Chapter Text
Carlos drives through the streets with all his car windows open, although it doesn’t really help. There’s no breeze of fresh air. This time of the year, the heat is stifling. The air is flickering above the cars.
It’s calm. Calmer than usual. It almost seems like it’s even too hot for crimes.
Carlos absently listens to the news which is just as unexciting as his shift. When he turns around a corner, however, he notices something that makes his instincts tingle. A small crowd of people is standing in a half-circle around a large Bernese Mountain Dog.
Carlos frowns. He looks closer, taking off his sunglasses, and sees that the dog is just sitting there, looking at the people around him, but there's a man on the ground behind the dog. Someone who might need help.
He stops the car and gets out. He already has a suspicion of what might be going on here. As he gets closer, he sees that the people all look worried and are whispering to each other. A young blond woman is standing way too close to the dog and is gesturing. When Carlos looks at the large animal, his suspicion is confirmed. The dog is wearing a light blue west saying Psychiatric Service Dog.
Carlos focuses on the man cowering behind the dog, with his back pressed against the wall of a grocery store. He has his knees pulled to his chest and is trembling, his face hidden in his hands. Looks like a panic attack. Beside the man lays a torn shopping bag. The ground is littered with apples and tomatoes.
The blonde woman is trying to get the dog out of the way and Carlos feels a flare of anger in his chest. He has a faint déjà vu moment. Not that long ago, his partner and he were called to a scene where a very rude man tried to forbid someone to take their service dog into a store. It was ugly.
However, he pushes the anger aside. Some people don’t mean to be rude. They just have no to little knowledge about service dogs or are just not aware that they aren’t supposed to be touched or distracted while working.
Carlos straightens up and gestures at the woman to back away. “Madam, please take a few steps back. This is a service dog and since he’s wearing the vest, he’s on duty.”
The woman in question looks up in surprise, eyeing Carlos up and down. Her eyes widen a bit and she raises her hands in a defensive gesture. “Excuse me, officer. I was just worried and wanted to help. But the dog …”
The service dog pushes his nose against the woman’s leg and makes an unhappy, whining noise.
The woman looks at Carlos like she wants to say: see what I mean?
Carlos smiles tensely. “He’s asking you to back away from his owner too, madam. Just give them some space. He knows what he’s doing.”
The woman looks like she’s going to argue, but then, she huffs and takes a few steps back.
Carlos nods at her. “Thank you. It’s a good thing that you want to help. But service dogs are highly trained and know what to do. Please remember for the future, that a service dog wearing a vest isn’t supposed to be touched or distracted. Right now, he’s on duty and doing what he’s been trained for.”
Now, the blond woman starts to look guilty. She bites her lip. Her eyes flick between Carlos, the dog, and the shaking man behind the animal. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I ... I really didn’t want to be rude or cause trouble.”
“It’s alright,” Carlos assures her. “I’m here now. You can move on.” He looks at the crowd sternly. “All of you, please. Move on. Thank you.”
Timidly, the crowd shifts, and people start to walk in different directions after a few more glances and whispers. Carlos remains standing at a respectful distance from the service dog, shielding him and his owner from anyone else who might get too curious.
Time passes. Fortunately, a few clouds move in front of the sun, taking some of the merciless heat away. The dog is panting but not moving an inch. When the man on the ground shifts and relaxes some, however, the service dog is fast to put a paw on his knee and whine.
“I’m fine, Buttercup,” the man breathes, putting one of his hands on the dog’s head, scratching between his ears.
Buttercup is a strange name for a dog. But it’s somewhat endearing.
Carlos carefully steps closer. The dog looks up at him attentively but doesn’t move. “Thank you,” his owner says, glancing up at Carlos. His face is pale, but there are some drops of sweat on his forehead. He seems exhausted and embarrassed, but not injured. Still, he has spent a lot of time sitting on the ground, in the blazing sun, so Carlos asks, “Do you need an ambulance?”
The man - who is young, definitely not older than Carlos - winces and shakes his head. “No. I … just need to go home.”
Carlos nods. “Do you have some water with you?”
