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“Babe! Babe, look! Look! Do you see? It’s everywhere!!”
Carlos chuckles. “I see.”
T.K. has his face pressed against the glass of the car window, his eyes glued to the snowy landscape that swallows them up as they drive through the winding roads of Aspen, Colorado. “There’s so much of it!”
“You two never seen snow before?” their driver, Jeff, asks from the front seat.
“We have,” Carlos tells him. “It’s just been a while.”
“Seven years,” T.K. says without taking his eyes off the roadside. “And that was not good snow. That was death snow.”
“Death snow?” Jeff’s eyebrows rise in the rearview mirror.
“It’s a long story,” Carlos tells him. “Let’s just say we were both put off of freezing cold weather after that.”
“OH!” T.K. cries, smushing his face into the glass. “Someone made a snowman!” He pulls out his phone. “I’m going to take a picture for Jonah.”
Guilt gnaws at Carlos’ stomach. He’d been up last night at three am, unable to sleep, seriously looking at an eight hundred dollar ticket to add Jonah to their flight. A couple’s getaway had seemed like such a good idea when T.K. suggested it, but now, looking at the snow, thinking about how much Jonah would enjoy playing in it, imagining the three of them cozy by the fire, drinking hot chocolate and eating popcorn, his heart aches that they left their boy behind.
“Hey.” T.K. reaches over and puts a hand on Carlos’ knee. “You okay?”
“He would love this,” Carlos says, his heart breaking a little more with the words. It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell the driver to turn around and take them back to the airport.
“He’s going to be fine. He’s with Judd and Grace and Charlie, and you know how much he loves them. It’s only a few days.”
Carlos does know. But he also knows that despite his initial misgivings three years ago about becoming dad to his brother-in-law, he now feels inseparable from their little buddy. Jonah has all of T.K.’s charm and wit, and, surprising no one, Carlos is the softy of the family. He can barely stand to tell Jonah no, let alone leave him for a few days while they vacation on their own.
T.K. squeezes Carlos’ knee. “If we love it and have a great time we’ll come back again and bring him.”
“You packed Ziggy, right?” Carlos asks, referring to the tiger stuffed animal that Jonah is lost without at bedtime. “And his tiger pajamas?”
“Ziggy went into the duffle bag along with the pajamas and Goodnight Moon. And Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. And his Toniebox with the Wicked cast recording.”
“You can take the boy out of New York,” Carlos says, managing a laugh. He’d never expected to be able to sing Defying Gravity on command, but Jonah has been obsessed for the last two months. At least it’s not Hamilton anymore. It had been an eye-opening day when Jonah’s teacher sent home a note requesting they have a family chat about how singing, “how does a mustard, orphan, son of a horse,” isn’t appropriate for Kindergarten lunchtime.
T.K.’s face softens into a fond smile. “Let’s Facetime him.”
Carlos whole mood shifts. “Really? You don’t think that might upset him? What if he’s sad we’re gone and seeing us makes it worse?”
“I promise you, he’s fine. And if you see for yourself, maybe you’ll stop worrying so much and actually enjoy this vacation.”
T.K. taps Grace’s name on his phone and it only rings twice before she picks up. “Judd owes me twenty bucks,” she tells them, a smirk on her face.
“You bet on how long it would be before we called?” T.K. guesses.
“We did indeed. He gave you until bedtime. I told him you wouldn’t even make it to the house. I knew Carlos couldn’t hold out that long.”
Carlos shakes his head, only a tiny bit embarrassed. “You know me too well Grace. How’s he doing?”
“See for yourself.”
She turns the camera around to reveal Jonah and Charlie sprawled on the floor, a vast amount of toy horses in front of them. There appears to be some fencing, a water trough, a barn, and a handful of Barbies lying around, most of which are naked. “Jonah, you want to come say hi?” she asks. “T.K. and Carlos are on the phone.”
“No.”
T.K. snorts and Carlos’ heart does this weird little squeeze like it knows it should be happy that Jonah is content without them around, but it’s also a tiny bit sad that he’s not missing them a little.
“Just come for a second, all right?” Grace coaxes.
“Okay, but, Charlie, but don’t take the brown one, okay?” Jonah says as he gets onto his feet. “And pretend that it’s sleeping and I’ll be right back.”
He reaches Grace and takes the phone from her hand. “Hi.”
“Hey bud!” T.K. replies. “Looks like you’re having fun.”
“T.K., Charlie has a lot of horses at her house, do you want to see?”
The phone’s camera gives them a lovely view of the carpet as he runs back to the toys and then a couple blurry horse legs come into view. “Do you see them? The brown one is mine and its name is Cocoa and it hurt its leg but now it’s better because Charlie’s a vegeterarian and she fixed it.”
“Wow a vegeterarian, that’s awesome,” T.K. says. “Hey, do you want to say hi to Carlos?”
He hands the phone over and Jonah manages to flip the camera around so Carlos can see his eyes and forehead. “Hey Jojo,” Carlos says.
“Carlos did you see my horse?”
“I did, I saw it.”
“How do you say horse in Spanish?”
Carlos smiles. “El caballo.”
“El caballo. CHARLIE!” Jonah yells it even though she’s probably only three feet away. “CHARLIE DO YOU KNOW HOW TO SAY HORSE IN SPANISH? MY PAPA SAYS YOU SAY IT’S EL CABALLO.” He looks back at the screen. “Carlos, did you go on the plane?”
“We did, we’re almost to our house. We miss you.”
“Okay. When we go home to feed Lou later can I show Charlie my new monster truck?”
“Yes,” Carlos says. “That’s fine.”
“CHARLIE MY PAPA SAYS I CAN SHOW YOU MY MONSTER TRUCK.”
Carlos starts to chuckle at how ridiculous this whole conversation is, but something sticks in his throat and it becomes a cough instead. He tries to clear it, but that makes it worse and by the time he’s stopped T.K. is looking at him with concern.
“Carlos, are you sick?” Jonah asks, his nose the only thing in the frame at the moment.
“No, I’m okay mijo,” he says. “Just a tickle in my throat.”
“Because one time when I was coughing, I was sick.”
“I remember,” Carlos says, recalling several times when that was the case. Most likely Jonah is referring to the cold he had around Hanukkah.
“Jonah.” T.K. takes the phone back, his gaze lingering on Carlos for a second longer than necessary, that paramedic assessment gleam in his eye. “Be a good listener for Auntie Grace, okay? We’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, bye!”
The phone hits the floor with a thud, the sound of running feet and the ceiling of the Ryder’s house their only companions until Grace comes to retrieve it. “You two satisfied?” she asks.
“I think we’re good,” T.K. says.
“Yes, thank you Grace,” Carlos echoes, leaning over so he’s partially in the camera.
“I promise, no harm will come to a single hair on that beautiful little head. Y’all have fun!”
They bid her goodbye and hang up, T.K.’s eyes drifting back over to Carlos. “You okay?” he asks. “That cough didn’t sound good.”
Carlos shrugs. “Just something caught in my throat.”
“Mhm.” T.K. doesn’t look quite convinced, but he moves on. “Feel better now? He’s fine.”
