Chapter Text
Carlos let out a hiss of air between his teeth as he thumbed the plunger of his latest needle, pressing it down. The weekly ritual ended when he threw the needle into a biohazard bag, sticking a plain bandage on the injection site – purple ones lately, since the grocery store seemed to dislike ordinary tan strips. The thin white scars in the crook of his elbow, and the purple bandage, were easily hidden under his layers of clothing: white undershirt, plaid shirt rolled to said elbows, white labcoat. Dressed, he glanced at the mirror, trying to ignore the self-conscious grin his reflection was giving him as he attempted to smooth the unruly mess of curls attempting to overtake his face. Ever since Telly’s breakdown, he hadn’t dared cut it again. And that was nearly a year and a half ago.
His phone rang, making him jump as he inspected the growing grey in his hair and the bit of hair along his jaw and neck. His heart jumped when he saw who it was.
Cecil.
Or as Cecil had programmed himself into Carlos’s phone, Cecil <3. He had never bothered changing it, even before they had started dating.
Hey, are we still on for tonight?
Oh, right. The mirrors’ antics had completely driven the date out of his mind. He glanced at the calendar and smiled. Six months already huh? Shouldn’t be surprising. Time didn’t work the same way in Night Vale.
Yes Cecil. Coming to your apartment after you’re done for the night. Don’t upset sm. <3
The phone buzzed again but he ignored it, focusing on his fidgety reflection. Mirrored Carlos looked nervous, glancing down at something on the sink and fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. Carlos blinked, realizing for the first time that his reflection might have the same problems as his regular self. He sympathized, but couldn’t stay. He needed to get to work.
On the short walk – contrary to popular belief, Carlos didn’t actually live at the lab, his cramped apartment a block away instead – he felt panic about the night build. Six months. How had they lasted so long without something traumatic happening? Oh sure, there had been the time the tiny people had nearly killed him, or the time the Whispering Forest attempted to have Cecil and he join their quiet ranks. Dana’s escape attempt had been a week of unrest for the whole town, since her leaving had unleashed a horde of zombie rabbits on the place, and now there was a ban on carrots on top of wheat, wheat by-products, and writing utensils. But that wasn’t really as important as what terrified him now. Because this wasn’t something that was Night Vale weird. It was just…weird.
No, he couldn’t think of it. Cecil had been so patient up until now, accepting Carlos’s pathetic excuses with a grin and a kiss. The closest they had gotten to second base had included a near nervous breakdown on the dark-skinned man’s part. He still hated himself for it because Cecil more than ever treated him like he was a fragile china doll.
But he couldn’t think of this. He had a job to do and mirrors to study.
“Perfect Carlos and I are going on our six month anniversary date tonight, dear listeners.” The radio was under the window, out of the way as Carlos and his surviving (and remaining) fellow scientists tried to understand an ancient mirror from which all the animated reflections seemed to originate. Could they dissect it? At Cecil’s Valley Girl voice though, his friends were distracted, smiling and elbowing Carlos good naturedly as he asked for a magnifying glass. “We’re going to Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex because like it’s to celebrate how we started dating to begin with. Isn’t that neat!” A moment of dead air and a low, exasperated groan. “Neat. I think I’m going to ask the City Council to ban that dreaded word.” Carlos laughed now, accepting the magnifying glass as Cecil continued to talk. He was used to the Voice of Night Vale talking about their dating life in detail to the public. No one seemed to mind or even treated him differently, except to offer him lavender chewing gum. He didn’t know how many times he explained his detergent was lavender smelling and he had washed his gum on accident that day. For that matter, who made lavender chewing gum anyway?
“Carlos, if you need anything, let us know, okay?” Trisha, his number one assistant, a tiny brunette from the college that had contracted him for this excursion, was at his elbow.
He smiled a bit shyly at her, looking at the mirror to try and keep from being too flustered. “Thanks Trish, but I think I’ll be okay. Cecil and I seem to manage as it is.”
“I hate to be presumptuous,” she continued in a tone that sounded like she hadn’t heard a word Carlos had said and didn’t mind at all being presumptuous, “but I think you’ve led Cecil on for quite a long time.”
“What?” He felt the back of his neck flush and was briefly glad for the mop of hair and high collar that hid his blush. “I-I’m not sure what you mean.” He looked to his fellows, but they didn’t meet his eye, suddenly very, very interested in the mirror. Oh. Trisha was their spokesperson then.
“You know exactly what I mean,” she argued, crossing her arms. “Carlos, for a highly intelligent man, you are thick as mud sometimes.”
“Thanks,” he said halfheartedly, setting the magnifying glass down and turning to meet her eyes. “I don’t remember asking for anyone’s advice in my love life, scientist or Night Valian.”
