the voice of night vale

thank you your kind words inspired me

Oh, my—

𝑂ℎ.

Cecil is struck 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 when Carlos leans over and kisses his cheek in return.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was kissed. Literally, he does not remember it; the last time he was kissed was years ago, by Earl Harlan, and Cecil doesn’t remember a single second of it, wiped clear from his mind after several ensuing— though unrelated— sessions of re-education that left Cecil blank, Earl heartbroken, and their relationship a broken, half-gone mess.

Regardless.

Being kissed now— and being kissed by perfect, perfect Carlos— on the cheek is the most tremendous feeling he’s ever had. And he had such fear when Carlos didn’t respond, at first, but now—

He couldn’t be more thrilled. He couldn’t be happier, really, and—

And he gets a second kiss.

And a third!

He just wants to stay in contact with Cecil forever, somehow, even though he knows that might not be possible— Radio and science are such different jobs on a base level!

Suppose he'll just have to keep a radio switched on while he does his work in his lab, and wherever else his work may take him in Night Vale!

"I am thanking you," Carlos insists simply in return, only sitting back once he realises he should probably definitely let Cecil be able to focus on the road while he's still driving. "You came to get me, so you are to be thanked— Because you started it."

A childish argument, maybe, but a true one! Outside of whoever wrote the prophecy, Cecil did start this.

Cecil continues to speak and Carlos listens attentively as he hugs his bag close to his body, as though he absolutely needs to be hugging someone or something right now to keep him tethered to the Earth, to reality.

When Cecil trails off, he smiles, and stays quiet with him. He thinks he understands what he means, and thus understands why it's difficult to say.

"I have been told I'm a force of nature," Carlos confirms once it seems Cecil is done rambling (oh, how he loves listening to him ramble!). "I think… that very few things are truly impossible, and most are just improbable. If I'm told something can't be done, then I will keep at it for as long as I have to, as long as my brain can keep thinking up new ways to approach it."

As a result, he has one many bets against himself! Which is normal to be proud of, right? He's proving himself!

He's just also consistently doubted, for some reason.

"So if you came and something didn't work out," The scientist continues, thoughtful. "I would just keep trying. If you had to rush off or something, and we were not in the car together like we are now, I would find my own way to Night Vale to find you again. Even if I don't entirely understand where it is. I'll find it, because I won't stop trying. You're worth searching for, just like you've searched for me."

A beat.

It’s just so much better when he is touching him.

“Of course, I came to get you,” Cecil insists. “As soon as I saw you— Oh, Carlos, I had to. I couldn’t live another minute without you. I think I would’ve felt the same if I saw you in passing. On the street. Or in a dream, even. I would’ve had to come find you.” He sighs, content. “Thank you for being you.”

Even their quiet is comfortable. It’s nice.

Cecil does like Carlos’s voice, though, and his words, and the things he has to say. He listens closely and falls a little bit more in love with every word Carlos says.

And by the end—

He thinks he might actually cry.

He’s thinking about how he’s been told since before he can remember that he doesn’t really exist. He’s thinking about how he hasn’t seen his own reflection, and isn’t sure what he looks like, if he even looks like anything. He’s thinking about how he would often come back into himself halfway through the woods, led there by his mother in the hopes he wouldn’t return home. He’s thinking about being ignored and abandoned by his mother, and considering that a good thing, a positive sign, a promising omen.

He thinks about how, sometimes, he can’t remember whether or not he’s real.

And here is Carlos, telling him that he’d never stop trying to find Night Vale— to find him. Telling him he’s worth searching for.

Cecil blinks, then scrubs roughly under his eye with the back of his wrist. His third eye blinks just the same, though its budding of tears are above the car more than within it, white rain-clouds wisping above the car, leaking a couple of drops he can’t wipe away as easily.

He can’t help but huff a wet laugh. “Carlos. I… I think you’d be able to find me even with just two eyes. They’re really, really perfect eyes.”

He doesn't know what to do with that, and the confusion flashes on his face before he fixes it, all too used to fixing his face.

He grew up being told that there was always room for improvement, and he took that as Gospel— Maybe a little bit to his own detriment.

A Bachelor's degree isn't enough, so followed the Master's. A Master's degree isn't enough, so followed the Doctorate of Science.

Then Carlos hit the ceiling, nowhere else to go beyond that. Maybe he's less down in the dumps and has more trapped himself in a corner? He's not entirely sure. Maybe both as a result of the other.

To think he might be okay just being, that's alien to him. But maybe it's worth a try! Stop pushing himself to burnout in hopeless hopes to impress family or possible friends-to-be, and just… serve himself.

He has a feeling Cecil will be impressed either way.

Cecil—

Carlos blinks, and Cecil is crying.

"Oh," The softest coo as he lets go of his bag once again, leaning over to help wipe those tears away. "I'm sorry, Cecil, I didn't mean to make you cry—"

How awful is he for that? They just met and he made the most fascinating person in the world cry!

Carlos's brows furrowed concerned, and his gaze momentarily drops when he notices some red on Cecil's lip. That's— No, don't get distracted.

He puts both hands on the wheel, then— removes one to set on his own thigh, antsy, then— removes it from his thigh to set on Carlos's, and that is reassuring enough that he sighs and leaves it there, driving one-handed.

The two of them tangle in each other like this; Cecil tips his face into Carlos's hand, letting him dry away the last of his tears. Even when there are no tears left, Carlos doesn't retreat or release him; he just keeps touching him, and Cecil could just melt for it. It's nearly a fight to keep himself whole.

'Someone like you.'

What does Carlos mean, someone like him? Why does he say it so fondly, how— how can—

"I would've waited as long as I had to," Cecil tells him, because he wants him to know, "but I'm glad I don't have to anymore. You're right, I— I needed you, we— We needed us."

And now they have them, and they can start being them. Cecil isn't so good at existing, and Carlos isn't so good at being, and they are going to figure this out, together.

Cecil recognizes the structure with his third eye before any of the others— which is good, he thinks, because he might have blown right past Carlos's house without stopping or even slowing, too determined to get to Night Vale.

Crunching the brakes and pulling the stop mechanism on the left side, Cecil pulls an absurd grinding noise out of his car before it comes to a halt on the street.

After a moment in quiet, Cecil asks, "Do you want any help with your things? Or packing? Or— Anything?"

He has the terrifying, ridiculous feeling that, if he lets Carlos out of his car— out of his sight— he'll lose him forever. It can't be true— and he can't let himself believe it to be true; he has to believe Carlos will come back when they're separated— but it doesn't stop his terror, all the same.

He does not know why it took so long to be truly known, but he's glad it is now.

It might have been scary if it had happened earlier, he considers, if he was still trying to figure out his life. But now he's too settled, and Cecil crashes into his life to bring him somewhere new, to tell him exciting things, and he knows it's the right time.

The screech of the brakes has Carlos turning his gaze away for just a moment to figure out why that's happening— They're outside his building! He wouldn't have even realised it himself with how much he's been staring at Cecil, admiring him for what he is and what he is not.

"Cecil— Cecil," Carlos grins as though he knows something; And he's certain that he does. "You don't need an excuse to come inside— We'll be sharing a home soon!"

What a thrilling thing to remember and look forward to!

He leans forward, one last kiss just barely on the edge of Cecil's lips, before he shifts to take his seatbelt off.

"It's a little messy in there, uhm, but we're only going in and out! I feel sorry for whoever's gonna be in there next." He muses.

Carlos hasn't even thought about that, is barely thinking about it now— He is leaving his life! The landlord will miss rent and come to check only to find a disorganised scientist's apartment with no scientist to be found, the University will be missing a lecturer, and he could truly care less!

And it is, to Cecil, a kiss. He got so close to his lips, right at the edge, there, and Cecil feels it still like it is a scar on the corner of his mouth, as if he is on fire where Carlos has touched him.

And then Carlos—

Carlos invites him in.

It's not like that, it's not, but Cecil doesn't know the last time he's been invited into the home of someone he feels this strongly about. He can't help his blush, his grin, his stammering, "Um— O-Okay!"

And the idea that they'll be sharing a home soon— that they'll share meals, and a space, and a home, that he'll see Carlos at all times of the day, that he'll encounter him when he's sleepy and when he's just awoken and when he's freshly showered and—

"That's okay!" Cecil insists. He doesn't care if it's the messiest place he's ever been; that would just tell him he needs to get more organized, to balance Carlos out. He wants to explore! He wants to dig through all the different parts of Carlos's messy home, messy brain, messy life, anything he can get his hands on!

"I'm just really excited to leave it behind," Cecil admits. "I want to take you home. You're really going to like it, Carlos, I promise. It's so fascinating. Oh, you are going to have so much to do, so much to explore— sweetie-pie, you are going to love this, I promise—"

He spills out of the car as he rambles, unwinding back up to his full height. With a sharp tug, he draws Carlos's lab coat closer around himself, embracing its snug grip on his body, before he's slamming his door and striding to Carlos's side to yank the door open for him.

Though, maybe how that works isn't such a mystery, since Cecil invited Carlos home and he accepted immediately…

They're both just very excited to start this new life together, that's all, and Cecil proves that by rambling a little on the subject! Everything he says, Carlos feels—

And the nickname hits him pretty well, actually, he can practically feel how his face warms up from it. He wants to do nicknames too! Do they even sound as good coming out of his mouth, though, in his voice? He's not so sure.

He'll have to give it a try soon— An experiment of sorts, if you will.

For now, the scientist smiles back up to Cecil as he opens his door for him, carefully stepping out and slinging his bag back over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Cece," A good, neutral start for nicknaming, shortening the real name!

Gently taking Cecil's hand in his own, and of course waiting for the door to be closed again, it's Carlos's turn to pull him along, eager to start packing up his essentials, eager to get set back on the road to his new home.

"Are there lots of people in Night Vale? Do they know me too?" He questions as they race upstairs, curiosity rearing its head again. How popular is the prophecy— Or rather, how tight-lipped is Cecil?

It's easy to follow him. He'd follow him anywhere, honestly, and when Carlos is this bright and light and wonderful, he's practically hypnotized into dogging his heels.

And when Carlos gives him such an affectionate nickname, oh, Cecil could just lay down and die! It's the best he's ever felt, the greatest thing he's ever been called, he wants to absorb that feeling and swallow it forever.

And then Carlos is taking his hand again! He could just cry, he's so happy to be in contact with him again, tugged along on his journey as he starts packing one-handed. He provides a second hand, hoping it's helpful.

"Lots of wonderful people!" Cecil insists. "And some others. But, mostly great!" He hesitates, then answers, an honest confession, "They've... heard a bit about you. I mentioned you on the radio."

A lot of times. Ever since he heard about the prophecy, he'd been gushing to anyone and everyone who would listen about how excited he was about Carlos. It had been hardly a day between him hearing the prophecy and deciding to go, and still—

"Everyone in Night Vale probably knows about you," Cecil admits. "But I think they already love you! What's not to love, honestly? You're going to fit in perfectly. Like you're meant to be."

"Before you even came to get me? You're a big blabbermouth~" Carlos teases, that perfect grin never faltering.

Of course Cecil is a blabbermouth, it makes so much sense— Not only because of the rambling he's already done, but because what radio station would hire someone quiet, without passion?

Cecil has a lot of passion, Carlos can already tell. He looks forward to seeing more of that, the true extent of it.

But, that probably won't happen for a while. It's the first day!

"That makes me wonder exactly how detailed the prophecy was," And not for the first time!

Did it tell Cecil, before he used his eye, that he allegedly looks perfect? Did it mention science? How much of his future does it discuss, and how much more of it is unknown?

"I am meant to be." Carlos decides, confident as he sticks that neck pillow onto his arm for safe keeping until later. Putting it on his neck would make more sense, but his brain is half split between packing and talking right now.

And it seems like maybe he has?

He's getting so lucky with Carlos!

Carlos is teasing when he calls Cecil a blabbermouth. Teasing. Nobody teases Cecil like that. His own sister doesn't even tease him like that.

Cecil finds himself beaming, in love with the fond familiarity.

"I had to tell them about you," Cecil insists. "You are extremely important news, Carlos. The people of Night Vale should know about the imminent arrival of such a prominent citizen!"

The most prominent, in Cecil's opinion! He's been talking about his visions for a long while— and the concrete reality of Carlos from the moment he spotted him!

"Oh, it's... It's sort of detailed," Cecil tells him, a bit abashed. "I didn't tell the town everything, though. I promise." He redirects swiftly, agrees, "You always belonged with me— us. Us. Night Vale. I know it. I can feel it, you're supposed to be home with me."

He leans in, nudges Carlos's shoulder with his own.

"You are going to be so welcome in Night Vale. I promise."

Of course, he is. Cecil already declared his affection for him and sense of belonging to him over the radio. It's a protection, of sorts; he know he's prominent enough to earn that much.

"Sort of detailed," Carlos echoes, raising a brow in amusement. He definitely needs to know what that prophecy said about him, just how much it exposed that some parts had to go without being told to his new community.

Then Cecil nudges him and Carlos allows the conversation to be redirected with a chuckle, and a little hip bump in return.

"I believe you. I've a feeling you're going to give hell to anyone who isn't welcoming enough."

Another chuckle as he kisses Cecil's cheek, making sure to pack a few extra labcoats. Very important to have spares for different occasions, or if one needs washing!

He's been unable to stop himself from rambling about Carlos on the air. He's barely known the prophecy that long, but he still can't help himself. This is the best thing that ever happened to him; how could he possibly stop himself?

"For you? Anything," Cecil says, and means it, with an intensity and gravity he can't help but feel deep down to the soft, slurpable marrow of his bones.

And Carlos kisses him again, kisses his cheek, and Cecil just can't take it. Oh, he's so flustered, he just can't take it!

His cheek burns where Carlos kissed him, and he practically swans after him, a shadow attached to his heels as he dogs Carlos in his packing process. Lab coats and sentimentals and soft little items go into his bags, and Cecil mentally places him all in his home— their home— one piece at a time.

"I'll keep you safe," Cecil swears, sonorous and intense. "If you want to be alone, I'll make sure you're alone, Carlos."

They're sure they could manage that! And—

Well, if Carlos is home alone, and Cecil's there, that's fine, right? He can help Carlos be alone!

He just doesn't want to leave his side.

"I'll show you around Night Vale!" Cecil insists, excited. "I'll do it all myself. You don't have to worry about anyone else." He hesitates, then adds, "But... If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I won't force myself on you. The prophecy's obviously what it is... But you're not obligated. It can be a prophecy for another us, if you want."

He's begging the universe, please, please, please, please don't take him from me, but he sort of loves Carlos already, and if loving him means losing him, he'd rather Carlos be happy.

Still.

He can't be without him, he thinks. The notion terrifies him.

He'll have new things to study, a home, food in the kitchen, and someone to share it all with.

What more could someone want, really?

Safety, though, might not be so guranteed. He'll have a new town to explore, and that can always be dangerous in spite of how good the people can be.

