Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was morning, and Carlos and Kevin were sharing the vanity area after their morning showers, shaving and getting dressed for work. Cecil, who had a later start to his day, was still passed out in the center of their bed, rolled in the comforter like a skinny burrito.

As Carlos finished lathering up, a phone went off and he cut a look to the bedside table. It wasn’t his ringtone, but Kevin and Cecil, in yet another weird moment of synching had both selected similar phone covers and sound alerts. The scientist couldn’t tell the difference between the purples both radio hosts claimed were clearly and uniquely plum and eggplant, so he didn’t try. Judging from the proximity, it was probably Cecil’s cell.

Without opening his eyes, Cecil groped the bedside table and lifted his head a little, blinking and squinting to read the incoming text without his glasses. His mouth dropped open.

“Oh. Oh, Kevin. I’m sorry. I thought it was mine. I thought it might be the new intern.” His now wide eyes were still on the screen and he covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Forcing himself to thrust the phone out to Kevin at arm’s length with the screen pointed away, he squirmed trying not to snicker.

Kevin put his razor down and wiped his chin. “What is it?” He smiled instantly, eager to be in on the joke.

“I swear, I swear I wasn’t trying to be a snoop!” Cecil bit his fist, ducking down into his tube of blankets.

“Alright. What’s so funny?” Carlos strode over and took the phone to hand to Kevin, pointedly not looking at the text.

“I shouldn’t say.”

As he read his message, Kevin’s eyes widened and his cheeks, including his scars, flushed a vivid red. “Oh. Oh my…” He breathed.

Now wide awake, Cecil snort laughed into his cocoon.

“Cecil, you are being a complete turd.” Carlos smirked.

“I’m sorry Carlos, I want to tell you. It’s really good.”

The scientist’s gaze shot back to Kevin, a little concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.” The other answered slowly, a bit dazed. “It’s fine…”

“Well for Kepler’s sake, what is it?”

“Earl asked him out!” Cecil blurted, then clamped both hands over his mouth.

“Oh, that’s it…” Carlos growled with mock threat, “Big trouble.” He mopped the shave foam from his face and dove at Cecil who was inch worming out of the comforter to try to escape across the bed. Carlos caught him around the waist, rolled him over, and pinned him down to tickle.

“Noooo!!! I was asleep! I didn’t mean it!! Kevin, please help me!” Cecil clawed frantically at the mattress, twisting to get away and shrieking with laughter.

But Kevin only stared down at the phone screen. “But, what do I say?” He wondered aloud.

Both Carlos and Cecil stopped wrestling.

Kevin was biting his bottom lip and cupping the phone in both hands like the message might melt or evaporate.

“Do you want to go?” Carlos asked.

Looking somewhere between confused and a little guilty, Kevin blinked and stammered, turning even more beet red, before stealing another look down at the text. Cecil suddenly flashed on the memory of Kevin at the pledge drive, beaming at Earl who was resplendent in his Scout Master uniform. The chef’s rugged voice all to himself at hismicrophone… “I think that’s a big ‘yes’.”

“B-but you said Earl was sticky.”

Cecil shrugged. “It’s been a few years. Besides, your mileage may vary. People bring out different things in each other.”

“You and Carlos don’t mind?”

Carlos laughed, sitting up, and Cecil crawled over to join him. “Well, it does interfere with our plan to lock you in the basement and keep you all to ourselves.”

“I was going to volunteer to slide a tin plate of food for you under the door once a week.” Cecil offered.

“Right after I finished digging a basement and luring you into it.” Carlos added. “They aren’t standard issue in the desert.”

Kevin’s worried mouth softened and smiled a little at this. “But, what if Earl just wants to date me? I mean, date just me? No, ah, I mean, what if he doesn’t know about or want me to be with you?” He asked in a small voice.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Cecil shrugged.

“Kev. Seriously. There’s not a whole heck of a lot of mysteries in town.” Carlos jerked a thumb at Cecil. “If you know what I mean.”

“Hey!” Cecil smacked him, but not too hard.

“I’d spend less time gaming out the what-ifs and just focus on what’s in front of you.” Carlos added.

Relaxing a little at this, the corners of Kevin’s mouth crooked up. He stole another look at the phone screen. “Excuse me please.” He murmured and ducked out of the bedroom.

to be continued...

Chapter Text

On his way to work, Kevin kept glancing down at his phone, at the text bubble:

“Maybe coffee at the White Sands? Lucy has a new prickly pear recipe.”

And his reply: “Sounds lovely.”

‘Lovely’? He winced and laughed at himself. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter… He’d made the date. On Thursday evening he’d be having dessert with Earl Harlan and his freckles, and cinnamon red locks and those arms… Would he wear any of his Scout Master gear or maybe his starched chef’s jacket? Entering the classroom, Kevin covered his mouth with a hand as he dropped his satchel on his desk, literally trying to wipe the goofy smile off his face.

By lunch, however, a different feeling had crept in.

Why was he so excited by this? Would it hurt Cecil or Carlos? They hadn’t seemed bothered by the idea — but how could they act otherwise and not seem selfish? After all, they had each other. Was that what it was? That on some level he felt shut out by the pair?

No.

The circling thoughts followed him to lunch and he couldn’t eat. He tried to ignore them, but finally pushed his plate away.

Tabitha looked up from her Patti Smith biography. “Was it something the turkey club said?”

“No. No.” Kevin laughed. “I guess I’m just not hungry.”

The girl’s kohl-lined eyes narrowed. “Spill it. You haven’t bubbled or squeaked since we got here. It’s unnerving.”

The pair met regularly for lunch on weekdays, today at the Moonlight, and typically Kevin was the chatty one, going on about NVCC instructor gossip, funny things from class, while Tabitha listened and made sure they didn’t lose track of time.

Kevin tugged at his tie and looked out the window awkwardly, cheeks coloring.

The goth's face split slowly in a knowing wicked grin. “You’ve got a crush.”

Trying to explain it to Tabitha hadn’t helped. She seemed way to amused by his distress and enjoyed needling him.

“Please don’t say anything. Please.”

As the girl wrapped his sandwich up in a napkin, her smirk dropping hearing the desperate note in his voice. “Are you really that knotted up by this?”

“I don’t know how to explain. I feel like I should feel guilty?”

“Dude. You totally should, for being the luckiest SOB on the planet. When do I get three guys wanting to shack up with me or take me for ice cream? Who are you?”

Kevin huffed a small laugh. “Not helping…”

“Fine. You feel guilty. Why?” She put the napkin bundle down and gestured to the cleared table. “Lay it all out.”

The other grimaced. “What do my students call this? First world problems?”

Tabitha moaned. “Oh god don’t. Slang is not you strong suit, sunshine. Lemme guess: Will you hurt Cecil or Carlos or make them jealous? Why should you want to go out if you’re happy and in love with them?”

Kevin blinked at her. “Well, yes.”

“Did either of them seem hurt?”

“No.”

“Do you feel about them the way you felt about…” She hesitated and pursed her lips: a brief moment of silence to acknowledge respect. “…Jacob?”

“Yes, but no. Not really.” Kevin’s voice went quiet. “Everyone is different.” He concluded.

“That. Right there. What you just said.” She told him. “Everyone is different. C’mon, we need to get back.”

She ushered him out of the diner and walked him to the corner. “I’m not changing my stance. You should totally feel insanely guilty — there are single sad lonely people subjected to the indignities of OK Stupid and Tinder with each second that passes. But jeez, don’t second guess Cecil or Carlos or feel bad for finding chef what’s-his-butt attractive. You’re not blind. Take it at face value.”

This was the most Tabitha had rattled off at him about something other than the Velvet Underground’s Red Mesa concert from ’66 Michelle had taped over by absently shoving the VHS in the over night security camera last month.

He smiled at her as she handed him his uneaten sandwich for later, and pecked her powdered cheek. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me. I want to be paid in nasty details. I want to know horrible disgusting things about Tourniquet. And I want you to come back triumphant with a hank of red-haired scalp and a fistful of freckles.”

“It’s just coffee.” Kevin protested.

“See? You’re not the only one who can blow stuff up. Third date though, if he survives, I want gore and souvenirs.”

Kevin grinned. “You got it.”

………………………

On Thursday when Carlos got home from the lab, Iggy Pop was roaring Search and Destroy through the living room and Cecil had up-ended their closet on the bed again.

Oh right... He remembered. Date night.

As Cecil bopped by with an armful of jackets, Carlos caught him by the waist. “Hey.” He spun him and gave him a kiss. “You’re letting him pick the clothes, right?”

“Are you suggesting I’m bossy?”

“Opinionated.”

Cecil smirked and nosed Carlos’s chin, asking for another peck. “I like that. Sounds sophisticated. And of course I’m letting him pick — we’ve been having fun.”

“How is he?”

“Terrified. But don’t let on.”

Carlos chuckled. “I was worried in a way.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know much about Earl. You don’t… Well…” He broke off.

“What?”

Carlos’s eyes shifted before returning to Cecil’s. “You don’t think it’s because he looks a little like you? I know how that sounds, but—“

Cecil didn’t scoff. “No. I know what you mean, but no. Earl’s not like that.”

Cecil was still swaying to the music and singing snatches as he came back in the bedroom. Was it silly that he was as excited by the date as Kevin was? Live vicariously. Why not?

But Kevin wasn’t bubbling along with the stereo anymore. Cecil found him dressed, but leaning forward close to the vanity mirror, it’s black drape pulled back and a hand over his cheek. Unnoticed, Cecil watched silently as Kevin parted his fingers until the long jagged slash was revealed, running puffy and white up his cheek to above his ear.

Kevin’s black eyes flicked up, catching Cecil’s reflection in the glass and he hastily began to tug the cover back over the mirror. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, no. Don’t be. You can use it of course.” Cecil patted Kevin’s arm and he swept the curtain back. But Kevin saw him avert his gaze as the rest of the glass was revealed.

“I don’t want to look anymore. I’m done with it.” Kevin slid the fabric over it. “It’s just — what did I do? Why? My face. I’m - I… God.” He swallowed and bit his lower lip grimacing. “I’m a mess.”

Cecil slipped an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “Are you nervous?”

“What could Earl think about this? Does he feel sorry for me?”

“He likes you.” Cecil said simply, giving him a squeeze. “Trust me. I don’t think he stayed at the pledge drive for an extra hour just for the sake of NVCR.” He chuckled. “Also, you should probably know, Earl sees scars as a badge of survival. If they make him feel anything about you, it’s not pity. It’s respect.”

Kevin took a deep breath, studying Cecil’s eyes. “It’s okay?”

The other nodded. “Try to relax and just have a good time. And honestly, mom covering the mirrors made me a lot happier I think. One less thing to worry about.”

...............................

Kevin stopped at the corner of Old Musk Drive and took a breath. He was glad he’d decided to walk. His nerves made it hard to think about driving, and just the thought of being dropped off by Cecil or Carlos made his face burn. He would have felt like an overgrown teenager in the weirdest possible way.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He told himself. The dark blue evening twilight and the quiet streets only lit by the yellow hum of mineral street lamps were still and calming. He took a few breaths watching night jars swoop in the lamp’s halo, catching the bugs the glow attracted.

It was only a block away. Did he leave too early? What if he got there before Earl and kept getting nervous while sitting alone where everyone could see him?

What was he doing?

There was a part of him that wanted to tuck tail and go home. Home. Back to familiar smells and voices… Carlos and Cecil would make room and open their arms, and it would be fine. He could text Earl an apologetic excuse. Everything would be fine.

But what might he be missing?

Something in him ached and twisted.

In his mind’s eye, he could see when Earl sat down at the microphone at the pledge drive. The desk lamp had been turned off, but even so, Earl had been mostly just a broad shouldered shadow with a friendly laugh. Kevin made out a little of his uniform, and could catch his cute manner of rubbing his hand over his hair, or the back of his neck and looking up when he was considering his answers to caller’s harder questions, but that was all he saw. The rest was just Earl, his voice, his words and manner.

