Work Text:
“As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard”
Julio Cortázar
Carlos doesn’t bring a thermos of coffee to the hospital the following day, which turns out to be problematic. As soon as he slides through the doors, TK scrambles up the bed, his chest bare, with a hopeful smile on his face, the APD sweatshirt strewn across the cotton blanket near his feet.
“You didn’t happen to bring coffee this morning did you?” he asks, eyes wide and soft hair all messed up from the pillow. “I wanna try now that the catheter is out.”
“If you’d texted me, I could have brought you some,” Carlos replies, and even though his tone is chiding, it’s completely destroyed by the pathetically broad grin on his face. “Also, you don’t look like you need any more energy this morning.”
TK deflates a little, but smiles back. “I still sleep for seventeen hours a day, babe. And I didn’t want to bother you this morning, but tomorrow I definitely will.”
Carlos drops his bag on the little table like usual and slides the leftovers into the mini fridge. He figures he can eat them for lunch later, since he’s planning on swapping TK-shift with Owen later in the afternoon after Owen is done doing something desperate to avoid the demolition of the firehouse. Carlos doesn't know the specifics, and he's trying very hard not to find out. “I don't know,” he murmurs, gently sitting down on the hospital bed and leaning over to kiss TK on the forehead, “you seem so much better today.”
“Mhm,” TK nods happily. “I have to try moving around, apparently. Doctor’s orders,” he adds, when Carlos arches a disbelieving eyebrow.
“Exactly how far do you have to move?” Carlos asks.
TK rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna put a GPS tracker on me now?” he quips. “Just in case I make a break for freedom?”
“Don’t test me, TK,” Carlos mutters, but doesn’t stop grinning as TK gives him a content, satisfied smile and slips their fingers together on the cotton bedspread.
“Hi,” he says softly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Carlos’ knuckle, his bright eyes giving Carlos a look which radiates a tentative hopefulness.
“Hey,” Carlos murmurs, his heart thudding in his chest. He’s suddenly very glad that he’s not the one with a heart rate monitor on.
TK reaches out with his free hand to cup Carlos’ cheek, the sensation of it making Carlos feel as if his skin is lit up from the inside. There’s a moment, suspended in time, where Carlos leans forward, almost without meaning to, inhales tentatively and focuses in on the perfect pink of TK’s lips.
TK’s eyelashes flutter closed as he strokes Carlos’ jaw with his fingers, the warmth of his breath on Carlos’ skin and the little nudge of their noses as their faces slot together feeling like the most beautiful, familiar motion. It douses Carlos' entire body in a hopeful, warm glow that seems as if he’s been stripped bare and pushed into a warm shower after being out in the cold for far too long.
There’s a nervous huff of laughter from TK, followed by a light kiss on the corner of Carlos’ mouth and a shared, shaky intake of breath. Carlos feels his lips brush against TK's, plush and inviting, hearing one of the machines in the background beeping erratically, before—
“Oh my god!” a voice squeaks from the doorway, and Carlos draws back and whips his head around so fast it almost gives him whiplash.
Nancy drops everything she’s carrying to the ground, completely forgetting to close the door behind her as she bounces up and down on her toes, hugging her arms into her chest like she’s trying to prevent herself from flailing.
Carlos feels his face flush about ten degrees too warm. From behind him, TK groans loudly.
“You’re back together!” Nancy exclaims, now looking like she might start crying, before throwing herself into Carlos’ arms. “God, you two are so disgustingly adorable.”
Carlos, trying to contain his latent embarrassment and disappointment about being on the cusp of kissing TK for the first time in months and being prevented from doing so, struggles to find the appropriate words. “Hey Nancy,” he breathes, wrapping his arms around her before she pulls back and ruffles TK’s hair.
“You finally had a shower,” she teases, kissing his cheek as he scowls at her. “Well done you.”
“Thanks,” TK says drily. “Did it just for you actually.”
Nancy ignores him and lets out another little excited noise, scooting around the end of the bed to fling herself on the side opposite to Carlos. “I love you,” she says, pointing at TK, “and you,” pointing at Carlos, “and especially you,” she emphasises, drawing a heart shape with her fingers through thin air, encompassing them both. “Ugh, I’m so happy right now I could cry.”
"I might cry at your choice of timing," TK mutters darkly, and Nancy rolls her eyes at him affectionately.
"I forgot how grumpy you get in the mornings," she replies sweetly, patting one of his legs. "You were much nicer to me when you were in that coma, dude."
