Chapter Text
The warmth in the dark envelops him—a gentle touch that beckons him into the quiet. He becomes increasingly aware of the strong arms that wrap around him, TK’s body pressed against his back, cradling him, softly breathing into his neck, the pulse of his heart against Carlos’ bare skin.
It takes a few more moments for Carlos to register what dared disturb his gilded dream: the persistent chirping of birds outside their window, a melodic tune that greets the new dawn.
“Fuck you,” he murmurs, eyes closed, cursing the birds as he pushes back into his husband, who seems to still be lost in his reverie but tightens his arm around Carlos’ waist, holding him.
Carlos takes a deep breath; his alarm hasn’t gone off yet, and he still has time to enjoy this before facing the day. He doesn’t dare open his eyes; he doesn’t want to see the light of dawn creeping through the curtains, turning his brain on and breaking the spell. No, he wants his brain to be quiet. He lets his body feel safe and warm, wanting the moment to stretch just a little longer.
However, the more he tries not to think, the more his mind provides him with details of the day to come: preparing Jonah’s breakfast, kissing goodbye to TK, going to work, checking in with his mom, buying a present for Kevin—or was it Noah? Well, buying a present for Jonah’s friend whose birthday party is this weekend.
He wills his brain to stop thinking, focusing on the feeling of TK’s finger gently tracing a circular pattern over his heart, TK’s body sliding a little closer, pressing a soft kiss at the base of Carlos’ neck that makes Carlos shiver, TK’s cock sliding between his cheeks over the fabric of their boxers, hardening. And with that, he’s pretty much awake.
With a smile on his lips, he pushes into the hardness, his own cock rising at attention as he slides his asscheeks over TK’s length. A shuddering breath escapes TK, who thrusts his hips forward while holding Carlos still with his arm.
“Good morning, husband,” TK whispers, the word "husband" dripping like honey from his tongue, his lips brushing against Carlos’ ear, making Carlos swallow thickly in response.
He opens his eyes, finally seeing the light of the early morning softly flooding their room. He turns his head, meeting the handsome, sleepy face of TK, his lake-green eyes looking at him, his plush lips turned into a grin.
Leaning in, he meets TK with a kiss, gently biting his bottom lip, pulling it just a little with his teeth. “Good morning, mi corazón.”
He feels TK’s hand slide down his abdomen, his fingers leaving a scorching trail in their wake before reaching the hem of Carlos’ boxers, his cock twitching as TK teases him, his touch dancing just at the edge without committing.
A whine escapes him as he pushes back into TK, taking his hand in his own and gently guiding him to his cock.
“Oh, you want this, baby?” TK asks, freeing Carlos’ aching cock and wrapping his fingers around it, his thumb slowly teasing its head.
Nodding, Carlos lets go of TK’s hand and reaches for his husband’s boxers, searching for exactly what he needs this morning.
“I want this,” he whispers, cupping TK through his boxers while tracing a path with his tongue from TK’s neck to his jaw. The stubble tingles against his tongue, and the intoxicating scent of cedar and TK’s unique musk fills his nostrils, sending his mind into a spiral of desire as TK lazily strokes his cock.
“I want you too.” Words he will never tire of hearing; TK wants him, all of him: when he’s strong and steady, when he needs to be held and cherished, when he craves TK’s mouth, when he longs for him to fill him. “But we have to be quiet,” TK adds, capturing Carlos’ lips in another kiss, his tongue sliding into Carlos’ mouth, its wetness fueling the desire pooling within him.
A moan escapes him, muffled by TK’s mouth on his, as his husband moves his fingers to his rim, teasing him. TK chuckles as he peppers kisses along Carlos’ jaw before stretching to his nightstand to grab the lube.
With a moment of respite, Carlos sheds his boxers and looks down; he’s already leaking. His gaze drifts to TK’s cock, now at full attention as he removes his boxers. He’s captivated by it, long and proud, with a bead of precum glistening at the tip.
If they had more time, he would worship it with his mouth, teasing TK with his tongue until he’s wrecked and begging Carlos to stop pulling away, to stop halting them at the edge of desire. But they don’t have time, and waking up to TK holding him makes him want more—to be held as he fills him, to feel connected, to be cherished as he trusts the love of his life to make him feel safe.
Carlos shifts so that his back is pressing into TK’s chest feeling the ghost of TK’s lips trace a path up to his ear. “You ready?” he whispers, his fingers, now slick, tracing his rim, waiting.
The words become lodged in his throat, but he nods, feeling the pressure build as TK slides in, kissing his shoulder, his teeth grazing his skin. Ecstasy courses through him, but he bites down on his lip, stifling any sound; they can’t wake Jonah.
The first finger slides in easily, stretching him and sending ripples of pleasure through his nerves. “More,” he murmurs, turning to catch TK’s lips once more as he slides in a second finger, gently thrusting in and out before curling them. Carlos savors the taste in his mouth, his tongue tracing TK’s upper lip, only to gasp in his throat when TK thrusts deeper.
“More.” The word almost dies in his tongue; he feels himself slip into bliss already, the warmth of TK amplifying his pleasure.
“Just wait; I’ll take care of you.” A third finger pushes in, and the stretch burns for a moment, causing Carlos’ breath to hitch. His cock throbs, but he doesn’t want to touch himself; he needs TK to fill him.
He pushes deeper into the touch, but it’s not enough. “I’m ready,” he whispers; it comes out almost as a plea—something that would’ve made him embarrassed a long time ago, something he wouldn’t have even said, something that makes him vulnerable. But now, he’s held by the man who cherishes his heart, who lets Carlos say what he needs, and it’s TK that he needs.
“Alright, baby.” TK’s voice is low and husky as he withdraws his fingers slowly, then hooks an arm beneath Carlos’ leg, lifting it to expose him fully as he positions himself at Carlos’ entrance.
Carlos grips the sheets in anticipation , knuckles turning white as he feels the head of TK’s cock teasing him. “Can you look at me,” TK says gently, and Carlos complies, knowing TK wants to see the depth of his desire as he pushes in.
TK enters him slowly at first, and Carlos’ eyes flutter, embracing the burn that transforms into bliss, warmth pooling in his core.