“I guess,” Carlos sighs, resisting the urge to rub a sudden headache out of the front of his forehead. Probably from the plane ride and the altitude. “Would be nice if he missed us a little bit though.”
“Bedtime,” Jeff pipes up. “That’s when it hits ‘em. Least that’s how it always was for my kids. All good until it’s night and then they get sad. It’s good for ‘em though. Helps ‘em learn to be independent.”
Carlos isn’t sure he wants Jonah to be independent. The idea of him living in their house forever seems pretty good right about now, selfish as it may be. He can’t imagine the pain of watching their sweet boy go off to college or get a job and move out of state.
Tears prick his eyes and he blinks them away. What the hell? He’s not usually this emotional. Even about Jonah.
They round a corner and their little cottage appears, the ridge line rising up out of the snow covered pine trees, its wooden frame charming and inviting and exactly like it was pictured online. “Oh it’s perfect!” T.K. says in delight.
Despite Carlos’ trepidation about leaving Jonah, T.K.’s joy makes it clear that this getaway is very needed. T.K.’s spot at the 126 had opened back up last year, right around the same time Jonah went to Kindergarten. It was a perfect opportunity; he’d been itching to get back at it and with Jonah in school all day it was easier to make their shifts line up around childcare. Carlos is happy that T.K. is happy, but he misses coming home to his husband every night. Now their shifts sometimes don’t line up, one of them running out the door while the other is walking in.
The plan for this getaway is to relax and reconnect. And hopefully have sex whenever they want to. He and T.K. pretty much have to make do with shower quickies at the moment because even though Jonah is a pretty good sleeper, he seems to have a sixth sense for when the two of them start getting frisky and somehow manages to have a night terror that requires joining them in their bed almost every time.
Carlos wants to put his hands on his husband and not worry how loud they are or if Jonah will come barging in or if one of them will get a work call that ruins everything. This weekend is going to be the perfect.
They thank Jeff as they remove their bags from the car. “You boys be careful. We’re getting snow tonight. They’re saying eight to twelve inches, but I’m betting it’ll be more. It takes ‘em a while to get up here and clear the road,” he says.
“Thanks,” T.K. says. “We’ll be fine. Just planning to hunker down and stay in anyway.”
“All right then. Have fun.”
They wave as he drives back down the hill and then turn to look at their home for the next five days. “It’s perfect, right?” T.K. asks.
“So perfect,” Carlos agrees, his breath coming out in a puff of cloud. He shivers against the cold; he’d forgotten how brutal it can be, even with the sun shining down on them.
“Cold?” T.K. asks.
Carlos nods. “Yeah it’s freezing out here.”
T.K. cocks his head, a slow smirk growing on his face and Carlos just knows that whatever comes out of his mouth next is going to be ridiculous. “Then let’s get inside. Maybe I’ll give you eight to twelve inches of something else.”
“Twelve inches?” Carlos laughs incredulously as he follows T.K. toward the door. “Baby I love you, but you do not have twelve inches. That’s not sex, that’s a trip to the hospital.”
“Anything’s possible if you believe, Carlos,” T.K. says cheekily, punching in the code so that the door unlocks and swings open.
They’d chosen this secluded cabin because it had about two hundred five star reviews raving about the hot tub, the location, and the cozy aesthetic. On first glance, it does not disappoint. The kitchen boasts black marble countertops and high end appliances. The open floor plan rolls out into a living room with plush couches, a beautiful gas fireplace surrounded by stone, and floor to ceiling windows that look out over the snowy landscape.
By the time Carlos takes it in, T.K. is gone, bounding off to the bedroom. “Babe! Come look!” he calls from out of sight.
Carlos follows him, aware that there’s a good chance his husband has already stripped naked. “You should probably wait to get naked until after we get the grocery delivery,” he says as he steps into the master.
Sure enough, T.K.’s jeans are already unbuttoned, and he looks up disappointed. “What time are they coming?”
“Five thirty.”
He checks his watch. “We could do a quickie?”
Carlos chuckles and walks to him, taking his hands. “I thought the point of coming here was to do a little more than a quickie.”
“It could be an appetizer?”
Carlos shoves his husband onto bed without warning, delighting in the way his arms flail a bit as he plops down in surprise. T.K.’s eyes go wide as Carlos settles his weight on top of him and looks down for a long moment, letting the anticipation build. Then he kisses the tip of T.K.’s nose. “Later.”
“Ughhhhh,” T.K. groans underneath him. “You’re a tease.”
Carlos smiles and opens his mouth to say something snarky, but is shocked when a sneeze escapes him instead, the force of it hitting T.K. directly in the face.
T.K. scrunches his nose and blinks a few times. “Well that was gross.”
Carlos scrambles to his feet. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he says, horrified as another sneeze bursts out of him.
T.K. sits up and wipes his face with his sleeve. “Not the first time someone has sneezed in my face, but usually it’s the Kindergartener of the family.”
“Sorry,” Carlos says again, rubbing his nose in an attempt to rid himself of the violent urge to produce a third sneeze. “I don’t know where that came from.”
“I don’t know either, but I can tell you this: it wasn’t a turn on.” T.K. gets up and pats Carlos’ shoulder before going to get their bags from the foyer.
Carlos grimaces, sniffing and then wincing as he swallows and his throat scrapes against itself from the inside. A little frisson of panic skitters down his spine, but he pushes it away. There is no way he’s sick. He’s just dried out from the plane ride and the cold weather and the altitude. This weekend has to be perfect. Being sick is not part of the plan.
The grocery order arrives and Carlos spends forty minutes putting it away and exploring the kitchen, while T.K. unpacks in the bedroom and then perches on the counter, opening and munching on whatever snack Carlos inadvertently leaves close to him as he shares all the details of the latest firehouse happenings including Marjan’s attempt at starting a daily yoga hour, Judd’s refusal to participate in said yoga hour, and Mateo’s accidental sabotage of the yoga hour when he threw a hand stand too hard and ended up knocking over six other crew members like dominos, resulting in varying degrees of injury.
“Two concussions, three black eyes, one chipped tooth, and a dislocated finger,” T.K. says, ticking them off on his own fingers. “It was a bloodbath. We almost had to call in another ambulance for assistance.”
“You and Nance and Tommy couldn’t handle it on your own? I thought you were the best paramedic team in Texas,” Carlos teases.
T.K. scoffs, offended. “Of course we handled it. I was exaggerating.”
“Really? You? Exaggerating? I’m shocked.”
“Shut up.” T.K. rolls his eyes and grabs another strawberry out of the container.
Carlos bites his lip, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He walks over and crowds into the space between T.K.’s legs. “Hi,” he says.
“Hi?” T.K.’s mouth is full of fruit, his voice coming out garbled.
“Stop eating all our snacks. They have to last five days.”
T.K. swallows and wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “You picked good snacks. I can’t help it.”
“Maybe I should give you something else to do with your hands.” Carlos lets his voice drop low, his own hands running up T.K.’s thighs as his thumbs trace the inseam of T.K.’s jeans.
