Ahhhh! My first fic in forever! A double fill for @badthingshappenbingo “vomiting” square and for @tarlosmonthlyprompts custom bingo “Grand Designs and Cuddles”. @noxsoulmate thank you for the beta and the title. 😘 thank you for reading!
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Carlos parks the Camaro as close to the bay doors as he can without actually being in the way, should an actual emergency occur while he’s inside.
He slips inside unnoticed and hurries up the stairs, running into Owen on the landing.
“Hey, how is he?” Carlos asks.
Owen shrugs and pats him on the shouler. “Good luck,” is his response. “But let me know if you need anything. I have a killer recipe for-”
“We will let you know, thank you,” Carlos says, ducking into the bunkroom.
Nancy and TK are both curled up on individual bunks with their backs to each other. Tommy is sitting at the edge of Nancy’s bunk, trying to get her to drink some water.
“Hey, guys,” Carlos says softly.
“Hi babe,” TK whispers. “We’re dying.”
Tommy rolls her eyes. “You’re not dying.”
“We’re dying,” Nancy agrees.
Carlos steps up to the bunk and runs a hand through TK’s hair. It’s sweaty and matted to his face but Carlos still presses a soft kiss to the top of his head. “So, what force of nature was strong enough to take down the most bad-ass paramedics I know?”
“The new deli on Columbus,” Tommy says, then adds, “Food poisoning.”
“Oh, shit,” Carlos murmurs. “How long does that take to clear up?”
“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours and he should start feeling like himself again. Bedrest should be fine, and you can give him some over the counter meds but keep him hydrated.”
Carlos nods solemnly. “Nance, do you need a ride home too?”
“I’m taking her home with me tonight,” Tommy says. “I just wanted to make sure you got TK picked up okay.”
“I’ve got him,” Carlos promises.
TK sits up too fast and groans pitifully; he braces his elbows on his knees and sucks in a couple deep breaths. He reaches out a hand and feels around blindly; Carlos grabs the emesis bag and shoves it under TK’s face and holds it for him while he vomits.
“Sorry,” TK murmurs. Carlos rubs his back, gently, and TK leans heavily against him.
Carlos winces as behind them, Nancy is also puking her guts out.
“Come on,” Carlos says, “let’s get you home.”
Tommy promises to clean up the bunk room, leaving TK to apologize pitifully again. Carlos grabs TK’s duffel and slings it over his shoulder, while steadying TK with his other hand. Tommy hands him another emesis bag for the road.
“Better take two, actually,” TK mutters. Carlos agrees and grabs a second bag, stuffing them both in his pocket.
Together, they make it out of the bunk room. TK climbs down the stairs slowly, with Carlos’ hand on the small of his back. He slides into the Camaro while Carlos tosses his bag in the back andby the time Carlos joins him, TK’s sitting stiffly in the seat, eyes closed and groaning softly.
“Hand me your seatbelt,” Carlos prompts.
TK takes a second but waves him off. “I’ve got it,” he mumbles. Carlos watches as he secures his seatbelt and then he does the same before pulling out on the road.
They have to pull over twice so TK can puke and Carlos isn’t quite sure how he can have anything left to get rid of; but maybe he doesn’t since the second time they stop, TK just dry heaves into the bag until Carlos coaxes him back into the car so they can finish their drive home.
Finally, they make it back to the loft, and TK slowly makes his way into the building and into the elevator, with Carlos close behind. They have the elevator to themselves and mercifully, the movement doesn’t make TK sick again.
As soon as Carlos unlocks the door, TK hurries inside and makes a beeline for the bathroom, stepping out of his shoes and dropping his hoodie on the floor along the way.
Carlos grabs his phone and finds his grocery delivery app. He knows his husband’s favorite flavor of Gatorade and orders half a dozen, some Pepto, saltines, and a case of water, leaving a hefty tip with the promise of more if they can deliver in less than an hour. Although the store’s not far, he’ll pay a little extra if it means not leaving TK home alone.
