Work Text:
“I would prefer if you did not die, Carl.”
Akram had his hands on Carl’s stomach, the territory familiar but the situation not. Blood was beginning to soak through the wool of the jumper that was folded there, but Akram held fast, keeping the pressure. Carl had his back against Akram’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. Carl’s eyes fluttered shut and he gave a weak laugh to Akram’s comment. Akram held him tighter.
The whole thing had gotten out of hand, fast. The suspect was now dead, Akram’s knife embedded in the side of his neck.
Carl had been shot. Again. Akram was hit with a sudden wave of clarity.
Akram had steadily fallen in love with Carl Morck in the years he had known him. The fall itself wasn’t a surprise, Carl was everything Akram usually fell for. Headstrong about the things that mattered. Dedicated. Caring, although even Akram had to admit that you had to dig for that. But if you were willing to persevere, Carl would do anything for you. It’s what made him reckless.
“Third times the charm,” he said, smiling weakly. The grin ended in a cough.
“Shh,” Akram chastised. The ambulance was on its way and Carl’s heart was still beating. He would be fine. He spoke it out loud; a prayer, a mantra, a lifeline. “You will be fine.”
Akram was used to Carl being injured. Had checked him for concussions on multiple occasions and even relocated his shoulder once. Akram always found a way to put him back together. His mind started to wander, leading him the fact that being shot in the stomach didn’t bode well. Akram shook his head, repeating his mantra. Carl sighed against him, breath catching in his throat.
He had taken what Carl had given him. Stolen kisses in the early hours of the morning, touches when no one else was looking, meals cooked in his house. Getting to know Jasper. Carl getting to know Mina and Hana. It was more than Akram ever expected, so he was content. He had learnt to be happy with less than he deserved, and certainly happy with less than he wanted.
Because he wanted all of Carl, and he was never going to get that.
In the meantime, he certainly wasn’t going to let Carl die on him.
“You should go,” he coughed, “it’s not safe.”
Carl was referring to the building, they were on the second floor of a condemned flat and every now and then bits of ceiling fell, the rather dramatic fight and gunshot seemingly loosening the foundations somewhat. Akram was ninety percent sure the whole place wasn’t going to collapse.
“It’s fine and I’m not leaving.” Akram assured.
They were always leaving, though. They never made it through the whole night together. In the early hours one would go back to their respective flat. Akram had his girls, and Carl…well, now Jasper was at university, Akram didn’t know why Carl would leave. But he always did.
The blood was completely soaking through Akram’s jumper. It wouldn’t be enough. Akram strained his ears, hoping to hear the sound of sirens in the distance.
“Who made you so good,” Carl mumbled, and Akram wondered if he was beginning to lose consciousness. “Too good.”
“I am not that good, Carl.” He hadn’t told Carl much about his past, bits had slipped through here and there. Even Akram couldn’t hold the mask up forever. Things he regretted had certainly slipped through. But it never seemed to affect Carl. The look of fondness that was only reserved for Akram had never went away. Akram clung onto that.
“Better than me.” Carl coughed out.
A million things raced through Akram’s head then. Ways he was right, and ways he was wrong.
“You underestimate yourself.” Akram said as Carl’s head slumped fully onto his shoulder. Akram just held him exponentially tighter until the ambulance arrived.
There was a knock on the door of Carl’s hospital room. Akram’s head snapped up to see Jasper walking in, overnight bag slung over his shoulder. Akram glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight. Jasper must have gotten the last train back to Edinburgh.
“Is he...?”
“He’s just resting,” Akram said, “he was shot, yes,” Jasper’s eyes went wide, “but he’s had surgery. He should wake up in the morning.”
“What happened?” Jasper asked, voice like gravel, his eyes never leaving his step-father’s sleeping body.
“Your father was a very good detective today.” Akram said, sparing him the story. Jasper was an adult now, but it would be up to Carl whether he shared the details of his work. Jasper barked out a laugh.
“That’s funny,” Jasper said, and Akram’s eyes narrowed. “He said a similar thing last time he came back from being shot.”
Akram thought back. The last time would have been their very first case. Merritt Lingard seemed like a lifetime ago now.
A quiet settled over the room, the only noise the beeping of Carl’s monitor and the hum of the machines. Jasper sat on the chair at the other side of the room. Akram sat back down in his, the one closer to Carl’s bed.
“You and Carl,” Jasper began, but seemingly unable to complete the line of questioning. Akram let him puzzle it out before speaking.
Akram often wondered what Jasper thought of their unnamed, unknown relationship. Akram had cooked for Jasper, Jasper had helped his daughters revise (Akram suspected Mina had a crush, but he could hardly chastise her). They were present in each other’s lives in a way which was more than just a friendship, as much as Akram suspected Carl wanted people to believe that’s all it was. He could never put a pinpoint on how much was shame, or self-hatred, or if it was simply a desire not to rock the boat. For all his chaotic and unnerving actions, Carl was decidedly attuned to keeping things on the straight and narrow. The only thing he was willing to disrupt was his own emotional balance, which Akram didn’t think was very healthy.
Eventually, Jasper spoke again. “I just wish he was honest with himself.”