“Mmm yes,” T.K. leans forward, their lips meeting softly.
It’s crazy how much Carlos still loves this after all these years together. He never gets tired of T.K.’s body, his mind, his heart. Everything about him is still as sparkling as the day they met, and Carlos truly isn’t sure how he could live without him at this point.
“Wait.” T.K. puts his hands on Carlos’ chest and pushes him back, his face serious. “You mean sex right? Doing sex things with my hands? Or are you joking and you really just want me to help cook dinner?”
“I mean,” Carlos leans closer, “imagine it’s our honeymoon all over again.”
“Yes!!”
Carlos steps back so T.K. can jump off the counter, laughing when he grabs his hand and starts dragging him toward the bedroom. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me. No, wait! Don’t. Surprise me! Or, wait, I could tell you what I’m—“
Carlos drags him in and presses a firm kiss to his lips to shut him up. “We have time for all of that,” he says.
T.K.’s eyes shine. “I love you, you know that?”
“I know. I love you too.”
He starts tugging again. “I love you so much that I don’t even care that you sneezed in my face earlier when you were trying to be sexy.”
“Do you love me enough to never bring it up again?”
T.K. squints at him and pretends to think about it. “Mmmmm, no.”
“That’s what I thought.”
The next few hours are bliss. The make love in the master several times over, both of them eager and excited to have so much privacy and time together. They’re starving after so much exertion, so they make pizza in their boxers, chasing each other around the kitchen while it bakes, then eating it too soon after it comes out, scalding their tongues on the cheese and sauce.
After they’ve cleaned up they stumble outside, the air around them bitingly cold, both of them running and yelling as their bare toes freeze in the ten steps between the house and the hot tub.
Carlos practically jumps in, water sloshing over the side and instantly melting the snow next to the tub. He sinks up to his shoulders, wincing slightly at the aching protest in his muscles. Apparently marathon sex takes a bit more of a toll when you’re in your mid-thirties.
T.K. slides in next to him, more water escaping the tub, his teeth chattering. “Oh my god, I forgot how cold snow is.”
“Yeah, I can’t feel my feet,” Carlos says, shifting until one of the jets blasts into his sores muscles.
“It’s pretty magical though.”
Snow has begun falling from the sky in big, fat flakes, illuminated by the outdoor lighting of the house. The night is quiet, the air so still you can practically hear the snowflakes land.
“Mm, it is,” Carlos says, sinking lower into the water with a shiver. A sudden wave of tiredness washes over him, pulling at his eyelids despite the fact that it’s barely past eight o’clock.
“You okay?” T.K. asks and Carlos forces his eyes back open again.
He smiles. “Yeah. I’m good baby. You?”
T.K. slides into his lap. “So good.” He kisses Carlos and then leans back, pushing the curls out of his face. “You feel warm.”
“We’re in a hot tub,” Carlos reminds him. “It’s like a hundred degrees in here.”
“Mmm.” T.K. still looks skeptical, but Carlos kisses him again and shuts him up fast.
They dry off after thirty minutes and cuddle on the couch while the latest Marvel movie plays on the TV. Carlos only catches bits of it, falling asleep off and on until the credits roll and T.K. tugs him to bed.
He barely makes it through brushing his teeth and he’s already half asleep by the time T.K. slides in next to him, cuddling into his chest and wrapping Carlos’ arm around his waist as they both drift off.
Consciousness comes crawling back to him, feeling like he’s being dragged up from the abyss and has to claw his way out. His head feels dull, pressure shoving against the back of his eyeballs down into his cheeks and when he swallows he lets out an involuntary whimper as knives scrape against the inside of his throat.
Carlos shivers, pulling the blankets tighter around him. They should have left the heat up higher last night, it’s freezing in here. His right arm reaches out blindly for T.K., seeking his warmth, but it meets only frigid, empty mattress.
He has to force his eyelids open, squinting against the brightness leaking around the curtains. The bed is indeed empty, and the scent of coffee wafts in from the kitchen, alerting him that T.K.’s not far away. “T.K.?” he tries, but all that comes out is a croak that sends more pain stabbing through him.
Oh god. Oh shit. He’s sick. No. Not now. Anytime but now. Not when last night was so perfect and they have four more perfect days ahead.
“Babe? Are you awake?” T.K.’s voice calls. Apparently his croak carried out of the room. “Come out here, you have to see this.”
Carlos isn’t sure he can get out of bed, let alone make it to where T.K. is. But he has to. They have to make the most of this time together. Surely once he gets up and going and drinks a gallon of coffee, he’ll feel better. Although honestly, the thought of coffee makes his stomach turn.
He drags himself upright, the whole room reeling around him, his head pounding with the effort. His feet find the floor and he stands, gripping the headboard to keep his balance. Shuddering again, he reaches down and grabs the duvet, pulling it around him like a cape to fight against the cold. Gritting his teeth, he concentrates on moving one foot at a time. He’ll go say good morning and then take a shower, blistering hot, and work whatever this is out of himself in no time.
When he makes it out into the great room T.K. isn’t there and his addled brain goes blank, trying to figure out how he can hear his husband but not see him.
“Babe, come look!”
A blast of cold wind hits him and makes him shiver even harder than he already is. He turns his head to the left and realizes the slider door is open. T.K. is out on the raised deck, his coat on over his pajamas, a cup of steaming coffee in hand. It would be adorable and romantic if Carlos didn’t feel so incredibly awful.
He clutches the duvet tighter around him and takes one shaky step after another toward the door. “Jeff the driver was right. It snowed, but it’s definitely more than twelve inches. More like two feet,” T.K. says, holding up his phone to take some pictures. “We’re snowed in. It’s like one of your romance novels!”
Carlos reaches the doorway and grips the frame tightly, its sharp edges biting into his palm, squinting against the light and the air and the painful shivers wracking his whole body. His head spins and the next thing he knows he’s falling.
T.K. wakes up sore in all the best ways. Sunlight streams between the cracks in the curtains, meaning they’ve slept past eight am. Between work and having a kid, T.K. can’t remember the last time they’ve made it past six thirty. Jonah is a morning person and he likes the rest of the world to wake up along with him.
Carlos is dead to the world next to him and T.K. resists the urge to be like his little brother and wake his husband up to play. Work has been crazy lately and Carlos could use the rest.
Instead he slips silently out of bed, pulling a hoodie on over his pajamas as he pads out to the kitchen and fires up the Keurig, the smell of coffee filling the air as he turns the heat up a little bit and starts the gas fireplace to warm the chill out of the room. Next he pushes the button that opens the curtains and blinks in surprise at what he sees outside.
The world is completely covered in white. Blinding, fresh snow has piled onto every surface and it’s significantly more than the weather predicted. The storm must have stalled out right over them.
He opens the front door and finds the road isn’t even visible. They are well and truly snowed into their little getaway home. It couldn’t be more perfect!
The coffee beeps and T.K. fills a mug, resisting the urge to drink it scalding hot and further worsen the burn on his tongue from last night’s dinner. He wanders toward the slider door, pausing only long enough to slip on some boots and his coat before stepping outside.
