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“And now…just pour this in here…” Carlos muttered to himself. He carefully tipped the beaker, pouring weak acid into the petri dish containing some brown goop that had been seeping through the cracks in the sidewalk. The tip of his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth unconsciously as he concentrated. His phone rang.
Startled, he dropped the beaker into the goop. He cursed, watching as it began to turn green and hiss just to make whoever had just ruined his experiment wait. Then he considered answering it quietly to piss off the Sheriff’s Secret Police, but decided against that. He dejectedly picked up his phone.
“Hello?” he grumbled, eyeing the hissing mess that was now overflowing onto the table on the table and wondering how to clean it up (if he even could).
“Carlos! Hi!” Cecil greeted, as if he was receiving the call. “…is this a bad time?”
Carlos sighed. “No, it’s fine. Did you need something?”
“What? Oh, no, I just wanted to say hi, maybe talk a bit. But if you’re…if you’re doing science or something,” he said it like it was an act of some sort of god, “then it’s fine.”
Carlos chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully. “Cecil, would you like to come over and help? With science, that is.”
Cecil gasped. “Oh, Carlos! Sweet, sweet Carlos. I would love to. Is now alright?”
“Um, yes, now is perfect actually.”
“Neat! See you soon, dear Carlos.”
…
It was maybe ten minutes before Cecil came bounding through the door (it usually took fifteen to get from the station to the lab. Was it even worth questioning anymore?). By that point the goop had turned blue and was bubbling contentedly. Cecil took two steps into the lab before he saw it. He hesitated, glancing at Carlos worriedly. “Did I…?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carlos said, waving off his concern. He glared at his failed experiment, half-hoping it would gain sentience so it would see his irritation at it. When he turned back, he found Cecil drowning in a discarded lab coat at least four sizes too big, goggles fastened tightly to his face. The broadcaster pulled the coat’s sleeves up, and Carlos caught a glimpse of rubber gloves before the sleeves fell back down. He blinked once, twice, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him.
“Cecil…?” he inquired carefully. “What are you wearing?”
Cecil perked up. “Science gear! Safety first, isn’t that right?”
“Uh, yeah…yeah, of course. Um, so what do you know about that brown slime coming out of the sidewalk?”
…
Truth be told, he hadn’t been this unproductive since middle school. Cecil was proving to be more of a distraction than anything, but he’d be damned if he made him leave. It was actually fun allowing Cecil to run his own mini experiments (“Carlos, what happens if I add this?” “Cecil, that’s just water. It won’t do anything.” The shame of being wrong was overshadowed by Cecil’s wide smile and little cry of delight). Coupled with the oversized lab coat and too-tight goggles that Carlos had had to loosen for him, it was like watching a child play pretend. Cecil was just so easily impressed by everything; he just about fainted when Carlos, feeling like he was in first grade again, mixed baking soda and vinegar together. When Cecil finally left, he was more than a little sad. He thought maybe Cecil was, too. He didn’t have the heart to remind Cecil that he was still wearing his “science gear”.
That evening, Cecil gushed about Carlos on the radio more than he had when the scientist had first arrived in Night Vale. Carlos found he didn’t mind as much as he once might have. Halfway through the show, Cecil panicked when he realized he’d accidentally made off with one of the scientists’ lab gear, and Carlos had to send him a text telling him that it was fine, he could just return it at any time. The gear was returned the next day.
The next time Carlos invited Cecil over to the lab he gave the reported his own personalized lab coat and goggles. It was the happiest he’d seen Cecil since their first date. Carlos didn’t tell him that part of the reason he’d gotten them was because Cecil was so damn cure in them. Then he changed his mind and told him. The resulting squeal and kiss was worth the embarrassment.
Cecil became a sort of pseudo-lab assistant after that. He never actually helped, but his cheerfulness and constant chatter kept the other scientists in a good mood, as well as giving them something to gossip about. Carlos sometimes set up a mini experiment for him and watched as he mixed substances together at random and sometimes recorded the results. He kept up a mostly one-sided conversation as he worked.
“Did I tell you one of the Erikas visited me the other day? Old Woman Josie came by to collect—oh, Carlos look! It’s bubbling! Is that good? Well, anyway, the lights above the Arby’s were changing colors last night. They were so pretty? Oh, it’s stopped bubbling. But look! There’s something at the bottom! Did I make that?”
Carlos came into the lab one day to find one of his scientists writing out a string of chemical equations for Cecil to analyze. He later explained that Cecil had stumbled across a loose page of notes and begged to be taught what all those letters and numbers meant, because “Carlos would be so impressed! And I’m really into science, you know.”
Yes, they all knew, but he honestly seemed to be enjoying himself, so nobody said anything. Besides, scientific news was spread faster if Cecil was actually there, if only because he tended to gush about his time with the scientists. None of them seemed to mind very much. In fact, they seemed to have gone from merely tolerating him to actually liking him. It was interesting to watch, and more than a little pleasing. It wasn’t as pleasing when one of the younger ones started flirting with Cecil.
At first Carlos thought Cecil was flirting back, but then he realized the poor man honestly didn’t know he was being flirted with; he was just trying to be nice. Carlos stepped in soon after. Cecil didn’t understand his irritation, but he knew it wasn’t directed at him and let it drop until Carlos wanted to talk about it.
He brought it up when they were eating dinner at Cecil’s apartment. He explained that no, that guy was not just being nice, he was flirting, and that wasn’t okay. Cecil smiled and moved so he was sitting next to Carlos so he could kiss him better. Carlos didn’t go home that night.
…