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As Austin Texas settles at an unusually warm 57 degrees on the December 25th, Dean Martin sings ‘Let It Snow’ out of the 126 firehouse kitchen radio speaker. Everyone made sure to haul ass in the morning to get their duties done in between calls so they would be available to help make dinner.
Last night was uneventful for Christmas eve, normally they get a few calls of kitchens going up in flames due to the Turkey being cooked throughout the night. But this year the 126 only got one unusual call out for a dad dressed as Santa literally getting stuck in his own chimney gathering fake evidence for the kids. The ordeal was spent trying to free him without waking the children with their stifled giggling.
Now, they’re all gathered around the kitchen island which is more food and ingredients than surface.
“Strand, you’re over your limit. If I see you sneak one more carrot, you forfeit your portion!” Paul orders, wielding a spatula.
Guiltily, TK swallows the carrot stick he thought he got away with and carries on chopping. “Yes sir!”
Pauls whips his head round to Nancy, who is leaning in close to Mateo and flirtatiously pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Those Cranberries aren’t going to wash themselves, Gillian.”
Nancy shoots TK a smirk Paul luckily doesn’t catch and he restrains a laugh.
“You know, even though you’re lieutenant now and everything, you technically haven’t got any authority over us,” Nancy says, pointing a finger between the two of them. TK wishes she’d leave him out of it.
“Oh really?” Paul says, turning to face her with his hands on his hips, his apron reads ‘Too Hot to Handle… Just Like My Chili!’. “If you don’t want to pitch in, I guess you can always eat that alien-looking left-over lasagne from B-Shift in the fridge whilst everyone else is enjoying the Strickland holiday special.”
Nancy clutches the bowl of cranberries close to her chest before Paul can take them. “Let’s not be too hasty.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Remind me again why we aren’t just giving up and ordering Chinese takeout like we do every year,” Judd says.
Paul presses a smile.
“Because Judd, it is a nice opportunity for us all to gather in multicultural merriment as it’s a rare occasion for the first night of Hanukkah and Christmas to fall on the same day. It’s a new age.”
Judd nods. “Ah I see.”
“TK, sweetie, do you think this is going to be enough potatoes and onions for the Latkes?” Tommy says from the counter behind him.
He swivels around on his stool. Tommy leans the bowl over for him to see.
“Yeah, that should be great, then you gotta dry them out by squeezing them.”
“Your mom’s recipe looks so good, it’s definitely the thing I’m most excited to try.”
“Thanks Cap,” he smiles. “Me too.”
A pang of guilt sometimes rings off in his chest when he thinks of how many times his mom invited him back to temple and he brushed her off or how he never practised his Hebrew, but he feels closer to her on Hanukkah. It was always something they could share and get excited about together no matter how old he was.
Tommy catches Paul looking over at her and fumbles for a save. “Oh, but it is certainly joined by that delicious Turkey you have cooking away in the oven.”
“Thank you, Captain Vega.” Paul gets up close to the oven door and watches over the turkey with pride. “It’s almost Tamara’s time to shine.”
TK and Tommy share a look like giggling school children.
Marjan dead pans. “You did not name the turkey.”
“It’s crunch time people! T minus two hours until dinner is served,” Paul announces clapping his hands.
“Yes sir!” They all say in unison.
Buttercup barks at his feet to join in.
TK checks over his shoulder, then swipes a carrot stick on to the floor. He watches Buttercup chomp at the surprise treat before his head quickly turns and he’s distracted by something by the bay doors, heading over to investigate.
Carlos walks in a few seconds later, still in his uniform, minus the hat, carrying a paper bag.
“Hey everyone.”
“Baby!” TK jumps off his stool, in his excitement he barely notices the strange way his husband is walking or how he doesn’t bend down to greet Buttercup the way he usually would. “I thought you weren’t able to make it until later.”
“Managed to get off early,” Carlos says oddly as TK hugs him.
The hug isn’t returned with enthusiasm. Suspicious.
“It’s a Christmas miracle!” Mateo announces joyfully.
“Thanks Mateo,” Carlos nods stiffly.
TK frowns.
“What’s the matter?”
Carlos presses his lips together. “Hm?”
TK looks him up and down. “You’re standing weird.”
“Am I?”
“Dude, if you need to use the bathroom, go right ahead,” Mateo invites genuinely.
“I’m fine, I don’t need to go to the bathroom.”