Cecil had mentioned things earlier, a Glow Cloud and Shapes, which he could tell had a capital S— Will those be safe?

Not that danger will keep him from learning about anything.

"I know I'm not obligated, I'm happy with this. Really happy," Carlos is quick to reassure, not wanting Cecil to think any alone time will be a sign of regret, of wanting to change his mind and leave. "It's more a me thing, a scientist thing— People can be overwhelming sometimes, you know? That's why we work alone or in smaller groups, mostly."

It's also a sensory thing, a patience vs irritability thing. It's a lot of things, just like how Carlos is a lot of things, how Cecil, how both of them together will be so many things. All positive, all caring, all… loving.

Love is scary, but worth the risk when it shows up by surprise— Just like science.

"I'm glad it's us too. I don't think I'd run away with anyone else… You were very convincing." And beautiful, and interesting, and increasingly fascinating with each minute— How could Carlos not follow?

Right; Pillow, blanket, a science-themed plush, labcoats, other less important and interesting clothes, a book just in case he has time, hair stuff so he doesn't end up all frizzy… He can get other essentials in Night Vale, probably! If he's lucky, whoever had the lab last might have even left some scientific supplies behind.

"I think that's it," Carlos decides, pushing up his glasses. He looks over everything once more, then twice, and nods. This is fine.

It’s nice to see that the most interesting objects around are the ones that Carlos is packing up to take with him. When he’s chosen everything he wants to take along with him, what’s left is like a shell; there’s no way that this is the place that houses somebody like Carlos.

Cecil’s home will be much better suited to that, he just knows it.

He’s practically vibrating, wanting to be on the road and bringing Carlos along with him, but he makes himself be calm. He’s still dogging Carlos like a shadow, but— calm. Calm as he can be, anyway.

“Oh!” Cecil is learning so much about science today! And even more about Carlos. He thinks Carlos might just be his new favorite subject. Science is a bit further down the list, admittedly, but it’s rising with Carlos’s interest in it, for sure!

“That makes sense.” Cecil understands. People can be way too much, sometimes; they can make Cecil’s head go all fuzzy and his chest hurt and he just needs to be alone for a while. He gets it. “You never have to do anything you don’t want to! Well— Not with me. Life is full of things you don’t want to do but have to. But!” Cecil insists! “I’ll help with them! And never add to them. I promise!”

He vows! He likes to make vows to Carlos.

“Oh,” he says, softer this time, lower. He can feel the rush of heat on his cheeks; his third eye scrunches closed as he blushes. “Thank you. I practiced the whole way here. I knew it had to be really good if I wanted you to come.”

He tucks his hair back, rocks on his heels. The idea that Carlos wouldn’t run away with anyone else— even with how much he says he wanted to change his life— is making his heart do wild things. He thinks it might be strangling his lungs for fun, right about now.

Cecil watches Carlos claim his things, then observe the empty space he’s leaving behind. A quick scribbled note, and that’s it— That’s Carlos’s life here, sealed up and slipped under the door, already becoming a thing of the past even as they linger at the end of its life.

“Neat,” Cecil says, then wants to kick himself. “I mean, uhh— Neat!”

Damn it!

“I just— I’m really excited,” Cecil admits in a flushed rush. He holds his hands out, grabs to help Carlos with his things, offering his arms and palms and shoulders to him in sacrifice. His sensitive hands ache to touch Carlos again, but he contents himself with his belongings instead, each brush of his fingertips like a kiss to the fabrics. “I wouldn’t have come for anyone else, either. I don’t leave home a lot. I had to come get you.” And he grins, all those sharp teeth— “Let’s go. I want to take you home.”

Esteban always comes up with such creative ideas— and so does Carlos. He’s so scientific, of course— both he and their son can be so scientific!— but that means they’re inventive, too, and Cecil loves to hear every idea they come up with.

Like names in a hat! What a dangerous idea! But Cecil loves how dangerous Carlos can be, how risky and reckless and fascinating he can be!

Carlos’s voice is so soft when he speaks, like a blanket wrapped around Cecil— and then he promises real blankets, even, and Cecil smiles, sighing, relaxing into Carlos, half-aware of what’s happening around him.

“That sounds 𝑠𝑜 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒,” Cecil murmurs. It’s the perfect night, really; it’s his favorite sort of evening between them. “What food do you think the baby wants? Maybe I’m just… just not giving them the food they want.”

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel well. Maybe he’s just doing this wrong already. It was easier with Esteban— he had just been born when he came into their lives. Cecil’s not used to doing everything that comes before a baby is born instead of after; maybe he’s already messed it up, somehow?

Again, he's no expert at pregnancy— But he is at science, and biology! Marine… biology… but close enough! It's not as though he'll get all the correct answers applying human biology logic to Cecil, anyway.

"You'll have to limit how much caffeine you have, I think," He begins, thoughtful. "Try decaffeinated tea, maybe, water and fruit juices… And then for food, ideally you'll have a balanced mix from each section of the food pyramid. Oils, low or fat free dairy, whole fruits, vegetables, proteins, whole grains."

Carlos is tracing on Cecil's back again, this time numbers accompanied by words; He's trying to adjust their current typical grocery list in real time, in his mind.

"That whole thing about eating for two isn't really accurate; You won't need extra calories in the first trimester, but you'll need to go up about 340 in the second and 450 in the third— It would be good if we can accurately figure out how many weeks along we are, so I can keep an eye on that for you."

Nodnod. He's going to make this so much easier for Cecil!

"I can organise your meals for you, point you to what you can have as snacks— You won't even have to worry about remembering everything, I'll remember."

Satisfied with that somewhat organised in his mind, Carlos coos softly as he presses kisses to Cecil's face.

He loves coffee. Sometimes, it’s all he has until dinner— which Carlos will scold him for, but with how distracted he can get while he’s working on science, it’s not like he can talk.

But… Carlos is smart. If he thinks Cecil should be eating and drinking specific things, he probably should be. Even if he doesn’t want to be.

Though he can’t help the grimace that wrinkles his nose at the suggestions Carlos is making— he’s reassured that Carlos will help him with it. With everything. He doesn’t want to do this, isn’t even sure he’ll remember to do this— and Carlos anticipates everything ahead of time, before he can even think about it, and offers his own solutions.

With a sigh, Cecil lets his eyes close, a smile fluttering across his expression at Carlos’s soft touches and softer kisses.

He has to remember: just because he’s growing the baby by himself, doesn’t mean he has to do all of it by himself. Carlos is right; they’ll figure it out together, like they always do. Their lives are full of first-times, and hundredth-times, and millionth-times. It’s part of being in love.

“I guess,” Cecil murmurs, tilting closer into Carlos, wanting to absorb more of his warmth. “This is going to take forever, Carlos.” After a huffed moment, he adds, “You always keep an eye on me. But— I can check myself, if you want. Then you’ll know sooner, you won’t have to wait.”

It would take some effort, but Cecil could do it! He could turn his focus inwards, try to find the baby, attempt to compare how far along they are with the Internet and Carlos’s knowledge and— well, hopefully that’ll be enough, so he doesn’t have to deal with a dangerous book.

Cecil is irritated, and Carlos can't help but love him even more, somehow.

"It probably won't take more than a year," He corrects lightly, though he knows Cecil was just being dramatic saying it would take forever. It'll only feel like it— And as much as he would love to take on the burden of carrying for him, Carlos isn't sure that's entirely scientifically possible.

"I think… you should leave checking until your energy levels are closer to normal, sweetie. You did nearly just knock yourself out heating up the bath."

Carlos has a point! He usually does.

"We can definitely assume first trimester for now. This one's the most tiring I think, and then… things like morning sickness should lessen when we get to the second."

Hm, morning sickness… He might have to adjust his work schedule to take care of Cecil during that, and also to come home a little earlier. It's good thing he's head scientist, he can make his own rules with this!

His expression twists down. He doesn't like feeling embarrassed— and isn't sure why he even is embarrassed— but, all the same, he tells Carlos, "Okay. I'm sorry."

When he thinks about it, though, and prods the edges of the feeling, he finds more... shame than anything else. His hand stokes over Carlos's shoulder, just wanting to touch.

"It wasn't smart of me. To put the baby at risk like that. And I'm sorry. I'll wait, it's not the end of the world. I can be patient."

This, he offers with smile enough.

He does perk up a bit at the idea that this might be the worst he'll feel. He's not sure what it's like at the end of the process, but— surely it can't be worse than this!

"What happens in the second, then?" Cecil asks. Once the exhaustion and nausea and illness Rw gone— what will he have left?

Carlos hugs him a little closer, and Cecil can't help the contented shiver that runs through him in response. He never feels safer than he does when Carlos holds him like this, like anything that wants to get to the soft meat of Cecil will have to go through the hard shell of Carlos to get there.

Cecil hugs him back in return, clinging as close to him as he can. It's a reassurance, settling something deep in his chest, and he tightens his hold on Carlos, refusing to let go.

"I don't know what I need," Cecil admits. Maybe it'll become clearer with time, but— right now— "All I really want is you."

Nodnodnod. Prepare for the most inconvenient outcome and be pleasantly surprised by the possibility of the best seems like a good way to approach this.

"It's okay, it's okay— You just wanted more heat. I wish I could make more for you myself."

He wishes he could do so much more for Cecil, but he is just a human, which is slightly below being a scientist. All he can do is try, and try, and keep trying. The answers always change, and so do the questions.

Carlos considers what Cecil asks him carefully, doing his best to remember the things he was taught in a class he thought would never apply to him— How silly was he?

"In the second, that's when the baby really starts to grow, once they have all their organs and such. You'll be able to feel them move— But you might also have some feet and lower back pain as they become bigger and heavier inside you."

He explains, thoughtful. He doesn't said anything more, but he's definitely got that 'thinking of solutions' face on, knowing he needs to try keeping one step ahead of everything for this to go as smoothly as possible.

The words Carlos says— he's painting a mental picture, and Cecil imagines a small baby inside of him that actually looks like a baby— he's hoping, or assuming, though he knows he'll love them regardless— that—

Well, that apparently will cause him pain, but— he supposes he knew that was coming. He's already in pain now, and it's possible that it's barely begun.

"I know," he promises Carlos. He does know; he doesn't remember much, but he remembers that he always has Carlos. If he promises to stay home more, he will. If he swears he'll come if Cecil asks him to, he will. There are no doubts in Cecil's mind about that.

He—

He is a bit uncertain, though.

It feels worth it. To him, it feels worth it, but— is he forcing this on Carlos? Or—

No, he makes himself forcibly think. He loves Carlos; they've been together for over a decade. They are honest with each other. They mean this.

"Thank you," Cecil ends up saying. "There is nobody I would rather do this with. Any of this. You know that, don't you?"

He means having this baby, yes, but also— raising the child they already have, and sharing a life together, and surviving Night Vale, and anything and everything they do together. There is nobody Cecil would rather have alongside him for all of this than Carlos. He thinks they're fated, tethered, meant to be.

With a kiss to Carlos's chest, another shiver runs up the length of his spine and spreading through what could be his ribcage, and could be a broken mess of a second spine that blossomed outwards before he was even born.

With that in mind, he turns his head just slightly to scan the bathroom— Luckily there are already clean towels out and ready for them.

"I'm just making sure."

He knows Cecil forgets even when he doesn't want to, he knows Cecil worries despite how much he fights against it— Why wouldn't he want to reassure him, help him know for certain that Carlos will always be by his side?

When Carlos was telling him about common wedding vows long before the big day, far longer before now, Cecil had giggled at the line 'through thick and through thin', something about the phrasing amusing him— Funny or not, it still means what it means, and Carlos plans to keep to it.

"I know," He answers, and it's the truth. Cecil wouldn't do this, all of this, with anyone else; And neither would Carlos.

If there was no Cecil… Well, there would probably be no Carlos— But if there was a Cecil-less Carlos, he'd just be working himself to the bone, with nobody connected enough to convince him when to stop for a snack break, or a nap that turns into full blown sleep.

Carlos can be a stubborn thing and he knows it, but Cecil eases him like he's always known how.

Taking in a breath, he gently pats Cecil's back. He can also be a stubborn thing.

It's being known. It's being known by Carlos. Deeper than being respected, love, seen— Carlos knows him, and he doesn't need anything more than his own two eyes for it. Doesn't even really need those, really.

Cecil drags a nod against Carlos's chest. He's shivering now, consistent and rattling his body with every shake that wracks him.

But something still hits.

He knows it without feeling it himself, somehow, without Cecil needing to tell him anything more than he needs a minute.

Keeping a hand on Cecil's back, Carlos does his best to lean out of the tub without falling out of it— Which would not be very perfect of him— And manages to grab a trash can, pulling it over just in case.

"Take your time, honeypie, I'm here," He whispers, brushing those strands of hair that didn't make it into his loose braiding out of his face.

His hands open and close against Carlos's shoulders, clinging to him. He tries to draw comfort out of him, but he's just getting dizzier, every second he's dizzier, he's just—

He lurches upright, out of Carlos's arms, and grabs for the bin Carlos has set there. It takes a second before he's actually sick, but—

When he is, what comes up is a retch of... stars. Almost. As if— As if a star has exploded, and millions of tiny star-spores have burst out, a floating cosmic spill of sparkling energy, an incorporeal and celestial twist that he has, in all honesty, never seen before— not anywhere, and certainly not from inside himself— and it feels like being sick— the nausea, the shaking, the sweating, the ringing in his ears, the cosmic understanding of his own ancestral line, all of it— but it's also— different.

Cecil can barely catch his breath, for a moment; when he can, he spits a stream of stars, then leans against the rim of the bathtub to catch his breath, closing his eyes, slumped.

He doesn't know much about pregnancy, but he knows well enough: that's confirmation, more evidence, something that he knows only happens when people are pregnant. He's seen books and movies; that's the only reason for superlunary vomiting that he's ever known. He's not an idiot.

Carlos cringes sympathetically as he continues to rub Cecil's back, continues to make sure his hair doesn't get in the way, cooing softly in hopes of providing comfort.

It's odd, though, when he realises there's no scent to the sick— Even though Cecil hasn't it, there should be a smell.

His husband slumps, Carlos peeks over the edge of the tub, and his coos turn more on the side of scientific intrigue, which sound very different to comforting coos.

How did he throw up stars? What consistency are they? Do they specifically indicate pregnancy or can they mean something else? Has Cecil had stars inside of him all along?

He doesn't doubt the answer to that last question is in the positive. Cecil is, himself, starlight.

"That's fascinating," Carlos whispers as he stares down into the trash can, feeling like he's staring down into space. He wants to take a sample, he wants to study it, he wants to understand—

But he knows Cecil needs him.

Carlos wraps his arm around him, secure but still loose enough that Cecil can move again if he needs to, and presses a kiss to his bare shoulder.

Carlos's hand on his back and soft sounds in his ear and warmth just behind him go a long way. He's nearly distracted— but returns at the last second, humming against Carlos.