“Well congrats, because you’re getting unwanted advice. We’re just worried about you Carlos.” She touched his arm lightly, the worry showing on her face. He tensed under her touch. “A lot of us remember how isolated you made yourself in New York. We’re happy that you found someone – weird as this place is. We don’t want you to lose Cecil.”
Carlos frowned more deeply, outwardly calm, inwardly jell-o. “I’m not going to lose my boyfriend Trish. Did you not hear him? He’s perfectly happy with the pace we’re going. I didn’t ask for any of your opinions, so if we’re done discussing this, can we please figure out why our reflections are moving independently and trying to leave the mirrors?” His voice went up a pitch and he knew that even with his dark skin, his angry, embarrassed flush was very visible.
“Sorry.” The apologies were mumbled and no one could meet his eye. He was glad he had already decided to clock out early, leaving at their lunch break, too furious to realize he hadn’t properly shut the door against the desert heat. He took the long way home, breaking into a run and ignoring Erika and Erika as they tried to greet him. He just ran faster; he didn’t need to get stuck in an hour long conversation with Josie about clouds again.
He made it home about ten minutes later than it usually took to walk, having gone around the block twice before stopping, a sweaty mess. The air conditioning was a welcome relief, and after securely locking the door and checking for any bugs the Sheriff’s Secret Police had placed in his absence, he went into the bathroom, locking that door as well to shower.
His reflection smiled as Carlos started to strip, lab coat, plaid shirt, undershirt. He hesitated at the last layer, closing his eyes before struggling to pull it over his head. Almost immediately, his breathing eased. Nearly twenty years of wearing a binder and it was always easier to breathe without it. He finished undressing quickly, refusing to look at his body or his reflection as he stepped into the tepid water.
Cecil could never find out Carlos’s secret; the scientist had grown too fond of the radio broadcaster. Carlos tentatively touched his tender breasts to clean, a remnant of an already small chest. As always, his eyes were tightly shut and, despite himself, he imagined Cecil touching him like this, so intimately. He stopped, the now burning water jolting him from his tortured imagination. Cecil couldn’t find out. The man would leave him. Carlos wasn’t sure he could handle it, not again.
Carlos had been born Claudia Maria Ricardo, the middle child of three. When his older brother wanted to fight, Claudia had been right there in the thick of it, giving as much as he took, sometimes more. His parents recognized her tomboyish attitude and overreacted. All his clothes were feminine, dresses, skirts, pink, and lace, and he was forbidden from such scandalous behavior like fighting, racing, and making mud pies. When he was older and wanted to cut his hair, they refused. When he cut his own hair, he was grounded – from his preferred clothes, hand me downs from his big brother.
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?” he was asked on more than one occasion.
“What do you want from me?” was his reply, always mentally, not daring to test his father’s temper and mother’s tears. He was good at school, isolating himself by reading and studying, loving science and math and explaining how things worked. He got into college on scholarship, and that’s when he discovered herself.
Transsexual and gay were two taboo words at the Ricardo house. Gay came when his brother revealed himself to be bi himself, fleeing to the military when their parents reacted as they always did to things that didn’t fit their worldview, by trying to crush it. He kept her newfound identity as Carlos a secret throughout undergrad, but at graduation, the truth came out anyway. Somebody called him Carlos in front of his Papa.
Again, the reaction was typical. They refused to talk to him, especially when he started taking HRT and saying Carlos instead of Claudia. He was basically disowned now, though George and Anna still talked to him when the signal reached them from Night Vale. Without his parents’ support, Carlos had gone deep into debt. This Night Vale project was meant to help ease his debt, but he was pouring more money into it than ever. Scientific supplies and gas was expensive, and out of town mail never shipped to the right place or time.
The phone once again made Carlos jumped, and he shut the water off before climbing out and answering. “Hello?”
“Carlos! I’m not calling for personal reasons. The weather is playing right now so I just wanted to make sure you weren’t being eaten by your reflection.”
Cecil’s voice had a simultaneous calming and unnerving effect on Carlos right now. He was really glad he debugged his bathroom every time he changed. Otherwise Cecil would surely know about his abnormality. “No, I’ve not been eaten. In fact, I just got out of the shower and am surprisingly unscathed. Why, has that been happening?” He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his torso before leaving the bath and going to pick out something more suitable to wear bowling, something that hopefully didn’t look bad next to whatever Cecil chose. He grabbed a blanket for the mirror too, not wanting to take any chances with a ravenous mirror image of himself.
“Just once or twice,” Cecil said a little absentmindedly. “The weather’s nearly over. I’ll see you tonight?” The hopefulness in his voice was almost heartbreaking, certainly endearing.
“Yes Cecil, you’ll see me tonight and I’ll see you. Stay safe.”
“Stay safe.”
