A/N: Only took a six-hour binge for me to start writing for these two. Thanks to Damien Rice for keeping me company while I wrote this on my cell at midnight the other night. Sorry if it's shit. Rated for discussions of sexual harassment/assault.

It only took a handful of months for things that once seemed unthinkable to become familiar. A year ago, TK had been buying a ring, and preparing to be a husband. Now he lived halfway across the country, shared a house with his father, and had a boyfriend. A real, honest-to-goodness, hand-holding-in-public boyfriend.

TK wasn't sure exactly how all of it had happened, but he wasn't about to complain. Texas wasn't ideal, but then again, New York had been the backdrop of nearly every version of rock bottom he'd been capable of hitting, so who was he to judge? He'd let things drift, and he liked where he'd ended up. He had a good job, he had his father, he had friends. And he had Carlos.

He'd never been with a cop before. Fire and police didn't mix off the clock, at least not in New York. They had their separate stations and their separate bars and their separate crews. They saw each other on calls now and then, where they usually fought over turf, and they competed against each other in the interagency leagues, where they usually ended up fighting with their fists. There wasn't camaraderie, and there certainly wasn't romance—usually you only found out about interagency couples once there was a ring involved, and sometimes not even then. So it was strange, to be dating a cop so publicly here. No matter how out they were, it still felt oddly illicit. But it was nice, too.

It was especially nice on nights like this one, when TK's father was out of the house and Carlos came by for dinner and everything was slow and easy and quiet. TK always liked quiet after an extra-long shift, though sharing that quiet with someone else was new. It was growing on him, though. Being curled up on a couch with Carlos could make him like just about anything.

Couldn't keep him from yawning, though.

"You falling asleep?" Carlos wondered, starting to shift behind TK like he was thinking of getting up. "I can pack up and let you get to bed—"

"Mm-mm." TK shook his head, instinctively tightening his grip on Carlos' arm. He didn't want either of them moving just yet. "I'm awake."

"You're lying." Carlos' snicker was warm, happy. TK had to bite his lip so he wouldn't grin.

"Like you could even tell if I were," he muttered back.

"Oh?" Carlos' voice rose as he leaned forward over TK's shoulder, delighted at the challenge. "You think I don't know you, is that it? Or do you think I'm a cop who can't tell when someone's lying to my face?"

"Hm." TK adjusted his head against the pillow of Carlos' arm. "I plead the fifth."

"Yeah, okay. Sure you do."

As Carlos settled back against the couch, TK moved back with him, until they were flush against each other, warm and lazy and comfortable. Carlos slung an arm around TK's side and TK drew it up his chest, twining their hands together just beneath his chin. He shut his eyes once more and let himself relax. He truly wouldn't mind falling asleep like this.

But a minute later, he could feel Carlos still tensed up behind him. He could almost feel the weight of whatever he was worrying over, charging the air around them.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked finally.

"Nothing," Carlos murmured, and from the soft way his lips brushed against TK's hair, the latter knew he was trying to apologize. "Just work."

"What about work?"

He felt Carlos' chest expand against his back as he took in a deep breath, and a small gust of air passed by his ear as he exhaled.

"We got a new crop of recruits in the other month."

"Mm." TK nodded along, able to remember this much even half asleep as he was. "Five, right? No, no, six, the transfer."

Carlos kissed his ear. "Gold star."

"I'll add it to my collection."

"So, six. They've been on the job nearly eight weeks now. It's still a little fresh, but they're mostly settled. You know how things are in the early days—growing pains, all the rookies jockeying for the top spot, everybody slinging shit to try and assert their dominance…" He paused. "It's all guys this round, with the exception of Jiménez."

TK made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat.

"She's having a rough go of it. All the typical sexist shit at first, on top of the prescribed rookie bashing…" He paused, and TK could practically hear him chewing on his words. "And then they found out she was gay."

TK sighed heavily.

"She told them herself, right in the bullpen. I think she thought it might've given her an out from all the other shit, or maybe she was just being brave, but that made it all worse. Anytime anybody talks to her now, it's just to ask her about her sex life, or if she'd fuck whatever woman happens to be in the room, or wouldn't she really prefer to try one of them on for size instead? 'Cause every lesbian's just a woman who hasn't found the right dick yet, right?"

