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TK takes a deep breath and sighs, sinking further into the hospital bed. His mom and dad had just disappeared through the door, with final hugs and kisses goodbye. He feels a little bad to kick them out when he knows they’re worried about him, but truth be told, they were becoming a bit too smothering. Besides, his mom has a plane to catch. A plane that a very small, bitter part of him says she should have caught a couple months ago when she’d originally planned to go home, instead of putting all of them through this again.
He knows it’s not just her fault, and in fact, that’s just life. Some people aren’t meant to be together, and that’s just a fact. TK has known that since he was little. Sure, he wants his parents to be able to be together and be happy and make it work. Nothing would make his secret, inner self that never really grew up happier. (Well, almost nothing.) But Gwyn and Owen can be so toxic with each other. If that isn’t something they’re able to figure out and work on together, then they’re all better off without the two of them in a relationship.
So as much as he wishes it could have worked out differently, and as much as the news about his impending little brother not being his dad’s baby threw him for quite the loop, TK is resigned to it. He’s not really surprised, either. It is what it is, and this is probably what’s best for all of them. A small part of him wonders if his dad still plans to go through with the procedure to remove the rest of his tumor if the baby isn’t his. Since he’s not becoming a dad now.
TK’s not still bitter about that, he’s not.
The gentle creak of a chair and the tapping of footsteps pulls him out of his thoughts.
Carlos is standing at his bedside now, reaching for TK’s hand but not quite taking it just yet. There’s a worried little crinkle between his eyebrows where they turn up slightly the way they do. Carlos has such an adorable little pouty face, even when he’s not upset about anything in particular. Tonight, though, he does have plenty to be worried about.
TK smiles softly up at him, lifting his hand and taking Carlos’ in his own. Their fingers lace together, and Carlos settles himself into the chair Gwyn had previously occupied.
“What’re you thinking about?” Carlos asks him softly.
“Mostly that I’m exhausted and that my head hurts like a bitch,” TK quips at him. It’s a deflection, sure, but he’s not in the mood for a serious conversation right now. Not yet, anyway. Not when it’s late, and the day was hard enough. He’s alive and with his boyfriend, so TK’s happy to leave his family problems at home at least until morning.
Carlos ducks his head and lets out a chuckle that only sounds a little forced before looking back up again.
“Yeah, I bet,” he says. “I’ve never been pistol whipped, but I have had an empty gun thrown at me before.”
That information shocks a laugh out of TK. He immediately regrets it, the sound too loud and motion too painful. He grimaces and breathes through it. When he opens his eyes again, Carlos’ mouth is pressed tight in a thin line and there’s tension in his eyes.
TK wishes he could do anything to soothe the expression away, but he knows that’s not gonna happen. Instead, he doesn’t acknowledge the pain, and just forges on again with a question that might hopefully get them both distracted.
“What’d you do to deserve that?”
Carlos hesitates a moment, watching TK with scrutinizing eyes. But ultimately, he doesn’t say anything about it and lets the conversation continue uninterrupted.
“Guy ran out of bullets, so he thought the next best option must logically be to throw the revolver at me like that would help his situation.”
TK keeps his laugh contained to an amused breath of air this time.
“And?” he inquires.
“It slammed into my hand, knocked my gun to the ground, and broke one of my fingers.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Wasn’t my head, but hey. You never realize just how much you use your nondominant hand until suddenly you can’t,” Carlos says with a joking smile. The tension had eased from his eyebrows. TK takes that as a win. Maybe it was for show, but TK isn’t in a position to question or pry. Truthfully, he can’t even be sure that he’ll remember this conversation later for how tired he is.
Pain can also be a great memory wipe sometimes, no matter how unfortunately coherent he feels.
An involuntary yawn escapes him then, and on his next blink, TK can’t believe how hard it is to open his eyes.
A hand rubs firmly up and down his arm.
“Hey, come on, TK,” Carlos says. “I know you’re tired, baby, but you can’t go to sleep yet, remember? Please stay awake for me.”
TK groans and huffs, finally dragging himself away from the ledge of sleep. It’s tantalizingly close, and he would love to just pass out for a while. Even if someone woke him up again in an hour, he’s tempted to claim he wouldn’t mind. He just wants to rest.