Carlos winces. He isn't sure why, but everyone in TK's life appears to use this kind of dark humour as a coping mechanism, and he feels kind of traumatised by it.
"Bad luck," TK retorts. "I'm awake now, and you just walked in on me being seconds away from making out with my boyfriend, so I'm allowed to be grumpy."
"Your boyfriend?" Nancy replies, a teasing edge to her voice as she peels back the bedsheets around TK's midsection to look at his bruising. "I wonder who that could be?"
"Ouch!" TK whines, "don't touch it—"
"I didn't even touch it, TK, stop being—"
"Well no one invited you to come and prod me," TK scowls, craning his neck to watch Nancy ghost her fingers across the bruising. Carlos knows that she's checking the healing because she feels guilty about inflicting this damage on her best friend, and the thought of Nancy's anguish while she administered CPR, hearing and feeling TK's ribs crack under her palms, makes Carlos feel a little sick. He's not sure how she had the strength to call him from the hospital after all of that, but he feels a rush of gratitude towards her as TK tries to bat her hand away.
"You did when you decided to just not wear a shirt," Nancy quips, nodding her head towards the sweatshirt strewn over the end of the bed. "APD gear now I see? Traitor."
"You could have brought me an AFD shirt or even a Paragon one," TK groans. "And I got too hot sleeping in it so I—"
"Yeah, yeah," Nancy interjects, waving a hand dismissively. "I know you're showing off for Carlos."
"Yeah, and it almost worked, before you turned up."
"What?" Nancy smirks. "Carlos isn't a fan of hospital gowns?"
They bicker playfully for another ten minutes or so, and Carlos finds himself quite content to fade into the background of the conversation, just listening to them interact. He wonders whether he's entered a new phase of obsession with TK, one in which he's just happy to watch TK exist going about his normal life, revelling in the fact that his boyfriend is healthy and happy and alive.
Nancy ends up squished on the bed next to TK, her arm slung around his shoulders as they pretend to watch a NBA game on the hospital TV and chat over the commentary about the impending demolition of the 126, their horrible boss at Paragon and Nancy's recent foray into dating apps. Carlos pulls up a chair on TK's other side, resting his head on the bed near TK's lap and drowning in the pleasant sensation of TK combing his hair with his fingers. In a way, the moment feels so normal that if it weren't for the stark, bright hospital lighting and the way the metal bed frame digs into Carlos' bicep, he'd be half convinced they were at the loft just hanging out. He smiles softly to himself at the prospect of having their friends over at his place, TK sleeping over a few times a week, the loft becoming more than the empty shell it's felt like since TK stormed out.
When he tilts his head back, looking up at TK, he finds his boyfriend staring back at him, a sweet, content smile on his face as Nancy says something mildly derogatory about men with fish in their profile pictures. There's something affirming, something so reassuring about TK's gaze that makes Carlos feel like the ground beneath his feet is solidifying, the road ahead becoming more certain with every day they spend together.
Things are going to be okay, he thinks, biting his bottom lip as he grins back.
While he still has the energy, they attempt walking TK around the hospital room, and although it's evident that TK's body is still weak and fragile, things go better than expected.
At first, he uses Carlos' body for stability, clinging onto Carlos' bicep like it's necessary for his survival. He only lets go when it becomes evident that he's completely capable of standing on his own, and Carlos can't help but wonder whether he might have been holding on for a little longer than was strictly necessary.
"Have you been working out more than normal, babe? Your arms feel insane," he says, taking a few tentative steps on his own before grinning broadly. "This is super easy, I don't know what everyone was going on about."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Carlos frowns, checking TK's heart rate on the monitor. "I really wish we had a doctor here to monitor you."
"Baby," TK groans. "We have two paramedics in the room, what could go wrong? Plus, you know basic first aid so if I somehow find another frozen lake to fall into—"
"TK, that is so far from funny—"
"Okay, TK!" Nancy says brightly, clapping her hands as if TK is a twelve month old baby learning to walk for the first time. "You gonna walk to me now?"
Carlos snorts. "Are you sure you want—"
"I take it back," TK groans. "Find me the doctor."
After the movement exercises, which TK seems to be able to do relatively easily, Carlos goes searching for a half-drinkable coffee. He eats the Thai beef salad he made the night before in the hospital cafeteria, looking around at the mix of people sipping drinks, prodding questionable hospital food and huddling in groups. He wonders what kind of lives they have planned out for themselves after they leave this place, and whether their loved one is going to be part of that.
