Work Text:
Take me through this wild tide
Stay with me through all of time
If I'm drenched in madness, tangled blues
Won't you? Oh, won't you?
They barely make it past Tommy's front lawn before they're in each other's arms again.
Carlos breathes him in, a sharp inhale over his thrumming pulse, and TK sinks into the comfort of his husband's embrace. He thinks, sometimes, that he could exist here and nowhere else and he'd be completely and wholly content. Here, with Carlos' heartbeat pulsing against his own, his strong arms wrapped around his frame, his warm scent flooding his senses, TK is home free. Carlos is solid and so wonderfully alive, it sends goosebumps up and down TK's spine. He finds beauty in the simple fact of it—that he's here, and he's got air in his lungs, and he's made it through the unthinkable again. He finds beauty in the night; in what it's become. The streetlights spill greenish-yellow pools onto the road, the pavement still slick from the hour of heavy rain, and the air is heavy; smelling of earth.
He'll take it, though. He'll take all of it.
The distant echo of traffic and insects chirping fade into a low hum as Carlos presses his lips to TK's skin. He's squeezed even tighter—tight enough that TK feels himself being pulled up briefly onto his toes—and TK grins into his husband's shoulder as they sway.
It could be thirty seconds; it could be an hour. Carlos' voice is like a beautiful melody, anyway, when he says: "Let's get you home."
TK hums, suddenly feeling the weight of the day. "Please."
Neither of them move, though. Carlos doesn't remove his hands from where they're tucked up under TK's jacket, and TK isn't faring any better. He still has his own fingers curled into Carlos' shirt, where it's drawn tight over his broad chest and back. Neither of them acknowledge it. They just stay put, forever suspended in time. He traces shapes between Carlos' shoulder blades instead, listening to his husband's even breaths. A few moments pass, and TK pulls back just enough to see his husband's face, keeping his arm looped around Carlos' neck.
"We're probably giving the neighbours a show."
"They can deal," Carlos says, cupping one hand around TK's nape as he pulls him in for a kiss. It sends sparks through TK's whole body, and he presses his palms to either side of his husband's face to kiss him insistently back. He savours the feeling of Carlos' tongue skirting the seam of his lips, all of it stealing his breath.
A rumble of thunder, an echo from the storm that ended up being the city's saving grace, is what pulls them apart. Carlos looks at him, and he sees a lifetime in his eyes. There's a pinch of worry between his brows, but fondness seeps into the small smile Carlos gives him as he strokes his thumb along TK's cheek. TK wants to step right into his skin.
"Come on," Carlos says, once thunder cracks again. He's digging his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the car, the headlights flashing from where he'd had to park on the street.
TK spares one last glance over his shoulder before he goes to follow his husband past the sidewalk. Tommy's house is warm, an inviting beacon with the golden glow of lamp light just barely shining through the curtains. His fingers tremble a little as he aches with something he can't quite name—grief, before it could even be triggered; relief, too big to really grasp in his hands—as he suddenly finds himself back in that classroom. Her quiet voice as she uttered prayer rang in his ears as their hands squeezed in what they accepted to be their final moments. He never even said a word.
"TK?"
He smooths his palms down the front of his jeans and smiles as he turns around. It grows wider when he sees Carlos is holding open the passenger door for him.
"Thanks, baby," TK says, scratching lightly over Carlos' forearm as he ducks into the car. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he's suddenly surrounded by Carlos—his reusable coffee thermos in the cupholder and extra pens in the glovebox and his cologne heady and lingering on the seats—and he lets his head fall back as he settles.
He watches as Carlos moves around the hood of the car and spares a moment to put his bag and jacket in the backseat before moving in behind the wheel. TK takes in everything: the flex of his biceps, the way the light shifts through the window and catches in his liquid brown eyes, the delicate shadows over his beautiful face. TK swallows. He almost never saw Carlos again, a fact that hits him squarely in the chest, like a punch to the solar plexus. It feels cosmically, unimaginably wrong, and yet there’s nothing he would’ve been able to do about it.
“Hey,” Carlos says softly, once he’s reached over to turn down the volume on the radio, ushering the late-night host into silence. Those brown, brown eyes stare right into his own as they pull up to a stop sign. “You okay?”
TK shrugs. Am I? He hasn’t really had the time to think about it. “I don’t know.”
“How—” Carlos swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “How close was it? Really?”
There’s so much he doesn’t know. TK wants to protect his husband; wants to reassure him that while it was a long day, he was never truly that close to death. He also can’t bring himself to lie to him. Not after everything. In the end, he answers with a question of his own. “Can we just go home?”
He sticks his still shaking hands under his thighs. He’s gotta get it under control—he can’t work tomorrow if he’s still like this. It felt like such a rush, to go from a silent goodbye to the sudden relief of their lives being saved by some fractured miracle, and all of it is draining out of him now, hours later.
“Yeah, of course,” Carlos says, his voice soothing like honey. “You wanna pick something to listen to?”
“Tell me about your day, instead,” TK suggests, longing to be settled further by the sound of his husband’s voice. It’s a failsafe at this point; the easiest way to connect with Carlos when he misses him. He plants on a smile; lifts his brow. “Tell me about all that back there.”
