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They cleaned the blood off Carlos’ temple and neck at the hospital, but without a shower it was impossible to get it all. TK didn’t realize how much was still matted on the back of his head until they’re standing under the spray in their home and he’s running his fingers through Carlos’ hair, watching the water run red.
TK swallows past the lump in his throat as his careful, shaky fingers run over the bump on Carlos’ head. He’s standing behind him so he can’t search for any signs of pain on his face as he does so, though he thinks his fiancé would do his best to mask it anyway.
A shovel, he learned when the detectives came to take Carlos’ statement. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.
When it seems like the worst of it is out, TK drops a kiss to his shoulder and reaches around him for the shampoo. He works gentle fingers through Carlos’ hair, getting lost in watching the suds rinse out and go down the drain.
The soap comes next. He scrubs over Carlos’ shoulders first and then down his back before tapping his hip and signaling him to turn around. He feels Carlos’ gaze on him the whole time as he trails the washcloth over his chest. He didn’t break any of Carlos’ ribs, but the bruising he left behind is enough of a reminder of how it felt to not feel Carlos’ heartbeat under his hands.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until there’s a hand cupping his face, wiping a tear away.
“Hey,” Carlos says gently, breaking the silence that has settled around them. There’s so much to say; neither of them know how to say any of it.
TK clears his throat, ridding the memory from his mind and looking up to meet Carlos’ eyes. They’re full of worry and concern and love and TK doesn’t want to add to what he’s going through.
He gives Carlos a small smile, one that he finds isn’t that hard to form all things considered. Carlos’ is alive. He’s home and he’s safe and they love each other. For right now, that’s more than enough.
TK leans forward to place a kiss to the corner of Carlos’ mouth, lingering there for a moment to reassure him that he’s fine, and then he resumes his task of removing as much of that place from Carlos’ body as he can. Getting rid of dirt, sweat, blood, and the sickeningly sweet smell of cookies and old perfume won’t fix everything, but it’s something he can do for now.
Once he’s done, he quickly washes himself and Carlos stays, neither of them wanting to be far from the other. He ushers Carlos out of the shower and then Carlos takes matters into his own hands, getting a towel for both of them and using his to dry off.
If TK’s being honest, he’s a little surprised Carlos sat back and let TK take complete care of him for this long. If getting his own clothes and drying his own hair is something Carlos can do to help himself feel back in control, TK can give him that.
Once they’re both dressed, TK heads to the kitchen in search of something to eat with Carlos trailing after him.
“Your mom dropped off a bunch of food. What do you—” he stops when he turns around to see Carlos gripping the edge of the corner, bowing over with his head hanging down. “Baby?” he asks, trying not to let the panic take over his voice.
A second drags on for a lifetime and then Carlos says, “I’m fine.” He stands upright slowly and blinks a few times, looking at TK standing in front of the open fridge door as he processes the question. “Anything’s fine.”
TK watches as he makes his way to the dining table, one hand on any surface he passes by for support. TK abandons the plastic container he was grabbing and shuts the fridge.
“Babe?” he says quietly, approaching him from behind.
“I’m good, TK,” he says, pasting on a grin that looks painfully forced. “We should eat. What’d mom bring?” he asks, looking like he’s about to get back up.
TK stops him with a hand to his shoulder, his thumb stroking over his skin just beyond the collar of his shirt. “You don’t look fine.”
Carlos shrugs. “It’s just a headache,” he says, his new mantra since being admitted to the hospital yesterday.
Just a headache. Just a concussion. But it’s not just to TK, not when he had to live in a world where Carlos Reyes was dead. Even if it was just for a minute.
“I can handle it,” Carlos continues and TK holds back a sigh.
Instead he checks his watch and frowns when it confirms what he already knows. It’s too soon for Carlos to take any more pain meds, but he doesn’t have to sit here on these wooden chairs under the bright lights of the kitchen.
“You don’t have to handle it,” TK says gently, resisting the urge to bring his hand to the back of Carlos’ head and run it through his hair. It’s a motion so natural to him from all the times he has done it before, but the last thing he wants to do is cause Carlos any more pain. “Why don’t you go lay down?”
