carlos’ voice was hoarse and broken. “I’ve never needed saving before. Not like that.”

“Most people don’t,” T.K. said.

Carlos looked at him, eyes red and swollen. “You were amazing in there. I was…I was panicking and you knew exactly what to do.”

“You’re a police officer,” T.K. said, resting his head on top of Carlos’. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to do in a five alarm fire. Just like you wouldn’t expect me to know what to do in a shootout.”

Carlos sighed and leaned into him. T.K. bent over and kissed his forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.”

Carlos shook his head again. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just keep thinking about it over and over again. I’m sorry I’m such a mess—“

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Everything you’re feeling is totally normal.”

Carlos swallowed hard. “I know it was just a house. But it was mine. It was the first place I felt like I could be myself. And then you came and it was our home and I—“ Carlos bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s all gone.”

“But I’m not,” T.K. said twining their hands together. “I’m right here. You’ve got me. And I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. Home is us.” He stroked his thumb up and down on Carlos’ shoulder.

His face sobered as he took a really good, long look at Carlos. Exhaustion and fear still radiated off of him. He looked defeated. Empty. “Let’s at least try to get some sleep,” T.K. said softly, brushing a still-damp, curl from Carlos’ forehead. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

He pulled Carlos to his feet and they walked hand in hand back to the guest room. Carlos looked at the clock as he got into bed and groaned. “I have a shift in five hours.”

“You’re not going to work today.” T.K. told him. “They’ll understand.”

Carlos slid down the bed onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, his free hand finding a home on T.K.’s hip. “I meant what I said before. You were incredible tonight T.K. You saved us.”

“I’m pretty sure my dad, Billy, and Judd saved us,” T.K. told him.

Carlos shook his head. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t been there—“

“But I was,” T.K. said firmly. “I was and we’re fine. We’re…going to be fine,” he amended, because god knew there was nothing fine about them right now.

Carlos was quiet for a moment and then laid down all the way so they were face to face. T.K. shifted so they were even closer, needing to feel the warmth of Carlos against his own body. “I don’t think I can sleep,” Carlos said.

“Then we’ll just lie here together,” T.K. told him softly. 

They locked eyes, both of them breathing together in the silence, just being together, holding on a little tighter than normal. “I can’t stop seeing it,” Carlos finally whispered. “I was so scared T.K. What if I’d lost you?”

“You didn’t,” T.K. said softly. He leaned in and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to Carlos’ lips. Carlos didn’t respond so T.K. nudged him gently with his nose and then kissed him again.

It was slow at first, Carlos still drowning so deeply in loss and anxiety, but as T.K. continued to silently encourage him he began to reciprocate. First just one kiss, and then another, this one a little deeper, until they were completely pressed up against each other, hands searching for bare skin, shared breath moving between parted lips. 

Things grew heated and T.K. could feel the increasing desperation in Carlos’ kisses so he smoothed a hand soothingly down his spine, pulling back from him just a little bit, forcing him to slow down. “It’s okay,” he murmured as their lips broke apart and came back together. “I’m right here.”

Carlos responded by matching T.K.’s slower kisses, following him rather than leading.

T.K. reached between them and slowly undid the drawstring on his boyfriend’s sweatpants. Carlos broke off the kiss. “Are you sure?”

T.K. nodded, moving his hands underneath Carlos’ shirt, helping him pull it off over his head. They both needed this, to touch, to feel, to reassure themselves that they were alive, that this might have changed their night, but it hadn’t change them. 

Carlos started to roll on top of him, but T.K. gently pushed him back down until he was the one on top, chests and hips pressed together, a reversal of their positions from just hours before. Carlos’ hands landed on T.K.’s back, their eyes locking, both of them seeking comfort in the physicality of being together.

“We’re okay,” T.K. said, as much for himself as for Carlos.

Carlos nodded and then closed his eyes as T.K. began pressing kisses into his neck and chest. “We’re okay,” T.K. murmured soothingly every time his lips left Carlos’ skin. “I’m going to say it until you believe it. We’re okay. We will be okay together.”

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. woke up in the morning legs still tangled with Carlos’. It took him a moment to remember why he had a pounding headache and his muscles felt tight. Right. Burning condo. Smoke inhalation. Mad dash for their lives.

Carlos was still deeply asleep, for which T.K. was grateful. His boyfriend had drifted off in his arms somewhere around three am and T.K. had quickly followed. He managed to extricate himself without waking Carlos and pulled on some clothes before he headed out to the kitchen in search of painkillers. 

Sun was just filtering in the windows, the day already bright and clear. It was incredible how the world could continue to turn, even when everything had just crashed down around you. T.K. found some Advil, leaving it out on the counter, knowing it was likely that Carlos would be in need of some too. Then he moved their now clean, damp clothes from the washer to the dryer. They’d need to go out today and get some essentials. 

“T.K.?” Mateo asked in surprise as he appeared at the base of the stairs.  “I thought you and Carlos made up?” He paused and frowned in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”

T.K. sighed and launched into an edited version of the night’s events. “Dude,” Mateo said when he finished, a stunned look on his face. “Man that sucks. I’m glad you guys are all right.”

