Archive of Our Own

TK is no stranger to the urges to use, that constant companion that never seems to leave him be long enough for him to take a breath without it being pulled from his lungs with a sharp urge that leaves his head spinning. That constant thrum under the skin and the white noise that buzzes in the background, only disappearing when he pops that first pill. He’s found that urges are like those little flies buzzing around your head that won’t go away no matter how many times you swat at them. They don’t go away until you kill them or they find something better. Addiction, however, never seems to be able to do either unless you take that next pill or down the next drink. It’s a constant urge, in the back of his mind, and TK’s learned to live with it.

His dad still thinks that it’s easier in Austin, the urges, and TK’s never bothered to correct him because to some extent, it is. It’s easier to just not use than having to go through the vetting process of finding a new dealer. It’s easier to just lay in bed on his days off, staring up at the ceiling and biting back the desire to itch that urge under his skin. It’s just easier to pretend, here in Austin, where the people only know this post-addiction version of TK and a single smile is enough to convince them. It’d never pass in New York, that fake smile was just too easy for some to clock even years since he last used. Austin is just easier.

There is nothing out of the ordinary with the call, no logical reasoning for the itch beneath TK’s skin, but it still has his knuckles white against the steering wheel as he follows the GPS’ orders to take a right. There’s a man out on his porch, hands waving frantically as they pull to a stop with the sirens still blaring and lights flashing. A cruiser pulls in behind them, both of them standing out like a sore thumb among the perfectly trimmed lawns and meticulously clean cars. There’s nothing out of the ordinary, TK tells himself, even as his stomach sinks to his feet as he slings his medkit over his shoulder.

Unresponsive persons. It could mean a lot, does mean a lot, but there’s something deep in TK’s stomach that just knows what they’re about to walk into. It makes him feel frighteningly sick, stomach twisting over and over again as he takes the steps two at a time to keep up with Nancy. The mom, the man’s wife, had been the one to make the call after they found their 17-year-old son unresponsive in his room. The hinge on the door is broken, something that TK remembers seeing on his bedroom door every day when he was living with his mom. It’s the tell-tale sign that the door had been broken to get inside–TK just hopes it wasn’t for the same reasons.

“Jesus.” Nancy whispers, just quiet enough that TK is the only one who can hear, and he definitely agrees with the sentiment. The kid, looking so young, is sitting slumped against the bed with his mom hovering over him. His head is listed to the side, eyes fluttered closed, and chest barely rising. There are rings around his eyes and a certain gauntness to his cheekbones that has TK slowing to a stop in the doorway, one hand clutched around the strap of his bag until his knuckles turn white.

“What’d he take?” TK asks, the words torn past his lips before he even gets a chance to read the room. It only solidifies his insistence though, when a single glance around the room tells him all he needs to know. The textbooks piled high near the edge of the desk, the calendar that’s meticulously marked with each date he needs to remember as if he’s afraid to lose them, and even the rumpled pillow that shows he’d likely been lying down instead of working. It’s all too familiar, an open book that reads too much like TK’s room in his mom’s apartment up in Manhattan. Not long after his first taste, his room still looked like that, the attention he craved from silent friends and absentee parents being tossed into whatever class he could find. The perfect grades pinned on the cork board above his desk. For a minute, TK isn’t sure if he’s standing in Austin or New York.

“Excuse me?” The mom sounds affronted, tearing TK from the past and into the present as his team falls to their knees beside the boy as the mother takes a step back, “He would never! He’s a good kid, a smart kid! He’s not one of those—those drug addicts!”

It’s been long enough that TK doesn’t flinch at the obvious hatred leaking from her voice. There will be time to dwell later, and even if he can keep his face steady now, the offhand remark buries deep into the back of his brain. Right now, though, there’s no time to delay when there’s a kid’s life in their hands.

“TK, what are you talking about?” Tommy prompts, voice steady and trusting in a way that TK still isn’t used to from her. As much as he loves the 252, loves them like they are his family and he’s sure that he never will stop, they were all far too aware of his struggles. They’d seen him, from the first overdose to the last, and there was always that hesitance in their voices when on calls like this. Here, at least, Tommy may be aware but has never seen TK so strung out on the bathroom floor that he can’t see straight because he hadn’t been able to say no when his dealer called him up.

“The—uhh…” TK isn’t sure how to say this without hurting the parents, without making them even more angry at a time of such stress but a single glance around the room is still more telling than he wants it to be, “He’s on something Cap, I—maybe Adderall or, or opioids, I don’t know, but…”

TK trails off as he glances around the room, unable to help himself because there’s this feeling in his gut that tells him to keep going, keep looking.  His eyes dart across the room, from bookshelf to bookshelf but they keep coming back to one spot. One book that looks like it’s moved more than the rest, the corners of the books beside it bending and breaking from the constant abuse of yanking its neighbor from their slot.

The book rattles when he pulls it from the shelf, the sound of pills clinking in those obnoxious orange bottles a noise that still haunts TK in his nightmares, and he tosses it onto the bed. There’s no labels, no prescriptions, but he knows what they are by a simple glance. There’s no way to forget those small blue pills, the high that runs loud and smooth, the crash that’s inevitable and sharp. His fingers twitch just once, unable to stop himself from the urge that he’s always fought against even after years of being sober. It’s a desperate urge that can’t be broken.

“It’s oxy. He took oxy.” TK murmurs, though his voice feels booming in the quiet of the room. He hears one of the parents gasp sharply, though his ears are ringing too loud to place who it really is. Vaguely, he can feel his stomach twist as he drops the bottle back into the carved out book and shoves his shaking hands into his pockets in some desperate attempt to quell the anxiety making him sick. Some part of him, deep down and mostly hidden under the sick, sick feeling swirling in his stomach, tells him to be proud that he didn’t hover over the pills for longer than he did. The fact that he hovered at all overpowers it.

“Narcan. Nancy, he needs—” TK starts and is unsurprised to find her already tearing through her medkit, gauze and tape spilling out the sides as she yanks it open enough for the zipper to be on the verge of breaking. They all carry it in varying degrees, he knows that even the cops that are attempting to console the parents have some stuffed somewhere in the kit in the back of their car. 

“There’s no telling how many he took.” TK answers the silent question, dropping to his knees beside the kid just as Nancy shoves the spray up his nose and he steadily avoids looking at the parents as they sob. He sees more than hears Tommy get to her feet, gently consoling and urging the parents to step back at the same time that TK rolls the kid to his side. Just in time, too, because soon the kid is sputtering and gagging around the bile that spills out in thin, blue-colored strings. Too many of the pills are still fully shaped, untouched by stomach acid, and TK has to force in a breath to keep himself steady in the moment. To keep his mind in Austin and not Manhattan on a rainy day where Enzo is yelling at him through the door as he downs more pills than he ever has before. The kid chokes a few times, coughing hard enough that his eyes water as more tiny blue pills spray across the floor beside them, and TK runs a comforting hand through the kid’s hair on impulse. Nancy meets his eyes over the kid’s head and TK knows that there’s going to be a conversation after this, a conversation that he can’t avoid even if he wants to. There’s still some part of him deep down that’s going to try.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. Don’t try to move.” TK urges calmly, managing to keep his voice steady even as his heart races under his skin at the tear-filled glance the kid gives him, “Think you can tell us your name?”

The kid sputters around his words, coughing harsher than he should and TK trails his hand down to check his pulse at the same time the kid murmurs his name—Ethan. He looks somehow more heartbroken to be glancing at TK than he is when his head rolls over to where his parents are sobbing. It’s a feeling TK knows intimately.

“You’re alive, Ethan, you’re alive.” Nancy whispers just as soft and TK bites back his own flinch but there’s nothing he can do when the poor kid flinches back hard enough that the arm Nancy had been attempting to get an IV into flails. She looks up at TK, a little wide-eyed and sad, but he just shakes his head as minimally as he can. It’s not that they want to die, there’s no want for that, but TK’s not sure anyone properly understands it unless you’ve been in the same boat of a gray world that’s slowly growing darker. A world where the only light is brought in tiny orange bottles with pills that make you feel like you’re dancing on clouds. The reminder that they’re alive makes it seem like something worse and they never really mean. 

“Hey, Ethan, you with me?” TK asks calmly, tapping his fingers against the kid’s cheek until he glances up at him enough to nod and TK takes a shaky breath, “Alright, this is my captain, she’s going to check you over while my friend and I step out to get the gurney, okay?” 

He nods, even though it’s obvious he knows that he has no say in the matter, but it makes it easier for TK to force himself to stand. His legs tremble under him, each step feeling like he’s carrying twice his weight on his back, and he hates the way he stumbles as he slides past the parents. They’re openly sobbing, tears streaming down their faces as they watch their son from behind the line that the two police officers have made. One of which TK vaguely recognizes, he thinks her last name is Balkin, but he doesn’t know for sure. All he does know is that one way or another, Carlos is going to know about this before he gets home tonight.

The carved out book and bottle of pills still flash in his mind when he closes his eyes, a desperate calling that makes TK feel startlingly sick to his stomach as he takes the stairs two at a time until he’s breathing in the warm Texas air. It’s sticky and hot but so different from the chill that New York had always brought with it and he slams a hand hard against the side of the ambulance to steady himself as his ears ring. 

“TK!” Nancy shouts, her voice echoing like she’s screaming across a cave at him, but she’s standing right in front of him when he glances up. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes are filled with worry and something like guilt settles in TK’s stomach, twisting with nausea as he watches the fear fill his partner with no words to help. He shrugs uselessly, figuring there’s no point in lying, and he squeezes one shaking hand into a fist.

“That kid, he—he deserves so much better.” TK whispers brokenly, hating the way his voice cracks just a little as he wipes harshly at the tears welling up unbidden in his eyes. “There’s, this is going to be with him for the rest of his life. He deserves better.”

He supposes they all do, all of them that fell into this on accident but can’t quite claw their way out no matter how hard they try. Those that have made it out and those who haven’t or can’t or simply don’t want to all deserve better. TK doesn’t know where he falls on that spectrum, though he’s not sure he deserves better himself, not when he caused his parents the pain that comes along with sitting in hospital chairs and waiting for news. It’s an odd sort of pain, the kind that never leaves, and TK can still see it reflected in his dad’s eyes when TK lingers too long restocking the ambulance or is stuck in the hospital for some minor slip up. It’s a look that he’ll never forget, a feeling that tastes like ash when he swallows.

It’s far too easy to school his expression, even as his lungs catch on the next inhale and he blinks tears out of his eyes, but she’s kind enough to not mention it. The stretcher comes down with a bang that has TK wincing, the sound echoing too loud in his own ears, and Nancy clocks him with a look that tells him he’s not hiding it as well as he’d like. 

The keys dangle in his fingers after they finish loading Ethan up, his parents sitting in the back in a frenzied type of silence that has their legs bouncing with each shaky inhale, and Nancy snatches them before he can take a step away from the back. She doesn’t say anything but she does take a moment to rest a hand on TK’s shoulder, squeezing it tight. It hurts but that’s what grounds him to the fact that he’s standing in Austin where things are easier. Where he can’t turn around and get a pill just by sweet-talking the right person. It’s easier and he can breathe even if it’s unsteady enough that he doesn’t think any oxygen reaches his lungs as he climbs into the passenger seat of the ambulance.

And for the first time since TK switched to being a paramedic, Nancy drives.

Tommy sends him home before the ambulance has even been parked, a solid look quieting any argument that TK may have been able to come up with. In fact, they’re so far from the station that by the time they’re pulling to a stop, TK knows that the car idling in the parking lot is the uber he’d ordered when they hit the red light two blocks from here. It’s far easier than he would like to admit to avoid all the concerned looks thrown his way when he dips into the locker room only to come out moments later still in uniform, backpack slung over his shoulder. He can feel the eyes following him as he leaves the station without a backwards glance and he fights the urge to respond to the not so soft whispers as Marjan and Mateo wonder where he’s going. He hears his dad call for Tommy and on a whim that he really shouldn’t follow, TK powers his phone off as he climbs into the uber.

That itch won’t leave, even when TK rakes his nails across the bare skin of his forearm until he’s red and almost bleeding, There’s that niggling in the back of his brain, some part of him that’s begging to tell the uber driver to take a left instead of a right at the light and go to that bar. Even if he couldn’t find a pill there, he could find a drink or a fight. Anything to stop the numbness seeping into his chest. Instead, he watches as the scenery changes from the coffee shops and bodegas surrounding the firehouse into nightlife and warehouses as they pull to a stop outside of the loft. 

“Thanks.” TK murmurs, voice sounding foreign in his own ears, and his fingers shake as he thumbs out more than a few dollars extra for a tip to the driver. His ears are still ringing as he climbs the stairs and it takes him more than a few tries to get the key into the lock, hands shaky as the key scratches the metal when he misses. He’s expecting the loft to be silent and dark, Carlos likely still at work even after the ridiculous hours the man has been putting in the last few weeks, but the room is warm when he enters.