The man hesitates. He looks down at the bag, his eyes widening a bit. He reaches out for an apple, shaking his head. “No … Oh. That’s the thing I forgot. The water,” he makes a sound that’s maybe supposed to be a chuckle. But it sounds more like a sob. His eyes are wet. “I really thought I can do it.”
Buttercup whines and presses more tightly against the man, who buries both hands in his fur and holds on.
“I’m going to get you some water,” Carlos says, his chest tightening in sympathy. He gets another muffled thank you.
It takes only two minutes to buy the water. Carlos also asks for a bowl so he can give the service dog some.
“I can give you a ride,” Carlos offers, while the man and the service dog drink the water, glancing at the torn shopping bag.
He gets a very crooked smile. “You’re working. And my Dad would freak out if I arrived in a police car.” But then, he’s biting his lip and Carlos can see him thinking. The bag is torn, the groceries are heavy, it’s hot and he’s dead exhausted from the panic attack. “It’s alright,” he assures. “I have time. I’m here to help, Sir.”
“TK,” the guy says, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m TK.”
“Ok, TK. I’m Carlos.” He bends down to pick up the bag and what’s left inside of it, putting it into his car. Then, he collects the apples and tomatoes. Buttercup watches him closely and wags his tail. But he still doesn’t back away from his owner. Good boy.
TK sways a little when he stands up and Carlos instinctively reaches out to steady him, feeling more worried. He makes a mental note to definitely call an ambulance if TK is going to throw up or complain about a headache.
“I’m used to this, you know,” TK says, when he’s sitting on the passenger’s seat, Buttercup panting loudly in the back. The dog is so big, that he fills the whole space. “To people trying to touch Buttercup. Most times, it’s kids. And kids understand why they are not supposed to touch him much faster than most adults. This woman was just trying to help. But we had other people, who were really rude and one time, a man even called the police, telling them Buttercup is aggressive.” TK smiles weakly like that's the most absurd thing he has ever heard. “Buttercup would never hurt a fly. He’s a big old softie.”
Carlos has to smile too. Partly, because Buttercup barks like he agrees, but also because TK has a really nice smile. One that feels infecting. He also has very green eyes. Carlos didn’t notice when they were filled with tears.
He stops in front of a house and reads the name Strand on the mailbox. It rings a bell. Until he realizes that an Owen Strand is currently building the 126 back up. Almost the whole team got killed in an explosion. It was a tragedy. The whole town was mourning for a long, long time. Still is. He already remembers that people weren’t exactly thrilled about the new captain, calling him a foreigner, some even using the word intruder.
But he does seem to do a good enough job. Maybe this is his son. A very handsome son. Carlos wonders what his story is. But he’s just the police officer who gave TK a ride home. It’s not his business to ask questions.
Before getting out of the car, TK says, “Thank you” again. He hesitates, then adds, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Carlos smiles. “Maybe. It’s not a big town.”
He watches as TK carefully carries his arms full of groceries into the house, Buttercup walking beside him.
Not a boring day, after all.
He starts the car again, glad that at least, this service dog incident didn’t turn out like the last one.
As soon as the door closes behind him, TK exhales a long sigh and somewhat sags. All the pressure disappears. He’s home. He’s safe. He's invisible.
His Dad isn’t even home yet. TK is almost glad about it. Means he has some time to calm down. He feels like he has just run a marathon. His clothes are sweat-soaked and clinging to him.
TK takes Buttercup’s vest off to indicate to the dog that his “shift” is over. Like always, the change is immediate. Buttercup relaxes, licks TK’s hand, then runs to his bowl with water and drinks for a whole minute. After that, he walks to his favorite blanket, curls up on it, and happily starts to chew on a toy bone.
TK smiles. He pats Buttercup’s head before he goes upstairs, muttering, “Good boy.”
He goes to his room and lays down, maybe to take a nap. He still feels exhausted and it’s too hot. But once he lays on his back and stares up at the ceiling, the thoughts won’t stop racing in his head. His mood drops as he realizes he failed. Once again.
He couldn’t do the damn groceries. But he was so close. He managed the store and the noise and the people inside. But when he stepped out of the store, someone bumped into him and he just … panicked. Again.