“I just did nothing but lay down in the hospital for the last twenty four hours,” he says, sounding like a petulant toddler. All things considered, TK finds it kind of endearing to know Carlos isn’t feeling so awful as to not act even a little stubborn.
“Yeah, because your heart stopped and you had so much blood caked in your hair that I thought I was never going to be able to wash it all out,” he shoots back with an eyebrow raised, leaning on the edge of the table to be able to see Carlos’ face. It falls slightly.
“TK…” he says a little regretfully, but TK isn’t at the point of wanting to guilt Carlos into taking care of himself. At least not yet. A few more days of this and his hand might be forced.
TK brushes his hair away from his face. “I should’ve known you’d be a terrible patient when you didn’t even think you needed to go to the hospital,” he jokes
“Pay back for all the times you wanted to go back to work before you were cleared.”
“Oh, I see,” TK teases back because if he thinks about how many close calls they’ve had, how many times the world has tried to take them away from each other, his carefully constructed composure will crumble.
Carlos smiles back just a fraction and then his gaze gets lost on the far brick wall. TK waits, knowing his fiancé better than anyone. There’s something on his mind, something he hardly wants to admit to himself let alone someone else. But he’s getting better at that, telling TK when he’s hurting.
“I don’t like feeling helpless,” he confesses after another minute.
There’s something about the way he says that. Quiet, resigned, lost in his head. It has TK reaching forward to cup cheek, forcing their eyes to meet.
“Baby, you’re not. You’re healing,” he corrects and then after a moment of contemplation, adds, “This is different.”
“Yeah,” Carlos mumbles.
“This isn’t like that,” TK promises, Carlos’ statement once again coming back to him. Even when TK was kidnapped, he was never as powerless as Carlos was yesterday. He can’t even imagine what that must’ve felt like.
“I know,” Carlos says a little louder, seemingly coming back to himself a bit.
TK sits there with him for one more moment before standing up straight and holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’m pretty tired,” he lies. “Let’s go to bed.”
Maybe TK’s not entirely against getting Carlos to take care of himself under the guise of doing something for him. He crashed hard at the hospital last night after he and about five others convinced the nursing staff to let him stay. And all day today he’s been okay, as if his body knows he needs the strength now that Carlos is lacking someone of his.
Carlos stands too and TK leads him across the loft, stopping to grab the throw blanket. It’s only late afternoon and he doesn’t think they’re actually going to go to bed for the night, but he’d rather Carlos rest there than on the couch.
“Do you want me to bring you something?” TK asks once Carlos is settled back against the pillows, blanket draped over his lap.
Carlos shakes his head and then decides against that motion. “I’m not really that hungry.”
TK remembers his own concussion and the constant nausea in those first days. And Carlos ate at the hospital so he doesn’t feel the need to push too hard right now.
“You should eat, though,” Carlos says.
“After all the food your mom brought to the hospital? I’m good for now. Promise.”
“Okay,” Carlos accepts and then reaches out to grip TK’s wrist. “Stay?”
“Of course.”
He walks around to the other side of the mattress to avoid jostling Carlos too much, smiling when Carlos lifts the blanket up and lets him slide under. He settles onto his back in the middle of the bed, letting Carlos press up against his side. The arm he throws over TK’s waist is a grounding force and TK closes his eyes and lets the feel of it anchor him.
Part of TK has been feeling like he’s been handling this too well. Ever since Carlos came back to him and thanked him for saving his life, he’s been fine. All throughout the ambulance ride and the hospital stay and updating the 126 and the rounds of testing and trying to call his dad again, he’s stayed strong. But now that they’re home and it’s quiet and it’s been four nights since they were in this bed together, everything’s hitting him.
Grappling with a secret wife and wedding deadlines feels so miniscule now when he knows what it’s like to learn that his fiance’s life was in the hands of a serial killer. To know what it feels like to keep his heart pumping with his bare hands and to breathe air back into his lungs.
Every day TK sends his heart out to work with a whisper to be safe and a hope that it won’t be the day he gets a call. He never really gets used to it, but he has learned to live with it. But this was so much worse than he could’ve ever imagined. And it was way too close.
