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i.
Getting TK to rest after bursting his stitches is an uphill battle, one Carlos only wins half the time. He’s currently losing, watching TK attempt to scrape some lunch together whilst he himself has practically been exiled to the couch.
Carlos isn’t blind; he sees the intermittent winces, hears the occasional pained mutter, and he wants nothing more than to go over and help, to kiss away the lines of TK’s face. But they’re still so new, and TK is still so skittish, so he doesn’t want to do anything that will push him away even more.
Still, he can’t help but worry, and a particularly sharp gasp has him half-rising from his seat. “TK?”
“I’m fine.”
It’s clearly a lie. TK’s paler than he was a second ago and he has a white-knuckled grip around the knife in his hand, which only starts to relax when he realises that Carlos is staring.
“You should be resting,” Carlos says, making his way over. “I can finish that.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“TK, it’s okay, please just sit down.” He reaches out to grab TK’s good shoulder, intending to force him to the couch if necessary, but TK jerks away the moment he makes contact. His hand - thankfully not the one holding the knife - flails in a wide arc, knocking the half-made sandwich to the floor.
Carlos is already bending to clear it up when TK makes a noise like a wounded animal and drops to the floor. In any other circumstance, Carlos might be tempted to leave him to it, but TK’s hands are visibly trembling and his breath is coming in sharp pants as he mutters quiet curses to himself. He takes TK’s hands in his own, holding on tighter when he tries to pull away.
“TK!” he calls, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “TK, you need to calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself. Come on, just follow my breathing, that’s it.”
It takes a long time, but eventually TK’s body loses some of its tension and he slumps back against the cabinets, closing his eyes. Carlos is surprised to see a tear slipping down his cheek, but TK wipes it away as quickly as it appears. His breathing is still carefully measured and he raises a hand to his chest, gently rubbing just over his wound.
“Are you okay?” Carlos asks, fear spiking. “It is your stitches, did they burst again? Do you need anything? Can I -”
“I’m fine,” TK interrupts, and Carlos would be more inclined to believe him if his expression wasn’t still tight with pain. “I just get a bit out of breath sometimes. Punctured lung, remember?”
Carlos grimaces. He does remember, all too well. “Which is exactly why you should be resting, especially after the solar storm.”
“I know ,” TK sighs. “I hate being so useless all the time.”
“You’re not useless.”
TK cracks his eyes open, levelling Carlos with an unimpressed stare. “I couldn’t even make a fucking sandwich, Carlos. I’m useless.”
“You’re healing,” Carlos corrects. He leans over and places his hand over the one TK has on his chest, gripping it gently. “You know as well as I do that these things take time. You just have to remember that you have plenty of people who want to help you, including me, if you’ll let us.”
It takes a long moment, but eventually TK allows Carlos to help him stand up, rolling his eyes when he insists on helping him to the couch. “You’re so annoying,” he complains, though there’s no heat behind the words.
“Better get used to it,” Carlos replies, easing TK down and dropping a kiss on his nose. “I’m not going anywhere.”
ii.
When Carlos gets into bed and wraps his arms around TK like he always does, the last thing he expects to hear is a pained yelp from the other side of the bed. He immediately sits up, any tiredness he may have had completely gone, and flicks on the lamp, eyes widening at the sight that greets him.
TK is still fully dressed, but Carlos can still spy the mottled bruising creeping under his shirt. He gently pushes the hem up, gasping at the discolouration covering TK’s entire right side, and looks up at his boyfriend in horror.
“Don’t be mad,” TK says quickly, eyes pleading as they meet Carlos’s.
“I’m not - Why would I be mad?” Carlos asks, shaking his head. He waves his hands over TK’s side, not wanting to touch it and risk causing him any more hurt. “What the hell happened?”
“Floor collapsed under me,” TK explains, shrugging with his left shoulder. “And, before you say anything, no, I don’t need to go to the hospital. Tommy checked me out, it’s just a few bruises, I’m fine.”
“This isn’t just a few bruises, TK!” Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Did you at least ice it?”
TK shrugs again. “At the station,” he says. “When I got back here, I was too tired, and it hurt too much to take my clothes off, so I just got into bed.”
“Por Dios,” Carlos mutters to himself. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then pulls himself out of bed, frowning down at his accident-prone boyfriend. “Stay there.”
TK, naturally, doesn’t listen, attempting to push himself upright. “Where are you going?”