“You’re hiding something, what is it?” he insists.
The other members of the 126 pause their activities to examine Carlos from where they are. Tommy and Nancy leave their stations and come to join him, like reinforcements. He looks Carlos over again and tries to diagnose what’s wrong.
Carlos looks offended and backs away a step from the surrounding paramedics.
“I’m not hiding anything.”
Carlos’ eye twitches when he shifts his weight to his other foot, like the movement and the pressure bothers him. There.
“Lift up your shirt,” TK instructs.
“What?”
“You heard the man Carlos, take off your shirt,” Nancy says with a mouthful of cranberries.
“He said lift it, not take it off.” Tommy shakes her head at Nancy, then approaches Carlos tentatively. “But if you’ve got an injury Carlos, we should see it.”
“I’m fine.”
TK puts his hands on his hips and taps his foot. After Carlos’ stint in hospital after being held captive, he knows a tentative touch doesn’t work on his husband. He’s an awful patient, one of the worst TK has ever met in his career. If Carlos was his real patient in the field, he would go home and complain about Carlos to him. As much as his paramedic training teaches him gentleness and compassion, with his husband he has to jump straight to the big guns.
“Show me what’s wrong or I’ll put you in the back of the ambulance and we can go to the hospital, and they’ll take a look at you,” he threatens with as much love as possible.
Carlos’ big eyes look at him pleadingly and then everyone else for help, he doesn’t find any.
“I haven’t got a- I – its- ugh fine.”
Carlos scoffs overdramatically and pulls up his shirt on his left side, untucking it from his pants.
A darkening purple bruise covers his ribcage, blooming fierce and vibrant.
TK controls a gasp but can’t control the concern in his voice. He reaches out to touch the bruise on instinct, the way he naturally reaches out to caress his cheek in the morning, or to hold his hand at the supermarket.
“Baby-“
Carlos grits his teeth and winces as TK’s fingers hover over his skin.
“Damn!” Mateo exclaims as the rest of the firehouse starts to gather round.
Judd whistles. “if that’s what you look like I’d hate to be the other guy.”
Carlos shakes his head. “It’s not that bad.”
“What the hell happened?” TK asks.
Carlos shrugs.
“I was pursuing a suspect this morning from a cold case and yeah...”
TK raises a judgmental eyebrow at him. “So you didn’t manage to get off early, you were sent home early.”
“Semantics,” Carlos shrugs again.
TK clenches his fists and takes a deep breath through his nose.
“Did you go to the hospital?” he asks, trying not to purse his lips.
“We didn’t hear anything over the radio,” Nancy says, taking her radio from her belt and turning the dial to confirm the volume is up.
“I’m your emergency contact.”
“This wasn’t an emergency, it’s just a bruised rib” Carlos says. “We didn’t call it in.”
“It looks nasty, dude,” Nancy says.
“The doctors at the hospital said to rest, not put any strain on it,” Carlos explains.
Tommy nods. “Sounds about right.”
“Tell me you didn’t drive here,” TK says, peering over Carlos’ shoulder to get a glimpse out of the bay doors, praying not to see the blue Camaro parked off to the side.
“Campbell dropped me off,” Carlos says, shaking his head. He adjusts his tone which tells TK that he wants out of the conversation, it happens with a smile so easy to believe. “Come on, I’m fine. I’m here to help with dinner.”
Everyone is directed back to their tasks by Paul and Carlos hobbles over to the stool, intending to sit down and start helping prepare dinner. TK shoos him over to the couch where its more comfortable and brings him some potatoes to peel since he’s so insistent on helping. When he turns on the TV, the Charlie Brown Christmas special is airing.
Carlos struggles to get comfortable, sitting up and moving around a lot which just makes him more uncomfortable. When he finally finds a reasonable position, TK worries he’s going to skin one of his own fingers as his eyes keep drooping shut and his head nods forward.
“They give you morphine at the hospital, babe?”
Carlos yawns.
“Just a little bit.”
TK nods, he tries to put on his best medical professional tone, the one they have to use to convince a patient to be calm and do something they really don’t want to do. “You look tired, maybe we should just get you in a taxi so you can go home and get some rest, or I could ask to quickly run you home.”
“But then I would miss dinner, I’m starving, I haven’t eaten since this morning,” Carlos whines.
“What time was that?”
“Like 10 ‘o’ clock,” Carlos says moodily like it’s not relevant.
“That was less than two hours ago.”
