#they’re like this with their friends in their home but here they are. tkandcarlos as cuddled up husbands at their wedding reception

[reyesstrand]

:-)

[reyesstrand]

you’re the way to my heart

tarlos / teen+ / 2.2k

This—these moments together, the quiet mornings that belong to them and only them in the pale pink sunlight of dawn—it’s something he could get used to. (Or, Carlos asks TK to move in with him).

(Includes spoilers for 2x09/2x10).

In his head, home has meant Carlos for a few months, now.

It probably started sometime around their second month of dating—for real, no brakes, all-in, however you might refer to it—and TK had felt Carlos fidgeting nervously on the couch while they'd been all curled up together while channel surfing. It was so unlike his boyfriend's constant calmness that he'd sat up a little straighter, pulling himself up from where he'd been resting his head in Carlos' lap. He still remembers the initial coolness of the brass key against his skin when Carlos had pressed it into the palm of TK's hand, gently curling his fingers over it, murmuring something about how it was so he knew TK would always have a safe place to go when he needed it. TK still smiles a little goofily over the memory, over how monumental it felt to have that assurance that Carlos really did want this with him, and he cherishes the sight of it, resting in place on his keychain.

And it isn't just his access to the condo, either. There are pieces of him everywhere, pieces of them and how much they've grown into one entity that was TKandCarlos, but he finds that even though he has a drawer and a toothbrush and his vegan snacks in the cupboard, it's Carlos that comes to mind when he thinks of home.

So it makes things easier when Carlos tells him that he feels the same way, to let himself bask in it; the warmth and reassurance and the gritty parts that make it feel real. Neither of them is perfect, and it's okay, and TK lets himself fall head-first because he knows he isn't alone in the process. Carlos would never let him go, he makes that clear when he offers him the left side of his bed whenever his parents argue, or when he hosts their friends for much-needed hang-outs after shifts, or when he ends up kidnapped on the day he celebrates being a year sober and Carlos' eyes and hands never drift from him until he has to be taken back for scans and tests in the hospital.

(Even then, there's a kiss to his hair and a squeeze to his hand and the promise of being there waiting for him to return).

"Careful," Carlos murmurs, arm wrapped around his middle as they walk into the condo. It's not their first time coming home since TK was diagnosed with a nasty concussion. That happened three days ago, and TK really doesn't remember much except sleeping until they'd been woken up with a phone call from his dad in the middle of the night, the panic around Grace and Judd's accident having them returning to the hospital with the others and staying put until they knew their friends—their family—would be okay.

But they are going to be. Judd's still healing but he's beaming over finding out he's going to be a dad, and Grace is sore and will be bedbound for a little while, but they're here. They're okay. And that's all it takes for Owen to give the whole waiting room a once over before demanding everyone go home and get some rest.

It catches up to TK, then; he'd been trying to get little catnaps in when his overactive and worrying brain would let him, but the headaches didn't disappear just because someone else was more hurt than he was, and Carlos could tell every time TK shifted in the uncomfortable chair or winced and closed his eyes, rubbing pathetically at his temple.

And so here they are: so bone-tired that it seems like too much of a task to get up the stairs and into bed, but neither of them is really into the idea of crashing on the couch, so the bedroom is the only option.

"I'm not going to break, babe," TK replies, though there's no bite to it as he drops one hand over the top of Carlos'.

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