“Hey, babe,” Carlos greets in a soft voice, spinning around on socked feet as TK trudges into the kitchen after toeing off his boots at the door. “Want to talk about it?” 

There’s an underlying tone that tips TK off more than the concern written in his partner’s eyes and he’s entirely unsurprised in the action, knowing that Nancy must’ve sent off a text as soon as he left. It makes his eyes burn for no good reason, even as he tucks his head against Carlos’ neck and shrinks himself against his partner. He’s shaking and the itch is still there, red skin stark against the normal paleness of his forearm. Carlos takes it gently, fingers brushing over the irritated skin with a sigh, but he doesn’t say anything when TK pulls back.

“Can you—can you do me a favor?” TK asks, his voice edging just on the wrong side of begging and if it had been any other day, he might feel a little embarrassed for it. Today, he can’t even bring himself to care as he swallows back the taste of bile in his throat. Carlos hums in agreement, nodding his head without even needing to hear what TK wants to say and there’s never been a time that he’s been more in love.

“I need to—I can’t be alone. You don’t have alcohol here right?” TK knows it’s a dumb question, knows that Carlos had never kept any type of substance stronger than ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet after that first disastrous date, but he still needs to know. Carlos simply shakes his head, leaning back against the counter and keeping his hands steady on TK’s waist as he waits him out. TK takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes tight enough that his vision starts to dance with white, and he intertwines one of his hands with the one that Carlos has on his hip.

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t think you would. Uh—I can’t be alone tonight. You don’t have a shift, right?” TK hates how needy he sounds, how desperate he is to cling to Carlos when he can barely suck in a steady breath, but Carlos doesn’t seem to mind when he shakes his head, “Okay, good. Then would you mind, uh, I don’t know, just—locking these away? I can’t, I don’t trust myself with them.”

He takes a step back, unsurprised when Carlos lets him go easily, and he digs for his phone and keys in his pockets. They clink with each other as he drops them on the granite countertop as TK digs for his wallet, shoving all three of them away and he takes a steady breath. He knows that Carlos has a safe in their closet, tucked near the back, and TK knows that it’s where he keeps his weapons and badge. There’s an unspoken rule between them, one that TK has never wanted to break, that it remains a silent secret between them. It helps that he doesn’t know the code, has never asked for it and never will. 

“Of course, baby, why don’t you sit down and I’ll put them up, then come back?” Carlos offers and TK nods, fingers tightening into fists as he trails after his boyfriend until they hit the living room and he collapses into the chair where he can still see the kitchen. His favorite throw is haphazardly tossed over the back of it and he pulls it around his shoulders greedily, searching for comfort in whatever he can find. It does little to stop that thrumming under his skin and even though the blanket provides some comfort, there is something about it that makes his skin feel like it’s burning.

Even almost two years down the line from his last relapse, there were still days that could only be classified as bad. 

The threads of the throw scratch across his skin, somehow managing to act like a balm to the itch of cravings, and he tightens his fingers around the corners. If he remains quiet for a moment, chest barely lifting as he takes half-breaths to not make a single noise, he can hear the sound of a safe clicking. It’s not the first time that he’s wondered what the code is or what is hidden behind the metal door, but today it is for entirely different reasons than normal. There’s a buzzing of noise in the back of his mind but even when he drops his head in between his knees, desperately pressing them into the sides of his head, the noise still remains. 

“Hey. Hey,” Carlos whispers, fingers trailing to TK’s chin as he comes to kneel in front of his partner and gently taps until he looks up. “Baby, I need you to answer me when I ask this. What do you need?”

There’s a lot that he needs, even though most of them tend to fall more under wants, but there’s nothing that can be done to stop the stinging under his skin. Nothing he's okay with doing, anyway. It’s not like he wants to use, he hasn’t truly wanted to use in years at this point, but sometimes he finds that it’s easier. Easier than fighting the urges, easier than sitting in his room and listening to his parents fight, easier than missing something he can’t have. 

“I—” TK cuts him off, digging his fingers into the threads of the blanket until the tips of them start to ache from the pure pressure of it. “A meeting? Maybe? Or just—not leaving. I don’t know, it wasn’t this bad earlier, I’m sorry, ‘Los.”

Carlos smiles softly and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, it still warms TK’s stomach. His hands go limp when Carlos gently slides his index fingers between them and tugs until he can link them together. The squeeze he gives is so tender that it’s almost enough to make TK cry, eyes stinging just a little bit as their hands hover in the air between them.

“Okay, baby, do you want to go to a meeting? I can look to see if there’s one nearby tonight.” Carlos offers and TK wants to be able to agree without a second of hesitation. He wants to not have his stomach swirl in guilt and disgust at such a genuine offer. The simple idea of leaving the safety and warmth that these four walls provided makes him want to scream. 

“Not really. I mean, I just—” TK drops his head back into his knees and leans forward just enough so that he’s pressed close enough that he can leech some of the heat off of Carlos’ body. “The idea of leaving the house kind of makes me want to tear my hair out? So, y’know, maybe not?” 

Carlos’ lips turn up just a little, like he’s completely endeared by something, and TK’s cheeks turn just a little red at the soft look he finds in his partner’s eyes. For a moment, they’re silent, and Carlos scoots just a little closer until his head is resting against the side of the chair. The heat of him being so close warms TK down to the bone.

“Sounds like a plan.” Carlos agrees, voice calm and steady, so filled with love that it makes TK’s eyes burn once again before he’s nodding. “How about this? You can take a shower while I order in, that Chinese takeout place down the street? Then we can watch something on tv, we won’t even have to move for the rest of the night.”

TK loves this man with his whole heart, an always burning fire that’s settled in the cavity behind his heart, and he can feel it brighten with each breath he takes. Neither of them make any attempt to move for the time being and instead, Carlos goes willingly when TK tugs at their joined fingers until they’re smushed together on the chair. It’s uncomfortable, elbows and knees in all the wrong places, but Carlos doesn’t complain. His fingers thread through TK’s hair, twisting around in the locks until he feels his partner relax against him. 

The noise in the back of his brain and the itch under his skin don’t go away, still screaming for attention, but it’s easier to breathe pressed against Carlos. The urge is still there, a constant companion with each second that passes, but it’s easier to weather when he’s not alone. 

It had taken more than an hour to convince both Tommy and his dad that he didn’t need another day off, that he was okay to work. He lies and tells his dad he went to a meeting, still wound far too tight to deal with the disappointment that he’ll face if he says no. He’s sure that Tommy knows, almost positive that she catches the slight bounce of his feet when he looks at his father, but she doesn’t press the issue. It makes it just a little bit easier to breathe when she finally agrees, warning him in no uncertain terms that if she doesn’t think he’s ready that he’ll remain benched for the rest of the shift. 

He’s been fine all shift, poking fun at Nancy whenever he can and smiling in all the right places when Judd tells a story about Charlie. It’s the perfect mask, the one that even the 252 had fallen for more times than they’d like to admit, and it’s all fine. He’s not okay but TK’s not sure he can remember the last time he could say, without a shadow of doubt, that he was. If he had to guess, his best guess would be before he even hit double digits. Regardless, he’s doing fine, assisting patients and following instructions. Of course it has to getshattered before they’re even halfway through shift.

“Sir! Sir!” The voice is too familiar for TK to even pretend that he doesn’t know who it is, hands tightening around the gurney as he and Nancy head out of the hospital. His back is turned but he knows that it’s Ethan’s mom without even having to look. Even if he didn’t recognize the voice, the look in Nancy’s eyes gave it all away.

“Ma’am.” TK goes for a placating smile and he forces himself to keep his hands steady as they fall to his side. “How’s your son?”

The topic isn’t safe, it’s a dangerous ledge that he’s putting himself out on, but it’s the only thing he can think to say. He hears Nancy suck in a slightly concerned breath, feels her eyes tracing over his back as if she’s looking for any sign or excuse to drag him out of there within the next heartbeat, but he doesn’t give anything away. He’s perfected the art of appearing steady even when his brain was whirring faster than he could keep up with.

“He’s okay, thanks to you!” Her eyes are shiny under the fluorescent lights of the emergency department, unshed tears clear in her vision that reflect the blues and reds outside. It makes his heart ache just a little, his mind immediately drawn to his mom the first time he overdosed. He remembers how much pain it caused, will likely never be able to forget, but seeing it written so clearly on someone else hurts worse somehow. 

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad he’s okay,” TK smiles, forcing himself to keep his voice steady and professional, not allowing even a slip of emotion. “We were just doing our job, ma’am, my partner and I were just happy we could help.”

He motions to Nancy, briefly turning his head over his shoulder so he can meet her eyes and immediately wishes he hadn’t. She’s concerned, that much is clear in the way that her eyes have locked on his as if he’s going to burn up under the watchful gaze of Ethan’s mom. 

“Yes, yes, but it was you who found it out.” She sounds shaky in her tone and she takes a step forward, seemingly uncaring that it makes TK bite back a flinch before he slams into the metal of the gurney behind him. He bumps into it still, only steadied by the hands that Nancy has wrapped around the other end, and he can already see Tommy’s gaze in his mind. He is so going to be sent home.

“He wants to meet you, the man who saved his life. C-can we talk in private?” She’s hesitant, obviously concerned that she’s doing something wrong and some brave part of TK wants to tell her that she is. But he’s too broken, too shattered beyond repair, to send her away and instead turns to Nancy.

“I’ll meet you outside?” He offers, though it’s more of a demand than a request, but he can still see her hesitate for a breath. She’s debating the inevitable, glancing between TK and the mom as if the air between them will give away whatever will be discussed. TK couldn’t ask for a better partner.

“Just until we get another call,” she eventually agrees, leveling him with a look that tells him that he’s expected to return the moment that their walkies buzz to life, and he manages a half smile in response. It seems to soothe whatever worries have twisted their way into her gut and she nods once, calm and steady hands rolling the gurney out to the bay. TK hates the way that he knows that the next time he crosses those doors, Tommy is going to be wearing that concerned look that means she wants to bench him for the rest of the shift.

“What can I do for you?” TK asks, forcing himself to keep his voice steady even as his heart pounds against his chest in a desperate attempt to escape. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants, curling them into fists as soon as they disappear from view and he finds momentary peace in the pain his nails digging in cause. 

“Like I said, he—my son wants to meet you. You saved his life.” Her voice shakes like she’s on the verge of tears and TK isn’t as surprised as he wants to be. He wonders, briefly, if his parents ever sounded like that when talking with the paramedics that saved him that first time. He wonders if his mom or dad had even registered that they were the ones who figured it out when Enzo was too busy panicking over his body. It takes physical effort to shove that thought away, shoving it into a box with nothing but a reminder to call his stepfather after shift tonight, and keep his attention steady on Ethan’s mom.

“Would you be willing? I—my husband and I will buy dinner. He just, well, he wants to talk with you.” She sounds steady in her request, the first moment of peace that she seems to have attained in this situation and even if TK wanted, he couldn’t say no. It’s not what he should be doing with his state of mind right now, far from it in fact, and TK can practically hear his sponsor yelling at him to put himself first, but TK’s not strong enough. He never was strong.

“I get off at five tonight, would that be okay?” TK sighs and the mom’s eyes light up, something close to joy and relief in her features that soothe the anxiety twisting in TK’s stomach. She goes to say something but never quite gets the chance, TK’s walkie crackling to life within a second. He smiles and doesn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, he doesn’t think that he has the strength to make himself go if she said anything else. Tommy levels him with a concerned look as he exits the door and Nancy mimics it from the driver’s seat as he pulls himself in but he doesn’t give either of them a response. He doesn’t think he could without his voice shaking anyway. 

TK’s entire body feels itchy, like that time he fell into a patch of poison ivy when his school left the city for a trip that had to be canceled. He’s no stranger to the eyes resting on his back, his father’s are the most obvious but the rest of the team is hovering just a bit too close that TK feels like he’s slowly getting wound tighter and tighter. It’s seconds until he snaps, the gray on the outsides of his world slowly turning red as he grips his hands around the metal tight.

“You know it’s okay to not be okay, right, kid?” His dad pokes, far enough away that there’s no way the rest of the team didn’t hear and it just makes TK want to scream. “We’re just worried.”

“I’m fine,” TK snaps back, biting his tongue hard enough that he starts to taste copper in an attempt to stop himself from saying something he’ll regret later. He’s not sure who makes the disbelieving snort behind him, the blood that’s rushing in his ears making it too difficult to tell if it was Judd or Paul. He assumes it was Judd, the older man has always been the first to call him on his bullshit, and most of the time, TK doesn’t mind it. Today is not one of those times.

“Come on, son, it’s okay if you’re not,” Owen reassures and even with his back turned, TK can hear and feel his father taking a step closer. The boots sound heavy on the metal loft of the living area they’re all sitting in and TK tries to bite back a remark that has no place slipping out. He knows that it won’t get him what he wants.