“So?”
Maybe he mentally blocked out just how difficult Carlos can be when he’s injured and on painkillers. Discreetly, TK pulls out his phone and texts for back up.
His father comes down the stairs from his office and TK catches his eye over the back of the couch and silently begs for help.
Owen places a paternal hand on Carlos’ shoulder. “Carlos, why don’t you go and lay down on one of the bunks, we’ll call you when dinners ready.”
Immediately, Carlos nods and moves to get up, strained and stiff. “Alright, thank you Owen.”
TK catches is father’s eye and mouths ‘thank you’ when Carlos can’t see. They both lend an arm to help him lift off the couch.
“I’ll show you where the bunk room is,” he says.
“I think he knows where the bunk room is TK,” Marjan says snarkily.
Handing over the abandoned potatoe peeling bowl, he pokes his lounge out at her as he walks past.
When they make it up the stairs, TK goes into the supply closet in search of some spare clothes which will be more comfortable for Carlos to lay down in than the jeans and button up. Theres an AFD hoodie and sweatpants in his size folded up neatly on the shelf.
“These should fit,” he offers as he enters the bunk room.
The only light comes from the sunset orange glow from TK’s bedside lamp, the twinkling lights decorating the small tree in the corner of the room, and the fairy lights draped on the headboards of the beds. It feels like the late evening rather than the middle of the day.
Carlos has found his bunk by the door, probably by the little electric menorah on the bedside table. Carlos gifted it to him during their first Hanukkah together after TK worked a night shift as a firefighter and got sad about forgetting to light the flame. He has his grandmothers real one by the window at home, but no real flames in the firehouse understandably, making Carlos’ gift choice perfect.
It's small and plastic but sweet, and at the time one of the nicest gifts anyone had gotten for him.
“You haven’t lit it yet,” Carlos points out, picking up the menorah and handing it to him.
TK smiles and switches the little notch on the bottom which lights up the first faux flame. He hands it back for Carlos to place carefully back on the table.
Carlos huffs a laugh which makes him wince as he picks up the tiny wooden frame next to where the mini menorah lives.
“I didn’t know you kept this here.”
Inside the frame Carlos is graciously accepting sweet vanilla frosting being smushed around his lips. He looks beautiful and happy, and the photo provides comfort when they have to be away from each other.
“Sleeping without you is lonely,” he says.
Carlos places the frame back and tries to shrug his shirt off one arm whilst flinching in pain.
“Need a hand?”
“I’ve got it.”
TK spots the way his jaw is clenched.
Carlos can’t bend over without crying out in pain so TK steps in despite the protest to help him pull up his AFD sweatpants.
When Carlos finally settles on his bunk, propped up by pillows, TK sits down at his hip, and bends his knee up onto the mattress.
“Thank you,” Carlos says, reaching out for his hand. It’s quiet, like he’s admitting defeat by accepting help.
“You’re welcome.” He smooths over Carlos’ ring with his thumb, it glints in the light. His own finger is bare as he’s on shift. Showing gratitude for each other is never something they’ve struggled with, but their therapist has reminded them to keep it up.
He’s been watching Carlos’ workload slowly creep up over the past few weeks. Although Carlos kept his promise of depositing his files in the banker’s box, they still debrief about their shifts as normal. The cold case Carlos has been digging into since late October had begun to thaw. “Is the cold case the one with the little girl you were telling me about?”
Carlos nods. “We got him, he’s down at the station- called for his lawyer the second we put the handcuffs on him, but its him.”
“Wow.”
Carlos sighs. “Thirty-two years too late.”
“Hey,” he protests, squeezing the large, warm hand. “You told me you were the first person to pick up that file in over a decade.”
“Yeah.”
“It wouldn’t have happened without you. Those families will have more peace tonight than they’ve had in a long time because of you.”
“I hope so.”
“I know the cold cases mean a lot to you.”
“They do,” Carlos admits sadly. In a moment of quietness, they’re both thinking the same harrowing thought, if Carlos hadn’t joined the rangers, his own father’s murder would’ve become a cold case. “I’m glad we got this one, it’s like one in a million, worth the injury.”
TK raises his eyebrows accusingly. “Now we’re not in front of everyone, are you gonna tell me how it actually is?”
“It hurts like a bruised rib.”
He nods. “Right.”
“Thank you for taking care of me,” Carlos says sweetly. He knows it’s a distraction to get him to stop prying but he’ll take it, his husband looks so cosy in his hoodie.