“I need you to focus on me,” TK says. Carlos locks eyes with him, instinctively reaching for TK’s lips for another kiss as he pushes in further, going still a moment later to let Carlos adjust. With a gasp, their mouths part, and Carlos looks up at TK, mouth agape, exhaling heavily.
“God, you’re just perfect,” TK groans, his voice thick with need.
Wrapping his hand around TK’s neck, Carlos tugs him closer. “Move,” he growls, a primal need surging through him—he needs to feel him fully.
With a smirk, TK pulls back and thrusts in again, harder this time. The sudden fullness steals the air from Carlos’ lungs, and when TK drives deeper with another thrust, Carlos moans unabashedly.
Panic surges within him as TK goes still, pressing a hand against Carlos’ lips to prevent further noises, their eyes darting toward the door.
They hold their breath, hearts racing, gazes crossing the room as if their minds can somehow prevent the door from opening.
Please don’t wake up, Carlos thinks.
They’re naked in bed, TK deep inside him, the morning light caressing their skin. He quickly calculates his next move if Jonah were to burst in; he could reach for the sheets and cover them both in a heartbeat.
TK’s heart pounds in sync with his own for a moment longer, and then he looks at Carlos. “We’re fine. I’m sorry; I’ll go slower.” He removes his hand from Carlos’ mouth.
“Slower.” Carlos nods. “But go deep; I want to feel all of you.” He sees a flicker dancing behind TK’s eyes at his statement: hunger.
Slowly, TK moves, thrusting deeper each time with vigor, while Carlos bites his lip to stifle his moans, TK’s low grunts filling the room. The bed creaks slightly, the headboard gently tapping against the wall—just enough to serve as proof of their passion, but not loud enough for anyone outside the two of them to hear, Carlos hopes.
TK’s hand finds Carlos' cock, fingers slick with precum as he strokes in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. Each time TK pulls out, a whine slips from Carlos’ throat, immediately dispersed by the low moan that erupts when TK drives back in fully. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Carlos offers silent gratitude to the mockingbirds that heralded the dawn.
Their breathing gets heavier—deeper—and Carlos’ fingers jerk as ecstasy overwhelms him; his eyes lose focus, twisting the room into a swirl of dazzling, shapeless colors as TK relentlessly pushes into him, perhaps losing himself too in the heat of the moment. An unintelligible mumble drifts out of Carlos’ mouth, and TK grunts in response. They don’t need words; the touch of TK’s fingers on his fevered skin conveys everything Carlos needs—let go; I’m here.
He sinks his face into his pillow as a deep moan escapes his lips. His cock pulses, and his release splatters on the sheets, covering TK’s hand and Carlos’ own body as his hips stutter. TK soon follows, diving into Carlos’ neck and lightly biting him. With one last thrust, he grunts, filling him deep inside, flooding Carlos with bliss.
As they drift down from the heights of their lust, TK collapses onto him, still inside of him, wrapping Carlos in his arms, indifferent to the mess they’ve created. In a minute, they’ll clean it all up, but right now, Carlos wants to be held—to extend his escape from the world outside for a moment longer.
“I love you,” TK whispers, out of breath, planting a kiss on Carlos’ cheek.
He can’t help but grin as he inhales TK’s presence. “I love you too,” he murmurs as TK threads his fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp and turning his head into a puddle of goo, just like his weightless limbs that he can’t even move right now.
“I need to get out of you or I’ll end up glued inside,” TK chuckles, and despite the thought flickering a light on in Carlos's mind, it would be inconvenient—perfect, but inconvenient.
He feels TK slip out, and the slow trickle follows. As TK carefully stands up, he looks at Carlos. “I’ll be right back.”
He watches TK disappear into the bathroom. Shortly after, he hears him turn on the water.
Carlos tries stretching toward his phone, but he doesn’t have full control of his hand yet, and he ends up patting the bed, his finger twitching until he gives up and just lies there, naked, staring at the ceiling as he smiles to himself—how is he supposed to go to work when his limbs don’t work?
“Hey.” He’s almost startled by TK’s voice; he hadn’t noticed him coming back. “You still alive?” TK has a wet towel in hand and is already kneeling beside him.
Carlos reaches for the towel, only to have his hand gently swatted away. “Barely. I think you rendered me useless for the day,” he chuckles,
As TK starts meticulously cleaning every inch of his skin, he looks up at Carlos with a grin. “Then I did my job right.”
The morning light filters in through the blinds, forming fragmented pools of light that Carlos traces with his finger over the pages of the files scattered across his desk. The warmth of the sun on his back is a poor substitute for TK's embrace, for the pressure of his arms around him, for the pleasure of having him inside.
With a sigh, Carlos leans back into his chair, the creaking sound reverberating through the quiet hum of the room. He closes his eyes for a moment, his mind still unable to focus—he’s too lost in the haze of the early morning; the path back to reason and logic eludes him.
Yet, his senses are sharp: he hears the constant ticking of the clock on the wall, the distinctive voice of Chief Graham talking on the phone in his office, and the footsteps—the unmistakable rhythm of Campbell’s strut—making their way toward his desk, along with the aroma of what he calls 'coffee' reaching Carlos' nostrils.
“Reyes? Is that a hickey?” Campbell’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and Carlos opens his eyes to find Campbell looking at him, wearing a light-blue button down with a charcoal gray tie, taking a sip of his coffee and half-masking the grin twisting his lips.
Looking around to see if anyone heard, Carlos straightens up and quickly presses a hand to his neck, where TK’s teeth have marked his skin—a spot Carlos noticed after his shower, fully aware that it was too high on his neck to hide under his shirt. TK looked proud of his work, and Carlos promised to reward him properly next time—a vow that made TK shiver, knowing what it meant: he would end up not being able to walk without feeling the ghost of Carlos inside him.
Before he can think of a reply, Campbell nods in approval. “Nice.”
Carlos clears his throat, heat creeping up his neck. Sometimes, being in the Texas Rangers reminds him of being in high school, especially with the guys teasing each other at every chance—a form of bonding that he doesn’t quite dislike—but he’ll make sure to hide the mark in the coming days.
“Did you need something?” he finally manages to ask, reluctantly removing his hand. His eyes drift to the files in front of him, and his fingers turn the pages as if Carlos had any idea what was inside or what he was looking for.
“Just wanted to say hi.” Campbell leans against the desk, watching Carlos with a playful glint in his eyes—one that conveys all his twelve years of age.