And Tourniquet had been lovely, but with everything that was swirling in his broken head at the time, he only remembered snatches: Earl’s warm firm handshake, and the dim glimpse of his expression as he watched Cecil…

But then there was after his bug was returned, after he could see again. One night Kevin had run up to the studio to take Cecil dinner, and the chef was leaving from doing the latest installment of Cooking Stuff with Earl. He’d caught him, rump up, bowing and placing an appetizer plater of peyotespring rolls on the sacrificial stone outside management’s office.

“Ah, hello?”

“Oh hey, Kevin.” Earl smiled and straightened, dusting his hands down his apron.

Blinking up at him, Kevin was frozen for a moment. This was the first time he’d fully seen the freckled face and coppery red curls. They were the same color as Vanessa’s…

“Earl!" He finally managed,"It’s really good to see you! How did your spot go?”

... and Kevin found himself thinking about this little meeting for days afterwards.

And then he would crater with a weird heavy guilt...

The yawning ache in him stretched and groaned — it was impossible to put into words… It wanted Jacob back, refused to know logically that his absence was forever, and shamed him at the same time that it urged him towards Earl. For whatever reason, it spared him judgement with Carlos and Cecil. Maybe because his bond with them was formed at too low a point for even his subconscious to feel culpable? Maybe it was that Carlos’s resemblance, both physically and in personality, to Jacob was so eerily similar, the grief monster disdained it as low hanging fruit?

Kevin couldn’t tease it out, but the emptiness stretched bigger and the guilt pressed heavier, quickly following any moment his thoughts drifted to Earl’s smile or the ring of one red curl circling a freckle on the chef’s forehead.

Kevin blinked and glanced at his phone quickly. How long had he been stewing on the corner? It was a few minutes to seven.

“You’re okay.” He whispered, then smiled a little. “Vanessa? I’d sure like to see you again soon. Really. I think you’d find this pretty funny. Would you ever think I’d be afraid to go on a date?”

But he hadn’t seen his friend since the day he’d returned to Desert Bluffs, and now was no different.

“No? Okay. I’ll tell you about it later though, okay?”

Turning, he hurried towards the White Sands hoping he wouldn’t be late.

still to be continued...

Chapter Text

Earl was already at the White Sands, at a window table with a laptop and what looked like a few ledger sheets before him. When he saw Kevin, he immediately hopped up, practically tipping his chair, beaming.

“Hey. How are you? I’m glad you came.” He gestured to the table and pulled out a seat for Kevin.

“I’m good. Oh, are you working?” Kevin peered curiously at the dense columns of penciled numbers as he sat.

“Nah, nah.” Earl swept his papers aside. “Just had to finish up a little kitchen inventory stuff. The restaurant can keep me pretty busy, but it’s all done. No more boring tallies. Haha.”

Kevin smiled, but stopped himself from prying. It hadn’t looked boring to him… How did a restaurant know how much food to have on hand without wasting any?

After Lucy had taken their order, the two men looked at each other across the table. Earl started to open his mouth, then turned red and laughed. 

“You have to admit it if I’m right, okay? You work in radio. Do you have a list of date interview questions to resort to in situations like this?”

“Ah, no.” Kevin pursed his lips apologetically, smiling shyly.

“So my bet was wrong.”

“We call them talking points.”

“So I was right.” Earl grinned.

“I should thank you again for staying so long at the pledge drive. Without your segment, I doubt I would have had enough quality air time to get Sarah Sultan’s attention.”

“Oh that. It was fun. I miss the Scouts. It made me feel good that so many people were interested in the natural areas around here. A lot of people think the desert is a brutal wasteland — but I’ve always thought it was beautiful. You just have to look a little closer, you know?”

Earl caught Kevin’s eyes as he said this, and looked so open and ernest as he uttered ‘beautiful’, the other found himself nodding along. Truth be told, thinking to much about nebulous open desert made threads of panic begin to pulse through Kevin, but if he shifted that to thinking about the very specific familiar area around the wind turbine farm, he could see what Earl might find beautiful.

From here, Kevin’s worry began to melt, and the pair talked easily, hashing over the pledge drive, and Earl even telling him a little about Roger.

“So we agree, he can have a pet. And I’m thinking, he’ll want a dog, right? You know what he brings home?”

“A pony?” Kevin hoped.

“A box turtle that got hit by a car.”

“Oh no! Poor Roger! Did it live?”

“And then some. She eats restaurant scraps. This may be the only reptile that gets morel and cremini mushrooms on a regular basis.”

Kevin grinned.

Lucy brought their drinks and dishes of ice cream: gingered prickly pear with candied piñon nuts, which led to Kevin gushing about the evening at Tourniquet. “Cecil said that menu you created — he recognized you were coming up with things from his past. All of it was so good!”

Earl rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and twiddled his spoon with the other. “Oh, well…” He looked awkwardly at the table cloth, and almost seemed to pale a little. “I had been worried about him.”

This felt like a misstep to Kevin. Crap. Why did he bring up Cecil?

“Earl?”

“Look, I hope he didn’t read anything weird into that.” The chef gave him a sheepish raised eyebrow glance. “Or that you aren’t right now. I was just being nostalgic. It’s a small town — a lot smaller than Desert Bluffs. But you know how it is. Almost any social thing always feels a little like you're stepping on toes or neck deep in each other’s business…”

“Well, about that…” Kevin faltered. “I mean, Cecil’s fine. And I think he took it as you meant, as a nostalgic gesture. But, I ah…”

Earl met his eyes curiously and Kevin had to look away.

“What’s up?”

“I want to be totally upfront, and I—“ Oh god. He had screwed up. He could feel the blood draining from his face and his mouth going dry as he realized he had absolutely no idea how to phrase what he wanted to say to Earl. Only a minute ago they’d been having a good time talking about Roger and pets and mushrooms. Why couldn’t he have left it alone until a second date?

Because he couldn’t bear the thought of worrying about it that long and somewhere in their chatting his mind had resolved that a second date would be welcome, hoped for even…

“Kevin?” Earl was still waiting. “What is it?” He caught his gaze again. Was that encouragement, or a wish that he wasn’t about to hear something really awful?

Kevin swallowed a thick dry lump. “I, ah, I-I want you to know… Carlos and Cecil. They saved my life. But it’s not just gratitude…”

“Or Stockholm syndrome?” Earl cracked, offering Kevin a wry smile.

Strangely, the levity helped. “Maybe?” Kevin laughed with a little gasp. “It’s… It’s very hard for me to explain how close I feel to them.” He managed, searching Earl’s face with a little hope and a lot of worry.

The chef’s gaze didn’t falter. If anything it looked even more fond.

“What?” Kevin blurted. “Please say something.”

“Did you know Cecil and I were friends as very young kids? Waaaay back… Grade school, not just high school and Weird Scouts.” Earl smiled.

“I didn’t know…”

“Not all of our history has to do with missteps dating.”

Kevin tilted his head to the side, blinking black round eyes, totally at a loss. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you don’t have to try to explain to me how you feel about Cecil or Carlos. I know you love them. I asked you out because I enjoyed talking to you at the pledge drive, and you’re… Well.” The redhead looked down a moment, an abashed grin creeping across his face. He huffed a laugh and straightened to look in Kevin’s eyes. “I’m still enjoying talking to you. You don’t haveto share anything with me you don’t want to. Okay?” Earl slipped his hand across the table and placed it along the side of Kevin’s that was jittering against the table cloth. He didn’t grab or cover Kevin’s hand, but at the invitation of this steady touch, Kevin’s fingers stilled and leaned softly against his.

“The age group you’re teaching at the community college… I bet some of them were my scouts. Who’s in your class?”

Kevin’s eyes lit up. “Let’s see, there’s …

............................

Later, out on the sidewalk, Kevin realized that he’d been eagerly telling Earl about his work and his students, and the other just laughed and kept prompting him for more as he began to walk him home. “Anyway. Our old internship program made me wonder if I’d enjoy teaching, but I never would have guessed I’d end up doing it full time.”

“Sometimes you just fall into it. I didn’t have any choice as Scoutmaster, but I loved it.”

Kevin smiled. “This was a lot of fun, Earl.” He glanced over his shoulder realizing they were already at the apartment courtyard gate.

“So… My work schedule is getting busier, and I won’t know my days or nights off until later in the week…”

Kevin swallowed. Was that an excuse? Oh god. Was Earl bowing out?

“Maybe Wed. Thursday at the latest. But when I know, could I call you again?”

Beaming, Kevin nodded. “I’d like that.”

The chef grinned.

to be continued...

Chapter Text

Friday:

“Vanessa?”

It was about 7 am the next morning. Kevin turned and firmly closed the sound proof door to the student radio broadcast booth.

“Still not talking to me? I hope you will soon, and I know you will want to hear about this!”

Empty air hung in front of him as he sat in booth chair and swiveled to face the door. All the lights on the control board were dark, which told him the mic, the booth were silent too.

“So, I went on the date.” He began, feeling a smile curl the corners of his mouth, despite himself. “I know. I know. I’m sure you’re wondering just what Tabitha was wondering, or what anyone might be wondering — why would I do that?” Kevin pulled up to the dead mic and looked across the broadcast desk to the other chair, the one waiting for a co-broadcaster or a guest to interview.

He could see the flicker of his own movement reflected in the booth window, but no other sign of life. “And you know, that’s a puzzle. Isn’t it?” His bright smile faltered a little as he cocked his head. “Almost as puzzling as why… As why I would very much like to talk to you right now.”

Kevin swallowed thickly.

He turned away from the empty chair and window. “We had a good time. Cecil and Carlos seemed happy I went. If I’m honest, I do think Cecil expected me to chicken out, but he was kind enough not to say so. They have been so good to me, Vanessa, and they want me to feel independent and whole. It makes it harder — I-I wish you were here still Vanessa. We could talk to each other about funny things like this. Carlos and Cecil, well, how can you talk about relationships with the someones you are in a relationship with? I mean, other than talking about that relationship— the one you’re in with them… Does that even make sense? And Tabitha, I think she’s scared of dating so she just teases me. Not in a bad way, of course. I think you’d like her. But still.”

He scrubbed his sleeve across his eyes awkwardly and sighed. “I know this isn’t your fault. I’m sure it’s mechanical, isn’t it? You would be here with me if you could just as I would be wherever you are with you if I could.” He looked up at the ceiling. “If it’s mechanical, maybe we can fix it? So many things have been fixed for me… I will ask the man who does my checkup each week. How does that sound?”

He smiled, blinking hopefully up into the empty booth.

Still, no one answered.

Hanging his head, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Desert Bluffs wasn’t all bad. You know that, Vanessa. But people here, as wonderful as they are, they don’t know that. They didn’t experience that, or me, before what happened. You were there. You were the one person I had from home, and I couldn’t even appreciate that for the short time I had you here and I was myself again. I-I miss you so much.”

“Listen to me being silly when I have so much to be thankful for…” He sniffed looking up at the clock approaching 8 am. “I have to teach my class now, but we can talk some more later, alright?”

…………………….

Monday:

Carlos looked down at the two in bed with him. It was almost time to get up if he still wanted to squeeze in a jog, but Kevin didn’t have class today and Cecil never needed to rise before noon unless he wanted to, so Carlos would be doing his best to slip out of bed without disturbing them. Kevin was on his side, nuzzled up against Carlos’s middle. Cecil was spooning him from behind, top arm thrown around him and both their fingers laced together.

The scientist brushed a lock of hair from Kevin’s eyes and let his hand gently stroke over his crown. Kevin’s mouth worked a little, but otherwise he didn’t stir.

For a while, the scientist had wondered if it would be a passing thing: Kevin and Cecil latching onto one another like a couple of koalas. The close contact something reassuring for Kevin after all the loss and grief, but ultimately temporary.

But it didn’t pass.

One theory Carlos entertained for a while had to do with the uncanny similarities between Cecil and Kevin. Cecil was naturally demonstratively affectionate, so wouldn’t it follow…?

But there was no logical reason for there to be any link or similarity between the two, other than that weird Night Vale urban legend about doubles that started after the sand storm. And there was a much more obvious explanation right in front of him.

Grief doesn’t pass or vanish.

What Kevin had lost wouldn’t be coming back. He could learn to cope and rebuild, but the enormous hole would still be there. It was part of him now. And its reflection was this: given the opportunity to touch, to be held, loved, reassured, Kevin would always happily, gratefully, greedily melt into he or Cecil’s arms.