“Of course, baby.”
“You were too busy fussing over me to see what I bought for dessert.”
TK frowns, then remembers the bag Carlos was holding, he looks over the side of the bed and sees it sitting on the floor. “What is it?”
“Open it,” Carlos says, his eyes bright and excited although he’s trying to hide it.
TK lifts the bag onto his lap and takes out a large Tupperware container with an even larger one underneath. Carlos watches on as he pops open the lid to reveal powdery, surgery doughnuts, he gasps.
“Hey! Jelly donuts-“ he opens the other container- “and honey cake.” He glances over to Carlos looking pleased with himself. “Where did you find this stuff?”
“Well, I knew you didn’t have time to go down to the kosher market, but I did yesterday morning.”
His heart turns to a gooey mess inside his chest, like it did when Carlos gifted him the menorah all those years ago. He planned to make his own honey cake and then got so busy with the season it became a plan to buy it. Eventually, he accepted he had no time to go across town to the place that sells the best stuff, and that there would be enough food to feed the firehouse and an army ten times over without it. A lump rises in his throat at Carlos making the time to go a find the cake whilst he was busy with his case.
“You’re the biggest, sweetheart.” He leans forward to press a kiss to Carlos’ cheek. “Thank you.”
“I love you.”
TK strokes his cheekbone with his thumb. “I love you too, so much, this means a lot to me.”
Carlos beams at him but then tries to lean up to look over the side of the tub at the doughnuts. “Can we try one?”
TK slaps the lid back on. He chastises trying not to laugh at the betrayal on Carlos’ face at being denied food. “You’ll spoil your dinner.”
“Just one. I won’t tell anyone,” Carlos whines.
He pouts like a child and TK really should not encourage this behaviour but he is injured and it’s the holidays.
“Just one.”
Ungracefully, they dig into the doughnuts, Carlos suggests feeding each other like the picture on the bedside table. TK says no at first because he has trust issues from their wedding cake but gives in at Carlos wanting to do something so sweet. He puts up such a fight to being taken care of but actually seems to enjoy it after a while because he means being the centre of TK’s attention which he basks in.
They hold their doughnuts up to each other’s lips, eyeing each other suspiciously but are pleasantly surprised when they can take a normal bite without it being smashed around their lips.
“Mmm, so good,” Carlos moans, and TK hopes no one is upstairs for fear of them mistaking the sound for something else.
“Sooo good,” TK seconds with a little more restraint. He places his fingers in his mouth one by one to lick off the sugar. “Thank you for bringing me these, baby.”
“Happy Hannukah,” Carlos smiles.
Before TK can suggest they split a second doughnut each, the alarm breaks through the air and the peaceful fairy lights are overwhelmed by the flashing lights meant to wake the firehouse up.
Nancy’s voice shouts up the stairs, “TK, let’s go! It’s medical!”
He’s already standing up and pressing a kiss to Carlos’ cheek. “Gotta go, don’t try to move around, okay? I’ll send people up to check on you.”
“Be safe,” Carlos calls out after him as he runs out the door.
The one who is sent up to check on him is Buttercup, who trots in and curls up by Carlos’ feet.
Hours later, they’re back from the call, dinner is almost ready and Carlos is out cold in the bunk room. TK can hear his and Buttercup’s combined monsterous snores from the bottom of the stairs.
He perches on the edge of the left side of the bed and brushes his hand through Carlos’ curls, holding his cheek. Carlos is frowning in his sleep and looks uncomfortable.
Normally, without an injury that keeps him from rolling over, Carlos is a chaotic sleeper, having no definite position throughout the night. They’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms only for Carlos to roll away and back again. Half asleep he doesn’t know his own weight and will roll over so he’s half on top of TK, only making it a little difficult to breathe, much like a large dog that doesn’t know their own size and wants to sit on top of their owner. TK wouldn’t have it any other way.
Gently, TK whispers, “Baby, wake up.”
Carlos grimaces as he slowly comes back to the world, he grumbles low in his throat. TK watches on fondly as Carlos’ thick, long eyelashes blink open slowly.
“Hey there,” TK says as Carlos focuses on him.
“Oh,” Carlos winces as he instinctively tries to stretch out and is reminded of the pain in his side. “Hey, how long have I been out?”
“An hour or two. You obviously needed it. How’s your side?”
