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Carlos has been holed up in his office for hours, but before Jonah went down for his nap, TK promised him that when he woke up they could take a Family Outing to the park and get paletas. As TK approaches Carlos’s office, Jonah still warm and sleepy in his arms, voices drift from the ajar door, one feline and one human.
“Shh,” TK tells Jonah, setting him down on the floor.
“You SHHHH, TK!” Jonah hisses delightedly.
TK puts a finger to his lips and tiptoes to a spot where he can see Carlos beaming as Ramon the giant tabby cat chirps at him and rubs his face against the bookshelf. Silently, carefully, TK takes out his phone and presses record.
“Mrrrrrawoooooooo,” Ramon announces, his tail held high as he struts towards Carlos’s desk.
“Hi there, baby boy,” Carlos croons.
“Brrrp brrr?” Ramon says inquisitively, jumping onto the desk.
“Oh, hi, baby. No, don’t look at those pictures. That’s a crime scene. You’ll be traumatized.”
“Mrr mrah?” Ramon sounds put out now, as if he actually understands what his human is talking about and in fact has valuable input to offer on Carlos’s case files.
“No, you will, this is for your own good,” Carlos explains. “Aren’t you just a baby?”
“Mrah.”
“Mrah to you. You’re just a little stripey baby. Ramon!”
TK smiles to himself at Carlos’s exaggerated rolled “r.”
“Rrrrrrrramon!” Jonah whispers excitedly, and TK shushes him again, squeezing his little hand. “SHHHHH!” Jonah stage-whispers back. Whispering is a work in progress for Jonah; it’s still closer to a shout than an actual whisper, but somehow Carlos still doesn’t hear them.
Possibly because he’s now focused on singing the saxophone solo in the Bluey theme. “Beezus!” Carlos calls, continuing the song. Beezus the tortoiseshell cat ignores him and continues grooming herself on Carlos’s lap. Clearly, she is above such nonsense.
“Ramoncito, are you the good kitty?” Carlos asks, his tone sing-songy and utterly adorable.
“Mreh mrowww,” replies Ramon.
“Yes, you are. You’re the fuzziest stripiest baby. Besos?” He puckers his lips and makes kissy noises, and the cat obligingly bonks his head into Carlos’s face so that Carlos can press kisses to his tiny kitty forehead. “Who’s my special baby?”
“Me!” yells Jonah, charging into the room, unable to hold back anymore. TK is surprised he didn’t break earlier, when Carlos dared to sing a chorus of the Bluey theme that didn’t contain Jonah’s name.
Carlos whirls around in his chair. “Who’s breaking into my office?” he asks, his face split by a wide grin as he shoves the traumatizing crime scene photos under a manila folder.
“Papa, I’m the special baby!” Jonah insists, bouncing with excitement as Ramon flattens his ears and makes a mad dash for the exit. Beezus stretches and follows him out, making a brief stop to wind herself around TK’s ankles.
“Aw, Jonah-bear, you are!” Carlos stands and scoops Jonah into his arms, covering the little boy’s face with kisses.
“I thought I was,” TK puts in.
Carlos holds out an arm to TK, grinning, before stopping dead. “Are you recording?”
“Uh. No?” TK says, continuing to video his husband.
“TK, you’d better not show that to anyone. I’m serious, babe.”
“We’ll see,” sing-songs TK.
Carlos sets Jonah down gently. “Babe, I swear to God, if I hear about this from Nancy or Paul –”
“Sending it to the 126 chat now!” TK crows. “Baby, don’t be ashamed of your love!”
“Tyler, no,” Carlos commands, though his deep, authoritative cop-voice is undermined by his pink kitty cat pajama bottoms. Jonah chose them, and they’re Carlos’s favorite. They’re TK’s favorite, too, mostly because of the way the thin fabric clings to his husband’s ass and thighs, but also because of the clear evidence that Carlos is a big old softy.
“Drop the phone,” Carlos tries now, as though TK is an armed criminal.
“Uh, no, Carlos, I’m not trying to crack my screen, you’re the one who’s always telling me to be more careful,” TK replies blithely, sliding his phone into his pocket.