TK swore under his breath, anger starting to wake him up again.

"Even the guys in her class," Carlos continued, his voice hardening. "They found the weak link in their chain, so they're wailing on her any chance they get, trying to get her to drop out. One less spot to fight over." He sighed. "I've been trying to think of how to help her without singling her out. I don't want to make it worse."

"Does she even want your help?" TK craned his neck back to catch Carlos' eye. "I'm not trying to be mean; I'm serious."

"No, I know. And that's the problem, I don't know. We've barely spoken beyond introductions; I'm not paired up with her so we hardly see each other even if we're on the same shift. And the last thing she needs is the only other gay person in the whole precinct coming to her defense out of nowhere. But if the alternative is to just leave her in all this…"

"Can't take it up the chain."

It wasn't a question, and Carlos shook his head in agreement. They both knew the cost there; police and fire were similar in that respect. Reporting behavior to a superior would just lead to another lecture, another sensitivity training, and everyone would know exactly who to blame and blackball for it.

"I keep wanting to say something, you know, when we're all out for drinks or whatever, but I just can't see it going well. I don't want her to think I'm being overprotective. Or condescending. But I don't want her to think I'm leaving her to the wolves, either."

"Hard line to walk."

"She knows I'm gay. I mean, she was there when you came by to pick me up the other day. I like to think that if she really needed help, if things got bad, she'd reach out. But she's very… I don't know. Cold isn't the right word. She's just… She's on her own."

"Sounds like you've got yourself a lone wolf."

"Yes. Yes, exactly. She's looking out for herself. Which, I understand and I respect. Especially given what she's had to deal with on her own all this time. But also…"

"Can't be a team player if you're a lone wolf," TK finished with a yawn. He'd learned that particular lesson the hard way.

"Any advice?"

TK shrugged. "You just keep grinding until they respect you."

"And if they don't?"

"You quit, or you stick it out in a place that hates you until some new target comes along and you get forgotten." He paused, thinking of how he'd come of age in New York, and how much harder that would've been if he'd been here. "What was it like for you, when you came up? They give you shit down here?"

"You mean for being gay, or for being a spic?"

"Both, I guess."

Carlos shrugged. "You know how it is. Shit was said; my locker was trashed. I was always given the worst calls, or stuck on the most boring details longer than everybody else." He sighed, shifting position slightly as he added hastily, "It was nothing, really, not compared to what the older generations went through. And the worst in Austin is heaven compared to what things are like outside the city."

TK nodded as if he understood, though he knew he didn't.

"What about you?" Carlos asked, filling the silence. "What was it like coming up in fire?"

"Me?" TK shrugged, dismissing the question as he had a hundred times. "Oh, you know me, I was the captain's son. Off-limits. So nobody..." He began the lie as easily as ever, but it tasted sour leaving his lips with Carlos the way it never had with anyone else. Nobody dared mess with me, was what he was supposed to say. What he had always said.

TK cleared his throat, unconsciously gripping Carlos' hand a little tighter. He stared hard at the wood of the coffee table in front of him, struggling to find the right words. Where had the line he'd always said suddenly disappeared to? He could feel his breath coming in a little quicker as he fought for clarity.

"TK?" Carlos' voice was in his ear, soft but insistent. Concerned. He wouldn't be able to shrug this off.

"Um…" He swallowed hard, his dry throat sticking. He wished suddenly he had a drink. And not just water, but a real drink. A whiskey, a shot, anything—

"I don't know if you've toured many stations besides ours, but, uh… Most of them aren't so open. Not many windows, not much space. There's a lot of small places to be alone with a person in a firehouse. Lots of doors that can be locked from the inside as well as the outside."

TK could almost feel Carlos turning into a statue around him. He hoped his heart wasn't beating as loud as he thought it was. He had no idea why he was still talking; all he knew was he couldn't make himself stop.

"Everybody knew my dad was a captain, and though we weren't at the same house everybody seemed to think that because of him, I was a shoo-in for every bit of praise or promotion available. No matter if I did everything right, performed well, there were still guys who hated me and took every excuse to remind me that I didn't get special treatment. And there were some guys…" He blew out a shaky breath. "There were some guys who thought of a better way to scare me out. They knew I'd never say anything about it. They saw the way I reacted whenever anybody brought up my dad—I told whoever it was to shut up, and then I put my head down and I worked. I didn't complain. I didn't take it up the chain, because you get nothing for taking it up the chain."