“Yeah, us too,” T.K. said.

“And listen, my house just totally blew up too. It was a rental, so not quite the same, but if you guys need help with any part of this process just let me know. You can borrow my car or laptop or whatever you need.”

“Thanks Mateo,” T.K. said gratefully.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Carlos appeared, eyes bleary and swollen, curls a disheveled mess. There was still a heaviness about him, but he looked better than the night before.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s waist and giving him a kiss, lingering slightly longer than their normal morning peck. “Hi Mateo.”

“Hey Carlos. T.K. told me about your place, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Carlos said with a sigh.

“Did you sleep okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos nodded, then winced. T.K. reached for the bottle of Advil and poured him a glass of water. “Thanks,” Carlos said, swallowing down two pills.

“Did you call your captain?” T.K. asked as Mateo grabbed a protein bar and vacated the kitchen to give them some privacy.

“Yeah he’d already heard. Told me to take the time I need.”

“Good,” T.K. said.

The dryer buzzed. “That’s our clothes,” T.K. said, getting up to retrieve them. “At least you can put on a shirt that fits.”

He tossed Carlos his shirt and pants. Carlos stared down at them, a frown on his face. “You okay?” T.K. asked.

“Why did you throw a shirt at me?”

“What?”

“Last night. We were about to be burned alive and you made me put a shirt on.”

“Oh,” T.K. thought for a second and shrugged as he folded his sweatpants and set them on top of the dryer. “I don’t know. I guess I just…panicked. I was thinking that the temperature drops here at night and I didn’t want you to be cold when we got outside.”

“Our condo was hot as hell, but you were worried I’d be cold?”

T.K. bit his lip and shook his head, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “I don’t know, like I said I panicked. It was the first thought that came to me.”

“Well it was a good one,” Carlos said, slipping his arms around T.K.’s waist. “Standing out there all night with no shirt on would have been pretty uncomfortable.”

T.K. threaded his arms through Carlos’, hands coming to rest on his lower back. “You doing okay this morning?” he asked.

“Better,” Carlos confirmed. “Thank you. I think I just…needed to let it all out. I’m sorry about last night. My head was…”

“Hey,” T.K. shook his head. “No more apologies. No one has anything to apologize for, right?” He brushed a hand over Carlos’ cheek. “Do you want coffee? Or a smoothie?” His eyes went wide as a thought hit him. “Oh no!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, concern dropping over his face like a cloud. T.K.’s distress was so sudden and visceral that he pulled back slightly, eyes searching T.K.’s frame for some kind of injury.

T.K. felt his chest growing tight as anxiety gripped him. “Marlon Blendo! Oh my god, my dad is going to be so upset!”

“Whoa.” Carlos cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sure your dad will be okay. Blenders are replaceable.”

“Carlos he really loved that blender,” T.K. said seriously. 

Carlos chuckled. “Here I am, wondering all night long how we’re going to get through this and how you can be so calm when the world has literally gone up in flames, and now you’re losing it over a blender.”

“He was a really good blender!” T.K. pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair as he took a few aimless steps, more thoughts striking him. “Oh my god my hoodies!”

“I will buy you new hoodies,” Carlos assured him.

“They won’t be the same,” T.K. groaned.

“Is this you finally freaking out?”

“I am not freaking out!” T.K.’s breathing had increased rapidly as panic spiraled through him. The sense of calm control he’d felt for the past twelve hours slowly started to slip away as reality set in. “Oh my god I’m totally freaking out. I can’t freak out, you’re freaking out! We can’t both be freaking out!”

“Hey,” Carlos cradled his face in his hand. “We’re okay? Remember? And if you need to freak out and lose it, that’s all right. It’s your turn. I’ll pull it together for a couple hours and you can melt down.”

“I don’t want to melt down, I want my shirt with the blue stripes on it. And that bergamot candle your parents gave us as a housewarming gift. Oh my god, Carlos all your spices from the market!”

“Come here,” Carlos said, pulling him into a hug, one hand holding him firmly around the waist, the other settling on the nape of his neck, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion.

T.K. let his forehead rest against Carlos’ shoulder, feeling more grounded by the strength of his boyfriend’s arms and the softness of his fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

T.K. took a breath as the weight of everything began to land on his shoulders. Losing their home. Almost losing each other. God, how was he only now feeling how terrible it all was? He’d truly thought he was okay until this very second. “We’re going to make it through this, right?” he asked. He’d been so sure last night, but now…

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Yes. We are.”

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: When I started writing this, did I think it would end up in the boys having soft, sweet "we're so glad we're not dead" sex in Owen's guest room? Nope. No I did not. Is it all @bluenet13's fault that it happened? Possibly. Or possibly they're just too sexy and they couldn't help it. Idk.

