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whumpkeys · 3 years

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Blood Brothers (9-1-1 Lonestar Fic)

After an incident on a call leaves Carlos and Judd injured, TK has some guilt to look through. CW: Canon-typical violence, gun violence, drug mention.

It was a normal call. Or at least it was supposed to be. Dispatch had mentioned a simple car accident on the freeway with a possible missing kid. Nothing more, nothing less. They had found the kid and gotten four of the five people out of the cars with limited injuries and no deaths so far. The police were only really there for traffic control. Everything was going fine and overall, it was the kind of call that would no doubt be celebrated later with a night at the bar. Until Paul noticed something.

While Judd knew that he wasn’t as observant as Paul was, he was also far from oblivious. The sudden stiffening and look of concentration on Paul’s face betrays the fact that he had noticed something, though it wasn’t clear exactly what he’d noticed. It never was. Not until he did some fancy Sherlock Holmes type deduction and blew everyone away. Then it just seemed painfully obvious and left Judd with the thought that this is what Watson must feel like. A quick glance around reveals the fact that Judd isn’t the only one who’s noticed. Marjan and the probie were sharing a look of confusion and glee, clearly excited to see what it was that Paul had discovered.

Judd wasn’t immune to the lure of the trick either. Though he tries to remain outwardly uninterested, he still watches out of the corner of his eye as the other man approaches the truck, walking with purpose. Just as Paul’s about to make his first comment or ask his first question, something else catches Judd’s eye and he turns his head, recognizing the all-too-familiar glint as sunlight reflects off the long barrel of a shotgun. Judd follows it with his eyes, his heart stopping for a moment when he realizes who it was pointing at. TK wasn’t paying attention, of course, too busy chatting it up with his little cop boyfriend.

“Gun!” Judd’s shouting the warning almost immediately as he takes off towards the boy, knocking him to the ground just as the gun fires with a loud bang. The two of them land on the ground, Judd on top of TK, and he can only groan as TK shouts in surprise, asking what the hell was going on. Judd wants to answer. Really, he does. But just at that moment, the pain hits.

It’s a burning, searing pain that seems to spread out from his shoulder and throughout his entire body. He can hear somebody letting out a string of foul curses, ones that would get him smacked upside the head if Grace heard him saying, and it takes him a moment longer than it should for him to realize that it was him cussing up a storm and not some poor bystander. Judd tries to get up but his arms feel like Jell-O and refuse to follow his commands. All he can do is groan and hope he isn’t crushing poor TK under him.

As much as he liked to portray himself as this fearless, tough-guy cowboy, he was only human. He was susceptible to pain. And this shit? It hurt like a mother. Through the haze of pain and confusion, he can feel two people shifting him onto one of the stretchers. His arm moves at the same time that the pain spikes and a numb feeling shoots through his arm before making his entire body burn like it was on fire. He barely gets a strangled scream out before he's passing out on the stretcher.

~~~

Owen didn’t think he would ever be as scared as he had been when he found TK that night before moving to Austin. The stone-cold terror he’d felt when he’d found his son laying on the ground, cold as a corpse and not breathing, wasn’t something that was going to be easy to top. But the fear he feels when he sees the barrel of a gun pointed at him while he’s so clearly distracted definitely comes close.

“TK!” he yells, though it’s immediately drowned out by a louder shout, warning them about the gun. Owen freezes for just a moment, seeing a blur tackle TK to the ground just as the gun goes off. And that’s when everything goes to shit. Carlos is knocked aside in the commotion, his head hitting the edge of the truck and knocking him out, and TK himself doesn’t seem to come out unscathed despite what Owen is now considering divine intervention of some sort.

Owen forces himself forwards on unsteady legs, dropping to his knees beside the two. Michelle was already with Carlos, helping him to sit up and drink some water. For a moment, Owen’s convinced that he’s the only one who had seen this. The only one who knows what had happened. But his theory is quickly disproven when Paul and Marjan are there all of a sudden, helping him move Judd onto a stretcher. The cowboy was shouting out foul curses, causing most of the bystanders to cover their children's ears and look utterly scandalized. When he passes out, Owen finds that the silence is much worse.

TK hadn’t gotten up yet, which Owen was trying not to find concerning. He’s still laying on the pavement, curling up in the fetal position and not moving.“TK? TK, are you okay? TK!”

TK’s response is fairly quick and Owen just about sags in relief. “I’m fine. Just sore ribs. Think Judd broke ‘em. What was that all about anyway?” he asks, sitting up with one arm wrapped around his chest, a slight wince on his face.

Owen watches as the ambulance pulls away with Judd and Carlos inside and just shakes his head. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital.”

“Dad? It’s not that bad, seriously. I’m fine.”

“TK, it’s not for you.”

It takes a few seconds but the look on TK’s face when he finally realizes what had just happened makes Owen wish that he’d just invented some kind of elaborate lie or something to cover up the whole thing. He knew it was illogical but the urge to protect his son from any more hurt was there, overpowering any logic or rational thought. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