“Nope! Jonah, go! Tickle attack, get him!”
While Jonah pounces, TK unlocks his phone again and sends the video to Andrea, then to his dad for good measure.
“Time for ice cream!” Jonah screams in Carlos’s face.
“Only if you stop tickling me! And TK doesn’t get any.”
TK and Jonah gasp in horrified unison. “That’s not nice, Papa.”
“Yeah, Papa, that’s not nice,” TK echoes.
“You’re not nice,” Carlos says darkly. “You’re a cyber criminal.”
By the time they get back from the park (TK did get ice cream, but Carlos made him pay, despite TK pointing out that they share finances. “It’s the principle, TK!”), the Firehouse 126 Extended Family group chat has weighed in on the video.
Marjan: Ok, that’s the cutest thing i’ve ever seen
Nancy: wow. Nice pants, carlos. Tk, congratulations
Paul: it’s the air saxophone solo for me
Grace: i thought my husband was the only one who played the air sax to the bluey theme
Judd: I told you it was totally normal, gracie. Only i do it better
Mateo: that cat hates me!!!!
Nancy: yeah because you’re loud af
Mateo: you love it!
Carlos: tk is grounded forever
TK: you don’t have that authority
Tommy: I think it’s sweet, honey. So did the girls!
Carlos looks up from his phone, groaning. “TK, those girls used to think I was cool.”
“I’m cool! I’m a cool dude, right, TK? Right, Papa?” Their coolest, smallest dude is currently lying upside down with his head dangling off the couch.
“Right, Jojo! Babe, Evie and Izzy think you’re hot. Not sure about cool.” TK puts a hand to Carlos’s waist, rubbing his belly soothingly and trying not to laugh when Carlos flexes for him.
“TK.” Carlos doesn’t look soothed.
“Carlos. It’s fine. It’s just our friends. They’ve all seen your dorky dance moves before.”
“I hate you.
“I love you too, baby.”
A day later, they’re lying in bed, Carlos scrolling through his phone while TK half-dozes against his shoulder. (It was a long day. Jonah had thrown a twenty minute tantrum because he’d asked for “raw toast,” which apparently didn’t mean “untoasted bread”, nor did it mean plain toast, or anything else TK had tried to serve him. Then he stepped in cat puke while wearing socks.)
“Oh, my God,” Carlos says, staring at his phone in horror.
“What, baby, wha’s wrong?” TK mumbles, rubbing his face against Carlos’s shirt.
“Why are all my tías texting me saying I look so precioso in my gatito piyamas?”
TK rubs a hand over his face. “Probably your mom sent the video to them? I didn’t.”
“Still your fault,” Carlos glowers.
“‘Kay, baby,” TK says, snuggling back into him. On Carlos’s other side, Beezus stretches and yawns adorably, her paws pushing into his ribs, but even bilateral cuddling can’t counteract his annoyance.
Carlos pulls up his text chain with his mother.
Mama: I didn’t text it to anyone!
Carlos: Then how did they see it??
Mama: no sé
Mama: (shrugging bitmoji)
Mama: Oh! I forgot. lo puse en Facebook!
Mama: (laughing Bitmoji)
Mama: Pero eres tan lindo, mijo!
Carlos: MOM
“Oh, my God,” Carlos moans. “Babe, do you still have Facebook on your phone?”
“Probably?” TK sighs and fumbles for his own phone on the nightstand. “...Oh. You have 267 likes. Whoa, your mom has a lot of Facebook friends.”
“Say you’re joking,” Carlos commands.
TK bites his lip.
“Give me your phone, TK, oh my God.”
Distressingly, TK is not kidding, and the video has, in addition to the hundreds of likes, loves, and laughing reactions, 31 comments. The audience ranges from family members, to friends of his mother whom he’s never met, to, somehow, his third grade teacher, Mrs. Callahan. Carlos remembers her being ancient when he was in third grade, and is shocked to find her alive and active on boomer social media.
“I’m sorry, baby,” TK says, his chin on Carlos’s shoulder. “We’ve talked to her about not posting anything with Jonah on social media, right?”