“We won’t judge you, man, you know that,” Mateo adds, clearly not reading the room as well as the others, and TK would almost feel guilty for that being the tipping point. Tomorrow, he might. Scratch that, tomorrow he will, but the frustration and anger simmering under his skin alongside the urges makes him snap. He’ll probably apologize tomorrow or the next day, assuming he manages to somehow get his head screwed on straight and not get completely taken over from the cravings that have been ransacking his mind.

“What do you want me to say?” TK snaps, voice echoing off of the suddenly silent walls as he spins so fast that his boots squeak against the floor and he levels the glare at his father instead of the rest of the team, “Seriously? What is it that you want to hear?”

His dad doesn’t say anything, instead taking a simple step back and raising his hands in what is clearly aimed to be a placating gesture. All it does is make TK more angry, his heart pounding hard against his chest as he takes a shaky breath and clenches his hands into tight fists.

“You want to hear that I want to use? You want me to tell you that I have been craving oxy so bad that I had to make my boyfriend lock up my keys and wallet and phone so I didn’t go out? Is that what you want to hear?” TK hates the way that his voice breaks and he swallows around the lump in his throat even as tears burn against his eyes. “Or, or do you want to hear that I didn’t go to a meeting yesterday because even just the thought of leaving the house felt too tempting?”

He’s so angry that he doesn’t even register the others in the room, even though logically he knows they’re there. His entire focus is on his father and ensuring that the man understands just how messed up TK’s head has been. Once upon a time, Owen would be the first one that TK would turn to when the cravings got to a point where he wanted nothing more than to find the nearest dealer. Nowadays, TK prefers to keep it close to his chest in a protective little box that only Carlos holds the key to.

“What is it dad? What is it that you want to hear?” TK’s seething and he would be unsurprised if there was steam coming from his ears like in the cartoons he used to watch. “Do you want to hear about how much of a fuck up I am? Cause I know, trust me I know. So yeah, of course a case like that, a case that’s practically a carbon copy of that first time I overdosed, was going to be triggering!”

He doesn’t wait for a response, even though he can hear the sound of a chair scraping across the metal and a whispered version of his name. He’s halfway down the steps before he even hears his dad say anything, the tone of his voice somehow managing to both comfort and grate on every single one of his nerves. If he spends the rest of his time until the next call restocking an already filled ambulance, well, nobody bothers him so he figures it’s better to remain hidden.

Miraculously, he doesn’t get sent home for the blow up in the kitchen, though he’s sure it’s a near thing. He’s not dumb enough to miss the way that Tommy’s eyes follow him everytime the bell rings or the way that Judd’s always right there on any call they’re sent out on together or the way that Nancy bumps their shoulders together more than she normally would. It makes the itch under his skin shift, something that had previously been begging for release now making his lungs squeeze until there’s no air left for him to breathe. Anxiety and urges, TK’s learned, go hand in hand with one another. They run side by side under his skin, itching and begging for relief, and refuse to be forced away by anything short of adrenaline, pain, or a pill. 

By the time his shift ends, the palms of his hands are red and decorated with half-crescents from where his nails have dug in too hard. There’s a few spots of blood that linger, though not from a case, and TK keeps them closed limply to not alert anyone else. The uber is already waiting by the time the clock ticks over and TK should feel bad at the way he flees as soon as he’s done, ignoring the way Judd calls his name as he leaves. There’s no doubt that they all know where he’s going, and as much as he loves Nancy, she reminds him of his old partner back in New York before he started working beside his dad more. Always told his dad for even the smallest thing, even if it was just a simple mention of going to a party or hanging out with some friends at a bar. Nancy, he reasons, is doing it for the same reasons. 

He detours from the waiting room, simply tossing a half-hearted wave over his shoulder to the nurses at the desk as he ducks through the doors and finds the nearest bathroom. His hands are shaking as he splashes his face with water, the cold sending a harsh shiver down his spine even though he’s been given repeated all clears. At some point, he’s sure that it has become just his mind playing tricks on him, because there were only so many times that a drop of cold water could reduce a person to violent shivers. Even months down the line, the shivers and chill that settles in his bones is still there.

He knocks softly when he comes up to the room and all of the preparation, all of the deep breaths and steady inhales as he stared at his reflection in the mirror do little to stop the immediate anxiety that grips his throat. For a moment, in the second between breaths, TK isn’t standing in Austin anymore. He’s lying in a hospital bed, uncomfortable threadbare blankets loose over his legs and so many tubes attached to him that he’s lost count. Even now, he can’t remember. Then he blinks and he’s back in Austin, the heat outside making the entire hospital humid as he breathes.

“Oh! Y-you came!” Ethan's mom sounds surprised and TK hits himself internally for not knowing her name so he forces a smile instead. “Oh, baby, this is the paramedic we were telling you about. The one that saved your life!”

It’s clear that Ethan is exhausted, tired eyes blinking slowly as they meet TK’s across the room, but there’s a small uptick to his lips as he recognizes him. The recognition settles warmly in his stomach, the reminder that he can at least save someone other than himself, and he feels his smile become a little more genuine. Before either him or Ethan can find the words to say something, the mom is ushering her husband out of the room with the promise to call in food.

“Oh ma’am, you don’t need to—” TK bites his lips and debates for a moment longer than he should before he continues. “My, uh, my partner cooked dinner before they had to go to work today so I’ve got leftovers at home.”

The mom nods, still seeming a little hesitant and instead makes some hurried excuse to give them privacy before all but dragging her husband to the stairs. TK waits for a second longer than he needs to, until he hears the doors to the staircase shut behind them, before resting his hand on the doorknob in question. Ethan nods and he shuts the door silently, waiting until it’s fully closed before slowly turning the latch until it clicks—he remembers how loud everything sounded those first few days of withdrawal. 

“How are you feeling?” TK asks as quietly as he can, conscious even of how loud his boots slam against the linoleum as he crosses the room to sit in the now abandoned chair. Ethan rolls his head to follow him, eyes locking with his as he sits and TK clocks each slow blink as a way to keep watch of the exhaustion seeping from the boy.

“Your partner?” Ethan asks instead, clearly more interested in that based on the small uptick of the corner of his mouth again when TK feels his cheeks heat. “You mean your boyfriend?”

TK’s sure that if the kid was more awake, the tone would’ve been teasing, but, either way, TK smiles anyway. It’s a slight change but he can tell by the way the kid’s lips turn just a little that it’s not the judgment that TK had been anxious to face.

“Yeah, I do.” TK can’t help the smile in his voice, the way that he can suck in a breath of air without it getting caught in his throat at the simple thought of Carlos, and Ethan’s expression turns into something a little more hopeful. Even without words, what the kid leaves unsaid is more than enough to paint an even clearer picture of the situation.

“So. Your mom said you wanted to meet me,” TK probes and feels immediately guilty when Ethan’s expression drops into something that’s obviously been practiced in the mirror. That perfect of a mask, going from smiling and carefree to neutral in seconds is too flawless to be anything other than rehearsed. TK knows the feeling, he still has masks that he mastered after hours leaning over the sink in his mom and Enzo’s apartment. 

“She said you were the one who put it together?” Ethan’s avoiding his eyes, glancing just over his shoulder through the window behind TK and undoubtedly watching the nurses pass. It’s practiced, a steady glance away from the conversation in an attempt to quell the anxiety settling in one's stomach. He’s content to not push the kid, instead crossing one ankle at his knee and steading himself with a breath before he starts.

“Yeah, I did. Are you wanting me to tell you how or do you already know?” TK asks and Ethan snorts a noise that may have been a laugh once upon a time but now sounds too broken. “You know, a book is smarter than a loose floorboard, I have to give you that.”

Ethan stutters out a laugh and even if it sounds a little wet around the edges, his lips are still turned up in a smile as he finally glances over at TK. It’s not really funny, not by a long shot, but there’s something about it that just has them both biting back poorly concealed laughter. There’s some part of TK that wonders what would come of this kid in the future; he’s fully aware that there’s only so much that he can do, but at the very least for now he can breathe.

“ You were addicted?” Ethan sounds scandalized, like he’s looking at someone he can’t quite wrap his head around being anything like him and TK remembers feeling the same. “I mean, not to be rude or anything, but like—you? You’re a paramedic.”

“Yeah, I am,” TK agrees and runs his sweaty palms down his pants in an attempt to gain back some control over his pounding heart. “I was a firefighter for a while, up in New York and even when I got here for a while. But I’ve also been an addict for over ten years now.”

Logically, some part of TK knows that he’s been fighting this battle for far too long, will be fighting this battle for the rest of his life, but saying it aloud is a completely different scenario. It aches, the pain burrowing deep into his chest, and he moves one hand up to rub at his sternum as Ethan hums softly in interest. It hurts just a little to breathe, more than TK likes, but with the possibility to help someone, he finds it isn’t debilitating like normal. His hands are shaking just a little, even as he wraps his fingers tight around his thighs until the beds of his nails turn white. Regardless, TK finds that he is able to weather through the storm a little better when it’s aimed to help someone else.

Some part of TK feels guilty for giving the uber driver the address to the Reyes’ ranch instead of the one to his and Carlos’ loft. There’s leftovers in the fridge, a safe place empty of temptations, and yet some part of him can’t bring himself to go there alone. Not today, not when it’s a Friday night and the nightlife down the street is bound to be louder than he can handle. Especially not when Carlos is working until tomorrow evening. TK’s aware enough to know that he can’t be trusted, but he’s not going to be the one to admit that to his dad. So, instead, he sits back as the uber drive takes a left onto a dirt road and the warm white of the Reyes ranch comes into view. 

Gabriel’s truck is gone from the driveway which, really, TK had expected and is entirely unsurprised but it still adds some kind of odd relief in his stomach. There’s no doubt that the ranger knows about TK’s addiction, he had seen the sobriety chip that had been carefully dropped during the kidnapping. Regardless, there’s a difference between knowing and seeing, TK thinks. Andrea is one thing, TK’s pretty sure he could tell her anything and she’d still be there with a warm batch of soup and a hug, but he’s never got as good of a read on Gabriel. He isn’t sure he ever will.

“TK!” Andrea greets, all excited around the edges with a smile that somehow lights up even the grayest parts in TK’s mind and reminds him so much of Carlos that it calms his tight chest just a fraction. “Hola, hola, come in, come in!”

She’s already taking off his coat before he’s even crossed the door, backing away just to give him time to toe off his boots before she’s sweeping him in a tight hug. He practically crumbles into her, searching for the warmth that he’s missed ever since his mom passed, and Andrea is more than happy to give it. She holds him close, a gentle hand brushing at the hairs on the back of his neck and he finds it becoming just a bit easier to breathe. The house is somehow perfectly warm and cool at the same time, a perfect reprieve from the already insane temperatures that have heated up since the ice storm had passed. Even months after the storm passed, there were still days where TK felt a chill running down his spine with no known cause.

“Andrea,” TK smiles and he pulls his head from her shoulder, lips quirking up more as she refuses to remove her hands from where they rest on his arms. It makes him feel safe, boxed between the woman's arms as if she's there to protect him from the world outside. “How are you today?”

“Oh, good, good!” Andrea waves her hand as if shooing the thoughts away as she latches the door behind TK before pulling the towel off of her shoulder. “Go wash up. If you’re expecting a meal, you are going to help me cook.”

Even with the numbness that’s steadily been seeping into TK’s bones, stalling him in his steps more often than not, he can’t help but smile. It doesn’t feel as big as normal, he’s sure that if he were to look in the mirror right now, it wouldn’t reach his eyes, but it’s there. Andrea’s eyes narrow just a little, like she’s studying him for something that she doesn’t quite understand and TK 

gets the feeling. 

“Of course,” TK agrees easily, bending down to allow her to press a kiss to his cheek once again before he’s being herded down the hall to the bathroom. It’s not the first time he’s stood here in this bathroom, staring in the mirror and listening to Andrea hum down the hall, but it’s the first time he’s been alone. He grips the sink tight, his fingers turning white as he stares in the mirror and sucks in a shaky breath in a desperate attempt to not spiral further than he already had. If he closes his eyes for too long, he can still see those blue pills sitting on Ethan’s bed. 

He hates the way his eyes drift over to the cabinet above the toilet. It’s one of those traditional medicine cabinets, looking more like a shutter to a window than a cabinet, and his hands shake as he goes to open it. He slams it back shut before it gets even an inch open, wincing at the way the noise echoes in the closed bathroom. He’s not sure if Andrea heard, can hear the sound of pans banging around and soft music reaching where he stands, but his gut still twists nauseatingly with guilt. If he can’t even make it through a single moment in the restroom, at his boyfriend’s parents' house nonetheless, TK’s not sure he could stand being alone. It makes him feel sick.

He barely remembers to wash his hands, the whole reason he ended up in the bathroom in the first place, before he’s ducking back into the kitchen. He tries to push the thought of the medicine cabinet out of his mind, curling his hands into fists in a desperate attempt to stop them from shaking. It’s futile, ultimately, when Andrea gently wraps her own around his in what he assumes is meant to be a reassuring gesture. Her hands are warm as she squeezes and TK manages what feels like a shaky smile, probably a little too broken around the edges. 