They hadn’t said ‘I love you’ yet, on Carlos’s insistence. They hung up one right after the other, and Carlos hung the blanket up before getting dressed. Plaid again. He couldn’t help that Cecil had stolen most of his sweatshirts, and the desert was surprisingly cool at night.
He left the lab coat at the apartment though, despite Cecil’s weird insistence that a scientist should wear one at all times.
Cecil’s apartment was pretty different from Carlos’s. Where Carlos had more or less a teeny house with a bedroom, bathroom, closet, and…everything else, Cecil lived in a flat with only a privacy screen around the toilet and shower. When Carlos arrived, he walked up the rickety steps of the converted mansion, nodding at the passing hooded figure and trying to ignore the oozing black muck from Cecil’s neighbor. Cecil himself was apparently watching for him because the door opened after the first knock. Carlos looked up at his boyfriend, laughing at the ridiculous get up he had on.
“And you wonder why I’ve started helping you pick out clothes.” He entered, pushing into Cecil’s arms for a hug.
“I don’t see what’s wrong with this outfit,” Cecil whined a bit, closing his door with his leg and squeezing Carlos tight before the smaller man leaned up for a kiss. Cecil grinned into the kiss, nipping lightly with too sharp teeth before reluctantly disentangling himself from perfect, beautiful Carlos to look down at the hot pink furry tunic and pinstriped trousers he had dry cleaned especially for tonight. Carlos laughed again, not bothering to stifle himself.
“I know you have perfectly presentable clothing. And it’s not like we’re going anywhere fancy. Come on, let’s get something else for you to wear.” Cecil draped his arms over Carlos as he looked through what passed for a closet here – an exposed pipe of some sort that held all of Cecil’s clothes. After a moment of thinking, he grabbed one of his own college tees and a long sleeved shirt, throwing it over his shoulder and nearly catching Cecil’s glasses. “Here, try these. They almost match your pants.”
“Okay Carlos. But one of these days you must let me dress you. Okay?” Cecil reluctantly pulled away, watching Carlos sit on the edge of the bed before tugging the tunic off.
“O-okay,” Carlos replied, a bit distracted. He was pretty certain his tattoos had moved from the last time he had seen Cecil shirtless. His cheeks were aflame again, and somehow Cecil noticed, pausing as he pulled the long sleeved shirt on.
“Is everything okay?” His melodious voice was low, not quite how it was on the radio, neither silken nor Valley Girl for the moment. Carlos still flinched when Cecil pressed a hand against his cheek. “Did I do something wrong again?”
“N-no, you haven’t Cecil. I’m just a bit distracted is all.” He pressed into Cecil’s hand briefly before pulling away, heart beating hard enough to bruise he felt. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’m going to get a glass of water.”
“All right.” Cecil watched him walk to the sink and get a glass before obeying. Carlos poured some lukewarm water and swallowed quickly, trying to calm himself as Cecil started describing his day. If only Carlos had the courage to tell Cecil, to let him out of this lie. But that was his main problem. Carlos was a coward at heart, at least with the things that mattered.
“And then Dana texted me this link of a hedgehog getting her first bath. It was so cute! I’ll link you on Facebook, okay?” Dressed, Cecil stepped behind Carlos again, waiting for him to turn before he touched and startled him. He smiled broadly at Carlos, who couldn’t help but mirror his enthusiasm.
“Happy sixth,” he said, taking Cecil’s hand to lead down to the radio broadcaster’s car. Cecil happily leaned against him, not bothering to lock up. Of course not, Carlos thought. Who would steal from the Voice of Night Vale?
The bowling alley date was honestly uneventful, and Carlos was glad of the crowd there, talking to the couple like they were perfectly normal, distracting them both from the momentous milestone in their relationship. The governmental six month dating form had been filled out by Cecil already, just needing their signature. Carlos pretended he didn’t notice the governmental first sexual intercourse report form, the date scribbled out at least twice. He was trying to not think about Cecil’s expectations for the night.
It didn’t help in the slightest that Cecil had indulged in a few beers, downing a surprising amount despite his thinness. He still walked and talked fairly well, though more ‘likes’ and ‘uh huhs’ were thrown in than Carlos cared for, but Carlos decided after watching the second beer inexplicably disappear that he would be the one to drive them home. Of course, to him home was his apartment, where he could keep an eye on Cecil (make sure he didn’t wander into the hooded figure’s apartment again, which had resulted in electrical burns for them both last time, and change in absolute privacy. Cecil sleeping over meant he needed some way to hide his secret without making it impossible to breathe or hurting himself more later. He was puzzling over that when Cecil’s babbling caught his attention.
“How come we haven’t had sex?” he asked, and Carlos gulped. Well, this certainly wasn’t a good conversation to have with an intoxicated boyfriend.
“I-I’ll explain in the morning, okay?” he said, glancing at Cecil, who was staring determinedly at him. “See, we’re already to my apartment. Let’s see if you’ve left any sweatshirts for you to borrow, yeah?”