Carlos, who thinks he's fascinating, even as he's vomiting over the side of their bathtub. Carlos, who loves him so much, even in the midst of absolute chaos and confusing. Carlos, who has put the baby in Cecil that is making him feel this way.

Though Cecil attempts to answer, he needs a moment. He ends up coughing up another stomachful of stars before he can breathe again.

"A little," Cecil mumbles. "Guess it really is a baby, isn't it?"

(… Not at all; His tone is a little too put on and he remains staring at the trash can until he registers that Cecil is actually moving again.)

Easing himself up as well, Carlos steps out of the tub first so he can more easily help Cecil out, already reaching for a towel to dry and wrap him up once he's somewhat steady on his feet again.

"It's good that you feel a little better— Food'll help once we've got you settled," He promises, grabbing a towel to wrap around his own waist; He can wait until Cecil's dressed to take care of himself properly.

Even now, he can’t bring himself to be upset. Or even annoyed. Carlos examines his vomit like he examines everything about Cecil: as if he finds the minutiae of him— even the most disgusting parts— absolutely fascinating.

Not for the first time, Cecil wonders what it would be like to be pulled apart and put back together again by Carlos. He thinks he’d really like it.

Right now, though, what he’d really like most is to be snuggled and warm with Carlos in their bed, and so he sighs, stepping uneasily out of the bath and into Carlos’s waiting arms, the spread towel, curling right up into him.

“I wanna lay down,” he mumbles into Carlos’s shoulder, muffled. The last of his energy feels like it’s in the form of stars and small galaxies swirling in their waste-bin; nothing’s actually left inside him.

His long arms fold around his middle, and he sighs, shifting to rotate in Carlos’s arms, pulling the towel— and his husband’s hold— more closely around himself, letting him hold him upright. He nuzzles into his throat, inhaling him; he makes him feel so much better. Literally, just the scent of him is settling Cecil’s stomach.

Cecil just likes to feel the rain, sometimes.

He is so horrendously old— older than the winds, the storms, the rains under his command. There is so much he has done, and still he feels a lack.

It is not unlike the vacuum he first awoke in, this feeling. It is an untethered feeling, unanchored. He feels tossed on the waves his own storms create, and still no closer to steady ground for it.

It feels safer that way, more familiar to his usual everyday life underwater, even if up here he has to struggle with things like staying upright against gravity, and walking.

He stumbles every now and again, but that's okay, because the subjects of his focus are largely low-lying.

Carlos has found over centuries, millennia, or however long its been since he began living, that he can somewhat use the state of the nearby beach to determine how well his particular sector of nature is doing— And sometimes, he can even bring struggling creatures down to his city in order to help them thrive again!

He's crouched over a bundle of shells he's collected to examine when he notices the weather change, his gaze quickly turning up to the sky.

Well, that's new… He can't say he's ever seen a storm turn in what feels like seconds.

He straightens up, pulling his coat closer around himself and looking out to the waves— He whistles, as though expecting a dog or a bird, or something else that reacts to whistles come running.

Instead, the waves shift and a few come together to create a stream that works its way to Carlos and creates a small pool of water at his feet to keep him hydrated, keep him in tune with everything.

He listens to the waves, feels what they feel— And thus becomes aware of someone else here.

Just a few seconds of water, and he turns his head in Cecil's direction, blinking his confusion. Who comes out to a beach in a storm like the one that's just passed? Certainly not a fisherman, anyhow. Any one worth his salt would know marine life do their best to swim deeper in such weather.

… Whoever it is, they're staring back at him.

Is that a 'go away' stare or a 'you can keep me company' stare? People can be so difficult to read, especially at a distance!

Carlos clears his throat and turns away, deciding it polite to mind his own business— Other than peeking back again, this time over his shoulder.

It's the sort of love that feels like recognition, like familiarity, like 'oh, I think I know you, I think I should know you, I think I've always known you—'

He is air, and the breath is stolen from his lungs— how?

This person is not a person, Cecil can feel that much in the electric, pressurized moment their eyes meet. This person is so much more than a person, and the ocean responds as if it knows them, respects them, loves them, and Cecil can't help but respond in kind.

The rain picks up, excited now. He's pushing to his knees, then to his feet—

—but the stranger is turning away from him.

He didn't know that heartbreak was literal. He's heard mortals use the word, but he didn't understand how a heart could actually break.

Watching this stranger turn away from him feels so much like that.

And then there's that shout; The person he just saw.

Do they need help, did they end up here by accident? Oh, how had he not thought of that? Stupid, stupid Carlos!

He turns around to find the figure running towards him, running away from lightning, and his eyes widen just slightly as it finally clicks in his mind—

They're the same, aren't they? Or— Or just similar, somehow!

Carlos cares for and brings the water; Is this the one who picks it up into the sky for rain or storm? How have they not crossed paths yet? They work so closely, so often, even in places where they are not!

"I'm not— I'm not going," He reassures quickly, hands out to either pacify the stranger's panic or catch him once he gets close enough, maybe both. "I didn't want to disturb you, I'm sorry— But I won't go, I promise." Not now, at least! He'll have to return home eventually.

"You— I—"

Carlos doesn't even know how to approach a conversation with someone like him, and also unlike him with the amount of energy this stranger has. He lands on;

He can't stop himself. His momentum is too strong, too powerful; he's already coming forward, and he collides with this stranger, slamming right into him, caught in his hands— his expectant hands, and how did he know?

"You haven't disturbed me!" Cecil insists. "I was just— Ugh. Honestly, I was just moping, but— I didn't expect to find anyone here! I thought there wasn't anybody was here, but—"

Obviously, he was wrong! He couldn't be more wrong. Not only is he not alone, but the most handsome, perfect, beautiful stranger is right here in front of him. He couldn't be happier to be wrong, this time! He hopes he's always wrong like this.

And, oh, he could just explode when this stranger asks where he's been.

In fact— he nearly does explode, thunder rumbling tremendously overhead, making the earth shake with it. A bolt of lightning hits the seam of sand and sea, and he clings to the stranger's shoulders, his fur coat gripped under his fingers, examining the beautiful patchwork of his skin, the dark vortex of his eyes, the way the sea seems to sing around him.

"I don't know," Cecil breathes, and he doesn't. He doesn't know where he's ever been without this stranger. "I don't know where I've been. I'm just so glad I'm here with you now."

The sky lights up, illuminated the electric lightning; Cecil lights up in correspondence, scars and tattoos flashing, and he should let the stranger go, but he can't. He just can't do it.

So many years of life and it's still the little accomplishments that get him, like making sure he and his new company don't tumble into the sand!

"Moping?" He echoes, head tilting. Well, he supposes that explains the weather. "That's no good! Maybe— Maybe I can make you happy!"

And even if he can't, isn't it better to not be alone, even when you're moping?

It doesn't seem that the stranger is anymore, though, and Carlos holds on just a little tighter when the ground shakes. Does the intense weather simply come with any intense emotion? That's reassuring! It would be saddening to know that the weather turned bad when this beautiful, strange person felt down.

Carlos glances up when the sky lights up, but then this stranger lights up, and his gaze flickers back to him just as quickly as it had left them.

He's amazing!

He glows like a lanternfish, or, or— No, he glows like a comb jelly! All beautiful lines and dots flashing on and off in a way that pulsates like the lights of a distant city on the loudest nights of celebration.

"I'm here, you found me," Carlos encourages, hands sliding up to rest on the stranger's cheeks, to truly take in his face.

He's something heavenly… Quite literally, being a being of the air and the skies!

It's true, though— this exquisite creature makes him so very, very happy. Him and the beautiful coat he keeps wrapped around himself, the pelt that Cecil can't help but admire, eyes flickering over the spotted pattern that adorns him.

His skin— equally patterned, equally beautiful— is traced by Cecil's eyes in shapes before he finds his chin, the cut of his jaw, the scruff on his cheeks, the curves of his lips, and up towards his eyes—

And he's never fully understood the obsession humans have with each other and their appearances. Not until now.

Now, he understands.

And, even still, he's desperate to see more— because he knows there is so, so much more to this person than meets the eye—

Carlos.

His name is Carlos, and Cecil has never heard a more wonderful name.

Names aren't real, but they have powerful all the same.

Cecil claims one of Carlos's hands in his, sweeping into a low bow, pressing his lips to the back of his hand. He's seen humans do it— though he doesn't quite remember when, or where— and he hopes Carlos will appreciate it for what it is. For what he means.

"Carlos," he echoes. "Beautiful." Another kiss to the back of his hand. "I'm Cecil."

They sound perfect, a matched set. Cecil kisses his hand one last time before straightening up again, standing taller over Carlos rather than bowed before him.

"I haven't even encountered someone like you." It's a bashful admission. "I keep to myself a lot. I shouldn't, but... I suppose I got used to it."

His whole goal, his whole meaning has been trying to keep living things happy and safe, especially when it comes to threats from the land— And now this person, who feels like a fresh new addition to his meaning, tells him he's doing it without even trying!

The waves crash on the shore, excited, and it almost, almost, sounds like they're clapping.

And then the stranger is looking at him, almost examining him, and Carlos swears that whatever's beating in his chest picks up the pace and becomes stronger.

It is not the first time he's been looked at, far from it— But those from the land who do it tend to be… not so kind, tend to see his pelt as maybe the final goal, something they can steal from him and sell off for riches he would never know, has no interest in knowing.

He had good reason to be wary initially, of course.

But… this stranger is so close to him now, has touched his coat, and yet has made no move to grab it and just start running.

Could it be that Carlos, after years of keeping others safe, has found someone to return the favour?

His hand is taken and kissed, and Carlos blushes as he watches him, Cecil, dip down. He has seen this before, he's sure— Humans on the beach, one couple at a time, where one half of them surprises the other with a precious rock on a band. Some courting ritual, he assumes; Is that what this is?

"Cecil…" It's a good name, a noble name. Carlos smiles as he realises something else about it. "You have the sea in your name— We were bound to meet, I think."

Watching him straighten again, Carlos steps forward just a touch, running his fingers through Cecil's hair and admiring how it seems to just… continue moving with the breeze that accompanies him.

"Maybe… you could keep to me, when you aren't busy with the weather?" He offers, tone soft and hopeful.

He's just a bit hazy, too delighted to remain fully human, when he steps in closer to Carlos in return, drinking in the flush of his beautiful and patterned face, wanting to just— grab him, embrace him, hold him close. He makes himself stay apart; he doesn't want to scare him off, as much as he just wants to be close to him!

How has he not known about Carlos for this long? How has he never known? He is so old, and he has wasted so much time without him. It just isn't fair—

The world is full of weather and storms and surprises. Cecil can control some of it, and some of it he can't. Some things just happen.

Carlos is just happening.

Cecil couldn't be happier for it.

"We were," Cecil insists. He can't think of anything better than being meant to be with Carlos. He wants so badly for their souls to match; he thinks they are made of the same fabric, the same initial creation, the same meaning. He thinks he loves him already, God, he cannot get enough— "We were bound to meet. Always. I can feel it."

He can. He means it. Deep in his bones, he means it.

"I want you," Cecil insists. "I want you with me. I don't care if I'm busy. I don't care if I'm working on the weather. Carlos, I want you with me. No matter what."

It's maybe too intense, and maybe too much, but so is Cecil, and he cannot do anything but lay everything out for Carlos. He cannot help but cling to him, and they may be new, and they may be raw, and they may have only just met, but Carlos—

To Cecil?

Carlos is everything. Already, he's everything. They're meant to be, and he knows it.

"Are you sure you want— me? To stay with— You don't even know me."

Carlos seems so absolutely perfect, and he doesn't even know Cecil, but— maybe Cecil shouldn't protest against that. Maybe he should accept this divine love as offered.

But he wants Carlos to be happy. Can't stop himself from wanting to give it.

He's grinning, staring back at the stormy stranger before him as he drapes his arms over Cecil's shoulders, standing on his tiptoes to better accommodate the position in the little pool he's made for himself.

Cecil agrees they were bound to meet and Carlos believes him wholeheartedly as he looks into those constantly subtly shifting eyes.

They're beautiful. Cecil is beautiful.

They, the two of together as a unit, are beautiful. Carlos doesn't need to see them from a third person perspective to know it.

"You have me," He reassures as though it's always been true— And maybe it has been!

Carlos hasn't ever really had an interest in messing around, in being with someone, but seeing Cecil chase after him, desperate… He suddenly understood the thrill, feels it even now as they stand still together.

"I want to know you— Isn't that enough?" Carlos asks, not seeing a reason why it wouldn't be.

Yes, this is fast, they've just met, but they can both feel the importance of this meeting between sky and sea; And Lord knows they've both lived along enough to be willing to take some risks and not be alone anymore.

"You can tell me everything and I'll listen, and I'll even listen when you tell me nothing— Silence isn't empty," He hums as he brushes his cheek against Cecil's, a gentle nuzzle.

Cecil wants to know Carlos. Carlos wants to know Cecil. That's more than enough; honestly, that's everything.

"Tell me about you," Cecil asks— pleads— begs. He needs to know, more than anything else. He needs it. He needs him. "I talk too much already. I have plenty of time to talk. I want to listen. Carlos— I want to hear you."

It echoes deep in his chest. It rattles around with Carlos's confessed 'you have me.' Cecil can never forget them. He could die now and die happy.

It might be fast, but— it's also the longest Cecil has waited for anything. The wait for Carlos has lasted centuries, been so horribly slow, he can't help but latch on the moment he is here.

His soulmate, and he believes that. He can't possibly believe otherwise.

"I want to hear your everything," Cecil confesses. "And your nothing. I want to hear your tells and your listens, I— I want you. If I wanted nothing else, I'd want you."

He could love him.

He does love him.

He already knows he won't love anyone, or anything, ever, more than him.

"Carlos. Let me keep you."

Cecil asks too much of beautiful, perfect, spectacular Carlos. But, if he doesn't ask, he'll never know.

"Please."

It's been so long since he's had a real new experience, and he's been needing one! He's been needing Cecil, this whole time.

Right, talk about himself, he can do that.

Carlos clears his throat a little, hoping to remember everything important he's experienced and been a part of in the midst of this even more important meeting.

"I was here just after time and the world began, I watched microbes become plant and animal life— And I watched the animal life I knew evolve to become animals living on the land. I had this form even then, which was confusing for the marine life that stayed with me once humanity came about."

For a long time they thought he was involved, somehow, but far from it. And then, slowly over centuries and generations, they believed him to be a human turned into… something else.

Carlos can only have the same conversation so many times, so he just encourages them to think and discuss things with older creatures wandering their waters.

"Then humanity developed technology and some got abandoned out here due to accidents— I was able to figure out how to power them, to use radio signals through the water and keep in contact with my citizens even if they wander further from out little community. I think… I think that's about for me?"

TLDR; Extremely connected to the life around him, and quite the tinkerer for repurposing ruined technology for his community!

