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Cecil doesn’t have boundaries. At least, not now. At first he tried to restrain himself, probably in an effort to make Carlos not feel uncomfortable, but now he doesn’t seem to have any qualms about running a hand casually through Carlos’ hair, or fixing his tie, or just resting his head on Carlos’ shoulder when he’s tired.
And it’s sweet. Carlos actually really enjoys it. Enjoys the casual contact, the warmth of Cecil touching him, the feeling of togetherness.
So he really does like Cecil’s displays of affection, he just doesn’t like it when they’re public displays of affection. He can’t help but tense up and duck his head when Cecil tries to kiss him in the parking lot of Big Rico’s. He finds himself making excuses to pull away when Cecil is trying to hold hands on the sidewalk. And the little flash of hurt that he sees in Cecil’s eyes makes him angry at himself, it really does. But even if Cecil doesn’t understand, Carlos does. He understands enough for both of them.
People haven’t always been okay with Carlos being Carlos. And he wants to be strong for Cecil, but he really can’t take any more.
Carlos is shopping on his way to Cecil’s. He’s coming from the lab and Cecil mentioned cooking something that didn’t involve vegetables that only grew in Night Vale, so Carlos is pretty excited. He decided that he would pick up a bottle of wine and they could make it special. He’s excited just like he used to be for dates back in high school. It’s nice to be in love.
He’s deciding between two red wines, one of which is called “Decayed Grape” and the other he can’t tell because it seems to be written in hieroglyphics, when he hears “Hey, you.”
Carlos turns around to find a short, fat, hammy man. He vaguely recalls that he’s the coach of the high school football team, and the whistle dangling around his neck reinforces that. “Yes?”
“You’re that- that scientist guy, ain’tcha?”
Carlos looks down at his lab coat, a little puzzled, then nods. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re dating that man from the radio?”
Words travels fast in Night Vale. Carlos is immediately reminded of when he was in high school and the jocks found out about when he started dating. “You’re dating a boy? Gross, that’s disgusting. Go kill yourself, queer” He swallows hard and his hands tighten around his shopping basket until his knuckles turn white. “Yes,” he says, slowly and evenly.
“Well,” the coach says, glowing, “you tell that man-“ Here he pauses to poke Carlos in the chest “to return my goddamn Tupperware”
Carlos is prepared to make an escape, or snap back, but the end of that sentence takes the words right out of his mouth. “Tupperware?” He asks dumbly.
“Yeah, my Tupperware! I made him a real nice casserole when his cat had kittens and the rat bastard hasn’t given it back.”
“Oh.” Carlos blinks dumbly. “That’s…what you wanted to say?”
“Well, you’re his boyfriend, ain’tcha? So I’m assumin’ you see him on a regular basis.” The coach turns to leave, only turning around once to growl “Tupperware.”
Carlos is left standing mutely in the aisle, not sure what to think. He decides on the wine with the hieroglyphics.
It’s early in the morning, early enough that the sun hasn’t made it unbearable yet, and Carlos took Cecil out to the cliff overlooking…well, what seems to be a void, as far as Carlos can tell. But that’s a mystery for another day.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Carlos says, nudging Cecil. They’re sitting on the hood of his car, and Cecil is basically leaning all of his weight on Carlos.
“Yes, Carlos, it’s a very nice sunrise, I just don’t understand why I had to get up at five in the morning to see it.”
“Because it’s nice to see the sun rise, and just be glad it didn’t fall earlier in the morning today.”
Cecil makes a noncommittal noise and drops his head on Carlos’ shoulder. “It is pretty, I guess.”
Carlos chuckles. “I know you’re not a morning person, but this is one of my favorite parts of living in Night Vale. I just wanted to share it with you.”
A soft breath against his neck as Cecil turns his head to watch the horizon. Silence, the kind of silence you can only get by living in the middle of a desert. It’s not uncomfortable, though. The sky is painted with pinks and reds as the sun comes up.
After awhile, Cecil rests a hand on Carlos’ knee. “It really is beautiful, Carlos. Thank you.”
Carlos picks up Cecil’s hand and bring it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, Cecil.”
They stay there, huddle together, long after the sun is up and the heat is beating down on them. They talk absently about the cat, the glow cloud, the existence (or not) of mountains, anything and everything that happens to cross their minds. It’s nice, just being able to be with someone and talk aimlessly for hours.