[lonestarbabe]

Idk what it was but that last short scene with Tommy and Charles didn’t sit right with me. As in, it was so random and I didn’t like it. Like the episode already had enough drama and sadness and they have to throw that in? We don’t get enough Tommy storylines as it is because she’s overshadowed by Owen’s dumb selfish ass, but now that we get one it’s her husband hurt/possibly dying? Drama sells and I know 911 and lone star like their cliffhangers but I was just like 😐😐😐😐 watching that scene. Like really? Idk like I know each character will get their turn for angsty drama plot lines of course but I just didn’t like this. We have only seen Tommy plot lines being her struggling to balance her job and home/personal life and just when she thinks she’s got it somewhat balanced, this happens? Again, I know drama happens and things do happen but I just don’t like this. And then there’s an active shooter in the hospital next episode? Like why? I hope they don’t k word Charles or have something really sad happen to him as a storyline to make the actress who plays Tommy leave the show. Because people have been speculating Liv Tyler might come back so the actress who plays Tommy might leave or take a backseat. I don’t want her to leave because I love the dynamic she has with Grace, Judd and the rest of the team. She flows very well with them but Michelle never did. Her sister storyline had potential but it low key got stale and boring for me very quickly and she didn’t interact with the (firefighter) team too much except for on calls. I don’t want Tommy to leave after this season. I don’t like this. Tbh the writers could have fleshed out Tommy as a character if they didn’t have themselves lodged so far up R** L****’s ass and instead of giving us that dumb as hell baby plot line in 2A, we could have gotten something else where Owen didn’t take up so much time doing typical dumb selfish Owen shit and instead spread the screen time more equally between the characters like Tommy for example. Idk I just don’t like where this is going for her character and Charles

You are so right. And excuse me for this rant because I’m passionate about this lol. I just don’t know why they keep doing all this big events. Like they don’t give us any time to process what has happened before something else is tacked onto the end of the episode. I get that they want to make it interesting and exciting, but there are a lot of interesting plotlines inherently in what they’ve already done. How do the characters deal with the trauma? You could spend a whole episode unpacking how Judd would respond to the firehouse explosion alone. He’s seen his fire family die in an explosion, so to have his firehouse attacked had to be traumatizing and bring up past issues! The same is true of Carlos. His reaction showed that while he tries to act okay and be strong for the people around him, he was deeply hurt by the fire, and I’d like to explore his feelings related to that. Like when he was talking about not having the fire extinguisher. He wasn’t so much worried about his life as he was worried that he couldn’t protect the man he loved, which is something you could unpack A LOT, and we see various of instances of him showing this personality trait throughout the show. His feelings are more complex than he lets on, and there’s so much the show could do to show his psychology. I mean, the whole team would be traumatized by these events! Because they’ve all been attacked in a place that has been a safe place for them. 

And the thing is that we’re going to have to rush onto the next bad thing that has happened before we get any look into the aftermath. The aftermath is the area that allows us to see deeper into the characters, and it allows them to grow. Unfortunately, that development is stifled when they swiftly move on. It’s like a trope that I hate in fic (and it’s not so much a problem in the lone star fandom but it has been in others) where they torture characters just for the sake of torturing the characters. Like I need a payoff. I don’t mind angst. I love angst. But the angst has to have some kind of deeper purpose and highlight parts of the character that are beneath the surface or that allows them to change or shift in some way.

Incidents shouldn’t have to be as big as humanly possible to be compelling. If we can’t love the characters in their most mundane moments, they aren’t being well developed. like COME ON! For example, we would all watch Carlos Reyes stare at paint drying and be entertained because he is an amazing character and we’re interested in him no matter what he’s doing (despite their lack of attention to him). All that crazy, unfathomable plot that they’re throwing in is so unnecessary, and they barely have room for anything but craziness.

I really hope they are kind to Charles, but I guess it’s not safe bet. Like they don’t need to hurt them like that. Let Tommy be happy and let Charles be okay. And I do agree that they didn’t flesh Tommy out as much as they could have. They started to, but then after the first few episodes, they backed off, and they got caught up in the “give the character one thing that causes all their conflict” and for Tommy it was the idea that she didn’t know how to balance her family life and being back in the workforce. I need more from her than that. I love Tommy, so they should show her off. Like Gina Torres does amazing work. Let her shine!!

I can’t really see Michelle coming back. It would feel really weird to me, and the vibes would be off because Michelle was an island really, and she was sort of friends with Carlos, but she was also a lot like Owen in that the narrative only focused on her sides so the friendship felt unbalanced (and they even called that out in canon). Anyways, they did not do well in building Michelle’s character, so I can’t envision how they could smoothly get her back. Plus, I think Tommy fits better (because they actually made her feel connected to the 126 and plots).

[writer-jamie]

Just One Look (Jill x Carlos) Chapter 3: The Aftermath

story summary: jill meets carlos’ family after two months of dating. carlos promises it won’t be dramatic but that is very different to how the situation turned out.

chapter summary: jill has a heart to heart with marie and falls in love with carlos even more. 

word count: 2,044

a/n: hello! i'm back! i've been writing this chapter for a couple days now and i'm excited to finally post it! i have been pretty bad lately, with my mental and physical health. but i'll be fine 💞 so I hope you enjoy! (p.s. sorry for the cliffhanger! but there will be smut next chapter, i promise!)