Carlos straightens up, pressing his lips together as he withstands Campbell’s smirk. “Grow up,” he says, rolling his eyes.
A chuckle escapes Campbell, who lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just glad you had a good—”
“Campbell, Reyes!” Chief Graham’s voice interrupts whatever Campbell was about to say, and Carlos' head snaps up toward Graham’s office. He’s in the doorway, looking over at the two of them, and once they meet his gaze, he nods for them to come over.
Carlos gives a questioning glance to Campbell, who quickly finishes his coffee. He puts the mug down with a soft thud on his desk before making his way to Graham.
Carlos quickly closes the file and follows suit. A small part of him, the nervous, anxious part, wonders if they are about to be reprimanded, if someone complained about Carlos’ appearance at work due to a hickey on his neck. Though the thought is quickly put aside—Campbell has nothing to do with it; it has to be something else.
Chief Graham’s office is neatly organized; the wooden surface of his desk is polished to a shine, reflecting the soft glow of the overhead lights. A few framed photographs hang on the walls, giving a glimpse of the chief’s achievements. A large leather-bound chair sits behind the desk, while two smaller chairs face it, to which Chief Graham gestures for them to sit down as they enter.
Carlos takes a seat, trying to maintain his composure despite the chief’s slightly furrowed gray brows, while Campbell leans back casually.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Graham begins, his tone serious as he leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk. “We have a problem. Early this morning, one of our informants contacted Ranger Thompson.” He stops and straightens himself, and Carlos’ mind starts working: Ranger Thompson—they worked together last year, raiding a drug lord’s hideout that ended up with arrests and deaths. Is this related to that?
“Daniela Ruiz is back in the picture,” Graham continues.
Daniela Ruiz. The name whispers in his mind: they had hoped to catch her last year, but she disappeared before they had the chance. Her husband, on the other hand…
He chances a glance at Campbell, who’s looking right back at him, his lips pressed into a thin line—no doubt the name also flickered a light in his mind.
“Back in the picture?” Carlos asks. Ruiz and her men scattered after last year; her influence waned, and her territory was contested by others, she lost everything.
Graham slowly nods. “Our informant wanted to warn us: she’s not looking to reclaim what was hers; she’s looking for you,” he says, pointing a finger at both of them. “For you two, and for Thompson. All of the Rangers—”
“Involved in her husband’s death,” Carlos provides.
“Yes.”
Carlos starts slowly tapping his finger on the chair, the rhythmic sound serving as a backdrop for the fear flooding his chest. He’s a target, apparently, and this could mean danger for TK and Jonah. He resists the urge to reach for his phone to check in with TK; his last text was less than thirty minutes ago—he’s fine, he has to be, but for how long?
A dry chuckle escapes Campbell. “Is this information even reliable?” He looks at Graham and then at Carlos, his confident smile betrayed by the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
“Thompson reported suspicious activity near his home three days ago. I talked to him, he’s moving to a safe base to coordinate the operation.”
The news slowly starts sinking in, and Carlos’ gaze drifts toward the closed blinds, wondering if Graham closed them to conceal Carlos and Campbell’s presence in the event that they are being watched. “Okay. What’s the plan?”
“Until we learn more, I want you two out of sight. As a precaution, I’m not about to let Ruiz put her hands on any of my Rangers.” Graham’s voice is steady, imbued with the confidence that almost makes Carlos feel safe. But safety is a fleeting illusion in this line of work, especially if they are targets. Risking his life during Ranger operations is one thing, but Ruiz could reach him at home, when he’s in the shower with TK, or when he’s picking Jonah up from school—his stomach knots at the thought.
“What about our families?” Campbell asks, taking his phone out of his pocket, his fingers gliding over the screen—Carlos doesn’t need to see to know he’s checking in on Ashlyn.
“We’ll keep y’all safe, I swear, Campbell. We have protocols for this, protocols I’ve already set in motion. You’ll go to a safe house as a precaution. This may be nothing, but it could very well be something—”
“I’m not hiding,” Campbell protests, rising to his feet. “Not when my wife and kids are in danger.” He looks at Carlos. “Are you going to hide, Reyes?”
The knot in Carlos' stomach tightens, suffocating him. He glances at Chief Graham, who remains steady—calm but serious. This is not a game, and they both know it. Carlos has only one thought driving his heart.
“My first priority is that TK and Jonah are safe,” Carlos finally says through the swirl of uncertainty clouding his mind. “I’m not hiding either. Once they are in a safe location, I want to be a part of the investigation.”
He sees the grin of approval Campbell throws his way. If this is real, the two of them can take Ruiz down, they are ones who did it once already, and they can make sure their families are safe.
“I’m not asking for your opinion, Rangers. I will not put you two in danger.” Graham’s voice is filled with authority as he stands up to meet Campbell eye to eye.
Carlos leans forward. “Sir, with all due respect—”
“You know we’re not going to sit back and watch,” Campbell interjects, his challenging tone making Carlos’ nerves tingle. “We don’t have to be in the thick of it, but let us at least work on it from the sidelines,” he adds, shifting his voice to be respectful when Graham glares at him.
Silence envelops the room; in the stillness, Carlos hears his heart pumping in his ears. They are wasting time. If this is real, they need to act now. Jonah’s at school; TK should be home. Moving them to a safe location will take time, and he can’t do it alone. Graham mentioned he has already set something in motion, but it’s not enough.
“Sir,” Carlos tries again. “We need to act fast. Campbell and I know Ruiz; we worked on her case for months. We have informants who trust us. Let us work on this.” A ‘please’ lingers at the tip of his tongue. He steels himself as he holds Chief Graham’s gaze; he doesn’t trust anyone else to work on this case, not when TK and Jonah could also be targets.
Graham studies him, the room closing in, his heartbeat ticking away as a trickle of sweat makes its way down his spine.
“Alright,” Graham finally concedes. “We’ll discuss the details once your families are safe. But I don’t want either of you taking unnecessary risks. If I even get a hint that you’re working behind my back, I’ll have you out of the Rangers faster than you can say ‘damn.’ Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” both he and Campbell reply.