“I have to go to work soon,” Cecil says, making a face down at his watch. Carlos is sure it’s not working correctly, like most of the clocks in Night Vale, but somehow Cecil seems to be able to tell the time. By now, the area is populated with families, as the cliff overlooking a void is apparently a prime picnic spot here.
Carlos sighs and untangles his arm from around Cecil. “I suppose.”
“Thanks for dragging me out here,” Cecil says with a smile. He leans up, and kisses Carlos, chastely but firmly.
Carlos, for once, has forgotten the existence of other people, and brings a hand up to rest against Cecil’s jaw as they kiss.
“That’s appalling.” He pulls away from Cecil, confused, and looks over to see a middle-aged woman with a small boy. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
Carlos’ gut seems to freeze, and he glances down to where he’s still holding Carlos’ hand. The woman continues, “It’s disturbing and not right. You should think of the children.” To punctuate her point, she pulls the small boy closer by the shoulder.
“Pardon?” Cecil asks politely, and Carlos wants to shield him. He’s used to dealing with this, but he can’t let Cecil be hurt. He won’t.
“Don’t you have an respect for decent society?” The woman says, glaring firmly at them.
Carlos is familiar with these arguments- gays will be the destruction of society, they only want to corrupt the children- but being familiar with them hasn’t made them any easier to deal with. He still feels sick, wants to hide. But now more than anything he wants to keep Cecil from getting hurt in the same way.
“What are you talking about?” Cecil says, sliding off the hood of the car to stand in front of the woman.
“Your license plate is two weeks out of date,” she says, giving him a pointed look. “It’s not responsible, and people like you who just let it go willy-nilly we be the downfall of polite society.”
Carlos’ jaw drops. “Wait, what?”
She completely ignores him. “Think of the children. What kind of example are you setting with your cavalier attitude on out-of-date license plates? A terrible one!”
Cecil looks back at the car. “Oh, yes, I’m afraid you’re right. I’m very sorry. We’ll get that taken care of immediately.”
“See that you do,” she sniffs, and leads to boy away.
“Well, that wasn’t pleasant, but I suppose I am due for new plates.” Cecil shrugs, walking around to get in the car while Carlos follows him numbly. “You okay?” He asks, glancing back.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…tired, I guess.”
“Well, I think the lack of sleep was worth it. Today was wonderful.” He leans in, kisses Carlos again. “Give me a ride to the station, stud?”
Carlos is in the kitchen, preparing dinner. He’s learning to get creative in making food without wheat or wheat by-products. Cecil is messing with the TV in the living room. Three hours ago it suddenly started only broadcasting Portuguese soap operas, which normally they would just wait out, but Project Runway is on tomorrow and Cecil has an obsession with that show (and Carlos doesn’t mind it, not that he’d admit it). Every now and then Carlos hears a faint buzz and a blurb of Portuguese yelling and he smiles affectionately.
Carlos hasn’t been back to his apartment in a week. It isn’t even that there’s a toxic sentient mold in it (not this time), it’s just that spending the night turned into spending two nights and somehow it turned into this. This domesticity. Carlos wonders if they might start living together, officially, but more than anything he’s afraid of scaring Cecil off.
There’s a knock at the door. Carlos just keeps making dinner and listens to Cecil padding his way across the carpet. “Oh, hello.”
“Baldwin.” Carlos recognizes the gruff voice of Cecil’s landlord. He doesn’t know his name- Cecil said the human tongue couldn’t pronounce it- but he wears his skin like an ill-fitting suit and Carlos tries to stay out of his way. “That scientist has been around here a lot lately.”
“Oh, yes. Carlos is a dear. Is there a problem?”
“Is he living here, or what?”
“Um…” Cecil hesitates and Carlos’ heat rate picks up. He clutches the spatula tighter in his hand. “Not formally, but…soon. Most likely, soon.”
He has to stop himself from actually spinning around like a schoolgirl. Cecil wants to live with him! He bites his check to stop his smiling and goes back to nonchalantly cooking, as if he hadn’t just had a life-changing event.
“Baldwin…” He stops smiling so hard when he hears the voice of the landlord. It’s low and wary. “That’s not acceptable.”
“What? Whyever not?”
“Baldwin, I’m allowed to pick my own policies. You knew my views when you signed the contract. I can’t allow this.”
Carlos swears he feels his heart stop. He’s heard the horror stories- depending on the city, landlords are allowed to kick out people for being gay- but he never thought it would actually happen. He can’t get Cecil evicted. That’s just not right.