He’d asked Cecil once if it bothered him that when he’d wanted Carlos back from the otherworld desert so bad, he didn’t just get Carlos. Really they’d hardly had a private moment…

“It would have been fine if I hadn’t known. But I did know, so to me I just gained two to love after such a long absence. It was almost like the universe was making up for things a bit.”

And that was when Carlos realized the worries were just his old ideas of intimacy and jealousy —he was putting them off on Cecil. And he couldn’t feel any real resentment. Not when he looked at Kevin. Not when he watched him plow into his new job, work to fit into a new town, make friends. Introverted Carlos was terrified to do those things, though he’d never admit it. At the end of the day, when he put his arms around the smaller man nestling against him, what he frequently felt wasn’t pity or jealousy, but awe.

Presently, Cecil stretched in his sleep, his hand slipping from Kevin’s as he simply clasped the other man around the waist. Kevin’s empty hand spread against Carlos’s belly and the scientist felt him sigh contentedly into his ribs.

He let his hand drift down to stroke the other's hair again and decided to forego the jog.

Also, had Earl actually made that second date yet? Did this guy have any clue what he was getting into or who he was fooling with? Did Carlos need to have a word with him?

……………………………….

Wednesday:

“Look, I know it’s not ideal, but I’d really like to see you this week. I mean, more than you watching,” Earl gestured sheepishly to the radio booth window, “the broadcast.”

Kevin and Carlos had run dinner over to the studio for Cecil and stayed to watch Earl finish up a new cooking segment on Baked Nova Scotia and how to butterfly a cucumber. There were still a few loose cucumbers cowering under the soundboard and clinging to the ceiling.

Over the weekend after their date, much to Kevin (and Carlos and Cecil’s) relief, Earl had both called and texted. But the couple’s future plans got put on indefinite hold when two key members of the kitchen staff contracted throat spiders and the restaurant was left short-handed…

…Now Earl had just invited Kevin to Tourniquet while he worked, offering him dinner at the end of the bar where he could see into the open kitchen and Earl could sneak out to visit in the ebb and flow of orders. “And Sunday we could go out just the two of us. Would that be too boring for a dinner date in the meantime? To keep me company at work?”

The chef rubbed the back of his neck, then straightened, not wanting to look anxious. He felt like this sounded like a much lamer idea now that he’d said it aloud. Also, Cecil and Carlos doing a crappy job of pretending not to watch every moment of this from the booth wasn’t helping…

But Kevin was lost in thinking about the bustling kitchen, the crowded dining room and how seamless and beautiful it was when perfectly crafted drinks and delicacies magically appeared before each patron. And he thought about Earl, his broad shoulders bent at the plating station, the other cooks and prep workers taking his orders, following his lead so quick and efficient even as they did a myriad of varied tasks.

Earl wanted to let him watch him work. The idea of a front row seat to all that… to observe the orchestration, the productivity…

His breath hitched at the very notion.

“Oh no, Earl. I’d love that. How many tables does Tourniquet serve during dinner rush?”

The red head relaxed, teeth flashing in an abashed grin. “Excellent. It’ll be great. Uh, dinner rush… Huh. I’m not up on the exact numbers of like Friday or Saturday though—“

“A median average?” Piped Kevin hopefully.

Earl was baffled. What on earth did kitchen output have to do with—? Then his freckles colored into a single russet pool across his nose as he finally caught on. “Oh, oh…” Confidence bolstered, his gaze found and held the curious black eyes. “You know, I think it’s a lot. A lot. I’m going to find out that median average for you.” His hand slid around Kevin’s and his thumb stroked firmly across the other’s palm. “Maybe even kitchen AND bar numbers for a month. Maybe even broken down by quarter.”

Hypnotized, Kevin blinked back with a little helpless gasp. “I’d be… Oh, I’d be very curious.”

Was Earl going to kiss him? What color would you call his eyes? Were all chef’s hands so warm and calloused and stout? And why was he grinning at him like that?

The next thing Kevin knew, Earl leaned over and pecked his cheek then drew back to wink at him.

Kevin liked winking.

“Friday then?”

Speechless, Kevin just nodded eagerly.

“Can’t wait.”

And still to be continued...

Chapter Text

Earl had been texting Kevin little notes about Friday all week. It was hard to call with their different work hours, but when they did manage to get on the phone together, Kevin couldn’t get anything more than hints out of him.

“It’ll be a big big night. Something LaShawn and I have been thinking of for a while.”

He hadn’t mentioned the weekend numbers again, much to Kevin’s disappointment. But he seemed to be going on about ingredients, which meant inventory, so that made him a little hopeful the mysterious inner clockwork of Tourniquet would be revealed eventually... And Earl wanted to surprise him! Something about ‘farm to table’ and ‘hoof to snout’ eating, which, while Kevin understood these were very popular buzzwords, he hadn’t explored in detail what exactly they meant. Didn’t all food come from a farm before it headed over to the factory for processing?

There was still no sign of Vanessa, and on Friday afternoon he got snatched by the SSP for his exam as soon as he set foot off campus.

God. Would they make him late? Should he ask about her and possibly open up a much longer session tonight? Sitting on the jump seat in the back of the van, he fidgeted, debating how to handle this. Vanessa would understand if he waited, right?

Finally, he itched his nose through the black hood over his head and cleared his throat. “You know I hate to ask,” He began sheepishly.

“What’s up, Mr. K?”

“Do you think you could see if maybe tonight could go just a teensy bit quicker?”

“Why? You got a hot date?” The officer elbowed him playfully.

“Actually, yes. At Tourniquet.”

Mentioning the restaurant was a bad move. Apparently no one on the City Council’s payroll, save the council members themselves, could afford a table there, so the SSPO’s had a pretty bitter case of sour grapes.

“Imaginary street corn? Does it get any more pretentious?”

“My sister said they pantomime their cheesecake.”

“Yeah? I heard they have a beer you can only experience as an ultraviolet color.”

“What do you want with that junk, Mr K? You should join us when we go to Rico’s. At least most of their menu is tangible”

In the end though, once Kevin made it to the research facility, he was so antsy he kept squirming and screwing up the scans. The beta researcher finally got so irritated he’d thrown him out without even any censored notes for Carlos. Kevin hoped he wasn’t still angry by their next appointment when he planned to circle back to asking about looking for Vanessa.

Pitched out on Somerset, he dusted himself off and ran home to change.

...........................

Since he knew Earl would be working, Kevin didn’t go overboard on dressing up. Despite Cecil’s clear lack of enthusiasm for his costume choice, Kevin wore one of his nicer conservative jackets he used for school meetings and only made it a little flashier with a gold tie. He even took his satchel to look over some student work so he wouldn’t feel at loose ends with Earl occupied.

When he arrived, the host immediately showed him to a seat at the far end of the massive black bar, closest to the kitchen. It was about 6:30, early by the restaurant’s standards, and while only a few dinner guests had arrived, the kitchen and dining room was thrumming with activity. Prep cooks were lined up slicing and trimming purple and orange root vegetables, and mincing an array of fragrant herbs: sage, pennyroyal and monk’s hood. A whip thin woman expertly slivered a white parsnip into a garnish shaped like a weeping willow. The waitstaff slipped quickly from table to table in the dining room, lighting small candles and setting out bowls of gold field flowers, a mix ofpurslane, calendula and nasturtiums.

It was beautiful to watch and Kevin was fascinated. He panned the kitchen, trying to take it all in. Now a short stout woman in full apron was hoisting a length of chain from a pulley on the ceiling — Kevin supposed it was some sort of pot rack — while a man, also aproned and in big rubber boots rinsed down a section of the tiled floor that sloped to a drain. That was awfully convenient! It must make cleaning a snap.

The monocled, eye-patched bartender, who Earl had told Kevin was a ‘mixologist’ set down a smoking tumbler glass of pale amber juice in front of him. Kevin smiled in thanks and took a curious sip. It tasted like starfruit and dandelions, with just a slight garden loam aftertaste to counter the sweetness.

“Oh… That’s so good.” Kevin nodded, sighing. “Wow. So good…” The amazing flavor had short circuited his vocabulary momentarily.

A full ten seconds later a sudden rapidly expanding warmth in his middle told him it was also amazingly deceptively potently, alcoholic. Once the mixologist wasn’t looking, Kevin quietly pushed the drink away, hoping it wouldn’t eat through its glass. He took a sip of water and looked back to the kitchen.

Where was Earl?

“They’re here?” A familiar voice boomed. “Get that bay open for them!”

“Yes Chef!”

Kevin beamed and spotted the red head at last by the saucier near the back wall. Here were twin loading doors being rolled open and Kevin could make out the rear of an idling truck. A large wooden crate was forklifted down amid cheers from the staff and a frantic scrabbling sound. Several of the prep cooks surrounded it and a busboy quickly brought over crow bars for them.

“Kevin!” Earl hurried over, flushed with excitement. He pecked his cheek. “I’m so glad you got to come tonight!” He straightened, giving Kevin an eager lop-sided grin as he kept glancing back to the kitchen. “This is a totally new ingredient for Tourniquet.”

“What is it?” Kevin craned over Earl’s shoulder curiously as the staff began to pry open the crate.

“I mentioned the ‘snout to tail’ philosophy? It’s the idea that every part of the animal can and should be used. Nothing wasted.” Earl gushed, stepping aside so Kevin had a clear view. “And farm to table is a way of reconnecting with the knowledge of just where one’s food comes from. Tonight will be our foray into combining the two!”

Kevin was only half listening. The cooks had gotten the crate open and had drug out a fat black animal about the size of a yearling pig. It had short black hair covering a chubby jelly-bean shaped body that was dashed and dotted with white spots like a baby deer. It’s feet were flat with four heavily nailed splayed toes and draped over the end of its long pig-shaped head was a short, fat, prehensile trunk. “But Earl… What is that?”

“It’s a tapir!” Earl beamed. “Like I said, we’re breaking ground with new ingredients. The plan tonight is to go Southern soul-food themed. Ribs, jowls, cracklins, tapir knuckles… By Sunday we should have sausage and a good start on the hocks in the smoker.”

Both the animal and Kevin looked at the chain hanging from the ceiling and the rinsed floor with confusion and then with crystalline understanding.

This wasn’t just a kitchen. It was an abattoir.

Hearing the sing-sing of a knife being whetted, the animal began backing into its crate, but two of the cooks, chuckling, caught its front legs and tugged it forward.

Suddenly Kevin couldn’t find the warmth of his sip of booze from earlier. He felt dizzy-sick as his hands went cold and his mouth dry.

“Earl. You can’t — or rather, you can, but--" The chef looked down at Kevin, who had begun to babble. “It’s not that I don’t know where burgers and bacon come from, I do, but it’s not entertainment! Oh god. Please. I don’t want to see this! You can’t… I-I-I—“ A hiccuping sob escaped Kevin.

The animal answered it, and the smaller man scrambled, trying to push past Earl into the kitchen.

Earl took his shoulders and firmly sat him back onto the bar stool, with a look of concern. As he read Kevin's panicked face, all the wind went out of his sails. “Crap.” He muttered, going crimson and hanging his head.  He’d been so full of himself, so focused on showing off; between the Scouts and his work with LaShawn, he knew had quick clean butcher skills — all the staff admired them. But he hadn’t taken into account his audience here tonight. Not at all.

Kevin bit his lip, watching Earl, but his eyes were also darting to the kitchen to judge if maybe he could dash for the crate.

Earl saw this and fixed him with a stern look…

Then straightened and turned to the staff giving an ear-piercing whistle.

They all froze—

—And waited.

“Plot twist!” Earl announced. “Tonight we’re going vegetarian!”

“YES CHEF!”

Kevin stared, blinking in shock as the everyone seamlessly shifted gears. Earl put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, a silent apology.

“But… Your big menu plans?” Kevin’s voice was shaky.

Earl rubbed his shoulder and held out the amber colored drink. “I like a challenge. Besides, I can pretend I’m on ‘So You Think You Should Cook’.”

Kevin took a healthy slug and gave Earl a grateful smile. “You’d better get to work.”

…………………..

