Chapter Text
Carlos
“Remember when you said that I was going to love this?” Carlos asks, crossing his arms and tipping his head back against the headrest. “I hate to tell you, but I don’t.”
“Get a grip, Carlos,” Valentina mutters, hitting the accelerator. The car jolts in a way that makes Carlos grit his teeth. His sister has a famously heavy foot and a bad habit of driving very close to the car in front of her. If Carlos didn’t have a makeshift blindfold over his eyes, he’d probably have more to say about it, and the fact that he can’t see might actually be helping his anxiety.
“I don’t understand why you have to blindfold me,” he mutters. “I have a phone, you know. I can use Google Maps.”
“You’re going to need Google Maps,” she tells him curtly. “The blindfold is for dramatic effect.”
Carlos scoffs, but he can’t deny that it’s working. He’s beyond intrigued and a little concerned at whatever plan TK and Valentina have cooked up between themselves.
“You’re acting like you’re not into it,” Valentina sings. “But you are. The mystery, that is. Not the blindfold. I’m not gonna speculate on that.”
“Please don’t.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Also, can you stop treating the accelerator like it’s wronged you?”
“Not your car, not your rules,” she snaps back. “I don’t appreciate passenger seat drivers.”
“It’s not your car either,” Carlos tells her. “And Maria is not going to appreciate what you’re doing to her brake pads.”
“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. Unless—”
“I’m not a snitch.”
“Okay, so stop talking,” Valentina huffs. “We’re almost there.”
“Thank god.”
“I’m so ready to get rid of you.”
They bicker back and forth for another four or five minutes, until Carlos feels the car turn a corner and ascend a small incline. He guesses they’re in some kind of driveway or parking lot. “Okay,” Valentina says, stopping the car and killing the engine. “You can take your blindfold off now.”
Carlos rips the makeshift blindfold off – a dark coloured dishcloth that has been wrapped up and tied around his head – and squints at his surroundings. “We’re at UT.”
“Good work, genius,” Valentina tells him. As he opens the door, a familiar silver sedan pulls up beside them.
“Wait,” he says, more confused than ever as his mother gets out of his car. “Why is my car here?”
“You’re going to need to get around somehow,” Valentina says matter-of-factly, stretching her arms above her head as she slides out of Maria’s car and leans on the roof. “And it’s not like I could let you drive it blindfolded.”
“Couldn’t you have just driven it?”
“And stranded myself in downtown Austin?” she asks drily. “No thanks.”
“Mijo,” his mother chides, pressing his keys into his palm with a smile. “Your sister has gone to a lot of effort to help you, so—”
“Okay, okay,” he relents, turning back to Valentina. “Thank you.”
Valentina rolls her eyes and reaches into the pocket of her jeans, wriggling a bit before drawing out a piece of crumpled paper between two fingers. “This is for you,” she says, passing it across the roof of the car. “Don’t open it yet! Wait until we’re gone.”
“For dramatic effect?” he asks wryly.
“Exactly,” Valentina insists, without a hint of irony. “Okay, Mama. Let’s go. Hopefully you don’t have as many comments about my driving.”
“I have heard all about your lead foot, mija,” their mother insists. “I will be reporting you to your father if—”
“I take it all back,” Valentina moans as their mother ducks into the passenger seat with a sly wink. “Make Mom go on the treasure hunt!”
“Treasure hunt?” Carlos asks, looking down at the piece of paper in his hands before turning back to Valentina.
“You’ll work it out!” she exclaims, before disappearing from view, starting Maria’s car and zooming out of the parking lot like she’s a stunt driver in a Vin Diesel film.
Carlos unlocks his car, ready to drive off himself, before he realises he has no idea where he’s supposed to go. Unfurling the crumpled piece of paper – which, upon further inspection, appears to be straight from a UT standard issue exercise book – he straightens it out on the roof of his car, and reads.
---
Carlos,
Welcome to the best second, second chance date of your life. I have to admit, I’m banking on the fact that you probably haven’t been on many, but I hope you like it enough to follow along. Otherwise, I’m gonna be sitting in one spot for an entire day and probably getting heatstroke, wondering if this idea was really stupid.
I tried to write you a poem, but nothing I wrote sounded good enough. I would say that there are no words in the English language to describe how perfect you are, which is probably true, but the reality is that I’m just really bad at rhyming, would you believe it? I even asked my dad for help but he was totally useless unless you want something about your hair being shiny and your skin looking immaculate…
Also, the fact that I wrote this on old college notepaper is not an indication of anything. It felt important to say that, but I’m not sure why. It’s just that I only had a day to put this together and with all the running around I kinda forgot to get proper stationary. My dad suggested I could somehow make paper by mashing up other paper? Anyway, I ignored him. He has the worst ideas sometimes.
