Tarlos: Bloody Cheek

                                    

                                          
If the idea is familiar it's because I read it on Ao3 somewhere and wanted to put my pwn spin on it. 
Normal dispatch to an arrest, is a phrase never spoken. This pillock passed out after running for ten minutes in the Texas sun and PD needed to cover their butts to make sure he was okay. "Alright TK check his ABC's, Nancy start him on fluids," Tommy ordered as she set up the heart monitor, "Strong vitals cap but extremely high temperature," "Understandable in this heat, how long was he running?" Carlos thought for a second, "About ten minutes I followed in the patrol car till he went down an alley," he admitted, it was 25°C none of them wanted to be there. "Hey he's starting to come round!" TK announced, probably not the best idea leaning over a guy who was running from the cops after attacking someone. Carlos's spidey-sense rang out f'ing alarm bells in his brain, he became overcome with the urge to shove TK out of the way. His gut was correct 99.9% of the time so he believed it. Diving forward Carlos pushed TK back planting himself over the fugitive, great timing too his eyes burst open and he sat up slashing at anything he could reach with a concealed razor blade. Carlos wrestled him around and thankfully into handcuffs, he was deemed medically fit to go sit in an air conditioned jail cell. 
Every police constabulary has one officer who does the bare minimum who no one can understand why they are still employed, in LA Mid Wiltshire it is the legendary Officer Smitty, in NYC it is also a Smitty, in Seattle it's Officer Dixon but in Austin it's Officer Yonks yet that is actually his name. Well he finally turned up 20 minutes after Carlos's request for back up. Everyone agreed it was stupid, "What took him so long?" Tommy enquired, "Probably peeing in the bin again," eyebrows raised, "Don't ask," he cut them off before turning to face them fully. TK's eyes went wide as the crimson liquid spilt down his face, "I got cut didn't I?" Carlos asked just now feeling the blood, "Yeah, follow us back to the firehouse we'll patch you up there," Tommy announced, TK tossed the rig keys to Nancy before opening Carlos's shop door, "Going with lover boy," "Shut up," he snapped ducking inside with Carlos.
Having the extra set of hands to keep the tissue supply coming was a great help, extra help that it was TK. "Why are we taking Carlos back to the firehouse and not the hospital?" Nancy ever so slightly aggressively asked, "Carlos hates hospital, he doesn't really like being touched according to TK so it's best to just let TK, and us, do it," perfectly reasonable explanation they concluded. "Right in the rig," TK ordered, his voice boomed like a drill sergeant, in the bedroom Carlos rules but he'll always listen to his subjects. "Sit," 'being treated like a dog, check,' Carlos thought to himself, he glanced TK up and down resisting the urge to savage him, down boy. TK turned back around gloved up armed with plasters, antiseptic wipe and anything else needed that Carlos didn't see. 
Drawing a deep breath he let TK gently start dabbing the sizeable cut on his cheek/lower face. TK pulled away, "Baby we're going to have to work together," TK sighed raising an eyebrow, glancing at open rig doors he got up and slammed them shut then promptly sat in Carlos's lap, "Woah T," "It's the only way to get you to stay still, hold my waist while I patch you up, unless you want to be dragged kicking and screaming into A&E," TK declared having enough of seeing his blood drip down his face. Carlos finally did as he was told and was patched up in five minutes, "Hey can you two stop being so adorably gay for five minutes to have lunch?" Paul shouted opening the rig doors. Ha ha Paul thanks.