“Good,” Chief Graham nods. “Campbell, I’ve assigned Harris to you. Reyes, Prescott is your contact. You’re to avoid contact with one another unless it’s a life-or-death situation for now. We’ll regroup once Ashlyn, TK, and the kids are safe.” Hearing his husband’s name spoken out loud sends a fresh wave of dread through Carlos, but he manages a nod, mumbling, “Yes, sir,” before stepping out of the office.
As he makes his way to his desk, he locks eyes with Campbell and shares a determined nod. They’ve got this; they have to. The stakes are too high for anything less.
The lights flicker in and out of existence as Carlos makes his way through the underground parking lot. With each footstep echoing on the concrete, the shadows stretch and twist around the columns, forcing Carlos to grip the car keys tightly, grounding him amidst the unease creeping up his spine.
He stops, turning around to scour the quiet; the hum of the ventilation system is the only sound breaking the stillness. He’s alone down here, and that’s for the best; he can leave work without anyone knowing he’s getting into a different car—an SUV provided by the department. With its tinted windows, he can keep a low profile. He needs to get to Jonah quickly, then reach TK.
As he gets into the driver’s seat, the lights above him flicker and then die, leaving him exposed in the darkness as the interior light acts as a beacon for the shadows.
He swallows hard, his breathing quickening as his mind fills in the empty spaces in the dark. “Get a grip,” he mutters to himself as he starts the car. The headlights beam sweeps away the darkness with ease, revealing nothing but emptiness as the monsters conjured by his mind are dispelled.
He’s panicking. He knows he is, and he can’t allow himself to do that. Though he can’t keep his heart from racing, his chest from tightening, he can still control his mind—focus. Jonah and TK, they are all that matter.
As he emerges from the ramp on the backside of the building, he dials TK’s number on his burner phone. Each ring echoes his rising anxiety, and he grips the steering wheel tightly as he merges onto the road, willing TK to answer. The seconds feel like hours, but finally, a familiar voice breaks through the tension, making his heart beat once more.
“Hello?”
Carlos lets out a shaky breath, his heart racing as he hears the warmth in TK's tone.
“Babe, it’s me.” His eyes dart to the rear-view mirror, scanning for any signs of pursuit. The car he's driving is unfamiliar, offering a sliver of comfort, but he can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
“Hey, baby! Everything okay?” TK’s voice is bright, and Carlos can picture him with his hair tousled in that endearing way that always makes Carlos smile.
“TK,” he breathes out, urgency lacing his tone. “I need you to listen to me closely.” He comes to a halt at a red light, the world outside blurring as he weighs his options. But taking an alternative route is a risk he can't afford—he has to get to Jonah fast.
“What’s going on? Is Jonah okay?” The lightness in TK’s voice evaporates, replaced by a creeping concern.
“He’s fine. I’m on my way to get him.” Carlos swallows hard, his pulse quickening. “Listen, TK, a Ranger is about to knock on our door. I need you to do as she asks. I’ll stay on the line until I know you’re with her.”
“Why?”
“I can’t explain over the phone. I need you to trust me: prepare a bag for you and Jonah, then turn off your phone and leave it in our home.”
A heavy silence stretches between them, filled only by the sound of TK’s breathing as he processes the gravity of Carlos’c words. “Carlos, you’re scaring me,” he finally murmurs.
“I know, I’m sorry.” Carlos closes his eyes for a brief moment, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I promise it’s going to be okay. Please, just do it.”
He hears TK inhale sharply, then the resolve in his voice returns. “Okay.”
Carlos feels a lump forming in his throat. “I love you,” he says, trying to imbue his voice with confidence to dispel the fear that must be gripping TK’s chest.
"I love you too.”
The silence between them lingers for a few seconds as unspoken words fill the air: words of fear and worry, words of love and affection.
“I hear knocking; I think she’s here,” TK says, his voice a mere whisper now.
“Get close to the door, but don’t stay in front of it. Move to the side and ask who it is.”
Carlos can hear the rush of footsteps, the soft padding of TK’s shoes echoing through the phone.
“Who is it?” TK calls out, his voice steady despite the tremor beneath.
Carlos strains to hear the muffled response on the other side of the door. The words are indistinct, swallowed by the barrier between them.
“She said she’s Anita Prescott.”
“It’s her, let her in and do as she says. Stay alert, remember to leave this phone behind. I love you, mi vida.” The words spill out, a desperate plea and a promise all wrapped in one.
“I love you, babe. Go get our Jonah,” TK replies, the strength in his voice acting as a lifeline before he closes the call.
Carlos takes a deep breath, steeling himself for a second before he dials another number: his mom—he will keep them all safe.
“Away from the window, Mr. Strand.” Prescott’s voice cuts through the eerie quiet of midday, and TK removes his fingers, which he had been using to peek through the blinds, looking for signs of Carlos’ arrival with Jonah.
It’s been an hour since he got here, at a suburban house somewhere in Austin; he couldn’t even tell exactly where he is. Prescott made sure to take a few detours through side roads, crossing a parking lot and giving TK little to no information about this place, or what’s going on exactly—all he knows is that it’s serious, and he has to follow Prescott’s directions.
It looks like an ordinary home from the outside: a neat, two-story structure with beige siding and a well-manicured lawn. Flower beds lined with marigolds and petunias frame the front porch, and a white picket fence encloses the property. It all seems so mundane, yet from the inside, anyone would notice the reinforced locks, the double glass windows that TK assumes would stop bullets, and the cameras nestled in the corners of each room. “It’s a temporary safe place,” Prescott had said when she stepped inside.
He feels Prescott roughly tug at his arm, pulling him further back into the living room. It’s warm and cozy, with a large sectional sofa and an overstuffed armchair adorned with plush pillows. An old wooden coffee table sits in the center, with a couple of books spread out on top of it. A fireplace on the right side of the room frames the space perfectly, if it weren’t for the absence of pictures, family heirlooms, and trinkets that truly make a home feel lived in.
“Ranger Reyes will be here shortly,” Prescott says, and TK finally turns to her: a middle-aged woman, brown hair streaked with gray pulled back in a ponytail, wearing navy cargo pants and a fitted black t-shirt. She’s constantly assessing every corner, never letting TK out of her sight, stoic and precise—Carlos definitely likes her.