He doesn’t have to elaborate.
“Oh, okay,” Carlos says, turning them gently out of Tommy’s quiet neighbourhood and toward downtown. There’s faint sirens in the distance, and fewer people than usual lingering by the businesses that line the streets, but TK just pointedly focuses on Carlos’ strong hands on the wheel. “First off—”
TK smiles a little to himself as Carlos talks, and emphasizes his points with the wave of a hand, and just exists. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. And as they inch closer to their home, he finds it a little easier to breathe.
“I think I’m gonna shower,” TK says, the moment they step through the front door of the loft. They’d rinsed off at the firehouse after they’d all gotten back and exchanged sweaty hugs, but he still feels a little untethered. He longs for the strong heat of water beating down on his back; a good scrub with the same body wash Carlos uses. He longs to be consumed, and this will be the best way to start.
“Okay,” Carlos says, before asking: “Have you eaten anything?”
He drops his belongings onto the stool at the counter before stepping back into TK’s space. He squeezes TK’s tense shoulders before easing his coat off for him, and it’s an act that nearly brings TK to tears. He’s missed this—the easy togetherness, the way coming home to each other so blissfully melted away into nights spent attached at the hip.
“We uh, we grabbed a bite a little while before we were called out to the derailment,” TK says, remembering the brown takeout bags stained with grease spots; him and Nancy bickering playfully over leftover fries. It must’ve been five, six hours ago, and yet it feels like forever.
“I’ll make you something,” Carlos squeezes his shoulders again, digging his thumbs into the knots of tension now that he’s just in his t-shirt. TK closes his eyes as he melts into it.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“Something small, then. Before bed.”
TK bites at the inside of his cheek as he smiles. He knows his husband feels a need to do this for him, and he loves him so much for it, he so often feels like he could burst at the seams. It's like the burning force of a star. TK reaches up and squeezes Carlos' left hand. "Okay. I won't be too long."
Carlos pats his side affectionately before they separate, and TK inches toward the bathroom. Walking away from him feels like a tiny death in itself, like he’s untethered from his own personal moon with every step he takes, but he focuses his breathing and tells himself he can do this. He can hear the fridge door opening; the plunk of items being placed on the countertop. Even still, TK leaves the door open a crack as he turns on the water and lets it warm up, slowly removing his clothes.
He’s long gotten used to close calls, and he’d never do anything differently if it means keeping someone else safe. So he doesn’t know why this one is sitting so heavy over him. He closes his eyes and his throat closes as he imagines four walls covered with drawings by children closing in on him. There’s glimpses of the reporter breathing her last painful breath, of Nancy’s gasp as they became surrounded, of Tommy gripping their hands.
TK opens his eyes, clutching the edges of the sink. He stares at his own reflection as he forces himself to inhale, to exhale, rinse and repeat. He pulls his phone out of his pocket before he shoves his jeans off, and he stares down at the cracked screen. He’d gone through all of his missed notifications on the way back to Tommy’s house, but there’s a new message from Nancy. He smiles softly at the selfie she’s sent him, of herself wrapped up in an oversized UT Austin sweatshirt as she clutches at a pizza box, and TK presses down on the image so he can react with a heart. He turns his phone off completely, then, and places it next to the toothbrush holder.
The steam’s gotten heavy, now, clinging to the glass walls of the shower. TK welcomes the heat of the water as he stands under the spray, letting his skin turn pink. He imagines the burns that would’ve covered his skin if the wind hadn’t shifted. TK clenches his jaw and lowers the temperature a little bit, before he washes his hair and scrubs down his body, longing to get every speck of this day off of him. He usually doesn’t mind that he comes home smelling faintly of the firehouse, of the cleaner they use in the ambulance or the generic soap in the showers, but tonight he needs to smell like Carlos; like them, mixed together.
It gets hard to breathe again when he’s got a towel wrapped around his waist and he’s dabbing moisturizer under his eyes. All of it comes rearing back with a force he can't withstand, and it takes glancing out the cracked door of the bathroom and catching sight of his husband; of hearing him, as he hums something to himself as he plates up something cheesy and comforting, to feel a sense of temporary calm.
“Get it together,” TK murmurs to himself, as he straightens his posture and stares at himself for another thirty seconds until it becomes too much. He made it. All of his family did. He shouldn’t still be shaking. He should be fine.
Frustrated, he turns off the light and moves into the bedroom, pulling on sleep shorts and an AFD tee over still-damp skin. He fiddles with his wedding ring, his thumb pushing it around his finger, as he strolls back out to Carlos on the couch.
There’s a plate with a grilled cheese cut diagonally sitting on the coffee table, with a bottle of water and a steaming mug of tea flanking it. Carlos is nursing a mug of his own as he sits in their corner of the couch, pointedly scrolling his phone instead of skimming over a case file. TK swallows, as he steps into the warm glow of the room, illuminated by a single lamp and the moonlight spilling through their well-loved big windows. Carlos lifts his gaze, and looks at him like he’s something holy.