Carlos scrunches his nose, hoping that was enough, hoping that Cecil is impressed— How terrible would it be, if he had all that excitement just to be disappointed?

And Carlos has been around for so long! It’s incredible just how old he is; just hearing him talk, it sounds like he’s as old as Cecil is! They’ve both lived such long lives, and never crossed paths, and how is this possible?

Maybe this is the right time, maybe they needed to wait until now. He’s just glad he doesn’t have to wait anymore!

Carlos is just so fascinating. He has seen so much— so much he can tell Cecil about, so much Cecil wants to hear about!— and done so much, too! Wow, he even explores human technology, and can invent new things— all Cecil does is explore, all the same, and poke around the Earth, and introduce himself to random people.

And mope. Lately, lots of moping.

Cecil is all-seeing, but not all-knowing. He can see anywhere on this planet in the blink of one of his (many) eyes, but that doesn’t mean he understands what he sees. It doesn’t mean he can look at the ocean and know that it contains multitudes like Carlos.

He should have dived deeper. If only he wasn’t so nervous—

Oh, and Carlos is so good to his people— and he has people!— and Cecil just adores him more and more with every word from his mouth, and he—

He is scrunching his nose.

Carlos is scrunching his nose, a cute little wrinkle, and it is literally the most adorable thing Cecil has ever seen. The coo that comes out of him is so enthusiastic and affectionate that rain spills more heavily over their heads in response.

“Right here!” Cecil insists. “Right here, right— right with me! Where is here— I just mean, here is where I want to be. And want you to be.”

He tilts his head, curious. The rain tilts with him; the cloud is cock-eyed above them, following like his shadow.

“You haven’t gone far from here? From this beach? Carlos! There’s a whole world to explore! And it’s— Honestly, it’s mostly water.”

He nudges at the tide lapping around their ankles with a bare foot.

“You’d probably really like it! …If you want me to show you. I’ve seen a lot of the world!”

He’s seen so much of it, but not all of it. Not yet. There’s so much of the ocean he hasn’t explored, but, well—

Well, when Cecil first woke up— first came into being, or what have you— it was in the abyss of the desert. Sand, and darkness. He felt as if everything had dried up, and he had nothing. Lifeless. He wanted something that didn’t make him feel that way—

—And then, there was rain.

And then, there was Cecil.

And everything just sort of kept going from there.

With the existence of Cecil came the existence of air; his birth— if it was a birth, as it was, so full of unknown origin, from unknown sources, holding unknown meaning— brought with it that first rain, true, but also a gathering of clouds, and an increase in pressure, and a charging of electricity, and a striking of lightning, and a rumbling of thunder, and a swelling of sound—

—and so on, and so forth.

But it all started in that hot, empty wasteland. The nothingness from which his something originated.

And—

Well, he never learned how to swim.

And so he’s been nervous, ever since, but there’s been nobody to ask, nobody to show him, nobody to understand.

But…

Carlos is from the water. He is the water, practically.

Cecil can learn for him. Maybe even from him.

Cecil just likes to feel the rain, sometimes.

He is so horrendously old— older than the winds, the storms, the rains under his command. There is so much he has done, and still he feels a lack.

It is not unlike the vacuum he first awoke in, this feeling. It is an untethered feeling, unanchored. He feels tossed on the waves his own storms create, and still no closer to steady ground for it.

It feels safer that way, more familiar to his usual everyday life underwater, even if up here he has to struggle with things like staying upright against gravity, and walking.

He stumbles every now and again, but that's okay, because the subjects of his focus are largely low-lying.

Carlos has found over centuries, millennia, or however long its been since he began living, that he can somewhat use the state of the nearby beach to determine how well his particular sector of nature is doing— And sometimes, he can even bring struggling creatures down to his city in order to help them thrive again!

He's crouched over a bundle of shells he's collected to examine when he notices the weather change, his gaze quickly turning up to the sky.

Well, that's new… He can't say he's ever seen a storm turn in what feels like seconds.

He straightens up, pulling his coat closer around himself and looking out to the waves— He whistles, as though expecting a dog or a bird, or something else that reacts to whistles come running.

Instead, the waves shift and a few come together to create a stream that works its way to Carlos and creates a small pool of water at his feet to keep him hydrated, keep him in tune with everything.

He listens to the waves, feels what they feel— And thus becomes aware of someone else here.

Just a few seconds of water, and he turns his head in Cecil's direction, blinking his confusion. Who comes out to a beach in a storm like the one that's just passed? Certainly not a fisherman, anyhow. Any one worth his salt would know marine life do their best to swim deeper in such weather.

… Whoever it is, they're staring back at him.

Is that a 'go away' stare or a 'you can keep me company' stare? People can be so difficult to read, especially at a distance!

Carlos clears his throat and turns away, deciding it polite to mind his own business— Other than peeking back again, this time over his shoulder.

It's the sort of love that feels like recognition, like familiarity, like 'oh, I think I know you, I think I should know you, I think I've always known you—'

He is air, and the breath is stolen from his lungs— how?

This person is not a person, Cecil can feel that much in the electric, pressurized moment their eyes meet. This person is so much more than a person, and the ocean responds as if it knows them, respects them, loves them, and Cecil can't help but respond in kind.

The rain picks up, excited now. He's pushing to his knees, then to his feet—

—but the stranger is turning away from him.

He didn't know that heartbreak was literal. He's heard mortals use the word, but he didn't understand how a heart could actually break.

Watching this stranger turn away from him feels so much like that.

And then there's that shout; The person he just saw.

Do they need help, did they end up here by accident? Oh, how had he not thought of that? Stupid, stupid Carlos!

He turns around to find the figure running towards him, running away from lightning, and his eyes widen just slightly as it finally clicks in his mind—

They're the same, aren't they? Or— Or just similar, somehow!

Carlos cares for and brings the water; Is this the one who picks it up into the sky for rain or storm? How have they not crossed paths yet? They work so closely, so often, even in places where they are not!

"I'm not— I'm not going," He reassures quickly, hands out to either pacify the stranger's panic or catch him once he gets close enough, maybe both. "I didn't want to disturb you, I'm sorry— But I won't go, I promise." Not now, at least! He'll have to return home eventually.

"You— I—"

Carlos doesn't even know how to approach a conversation with someone like him, and also unlike him with the amount of energy this stranger has. He lands on;

He can't stop himself. His momentum is too strong, too powerful; he's already coming forward, and he collides with this stranger, slamming right into him, caught in his hands— his expectant hands, and how did he know?

"You haven't disturbed me!" Cecil insists. "I was just— Ugh. Honestly, I was just moping, but— I didn't expect to find anyone here! I thought there wasn't anybody was here, but—"

Obviously, he was wrong! He couldn't be more wrong. Not only is he not alone, but the most handsome, perfect, beautiful stranger is right here in front of him. He couldn't be happier to be wrong, this time! He hopes he's always wrong like this.

And, oh, he could just explode when this stranger asks where he's been.

In fact— he nearly does explode, thunder rumbling tremendously overhead, making the earth shake with it. A bolt of lightning hits the seam of sand and sea, and he clings to the stranger's shoulders, his fur coat gripped under his fingers, examining the beautiful patchwork of his skin, the dark vortex of his eyes, the way the sea seems to sing around him.

"I don't know," Cecil breathes, and he doesn't. He doesn't know where he's ever been without this stranger. "I don't know where I've been. I'm just so glad I'm here with you now."

The sky lights up, illuminated the electric lightning; Cecil lights up in correspondence, scars and tattoos flashing, and he should let the stranger go, but he can't. He just can't do it.

So many years of life and it's still the little accomplishments that get him, like making sure he and his new company don't tumble into the sand!

"Moping?" He echoes, head tilting. Well, he supposes that explains the weather. "That's no good! Maybe— Maybe I can make you happy!"

And even if he can't, isn't it better to not be alone, even when you're moping?

It doesn't seem that the stranger is anymore, though, and Carlos holds on just a little tighter when the ground shakes. Does the intense weather simply come with any intense emotion? That's reassuring! It would be saddening to know that the weather turned bad when this beautiful, strange person felt down.

Carlos glances up when the sky lights up, but then this stranger lights up, and his gaze flickers back to him just as quickly as it had left them.

He's amazing!

He glows like a lanternfish, or, or— No, he glows like a comb jelly! All beautiful lines and dots flashing on and off in a way that pulsates like the lights of a distant city on the loudest nights of celebration.

"I'm here, you found me," Carlos encourages, hands sliding up to rest on the stranger's cheeks, to truly take in his face.

He's something heavenly… Quite literally, being a being of the air and the skies!

It's true, though— this exquisite creature makes him so very, very happy. Him and the beautiful coat he keeps wrapped around himself, the pelt that Cecil can't help but admire, eyes flickering over the spotted pattern that adorns him.

His skin— equally patterned, equally beautiful— is traced by Cecil's eyes in shapes before he finds his chin, the cut of his jaw, the scruff on his cheeks, the curves of his lips, and up towards his eyes—

And he's never fully understood the obsession humans have with each other and their appearances. Not until now.

Now, he understands.

And, even still, he's desperate to see more— because he knows there is so, so much more to this person than meets the eye—

Carlos.

His name is Carlos, and Cecil has never heard a more wonderful name.

Names aren't real, but they have powerful all the same.

Cecil claims one of Carlos's hands in his, sweeping into a low bow, pressing his lips to the back of his hand. He's seen humans do it— though he doesn't quite remember when, or where— and he hopes Carlos will appreciate it for what it is. For what he means.

"Carlos," he echoes. "Beautiful." Another kiss to the back of his hand. "I'm Cecil."

They sound perfect, a matched set. Cecil kisses his hand one last time before straightening up again, standing taller over Carlos rather than bowed before him.

"I haven't even encountered someone like you." It's a bashful admission. "I keep to myself a lot. I shouldn't, but... I suppose I got used to it."

His whole goal, his whole meaning has been trying to keep living things happy and safe, especially when it comes to threats from the land— And now this person, who feels like a fresh new addition to his meaning, tells him he's doing it without even trying!

The waves crash on the shore, excited, and it almost, almost, sounds like they're clapping.

And then the stranger is looking at him, almost examining him, and Carlos swears that whatever's beating in his chest picks up the pace and becomes stronger.

It is not the first time he's been looked at, far from it— But those from the land who do it tend to be… not so kind, tend to see his pelt as maybe the final goal, something they can steal from him and sell off for riches he would never know, has no interest in knowing.

He had good reason to be wary initially, of course.

But… this stranger is so close to him now, has touched his coat, and yet has made no move to grab it and just start running.

Could it be that Carlos, after years of keeping others safe, has found someone to return the favour?

His hand is taken and kissed, and Carlos blushes as he watches him, Cecil, dip down. He has seen this before, he's sure— Humans on the beach, one couple at a time, where one half of them surprises the other with a precious rock on a band. Some courting ritual, he assumes; Is that what this is?

"Cecil…" It's a good name, a noble name. Carlos smiles as he realises something else about it. "You have the sea in your name— We were bound to meet, I think."

Watching him straighten again, Carlos steps forward just a touch, running his fingers through Cecil's hair and admiring how it seems to just… continue moving with the breeze that accompanies him.

"Maybe… you could keep to me, when you aren't busy with the weather?" He offers, tone soft and hopeful.

He's just a bit hazy, too delighted to remain fully human, when he steps in closer to Carlos in return, drinking in the flush of his beautiful and patterned face, wanting to just— grab him, embrace him, hold him close. He makes himself stay apart; he doesn't want to scare him off, as much as he just wants to be close to him!

How has he not known about Carlos for this long? How has he never known? He is so old, and he has wasted so much time without him. It just isn't fair—

The world is full of weather and storms and surprises. Cecil can control some of it, and some of it he can't. Some things just happen.

Carlos is just happening.

Cecil couldn't be happier for it.

"We were," Cecil insists. He can't think of anything better than being meant to be with Carlos. He wants so badly for their souls to match; he thinks they are made of the same fabric, the same initial creation, the same meaning. He thinks he loves him already, God, he cannot get enough— "We were bound to meet. Always. I can feel it."

He can. He means it. Deep in his bones, he means it.

"I want you," Cecil insists. "I want you with me. I don't care if I'm busy. I don't care if I'm working on the weather. Carlos, I want you with me. No matter what."

It's maybe too intense, and maybe too much, but so is Cecil, and he cannot do anything but lay everything out for Carlos. He cannot help but cling to him, and they may be new, and they may be raw, and they may have only just met, but Carlos—

To Cecil?

Carlos is everything. Already, he's everything. They're meant to be, and he knows it.

"Are you sure you want— me? To stay with— You don't even know me."

Carlos seems so absolutely perfect, and he doesn't even know Cecil, but— maybe Cecil shouldn't protest against that. Maybe he should accept this divine love as offered.

But he wants Carlos to be happy. Can't stop himself from wanting to give it.

He's grinning, staring back at the stormy stranger before him as he drapes his arms over Cecil's shoulders, standing on his tiptoes to better accommodate the position in the little pool he's made for himself.

Cecil agrees they were bound to meet and Carlos believes him wholeheartedly as he looks into those constantly subtly shifting eyes.

They're beautiful. Cecil is beautiful.

They, the two of together as a unit, are beautiful. Carlos doesn't need to see them from a third person perspective to know it.

"You have me," He reassures as though it's always been true— And maybe it has been!

Carlos hasn't ever really had an interest in messing around, in being with someone, but seeing Cecil chase after him, desperate… He suddenly understood the thrill, feels it even now as they stand still together.

"I want to know you— Isn't that enough?" Carlos asks, not seeing a reason why it wouldn't be.

Yes, this is fast, they've just met, but they can both feel the importance of this meeting between sky and sea; And Lord knows they've both lived along enough to be willing to take some risks and not be alone anymore.

"You can tell me everything and I'll listen, and I'll even listen when you tell me nothing— Silence isn't empty," He hums as he brushes his cheek against Cecil's, a gentle nuzzle.

Cecil wants to know Carlos. Carlos wants to know Cecil. That's more than enough; honestly, that's everything.

"Tell me about you," Cecil asks— pleads— begs. He needs to know, more than anything else. He needs it. He needs him. "I talk too much already. I have plenty of time to talk. I want to listen. Carlos— I want to hear you."

It echoes deep in his chest. It rattles around with Carlos's confessed 'you have me.' Cecil can never forget them. He could die now and die happy.

It might be fast, but— it's also the longest Cecil has waited for anything. The wait for Carlos has lasted centuries, been so horribly slow, he can't help but latch on the moment he is here.

His soulmate, and he believes that. He can't possibly believe otherwise.

"I want to hear your everything," Cecil confesses. "And your nothing. I want to hear your tells and your listens, I— I want you. If I wanted nothing else, I'd want you."

He could love him.

He does love him.

He already knows he won't love anyone, or anything, ever, more than him.

"Carlos. Let me keep you."

