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There’s no reason picking a tablecloth should be this hard.
Carlos sighs and straightens up from what must be the 300th linen he’d painstakingly examined that day, no more satisfied than when he’d started. He’d long since exhausted the salesperson, who was making no attempt to hide the fact that he was scrolling through his phone while he waited for Carlos to make a decision or leave the store empty-handed.
Carlos was determined not to let the latter happen. This was already the fourth store he’d visited that day, and he had very little to show for it. Sure, he picked out some silverware a few hours ago, but even that had him conflicted. How was he supposed to know what cutlery would look best for their wedding if he didn’t know what the tablecloths looked like?
His ribs twinge slightly in protest as he bends to look at the 301st fabric. If TK was with him, he definitely would have made Carlos go home after the first store — probably wouldn’t have even let him go out in the first place — but that would have been unnecessary. He was fine, and they had to get this done sooner rather than later.
They had very limited time to pull this wedding together, and Carlos seemed to have nothing but time this week while he was on medical leave. The first three days he spent cooped up in their loft had him feeling restless, and his department-mandated therapy sessions only ate up so much time. He might as well make himself useful.
Even before their eight-week deadline was set, Carlos had taken the lead on wedding planning. It happened naturally. TK certainly wanted to be involved in the process, but he really didn’t have strong opinions on the minute details. He knew Carlos did, however, and he wanted him to be happy, so they decided to make the big decisions together, and let Carlos handle the smaller things.
Granted, that was under the assumption that Carlos actually could handle the smaller things. Right now, he wasn’t so sure.
Seriously, why was this so hard? This was the last thing Carlos ever thought he would be stuck on, but that was before he knew how many different variations of the color ‘cream’ there were. Every cloth considered had something off about it — whether it was the wrong color, the wrong texture, it wasn’t durable enough for an outdoor venue or it was way out of their budget.
He bites back a groan as he straightens again, refusing to look in the salesman’s direction. His pride was keeping him from walking out, but by this point that was looking more and more likely.
Carlos wracks his brain, thinking over his options. He couldn’t call TK. He was at work, and even if he wasn’t, he would more than likely scold him for pushing himself so soon after being discharged from the hospital. His parents would probably do the same, and he’d already bothered them enough this week anyway.
He freezes when he realizes there is one person he hasn’t seen much of this week — someone who would almost certainly come running at the chance to contribute to his son’s wedding, and maybe mend some fences in the process.
Carlos bites his lip, conflicted. He knew TK was still upset with his father. The only reason he knew Owen might be available right now is because his fiancé had intentionally rearranged his schedule so that their shifts wouldn’t overlap. Owen had called them a few times, and despite Carlos’ gentle proddings to acknowledge his dad’s attempts to bridge the gap, TK wasn’t ready to answer quite yet.
Carlos, on the other hand, didn’t really have anything against Owen. Maybe he should, since it was technically his life on the line when Owen wouldn’t answer TK’s calls, but then again, he wasn’t there to experience that the way TK was. He can’t blame him for holding a grudge. If their roles were reversed, Carlos would certainly have a hard time speaking to his father too.
At the same time, he also knew TK didn’t want to stay angry at his dad forever. Yet again, he was reminded of how little time they had before their wedding. The last thing any of them wanted was for things to still be tense between them by then, but something had to give to forge the path towards peace. If that thing had to be Owen helping Carlos through a tablecloth crisis, then so be it.
Convinced, Carlos dials Owen’s number. He smirks when Owen answers halfway through the first ring.
“Carlos!” Owen says, not bothering to hide his surprise. “Hey, how are you doing?”
“Hey Owen,” Carlos says. “I’m good. Are you busy?”
“Nope, free as a bird. What do you need?”
“I’m at Elsie’s Event Rentals downtown,” he starts. “I’ve been trying to pick out the right wedding tablecloths for hours now, but nothing seems quite right. I was wondering if–”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Carlos huffs. The store is at least thirty minutes away from the captain’s house.
“Please don’t speed,” Carlos says. “I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Right. See you soon.”