TK rolled his lips together, trying to make that the end of it. It didn't work.

"Not everybody was malicious about it, you know. Sure, some of them wanted me out at any cost. But some of them were just… trying it out. I could tell the difference. Those guys? They were fucking scared. And what was I supposed to do about it anyway? It's not a crime to be confused, and hazing is part of the deal."

"That wasn't hazing, TK," Carlos said softly.

TK snorted. "Oh, yeah? What would you call it then?"

It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but Carlos answered immediately.

"From what I've heard, I'd call it assault. Unless there are more details that you—"

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" TK leapt to his feet, throwing Carlos' arm off. "Can you stop being a cop for five seconds? It wasn't anything, okay?" He held out his fingers, ticking them off. "Nobody raped me, nobody beat me. It was nothing."

Carlos shifted into a sitting position. "TK…"

"Look, other guys have had it a lot worse, all right? I've seen. I've watched guys get the shit kicked out of them because somebody decided they were too queer."

"TK, this isn't a competition to see who's suffered most—"

"All those guys did was kiss me and cop a feel. Either to intimidate me, or to try it out for themselves. And I get that, okay? I was the safe option for them." He shoved a finger at his own chest. "I was the only option."

"Ty…" Carlos heaved himself to his feet. "Come on, you know you're not responsible for—"

"I outed myself the second I walked into that firehouse," TK interrupted fiercely. He held Carlos' gaze intently. "Listen to me. Look me in the eye and listen to what I'm saying. I asked for it—"

"Tyler!"

"What?" They were shouting in each other's faces now. "I did! You weren't there; I was. I made an announcement of it, just like your rookie. I wanted it out in the open from the start."

"That doesn't mean you asked for—"

"Don't give me that shit," TK snarled, smacking away the hand that reached for him. "Everybody's asking for something. I walked into one of the most masculine professions in the world, knowing what it was like firsthand, and I more or less said, 'Hey, nice to meet you all, now have I mentioned how much I like to take it up the ass?'" He shook his head, scoffing at his own memory, one hand over his forehead as he started to walk away. "You know what, I'm lucky nothing worse happened."

"How long did it go on?" Carlos called after him.

"Not long."

"TK. Answer the question."

"I said not long," he snapped, whirling around. "Aren't you listening? I said it wasn't a big deal, okay? Eventually I took to carrying around a knife, and miraculously I stopped getting shoved into closets. Who would've thought!"

Carlos frowned at the sarcasm, but didn't press it. He stood and watched as TK dropped himself into one of the dining chairs on the other side of the room. The remnants from their dinner were still sitting on the table: refried beans and red rice and half a pan of enchiladas they hadn't managed to polish off. It felt like that dinner had happened hours ago, but couldn't have been more than thirty minutes since they'd gotten up from the table and moved to the couch.

Carlos watched and waited for TK to say something, but when it was clear he'd had enough of talking, Carlos carefully made his way across the room. TK shifted in his seat as Carlos picked up a chair and set it down next to him, but he didn't get up to leave. He still had a hand over his eyes, cradling his forehead, and it took all of Carlos' willpower not to reach out and touch him.

Minutes passed. Neither bothered to track how many. And then TK spoke quietly into the void.

"I've never told anyone about that before."

Carlos nodded, unsurprised by that particular detail. "Thank you, then," he whispered.

TK's hand fell away as he glanced over. "Thank you?" he repeated incredulously.

"Yeah. Thank you for trusting me. I…" Carlos took in a deep breath. "I know that wasn't easy, TK."

He shook his head. "It was, actually," he whispered. He shifted forward a little in his chair, and Carlos chanced it, holding out his hand. TK stared at it for a second before taking it in his and folding their knuckles together gently. "That's what's so weird about all this. I've tried to talk about it before. With my ex. But every time I opened my mouth I started to sweat and lose my nerve, but with you, it just… came out. I don't know why, really."

"Probably because I get it. I get the job, I get the culture… I might not know what it's like firsthand, to experience something like that, but I understand all the rest."