The point is – I love you. And I want to show you how it happened. Where it happened. All the places that witnessed a little piece of my heart falling for yours. Seemed a bit cheesy to walk around telling you that, so I thought I could express it better in this weird, over the top treasure hunt.
Please save me from heatstroke. Also, I have donuts.
TK.
---
Carlos reads the letter no less than five times. The repeated mentions of heatstroke make him a little nervous – TK isn’t great at applying sunscreen, even on warm spring days – and he really hopes his gorgeous, adorable, slightly irresponsible boyfriend finds some shade.
Still, he’s enamoured. No one has ever done anything like this for him before, and he’s so incredibly into it. There’s no one who has made him feel so special and cared for and even if the investigative mission is at least fifty percent about saving his boyfriend from the sun, it doesn’t take away from the thought that has gone behind every moment of it. He folds the letter up carefully and is about to stick it in his pocket, before he notices the writing on the other side. He unravels it again, reads and tries to ignore the way his breath catches in his throat.
---
Do you remember the first time we met? When I asked you about your notepad and your laptop and you got all mad about it? You were gorgeous. Like something out of my dreams. I wanted to eat you alive, even though we’d only just met. I think about that moment a lot – the million different ways we could have gone. It feels stupid to say I loved you from the start, but I think there was something there, something I knew could be real.
---
He knows this moment intimately, a meeting in a lecture theatre on the west side of the UT campus. He shoves the letter and his keys in his pocket and practically runs towards the familiar building.
When he gets there, the place is deserted. It’s locked as well, bolted from the outside which shouldn’t be surprising considering it’s the summer break, and only a portion of UT’s teaching facilities get used for the limited classes that run during June and July. He’s lurking around the entrance to the building, wondering whether he should text TK and ask him what the hell he’s supposed to do when a voice rings out in the empty hallway.
“Excuse me,” the voice says sharply. When Carlos looks up, he sees it belongs to an older woman, wearing a UT staff uniform and holding a set of bolt cutters. She gives him a menacing once over.
“Sorry,” he says, immediately feeling as if he needs to apologise for looking like a vagrant. “I was told to come here by someone, but it looks like it’s—”
“Are you…Carlos?” she asks, looking down at a folded piece of paper in her hands. Carlos’ heart leaps as he recognises the same standard issue exercise paper.
“Yes,” he says. “Is that for me?”
The woman shrugs. “Some eager kid asked me to give it to a Carlos. You sure you’re him?”
Carlos smiles, imagining the interaction between TK and this woman who appears to take absolutely no prisoners. “I’m sure.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “You’re not using this to run drugs or something are you?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Carlos replies honestly. “It’s more of a…treasure hunt.”
“That’s what the other kid said,” the woman adds shrewdly. “Never seen someone your age excited about a treasure hunt though.”
“Sorry?” Carlos replies, desperately wanting to escape the conversation so he can read the next note. Thankfully, the woman decides she has bigger problems to deal with, disappearing down the hall with a parting grunt.
Carlos practically rips the note open.
---
One of the first things I learned about you was your coffee order. Yes, I followed you and yes, I was really bad at it. But I don’t regret it because I fell in love with you over your stupidly weak coffee, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
---
Tucking that note in his pocket as well, Carlos quickly shoots off a text to Valentina before he gets moving again. There’s nothing FBI girlie about this treasure hunt – it’s way too easy, and it has a distinct lack of threats. Still, Carlos is more invested in finding all these little love letters than he has been about anything else in his life.
He makes a mental note to argue about the weak coffee later, though. It’s not his fault that TK’s order is basically a heart attack in a cup.
When he arrives at the coffee shop, a familiar barista is taking orders and looking suitably bored for a slow summer shift. “Can I— Oh,” she says, a slow smile working its way onto her features. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Ah, yeah,” Carlos nods, unprepared for the overt friendliness. Usually, the baristas are fairly stressed. Maybe it’s the change of pace. “I graduated.”
“Congratulations,” she says warmly. “Did you come back to say hi, or?”
“Weird question,” he replies, digging a folded up note out of his pocket. “Did anyone leave a note like this one here?”
“Oh,” she hums, a complex array of emotions passing over her features. “Yeah. That’s for you?”
“Is that strange?”
“No, it’s just— We didn’t know that you were…”
Carlos isn’t quite sure where she’s going with that statement, but the realisation dawning on her face indicates that he probably doesn’t want to know. When she trails off and hands him a note, he gives her a tight smile.