“Okay. So Sunday. I swear, Scout’s honor, no showing off. No crazy crowded restaurant.”

Earl was walking Kevin home and holding his hand, which thankfully was no longer cold or shaky. Kevin’s free hand gripped a makeshift leash on the tapir, which tugged them along.

“And definitely no, um…” Earl waved at the animal awkwardly.

“Knife skills demonstrations?”

“Right. Definitely none of that. Just you and me and a nice quiet normal date.”

Kevin smiled and squeezed his hand.

“And maybe some of those receipt numbers you were curious about.” Earl added with a sideways glance and grin.

Still smiling, Kevin pursed his lips thoughtfully. He tipped his chin at the tapir. “What happens to her?”

“Oh. Well, technically she belongs to La Shawn. But look at that nose. Maybe we can teach her to truffle?”

Kevin snickered a little. “But will… Will he still butcher her?” His voice was soft.

“After his core clientele fed her their table flowers and cooed over her? No way. A lot of food presentation is context — on the plate or off. I really forgot that planning tonight.”

They arrived at the apartment gate again and Earl looked down awkwardly, trying not to fidget and chewing his bottom lip. Kevin watched curiously, then realized he hadn’t actually answered Earl about Sunday. Well. This was a bit delicious… He waited, keeping his smile in check.

“So, uh,” The chef finally coughed and straightened up. “We’re still on for Sunday then?” Earl forced himself to look Kevin in the eyes, his face going completely scarlet. “I am so sorry about tonight. I had my head up my ass…”

“Of course we are.” Kevin watched relief wash over the chef’s face. “What were you thinking we could do?”

“Nothing crazy. A walk through Old Town? Maybe a picnic in Mission Grove? Something like that.”

Kevin let his smile return at last. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He held up a finger. “One condition.” Peeking over Earl’s shoulder, he saw the apartment lights were still on.

Earl’s eyebrows raised askance.

“We go up to the door with this thing and tell Cecil and Carlos we brought them leftovers.”

Earl grinned. “You’re on. What do I get if I convince Cecil to lick it?"

"I'll let you know Sunday."

Chapter Text

It took some convincing to get Cecil to relinquish the tapir.  Carlos simply stood by with a knowing smirk watching as Earl and Kevin tried to desperately back track on their joke and explain that she belonged to LaShawn: They had brought a live baby animal to Cecil Palmer’s doorstep and no amount of awe of Tourniquet would fool him into thinking she was a doggie bag item. In a nanosecond he’d rattled off a dozen possible name ideas, asked what she ate and dressed her with the Burberry scarf Erika Vanston had sent him. (Which did coordinate nicely with the creature’s spots.)

In the end though, Kevin managed to explain, and Cecil tried his best to conceal his disappointment. He helped find an old leash from his dog that had passed away, and then, because Carlos seemed so amused, gave her one of the scientist’s belts to use as a collar so Earl didn’t have to walk her with just the butcher’s twine from the restaurant.

“Sunday?” Earl winked at Kevin as the animal tugged him away from the door.

“Sunday.” Kevin agreed, waving.

When the chef was out of sight, Kevin finally closed the door.

Later, getting into bed, Kevin found Cecil’s hand under the covers, laced their fingers together and squeezed. It must have been the up and down excitement of the night, but he was tired and glad for snug warmth and soft lowered voices.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Mm hmm.”

“What’s Sunday then? Another date?”

“Cecil. Give him some space.” Carlos reached over Kevin and swatted his partner lightly with the paper he’d been reading. Kevin yawned and nestled against him.

“Fine. Fine.” Cecil relented, “Carlos?”

“Hm?”

“You like dogs, right?”

..............................................

“I just think it’s ridiculous.” Cecil growled into the phone. 

It was Saturday afternoon and Kevin had gone to pick up Tabitha from work. It had taken him six weeks to complete all the necessary forms, oaths, burnt offerings and advanced parallel parking tests to get the Night Vale DMV to reissue a driver’s license to him, and ever since he never passed up an excuse to borrow Carlos’s car. Carlos and Cecil on the other hand, had been having a lazy day at home…  …Until Cecil’s phone rang.

Carlos looked up from his laptop to the kitchen where his boyfriend was pacing, cell gripped in a white-knuckled fist.

“And anyway, how is it any of his or your business? No, Abby, you’re the one letting him drag Janice into it!”

Oh boy. Carlos winced. 

Steve and Abby’s anniversary was coming up, which meant Cecil expected to have Janice stay with them for that weekend. But current circumstances being what they were…. The scientist had been dreading navigating this, but it sounded like Cecil had plunged right in.

“Is that what he says? And you’re going along with it?” Cecil struggled to keep his voice even, but still, a strident edge was creeping in. “Maybe you should tell him to look at the evidence in front of him.  He could meet him. He could speak to him. Oh really? And where did he get that information? More floating blueprints in the air?  Abby, please don’t —“

Carlos caught his eye and gave Cecil a questioning look. His boyfriend looked helplessly back, then spun, yanking the phone away from his head as though it had burned him. 

“We are not BOTH being unreasonable!” Cecil yelled down at the receiver from arm’s length. “HE’S the one being unreasonable — AS USUAL!”

Stifling a groan, the radio host flung his cell into an armchair and collapsed on the couch by Carlos, beating his head into a pillow a few times in pure frustration.

The scientist set a tentative hand on Cecil’s shoulder, and waited.

“That Steve Carlsberg…” Cecil muttered. “I just… Gaaaah!”

Carlos squeezed his shoulder and rubbed. Heaving a sigh, Cecil shook his head like someone trying to wake up. 

“He won’t listen. He says he won’t let her come over anymore. Not just the weekend — Ever.”

Carlos nodded, and kept rubbing. “We’ll keep working on him. We’ll figure something out.”

..............................................

Kevin flipped through a box of used vinyl keeping one eye on Michelle as he waited for Tabitha to finish counting down her drawer.  Right now the store owner was muttering to herself while rewiring an enormous Moog synthesizer. Flipping down a welding visor, she attached jumper cables to a couple knobs resulting in an arcing blue bolt bursting a row of the overhead lights and sending a couple of Dark Owl’s ghosts diving through the floor for the quiet of the basement.  Apparently this was what she wanted — pushing her visor back, she surveyed the now cleared smoking aisle with a satisfied sneer. Swallowing, Kevin tucked his head back down and kept leafing through LPs.

“Find any keepers?” The goth sidled up to him at last, shouldering her backpack.

“Oh lots,” He laughed. “But Cecil and Carlos don’t have a turntable.”

“Huh. And you said Cecil had some of the oldest sound equipment you’d ever seen.”

“Since college, yes.” Kevin nodded. “But for music he went totally digital. Maybe I’ll buy us one.”  He looked up as Michelle sparked a flint tinder and her blowtorch glowed hissing to life. “Ah, maybe later. Are you ready to go?”

Tabitha snickered. “You do know she’s all bark, right?”

“So… What are you two doing tomorrow then?” 

She’d been quiet as he described his evening at Tourniquet while driving her out to her apartment in the Barista District, only choking back a laugh at Earl suggesting he could get Cecil to lick the tapir.

“Oh, I don’t know yet.” Kevin shrugged sheepishly. “It’s a surprise.” He added brightly.

“Sunshine? If you don’t mind my saying, you don’t seem exactly eager for more surprises right now.”

Kevin didn’t say anything, but forced a little laugh.

“It’s okay.” She told him. “It should be fun exciting, not ‘where’s the Xanax’ exciting, yeah? That’s okay. You could just ask him — he might even be glad.”

“Well yes. I know what you mean… But it’s not like that. He understood about the restaurant silliness.” Kevin’s hand fluttered dismissively off the steering wheel. “He did. And he said we’d do something quiet and normal on Sunday, like a walk or a picnic.”

He could feel her studying him as he drove, but stayed quiet.

“Okay. But would you feel better if you knew?”

Kevin frowned. “But then it wouldn’t be a surprise. It wouldn’t be as…” He trailed off, unsure.

“Romantic?” Tabitha snorted and elbowed him.

He pushed her arm back. “No. Well, maybe. Okay, yes. And…  I… I want to trust Earl.” He concluded.

“Fair enough.” Tab nodded. “But if you’re just getting to know each other, he might need some more information. Some suggestions or guidance? Josie aside, most people aren’t psychic.”

Kevin considered this. “That would be more fair. Not make him make all the plans?”

“Something to think about. Thanks for the ride.” She punched his shoulder playfully before climbing out. “Monday. Lunch. Gory details.”

His smile returned. “For you, the very worst.”

..............................................

Kevin opted to drive on Sunday, and picked up Earl around dusk. “Where’s Roger?” He peered into the foyer of the Harlan house curiously, wondering if there was a babysitter or if he’d get to meet him.

“Over at the Carlsberg’s.” Earl loaded a hamper and rolled blanket into the back seat. “He and Janice — you’ve met Cecil’s niece? Anyway, they’re Scouting buddies. Thick as thieves.”

Kevin smiled. He hadn’t met Janice yet, but the apartment was littered with photos of her and Cecil gushed about her, so he was sure when school let out and there was more free time…

“Where are we going?”

“Well, you seemed to like the picnic idea, right? How about you drive, I’ll give directions and we’ll see how long it takes you to guess.”

After taking an exit off route 800, it was fully dark and Kevin still had no clue where they were headed. He watched the lights of town grow smaller in the rearview as a couple ghost cars whooshed past them.

“Just a little farther.” Earl assured him.

“Okay.” Kevin smiled. But in truth, his heart was hammering to see buildings give way to empty open desert. He hadn’t anticipated this… This feeling…

 The only other time he’d left town since he’d arrived was with Cecil and Carlos the day they’d taken him to the wind turbines and back to Desert Bluffs. Now he wasn’t in a fog of pain killers and seizure medicine. He wasn’t bundled between his partners. He was fine and sharp and healthy and every ounce of his gut instinct and every nerve he possessed was on edge telling him this was reckless and very much a Bad Idea.

“Right here.” Earl pointed ahead and Kevin slowed and turned down a black top drive mottled with blown over drifts of white sand.

Ahead, Kevin could see the criss cross under scaffolding of pier beam supports, rows of concession stands on a raised boardwalk and a dark ferris wheel towering over it. “You know about the waterfront recreation area, right?  You can see it from campus.”

“Oh. Sure.” Kevin nodded quickly hoping Earl didn’t notice how jerky and wooden he felt.

“It’s the best star gazing and picnic spot.  Just outside of the the city lights and a nice big viewing platform.” Earl pointed to an area under the boardwalk. “Head right over there. We can park by the stairs.”

Knowing where he was let the anxiety abate a bit. Everyone knew this place, even if they didn’t acknowledge it publicly. And it was a solid tangible structure, right on the edge of town. Linking arms with Earl and climbing the creaking plank steps to the boardwalk, he could see the line of lights that made up Night Vale. The city was just there. It was fine.

But when he turned back to the main view — the view of the non existent waterfront — he was met with a vast horizon of black empty desert, just like the one he’d been lost in before… He swallowed and glanced back at the city lights, then angled himself towards them like a compass as he helped Earl spread the blanket and unpack the hamper.

After a moment or two, Kevin managed to calm again. It was still early and there were lots of cars on 800. The roar of them was a nice reminder of people and activity. A Night Vale school bus of hooting jocks and marching band members rattled past with whoops and cheers.

Earl grinned. “We must have won.”

Kevin smiled and turned his attention to the food. There were finger sandwiches with rainbow layers of paper thin sliced vegetables and an herbed something or other spread, a colorful bean salad and a dish of fat berries with honey-lime dressing.

“I made it all vegan.” Earl explained, pouring iced tea into tin camp mugs. “This is a cashew spread. I hope that’s okay.”

“It looks wonderful.” Kevin breathed, startled at how good this made him feel. Whether or not Kevin would or could eat meat wasn’t the point. Earl was fine with Kevin either way, but he liked and respected his gentle side. “This was so thoughtful of you.”

After the meal, Earl spotted a shooting star and eagerly cleared the blanket to stretch out on his back for a better vantage. He patted the spot beside him and offered Kevin his hand.

