Notes: This is my version of a peek into TK's headspace after the bar fight in Texas Proud. I've changed the timeline of events so that Owen and Michelle are having drinks at the same time that TK is starting a fight at another bar. This may just be a one-shot, or it could possibly continue on as things progress between TK and Carlos.
Trigger Warnings: Mention of past drug use and overdose.
Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Just entertaining myself during the social distancing.
TK feels like shit as he stares down at his hands laying on the desk in front of him. Carlos is holding TK's wrist steady in one warm, gentle hand as he unlocks and then carefully removes the handcuffs with the other. The cut in the corner of TK's mouth stings. His head throbs. His back aches. But, the biggest injury is to his pride at having Carlos see him like this. He knows he needs to make eye contact, to face the truth he's just disclosed without shame, like a man. He also knows what's keeping his eyes locked on his hands on the police officer's desk. The fear of what he might see in Carlos' eyes. Judgement. Rejection. Pity. It's not like he wants a boyfriend. Not really. But, he likes Carlos and he'd be lying if he said he didn't care what the other man thought of him. It's already been a rough day and he's not sure he can take another hit.
TK listens to Carlos sigh as the police officer sets the handcuffs down on his desk, off to the side. "I'm sorry, TK." TK looks up at the gentleness in the other man's voice. He can't help it. His eyes are drawn to Carlos's face and all he sees there is sincerity, concern and possibly affection. "I didn't know. I shouldn't have pushed champagne on you the other night." He watches Carlos's lips form into a guilty frown. "I get why dinner freaked you out so much now. I'm sorry."
TK knows if he's being honest that he needs to tell Carlos that his freakout wasn't entirely over the champagne. But, it's late and he's tired, and right now the possibility of having a romantic dinner with a man who has just accepted the worst part of him without flinching doesn't seem so scary. It maybe even seems nice.
"It's ok." TK tells him. "It's not on you. I should have said something instead of just running out like that. I'm sorry, too."
TK watches as the corners of Carlos's mouth change direction, turning up in a slight smile. "If you want to give it another try, I promise it'll be lemonade for both of us."
TK laughs and he feels the scabbed over blood on the corner of his mouth rip open with the movement. He winces from the pain, then instantly tries to hide his reaction as he pulls a tissue from the box on Carlos's desk to hold to the fresh blood he can feel seeping from his wound. "I'm an addict, not a five year old." He teases.
Carlos smiles wider, no longer holding himself back, and TK can feel his own mouth form a mirroring smile despite the pain. "Hey, I happen to make really good lemonade. I use a Martha Stewart recipe. It has mint and-"
"TK!" TK's head jerks up toward the direction of the familiar voice in time to see his father rushing toward him, fear and anger clear on his face. "Are you all right?"
TK automatically gets to his feet before he realizes he's doing it. "Dad. What are you doing here?" His voice sounds young and petulant even to his own ears.
Owen pulls TK into a hug, quickly embracing and releasing him before TK has time to react. Owen grips TK firmly by both shoulders, holding him at arm's length and forcing his son to face him. "Are you ok?"
A disorientingly strong stench of alcohol hits TK along with the question. His dad rarely drinks and TK has never known him to drink enough to smell the way he does right now. TK nods quickly, feeling trapped and helpless as his father looms over him, crowding into his personal space, checking his pupils, an intimidating amount of anger on Owen's face now that he knows his son is all right.
"What the hell were you thinking tonight, TK?" Owen's voice is raised, his fingers grip tightly into each of TK's shoulders, digging into the muscle. "You do not get to do this! You do not get to do this, TK. Not again. Do you hear me?"
TK feels a surge of guilt at making his father this worried, this scared to even hear that TK was in a bar or getting arrested. "Dad, no, I didn't-"
Owen gives his son a rough shake. "Don't lie to me, TK! One of the EMT's was at the bar. She watched you get hauled off in handcuffs. Am I really supposed to believe you got in a bar fight sober? Were you just drinking or were you on something else, too?"
TK realizes that the entire squad room must be watching them at this point. His eyes automatically seek out Carlos, who's watching with a sympathetic expression. He feels his father's hand let go of his left shoulder, his right one still feels like it's in a vice.