“Wait!” she calls out, as he turns to leave. “You don’t want a coffee?”
“No thanks,” he replies, partially because he can’t start the unbearable awkwardness and also partially because he thinks any more excitement might make his heart beat right out of his chest.
Once he’s around the corner, he unfurls the next note.
---
Once upon a time, you told me my pen grip sucked. Pretty strange flirting technique, but it worked. I don’t know how I ever managed to study with you – what’s that saying about being driven to distraction? Anyway, that was me. You’re somehow the best thing and the worst thing that has ever happened to my academic career, but this has been the best year of my life, and I think you’re everything to do with that.
---
When Carlos turns up at the library, he momentarily stresses about how on earth he’s going to find a note in a place full of paper. Maybe he was a little too hasty on writing this adventure off as easy and simple; maybe TK was warming him up. Then, he remembers the tables they were at on the day Carlos corrected TK’s grip. He remembers because the memory of TK’s touch is electric, the heat that ignited Carlos’ body at the brush of their fingers making him feel more alive than he had in a long time. He was so caught up in it, so intoxicated by desire, he remembers freaking out and running to a restroom. He remembers TK with a pen stuck out of the side of his mouth, humming off-key while he scrolled through the summaries of academic articles.
Maybe Carlos was falling in love that day, too.
A familiar face meets him at the top of the stairs to the second level, just in front of the group of tables.
“Hey,” the person says. Carlos thinks her name is Nancy. He also thinks she said something about never being roped into group projects.
“Hi,” he offers, trying to look casual about it. “Is TK around?”
“Nope,” she says, passing him a note. “But this is. Remind TK that he owes me a coffee for this, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Carlos replies, throwing her a smile as she disappears down the stairs.
---
Most of the falling in love I did was right in this room – my favourite place on campus. The place we hung out and ate pizza and kissed until I thought my lips were going to fall off. Being here gave me this wonderful feeling – like I belonged to someone that belonged to me as well – and I’d say that I can’t quite believe that you’re real, except that every moment we spent here has been seared into my memory in a permanent way. I love how it was basically impossible to sleep in that bed without having you halfway on top of me, I love how easily I made you forget all about your studies and I love that you took so long to pick movies for us to watch. You don’t have to worry about that, baby. I’m not really watching them anyway.
---
Carlos has no idea how TK thinks he’s going to get into his old dorm room – he handed back the keys over a month ago – but he walks there dutifully and waits until one of the few students staying over summer takes pity on him.
“Who are you here to see?” the student asks. He gives Carlos a suspicious look, like he might be here to drop off a bomb or something, but before Carlos can come up with a semi-decent excuse, a familiar face pops around the corner.
“Thank god,” Paul says, reaching out to pass Carlos a piece of paper, as if he can’t wait to be rid of it. “TK told me you’d be quicker than that. What took you so long?”
Carlos blinks, wondering if he’s missed something. Did TK expect him to run everywhere?
“I’m kidding, man,” Paul laughs. “But seriously, I have to run. I have a job interview in thirty minutes. I tried to say no, but TK told me this was basically life or death. You seem fine, though?”
“I’m definitely— This is not life or death,” Carlos says, somehow feeling more stressed for Paul than Paul appears to be for himself. “Please get to the job interview.”
“Cool,” Paul replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hey, uh, there’s another note for you in the bathroom I think? Might wanna get to that one before anyone else does.”
A distinct memory of an early-hours rim job flashes across Carlos’ mind and he practically takes off down the hall, past the fresh faced summer student who seems very confused about everything which has transpired in front of him.
There’s a piece of paper propped up in one of the shower stalls, parts of it slightly damp from the near-constant condensation. Carlos lunges for it, exits the bathrooms as quickly as possible and devours the two notes in the hallway, unable to wait until he gets back outside.
The first has writing on the outside which reads:
---
Paul, don’t read this. Seriously. Don’t.
---
Grinning like an idiot, Carlos opens it up, then leans against a nearby wall, a familiar heat zipping down his spine at the words on the page and the accompanying memory of warm water sluicing over his shoulders, one hand pressed into cool tiles as his legs trembled from the effort of staying upright. He tried so hard to keep quiet, his fist shoved in his mouth, but the hot, wet pressure of TK’s tongue right there felt impossibly good, like nothing Carlos has ever experienced before, and that’s before he got his hands on Carlos’ cock—
Ripping himself out of his reverie, he reads the note again, finding the first pass has been completely lost to the mere idea of TK’s very specific set of skills.