Cecil asks too much of beautiful, perfect, spectacular Carlos. But, if he doesn't ask, he'll never know.

"Please."

Esteban always comes up with such creative ideas— and so does Carlos. He’s so scientific, of course— both he and their son can be so scientific!— but that means they’re inventive, too, and Cecil loves to hear every idea they come up with.

Like names in a hat! What a dangerous idea! But Cecil loves how dangerous Carlos can be, how risky and reckless and fascinating he can be!

Carlos’s voice is so soft when he speaks, like a blanket wrapped around Cecil— and then he promises real blankets, even, and Cecil smiles, sighing, relaxing into Carlos, half-aware of what’s happening around him.

“That sounds 𝑠𝑜 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒,” Cecil murmurs. It’s the perfect night, really; it’s his favorite sort of evening between them. “What food do you think the baby wants? Maybe I’m just… just not giving them the food they want.”

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel well. Maybe he’s just doing this wrong already. It was easier with Esteban— he had just been born when he came into their lives. Cecil’s not used to doing everything that comes before a baby is born instead of after; maybe he’s already messed it up, somehow?

Again, he's no expert at pregnancy— But he is at science, and biology! Marine… biology… but close enough! It's not as though he'll get all the correct answers applying human biology logic to Cecil, anyway.

"You'll have to limit how much caffeine you have, I think," He begins, thoughtful. "Try decaffeinated tea, maybe, water and fruit juices… And then for food, ideally you'll have a balanced mix from each section of the food pyramid. Oils, low or fat free dairy, whole fruits, vegetables, proteins, whole grains."

Carlos is tracing on Cecil's back again, this time numbers accompanied by words; He's trying to adjust their current typical grocery list in real time, in his mind.

"That whole thing about eating for two isn't really accurate; You won't need extra calories in the first trimester, but you'll need to go up about 340 in the second and 450 in the third— It would be good if we can accurately figure out how many weeks along we are, so I can keep an eye on that for you."

Nodnod. He's going to make this so much easier for Cecil!

"I can organise your meals for you, point you to what you can have as snacks— You won't even have to worry about remembering everything, I'll remember."

Satisfied with that somewhat organised in his mind, Carlos coos softly as he presses kisses to Cecil's face.

He loves coffee. Sometimes, it’s all he has until dinner— which Carlos will scold him for, but with how distracted he can get while he’s working on science, it’s not like he can talk.

But… Carlos is smart. If he thinks Cecil should be eating and drinking specific things, he probably should be. Even if he doesn’t want to be.

Though he can’t help the grimace that wrinkles his nose at the suggestions Carlos is making— he’s reassured that Carlos will help him with it. With everything. He doesn’t want to do this, isn’t even sure he’ll remember to do this— and Carlos anticipates everything ahead of time, before he can even think about it, and offers his own solutions.

With a sigh, Cecil lets his eyes close, a smile fluttering across his expression at Carlos’s soft touches and softer kisses.

He has to remember: just because he’s growing the baby by himself, doesn’t mean he has to do all of it by himself. Carlos is right; they’ll figure it out together, like they always do. Their lives are full of first-times, and hundredth-times, and millionth-times. It’s part of being in love.

“I guess,” Cecil murmurs, tilting closer into Carlos, wanting to absorb more of his warmth. “This is going to take forever, Carlos.” After a huffed moment, he adds, “You always keep an eye on me. But— I can check myself, if you want. Then you’ll know sooner, you won’t have to wait.”

It would take some effort, but Cecil could do it! He could turn his focus inwards, try to find the baby, attempt to compare how far along they are with the Internet and Carlos’s knowledge and— well, hopefully that’ll be enough, so he doesn’t have to deal with a dangerous book.

Cecil is irritated, and Carlos can't help but love him even more, somehow.

"It probably won't take more than a year," He corrects lightly, though he knows Cecil was just being dramatic saying it would take forever. It'll only feel like it— And as much as he would love to take on the burden of carrying for him, Carlos isn't sure that's entirely scientifically possible.

"I think… you should leave checking until your energy levels are closer to normal, sweetie. You did nearly just knock yourself out heating up the bath."

Carlos has a point! He usually does.

"We can definitely assume first trimester for now. This one's the most tiring I think, and then… things like morning sickness should lessen when we get to the second."

Hm, morning sickness… He might have to adjust his work schedule to take care of Cecil during that, and also to come home a little earlier. It's good thing he's head scientist, he can make his own rules with this!

His expression twists down. He doesn't like feeling embarrassed— and isn't sure why he even is embarrassed— but, all the same, he tells Carlos, "Okay. I'm sorry."

When he thinks about it, though, and prods the edges of the feeling, he finds more... shame than anything else. His hand stokes over Carlos's shoulder, just wanting to touch.

"It wasn't smart of me. To put the baby at risk like that. And I'm sorry. I'll wait, it's not the end of the world. I can be patient."

This, he offers with smile enough.

He does perk up a bit at the idea that this might be the worst he'll feel. He's not sure what it's like at the end of the process, but— surely it can't be worse than this!

"What happens in the second, then?" Cecil asks. Once the exhaustion and nausea and illness Rw gone— what will he have left?

Carlos hugs him a little closer, and Cecil can't help the contented shiver that runs through him in response. He never feels safer than he does when Carlos holds him like this, like anything that wants to get to the soft meat of Cecil will have to go through the hard shell of Carlos to get there.

Cecil hugs him back in return, clinging as close to him as he can. It's a reassurance, settling something deep in his chest, and he tightens his hold on Carlos, refusing to let go.

"I don't know what I need," Cecil admits. Maybe it'll become clearer with time, but— right now— "All I really want is you."

Nodnodnod. Prepare for the most inconvenient outcome and be pleasantly surprised by the possibility of the best seems like a good way to approach this.

"It's okay, it's okay— You just wanted more heat. I wish I could make more for you myself."

He wishes he could do so much more for Cecil, but he is just a human, which is slightly below being a scientist. All he can do is try, and try, and keep trying. The answers always change, and so do the questions.

Carlos considers what Cecil asks him carefully, doing his best to remember the things he was taught in a class he thought would never apply to him— How silly was he?

"In the second, that's when the baby really starts to grow, once they have all their organs and such. You'll be able to feel them move— But you might also have some feet and lower back pain as they become bigger and heavier inside you."

He explains, thoughtful. He doesn't said anything more, but he's definitely got that 'thinking of solutions' face on, knowing he needs to try keeping one step ahead of everything for this to go as smoothly as possible.

The words Carlos says— he's painting a mental picture, and Cecil imagines a small baby inside of him that actually looks like a baby— he's hoping, or assuming, though he knows he'll love them regardless— that—

Well, that apparently will cause him pain, but— he supposes he knew that was coming. He's already in pain now, and it's possible that it's barely begun.

"I know," he promises Carlos. He does know; he doesn't remember much, but he remembers that he always has Carlos. If he promises to stay home more, he will. If he swears he'll come if Cecil asks him to, he will. There are no doubts in Cecil's mind about that.

He—

He is a bit uncertain, though.

It feels worth it. To him, it feels worth it, but— is he forcing this on Carlos? Or—

No, he makes himself forcibly think. He loves Carlos; they've been together for over a decade. They are honest with each other. They mean this.

"Thank you," Cecil ends up saying. "There is nobody I would rather do this with. Any of this. You know that, don't you?"

He means having this baby, yes, but also— raising the child they already have, and sharing a life together, and surviving Night Vale, and anything and everything they do together. There is nobody Cecil would rather have alongside him for all of this than Carlos. He thinks they're fated, tethered, meant to be.

With a kiss to Carlos's chest, another shiver runs up the length of his spine and spreading through what could be his ribcage, and could be a broken mess of a second spine that blossomed outwards before he was even born.

With that in mind, he turns his head just slightly to scan the bathroom— Luckily there are already clean towels out and ready for them.

"I'm just making sure."

He knows Cecil forgets even when he doesn't want to, he knows Cecil worries despite how much he fights against it— Why wouldn't he want to reassure him, help him know for certain that Carlos will always be by his side?

When Carlos was telling him about common wedding vows long before the big day, far longer before now, Cecil had giggled at the line 'through thick and through thin', something about the phrasing amusing him— Funny or not, it still means what it means, and Carlos plans to keep to it.

"I know," He answers, and it's the truth. Cecil wouldn't do this, all of this, with anyone else; And neither would Carlos.

If there was no Cecil… Well, there would probably be no Carlos— But if there was a Cecil-less Carlos, he'd just be working himself to the bone, with nobody connected enough to convince him when to stop for a snack break, or a nap that turns into full blown sleep.

Carlos can be a stubborn thing and he knows it, but Cecil eases him like he's always known how.

Taking in a breath, he gently pats Cecil's back. He can also be a stubborn thing.

It's being known. It's being known by Carlos. Deeper than being respected, love, seen— Carlos knows him, and he doesn't need anything more than his own two eyes for it. Doesn't even really need those, really.

Cecil drags a nod against Carlos's chest. He's shivering now, consistent and rattling his body with every shake that wracks him.

But something still hits.

He knows it without feeling it himself, somehow, without Cecil needing to tell him anything more than he needs a minute.

Keeping a hand on Cecil's back, Carlos does his best to lean out of the tub without falling out of it— Which would not be very perfect of him— And manages to grab a trash can, pulling it over just in case.

"Take your time, honeypie, I'm here," He whispers, brushing those strands of hair that didn't make it into his loose braiding out of his face.

His hands open and close against Carlos's shoulders, clinging to him. He tries to draw comfort out of him, but he's just getting dizzier, every second he's dizzier, he's just—

He lurches upright, out of Carlos's arms, and grabs for the bin Carlos has set there. It takes a second before he's actually sick, but—

When he is, what comes up is a retch of... stars. Almost. As if— As if a star has exploded, and millions of tiny star-spores have burst out, a floating cosmic spill of sparkling energy, an incorporeal and celestial twist that he has, in all honesty, never seen before— not anywhere, and certainly not from inside himself— and it feels like being sick— the nausea, the shaking, the sweating, the ringing in his ears, the cosmic understanding of his own ancestral line, all of it— but it's also— different.

Cecil can barely catch his breath, for a moment; when he can, he spits a stream of stars, then leans against the rim of the bathtub to catch his breath, closing his eyes, slumped.

He doesn't know much about pregnancy, but he knows well enough: that's confirmation, more evidence, something that he knows only happens when people are pregnant. He's seen books and movies; that's the only reason for superlunary vomiting that he's ever known. He's not an idiot.

Carlos cringes sympathetically as he continues to rub Cecil's back, continues to make sure his hair doesn't get in the way, cooing softly in hopes of providing comfort.

It's odd, though, when he realises there's no scent to the sick— Even though Cecil hasn't it, there should be a smell.

His husband slumps, Carlos peeks over the edge of the tub, and his coos turn more on the side of scientific intrigue, which sound very different to comforting coos.

How did he throw up stars? What consistency are they? Do they specifically indicate pregnancy or can they mean something else? Has Cecil had stars inside of him all along?

He doesn't doubt the answer to that last question is in the positive. Cecil is, himself, starlight.

"That's fascinating," Carlos whispers as he stares down into the trash can, feeling like he's staring down into space. He wants to take a sample, he wants to study it, he wants to understand—

But he knows Cecil needs him.

Carlos wraps his arm around him, secure but still loose enough that Cecil can move again if he needs to, and presses a kiss to his bare shoulder.

Carlos's hand on his back and soft sounds in his ear and warmth just behind him go a long way. He's nearly distracted— but returns at the last second, humming against Carlos.

Carlos, who thinks he's fascinating, even as he's vomiting over the side of their bathtub. Carlos, who loves him so much, even in the midst of absolute chaos and confusing. Carlos, who has put the baby in Cecil that is making him feel this way.

Though Cecil attempts to answer, he needs a moment. He ends up coughing up another stomachful of stars before he can breathe again.

"A little," Cecil mumbles. "Guess it really is a baby, isn't it?"

Oh, my—

𝑂ℎ.

Cecil is struck 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 when Carlos leans over and kisses his cheek in return.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was kissed. Literally, he does not remember it; the last time he was kissed was years ago, by Earl Harlan, and Cecil doesn’t remember a single second of it, wiped clear from his mind after several ensuing— though unrelated— sessions of re-education that left Cecil blank, Earl heartbroken, and their relationship a broken, half-gone mess.

Regardless.

Being kissed now— and being kissed by perfect, perfect Carlos— on the cheek is the most tremendous feeling he’s ever had. And he had such fear when Carlos didn’t respond, at first, but now—

He couldn’t be more thrilled. He couldn’t be happier, really, and—

And he gets a second kiss.

And a third!

He just wants to stay in contact with Cecil forever, somehow, even though he knows that might not be possible— Radio and science are such different jobs on a base level!

Suppose he'll just have to keep a radio switched on while he does his work in his lab, and wherever else his work may take him in Night Vale!

"I am thanking you," Carlos insists simply in return, only sitting back once he realises he should probably definitely let Cecil be able to focus on the road while he's still driving. "You came to get me, so you are to be thanked— Because you started it."

A childish argument, maybe, but a true one! Outside of whoever wrote the prophecy, Cecil did start this.

Cecil continues to speak and Carlos listens attentively as he hugs his bag close to his body, as though he absolutely needs to be hugging someone or something right now to keep him tethered to the Earth, to reality.

When Cecil trails off, he smiles, and stays quiet with him. He thinks he understands what he means, and thus understands why it's difficult to say.

"I have been told I'm a force of nature," Carlos confirms once it seems Cecil is done rambling (oh, how he loves listening to him ramble!). "I think… that very few things are truly impossible, and most are just improbable. If I'm told something can't be done, then I will keep at it for as long as I have to, as long as my brain can keep thinking up new ways to approach it."

As a result, he has one many bets against himself! Which is normal to be proud of, right? He's proving himself!

He's just also consistently doubted, for some reason.

"So if you came and something didn't work out," The scientist continues, thoughtful. "I would just keep trying. If you had to rush off or something, and we were not in the car together like we are now, I would find my own way to Night Vale to find you again. Even if I don't entirely understand where it is. I'll find it, because I won't stop trying. You're worth searching for, just like you've searched for me."

A beat.

It’s just so much better when he is touching him.

“Of course, I came to get you,” Cecil insists. “As soon as I saw you— Oh, Carlos, I had to. I couldn’t live another minute without you. I think I would’ve felt the same if I saw you in passing. On the street. Or in a dream, even. I would’ve had to come find you.” He sighs, content. “Thank you for being you.”

Even their quiet is comfortable. It’s nice.

Cecil does like Carlos’s voice, though, and his words, and the things he has to say. He listens closely and falls a little bit more in love with every word Carlos says.

And by the end—

He thinks he might actually cry.