The air is so cold and dry, his breath comes out in a cloud and hangs in front of him for a long second before dissipating. The snow is only ankle deep on the deck, the overhang having protected it from most of the storm. He wades through it to the railing and looks out, enjoying the scent of pine and winter.
There’s a sound from the bedroom and T.K. calls out, “Babe? Are you awake? Come out here, you have to see this!”
He pulls out his phone to snap a couple photos for instagram and for Jonah. Carlos was right, they should have brought him. He’d be out of his mind with joy right now, already begging to go out and play.
Actually, T.K. shivers a little. Maybe it’s better that this is a couple’s trip. He’s not going to last much longer out here. It’s a little disheartening to realize that his hearty New Yorker upbringing has worn off and he can no longer tolerate the cold weather for long.
There’s a shuffling sound behind him, indicating that Carlos has finally made it to the living room. “Babe, come look! Our Uber driver was right. It snowed, but it’s definitely more than twelve inches. More like two feet,” T.K. says as he snaps one more picture. “We’re snowed in. It’s like one of your romance novels.”
He’s already moving toward the house as he turns around and that’s the only reason he manages to save Carlos from going face first into the snow. “Whoa!”
His coffee goes flying and he catches Carlos under his arms, crashing down onto his knees, snow soaking immediately into his pajama bottoms. The duvet that was around Carlos’ shoulders flops down inelegantly, half inside the house, half twisted around Carlos’ body. “Carlos? Baby? Hey, Carlos talk to me!”
His heart is pounding and he reaches with shaking fingers to find his husband’s pulse, relief coursing through him when he feels it; a little fast, but strong. “Baby, wake up for me,” he says urgently, tapping Carlos’ cheek.
Carlos lets out a soft moan and T.K. tries to remember how to breathe. “That’s it, come back to me.” He cards his fingers gently through Carlos’ unruly morning curls, waiting for consciousness to return.
Brown eyes blink up at him, squinting against the light. “What happened?” Carlos asks.
His face is several shades paler than it should be and T.K. can feel heat radiating off of him. He curses himself for not seeing it yesterday. The coughing, the sneezing, the extra emotions about Jonah; all signs that Carlos is sick.
“You passed out on me,” T.K. tells him, wondering if Carlos going to be able to get to his feet or if T.K.’s going to have to resort to a fireman’s carry.
Carlos closes his eyes and groans again. “I don’t feel well.”
“I’m so sorry,” T.K. says, all the sympathy in the world filling his heart for his poor husband. “Do you think you can get up? We should get you back into bed.”
He nods without opening his eyes and T.K. does his best to extricate himself from Carlos’ weight and help him up at the same time. “You okay?” he asks, once they’re both standing, his hands holding tightly onto Carlos’ upper arms.
“Dizzy,” Carlos says, eyes still tightly closed.
“Okay, give it a second. There’s no rush.” He keeps his voice calm even as his thoughts race, jumping one, two, five, ten steps ahead. Dry pajamas, bed, temp check, push fluids, shit he should have made sure they got some Gatorade or Pedialyte in their grocery order—
“‘m ready,” Carlos mumbles.
“Step over the lintel,” T.K. says, guiding him toward the interior, pausing briefly to kick the duvet inside and then drag the slider door closed, his left hand still gripped like a vise around Carlos’ bicep. “Nice and slow, here we go.”
They shuffle back into the bedroom and T.K. eases Carlos down onto the bed. He starts to slide in, but T.K. stops him. “Your pajamas are all wet. Let’s get you changed first.”
“I don’t think I can get up again.” Carlos’ body sways back and forth slightly even though he’s stable on the mattress.
“I’ll take care of it.”
He practically runs to the dresser, fishing out a pair of pajama pants before returning to Carlos. “Lift your hips for me.”
This was so much sexier last night, but T.K. doesn’t even think about that, moving as quickly as he can so that Carlos can lie down before he passes out again. “There you go,” he says when Carlos is redressed. “Go ahead and lie back.”
Carlos curls into a little ball, his cheek pressing into the pillow, misery evident all over his face. T.K. spares half a second to brush his hair back. “I’ll be right back.”
He strips out of his own soaked pajama pants, tossing them to the floor to deal with later, before throwing on a clean pair of sweats and then searching his suitcase for the first aid items he brought. Mentally he berates himself for not packing the full kit. They’d left their kid at home, so he hadn’t bothered with all the extra supplies he usually keeps around for Jonah, like his stethoscope, a bp cuff, and children’s medicine.
He did think to pack a thermometer and he mentally thanks past T.K. for doing at least that much. Returning to the bed he gently pokes it into Carlos’ ear, his husband grimacing at the intrusion. When it beeps he reads the temp and winces. “One oh two point three. You really are sick baby.”
Carlos groans. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“I’ll just…” He shifts around trying to get comfortable. “I’ll just sleep and then I’ll feel better.”
T.K. runs a hand soothingly up and down his arm. “Yeah, sleep is a good idea.”
He’s not lying, but he also doubts sleep is going to help his husband get rid of this anytime soon. If he had to bet, he’d say Carlos has come down with the flu. It’s been knocking even the healthiest people flat on their asses this year. Carlos is probably down for at least the next forty-eight hours.
He squeezes Carlos’ shoulder. “I’m going to to go make you some tea, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Carlos grunts out something unintelligible that T.K. takes as acknowledgement. He heads out to the kitchen, searching through their groceries for the tea they ordered. He debates for a moment between peppermint and chamomile, finally going for the latter. He can always make a different kind later if Carlos wants it.
Steaming mug in hand he returns to the bedroom only to find his husband has fallen into restless sleep, his body curled in on itself, mouth hanging open. All the bedclothes have been kicked off and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
T.K. sets the tea on the nightstand and gnaws on his thumb as he thinks. Logic tells him Carlos is going to be fine. But his anxiety screams that if he’s not…they’re deeply snowed in. And it’s going to be nigh unto impossible to get emergency vehicles up here in a hurry.
He casts one more glance at Carlos’ sleeping form and then heads back to the living room, pulling out his phone. Nancy answers after the third ring. “Heyyyyyy! How’s the sex-cation going?”
“Carlos is sick,” T.K. says bluntly.
“Oh, shit dude. That sucks.” The teasing immediately drops out of her tone. “Is he okay?”
“I think it’s the flu.” T.K. sinks into the sofa, resisting the urge to gnaw on his thumb again. “He went down pretty fast. Passed out in my arms.”
“Damn. He got a temp?”
“One oh two point three. He was sneezing and coughing yesterday. He has chills, body aches, looks like he has a headache.”
“Yeah, sounds like the flu to me,” Nancy says. “You gonna run out and get some Tamiflu or something?”
“We’re snowed in. Like, completely. I think I’m working with what we’ve got here for at least the next twenty-four hours.”
“Okay, okay, so you’re gonna push fluids, try and get him to eat a little bit, monitor him and he’s gonna be fine in a couple days.”
“Yeah…” T.K.’s eyes drift toward the bedroom.
“So…what’d you call me for? You know what you’re doing.”