---
This feels so weird to write, but hearing you come for me – because of my tongue, because of my touch, because of the way we have sex – is one of my favorite sounds. You’re so vulnerable like that, baby. So strung out for me and so perfect. I could listen to it all day. Make a playlist out of it. That would be fucking weird, but I’d consider it (if you consented and if I wanted to torture myself). Hearing those sounds reverberating around a tiled room was kinda my kryptonite. Paul, if you read this, it’s your own fault.
---
Carlos exhales heavily, sliding the note into his back pocket and then opens the other, willing himself to calm down.
---
You once called this place a Southern cultural awakening. I think of the night we spent there as one in which I asked you to be my boyfriend and then turned it into a joke because I got nervous. I could have kissed you right there, with someone else’s cowboy hat on my head. Not on the cheek, like I did. On your lips. Where mine belong.
---
The summer heat is picking up when Carlos makes it outside, although he doesn’t think twice about hurrying across campus, back to his car. He wonders if the honky tonk is even going to be open at this time. It’s past noon, he supposes, which is ostensibly an acceptable drinking hour. He would never dare suggest that to Tía Lucy though. He once witnessed her spiking her aguas frescas with mezcal at ten in the morning. She told him it was for her nerves.
Whatever it was for, he doesn’t judge.
When he enters the bar it’s practically empty, the saloon doors swinging sadly after him as his eyes adjust to the dim, moody lighting. A lone man stands behind the bar, wiping down the top in a fashion that Carlos can only assume is something bartenders do when they're either really bored or avoiding serving someone. Big, sweeping motions of the cloth on the lacquered wood, accompanied by soft whistling.
“Hello,” he says, perching himself on a bar stool. He wonders if he has to buy something to be polite – he’s never once asked a bartender if they could charge his phone, but one of his friends from high school swore that she got kicked out of a bar for asking that before she purchased a beverage. Elaborate story notwithstanding, Carlos has a suspicion it might have been because she was underage.
“Hey,” the bartender replies offhandedly. He’s young, not someone Carlos would expect to see behind a dingy bar at noon, but as he scans Carlos’ face, Carlos automatically reaches for his wallet.
“Did anyone happen to leave a note for me here?” Carlos asks, drawing out his ID to show the bartender. “I know that’s a strange question.”
The bartender gives him an appraising look, as if wondering why Carlos is showing him ID when he’s not ordering a drink, then arches an eyebrow. “Huh.”
Carlos isn’t sure what to do with that. ‘Huh’ can be interpreted in many ways, not all of them flattering.
“Sorry, you’re just not what I expected,” the guy continues, reaching underneath the lip of the bar and drawing out a familiar sheet of paper. “I’m super nosy. When some guy came in asking me to leave this for someone, I didn’t realise that someone would be a dude.”
“Oh,” Carlos says flatly. “Yeah.”
“Oh no,” the guy replies, grinning. “Don’t think I’m prejudiced. I just— Well, you’re really hot and if things don’t work out with Mr. Love Letter over there, come back and see me for a drink?”
Carlos slides off the bar stool, feeling the skin of his cheeks warming despite the darkness of the room. “Thank you, but I’m pretty sure he’s the one.”
The guy shrugs. “Big assumption to make about a guy leaving you letters at a bar.”
Carlos nods, looking down at the crumpled letter in his hands and wondering how many times the bartender has read it. “I don’t think so,” he says. “TK is a very safe bet.”
In the note from the bar, TK tells Carlos the things he loved about their first official date (the kissing), which was so good it outweighed the things that could have happened but didn’t (the mechanical bull riding, in particular). On balance, TK says it far exceeded his expectations, although Carlos doesn’t remember much aside from the feeling of TK’s hard cock on his leg and the sound of them moaning into each other's mouths. The conversation was great, he’s sure of it. TK probably looked incredible. But Carlos’ core memories are from after the fair – scampering back to Carlos’ dorm room and having sex until they had to go to the hospital.
It’s probably not surprising that TK sends him there after sending him to the fairground to deal with a grouchy groundskeeper. Although, it is surprising in the sense that it means TK has managed to get a member of hospital staff to actually hold onto a note for him. This time, the note actually names a person that Carlos has to find – someone called ‘Tommy’ – which Carlos is privately relieved by. The hospital is huge and TK could be withering up prune in the blazing Texan sun.
He thanks the groundskeeper for the note and shoves it in his pocket, hurrying towards his car. The hospital is only a short drive from the fairground, but it feels like an eternity in traffic as Carlos counts the notes in his hand. He’s up to seven, which makes him feel like he’s getting closer to the end. He has absolutely no evidence for that, but he’s going to assume it anyway.
