Work Text:
Their first meeting is the furthest thing from the romantic ideals most people have in this city.
See, if your city is teeming with superheroes, you for sure wouldn’t be able to help yourself and imagine more and more cliché and romantic encounters. Getting rescued from a supervillain, flying through the air while held oh so close after said rescue mission, getting flirted with by the kind and selfless masked vigilante, maybe even getting a hand kiss in front of the reporters… you possibly imagined it all before even if you’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone.
No, the way TK meets Striker is the complete opposite of these dream scenarios.
It all starts on an otherwise usual, cold, dark December night.
TK shivers as another gust of wind blows through the city streets, making him shrink in on himself, silently cursing himself for not getting his scarf in the morning.
Should’ve accepted Cooper’s offer for that ride home, TK muses would have spared me from hypothermia. At least the snowflakes are pretty.
A cop car with blaring sirens rushes past him, stirring up some of the flakes, making them swirl in the air, creating a snowglobe-like moment. The closer TK gets to his front door, the more he quickens his steps. Just another minute or so and finally I’ll be off from the cold.
But of course, today of all days is when one of his neighbors decided to break up with her boyfriend.
“Babe, I said it to you already, it was all on her!! Everyone on Earth would have done the same! I mean, her charms are one of a kind!” pleads the guy as he tries to get his shirts off the ground. “I swear, it won’t happen again!”
“It for sure won’t!” she screams before she ducks down and reappears in the window with a wardrobe drawer in her hand. “Fool me once…” and with that, she starts pouring out the guy’s socks and underwear.
TK watches on for a minute. You have to admit, the swirling boxers are sure a sight. Seeing as though they will for sure be here for a while, TK steps into the side alley that leads to the back entrance.
And that’s when he sees him.
The figure lying face down on the ground is completely motionless, more or less fully covered by snow, only a little part of the symbol on his back is visible, but it’s just enough for TK to recognize Striker.
Striker is one of the newbies in Austin, who moved here not that long ago. A rogue vigilante, not part of the Fighters, much to his dad’s chagrin. He’s quick, strong, and the city’s new favorite.
Last TK heard anything about him, he was active in other parts of the city, the furthest from his place. But now here he lies, unconscious and with the very threatening possibility of him freezing to death.
TK stares at him for a moment longer but then he shakes himself and rushes to the vigilante’s side, falling to his knees next to him in the snowy-slushy asphalt. His body is cool to the touch, no surprises here. TK frantically starts his mental checklist. He’s also non-responsive. TK carefully turns over the body. There’s a big pulp and cut on his forehead, and some scratches on his face but at first administration nothing seems broken or crushed. His lips are just too blue.
“Hey!” he gently taps his face. “Can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened?”
He puts his finger under Strike’s nose, feeling relieved when warm puffs tickle them. Just to be sure he puts his other hand’s finger on his pulse point, timing it to his watch, worryingly noting it. It’s so slow.
As TK continues his examination, he discovers some more scratches on his hands, as if he tried to slow his fall, and more worryingly, a stab wound on Striker’s right shoulder. Brain running a mile a minute, TK debates with himself what to do.
What should I do? Should I call 9-1-1? Nah, they’d sooner send some kind of assault team than medics. Do I call Dad? The Fighters? And if they’re all tied down with something else?
A sudden gust of wind makes him shiver, reminding him just how soaked his jeans got in such little time. I can’t just leave him out here even a moment longer. He’ll for sure freeze to death.
Making up his mind, he reaches for the vigilante, making him sit up, and then throws Striker's left arm over his shoulders, right hand gripping him by the ribs, finding a belt he can cling to.
Standing up is much harder than anticipated, the slick ground and the dead weight not helping in the slightest but after the third try they successfully stay upright.
The trek towards the back door feels like a small eternity, but TK manages to get them there without falling onto his face. He carefully lays down Striker next to the entrance, and frantically looks for his keys, unlocking the door and then drags him through it, finally leaving behind the unforgiving cold. TK heaves a breath, mental gears whirring, working on his plan on how to get this man, this vigilante upstairs in incognito.
“The elevator is wired, anyone could call it any second, get in next to us.” TK buries his face in his hands. “But there is no way I could carry you up to the 6th floor all by myself.”
