Chapter Text
Carlos looked around the small coffee shop nervously, playing solitaire on his phone as he tried to pass the time. Whatever time was.
He wasn't keen on meeting with this Percil person, not in the least, but he had to get the word out. He’d dealt with crushes before in high school, all of which were met with stammering apologies and speedy exits, and he doubted the radio host would be any different than his previous admirers. They would get their drinks, speak on professional terms, and move along with their intentionally separated lives. No harm done.
He turned his wrist over to glance at the beloved watch, eyeing the second hand as it lazily moved across the face. Ten till seven. The sooner they could get out of here, the better. He didn't want to be late for work again, not after Steve had covered so many shifts for him.
Ding!
The scientist looked up from his suspiciously flavored coffee to the door, sinking even further into the cushioned chair. He’d never seen the blonde before, but he recognized the expression.
The expression in question was one of absolute and utter dreamyness, as though the wearer had a spell over them.
Cecil Palmer sidled around to the seat across from the handsome scientist, not noticing the worried expression that had stretched across his tan, firm features. Personally, Cecil had decided to wear his second best set of clothes, a flannel tunic with reptile green jeans, complete with some of the scales hanging on still. He would save his weapon of choice, furry pants and a plain tunic, for later, once they started dating. Unless this was a date…
“Carlos?” The blond man smiled as he sat down, gazing into the scientist’s caramel eyes. “You’re even more beautiful the second time around! Well, I mean, I’ve seen you twice, and you’re still so… so perfect…” The words just slid out of him to languish like an over pleased cat in the air between them.
"Yeah, uh," Carlos quickly looked back to his coffee, drinking it despite its BBQ flavor. "That's me. Hi. Carlos Ramirez, GreenHill Research." His hand moved from his lap to the table as if to shake the radio host's hand, but he decided against it and left it to rest on the table instead. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind me recording this conversation. For scientific purposes, of course."
The radio host nodded, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands as he gazed intently at the other before slowly extending a hand. With all the precision of a surgeon, he wiped a tiny smudge of coffee from the other man’s stubble, holding his breath as he worked. He leaned back, smiling. “There we go. Now then, what sort of science? I… I could help, or you could come in for an interview…”
Well, this man was far more forward than any admirers from the past. Still, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He always felt safer on the other side of a table, the protective surface guarding him. "Interviews, no. You flatter me, I'm no good with audiences." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small recorder, placing it on the table between them, and punched a red button. He leaned in toward it as he talked, eyes strictly on the device. "This is Carlos Ramirez, GreenHill Research, with... with Percil Palmer. Sixteenth of June, 2012, Night Vale Eastern side. Now, Mr. Palmer, could you tell me any irregularities you've noticed with Night Vale's dating system?"
“Cecil. Cecil Palmer.” He said softly, still gazing at Carlos, hand occasionally twitching as he considered stroking that soft hair, just once to see what it felt like. But… dating system?
“Well, I don’t know about you, but most people operate on the three date rule. On the third date, you… you know. But honestly?” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper as he slid his leg over to brush against Carlos’s delicate yet masculine ankle. They were ankles to be proud of, certainly. “If you wanted, we could do whatever you wanted. I mean, as long as it’s within government sanctions. That means nothing involving ostridges, which turns out to come into effect more often than you’d think.”
Carlos jumped at the surprising contact, his knee ramming painfully against the table and his body throwing itself away from the advancing blonde. "Ay- no! No, no no no, not--" Ostridges? "--not that. I mean... no." He buried his hands into his pockets and looked around the coffee shop, getting winks from at least two men as he did so. Gods above. "What I meant, Mr. Palmer, was dating in the sense of time. Clocks. Calendars. Any irregularities you've noticed with time."
“Well, time is a funny thing, you know? And it isn't on the list of Approved Comedy sent out by the City Council.” He laughed for a moment before he became serious again, voice flat and low. “All joking aside, what’s wrong with our time? It’s the good quality stuff, and I don’t think you should really be asking around about something like that.”
"That's what we scientists do," Carlos said, rubbing at his knee and frowning. At least the man had dropped his romantic charade. "...we break boundaries." He put the lid back on his cup and pushed it aside, the distaste unmistakable. They'd gotten off topic. A terrible waste of time. "You haven't noticed how time seems to be slowing down? Right now, even. It's slowing down. That's unusual, isn't it? It's not just another Night Vale thing, right?"