“Oh, mijo, are you doing okay?” Andrea’s voice is calm, warm in all the right places and TK’s eyes immediately start to burn. The way she speaks reminds him a little too much of his own mom, which is enough to make TK feel like he’s about to shatter. Every bit of control that he has is falling apart and he shakes his head. He barely manages a shaky breath before Andrea is gently pulling him closer until he can fall into her arms once again. 

“Oh, TK, what’s going on?” Andrea frets, hands fluttering over his face and not quite touching, hovering just enough that he can feel her warmth coming from them. He leans against one, just a little, and he bites back the urge to close his eyes. His body feels shaky, like the muscles in his legs are struggling under excessive exertion and only seconds away from giving out under him. Andrea’s hand gently brushes against his cheek, thumb rubbing across his cheek bone before they fall to his shoulders as if that alone will be enough to hold him up. On some level, TK wouldn’t be at all surprised if she could.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” TK whispers, debating on if he should pull back or not, but he doesn’t have much choice when Andrea’s hands tighten gently around his shoulders. Even if he wanted to, he isn’t sure that he could pull back. The stovetop behind her is clicking softly, flames flickering below the pot of whatever it was that Andrea had been cooking before he arrived. They’re licking the sides just barely, warmth spilling off of it and when TK takes a deep breath, all he can smell is spices. That fact alone, somehow, makes the world feel a little more steady.

“Don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She pats his cheek and steps back, though her eyes remain on him like a hawk as if she’s watching for even the slightest of missteps, “Alright, TK, tell me. Do you want to help me cook or would you like to sit, we can talk while that simmers?”

Though it’s posed as an offer, TK knows that there’s really no way to get out of the impending conversation. He doesn’t expect to, Andrea is far too smart to assume that he just showed up here without reason on the day that both of their respective partners had work. He’s just glad that she hasn’t pushed. 

“I can help. I—uh, if you’d like for me to, I don’t mind helping.” TK twists his hands together awkwardly in front of him and he’s barely able to stop himself from hopping between his feet, anxiety clear as day in the way he hesitates before meeting her eyes. Andrea has her hands on her hips and TK swallows, briefly reminding himself to tell Carlos that he’s impressed that he managed to be on the other side of the look he’s currently being given a majority of his childhood. The towel on her shoulder looks more like a weapon and TK breathes out a laugh when she snaps it in the air behind him.

“Well then, get going! Chop chop, there are carrots that need chopping!” Andrea urges and TK’s pretty sure that even if his world wasn’t tilted on his axis, every negative feeling would’ve still left in an instant. There’s a cutting board and more carrots than he cares to count, all lined up in the exact way he likes, as if Andrea had been planning for him to do it all along. He’s sure she had already gotten it set up when she sent him to the bathroom but just the knowledge of her thinking of him has his entire body going warm. 

“So, mijo, talk.” Andrea encourages softly, her voice warm and steady as if she’s simply asking how his day was. It startles him just a little, the knife he’s cutting with jerking in the wrong direction and just missing his thumb, but Andrea curses softly in Spanish regardless. She hovers for a moment, hands in the air between them as if she’s about to take over and teach him how to cut, much like she had the first time he was in the kitchen with her. He can understand how Carlos is such a good cook when she’s the one that he’s been following since he could walk. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s okay. I’m good,” TK reassures, eyes never straying from the cutting board in front of him even when his heart starts racing in his chest. For a moment, he’s not sure it’s going to stay there, bursting so hard against him that it starts to hurt. Somehow, Andrea seems to notice, her expression turning concerned when she glances at him from beside the stove, but she seems content to wait for TK to process the words. 

“I, um, I’m sorry for just coming over today,” TK admits after a beat where the only sounds in the kitchen were the radio softly playing a song he can’t quite hear and the rhythmic beat of the knife against carrots. His phone buzzes in his back pocket, possibly Carlos, more likely his father attempting to text him once again. TK decides ignoring it is better. After all, he’s sure that if he reads it, he’ll find a way to get out of the conversation that he’s about to have. The lump in his throat is hard to swallow past and it makes his eyes burn just a little, even when Andrea hums softly under her breath in an urge for him to continue. 

“I just—well, it’s been…” TK trails off and resists the urge to slam his head onto the counter in front of him, for a number of reasons. One, he’s not sure Andrea would appreciate that too much. Two, he is still holding a knife and despite what his boyfriend and coworkers may say, he isn’t that accident prone. He just can’t find the right words, how is he supposed to explain to his partner’s mom that he is an addict who is having such strong urges that he can’t even close his eyes without seeing pills in front of him. How can he explain that and not have her tell Carlos to turn tail in the opposite direction immediately? 

On some level, he knows that there’s a likelihood of her knowing something , at the very least. Every meal he’s spent at the ranch has been suspiciously devoid of alcohol, even though he knows Carlos and his father both like their whiskey with dinners. Even all of the food had been empty of cooking alcohol, nothing cooked off or in the sauces that were prepared. So, logically, Andrea had to know that something was up. It was just a question of does she know the extent of it? And, once she does, how is she going to handle it?

TK’s not sure he could continue to remain steady on the shaking ground below him if she reacts badly. It wouldn’t be her fault and he keeps telling himself that, but some part of him is pretty sure that would be the breaking point. His chest heaves when he takes in a small breath, the effort feeling momentous with the way everything feels choked off. The knife is steady against the cutting board, each noise perfectly in rhythm with the pre-established movements. 

“I’ve been—how much has Carlos told you? About why my dad and I moved here from New York?” TK decides eventually, figuring the question would at least give him some idea of what he was walking into with this. It gives him another minute to ignore the way that his hands shake just a little and his fingers turn white around the handle of the knife. Andrea clearly catches it, her eyes narrowing on the knife before TK has a chance to smooth them out, but she decidedly doesn’t comment on it. Instead, as she stirs the soup base that she had been working on, her eyes drift out the window and focus on something far away.

“Not much, he said that it was your story to tell. I know some, what Gabriel knows, what Carlos said we could know,” Andrea hums, spoon twisting around in the soup without her even paying attention and when she reaches to the side, her hand finds the exact spice she was looking for. “I know that you make my son happy. I know that you’re a good medic, I know you’re a good partner, I know you’re a good man. I know that I trust you with my son, my only son, because you make it clear how much you love him.”

She trails off, a small smile on her face as she dumps the bottle of spice upside down and taps it, the red powder falling ominously into the pot below. TK wonders, briefly, how long it has taken for her to perfect the art of eyeballing measurements. It was something he remembers seeing his nana do, tilting a bottle of cinnamon over their hot chocolates as they watched the snow fall and somehow always managing to get it right. She never believed in recipes, though the ones that she had given to TK were some of his prized possessions, even if they still sit in a storage container in the basement of his dad’s house. He figures one day, he’ll have to bring them out.

“Yeah—New York was uh, it wasn’t good.” TK swallows hard around the lump in his throat and steadily ignores the way that his voice shakes when he speaks, “I made a lot of mistakes, mistakes that I shouldn’t have. Mistakes that I still live with to this day.”

TK swallows again, trying to find something in himself to steady the racing of his heart but comes up empty. Everything feels off kilter and he keeps his eyes trained outside, trying to find whatever it was that Andrea was locked on. The aroma of spice fills the kitchen, something that TK hasn’t had in quite some time, and he steadily ignores the trembling of his legs.

“I, uh, Ranger Reyes—Gabriel, he probably saw my chip. I’m assuming you know?” TK asks, voice cracking just as he finishes his sentence and his hands feel uncoordinated as he slams it through a chunk of the carrot. “You know that I’m an addict. At least, I’m assuming you do. If not, uh, surprise? Sorry, I, uh—I’ve never told anyone this before. Not this in depth.”

TK doesn’t divert his eyes from the window, even when Andrea hums in hopes of getting his attention, but something in him softens when a horse trots past in the distance. He’s never been all the way out to the barn, not yet, but he’s seen the horses running sometimes when they’re sitting on the back porch. It’s not his first time seeing them, but something about the way they run free, no cares in the world, always makes TK feel inexplicably just a little bit better about his world. 

“I made some bad choices, got hooked on opioids. On and off since I was—what, 16? 15 maybe? Overdosed a few times. Overdosed before we came here.” TK shrugs his shoulders and moves the knife again, paying little attention to the carrot he’s working his way through as he continues. “My partner, before Carlos, I was going to propose. We’d been together for years, I—I thought they were the one. Turns out, they’d been cheating on me for half our relationship. I went out and traded the ring for some pills, OD’d on my living room floor. My dad was the one—ow! Son of a—”

He forces himself to stop talking, watching the knife clang onto the counter as he pulls his hand close to his chest moments too late. Red drops have already started to fall onto the cutting board by the time he registers the pain, steadily falling down his palm and onto the ground. Andrea gasps softly, immediate worry covering any expression she may have once been wearing and the lack of ability to tell makes TK’s stomach twist in something close to fear. 

She takes a step towards him, her hand outstretched and gentle as it wraps around his wrist, but TK’s tensed as he can be. There’s no reason to be afraid of her, no reason to not let her see his hand, but his immediate response is to shut down. It’s always been his response, flee if possible and if not, shut down. Eventually they’ll get tired and leave.

“Mijo, let me see your hand, you’re bleeding.” Andrea demands immediately, unhesitating in her words and seemingly uncaring of anything beyond the blood dripping from his fingers. He debates for a moment if it’s worth it, if letting her in to see him beyond his armor is worth it, but ultimately he relents. She’s quick to yank him, surprisingly stronger than he expects her to be, and the water is being flicked on immediately.

“I know, I know, it’s going to hurt,” Andrea murmurs, keeping a constant stream of words as an outlet for TK to focus on, and he’s eternally grateful for her caring nature. “Oh, mijo, look at me will you? You’re okay, I promise.”

He doesn't quite realize that there are tears in his eyes until one is tracking its way down his cheek, leaving an angry red line in its wake for all to see. Andrea reaches behind her with one hand, the other wrapped around his wrist to keep it steady under the water, and dries it on the towel nearby. She scrunches her hand around in the towel in an attempt to dry off as much of the water as she can before it’s coming to rest against his cheek, thumb wiping away the next tear before it can even make it past his cheekbone. 

TK allows himself a brief moment of reprieve, leaning into her hand without his own consent, until the water starts to burn enough that his fingers twitch. For a minute, he’s not even sure that he even cut himself, the injury seeming gone from sight under the steady stream of water. Andrea pulls her hand back so that she can pat behind her, clearly searching for something without wanting to take her eyes off of him. He’s not sure why but he can’t help but shrink under her gaze, so filled with emotions that TK might’ve called love if the situation had been any different. Instead, he searches the expression for the feelings he knows, the emotions he expects to see in her. He comes up empty.

“I—I’m okay,” TK stutters out, hating the way that the words don’t want to move past his choked throat and Andrea’s eyes narrow at the sound of his voice, as if she’s ready to argue. “I—I’m sorry. I’m totally—I should’ve called before I came. I am so sorry.”

He pulls his hand to his chest again, ignoring the way it slowly starts leaking red again. It aches, an uncomfortable twinge that reminds TK it exists even when he stands completely still. It kind of reminds him of that familiar hurt that has settled its way into TK’s heart, a constant presence since that call.

“Oh honey, none of that,” Andrea gasps, waving her hand in the air and taking a step forward with a paper towel, and she doesn’t hesitate to reach out her hand again. “Let me see this, you’re bleeding all over the place!”

Something that tastes like guilt settles through his body, leaving an ashy taste in his mouth as he glances down to look at the slowly growing red puddle of his blood. Even as Andrea wraps her fingers around his wrist, another few drops fall in rapid succession, and it takes TK a moment to unclench his muscles to allow her to pull him close. Even though she barely tugs, he still stumbles just a little, and he gets a front row seat to watch Andrea’s lips turn into a frown. She opens her mouth to say something when the front door opens, the familiar sound of heavy-heeled boots clunking against wooden floors.

“TK!” Carlos sounds somewhere between relieved and worried, his eyes immediately falling on where Andrea is carefully pressing the towel against his finger before falling to the small puddle of blood. “What happened?”

He seems frazzled, his hair somehow managing to convey that mood better than the harried look on his face, and TK can’t quite help the small smile when he runs his good hand through Carlos’ gelled hair. Carlos’ shoulders droop as he does, head falling forward just a bit and expression changing within seconds from frayed to content.

“Mami.” Carlos turns, greeting her with a bright smile and bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before securing his arms around her. TK swallows back the sick feeling that settles somewhere in his stomach, swirling a mix of acidic guilt and self-hatred. Carlos glances up at him when he rights himself and TK can only hold eye contact for a beat of silence before dropping his eyes to the floor. His finger throbs in a reminder, the knowledge of bandaids sitting in that bathroom cabinet, and for a painstaking moment, TK is so very tempted. 