By now the road noise had quieted, which Kevin missed, but he took Earl’s hand and settled beside him, before curiously looking up into the black. From this vantage, all ground fell away: there was only the edge of Earl’s form beside him and a vast gulf of distant glittering stars in the void above.

“Oh. Oh my.”

“You can say that again.”

“There’s way too many.”

“You’ve got a quota? A limit?”

“I mean to count.”

“Of course.”

“It’s like we’re going to fall in it.”

“We aren’t going to fall in it.”

“You say that, but Cecil and Carlos have both told me you’ve lost gravity here before.”

“Okay. Maybe. But not right now. Not because we looked up. Do you know the constellations?”

Kevin shook his head.

Earl pointed and leaned over so Kevin could sight down his arm. “It’s good to start with the north star in this hemisphere. Polaris. You can use it for direction and to get your bearings. Then the Big Dipper…”

Kevin did his best to listen, but just thinking about directional orientation from the stars made him think of being lost. Of pain and a sky of stars that changed every night or blinked out into black for endless hours. He shivered and squeezed Earl’s hand feeling his chest tighten. 

The Scoutmaster seemed to take this as an invitation, because he scooted closer and lowered his voice. “Do you hear that? That low tone?”

“It’s like a violin warming up.” Kevin began to take deep measured breaths, trying to force the lost fear down and be back in the moment again…

“Those are camel crickets. We’re the only area that has a variety that sings.” 

Earl’s thumb was rubbing over Kevin’s knuckles making him aware suddenly that in focusing on breathing, he hadn’t noticed his hand tightening on Earl’s poor fingers. “They’re lovely.” He managed, loosening his grip and tucking his curled hand into Earl’s palm. Another deep breath. It’s okay… But the scent of the cooling desert sand and the yawning dark at his feet, the edging creeping reminders of the otherworld desert, the emptiness was prickling into his head…

No.

Breathe.

Focus. Don’t let Earl notice.

“They also taste pretty good campfire roasted.”

Kevin giggled, he feared a little hysterically. “Ew. You eat bugs?” Untangling his hand he swatted the chef’s shoulder playfully.

Earl rolled on his side and grabbed Kevin’s fingers to stop another possible smack. “Yeah. Probably not the best thing to admit to someone I’d really like to kiss.”

“Oh—“ Kevin hiccuped and tried to smile through the anxiety. “I ah,” He managed a laugh and as Earl leaned in closer, he felt the full drop and flood of a panic attack take him.

“Hey.” Earl stopped and sat up, bringing Kevin by the hand and spreading a palm on his shoulder. “You okay? You’re shaking.”

“It. It’s a little chilly.” Kevin stuttered and forced a laugh.

“Oh, man.” Earl’s face fell with concern and he put his arms around him. “Here. Is this okay? Better?”

“Mmhm.” Kevin managed to nod into Earl’s chest, relieved that up against him like this, the other couldn’t see his face.

Earl rubbed his arms briskly and squeezed him into a bear hug. “Wow. You did get cold. I’m so used to the temperature drop — I forget sometimes.” He chuckled. “Let’s get back. We can get coffee or something hot and warm up.”

Sitting in a quiet booth of the Moonlight All Night Diner, Kevin stared in pure relief at the buzzing fluorescents and the little knot of SSPO’s drinking coffee and joking with the waitress at the counter. Muzak. Wonderful, bland Muzak hummed gently in the background.

Hot chocolate sat in front of him, also welcome, but untouched.

As the adrenalin drop hit, he slumped against the vinyl cushion of the bench seat wearily and took a deep tremulous breath.

Earl, sipping coffee, studied this quietly. “Kevin?”

“Hm?”

“Is this better?”

“Much.”

“Because it’s warmer?” The corner of Earl’s mouth crooked up a little suspiciously.

Straightening, Kevin bit his lip and and avoided Earl’s eyes.

“Okay. What just happened? Was that… That wasn’t because I was about to kiss you was it?” Earl whispered this last bit, leaning over the table, face beet red and looking genuinely hurt.

“No! Oh merciful old gods no! Please no.” Kevin covered his face and dropped his head in shame.

“Then what?”

“I didn’t know it was going to happen and I didn’t want it to be a big deal… But when we got out of town and there was just miles and miles of desert…” He grimaced and hung his head again.

“I scared you again?”

“Not you. The empty space.” He shook his head. “It kept making me think about—“ He didn’t finish.

It began to fall into place for Earl. “Like a flashback? And you were trying to act normal?”

Kevin swallowed and nodded.

“Has that happened before?”

“No. But it’s not like I’ve pushed the limits trying to go out places like that. I - I guess I do feel better, and well, safer, with houses and air conditioning, and lovely electric lights… It’s ah — scary when I can’t see any sign of another person around.” He admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No… I was being thick again. I didn’t think about what happened to you — that was my mistake. How you feel about it, that’s totally understandable. God. Man. I’m batting zero here, aren’t I? First the butcher thing and then I take you to open empty desert.” Earl rubbed his neck awkwardly and hung his head.

Kevin reached over and took his wrist, and drew it down to the table to squeeze his hand. “Please. Bat again. I’m very durable.”

With a bemused smile, Earl looked up and met Kevin’s wide black eyes. He huffed a laugh. “Okay.” He nodded and took a breath. “You know, part of the fun of camping is anticipating all the things you miss. All the stuff you appreciate about civilization.”

Kevin liked the sound of this. “Such as?”

“Oh, like fresh hot food, or sleeping in my own bed.”

“Mm. A springy mattress and clean sheets—”

“—My espresso machine—”

“Unlimited hot water?”

“And a big tub you can stretch out and soak in.”

Kevin smiled a little sadly. “I… I really enjoyed the waterfront area though. The other parts. I really did. The stars and the crickets…” He swallowed.

“Hey, hey…” Earl took the hand he was holding and covered it with both of his. “What’s this about?”

“I know how much you love the outdoors. All those questions you answered on the radio… I don’t want you to think I don’t want to do those sort of things with you.” Kevin’s voice squeaked a little as he got these words out.

“I don’t think that at all.” Earl found the other’s eyes, all concern. “And trust me, hiking or sleeping out — it doesn’t have to be so far out you can’t see or contact civilization. Most of the Scouts first events are in Mission Grove Park,” He chuckled. “And I get it. Have I told you I still haven’t gone anywhere near the back of the Ralph’s since I got back? I even picked up groceries in Red Mesa for the first month. Also, spelunking? Forget it.”

“Really?”

“Really. You know the trigger, you acknowledge it, and you work on it when you can. But there’s no shame in it.”

Kevin’s face relaxed and he smiled a little, squeezing Earl’s hand back. “I’d work on it with you.” He managed shyly.

“Which?” Earl grinned. “The camping or caves and the back of the Ralph’s?”

“Either. Both.”

“Alright then.”

Chapter Text

Cecil got up on Monday, fairly early.  Carlos and Kevin were still out for their jog, but had not left for work yet — this was as Cecil had hoped. He’d never been an early riser, but after the Narrow Place Marathon,where he’d been able to witness Carlos’s legs decked in tube socks and running shorts out in clear broad daylight, he discovered he liked certain athletic wear very very much. Later the scientist seemed baffled by his boyfriend’s suggestion that he wear a rugby uniform as his Halloween costume, but when Cecil continued getting up early enough to greet him after his morning jog, full of coffee scented kisses and flowery compliments on the scientific perfection of his gastrocnemius, he put two and two together.

Kevin had nice legs too, Cecil considered as he padded into the bathroom, but alas, he preferred long track pants for running. One couldn’t see the argyle pattern of day-glo tube socks around a well defined soleus in track pants… Not that Carlos was exactly enthusiastic about his boyfriend’s choices in hosiery for himself to wear.  Watermelon tights were enchanting on Cecil Palmer, but Carlos felt zero urge to borrow them. 

A pity.

Lathering up to shave, Cecil looked down absently at the sink and countertop. 

Well, that was different…  

Under the covered mirror, Each toiletry item was in a perfect tidy row, all labels facing forward and sorted by descending height. 

After studying the shampoos and gels a moment, Cecil shrugged and focused on shaving. Carlos tended to do that with his compounds and chemicals at the lab. The habit probably carried over when he straightened the bathroom.

After breakfast, Carlos let Kevin have the car for the day provided he dropped him off at the lab. Thrilled, Kevin quickly texted Tabitha to see if she wanted to go to Jerry’s for lunch. Ouroboros Road was too far afield for them to make it to on foot during their breaks, but with the car it was no problem. She immediately texted back “FORSAKEN MENU!” which Kevin took as a resounding ‘yes’.  A moment later at a red light his phone chimed again, and he glanced down at her next message: “Gory details?”

Kevin sighed.

He didn’t want to tell her the date details. Really there were no gory details — at least not ones of fun and triumph like she wanted. The whole affair sounded like a comedy of errors and she hardly needed more ammunition to tease him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want someone to talk about it with, but… What did he want? 

Vanessa. 

“Well. That’s not really fair, is it Vanessa?” Kevin asked her in the car. “It’s not that Tabitha is mean about it. Not at all. She’s just trying to have fun with me. And she’s been a very good friend to have and to talk to. But I miss Desert Bluffs and I miss you.”

As before, there was no answer.

Pulling into the community college parking lot, Kevin killed the ignition and sat for a moment listening to the car engine tick down.  All of his thoughts seemed to be here and there. He couldn’t gather them or put them in order, or even sort out which ones he believed or agreed with. Carlos and Cecil were his partners. Tabitha was his friend. He had a job and a new life. Everything was good… Wasn’t it? 

He was the lucky one.

He had so much to be grateful for.

But what belonged to Kevin? What felt familiar, like it was solely his?

Wondering this brought the weight of guilt smothering back down… How could he feel something was missing when he'd been so fortunate? He was here, wasn’t he?

And Earl. What on Earth was he doing with Earl?  Every red light, every misstep, no matter how innocent seemed like a blaring warning sign to Kevin’s anxiety — to the part of his brain that longed for familiarity and normalcy, for all holes to be filled, every schedule to be routine and predictable. That raw nerve part of his brain told him to drop it, to vanish and hide, but equally strong was some other pull that Kevin didn’t understand. The things Earl had done that spooked him, from wanting to show off at work to taking him out on the edge of town, Kevin knew they weren’t Earl’s fault. But even if they were honest reflections of Earl just being himself, wasn’t that a sign they weren’t good together? 

Kevin looked forward at the small patch of lawn cut by sidewalks leading up to the Earth Science’s building. It was fed by city water, and the grass was lush and green. That lawn had no idea it wasn’t supposed to be where it was; that its life line could vanish with a budget cut or a faulty sprinkler timer. His lower lip began to tremble.

“I am not having a melt down because I just projected emotionally on some St. Augustine, Vanessa. Really.” Kevin snorted pulling himself up short. “And I know you might say it’s equally bad to be found talking to myself in a parked car, but bear in mind, the staff here is perfectly fine with a resident squatter that keeps tin cans as pets. My conversations with you by their standards probably seem perfectly reasonable.”

At lunch, to Tabitha’s credit, she was sufficiently distracted by the bounty of her five dollar lunch (and so busy curiously plumbing the depths of her enchiladas in hopes of recognizing what might have transgressed against nature) she didn’t grill Kevin about the date. (Kevin ate his quietly, eyes up, in equal hopes of not recognizing a single ingredient.)

“Is this a kidney?”

“I’m sure it’s a black bean.”

Kevin’s phone chimed and he glanced at the screen. Earl had texted him a snap of the night sky with the Square of Pegasus visible. “I promise you won’t fall in.”

Kevin tried desperately to hide a smile. If he wanted to avoid rehashing the date with Tabitha, the chef’s timing couldn’t be worse. Perhaps the missteps were part of Earl’s charm?

“That’s him, isn’t it?”

“What?” Kevin fumbled the phone, dropping it into his lap.

Tabitha smirked and went back to her guacamole. “Tell him I said ‘hi’.”

“Okay.” Kevin relaxed, realizing she wasn’t going to poke or pry. “I will,” he smiled, relieved.

Tabitha was alright.