His husband gestures toward the sandwich. “I can make something to go with it, but I figured—”
“It’s perfect,” TK says, plopping down and pulling the plate onto his lap. He pulls the sandwich apart, cheese pulling masterfully in a long, seemingly never-ending string, before he bites into it. He swallows, savouring the buttery bread and sharp cheddar, before he inches the plate toward his husband. "Share it with me?"
The corner of Carlos' mouth turns up. "Sure."
The sandwich is quickly demolished between the two of them, and TK wipes his hands on the napkin Carlos tucked under the plate before he downs half the bottle of water. His tea sits untouched, tendrils of steam billowing upward, as the silence grows between them. He watches Carlos place his own half-empty mug on one of the coasters, before he purposefully sits back. Their eyes meet, and something flickers; an easy familiarity, a longing to forever be closer than what is physically possible.
"Come here, baby," Carlos murmurs, reaching out with his right hand. TK takes it, clutches at his husband's long fingers, and lets himself be pulled almost completely onto Carlos' lap.
They sit like that for a long moment, neither of them saying anything. They just breathe each other in, as TK properly adjusts himself so he's planted with a knee on either side of his husband's body.
"It was bad," TK finally says, his words pressed into the spot where Carlos' neck meets his shoulder, confirming his husband's earlier suspicions. "It was really bad."
"Will you tell me about it?" Carlos asks, his voice thick with unshed tears. TK feels his own sinuses start to burn.
"It's over now," TK curls his arms around Carlos' shoulders, deepening the hug.
"Maybe it'll help, though," Carlos says, slipping his hand up and under TK's shirt to stroke his thumb over his hip. "You know, I couldn't watch the news. I don't think I've ever been able to when I know you guys are out there."
TK presses his lips together. "It just feels like it never ends."
"I know," Carlos says, his words twinged with a sadness that permeates between them both.
Sitting like this, TK can lock eyes with the photo of his in-laws that sits on the shelf across the room. Gabriel smiles at him, forever frozen in time as he curls his arm around his wife on a day at the ranch, and it tightens in TK's chest. The grief hangs over them like a cloud, never quite out of reach, and he hates it.
Carlos kisses his temple. A lifetime ago, he kissed him there every night, after the butt of a gun left a starburst of a bruise. There's a scar on TK's chest, a little furl right by his collarbone, from where a bullet made purchase. There's no mark on his skin, this time, but he's never been quite this shaken.
Finally, TK pushes through the tears. "We were just stuck," he starts, shrugging his shoulders because it's as simple and horrible as that. Everything they'd already lived through and everything they dreamed of...all of it would've been gone in a flash because they were surrounded on all sides. "We couldn't save this woman. A reporter. It was so awful, Carlos, and I know we made her final moments a little easier but...it was terrible. And it's how we were going to go, too."
"But you didn't," Carlos reminds him, his voice gentle as anything. "You're here, TK. Thank God."
"Yeah," TK whispers, scratching absentmindedly at the short hairs at the back of Carlos' head. With a huff of humourless laughter, he adds: "I was so scared, baby."
"I wish I could take it all away," Carlos tells him, and the corner of TK's mouth lifts, even as he keeps his face buried in his husband's neck. They're the exact same, down to the innate desire to pull each other's pain from one another. "I'd do it in a heartbeat."
"Carlos," TK murmurs, suddenly feeling sick. "You wouldn't have known."
"Hm?"
Carlos noses through TK's damp hair, and the gentle hum vibrates into TK's ribs.
"I didn't—we wouldn't have said goodbye," TK says, his voice cracking. Even if he'd gotten his phone out, would he have been able to make a call? Would it have been better that way? Could TK have ever gone peacefully without hearing his husband's voice, one last time? Would he just be lost in purgatory forever? "It all happened so quickly."
"Oh, baby," Carlos' hand tightens on his hip, the moment suddenly vibrantly blue.
"I wouldn't have gotten to tell you how much I love you, I—"
"Tyler."
Carlos punctuates his name by gently urging him backward and taking his face between his hands. They're close enough for their noses to brush, and TK can't control the tears that slide down his face. Carlos wipes away the errant tears with his thumbs, as TK catches one of Carlos' own with the knuckle of his index finger.
"I love you," Carlos tells him, his voice nothing more than a whisper. "Just breathe, baby."
TK nods, and presses their foreheads together as he inhales. "I love you too."
"That's what matters," Carlos says, cupping TK's jaw, now. "We're here. We're together."
"Together," TK repeats, meeting his husband's eyes. It feels like a weighted thing. Carlos reaches out and takes TK's left hand; lifts it up to his mouth and kisses over his ring. TK sniffs again, and smiles. "Forever, right?"
Carlos wraps his arms around him again, and hugs him close to his chest. TK feels a soft oof escape his lips, but he happily snuggles closer.
"Forever."
Soon, they'll slip into their bedroom and collapse onto their bed together, their limbs entangled. Soon, they'll continue to murmur promises into each other's skin; quiet reassurances that no matter what, they'll always try to get home to each other. Soon, they'll fall asleep, spooned up together, a collapsed universe of love sitting strong in the core of their home. For now, though, they sit together, and refuse to let each other go. For now, TK breathes, and feels their heartbeats thumping together. For now, it's enough.