Jill laid in the bed as Carlos walked around the room, cleaning up and busying himself. He was hyping himself up to ho talk to his sister again and to ensure everyone that nothing that the media said about the S.T.A.R.S team was fake. After their argument that morning, Jill hadn't moved from the bed. She pretended to sleep but Carlos knew she was just avoiding him and his family, and he didn't blamed her. If Jill’s family did what Carlos’ did then he would be hurt too. It wasn’t Camila’s fault, she was fed lies by the media. Jill didn't turn around to face Carlos but she could tell that he was worried. She didn't have to see his face to realise how upset he seemed, the sighs that were leaving his mouth every so often showed her. Jill felt bad for pretending but she couldn't just tell Carlos that she was still upset. After all it was his sister who upset him, and she wouldn't get between family. 

Carlos finished putting some clothes away before turning his full attention towards Jill. He leaned over Jill and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Te quiero.” He reminded her and left the room, closing the door slightly behind him. 

When Carlos went downstairs, Jill slowly moved from the bed and into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the large mirror and grimaced. It was obvious that she had been crying due to the puffiness off her cheeks and eyes and the redness of her skin. She looked down at her body and rubbed her skin, she felt ugly in her own skin. Jill never had an issue with her body before but ever since Raccoon City, she struggled to ever feel clean again. After the Mansion, she had scrubbed herself clean and showered until her skin was red raw but it was worse after the whole city had exploded. When her and Carlos were in the motel for a week, she showered for hours on end. Between having sex with Carlos and showering, the woman didn't do much else. She used to scrub herself so hard she would bleed, causing Carlos a lot of worry. Jill looked back up at the mirror and ran her hand down her arm, feeling where Nemesis infected her. 

Jill's arm never did heal. Properly that was. A circular scar to remind her of the virus that was still pumping through her veins. Although she had been cured, the T-virus still remained and poisoned her blood stream. Jill had to cancel her blood card, because after being pumped with virus and a vaccine nobody could use her blood again. Jill didn’t feel different. The nightmares didn't stop, they just got easier to deal with on a daily. With Carlos by her side it was a lot easier, he would cuddle her and wake her when the nightmares got too bad. He was a saint. And now he was heading downstairs to have an argument with his sister because she was just told the wrong thing. It wasn’t her fault, but it still fucking hurt to hear her say those things. Jill winced as she ran her hand down her arm and to her hands, feeling how rough they were. She ran her fingers over her stitches and the scars that remained as a constant reminder. Jill didn't even notice the woman walk into the room until she spoke to her. “Oh mi..” She gasped and walked towards Jill putting her hands on her face. Carlos’ mother, Marie, had found her way into the room and into the bathroom. She must had been shocked at the sight of Jill in her crop top and shorts, but she didn't care about that right now, all she cared about was that Jill was covered in scars, especially the large circular scar on her arm. Jill shook her head and looked down at the woman who was scanning her for any more, mainly newer, marks to no avail. “Marie..” She panicked, unknowing what to do or say. She had no idea what Carlos had told his parents in regards to his work and she didn't want to ruin any lies that they knew. “Raccoon City, yes?” She asked, well it was more of a statement than a question but the American just nodded her head, unable to speak anymore. “Carlos told us that he was there. You were there. He never told us what exactly happened. A erm.. terrorist attack the new said. Mierda.” Jill smiled as the woman swore, seeing her get more and more annoyed by the situation. “Carlos lies to protect us. Some company..ugh what is that name? Umbrella! That is the name! Yes that company. Carlos, oh mi dulce chico. He tries to keep us safe but his father always puts his nose where it doesn't belong.” Jill smiled. “Carlos does that. When we were in Raccoon City, he wouldn't let me go. Followed me around the whole city to make sure I was safe. He was a pain in my ass because I was so worried about him the whole time. He put himself on the line for me.” Jill took a seat on the top of the toilet, crossing her legs to cover her body slightly. “Oh amor, eso es porque él te ama.” Jill tilted her head slightly, she knew some Spanish, but not everything. “He loves you.” Marie smiled and kneeled down next to Jill and inspected her arm, making sure there wasn’t any left over stitches inside the skin or infections anywhere. She found nothing, so she decided to inspect her hands, her shoulders, everything on her body to make sure she was fine. After everything that Jill had been through, having someone fuss over her was nice. “Did you not want to spend your holiday with your parents?” Marie asked and Jill quickly shook her head. “My family isn't the loving type. My mother is from Japan and my father is from France. When I was younger I used to go to France every summer and then spend the winter in Japan but when I got to sixteen, everything just stopped. And they got divorced, and by the time I turned eighteen I joined the army and I was out of there. So I'm very happy to be here.” Jill looked down at Marie and saw tears start to appear in her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn't-” “No no it wasn’t you chica, it’s just after hearing Carlos and Camila talking and hearing what you have been through. You deserve to be here with a loving family.” Jill held Marie’s hand and smiled down at her. Jill jumped slightly hearing the door swing open. 