He opens his eyes again and meets Carlos’ gaze with a little put-upon frown.
“I was hit hours ago,” he points out sourly. “If something was going to go wrong, it probably would have by now.”
Carlos shrugs and doesn’t back down.
“Maybe, but that’s not a guarantee. They’re just trying to be safe, cariño. We don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Anything else,” TK corrects. “You don’t want anything else happening to me.”
Carlos smiles at him sadly and doesn’t deny it. TK knows what he’s thinking. It’s been a hell of a day — for both of them. He hasn’t yet heard the details of all the ways Carlos’ day had gone to shit, but he knows it certainly wasn’t ideal. Not by a long shot. And TK himself, well… Yikes, is really all he has to think on the matter right now. And that’s just been one day, not to mention everything from the past year as a whole.
So TK doesn’t say anything about it either. Carlos has always been a worrier, TK has come to find. He does usually have reason to worry, that’s true, but there’s no need to hash it all out right now. Not tonight. There will be plenty of time later.
Instead, they find a new topic, and when that one has been exhausted, they find another. Nurses come in from time to time, check TK out and ask him questions. He answers them, and denies an offer of pain meds when it comes from a younger guy he hasn’t seen before. TK has worked hard for this sobriety, and yeah, he is hurting. His dad was right, he always has a choice, but this is his choice. He’s not interested in tempting fate. Not when he’s come this far, and things are feeling mostly okay. Mostly.
Finally, a doctor comes in and examines him a little bit. They talk briefly. By the end of the visit, TK has permission to sleep finally. He sighs happily at the thought, oh so ready to close his eyes and just drift off into oblivion for the night. Or, for the next one to two hours, anyway. He watches as Carlos nods right along to the woman’s instructions. Keep an eye on him, wake him up at regular intervals, check his pupils and talk to him for a moment, call for help if anything goes wrong. Everything TK is sure Carlos already knows, but gets to hear again, just in case.
And Carlos takes it like a champ, even though he’s probably done this or something similar before and has been told all this at least once tonight.
When the doctor leaves, Carlos smiles at TK and lifts to their clasped hands to press a kiss to his knuckles.
“Get some rest, love. I’ll wake you up in a little while.”
TK smiles and may say something. He means to, anyway. Intends to tell Carlos he loves him, maybe tell him thank you, too. But he can’t remember if any of that comes out before his eyes slip closed and sleep takes him.
*
Carlos does as he promised, and sits at TK’s side through the night. He untangles their hands soon after TK falls asleep and replaces his boyfriend’s hand comfortably on the bed. Most of his time is spent on his phone, until it starts to die. Then he plugs it in and tries to keep himself occupied. He gets up, walks silent laps around the room. Turns on the tv and mutes it before the sound can bother TK and puts on the captions. In the middle of the night, there’s not much on, but some channel seems to be doing a Marvel movie marathon. It’s better than nothing, so Carlos settles in to watch Captain America, which only has about an hour left.
When the movie goes off, Carlos stands again and stretches, hating the uncomfortable hospital chairs, and looks back at TK. He hasn’t moved at all since falling asleep, and it’s been about two hours. Maybe longer than Carlos would have liked to go without waking him up, but that little frown he knows he’s sure to get just breaks his heart.
But it must be done, so Carlos steps closer and places a gentle, yet firm hand on TK’s shoulder. He squeezes and shakes him slightly, careful not to jostle his boyfriend too much. No need to startle him or cause any more damage.
TK’s breath hitches and his eyes open blearily, peering up at Carlos.
“Hi, babe,” he mumbles, sounding froggy and tired. Carlos smiles down at him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not the absolute worst. Does that count as holding a conversation, and can I go back to sleep now?”
Carlos can only laugh lightly.
“In a minute. Drink some water for me.”
TK stays up for a couple minutes, in fact. His attention is caught by Captain Marvel coming on the screen, and claims for about fifteen seconds that he wants to watch it. But then his eyes close on a blink and don’t open again as his breathing begins to even out. Carlos wishes desperately that he could stroke TK’s hair, but it’s hidden beneath white gauze and bandages. And really, Carlos had no intentions of going near TK’s head for a good long while, so he supposes he’ll just have to make do with fixing the blanket more snuggly around him and backing off again to let the man sleep.