“Only a few dozen times,” Carlos mutters, picking up his phone again to text his mother. “...Oh, my God!”
“I don’t know if the big guy can help with your mom’s lack of boundaries, babe,” TK muses.
Carlos pulls away to glare at his husband. “The good news is I guess she didn’t actually post the part with Jonah in it. The bad news is Luisa taught her how to trim the video, so she’s another accomplice now.”
TK presses his lips together, eyes dancing.
“Don’t you dare laugh. This is all your fault.”
“Of course, of course,” TK says, nodding rapidly. “I wonder what my punishment should be?”
“Come here, you brat.”
TK scoots towards Carlos eagerly.
“Come here,” Carlos repeats. As TK leans in, Carlos whispers, “You’re cleaning the cat boxes for a month.”
“Babe,” TK whines. “That’s not sexy.”
“Never said it would be. Good night, TK.”
“Mrrahhhh?” shouts Ramon from the hallway.
“I’m in here, baby boy!” Carlos calls back.
TK presses his face into his pillow, muffling a squeak of laughter.
“What was that?” Carlos asks.
“Nothing, baby. I love you.”
“I love Ramon best,” Carlos says. As if she’s listening, Beezus curls her claws into his abdomen. “Sorry, baby girl, you too.”
It gets worse. When Carlos walks into the bullpen Monday morning, Rangers Miller, Russler, and Dixon all shout “Ramon!” and sing the Bluey theme while playing imaginary saxophones. Carlos storms past them to his desk.
“Morning, Campbell,” he mutters.
“Well, hey there, Carlos! Have a good weekend?”
“It was okay,” Carlos says, eyeing his partner suspiciously. “Did you get a text from my husband?”
“From TK? No, no, why do you ask?” Sam has a wide Cheshire Cat grin that Carlos doesn’t trust in the slightest.
“Everyone is singing the Bluey theme at me with my cat’s name in it,” Carlos says.
“Huh. Now that’s a weird coincidence.”
“You’re telling me you had nothing to do with that?”
“Well. I didn’t say that.”
“Campbell, what did you do,” Carlos growls.
“It’s possible your mama might have texted me a certain video. And conceivably, I might have passed it on to a few of the guys here.”
“Sam, why.”
“Carlos, the men and women of the Texas Rangers risk their lives every day,” Sam intones gravely. “Don’t they deserve a little joy in their lives?”
“At my expense?”
“Aw, don’t be such a grump, Reyes. It’s important to be able to laugh at yourself, you know?”
“Oh, you mean like you did when you arrested that drug kingpin and couldn’t remember the Miranda rights?”
“Now look here, I know how to read a perp his rights,” Sam says hotly. “I just got a little tongue twisted. My mouth was dry.”
“You have the light to merain siment,” Carlos smirks. “If you cannot attord an afforney...”
“Quiet,” Sam hisses. “Don’t remind them. Brooks only just stopped making afforney jokes.”
“And doesn’t Brooks deserve some joy in her life? It’s important to be able to laugh at yourself, Sam.”
“Yeah, well, it’s your turn now. Payback’s a bitch.”
Okay, so Carlos was the one who’d spilled the beans about Campbell’s action-hero-turned-blooper-reel moment. There’d been a second at the scene where he was genuinely concerned his partner was having a stroke, and he’d been beyond delighted to realize Sam was fine and just making a fool of himself. Carlos told everyone about it. It’s one of his favorite anecdotes.
The straw that breaks his back comes the next day, when they haul in a witness for a counterfeiting ring who can’t seem to take her eyes off Carlos. Finally she asks him, “Do you have a cat named Ramon?”
Carlos turns crimson, wishing he could arrest her for that question alone. “I’m asking the questions here. Your brother, where is he now?”
The witness looks smug. “You look better in those tight pink pajama pants than with the two belts. And I want a lawyer."
Carlos clenches his jaw and walks out of the room. He can hear other Rangers snickering behind him — do they not care about the damn case?
Granted, the case isn’t exactly his top priority at the moment, either, as he stalks out to the parking lot to call his husband.
