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Carlos clutched tightly at Cecil’s waist, leaning into his boyfriend’s arm around his shoulders as they approached the front doors of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. His mouth was dry; his heart pounded harder with every step they took. Cecil’s fingers tightened on his shoulder, picking up on his unease and comforting him silently. With every step, Cecil’s strong presence whispered something to him: I’m here. You’re okay. It’s safe.
Nothing is going to hurt you while I’m here.
I won’t let anything happen to you again.
They paused by unspoken consensus when they reached the doors, Cecil trailing his hand down Carlos’s arm and twining their fingers together.
“Ready?” he said softly, and Carlos nodded, grimacing.
Cool air blew over them as they entered, and they stopped for a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the lower light inside. The smell of wood varnish and aerosol deodorizers, hot wings and spilled beer assaulted him and sent him reeling, and he took a couple of deep breaths as he felt the steel vise of panic start to grip him. A chorus of greetings hailed them from somewhere off to the left, and Carlos startled so badly he stepped on Cecil’s foot. His boyfriend caught him, steadied him, his hands kneading at the tight muscles of his shoulders.
“Do you want to leave?” Cecil murmured in his ear, pressing his chest against Carlos’s back, a solid and reassuring warmth.
“No,” Carlos said, a little too loudly, shaking his head and taking Cecil’s hand again.
“Okay.” He looked skeptical, but he didn’t push the subject. “Just tell me if that changes,” Cecil said, and he pressed a kiss to Carlos’s cheek before leading the way across the grubby carpet in the entrance, allowing Carlos to set the pace from behind. He lifted his bowling bag in greeting to the rest of the team.
There were introductions all around, though Carlos already knew most of them, if only from their mentions on Cecil’s show, though some he had met before in person. There was Old Woman Josie and Erika, Steve Carlsberg, John Peters (“You know, the farmer?” Cecil added, in case it wasn’t clear who he was talking about); Teddy Williams came over with a complementary basket of hot wings, his eyes shifting furtively anywhere except Carlos’s face. They all knew who Carlos was, of course, and expressed their excitement that he had decided to join them.
Carlos gave them a shaky smile and tried to appear enthused, taking deep breaths and counting in his head all the while. The conversation flowed through him; he heard the noises everyone made, but the meaning slipped away as soon as it came. They were a few lanes over from Lane 5, and every few seconds, he caught himself glancing in that direction, waiting for - what?
Cecil’s warm arm hugged him close again as he told the league team, “Listen, we may not be able to stay too long; there are a couple of things I ought to wrap up before the show tomorrow, and I’d rather get them done tonight than rush in the morning.”
Gratitude flooded Carlos’s body, and he dropped onto a bench before his knees gave way entirely.
Old Woman Josie nodded approvingly, her sharp eyes not missing a trick; between their body languages - Carlos’s nervous, Cecil’s protective - Carlos had the feeling she knew what was up. “You’ve got to take care of things,” she said simply, hefting her bowling ball. “Now, how about we get some practice in while we’ve still got you?”
Carlos watched as they bowled, taking turns and arguing over scores and laughing when Steve and Cecil got into it over the proper way to put a decent spin on the ball - it sounded like a regular argument, devolving quickly into annoyed huffs and hissed insults on Cecil’s end, insistent almost-shouting and genial little giggles on Steve’s. In between his turns, Cecil sat next to Carlos, pressed so close they were a long, warm line from shoulder to knee, his hand resting on Carlos’s thigh.
After a while, his shaking had lessened, and he found himself paying more attention to the league team than the empty Lane 5. It was an interesting study in physics, enough to keep his mind occupied, anyway; he zeroed in on each ball as it rolled down the lane, calculations floating in front of his eyes, predicting its trajectory and making corrections of angle and velocity in his mind. Soon, he was offering his own advice, based on scientific observation, even getting up a couple of times to demonstrate his points. His technique was a little rough, having never bowled before, but they seemed glad of his particular insight.
“You ought to join the team, Carlos,” Steve said enthusiastically after watching his ball take down all the pins in one go for the fourth time in a row.
“Maybe it would make up for Steve’s game,” Cecil added in an undertone.
“Oh, well, I don’t know,” Carlos said haltingly, but then he glanced at Cecil, who, despite his venomous comment, was beaming. “I guess - maybe - yes, I could - I could try. It could be fun.”
“Carlos!” Cecil swept him up in a tight hug, twirling on the spot, and Carlos couldn’t help but laugh a little, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. “You mean it?”
“Of course,” Carlos said, suddenly suffused with confidence. With Cecil there to support him, what couldn’t he do?