“S’okay,” Carlos groans as he pushes himself up to sit back against the pillows.
“You feel up to eating?”
“Yeah- I just-“
“Don’t move a muscle!” Nancy warns as she enters the bunk room with handful of cutlery.
“What?” Carlos asks.
Mateo follows behind her holding a stack of plates.
“We’re bring the holiday dinner to you,” he says.
TK grins. “You guys.”
The rest of the firehouse files into the bunk room, some bringing chairs and others sitting on the beds next to TK’s. Carlos tries to protest but the 126 doesn’t want to hear any of it. The bunk room becomes a chorus of greetings and well wishes. Whilst medical was out, Grace and Charlie arrived with Tommy’s twins. Joe and Asha arrive just in time as the food gets brought up from the kitchen.
It's more cosy then crowded, looking around at everyone catching up and enjoying themselves reminds TK of Christmas time in New York when his mother would take him to the firehouse on the big day with all the other families. Working around the holidays is the norm for their jobs but having a family like this always makes it easier.
TK fluffs up Carlos’ pillow as everyone gets situated.
“Are you comfy?”
Carlos catches his hand and smooths his thumb over his. “Plenty comfy, thank you.”
They pass around plates asking each other what they want and then serving it out. It’s a mixture of flavours with the combination of the cultures, but it works. TK watches on with pride as people enjoy his mother’s recipes.
“How was the call you went on?” Carlos asks him after swallowing a mouthful of Turkey.
“It was-“
“No!” Paul interrupts from his bunk diagonally across from them and shivers. “Not whilst we’re eating- not in front of Tamara.”
TK leans towards Carlos and whispers, “After so long in this job I still can’t believe the Christmas ornaments people will try to shove up their-“
“TK!” Marjan shouts.
“Sorry, sorry,” he insists, but gives a nod to Carlos to let him know that he’ll give him the details later the way they both do after a shift.
Owen gives a speech, thanking Paul for organising the dinner. The Lieutenant shrugs it off as no big deal and Marjan shakes her head. He thanks them for all their hard work and for the families who’ve joined them. TK looks around the room at his family, not in their planned seating arrangements at the long table downstairs, but here because it would make one of them more comfortable. He looks to his side where Carlos is already looking at him and beams. Although he may have driven him nuts this morning, he’s still a wish granted.
That night, after the shift has ended, TK and Carlos go home to their loft. Carlos walks stiffly over to switch on the lights of the tree and they illuminate the space glowing. Bravely he slides open the top of Lou 2’s tank and drops in a few pepper sticks for him.
They’ve both been so busy with work and family but they made sure to decorate their home for the season. Poinsettia flowers bloom in a vase on the dining table, garlands are draped over the end tables, and a snowglobe encapsulating a wintery New York wonderland sits on the shelf.
He doesn’t remember a lot from Hebrew school, but he remembers the blessing as if his mother and grandmother are beside him whilst he lights the shammash flame and then the first one. Carlos presses a kiss to his cheek from behind him as they watch the twin flames dance with their reflections in the window. He can’t lean back into his embrace like he wants to but he still feels the reassuring warmth against his back.
“You thinking about your mom?”
TK sniffs, he didn’t realise his eyes started to well up. Sometimes he really thinks that Carlos has had the superpower of mindreading his whole life and kept it a secret from him.
“Yeah,” he nods. “I miss her all the time… but I just wish… I wish she was here, you know? More than usual.”
Carlos nods, knows exactly how it feels. “She’d be so proud of you, all the food you made today was delicious.”
“Thanks.” TK holds Carlos’ hand where its holding his stomach. “Your dad would be proud of you too, following your gut with the case.”
Carlos sighs thoughtfully. “I hope so.”
“How’s your side? You want any more pain killers?
“It’s fine, stop worrying” Carlos says in his ear, nuzzling his face into his neck and shoulder. TK scoffs and inside his head he thinks, ‘never’. “You want some doughnuts?”
“Sorry baby, there wasn’t any left; they were very popular,” he says mournfully.
Carlos bites his earlobe lightly which makes him giggle. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t hide a couple away for us?”
“When did you-?” he begins but catches Carlos’ eye as he looks over his shoulder, his gaze is as warm as the hands on his hips. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Carlos says softly. Their noses brush. “So is that a yes to the doughnuts?”
TK grins. “A thousand times yes.”
Carlos kisses him sweet, sweeter than honey cake, sweeter than jelly doughnuts.