Carlos. 

“¡Esa perra no sabe lo que dice! ¿Por qué tiene que escuchar a esos cabrones? ¡Mierda!” Carlos looked around the room for Jill as she stayed in the bathroom with his mother, who looked very angry by the language he was speaking. “Jill? Babe?” He opened the bathroom door and saw Jill on the toilet seat, eyes puffy from crying and his mother next to her. Carlos didn't even have to ask what was wrong with his ma because the look on her face was enough. “Ma.” He walked into the room and watched as the woman stood up and walked towards him. She slapped him on the back and chest a couple times, that wasn’t where she was aiming but due to the man’s height she didn't have a choice. Jill chuckled as she remained seated on the toilet, watching the scene play out. 

“¡Carlos! ¡Tienes una hermosa y hermosa mujer sentada en su momento malo y estás demasiado ocupada peleando con tu hermana! Ordenaré a Camila, asegúrate de que esa chica se sienta amada y si descubro que ha sido lastimada o ha estado llorando de nuevo, ¡que Dios me ayude, hijo!” Carlos looked at the anger that had spread over his mother’s face and just nodded along, watching her walk back to Jill. Marie placed a kiss on her forehead and left the room, shutting the door behind her. 

The room became unbearably silent as Carlos stood at one end and Jill at the other. Carlos shifted from one foot to the other, unknowing what to say. He just got told off by his mother after an argument with his sister all because of Jill. It was very awkward. 

Jill stood up and walked towards the man. She refused to look in his eyes but put her hands on his chest and leaned forward, placing her head on his chest. Her cheeks rose and fell with Carlos’s chest. The man moved his hands and put the against the woman’s hair, rubbing his thumbs against her neck. Jill sighed and stayed in this position for a couple seconds more before moving away from his chest and looking up at him. “Lo siento.” He spoke and moved his hands to her neck and continued to rub circle in her nape. “It’s not your fault.” She put her hands on his arm and smiled up at him. Jill watched as the man’s face became more relaxed as the guilt started to leaving his body. “Your mom is great. She is so honest about everything.” Jill smiled and looked at him, rubbing his skin with her hands. “Yeah she's great. And honest. Which is good...but also not the best.” He chuckled and looked at Jill. The room suddenly became silent again as she moved her hands away from him and walked under his arms and into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed before putting her hands in her lap. Carlos turned around to face her, watching her move to the bed and just sit. This must have been really affecting her. And Carlos would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He was so so worried about her. The nightmares were one thing, but her physically and mentally being upset and hurt was another thing. Carlos knew how to deal with the nightmares after months of helloing her, but this was something he didn't know how to help. And that scared him. 

Carlos kneeled down on the bed in front of Jill and took her hands into his, placing a kiss on her hands and knuckles, comforting her the best he could. “Tell me how to help you. Please Amor. I’ll do anything to help you.” She put her hand in his hair and kissed his forehead. “I’m just worried about your family. They only know what Umbrella has told them. How can I expect them to feel comfortable around me? Especially with the children?” She asked, putting her hands against his cheeks. “Because i trust you enough to bring you home. I wouldn't bring anyone dangerous home, and they know that. Camila’s husband is very two-faced and likes drama. She has only heard bad things from him. Sebastian isn't a good man, but he treats my sister well so that's why he's still around. I promise you, Sebastian is the only one who believes anything that Umbrella is saying. Mama and Papa love you. And I'm pretty sure Ma is already planning the wedding.” Carlos laughed and put his spare hand to his lips and placed a chaste kiss to it. 

Jill leaned down and took his cheeks into her hands and kissed him deeply, running her fingers over his cheeks as he moved closer to her. She leaned back on the bed and he hovered above her, his lips exploring her skin on her neck and rubbing her hips. She moved slightly underneath him, before looking at the unlocked door. “You wanna lock that first?” She asked and raised her eyebrows remembering back to the last two times they tried and were interrupted. Carlos jumped up and locked the door, making sure they wouldn’t be interrupted again. “Not again.” He joked and looked at Jill from the door before taking his shirt off. He smiled and walked towards the woman, running his warm hands up and down her sides before taking her clothes off, leaving her exposed. 

“So Mr Oliveira, should we begin?”

Spanish to English Translations:

Te quiero - I love you

Oh mi - Oh my..

Mierda - Bullshit

Oh mi dulce chico. - Oh my sweet boy.

Oh amor, eso es porque él te ama. - Oh love, that's because he loves you.

¡Esa perra no sabe lo que dice! ¿Por qué tiene que escuchar a esos cabrones? ¡Mierda! - That bitch doesn't know what she's saying! Ugh why does she have to listen to those fuckers? Fuck!