Nobody would question it, the sound of the cabinet opening would surprise no one, and it may have been years since the last time he opened a bottle for fun more than necessity, but the skill to open it quietly without jostling the pills is a hard to lose habit. Set it on the counter, put your thumb and index on each side, use your spare hand to open it. It’s a pattern that even to this day he has never been able to shake. He could play it off, as easy as breathing, claim that he was washing his hands or using the restroom, and nobody would have to know. He wonders if anyone would believe him, if Carlos would be tipped off when he starts to list to one side in the car ride home or if Andrea would trust him in there alone, knowing what there is. 

“Babe?” Carlos breaks his spiral, stepping forward until they’re toe to toe, gentle fingers brushing across his chin and tapping until they’re eye to eye. “I’m going to go get you a bandaid, mama said we can stay for dinner.”

TK’s eyes shoot from Carlos to Andrea who is standing to the side, a smile on her face that somehow warms even the coldest crevices of TK’s mind and he’s too weak to say no. He’s always been too weak to say no, but there’s something different about this. Something different about the way that, as Carlos’ footsteps fade into the background, she steps forward to rest a hand on his arm.

“No matter what happened, you’re still family, yerno,” Andrea promises, her voice soft and whispered as she nods at him, a clear sign that their previous conversation would remain quiet. He’s sure that she’ll tell Gabriel, doesn’t quite care either way, but he can’t make the words come out, even as his eyes burn. Instead, he nods, and it seems to get his point across because she smiles at him before turning back to the food just as Carlos rounds the corner again. It’s not perfect, far from it, but at the very least, TK’s world isn’t as shaky as it was before. It’s not steady but Carlos’ arm around his waist and chin hooked on his shoulder is about as grounding as he can ask for.

The car rumbles under them as they pull out onto the gravel road leaving the ranch, the smell of leftovers in their backseat just enough to make TK’s stomach grumble again. He’d eaten what somehow feels both like hours ago and seconds, the night passing in far more of a blur than he’d like. The tires crank under the gravel, somehow peaceful despite the sound of them hitting the engine, and TK leans his head up against the bouncing window. If he closes his eyes and leans just right, he can pretend for a moment that he’s on the subway in New York riding out a high and not sitting in a car with his boyfriend, craving like he’s never felt before.

“Baby. What is going on?” Carlos asks, his voice just as tight as his grip on the wheel, and TK swallows back bile as his mouth suddenly goes dry. “My mom, she pulled me to the side during clean up. Said she’s worried. You’ve not been talking to me, hell, Nancy was the one who told me about the case. I thought we agreed that this whole not talking to each other thing was over with.”

TK hates the way that his heart physically aches as it pumps in his chest, like it’s tearing itself apart at the seams and even when he tries to take a breath it hurts. There’s a list of things that TK hates to do, things that leave him feeling a physical pain when they happen, and disappointing Carlos has steadily climbed to the top. Hurting Carlos, though, hurting him by what he’s doing now, well, it just about makes it near impossible to breathe. 

“I just—I’m sorry.” TK’s voice cracks more than once, tears burning at the back of his eyes as he pulls his legs to his chest. In the car it’s harder to shrink the way he wants, to feel the pressure of his legs against his chest, but Carlos seems to get the memo regardless. They’re on the highway now, other cars speeding past them as Carlos taps the signal and then the car is slowing to a stop. Wind screams past them as cars pass but neither of them say a word as Carlos’ hand drifts from the steering wheel to TK’s knees.

“TK, look at me. Please, look at me.” Carlos’ voice tips on the edge of begging, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all when TK finally drags his head up until they’re eye to eye. It hurts somewhere deep when TK catches the redness around the rims of his partner’s eyes, like he’s trying to hold back tears and appear strong on the outside. It’s a look that TK’s far too used to finding on his partner’s face, when they’re on a scene or even in the safety of their own apartment. He hates it.

“Baby.” TK’s voice cracks and he hates it, swallowing hard against the rising sob in his throat. Carlos’ face falls, the neutral expression slipping off his face in a heartbeat to something close to heartbreak and the familiar taste of guilt fills TK’s mouth. He swallows again, biting at the inside of his lip in a desperate attempt to keep the words from spilling past and he leans against the hand that Carlos rests on his cheek. His thumb is warm as it brushes over his cheek bone, a calming movement that TK’s brain can’t help but focus on, even as cars continue to rush past.

“I’m right here, Tyler.” Carlos promises and TK wants to be able to flinch at the usage of his name, he wants to hate it falling from his partner’s lips, but it settles warm around him. Carlos seems to catch it, a small upward tilt of the side of his lip all that gives him away. It still makes TK’s heart skip a beat. His eyes burn with unshed tears and his tongue burns with the words that he wants to say but can’t. The words aren’t there, like he’s searching desperately for something, anything , to say and coming up empty time and time again. 

“I—” The words feel like they’re stuck in his throat, his throat aches as if they’re trying to claw their way out alongside the sobs that are threatening to fall past his lips. “I’m not okay, Carlos.”

Carlos’ expression shatters like glass on the floor, eyes filling with sympathy and sadness as his arms come around to find purchase around TK’s shoulders. Under his partner’s arms, TK can feel his shoulders start to tremble, even as he tries to fight back the sob that threatens to tear its way from his throat. Carlos shushes him as quietly as he can, hand steady as fingers wrap around the hair at the base of TK’s neck and the warm breath hits against his ear. Somehow, even with the gear shift pressing into his ribs painfully and the seat belt pulling at the side of his neck, TK’s never felt more safe.

“Okay, hey, look at me.” Carlos encourages softly, fingers still pushing their way through TK’s hair as he glances back up at his partner. “We, you and I, are going to figure it out. We’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

Another car speeds past them, leaving nothing but the sound of rushing wind and a fading horn in their wake, but even that isn’t enough to break the moment. There’s something about the softness in the air, devoid of music or anger, that makes TK want into melt to the ground and never leave. In this moment, sitting in this car on the side of the highway that he barely knows, everything almost feels normal, like things might be okay.

By the time they get home, pulling into the covered parking somewhere behind their loft, TK’s pretty sure that he’s fresh out of tears. The normal forty-five minute drive had ended up being well over an hour, neither of them quite steady enough to drive away from their spot on the side of the highway for a while. The moon is high in the sky as they step out of the car, legs a little shaky from the crash of what TK thinks might be adrenaline but he can’t quite tell. His fingers can’t seem to wrap around the key in the way he wants, slipping from his grasp more than once until Carlos snatches them from him. It’s stupid how much that makes TK want to cry.

“Babe, stop that,” Carlos whispers, reassuring and steady, somehow everything that TK wants to be but can’t in the moment. “Let’s get upstairs, we can talk up there.”

Talk. TK still isn’t sure how they’re meant to be doing that and if they’re ever going to get past the roadblock that he’s been hiding behind. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like they will, but TK’s willing to try anything when Carlos is watching his every step. 

It hits him as they’re climbing the stairs, hands loosely clasped together as Carlos leads the way up, that his mind still hasn’t drifted from the cabinet in the bathroom. It’s not as prominent, not in the forefront of his mind, but all he can see is that white door begging to be opened. He wonders if Carlos read that on him, when he got the bandaid. Andrea could’ve heard it and after everything he said, she’s never going to trust him again. TK feels lightheaded at the realization, stumbling over his own two feet as his head spins so quickly that there’s no choice but to sit down. 

Carlos comes to a sudden, jarring stop when his arm gets jerked as TK slides down the wall. It leaves a little ache, just enough that he’s forced to bite back a wince, but he goes willingly backwards at the gentle tug TK gives. For a moment, TK’s thankful that the stairs they’re on, the stairs that he feels stuck to, lead up to only a few homes. More specifically, a few lofts that besides their own are still empty. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Carlos asks, concern and fear battling for dominance in his voice as he bends at the knees to remain on eye level with TK. “Are you okay?”

A sharp, broken noise echoes like a laugh and it takes TK a moment longer than it should to realize that the sound is coming from him. It leaves him feeling a little unsteady internally, his hands trembling just with the effort it takes to suck in a breath, then Carlos’ hands are wrapping around his shoulders. His fingers dig into the right places, the pressure points that they’ve learned were one of the few things that could ground TK, and he just waits it out. Another layer of guilt is added when TK realizes just how much trouble that he’s put Carlos through these past two years that the man has gotten to a point where he recognizes and knows his habits so intricately that it’s as easy as breathing. 

“Okay, okay, let’s just take a moment, alright?” Carlos asks, voice somehow steady even as his eyes betray the fear settling somewhere deep in his chest and TK thinks he tries for an apology. He can feel his lips move, remembers trying to say something, but the words feel like they’re trapped in his throat. Carlos is quick to shush him, head shaking and one hand already moving until it settles against TK’s neck. 

“I know, just listen to me talk for a minute, okay? We’re okay, it’s just me and you.” Carlos promises and TK hates that the first thing that comes to his mind is an urge to correct the grammar, his mind spiraling for anything that makes sense to grab onto. “Alright, we’re going to do a breathing exercise, alright? Remember the one you taught me, what was it that you called it?”

He’s clearly prompting for an answer, even when they both are aware of the name, but TK can’t even get his body to cooperate to breathe, let alone speak. Even when he tries, even when his lips move, there still isn’t any sound. Carlos nods his head like he’s proud, though TK isn’t quite sure of what, and his stomach flips uncomfortably inside him.

“That was probably a bad question, huh? Alright, just follow me okay?” Carlos prompts and he makes it sound so easy, like it’s a game of following the leader and they’re going through a corn maze and not waddling back from the edge. It’s not a panic attack, far from the debilitating ones that have made TK shut down, but it’s close enough that it still makes TK uncomfortable. Everything about this situation makes TK uncomfortable, even as the ache in his chest slowly subsides the more Carlos talks. Eventually, taking in a single breath doesn’t make his entire body ache like he never quite made it out of that water. Carlos’ hand is still resting at the junction of the shoulder and neck, squeezing as calm as he can and grounding him until the breaths he sucks in don’t sound shaky.

“Sorry,” TK murmurs, already pushing himself to his feet before Carlos can blink and he only feels a stab of guilt when Carlos’ hands are displaced to hover uselessly between them. “I just—can we please go inside?” 

“Of course, baby, come on.” Carlos’ fingers find his own, threading their way through until they’re both able to stumble towards the loft door and use each other as a crutch more than walking themselves. Somehow, TK ends up flush against Carlos even as they’re walking and the warmth that seeps from his partner’s side warms him down to his bones. The leftovers that Andrea had sent them home with are balancing precariously in Carlos’ other hand and TK’s forced to try with the door once again, hands still trembling just a little. It takes him two tries to get the key in the lock but once he turns it, they’re home free but Carlos still doesn’t let go of his hand. 

In fact, they stay attached at the hip as they toe off their shoes and duck into the kitchen to put the leftovers away. If TK didn’t know better, he’d think that something between now and earlier made Carlos overly attached. But he knows better and he knows Carlos, better than himself most days, reading the situation for what it is. A way to keep TK from fleeing the conversation they so desperately need to have.

“Look, we need to talk, I can’t keep—we need to.” Carlos decides and even if TK wants to argue, even if he wants to scream and kick and yell until his partner is forced to give up, he knows somewhere deep down he can’t. It wouldn’t do any good in the long run, only succeed in pushing them away even further. 

“I’m struggling. I—the call, all I can think about are those damn pills,” TK admits and the words feel like they burn on his tongue as he talks, twisting uncomfortably in his mouth as he shrinks back just a little and waits for something to go wrong. He’s half-expecting the entire loft to go up in flames at the admission and he hates himself for the thought, the familiar heat of the blaze burning across the back of his neck.

“All I can think about are those stupid blue pills and getting high. Or even going out to find a fight or a drink or just something . I can’t even trust myself to be alone right now because I’m so afraid of messing up.” TK sucks in a shaky breath and reaches blindly until his free hand collides with the blanket on the back of the couch, “I just—I’m almost at two years and I want to throw it away so badly. Carlos, I need to use.” 

The admission falls out of him at the same time as the tears he’s been desperately holding back fall past his lids, streaking down his cheeks before Carlos can even blink. The next breath, his fingers are wiping at the tears as the other hand tugs him as close as can be. If TK tightens his lips into a thin line in a failing attempt to bite back the sob, he can hear a split second of Carlos’ heartbeat before it gets muffled by the tears. He feels like he’s standing on a cliff that’s crumbling on all edges, the only safe way back gone, and TK’s never felt more lost.

“Shh, oh, baby.” Carlos’ words are whispered and delicate, like he’s too afraid to speak louder than he is in fear that something may break and TK’s pretty sure it’s him. “You’re so strong, so brave. We’re going to figure this out.” 

TK isn’t sure how he’s going to come back from this ledge, how he’s going to come back without dragging Carlos down with him instead, but for once in his life he’s willing to trust. He’s willing to believe that if anyone can help him claw his way out of this pit, it’s going to be Carlos. Nobody else would be able to, but something about it being his partner makes TK feel braver than he ever has before.