“Lie down. You’ll see.”
Carlos is only gone for two minutes; still, by the time he walks back in, ice packs and ointment in hand, TK is sitting up against the headboard, eyes closed in obvious pain. He rolls his eyes, but can’t suppress the exasperated smile that crosses his face as he rounds to TK’s side of the bed. He deposits the items on the bedside table then shakes TK’s good shoulder.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “Come on. Let’s get you sorted.”
TK peels his eyes open, pursing his lips when he catches sight of the ice packs. “Carlos, I’m -”
“If you say you’re fine, so help me, TK.”
TK glares, but doesn’t finish his sentence, which is something at least. Carlos helps him shift until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, then eases him upright, wincing at the pained grunt TK lets out. When he doesn’t seem about to fall over, Carlos lets go, his hands moving to the hem of TK’s shirt, carefully sliding it off his body. He does the same with his sweats, only then allowing TK to collapse back down on the bed.
“Thank you,” TK says quietly.
“Of course.” Carlos leans over and grabs a pillow, positioning it to support TK as he encourages him to lie down again. He goes without complaint this time, smiling tiredly up at Carlos.
“Can we go back to sleep now?”
“No,” Carlos says, grinning at TK’s pout. He picks up the ice pack and ointment, moving to the other side of the bed and sliding in next to TK, sitting cross-legged at his back. He squeezes some of the ointment onto the worst of the bruises, then takes a deep breath before reaching to rub it in.
Carlos keeps his touch light, but TK still tenses as soon as he makes contact, eyes squeezing shut, breathing turning heavy. “Sorry.”
TK shakes his head. “It’s okay. You can keep going.”
Carlos goes as quickly as he can, grimacing every time he hits a particularly sore spot, sending another wave of pain through TK’s body. By the time he’s finished, TK’s teeth look liable to crack from the force with which he’s gritting them, but he hasn’t uttered a word of complaint.
“Almost there,” Carlos murmurs, cracking the ice packs. He lays them down across the bruising, and TK immediately relaxes, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” TK says, sleep obviously pulling at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Carlos kisses him, then slides down in the bed and flicks off the light. “Get some rest.”
iii.
TK is asleep on the couch and Carlos is trying to catch up on the cleaning he’s neglected over the last couple of days when there’s a sudden cry from across the room. He looks up in time to see TK jerk upright, just barely managing to keep himself from falling to the floor.
“TK!” He rushes to his boyfriend’s side, hands hovering uncertainly as TK groans, head falling into his hands. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“It’s nothing,” TK grits out, though the tightness in his voice and expression says otherwise.
“I don’t think -”
“Carlos, please.” TK squints up at him, eyes watering and pleading with him. “Just, give me a minute.”
Carlos hesitates, but one more desperate look from TK has him nodding, straightening up and backing away. He goes back to his cleaning, but keeps one eye on his boyfriend the whole time, wishing there was something he could do to help. It’s been like this ever since he brought TK home after the kidnapping, the crippling headaches apparently not enough; he’s also been having nightmares that ruin what little sleep he manages to get.
(carlos has nightmares, too, but tk doesn’t need to know about those)
The last thing Carlos wants to do is crowd TK - he knows from past experience that he doesn’t appreciate the hovering - but every time he catches sight of the stitches, another bolt of fear flashes through him and the desire to keep TK close strengthens. He’d do anything if it meant his boyfriend didn’t have to go through any more pain.
When TK has begun to lie back against the pillows, still breathing carefully through his nose, Carlos fills a glass with water and takes it over. He places the glass on the coffee table and settles himself by TK’s legs, rubbing his side gently.
“Bad dream?” he asks quietly. At TK’s reluctant nod, he winces in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” TK mumbles. His eyes flutter closed, but Carlos knows by the way his face is scrunched up that he probably won’t be getting any more sleep. He wants to ask if TK wants to talk about the dream, but the answer will be no. It always is, TK usually just saying that Carlos already knows what happened and there’s no point talking about it. Which is obviously untrue, but Carlos doesn’t want to force the issue, not while TK’s still physically healing.
“How’s the head?” he tries instead. “Does it hurt badly?”
TK hums. “It’s not great,” he admits, which is TK-speak for I’m in agony . “I don’t think moving so quickly did it any favours.”
“I can get you some Tylenol, if you want?”