Back at school, pulling into the same faculty space, Kevin realized why he might like Earl so much.  The chef wasn’t like anyone he’d dated before, being bigger and more stout and athletic. Kevin liked his constellations of freckles and coppery red hair, and the way even when he puffed up and put his chest out, it was completely transparent when he felt embarrassed, because he couldn’t hide the splotchy red flush that would rise up his neck to his cheeks. And embarrassed or not, Earl would plow forward to say what he wanted, and put himself out there.  

Maybe it was because Earl was so different. So other. He didn’t remind Kevin of Jacob, or of looking in a cracked mirror. He didn’t remind Kevin of anything or anyone in his past, or from his time of need. (Well, his hair was the same color as Vanessa’s but she’d smack him if he said there was any resemblance beyond that…) Earl was just Earl — not a specter of anything else.

And he liked Kevin. He looked at him with appreciation, with mischief, with affection — as an equal. Not as scarred or damaged.

He looked down at the last hanging text from the scoutmaster. “Are you free Thursday?”

Smiling, Kevin answered. “Yes.”

“Your turn at bat then? : ) What would you like to do?”

Considering, but only very briefly before he lost his nerve, Kevin answered. “Dinner at home? I’d like to meet Roger.”

……………………………………..

After work before he could even stop to pick up Carlos, Kevin was snatched for one of his SSP research checkups.  Normally, it would have been disconcerting, but Kevin was still excited how his text convo went. Earl went for his quiet dinner at home suggestion:

“Great! You know how much you’re saving me on a babysitter? ;)”

 They were going to have lasagne and he would meet Roger. No surprises. Kevin felt practically giddy.

“…And he'll become head chef of course once LaShawn opens Tourniquet’s sister location." 

The Beta researcher looked up at a hovering diagram of an axial neuron cluster as he continued to apply pinpricks of electrical stimulation to different sections of Kevin's palm. The guy hadn't shut up about this glorified fry cook since the interview portion of the exam. Sheesh.

“Uh-huh." He tapped into his tablet a few notes, not bothering to try hide his boredom, but then a thought occurred to him. “…That's great. And you still live with the other two ––?" He raised his eyebrows at Kevin.

“Oh, uh, yes. That’s right.”

"And as per our previous interviews, has that ceased to be intimate in nature?"

His subject looked visibly startled.

"Oh well, I… I, uh… No. I wouldn't say that."

"So would you say you're experiencing a normal or higher interest in sex?"

Kevin's head jerked back, making the array of corded sensors attached along his hairline and scalp wag. "What?"

"Sex drive. You're living with two men who you say your relationship is loving and intimate.  And now you're expressing interest in a third —in addition to, not an alternative to, I might add — so I am trying to determine if a heightened libido is…" 

"That,” Kevin snapped, ”Is very personal!" He could feel his ears and cheeks begin to burn."You've never asked anything like that before." He withdrew his hand from the electrical probe and began to peel the contact pads from his temples. 

“Whoa… Whoa, stop right there.” The researcher caught both of his wrists and pressed them hard to the cold tabletop. At this, the two SSPOs flanking the door, immediately stepped forward at the ready.

"Stand down." Beta told them, then looked back to Kevin with a look of amused disbelief. "So. Before, when you said your relationship with the other two men was intimate… If you slept together…” He broke off waiting. 

“It is. And we do, ah, sleep together.” Full understanding of what those non-clinically phrased interview questions meant began to sharpen into focus for him.

"But there's no sex? No intercourse?"

"That's private!" On reflex, Kevin tried to yank his arms free to turn from the table, but the researcher's grip was like iron.

The beta hung his head with the rueful laugh. “Oh dear old gods please give me strength…"

Kevin looked on the verge of tears now, embarrassed, and with all pleasant illusions that this was a friendly doctor-patient check up he could leave anytime ripped away.

"Listen." He said softly. "Why do you need me to tell you? Just get the surveillance logs. Don't make me describe it. Please." 

The younger man regarded him a long moment. "Fair enough." He sighed at last, and released his wrists. "There will be a written survey as well, but I'll strike this category from the interview portion of our meetings." 

Kevin relaxed a little, sitting up straight and smoothing his jacket carefully. “Thank you." 

When Kevin got back to the apartment, on some strange instinct, he went into the guest room and sat on the day bed, eyes rammed shut.

“Vanessa?”

No answer.

“Please, Vanessa?”

Kevin stopped and pulled his knees up, curling into a ball on his side and not opening his eyes.

Chapter Text

On Thursday, Kevin plowed into his classes, eager to bury himself in work so the day would go faster. After the up and down mess of Monday, all he’d thought about all week was the dinner date. Just a quiet evening in with Earl. He would meet Roger…

 Their plan was for him to head over straight after work so the meal could be at the boy’s regular time before bed. Routine was very important.

Saying goodbye to his last student, Kevin gathered his things in his satchel and straightened his jacket, checking the transparent reflection of himself in the second floor window glass.  But then a glint outside caught his eye, and behind the hedge of yuccas flanking the entrance to the faculty parking lot, he saw it.

“Oh, no, no, no…” Kevin moaned.

It’s not like the black van was exactly hidden behind the spiky plants. Those guys had zero subtlety.  Maybe next time they could just text him to come down and hop in at the corner?

“Not tonight. Any other night.” He locked up the radio lab behind him and trotted down the hall to the back of the building and peeked out a window from the stairwell. 

Another van sat waiting. Or had the same one just cruised around the building?

Whisking up to the third floor, a corner balcony gave him a vantage of two sides around the school. Ug. There were at least two vans, probably a third unless one of these moved very fast — and could vault dividers, parked cars and fences.

“Really?” Kevin huffed. This could not be happening tonight. Would not be happening tonight. Their agreement be damned, the SSP researchers could poke and prod and humiliate him any other time, but not tonight.

He slipped downstairs and used the adjoining hall along the gym to sneak as far as he could to a portion of the campus he rarely entered — a strip of utility rooms and closets behind the coaches offices.  Maybe if they didn’t catch where he was exiting, he could make a dash across the corner and into the cover of Mission Grove Park?  Ducking down, he skirted the outer wall until he was close to the door, then rose just enough to see out the closest window and check if his path was clear.

Sitting at the corner by Mission Grove was another panel van. One of the officers inside had powdered sugar ringing the mouth of his balaclava as he ate a doughnut, but the one behind the driver’s seat was scanning the corner of the school.

Kevin slid back down and bit back a dirty word. Sitting on the floor under the window, he felt he was out of options. He was surrounded. Also, after how the guys reacted to his mention of Tourniquet, he didn’t think any of them would do him any favors for a date with its sous chef.

“Pssst!” 

Kevin looked around, but didn’t see anything.

“Psssst!” The hiss was more insistent this time and finally Kevin spotted one of the utility closets open a crack and a sliver of a face peering out at him. Beneath the narrow strip of eye, nose and cheek, a finger snaked out and hooked, beckoning him towards the closet.  He glanced around for any witnesses, but the hall was mostly empty; the few loitering students were far down by the gym entrance.

Rising, Kevin slipped to the open closet, avoiding as best he could the windows and glass of the entrance doors.

“Excuse me?” He looked through the gap for the stranger, but the door only sagged agape, and he could see a bit of hem vanish behind a rusted file cabinet.  How deep was this thing?

Glancing to the far window, the black van outside Mission Grove was swinging around to pull up right out front.

Hesitancy be damned, he dashed into the utility closet and behind the file cabinet — where he found another narrow hall.

The moment he entered it, the cabinet creaked lightly on worn oiled casters and slid over to hide the passage entrance.  It was now very dark, and Kevin froze, hoping his eyes would adjust.

“Hello?” He called softly.

“Shhhh…” came a very faint response ahead of him.

Then something green and glowing appeared, giving him just enough light to see. Further down, the stranger, a hunched woman in a ratty and worn lab coat, as well as multiple layers of other tatty mismatched clothes, held up a beaker with a few sprigs of growing something or other in it. This was where the light came from.  She gestured to his left hand wall meaningfully and put a finger to her lips.  Kevin cocked his head, and then he heard it — students talking, and the impact and echo of one occasionally dribbling a basketball. The passage they were in was the inside of the gym wall. Kevin nodded to her to indicate his understanding, and she shuffled around, leading him down the skinny aisle.

They rounded the gym silently, Kevin even hearing the sound of SSPs boots on the parquet floor and their muffled voices as they questioned the students. He stifled a squeak and didn’t even protest as the strange woman waved him after her down a metal utility ladder into a disused water main.  Catching her eye, he only looked curiously around — his whole face a question mark. She smiled and shuffled on.

Earl would not have liked this dark cramped concrete tunnel one bit. If it hadn’t been for the woman’s familiarity with it and her softly glowing green light, Kevin doubted he could tolerate it either.  He was forced to fold in half at the waist as he walked — it made him suspect the woman’s hunch was a byproduct of doing this all the time. How far down were they?

At last the tube opened up to an ancient boiler room with over head grates that rattled with gusts of air. In here were odds and ends of furniture, a cot with a nest of scrap bedding, some file cabinets stuffed with old yellowed and even mimeographed papers. Over these, makeshift plank shelves held row upon row of tin cans, each squeaky clean and adorned with small ribbon ties, scarves and knit cozies. The boiler itself had holes cut in it to admit hooks and was covered in wire hung test tubes and beakers growing different varieties of luminous plants, fungus and algae. It was enough to light the room.  In one corner was a small table and chair littered with a few dishes, but mostly more papers and on the wall surrounding this little sitting area were layers upon layers of tacked up seismographic charts and topographical maps.

The woman shuffled over to the table and began drawing on a bit of paper, and Kevin swallowed, unsure what to do. Standing awkwardly and debating whether it was safe to speak here, he couldn’t help but look around the room some more.  Yes, it was the hovel of a homeless person, but Kevin had always suspected Simone Rigadeaux was a bogey man, made up, or that she was crazy, if the stories of her and her tin cans were anything to judge by. But this place, it was orderly and neat, like someone was hard at work on something and needed their research around them and no more than a cot to take breaks on.  In the niche behind the boiler, he saw a small waste bin tucked discreetly away filled with a pile of doggie bags and black linen finish cocktail napkins bearing — it could be no mistake — Tourniquet’s logo.

Her paper finished, she waved Kevin with it to the far side of the room where she unlocked another narrow door to a black passage. Here, she thrust the sheet into his hand, and while he tried to make out what was drawn there, she tied and tucked a flowering sprig of the glowing foliage into his jacket lapel. Thus illuminated, he could see on the paper a rough map sketched for him, with arrows indicating which passages to take and a few bubbles labeled ‘bomb shelter’ or X’s labeled ‘cave in’.  According to this, he could stay hidden and emerge at the haunted baseball diamond with only a few blocks to cover to get to Earl’s.

Kevin blinked at her in disbelief. “Thank you.” He whispered. 

Simone smiled, handed him an extra beaker of glowing algae then shooed him into the passage.

Alone in the dark and hearing the door clang closed and lock behind him sent a thrill of fear down Kevin’s back, but he wasn’t claustrophobic. And even thought it meant he’d be found out, he suspected if he paniced and screamed, the worst that would happen is he’d have to attend his SSP exam after all — and his being alive was sort of key to their research. (Although at times he suspected the beta researcher might find vivisection an interesting prospect…) Either way, he didn’t want to give away his new friend’s secrets, and as he focused on his pool of soft green light and navigating the map, the creepiness gave way to curiosity about where these passages led, how old they were and what original structures had they once been.  He realized, a little amused, that he’d discovered something he found exciting and interesting. The more he thought about it as an adventure, the more the tunnels and dark seemed kind of cozy and fun.  

“Earl would not like this at all.” He mused with a snicker, ducking through a low ceilinged area where he could hear an ominous heavy vibration above him and a little falling gravel peppered his shoulders.  Was that a subway?

Not much further past this, the path began to climb and Kevin found steep plank steps going up to a sheet of plywood. It was packed down tight in the dirt with disuse, but with a couple good shoves with his shoulder, Kevin made it give way, flopping back against a wooden bench. Emerging, he found himself coming through the floor of one of the ball fields dugouts. 

Closing up the passage, Kevin kicked some dirt back over the door and brushed himself off, hoping his clothes weren’t too mussed or smudged from the tunnels or that he didn’t smell like a damp cave. Earl wouldn’t enjoy that either. Then he glanced down at his phone for the time, and smiled — if he hurried, he might not even be late.