"Hm."

They sat for a few minutes in silence, and while Carlos searched for something more to say, something better to say, he couldn't come up with anything by the time the sound of a car approaching could be heard outside. They both listened to the vehicle slow in the driveway, a door open and shut.

"I should probably go," Carlos began, getting to his feet.

TK shook his head, holding fast to his hand. "No, stay. He doesn't care."

"I know he doesn't care, I just… I think maybe you guys should talk about what you just told me."

"Right," TK snorted, dropping Carlos' hand. "You want me to tell my cancer-ridden dad about how a couple guys stole some kisses a million years ago—"

"It wasn't a million years ago," Carlos interrupted quietly. He could hear the captain's footsteps on the front walk; he definitely didn't want him walking in on this argument.

"It might as well have been!" TK hissed. "It doesn't fucking matter. Especially not now, not where I am in life, not where he is. We have bigger concerns. And besides—"

He broke off when the door opened behind them.

"Oh, hey, boys."

"Hi, captain." Carlos flashed a weak smile as he glanced over. "I was just leaving—"

"Oh, no." He shook his head, moving towards the back of the house. "Don't let me interrupt. I've gotta get a shower anyway. Stay as long as you want, Reyes."

They both watched him walk away, waiting until they heard a door close before they spoke again.

"I'm not saying you have to do it now," Carlos began softly, turning back to TK, "but I really do think you should tell him. If only for your own peace of mind."

"My mind is fine."

"TK, you still carry a knife."

He blinked as if struck. "That—That's part of the job. Come on. Don't turn this around on me. Everyone has—"

"I don't care what everyone has. I care that you started carrying a knife for a reason, and you still carry one. That says something to me. I know it was a few years ago, and yes, we've all known guys who've had it worse, but… That doesn't mean what happened to you isn't important. Doesn't mean you can't talk to your family about it."

TK shook his head. "You don't understand. My dad, he'll go crazy. He'll probably fly back to New York just to kick the shit out of those idiots, and—"

"And you can't control that," Carlos soothed. "So you don't need to worry about it. His reaction will be his reaction. All you need to do is be honest with him, like he was honest with you."

TK sighed, shaking his head, but didn't bother furthering the argument. Carlos bit his lip, watching him, trying to figure out what to say to convince him. He knew TK wanted him to just let the matter die; that would be the easy end to tonight. But he learned a while ago that the easy route was rarely the right one.

He cleared his throat. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah?"

"You felt better after telling me, right?"

Slowly, TK nodded.

"Okay. Well… Just think, maybe you'll feel better after telling him, too."

Carlos put up a small smile, and was relieved when he saw TK try to do the same. He felt the urge to step forward, to kiss TK goodbye like usual, or at least hug him, but wasn't sure where the lines were anymore. Instead, he just waved, and then grabbed his jacket and his keys and started for the door.

"Hey."

TK's voice called him back before he'd taken so much as two steps.

"There was something else I wanted to say, before my dad came in."

"Okay."

Carlos turned and waited, watching as TK stood and took a few careful steps towards him. He stopped about a yard away.

"What I was going to say is, everything that happened back then doesn't matter anymore, because I've moved on. And now I'm with you. And I don't think about any of that when I'm with you. When we're together, it's…" A hopeful smile flickered anxiously at the edges of TK's mouth as he searched Carlos' face. "It's good, right? Between you and me? We're good, aren't we?"

"Yes," Carlos answered immediately, stepping forward without even thinking. "TK, of course things are good with you and me. Better than good, I—" He broke off, closing his eyes for concentration. It was hard to focus, sometimes, when he was this close to TK. "I'm not worried about us," he continued. "But I am a little worried that you've been letting this fester for so long. So just think about it, okay? Please, for me?"

TK nodded, giving in. "Fine. I'll think about it."

"Thank you," Carlos whispered, feeling bleeding into each syllable. With one last look, he turned and reached for the doorknob.

"Carlos."

"Yeah?" He glanced over his shoulder to see TK coming towards him.

"Don't leave without saying goodbye, okay?"