¡Carlos! ¡Tienes una hermosa y hermosa mujer sentada en su momento malo y estás demasiado ocupada peleando con tu hermana! Ordenaré a Camila, asegúrate de que esa chica se sienta amada y si descubro que ha sido lastimada o ha estado llorando de nuevo, ¡que Dios me ayude, hijo! - Carlos! You have a beautiful, gorgeous woman sat their having a bad time at the moment and you are too busy fighting with your sister! I'll sort out Camila, you make sure that girl feels loved and if i find out shes been hurt or has been crying again, God help me son!

Lo siento. - I’m sorry.

Amor - Love (as in the nickname)

[pumpkin-spice-whump-latte]

Whumptober #22: Hallucination

Sleep paralysis doesn’t mix well with crushing guilt and panic attacks. No siree-bob. Carlos breaks down and Ben’s there to piece him back together.

content includes: 50% hurt and 50% fluffy, fluffy comfort. Panic attack, sleep paralysis demon, but a HAPPY ENDING FOR ONCE LMAO.

References and deals with the aftermath of #21: Laced Drink, in which Carlos and Ben were both heavily drugged and Carlos successfully resisted an experimental aphrodisiac, but not until after a lot of struggle and some noncon touching. There’s some talk of heavy feelings of guilt on Carlos’ end for what nearly happened, and references to how they were both victimized in separate ways by the drugs. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ben was going to kill him.

Carlos lay on his back atop the stiff cot in their cell, able to move his eyes but nothing else. No matter how much he tried to will his treacherous body to move, it just wouldn’t respond. Was this how Ben had felt? Was this how it had felt for Ben, drugged and on his back and touched all over by someone who was supposed to be on his side? The shame of the previous day still burned inside him like a brand, and he’d eventually tried to sleep to escape it. It seemed to have followed him. Demons always did.

They didn’t always stand in the corner of your room though, silently staring you down and (his brain just knew it, like a dream script, like two plus two) contemplating your inevitable, bloody death.

The only light source came from the harsh fluorescent glow of the hallway creeping under the door, casting bizarre shadows over the walls and making the spaces in between them seem too sharp. Peaks of light and common sense that dipped off into valleys of unknown darkness. Ben stood in one of those valleys. Clothed in fuzz and rage, eyes trained on Carlos and hands curled into fists at his sides. The figure that was shaped like his friend and had his friend’s face stood like a stain of righteous fury in the darkness, mere moments away from beating Carlos to death with his bare hands.

But of course he was, of course, he’d been driven to this by torture and betrayal, and Carlos would have gladly accepted his fate had it not been for that pesky “will to live” that clung to his ankle all the time. That little beaten, exhausted thing was babbling to him in Panic language, telling him get up, get up you idiot get UP! Remember the time that hobo stole your shoes when he thought you were asleep? You flew off the ground and attacked him and you can do it now too! You have to do it now or he’ll c h o k e you like you choked him. He’ll hold you down and–

But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t even take in a full breath, his chest feeling like something was squatting on it and squishing all the air out. And still Ben remained a silent watcher in the corner, seeming more great and terrible than death itself, more ominous and sure than it too, because for the first time in a long time Carlos knew he would dying for a good reason.

___

During all this Ben had been sleeping in his own stiff cot, not two feet away. Oblivious. His dreams were troubled and peopled by demons of his own, but his body was just as outwardly peaceful as Carlos’ was. That is until the screaming started.

Being woken up by awful, animalistic screams of pain happened more often than he cared to dwell on, but this time it wasn’t coming from some poor creature in another cell. It was coming from Carlos. Ben swung out of bed and was at the other man’s side just in time to catch him from falling off his cot, but as soon as Ben’s hands touched him Carlos bolted away.

“M'sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, please don’t hURT ME FUCK I'MSORRY…” He scrambled across the floor until he backed himself in a corner and huddled there, shaking like a dead leaf in the wind.

“What the…?” Ben tried taking a few steps closer but Carlos just screeched again and curled in on himself further.

“Buddy… Carl… It’s okay.” He put his hands up to show they were harmless–he was harmless–and inched forward another step or two. “It’s just me. It’s Benny. I wouldn’t hurt you. Everything’s okay.”

“No, no, nonono…” Carlos muttered, words muffled against his knees and hands twisting in his hair. “You were–you were right there–” A hand shot out to point at the far left corner. “And it would… It would serve me right, it would serve me f-fuckin’ RiGhT because I almost fuckin’… I was like two seconds away from doing some awful f-fuckin’ shit to you and honestly just–just make it quick okay? Just snap my fucking nECK so he can’t m-mmmmmake me hhnn….”

Ben knew then that it had been some kind of nightmare, knew then the depth of the cut that had been made in Carlos’ soul, and closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. He crumpled to his knees and wrappeddas his arms full around Carlos’ shoulders. Even though Ben was met with a violent flinch and further pleas for mercy one second (and death the next), he held on.

“Shhhh… It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, Carl. M'not gonna, I promise. It’s not your fault. It would never be your fault. Just breathe for me buddy, that’s it.”

