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“Okay, Officer Reyes, you’ll need to keep that strapped for a month, and we’ll be in contact shortly to arrange a follow-up appointment to check your progress.”
Carlos nods absently, flexing his hand in an imitation of one of the exercises the doctor had shown him. It sends a sharp pulse of pain through his hand, starting at his two broken fingers and ending somewhere in his wrist. The nurse discharging him smiles sympathetically as she hands over his paperwork.
“You might want to wait a couple days before starting on those,” she whispers, almost conspiratorially. “Trust me—I have experience in these matters.”
She winks, and Carlos snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, me too. Kinda. A few months back my fiancé—he was my boyfriend then—broke half his hand, and then rebroke it after it had healed because he’s an idiot who can’t take a day to rest.”
The nurse giggles, and Carlos has no idea why he’s telling her all of this. He chooses to blame it on the painkillers they gave him, though admittedly said painkillers were very mild and wouldn’t send him loopy enough to lose control of his tongue.
He just likes talking about TK, is all.
“Well, I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake, then,” the nurse says, patting him on the leg. “You’re good to go.”
Carlos thanks her and slides off the bed, grabbing his APD jacket from the chair it had been slung over. He pulls his phone out and checks his messages, smiling when he sees one from TK.
TK, 14.38: I get off in a few hours, see you tonight babe. Love you, stay safe x
Briefly, Carlos considers calling him and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and, unlike TK, Carlos did not injure his dominant hand. It barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He settles on a simple, Love you too xx , then pockets his phone, looking up and around to figure out where the exit is.
Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.
Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.
Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.
He’s considering ducking behind a pillar and waiting them out, but Nancy chooses that moment to appear next to TK, her eyes almost instantly landing on Carlos. He tries to frantically shake his head at her, but he’s too late; she’s already smacking TK’s arm and pointing right in Carlos’s direction.
TK’s head snaps up and his eyes instantly narrow upon catching sight of Carlos. He straightens, folding his arms, and raises a pointed eyebrow. “Carlos Reyes, you had better be here to question someone.”
Carlos then makes the fatal mistake—he plasters a smile on his face and raises a hand in a wave, realising too late that it’s his left.
AKA, the hand that is very obviously bandaged to hell.
TK doesn’t waste a second in striding over, shifting back into paramedic mode despite the blatant worry all over his face. Carlos sighs and bears it as TK gently takes his wrist, raising it to inspect the bandages.
“What’s the damage?” he murmurs, still looking at Carlos’s hand.
“Two broken fingers, and I have to keep them strapped up for a month before they want to review. It’s nothing, Ty.”
“ Nothing?” TK demands, taking a step back and staring Carlos down. “When I broke my hand last year it was ‘you need to be more careful, babe’, and ‘how do you keep getting yourself in these messes, babe’, and ‘I didn’t realise I distracted you to the point of injury, babe, maybe I should stay in the guest room for a while to make sure it doesn’t happen again’.”
TK pauses for breath, glaring as Carlos tries and fails to bite back laughter. He’d feel bad for all the teasing his boyfriend had endured back then, but, well, it had been funny.
“But now you’ve hurt yourself, suddenly it’s nothing?” TK huffs, a pout forming on his lips. “I’m not going to stand for this, I hope you know that.”
“Okay, first,” Carlos laughs, “even you have to admit that what you did was kind of funny. Second, it’s literally just two fingers and they’re going to heal up fine. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m barely hurt, and I didn’t want you to spend the rest of your shift worrying about me when you have an important job to do.”
TK softens and he glances down at his shoes, a small smile playing at his lips. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”
“Because I know you. And because it’s what I would be asking if I were in your shoes.”
A few seconds of silence pass between them—seconds of understanding and love—but the moment is broken by Nancy yelling TK’s name across the foyer.
“That’s my cue,” TK says, though he makes no move to step away from Carlos. He gives him a searching look, eyes lingering on his bandaged hand. “You sure you’re gonna be okay? I could—”
“Ty.” Carlos shakes his head, smiling gently. “Go. A couple broken fingers is not a good enough excuse to get you off your shift; I’ll get an Uber home and I promise not to do anything that would make it worse. I’m okay . I promise.”
TK sighs, still looking reluctant, but he seems to accept Carlos’s assurance. He takes his injured hand once more and presses a feather-light kiss to the back of it, cupping Carlos’s face gently. “For the record,” he says, “I always worry about you.”
Carlos leans into the touch, nuzzling into TK’s palm. “The feeling is mutual.”
Nancy calls for TK again, and they’re forced to break apart.
“I’m coming!” TK shouts back, and Carlos spots Nancy rolling her eyes behind TK’s back.
“You really had better go, babe,” he says, laughing. “I think Nancy might kill you if you don’t get back there right now.”
TK grumbles, but he does go this time, sparing one last smile back at Carlos. Carlos nods at him, trying to reaffirm the promise that he’s really, truly okay and, by the look on TK’s face, he understands.
But then, they always understand each other.
Eventually.