He puts TK’s shoes in the closet and cleans out his duffel bag, stashing it away until the next shift TK’s well enough to attend, although he knows it’ll be a few days.
Carlos grabs a bottle of water and TK’s pajamas, and then knocks on the door.
“Please don’t come in,” TK begs.
“I have water for you,” Carlos says.
The door opens a crack, just enough for TK to stick his hand through. Carlos hands him the items and TK murmurs a thank you before slamming the door shut again.
Carlos isn’t really sure what to do, other than stay close in case TK needs him, and he sits down on the sofa to wait. The groceries arrive in less than 45 minutes and Carlos shoves the Gatorade and some water in the fridge, glad to have something to do.
He decides to make himself some toast while he’s in the kitchen, so TK doesn’t have to watch him eat later and he also texts to check up on Nancy, knowing TK will want to know how she’s holding up.
Owen calls twice to check up on TK and honestly, Carlos is a little surprised he doesn’t just stop by the loft. Carlos assures him TK is fine and he seems to accept that answer, but tells Carlos to call him if they need anything.
Carlos finally relaxes when he hears the shower start and it isn’t long until TK emerges from the bathroom after that. He’s in the pajamas Carlos had given him, his hair is damp, and he still looks miserable.
“Hey, baby,” Carlos says.
TK whines and shuffles towards the couch. He curls up on his side, resting his head on Carlos’ lap. Carlos pulls the throw blanket off the back of the couch and covers his husband with it.
“Want to watch some TV?” Carlos asks, hoping to distract him long enough that maybe he can fall asleep.
TK nods and Carlos grabs the remote, turning the television onto reruns of their favorite show.
“Hey, let me get up and I’ll grab you some water or something,” Carlos offers.
TK shakes his head and snuggles impossibly closer to Carlos. “I’m okay,” he says. “I think. Have you heard from Nancy?”
“She’s doing okay too,” Carlos tells him, while running his fingers through TK’s hair. “Tommy says she hopes you feel better soon and your next two shifts are covered. And I’ve called in too.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” TK whispers. “But I’m glad you did.”
Carlos chuckles and slips his hand under the blanket, rubbing TK’s side.
While TK watches the TV, Carlos watches TK. He makes it just past the second commercial break before his eyes slip closed. Carlos relaxes just a little bit more and settles in. He’s a little too old to sleep on the couch - they both are - and he knows his back will scream at him tomorrow. But for now, he closes his eyes and hopes TK sleeps through the night.
Rating: G
Summary: When T.K. is unable to volunteer at Jonah's first Field Day, Carlos must take over. Is he prepared for the chaos that elementary school brings?
Carlos is woken from a dead sleep by the horrendous sound of retching coming from the bathroom. His first thought is Jonah, but then he realizes the sounds are much too big and loud for a tiny six-year-old body. Pushing himself upright he rubs at his eyes, clicking on the bedside lamp to find the mattress beside him empty. Shit.
“T.K.?” he says, getting to his feet, only to be met with another terrible heave and the sound of splashing. He grimaces and then braves pushing the bathroom door open to find T.K. on his knees in front of the toilet, gripping the bowl with all his strength as he empties his stomach.
Carlos immediately turns on the fan and then grabs a clean washcloth, setting it on the sink to wet with cool water when T.K. is ready for it. Carlos has only been a dad for three years, but he’s cleaned up a wild amount of puke in that time; there’s a procedure to be followed and he excels at it at this point.
“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asks.
T.K. shakes his head miserably and then dry heaves and Carlos takes his leave, heading down the hall to check on Jonah who is still sound asleep. Ziggy the tiger has fallen to the floor so Carlos picks him up and returns him to Jonah’s bed, tucking him against he bed rail so he doesn’t fall out again.
As he’s walking back to the master he hears the toilet flush and the sink run and a few seconds later T.K. stumbles out to collapse on their bed, his face pale and sweaty. “I shouldn’t have eaten those burritos,” he groans, clutching the duvet to him.
Carlos sits down on the mattress and runs a hand through his damp hair. “No, you probably shouldn’t have.”