He’s thinking about how he’s been told since before he can remember that he doesn’t really exist. He’s thinking about how he hasn’t seen his own reflection, and isn’t sure what he looks like, if he even looks like anything. He’s thinking about how he would often come back into himself halfway through the woods, led there by his mother in the hopes he wouldn’t return home. He’s thinking about being ignored and abandoned by his mother, and considering that a good thing, a positive sign, a promising omen.

He thinks about how, sometimes, he can’t remember whether or not he’s real.

And here is Carlos, telling him that he’d never stop trying to find Night Vale— to find him. Telling him he’s worth searching for.

Cecil blinks, then scrubs roughly under his eye with the back of his wrist. His third eye blinks just the same, though its budding of tears are above the car more than within it, white rain-clouds wisping above the car, leaking a couple of drops he can’t wipe away as easily.

He can’t help but huff a wet laugh. “Carlos. I… I think you’d be able to find me even with just two eyes. They’re really, really perfect eyes.”

He doesn't know what to do with that, and the confusion flashes on his face before he fixes it, all too used to fixing his face.

He grew up being told that there was always room for improvement, and he took that as Gospel— Maybe a little bit to his own detriment.

A Bachelor's degree isn't enough, so followed the Master's. A Master's degree isn't enough, so followed the Doctorate of Science.

Then Carlos hit the ceiling, nowhere else to go beyond that. Maybe he's less down in the dumps and has more trapped himself in a corner? He's not entirely sure. Maybe both as a result of the other.

To think he might be okay just being, that's alien to him. But maybe it's worth a try! Stop pushing himself to burnout in hopeless hopes to impress family or possible friends-to-be, and just… serve himself.

He has a feeling Cecil will be impressed either way.

Cecil—

Carlos blinks, and Cecil is crying.

"Oh," The softest coo as he lets go of his bag once again, leaning over to help wipe those tears away. "I'm sorry, Cecil, I didn't mean to make you cry—"

How awful is he for that? They just met and he made the most fascinating person in the world cry!

Carlos's brows furrowed concerned, and his gaze momentarily drops when he notices some red on Cecil's lip. That's— No, don't get distracted.

He puts both hands on the wheel, then— removes one to set on his own thigh, antsy, then— removes it from his thigh to set on Carlos's, and that is reassuring enough that he sighs and leaves it there, driving one-handed.

The two of them tangle in each other like this; Cecil tips his face into Carlos's hand, letting him dry away the last of his tears. Even when there are no tears left, Carlos doesn't retreat or release him; he just keeps touching him, and Cecil could just melt for it. It's nearly a fight to keep himself whole.

'Someone like you.'

What does Carlos mean, someone like him? Why does he say it so fondly, how— how can—

"I would've waited as long as I had to," Cecil tells him, because he wants him to know, "but I'm glad I don't have to anymore. You're right, I— I needed you, we— We needed us."

And now they have them, and they can start being them. Cecil isn't so good at existing, and Carlos isn't so good at being, and they are going to figure this out, together.

Cecil recognizes the structure with his third eye before any of the others— which is good, he thinks, because he might have blown right past Carlos's house without stopping or even slowing, too determined to get to Night Vale.

Crunching the brakes and pulling the stop mechanism on the left side, Cecil pulls an absurd grinding noise out of his car before it comes to a halt on the street.

After a moment in quiet, Cecil asks, "Do you want any help with your things? Or packing? Or— Anything?"

He has the terrifying, ridiculous feeling that, if he lets Carlos out of his car— out of his sight— he'll lose him forever. It can't be true— and he can't let himself believe it to be true; he has to believe Carlos will come back when they're separated— but it doesn't stop his terror, all the same.

He does not know why it took so long to be truly known, but he's glad it is now.

It might have been scary if it had happened earlier, he considers, if he was still trying to figure out his life. But now he's too settled, and Cecil crashes into his life to bring him somewhere new, to tell him exciting things, and he knows it's the right time.

The screech of the brakes has Carlos turning his gaze away for just a moment to figure out why that's happening— They're outside his building! He wouldn't have even realised it himself with how much he's been staring at Cecil, admiring him for what he is and what he is not.

"Cecil— Cecil," Carlos grins as though he knows something; And he's certain that he does. "You don't need an excuse to come inside— We'll be sharing a home soon!"

What a thrilling thing to remember and look forward to!

He leans forward, one last kiss just barely on the edge of Cecil's lips, before he shifts to take his seatbelt off.

"It's a little messy in there, uhm, but we're only going in and out! I feel sorry for whoever's gonna be in there next." He muses.

Carlos hasn't even thought about that, is barely thinking about it now— He is leaving his life! The landlord will miss rent and come to check only to find a disorganised scientist's apartment with no scientist to be found, the University will be missing a lecturer, and he could truly care less!

And it is, to Cecil, a kiss. He got so close to his lips, right at the edge, there, and Cecil feels it still like it is a scar on the corner of his mouth, as if he is on fire where Carlos has touched him.

And then Carlos—

Carlos invites him in.

It's not like that, it's not, but Cecil doesn't know the last time he's been invited into the home of someone he feels this strongly about. He can't help his blush, his grin, his stammering, "Um— O-Okay!"

And the idea that they'll be sharing a home soon— that they'll share meals, and a space, and a home, that he'll see Carlos at all times of the day, that he'll encounter him when he's sleepy and when he's just awoken and when he's freshly showered and—

"That's okay!" Cecil insists. He doesn't care if it's the messiest place he's ever been; that would just tell him he needs to get more organized, to balance Carlos out. He wants to explore! He wants to dig through all the different parts of Carlos's messy home, messy brain, messy life, anything he can get his hands on!

"I'm just really excited to leave it behind," Cecil admits. "I want to take you home. You're really going to like it, Carlos, I promise. It's so fascinating. Oh, you are going to have so much to do, so much to explore— sweetie-pie, you are going to love this, I promise—"

He spills out of the car as he rambles, unwinding back up to his full height. With a sharp tug, he draws Carlos's lab coat closer around himself, embracing its snug grip on his body, before he's slamming his door and striding to Carlos's side to yank the door open for him.

Though, maybe how that works isn't such a mystery, since Cecil invited Carlos home and he accepted immediately…

They're both just very excited to start this new life together, that's all, and Cecil proves that by rambling a little on the subject! Everything he says, Carlos feels—

And the nickname hits him pretty well, actually, he can practically feel how his face warms up from it. He wants to do nicknames too! Do they even sound as good coming out of his mouth, though, in his voice? He's not so sure.

He'll have to give it a try soon— An experiment of sorts, if you will.

For now, the scientist smiles back up to Cecil as he opens his door for him, carefully stepping out and slinging his bag back over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Cece," A good, neutral start for nicknaming, shortening the real name!

Gently taking Cecil's hand in his own, and of course waiting for the door to be closed again, it's Carlos's turn to pull him along, eager to start packing up his essentials, eager to get set back on the road to his new home.

"Are there lots of people in Night Vale? Do they know me too?" He questions as they race upstairs, curiosity rearing its head again. How popular is the prophecy— Or rather, how tight-lipped is Cecil?

It's easy to follow him. He'd follow him anywhere, honestly, and when Carlos is this bright and light and wonderful, he's practically hypnotized into dogging his heels.

And when Carlos gives him such an affectionate nickname, oh, Cecil could just lay down and die! It's the best he's ever felt, the greatest thing he's ever been called, he wants to absorb that feeling and swallow it forever.

And then Carlos is taking his hand again! He could just cry, he's so happy to be in contact with him again, tugged along on his journey as he starts packing one-handed. He provides a second hand, hoping it's helpful.

"Lots of wonderful people!" Cecil insists. "And some others. But, mostly great!" He hesitates, then answers, an honest confession, "They've... heard a bit about you. I mentioned you on the radio."

A lot of times. Ever since he heard about the prophecy, he'd been gushing to anyone and everyone who would listen about how excited he was about Carlos. It had been hardly a day between him hearing the prophecy and deciding to go, and still—

"Everyone in Night Vale probably knows about you," Cecil admits. "But I think they already love you! What's not to love, honestly? You're going to fit in perfectly. Like you're meant to be."

"Before you even came to get me? You're a big blabbermouth~" Carlos teases, that perfect grin never faltering.

Of course Cecil is a blabbermouth, it makes so much sense— Not only because of the rambling he's already done, but because what radio station would hire someone quiet, without passion?

Cecil has a lot of passion, Carlos can already tell. He looks forward to seeing more of that, the true extent of it.

But, that probably won't happen for a while. It's the first day!

"That makes me wonder exactly how detailed the prophecy was," And not for the first time!

Did it tell Cecil, before he used his eye, that he allegedly looks perfect? Did it mention science? How much of his future does it discuss, and how much more of it is unknown?

"I am meant to be." Carlos decides, confident as he sticks that neck pillow onto his arm for safe keeping until later. Putting it on his neck would make more sense, but his brain is half split between packing and talking right now.

And it seems like maybe he has?

He's getting so lucky with Carlos!

Carlos is teasing when he calls Cecil a blabbermouth. Teasing. Nobody teases Cecil like that. His own sister doesn't even tease him like that.

Cecil finds himself beaming, in love with the fond familiarity.

"I had to tell them about you," Cecil insists. "You are extremely important news, Carlos. The people of Night Vale should know about the imminent arrival of such a prominent citizen!"

The most prominent, in Cecil's opinion! He's been talking about his visions for a long while— and the concrete reality of Carlos from the moment he spotted him!

"Oh, it's... It's sort of detailed," Cecil tells him, a bit abashed. "I didn't tell the town everything, though. I promise." He redirects swiftly, agrees, "You always belonged with me— us. Us. Night Vale. I know it. I can feel it, you're supposed to be home with me."

He leans in, nudges Carlos's shoulder with his own.

"You are going to be so welcome in Night Vale. I promise."

Of course, he is. Cecil already declared his affection for him and sense of belonging to him over the radio. It's a protection, of sorts; he know he's prominent enough to earn that much.

"Sort of detailed," Carlos echoes, raising a brow in amusement. He definitely needs to know what that prophecy said about him, just how much it exposed that some parts had to go without being told to his new community.

Then Cecil nudges him and Carlos allows the conversation to be redirected with a chuckle, and a little hip bump in return.

"I believe you. I've a feeling you're going to give hell to anyone who isn't welcoming enough."

Another chuckle as he kisses Cecil's cheek, making sure to pack a few extra labcoats. Very important to have spares for different occasions, or if one needs washing!

He's been unable to stop himself from rambling about Carlos on the air. He's barely known the prophecy that long, but he still can't help himself. This is the best thing that ever happened to him; how could he possibly stop himself?

"For you? Anything," Cecil says, and means it, with an intensity and gravity he can't help but feel deep down to the soft, slurpable marrow of his bones.

And Carlos kisses him again, kisses his cheek, and Cecil just can't take it. Oh, he's so flustered, he just can't take it!

His cheek burns where Carlos kissed him, and he practically swans after him, a shadow attached to his heels as he dogs Carlos in his packing process. Lab coats and sentimentals and soft little items go into his bags, and Cecil mentally places him all in his home— their home— one piece at a time.

"I'll keep you safe," Cecil swears, sonorous and intense. "If you want to be alone, I'll make sure you're alone, Carlos."

They're sure they could manage that! And—

Well, if Carlos is home alone, and Cecil's there, that's fine, right? He can help Carlos be alone!

He just doesn't want to leave his side.

"I'll show you around Night Vale!" Cecil insists, excited. "I'll do it all myself. You don't have to worry about anyone else." He hesitates, then adds, "But... If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I won't force myself on you. The prophecy's obviously what it is... But you're not obligated. It can be a prophecy for another us, if you want."

He's begging the universe, please, please, please, please don't take him from me, but he sort of loves Carlos already, and if loving him means losing him, he'd rather Carlos be happy.

Still.

He can't be without him, he thinks. The notion terrifies him.

Cecil just likes to feel the rain, sometimes.

He is so horrendously old— older than the winds, the storms, the rains under his command. There is so much he has done, and still he feels a lack.

It is not unlike the vacuum he first awoke in, this feeling. It is an untethered feeling, unanchored. He feels tossed on the waves his own storms create, and still no closer to steady ground for it.

It feels safer that way, more familiar to his usual everyday life underwater, even if up here he has to struggle with things like staying upright against gravity, and walking.

He stumbles every now and again, but that's okay, because the subjects of his focus are largely low-lying.

Carlos has found over centuries, millennia, or however long its been since he began living, that he can somewhat use the state of the nearby beach to determine how well his particular sector of nature is doing— And sometimes, he can even bring struggling creatures down to his city in order to help them thrive again!

He's crouched over a bundle of shells he's collected to examine when he notices the weather change, his gaze quickly turning up to the sky.

Well, that's new… He can't say he's ever seen a storm turn in what feels like seconds.

He straightens up, pulling his coat closer around himself and looking out to the waves— He whistles, as though expecting a dog or a bird, or something else that reacts to whistles come running.

Instead, the waves shift and a few come together to create a stream that works its way to Carlos and creates a small pool of water at his feet to keep him hydrated, keep him in tune with everything.

He listens to the waves, feels what they feel— And thus becomes aware of someone else here.

Just a few seconds of water, and he turns his head in Cecil's direction, blinking his confusion. Who comes out to a beach in a storm like the one that's just passed? Certainly not a fisherman, anyhow. Any one worth his salt would know marine life do their best to swim deeper in such weather.

… Whoever it is, they're staring back at him.

Is that a 'go away' stare or a 'you can keep me company' stare? People can be so difficult to read, especially at a distance!

Carlos clears his throat and turns away, deciding it polite to mind his own business— Other than peeking back again, this time over his shoulder.

It's the sort of love that feels like recognition, like familiarity, like 'oh, I think I know you, I think I should know you, I think I've always known you—'

He is air, and the breath is stolen from his lungs— how?

This person is not a person, Cecil can feel that much in the electric, pressurized moment their eyes meet. This person is so much more than a person, and the ocean responds as if it knows them, respects them, loves them, and Cecil can't help but respond in kind.

The rain picks up, excited now. He's pushing to his knees, then to his feet—

—but the stranger is turning away from him.

He didn't know that heartbreak was literal. He's heard mortals use the word, but he didn't understand how a heart could actually break.

Watching this stranger turn away from him feels so much like that.

And then there's that shout; The person he just saw.

Do they need help, did they end up here by accident? Oh, how had he not thought of that? Stupid, stupid Carlos!

He turns around to find the figure running towards him, running away from lightning, and his eyes widen just slightly as it finally clicks in his mind—

They're the same, aren't they? Or— Or just similar, somehow!

Carlos cares for and brings the water; Is this the one who picks it up into the sky for rain or storm? How have they not crossed paths yet? They work so closely, so often, even in places where they are not!

"I'm not— I'm not going," He reassures quickly, hands out to either pacify the stranger's panic or catch him once he gets close enough, maybe both. "I didn't want to disturb you, I'm sorry— But I won't go, I promise." Not now, at least! He'll have to return home eventually.

