Chapter Text
The date was scheduled for seven that night. They were going to see a movie, since Cecil had some meeting with an intern at the radio station or something at five and didn't know how long it would be.
So they were going to watch some stupid horror film that the blond wanted to see. Horror films were illogical and ridiculous. If anything, they toyed with the viewer's emotions rather than the psychological aspect of fear.
In other words, cheap jump scares made Carlos cry like a baby.
The more he thought about the movie date, the better it got. It was going to piss Earl off, and he didn't actually have to do much talking to Cecil. The guy did seem really sweet. And he was cute, of course, but Carlos really was shit at the whole relationship thing.
Actually, he still wasn't sure if it was even a date. From the way things went at the cafe, he wasn't sure Cecil liked him. It wasn't as if Carlos could blame the poor guy. He was awkward and weird, but considerably better looking than Earl, at least.
Seven came around quickly, and Carlos stood outside the theatre, leaning against the brick outside the building, arms folded across his chest. In his head he imagined himself looking like some cool dude about to drop his new rap album. Buy he was sure that in reality he looked like some nerdy hooker. He couldn't have been closer to the truth.
Cecil didn't look impressed when he showed up, but he smiled at the scientist.
Carlos wasn't sure what to do. Shake his hand? Grab his coat? Present him with a gift? Fuck.. He had some mints in his pocket, that would probably do.. He shoved a hand in his pocket, but his gift bearing was interrupted with the other man's greeting of a kiss on the cheek.
"Oh, hello, that was forward," he mumbled, blinking down at Cecil.
Cecil shrugged, "Proper thanks for the coffee earlier. Let's get tickets.."
That made enough sense to Carlos and he nodded, following him to the ticket booth.
"Do you want a mint?" he suddenly asked, realizing his hand was still shoved in his pocket.
Cecil scrunched up his nose, slipping the woman in the booth money for the tickets. "Why? Does my breath smell bad or something?"
Carlos turned red, waving his hands a little, "No, your breath smells great, it's.. Never mind. Okay.. It's cold and I'm delusional, let's go inside."
Cecil grinned and shook his head, "You're so ridiculous."
The movie started off pretty boring and not terrifying, and Carlos found himself glancing at Cecil a bit more than he probably should have. The guy was adorable, and he kept gasping and furrowing his pierced eyebrows. Yeah, he was hot.
It was about time he made some kind of move on the blond, but he wasn't quite sure what to do. He remembered one time in middle school he pulled the whole yawn trick on a girl, but she told him he was a cheesy romance cliche, and he proceeded to frown and declare that her mom was a cheesy romance cliche. Needless to say, he never went on another date with her.
It was while the main character was eating their own eyes due to some crazy maniac when he thought of an idea. Casually, he took enough money to pay for both of their tickets out of his wallet, slipping it into the man's pocket beside him.
Cecil turned to give him a confused look, and Carlos prayed to some fake deity that the blond didn't think he was trying to solicit sex.
"For the tickets," he mumbled, and Cecil opened his mouth a little, taking the money out and shoving it back at Carlos.
"No, no, I paid. Don't worry. Seriously.. You bought me coffee earlier.." the blond protested, slipping the money into Carlos' hand.
"You paid me back with a kiss on the cheek, remember?" Carlos asked with a small smirk, slipping the money back in Cecil's pocket.
"Yeah, but.. That wasn't enough..." he whispered, chewing his bottom lip. Carlos couldn't help but glance down at it, quickly looking back up into Cecil's weird-ass eyes. He was stunning. And blushing. Fuck.. He noticed.
"Pay me back with another kiss then," he said softly, his cheeks starting to burn as well. Not because he was embarrassed, but because that was damn smooth and his older brothers would have high-fived him until his arm fell off.
A smirk tugged at Cecil's lips, and Carlos felt like he'd melt. Before he could be absorbed into the seat, a pair of warm lips were against his own, and a small hand resting gently on his jaw.
It was pure bliss.
Really, really, really nice.
After a moment, the blond pulled away, running a hand through his hair and returning his focus back to the movie. He was grinning.
Carlos was not only pleased with his payment, but was smiling like an idiot, hiding his mouth in his hand so Cecil could maybe be spared from seeing his nerdy breakdown.
Earl couldn't touch Cecil. It was a new rule. He'd email the president and beg him to make it a law, and even though he was almost one hundred percent certain that's not how it worked, he was also one hundred percent certain that Cecil was perfect for him.
Just one kiss and he was head over heels. One fucking kiss. It was ridiculous, but there was no way he was going to let the perfect terrestrial being slip out of his grip.
Not even Earl Harlan could rip him away.
The rest of the date went extraordinarily well. They stayed outside the theatre talking for a good hour after the movie. Cecil was giggly and excited, and Carlos was equally so. They really clicked, and even talking about the on campus radio station interested Carlos, and he was able to say ten words without freezing up. He was fairly certain Cecil was the guy for him, and it sealed the deal when Carlos kissed him again before he got in his car and left. There was nothing he didn't like about Cecil, other than his obvious love for all things feline.
Carlos was allergic to cats, and in the slight chance that they were ever to move in together or get married or whatever, they would have to make a negotiation. Though Carlos didn't exactly mind swallowing Clariton every morning for the blond. Was that love? Probably.. But he was thinking way too far ahead.. Marriage? It had only been like two days..
The scientist hummed as he walked to his dorm. It was some song John Travolta sang in some dumb movie his sister watched repeatedly when they were younger. He couldn't remember what the hell it was, but the song was catchy and he had a little crush on Travolta when he was little. It fit the moment, he thought.
He went to bed that night imagining that the plush red blood cell beside him was Cecil G. Palmer.