Jasper had grown into a perceptive and kind young man. Carl didn’t give himself enough credit for that.
“I don’t want to speak for your father,” Akram began, voice quiet. “Although I believe you have deduced it already. But it was about time I spoke it out loud, for myself. I do care for him.” Akram looked at Carl’s face, then back to Jasper. “Greatly.”
Jasper was smiling.
“I’m happy for him. Could you tell him that? If you don’t think it will cause him to run a mile when confronted with it.” Jasper said.
“Of course.” Akram said.
They spent another few minutes just watching Carl. When Jasper fought a yawn, slumping further down into the uncomfortable hospital chair, Akram spoke again. “You should go. I can be here.”
“I would argue, but I know it’s pointless.” Jasper said, standing up and stretching. “Do Hana and Mina need anything?” Akram shook his head, they were teenagers now, able to handle themselves for a night. Akram dreaded to think what disaster they had cooked for themselves, and what mess would be left in the sink, but he could trust now that they would make it through the night unharmed.
“Phone me if anything changes, I’ll be back in the morning.” Jasper looked back at Carl’s sleeping form, and to Akram. “Thank you.” Jasper said, nodding at Akram, “I should have said that as soon as I got here. Not just for tonight,” he said, rightly sensing that Akram was about to brush away the forgiveness with an ‘I was just doing my job,’. “Carl never would have seen you coming. I think that’s why he likes you so much.”
Akram fought a blush as Jasper walked out of the room, a smirk on his face.
Akram dozed on and off, until he heard Carl stir at about 5am. His instinct, as always, was rash. A panicked assessment of where he was, an almost violent attempt to get out of the hospital bed. Akram was up quickly, hands on his arms, stern but gentle.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Akram repeated, Carl’s heart rate spiking. Carl’s eyes locked onto Akram’s as he lowered himself back onto the bed. “Your safe.” Carl’s eyes closed as he took a breath.
Carl’s eyes re-opened when his pulse steadied, and Akram moved away. Not sitting back down, just hovering.
“Did you sleep here?” Carl asked, voice rough, taking in the chair, and Akram’s clothes, not changed from yesterday. Carl’s blood still on the sleeves.
“Of course.” Akram said, and something in those two words made Carl flinch.
“You didn’t have to.” Carl said, tone almost mean, but Akram knew not to read into it too much. He tried not to, but it was always hard.
“I know. But I did anyway.”
“I wish you would stop that,” Carl said. Akram was quiet. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“You think I stayed because I felt I owed you something?” Akram questioned. Carl shrugged. “Carl.” Like a teenager, Carl had turned away from him. “Carl.” He looked back. “You have saved my life on multiple occasions. You have become an ally to me at my place of work. You have helped me with my daughters. And despite all this I do not stay because I feel I owe it to you. I stay because I care about you. I know it is unlikely you feel the same way, and I don’t expect you too. But I am not simply repaying a debt.”
Carl was silent, his face clearly showing him processing Akram’s words.
Eventually, Carl spoke.
“I’m not good at this.” He said, looking up at Akram with such hesitancy it seemed like he was risking something by doing so. But he maintained the eye contact either way. “I have a hard time believing people like me.” Carl’s voice was small, and Akram’s heart crumpled a little bit. He spotted his hand was shaking. Akram placed his own on top of it. Their fingers intertwined, and Carl looked down at them with reverence.
“What did you think this was?” Akram asked.
“Pity?” Carl said, almost with a laugh.
“I don’t sleep with men I pity, Carl.” Carl’s eyes went wide.
“Well, technically we haven’t slept together yet.” There was panic in his voice.
“And we never have to, if you don’t want that.”
“I do, trust me, I.” Carl said quickly, eyes flashing back up to Akram’s who's eyebrows had skyrocketed despite himself. “That’s what scares me.”
“You’ve never slept with another man?” Akram asked, and Carl blushed.
“I have. A while ago. But never one who I—“ He took a breath. “Never one I’ve loved.”
It was Akram’s turn to be speechless.
“Now’s not the best time to go quiet on me,” Carl, said, hand coming up to anxiously smooth down his beard.
Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, Akram replaced Carl's hand with his own. Carl went deathly still, the only sound the faint whirring of the machines, the thump and beep that was Carl’s heart, and his exhale of breath.
Akram kissed Carl gently.
The light was on, sunlight poked through the curtains. Nurses milled around in the hallway. Beneath him, Akram sensed that Carl was gripping the sheets tightly.
Akram pulled away and Carl looked terrified.
“I will not be a secret anymore, Carl.”
“I'll try.” Carl said, voice small. “I can’t say I’ll be joining a parade tomorrow, but I will try. I promise.”
“I don’t need a parade.” Akram said, “but I think Jasper would appreciate some honesty.” Carl’s face paled again. “He was here, he knows more than you would probably like. He’s smart. And he cares.”
“Can I recover from a gunshot wound first?” Carl asked, and Akram nodded with a chuckle.
“I think he’ll allow that.” Carl just grunted his approval. “And Carl,” Akram said, prompting Carl to look up at him, eyes wide but face tense. “I love you, too.”
Akram revelled in the way the heart rate monitor spiked.