#Tarlos Fanfiction One-shots

Unshakable Love

The tension between TK and Carlos had been simmering for weeks, unspoken but undeniably present. Carlos was buried in his new role as a Texas Ranger, juggling the pressures of proving himself in a department where expectations were sky-high, while quietly chasing down leads related to his father's murder. TK, on the other hand, was navigating the emotionally taxing demands of being a paramedic, throwing himself into his work while trying to shoulder the growing distance in their marriage.

It wasn't that they didn't love each other. They did—fiercely. But love sometimes got lost in the shuffle of late-night shifts, missed dinners, and the silent weight of grief that Carlos carried but never fully shared. TK tried to be understanding, to give Carlos space, but he couldn't shake the ache of missing his husband even when they were in the same room. For all the heroism they poured into their jobs, they were faltering where it mattered most.

TK had just finished a grueling double shift. The call volume had been relentless, and he was running on fumes when the last dispatch came through: a structure fire with potential injuries inside. He and Nancy arrived on the scene to find chaos—firefighters working frantically, smoke billowing, and a woman screaming that her child was still inside.

Without hesitation, TK grabbed his gear and headed toward the firefighters. "I'll go with you," he said to Paul, who was suiting up.

"TK, you're not cleared for this," Nancy protested, her voice laced with worry.

"I'm not standing here while a kid's in danger," TK shot back, his eyes determined. "I've done this before."

Paul nodded reluctantly, knowing there was no stopping him. Together, they entered the burning building. The smoke was thick, the heat oppressive, but TK moved with purpose. They found the child hiding under a table, coughing but otherwise unharmed. Paul carried her out while TK checked for other potential victims. That was when the ceiling collapsed.

The next thing TK knew, he was pinned under debris, his side burning with pain and his head swimming from the smoke. His radio crackled, Paul's panicked voice shouting, "We've got a man down! TK's trapped!"

Carlos was sitting in a briefing when his phone buzzed. The message was from Paul, simple but enough to send a chill down his spine: TK's hurt. It's bad. He's being transported to St. David's.

Carlos didn't wait for his superior's approval. He bolted from the room, his mind racing as he sped to the hospital. Images of TK—bruised, bleeding, struggling—flashed through his mind, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly, his chest constricting with fear.

When he arrived at the hospital, Owen was already there, pacing the waiting room with a frantic energy that was all too familiar. The 126 crew was huddled nearby, their expressions a mixture of worry and guilt.

"Where is he?" Carlos demanded, his voice breaking.

"They're still working on him," Owen said, his own voice unsteady. "They said he might have a broken rib and smoke inhalation. They're worried about his oxygen levels."

After what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached. "TK is stable," she said, and the collective sigh of relief was palpable. "He has a fractured rib and moderate smoke inhalation, but his oxygen levels are improving. We'll keep him overnight for observation."

Carlos collapsed into a chair, his head falling into his hands as a mix of relief and exhaustion coursed through him. "I swear, TK is going to give me gray hair before I'm thirty-five," he muttered, his voice strained. "How is it that every time I turn around, he's in the middle of something that could kill him?"