To his credit, Carlos did attempt to gasp in longer and longer lungfuls of air, and after a minute or two his shaky breathing started to even out. Ben kept up the litany of soothing, repetitive words; the gentlest reinforcement against the invading army of panic crowding in against Carlos from all sides. It was okay. Ben wasn’t upset. Carlos didn’t deserve to be hurt.

That last one got a mumbled response from against shoulder. “Sure ‘bout that?”

“Yes.” He answered calmly and very, very sure. Ben pressed a hand to Carlos’ face, thumb gently lifting his chin enough so he could catch those teary green eyes. “Listen. You were drugged. Just like me. It was awful and horrifying and I–” The words caught in his throat and he had to stop himself. Take a deep breath. Push through the memories that grabbed at him and tried to steer him off course.

“...But that was Tillman’s fault. That was the scientist that slipped shit into our drinks. You hear me? It wasn’t your fault.” He dropped his voice down low. Gentle and soft and just for them. “If I’m the one that gets slipped the aphrodisiac next time, and–and I’m not able to stop it… Would you blame me?”

Carlos shook his head frantically, words trying to bubble up and spill out of his mouth again. “No. No! Of course not! Nevernever ne v e rrr nonono–”

“Shhhh…” Ben pressed in close, that stricken face still held between careful hands, lips close enough to kiss. He cooed comforting noises against Carlos’ mouth, thumbs swiping at the renewed tears. “Shh, calm down. I believe you, buddy. And I wouldn’t blame you either. Okay?”

Carlos closed his eyes, seemed to struggle against the idea of forgiveness for a moment more, then surrendered with a shuddering sigh. Nodded small and quick into Ben’s hands.

“…'Kay. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Wakin’ y'up.”

Ben snorted and pressed their foreheads together. He remembered the cat he’d had as a kid used to do that to show affection. Non-verbal and familiar and full of trust. “If you really feel bad about it you can stay up and keep me company, 'cuz I sure as hell am not going back to sleep any time soon.”

“Me neither!”

Arms came up and wrapped around Ben, anchoring Carlos to him with tight fists and crossed wrists. The tears came again but Ben knew from hard won experience they were of a different breed, born of the exhaustion that settled in after adrenaline ransacked your body. They were coming down tears, and he held Carlos through them. Rocking him a little and reminding him every time he got a chance to speak between the other’s hiccuping sobs;

“It’s okay. We’re alright. You fought it and you won and I’m so proud. We’re gonna keep fighting. Just you and me.”

Sometime after Carlos had calmed down, after he’d allowed his grip on Ben to loosen, he sought out one of Ben’s hands. Shuffled their fingers together like the time they’d sat and held onto each other through the pain of the implant chip.

He didn’t say it because he didn’t trust his voice but he thought it. He thought it as loud and as strong as he could, as if the shadow Ben from his night terror and the scientist himself would both hear him and back off. At least for now. At least while Ben held him.

Together.

[marjansmarwani]

My original bthb masterpost seems to have disappeared into the ether (or somewhere else where the search function cannot find it) but, look! It’s almost done! I’ve been working on this for several years now so having the end in sight is very exciting! I’m actually very proud of all of these, and eager to get the last few done! 

I do have a plan for crisis catch-and-carry but not really for the other two so if you’d like to suggest/request something I’m not making any promises but I’d love to hear your ideas!

See completed works under the cut or find them on ao3

911: Lone Star

head to toe, hand in hand (unwilling suspension)

In an instant a routine call turns disastrous and Carlos knows help is coming, he’s just not sure if he can hold on long enough. But he’s determined to try - he refuses to make his loved ones face the alternative.

was there something I could’ve said? (vivisection)

An average call turns deadly when someone hellbent on taking a paramedic hostage appears. TK offers himself up before Nancy can say a word and she is left with nothing to do but worry and face the fear of losing another partner, knowing that this time whatever happens is her fault.

fading under dying light (Grabbed by the hair)

After a rough shift TK comes home to an empty condo and decides to go for a run to clear his head, to avoid being alone with his thoughts. But when he runs into trouble on his run it’s Carlos who comes home to find him, to save him. He just hopes he was fast enough, that he wasn’t too late to save the person that matters most.

In the midnight hour, we came alive (Infected Wound)

He heard footsteps behind as he walked him but thought nothing of it until he noticed a figure leaning against the side of a building, at the mouth of an alley. It seemed innocent enough but something about it made the hair on the back of Carlos’s neck stand on edge. Something wasn’t right.

Or, When Carlos goes off on his own while out with TK and Paul, he finds more far trouble than he expected.

say that we’ll stay with each other (Electrocution)

On what seems like a normal day and a normal house fire things go from bad to worse in an instant and Carlos is left to confront his biggest fear, one of the things that keeps him up at night. But this isn’t a dream, it’s very real and Carlos will do anything to make sure it doesn’t mean the end. Not from them, not for TK.

Groundhog Day (Wound that would not heal)

He had never really been sure he believed in the concept of luck, but he might just have to start. At this point the evidence was kind of overwhelming: luck existed, and his was terrible. Or, 5 times TK hurt his shoulder and the one time someone else did.