“Hi, baby! Jonah, say hi to Papa!”
It’s irritatingly difficult to stay mad at someone as continuously endearing as TK, but Carlos is determined.
“Hey, Jojo. TK, how has my witness seen the Ramon video?”
“Huh? I have no idea. Do they know your mom or something?”
“She’s a nineteen-year-old part-time dishwasher who dabbles in counterfeiting and cooking meth, so no, I don’t think they travel in the same circles,” Carlos bites out.
“Well, you don’t have to be so judgy about it.”
Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to scream. “Did someone else share the video?”
“I don’t know! Hey, Jonah, Lou 2 can’t have Cheez-its, bud. …No, I know Miss Rachel says to share, but those aren’t for lizards. No, the cats don’t want them either… okay, yes they do but… and they ate them, great. Baby, there’s a lot going on here. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“TK, can you find out? This is really out of control, I’m – you already hung up. I’m talking to nobody.” There’s another ranger in the parking lot giving him a suspicious look, so he finishes into the phone, “Okay, love you too, talk to you later!”
Twenty minutes later, his phone rings.
“Carlos, I’m so sorry. I am so, so, sorry.”
“Marjan? What’s going on, are you okay?”
“...Oh. You don’t know?”
Marjan sounds flustered but also, possibly, like she’s suppressing laughter. “Marjan, tell me this isn’t about the video.”
“Carlos, I would love to tell you that, but unfortunately I value honesty too much. Not to mention our friendship. You know that means the world to me.”
“Laying it on a little thick, Marj,” Carlos sighs. “Just tell me.”
“So I went to share the video on Instagram–”
“To your account with five million followers?” Several rangers in the bullpen swivel in their chairs to look at him, and he forces himself to lower his voice. “Marjan, why the hell would you –”
“No, not to the main Firefox account! Just to my personal one, just to my Close Friends story!”
“Marjan, everyone has seen it! My witness saw it! Are you close friends with meth cook counterfeiter dishwashers?”
“Wow, that’s a hell of a resume.”
“Marjan.” He can hear himself grinding his teeth. That's probably not a good thing.
“Okay, so, you know I have a child who will be left motherless if you murder me, or like, get the Rangers and the APD to disappear me, somehow?”
Carlos takes a slow, deliberate breath, thinking of his own child who also doesn’t deserve to lose another parent to a massive frustration-induced heart attack or to prison. “Marjan,” he says, deadly quiet and serious. “Nobody is getting murdered or disappeared. Just tell me what happened.”
“IaccidentallypostedittoFirefox,” she says, all in a garbled rush. “To the main page. I’m so sorry, it was a total accident, it was only like 20 minutes then I realized and took it down.”
He waits.
“Carlos?”
“And in 20 minutes every single person in the world saw it?”
“It’s… been reposted. A few times.”
“By people who don’t even know me?” he asks. “Why would they even care?” Now she’s silent for a little too long. “Marj, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m just processing this. You understand you’re, like, insanely attractive, right?”
“What?” he half-laughs.
“Come on. I know you do. I know you send sexy gym selfies to TK all the time.”
He inhales so sharply he chokes on his own spit. When he finally regains the power of speech, he croaks, “TK shows you those?”
“No, but I’ve seen the expression on his face.”
“This wasn’t a gym video, though,” he protests, because he’s not going to admit that yes, he knows he looks good, and has in fact put in thousands of hours at the gym to ensure it.
“No, it’s a hot guy in tight pink pants being adorable with a cat. Yes, Carlos, people like it.”
Sam comes back to his desk then, putting a witness statement in front of Carlos’s face. Someone’s finally talking.
“Marjan, I don’t have time for this right now,” Carlos says stiffly. “I have to go arrest a counterfeiter slash meth cook.”
“Baby, are you actually still mad at me?” TK asks that weekend. They’re trying to clean the house while Jonah naps. With a little luck, after his nap Jonah will be too preoccupied with helping Carlos prepare Family Dinner to have time to destroy all of their hard work before Andrea and Ana and her children arrive.