Carlos started to open his mouth to reply, but then TK's arms were around him, and instead of speaking, he just buried his face into TK's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him and held him tight, far tighter than usual. It took a minute or two before TK finally pulled away, and as he did, Carlos whispered his goodbye like it was a prayer.

"Night, Ty."

He caught one small, grateful half-smile as he pulled the door shut behind him.

And then he was gone, and TK was alone in the front room. He stared at the door for a while, knowing Carlos was gone and yet unable to stop imagining him walking back in. He didn't want to talk anymore, he just wanted Carlos here—so he wouldn't be alone, so very alone, with all his thoughts.

He shook his head to clear it, snapping out of his stupor when he heard the water shut off down the hall. He couldn't chance his dad coming back out here after his shower and catching him staring at nothingness. He didn't need any more questions about his emotional state tonight.

He busied himself with clearing the dishes from dinner, and was nearly done by the time his father came out, freshly washed but frowning.

"Reyes leave already?" he asked, glancing around in surprise.

"Early shift," TK replied automatically, not even bothering to stop to think if it was true or not. He could feel his father's eyes on him; he hid his face beneath the sink as he searched out some detergent.

"You guys have a fight or something?"

"No," TK answered at once, hating how obvious the tension was. Then he remembered the shouting. "Kind of," he hedged as he surfaced.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not really," he replied, slamming the dishwasher shut with just a tad too much force.

"Okay. Well. If you're done in there, I'm gonna grab something from the fridge—"

"Actually." TK's knuckles were white where white where he had them fisted at his sides. He knew if he didn't do it now, he'd never do it. And Carlos would just keep asking. "There is something I want to talk about."

"Okay." His father abandoned the path to the fridge, choosing instead to stand on the other side of the island. "What is it?"

TK licked his lips, feeling those old nerves come back again. This wasn't like talking with Carlos. Why had he asked him to do this? Why was he, TK, even bothering? This wouldn't end well. And his father would never look at him the same again.

"Kid—"

TK held up a hand. He bit his tongue hard, trying to steel himself. "First, I need you to promise me you'll hear me out, no interruptions."

"Okay."

"Second, I… I need you to know that I'm fine. Okay? It was a while ago, and I'm fine now."

His father moved swiftly around the counter, anxious eyes alight. "Tyler, if this is about—"

"It's not about that," he replied at once, knowing where his father's head had gone. "I haven't touched a thing since we moved. No booze, no drugs, nothing. You can test me if you want."

His father closed his eyes, his whole face crumpling. "Tyler…"

"It's your right," he muttered. "We made rules. Test me if you don't believe me. I agreed to it."

"TK, I believe you." He tilted his head, struggling to catch his son's eye. "Just talk to me. What's this about?"

He took a deep breath, and let it out. He let it all out.

He could see the questions pile up in his father's eyes. He could see the fury and the sorrow and the helplessness, and he kept talking because he knew if he stopped, his father would start speaking, and he didn't know if he could handle that. The pity and the questions and the compassion.

It was one thing, coming from Carlos. He'd wanted it from Carlos, that's why he'd bothered to say it in the first place. Some part of him had wanted someone to know. But the second he told his dad, he wanted to take it all back. He felt sick by the time he finally ran out of words, but even the bile in his throat didn't rise up to save him.

He stood and he stared at the floor and he waited for the onslaught. For the I'm sorry and the Why didn't you tell me? and the Are you sure you're okay? He braced himself for yelling. He waited and waited. Finally, he had to look up to make sure his father was still in the room.

When their gazes met, he saw how red his father's eyes were, and he looked away immediately, not wanting to see the gathered tears come loose.

"I should've prepared you better."

"Dad."

"I knew you'd be a target, and I didn't do enough for you. I thought if I got too involved at the start, you'd take it the wrong way. But I should've known you wouldn't ask for help, I should've known—Christ!"

"Dad, come on. Please, it's not a big deal."

"Do not downplay this, Tyler Kenndey. Do not fucking do that."

"Well, don't blame yourself for this either!" he shot back. "I wasn't your responsibility and it wasn't your fault. If it was anybody's fault, it was m—"

"Don't finish that sentence." His father leveled a furious, shaking finger at his son from across the room. "You hear me? Don't finish it. I don't want to hear it. I am not going to have you thinking like that."