It’s definitely been under half an hour when Owen hurries through the store doors, but it’s close enough that Carlos doesn’t call him on it. He’s carrying two green smoothies, and promptly hands one to Carlos when he reaches him.
“Owen, you didn’t have to–”
“Ah,” Owen shushes him. “You said you’ve been going at this for hours, which I can’t imagine is something your doctors or TK recommended.” He points at the smoothie before Carlos has a chance to respond. “That’s anti-inflammatory, and it works wonders. I swear they’re all I drank after my surgery.”
Carlos can’t imagine the drinks are in any way allowed inside a store with such delicate pale fabrics everywhere, but a quick glance at the salesperson finds him still glued to his phone, so Carlos isn’t going to say anything. Instead, he just thanks him, and Owen turns his attention to the linens.
“So, explain your predicament.”
Carlos does his best to rehash his struggle in a way that doesn’t make him sound like an overly anxious lunatic, which is tougher than it sounds. Through it all, Owen nods along while he peruses the fabrics himself — most of them ones Carlos has already looked at.
When he’s done, Owen looks up at him, hands full of linen, and asks, “What’s your statement piece?”
Carlos pauses, unprepared for the sudden subject shift. “You mean–”
“At the reception,” Owen clarifies. “Do you intend for your tablecloths to be the thing that draws people’s eyes?”
“Well no,” Carlos says. “We already have our centerpieces figured out.”
“Then don’t worry so much about the tablecloths,” Owen says easily, dropping the fabric in his hands in a way that shouldn’t raise Carlos’ heart rate as much as it does. “They’re there to serve as a backdrop for your other table settings, so what’s most important is that they don’t distract from that. I promise the majority of your guests will barely even notice them.”
It’s not a very encouraging statement on the surface, but it somehow eases the tension in Carlos’ shoulders. He’s well aware that he can be a bit of a perfectionist, and he should have known that trait would be out in full force when he’s preparing for something as big as his wedding. It’s reassuring to be reminded that not everyone has the same unreasonably high standards he does. He’s only trying to please himself, but when it comes time for their actual wedding, Carlos knows that tablecloths will be the very last thing on his mind.
“I’d go with silk,” Owen continues, unphased by Carlos’ lack of response. “It’s elegant, it’s fairly versatile — plus it’s sustainable. I’m sure we’d be able to find something that fits your budget, too.”
At Carlos’ nod, Owen gestures to the salesperson, who apparently had been listening to at least part of their conversation, because he points them to a different area of the store.
“Now,” Owen says, patting his shoulder as they make their way over. “What color scheme are we working with here?”
Twenty minutes later, Carlos walks out of the store, his smoothie half-gone and a massive weight off his shoulders.
“Thank you so much Owen,” he says. “I don’t know how much longer I would have been stuck in there without you.”
“Nah, you would’ve figured it out eventually,” Owen assures him. “Sometimes it just helps to get an outside perspective on these things.”
They’re making their way down the block, but they slow to a stop near Owen’s car. The fire captain looks suddenly awkward, but he smothers it with a bright smile.
“Well, I oughta let you get back to planning,” he says. “But this was fun, thanks for calling me. Let me know if you hit any other roadblocks.”
There’s a pang in his chest that Carlos knows has nothing to do with his injuries. He shouldn’t feel guilty. He knows Owen is the one who messed up, and it’s on him to fix things with TK. But he can see the man is trying, and he genuinely was helpful to Carlos just now.
“Hey,” Carlos says as Owen is reaching for his car door. “I was planning on getting a few other wedding tasks done today. I’m sure TK wouldn’t mind me having some supervision for it, if you’re still free.”
Owen brightens considerably. “I’d love to,” he says, rounding the car to stand next to Carlos as they continue down the street. “I’ve actually been dying to hear more about what you guys are planning. You mentioned centerpieces…”
~~~
“Hey baby, I’m– Dad?”
Carlos looks up from the couch to find his fiancé staring dumbfounded at the scene before him. Papers are strewn throughout the loft, stacked on the kitchen counter, the dining room table — there’s even a few on their bed. It’s all centered around the living area, where Carlos and Owen have cracked open their wedding binder and are currently debating the merits of chair covers.
