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TK wakes up with a headache and a feeling of tiredness so strong he knows if he rolled back over he’d sleep for another few hours. But he’s got a shift today, and he brushes off the headache and exhaustion as just not having slept well. If he’s honest with himself, he hasn’t been sleeping great since before Sadie, since before his mom died. It’s been getting better, thanks to meetings and talking to Cooper and his therapist, but he knows it will take time for his body to stop running on fumes. So he rolls over, kisses Carlos, who is off today, the lucky duck, and drags himself into the shower.
Twenty minutes later, he forgoes breakfast in exchange for coffee and frowns when it settles weirdly in his stomach. ‘So it’s one of those days,’ he thinks to himself, frowning as he grabs his car keys and heads for the station.
He’s greeted by a very enthusiastic Mateo who wants to know if Carlos has picked a night for the 126 hang next week. TK loves Mateo, but he’s not a morning person on the best of days, and so he mumbles a half-hearted “Not sure, text Carlos” before making his way into the kitchen. Paul, catching their interaction, glances up with a worried frown.
“Morning, TK. You good? That was lackluster, even for 6 AM you.” TK manages a smile that probably comes off more like a grimace as he tries to reassure his friend.
“Yeah, I’m good, just didn’t sleep super well, and I didn’t have time for breakfast,” he tells Paul. He knows he needs to eat before their shift really starts, but it’s also the last thing he wants to do right now.
“Ok man,” says Paul, still looking slightly skeptical. “We’ve got bagels in the cupboard, here, I’ll grab you one.” Paul fishes out a bag of thankfully plain bagels and puts one in TK’s hand. He obligingly takes one bite and forces himself to swallow, smile, and thank Paul before heading upstairs to the locker room. The rest of the bagel goes immediately into the trash can as his low-level queasiness makes itself known again.
He’s only barely gotten changed when the bell goes off, summoning the ambulance to a suspected heart attack. TK slams his locker closed and meets Tommy and Nancy at a slight jog down the stairs, grabbing the keys and hopping up into the driver’s seat. Well, at least he’ll be distracted, he figures.
The rest of the morning proceeds similarly, with back to back medical calls. None of them are particularly life-threatening, which is good, because the headache and queasiness that TK woke up with have only gotten worse, and he knows he’s not at his best. He also knows that Tommy and Nancy have caught on. Neither have said anything yet, but he can feel the concerned glances and knows it’s only a matter of time before they call him on his act.
They’ve only been back at the station for 20 minutes when the next call comes in, this time to a local high school, where a student had a severe allergic reaction. Fortunately, the student had already self-administered epinephrine, and her vitals are strong enough not to need a second dose in the field, so their job is simply to transport to the hospital and monitor. By the time they unload the patient, TK’s starting to think he’ll probably need to tell Cap what’s going on after this. If the now pounding headache and onset of chills are anything to go by, he’d bet he’s got a fever now.
He and Nancy are pushing the gurney back out to the rig, and they’ve just gone out the ambulance bay doors when TK’s vision starts to go a little gray around the edges, and suddenly it feels like the floor is swooping under him. He makes an ineloquent sound, some kind of “uhh” and stops, hands floundering as the gurney keeps moving without him. Nancy whirls around and immediately yells “Cap!” as she abandons the gurney in the middle of the road and rushes to grab TK’s arm.
“Dude, what happened?!” she gasps, clearly alarmed at the sudden change in her partner.
“Um, don’t feel good.” TK’s honestly impressed he managed to string that many words together, given that it feels like his knees are about to go out from under him.
Tommy appears at his other side, equally alarmed. “Whoa, TK, ok. Let’s get you sitting down, ok bud?” They usher TK to the back of the ambulance, and next thing he knows his head has been firmly pushed between his knees by what feels like Tommy’s hand, and Nancy’s got two fingers pushed up against his pulse point.
“Pulse is a little fast, but not too bad,” she reports. TK takes that as his cue to slowly sit up, and is pleased when it doesn’t cause another head rush. Nancy then takes the rest of his vitals, and it comes back that he is running a fever - 102 - but his BP and SPO2 are fine, which is reassuring.
