#Tarlos Fanfiction One-shots

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The shift had been relentless, a nonstop whirlwind of calls that left TK feeling like his body was on the verge of collapse. He barely had the energy to trudge into the 126 lounge at the end of it. Dropping into a chair, he groaned loudly, clutching his sides as though the act of sitting required all the strength he had left.

"I'm dying," TK announced dramatically, throwing his head back against the chair.

Nancy smirked from her spot by the coffee machine. "You're not dying, TK. You're just tired. Like the rest of us."

TK opened one eye and shot her a glare. "You don't understand. I can feel my soul leaving my body."

Paul walked by, patting TK on the shoulder. "You say that after every tough shift, and yet, here you are, still alive."

Judd snorted. "Boy, you're the definition of drama queen."

"Call it what you want," TK said, clutching his chest for added effect. "But I need someone to tell Carlos how much I love him. Tell him I fought bravely."

Tommy chuckled as she packed up her gear. "Don't worry, we'll let him know. He'll probably roll his eyes and tell us you're just being your dramatic self."

"Rude," TK muttered, standing up slowly. His legs felt like jelly as he grabbed his bag and made his way to the door. "I'm going home. If I don't show up on my next shift, assume the worst."

Nancy called after him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Rest in peace, TK!"

By the time TK got to his and Carlos's loft, his energy was completely spent. Carlos was still on his own shift and wouldn't be home for a few more hours. TK thought briefly about making something to eat, but as soon as he saw the couch, all plans dissolved. He tossed his bag to the side, kicked off his boots, and collapsed onto the cushions. Within seconds, he was out cold.

When Carlos finally got home, the loft was dark except for the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the windows. He called out, "TK?" but got no response. Dropping his bag by the door, he walked further in and spotted TK sprawled on the couch, sound asleep. A small smile tugged at Carlos's lips as relief washed over him. TK looked peaceful, his features softened in sleep. Carlos knew how brutal the last shift had been from their earlier texts, and he was just glad TK was resting.

He moved toward the kitchen, setting down his keys and glancing around. The counters were as spotless as when he'd left for work. He opened the fridge and saw everything still in its place. TK hadn't eaten. Again. Carlos sighed, shaking his head fondly. "Crashed without eating. Of course."

Determined to fix that, Carlos got to work making dinner for the both of them. He decided on something simple but hearty—a chicken soup with rice, knowing it was one of TK's favorites. As he cooked, he couldn't help but think about the next two days. Their schedules had finally aligned, giving them a rare opportunity to spend uninterrupted time together. Carlos was already planning out lazy mornings and long walks, just the two of them. By the time the table was set, the apartment was filled with the comforting aroma of soup.

Carlos walked over to the couch to wake TK, his movements gentle so he wouldn't startle him. He leaned down, brushing TK's hair away from his forehead, but the moment his hand made contact, he froze. TK's skin was burning up. His stomach dropped as worry took over. "Oh no," he whispered, quickly moving to grab the thermometer and some fever-reducing medicine.

Returning to TK's side, he crouched down and softly shook his shoulder. "TK, baby, wake up."

TK groaned, burying his face further into the cushion. "Five more minutes," he mumbled, his voice muffled and groggy.