“No, you’re avoiding my question Carlos. Why?” He pouted, not at all looking like a thirty something year old. How old was Cecil anyway? The way he talked about the eighteenth century made it hard to believe he was entirely mortal. The thought didn’t calm Carlos any. After all, time was strange in Night Vale.
He focused on parking, getting out and helping Cecil as well, smiling timidly at the thin man, though Cecil frowned back. “Cecil, I’ll…I’ll explain later okay? Not when you’ve been drinking. Please.”
For a moment the Voice of Night Vale was silent, staring at Carlos like he was a puzzle piece who didn’t quite fit with the rest of the puzzle. It was the most excruciating silence Carlos had endured. No, not quite. The first time Adam had undressed Carlos had been the most excruciating silence he had endured, followed by the longest walk of shame he ever had, arms wrapped tight around his stomach and a near car accident as he didn’t bother checking the road. He shuddered to remember it.
The shudder must have been enough because Cecil smiled again, tiredly it looked to Carlos and nodded, cupping Carlos’s cheek ever so gently. “I can accept that beautiful Carlos. Is it for scientific reasons?”
He relaxed minutely in his hand, wrapping his arms around Cecil and ignoring the fact Cecil was leaning against the opened door of the car and that probably his neighbors could see him and that might be an erection pressing against his thigh and Cecil might notice the lack of one on Carlos’s part. As much as Cecil insisted he was perfect, and as much as his own mind insisted just the opposite, this simple embrace was truly perfection. He buried his nose in Cecil’s stolen shirt, taking in a deep whiff of the cologne he wore. Musk and cinnamon and something unidentifiable. Cecil.
He could feel Cecil burying his face in his curls again, murmuring words into it. It sounded a bit like the chant of protection he had recited during their second date. Carlos shuddered, remembering Cecil had pricked his thumb at the end. To stop him, he tilted his head back, kissing Cecil as hard as he could.
That was a bad idea.
Cecil was kissing back, getting really, really into it, if Carlos’s bleeding lip and the long tongue in his mouth rubbing needily against his was any indication. But it was the grinding, their hips rubbing together that Carlos couldn’t take. He jerked away when Cecil started, trying to pin him against the car, Carlos half falling into the passenger seat. Cecil stopped, obviously confused by the sudden lack of Carlos until he looked down.
“Cecil, I-I told you I can’t do that yet!” Carlos was frustrated to the point of tears and he kept his head ducked down so the tall man couldn’t see that fact.
“I’m sorry. I lost control for a moment. Carlos…” Cecil was at a loss for words again, sensing that his boyfriend, his perfect, scientific boyfriend, was in distress. He kept his hands away, clutching at the edge of the car instead for support. “Should I go home?” he asked, surprisingly meek, remembering how Carlos had said that scientists stand alone.
“No!” Carlos shouted the word loudly enough that even the Sherrif’s Secret Police poked one of their heads out of a nearby sewer grate in confusion. “I mean, no. Please. I want you to stay. This is a big step for me,” he added silently, getting out of the car and carefully shutting the door. He locked it for good measure, taking Cecil’s hand. Cecil followed, not daring to press his luck. He looked around curiously when they entered Carlos’s apartment, making the scientist feel self-conscious again. He glanced at the radio next to the kitchen sink, hoping it wasn’t really noticed.
Cecil’s astute powers of observation were either impaired by the drink or limited to his booth in the broadcasting station because Carlos was able to get the man out of his pinstriped pants and into some sweats that almost fit him (his ankles were exposed, much to their amusement) before taking some clothes into the bathroom to change.
The latest bug was under the sink, and he crushed it underfoot, throwing the pieces away. It only took a few minutes to change, switching the binder out for a rather snug sports bra that, while it didn’t hide his breasts, did make them nearly unnoticeable, especially under his baggiest shirt. He pulled on some especially thick sweatpants and hoped Cecil wasn’t a cuddler. Teeth brushed, mirror firmly covered with the blanket, he left the small bathroom and crawled into bed with Cecil.
“Aren’t you going to be hot?” Cecil mumbled, rolling and draping an arm over his shoulders. Cecil had taken most of the covers, and Carlos didn’t wonder why. The man wore sweaters in the middle of July, for Pete’s sake.
“Mm, more covers for you.” He yawned, pleasantly tired from the day, able to block out the fact that Cecil’s breath stank of beer and pizza and that he’d probably be pestering the scientist tomorrow for his secret. Let tomorrow worry about tomorrow, he decided. Besides, they might get eaten by his mirror image tonight, if the blanket didn’t hold.
With Cecil’s steady breathing and his arm draped safely away from Carlos’s chest, Carlos found it easy to ignore the click as his door was opened by the Sheriff’s Secret Police and the tock ticking of his backwards clock.