He can dimly hear Cecil and his landlord arguing but the blood is rushing in his ears and he isn’t sure what to do. He needs to run out there and defend Cecil like a decent boyfriend, but he’s paralyzed by the backlog of memories, all the people who called him a freak, who wouldn’t let him into the Boy Scouts, who made him feel wrong.
“But that’s not fair!” Cecil protests from the doorway.
“You know the rules, Baldwin! I’m making an exception for you already with those weird floating little cats, but the scientist is taking it too far!”
“Wait…” A pause. “Oh. Oh. No, you misunderstand! Carlos isn’t a pet. He’s my boyfriend.”
“…Really? The human isn’t your pet? I thought-“
“No, he’s just my romantic attachment. I’m not violating the pets policy, I assure you.”
“Well. I guess that’s alright then. No rule against romantic attachments. Can’t say I see why anyone wants one, but as long as you pay the rent on time, I don’t care.”
“Alright, well, that’s settled. Goodbye.”
The landlord grunts a goodbye and the door closes. Carlos is still measuring out food with shaking hands, trying to return to normal. In a moment he feels Cecil pressing against his back. “Mmm, smells good.”
“Who was at the door?” he asks casually.
“Just the landlord. A misunderstanding. We’ve got it all sorted out, darling, don’t you worry.”
Carlos finds himself leaning backwards against Cecil’s solidness. He turns, and Cecil drapes an arm around his waist, peering into the pan. “Cecil.”
“Hm?”
“Do you want to live together?”
Cecil’s grin makes Carlos instantly feel the good kind of butterflies, and he murmurs “yes” into his neck as he pulls him close.
Carlos’ mother won’t stop bothering him for a picture of Cecil, which is easier said than done. Every time he tries to take a picture of anything the least bit bizarre in Night Vale with the intention of sending it out of Night Vale the interior of the camera melts. And when he tries to post anything online with the least hint of strangeness, the screen flickers and all it will show it a sheep staring at him in a black background. It’s unsettling.
So finally, he manages to take a picture of Cecil that’s actually normal. It’s of the two of them at the station. Cecil is being a dork with his headphones on and Carlos is holding his stack of papers like usual, but it’s cute and Carlos feels like it accurately represents them. He manages to post it on Facebook without too much trouble.
His mother immediately texts him, gushing about how charming Cecil looks and how well Carlos seems to be doing (a.k.a. he doesn’t look exhausted and haunted any more). Carlos is happy. Until the comments start rolling in.
Omg Carlos are you datin a guy now??? U weren’t queer in college! WTF happened?!?
Haha could tell there was something wrong with u nobody’s that perf :P
Carlos, if you’d ever like to talk about this, our church group would be willing to pray for you
Woah I though the whole dudes thing was a phase are you still doing that??
Man I have to say I’m not ok with this
Carlos feels his happiness ebb away, replaced with the vague sense of anxiety. He almost forgot there was another world, a world where people were allowed, even encouraged, to hate him for what he was. He can feel himself freezing up, going numb, getting too wrapped up in his own head.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” Cecil leans down, rests his head on Carlos’ shoulder and looks at the computer screen. “Is that us? It’s- oh. What are those people saying?”
Carlos doesn’t answer, just stares blankly at the computer. “That’s awful. Why do they have to be so hurtful?” Cecil asks in a voice just above a whisper, as if he’s respecting Carlos’ state.
“Not everywhere is Night Vale, Cecil.”
Cecil presses in closer. “Oh, Carlos. Dear, sweet, Carlos. I sometimes forget you haven’t lived here forever. You’ve dealt with this before, haven’t you? That’s why you don’t like to be affectionate in public.” Cecil’s tentacles are out, and Carlos doubts that he realizes- sometime it’s unconscious- and one is stroking Carlos’ back, trying to comfort him.
“Cecil, doesn’t anyone ever give you any trouble for who you’re with?”
“Well, I do have a great-aunt who occasionally asks when I’m going to settle down with a nice fifth-dimensional being, but nobody really listens to her.”
Carlos looks at the computer screen again. He may not ever get over his deep-seated fears, but he can deal with them, and it’s a start. Without further overthinking, he closes out of the window and reaches up to stroke Cecil’s hair. This is what matters.
Cecil makes a noise of contentment and burrows against him further. “No offense, but I think I like Night Vale better than those other places.”
Carlos reaches up, kisses Cecil’s forehead, just above his third eye. “So do I."