"Answer me!" TK's attention is shocked back toward his father as the palm of the man's hand collides with his cheek. The contact is hard enough to sting a little, but it's not a real slap. There's no follow through. Owen doesn't break his wrist. TK's face doesn't snap to the side. It's less dramatic than that, more like a one-handed clap against the side of his face. The same contact Owen had delivered a few times in TK's late teens when the boy had first started using substances and had come home high and well past curfew. A contact more startling than punitive, meant more to issue a 'hey, snap the fuck out of it and pull your head out of your ass' type of warning than to inflict real punishment. TK feels heat rushing to his cheek and his entire face warming with shame as he keeps his eyes trained purposefully on his father. He can't bring himself to look at Carlos again and see his reaction to this. Carlos, who can't possibly look at him the same way after tonight. "What did you do, TK? Did you use drugs tonight?" Owen's voice is full of urgency, his face only a few inches from TK's own. The smell of alcohol is overpowering and a part of TK longs for a drink of his own in response.
TK can feel the intense fear coming off his father in waves and suddenly feels stupid for letting himself believe the man was anything but terrified. He brought this on himself. He did this to his father. He feels pathetic, and so tired. "Dad, I didn't take anything, I swear-"
"He blew a 0.0, Captain Strand. TK wasn't drinking. He didn't appear to be under the influence of anything at the time of arrest." Owen looks over to Carlos, then back to his son. TK is grateful for the intervention. He can sense that Carlos is standing now, too, behind his desk, but TK can't make himself look at him. It's all too embarrassing.
"I got in a fight. It was stupid, but I swear I wasn't on anything, Dad. I haven't touched a single substance since we got to Texas. Not even alcohol." TK goes for sincerity. He wants his father to believe him so they can get out of this police station. He feels sore and exhausted and ashamed and really just wants to go home, hide in his room, and never face Carlos again. "I swear to you." The desperation TK hears in his own voice only adds to his embarrassment. "I'll pee in a cup. Or recite the alphabet backwards. I'll do whatever you want. I swear. I swear…...please." TK's voice cracks on the last word and he goes quiet.
His father is studying him intently, but TK can see the fear fading from his expression, leaving behind relief and guilt. The grip on his shoulders softens and then he is released completely. "Ok. Ok, son. I believe you."
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
In the back seat of the Uber on the way home, TK hears Owen take a deep breath, and when the man speaks, his voice is as gentle and loving as it usually is. "TK, I'm sorry about how I reacted back there." TK turns away from the darkness outside the window and forces himself to look at Owen. "I was…...terrified. But, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I really shouldn't have put my hands on you like that. Especially in public. I didn't mean to embarrass you. But, I know I did. And, I'm sorry. I don't have an excuse for how I behaved. I should have trusted you more."
TK lets out a long sigh, absorbing the fear and concern still lingering in his father's eyes. He hates that he caused this. That his bad choices got them to this place where his father doesn't trust him. Where his dad is tracking him down and freaking out on him in public. "It's ok, Dad. I know I've given you plenty of excuses." TK averts his eyes, looks down at his lap. "The most recent wasn't all that long ago. I get it. I deserved it."
Owen gives him a soft, encouraging smile and reaches over to squeeze his leg and it somehow makes TK feel even worse about everything. "No, you didn't. I love you so much, son. I'm trying to trust you…...I am. I just let my fear take over, and override everything else tonight. What you deserve is to have a father who trusts you and doesn't fly off the handle like a crazy person at the slightest provocation. I'm sorry I didn't do better tonight, TK."
TK returns the smile, grateful that peace has been restored. If there's one thing he can't handle, it's having his dad pissed at him, or even disappointed in him. He idly wonders how much of his dad's reaction was fueled by alcohol and how much would have happened anyway. He doesn't ask because it feels too much like calling the guy out for one night of getting drunk, and he knows he's far from being in a position to do that without looking like a complete hypocrite. He tells himself his dad wouldn't have slapped him if the man had been sober and he finds the thought comforting. "It's ok, Dad. I'm sorry, too, for getting us into this situation to begin with. It's my fault. I know I brought this on myself. You freaking out. How you think about me now. All of it."
His father's smile turns sad. "I love you, TK. And I am proud of you. Always. That's how I think about you." Owen pauses and takes a deep breath. "But, walking into your apartment a few weeks ago and finding you…..the way you were….." TK is acutely aware of the presence of the older woman driving the Uber and feels grateful for his father's discretion. "It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life, TK. I felt like I was living the nightmare I've been having for years, ever since you first started using."