TK hesitates, but eventually nods, which is testament to how shitty he must be feeling. Carlos immediately goes to grab the medicine, shaking a couple of pills into his hand before heading back into the front room.
“Here.” He squats down in front of TK and helps him into a seated position, ignoring his boyfriend’s protests.
“You’re starting to act like my dad,” TK jokes, swallowing down the pills.
Carlos laughs. “We’ve been swapping tips. Why else do you think he gave me his number?”
TK groans. “Great. My dad and my boyfriend ganging up on me - just what I need.” He glares as best as he’s able, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“We love you really.”
TK sniffs and allows Carlos to help him to lie down, his eyes closing as soon as he’s settled. Carlos stands to get back to his chores, but he doesn’t miss TK’s mumbled “Love you too ,” that follows him as he goes.
iv.
He only leaves the kitchen for two minutes to grab something from upstairs, but two minutes is all it takes for him to hear a sharp yell of pain, followed by a loud clatter and muffled cursing. Carlos rushes down the stairs, instantly zeroing in on his boyfriend, who appears to be frozen, staring in shock at his hands.
Carlos frowns. Nothing appears to be amiss; the tray of cookies is maybe slightly to the left of where he left it, but other than that, everything seems fine.
Except for TK.
“Babe?” he calls. “Something wrong?”
TK startles, an almost guilty look on his face as he turns to Carlos. His hands drop, hiding behind his back in a way that has Carlos’s eyes narrowing in suspicion. He crosses the room quickly, gently pulling at TK’s wrists until he succeeds in revealing his hands, which have clear burns on them.
“Shit!” He practically drags TK to the sink, forcing his hands under the cold tap. “You should have done this straight away,” he scolds. “You of all people ought to know that, Mr Firefighter-Turned-Paramedic.”
“I know,” TK grumbles. He gives Carlos a sideways look, raising his eyebrows. “You can let go of me, you know.”
Carlos does, flushing slightly, then leans back against the counter, shaking his head at his boyfriend. “How did that even happen?”
The guilty look comes back on TK’s face and he studiously avoids Carlos’s gaze. “You’ll laugh at me.”
“I won’t,” Carlos says, though he’s already struggling to fulfil that promise. Now he knows that TK isn’t too injured, he can start to relax a little, and TK’s expression is doing little to quell his amusement at the situation.
TK sighs heavily, hanging his head. “I was just going to move the tray to make room for the second batch,” he explains quietly - almost too quiet for Carlos to hear. “Except I may have, ah, forgotten that it would still be hot. So.”
Carlos manages to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before he bursts out laughing, which is only fuelled by the indignant look on TK’s face.
“You promised!” he accuses, glaring.
“Sorry, love,” Carlos says, grinning. “At least you didn’t burn the food this time.”
The answering face full of water he receives is worth it.
v.
Carlos should have known the call had gone too well to be true.
They’re just wrapping everything up when there’s a sudden commotion over by the ambulance, and he looks over to see Nancy shielding a patient while TK and Tommy attempt to hold another man back. He catches Mitchell’s attention and they sprint over, but they don’t get there before the guy breaks free, lashing out with his fist.
TK’s head snaps back and he staggers, blood instantly flowing from his nose. Carlos wants to go to him, but he knows he has to focus on his job; besides which, he’d probably just get in the way. He and Mitchell manage to subdue the guy before he can do any more harm, and Carlos hands him off to his partner, subtly inclining his head towards TK. She nods and leads the guy to their cruiser.
Carlos turns to Tommy, who is crouching down next to where TK’s sitting on the sidewalk. “What was that?” he asks, trying to divert his worry for now - not that he succeeds.
She scowls in the direction Mitchell took the attacker. “He blamed our patient for the accident,” she says. “Decided he would try and give him a couple more bruises, not that he needs them.”
Carlos looks over at the patient being tended to by Nancy. All things considered, he doesn’t look too bad, but he’s already started to bruise, and he’s sporting more than a few cuts. Carlos sighs, shaking his head.
“And TK?”
TK opens his mouth to respond, but Tommy answers before he can. “Your boy’s got himself a broken nose, by the looks of it. I don’t think it’s too bad, but I’m taking him to the hospital as a precaution anyway, plus it might need surgery. But he’ll be fine.”
He can’t help the relieved sigh that escapes him at the news. “Good. Thanks, Tommy. My shift is almost done; I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can.”