“Yeah—maybe you’re right.” TK admits to the world, his voice rough from the shaking tears that seem to never stop and he tucks his head further against Carlos’ chest. “I can’t be going into work like this.”

“We can call Tommy or your dad later, not right now. Right now, we’re focusing on you,” Carlos promises before a kiss is being pressed up against his temple, a beacon of hope in an otherwise dark world, and what he says next startles a laugh from them both. “And, for the record, I’m always right.”

“Hey. So, uh, you’re obviously totally okay to say no to this and nobody would blame you at all but—” Carlos trails off when TK’s eyes shoot to his, frantic in their search as they find his partner leaning against door to their bedroom. “Hey, whoa, everything is okay. Nancy just texted me, said that her and some of the 126 are on their way over to see you. They’re just worried, I mean.”

TK nods his head, even as he tightens his fingers around the blanket he has around his shoulders, tugging it as tight as he can get it before Carlos gets closer. It’s nearing the end of the day, the sun is shining annoyingly into their bedroom and making everything warm, but even when his skin feels too hot, he doesn’t emerge from the blanket. 

He’d called Tommy this morning, talked to her a little bit, and was now officially on vacation time for at minimum a week even though he’d been given two weeks off with an explicit order to use them. He figures there were some perks of never taking vacation days, even back in New York unless he was riding a high. He’s got easily two full months stacked up so it hadn’t really been an issue to get them off. The bigger problem, now, was proving to be fending off the worried masses.

“I—they’ll worry if I don’t.” TK reasons, more to himself than Carlos but the other man hums regardless and the bed dips just enough as he sits that TK ends up leaning against him. “I should, I know I should. I just—they shouldn’t see me like this.”

Carlos scoffs just a little, shaking his head before TK has even finished his final thought and then his hand is slipping under the blanket to thread his fingers through TK’s own. It’s got to be uncomfortable, the angle that Carlos’ arm is at, but the man doesn’t make a single noise of complaint as he pulls TK into his chest.

“They’re family, TK, you’re allowed to be vulnerable in front of them,” Carlos whispers, hooking his head over TK’s shoulder and wrapping his free arm around TK’s knees in an attempt to hold him as close as possible. “Nobody is going to judge you for this.”

TK knows that it’s a lie, even with good intentions. He doesn’t expect any of the 126 to judge him, they all know that he’s struggled with opioids in the past and he’d told them as much before, but there was something intrinsically different about seeing it happen. He figures that he should consider himself lucky that they’re not busting down his bathroom door and finding him strung out on the floor, but this doesn’t feel much better. Somehow, in the moment of complete gray, it feels worse.

“They’ve got to be able to trust me out there.” TK shakes his head and drops it against his knees, head leaning on one side so he can look out the window as if he can find all of the answers beyond the glass barrier. “I mean, how are they supposed to be able to do that when I can’t even trust myself? When I can’t even drag myself out of bed unless it’s to go to the bathroom right now?”

Carlos hums sympathetically, clearly sensing that TK isn’t done and content to wait. Even through the haze that TK feels stuck in, the love he has for Carlos shines through in multicolor. His hand strays up to his necklace, fingers wrapping around until the edges of the pendant dig into the skin there and he’s stuck in that odd place between Austin and New York once again.

“I just, do you know how long it took me to regain the trust of the 252 after they found me the first time? Not—not the first overdose, though they were there for that. I mean the first time I relapsed after I was a firefighter?” TK already knows the answer to this, he’s never told this story and he doesn’t really know why he’s telling it now but it’s spilling past his lips without his permission. “I was still a probie, technically wasn’t really supposed to go to my dad’s house but I grew up there. They couldn’t really tell the Owen Strand no to having his own son in his house. But it was rough, these people were my family. They still are, but all they saw sometimes was me as a kid. Which, okay, I get but it was just a lot and I kind of felt like I was drowning y’know?”

TK trails off and grips the necklace tighter, sucking in a shaky breath of the too cold air in their house that’s a telltale sign of an air conditioner to remind himself that he’s not there. He’s in Texas, in Austin, with Carlos and his found family. There’s no reason to get high, not when he’s finally found something worth fighting for. Even that logic, however tempting, doesn’t feel like enough to keep TK’s skin from itching for those pills.

“I went out after shift and got so high I couldn’t even see straight. I was probably just on the tipping edge of an overdose and I remember feeling so good.” TK shudders at the memory, bile rising in his throat faster than he can blink and he swallows against it desperately. “I called my dad, he was out with some of the team drinking, I guess, and he just knew. I guess he couldn’t shake them or, or maybe he wanted them to come. I don’t know, but I ended up coming to in one of their bathrooms. I don’t remember much of it but I was the man behind for a month, then on calls it was always me and two others for almost the rest of my probie year. Which, I get, it just—I don’t want that again.”

TK knows that he sounds selfish and somewhere deep in his mind, he can hear someone who sounds suspiciously like Tommy saying that addiction is a disease and can’t always be helped. He hates that though. Something like this, someone like him , he’s never been quite able to wrap his head around the idea of this being a disease. For TK, it’s just another entry on the list of things that he’s managed to mess up for his family. 

“Babe, listen to me,” Carlos orders and even if TK refused to look up, he wouldn’t get long because Carlos’ fingers are sliding under his face and lifting it off his knees so they can see each other. “I understand what you’re saying and what the 252 did, what your team did, was because they were worried. Which, I know, I know, you’ve probably heard more than enough times but that was then and this is now. The 126 isn’t like that, you and I both know it, they aren’t going to oust you or anything.”

The thing is, TK knows that. He has no doubt in his mind that the 126 wouldn’t even bat an eye or consider putting him as the man behind. That even if his father wanted to, Tommy simply wouldn’t, but that doesn’t ease the guilt settling like rocks in his stomach. The 126 is his family, deep down without a second of hesitation, he knows that. But the burden of him, the burden that his addiction has put on not only himself but everyone around him is not something that TK has ever learned to be okay with. Some part of him knows that Carlos understands that even without having to explain it in words and he remains silent for a few more beats, soaking up the comfort of his partner wrapped around him just as the doorbell rings.

“Okay. Yeah. Just—give me a minute to clean up?” TK ultimately agrees when Carlos starts to untangle himself and TK allows himself just a moment to cling onto his partner’s hand, desperate for that comfort he can only find through him nowadays. “I just need a few minutes, please?”

“Of course, baby, whatever you need.” Carlos agrees easily, not even seeming phased by the request as he dips down to press a chaste kiss to TK’s lips at the same time as his phone chimes. “I can’t promise I’ll stop Nancy though, she’s pretty insistent on seeing you.”

The door shuts before TK can respond and he’s suddenly left alone with his thoughts, in that weird not quite silence that comes with a door being shut while there are others on the other side. It’s strange, sitting there on the bed as Carlos greets their guests into their home alone. It takes him a moment longer than it should to force himself to his feet, even as his legs shake underneath him when he stands, and the blanket pools into a circle on the bed. 

It takes all of five seconds for the door to be opening and closing behind someone and TK doesn’t even need to turn around to see who it is so he just keeps digging through the drawer. He knows that his purple hoodie is in here somewhere and he’s determined to find it, despite the fact that there are easily another twenty hoodies stuffed into the drawer. The particular one he’s looking for he remembers being put away earlier in the day. It has to be in here.

“Hey.” Nancy breaks the silence after a beat and TK doesn’t even bother flinching, completely unsurprised that she waited until even the living room was practically devoid of noise. “Carlos told me not to bother you but–”

“But you’re worried.” TK answers for her when she trails off and they remain in silence for a beat longer than normal until TK’s fingers finally wrap around the hoodie he’s been digging for. “You can sit, you know. What’s going on?”

It’s weird how steady he feels right now, shrugging off the shirt he’d fallen asleep in late last night and tugging the hoodie over his messy hair. It gives him a moment of reprieve, not having to look at Nancy or see the fear and worry swirling in her eyes. At least this way he isn’t reminded of how she looked after Tim, the pain in her eyes every time she caught sight of the rest of them talking softly. Even still, when he does catch it, the guilt twists itself around his heart like slowly tightening vines, squeezing until his chest is filled with that familiar ache.

“What’s going on? What’s going on? Seriously?” Nancy splutters, her boots heavy against the floor as she springs to her feet from where she’d found a spot in the corner of the room and TK immediately fights the urge to raise his hands in a calming gesture. He’s pretty sure she wouldn’t take kindly to that and he’s proven right when she starts to advance towards him, talking as she goes. “You’ve been weird. First that case, which I get probably put you in a spot, but then yelling at Captain Strand and now calling out for the next few weeks? What’s going on TK? A-are you using again?”

TK reels back at the accusation, even if he knows it’s born from a place of worry but it still tastes bitter when he swallows. He shoves his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide the fists they’re curling into, nails pressing against the palms of his hands until they start to ache. He’s sure it’ll leave marks but at the moment, that’s kind of what he’s going for. Anything to steady himself for this conversation.

“No! I’ve not touched a pill since I got here, Nancy! You know that! What, you think that Tommy or even my dad would let me out there if I had?” TK asks back, his voice low as he whispers in an attempt to keep the others from hearing and Nancy flinches back just a little bit when he continues. “Yeah, sure, I’m craving. I want to use, so bad, but that’s why I’m taking time off. Because I’m not in a good mindset to be out there and I don’t want to get someone killed!”

It’s the hard truth of the situation, one that while TK himself has never faced, he knows it can happen with just a snap of a cable or a misplaced IV. So much is at risk when he’s out there, when he’s in the field, and normally he can flip a switch to turn the real world off. Lately, though, all he can see are those pills and all he can think about is that itch under his skin that’s begging to be released. It’s not safe for him to be out there. It’s not safe for him or anyone working with him to be out there if he’s not in the right state of mind.

“I don’t want—TK.” Nancy’s voice cracks just a little, like she’s trying to fight against tears that make her eyes shine and TK’s crossing the room before he can even blink and he’s wrapping her in a hug when she speaks again, “I can’t lose another partner. So, I get it. I get that you need to focus on you, but please, please come back.”

There’s a lot of things he could say to that but most of them would be lies and leave his mouth tasting of ash when he speaks them. Instead he simply tightens his arm around her and ducks his head to her shoulder, taking in a steadying breath before he speaks.

“I’ll be coming back, Nancy, I will.” TK promises, truthful and unhesitant. There’s no lie there and even though TK felt there might, he’s unsurprised that the words came past easy. They don’t feel like he’s just giving himself false hope or telling a white lie to make Nancy feel better and something about the realization gives him more comfort than he expected.

“Yeah? Yeah. Okay. That sounds good.” Nancy pulls back while clearing her throat, blinking her eyes away from TK until she looks back and they’re clear of tears. “Well, let’s get out there. Marjan, Paul, and Mateo have been bouncing off the walls to get here. Well—mostly Mateo, but they’re all excited.”

The words startle a surprised laugh from TK, smile tugging at his lips until it falls firmly in place and he tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. The blanket on the bed is still a mess and there’s still a downcast overtone everywhere TK looks but somehow, knowing he has friends on the other side of the bedroom door makes it just that little bit easier to breathe.

“Oh, come on, man! You two are cheating!” Mateo shouts, throwing down his deck of cards with a grumble and glares over at where TK and Carlos are curled up with one hand. TK hadn’t felt like playing, his energy declining rapidly within the first hour his friends had been here, but he hadn’t had the heart to make them leave. Even if they overstayed their welcome or practically moved in, TK isn’t sure he’d ever have the words to tell them to go. There was very little that TK wouldn’t do for this little family that he’s created. 

“How are we cheating? I’m not even playing!” TK grumbles, head leaning against Carlos’ chest as he blinks blankly over at Mateo before back at the cards on the table with an exaggerated gasp. “We had an ace, babe?”

Paul hides his laughter by taking a long swig of his bottle of water, something that TK clocked almost immediately when they came in carrying snacks but no alcohol. It was intentional, at least he assumes, but none of them had bothered to bring it up. When Carlos first noticed TK watching it, back in the kitchen while the two prepared the snacks, he’d wrapped his arms around his waist and whispered something about how they loved him. Still, even now, it leaves TK feeling more than a little guilty and bizarre as he stares at his friend. Alcohol, specifically that cheap texas beer that everyone seemed to love, had been a constant presence at most of their game nights. Except for today. Today was intentional and TK loves them for it.

“Oh, come on! Seriously?” Marjan shakes her head, throwing it back along with her arms up in the air and Nancy cackles beside her, legs resting in her lap. “We’re just letting them team up and get away with it! That’s why we’re losing!”

“Or, hear me out here, you’re losing because you’re bad.” TK snarks back and there’s an odd silence that falls over the group for just a moment, almost as if they weren’t expecting such a remark from TK. It’s not like it’s something he wouldn’t normally say but he assumes that’s probably the reason they’re surprised, he hasn’t been acting like himself. Not the him they know, anyway, it’s really not a surprise that they’re shocked by his comment. The comment that is the most ‘him’ that they’ve seen. The silence reigns for a moment, seeping into every crevice in TK’s brain as he repeats what he said over and over in search for some desperate way to fix whatever just broke. 