"You— I—"

Carlos doesn't even know how to approach a conversation with someone like him, and also unlike him with the amount of energy this stranger has. He lands on;

He can't stop himself. His momentum is too strong, too powerful; he's already coming forward, and he collides with this stranger, slamming right into him, caught in his hands— his expectant hands, and how did he know?

"You haven't disturbed me!" Cecil insists. "I was just— Ugh. Honestly, I was just moping, but— I didn't expect to find anyone here! I thought there wasn't anybody was here, but—"

Obviously, he was wrong! He couldn't be more wrong. Not only is he not alone, but the most handsome, perfect, beautiful stranger is right here in front of him. He couldn't be happier to be wrong, this time! He hopes he's always wrong like this.

And, oh, he could just explode when this stranger asks where he's been.

In fact— he nearly does explode, thunder rumbling tremendously overhead, making the earth shake with it. A bolt of lightning hits the seam of sand and sea, and he clings to the stranger's shoulders, his fur coat gripped under his fingers, examining the beautiful patchwork of his skin, the dark vortex of his eyes, the way the sea seems to sing around him.

"I don't know," Cecil breathes, and he doesn't. He doesn't know where he's ever been without this stranger. "I don't know where I've been. I'm just so glad I'm here with you now."

The sky lights up, illuminated the electric lightning; Cecil lights up in correspondence, scars and tattoos flashing, and he should let the stranger go, but he can't. He just can't do it.

So many years of life and it's still the little accomplishments that get him, like making sure he and his new company don't tumble into the sand!

"Moping?" He echoes, head tilting. Well, he supposes that explains the weather. "That's no good! Maybe— Maybe I can make you happy!"

And even if he can't, isn't it better to not be alone, even when you're moping?

It doesn't seem that the stranger is anymore, though, and Carlos holds on just a little tighter when the ground shakes. Does the intense weather simply come with any intense emotion? That's reassuring! It would be saddening to know that the weather turned bad when this beautiful, strange person felt down.

Carlos glances up when the sky lights up, but then this stranger lights up, and his gaze flickers back to him just as quickly as it had left them.

He's amazing!

He glows like a lanternfish, or, or— No, he glows like a comb jelly! All beautiful lines and dots flashing on and off in a way that pulsates like the lights of a distant city on the loudest nights of celebration.

"I'm here, you found me," Carlos encourages, hands sliding up to rest on the stranger's cheeks, to truly take in his face.

He's something heavenly… Quite literally, being a being of the air and the skies!

It's true, though— this exquisite creature makes him so very, very happy. Him and the beautiful coat he keeps wrapped around himself, the pelt that Cecil can't help but admire, eyes flickering over the spotted pattern that adorns him.

His skin— equally patterned, equally beautiful— is traced by Cecil's eyes in shapes before he finds his chin, the cut of his jaw, the scruff on his cheeks, the curves of his lips, and up towards his eyes—

And he's never fully understood the obsession humans have with each other and their appearances. Not until now.

Now, he understands.

And, even still, he's desperate to see more— because he knows there is so, so much more to this person than meets the eye—

Carlos.

His name is Carlos, and Cecil has never heard a more wonderful name.

Names aren't real, but they have powerful all the same.

Cecil claims one of Carlos's hands in his, sweeping into a low bow, pressing his lips to the back of his hand. He's seen humans do it— though he doesn't quite remember when, or where— and he hopes Carlos will appreciate it for what it is. For what he means.

"Carlos," he echoes. "Beautiful." Another kiss to the back of his hand. "I'm Cecil."

They sound perfect, a matched set. Cecil kisses his hand one last time before straightening up again, standing taller over Carlos rather than bowed before him.

"I haven't even encountered someone like you." It's a bashful admission. "I keep to myself a lot. I shouldn't, but... I suppose I got used to it."

His whole goal, his whole meaning has been trying to keep living things happy and safe, especially when it comes to threats from the land— And now this person, who feels like a fresh new addition to his meaning, tells him he's doing it without even trying!

The waves crash on the shore, excited, and it almost, almost, sounds like they're clapping.

And then the stranger is looking at him, almost examining him, and Carlos swears that whatever's beating in his chest picks up the pace and becomes stronger.

It is not the first time he's been looked at, far from it— But those from the land who do it tend to be… not so kind, tend to see his pelt as maybe the final goal, something they can steal from him and sell off for riches he would never know, has no interest in knowing.

He had good reason to be wary initially, of course.

But… this stranger is so close to him now, has touched his coat, and yet has made no move to grab it and just start running.

Could it be that Carlos, after years of keeping others safe, has found someone to return the favour?

His hand is taken and kissed, and Carlos blushes as he watches him, Cecil, dip down. He has seen this before, he's sure— Humans on the beach, one couple at a time, where one half of them surprises the other with a precious rock on a band. Some courting ritual, he assumes; Is that what this is?

"Cecil…" It's a good name, a noble name. Carlos smiles as he realises something else about it. "You have the sea in your name— We were bound to meet, I think."

Watching him straighten again, Carlos steps forward just a touch, running his fingers through Cecil's hair and admiring how it seems to just… continue moving with the breeze that accompanies him.

"Maybe… you could keep to me, when you aren't busy with the weather?" He offers, tone soft and hopeful.

He's just a bit hazy, too delighted to remain fully human, when he steps in closer to Carlos in return, drinking in the flush of his beautiful and patterned face, wanting to just— grab him, embrace him, hold him close. He makes himself stay apart; he doesn't want to scare him off, as much as he just wants to be close to him!

How has he not known about Carlos for this long? How has he never known? He is so old, and he has wasted so much time without him. It just isn't fair—

The world is full of weather and storms and surprises. Cecil can control some of it, and some of it he can't. Some things just happen.

Carlos is just happening.

Cecil couldn't be happier for it.

"We were," Cecil insists. He can't think of anything better than being meant to be with Carlos. He wants so badly for their souls to match; he thinks they are made of the same fabric, the same initial creation, the same meaning. He thinks he loves him already, God, he cannot get enough— "We were bound to meet. Always. I can feel it."

He can. He means it. Deep in his bones, he means it.

"I want you," Cecil insists. "I want you with me. I don't care if I'm busy. I don't care if I'm working on the weather. Carlos, I want you with me. No matter what."

It's maybe too intense, and maybe too much, but so is Cecil, and he cannot do anything but lay everything out for Carlos. He cannot help but cling to him, and they may be new, and they may be raw, and they may have only just met, but Carlos—

To Cecil?

Carlos is everything. Already, he's everything. They're meant to be, and he knows it.

"Are you sure you want— me? To stay with— You don't even know me."

Carlos seems so absolutely perfect, and he doesn't even know Cecil, but— maybe Cecil shouldn't protest against that. Maybe he should accept this divine love as offered.

But he wants Carlos to be happy. Can't stop himself from wanting to give it.

Esteban always comes up with such creative ideas— and so does Carlos. He’s so scientific, of course— both he and their son can be so scientific!— but that means they’re inventive, too, and Cecil loves to hear every idea they come up with.

Like names in a hat! What a dangerous idea! But Cecil loves how dangerous Carlos can be, how risky and reckless and fascinating he can be!

Carlos’s voice is so soft when he speaks, like a blanket wrapped around Cecil— and then he promises real blankets, even, and Cecil smiles, sighing, relaxing into Carlos, half-aware of what’s happening around him.

“That sounds 𝑠𝑜 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒,” Cecil murmurs. It’s the perfect night, really; it’s his favorite sort of evening between them. “What food do you think the baby wants? Maybe I’m just… just not giving them the food they want.”

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel well. Maybe he’s just doing this wrong already. It was easier with Esteban— he had just been born when he came into their lives. Cecil’s not used to doing everything that comes before a baby is born instead of after; maybe he’s already messed it up, somehow?

Again, he's no expert at pregnancy— But he is at science, and biology! Marine… biology… but close enough! It's not as though he'll get all the correct answers applying human biology logic to Cecil, anyway.

"You'll have to limit how much caffeine you have, I think," He begins, thoughtful. "Try decaffeinated tea, maybe, water and fruit juices… And then for food, ideally you'll have a balanced mix from each section of the food pyramid. Oils, low or fat free dairy, whole fruits, vegetables, proteins, whole grains."

Carlos is tracing on Cecil's back again, this time numbers accompanied by words; He's trying to adjust their current typical grocery list in real time, in his mind.

"That whole thing about eating for two isn't really accurate; You won't need extra calories in the first trimester, but you'll need to go up about 340 in the second and 450 in the third— It would be good if we can accurately figure out how many weeks along we are, so I can keep an eye on that for you."

Nodnod. He's going to make this so much easier for Cecil!

"I can organise your meals for you, point you to what you can have as snacks— You won't even have to worry about remembering everything, I'll remember."

Satisfied with that somewhat organised in his mind, Carlos coos softly as he presses kisses to Cecil's face.

He loves coffee. Sometimes, it’s all he has until dinner— which Carlos will scold him for, but with how distracted he can get while he’s working on science, it’s not like he can talk.

But… Carlos is smart. If he thinks Cecil should be eating and drinking specific things, he probably should be. Even if he doesn’t want to be.

Though he can’t help the grimace that wrinkles his nose at the suggestions Carlos is making— he’s reassured that Carlos will help him with it. With everything. He doesn’t want to do this, isn’t even sure he’ll remember to do this— and Carlos anticipates everything ahead of time, before he can even think about it, and offers his own solutions.

With a sigh, Cecil lets his eyes close, a smile fluttering across his expression at Carlos’s soft touches and softer kisses.

He has to remember: just because he’s growing the baby by himself, doesn’t mean he has to do all of it by himself. Carlos is right; they’ll figure it out together, like they always do. Their lives are full of first-times, and hundredth-times, and millionth-times. It’s part of being in love.

“I guess,” Cecil murmurs, tilting closer into Carlos, wanting to absorb more of his warmth. “This is going to take forever, Carlos.” After a huffed moment, he adds, “You always keep an eye on me. But— I can check myself, if you want. Then you’ll know sooner, you won’t have to wait.”

It would take some effort, but Cecil could do it! He could turn his focus inwards, try to find the baby, attempt to compare how far along they are with the Internet and Carlos’s knowledge and— well, hopefully that’ll be enough, so he doesn’t have to deal with a dangerous book.

Cecil is irritated, and Carlos can't help but love him even more, somehow.

"It probably won't take more than a year," He corrects lightly, though he knows Cecil was just being dramatic saying it would take forever. It'll only feel like it— And as much as he would love to take on the burden of carrying for him, Carlos isn't sure that's entirely scientifically possible.

"I think… you should leave checking until your energy levels are closer to normal, sweetie. You did nearly just knock yourself out heating up the bath."

Carlos has a point! He usually does.

"We can definitely assume first trimester for now. This one's the most tiring I think, and then… things like morning sickness should lessen when we get to the second."

Hm, morning sickness… He might have to adjust his work schedule to take care of Cecil during that, and also to come home a little earlier. It's good thing he's head scientist, he can make his own rules with this!

His expression twists down. He doesn't like feeling embarrassed— and isn't sure why he even is embarrassed— but, all the same, he tells Carlos, "Okay. I'm sorry."

When he thinks about it, though, and prods the edges of the feeling, he finds more... shame than anything else. His hand stokes over Carlos's shoulder, just wanting to touch.

"It wasn't smart of me. To put the baby at risk like that. And I'm sorry. I'll wait, it's not the end of the world. I can be patient."

This, he offers with smile enough.

He does perk up a bit at the idea that this might be the worst he'll feel. He's not sure what it's like at the end of the process, but— surely it can't be worse than this!

"What happens in the second, then?" Cecil asks. Once the exhaustion and nausea and illness Rw gone— what will he have left?

Carlos hugs him a little closer, and Cecil can't help the contented shiver that runs through him in response. He never feels safer than he does when Carlos holds him like this, like anything that wants to get to the soft meat of Cecil will have to go through the hard shell of Carlos to get there.

Cecil hugs him back in return, clinging as close to him as he can. It's a reassurance, settling something deep in his chest, and he tightens his hold on Carlos, refusing to let go.

"I don't know what I need," Cecil admits. Maybe it'll become clearer with time, but— right now— "All I really want is you."

Nodnodnod. Prepare for the most inconvenient outcome and be pleasantly surprised by the possibility of the best seems like a good way to approach this.

"It's okay, it's okay— You just wanted more heat. I wish I could make more for you myself."

He wishes he could do so much more for Cecil, but he is just a human, which is slightly below being a scientist. All he can do is try, and try, and keep trying. The answers always change, and so do the questions.

Carlos considers what Cecil asks him carefully, doing his best to remember the things he was taught in a class he thought would never apply to him— How silly was he?

"In the second, that's when the baby really starts to grow, once they have all their organs and such. You'll be able to feel them move— But you might also have some feet and lower back pain as they become bigger and heavier inside you."

He explains, thoughtful. He doesn't said anything more, but he's definitely got that 'thinking of solutions' face on, knowing he needs to try keeping one step ahead of everything for this to go as smoothly as possible.

The words Carlos says— he's painting a mental picture, and Cecil imagines a small baby inside of him that actually looks like a baby— he's hoping, or assuming, though he knows he'll love them regardless— that—

Well, that apparently will cause him pain, but— he supposes he knew that was coming. He's already in pain now, and it's possible that it's barely begun.

"I know," he promises Carlos. He does know; he doesn't remember much, but he remembers that he always has Carlos. If he promises to stay home more, he will. If he swears he'll come if Cecil asks him to, he will. There are no doubts in Cecil's mind about that.

He—

He is a bit uncertain, though.

It feels worth it. To him, it feels worth it, but— is he forcing this on Carlos? Or—

No, he makes himself forcibly think. He loves Carlos; they've been together for over a decade. They are honest with each other. They mean this.

"Thank you," Cecil ends up saying. "There is nobody I would rather do this with. Any of this. You know that, don't you?"

He means having this baby, yes, but also— raising the child they already have, and sharing a life together, and surviving Night Vale, and anything and everything they do together. There is nobody Cecil would rather have alongside him for all of this than Carlos. He thinks they're fated, tethered, meant to be.

With a kiss to Carlos's chest, another shiver runs up the length of his spine and spreading through what could be his ribcage, and could be a broken mess of a second spine that blossomed outwards before he was even born.

With that in mind, he turns his head just slightly to scan the bathroom— Luckily there are already clean towels out and ready for them.

"I'm just making sure."

He knows Cecil forgets even when he doesn't want to, he knows Cecil worries despite how much he fights against it— Why wouldn't he want to reassure him, help him know for certain that Carlos will always be by his side?

When Carlos was telling him about common wedding vows long before the big day, far longer before now, Cecil had giggled at the line 'through thick and through thin', something about the phrasing amusing him— Funny or not, it still means what it means, and Carlos plans to keep to it.

"I know," He answers, and it's the truth. Cecil wouldn't do this, all of this, with anyone else; And neither would Carlos.