I think the end of it all may look a lot like the beginning (Surrender)

When TK wakes up in the middle of the night to find Carlos’s neighbor’s house on fire with her son trapped inside, of course he has to go in. There was never any version of this where he didn’t. Carlos knows that too - it’s one of the things he loves about the other man. But when things go from bad to worse in an instant and Carlos is left on the outside and TK is left facing the possibility of the end, there’s nothing either of them can do but hope for the best.

Trouble Will Not Take Me (Communication cut off)

A routine call leaves Marjan and TK trapped in the aftermath of an explosion. Their radios are broken, there is no way out, and TK is fading fast. Marjan tries to be an optimist, but even she is struggling to find a bright side - or even hope. She just doesn’t want to watch her friend die, and she’ll do whatever she can to prevent it.

Blame Friday the 13th (Stabbing)

Judd blames Friday the 13th. TK thinks he being ridiculous, but he can’t deny that this is not how he thought today would play out.

Or, TK and Judd run into trouble while trying to run some errands. Bad things happen.

Stars Will Guide You Home (I will only slow you down)

All Carlos wanted to do was take his boyfriend out for some good Tex-Mex. All TK wanted to do was spend time with Carlos.

Neither of them had planned on being victims of a carjacking.

Thankfully they have each other to get through this, and that should be more than enough (they hope).

Friends Like These (Outnumbered in a fight)

TK hadn’t started it this time, he swears. He had just been minding his own business when he saw this guy harassing a girl. So, of course, he said something. He hadn’t realized the guy would take it so badly, and he definitely hadn’t realized that he had much larger, angrier friends.

Or, TK gets in a bar fight that is definitely not his fault.

Forever (If We Make if That Far) (Near death experience)

When Carlos is asked to help with an undercover sting, he jumps at the chance. When it all goes wrong, he is almost certain he is going to die.

But then he doesn’t. He wants to move on, but he’s stuck. Staring death in the eye did not leave him feeling as invincible as he would have hoped.

Luckily, he has this boyfriend who is pretty wise (and alarmingly familiar with near-death experiences) and determined to help him through, no matter what.

Brother (I will hear you call) (Chapter 1 - big brother instinct, Chapter 4 - confrontation)

A series of incidents in which Judd looks out for, protects, and harasses the little brother he suddenly found himself with.

Chapter 1: TK gets separated from the group on a call and Judd just knows something is wrong (turns out, he’s right) Chapter 2: Idiots say stupid things at a bar, Judd isn’t about to let that stand. No one messes with his brother. Chapter 3: Judd decides to have a “talk” with Carlos. TK objects. Chapter 4: Judd has a flashback and lashes out. TK just happens to be in the way.

Holding On (Until You Can’t Anymore) (I ain’t got time to bleed)

“Woah man, you’re bleeding!” Paul exclaimed, hand jutting out to grab TK’s shoulder, turning him to face him so he could see the growing dark stain better.

TK pulled away from him, avoiding his eyes, “don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

Paul raised a skeptical eyebrow, “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

Or,

TK is hurt when the crew responds to a large scale factory accident and refuses to stop to get patched up. Bad things happen.

Safe in Your Arms (Arm in a sling)

An accident on a call leaves TK laid up, but Carlos is there to take care of him.

Someday (But Not Yet) (Voice breaking)

When Owen is hurt TK is worried he is not strong enough to look after his dad. He is trying to be as strong as his dad would be for him, but some people remind him that his dad would be the first one to tell him it’s okay to feel.

———————————————————————-

Voltron:

I’ve Got You Brother (Hostage situation)

Lance glared at the militia leader; his gaze steely, and Hunk instantly knew what was about to happen. But he wasn’t going to let it happen – not this time.

“Wait,” he interrupted before anyone else could speak, “take me. I’ll go with you willingly, and you’ll let everyone else go.”

He could feel the looks of horror from his team, especially Lance, but he refused to acknowledge them. He was going to make the sacrifice play this time, and his best friend was just going to have to deal with it.

Or,

Hunk sacrifices himself in a hostage situation to prevent Lance from doing the same. He finds out it’s not a lot of fun. Bad things happen.

Ready, Aim, Fire (Human shield)

One of the things Pidge loved the most about being in space was the tech. In the past year she had seen, destroyed, and built more things than she could ever have imagined in her wildest dreams on earth.

Which is why this planet just pissed her off. It was bad enough that they were under attack, but could it at least be some sort of cool new tech? No, they were using fucking arrows. She was taking this personally.

Or,

The paladins are engaged in battle with an anti-technology race. Pidge is unpleased, but Hunk always has her back – and her front. Bad things happen.

He Ain’t Heavy (He’s My Brother) (Blood from the mouth)

After a routine supply stop goes wrong (because of course it does) Lance and Hunk are stuck in a collapsing cavern with only each other and their injuries to get themselves back to the castle.

And nothing can ever be easy.

Or,

Hunk and Lance go on a mission to find some minerals. Bad things happen.