Sitting down in an armchair, TK rubs his face, his heart pounding against his ribs. He should’ve driven to Jonah’s school; he should’ve met Carlos there. “How long are we supposed to stay here?” he asks, glancing at the corner of the room where his and Jonah’s bags lie on the floor—he should’ve picked something for Carlos too, but his mind wasn’t focusing.
Prescott doesn’t move from where she is, standing to his right next to the doorway that leads into the hallway. “A couple of days at most. Enough time to prepare the safe house and set up a team to keep you safe.”
“A couple of days,” TK echoes, falling quiet right after and tapping his foot on the soft rug beneath him, following the rhythm of his ever-quickening heartbeat. He sinks further into his seat, navigating what he knows: Texas Rangers, safe houses, direct protection for him, Jonah, and Carlos—his husband must have attracted unwanted attention.
Why Prescott won’t tell him more, he doesn’t know. Perhaps she can’t; it would defy her orders, or perhaps she doesn’t know much either if this is all new. She made a call right after they arrived, informing someone—her superior probably—that TK was with her. Maybe she’s waiting for orders or further details from Carlos; to TK’s understanding, these are the first hours of the operation—if "operation" is even the right word for it.
“Do you want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?” TK turns to look at Prescott, who’s circling around the room and maintaining the respectful distance that she has kept for the past two hours that TK has known her—well, except when she manhandles him around when she doesn’t like where he stands, apparently.
Shaking his head, he mumbles, “No thanks.” Even his skin is itching. Is Jonah safe? Did Carlos pick him up? Prescott would know if something happened, right? He starts chewing on his fingernail to fight the echoing ticking of the clock somewhere in this damn house, which pokes at his heart with each passing second, reminding him that he has no answers.
“Do you—any news?” he asks, glancing toward the window and resisting the urge to return to the blinds.
Prescott pauses, narrowing her eyes as she assesses him. “You’ll see them soon,” she replies, her tone firm but not unkind. “You need to stay calm; worrying won’t change anything.”
A dry chuckle escapes his lips. “Easy for you to say,” he mumbles, frustration bubbling to the surface. Prescott just looks at him, her face unamused, and TK bites his tongue, drifting off to look at Lou in his new temporary spot: a dark wooden high table pushed against the northern side of the room. Surprisingly, Prescott was very supportive of the idea of bringing Lou with them, not that TK would have ever left without him.
He suddenly hears the engine of a car approaching, and he rises to his feet, his gaze naturally moving toward the closed blinds over the window. The car stops shortly after, and as Prescott moves to the window to look outside, TK hears the unmistakable pattering of Jonah’s feet on the ground.
There’s a knock on the door, and he steps into the hallway. Prescott moves ahead of him, locking eyes with him. “They’re here,” she says, and despite TK already knowing it, the confirmation floods him with relief, his eyes stinging as he tries to compose himself before Jonah—or Carlos—sees him.
He stands just behind Prescott as she opens the door, revealing Carlos, who’s wearing casual clothes, a baseball cap, and sunglasses, a tentative smile on his face as he stands in the daylight. He holds Jonah’s school bag in one hand, his frame towering over Jonah’s, shielding him even from the sun. Despite the smile he’s attempting to wear, tension is visible in his shoulders, and worry is etched on his features. TK forces a smile as he meets Jonah’s gaze. At first, Jonah stares in surprise at Prescott, but as soon as he notices TK behind her, he rushes forward.
“TK!” he shouts, slamming into his legs and wrapping his arms around his waist.
He hugs him back. “Hey Jojo, everything okay at school?” He pushes the words through the threat of his tears, the tension in his chest loosening as he has physical proof that Jonah and Carlos are okay.
As he ruffles Jonah’s hair, Carlos gets closer, his sunglasses now resting on his chest, tucked into the collar of his shirt. He presses a kiss on TK’s temple, his hand lingering on the small of his back. TK can’t help but lean into him, managing a deep breath to calm his nerves, filling his nostrils with Carlos’ scent.
Jonah looks around, his face scrunching up. “Is this our new home?” he asks, looking up at them with questioning eyes.
A shiver runs down TK’s spine. He’s not sure how to respond to this, not when he doesn’t have any details on what’s going on.
He briefly glances at Carlos as he shakes his head. “No, buddy. We’ll only stay here for a couple of days.”
He hopes this will satisfy Jonah; maybe he won’t press for more. TK doesn’t even know what Carlos has told him so far.
Jonah seems to ponder for a moment, then his attention shifts to Prescott, who is moving down the hallway, phone to her ear.
“Can I play with my Switch?” Jonah asks, moving away from them to peek into the living room
“Of course. It’s in the red bag.” TK points toward one of their bags on the far end of the couch, and Jonah immediately pads toward it, looking for his Switch.
As Jonah gets settled on the couch, Carlos slides his hands to TK’s sides, gently turning him to face him.
“Hey,” Carlos says, his grip tightening as if he never intends to let go.
Immediately, TK places his hand on Carlos’ shirt, gripping the fabric as he leans in, their lips meeting in a quick kiss that fuels TK’s heart.
“What is going on, Carlos?” TK’s voice is a whisper, making sure Jonah doesn’t overhear their conversation.
Carlos briefly presses his lips together, looking over at Jonah on the couch, then guides him further into the hallway.
“It could be nothing,” he begins, taking TK’s hands in his. “But as a precaution, the Texas Rangers are setting up a safe house.”
“Precaution for what?”
“A drug lord may be targeting some Rangers, including me.”
The words strike him right in the chest, a ripple of dread creeping under his skin, tethering his legs to the floor. A drug lord. This is serious—he knew it was serious, but this is worse.
He rubs his thumbs over Carlos’ hands, trying to conceal the slight tremble rocking through his . “Targeting you? For what?”
Carlos takes a deep breath. "My team took out a significant player last year, Daniela Ruiz. It seems she’s back in the picture, and she might be looking for revenge."
“And she wants you… and us,” he breathes, feeling the air leave his lungs. He can’t help but look at Jonah, blissfully unaware of the danger lurking outside this house.
Carlos’ fingers find their way to TK’s cheeks, and TK turns to him again, meeting Carlos’ eyes. “I’m hoping she doesn’t know about you and Jonah,” Carlos says, his voice steady. “But to be safe, we need to stay out of sight.”
A terrifying thought creeps into TK’s mind. “What about your mom? And your sisters?” he presses, giving in to the panic tearing at his skin.