That’s when he realizes he might have forgotten his scarf, but he still has his hat.
“I mean… I had worse, way worse ideas than this!” he goes for cheerful but it sounds fake to his own ears too. “But then if anyone actually watches these tapes, they’ll only judge you!”
He quickly takes off his hat and puts it on the unconscious man's head. “Oh, they’ll judge you alright.” He also spreads his coat on Striker’s back, making the suit’s most recognizable parts hidden.
“Considering the state of some of the things in here -” he grunts as he once again stands up with his camouflaged friend - “I highly doubt the camera will be recording voices or the tapes will be that high quality but it’s better to be safe than sorry!”
With great effort, they arrive in the lobby and TK presses the call button. “Ha!! See, I told you that last glass was a bad idea!” he declares proudly, “but of course you knew better, babe!” he knows he’s missing casual by a mile but he'd rather overplay this ‘role’ than have the landlord break down his door tomorrow looking for the corpse. Now that would certainly be an interesting visit to the police department.
“Now, now, come on, come on!” he mutters to himself. He knows he’s running out of time and strength while he’s able to hold up the other guy and he would rather not have him sprawling all over the lobby floor, potentially losing the coat and busting both of them.
The elevator arrives with a soft Ding! and he carefully maneuvers them inside and presses the number 6. He leans against the railing, hugging the other’s body close as if he would hug his best friend. The elevator doors slide closed and TK heaves a big breath.
“We are so close. Just hang on a little more, please!” Striker’s lifeless body gets heavier and heavier by the seconds, as TK stares at the little LED displays, mentally urging on the elevator.
Thankfully they arrive on the sixth floor without interruptions and TK has just enough strength to carry out the vigilante from the wired elevator and only falls to his knees outside where no one will be able to see.
With one more big breath, he drags the still unresponsive body to his door and unlocks it with tingling fingers. Once he gets Striker through his door, he sits him up against his wall, locks the door with his deadbolt and it’s lock and Dad’s deadbolt and all and gets to work.
♦♦
The coffee maker’s monotone shriek is the only sound in his flat. Its little LED display’s 5:30 am is only there to mock him.
TK heaves a heavy sigh and buries his face into the crook of his elbow.
Patching up Striker was harder than anticipated, considering the numerous cuts and slashes that his suit hid from him at first glance. TK can’t even count the number of tissues, bandages, and butterfly stitches he used on the still-unconscious vigilante.
His chest was a mess, full of bloody and long and thankfully not that deep slashes. They were easy, a quick swipe with the antiseptic wipes here, a butterfly stitch there and he was ready to get bundled into TK’s warmest blankets.
The stab wound was moderately difficult. After cleaning it up TK found that thankfully it wasn't that deep, and required only a stitch or two.
The hard part was his face. The cut on his forehead required stitches, and that itself wouldn’t have been a problem, if the cut itself didn’t end under the mask and if TK wouldn’t have run on no sleep in the last 24 hours.
His hands never shook that much during simple stitching, the nerves finally setting in, made worse by the stress that he could literally sentence Striker himself and his family to death if his work gets messy and leaves behind a scar for all the world to see.
Seeing that the coffee won't be done brewing for a while, TK stands up from the counter and decides that a small refresh wouldn't hurt him.
But he gets no further than the kitchen door before an arm presses into his throat and shoves him into the wall.
Striker looks murderous, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Where am I?" his voice is so hoarse from disuse and the cold. "What did you do to me?!" He presses his hands even more into TK's throat, just with enough pressure to make it harder to breathe but not really choking him.
"In my flat in the suburbs of Austin." he wheezes out. "You just laid there in the snow, in the alley." TK tries to will himself to calm down his erratic breathing. "I pulled you out of the cold before you could die of hypothermia."
Striker stares at him for a moment that feels like an eternity and then scoffs, starting to raise his right eyebrow, before wincing, possibly the stitches stretching his skin. His other hand quickly rises to his forehead, carefully touching TK's handwork and up close to each other TK sees the moment he realizes it ends under his mask.
Striker presses his hand even more into his throat, leaning right into his face.