“I know. I just…I’m worried. We’re pretty isolated up here. I don’t have access to all the stuff I have at home. If he gets worse, I don’t know how fast I can get him help.”
“T.K., your husband is a big, strong guy. The flu is rough this year, but he’s generally healthy and doesn’t have any pre-existing conditions that would be concerning. He’s breathing okay, right?”
“Yeah his breathing’s fine. Heart rate’s a little high, but nothing crazy.”
“Sounds like he’s presenting as expected then.”
He doesn’t say anything and she waits only another second before saying, “Why don’t you give me an update every couple hours? Would that make you feel better?”
“Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Nance.”
“Of course dude. I got your back. Keep me posted. And try not to breathe in too many of his germs!”
He hangs up and hears a groan followed by, “T.K.?”
He rushes back into the bedroom, concerned that Carlos will try to get up and come looking for him. “Hey, hey I’m here,” he says, settling onto the edge of the bed. “You okay?”
“Everything hurts,” Carlos rasps. He shivers, fingers scrabbling around for the blanket and T.K. grabs it for him, pulling it up and over his chest.
“Do you think you can swallow some Tylenol?” T.K. asks and gets a nod to the affirmative.
He shakes out two pills from the bottle on the nightstand and helps Carlos sit up enough to swallow them with his now tepid tea. He grimaces and then bursts into a violent coughing fit once they’re down.
T.K. rubs Carlos’ back soothingly, wishing he could do something more to ease his discomfort. “I sneezed on you,” Carlos croaks out once he’s settled again.
“What?”
“Last night. When we got here. I sneezed in your face. I don’t want you to get sick too.”
T.K. chuckles. “You did a lot more than sneeze in my face last night babe. It is what it is at this point.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop it. There’s nothing to be sorry about. You can’t help getting sick. You probably got it from some suspect. Or maybe it traveled home from Jonah’s class.”
Carlos’ eyes shoot open and he tries frantically to sit up. “Jonah! Is he—?”
“Relax.” T.K. pushes gently against his chest, forcing him to lie down again. “I’m sure he’s fine. Grace will call if there’s a problem.”
The eyes Carlos turns on him could soften even the hardest of hearts. They’re big and brown and watery with fever, and combined with the flush on his cheeks he looks incredibly sad and pathetic. “Can you call her and make sure?”
T.K. sighs and leans forward, kissing his husband’s burning forehead. “You are the most ridiculous brother-in-law-ther alive. How about I send her a text?”
Carlos nods and T.K. pulls up Grace’s name.
T.K. Strand
[10:46am] Hey, just checking in. Carlos came down with the flu this morning. Jonah showing any symptoms?
“What did she say?” Carlos asks almost immediately, straining to try and see the phone.
“Oh my god, helicopter parent much? Give her a second to read it.”
“What if he’s sick and she’s taking care of him? T.K. what if we left him and he’s sick and miserable? We have to get home to him.”
“Babe, even if he is sick, you cannot get on plane like this. You can barely stand, they won’t even let you through security.”
T.K.’s phone pings and he opens the text to find a video of Jonah chasing Charlie around a playground, both of them screaming at the top of their lungs.
Grace Ryder
[10:50am] They’ve been running around playing “T-Rex” for almost forty-five minutes. All good here.
“See? He’s fine,” T.K. says.
“Thank god,” Carlos collapses back into the pillows, his face somehow looking even more gaunt and ill than a few minutes ago.
“I love how much you love him,” T.K. says softly.
Carlos looks up at him, his face soft despite the sickness. “I love him more than I ever thought I could,” he says. “I love his little dimples and the way he calls me his papa and how snuggly he is after bath time and how every piece of art he brings home is completely impossible to interpret and—“
He sucks in a breath and falls into a coughing fit that lasts so long he’s nearly choking for air by the time he’s done.
“Okay, okay, slow and deep, that’s it,” T.K. encourages, taking a few deeps breaths of his own. “You always get sentimental when you’re sick.”
Carlos glares at him, the effect somewhat tempered by his sniffles. “I do not.”
“You get crabby too,” T.K. points out. “I should have realized when you were crying in the car over Jonah yesterday.”
“I was not crying!”
“I saw what I saw.” T.K. pokes him gently in the side. “You were ready to turn around and go home.”
Carlos shifts, trying to find a comfortable spot again. “You two are everything to me.”
“See? Mushy,” T.K. teases. He pats Carlos’ thigh. “I’m going to go make you some toast. Drink your tea. And then if you’re feeling up to it, you should shower.”
“Ugh, that sounds awful.” Carlos burrows into his pillow.
“I know. But we are super stuck here babe. So we need to try and take care of you the best we can.”
Carlos manages about half the tea and a piece of toast and then T.K. coaxes him into the shower to rinse off the sweat and illness. He knows if Andrea were here she’d recommend something scalding hot, followed up with a healthy dose of Vicks and sopa de pollo, but they make do with lukewarm water to keep Carlos’ oversensitive skin from hurting too much. Then T.K. gets him redressed and bundles him into blankets on the couch while he changes out the sheets and puts the soiled ones in the washer.
“I think you’re more work than our six year old,” he says when he returns and finds Carlos staring blankly at the TV.
“Sorry,” Carlos sniffs.
“I’m just teasing. Here, scoot over, I’ll find us something to watch.”
They maneuver around until Carlos’ head is in T.K.’s lap and then select the new Marvel movie that came out last summer. Carlos drifts into and out of fitful sleep while T.K. plays gently with his curls and runs soothing hands up and down his arms.
All in all the afternoon isn’t too much different than what they’d pictured for their vacation. Snow continues to drift down outside while they stay cuddled up and warm together. T.K. would be lying if he said he hadn’t expected to be a lot more naked, but this is good too.
Carlos startles awake during the end credits with a groan. “What’d I miss?”
“Pretty much the whole thing.”
“Did they save the world? Or the galaxy or the…whatever?”
“This time they did.”
“Good.” He squints up at T.K. “Did you eat?”
T.K. looks down to where Carlos and a mound of blankets cover his entire lap. “I couldn’t get up without waking you.”
Carlos immediately struggles into a more seated position, clutching a blanket around his shoulders. “You should eat.”
“So should you.”
He shakes his head. “I’m really not hungry.”
T.K. sighs and palms Carlos’ forehead. “Let me take your temp again.”
A flare of concern spikes inside him when he realizes that Carlos’ fever is still firmly set exactly where it was a few hours ago. He’s not sure what he was hoping for; they’re still on day zero, it’s not like Carlos is going to rapidly improve in the miraculous opposite of how he rapidly went down, but the medication should have helped a little bit. “Why don’t you go get in bed and I’ll join you when my food is ready?” he suggests.
“No, I want to stay with you.” Carlos says, getting onto wobbly feet, his blanket cape still pulled tight around him. “We can’t come all the way on vacation and then be apart half the time. That’s what we do at home.”
T.K. rolls his eyes at his husband’s stubbornness. “It’s like twenty feet.”
“Too far,” Carlos grumbles, hoisting himself onto a barstool at the kitchen island.