A little over a week ago, Carlos was grappling with the concept that he might have to attend TK's funeral. Now, he's got a kaleidoscope of colourful ideas about how their future is going to look, and despite the cautious mask he might wear on the outside, his heart yearns to discover all the different ways that they can love each other.
If it's up to him, he'll ask TK to marry him one day. They'll buy a house in the suburbs, adopt a few kids and a cat or a dog, or maybe both. He's hoping to make it to detective one day so he can work regular hours and they don't have the constant difficulty of conflicting shift work. Carlos will cook dinner and get the kids ready for bed, and then when TK's done with his shift he'll kiss them goodnight and then curl up with Carlos on the sofa.
In the meantime, he's going to teach TK how to drive better, how to speak Spanish and ride a horse, and take him out on the trails behind the ranch. In summer, they're going to have picnics and go swimming in the dam and he'll spend hours lying in the sun and mapping the constellation of freckles on TK's body like he's discovering a route to treasure.
They'll holiday in New York and visit Gwyn and Jonah, and hopefully TK will agree to show him the Chinese restaurants on Spring Street he always harps on about. They'll sort out the variety of Jewish high holidays and Christmas celebrations put on by various parts of their families and try to get to all of them. He'll spend months trying to work out the perfect present for TK, and then do whatever he wants for his birthday.
He hopes that TK will want to move into the loft at some point, and they'll spend lazy Sundays in bed, only getting out for TK to make the coffees and Carlos to make the omelettes. They'll spend hours doing nothing but having sex and kissing lazily and appreciating each other in all the ways they've learnt how to.
Carlos will know TK even better than he does now, and TK will see him for exactly who he is, and there's nothing he looks forward to more than the concept of understanding his boyfriend so completely.
When he gets back to the room, he finds TK asleep on the bed, his head slumped against Nancy's shoulder. At the sound of the door opening, Nancy looks up and gives him a small, tentative smile.
"Walking took it out of him," she whispers. "He fell asleep like, ten minutes ago."
"Always biting off more than he can chew," Carlos agrees, rolling his eyes.
Once they've managed to extract Nancy and settle TK back onto the pillow, she picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder before standing in front of him.
"I'm really happy you're back together," she murmurs, rocking on her heels. "He's so lucky to have you, Carlos. I don't know what happened between you guys but I love TK, and I think you're lucky to have him too."
"I know," Carlos nods, wondering what on earth he could say to express how fortunate he feels. The love of his life almost died, and yet here they are, less than a week out from discharge, with their whole lives ahead of them.
He barely finishes his sentence before she flings herself into his arms and buries her face in his neck. "I just wanna see you guys happy," she whispers. "You deserve it, and TK deserves it, and I know he might not have been acting like it for the past few months, but I know that he loves you so much."
Carlos hums and brushes the back of her neck with a hand. "Thank you," he says simply. "For saving him; for giving me – us – the opportunity to heal."
She smiles and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I'd do anything for you both, you know that right?" she adds as she draws back and hitches her bag over her shoulder. "I'm the head of the Tarlos fan club, and I don't care what Paul Strickland has to say about that."
When TK wakes up, it’s late in the afternoon, and although Carlos feels a little put out by the fact that he’s lost an entire day’s worth of talking, listening and re-learning and appreciating all of TK’s idiosyncrasies, he’s not going to complain. TK looks blissfully content curled into Carlos’ side, his hair fanned out in a haphazard half-halo over the pillowcase as Carlos brushes it gently with his fingers. They’re probably going to have to wash it again because he’s been playing with it too much, but Carlos can’t quite see a downside in that either.
“Hey,” he murmurs, blearily rubbing his eyes with one hand. “Where’s Nance?”
Carlos grins, brushing the back of his knuckles over TK’s jaw. “She left hours ago, TK. Bit rude of you to fall asleep on your guest.”
TK groans. “Everything makes me so tired these days,” he whines, shuffling towards Carlos’ waist and pressing his nose into the side of Carlos’ denim-clad thigh. “Must be getting old.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Carlos replies drily. “Nothing to do with recovering from multiple organ failure.”
“See?” TK mumbles, kissing Carlos’ leg through his jeans. “Now even you’re joking about the coma. Don’t hold back, baby. It’s good for you to let it out.”