~~~

They arrive at the hospital shortly after. Despite what he’d been told, about the trip not being for him, his dad had still made him get checked out. The whole way to the hospital, he’d been hunched over with his arms wrapped around his chest and Owen had been understandably concerned. A few moments after arriving, he's diagnosed with cracked ribs. After being told about caring for his ribs, they head into the waiting room to find Carlos sitting in the corner with an ice pack to his head and a pink emesis bin in his lap. He glances up when the two walk in, giving TK a small, pained smile. TK immediately glances away.

From what he’d been told, this whole thing was his fault. If he had been paying attention to the call instead of hanging out with his boyfriend when they were both working, then he would have seen the gun. He would have ducked or moved or done something other than just stand there like a lovesick dork. Judd wouldn’t be in surgery. Carlos wouldn’t be sitting there in obvious pain.

TK knew he had a bad habit of internalizing things and blaming himself. His dad told him practically every time it happened. But in this case, he was certain that it was his fault. How could it not be? He had been standing there, flirting with his boyfriend while everyone else was working hard. Judd had been right, he was slacking. And now he was paying the price for TK’s mistake.

Before he even has a chance to try and stop it, a strangled sob escapes him, and just like that, the dam he’d oh so carefully constructed breaks. He sits there, in the cold, cramped hospital chair, with his legs pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his knees as loud sobs wracked his body. The fabric on his knees is getting wet with his tears but he can’t bring himself to care. With everything else happening, it doesn’t seem to matter that much. He feels somebody’s arm wrap around him, pulling him into their side with a quiet, “Oh, TK.”

He recognizes his dad’s voice and the feeling of his chest. Briefly, he’s reminded of the time when he was a kid and he’d had a nightmare. He’d stood over his dad’s bed for nearly ten minutes before Owen had woken up. His dad had later told him that he’d scared the shit out of him. But after that, he’d just hugged him and held him close. He had rubbed his hair like he was doing now and he’d told him that everything was going to be okay. That whatever had happened was just a dream and it couldn’t hurt him. The mantra was different today. Today, his dad was assuring him that what happened wasn’t his fault. “Everything will be okay. It wasn’t your fault, TK, these things happen. Judd’s gonna be fine. Carlos is—”

“I’m fine,” Carlos pipes up, though his voice is tinged with hurt. TK can’t tell if it’s from the concussion or TK ignoring him. Either way, he had caused it. It was his fault.

“Tyler Kennedy, you listen to me.” TK hadn’t realized he had been speaking out loud. “This was not your fault. Okay?”

“But Carlos got— and Judd he—”

“They’re fine, TK. Right now, I’m more worried about you.” Owen lowers his voice, leaning in closer to his son. “How are you feeling? Any… urges?”

TK sighs, rolling his eyes and looking up at his dad. “I’m not a werewolf, you know, and I’m not made of glass either. I’m not gonna- I’m not going to OD again, okay? That was… it was a one-time thing. Not every issue is going to break me, okay? Okay, dad?”

“I know,” Owen tells him, a small smile on his face. “I know. I’m just worried, okay?”