“Fine. But if you’re staying then you have to drink more tea. And eat something.”
Carlos makes a face, but he nibbles on the fresh piece of toast T.K. puts in front of him. “More tea,” T.K. coaxes as he flips a grilled cheese for himself over in the pan.
“I drank half.”
“Drink more. You need to stay hydrated.”
“Sometimes I don’t know if I like that you’re a paramedic,” Carlos grumbles, but he takes another sip of the tea nonetheless.
“I nag because I love,” T.K. says, kissing the shell of his ear as he joins Carlos at the counter, soup and sandwich in hand. “So, did Jonah fill you in on what Emily K. got up to the other day in class?”
Carlos snorts, which turns into a cough. “The pink crayon incident? Yes, I was informed in great detail. Our kid’s sense of social justice is fully intact.”
Jonah has no qualms about coming home and filling them in on every single thing that happens at school, including ratting himself out on occasion. Like the time he brought a spider in from recess in his pocket and showed it to Mrs. VanKemp who, instead of delighting in the eight legged creature, had screamed, smashed it, and caused Jonah to burst into tears. They’d had to pick him up early because he was so distraught over the loss of “Ziggy.”
“At least this time he didn’t launch a full scale investigation over Francisco’s missing Pokemon card,” T.K. says.
“Hey, he caught the kid that did it and got the card back,” Carlos says. “That was a win.”
“He’s at school to learn. Not put his detective skills to use.” T.K. nudges his shoulder. “He gets his investigative streak from you.”
“Yeah, well, he gets his little animal loving heart from you,” Carlos says. “If I catch him trying to sneak Lou II into bed one more time…”
“You’ll what? Call me to come and get him because you’re still scared of touching him after all these years?” T.K. teases.
Carlos sniffs and glares. “I have cleaned his tank many times when you’re not home.”
“And quivered in fear in the entire time.”
Carlos starts fading within the next five minutes, so T.K. sends him off to bed while he cleans up the kitchen and closes up the house for the night. Carlos is already zonked out by the time he returns to the bedroom, so he takes his time showering, enjoying the rain shower head, the heated floors and towel bar, and some of the high end toiletries the host left for them.
He climbs into bed next to his sleeping husband and resists the urge to check his pulse or his temperature one more time. Carlos is fine. Sleep is good for him. He doesn’t need to be disturbed just to assuage T.K.’s needless worrying.
He’s awoken in the middle of the night by a quiet whimper. At first he thinks it’s Jonah, prone to night terrors that leave him screaming and crying, sometimes for hours. T.K. always tries to get to him before he wakes so that he’s comforted immediately.
But the whimper sounds again, closer than it should through the baby monitor, and as consciousness comes back so does memory and T.K. forces his eyes open, rolling over to find Carlos rigid beside him. “Baby?” he says, his movements clumsy with sleep as he struggles to sit up. “Carlos, what’s wrong?”
“My head is killing me,” Carlos grinds out.
Heat rolls off of him in a wave and T.K. swears, untangling himself from the sheets so he can run to the bathroom for the thermometer he’d stowed away earlier. Kneeling back on the bed, he gets it in place with hushed sorry’s and soothing shushes, his heart dropping when it reads one oh three point one.
“How bad is it?” Carlos asks, writhing around in discomfort.
“Higher than earlier,” is all T.K. replies, already reaching for ibuprofen and the bottle of water he’d put next to the bed. A quick time check confirms that it’s okay for Carlos to take some and T.K. helps him prop up high enough to swallow it down without spilling water all over the pillow.
His next step is to wet a washcloth with cold water, wringing it out so that it doesn’t drip and then he returns to the bed and drapes it over Carlos’ forehead. Carlos winces and reaches up to take it off, but T.K. catches his hand. “I know, I know, just leave it on for a little while and see if it helps, okay?” he soothes.
“It hurts,” Carlos whimpers, his eyes scrunched up against the pain blazing inside of his skull.
“I’m sorry,” T.K. says. “The medicine and the cold cloth will help. Keep taking deep breaths, okay?”
The next forty-eight hours are miserable. Carlos thrashes about the bed, his fever dropping and spiking without rhyme or reason, but never breaking fully. His headache rages, only helped slightly by medication, and T.K. is nearly beside himself with worry, even as the rational part of his mind knows his husband will be fine. The misery is temporary, even if it every minute of it feels hours long.
He starts hourly check-ins with Nancy and Tommy, and even reaches out to his dad in New York, trying to find out if he has any connections to get them a chopper med-evac if they need one. Every single person tells him (gently) that he’s overreacting and to keep doing what he’s doing until the virus runs its course.
He’s woken from half sleep on their fourth day by his ringtone. His phone had been forever on silent until the day Jonah came home, and from then on it’s been full volume at all times in case of emergency.
Disoriented from lack of sleep and worry he grasps blindly for it, trying to get the sound shut off before it wakes Carlos. Squinting against the brightness he recognizes Grace’s name on the caller ID and slides it open to take the call. “Hang on,” he whispers, trying to move carefully out of bed.
He makes it into the living room, closing the door softly behind him. “Hey, sorry,” he says, raising his voice a little.
“Everything okay? You sound off,” Grace says.
“Carlos had a rough night,” T.K. says. “He’s sleeping now. Hopefully another day or so and he’ll feel better.”
“I’m so sorry y’all’s vacation is turning out like this,” Grace says.
“It happens. Is everything okay with Jonah?”
“Yeah, yeah, he was just missing you guys, wanted to say hello. Can you Facetime?”
“Sure.”
T.K. takes the few seconds between the call and the video chat to try and straighten out his hair, plastering a smile on his face when Jonah appears on the screen. “Hey bud! What’s going on?”
“T.K., when are you coming home?” Jonah asks, looking a little glum.
“Tomorrow,” he says. “One more sleep and then we’ll see you.”
“Okay but, when you come home, can we go to McDonalds? And Charlie can come with us and we can play in the play play?”
Despite all their attempts to diversify Jonah’s palate, the allure of the McDonalds play structure still reigns supreme. And T.K. adores that he calls it a play play instead of a play place.
T.K. smiles. “Sure little man. We can do that.”
“Where’s Carlos?”
“Oh um,” T.K. glances toward the bedroom. “He’s sleeping right now.”
“Are you gonna play in the snow when he wakes up?”
“Maybe,” T.K. hedges. “Or maybe we’ll read some books. Or watch a movie.”
“Oh!” Jonah lights up. “Me and Charlie, we watched a Bluey one with Auntie Grace and Uncle Judd and she made us popcorn and we ate it in a fort.”
“That sounds so fun! What are you guys going to do today?”
“Um, I don’t know. AUNTIE GRACE? WHAT ARE WE DOING TODAY?”
“We’re going to the museum,” Grace says from off screen.
“We’re going to the museum,” Jonah reports back. “Do they have dinosaurs at the museum?”
“I’m not sure. You’ll have to let me know after you go.”
“But T.K., did dinosaurs wear pajamas?”
Did dinosaurs wear pajamas? T.K. blinks and tries to connect the dots. “Oh, because you have pajamas with dinosaurs on them?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm…I don’t think so. They would have to be pretty big. But you could ask at the museum. I bet they would know.”