“My mom is already on her way to Houston, and the same goes for Ana. They’ll stay with Luisa for the time being.”
TK nods, finally giving in and resting his head on Carlos’ shoulder, his face pressed into his neck. Carlos wraps his arms around him, holding him close.
“She won’t touch you, not as long as I draw breath,” Carlos vows, but it doesn’t make things better; if anything, it makes it worse. Not that TK doubts he means it, but Carlos may be prepared and trained for this. How is TK supposed to protect him?
“What do we tell Jonah? What about school?”
Carlos presses his lips to TK’s cheek, the warmth momentarily bringing him back to this morning. In just a few hours, their world seems to have collapsed.
“He can keep up with schoolwork; we have his textbooks. We tell him that you’re going on vacation for a few days, and if things get worse—”
“What do you mean?” TK cuts in, parting from Carlos slightly to look him in the eye. “You’re coming with us, right?”
He doesn’t need Carlos to voice his answer; all it takes is the way his gaze falters, the slight tightening of his jaw, and TK’s heart drops further.
TK takes a step back, Carlos’ hands sliding to his forearm to keep him close. “TK—”
“Don’t. No bullshit—” He stops, rubbing a hand over his mouth as he tries to keep his voice down. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re coming with us.” It’s half an order, half a plea; how is he supposed to go through this without Carlos by his side? How can he leave him alone and exposed?
“TK, I can’t. I have a target on my back, and I need to find her before she finds us,” Carlos reasons, taking half a step forward. But TK averts his gaze, biting his lip as anger, pain, and fear swirl inside him.
What if Carlos gets injured or killed when TK is not there with him? Why does he always want to shoulder everything alone? They could leave it to the Rangers; they could go somewhere safe together and at least keep a semblance of normalcy—for them, for Jonah.
“If I’m with you and she finds me… I don’t want to think about what she could do to you.”
“Oh, so you just decide to leave us?” TK snaps, the words bursting forth before he can rein them in. Instantly, he regrets it—it’s not what he wanted to say, and it’s far from the truth. Carlos’ eyes widen, hurt flaring deep within them.
“I’m not leaving you,” Carlos says softly. “I’m protecting you and Jonah—keeping you safe is my priority, even if it means being away for a while.”
The tension in TK’ chest tightens once more. “What about you? Who’s going to keep you safe?” he retorts, his voice rising.
Carlos cups TK’s face in his hands, his thumb brushing over TK’s cheek. “I can handle myself—”
“No. You don’t get to dismiss me like this. You want to protect me? Well, you can do it by staying with us!”
“Are you fighting?” Jonah’s innocent voice cuts through the thick atmosphere, drawing their attention. He stands in the hallway, Switch clutched tightly in his hands, his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you crying?” he asks, eyes wide as he steps closer to TK.
Only then does TK feel the wet trail of tears on his cheeks; he had felt his eyes stinging, his heart weeping, but he didn’t realize he had let go. Quickly, he wipes his tears with his hand.
“No, no, buddy, we’re just… having a discussion,” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he kneels to Jonah’s level.
“Just grown-up stuff,” Carlos adds, though his voice lacks conviction.
Jonah studies them both. “Okay…” he says slowly, clearly unconvinced.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Prescott’s voice reaches them from down the hallway, and TK turns to her. He didn’t hear her approach; this woman is unnervingly quiet when she wants to be, it seems. “Ranger Reyes, we have work to do,” she says plainly, keeping her distance from their family.
With a nod, Carlos looks at Jonah, then TK. “We’ll talk later?” His eyes search TK’s face, as if looking for permission from him to pause their conversation.
“Yeah, later.” TK forces a smile for Jonah’s sake, despite the taut thread of tension between them. “I love you,” he adds. He may be upset, but he’ll make sure to tell him every chance he gets, even if they are still under the same roof, even if it’s not nearly enough to convey what he feels for Carlos.
“I love you, both of you,” Carlos replies before clearing his throat and walking with Prescott toward the kitchen, casting a last glance at TK.
As TK watches them disappear behind the doorway, he feels Jonah tugging at his shirt. “Do you want to play Mario Party with me?” he asks in a small voice.
“Of course!” TK agrees, trying to shift the mood that lingers in the hallway. “Go get set up; I’ll be right there.”
“Okay!” Jonah’s face lights up, and he darts back to the living room before TK can even rise to his feet.
For a moment, he stays there, taking a deep breath as he looks at himself in the mirror: his eyes shimmering in the reflection. He needs to keep it together—easier said than done when his heart is caught between fear and love. He knows that Carlos is right; he’s doing this to protect them, but the thought of him alone and in danger... Who is going to protect Carlos? The Rangers? Would any of them take a bullet for him like TK would without a second thought?
He rubs his eyes, lightly slapping his own cheek to regain control of his body. He steps into the living room and sits down next to Jonah on the couch. Jonah looks up at him and beams. In the fog wrapping around his mind, TK wonders how he’s going to tell Jonah that Carlos will be leaving them for some time. For now, however, he keeps that to himself; both he and Carlos need to be there—together—to inform Jonah.
He reaches for the controller that Jonah eagerly offers, the smooth plastic cool against his fingertips. He focuses his gaze on the flickering screen, trying to immerse himself in the game. He hopes to grant Jonah a few more precious moments of blissful unawareness, even as his thoughts are pulled like a magnet toward the kitchen, where Carlos is.
Jonah is nestled deeply against TK’s side on the couch, utterly lost in sleep, his small frame rising and falling with each peaceful breath. With Jonah cradled in his protective embrace, TK can’t help but wonder if his arms are strong enough to keep him safe and if his presence will be enough once they are separated from Carlos. For three years, they took care of Jonah together; now he’s supposed to do this alone? He squeezes his arm around Jonah, who snuggles closer in his sleep, his small hands gripping TK’s shirt—it’s a sight that makes his heartbeat quicken, the thumping echoing through tangled thoughts.
Prescott emerges from the dimly lit hallway, walking past the living room and exiting the front door without even sparing a glance in TK’s direction. Perhaps Prescott believes that by maintaining this distance, she’s allowing Jonah to live free of complications, but for TK, it heightens his anxiety. How can he feel at ease knowing a stranger—whose sole purpose seems to safeguard them—exists in the same space yet remains so detached?