He hated to have all that attention directed on him, even though he knows most people were just worried.
That one woman was so determined to help, that she pushed at Buttercup way too much, distracting him from doing his work. TK is glad the police officer had such good timing and cared enough to stop and take care of the crowd. It's not always like this.
Yeah. The police officer - Carlos - was nice. And attractive. Very attractive. And he didn’t insist on calling an ambulance, like some other police officers TK has met so far.
But he saw, TK reminds himself and shivers. Everyone saw. Everyone saw him there on the ground, hiding and trembling and losing his mind. He heard the whispers. Saw the glances. Everyone saw that he still isn’t able to function like a normal person.
TK groans and puts his hands on his face. A lot of time has passed since ... since the incident. He’s supposed to be better now. He’s supposed to manage everyday things. And now this …
He flinches when he hears the door opening downstairs. Buttercup barks in excitement, without a doubt jumping up to greet TK’s Dad. When he’s not wearing the vest, Buttercup is basically a big puppy.
TK sighs and gets up, walking downstairs.
Owen Strand is trying to take off his boots while Buttercup still jumps to lick his jaw. He looks up and smiles at TK. “Hey, son. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” TK says automatically.
His Dad discovers the apples on the kitchen counter and brightens up. A lot. “You did the groceries!”
TK swallows. The faint flare of pride is not enough to push the lingering guilt of not being able to finish the task without help away. “Yeah.” He threw the torn bag into the trash.
“How did it go?” Owen asks, taking off his jacket next.
TK hesitates. A part of him wants to tell everything and sink into his Dad’s arms for comfort. But the other part thinks of the past. Thinks of all the worry he’s already caused his Dad.
"Great," he lies and tries to smile. "It went great."
Carlos has a problem.
He can’t stop thinking about TK.
Actually, he has two problems. One, he can’t stop thinking about TK. Two, everyone around him notices and makes fun of him.
“You look sick, Reyes,” Mitchell tells him when they are patrolling together. “Lovesick.” She chuckles and Carlos rolls his eyes.
He’s glad when his shift is over.
It’s not as hot as the other day, so he decides to take a short walk in the park before going home, to clear his head.
Carlos isn’t really religious. He also doesn’t really believe in faith. But he almost starts to, when he turns around a corner and a big Bernese Mountain dog appears right in front of him, wagging his tail and barking around a bright yellow frisbee in his snout.
“Buttercup?” Carlos asks, stopping with a frown. He gets another muffled bark.
Buttercup isn’t wearing his vest. He wags his tail again, then trots toward a bench - and toward TK, who’s sitting on it, cross-legged, staring into the void like he's lost in his thoughts and chewing on the nail of his thumb. He’s wearing shorts and a white t-shirt. The clothes hug his body and it’s as handsome as the rest of him.
Carlos feels his throat going dry. Buttercup looks back at him with his intelligent eyes, almost like he expects Carlos to follow him. And that’s exactly what he does, moving like he’s being pulled by an invisible string.
“Hey,” he says, once he’s close enough.
TK looks up, surprised. He drops his hand, rubbing at it with his other one. “Oh. Hey.” He looks Carlos up and down. “You’re not wearing your uniform.”
“My shift is over. I just wanted to take a walk before going home,” Carlos explains, wincing in surprise, when Buttercup appears beside him, nudging his leg with his cold nose. The frisbee lays in the grass, abandoned by the dog.
TK smiles. “He likes you. Even dropped his favorite toy for you.”
“Uh, wow, I’m not exactly a dog person,” Carlos says, carefully petting Buttercup, who presses against his legs in obvious bliss.
“So, you like cats more? I like cats too,” TK says, grinning. “I like every animal.”
Carlos shrugs. “I don’t know. I just don’t have a lot of experience with animals. My parents never wanted a pet and tried to keep me away from animals.” He can still hear his mother's voice in his ears, telling him animals are dirty and can make him sick.
“Hm. My parents didn’t really want pets either,” TK says, fidgeting with the hem of his shorts. “But I brought lots of them home. Just found them on the streets of New York. Never got to keep them though. Now I get to keep Buttercup.”