He enters through the emergency department, scanning for the elusive Tommy as if they’re going to be standing there waiting for him. The smell of antiseptic hits him hard as soon as the automatic doors close, making his head feel a little woozy as the rubber soles of his sneakers squeak on the white linoleum floors. He passes a small gift shop and a coffee station and turns a corner before he finds what he’s looking for – an information desk with a bored attendant – surrounded by empty plastic chairs.
“Hi,” he says hopefully, wondering if this is Tommy. It would make a lot of sense for TK to give a note to someone who is not working on the floor, but somehow Carlos knows that it’s unlikely.
The woman gives him a suspicious look. “Hello,” she says slowly, looking up from her magazine article. “Do you have a room number?”
“Actually, I’m here to see someone named Tommy?”
She frowns at him, wriggling the mouse to her right, waking up her computer screen. “Last name? It will be quicker and easier if you have a room number—”
“Oh no,” Carlos corrects, fairly certain he’s sounding insane. “I’m not here to see a patient.”
“So who are you here to see?”
“Tommy.”
“Tommy…?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know their surname,” Carlos says desperately. “I just— I got told to come here and ask for a Tommy? I assume they’re staff.”
The woman sighs and gives him an exasperated look. “Are you from Facebook Marketplace? We have a staff policy on not using work hours to arrange for pick ups and drop offs.”
“No, I’m—” Carlos wants to say something about the treasure hunt, but obviously that sounds even more incredulous than being a random buyer from Facebook. “Can you please check if there’s a member of staff named Tommy?”
“Sure,” she deadpans. “I’m sure it will be a piece of cake. Tommy is a very uncommon name.”
Carlos bites his tongue and waits, wishing he could say something about her customer service skills and how they leave a lot to be desired. Instead, he raps his fingers against the countertop.
“Okay, so I’ve got a Nurse Educator in emergency, three orderlies and a psychiatrist. Any guesses?”
She asks the question like Carlos will be completely helpless and have no idea, but instead he breathes a sigh of relief. “The emergency nurse, please.”
“She’s a nurse educator—”
“Yes,” Carlos says shortly. He kind of can’t wait to be rid of this person.
“Yeah, hi,” the information desk attendant says, turning away from Carlos as if he isn’t there. “I’ve got a strange man asking for Tommy at Information? No, I don’t know what he wants. I— What’s your name?”
“Carlos Reyes.”
“Carlos Reyes,” she repeats, once again, turning away from him on her swivel chair. “Yeah, could you get her to come down?”
There’s a pause, during which the information desk nods shortly, then plods the phone back on the receiver. “She’ll be right with you. Take a seat.”
The sickly sweet instruction tells Carlos that he’s been vindicated, so he thanks her politely and sits in one of the hard plastic chairs. He has to admit, he has no idea how TK managed to get someone on nursing staff to carry notes for him, but at the very least, Carlos hopes this one isn’t porny.
When the illusive Tommy appears, Carlos has to admit, he’s impressed by TK’s sweet talking. This woman walks with an air of confidence that screams both competent and in control and Carlos can definitely see how she’s an educator. He feels slightly intimidated, and he doesn’t even work here.
She smiles at him warmly, dispelling some of the awkwardness before he even opens his mouth. “Carlos?”
“Yes, hi,” he says, shooting straight up out of his seat like this is a job interview. “You must be Tommy?”
“I am,” she nods, reaching into the pocket of her baby blue scrubs. “I believe this is for you. TK said you’re on some kind of treasure hunt.”
Carlos nods. “Apparently so.”
“Well, I hope this helps,” she says, passing the note to him.
“Thank you for agreeing to do this,” he says. “I don’t remember you from that time we came in here—” he stops short of going into any detail about the particulars.
“Oh, I wasn’t here,” Tommy replies, arching a brow. “I just know TK’s father. Captain Strand is a good friend.”
Carlos feels his cheeks burn and his throat dry up. “Oh.”
“I did hear about TK’s little rendezvous with the ceiling though,” she winks. “I hope his spatial awareness has improved.”
“Don’t we all,” Carlos chokes out. “Anyway, I—”
“I’ll leave you to it,” she says, waving him off. “It was nice to meet you, Carlos. Keep TK out of the emergency room for me, will you?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She grins and rounds the corner, leaving Carlos alone with his slight embarrassment and the new note in his hand.