“You guys realise I’m right here, don’t you?” TK complains, his voice coming out thick and nasally. “I might have a broken nose, but my ears work just fine.”
Carlos chuckles, sharing a fond smile with Tommy. “Glad to hear it, babe,” he comments drily. He leans down to kiss the top of TK’s head. “I’ll see you soon, keep me updated.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
+1
He doesn’t know how it happens.
Just that, one second he’s facing down a suspect; the next, he’s flat on his back, a searing pain tearing through his side. Carlos sucks in a ragged breath, a harsh cough ripping from his throat. Mitchell is above him, her eyes wide and panicked as she speaks into her radio, but Carlos can’t hear what she’s saying, which would probably be more concerning if he could put thoughts together right now.
His eyes feel heavy and they start to close when the pain suddenly intensifies and they fly open again, Carlos gasping for air.
“Don’t you dare go to sleep on me, Reyes,” Mitchell growls, her voice sounding very far away. “Paramedics are here, they’re going to fix you up, you’re - Oh, shit.”
Carlos doesn’t need to wonder for long what caused her to break off; TK’s face soon replaces Mitchell’s, attempting to smile even as his eyes fill with tears. There’s a hand running through his hair, and Carlos leans into the touch, letting it soothe him. He starts to drift again, but he tries to force himself to stay awake.
“Hey, babe,” TK says wetly. “We’ve got you now, you’ve just gotta keep those pretty eyes open for me, can you do that?”
“Think...so…” Carlos manages, another round of coughing overwhelming him. TK holds him through it, his hand on the back of his head to prevent it from hitting the tarmac.
“That’s good.” TK turns to the side, then he’s back, securing an oxygen mask over Carlos’s face. He’s obviously trying to put on a brave face, but, even as out of it as he is, Carlos doesn’t miss the way his hands are shaking. He clumsily reaches up, almost slapping TK’s face in his drowsiness, but it’s worth it to see TK smile as he grips onto his hand. “You’re doing so good, baby, you’re going to be just fine.”
Carlos almost believes it, too.
Almost, because at that moment, the pain returns tenfold and he involuntarily arches off the ground, the air suddenly feeling very thin. Distantly, he can hear yelling, but the darkness is creeping in on him and, this time, he can’t do anything to fight it.
*
The next time Carlos wakes, it’s to harsh lights that threaten a headache and the feeling of another hand in his own. He groans, trying to shift away from the glare of the fluorescents, which is a decision he immediately regrets as pain flares in his side.
There’s movement next to the bed, and then gentle hands are on his face, stroking softly as Carlos breathes through the hurt.
“That’s it,” a quiet voice - TK’s, he realises - says. “You’re okay, I’m here, it’s okay.”
Carlos manages to squint his eyes open again and TK comes into view. He smiles tremulously. “Hi baby.”
“Hey,” Carlos rasps. “What happened?”
TK bites his lip, pulling back slightly. It’s then that Carlos notices his boyfriend is still in his uniform, and he frowns. “TK?”
“You were shot,” TK explains after a long moment, gingerly sinking down onto the edge of the bed. “I don’t know if you remember, but we were the responding crew and we - we almost lost you, Carlos.” He blinks, Carlos’s heart aching as tears slip down TK’s cheeks. He takes a shaky breath, then smiles down at him, a weak and forced thing. “But, you’re okay. We got you back, and according to the doctors, the surgery went well. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, I promise.”
Carlos swallows, a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”
TK shakes his head. “You didn’t ask to get shot, Carlos.”
“I’m sorry you were the ones to respond. That can’t have been easy for you.”
“It wasn’t. But…” TK sighs. “I think I prefer it than having to find out later. At least, this way, I got to be by your side the whole time, and I got to see you would be okay with my own eyes.” He grabs Carlos’s hand and lifts it to his lips, closing his eyes. A few more tears escape, and Carlos longs to wipe them away. “Just, please try and refrain from getting hurt again,” TK continues, eyes opening. “I’m not sure if I can take it.”
Carlos sends him an unimpressed look. “Bold words coming from you.”
TK stares at him, affronted, but it only lasts for a brief moment before he’s laughing. It’s a wet sound, filled with emotion, but Carlos thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. He has no doubt there’ll be plenty more injuries in their future, on both of their parts, but as long as they have each other, Carlos knows that they’ll get through it.