"You took off my mask." he spits. "You undressed me and took off my mask and yet you claim - you want me to believe you did nothing awful?! Huh? You take me for such an amateur?" TK clutches at the hand, trying to get it away from blocking his breathing. "You must have taken dozens of pictures, taken a little blood here, a big swab of saliva there, let everyone get enough of me heh?!"
"Screw you!" TK breaths, anger spiking. "I saved you!"
"You just… lied there out in the snow, for who knows how long!" he hisses, offended. "You were unconscious!! Minutes away from literally freezing to death and I risked my life to save you!"
Striker stares at him silently, as TK gets even angrier. "And instead of a thank you, you accuse me of - of such cruelty? I didn't sleep because I was way too busy to patch you up, to make sure no wounds got infected and this is your thank you? Fuck you!"
With that TK shoves Striker, making him stumble and take a few steps back. Now his throat sore too, along with a bruised pride, TK slides down the wall, collapsing into a heap.
"I did work under your mask, but I swear I didn't pull it off of you," says TK after a long pause. "I simply just… bent it back with a bandaid so I could work."
This whole situation is so stupid! TK thinks to himself bitterly. I should have called the gang for help, and let them handle it by the rules.
"I spread your jacket on the back of the sofa, to dry it." Striker still stands in the middle of his living room, staring right at him and not saying a word. "And all I ask is for you to use this window before anyone could see you were here before we both get in some serious trouble."
With that, TK stands up and continues his walk towards the bathroom. But then his pettiness makes him turn back towards the vigilante. "Also, FYI, you owe me a new blanket. You bled all over it, and now it's unsalvageable. If you would be so kind as to dispose of it somewhere safe so no one could get their hands on it and take samples from it would be great!" and with that he turns his back on Striker and tries to gracefully flee into his bathroom, to have his breakdown without witnesses.
When TK wakes up on the 25th, it is to a new blanket on his fire escape, with no notes attached to it, it fills him with such a bittersweet feeling.
TK groans and buries his face into his palm.
His colleague's email was the last thing he needed on this Christmas Eve, but here he is now, his mood completely soured.
With a sigh, he stands up from his work desk, deciding that coffee is in order if he wants to be able to stay up all night, to find new angles.
"So nice to see the holiday season got you in such high spirits." comes an unexpected comment from his right, making TK jump.
Striker sits in his armchair, a playful smile on his face.
"I told you not to do this!" he scolds him, heart racing a mile a minute. "Jesus, you scared me."
"And I told you to fix the lock on this window. Checkmate, I would say." with that, he stands up and steps closer to TK. "Why aren't you asleep yet? I thought for sure I would find you asleep by now."
"Work stuff just got even more complicated." TK breathes, heart finally calming down. "Also after this, I definitely couldn't sleep even if I wanted to. Coffee?"
"A cup of water will be enough, thanks." Striker follows him into the kitchen. "Are you sure this is what you really need right now? It's past 3 AM, and I am certain you have family obligations in the morning."
"You are very sweet, but this stuff is urgent." TK pats his arm and gets a glass from the shelf before he opens the fridge to get a bottle of water. When he reaches for the coffee beans, a hand is placed on top of his. "I thought we talked about this." TK turns back to see Striker standing right behind him.
"Talked is a little strong to be used here." the masked man murmurs. "You declared and I objected. But truly I can't even count the nights I have seen you up so late nursing one of these. Just… let me make you something else if you indeed plan on staying up."
"I meant sneaking up on me like this without a noise." TK feels himself giving in, letting the other man maneuver him into one of his kitchen chairs, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. He watches on as Striker gets out a bowl from his cupboard, before getting the spices from their place, not needing to ask any questions, knowing where to find everything he needs, as if he's at home, in his own kitchen.
"What is this urgent work matter anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" Striker breaks the pleasant silence. TK groans, feeling the coziness slip away to make place for anger and desperation.
"My piece we worked on not that long ago? The warehouse where they kept those teenagers and experimented on them with the newest formula of Heroic Magic?" Striker hmms to let him know he's listening. "Someone from the higher-ups decided it was not so interesting or worth telling or some other bullshit! And it is just this close to ending up being a never-told story and urgh! I could scream!"