“Yeah, well you don’t have to be.”

“It’s kind of my job, TK.”

TK feels a small spark of inexplicable anger appear. “No, your <i>job</i> is to save people.”

“Not as a firefighter, TK, as your dad.”

TK’s quiet for a moment. Just like that, the spark is gone and another sob leaves him. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Owen assures him, rubbing small circles into his son’s back. TK just nods, too busy trying to hold back the sobs and tears that threatened to overspill. By now, Paul, Marjan, and Matéo had returned from taking the truck back for the next shift and were just sitting awkwardly in the chairs beside Carlos.

When Paul catches the captain's eye, he mouths something that Owen takes for meaning, ‘Is he okay?’ Owen hesitates, looking down at where TK was sitting, practically in his lap with his head buried in his chest. He nods. TK might not be completely okay right now, but he would be. Owen knew that. If his son was anything, he was resilient.

Owen glances up at the sound of footsteps, relieved to see the doctor approaching. He knows the exact moment that TK notices, shifting and accidentally elbowing Owen in the chest. “Oomph!”

“Sorry,” TK’s quick to apologize but pays his dad no heed as he looks over at the doctor, a tall blond man. “How is he? Is he okay?”

The doctor opens his mouth to say something when Paul pipes up. “Relax, TK, he’s fine. Doc’s relaxed.”

“Wel—”

“Plus, Judd’s a fighter. He’ll be fine in no time.”

“May I—”

“Wait, did anyone call his wife?”

“If I can—”

“Yeah, I called her earlier. You know, she’s actually really nice. She invited us for dinner this weekend.”

“Guys,” Owen says, holding up a hand. “Let the man speak.”

The doctor sends him a thankful look and adjusts his clipboard as he clears his throat. “Thank you, Captain. Mr. Ryder’s going to be just fine. He’s lost a bit of blood but we were able to remove the bullet without much difficulty at all. He’s awake and ready for visitors. If you would like to see him, somebody can go in now. He’s been asking for his little brother?”

As soon as the doctor��s finished speaking, Owen looks down at his son. “That’s you. Go see him, make sure he’s not giving the nurses a hard time.” TK hesitates before shaking his head slightly and pulling his phone out as if he got a text. “I uh- actually, I have to go. Meeting a friend.”

Before anyone can protest, he’s out of there, taking off like a bat out of hell. Owen sighs, standing up. “Guess, that’s me then.” As he heads for Judd’s room, he hears Mateo comment on TK leaving to see a friend instead of visiting his brother. Marjan smacks him upside the head and calls him an idiot before Owen can say anything. He’d talk to TK later, make sure he’s okay.

Nobody, not even Paul, notices Carlos slipping away.

~~~

As soon as he’s out of the hospital, TK breaks down completely. He slides down one of the large white pillars and buries his face in his arms as he cries. Loud sobs wrack his entire body as he struggles to get a breath in without choking on it. He can practically feel everyone staring at him, watching as he loses it right there on the pavement. TK can only imagine the sight he makes. He was still in his turnout gear minus his helmet, which was probably still in the waiting room with his dad, and definitely looked the part of a badass firefighter. And here he was, sobbing like a child.

Too focused on dwelling on his own mistakes and trying to get a breath in, TK doesn’t notice somebody sitting down beside him until there’s a sharp inhale from the spot to his left. “It’s bright out, huh?” TK freezes, recognizing his boyfriend’s voice. He looks up slowly, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of his hand. They just keep coming.

“What are you doing here?”

“Come on, TK. I know you. And I know that you’re taking this hard. It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

TK shakes his head. “That’s not— I wasn’t doing my job. I was just standing around, talking to <i>you</i>. I was distracted.”

“Everyone was standing around, there wasn’t much to do. You did nothing wrong. Please tell me you understand that,” Carlos says, an arm around his shoulders as he pulls TK into an awkward, half hug. TK just laughs bitterly and shakes his head again. Carlos frowns and decides to try another tactic. “What, you’re not going to ask how I’m feeling?”

TK looks up at him, the slightest hint of a smile on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just won a steak-eating contest.”

“Nauseous?”

“Yeah. Doc says I have a concussion. Nothing serious though.”

TK nods. “Good. Look… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“TK, you have nothing to apologize for,” he tells him with a smile, squeezing him against his chest. “What happened was an accident. I know it doesn’t help much but it’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” TK shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

Carlos frowns but decides not to say anything for now. “Come on, Tiger. Let’s go see Judd. I heard he’s giving the doctors a hard time.”

This time, TK doesn’t protest as he’s led back towards the hospital.