Chapter Text

Earl and Roger lived on Shay Street in Coyote Corners, a tract home neighborhood full of small, post-World War II bungalows. Their house was towards the back, only a couple streets over from the ball field.

Trotting up to the porch, Kevin checked his tie and smoothed down his jacket before ringing the bell. In his other hand he clutched the neck of a bottle in a green and gold gift bag. He didn’t believe in being an empty-handed guest, but the night before as he shopped, he had felt intimidated picking wine for someone who regularly worked with a sommelier. He'd finally opted for a mead because it was such a pretty color, and it was for dessert, right? That meant it didn't need to pair with anything, didn't it?

“Hey!” Earl was all smiles throwing open the door. He gave Kevin a half hug, careful not to squish him into his already messy apron, and pecked his cheek. "Look at you. I'm so glad you could make it." 

"Oh, I brought something for dessert." Kevin held up the bag 

Earl slid the bottle out just enough to peek."Nice. I hear this is yummy. Come in. Come in. Roger’s finishing up homework." 

Following Earl into the small bungalow, Kevin could smell herbs and cheese from the kitchen. The place wasn’t decorated much, but instead seemed to give way to corralling the utilitarian items needed for father and son interests. The hall by the door was a line of coats on pegs and shoes for different weather or activities and a pair of bicycles. The shelf between the coats and shoes was a row of Roger’s school things and catch all dishes for Earl’s keys, cards and change. In the living room, the chef had free weights in a corner and a chin up bar across a doorway. He’d also let Roger pitch a tent inside, which was loaded with books, a nest of cushions and a battery powered lamp.

“Don’t be too dazzled by the glamour.” Earl grinned sheepishly.

Kevin smiled at this. “It’s wonderful,” He sighed. And it was — all simple and straightforward as Earl himself. 

Then Kevin spied an enormous bussing tub on a table by the back door, and he craned his neck to see what it held as he followed Earl towards the kitchen. Inside, it had been made over into a reptile habitat, lit by a desk lamp and red warming bulb. Kevin spotted the box turtle, a seashell-colored healed crack across the right side of its shell. Unconcerned, the animal was methodically chomping some salad greens with singular focus.

“Roger? I want you to meet my friend Kevin.”

A boy looked up from the table in the small dining area facing the kitchen where he had several thick math books and papers in front of him. He stood up, giving his father a worried grimace before looking at Kevin. “Hello.”

Kevin beamed, completely speechless a moment.

Roger was a perfect miniature of Earl, precise in every detail down to the largest freckle on his forehead just above his right eyebrow. The only thing different — and it was very odd — was the boy’s coloring. He was pale, washed out of blood, like a silver point drawing.

How curious.

Kevin quickly blinked it off. “Roger! It’s so nice to meet you. Your dad’s told me so much about you and your turtle.”

Roger glanced at the animal’s tank and then to Kevin, too unsure to smile back.

“What are you working on?” Kevin nodded to the covered table.

“Math homework.”

“You almost done? We’ll need the table in a little while.” Earl called, returning to the kitchen.

Roger frowned. “Sort of. No. I think I need you to look at it.” He watched Kevin cock his head at his paper.

“That’d be about like the blind leading the blind,” Earl chuckled. “Maybe we can finish in the morning. I suck at that stuff, except maybe fractions.”

“Dad…” 

But Kevin had put the bottle of mead down and was peering back and forth from the boy’s paper to the cramped print and intricate diagrams and sigils of the the enormous text. “May I?”

Roger considered this. “Okay,” He said, still frowning and scooted over on the bench seat for him

“Hm. These are integers?”

“Yes sir.”

Kevin blinked at sir, then smiled. “And your work — base thirteen?” He tapped a problem on the paper.

“Uh huh.”

Kevin sat. “Perfect. Now,” He circled some figures on the page with his fingertip. “Do you have a key for all these funny runes over here?”

Distracted at last, Roger sat back down too and pulled over another grimoire. “Lemme find it.”

Twenty minutes later, Roger was copying over his completed problems on a clean sheet of paper with a School Board approved non-writing utensil and looking very relieved. “I don’t like algebra.” He shrugged. “I like cyphers and book club.”

“But do you like mushroom lasagne?” Earl interrupted, carrying out a bubbling glass pan.

As Roger and Kevin stacked and cleared the books from the table, Kevin saw the boy looking at the sprig of leaves Simone had put in his lapel.

“What is that?”

“You know, I’m not exactly sure. It’s interesting though, isn’t it?”

“Is it glowing?”

“Oh? Is it still a little?” Kevin looked down at the plant. “I think it’s fading. Maybe if you were in a darker room you could see it.” He plucked it free and handed it to Roger who eagerly dashed for a closet.

Earl emerged with plates just in time to see him vanish. “Hey! You said you’d set the table!”

“Let me.” Kevin took the dishes from him with a smile.

……………………………..

“So what is this?”  Cecil slipped up behind Carlos and wrapped his arms around his middle. “It smells really good.”

Carlos tasted the soup he was stirring and added a few more slices of ginger and lemon grass. “Thai coconut with chicken. I didn’t make it too spicy though.”

Nipping his boyfriend’s shoulder before propping his chin there, Cecil smiled. “So definitely not mushroom lasagne.”

“Nope.” Carlos chuckled thinking about Kevin’s date. “I have never heard anyone so excited about that — and you know how I feel about mushrooms.”

Cecil nosed the scientist’s ear. “I don’t think the excitement was about the main course.”

“Probably not.” Carlos looked up from the soup. “Speaking of curious leanings, um, have you…” He hemmed a bit searching for words.

“Have I what?”

In response, he opened the spice cupboard over the stove.

“Wow.” Cecil said, straightening for a better look at the precisely organized jars. “Like little soldiers. Oh! When did we get a label maker?”

Twisting in the other’s arms, Carlos put the ladle down and looked Cecil in the eye. “So you didn’t do this?”

“No!” Cecil laughed, “And I was going to ask you about the bathroom.”

They blinked at one another a moment.

“Interesting.” Carlos said shutting the cabinet.

……………………………..

After dinner, Earl let Roger set up his Wii console with his newest game, a steeple chase. Seeing the opening animation of dozens of spotted, striped and scaled glossy thoroughbreds leap the logo, Kevin perked up.  “Oh, can I try?”

Roger passed him a controller and straddled the overstuffed sofa arm while Kevin crouched over the ottoman. Following Roger’s lead, Kevin flipped through a selection of beginner horses, and after a few mis-starts, managed to pick a tall lemon yellow mount with what he thought were nice aerodynamic looking horns.

But as a player Kevin was terrible though. He couldn’t figure out how to navigate the controller smoothly, and hardly seemed concerned by it or that there was race going on. In split screen, while Roger sailed over barrel jumps, hay bales and rows of flaming motorcycles and monster trucks, Kevin was completely distracted exploring the game environments, marveling at the details and perpetually trying to ride closer to visit the background horses every time he rounded by their paddock.

Roger gave his dad an askance look, and saw that he was trying not to laugh. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you give the turtle some dinner before bed?”

The boy nodded and hopped up, happy to abandon the game.

Earl had saved mushroom scraps and Roger let Kevin feed these to her. 

“Oh, she really likes the purple ones.” Kevin laughed as the reptiles head made a lunging snap into the piece pinched in his fingers.

“That’s her favorite, except maybe for fruit stuff.” Roger watched over this, now twirling the little plant between his fingers. Earlier, he’d found it was still glowing if he went into a dark room to see it, and since then he’d had hardly put it down to eat his meal or play the game. It was beginning to go limp.

Earl plucked it from his fingers. “Maybe if we feed her this next, she’ll glow.” He moved as if to give it to the turtle while Roger scrabbled at his arm.

“Dad! No!”

“Alright alright.” Earl handed it back laughing. “But she would’ve made such a great night light.”

Examining the herb sprig for damage, Roger paused and looked at the reptile, obviously considering this.

“I think you’re right.” Kevin told the him. “Might not be good for turtles.”

“Yeah dad. How do you even know it’s safe for them to eat?”

“Okay smart guy. Teeth. PJs. Bed.”

……………………………..

“It’s going to come up eventually.”

Finished with dinner, Cecil and Carlos were getting comfortable on the couch and flipping through Netflix. 

“I know. But it’s unfair. I mean, if we just openly told Kevin about it, he’d feel terrible. And it’s not his fault Steve’s a stubborn, unreasonable, idiotic, pig-headed —“

“Ceec…”

“Well, it’s not. And it’s one thing if I can’t have Janice come over here — I’ll work around that — but I don’t want this to creep into affecting Janice and Roger doing things together. What if Steve finds out about Kevin and Earl?”  

“That’s definitely none of his business, but yeah, I see what you mean.  Which reminds me…” Carlos stretched over to grab his bag from where it leaned against the wall. “This was delivered to the lab today.” Fishing it out, he offered Cecil a very large ivory colored envelope.

Cecil’s eyes went wide and curious seeing that it was addressed to the “Gershwin Palmer Scientist Household”, in bold metallic gold letterpress. “Oh…” He breathed, slowly taking it from his boyfriend’s hand.  The colors and formal lettering made him think of a wedding invitation — but he didn’t know anyone currently so much as engaged. However, when he slid out an enormous pop-up card with articulated flapping wings that scattered multi-colored glitter over the table and his lap, he figured out this was not about nuptials.  

It was an invitation from the being formerly known as Marcus, for Carlos, Cecil and Kevin to attend —

“His one year ‘Erikaversary’?” Cecil asked.

Carlos shrugged.  “What else should he call it? Poor Jake was running double time to get these all out — I think that’s why he came to the lab instead of the apartment. The whole town pretty much is invited.”

Cecil scanned the inside of the card. “Wow. This says they’ll be opening up the Vanston estate for guests to use the pool and gardens.”

“Uh, and the airship hanger — see, it says ‘dirigible rides’ right there.” Carlos pointed eagerly.

“I see that.” Cecil beamed “This is wonderful. It’s been ages since I went to a pool party.” He paused, remembering what prompted Carlos to bring out the card. “And everyone will be there…”

“Including Steve.”

“Right.” Cecil sat back in his chair and twisted his hands and mouth thoughtfully. “But you know, it will be really crowded Carlos.”

The scientist nodded. “That’s how I thought of it.  It’s a huge space and there will be lots of people and lots going on, so it should be easy to avoid Steve if we need to.  Also, maybe this is a chance for some soft exposure.  Maybe if he sees Kevin being himself — even at a distance — he’ll see what he’s like and start to get over this grudge thing.”

After teeth brushing, school bag packing, Earl carefully putting what was left of the plant in a glass of water on his bedside table, and good night kisses, Roger was in bed. Earl and Kevin sat on the living room floor and fiddled with the entertainment console before putting it away. 

“It still feels very fancy.” Earl smirked flipping through the device and streaming options fed through the system. “His games, movies, music library… I splurged a little bit when Tourniquet took off.”

“Oh. Let me see that.” Kevin waved to the music library on screen.

“Sure.” Earl handed him the remote.

“Is this a service, or your library?”

“Mine. I got rid of my CDs after I ripped them.” He studied Kevin’s face for a reaction. “You hang out with that record store girl? Is that the worst, that I got rid of them?”

“No.” Kevin laughed. “Okay, well, technically, if it were vinyl, yes.  But CDs, no.”

Earl snickered. “I’m so relieved.” He watched Kevin scroll through his music, lingering here and there to study album titles: Nebraska, Darkness on the Edge of Town…

“Joni Mitchell?” Kevin asked.

Earl scooted over closer to him. “You got a problem with Joni?”

“Not at all.” Kevin looked at Earl, heart jumping at the closeness and he could feel himself blush. He had to look away… “I’m — I’m  not a record snob or a vinyl purist. It’s kind of a trade off, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Earl tilted his head, smiling to catch Kevin’s eyes again.

“Like… Like when I was a kid, a teenager… Your friends came over and you just looked through each other’s record collections and talked about the bands or the cover art, or your favorite song. It was right there in the room to pick up and flip over. Like a big get-to-know-you exercise. New media is great — to have your whole library in your pocket — but I miss that other part sometimes too.”

