Work Text:
It wasn’t often that TK woke up alone in bed but feeling like he was in an inferno. Wait, that’s not good.
And with that lovely reminder of what happened with his first shared home with Carlos, TK snapped awake. No flames, no smoke, no alarm blaring from their open loft area.
TK was tangled up in the bedsheets, now soaked through with sweat. He couldn’t find a cool spot to lay his head back down, not even on Carlos’s pillow. (And he was breaking one of Carlos’s only house rules - don’t take his pillow for sleeping. He was stubborn about which pillow he slept with, it was adorable.) He tugged off the thin shirt he’d gone to bed wearing, but that didn’t seem to help.
And that’s when it hit him - he wasn’t on fire. He couldn’t be that lucky.
TK stumbled into the bathroom and dug through the drawers until he could find the thermometer hidden behind a bottle of aftershave. Three minutes later, he had his confirmation, and the knowledge that he wasn’t going to work for at least a shift, if not more.
102.4.
If there was one thing that TK hated, it was fevers. And here he had one in spades. He sent off a quick text to Tommy to call out for his next shift, another to keep his dad from worrying and busting down the door when he found out, a third to the group chat to cancel Catan that evening… and finally, a whiny one to Carlos, who was spending the morning with his mom.
An hour later, he was on fresh sheets, homemade caldo de pollo in his stomach, and surrounded by his lover and both sides of his family, both related and found. His fever couldn’t have fled faster.