"What? They can't just do that!" Striker's just stunned. "We brought rock-solid evidence, photos, and - and made interviews with the victims! It was ready to be the year's breaking news! What about the survivors? Their story must be told so it can't happen to anyone else!"
"I know! But they can make this choice and it seems they will. I submitted the article, so technically it is kind of in their possession, threats of firing me if I publish it in any way were already made."
"What?" Striker turns off the gas and steps right in front of him. "Why didn't you call me? I could have-"
"Done what?" TK shrugs, feeling hopeless. "It may be either the CEO or the chief editor, or worse case, the whole board of directors who made this call. And more than likely the company is the one pressuring them who rented the whole lot."
"I thought it was some nonexistent guy we couldn't trace anywhere?"
"Yes but then I found something interesting the other day. " Thanks to Dad and his weird humor. "The nonexistent guy's name was actually anagram, and when placed into the right order, it turned out to be the Austin TechVision CEO's cousin who's been dead for over a decade!"
"That's - that's brilliant TK!" Striker's disbelieving face slowly transforms thanks to the big smile that appears on his face. "It would be such a catch! We could put an end to this madness, for good!"
"Thanks." TK feels a slow blush overtake his face. "Now all we need is some evidence and I got the plan for it. His office is on the 50th floor, and I even managed to find the blueprint for that level! Now I have started plotting out the operation, which luckily wouldn't force me to climb out in such insane heights like that time -"
"No way." Striker cuts in, face serious. "There is no way you will come along for this. I will go alone, get it all, and then -"
"Please, be serious, this will definitely be a two-man job at least, also the technical parts would be way too difficult to explain to you over an earpiece and then we didn't cover the possibilities that they might have some serious built-in -"
"You got shot the last time, TK." Striker's outburst makes both of them quiet, standing there, staring at each other. "You got shot, I won't ever risk that again."
TK feels tongue-tied, the words just won't come out of his mouth, are trapped in his chest. Striker steps closer to him, raising his right hand to his left shoulder, applying the gentlest pressure with his fingers when touching his left shoulder, right on the still tender gunshot wound. "I just can't - the thought of this happening again - I'm not sorry but I just cannot -"
"I know," TK says softly and places his right hand over the other man's, slowly clasping their fingers together. "But the same goes for me too, I hope you know that." His voice breaks a little. "Alone this would be a suicide mission."
"I believe we arrived at a checkmate." Striker's smile is bittersweet and he squeezes TK's hand as he lifts them off his shoulder, holding on for a while, not wanting to let go. TK squeezes back, content to stay in the moment. "Come on, the hot chocolate is getting cold." Striker's tone is softer, so quiet and soft, so different from his usual gruff and deep one.
Still holding his hand, Striker leads him into the kitchen, only letting go of him when necessary.
He gets two mugs from his cupboard and only makes a fondly exasperated look when TK gets the whipped cream from his fridge, squirting two healthy doses on both of their drinks, slowly walking towards his sofa, pretending that they are just two guys without secrets, without any kind of pressure on them.
This is truly TK's favorite way to spend time with Striker, when he is just so relaxed, smiles so easily, jokes so freely, and becomes the man he is probably on an average day, without his mask.
The hot chocolate runs out quickly as they talk about anything and everything. Of course both of them edit things in a way so they won't become compromised - no full names, in some cases not even names, both of them so conscious about the masks they both are hiding behind - the difference is only that TK's is more hidden, while Striker's is for all to see.
This is a topic they have only danced around for the last year, both of them sort of pretending it's not there and only realizing how seriously it confines them in dire situations, like when TK got shot a few weeks ago.
"So…" Striker clears his throat. "I got you something for Christmas. Which is just so stupid because I know you celebrate Hanukkah." to TK's amazement he starts to blush furiously. "But I… forgot and by the time I realized it was way too late already and - "
"It's alright." TK can't help but laugh a little, feeling charmed. "Almost none of my coworkers that I worked with for years remembers it anyway. And I also told you that because of my Dad, I don't mind it that much."
Now that they're on topic, TK knows he's probably bouncing from excitement but he can't force himself to stay still. "Also - if it makes you feel less awkward, I too got you something." TK gets up from the couch, with a spring in his step, and hurries into his bedroom, getting the small box he spent months agonizing over, debating whether it would be a way too revealing gift.