~~~

“Where’s the kid?”

Standing at the end of Judd’s hospital bed, Owen got the strange feeling that he was at his judgment day. Judd didn’t look like he’d even been shot. If it weren’t for the bandage wrapped around his shoulder and the stark white hospital sheets, he could have just been laying in bed. He wasn’t wearing a hospital gown either, something the captain found fairly odd but not important enough to mention.

“He… had to leave. Had a date with a friend,” Owen tells him. They both knew he was lying.

“He’s blaming himself, ain’t he?” Judd asks, groaning slightly as he props himself up on his elbows and looks over. Owen just nods. “Fuck, knew he would. He’s okay though, right?”

Owen nods again. “Yeah, he’s fine. A couple of cracked ribs but he’ll be fine. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m floating on cloud nine, Cap. Think they gave me the good stuff,” he responds with a shit-eating grin.

Owen laughs. “I don’t doubt it.”

There’s a moment of quiet as the mood slowly shifts and Judd looks up. “Any idea where he is?”

Owen shakes his head. They both knew who Judd was referring to. “I don’t know. He told me he wouldn’t be…” he trails off with a shake of his head. “But I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll be fine. What happened out there?”

“Paul found cocaine. A ton of it. The guy didn’t want anyone finding out, I guess.”

“Whew-”

“What, no ‘welcome to Texas’?”

Judd shakes his head. “This ain’t Texas shit, Cap. That’s some LA shit.”

“Yeah.”

Though the silence between the two had never been awkward before, it was now rife with tension. Owen wasn’t too sure what to say. He knew TK wouldn’t appreciate him telling Judd about their earlier talk but right now, he was considering telling Judd their entire life story just to have something to talk about. Thankfully, by some sort of miracle, he’s stopped from oversharing by the door opening and a light cough from the doorway.

Owen turns around immediately to see TK and Carlos standing there in the doorway. Carlos’s arm is wrapped around TK’s shoulders in a protective gesture and the police officer is giving them both a look that dares them to try anything. TK, for his part, was just standing there with his eyes on his shoes and his arms wrapped around his chest as if he could hold himself together just like that.

Nobody says anything for a few moments before Carlos nudges TK, prompting a slight glare at the other man and a quiet, “Hey.”

“Howdy, kid. Nice of you to drop by,” Judd responds, not missing a beat. Despite how withdrawn and hesitant TK was at the moment, Judd was acting as if they were just hanging around the fire station. And for that, Owen was grateful. TK hated any kind of pity or sympathy or anything like that. And while Judd wasn’t the type to pity people, Owen knew that his son would definitely interpret any difference in behavior as such.

TK doesn’t respond, leaving them with yet another awkward silence. It takes Owen a moment to see the look Judd was giving him, too busy watching his son with obvious worry. Judd clears his throat and Owen gets the sense that he was tired of waiting for him to catch on. “Hey, Cap, why don’t you and Reyes go call Grace or something?”

The dismissal was anything except subtle but it got the job done. Carlos seems to snap out of whatever protective trance he was in and nods. “Right… yeah. Uh- see you later, TK?” TK just nods, still not looking up from his shoes.