If there was no Cecil… Well, there would probably be no Carlos— But if there was a Cecil-less Carlos, he'd just be working himself to the bone, with nobody connected enough to convince him when to stop for a snack break, or a nap that turns into full blown sleep.

Carlos can be a stubborn thing and he knows it, but Cecil eases him like he's always known how.

Taking in a breath, he gently pats Cecil's back. He can also be a stubborn thing.

It's being known. It's being known by Carlos. Deeper than being respected, love, seen— Carlos knows him, and he doesn't need anything more than his own two eyes for it. Doesn't even really need those, really.

Cecil drags a nod against Carlos's chest. He's shivering now, consistent and rattling his body with every shake that wracks him.

But something still hits.

He knows it without feeling it himself, somehow, without Cecil needing to tell him anything more than he needs a minute.

Keeping a hand on Cecil's back, Carlos does his best to lean out of the tub without falling out of it— Which would not be very perfect of him— And manages to grab a trash can, pulling it over just in case.

"Take your time, honeypie, I'm here," He whispers, brushing those strands of hair that didn't make it into his loose braiding out of his face.

His hands open and close against Carlos's shoulders, clinging to him. He tries to draw comfort out of him, but he's just getting dizzier, every second he's dizzier, he's just—

He lurches upright, out of Carlos's arms, and grabs for the bin Carlos has set there. It takes a second before he's actually sick, but—

When he is, what comes up is a retch of... stars. Almost. As if— As if a star has exploded, and millions of tiny star-spores have burst out, a floating cosmic spill of sparkling energy, an incorporeal and celestial twist that he has, in all honesty, never seen before— not anywhere, and certainly not from inside himself— and it feels like being sick— the nausea, the shaking, the sweating, the ringing in his ears, the cosmic understanding of his own ancestral line, all of it— but it's also— different.

Cecil can barely catch his breath, for a moment; when he can, he spits a stream of stars, then leans against the rim of the bathtub to catch his breath, closing his eyes, slumped.

He doesn't know much about pregnancy, but he knows well enough: that's confirmation, more evidence, something that he knows only happens when people are pregnant. He's seen books and movies; that's the only reason for superlunary vomiting that he's ever known. He's not an idiot.

Oh, my—

𝑂ℎ.

Cecil is struck 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 when Carlos leans over and kisses his cheek in return.

He doesn’t remember the last time he was kissed. Literally, he does not remember it; the last time he was kissed was years ago, by Earl Harlan, and Cecil doesn’t remember a single second of it, wiped clear from his mind after several ensuing— though unrelated— sessions of re-education that left Cecil blank, Earl heartbroken, and their relationship a broken, half-gone mess.

Regardless.

Being kissed now— and being kissed by perfect, perfect Carlos— on the cheek is the most tremendous feeling he’s ever had. And he had such fear when Carlos didn’t respond, at first, but now—

He couldn’t be more thrilled. He couldn’t be happier, really, and—

And he gets a second kiss.

And a third!

He just wants to stay in contact with Cecil forever, somehow, even though he knows that might not be possible— Radio and science are such different jobs on a base level!

Suppose he'll just have to keep a radio switched on while he does his work in his lab, and wherever else his work may take him in Night Vale!

"I am thanking you," Carlos insists simply in return, only sitting back once he realises he should probably definitely let Cecil be able to focus on the road while he's still driving. "You came to get me, so you are to be thanked— Because you started it."

A childish argument, maybe, but a true one! Outside of whoever wrote the prophecy, Cecil did start this.

Cecil continues to speak and Carlos listens attentively as he hugs his bag close to his body, as though he absolutely needs to be hugging someone or something right now to keep him tethered to the Earth, to reality.

When Cecil trails off, he smiles, and stays quiet with him. He thinks he understands what he means, and thus understands why it's difficult to say.

"I have been told I'm a force of nature," Carlos confirms once it seems Cecil is done rambling (oh, how he loves listening to him ramble!). "I think… that very few things are truly impossible, and most are just improbable. If I'm told something can't be done, then I will keep at it for as long as I have to, as long as my brain can keep thinking up new ways to approach it."

As a result, he has one many bets against himself! Which is normal to be proud of, right? He's proving himself!

He's just also consistently doubted, for some reason.

"So if you came and something didn't work out," The scientist continues, thoughtful. "I would just keep trying. If you had to rush off or something, and we were not in the car together like we are now, I would find my own way to Night Vale to find you again. Even if I don't entirely understand where it is. I'll find it, because I won't stop trying. You're worth searching for, just like you've searched for me."

A beat.

It’s just so much better when he is touching him.

“Of course, I came to get you,” Cecil insists. “As soon as I saw you— Oh, Carlos, I had to. I couldn’t live another minute without you. I think I would’ve felt the same if I saw you in passing. On the street. Or in a dream, even. I would’ve had to come find you.” He sighs, content. “Thank you for being you.”

Even their quiet is comfortable. It’s nice.

Cecil does like Carlos’s voice, though, and his words, and the things he has to say. He listens closely and falls a little bit more in love with every word Carlos says.

And by the end—

He thinks he might actually cry.

He’s thinking about how he’s been told since before he can remember that he doesn’t really exist. He’s thinking about how he hasn’t seen his own reflection, and isn’t sure what he looks like, if he even looks like anything. He’s thinking about how he would often come back into himself halfway through the woods, led there by his mother in the hopes he wouldn’t return home. He’s thinking about being ignored and abandoned by his mother, and considering that a good thing, a positive sign, a promising omen.

He thinks about how, sometimes, he can’t remember whether or not he’s real.

And here is Carlos, telling him that he’d never stop trying to find Night Vale— to find him. Telling him he’s worth searching for.

Cecil blinks, then scrubs roughly under his eye with the back of his wrist. His third eye blinks just the same, though its budding of tears are above the car more than within it, white rain-clouds wisping above the car, leaking a couple of drops he can’t wipe away as easily.

He can’t help but huff a wet laugh. “Carlos. I… I think you’d be able to find me even with just two eyes. They’re really, really perfect eyes.”

He doesn't know what to do with that, and the confusion flashes on his face before he fixes it, all too used to fixing his face.

He grew up being told that there was always room for improvement, and he took that as Gospel— Maybe a little bit to his own detriment.

A Bachelor's degree isn't enough, so followed the Master's. A Master's degree isn't enough, so followed the Doctorate of Science.

Then Carlos hit the ceiling, nowhere else to go beyond that. Maybe he's less down in the dumps and has more trapped himself in a corner? He's not entirely sure. Maybe both as a result of the other.

To think he might be okay just being, that's alien to him. But maybe it's worth a try! Stop pushing himself to burnout in hopeless hopes to impress family or possible friends-to-be, and just… serve himself.

He has a feeling Cecil will be impressed either way.

Cecil—

Carlos blinks, and Cecil is crying.

"Oh," The softest coo as he lets go of his bag once again, leaning over to help wipe those tears away. "I'm sorry, Cecil, I didn't mean to make you cry—"

How awful is he for that? They just met and he made the most fascinating person in the world cry!

Carlos's brows furrowed concerned, and his gaze momentarily drops when he notices some red on Cecil's lip. That's— No, don't get distracted.

He puts both hands on the wheel, then— removes one to set on his own thigh, antsy, then— removes it from his thigh to set on Carlos's, and that is reassuring enough that he sighs and leaves it there, driving one-handed.

The two of them tangle in each other like this; Cecil tips his face into Carlos's hand, letting him dry away the last of his tears. Even when there are no tears left, Carlos doesn't retreat or release him; he just keeps touching him, and Cecil could just melt for it. It's nearly a fight to keep himself whole.

'Someone like you.'

What does Carlos mean, someone like him? Why does he say it so fondly, how— how can—

"I would've waited as long as I had to," Cecil tells him, because he wants him to know, "but I'm glad I don't have to anymore. You're right, I— I needed you, we— We needed us."

And now they have them, and they can start being them. Cecil isn't so good at existing, and Carlos isn't so good at being, and they are going to figure this out, together.

Cecil recognizes the structure with his third eye before any of the others— which is good, he thinks, because he might have blown right past Carlos's house without stopping or even slowing, too determined to get to Night Vale.

Crunching the brakes and pulling the stop mechanism on the left side, Cecil pulls an absurd grinding noise out of his car before it comes to a halt on the street.

After a moment in quiet, Cecil asks, "Do you want any help with your things? Or packing? Or— Anything?"

He has the terrifying, ridiculous feeling that, if he lets Carlos out of his car— out of his sight— he'll lose him forever. It can't be true— and he can't let himself believe it to be true; he has to believe Carlos will come back when they're separated— but it doesn't stop his terror, all the same.

He does not know why it took so long to be truly known, but he's glad it is now.

It might have been scary if it had happened earlier, he considers, if he was still trying to figure out his life. But now he's too settled, and Cecil crashes into his life to bring him somewhere new, to tell him exciting things, and he knows it's the right time.

The screech of the brakes has Carlos turning his gaze away for just a moment to figure out why that's happening— They're outside his building! He wouldn't have even realised it himself with how much he's been staring at Cecil, admiring him for what he is and what he is not.

"Cecil— Cecil," Carlos grins as though he knows something; And he's certain that he does. "You don't need an excuse to come inside— We'll be sharing a home soon!"

What a thrilling thing to remember and look forward to!

He leans forward, one last kiss just barely on the edge of Cecil's lips, before he shifts to take his seatbelt off.

"It's a little messy in there, uhm, but we're only going in and out! I feel sorry for whoever's gonna be in there next." He muses.

Carlos hasn't even thought about that, is barely thinking about it now— He is leaving his life! The landlord will miss rent and come to check only to find a disorganised scientist's apartment with no scientist to be found, the University will be missing a lecturer, and he could truly care less!

And it is, to Cecil, a kiss. He got so close to his lips, right at the edge, there, and Cecil feels it still like it is a scar on the corner of his mouth, as if he is on fire where Carlos has touched him.

And then Carlos—

Carlos invites him in.

It's not like that, it's not, but Cecil doesn't know the last time he's been invited into the home of someone he feels this strongly about. He can't help his blush, his grin, his stammering, "Um— O-Okay!"

And the idea that they'll be sharing a home soon— that they'll share meals, and a space, and a home, that he'll see Carlos at all times of the day, that he'll encounter him when he's sleepy and when he's just awoken and when he's freshly showered and—

"That's okay!" Cecil insists. He doesn't care if it's the messiest place he's ever been; that would just tell him he needs to get more organized, to balance Carlos out. He wants to explore! He wants to dig through all the different parts of Carlos's messy home, messy brain, messy life, anything he can get his hands on!

"I'm just really excited to leave it behind," Cecil admits. "I want to take you home. You're really going to like it, Carlos, I promise. It's so fascinating. Oh, you are going to have so much to do, so much to explore— sweetie-pie, you are going to love this, I promise—"

He spills out of the car as he rambles, unwinding back up to his full height. With a sharp tug, he draws Carlos's lab coat closer around himself, embracing its snug grip on his body, before he's slamming his door and striding to Carlos's side to yank the door open for him.

Though, maybe how that works isn't such a mystery, since Cecil invited Carlos home and he accepted immediately…

They're both just very excited to start this new life together, that's all, and Cecil proves that by rambling a little on the subject! Everything he says, Carlos feels—

And the nickname hits him pretty well, actually, he can practically feel how his face warms up from it. He wants to do nicknames too! Do they even sound as good coming out of his mouth, though, in his voice? He's not so sure.

He'll have to give it a try soon— An experiment of sorts, if you will.

For now, the scientist smiles back up to Cecil as he opens his door for him, carefully stepping out and slinging his bag back over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Cece," A good, neutral start for nicknaming, shortening the real name!

Gently taking Cecil's hand in his own, and of course waiting for the door to be closed again, it's Carlos's turn to pull him along, eager to start packing up his essentials, eager to get set back on the road to his new home.

"Are there lots of people in Night Vale? Do they know me too?" He questions as they race upstairs, curiosity rearing its head again. How popular is the prophecy— Or rather, how tight-lipped is Cecil?

It's easy to follow him. He'd follow him anywhere, honestly, and when Carlos is this bright and light and wonderful, he's practically hypnotized into dogging his heels.

And when Carlos gives him such an affectionate nickname, oh, Cecil could just lay down and die! It's the best he's ever felt, the greatest thing he's ever been called, he wants to absorb that feeling and swallow it forever.

And then Carlos is taking his hand again! He could just cry, he's so happy to be in contact with him again, tugged along on his journey as he starts packing one-handed. He provides a second hand, hoping it's helpful.

"Lots of wonderful people!" Cecil insists. "And some others. But, mostly great!" He hesitates, then answers, an honest confession, "They've... heard a bit about you. I mentioned you on the radio."

A lot of times. Ever since he heard about the prophecy, he'd been gushing to anyone and everyone who would listen about how excited he was about Carlos. It had been hardly a day between him hearing the prophecy and deciding to go, and still—

"Everyone in Night Vale probably knows about you," Cecil admits. "But I think they already love you! What's not to love, honestly? You're going to fit in perfectly. Like you're meant to be."

"Before you even came to get me? You're a big blabbermouth~" Carlos teases, that perfect grin never faltering.

Of course Cecil is a blabbermouth, it makes so much sense— Not only because of the rambling he's already done, but because what radio station would hire someone quiet, without passion?

Cecil has a lot of passion, Carlos can already tell. He looks forward to seeing more of that, the true extent of it.

But, that probably won't happen for a while. It's the first day!

"That makes me wonder exactly how detailed the prophecy was," And not for the first time!

Did it tell Cecil, before he used his eye, that he allegedly looks perfect? Did it mention science? How much of his future does it discuss, and how much more of it is unknown?

"I am meant to be." Carlos decides, confident as he sticks that neck pillow onto his arm for safe keeping until later. Putting it on his neck would make more sense, but his brain is half split between packing and talking right now.

And it seems like maybe he has?

He's getting so lucky with Carlos!

Carlos is teasing when he calls Cecil a blabbermouth. Teasing. Nobody teases Cecil like that. His own sister doesn't even tease him like that.

Cecil finds himself beaming, in love with the fond familiarity.

"I had to tell them about you," Cecil insists. "You are extremely important news, Carlos. The people of Night Vale should know about the imminent arrival of such a prominent citizen!"

The most prominent, in Cecil's opinion! He's been talking about his visions for a long while— and the concrete reality of Carlos from the moment he spotted him!

"Oh, it's... It's sort of detailed," Cecil tells him, a bit abashed. "I didn't tell the town everything, though. I promise." He redirects swiftly, agrees, "You always belonged with me— us. Us. Night Vale. I know it. I can feel it, you're supposed to be home with me."

He leans in, nudges Carlos's shoulder with his own.

"You are going to be so welcome in Night Vale. I promise."

Of course, he is. Cecil already declared his affection for him and sense of belonging to him over the radio. It's a protection, of sorts; he know he's prominent enough to earn that much.