---
There was a strange part of me that wondered whether the magic would be broken once we left college. Like all the affection you had for me was stored in the four walls of your dorm room. But the last month or so has shown me that I will love you anywhere – even in my dad’s house, while we watch movies until I fall asleep. I wanted to send you there next, but my dad is a workaholic and never at home so…I’m sending you to the firehouse instead (don’t worry, he’s very enthusiastic about it). Hopefully he doesn’t say anything weird. If he does, please ignore it.
---
Carlos rolls his eyes. Turning up to TK’s father’s place of work was not on his list of things to do today, but if that’s where he has to go to get the next clue, he supposes he has no choice. He’s not even sure if, as a member of the general public, he’s allowed to go in a firehouse. It seems like a place that would have a lot of occupational health and safety hazards and rules about not touching anything. Captain Strand doesn’t seem like an uptight person, but the closest thing Carlos knows to emergency services is law enforcement, and he can’t imagine his father entertaining social calls while he’s at work.
He spirals about it while stuck in traffic, but by the time he makes it to the 126 – thanks to the help of Google Maps and no thanks to the two wrong turns he made – he’s calmed down. If all goes awry, he can always text TK.
He lingers at the open roller door to the firehouse, looking up at the massive red engines in front of him. They look very…clean, he thinks. Immaculate, actually. His father would approve. Then, he spots a young guy rubbing one of the trucks down with a chamois, cleaning under the handle, which is another level of commitment.
He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”
The guy looks up, the cloth dropping to his side as he stands. “Hey!” he replies enthusiastically. “Can I help you? Oh, man. Are you Carlos?”
Carlos doesn’t really know how to respond to the fact that this stranger knows his name and has apparently been waiting for him, so he simply nods. “Um, yeah.”
“Cap!” the guy yells, in a surprisingly loud voice that echoes around the large space. “Carlos is here!”
Carlos blinks at him, feeling very out of place, and awkwardly fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “It’s not— It’s not an emergency,” he says, as if this is something that needs to be clarified.
“Wrong,” a gruff voice says, rounding the other side of the fire engine. Carlos vaguely recognises him as someone his father knows – Ryder, if his AFD shirt is to be believed. “Cap has been talking about you all shift. You might be a cool guy, Carlos, but there's only so much I can hear about—”
“Carlos!”
Carlos jerks his head upwards to see Captain Strand descending the staircase at a speed he would find concerning if there weren't so many emergency services professionals around. The man is certainly enthusiastic about life, something Carlos struggles to wrap his head around but nonetheless appreciates. “Good afternoon, sir.”
He receives a smile, coupled with an exasperated sigh. “Owen is fine.”
Carlos tries his best not to look physically pained. Try as he might, it’s very difficult to give up the ingrained honorifics. “Owen.”
Captain Strand grimaces. “We’ll work on it. Anyway, I have something for you!”
“Thank you,” Carlos replies, following Owen as he weaves his way through various pieces of equipment towards the firehouse kitchen. The space is very open and airy, lighter than Carlos ever remembers a station looking. He wonders about the budget for the renovations. “The space looks amazing—”
“Thank you, Carlos,” Owen interjects, slapping the counter loudly. “It’s been a bit of a passion project, actually. It was so depressing before. Not conducive to ensuring optimum synergy in the workplace.”
Carlos pretends he knows what that means. It doesn’t sound like a real sentence. “Right.”
“Now,” Owen says, standing behind a very shiny coffee machine. “Coffee?”
“Oh,” Carlos replies, unsure of how to politely decline. All he really wants to do is get to TK as fast as possible, but he has an inherent inability to say no to authority figures. “That would be—”
“It’s okay,” Owen smiles, waving a hand. “I get it. Also, I’m a little worried about TK in this weather, so—”
“He’s not the best with sunscreen.”
“Carlos,” Owen says darkly. “Don’t get me started. SPF is the foundation of any good skincare routine.”
Carlos nods mutely. He hopes Owen can’t tell he washes his face with water every morning and calls it a day. “I’ll remind him.”
“Hopefully he listens to you,” Owen replies, drawing a familiar note out of his pocket. “I asked TK if I could make you guess a secret password but he was pretty against the idea…”
“That would not have turned out well for me,” Carlos jokes weakly, taking the note from Owen’s outstretched hand. “Would have started and ended with ‘open sesame’.”
“Well, that would have been the perfect answer!”
“Thank you, s–”
“Owen.”
Carlos feels his cheeks flush with the embarrassment of not being able to get over his innate need to show appropriate deference. “Owen.”
“Remind him about his water intake too,” TK’s father adds. “Hydration is very important to cell regrowth…and for being alive generally. I know for a fact TK hasn’t had enough water today.”