“Yeah, they would know,” Jonah echoes.
“All right, well you have fun today. Listen to Auntie Grace, okay? We’ll see you in one more sleep.”
“Okay, bye!”
Grace retakes the phone. “You look exhausted.”
“Like I said, rough night,” T.K. sighs.
“Well try and get some rest today. You’re gonna need a vacation after your vacation.”
“Tell me about it.” T.K. pauses. “Is he really doing okay? He’s sleeping at night?”
“He got a little teary at bedtime last night and then again this morning when he woke up and realized where he was. But he’s sleeping through the night, eating okay. And the two of them are having a blast. I promise, all is good here. You focus on that husband of yours and try and enjoy your trip at least a little bit.”
“Will do. Talk to you soon.”
T.K. cooks up some eggs for breakfast, throwing in some cheese and peppers, then eating it alone at the counter while scrolling through Tik Tok on his phone. Carlos is still asleep when he’s done, so T.K. rejoins him in bed, picking up the romance novel Carlos brought along to keep himself entertained.
It’s another thirty minutes before his husband finally stirs. “Hey,” T.K. says, setting the book on the nightstand as Carlos blinks up at him. “You look a little more like yourself.”
He reaches over and palms Carlos’ forehead, relief flooding him when he finds it only mildly warm. “I think your fever broke.”
“I feel a little better,” Carlos says, rolling over so that his face is smushed into T.K.’s upper thighs.
“That’s good. You had me worried.”
“I can’t remember the last time I felt this sick,” Carlos says, his voice muffled by his position.
“Well hopefully your fever breaking means you’re on the mend.”
“Were you reading my book?”
“I was. Can you believe she’s a full time editor at a publishing firm with no time for love and he’s the owner of a bakery whose fiancé left him at the altar and neither of them is looking for romance but somehow it’s happening?”
“Shocking,” Carlos mumbles, followed up by, “I feel gross.” He snuggles further into T.K.’s legs. “I need a shower.”
“How about this: I’ll make you some breakfast and then draw you a bath?”
“Will you make me a Jonah Special?”
A Jonah Special is toast cut into triangles (never rectangles) with butter and jam (strawberry or raspberry, but NEVER blueberry) set on the plate so they make a square in the center, which you fill with scrambled eggs that must have cheese in them. It’s Jonah’s most frequently requested breakfast and requires his help to mix the eggs and sprinkle the cheese.
A Jonah Very Special is when you get to have waffles instead of toast and a Jonah Extra Special is when you get to have donuts. Jonah Extra Specials are requested almost every morning and, when denied, are usually followed up by, “Well then can I have ice cream for breakfast?”
So far the answer has been “no,” but he keeps coming up with increasingly compelling arguments and T.K. is running out of reasons to deny him.
T.K. smiles and strokes his fingers through Carlos’ sweat damp curls. “Jonah Special it is.”
Carlos retakes his spot at the counter as T.K. cooks. T.K. fills Carlos in on his Jonah call, including the pajamas, which makes Carlos laugh. The Jonah Special is eaten, which makes T.K. happy, and then he goes and draws a bath in the giant master tub.
“Come in with me,” Carlos says as he sheds his t-shirt and and sweatpants.
“I’m going to go wash the sheets again. And throw some of our pajamas in. We’re going through them faster than we thought we would.”
Carlos catches his hand, those big brown eyes doing their work. “Please? What if I pass out in the bathtub?”
“Wow, thank you for putting that horrifying thought into my head,. Yes, I will join you to make sure you don’t drown,” T.K. says, pulling his hand away so he can start removing his own clothes.
T.K. gets in first and then Carlos climbs in with his help. “This is what I thought our entire trip would be like,” he says with a sigh as he relaxes back into T.K.’s chest.
“It’s still been a good trip,” T.K. assures him.
“Ha,” Carlos’ laugh is mirthless. “It has not. You’ve been taking care of me like you take care of Jonah.”
“I like taking care of you. Both of you.”
“You do not like doing my sweaty sick laundry.”
“I really do,” T.K. says, leaning forward to kiss his temple. “I never thought I’d have this Carlos. I never thought I’d have someone to care about who would care about me, let alone have a family like ours. So even when I’m doing your sweaty laundry or picking up Jonah’s Legos for the five millionth time or hitting the grocery store at ten pm because we’re out of cheese again, I’m happy to do it. Just like you are.”
Carlos leans forward a little bit, twisting so that he can see T.K.’s face. “I love you, you know that?”
T.K. nods. “I do.”
They both settle back into the water and it’s not long before T.K. can feel his eyelids drooping, a combination of the warmth and the lack of sleep the last several nights lulling him toward unconsciousness.
“You falling asleep on me?” Carlos asks.
“Mm, maybe,” T.K. says drowsily.
Carlos pulls away from him, sliding to the other side of the tub. “Come here,” he says.
“What are you doing?”
“Just, come here.”
T.K. obliges, settling in so that now he’s the one with his back to Carlos’ chest. Carlos’ right hand settles against T.K.’s stomach, fingers splayed wide, and T.K. shifts, getting comfortable against him. “You’re not going to sneeze on me again, right?” he mumbles, sleep tugging at him.
“Shut up.”
T.K. closes his eyes. “We should get a tub like this for at home.”
“Mm, that would be nice.”
Carlos kisses T.K.’s neck, his hand sliding lower, slipping easily down T.K.’s abdomen. “What are you doing?” T.K. asks.
“Taking care of you,” Carlos says, his intentions becoming very obvious when takes hold of T.K.’s cock.
T.K.’s body jolts, splashing the water around and his eyes shoot open. “Babe, you’ve been sick.”
“My hands still work just fine.”
As if to prove it he gives a light squeeze that has T.K.’s breath catching inside his chest. “Carlos—“
“Shh…relax. Let me take care of you for a little bit.”
Carlos isn’t wrong; his hands still work just fine. T.K. gives himself over to it, his breathing growing more and more erratic as Carlos whispers sweet nothings into his ear until T.K. finishes between his fingers. When the water grows cold they get out and dry off and T.K. gently and carefully returns the favor in their giant master bed. Afterward he reads Carlos’ smutty romance novel out loud while Carlos tries not to doze in his lap.
In the evening T.K. makes dinner while Carlos bosses him around from a bar stool and it’s honestly so perfect that T.K. thinks his heart might burst. They settle onto the couch after, the lights low, fire crackling in the fireplace, a movie on the screen, which they only see the beginning of because Carlos leans over and starts kissing T.K., shushing his protests, clothes coming off one piece at a time until they’re both naked on the floor in front of the fireplace, bodies as close as they can possibly get, their names tumbling from each other’s lips as they come.
“Now that,” Carlos says when they’ve caught their breath, his fingers tracing patterns down T.K.’s sternum, “is what we should have been doing this entire vacation.”
T.K. leans up and kisses his shoulder. “I wish we didn’t have to go home tomorrow.”
“Not true,” Carlos says. “You want to get home to JoJo.”