He takes a deep breath and returns to his living room, smiling warmly at the other man as he presents his gift.
Striker stares at it for a few moments in silence, before he carefully takes off the cover, revealing a soft tissue paper.
"I know your identity is very important for you to be kept as a secret. And I know firsthand how many close calls you have had. So - this is my way of hopefully making it an issue of the past, so to speak." TK knows he's rambling but he just can't help himself. Striker carefully lifts the paper and lifts out his gift, a new mask, and studies it silently.
"It's still a prototype, but not quite the first build. One of my friends helped me fine-tune it." The vigilante's silence makes him a little nervous now and gets a little more unsure. "I know at first glance it doesn't look that extra, but the nice things are hidden in there. Basically, it's able to detect who's trying to remove it. Has some small sensors in it -"more like thousands"- that can store and recognize the person who's trying to remove it. It has a list, where you can store a few people's data beside yours, so in case of, say, an emergency, they can remove it without you needing to do it. Also, it's just so clever that it can read when you're unconscious! So in the off chance you are kidnapped or trapped, no one will be able to take it off of your face."
"TK, this is way too much." Striker's brown eyes sparkle with tears. "I can't accept it-"
"You can," TK stresses it softly, getting choked up himself. "It is all made for you, built from the ground up just for you." He steps closer, ducking his head a little, to make eye contact with Striker. "If I can't be out there with you physically, at least let me be there in spirit with this."
Striker stares back at him, a sweet and shy smile overtaking his face. "Thank you, TK, truly, it means a lot to me." He pulls out a little box from his jacket's inside pocket, holding it out in his palm. "Now this seems a little stupid considering what you have just given me, but I still hope you will like it."
TK takes it carefully, opening it carefully to reveal a jewelry box, containing a pair of diamond studs, one with a gold and one with a silver base. "Ohh, these are just so gorgeous."
"I know how much it hurt to lose the previous one when you got admitted into the hospital, but then I couldn't decide between these two, so I got them both for you."
"You are just such a sweetheart." TK knows he's crying but he never cared less. "I maybe mentioned it once, in passing."
"I pay attention to things that matter. And you matter an awful lot to me."
Maybe it's the late hour, maybe it's the fact that this night was the closest they both got to being their true selves, but TK leaves all of his doubts behind and steps right into Striker's personal space and kisses him softly.
TK wakes to the screeching sound of the Fighters Rescue Request app.
Carlos groans right next to him and gets up from the bed slowly.
"What is it?" TK mumbles, prying one of his eyes open, to follow his boyfriend's silhouette in the dark room as he dresses up.
"B&E, but just for it to be all fun for everybody, it's in one of those downtown skyscrapers, on one of the top levels."
"What better way to start your Christmas than with some high-altitude workout." he yawns and buries himself back into his warm blanket cocoon. "Who is going with you?"
"Marjan and Paul are en route already." Carlos masks up and steps back up to the bed, pressing a kiss to TK's forehead. "Go back to sleep, I will be back before you know it."
"Love you, stay safe," TK murmurs back, hearing their bedroom window open as Striker responds to the alarm, ready to join their teammates.
♦♦
TK wakes once more a few hours later, now the sun mutedly shining through their window.
After a few seconds, he realizes that Carlos still hasn't returned and it makes him alert right away.
He quickly checks the group chat and he feels so relieved when he reads it back, how only the massive paperwork is left now.
With a relieved heart, he gets up from their beds and sets out to make some breakfast for the two of them. Carlos always starves after an endeavor like this.
He gets the milk, pours it into a pot, and leaves it to simmer. He hums to himself, getting the ingredients for the hot chocolate before he starts to work on his waffles.
Carlos may be the one from the two of them who enjoys cooking and is better at it in every sense, but TK's breakfast waffles are unbeatable.
He's in the middle of the third batch when he hears his wind chimes' gentle chime, before with a gust of wind Striker climbs inside.
He actually skips over to TK and hugs him from behind before smacking a big kiss to his right cheek, swaying in place.
"I see someone is in a good mood." TK turns off the waffle iron, and turns back to face Carlos, still in his mask and suit, grinning broadly. TK leans against the counter, raising his hands to pull off the mask, revealing Carlos' brown eyes in their full glory.