“How you doing now, TK? Are you ok to head back to the station?” Tommy asks gently. When he looks up at her, he’s met with Tommy’s signature Mom look: concerned and soft.
“I’m ok, Cap. Sorry I scared you guys - felt kinda off this morning and then it just all hit me at once during that last call I guess,” he says as he shrugs, somewhat caught off guard by his own rapid decline. “We can head back now.” He knows he’s going to get sent home, that’s a given at this point, and he’d rather see Carlos sooner rather than later.
“Hand me the keys,” demands Nancy, and TK sighs before digging them out of his uniform pocket.
“Alright, let’s get you up and into the front, TK,” says Tommy, then adds, “I’ll radio dispatch and ask them to take us out of service for an hour until we get you settled.”
TK nods. He knows that he shouldn’t be out in the field if there’s any chance he’s contagious, and the fever certainly confirms that he is.
“Sorry I brought my germs to work, Cap,” he apologizes meekly, but Tommy just shushes him gently.
“Don’t apologize, TK, just don’t do it again. Next time you feel like crap, stay home,” she tells him sternly, and he knows she means it, but he can hear the soft undertone of worry there too. She leads him gently by the elbow to the passenger set and helps him in. “Now, do you want me to call Carlos to pick you up? Or let your dad know?”
TK thinks about it for a minute. He could call Carlos himself, of course, but right now he’s nauseous enough that he feels like if he spends to much time talking, something other than words might come out, and he’d prefer to be in the bathroom when that happens. His dad will find out as soon as they get back to the station, unless fire’s out on a call, though as much as he loves his dad, TK figures the longer he can hold off Owen’s particularly hover-y brand of caretaking, the better.
“Yea, if you could call Carlos. He’s off today.”
“You got it.” Tommy smiles at him and closes the door before going around to climb in the back. TK shifts to buckle his seatbelt, and then closes his eyes as Nancy pulls away from the curb. Carlos must answer the phone, because he can hear Tommy’s voice in the back as she fills Carlos in, though he’s so tired and nauseous that the words sort of blur together and he can’t entirely make out even her side of the conversation.
The hospital they’re leaving is pretty far out in their zone, so he drifts for a bit while Nancy drives, until the nausea kicks up a notch and his mouth starts to water ominously. He knows Nancy has noticed the shift in his breathing and posture, the way he’s holding very still and taking deep, measured breaths through his nose in an attempt not to puke in the rig.
“Hey, TK, how we doing over there?” Nancy asks, and TK knows that what she’s really asking is if he’s going to throw up. He doesn’t want to, but he’s starting to feel it’s inevitable, and he wants to warn her and Tommy.
“Nauseous,” he manages to mumble, and Nancy hums affirmatively. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say,” she says. “You gonna be sick?” He doesn’t say anything, focusing on keeping his stomach where it belongs. He can hear her shift slightly, and then she call back to Tommy, “Cap, can you hand us the puke bucket?”
TK blinks his eyes open, and he finds Nancy side eyeing him like she expects him to explode any second. Honestly, he’s not so sure she’s very far off. His stomach lurches again, and this time he finds himself clapping a hand over his mouth and swallowing down bile.
Nancy yelps, trying to keep her eye on the road and steer left handed while her right hand fumbles for the basin Tommy’s handed up through the dividing window. She grabs a hold of it and flings her arm across the gap between the seats, shoving it under TK’s chin just in time for a cough to bring up a small splatter of vomit, spraying through his fingers and into the bucket. He pulls his hand away from his mouth and gags at the mess, frantically grabbing for the bin with the other as another heave brings up a much bigger and chunkier wave of sick. It goes on like this for another few waves, and then his stomach finally seems to settle a bit. He gasps for air when he’s done, and he can feel Nancy’s hand has settled on his shoulder, rubbing gentle circles. Tommy’s soothing voice comes from the back, worried and yet calm. “Just breathe, TK, you’re ok. We’ll get back to the station and you can lay down.”
“Or camp out in the bathroom until Carlos comes to get you,” says Nancy, and TK huffs a little bit of a laugh, reassured by her usual snark. He tips his head back against the headrest again and takes a deep breath. The nausea is still there, thick and cloying, and the heavy, warm puke bucket in his lap isn’t helping, but he thinks he can make it to a better receptacle before he’s sick again.