“I’ll let him know,” Carlos promises, hoping he doesn’t do something awkward as he tries to leave. He wouldn’t put it past himself to perform a panic-induced salute.
Owen, for his part, makes it very casual as he slaps Carlos on the back. “Go find my son!” he says dramatically. “Save him from the signs of premature ageing!”
The last note is the easiest to follow. It simply lists coordinates with a little heart on it, something that Carlos plugs into Google and works out is in Zilker Park, near the edge of the Lady Bird Lake.
He finds TK tucked underneath a large oak tree, two large picnic blankets thrown together like he’s waiting for ten people and not just Carlos. The sight of him – laying on his back, scrolling his phone with wayfarer sunglasses perched on his head – makes Carlos feel all jittery, like it’s a first date and not a second, second chance date with a man who has literally met his entire family. He’s so enamoured, so infatuated, so helplessly in love that he thinks he might spontaneously combust.
Or, trip over a rogue clump of grass. Which is what he actually does.
He yelps, looks back at the offending spot and glares – a totally normal reaction to a patch of dirt in a large field – and by the time he looks back up again, he sees TK propped up on his elbows, grinning at him like the cat that caught the canary.
“You made it!” he calls, doing nothing to indicate he is going to stand up. It looks like Carlos is expected to get down on TK’s level instead, which he's not unhappy about. “You found me.”
“Were you worried I wouldn’t?” Carlos asks, ducking slightly under the outer branches of the oak tree. “Was it supposed to be hard?”
“Well it was clearly treacherous,” TK snickers, pointing past Carlos’ knee to where he tripped. “Glad you made it in one piece.”
“Watch it,” Carlos tells him, kicking off his shoes at the edge of the picnic blanket, even though TK doesn’t seem to have bothered.
“Or what?” TK asks, one eyebrow raised.
Carlos pretends to consider the question, dropping down to face TK, lying on his side with his head propped on one hand. “I’ll throw you in the lake,” he says calmly.
TK snorts, pushing him in the chest lightly so he rolls onto his back. “No, you won’t.”
“I probably won’t,” Carlos agrees, tugging TK down by the front of his white t-shirt.
He smiles a little too much into the kiss they share, and TK laughs when their teeth knock awkwardly. “You have to give me some lips to work with,” he teases, nudging Carlos’ nose with his own before diving back in for something slower and sweeter. A kiss with a patient kind of passion lingering at the edges, biding its time.
“I love you,” Carlos breathes, when TK lets up and rests his hand on Carlos’ chest. The words have been bubbling up inside him ever since they last saw each other, desperate to get out, and TK beams in response and kisses him gently again.
It strikes Carlos that he’s never been as publicly affectionate with anyone as he has been with TK. He doesn’t have an illustrious dating career to answer for – a couple of lacklustre high school hook ups and a brief freshman fling don’t count for much – but it’s freeing in a way. There’s barely anyone around – a few teenagers kicking a soccer ball on the far side of the field and a golden retriever running away from its owner with a frisbee in its mouth – but even so, it feels right. It feels nice. It feels permanent in a way he can’t quite wrap his head around.
“Did my dad say anything weird?” TK asks, trailing the back of his hand across Carlos’ jaw. “I hope he wasn’t too off putting.”
“He asked me for a secret password…”
“Oh my god,” TK huffs, retracting his hand and running it through his hair. He pushes his sunglasses off – seemingly on accident – but doesn’t bother to pick them back up again. “He’s so embarrassing—”
Carlos grins. “I’m joking,” he reassures. “Kind of. I mean, he did tell me he planned to but you told him—”
“I’d ban him from making contact with you ever again.”
“I think he’s nice,” Carlos says. “I think he likes me.”
“He loves you,” TK replies drily, rolling his eyes. “You should have heard the sermon about honesty I got after the wedding. It was like I’d betrayed him.”
Carlos isn’t quite sure what to say to that, so he just hums and closes his eyes briefly as the mild breeze washes over them.
“It’s still too soon, isn’t it?” TK asks, and when Carlos opens his eyes, he’s grimacing. “Sorry.”
“We’ll work it out,” Carlos tells him, watching as TK’s expression softens and he kisses Carlos’ forehead before pushing himself into a seated position.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “You just trekked across Austin for me.”
“A lot of it was driving,” Carlos points out, earning himself a gentle flick on the thigh. “Sure, I could eat. You made food? Wow, you went all out.”