TK feels a physical pain in his gut at his father's admission. "I know, Dad. And, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"I know you are, TK. I know. I'm not saying this to make you feel bad. I just…..I want you to know that I'm doing my best. What you did is in the past. I need to move on, and move past what happened. I know you're moving forward and I'm so proud of you for that. I just need to meet you where you are now. I'll get better at this, I promise. Please bear with me, son."
TK studies his father's face in the dark car and feels a visceral reaction to the earnest guilt he sees there. The knowledge that he's put this kind of burden on the person he loves most makes him sick. Watching his father beat himself up for not being better at being the parent of an addict hurts. This is never how he saw his life turning out. TK sighs and tries to school his expression to reflect more positivity than he feels. He can at least give his father that much.
"It's ok, Dad, really. It's on me, not you. I guess I shouldn't do stupid shit like get in bar fights if I don't want you to assume I've been drinking or using drugs." TK shrugs, going for nonchalance. "It wasn't really a huge jump for you to make."
Owen frowns. "Do you want to tell me what happened? With the fight? This feels worryingly out of character for you." The man's voice is gentle and full of empathy for his child and TK feels completely undeserving. He doesn't feel like he can take much more of it.
"Oh, uh. It wasn't a big deal." TK has never been a good liar, especially not to Owen. "Some redneck asshole called me a fag. I told him to fuck off and he swung on me." TK instantly feels guilty for involving his sexuality in the lie and wishes he'd gone with something that didn't paint him as the victim, maybe something chivalrous, like coming to the rescue of a woman being harrassed.
Owen nodded thoughtfully. "I see." TK wonders if his father can tell he's lying, the same way he had always been able to when TK was a little boy. "Brianna bartends there on weekends. I was having a drink with Michelle when Brianna texted her that she saw you get arrested. Michelle said the bar you were at is a pretty rough place."
The unasked question of why TK was there in the first place, alone, hangs in the air between them. TK is grateful that Owen isn't asking him outright, the last thing he wants to do is get into his insubordination and subsequent fight with Judd, it's too embarrassing, and he really doesn't want to dig himself in deeper with more lies, but he knows his father still expects an explanation of why he went to a redneck bar by himself if he wasn't planning on drinking. "Uh, yeah. I'd have to agree with her. It definitely seems like a good place to stay away from in the future."
"You know I'm always here if you ever need to talk, right, son?" TK can see nothing but love in the man's eyes now and he can feel his chest unclenching a little in response.
TK nods his head and gives his father a small smile. "Yeah. I know. Thanks, Dad." TK watches Owen return the smile and feels relief at knowing that his father is going to let this go.
"So, drinks with Michelle, huh?" TK asks, dragging out the woman's name slowly. "She's pretty hot."
"I suppose you could say that." Owen agrees, his smile turning into a smirk.
"So, what's going on there?" TK teases. "Anything I should know about?"
Owen's smile gets bigger and the man looks almost embarrassed. "Oh, we're just friends. Or friendly, at least. Colleagues really. Colleagues who are friendly, and had a drink together."
TK smirks. "Yeah? Colleagues who are friendly and had a drink together, huh?" He repeats his father's phrasing to emphasize the unnaturalness of the expression. "That's it?"
"Yes, son." Owen is grinning sheepishly now and it makes TK smile. "That's it. I was just getting to know a colleague better."
"Okaaay, Dad. Whatever you say." TK lays on exaggerated skepticism. He reflects on how his father is just as bad a liar as he is and wonders if it's a hereditary condition. "Just try to give me a heads up if things change. I want to make sure I'm wearing pants if there's a risk of running into her on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night." Owen is still grinning as he raises an arm and playfully backhands TK in the chest. TK grins back and finally feels like the awkwardness of the night is behind them.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
TK lay in bed feeling physically and emotionally drained from the day. He wants nothing more than to fall asleep but he has too much running through his head. He keeps thinking about what happened in the corn silo and then at the station afterwards. He isn't necessarily mad at himself for trying to save Marjan. He had been acting on instinct to lunge for her even after Judd had warned him not to. But taking off his own safety harness had been stupid. He can see that clearly now. So was not listening to Judd, the one person on the crew who had even the slightest clue what to do in a corn silo, and more importantly, the person who had been put in charge of the call by the captain. TK thinks about the attitude he was giving Judd even before Marjan's cable snapped. The smug, know-it-all arrogance that he would never, ever give his father at work. The same attitude that he has seen his father tear into other cocky firefighters for back in New York, guys who had done something risky and stupid on a call, endangering themselves and others. As far as TK could remember, most had at least had the maturity to own up to what they'd done when they were called out. He's never once seen or heard of another firefighter initiating an actual physical altercation with his father the way he had with Judd. His behavior feels mortifyingly childish when he thinks about it now. So, does the bar fight.