The wooden floor creaks softly, and despite the dimness, TK instinctively knows it’s Carlos making his way down the hallway. Of course, he’s the only one in the house with them, but it’s the way each step is measured and deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’s trying to tread lightly through the unspoken tension that fills the air, that tells him it’s him; he would know his husband’s walk anywhere.
“TK,” Carlos whispers as he peeks into the living room, his lips twisting into a smile the moment his eyes land on the two of them on the couch. The dim light of the television—paused on the menu of Mario Party—casts a soft glow over TK and Jonah.
“Hey.” TK manages only one word through the lump in his throat, finding the courage to pat the couch next to Jonah, hoping Carlos will join them and wrap an arm around them, strengthening their fortress.
It takes less than a split second for Carlos to join them. He stops to catch TK’s lips in a tender kiss that tastes like coffee before settling next to Jonah. As if he read TK’s mind, he wraps an arm around TK’s shoulder, pulling him closer with Jonah safely resting between them.
They don’t speak, and TK lets himself float in the warmth of Carlos’ strength, resurfacing his belief that not only would they be safer with him, but he would also be safer with them. He turns to look at Carlos, meeting his warm eyes full of love. The tension in Carlos' lips prevents TK from pressing the subject; Carlos made his choice, and despite the gnawing pit in TK’s stomach, this moment could be the last one with the three of them together for a while.
Leaning in, Carlos whispers in TK's ear, his voice barely audible. “Dinner is ready; we should wake him up.”
“Okay.”
Carlos removes his hold on TK, moving his hand to caress Jonah’s cheek. “Buddy, dinner is ready,” he murmurs, and Jonah stirs slightly.
“There he is,” Carlos adds, smiling at the sight of Jonah blinking up at him. Jonah moves his gaze between Carlos and TK, beaming as he realizes they are all together.
“Are you hungry?” TK asks, earning an energetic nod in response. “Go wash your hands, then,” he says with a smile.
They watch Jonah leap off the couch and scamper down the hallway toward the bathroom. Once they are alone, Carlos rises, gently taking TK’s hands in his own, helping him up from the couch.
“We need to tell him,” Carlos begins, his tone serious. TK bites his lip at the thought, his gaze falling to the floor as the weight of the situation settles heavily upon them. “Prescott should be back soon with new IDs for both of you. We have to talk to Jonah; I don’t want to frighten him. He doesn’t need to know everything, but…” Carlos' voice trails off.
Feeling the gentle pressure of Carlos' hand on his chin, TK's head is lifted, their eyes locking. “New IDs…” TK whispers. “This feels like… like we’re in witness protection or something.”
“I know it sounds that way,” Carlos replies softly. “But it’s for your safety. If a neighbor spots you... You can’t be TK Strand anymore; we don’t know how far Ruiz’s reach goes.”
“Are we just supposed to hide away in a hole, then? Just me and Jonah?” TK asks, frustration bubbling to the surface.
“It’s not a hole; it’s a safe house—an old, large house outside of Austin, fenced in and secure, away from prying eyes,” Carlos reassures him, his voice steady.
“But isn’t it dangerous to keep us so isolated?” TK presses.
“It’s a safe house, TK,” Carlos insists gently. “Prescott will show you and Ashlyn around—”
TK halts Carlos with a hand pressed against his chest. “Wait, Ashlyn? As in Mrs. Soup?”
A delighted giggle draws their attention, and they turn to see Jonah re-entering the living room, unable to contain his laughter. “Mrs. Soup!” he echoes.
Carlos chuckles. “Yes, buddy, Mrs. Soup.” He glances at TK, lips twitching with nervousness, and TK lets it go, taking Carlos’ hand in his instead.
“Let’s eat.”
Dinner is a simple affair, despite the unfamiliar environment. They all sit at the round kitchen table, with Jonah digging into the plate of butter and parmesan pasta in front of him, rambling about the birthday party he is supposed to attend this weekend. With every anecdote Jonah shares, Carlos’ eyes dim, aware that he is about to disappoint him.
TK stretches his arm toward him, rubbing his thumb over Carlos’ hand—maybe he should start the discussion. Just as he’s about to do so, Carlos speaks up.
“Buddy. I—we…” He clears his throat, squeezing TK’s hand to ground himself. “How do you feel about a vacation?” he asks—sure, that’s one way to approach the subject.
Jonah looks up from his plate, pasta dangling from his fork as he chews thoughtfully. “Like on a plane?”
“Not exactly,” Carlos replies, forcing a smile. “It’s more like a little trip for a few days. It’ll be in a new place, but it’ll feel like home.”
“Is it far?” Jonah asks, his brows furrowing slightly, concern flickering across his face.
“Not too far,” TK jumps in, eager to ease any worries. “It’s just outside the city, where we can have some fun together.”
“But, you know how we’ve always talked about being safe and looking out for each other?” Carlos says, and as Jonah nods at him he continues. “Well, there’s something happening that means we need to be extra careful for a little while.”
“What?” Jonah asks, chewing on his bite. Normally, TK would gently admonish him not to speak with his mouth full, but now is not the time.
“There’s a person who… well, they’re not very nice, and we need to make sure they can’t find us right now,” Carlos explains gently.
Jonah’s brow furrows deeper. “Is it like the bad guys in movies?”
Carlos nods. “Kind of. But you don’t need to worry about anything. The Rangers are taking care of it, and you’ll be with TK the whole time.”
The clink of Jonah’s fork reverberates through the kitchen as he drops it. “You’re not coming?”
TK feels the air thicken around them. He exchanges a glance with Carlos, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his expression mirroring the concern brewing in his heart.
“Jonah, I can’t come with you—” Carlos starts.
“Why not?” Jonah’s voice shrinks, disappointment creeping in. “You always come with us. Are you leaving us?”
“No, no, mijo. I’m making sure you are safe.”
“But I want you with us! You can’t leave us!” Jonah’s voice rises, quivering, his wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
TK instinctively reaches for Jonah’s hand, desperate to bridge the widening chasm of fear and confusion. But as Carlos attempts the same, Jonah pulls away, springing to his feet and bolting down the hallway.
“I hate you!” The sound of his little feet thundering up the stairs is soon followed by the resounding slam of a door.