Then Nancy startles a soft, breathy laugh like she doesn’t know who she’s talking to and Paul is right behind her.  Their laughter spills past their lips without their permission, seemingly willing to break free despite whatever secret agreement that the group of them had come to terms with. In an instant, they went from sitting stock-still as if in a picture to doubling over with surprised laughter. Even Carlos’ lips are upturned just slightly, eyes filled with light when TK glances up at him with a small smile. It leaves him grinning up at his partner and even if the smile falls a lot shorter than normal, it’s warm and present which is all he can ask for. 

“Told you.” Carlos’ voice sounds warm, like he’s drunk on happiness, as he presses his lips against TK’s ear and speaks. “They’re here for you.”

It feels a little weird, the entire situation where he can’t bring himself to stay smiling for more than a minute and nobody seems bothered. He remembers far too many nights where he’d be lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the latest argument with Alex about how he’d made a get-together awkward with his problems. Now, sitting here at a similar event, with people who love him and care for him, it’s never been more obvious that this is where he is meant to be.

There were two reasons that taking off this time of year, this specific week, was so good. Any other time, he probably would’ve even taken a vacation for it outside of attempting to get his head back on straight. Instead, this week has been a revolving door of therapy, meetings, and then one-on-ones with his sponsor as he tries to explain the way the craving pumps through his blood like fire. It’s been hell, a constant battle to tell whoever had picked him up to take him to the loft or the firehouse instead of one of the many bars around town. Even though he’s sure that none of them would, the decision in itself was hard to make. 

Now, though, he thinks it’s all been worth it. There’s still the urge, thrumming under his skin and leaving his brain feeling a little fuzzy, but he’s still standing. It’s manageable, he thinks, when he glances at the bar down the street and feels nothing. The want is there, but he can push it down in favor of swallowing his anxiety and turning to face the building he’s standing in front of. It’d been a struggle, finding meetings that were not in one way or another hosted by the numerous churches dotted around Austin. The ones that weren’t were few and far between, really not a surprise, but it stood out to TK like a neon light of not belonging when they first arrived. There was one hosted at the temple he’d considered going to but he’d never made it past those front doors, unsure of where he really belonged.

It brought him here. The building doesn’t look like much, likely a rundown office at one point or another, but it has since been transformed into a clinic right in the heart of the area Carlos and TK live in. TK has had his suspicions about Carlos picking the loft because this was within walking distance but they’ve never been confirmed. He thinks he likes it that way, the assumption of one thing feels better than being proven incorrect and TK is sure he’s allowed at least one fantasy. 

“TK!” Andrew greets when he walks in, head dipped in order to watch his feet across the tiled floor instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. “You staying for a meeting or do you just want to pick it up and leave? I know this week’s been hard, there’s no shame in going home.”

Even years down the line, even with far too many chips sitting in a ziploc bag at his dad’s house, picking up his newest chip always has TK’s heart racing in his chest. He assumes that some of it is excitement, how could he not be excited for hitting this newest milestone, but most of it is anxiety. Failing before one year, well that’s rather common and the reason chips are given more frequently at months as encouragement instead of years. Failing after a year, well, it becomes less common but never impossible. TK has seen people lose years of sobriety over one bad night and the farther you fall, the harder it is to climb back up. If it were up to him, he’d sit at a year for the rest of his life and never have to worry about the fall, but that wasn’t really how it worked. 

“I don’t think I’m—” TK trails off and shoves his hands deep into his pockets, finally glancing up to meet Andrew’s eyes. “I’m not up for it today, I’m sorry. It’s just—bad week.”

Andrew nods understandingly, hand straying to his pocket where TK knows he carries his own chip and even with it hidden from view, TK can see the emboldened twenty on the front. The one that he’s handed, however, simply reads a two in roman numerals. TK’s fingers brush across the raised numbers, his heart beating a little faster in his chest as he looks at it, and he hates the way he feels sick to his stomach. 

It’s not the first time he’s hit two years, he won’t hit a year he hasn’t until he’s been sober for five, but something about it feels permanent. The first two year coin he got, back in that dingy hotel ballroom in the heart of Manhattan, still remains in the bedside drawer of his dad’s room. It hadn’t felt right then, like it was just another weight to put on TK’s shoulders but he’d accepted it with a smile. He hadn’t fallen off, not until that night, but he remembers how it felt. This time, it doesn’t feel like that. This time, it feels like he’s finally on the right track.

“Thank you, Andrew. Have a good night,” TK says, fingers curling around the cool bronze and stuffing it into his pocket as he turns on his heels. If he leaves soon enough, he’ll be lucky enough to miss a majority of the crowd for tonight’s meeting and nobody will have time to question him. Before he can make it to the door, though, Andrew’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, and I know that you’ve just made a lot of people very proud of you, but I’m very happy you joined us here. Congratulations,” Andrew smiles, open and seemingly unaware of the impact his words have on TK until the smile blooms across his own face. The bronze coin in his pocket feels like it’s the only thing keeping him cool, heart skipping a beat as he realizes just how far he’s made it. After the past few weeks, standing where he is has felt nearly impossible, and yet here he is.

“Thank you.” TK whispers and as soon as he’s released, bids a soft goodbye before ducking out the door. He’s just about to start the walk home, less than half a mile, when a car horn honks loudly against the quiet of the street. TK turns in his spot for a moment, glancing around before his eyes land on a truck that looks vaguely familiar. Andrea is stepping out of it before he has time to consider who it could be and, as she bustles across the street, he hears the door behind him open as Andrew steps out to watch.

“Yerno!” Andrea shouts as she walks over, her arms already wrapping around TK before he can even blink and suddenly he’s flush against her side instead of standing on the street. “Oh, I’m so proud of you! Two years! Carlitos called, said that we should pick you up since he had work! We wanted to drive you but we were running behind!”

He hears Andrew make an odd sound behind him, almost as if he’s wondering who Andrea and Gabriel are and why they’re here. He hears the inhale when Gabriel starts his way over, the rangers badge on full display as if he’d just gotten off work and TK winces surreptitiously in guilt. The badge is definitely an eyesore where they are.

“TK, I’m proud of you,” Gabriel greets, pulling him into an awkward side hug at the same time as he narrows his eyes at Andrew, who is still watching them like a hawk. It’s clear that he’s suspicious, wanting to know who this man watching them is, and TK feels more than a little guilty when the words seem to get stuck in his throat as utter shock overpowers them. It takes him a moment to even register that they’re really here and even then, it doesn’t feel quite real.

“Uh—hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you guys would be coming,” TK manages, words a little stuttered in shock but steady nonetheless as he glances between both of the parents standing on the side of the road. “I—that, thank you guys for being here. You didn’t need to come all this way, it’s not that important.”

TK’s a little ashamed to admit that this is the first time that he’s ever lied to his potential future inlaws but neither of them seem to take his words at face value, Andrea is quick to wave them off with a flap of her hand. He feels his cheeks heat up just a bit when she rests her hand on his face, her expression looking as if he had just given her the worst news in existence.

“Of course it’s a big deal! We’re so proud of you,” Andrea repeats, her voice leaving no room for any arguments, and it strikes TK then and there how much he misses his mom. He misses the maternal instinct and the warm hugs that Andrea seems willing to mimic. It aches just a little but he can’t hover on it for too long, not when the familiar weight of a sobriety chip in his pocket is reminding him of where he’s standing.

“Come on, we’ve been tasked with getting you back.” Gabriel claps a hand on his back, light enough that it doesn’t make TK stumble even though the intention is still there as it lingers a moment longer. “Carlos will be upset if we don’t get you back on time.”

“Gabriel!” Andrea hisses, voice filled with humor even as she reaches out to hit him softly against the arm. “TK—”

“Carlos planned a surprise party, didn’t he?” TK asks, a small chuckle pushing past his lips when Andrea and Gabriel share a look before turning back to him with what he can only describe as faux innocence. “Okay, okay, sorry you can’t answer that. I’ll play surprised, promise.”

Andrea laughs softly under her breath, threading her fingers into Gabriel’s as they both turn to wish Andrew a good day before gently nudging TK forward. The chip still feels heavy in his pocket, like it’s begging to not be forgotten, but for the first time in a while, TK’s heart feels light. It feels even lighter when he goes to climb into the backseat of Gabriel’s truck and Andrea’s arm flies out to stop him, gently nudging him into the front seat with a not-so-secret smile. The car smells like sweets, something glorious and incredible that has TK’s lips tugging into a smile before he can even register it. Gabriel, on the other hand, does and claps him on the shoulder as TK gets settled.

“Don’t even try to argue son, it won’t get you anywhere with her.” Gabriel jokes and Andrea makes a noise in the backseat, ready to argue with a smile still firmly in place. The teasing isn’t something that TK’s used to, something that he’d never been used to until he started dating Carlos, but it’s so lighthearted and filled with love that it doesn’t induce the same anxiety. It’s nothing like his parents, sitting downstairs in the living room while TK was off to the side, talking in that leveled tone with sharp remarks that hit exactly where they were aimed. Sitting in the passenger seat of his future father in law’s truck, listening to him bicker with his wife, TK feels content to let the warmth wash over him. 

At first glance, TK can’t spot any of his friends' cars. He can’t even find Carlos’ as Gabriel pulls the truck directly into their reserved spot without a second’s hesitation. In fact, it takes him gently being nudged up the stairs by Andrea while Gabriel tries to stealthily unload the surprises in the backseat for him to even catch a glance of Marjan’s car. Their little area has a bunch of guest parking, all around the backsides of the buildings, but none of them are filled with any recognizable cars. No, Marjan’s car is parked half-way down the block and barely visible between two of the remodeled warehouses as TK starts towards his building. It warms him from the inside out that they put in enough effort to even consider hiding their cars from view.

The lock turns ominously in the door, the loft surprisingly silent the longer that TK stands in the hallway, and for a moment the room remains so after he opens the door. There are lights that he didn’t leave on shining, food off to one side that has TK unable to bite back another fresh smile, and then in the next blink people are shouting at him. The words are so jumbled that he can’t quite hear what they say, probably some odd combination of surprise and congratulations would be his best guess, but everyone is there. Carlos is standing near the wall, hands stuck in his pockets as he smiles, and TK just about melts at the amount of love pouring off of the other man.

“Hey, babe,” TK breathes, going willingly when Carlos’ arms wrap around his waist and tug him impossibly close. “I thought you had to work until midnight tonight.” 

He’s not even in uniform, a tight button down and slacks squeezing at all the right places as TK traces a finger down Carlos’ arm. He left in uniform this morning and something in TK twists, heart skipping more than one beat as he realizes that this was all some elaborate ploy. 

“Mmm, I lied.” Carlos' lips turn up against TK’s own, a gentle beacon of love as he presses a slightly too harsh kiss against his partner and TK can’t help but laugh when Nancy gags in the background. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop being all gross. We’re all proud of you, TK,” Nancy grumbles, gently elbowing Carlos out of the way until she can sweep her partner up in an uncommon hug as her voice turns more genuine. TK’s cheeks ache just a bit from smiling, even as he wraps one arm around her in a half-hug while the other remains tugged to the side by his and Carlos’ intertwined hands. It takes a few minutes to get through all of the guests, hugs and congratulations pouring out far too quickly for TK to really keep track of but by the time he gets to the end of the line, something close to heartbreak settles in his stomach. He was wrong, earlier, when he thought everyone was here. There was one person missing. His dad.

Somehow, it’s not as surprising as it should be but when he swallows it still tastes bitter. He swallows back against the rising bile and bites his tongue; there’s no point in making a scene he tells himself. Not when everyone around him is all smiles and happiness. He can survive off of this for a while, survive off of the support of this little found family of his around him, and TK tries to push the thoughts of his dad to the side. Still, he can’t quite stop himself from the text he shoots off to his dad in concern before being swept up into another hug by Carlos.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” Carlos whispers, hooking his chin over TK’s shoulder and pulling him flush against him as they watch all of their guests wander around. “Mami made a cake, that carrot monstrosity you like with the caramel. I think she tried like seven different recipes before finding one she liked, that’s the one she made. She’s really excited for you to try it.”

TK splutters for a minute, hands going limp to the point that his phone likely would’ve fallen to the ground had it not been for Carlos’ quick thinking to grab it just seconds before it fell. There’s a thunk behind them, likely his phone being planted on the table, before Carlos’ arm returns to its spot on his waist.

“Your mom—she, she made me a cake?” TK’s aware that his voice comes out shaky and a little tearful as he watches Andrea and Gabriel slowly unload everything that they’d brought up. He tucks his head against Carlos’ neck, just hidden enough from view that nobody else can see his blush or the tears that he’s trying to blink back. 

“I’ve not had a cake for a party in—I think the last time was my eleventh birthday? We always did cupcakes or cookies, I never wanted my dad to—” TK trails off as his phone buzzes and he reaches an arm around Carlos to switch the power on as he rests his head against Carlos’ shoulder once again. “I always wanted my dad to be there—and he’s running late. Of course he is.”