“Okay, no need to sound surprised,” TK mumbles, swatting Carlos’ hand out of the way as he reaches for a cooler bag. “Also, don’t get your hopes up. They’re literally sandwiches. But I made them with baguettes from this French bakery dad is obsessed with so the bread is really good, and—”
“TK,” Carlos says, interrupting the impending spiral. “Sandwiches are great. Perfect, actually.”
“I know you would have made a five course gourmet meal,” TK replies, prodding Carlos in the leg with the end of a plastic-wrapped baguette. “Don’t even pretend like you wouldn’t.”
Carlos quirks his eyebrows and accepts the sandwich. “Well, if you have the skill—”
“Eat your baguette,” TK interjects darkly.
Carlos can’t help the delirious laugh that works its way out of his chest, watching TK unwrap his baguette like a man on a mission. Before he can rip his way through every layer, Carlos puts a hand over his own, demanding his attention. “TK.”
“Mm?” TK asks, assaulting Carlos’ sanity with the proximity of his intriguing green eyes.
“Thank you,” he says, cupping TK’s face in one hand.
“For the baguette?”
“For all of this,” Carlos murmurs, stroking TK’s earlobe with his index finger, trying to look into his eyes and not directly at his lips, which are practically calling Carlos’ name. “For not giving up on me. For loving me. For the treasure hunt and the notes—”
“They would have been better as poems. Heath would have written a poem.”
“They were perfect,” Carlos argues, wondering how often TK thinks about Heath Ledger. “You’re perfect.”
TK gives him a disbelieving look. “Should we revisit what happened a week ago?”
“You’re perfect for me.”
TK blinks. When he responds, his voice sounds so choked up it makes a lump rise in Carlos’ throat. “I’ve never been perfect for anyone.”
Carlos pushes the wrapped bread aside and gently lays TK back down on the rug, watching his hair splay out gently underneath him like a wonky halo. “Does anyone else matter?” he asks, slotting their noses together again and whispering the words against TK’s lips. “You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” TK breathes, tipping his head back slightly as Carlos presses a kiss to his lips. They’re soft, pliant like he’s waiting for Carlos to claim him, and Carlos drowns in the comfort of belonging – something which used to feel so elusive, but now feels so natural.
They kiss lazily for a while, ignoring the persistent rumbling of Carlos’ stomach until TK laughs and picks up Carlos’ wrapped baguette, bonking him over the head with it. That egregious action turns into a deranged sword fight which turns into crumbs getting everywhere which turns into eating in the vicinity of twenty birds that TK swears he’s not feeding.
Eventually, the birds get scared off by the golden retriever who comes looking for snacks, and as its owner calls its name desperately, TK feeds it a scrap of cooked chicken. Carlos has half a mind to tell his boyfriend that he shouldn’t be feeding other people’s pets, but then his brain gets stuck on the boyfriend part and turns to mush.
It feels idyllic, laying back on the picnic rug and staring up into the green canopy, TK’s head tucked into Carlos’ chest. Visions of carefree summer days and long summer nights stretch out ahead of them, before school starts again. Even then, the end of August doesn’t seem so bad. Carlos will be back at UT and TK will be at the AFD and maybe, with a bit of luck, Carlos can find a job and housing off campus so TK can stay over.
Years from now, Carlos wonders what they’ll be doing. Maybe they’ll be living in a townhouse, or a downtown loft. Perhaps, once Carlos graduates and gets a proper job, they can buy their own home. He wonders how TK would feel about adopting a pet or two. It feels way too intense to be having long term thoughts about a guy he’s been seeing for a matter of months, but something in Carlos’ world clicked into place when TK showed up, and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to be the same again.
“What are you thinking about?” TK asks, shifting his head so he can look up at Carlos through his eyelashes.
“You,” Carlos tells him honestly, continuing to stare up at the tree until TK lifts his head and appears in Carlos’ line of vision.
“What about me?” he presses.
Carlos rolls his eyes, pressing a soft hand against TK’s chest. “All the things I love about you.”
“Oh,” TK replies, his expression mischievous, hiding something more vulnerable beneath the curve of his lips. “Feel free to share them.”
Carlos hums softly. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“That many, huh?”
“At least ten,” Carlos tells him with a fake sincerity that makes TK laugh, the brightness of it practically drawing a smile on Carlos’ face.
“Ten things you love about me,” he challenges, goading Carlos into a game he knows he’s never going to play. He doesn’t know how he could possibly name all the things he loves about TK, or fit them into a generic, ten item list. What he feels is too big, too all-consuming, too meaningful to articulate. “Go on.”
Carlos rolls his eyes, grips TK’s shirt and pulls him down. “Number one,” he whispers, and then shuts his boyfriend up with a kiss.