He tightens his arm around Carlos’ shoulder, kissing the top of his head and then holding his mouth there. Carlos breaks his way out of his embrace to look at him when a sniffle breaks the silence in the room.
“Hey,” Carlos says again, just like in the shower. TK can’t push it down this time.
A few more tears fall and Carlos is frowning, pushing closer and pressing a kiss against his jaw with a murmured, “I’m here.”
TK holds onto that and to his breath on his neck and the rise and fall of his ribcage under his palm. “You know when I was at the police station and everyone was… talking about,” TK exhales slowly, “who had you and… and what happened to everyone else they had. I thought—”
His voice breaks on the last word and he bites his bottom lip, shaking his head at the ceiling.
“I know,” Carlos says, holding him tighter. “I… I didn’t think I was gonna make it out of there, either. No one knew where I was or that anything was wrong and I…” he trails off.
Carlos thought he was going to die. Alone and scared and without anyone even looking for him. TK’s heart breaks even further.
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” TK whispers. “I just went about my day. Got up and went to work and the whole time you were there.”
“What?” Carlos asks faintly, propping up onto his elbow. “TK, no. I should’ve told you where I was or called for backup–”
“Maybe,” TK interjects with a pointed look that Carlos nods at.
“–but none of it was your fault,” he continues. “You had no reason to think there was anything wrong and you still found me.”
“Always,” TK promises, kissing Carlos soundly and only pulling back so Carlos doesn’t have to stay in an uncomfortable position any longer. Once he’s laying back down, TK says, “I knew you wouldn’t disappear on me like that. I sent you so many texts I was starting to wonder if you’d respond just to tell me to shut up.”
“I wouldn’t,” Carlos agrees. “I know how our jobs are. I would never worry you like that.”
TK takes comfort in those words and the security of always having an open line of communication between them.
They lapse into silence and TK hopes the hand he trails up and back Carlos’ back is enough to get him to relax enough to get some kind of rest, but after a few minutes of only the sounds of their breathing, he says, “I don’t know if I can sleep. Every time I close my eyes I just keep seeing–” Carlos stops himself and TK wasn’t really expecting him to continue.
He’ll have to talk about it at some point–both of them, really–but for tonight he’s plenty okay with just holding Carlos.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he repeats for the hundredth time, grabbing Carlos’ hand that’s resting on his abdomen and tangling their fingers together. “We don’t have to sleep.”
“Can you just… talk to me? Tell me something,” Carlos asks.
He nods, but it takes TK a minute to process the request, searching for something to share after a week that seemed like it was filled with nothing but stress. He smiles though when he thinks of a story he never got to tell.
“Well… in all the craziness of this week, I don’t think I told you about how Tommy has a thing with her pastor,” he offers.
“She what?” Carlos asks, attention thoroughly caught and soundly equally as amused as TK is about the whole thing.
TK laughs, a low rumble in his chest that feels way too good. “Okay. So it all started when the guy had a frog in his throat.”
Carlos hums. “I imagine Tommy would be able to render someone speechless.”
“No, I mean literally,” he corrects. “It was during the storm when it started raining frogs. The guy got one lodged in his throat and he couldn’t breathe.”
That part of the story doesn’t shock Carlos nearly as much. He’s well versed in the crazy calls of the 126 by now. “Surprised you didn’t bring it home for a new pet,” he mumbles instead and TK’s smile is so wide it hurts.
“Shut up,” he murmurs, trading a pinch to his shoulder for a kiss to his head instead. The image of Carlos in a hospital bed is still too raw to even consider inflicting the most harmless amount of damage on him. “I thought you wanted me to talk. Let me tell my story.”
Carlos chuckles and then nods, relaxing more against him. “Go on…”
“Okay, so frog in his throat,” TK starts again, getting lost in the mindless retelling of the whole ordeal.
Every question, comment, or laugh from Carlos does a better job than anything at reassuring TK that he’s here. He’s safe and he’s not quite whole, but he’ll get there. And TK will love him through every step of it. In sickness and health, he thinks. They’re not married yet, not technically, but they’ve never done things in the right order anyway.