He manages the last few minutes of the drive without incident, and when they pull into the station he just sits still while Nancy and Tommy climb out of the rig. It’s Tommy who makes it to his door first, who takes the full puke bucket and hands it off to Nancy, who grimaces but willingly takes it away to dispose of the mess. The ladder is gone, which means Fire’s out on a call, and honestly, TK’s sort of guiltily happy that he doesn’t have to deal with his dad or the rest of the 126’s worry right now. He loves them, but all he wants is to be horizontal.
Tommy also manages to procure a wet wipe from somewhere, and takes his hand to clean the sick off of it. He grimaces, feeling a little bit like a child, and yet also thankful for Tommy’s help.
“Ok, how about we get you settled in the bunk room until Carlos gets here, huh?” she asks, and TK just nods, leaning into her as she wraps an arm around his waist and guides him towards the stairs. TK’s thinking longingly about his bunk, but as they reach the second floor, his stomach gives an ominous lurch, and he’s barely able to squeak out, “Tommy, bathroom!” before he gags, hard.
She switches directions quickly, pushing him in the direction of the toilets across the hall. To TK’s dismay, he doesn’t quite make it, vomit splashing across the toilet seat as he sinks into a crouch, and an undignified sound close to a sob forces its way out of him. Tommy just shushes him, and makes quick work of wiping up the mess as he heaves again, this time getting it into the bowl.
“You’re ok, TK, just get it all out, hon. You’re ok,” Tommy soothes, her hand rubbing circles on his back. It makes him think about his mom, which brings a fresh wave of tears to his eyes, and when he’s done he sinks back onto the floor and brings his hands up to cover his face.
Tommy makes a sad sound, and scootches ever so slightly closer to TK on the bathroom floor. He takes what he knows she’s offering and leans into her side as she hugs him close. Maybe it’s weird, he thinks, to be crying into his boss’s shoulder, but right now, his boss is the closest thing he’s got to a motherly figure (besides Andrea, and she’s an hour away) and he feels gross. More than anything, he wants his boyfriend to hurry up.
……………
Carlos is in the middle of working on a grocery list when his phone rings, and his heart rate immediately picks up when he flips it over and the caller ID is Tommy. She doesn’t call him often, and if she’s calling while they’re on shift, it can’t be anything good.
He picks up and wastes no time on pleasantries. “Tommy? What’s going on? Is TK ok?”
“Hey Carlos,” comes Tommy’s voice, and something in him relaxes a little, because she doesn’t sound panicked, but the worry remains tightly coiled inside him. “TK’s not feeling so great, so we were wondering if you could swing by the station and pick him up in a bit.”
“Yeah, of course, I’m leaving now,” he answers, getting up and gathering his coat and car keys with one hand as he holds the phone in the other. “How’s he doing?” he asks Tommy, because TK agreeing to go home without a fight means that he’s probably pretty miserable.
“He’s ok, but he’s running a pretty solid fever, and I’d feel better if he was home and in his own bed,” says Tommy. “We’re headed back to the station now, I’ll get him settled in the bunk room and grab his stuff for you guys.”
“Thanks, Tommy,” Carlos says, and he means it. He’s grown closer with Tommy recently through TK, and he knows she’s really been there for TK after Gwyn’s death. He’s still worried, of course, and impatient to get to his boyfriend, but he’s glad that TK’s with Tommy right now.
He pulls up to the 126 twenty five minutes later, parking the Camaro as close as he can without blocking the entrance for the rigs, noting the absence of the fire trucks. He wanders in and is just about to call out to announce his arrival when Nancy pokes her head out of the back of the ambulance.
“Hey, Carlos,” she says, and it’s another relief that she seems relatively relaxed, and that she’s down here. That means it’s not an all hands on deck kind of a situation.
“Hey, Nancy,” he replies. “Heard you needed somebody to come get your sick partner.”
“Yeah,” she frowns. “Cap’s with him upstairs - he seemed kinda off all morning, and then nearly passed out in the hospital parking lot earlier. Fever of 102, but his other vitals were all pretty standard given that,” she says.