Earl seemed to be struggling not to grin. “I guess if I frisked you right now to scroll through your iPod, that’d be pretty forward, huh?”

Kevin giggled. “You could just ask.”

“Kevin?”

“Hmm?”

“I just had really garlicky lasagne, but I’d really like to kiss you.”

Kevin managed to stop his nervous laughing enough to relax, smile, and give a ready little nod.

Earl leaned in and tilted his head—

—When they both heard the front door creak open and snap shut.

“Aw, crap.” Earl grimaced and sat up.

“What is it?” 

The chef rubbed his face and climbed to his feet with a sigh. “Roger. Dammit.” He offered Kevin a hand up and an apologetic smile. “Feel up for a walk?”

Chapter Text

Earl and Kevin had been quietly trailing Roger in the moonlight for about five blocks now. Or was it six? It was hard to remember with all the little turns, or the random choices the boy made to use an alley or to cross a four way stop diagonally.

“So, yeah. There’s school, Scouts, Book Club and every now and then, this.” Earl whispered with a little wheeze of a laugh.

As they snuck across Muskox Drive, Kevin looked up at him, noting the brittle edge and forced brightness in the larger man’s voice. But he could also see that Earl didn’t take his eyes off the small form of his son who slowly paced several yards ahead of them.

“And you just follow?”

“Well, they say you shouldn’t wake up a sleepwalker, right? So I just keep a lookout.” Earl nodded to himself, tensing visibly as the child wandered barefoot across a street. “Why do they say that anyway?”

“No idea.” Kevin admitted.

“It’s not a big deal, right? I mean, the most I worry about is broken glass.”

This was so obviously not true, no matter how much Earl might wish it to be… In answer, Kevin reached over and took Earl’s hand, and this time, he felt the other’s fingers grip his. He squeezed back in return.

It occurred to him as they’d left the house that he was heading out into the open again — there could very well be one of those determined black vans with his name on it waiting around any corner. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake tonight? To tag along behind Roger faithfully and then have the SSP abduct him right off Earl’s arm? In the end though, he set the worry aside. The average SSPO didn’t strike him as all that motivated, it was late, and he was more concerned with Earl. If it happened, it happened.

“There’s no rhyme or reason to it. Not that I can see.” Earl said softly.

“But he always goes home?”

“Yeah.” Earl exhaled. “And right back in bed.”

Kevin nodded. “That can’t let you get much sleep.”

Earl glanced at him, and the look — was it surprise? The look he gave Kevin made Earl seem much smaller, more vulnerable than his broad athletic appearance normally allowed. He quickly looked back to Roger who was drifting along the fence by the Night Vale Cemetery. “Yeah, well.” He tipped his chin at the boy, “I added some latches and bells to the door. I forgot them tonight, but it’s usually been enough to slow him up and give me some warning. Also, and swear to me you’ll never tell him…?”

Kevin nodded quickly.

“I put a baby monitor and a little motion alarm over it. The receiver and buzzers are under my pillow.”

“Be prepared.”

Earl smirked and squeezed Kevin’s hand again. “Exactly. Were you in Scouts in Desert Bluffs?”

“No. I wasn’t. I probably should’ve been though.”

The SSP didn’t disturb them and just as Earl said, after trailing this way and that through the neighborhood and even a little of the South corner of Old Town, Roger ended the trek by returning home. The sole clue that he was asleep was him leaving the front door hanging open in his wake as he went back in the house.

Only once Earl saw the boy climb back into bed, did he reach over and pull the bedroom door shut, then slumped against the wall in the hallway.

“Some night. Ha.  It’s, you know it’s… Ah hell. It’s always something, right?”

Kevin tilted his head at Earl’s defeated sigh. “I’ve had a lovely evening.” He protested.

Earl barked a soft laugh and shook his head, waving Kevin away like he must be joking.

Frowning, the other grabbed the chef’s hand and leaned in until he was close and looking up in Earl’s lowered gaze. “Dinner was delicious. Roger is sweet and I had fun playing video games with him. Although, I think, well, I wasn’t very good. “ Kevin smiled. “And a walk after a meal is always pleasant, and,” He lowered his voice. “And I’ve had just as much garlic as you.”

By now Earl was blushing, looking down into Kevin’s upturned face, so close… Kevin slid his hand up Earl’s arm until his fingers were splayed over a firm bicep. He put his free hand on the opposite shoulder before standing on tiptoe as he pushed the chef to the wall with a clumsy kiss.

Earl made a noise of surprise, but recovered quick, arms going around the smaller man and his knees bending so he could slide down a little. The contact went from awkward and mashed to soft and exploratory, and Earl wondered at this…  He could feel no anxious tension in Kevin now, no shaking or hair trigger like response — only a gently trusting press against him, his form small and slight, but nice and warm, and his lips a smooth soft touch exploring his.

He needed to remember this lasagne recipe, definitely.

Chapter Text

When Kevin got home, Carlos and Cecil were already in bed.  He slipped in quietly, treated to the sight of Carlos stretched out on his back, only half covered by a light sheet, sound asleep and snoring softly. Cecil was beside him, still up and reading a dog-eared municipally approved mystery novel. He smiled at Kevin in greeting and returned to his book as the other brushed his teeth and changed for bed.

Kevin still felt a little floaty and unreal… the chef was a good kisser. They’d spent some time at his front door exploring this before reluctantly calling it a night. (It was a weeknight after all.) His neck and cheeks grew hot as he thought about Earl’s lips brushing against them.  His strong hands gently gliding up his back and pulling him in…

By the time he slipped into bed beside Cecil, Kevin was struggling to keep a dazed grin off his face.

Cecil set his book aside and slid down, lifting the heavy quilt to welcome Kevin underneath with him. Both of them were burrowers — liking the security of cocooning under weighty covers and curling up on their sides. Carlos was a sound and confident sleeper, preferring to splay out and be able to feel cool air on his face and front. Turning off the lamp and nestling in, Kevin blushed into his pillow, unable to meet Cecil’s fond gaze.

“Good date?” Cecil whispered a little conspiratorially.

Kevin’s smile broke free. “Good date.” He breathed softly.

Cecil took his hand and drew it up to kiss the back of it and nuzzle it before leaning over to place another gentle kiss on his temple. “Good.” He murmured sleepily. “You’re so lovely when you’re happy. So lovely. I’m glad. I love to see you happy.”

Closing his eyes, Kevin slid up against Cecil’s chest and belly, and felt the other put an arm over him and stroke his hair. “I love you so much.” He whispered back, feeling his heart glow like it would burst at the words and touch. Cecil made him feel safe and cherished. He didn’t understand it and couldn’t question it, but he would do anything for him. How could he be worthy of this? How had he found this? This place, this comfort, could displace the ache, the emptiness of thoughts that often came at night. The running memories and guilt and absence. No Jacob. No Vanessa. Friends, family, community, coworkers at the station… they were all swept away, unreachable. But here and now was only contact, body warmth, soft pillows and the sweet smooth sheets that smelled of Cecil and Carlos near and protective. He could even still taste Earl on his lips.

“I love you too. So very much.” Cecil told him softly. “Sleep well love.”

……………………………………….

It was league night, and Carlos, Kevin and the Beta researcher had settled in the semicircle of molded plastic seats just behind the Night Vale teams lane while Cecil and Josie entered players names on the overhead scoreboard.

Cecil and Carlos had told Kevin about the Erikaversary Party the morning after his date and since then he’d been texting with Earl nonstop about the event. He and Roger liked swimming, right? He could get off work for it? Had he been to the Vanston Estate before? Presently, Kevin was peering into and tapping his phone as the Beta delivered a stack of rumbled papers to Carlos.

“As per our agreement.  Look, actual physical copies. Aren’t you lucky.”

Examining the pages, Carlos noted with dismay how much was blacked out with the SSP’s impenetrable black definitely-not-a-writing-utensil markers. 

“Uh, thanks.”

Judging from the Beta researchers amused look, the scientist suspected this was not only on purpose, but done with malicious intent.  Out of the first three paragraphs of fine point text, when he did find some words left legible, they were:

“Never

Going 

To

Give 

U

Up…”

Ug. More than he wanted to be able to read the report, Carlos wanted to be first person granted the pleasure of punching this kid. It clearly hadn’t happened to him yet.

While Cecil helped Josie pour beers for everyone, both cutting up and talking trash about the Red Mesa team, Carlos watched Kevin finally pocket his phone and look around the Desert Flower. He wasn’t focused on the meeting — or on bowling either really. On league night Marcus and Jake usually showed up with Josie and Jake had introduced him to foosball. Right now, he spotted the pair, already at the table, and the PA was giving him exasperated looks and jerking his head at him to hurry up. Clearly, in Jake’s book, one did not keep the former Mr. Vanston waiting when he was spoiling to kick your butt at table soccer. Kevin fidgeted and mimed to them helplessly at the confab going on in front of him, then tried his best to turn away and ignore them.

“If this is all you’re giving me tonight…” Carlos sighed, eyes cutting to the antsy Kevin who kept looking over his shoulders.

The Beta sipped his beer innocently. “What? It’s like fifty pages.”

“Wow. fifty pages?” Kevin piped brightly, “Um, Carlos, while you cover that would you mind if I…?” 

“Of course. Go ahead.”

Kevin vanished for the arcade area.

“Excellent. Now that you’ve got your reading material for the week,” Beta rose gathering his satchel, “I’ll be heading out—“

“No. Not so fast.” Cecil appeared, and cast a glance to see how far out of ear shot Kevin was. “We’ve recently observed a few concerning things we need to discuss.”

Intrigued, the researcher sat back down and removed his tablet. With two taps, he began recording their meeting. “Go on.”

Sometime later, the researcher left and league night hit full swing. Over at the foosball table, things sounded pretty heated, which Carlos took to mean Kevin was evenly matched with his competition. The scientist was irritated though. He didn’t care about any of the games, and with Kevin having long ago lost interest in describing the details of science-y type stuff he saw at his SSP exams, and with the research materials (as well as the wise-ass researcher) largely being useless, Carlos often felt left at loose ends on league nights.

The scientist sighed and crossed his arms as Cecil picked up an easy spare and got a high-five from Josie.

“Oh, don’t look so bored.” Cecil plopped down beside him and poured a fresh beer.

“I want a top secret lab full of cutting edge holographic imaging equipment.”

“I’ll make a petition to the Brownstone Spire next Thanksgiving.” Cecil told him. “You can’t expect Kevin to always be fascinated with those visits, especially sitting through them twice a week.”

“I know. But it made bowling night more interesting. The view of certain players athletic prowess not withstanding.” He added quickly giving Cecil an appraising up and down look and wiggling his eyebrows.

“You’re going to have to do better than that for me to not feel second fiddle to that fancy laser pointer tablet or whatever it was.” Cecil sniffed with a small smile. Carlos leaned in to peck him apologetically but Cecil turned his head at the last moment adding, “Besides, you need to get out of your head.  Go be Kevin’s partner over there.” He tipped his chin at the clattering table where Marcus rustled his wings and growled as Kevin deftly whipped the ball in his goal. “Then Jake can play too.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Carlos nodded to the front door. 

Earl had just come in with Roger riding on his back, and Kevin practically bounded over to usher them to the table.

“Oh, my poor Carlos.” Cecil purred and kissed his cheek. “Would you like some quarters for the pinball machine?”

Carlos stiffened a little. “You think I’m jealous?”

“Are you?”

“Concerned.”

Cecil watched a doddering Red Mesa player granny roll their ball with two hands to a clean strike.  His smile flinched a little. “I’m concerned too. But the researcher didn’t seem worried.”

“He doesn’t care. What does he have to worry about? It’s all just an experiment to him.”

Cecil’s smile returned and he leaned over and kissed the scientist. “I like concerned, protective Carlos. He’s irresistible.” He squeezed his shoulder and met his eyes as he rose to take his turn and added in a quiet voice. “Let’s not worry just yet. It might not be anything at all — so not yet, okay?”

Carlos glanced over his shoulder where Kevin was laughing with Roger at Earl fumbling a goal. “Okay.”