TK tries not to sound bitter, he really does, but he’s aware of how it comes out and hovers in the space between him and Carlos. There’s a lot of feelings swirling in TK’s gut, unsurprised as he rereads what was sent before dropping his phone into his pocket with a shake of his head. 

“I’m sorry, babe, we—we can wait for the cake until your dad gets here.” Carlos promises and glances up at his mom who is watching them with concern, her hands hovering over the cover on the cake pan with a raised eyebrow. They fall to her sides when Carlos shakes his head, sparing a glance down to TK before meeting his mom’s eyes once again with something that’s likely close to annoyance as he continues talking, “Come on, he’ll be here soon. Let’s go enjoy ourselves, we’ve got other snacks and stuff to hold us over. And, I know three girls who are all very excited to see their TK.”

Carlos nods over to where Evie and Isabella are bouncing on their feet, Tommy holding a hand on each of their shoulders as she watches Carlos and TK with a smile. Charlie is babbling away, words that probably make little sense as she glances between Grace and TK, her arms half outstretched towards where they’re standing. Tears burn at the backs of his eyes for an entirely different reason than before and as he slowly untangles himself from Carlos’ arms, he can’t help but to smile.

Carlos wasn’t wrong, there are plenty of other snacks littering their kitchen bar, including the chocolate chip cookies that Grace makes that the 126 routinely begs for. He’s already had four and is on his way to take another two. It’s his party, after all, he figures that he’s allowed to have more than he would normally allow himself. It’s not the first time that the loft is filled with their family, they’ve had parties and get-togethers here more times than TK can count, but there’s something so perfect about today. The warm laughter seems to fill every nook and cranny, making each breath come a little bit easier and the coin is slowly forgotten about in his pocket. 

He’s hovering near the counter, taking a steadying breath as he steadily attempts to ignore the cake that Andrea had brought that is sitting nearest to the fridge. It remains closed, a knife and a stack of plates sitting beside it, and he feels suddenly guilty for making it wait so long. He wonders, briefly, where his dad is as he listens to Mateo argue with Marjan and Nancy about who was winning whatever game they were playing. He hates how normal this feels, his entire family here and his dad nowhere in sight.

“Hey, T, what’s with the long face?” Grace greets, voice carrying over the music and murmurs that TK had been focusing on and he can’t help but watch them out of the corner of his eye. Tommy is leaning up against the wall near the kitchen, a plate balanced in one hand with a taco she’d made from the bar Carlos had set up while he was gone. The frown on her face is new, something that TK has never seen her wear before, and it makes his heart rate rocket in anxiety as he watches silently. 

“Yeah, yeah, just—well, Owen texted.” Tommy decides in lieu of answering and she glances back down at her phone with a slight crinkle of her nose as if she’s disappointed by what she sees. “Decided that I should be the one to tell TK that he’s not coming, says that he’s got too much paperwork. Oh, but he says to tell him congratulations, like that makes it better.”

Some part of TK is thankful for her, for the anger and disgust in her voice as she relays the message to Grace but that piece of him is overpowered by the hurt. His eyes immediately well up with tears, vision going more than a little blurry as the paper plate in his hand slips past his shaking fingers. It doesn’t make much noise as it falls but the movement of the plate is enough to catch Tommy’s attention and for a moment the two are staring at each other. He can see the guilt in her eyes, the way her frown pulls at the edges like she’s half-way through the thought process to hug him, and when she opens her mouth to say something, it’s the breaking point.

“Don’t.” TK manages, his voice cracking frustratingly as he wipes at the unshed tears in some desperate attempt to save some of his dignity. “It’s not your fault. I—I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up.” 

It sounds bitter and ultimately, it is, because of course his father would find something else to put above him. It’s nothing new, simply a continuation of the past 29 years of his life, but it hurts more this time than it ever has before and he can’t place why. It’s not the first event that Owen has missed and TK’s certain it won’t be the last, unsurprised in the least that somehow paperwork that doesn’t need to be filed for months tops his own son. The familiar ache still settles painfully in his chest and suddenly everything feels heavy.

“I’m just gonna—yeah…” TK motions over his shoulder to the door, shaking his head just a little when Carlos takes a step forward in concern and lets the door slide shut behind him with a creak. Tears burn at his eyes as he finds a little corner near the end of one of the hallways, another remodeled loft entrance just a step away and slides down the wall. There’s nobody living there, it’s not like anyone will care, so at least this way he doesn’t have to hear the eruption of noise coming from his own place. It takes him a moment longer than it should to register the door sliding open, in fact he doesn’t even realize the noise had been coming from his loft until Gabriel’s boots are standing right in front of his line of sight.

“Hey, son,” Gabriel greets, bending at the knees until they’re eye-level and TK swallows back the embarrassment that threatens to swallow him whole. “I’m sorry your dad’s not coming, you deserve for him to be here.”

“It’s—it’s not your fault, I mean, my dad’s never really been one to show up to these things.” TK shrugs his shoulders and tries not to think back to this same party, one year ago, where both of his parents were here and happy. It leaves his mouth tasting like ash even as he tries to fight the thoughts away.

“Doesn’t mean anything. I can’t imagine he don’t know how important this is to you. He shoulda been here.” Gabriel repeats, voice harder this time and leaving no room for any argument that TK might’ve wanted to make. Instead, swallowing back tears, TK simply nods his head with his lips pressed into a thin line. Gabriel’s not wrong, in fact, he’s far from wrong. TK’s mentioned plenty of times how much he was looking forward to this week, how much he was looking forward to finally being able to say he made it to two years. His dad was well aware of that fact, TK’s sure that they both still have the texts to prove it, and yet Gabriel is the one who is here. Gabriel, who found out about the depth of TK’s addiction less than two weeks ago and worked an even more unpredictable job than Owen, was here. The realization is almost enough to make TK’s heart break then and there.

“He, my dad, uh, I think I can count on one hand the birthdays I remember him coming to,” TK admits to the world, voice quiet and shaky as he steadily avoids glancing at Gabriel as he speaks. “I used to always wait until he got there, to cut the cake. One time I remember that we all went home without having cut the cake at all. So, this? Well this isn’t really surprising.”

“That ain’t right,” Judd scoffs from the door, Charlie held securely in his arms as he nudges the door shut behind him and cuts off the soft music that had been playing. “Look, your daddy may be my captain and I respect the hell outta him for it. But he sure is teachin’ me what not to do for this one.” 

He jiggles Charlie a little in the air, eliciting a pleased giggle from the baby, and TK can’t help but smile at her when she makes grabby hands towards him. There’s some part of him, deep down in his stomach, that’s always a little bit terrified to hold her close. All he can see when he holds her sometimes is his inability to keep from breaking things. He can’t, refuses, to let the same thing happen to Charlie.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Gabriel scoffs, shaking his head as he moves to the side to allow Judd to sit on the floor across from TK and watches Charlie with a small smile. “Owen is a hell of a man, a great fire captain I’m sure, and he’d make a great ranger. He doesn’t make too good of a father, I’m learning. I know I don’t have much of a leg to stand on, you know that as well as I do, TK, but—”

“But you try for Carlos,” TK cuts him off, the words spilling past his lips without his permission and his eyes widen even when Judd snorts something that might’ve been a laugh. “Yeah, you make mistakes, but all parents do. That’s why you’ve got a village behind you, especially for this little one.”

He doesn’t say much else about his father, though he bops Charlie on the nose and delights in the way she falls to the ground with laughter. Judd watches him carefully, brow furrowed when TK pulls his hands back just a little from Charlie as she grasps them.

“Hey, I can take her back in if ya want,” Judd offers and TK’s quick to shake his head, eyes blown a little wider than he thinks they need to be as he looks up at the older firefighter. “Whoa, okay, you just seem a little hesitant is all.”

It’s clear that he’s pushing for an answer, one that has Gabriel furrowing his brows at the same time and TK purses his lips. He doesn’t know what to say or how to explain that he’s not hesitant but afraid. That he doesn’t think he can handle messing up this sweet, innocent child. Instead, he simply looks up at Judd while biting his lip, trying desperately to keep the helplessness at bay.

“Hey, outside of Gracie and Tommy, there ain’t anyone I trust with this baby girl other than you an’ Carlos.” Judd answers the unasked question, voice steady and without a hint of lie in his tone. It’s enough for TK, at the moment, and he scoops the little girl close to his chest. She babbles happily, nonsensical noises falling past her lips as she grips his shirt to tug at. 

“You know, I’ve got a lot of regrets as a father, but one thing I will never let happen is my son thinking I don’t care. I messed up in the past, letting him think what he did, but it ain’t happening again,” Gabriel explains, leaning back against the wall and watching TK and Charlie with a proud and pleased smile that warms TK’s heart. “Your dad should be doing the same, not holing himself up in some office to work on paperwork that doesn’t even need to be finished. It ain’t right and you don’t deserve that.”

Logically, somewhere deep down, he knows what they’re saying is right. He doesn’t deserve it. He shouldn’t have to sit around and wonder if his dad is going to show up to an event or not. TK knows that he shouldn’t have to deal with this. It still leaves his chest aching and eyes burning every time he’s let down. Gabriel and Judd seem to get that, the two of them sharing a glance before a hand comes to rest on each of his shoulders and squeeze in reassurance. It’s so in unison that TK is forced to bite back a small laugh, leaning back just a bit and relishing in the comfort that he can take from the two men.

“Come on, gimme my daughter back and get up,” Judd encourages after a few beats, hands already swooping down to take a giggling Charlie from TK despite his many protests. “Nope, not happening. Up ya get. If Owen wants to miss out on this party, that’s on him. We’re not letting you sit out here and be sad over someone who don’t deserve it.”

Gabriel nods in agreement, one hand extended to help TK to his feet and even if the argument is on the tip of his tongue, he takes the offered hand regardless. He takes a moment, brushing off imaginary dust from his pants and steadying himself with a shaky breath before he nods.

“Good, my wife’s got a cake for you.” Gabriel nudges his shoulder gently and smiles sadly when TK’s shoulders droop just a little. “I know you normally want to wait for your father, but given the situation. I’d be happy to step in, if you’d like.”

TK had thought that maybe he’d been out of tears for the night, after all, there wasn’t much else that could make him more disappointed than he was. He was proven incorrect, however, when his eyes start burning at the pure sincerity in Gabriel’s voice.

“Yeah, I’d, uh—I’d like that a lot.” TK smiles a little shakily, even as Judd’s arm wraps around his shoulder and pulls him into a half-hug before stepping forward to let Gabriel take the place beside him. The loft turns silent when he walks in, concern written across all of their faces along with a guilty expression from Tommy. There’s a lot of words he could say, he’s sure, but there’s no words that seem to want to come out so he simply smiles at them all instead. Carlos smiles briefly at him, already crossing the room to thread their fingers together and squeeze in reassurance as they take a step towards the kitchen.

“Alright, it’s cake time!”

That night, when Carlos and TK are laying in bed staring at the ceiling and filled with love, TK rolls to look at him with a broken smile. Carlos doesn’t seem to sense the movement yet, eyes still locked on the ceiling above, and TK allows himself a brief reprieve to simply watch his partner. There’s something about him that’s just so perfect and it warms every bone in TK’s body as he watches Carlos’ chest rise and fall.

“Hey, babe?” TK asks softly and waits until Carlos hums, head rolling to the side so that the two of them are eye to eye. “I—well, here. I want you to have this.”

It’s a silly tradition, at least TK thinks it is, but he’s never held onto his sobriety chips for more than a day. He was always too afraid of losing the progress he’d made, at least this way, it wasn’t a constant reminder in the back of his mind. Normally, they went to his dad or, on more than one memorable occasion, Enzo, but there’s no one better to give it to than Carlos this time. At least, not in TK’s opinion. The man who had willingly given so much to TK, opened up his home and heart without a second’s hesitation. Yeah, TK’s pretty sure in his decision as he presses the cold coin against his partner’s hand.

“TK, are you—” Carlos starts but TK is quick to cut him off with a kiss, lips tugging up into a smile as he presses his lips against his partner’s. There’s no doubt in his mind, not a single moment of hesitation as he curls Carlos’ fingers closed around the coin.

“Positive,” TK whispers against his lips and moves his head so it rests on Carlos’ chest, calmed by the steady rise and fall as his partner breathes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He can’t see Carlos’ face from where he’s lying but he’s sure that the smile is bright across his face, a steady and strong thing as he presses his fingers into the coin. Lips brush across TK’s hair, a soft kiss drops onto his scalp as the coin thunks onto the bedside table and Carlos’ arms wrap around TK’s hips. 

There’s still an itch under his skin, a soft buzz in the back of his brain, but TK knows that it’ll be there forever. It’ll be there years down the line, the urge to use will never fully leave, it’s always going to be his constant companion. Yet, lying here, wrapped around Carlos in their home, TK thinks that it might not be the only constant in his life.