To Carlos, it’s a carefully organized chaos, but he can tell TK doesn’t see anything careful or organized about it.
“TK!” Owen greets. “You’re just in time. Chair covers, are you yay or nay?”
“Am I… what?”
“Owen’s been helping me do some wedding planning,” Carlos says, rounding the couch to kiss TK on the cheek. “Just the small things, like we talked about. But he actually helped me get a lot done today.”
“How? Wait, did you go out shopping?” TK asks, his expression shifting from befuddled to concerned. “For how long?”
“I kept him under close watch,” Owen says, avoiding the question. “Made sure he stayed hydrated and took numerous breaks.”
“It’s true,” Carlos continues. “He even made me come back home earlier than I’d planned.”
That may have been because Carlos started getting a headache that likely stemmed from his lingering concussion, but they had dealt with that by now. TK didn’t need any more stress than he was already under.
“Well, thank god for small mercies, I guess,” TK says, finally returning Carlos’ kiss with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He wanders over to the kitchen counter, eyeing a checklist laying at the top of a stack. “Wow, you guys really did get a lot done today.”
“It’s all gotta get done eventually if we wanna get married in a few weeks,” Carlos points out, leaning against the counter with his best innocent look.
“I’d rather you’d spent the day resting,” TK says, clearly not buying it. “I can’t marry you if you’re back in the hospital.”
“I think that concern should extend to you just as much as it does to Carlos,” Owen quips.
Carlos gives him a few chuckles, but TK doesn’t laugh. He does, however, send his father a carefully guarded smile as Owen rises from the couch.
“Thank you dad, for looking after him today,” he says quietly. “I appreciate it.”
That seems like it makes Owen’s day more than anything, and he smiles back at his son.
“It was my pleasure,” he says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get out of your hair. But Carlos, I will get back to you on your question about the hors d'oeuvres. I gotta do some research first.”
Carlos lets TK walk his father out, watching as they exchange a few murmured words at the door. It’s clearly not all good between them yet, but they’re getting there, and Carlos allows himself a bit of satisfaction for playing a small role in that.
That satisfaction immediately ends when TK pauses after he slides the door shut. Carlos tenses, bracing himself for a scolding. His fears only lessen somewhat when his fiancé turns around and pins him with a playful scowl.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” TK asks as he makes his way back over to him.
“TK, I promise, I feel fine–”
“No, no,” TK interrupts. “I’m not talking about your health. We will be discussing that though, don’t think I’m about to let that slide.” Carlos looks down sheepishly as TK points at him. “I’m talking about you getting my dad involved in wedding planning.”
Carlos looks up at that. “Wha– c’mon, I told you, he was really helpful today.”
“Oh, I believe that,” TK says, hopping up on the counter and pulling Carlos between his legs. It does a lot to assure him he’s not in serious trouble, but he’s obviously not off the hook yet. “He’s not going to go full throttle right off the bat. But you just gave him an inch, and he’s about to stretch that the length of Austin.”
“Alright,” Carlos says, rolling his eyes. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Which one of us has lived with him their entire life?”
Carlos doesn’t have time to reply before his phone interrupts them, buzzing incessantly from the coffee table. He turns his head toward it slowly, while TK tilts his head mockingly out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh, who could that be?” TK asks as Carlos makes his way over. “Could it possibly be your father-in-law?”
“So, he’s just my father-in-law now?” Carlos retorts with a smirk over his shoulder. “He bears no relation to you?”
“When he’s being like this, yeah.”
Carlos picks up his phone, and with budding dread, he turns his screen on to find multiple texts from Owen.
Owen: Had another thought about the glassware
Owen: Might want to get 2 types of flutes for alcoholic & non-alcoholic drinks
Owen: Call when you get the chance
Carlos bites back a sigh as he feels TK hook his chin over his shoulder to peer at the screen. Just then, another two texts come in.
Owen: Actually scratch that
Owen: Gonna ask Andrea what she thinks first
“Good luck babe,” TK says with a quick peck to his neck. “Remember, you’re the one who volunteered to take the lead on the wedding planning.”