TK ducked his head, avoiding his father's reprimand the same way he had when he'd been a child. He listened to the footsteps on the hardwood as his father rounded the counter to stand in front of him.

"I know you're not… okay," his father began quietly. "But you are… managing, right?"

"I told you I was sober," TK muttered sullenly. Why did it always have to come back to this? Why had he made it so that this was the bottom line to every family conversation?

"I don't mean like that, TK."

He glanced up at the sound of his father's voice, and found him standing there, just a couple feet away. His eyes were searching over TK's body as if he could see the invisible scars through his clothes. TK ducked his head, embarrassed and moved all at once.

"I've been with guys since," he muttered, hating the irrationality of his warming face. "You know I have."

"I know you've made some questionable relationship decisions in the past few years."

"Are you really one to talk?"

"No," his father agreed. "I'm not. But… I worry about you. I've always worried about you, before any of this. Because I want you to be happy." He tried for a smile, but it shook too much to hold steady. "I don't want you to fuck up all your relationships like I did," he whispered hoarsely.

"Dad…"

"You're a good kid. Okay?" He settled a hand on his son's shoulder. "You're a really good kid. And I'm so sorry you've had such a hard time. I am so, so sorry."

TK tried to speak, tried to shrug it all off, but he couldn't. Instead he just stepped forward and hugged his father as tight as he could.

"I love you, Ty. All the time. Always have, always will."

TK nodded against his father's shoulder, unable to speak. They stood like that for a long while, both pretending they couldn't hear the other one crying.

Eventually they broke apart, taking great care to avoid each other's eyes as they pulled themselves back together.

"Well." His father cleared his throat. "What did I come in here for? I can't even remember now."

TK smiled despite himself as he moved to the back of the kitchen and leaned against a counter. "Food, I think." He tipped his head at the fridge. "You're welcome to our leftovers if you want 'em."

"I was hoping you'd say that." His father grinned, yanking the fridge open. "I love when that man of yours comes over to cook."

"Me too," TK echoed quietly. He watched his father's back as he rummaged in the fridge and came out with tupperware containers stacked high. He couldn't help but smile as he watched how eagerly he fixed a plate.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you like him."

"I'm glad you like him. I don't know what I'd do without this," he said, hoisting his plate up before offering it to the microwave as if it were sacred. He pressed a couple buttons, and it started whirring. "In all seriousness, though," he added as he turned around, "he might be my favorite out of all of 'em."

TK smiled, nodding along. "Yeah. I think he might be my favorite too."

They stood in silence as the microwave spun its plate around and around. TK found his mind wandering, wondering what Carlos was doing right now. He'd have made it back to his place by now. Was he asleep already? Probably not. He was probably sitting somewhere, thinking far too hard, just like TK was. They were a lot alike in that respect.

"I'm going to trust he took it okay?"

"Hm?" TK glanced up abruptly at the sound of his father's voice, having been lost in thought. "What'd you say?"

"Reyes," his father answered, pulling his plate from the microwave and blowing on it gently. "You told him tonight, right? That's why you two were fighting?"

TK swallowed hard, but forced out a nod. There was no point in hiding anything anymore. "Yeah. I kept telling him it didn't matter. Past is past. But… he wanted me to tell you. So that's what I did."

His father watched him for a moment, and then nodded. "Well. He's officially my favorite, then." He took his plate in one hand, silverware in the other, and before heading out to the dining room, he added: "Don't mess it up."

"I'll do my best," TK promised.

He waited a moment more, gathering himself, before finally pushing off the counter and making his slow way back to bed. He felt far more awake now than he had earlier, when he'd been falling asleep on the couch with Carlos, but he knew there was nothing else to be done tonight. He just had to go lie down and wait for sleep to come.

He did just that.

He waited a half-hour. An hour. Two hours.

It was past two AM when he finally cracked and picked up his phone. There was no surprise on the other end when the call connected. Just Carlos, sounding as tired as TK felt, asking, "Can't sleep, huh?"

"Can't sleep," TK whispered back.

Twenty minutes later, there was a light knock at the front door. By then, TK had migrated to the couch in the front room; it was only a few feet between there and the door. He smiled when he saw Carlos standing there, and pulled him into a grateful hug.

"Thank you for coming," he whispered into his neck.