With one last lingering glance at his son, Owen follows Carlos out of the hospital room and back to the rest of the crew.

~~~

Judd doesn’t say anything as he watches the kid in the doorway. His posture and expression screams guilt and Judd knows that whatever he’s thinking about was eating at him. He shakes his head. “Am I gonna be receiving an invite to this pity party or is it one of them private affairs?”

TK glances up at that, a hint of a glare on his face as he looks towards Judd. It’s lacking any heat, though, and seemed more instinctual than anything. Judd sighs. “Come on, kid. What’s eating at you?”

There’s another brief moment of silence as TK seems to gather his words before speaking. “You got shot.”

Judd raises a brow. “Believe me, brother, I know.”

“No— you got shot because I wasn’t paying attention. I was flirting with Carlos. Flirting! At work. And you were— you—”

As he speaks, TK starts to pace back and forth across the room and Judd holds up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “First of all, you’re making me dizzy. Second, this kind of shit happens. It could have happened to anyone. Probie, Marwani, your dad. Hell, even me. You know how many times I’ve tried flirting with Grace over the radio?” TK shakes his head. “Too many times.”

Judd pauses for a moment, just to get a sense of where they were, and then launches into the seemingly endless story of how he’d flirted with Grace over the radio, got himself smacked upside the head by his captain, and sent to the couch for the night by Grace, and almost drowned as a direct result from the incident. Partway through the story, TK migrates over to the hard plastic chair beside Judd’s bed and by the time he reaches the part about the couch, TK’s fast asleep with his head on the bed. Judd doesn’t stop talking just yet, continuing the story as TK lays there, his head laying on his folded arms.

He doesn’t reach the drowning part before he’s dozing off beside the kid, confident that they’d be alright.

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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Can I ask for fingore square? As someone who broke their finger during the pandemic....can I request that with some hurt TK?

holly's august extravaganza day 28: ignoring every warning

thanks for the prompt brit! the fingore square had been requested by the time i saw this message but here's the fic anyway! hope you like it 😊

thanks to @silvarafael for the beta!

ao3 | 1.3k | minor injuries, hurt tk, big brother judd, mostly just tk being a dumbass

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he hurts.

He mostly just wants to put the shame of it all behind him. After all, it’s not like the entire firehouse saw him get so distracted talking to Carlos on the phone that he slammed the ambulance doors shut on his hand—

Oh, wait.

It had been weeks of teasing and jokes that TK wasn’t sure were all good-natured. Even Carlos, the traitor, had joined in once or twice (or three, or four, or five times…), and it was only Carlos’s frustratingly effective cow eyes and TK’s own displeasure at the thought of sleeping alone that had kept him from the couch.

Technically, the doctor had said that he should stick to light duty and keep the hand brace on for another few weeks, which he kinda, sorta isn’t doing.

But he’s fine.

He makes a point of saying so to Nancy when she sends him the third exasperated look of the day—and they’re only two hours into shift.

“Whatever you say, dude,” she replies drily. “Just don’t come crying when you re-break that hand because you’re a dumbass who won’t admit when he’s in pain.”

The slight smirk on her lips is enough for TK to gather that she’s referring to the first time he broke it, and...maybe she has a point.

(“I’m okay, I just need to shake it out for a minute.”

“TK, none of your fingers look the way they should. I bet you anything you can’t even move that hand right now, but, by all means, go ahead and shake it.”)

(He did. It did not go well.)

“I’m fine,” he repeats, scowling, which gets him a totally unwarranted head shake and eye roll. Well… Whatever. Nancy can think what she wants; TK is going to finish his shift and he’s going to manage it perfectly well, thanks very much.

And he does. Admittedly, his hand is aching more than it probably should be, but he just needs to rest it when he gets home, which—ah.

Problem #1: He and Carlos still haven’t finished setting up the new house.

Problem #2: Today is their only joint night off for the rest of the week, which leads to,

Problem #3: They’d agreed to spend the night sorting some furniture and unpacking a few important boxes.

Logically, TK knows he should tell Carlos that he doesn’t feel up to doing any heavy lifting tonight. He’d understand, there’s no question of that; Carlos would likely spend the entire night fussing instead, probably mixed with a bit of loving exasperation at TK for having pushed himself too much. But he doesn’t want to let him down, not again. Not after the months spent fighting with the insurance companies and struggling to find a house, and especially not after Carlos had supported TK while the firehouse was closed down.