“It’s embarrassing,” Carlos grumbles, sweeping the hallway floor while Beezus pounces on the broom and attacks the dust. Ramon is cowering in a corner because the broom is terrifying.
“It’s hot,” counters TK.
“Come on, I look like an idiot.”
“No, you don’t.”
Carlos levels an unimpressed stare at him. “TK, everyone at work is laughing at me. Our friends are laughing at me. A witness was laughing at me.” TK is beginning to suspect Carlos is, in fact, still mad at him.
“Okay, first of all, the witness was not my fault, that was all Marjan, and you know she’s really sorry,” TK defends himself. “And second of all, our friends and your coworkers love you. They love the video because they love you.”
Carlos pouts. TK puts down the bin of Calico Critters – the things are all over the house, somehow, and TK is trying to avoid anything getting sucked up into the vacuum – and walks over to put his arms around his sulky husband, relieved when Carlos doesn’t pull away.
“Carlos, when I met you, I thought you were this super cool, sexy, suave guy. Like, you were so hot in that honky tonk, I thought you must be so confident.”
“Why do I sense a but coming on?”
“Because you’re very smart. But then I got to know you –”
“And you realized I wasn’t really cool and sexy and suave?” Carlos butts in, a confused, annoyed wrinkle at the top of his nose.
“Let me finish! I got to know you, and yes, you were incredibly hot, and amazing in bed, obviously –”
Carlos rolls his eyes, but TK can see the dimple in his left cheek threatening to pop out. “Yeah, good save.”
“Shut up,” TK says, poking a finger into Carlos’s firm chest. “I’m saying the more I got to know you, the more I realized you were so much more than that. I got to see this super sweet, goofy side of you. You still tried to hide it from everyone else, but I got this adorkable guy, who was also probably the hottest man in Texas, and… God, babe. I was so done.”
Carlos squints at him, still sweetly bewildered.
TK takes Carlos’s face in his hands. “It’s why I fell in love with you, baby,” he says gently. “That hot confident cop? I wanted to hook up with him, sure. But the guy who talked to himself while he cooked, and was silly with animals?” TK shakes his head. “Love of my life. Oh, man, remember when you first met Buttercup?” It’s one of TK’s most treasured memories of their sweet early days as official boyfriends. Carlos had come to visit the station, and TK knew he’d been rather desperate to impress TK’s father as well as his well-meaning but sometimes rather protective firehouse family. “I could tell you were nervous. But then Buttercup hopped up next to you, and you shook his paw and told him it was nice to meet him.”
“He gave me his paw,” Carlos protests. “I wasn’t going to just ignore him. His feelings would have been hurt.”
TK laughs and presses a kiss to Carlos’s eyebrow. “Exactly, baby.” He slips a hand under the hem of Carlos’s tank top, petting his bare back. “You are silly, and you are sweet, and I love that you don’t try to hide that from me, or from Jonah. I didn’t mean for everyone to see, just our family, you know? Because we all love your big silly heart.”
Carlos sighs, leaning his head against TK’s. “The guys at work, though. The witnesses. Nobody takes me seriously now.”
“They’ll move on, okay? I promise."
“Mra mra myawwo,” announces Ramon, glad to see that his father has ceased using the big scary broom.
“You make a good point, bud,” Carlos agrees. “Come get scritches.”
They manage to make it through dinner with only one mention of The Video, from Carlos’s nine-year-old niece, of all people.
“This girl in my class, Jaylyn? She showed me and she said she thinks you’re cute.” Karlys wrinkles her nose.
“My Carlitos is very cute,” Carlos’s mother puts in.
“I have always said that.” TK smiles sweetly at Carlos, who rolls his eyes, ignoring the warmth in his chest.
“Papa, you’re in a video?”
“Remember, we made the video,” TK reminds Jonah. “Don’t use your sleeve, bud, you know you have a napkin?”
“It’s okay, TK. I’m good, TK!” Jonah assures his brother as TK tries in vain to clean Jonah’s face with his own napkin. (It’s too late, of course. Jonah’s Styracosaurus shirt is now decorated with a huge smear of pasta sauce. Fortunately, TK is something of a laundry wizard.) “Can I play on my jungle gym now?”
