#work injuries

He fires a few questions at him, too many all at once, and Carlos just gives him a blank stare while his brain tries to catch up.

“Okay, then,” TK grabs his chart and frowns as he looks over the chicken scratch.

“I want to go home,” Carlos whines as he shifts and attempts to swing his legs over the side of the gurney. The ice pack falls and makes a sad plop on the ground.

“They want to do a CT scan and then I think they’re admitting you,” TK says, settling him back onto the bed. He grabs the ice pack off the floor and shakes his head. “Gimme a sec.”

“Don’t leave,” Carlos begs.

“I’m gonna get you another. Give me just a minute.”

TK disappears and is back in less than a minute with a fresh ice pack, a little paper cup with a couple of pills, a plastic container of pudding, and a spoon.

“Wow.”

TK shrugs and smiles slyly. “Amber’s working so I-”

“You flirted?”

TK shakes his head and hands over the Tylenol. Carlos swallows them dry before TK can hand him a cup of water.

“I did not flirt.”

Carlos winces as TK places the ice pack behind his head. “Thanks,” he murmurs. He reaches up and holds the ice himself. As soon as TK’s hand is free, he gives Carlos’ thigh a squeeze and then grabs the pudding.

“Amber said they’re going to get you back for tests soon, and then they’ll get you upstairs for the night.” He carefully pulls the lid off the cup and sticks the spoon inside, offering it to his husband.

Carlos hesitates and TK sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Come on, you’re always a little queasy after Tylenol on an empty stomach and it was either this or orange jello.”

Carlos wrinkles his nose. Orange is the worst. He nods and TK takes the spoon, feeding him a bit of the pudding. He’s almost done with it when the nurse walks in pushing a wheelchair.

TK sets the cup aside and stands close by as Carlos transfers himself from the bed to the wheelchair. He manages to make it without help but reaches for TK as soon as he’s settled.

“I’ll be up as soon as they get you into your room.”

“You should go back and get some sleep,” Carlos says. “I’ll be fine here.”

“Absolutely not!” TK says. “I am, however, going to call your mother if you haven’t already.”

“Absolutely not!” Carlos echoes. “You should save that for tomorrow after I’m home because my head hurts too much to deal with her tonight.”

“It’s fine, Carlos, I can handle your mother,” TK assures him, pressing one more kiss to the top of his head. He pulls out his phone but watches as they wheel Carlos out of the room and into the elevator before he slinks into the waiting room to call his mother-in-law.

It’s mostly dark when Carlos opens his eyes again. There’s a sliver of light shining through the curtains. 

He's not quite sure how TK got the blackout curtains up without waking him, but he’s relieved. The pain in his head is better but not gone completely.

He rolls over and TK is there next to him, sitting up in bed, silently playing on his phone. 

“Hey,” he whispers. “How are you feeling, babe?”

“Still hurts, but I don’t feel sick anymore.” 

TK makes him take another sip of water, and he lays down again, resting his head against TK’s thigh. TK rubs his back and he shifts uncomfortably, unable to fall back asleep. 

“Want me to hold you?” TK asks. 

“Please.” 

“Okay,” TK agrees. He sets his phone aside before slipping under the covers. He curls his body around his fiancé, and Carlos is finally able to relax enough to fall asleep again.

2.

“Reyes!” Carlos stops dribbling the basketball and pivots toward the voice yelling his name. There’s an opening and he bounces the ball with force to his teammate. She catches it, then shoots, earning them another two points.

“Nice job!” 

He hurries over and gives Detective Jones a high-five before pausing at the benches and taking a large swig from his water bottle. 

He takes a second to peek at his phone. TK should be meeting him any time and they’ll walk home together. While he enjoys his weekly pick-up basketball game at the precinct with some of his fellow officers, he enjoys the evening walk home with TK more. 

They play for a few more minutes and he manages to make two more baskets for his team.

Having a moment to breathe between baskets, he pauses and pulls the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face, and as he does he hears a wolf whistle coming from the direction of the benches. He knows it’s TK, even without the accompanying playful teasing that comes from the guys.

Still, he looks over and smiles as TK takes a seat on the bench, ready to watch Carlos finish up his game. As he gives TK a little wave, he hears his name getting called and he turns, too late. Merely moments after he turns, his face explodes in pain.