“No thanks,” Carlos says quickly, and TK tilts his head very slightly to look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Your dad’s coming in about an hour by the way.”
TK frowns. “Why?” he asks. “Can’t you just stay with me?”
“Well I won’t be the one telling him that,” Carlos says. “Besides, you seem to have so much fun when your dad’s here.”
“Yeah, when he’s not trying to make me eat weird paleo food,” TK grumbles. “I don’t even have the catheter in anymore as an excuse. Plus, he’s super into hot yoga right now and he’s convinced it’s gonna make me recover quicker.”
“Well you won’t develop hypothermia in a hot yoga studio,” Carlos points out.
“Carlos!” TK hisses. “My dad literally just came out of his Bear Grylls, nomad in the woods phase and he’s already into hot yoga. Do you not appreciate how unhinged that is?”
Carlos shrugs. “The man contains multitudes, TK.”
TK snorts and then tries to cover up his smile with two fingers pressed to his lips. “Whatever,” he replies. “I feel like I haven’t had nearly enough time with you today. You want to shower with me again?”
“What makes you think I brought you new clothes?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
“I know you did,” TK snickers. “You must have been a boy scout because you’re always prepared. Remember that time you brought condoms in the Camaro specifically so we could fuck in the—”
“Okay,” Carlos interjects, looking furtively towards the hospital doors as if Owen is going to burst in at any second. “I brought you clothes. No need to be smug about it.”
TK laughs softly and then sighs, his hand fumbling through the sheets to find Carlos’ as he pushes himself up slightly so that his head rests in Carlos’ lap. It hasn’t escaped Carlos’ attention that, more than ever before, TK is constantly seeking his touch. They’ve always been very tactile, but never quite like this. Never in the way that communicates, beyond words, how much they’ve missed each other; how starved they are of intimacy.
Carlos feels it too, deep in his veins, like there’s a burning, itching thirst that begs to be satisfied, and only finds fulfilment when they’re physically connected; when he has his fingers interlaced with TK’s, or his hands in TK’s hair or on his jaw, or the gentle press of TK’s head resting against his shoulder. It feels as if the big, yawning gap that opened up between them during the break-up is being slowly repaired with those little touches, each of them acting like wet concrete, filling up the pit, smoothing over the cracks and creating solid ground.
Carlos isn’t sure what makes him say it – the silence is comfortable and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment – but something tells him that TK needs to know these things, and so he does.
“You know,” he says softly, “when you were in the coma, just before you woke up, I told you about all the ways I wished I could touch you, but felt as if I couldn’t. I guess I was terrified that I would have to say goodbye to you without holding your hand one more time, or kissing your head, or running my fingers through your hair.
“I mean, I’d been wanting to do those things for a really long time before you even fell into the coma, but the situation just made it more obvious how much I missed this.”
He stares down at their interlinked hands and rubs TK’s knuckle gently. When he looks down at his lap, he notices that TK’s eyes are transfixed on the same spot.
“I missed those things too,” he admits quietly. “Nothing felt right without you.”
“I know what you mean,” Carlos replies, feeling a dull ache in his stomach as he dredges up the unhappy memories. “It sounds so cliché, but when you walked out of the loft, I think you took a piece of me with you, TK. For months, I was searching for that part of me, trying to reclaim it, or heal from it, or just forget I needed it, but there were so many reminders of you everywhere. No matter what I did, I couldn’t escape that feeling of being…incomplete.”
TK says nothing for a long moment. Instead, he just squeezes Carlos’ hand tightly and sniffs. Carlos knows he’s probably condemning them to another round of waterworks, but it felt so therapeutic doing this yesterday, and it seems to help in dismantling the walls they’ve built between each other.
“Is it really bad to say that I’m glad you didn’t forget me?” TK asks weakly.
“I don’t think there was any risk of me forgetting you,” Carlos replies. “I mean, there are so many reminders of you everywhere in my life, TK. You’re integrated into my friends, my colleagues all know you, even my family wouldn’t quit asking about you – which wasn’t their fault, because I didn’t tell them about the breakup – it’s just that there was nowhere I could go to escape the reminder that I lost you, and you left me without any real explanation at all.
“You said yesterday that part of the reason you freaked out was because you feared that I would fall out of love with you. Well, until very recently, that’s what I thought happened to me, TK.”
“Carlos, I didn’t—” TK stutters. “I would never fall out of love with you.”