Then he settles in to watch another movie and check his phone sitting on the charger every so often.
Eventually, it’s so late it’s actually early, and Carlos is bored out of his mind. Personally, he would love to sleep too, but at this point, he’s worried that even if he were to set an alarm on his phone, he might just sleep through it. He’s absolutely exhausted.
Through the window, the sky is just beginning to lighten. Carlos wonders how Gwyn’s flight is going. He can’t remember now when it took off or when it’s supposed to land, so he can’t honestly say for certain if she would be in New York again by now. But certainly, Owen should have come back. He’d said he was going to, so that they could both get some rest while taking turns watching over TK. But he’s yet to come back, and Carlos is beginning to worry.
Perhaps he just went home and passed out in bed. Carlos wouldn’t blame him if he did. He would love to be sleeping in his own bed. But then again, with TK here in the hospital, there’s nowhere else Carlos would rather be than right here, watching movies and waking TK every so often.
A couple times TK wakes himself up, seemingly with a nightmare. He never says anything about them, even when Carlos asks. Just claims a bad dream and that Carlos is always able to chase them away. It makes something go warm and fluttery in Carlos’ chest, even if he knows for a fact it’s just a deflection tactic. Still, he’ll let TK have this.
Finally, the sun is fully risen, but only just. Carlos sits with his head on one of the extra pillows a nurse had been kind enough to bring him, leaned over awkwardly on TK’s bed. It had been TK’s suggestion, a few hours ago. The pillow sits on the side of the bed, partially covering TK’s left knee. Carlos leans forward in his chair to rest on it. It’s working so far, and as positions go, it’s not the worst. Better than falling asleep upright with his chin against his chest, that’s for sure.
Plus, it provides the added bonus of TK’s hand resting in his hair. His sleep has been more fitful and restless the last few hours, so he wakes frequently, and Carlos can tell every time because TK’s fingers start carding through his curls again. After the first couple times, he stopped moving and asking if TK’s alright, trusting his boyfriend to speak up if he needs something.
Maybe not Carlos’ best choice, but hey. He’s exhausted.
Carlos’ alarm goes off at seven. About fifteen minutes later, Owen appears in the doorway, looking pale and sick. His posture is slumped, and he looks weak-kneed, like he might fall over if a stiff breeze hit him.
Carlos stands up quickly in alarm. His head spins a little, but that’s not even remotely important.
“Captain Strand?” he says, forgetting his talk with the man yesterday and their agreement to use first names. “What’s wrong?”
TK is awake suddenly too, probably having only just fallen back into a doze a moment ago.
“Dad?”
Owen swallows and wets his lips, taking a couple steps into the room.
“Don’t panic,” he says first, which just makes Carlos start to panic more. “But— I got some bad news.”
“The cancer—?” TK starts to guess, but Owen waves him off immediately.
“There was an accident.”
Carlos’ heart stops. TK’s face goes very serious.
“Who?”
“Judd and Grace. They were driving in the rain last night, and someone swerved into their lane. Their truck went into the water.”
TK gasps, sounding more like the air had been stolen from his lungs instead. Carlos collapses back into his chair.
“A-are they alive?”
Owen nods after a second, not meeting either of their eyes.
“I didn’t want to tell either of you over the phone, but I’m not here to stay,” he tells them. “I’m heading over to wait with the rest of the crew to hear anything. They’re at a different hospital, though I would assume we’ll all be making treks over here to see you two through the day, okay?”
TK nods and winces. Carlos can’t find it in him to formulate a response.
“Are they okay?” TK asks.
Owen chews his lip and hesitates, and Carlos knows what that means. He feels his heart clench hard in his chest.
“We don’t know yet. I’ll keep you posted.”
With that, Owen sends them both a careful little look and a goodbye. Then he disappears back through the door and it’s just Carlos and TK again.
Not even twenty four hours since Carlos’ world turned upside and everything went to hell, and it’s still getting worse.
Not knowing what else to do, Carlos reaches out and finds TK’s hand blindly. They grip each other tight in an almost bone-crushing hold, and just try to breathe.