Carlos staggers backward, and, in his daze, it takes a bit to realize the basketball is the culprit. He’s surrounded in a matter of seconds; by teammates trying to make sure he’s okay and, of course, TK. 

TK stops in front of him, trying to lead him to the bench and starting to assess the damage. A couple of officers run off to fetch ice and a towel while TK pokes at his face which doesn’t help as much as it hurts. 

He’s unsure what hurts more, his face or his pride, and he hisses in pain as TK examines him. He knows he’ll wind up swollen for a couple of days, but he just hopes nothing’s broken. 

Jones is back with the first aid kit and a clean towel, and TK uses it to wipe some of the blood off his face. 

“I don’t think your nose is broken,” TK says. “We should probably go to the hospital to be sure, though.” 

A patrol officer Carlos has worked with a few times, and the one Carlos is fairly certain threw the ball, returns with a bag of ice and offers to drive them, but he declines emphatically.

He hisses as TK presses the ice to his face. “I’m okay. It’s my fault. I should have been paying attention.”

“Instead of being distracted by your boy toy over there,” Lexi teases.

“Come on then, let’s get you home,” TK says. 

They take the ride offered by Carlos’ partner and promise to call her if they need anything. TK carries Carlos’ bag while he focuses on keeping the ice on his face, and they make their way into the elevator. 

“Sorry I distracted you, babe,” TK finally says. 

“It was my fault,” Carlos says. He settles on the sofa while TK rummages through the freezer. He finally joins Carlos on the sofa with a bag of frozen vegetables, and Carlos would laugh if he wasn’t sure it would hurt so much. 

TK just shrugs, “it’s softer than ice cubes. It’ll work.”

Carlos doesn’t care at this point, if it helps his face from swelling up and the pain is some of the worst that he’s ever felt - he’ll take it. He lays down, settling his head in TK’s lap, and TK gently places the bag of veggies on his face. 

“They’re not going to let you live this down, are they?”

“Not anytime soon,” Carlos admits.

3.

Carlos sits at the edge of the bed and pouts. He desperately wishes he was at home in his own bed, with TK’s arms around him. 

Instead, he’s all alone in the ER waiting for the doctor to return and finish his stitches - which is taking longer than he would like for it to.  

He wonders if his partner has called TK, or if that’s been left for him to do himself when they release him. He hopes that someone called TK and told him what was going on, with how slow the doctor was going he’s definitely going to be late for dinner and he doesn’t want TK to worry.

He’s nauseous and Carlos knows that’s a bad sign. He groans and his fingers lightly brush the plastic emesis bag the nurse had left for him before leaving him alone for a few minutes for the local anesthetic to kick in. He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths hoping that will help calm his stomach and when he opens them again TK’s standing just inside the curtain.

“Oh, babe,” TK crosses the small space between them and wraps his arms around Carlos.  

Carlos knows the look he’s getting from TK well. TK’s eyes and hands frantically roam over his body as he checks for any additional injuries that the doctors might have missed. TK never believes that Carlos is okay until he checks him out for himself.  

“I’m okay,” Carlos insists. “Just a little bump on the head.”

TK evaluates the wound on Carlos’ forehead. “I’m thinking that’s going to take at least five stitches, Carlos, that’s not nothing.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was serving papers and I don’t even know what happened.”

“You don’t know or you don’t remember?” TK frowns and he knows he should mention the concussion but instead Carlos just shrugs.

TK gives a little sigh as he hugs Carlos tightly. “Do you need anything?”

“Just you. I feel better now that you’re here.”

“You big softie,” TK teases.

“How does it feel to be on that side of the exam table?” Carlos asks.

“Not good,” TK murmurs. “I hate seeing you hurting.”

TK steps back as a nurse joins them, setting out everything they’ll need for the stitches. 

“Why are you sitting up, Mr. Reyes?” The nurse gently guides him so he’s settled back in the bed. “The doctor will be right in, and then we’ll get you checked in,” he says.

“You’re admitting him?” TK asks, surprised and he turns to look at Carlos. “What didn’t you tell me? Did you lose consciousness?”

“Twice,” the nurse chirps. “Once on scene and once in my ER.”

“Carlos!”

“I’m fine,” he insists. 