“Yeah,” T.K. sighs. “I do. You were right. We should have brought him.”
“No, you were right. He would have been miserable sitting in this house the whole time while I was sick. Besides, as much as a I love him, it was good to have some time away. You haven’t yelled my name that loudly during sex in months.”
“Mm,” T.K. hums in affirmation. “I love our sweet boy, but he does seem to wake up at all the worst moments.”
Carlos reaches between them, smiling when he finds that T.K. is already hard again. “Which means we should definitely go for round two.”
In the morning they pack and dose Carlos with a round of ibuprofen for the plane. His fever has been gone for over twenty-four hours, but he’s still not feeling his best. T.K. makes a joke about vacation sex curing him and if Carlos had more energy he would shut his husband up with one last vigorous round of love making, but as it is, he just chuckles and zips up his duffle bag.
He sleeps most of the plane ride, waking up a little disoriented and feeling worse than he had earlier, but still not anything like the past four days. So he doesn’t fight it when T.K. takes the keys as they reach the parking garage. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you at home first and then go pick Jonah up?” T.K. asks, loading their bags into the back.
“No, I want to see him,” Carlos says, hoisting himself into the passenger seat and letting his head fall back against the headrest.
It’s only a twenty minute drive to the Ryder’s, but Carlos falls asleep again, only waking when T.K. pulls them into the Ryder’s driveway. “Ready to get our boy back?”
“Always,” Carlos affirms, his heart rate spiking at the thought of Jonah’s happy face.
“Hey, welcome back,” Judd says as he opens the door. He eyes Carlos up and down. “You look like death warmed over.”
“Thanks Judd,” Carlos says, huffing a laugh at their friend’s bluntness.
“Sorry to hear things didn’t go as planned. Come on in, y’all want something to drink? Grace is just getting the rest of Jonah’s stuff packed up.”
“No, we’re good. We should probably get home so Carlos can get back into bed,” T.K. says as they step inside.
“Oh hey guys, welcome home.” Grace appears from down the hall with Jonah’s duffle bag and his shoes. “How was your flight?”
“Uneventful, thankfully,” T.K. tells them. “Everything good here today?”
“Yep, you know we just hopped him up on candy and ice cream and Mountain Dew right in time for you guys to take him home,” Judd teases.
At that moment Charlie and Jonah both come flying into the room making race car noises. Jonah is wearing a superman cape, a top hat, and a tutu, while Charlie sports a doctor’s coat and a pair of cat ears. “Hey Jonah! Look who’s back!” Grace calls.
Jonah whips around, his eyes lighting up. “Carlos! T.K.!”
With astounding speed for someone with such short legs, he launches himself at T.K., throwing his arms around his neck and squeezing tight. “Did you bring me snow?” he asks.
“Sorry Jojo,” T.K. says, looking genuinely remorseful. “Snow melts, remember? We couldn’t bring it back with us.”
“Okay, but did you build an igloo? And sleep in there?”
“No, we slept in a cabin. But we took lots of pictures to show you.”
That seems to satisfy him, so he hurls himself backward out of T.K.’s arms toward Carlos, unafraid because of course Carlos sensed this coming and is there to catch him, like he always is. “Hey monkey,” he says, so much joy filling him at the feel of Jonah’s hug. “Did you have fun with Charlie and Auntie Grace and Uncle Judd?”
“Yes, we got to eat chips.”
“Chips, huh?” Carlos says. Of course that would be the highlight. Judd and Grace took Charlie and Jonah to the playground, the museum, and even to the 126 for an afternoon, but eating chips that they don’t have at home wins the prize for most memorable moment. “That sounds yummy.”
“Listen bud, we need to get home, okay? Can you tell Auntie Grace and Uncle Juddy thank you for a fun visit?” T.K. says.
“Wait but, can we stay five more minutes?” Jonah asks.
“Not this time. Carlos isn’t feeling so good, so we need to leave.”
Jonah’s little face immediately drops into a frown that is so reminiscent of T.K. that Carlos almost laughs. “You’re sick?”
“Just a little bit mijo,” Carlos says, turning his face away to punctuate the statement with a cough.
Jonah waits for him to look back in his direction and then cups his face in both hands, his eyes serious. “Carlos, if you are sick, you cannot play with friends. But you can watch your iPad. And you have to take medicine.”
“Thank you, mijo,” Carlos says, smothering a laugh. “Those are good ideas.”
Jonah squirms to be put down and then runs to where Charlie is waiting by Grace. “Charlie we have to go because my papa is sick. But you can come over next time and see my monster truck again if you want.”
“Okay, bye Jojo!” She’s got about an inch of height on him right now and when she hugs him she tries to pick him up, causing both of them to tumble to the floor in a laughing heap.
“You can see, they didn’t have any fun together at all,” Grace says with a smile. “We’ll have Jonah back soon Charlie, let him go, okay?”
Jonah gets to his feet and heads to the door. “Bye Auntie Grace! Bye Uncle Judd! See you next time!”
He chatters excitedly from his carseat the entire way home. They learn that dinosaurs did not in fact wear pajamas, that Charlie likes ketchup with her chicken nuggets, that Auntie Grace and Uncle Judd have better chicken nuggets than they have at home, that Uncle Judd is the boss at work, and that if Jonah ever owns a dinosaur its name will be Racersaurus Rex.
T.K. sends Carlos straight back to bed as soon as they arrive home, and usually Carlos would protest, but his body feels heavy and his headache is back with a vengeance. He dozes while the sounds of dinner and bath time filter into their bedroom, content with the feeling of home surrounding him.
“Baby, hey.”
T.K. runs his fingers through Carlos’ hair, pulling him back to consciousness. “Hey,” he says, blinking furiously to try and clear the sleep from his head. “Jojo in bed?”
“He is. I brought you some soup and some Pedialyte.”
Carlos grimaces, but pushes himself upright. He hates Pedialyte. “It’s just canned chicken noodle,” T.K. says. “We didn’t have ingredients to make anything better.”
“It’s fine,” Carlos says, taking a careful bite of the soup. “Thank you. How many times did you have to read the pigeon book?”
“Three,” T.K. says. “Plus a monster check. And a full explanation of why snow melts.”
“How did that go?”
“Better than you’d think. I managed to tap back into high school science.”
“Good job.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” Carlos says, trying to mean it. He really does feel better than he did a few days ago. But the travel has worn him out; he’s not sure he could get up right now if he tried.
T.K. puts a hand on his forehead and frowns. “You feel like you might have a little bit of a fever again.”
“Or maybe I’m just hot for you,” Carlos says with a stupid grin. “I need more of your sex curing dick.”
“Mmm, I could probably arrange that,” T.K. says, leaning over to kiss him.
“T.K.? Can I have some water?”
Jonah’s little voice calls out from down the hall and they both turn toward the sound. “I’ll be right there, buddy!” T.K. calls back.
“How does he always know?” Carlos asks.
“No idea,” T.K. says with a sigh. “Want to go back to our Colorado cabin?”
Carlos shakes his head. “Nope. I’m glad to be home. Go take care of our boy.”