Carlos sighs, brushing his free hand against TK’s cheek and feeling the wetness pool there. He doesn’t seem to have any hesitations in touching TK during these conversations like he did yesterday, and that has to count for something.
“I can see now that there was a lot of stuff going on for you that I didn't understand,” he admits, “and TK, the last thing I want to be is too controlling, or act in a way which makes you think that I don’t value your opinion. I care about your choices and your opinions so much, and whatever we do from now on, I want to do it together. But we have to learn to communicate better, babe. It’s not going to work otherwise.”
“I know,” TK murmurs. “I know, and I’m gonna try so hard, Carlos.”
Carlos shuffles down the bed so they’re lying face to face and draws their intertwined hands to his lips, kissing them. “Promise me something?” he asks.
“Anything,” TK replies, a little shaky as a lone tear skates across the skin on his cheek.
“No matter how bad we fight from now on, you can’t just walk out on us again.”
“I’m not gonna—”
“I mean it. No leaving while we’re mad, TK,” Carlos impresses, holding their hands to his chest. “We can yell at each other, ignore each other, sit in awkward silence until we work it out, I don’t care. I just can’t cope with you walking out with no explanation again.”
TK takes a breath and exhales sharply, his bottom lip raking through his teeth. “The hard thing is that,” he says softly, “sometimes the only thing that I want to do when I’m upset is to be alone, Carlos. I don’t want to talk about things right away because I haven’t really worked out what it is I want to say. I don’t want to talk about things in the heat of the moment in case it comes out wrong, or I get frustrated and say something I might not actually mean.”
To be honest, Carlos hasn’t considered that fact in much detail, and now that he hears it properly, he thinks TK might have hit the nail on the proverbial head. It would explain why a lot of their arguments have never really been properly resolved, or have gone on for longer than they should have. Carlos wonders whether he’s been so focussed on what he thinks is the best method for conflict resolution, without really considering whether conflict resolution is a variable concept.
“Oh,” he says, feeling a little stricken. “I— I mean, that makes sense, but how do we meet in the middle?”
TK pulls his lips to the side in a little frown of concentration. “I mean, we can always put parameters on it?” he suggests. “Like a designated cooling off period where I tell you how long I’m going out and we agree on a time to be back? Because I will come back. I can’t promise I’m never going to stuff up, Carlos, but I know what I did really hurt you, and I don’t intend to do that again.”
Carlos squeezes his hand gently and rubs it against his chest. “Okay,” he agrees. “That sounds better. I just— Sometimes I really struggle to cope with the anxious, panicky feeling I get when we fight, and I feel like moving forward it’s only going to get worse unless we work out how to better resolve stuff.”
“I know,” TK murmurs, “and I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m so sorry, Carlos. I really am. I was so blinded by my own hurt and panic and discomfort that I completely failed to recognise how bad I was hurting you. I don’t want to ever hurt you like that again.”
Carlos doesn’t say anything, but nuzzles his head further into the pillow and lets out a deep breath. “Do you think it’s normal to feel so anxious all the time?” he asks, in a very quiet voice. “You mean so much to me, TK, but the whole time we were apart I felt like I could barely breathe. Every time I went for a run I kept having these episodes where my throat felt like it closed up and I couldn’t get any air in, and my whole body felt like it was shutting down. I had to lie on my floor for ages to make it stop, but sometimes…sometimes I felt like I was going to die or something.”
“Baby,” TK murmurs, unthreading their fingers and using his hand to cup Carlos’ jaw, his thumb sweeping over Carlos’ cheekbone. “I know this is really rich coming from me, but do you think you should maybe talk to someone about that? Like a professional, I mean.”
“I don’t know,” Carlos mumbles, kissing TK’s thumb as it works its way over his lips. “Yes? No? I mean, it’s getting a little better now. I don’t know.”
TK sighs. “Maybe one session, Carlos. It might make you feel better, but even if it doesn’t, there’s no harm in trying.”
“Are you gonna go back to therapy?” Carlos asks, knowing full well that Owen still badgers TK about going back to his psychologist.
TK bites his lip again. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?” he whispers. “I’m a bit of a basket case.”
“You’re not a basket case,” Carlos frowns. “You just deserve to be happy, TK.”
“I guess,” TK mumbles, looking unconvinced as he averts his gaze in a typical TK diversion tactic Carlos has seen many times.
“Hey,” he says, resting his hand over TK’s in order to capture his attention and holding it to his jaw. “I’m gonna do better at making you feel safe and valued too, sweetheart. I want to be your safe place again, and I hope that we can work our way back to that one day.”
