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Carlos stands in front of his refrigerator, staring inside and having no idea what he wants to make for dinner.
He’s glad to have the night off at home, but ever since TK texted him to unexpectedly cancel their evening plans, he’s been wandering aimlessly around his apartment, trying to find things to keep himself busy. Unfortunately, he only has so much dirty laundry, and living alone means that his place is already pretty clean.
It’s not that he feels like he has nothing to do without TK around, it’s just that… Well, they’ve been spending a lot of time together - as friends - and he looks forward to the few nights that the both have off work. Tonight, they had planned a whole cooking lesson, with Carlos showing TK how to make chicken fajitas. Ever since he found out about TK’s limited culinary experience, Carlos has taken it upon himself to ensure that the man knows how to at least cook a few easy recipes for himself. They’ve spent many nights in his kitchen, music playing low as they circle around one another, making dinner together.
He’s not upset that TK cancelled on him; from his texts, he gathers that something came up with his dad at work. Carlos had offered any help that his friend might need, or at the very least his presence, but TK hadn’t responded to his messages. He’s trying not to worry too much; last he’d heard, Captain Strand’s treatments had been going as well as they could expect. In the past few weeks, TK has even seemed a little lighter, like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders, if only a bit.
With a sigh, Carlos reaches into his fridge to grab the chicken and peppers, deciding that he might as well have the dinner that he’d planned, even if he’ll be having it alone. He turns on some music, prepping his work station, and has just started to slice the chicken into strips when there’s a knock at his door.
He looks up, wondering who in the world could be here to see him. A glance down at his phone shows no missed calls or messages, and everyone that might visit typically lets him know when they’re coming over. He puts down his knife, quickly washing his hands at the sink before moving towards the door and pulling it open.
“Hey,” TK says, standing on his front step with his hands hidden in the front pocket of his hoodie.
“TK,” Carlos says, his surprise clear in his tone. “Hey.”
“Sorry I’m late,” the other man apologizes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, “but I was hoping dinner might still be on the table?”
Carlos scans his face, trying to get a read on what exactly TK might be thinking. Based on his texts, he wasn’t expecting to see him this evening, and he can’t tell if TK being here is good news or bad news.
“I actually just started,” he finally responds, opening the door a little wider, “and I’d love an assistant.”
TK smiles, his face morphing into a grateful expression as he steps across the threshold and into the apartment. Carlos follows him over to the kitchen, wondering if he should ask about TK’s day, or if it’s better to wait until TK offers something. There’s soft music in the background, the only sound breaking the somewhat tense silence between them as TK washes his hands at the sink.
“So, MasterChef Reyes,” TK jokes, turning to face him, “where do you need me?”
Carlos stares at him for a moment, noticing how the other man is avoiding eye contact and fiddling with the sting of his hoodie. It’s clear that TK’s in need of a distraction, and he is more than happy to provide him with one.
“Okay,” Carlos nods, turning back to his workstation. “So, I’ve been cutting the chicken into strips, and then I’m going to cook them. While I do that, you can start cutting the peppers and onions.”
“Yes, sir,” TK teases, coming over to stand at his side and nudging him gently. Carlos briefly shows TK how he wants the vegetables cut, then goes back to his chicken. When he’s finished, he carries his cutting board over to the stove, turning on the heat and adding oil before tossing the chicken in and adding all of his spices and seasonings.
His mind races with a possible conversation starter, anything that might pull them out of this awkward silence that exists between them, but following his quiet day at work, nothing really comes to mind. He’s just begun to hum along to the music under his breath, hoping that might fill some of the void left by their lack of conversation, when he hears the sound of forceful chopping behind him.
He turns to find TK huffing heavily over the cutting board, the knife in his hand a newfound weapon as he slices into the onion in front of him. Carlos watches him for a moment, taking in the tense set of his shoulders and the way his head is bowed over the counter, hiding his face from view. It’s only when his fear of a possible injury outweighs his desire to let TK destress in his own way that Carlos steps forward.
“Hey, hey, be careful,” he says calmly, his right hand coming up to grip TK’s weapon-wielding arm as his left arm circles around his waist to press against TK’s hip. “No one needs to lose a finger tonight,” he jokes quietly, guiding the knife down to the board, where TK finally releases it.