The dog barks and wags his tail when he hears his name. He nudges Carlos again, then trots off to collect his toy.
Carlos sits on the bench too and watches Buttercup. “He’s a great dog.”
TK nods and smiles. “Yeah. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s great, no matter if he’s wearing the vest or not. Really helps me to get through the day.” He bites his lip, suddenly looking like he’s not sure if he revealed too much. But then, he sighs and rubs the back of his neck, glancing at Carlos. “I have an anxiety disorder. And … some other issues. A few months ago, I wasn’t even able to leave the house. Like, never. And you’re kind of the first person - except my Dad - I’m talking to ever since we arrived here. Truth is, I hate to be out of the house, but I have to get better with everyday stuff. So that I can go back to work. Being a firefighter is the only thing I’m good at. And it’s pretty much the only thing I can do without getting anxious. Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“No, it’s alright,” Carlos tells him. “You can talk to me. I know what it’s like when you’re new somewhere and you don’t know anyone. If you want to, I can give you my number.” He really tries not to sound like he’s trying to flirt or something.
TK brightens up. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah. I’d like that,” TK says, pulling out his phone. He types “Officer Reyes”. It’s one of only three contacts.
Carlos smiles, types his number in, and when he gives TK back his phone, their fingers touch briefly. Their eyes meet and then they look away at the same time, chuckling awkwardly. Buttercup looks between them, his tongue lolling and his tail wagging.
“I met someone,” TK says while pulling off his shoes.
“Yeah?” His Dad asks, perking up from the pot he’s stirring in. He’s smiling, but he’s also frowning a little. TK can’t blame him for being concerned. Not after everything that happened.
“A police officer. His name is Carlos Reyes. We were just talking at the park,” he explains.
“Okay,” Owen says, looking back down at the pot. “Well, I’m glad you were talking to someone.”
“He gave me his number,” TK says, sitting at the table and bouncing his foot. “Said I can talk to him some more. If I want to.”
His Dad nods then coughs violently. He grimaces and rubs at his chest. "Damn it."
TK frowns. “You have been coughing a lot lately, Dad. Are you getting sick? If you are, you better don’t pass it on to me. I feel too good to be sick right now.” Which is … the truth. Talking to Carlos has brightened his mood up immensely. At least he didn’t fuck it up with a panic attack or something else weird.
His Dad opens his mouth to say something but then coughs again, even bending over with the force of it. TK starts to feel anxious. His good mood drops. Just like his stomach. He starts to get up. “What’s going on, Dad? Are you alright?”
Owen raises a hand, the other one still pressed to his mouth. “Please. Remain sitting, son. We need to talk.”
TK obeys, nervously reaching out for Buttercup, who comes running even though he’s not wearing his vest and lays on TK’s feet, licking his hand. “What’s going on?” TK repeats, his chest feeling too tight.
Owen sighs. He looks like he really doesn’t want to talk. He turns off the stove, sits opposite TK, runs a hand through his hair, and then starts to talk.
Carlos jerks awake, blinking into darkness.
It’s the middle of the night. Something woke him up. Something …
Slowly, his sleep-addled senses come back and he realizes that his phone is ringing and vibrating on the night table.
He fumbles for it, his heart racing. Calls in the middle of the night never bring good news.
“Hello?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.
“Officer Reyes? Owen Strand.”
Carlos is awake immediately. TK’s Dad? Why would he call? “Uh, hello, Captain Strand. What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry I called you that late, officer Reyes, but TK has your number saved and he told me he was talking to you. I just wanted to ask, if maybe, he’s with you?” He sounds hopeful.
Carlos frowns. His chest tightens with worry. “No. He’s not with me. What happened?”
He hears a heavy sigh. “He’s gone, officer. He’s gone and he left Buttercup here. His phone too. I … I’m afraid I had to tell him something he wasn’t ready to hear.” Heavy coughing on the other side.
Carlos swings his legs out of bed, his heart racing. “I’m going to be with you in fifteen minutes, Captain.”