TK opens his mouth, likely to protest, when the doctor walks in. TK doesn’t argue, but slides to the head of the bed and sits, slipping his hand into Carlos’ for comfort.  He stays silent while the doctor stitches up Carlos’ forehead. It’s a quick affair and it doesn’t hurt the way Carlos expects it to, but Carlos squeezes TK’s hand the whole time.

“They’re almost ready for you upstairs, officer. We’ll keep you overnight for observation and do another CT scan in the morning.” The nurse pushes in a wheelchair and Carlos sighs.

“Another CT? How hard were you hit?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles. He clumsily slides off the bed and TK steadies him until he gets settled in the wheelchair whispering something about hospital policy.

“I’ll call your parents and then I’ll be up.” Carlos gives a half-nod, even though he really doesn’t want to be alone. 

It takes longer for him to change and climb into bed than he thought it would. Getting comfortable is a joke, but he tries to relax and wait for TK. He doesn’t have to wait long, however, TK joins him in minutes. 

“Tell me a story,” Carlos says, closing his eyes. 

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t walk to talk. I like hearing your voice,” Carlos explains.  

“Okay,” TK says. He joins Carlos in the bed that’s not really big enough for two, and talks.

+1

Carlos’ radio crackles to life.

“RA 126… We need APD assistance in the kitchen.” It’s Tommy’s voice, calm as always. He can vaguely make out Nancy’s voice in the background but she doesn’t sound as calm.  

He grabs another officer’s attention, a rookie, and turns him back toward the residence they had just cleared.

“Go,” he orders. He draws his firearm, holding it at a low ready, and follows him into the house.  The new officer stops suddenly, just past the threshold of the kitchen, and Carlos would have bumped into him if he hadn’t been on high alert.

Just past the rookie, he sees Nancy and Tommy kneeling - TK lying in a pool of blood between them.  

“Dude came up the basement stairs,” Nancy says, not taking her eyes off TK. “He had a knife.” She jerks her head towards the open screen door. “Went out the back.”

Carlos whips around, stepping towards the other officer. “I thought you cleared the basement?” he asks.

“I-I-I did!” He insists, taking a step away from a very angry Carlos.

Carlos cocks his head to the side and steps towards him, backing him against the counter. He sees Tommy coming towards them in his peripherals, but keeps his focus on the young officer. “You did? Then why is my husband-”

“Carlos!” Tommy’s hand is on his shoulder, gently pulling him back. “Let your sergeant deal with him.” Carlos glances to the side and sees TK reaching for him, despite Nancy’s efforts to keep him still.  

He turns back towards the rookie. “Get back up and search the area.” 

“Yes, sir.” Carlos steps aside and the younger officer hurries past, shouting into his radio. 

“TK?” Carlos turns and kneels at TK’s side, smoothing his hair back and caressing his cheek softly. Up close, it looks worse than he thought, but TK is moving and talking and laughing at him, so he hopes it’s not life-threatening.

“You were really giving him the business,” TK chuckles. 

“He had one job, TK, keeping you three safe.”

“Two outta three isn’t bad,” TK jokes. “Besides, I’ll be okay.”

“You always are.”

Carlos watches anxiously as Nancy and Tommy load TK onto a stretcher, prepping him for transport. 

“You coming?” Tommy asks. 

TK chuckles again. “That’s a dumb question. Of course, he is. I need him. He’s always here when I need him.”  Carlos follows Tommy and climbs into the ambulance.

The ride to the hospital takes ages and yet, in no time, TK is being ripped away from him and whisked up to surgery, and Carlos is shuttled to the waiting room with the rest of the 126. He tries to collapse into a chair but Paul stops him and pulls him into the bathroom, helping him wash the blood from his hands. 

He sits and waits, paces and waits, but mostly waits. 

“Mr. Reyes-Strand?”

“Yes?” Carlos jumps up. “Is he-”

“Surgery went well. He’s awake and asking for you.” Carlos sighs with relief and hurries down the hallway. “He needs to rest, but you can have a few minutes with him.”

Carlos agrees and before he steps into the room, he can see TK’s already reaching for him. 

“See, babe, I told you I’d be okay.”

“You did,” Carlos laughs and sniffles. “Are you in any pain?”

“A fair amount,” TK admits. 

Carlos starts to pull away. “I’ll grab the doctor.”

TK keeps a tight grip on his hand. “Later. Right now, all I want is you.”