“You want to tell me whose face you were picturing on that cutting board?” Carlos hedges when TK doesn’t speak. Instead, the man presses his palms into the counter, his breathing heavy and his eyes wet - whether from the onion that he was just cutting or something else, Carlos can’t tell.
“Fuck!” TK cries, pushing away from the counter and Carlos to pace on the other side of the island, near the table. He runs his hands through his hair, clearly agitated, as he turns and faces Carlos. “I’m so sorry, Carlos, I’m not trying to ruin your night, it’s just…”
He trails off, throwing his hands into the air. Carlos hasn’t seen him this frustrated since he cooked him dinner all of those months ago and then watched as TK stormed out of his apartment into the night.
He would give anything for that to not happen again.
“TK, it’s fine, you don’t have to apologize,” Carlos says gently, backing up to turn the heat down on the chicken before circling around to join TK on the other side of the counter. “Just, tell me what’s wrong. Let me help, I want to help.”
TK stares at him for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between Carlos’s own, almost like he’s weighing his ways forward. Then, with a nod, he steps closer, his shoulders dropping as he lets out a deep breath.
“My dad’s gonna lose his job,” TK says, his voice shaky.
Carlos’s eyes widen, and he instinctively reaches out to take TK’s hand, the other man gripping him tightly. “What?” he asks, sure he must’ve misheard.
“Judd introduced my dad to this fire captain buddy of his,” TK explains, an edge of anger in his voice now, “and my dad started spending time with him. He revealed all these things, including his cancer diagnosis. Turns out, the guy actually wants to take his job, so he turned him into the chief.”
“Shit,” Carlos breathes, his mind racing with all of this new information.
“Yeah,” TK agrees, nodding as he clenches his jaw. “So now he’s got to take the CPAT in full gear or they’ll replace him.”
He pulls away again, letting out a frustrated groan.
“Why is it that every single time I feel like I’m finally finding my footing in this place, something comes along to fuck it all up?” he cries, his voice thin as he drops down into a chair at the table. “Every time I start to get a really good look at things, to start to understand them, they shift and I’m just left trying to figure out where I am and what I’m supposed to do.”
“Hey,” Carlos says soothingly, coming up behind TK. Before he can think too hard about it, he bends over to give him a hug from behind, wrapping his arms around the firefighter’s shoulders as he presses their faces together. “It’s going to be okay, TK.”
“You don’t know that, Carlos,” TK says in defeat. He reaches up to run his palms along Carlos’s forearms, gripping his wrists tightly.
“Yeah, I guess I don’t,” Carlos admits, ducking his head to press his chin against TK’s shoulder. “But I do know that no matter how crazy things get, you are surrounded by an army of people who want to help you. So, be there for you dad. Do whatever you need to do to get him through this, but let others help you when you need it, okay?”
There’s a pause before TK turns to look at him, their faces close as their eyes lock.
“Even you?”
Carlos sucks in a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips.
“All you have to do is ask, Ty. I’m right here, always.”
TK nods, his eyes shining as he presses their foreheads together. For Carlos, this moment seems completely outside of their normal friendly behavior, the lines blurring more and more as the seconds pass, but he can’t bring himself to pull away. He wants this, more than he’s ever wanted anything, so if TK’s willing to let him, he’s going to stay by his side for as long as he can.
The moment is finally broken by the sound of TK’s stomach rumbling, reminding them of the half-cooked dinner waiting for them in the kitchen. They both pull away, laughing softly.
“C’mon,” Carlos says, holding out his hand. “Let’s make sure I haven’t burned the chicken.”
“I’ll forgive you if you have,” TK says, his tone light as he takes Carlos’s hand, rising from the chair. “Nobody’s perfect after all.”
Carlos laughs, shoving him away as he moves over to the stove. TK follows behind him, pressing up against his side to listen to his instructions, the small smile resting on his lips a far cry from his cloudy countenance when he first arrived.
The music plays on around them, keeping the roaring fire of their unexpected futures at bay for just a little longer.