Easily distracted, the kids all adjourn to the backyard, accompanied by TK and Ana, while Andrea helps Carlos wash up. There’s a window over the sink, and Carlos can keep an eye on both his boys as they play happily on the swing set/climbing structure they’d put together with some help from Mateo and Paul.
“You remind me so much of your father. Watching the kids play from the window.”
Carlos startles. “I love this window,” he confesses. “It was one of the things that sold me on the house. I could just… see this, I guess.”
“Ay, mijo.” Andrea’s eyes are misty, but she’s smiling. “I’m so happy you have this life, this family. It’s all we ever wanted for you.”
“Really?” Carlos rolls his eyes as he loads the dishwasher. “You wanted me to be married to a man and raising his four-year-old brother?” Sometimes he can’t resist going for the dumb joke, still, especially with his family. They’re better, now, than they used to be. Sometimes they can talk about real and difficult things for multiple minutes, even, without anybody breaking out in sincerity-induced hives. But he hasn’t quite overcome his instinct to deflect.
Andrea swats him on the arm before handing him a stack of plates. “Travieso. Ay, look at your family.”
Carlos is looking. He can’t look away, really. Jonah is on TK’s back, while his niece is giving his nephew a precarious piggyback. It looks like they’re racing, and TK is generously allowing Karlys to win.
“The look on your face.
Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. “It’s just my face, Ma.”
“It is when you’re with TK. And with Jonah. And your sweet gatitos. Your father would get the same look, watching you kids.”
He regards her, trying to believe her. It’s still hard for him to remember his father playing with him, but he knows he did.
“Your video made me think of him,” his mother says.
Carlos splutters in surprise. “Singing to the cat? Over my case files? I figured stuff like that was why he thought I was too soft to be a cop.”
Andrea nearly drops the wine glass she’s drying. “Mijo, no.”
Carlos shakes his head sharply, trying to erase what he’s just said, but it still hangs in the air. “Sorry,” he says stiffly, but he’s not even quite sure what he’s apologizing for.
“Mijo, your father worried you were too sweet to work in law enforcement.”
Carlos barks an unamused laugh. “Does that mean gay?” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this to her. He doesn’t want to hurt her, but it’s what he’s been afraid of since the video started going around. He was too sweet, too goofy, too gay, and he’s been certain his father would be mortified.
“Carlitos, it means good,” she says firmly. “Your father knew if you followed him into law enforcement you’d see things, you’d do things, that might take away from that.”
Carlos shakes his head. “He always wanted me to be tougher, though. To learn to be a man.”
“He didn’t always know how to say it,” his mother admits. “But he was so proud of what a good boy, what a good man, what a good officer you turned into.”
Carlos looks at the floor.
“But I did worry about how serious you grew up to be,” his mother continues. “Such a good boy, always, but I never saw you this happy until you met TK. And then seeing you with Jonah? I wish your father could see.”
“Ma, don’t make me cry,” he whispers.
“Ay, come here, mijo.” He leans over so his mother can wrap him up in a hug. “You are not the same man as your father, Carlos, but I see him in you,” she murmurs in his ear. “And I know he’s so proud.”
“Because I’m good at singing the Bluey song to my cat?” Carlos pulls away and rakes his sleeve over his eyes, laughing a little.
“Travieso. Yes, Carlitos, because you’re good at singing the Bluey song to the cat.” She rolls her eyes at him and grabs a cloth to wipe down the counters.
The kitchen door bangs open, and TK comes in cradling a tearful Jonah.
“Oh no, qué pasó, mi amor?” Carlos asks.
Jonah responds with an incomprehensible half-wail and TK translates, “He tripped and hit his knee on a rock. He’s okay, we’re just going to get a Band-Aid.”
“Papa come,” Jonah whimpers. “Sing the song.”
TK is the designated Bandager of Wounds, Carlos is the hospital clown who distracts the patient. He doesn’t even consider saying no. “I’m coming, mijo. I’ll sing a silly song.”
~fin~