Without hesitation, TK stands up, ready to follow, but stops at the doorway, casting a worried glance back at Carlos. “Baby—”
“It’s okay,” Carlos mumbles, his voice thick as he swallows hard, tears glistening in his eyes under the dim kitchen lights. The sight shatters TK’s heart.
TK takes a tentative step toward him, longing to comfort him, but Carlos shakes his head. “Go to him. I’m okay.”
A tear falls from his eye, and Carlos sniffles as he quickly wipes it away with his thumb. It has happened before that Jonah would get angry at Carlos or TK, sometimes both of them, but this is different—Jonah is not just angry; he’s hurt because he thinks Carlos is leaving them.
“He loves you,” TK whispers, leaning in to press soft kisses to the salty trails of Carlos’ tears. With each gentle peck, he hopes to siphon away the pain, to ease the burden.
Carlos nods, though the hurt lingers in his eyes. “I know.”
“I need to check on him. Come with me?” TK cradles Carlos’ face in his hands, searching his husband’s eyes—deep pools of love that are now clouded with hurt and pressure.
“I think it’s better if I give him space from me,” Carlos admits, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own heartache.
With a final, tender kiss planted on Carlos’ forehead, TK steps back, heading upstairs to check on Jonah.
In the dark, TK sits at the edge of Jonah's bed, a silent sentinel in the stillness of the night. Jonah, too consumed by his own turmoil, has cried himself to sleep against TK’s chest, clutching onto him. Now, Jonah sleeps peacefully, his brow unknotted in slumber, blissfully detached from the gnawing fear that Carlos might abandon him.
TK has reassured him time and again, and Jonah made him promise that he would never leave. It is a vow he made with every fiber of his being—an easy promise, perhaps, but one he would uphold with his life. Nothing would ever come between them.
Hours have passed since Prescott’s return, and she wasn’t alone; TK recognized the male voice joining Carlos and Prescott downstairs: Campbell. Despite his curiosity, TK remained anchored in this small, monochrome space—a two bed bedroom stripped bare of comfort and warmth, designed for practicality and safety.
He can’t stop wondering if Carlos managed to go through the details with his colleagues even after Jonah’s outburst, if he’s keeping it a secret, if all he wants is to join TK upstairs to watch over Jonah one last night—if he, too, wants nothing but to hold them in his arms.
There’s the soft creak of the door, and TK turns toward it. There, held back by an invisible line, under the soft glow of the hallway light, stands Carlos. His gaze darts from TK to Jonah, who is asleep, and back to TK.
“How is he?” he whispers, standing there, strong yet vulnerable, as if afraid of the answer TK will give him.
“He fell asleep. He’s upset; we both kind of are,” TK admits in a low murmur.
With a nod, Carlos reaches for the door handle. “I’ll leave you be.”
“No,” TK chokes out. “Please stay with me, with us.” He’s standing up before he even finishes the sentence, positioning himself in front of his husband. He places one hand on Carlos’, holding the door open, and the other on his waist, beckoning him inside.
“I’m not upset at you,” TK whispers.
“That’s a lie.”
“I…” TK’s voice falters, and a sniffle escapes him. Immediately, Carlos wraps his arms around him, pulling him close as they breathe each other’s presence.
“I’m sorry,” Carlos whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“I understand, I really do. I just hate it.” He can’t hold back the tears as his muscles relax in Carlos’ embrace, he’s going to miss this, and not knowing how long it will be is withering his heart.
Carlos shifts his gaze toward the window, his muscles tense. With gentle urgency, he moves his hands to TK’s hips, subtly guiding them both a few steps out of sight, placing himself between TK and the window, shielding him from the phantom bullets that TK knows Carlos’ mind is prepared for, despite the bulletproof glass and the Rangers surveilling the house. TK allows the motion, understanding the comfort it brings Carlos—a semblance of control.
For an extra moment, they stand in silence, the dim light from the lamplights outside casting shadows across the walls, the low hum of cars mingling with Jonah’s soft breathing.
Carlos tugs him closer, sliding his hands up to cradle TK’s face in his palms. “I promise you’ll be safe.”
TK leans in, burying his face in the crook of Carlos’ neck, inhaling deeply the familiar scent that speaks of home and love, clinging to it—etching it into his memory.
He wraps his arms around Carlos, tracing his back with his fingers. “We’d be safer with you,” he murmurs, gripping the fabric of Carlos’ shirt.
He feels Carlos’ lips brush against his temple, a gentle kiss that thaws the cold dread clenching his heart—if only for a moment. “Not this time.”
It feels inconceivable to TK that he wouldn’t be safer in Carlos’ arms, not when his body relaxes in this shelter despite the threat that lurks in the city.
“Campbell is here,” TK says matter-of-factly, still enveloped in the embrace, unwilling to move an inch away from Carlos.
“He is. Ashlyn will be moved tomorrow morning. Prescott will take you and Jonah there in the afternoon.” Carlos’ voice is strained as he lets the words out, perhaps also dreading the moment they will have to say goodbye. For a moment, TK wonders how many of the little soups he will have to deal with starting tomorrow, but he puts the thought aside to focus on the present, on Carlos.
He hums, kissing Carlos’ neck, right on the light bite mark that he proudly gifted him, tasting his own tears on Carlos’ skin.
“You should sleep,” TK says after a few more minutes, once Carlos’ weight starts to tip onto his shoulder—the tiredness catching up to him.
He takes Carlos’ hand and leads him to the empty bed just across from Jonah’s. With a light tap on his chest, he pushes Carlos onto it, cupping his face in his hands, kissing the middle of his brow, then following the length of his nose to kiss its tip, finally catching his lips in a deep kiss.
When they part, Carlos traces TK’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Come here.”
TK nods, and Carlos moves to make room on the bed for him. As TK lies down facing him, Carlos wraps an arm around him, tugging him close to his chest.
He nestles closer, burying his face against Carlos’ heart, kissing it through the fabric. He feels Carlos’ hand move up the back of his head, holding him like he’s his most precious treasure, tucking him close in the safety of his warmth. Though the knot in his stomach remains, TK lets himself breathe. If this is a long goodbye, he wants to remember every detail: Carlos’ soft touch against his back, his smell, the melody of his heart, his breath against his lips—every detail embeds itself in TK’s heart as sleep closes in.