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Carlos’s eyebrows furrow as he focuses intently on the pan in his hand, scrubbing hard to get it clean. He’s so invested in his task that he doesn’t notice when he starts to sing along to the song playing from his phone next to him, or TK entering the kitchen until he’s right behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and resting his chin on his shoulder. Carlos leans back slightly, still giving his full attention to the cookware.
"You know, babe, I’m actually a little surprised you still have a voice,” TK says, humor clear in his tone.
Carlos freezes, his guard flying up at the statement. "I'm not sure what you're talking about,” he mutters, trying to focus on the spot again.
There's a moment of silence before TK moves to his side to lean against the counter. Carlos dares to glance over at him, taking in TK’s eyebrow arched in teasing judgment.
"Oh, really?" TK asks, a smile pulling at his lips as he pulls his phone from his pocket. "So, you have absolutely no idea how Lena sent me this video while I was on shift today?"
Carlos feels heat rise up the back of his neck and curl around his ears as he watches a video of himself on TK's phone. There’s no mistaking the jumping up and down on the bleachers and yelling himself hoarse that’s clearly on display. He groans when he hears the laughter of other spectators from behind the camera.
"I didn't mean to get all... y'know," he tries to explain, his voice weak. TK takes a step forward, dropping his phone on the counter before he curls his fingers around Carlos’s elbow, dragging them closer together. “I just—”
“You’re just very supportive and protective, and full of way too much love for your daughter to get a grip on yourself when you’re in the moment,” TK finishes, his eyes shining with affection as his other hand wraps around Carlos’s neck, soothing him.
“You think she hates me now?”
TK laughs gently, pressing a kiss to Carlos’s lips. “Absolutely not,” he assures him. “I just went up and talked to her about it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” TK says, resting their foreheads together. “And like any 10-year-old, she was a little embarrassed—“
Carlos groans again, his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach.
“—but,” TK continues, “she was also really, really happy to have her Number One Fan in the stands, cheering her on the whole time.”
Carlos takes in the words, letting out a shuddering breath in relief.
“Oh, babe,” TK says, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos falls into him, grateful when TK begins to run his hands up and down his back to calm him.
“I’m just really proud of her,” Carlos mutters in his ear.
“And I love how you make sure she knows it each and every moment of her life,” TK responds, turning his face to press his nose against Carlos’s loose curls. “I wish I had been there to cheer with you.”
“You’ll be at the next one,” Carlos reminds him, his lips falling to his husband’s neck where they belong.
“I will,” TK agrees. “And I’m bringing the whole team, too. ‘Embarrassing’ won’t even begin to describe that chaos.”
Carlos laughs at the image of Marjan and Nancy putting his spectator performance to shame, pressing himself closer to TK. They sway gently in each other’s arms in the quiet of their kitchen.
“I am keeping the video though,” TK says after a moment. Carlos groans again.
“What, for blackmail material?”
“Possibly.” TK pulls away, a smirk shining on his lips. “And also because my husband looks so fucking hot when he’s wearing a baseball cap and screaming nonsense at an innocent umpire.”
The heat returns to Carlos’s face, but this time he can’t stop the smile that accompanies it. “Oh, really?” he teases.
“Fuck, yes,” TK says, pressing forward to crush their lips together in a bruising kiss. Carlos lets TK take the lead, his hips digging into the counter as TK invades his space. “Please tell me you’re done with the dishes,” he begs breathlessly.
“They can soak until morning,” Carlos gasps, TK’s lips now attached to his neck, before taking his hand and dragging him upstairs for a very different kind of team sport.