Carlos sighs. “Ok, well, I’ll take him home and hopefully he’ll be better in a few days,” he says. “Thanks for looking out for him.”
“Always.” Nancy smiles. “Oh, wait, Carlos, before you go upstairs,” she starts, ducking back into the ambulance, “you’ll want a few of these.” She jumps out of the back and hands him a bunch of blue emesis bags, and Carlos groans internally.
“Oh, it’s one of those bugs, huh,” Carlos frowns, reaching out to take the bags from Nancy. “Tommy didn’t mention that when I talked to her.” Nancy grimaces. “Yeah, well, about 5 minutes after that phone call, TK puked in the ambo, and it hasn’t really let up since then.”
Carlos makes a similar face of disgust, and begins mentally steeling himself to spend the next few hours or days dealing with vomit. He loves his boyfriend, but there’s a reason TK’s the one whose job deals with the grossest bodily fluids. Carlos could never be a paramedic. “They’re in the bathroom, then, I take it?” he asks Nancy, and she nods confirmation.
“Good luck. Keep our boy hydrated, and let me know if you guys need anything,” she says.
“Thanks, Nance. Will do.” With that, Carlos heads upstairs, and he doesn’t even make it halfway down the hall before he can hear TK heaving dryly. He comes around the corner into the bathroom to find TK slumped over the toilet, one arm on the seat holding his head up and stringy saliva dripping into the bowl. Tommy is crouched next to him, one hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and the other pressing a washcloth to his forehead as she whispers something soft and reassuring that Carlos can’t quite make out.
“Hey, tiger,” he says softly, moving into the room. TK looks up and immediately goes a little weepy, pulling away from the toilet to reach for Carlos. Tommy scoots out of the way, and Carlos goes to TK’s side, allowing his boyfriend to fall into him and bury his face in Carlos’s neck.
Carlos can feel the heat of TK’s fever on his skin, and knows he’s probably getting traces of vomit on him, but doesn’t move to pull away.
“Hey, heard you aren’t feeling too hot,” he murmurs, running a hand across TK’s shoulder blades. “I’m sorry you’re so sick, babe. How about we get you home?”
TK makes a nodding motion and hums his agreement.
“Were you feeling this bad this morning? You seemed ok last night,” Carlos says, voice soft and gaze filled with worry.
TK hums softly. “Was ok last night. Woke up with a headache and no appetite, but not nauseous like this. And I didn’t have a fever,” TK replies, slightly defensive even though he knows Carlos didn’t mean it in an accusatory way.
“Yeah, I know you wouldn’t have gone in if you’d had a fever, babe. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to show up and just start asking questions. Let’s get you home, baby, ok?”
TK nods into his chest, and with Tommy’s help, Carlos manages to get him off the bathroom floor and settled into the passenger seat of the Camaro. Thanks to Nancy, his car is spared a mess, since TK does throw up once on the way home, apologizing profusely between heaves.
“TK, no, it’s ok. Just breathe, babe, you’re ok.”
They get home without further incident, and Carlos manages to get TK upstairs, changed, and settled in bed with a towel under his head and a trash can on the night stand just in case. TK’s starting to doze, so Carlos pulls the covers up around him and then starts to ease his way out of the bedroom, thinking he’ll read his book on the couch for a bit. TK moans behind him, and Carlos turns around to find his boyfriend’s eyes cracked open, hand reaching for him.
“Stay?” TK asks, hesitantly. Carlos caves immediately.
“Of course, baby.” He pulls his own jeans off and climbs into bed. “Come here, TK,” Carlos says, reaching out to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. TK rests his head on Carlos’s chest and makes a noise of pure contentment, and Carlos smiles.
“Might throw up on you,” TK mumbles, though it doesn’t seem like an imminent risk. Nonetheless, Carlos is quick to reassure. “That’s what laundry’s for babe. Now rest, ok?” He smiles down at TK as his boyfriend drifts off to sleep, and Carlos closes his own eyes. He knows that the next few days will be miserable, and that he’ll probably get sick too, but he also wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world.