Other than a couple of summer jobs as a teenager, TK has only ever worked for his dad. His dad has rarely ever been hard on him at home and has never seriously reprimanded him at work. He can remember Owen going over things that TK had done wrong on a call after the fact, during the early days of his career, but his dad had always treated the conversation as a learning experience, never as an excuse to lay into him and make him feel bad about himself or what he had done. He supposes that's because any mistakes he had made had been an innocent part of the learning process and never the result of disobeying a direct order. He worries that Judd's right about him, even if the guy did come on too strong and get too personal with his attacks. That he's become the kind of guy who needs to be treated with kid gloves, an overindulged narcissist that can't accept constructive criticism, or own up to his mistakes, or even cope with taking direction from anyone other than his daddy. He feels an intense shame churning in the pit of his stomach, and that feeling alone lets him know that he needs to do something about this, apologize to Judd for starters and then work on becoming someone capable of looking at himself more honestly.
TK reflects on the idea that since the day he graduated high school, Owen has been the sole authority that TK has had to submit to, both personally and professionally. And, with the exception of his drug use, he has submitted, willingly and completely, continuing to bend to his father's will long after reaching adulthood. He thinks about becoming a firefighter because he had never even considered any alternative to following in his dad's footsteps. And, about his dad telling him they were moving to Austin and how the move and change of scenery would do TK good. And, TK not putting up a fight, but trusting his dad to know what was best for him and obediently packing his stuff, leaving his life, and following his father to a city he had never been to, in a state he had never previously considered a real possibility. He wonders, not for the first time, how many other 26 year-old men would have complied so readily with his father's orders in his shoes. He remembers looking out the window when they had first been shown the rental home, questioning the size of the house and whether he was expected to live with his dad permanently. He thinks about his dad telling him that they have a deal, and that TK will do as Owen says. He remembers his annoyance at his father's presumptuousness intermingling with another stronger emotion, the childlike feeling of security at knowing that he could still trust his father to give him structure when he needed it and help him manage his life, even when it meant protecting him from himself. When TK had accompanied Owen to Austin, he had convinced himself that most 26 year-olds wouldn't have followed a parent near cross country the way he had because most didn't have as good a relationship with their parents as he had with his dad, but it hits him now that he doesn't trust himself, or his own decision-making, any more than his father does, and that he feels better, safer, less likely to careen off the rails, with his dad still exercising some level of control in his life. TK isn't sure how he feels about that realization.
His last thought before he falls asleep takes him back to Carlos. He thinks about the asshole arresting officer who had roughly cuffed him at the bar and all but dragged him outside to the squad car. And then how humbling it felt to sit across from Carlos in handcuffs, and how tenderly Carlos had held his wrist while he removed them. TK feels a subtle stirring of arousal at the memory. He thinks about how gentle the man always was with him when they hooked up, even when TK didn't appreciate it and tried to rush them through sex. TK's mind flashes back to their last encounter at Carlos's apartment, laying naked on the couch, the warm weight of the other man's body pinning him down. He doesn't know why he hadn't appreciated Carlos more. He wonders how much damage he did to Carlos's impression of him tonight, and feels his shame intensify with the thought.
TK sighs and rolls over, trying to clear his head enough to get to sleep. He really needs this day to end. He knows he won't act on it, but his first instinct on nights like this is to want something to get him out of his own head. A drink, a pill, anything. His relapse before leaving New York has made everything so much harder. He had honestly believed he had his addiction under control before he proposed to Alex. Knowing he wasn't as far removed from it as he thought had left him with a lingering sense of anxiety, like the feeling that he was constantly walking on a ledge.