TK smiles a small, sad smile that just reaches the edges of his lips. “I know,” he says. “We’re both gonna do better this time.”
“We’re gonna do better this time,” Carlos repeats, as he pulls TK into his arms.
Due to the significant delay in actually getting into the shower, Owen turns up at the hospital while they’re still in the bathroom; TK complaining loudly about Carlos’ fixation with water temperature and Carlos constantly begging TK to keep his hands to himself. Carlos knows this, because as soon as he steps out of the bathroom – fortunately with his bottom half still clothed – he practically collides with Owen’s chest.
“Captain Strand?” he squeaks, somehow completely losing his voice. “What are you—”
In hindsight, Owen Strand had definitely been eavesdropping on them, but TK is still naked in the bathroom and Carlos doesn’t have a shirt on, so there are other, more important things on Carlos’ mind at that moment.
“It’s Owen, Carlos,” he says, but instead of sounding tired like he usually does, he sounds very pleased with himself, and there’s a broad grin on his face.
“Is TK in there?” he asks, nodding towards the bathroom.
“Uh, yes,” Carlos stammers. “But he’s, uh—”
“Naked?” Owen supplies. “I could have guessed. Usual state of being in the shower.”
Carlos is convinced that, skin tone notwithstanding, his cheeks are about as red as an overripe tomato. “Yes,” he confirms, in a stilted voice. “He is naked.”
“Dad?” TK’s voice calls from the bathroom. “What are you—”
Owen takes a step towards the bathroom, and Carlos doesn’t go to stop him, because TK is his son, and he presumes that Owen has seen TK naked a bunch of times.
“Dad!” TK exclaims. “That wasn’t an invitation to come barging in here!”
“Well it’s good to see your voice is getting better,” Owen calls back. Carlos wonders how he temporarily forgot how loud the Strands can be. “And I’ve seen you naked since birth, TK, so you can stop pretending to be all shy and virtuous.”
“Do not embarrass me in front of Carlos,” TK practically yells. “Carlos thinks I’m very sexy and mysterious and doesn’t need to know your stories of my childhood.”
“Do you know TK used to refuse to sleep clothed?” Owen asks, directing the question to Carlos. “And I don’t mean when he was two, either. I’m talking like, fifteen —”
“Dad!”
“For the record,” Carlos says, plucking up a shirt from his bag as quickly as possible and tugging it over his head, “I’ve never described TK as sexy and mysterious.”
“Oh,” Owen smiles, waving a hand. “I wouldn’t mind if you did. It’s not true, of course, but I’m well aware that you and my son have been sleeping together for—-”
“Dad, I swear to god I will ban you from this hospital room,” TK growls. “Carlos, can you get me my clothes so I can confront him from the other side of the door?”
“Could always come out naked, son!” Owen chirps, and Carlos has to bite back a particularly wide smile at the groan he hears emanating from the bathroom.
Once TK is dressed and his hair is towel dried, he makes it from the shower to the bed – walking this time, which impresses Owen – and perches himself on the edge with a petulant frown. “You know that you’re not supposed to actively embarrass your kid after they turn eighteen, right?” he says. “It’s like, the law.”
“Is it?” Owen replies with an air of faux innocence. “Maybe Carlos could tell me which one?”
“Sir, I—”
“Carlos, we are going to have to do something about those honourifics you like throwing around,” Owen interjects drily.
“Yes, Sir,” he replies quickly. “I mean—”
“What is this?” Owen asks TK. “I mean, do I have to get naked to break down these barriers of formality? We finally got past it when you guys lived with me for two months, and now it’s back.”
“Dad,” TK groans. “Stop. You’re going to make Carlos literally die from shame.”
Owen grins at his son, throwing his arm around Carlos’ shoulders as they stand facing him. “I’m just kidding,” he says. “I’m sorry, Carlos. I just love seeing you two working things out, and you,” he adds, reaching over to ruffle TK’s hair affectionately, “so happy again.”
“Also alive,” TK points out, completely unnecessarily.
“Well that too,” Owen admits. “Mostly that, actually.”
TK sighs and leans back onto his hands that are stretched out behind him on the hospital bed. “Things are good, aren’t they?” he summarises, catching Carlos’ eye and shooting him an unfairly handsome grin.
“Things are really good,” Carlos agrees, filing TK’s expression away.
He has a feeling that things are only going to get better.