He flexes his hand experimentally. It’s a little stiff and the soreness brings a grimace to his face, but it works.

He’s got this.

TK is, maybe, just a little less than fine.

Like, 85% fine. 70% absolute minimum.

But it’s okay, because now he has a day off to ice his hands without Carlos hovering like a mother hen. Normally, he’d hate the idea of spending the day without his boyfriend, but the less Carlos knows about this situation, the better for both of them.

The ice helps, and the dull throbbing that’s become his normal for the past couple of days almost disappears. TK knows he shouldn’t push it, but his need to be busy always wins over training and common sense, so.

So.

The next shift is a little easier, and TK figures he’s probably healed enough to head to the gym for a while. Get his strength back up, and all that.

He’s very, very wrong.

Ten minutes in, and TK hits the punching bag in a way that elicits a crack from his knuckles that not even he can write it off as fine. His hand hurts and his fingers are starting to look horribly swollen, and shit, Carlos is going to fucking kill him later.

Maybe…

Maybe he can fix this. He’s a paramedic; he can strap up his own fingers. Sure, it’s his left hand that’s injured, but he can handle it. He just needs to get out of the gym, through the firehouse, loot the ambulance, and bandage himself up without running into anyone who will ask questions.

Simple.

Except, because the universe hates him, TK quite literally runs into Judd on his way out of the gym. The knock sends an unpleasant jolt through his injured hand, and TK doesn’t manage to contain his wince in time to hide it.

Judd doesn’t even bother asking what happened; he simply sighs heavily and gets out his phone, tapping away at the screen.

TK cranes his neck to try and see what he’s doing, but Judd holds his phone close to his chest, blocking his view. “What are you doing?”

“You obviously got your dumb ass in a mess again so I’m texting your boy to come get you.” Judd shoots him an unimpressed look, rolling his eyes at TK’s horrified stare. “What, you’d rather he find out about this later or something?”

“No, it’s just—I was gonna tell him!”

“Uh-huh.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, so TK doesn’t bother trying to defend himself. He huffs and folds his good arm across his chest, scowling at Judd.

“You can stop looking like that,” Judd remarks, gaze fixed back on his phone as it pings with a new message. “Carlos is on his way.”

“I hate you.”

“Shockingly, I can live with that.” He pockets his phone and takes TK’s shoulder, almost pushing him down the stairs. “Come on, kid. Let’s get some ice on that.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” TK says, though he knows Judd isn’t going to let him out of his sight until Carlos arrives.

“Yeah, that broken hand says otherwise.”

There’s a barely contained laugh in Judd’s voice, and TK has the sudden urge to punch his smirk away. Which would only really prove the point, so he has to resort to glaring at his back and ignoring the warmth at the thought of Judd taking care of him like the brother TK never had.

When Carlos shows up ten minutes later, the concern in his eyes betrays the deep exasperation painted all over his face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” TK protests anyway. “It’s not like I asked for this to happen.”

Judd snorts—rude—and Carlos grins over at him, sharing a head shake—even ruder—and TK lets out what even he can admit is a pathetic whine.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Carlos says, not sounding sorry in the least, “but you have literally ignored every single recommendation from the doctor. The only thing you haven’t done is actually ask for it.”

“They’re recommendations, Carlos.”

“And you’re a paramedic, so you should know that ‘recommendation’ is a kind way of saying ‘order’.”

For the second time, TK has no defense. He huffs and looks down at his shoes, hoping that he paints a miserable enough picture to get his boyfriend to take at least some pity on him.

Somehow, it works, as Carlos takes him in a careful side hug. “Sorry,” he repeats, more earnest this time. “Let’s get you to the ER, huh?”

TK nods reluctantly, allowing Carlos to steer him out of the firehouse. “Can’t believe I’m going to have to take even more time off,” he grumbles.

“Well, think about it this way.” Carlos rubs his arm in a soothing gesture, though his next words are anything but. “At least you’ll have more time to finish up with the house.”

TK groans. His day did not need to get any more painful.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #judd ryder #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #brit tag

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