He leans in to kiss him, just enjoying their closeness.
"I made waffles," he mumbles against Carlos' lips, before going back for a peck. "Also your famous hot chocolate."
"I know there was a reason I loved you."
"You are such a funny guy." TK deadpans, before playfully shoving Carlos a little. "Come on, change clothes before this gets cold. We also have a lot to do today."
The way the rest of their days go is exactly what TK loves the most about Christmas, even as someone who doesn't celebrate it.
After breakfast, they decorate their apartment with some fairy lights before adding a few little touches to their tree. They meet the others for a late lunch which gets interrupted when Nancy, Judd, and Mateo get called away for a burglary on the other side of town. After they get home, TK gets his cookies out from the fridge to put them into the oven so they can bring them with them tomorrow when they go to Owen's place to celebrate the holidays with both of their families.
If they end up more on the crispier-than-they-normally-would-be side because they got a little distracted, nobody has to know.
The day passes quickly after that, and the night finds them all tangled up on the couch under their blanket.
Carlos mindlessly runs his fingers up and down TK's arm, talking about some of the funniest endeavors he had as a vigilante. "Ever since then, I have had such a deep-rooted fear of reptiles." Carlos even shudders for a dramatic effect.
TK loves him so dearly. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from any lizard that might attack us from the pipes."
"That is not funny, TK." TK grins to himself, before with great effort climbing out of Carlos's embrace, and patting his thighs.
"Gotta confess," he whispers schemingly. "I did get you a Christmas gift." Carlos rolls his eyes.
"TK, we agreed on no gifts."
"I know but I couldn't pass up this opportunity." he plants his hands on the couch next to Carlos' head, boxing him in before leaning down for a kiss. "Besides I know you too got me a little something."
He gets to his feet and hurries to their bedroom, getting his gift from his secret hiding place, from under his bed. When he gets back to the living room, Carlos is already sitting up, holding a small box in his hands, staring at it quite intensely.
TK sits down next to him, feeling giddy with excitement. He hands over his box, intently watching Carlos' face to see his reaction.
Carlos watches his face for a moment before he studies the box distrustfully. "This isn't like a stripper outfit, right?" TK laughs.
"No it isn't necessarily, but I mean everything can be if you are resourceful enough." seeing Carlos' expression, TK nudges him. "I'm just kidding."
Carlos pursues his lips, but eventually takes off the cover lid and pulls out the garment.
"It is a prototype for now, so we will need to do some testing before I will let you out in this, but I am quite optimistic! This is an underwear, but as you can see, it's a bodysuit with a turtleneck." Carlos carefully touches the material.
"The trick is that it warms so it can keep you warm on the coldest stakeout, head to toe. And the bonus is, that it's woven in such a way that no needle can get through so goodbye knockout injections!"
"TK this is brilliant." Carlos breathes, eyes misty. "When did you-?"
"It's been… on my mind for years now. I always got super cold whenever I went out for a mission, but I never had enough resources to finish even one. But now, I have had some extra motivation and time and opportunity to make one." he lays his head on Carlos' shoulder. "Like I said, it's still an early build, but I have high hopes for us."
At this moment, Carlos' phone goes off with an alarm. Both of them groan as Carlos fishes it out from his pocket.
"Full team request, evolving bank robbery in downtown." Carlos gets up from the couch not before pressing a kiss on top of TK's head. "Seems like an all-nighter."
TK follows him into the bedroom, watching him dress up, and then gets out his own earpieces, and grins at the other man. "Gonna join in then."
Striker looks at him for a moment, before leaning in for a kiss and hurries for the window. TK gets out his laptop and turns on his earpiece.
"This is Shadow, do you copy?"
"Loud and clear." comes Striker's reply.
"So nice of you to join us." Viper chimes.
TK hears a few more replies, the others just as happy to hear him once again, and he smiles to himself.
"Yeah, I missed you all too."
"Are all of you ready for this?" comes The Captain's voice before switching to a private line. "You sure everything is secure TK?"
"As sure as I can be, Dad."
"Yeah, we tested it hell and back Captain." Striker's reply is confident.
"Well, then let's get to work. Shadow, what can you tell us about the place?"