"Thank you for calling."

TK let him go then, and locked the door behind them as Carlos stepped inside. He was just reaching over to turn out the front lights when he heard his father's voice coming down the hall.

"TK, was that you? I thought I heard the door…" He broke off when he saw Carlos, who raised his hand in a wave.

"Evening, sir."

"Dad, uh, I asked him to stay the night. If that's okay."

"That's perfectly fine, TK."

His father's voice was unbearably soft, and TK looked at the floor, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.

They all stood there for a minute in the heavy silence, feeling the open secret expand between them until it seemed like there wasn't anything else in the world. Finally, TK shook it off, glancing up only briefly to meet his father's eye.

"I've done enough talking for one night," he murmured, and he slipped past his father towards his bedroom. After a nod to the senior Strand, Carlos followed behind him.

With the door closed behind them, TK made a beeline towards the bed and collapsed onto it, front-first. Carlos untied his shoes and stripped out of his clothes slowly, like he wasn't sure how much he should keep on. When he finally climbed into bed, it was in a t-shirt and underwear, and he pulled the covers close. He laid his head on a pillow, facing TK, who looked even more exhausted now than he had after dinner.

"Will you please just lay here with me and not say anything until the morning?" TK mumbled against the mattress, his eyes already closed.

"Okay." Carlos shifted slightly so they were eye to eye. "But can I just say one thing first?"

"Better not be an apology, 'cause none of this is your fault."

"It's not an apology." Carlos watched him, waiting until TK finally squinted his eyes open. "I just wanted to tell you… I'm really proud of you for telling him. And for telling me. I know you said it was easy, but it was still a brave thing to do."

"It was a stupid thing to do. He doesn't need any more worries. He's always keeping an eye out for the next relapse, and now he's gotta worry about shit he didn't protect me from when I was nineteen? He doesn't need this."

"I'm sure he felt the same way about you when he got the cancer diagnosis."

TK frowned. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, just a statement of opinion."

"Well, stop having opinions."

"Okay," Carlos whispered.

"And stop talking. I said we were done talking."

Carlos made a show of pressing his lips together and locking them closed.

TK rolled his eyes, pushing himself up onto his side so he could see Carlos better. He reached out one hand and stroked his fingertips against the curve of Carlos' cheek.

"Thank you," TK whispered. "For listening before. And for coming back now." He closed his eyes, feeling the guilt well up. "I'm sorry I yelled earlier. I know you were just looking out for me. Doing the good thing, like usual. I didn't mean to get mad."

He waited, but Carlos said nothing. TK could feel his stomach start to twist uncomfortably.

"Please," he muttered, pushing himself closer to Carlos. "Will you just say something?"

A second passed. Five. Ten. It wasn't until he opened his eyes and faced Carlos again that he remembered. He shoved his shoulder.

"Always such a little rule-follower. You can talk, dummy."

Carlos let out a big breath as if he'd been holding it. "Phew." A grin spread over his face. "You say thanks for coming over, like it was some kind of open question." Carlos rolled his eyes. "You've always known I'm easy; I'll come when you call, no matter what."

TK grinned, bending closer until they were nose to nose. He felt one of Carlos' hands shift against the sheets, but it stopped short of reaching TK's skin, as if there were some invisible line there, incapable of being crossed. TK closed his eyes.

"Promise me something, please," he whispered.

"Anything."

TK opened his eyes, holding Carlos'. "Don't treat me any different than you did before you knew, okay? I'm the same as I've ever been. You just know a little more about me now."

Carlos bit his lower lip, his eyes searching TK's face. TK had to press him twice before he answered.

"I want to promise that," Carlos whispered. "I really do, TK. But… I don't want to lie, either. I don't know how to swear that I won't… hesitate. Or overthink things. Even now, I'm…" He sighed, looking down at the space between them. "I'm wondering how much is too much. How close is too close."

"Why don't you let me tell you that?"

"Will you be honest with me?"

"I've been honest so far tonight, haven't I?"

"Yeah," Carlos nodded. "You have been that."

"Okay. Then you trust me, and I'll trust you. And we'll go from there. Deal?"

Carlos nodded. "Deal."

A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm new to these two, but completely in love with them. Make my day and leave a review! :)