Cecil just tilted his head, confusion written in every inch of his features. “Oh, dear, Carlos… You haven't gone in for citizen orientation, have you? I bet it’s Steve’s fault. I told them not to let him be in charge of welcoming you to our glorious town, but no!” He shook his head in a pitying gesture. “I bet he even gave you some of his horrid cooking as well. Did he bring you to meet his ‘friends’? Well, we can talk about that later. I could bring you in for the Secret Police seminar on proper citizenship later in the afternoon if you’d like. We could go out to dinner and everything.”
Carlos blinked in confusion, but the harsh words toward his friend were overshadowed by said orientation. The more the other man spoke, the less inclined Carlos was to fulfill any sort of citizenship at all. "No, no dinner is necessary. Please, Cecil, let's try to keep our focus, yes? Professional to professional. I'm asking if you've noticed the days getting longer, the sun rising before the break of day, things like that." He moved to his wristwatch, taking off the heirloom and sliding it across the table. He felt naked without it, but he needed an outside data point. "This watch in synced with Pacific Coast Time, America. Perfectly timed, and perfectly functioning. But it doesn't match Night Vale."
The radio host just nodded again, looking more confused than before. “And that’s bad… why? It’s a clock, it just needs to tell time, not show you where you live. But I know the days are hot, dry, and bright, but long? I guess you could say that they’re long.” He sighed blissfully. “I didn't know you were so poetic! ‘the days getting longer...’ Are you a writer as well as a scientist?”
"I'm... no." Carlos shook his head. He wasn't getting anywhere with this man. Well, nowhere he has any desire to go. He flicked off the recorder and stuffed it into his pocket, huffing in frustration. "Far from it. Thank you for your time, Mr. Palmer," he said, standing up and picking up his coffee. "Keep the watch for now. The sun should come up at 5:35 every morning, let me know if there's any deviation from this schedule. And get the word out on your radio show, if you would. Goodnight." He started to walk out, throwing the cup into the trash bin as he went.
Thanks for his time? "Neat. Goodnight, Carlos. I'll be sure to call you as soon as I can!"
Cecil ran up after him to walk with him to the parking lot, holding the watch in his hand like a baby bird.
Carlos ran and closed his car before Cecil could catch him, locking the doors and pulling out nearly immediately. He felt terrible for being so rude and exclusive. He'd been 'that kid' more times than he could count. But he needed to get to work. Besides, he would run out of excuses not to go out with the stranger eventually. He'd get the watch back when Cecil was in an impossible situation, one that wouldn't allow him to longer. Running late for a meeting, perhaps. Something like that.
The scientist continued his scheming as he drove his sporty yet economically sound car to the lab.
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"Hey," he said, walking into the laboratory beside the Big Rico's and putting his goggles around his neck. He slid the recorder over to his friend, shaking his head. "Interview’s taken care of. Useless, but taken care of."
Steve looked up from his piles of paperwork, his calculator sitting next to him as he ran over the figure’s from the latest experiment. “Sorry if it didn't go well. Did he at least pay for coffee? No?” The soft spoken man scratched at his back lightly as he returned to his work, typing and marking down the measurements for a new graph.
Graphs. Now there was something nice and reliable. One could never go wrong with math, really. A seven was a seven was a seven… Numbers couldn't be changed about by a sly word, or be coerced by the strangeness of this town to mean something other than what they were. Numbers were honest. “Did he tell you what he was going to present on air? This might be a nice promotion for the company, if he does it right.”
“No promises he’ll do what we’re asking,” Carlos said, leaning over and looking at Steve’s charts with a small nod. He was nothing but a professional at the lab, void of all emotional contact. Sure, he could friendly if it was necessary, but when he was at work it took up his entire focus. As it should. At least Steve was a reliable coworker. “Those look good. Yeah, I told him to make the announcement. I’m sure he’ll say something.” He walked over to his ‘In’ dropbox, pulling out yet another set of results from one of the interns. “Dios mio, singing grass…” Carlos looked up to the radio that loomed in the upper corner of the room, quietly playing music away to itself. He was starting to understand why Steve had cautioned him against listening to the community radio station.
"You should have heard them before. They were singing parts of West Side Story." Steve didn't look up from his charts as he spoke, taking another sip of coffee before he turned back to Carlos. "Do you want to listen to the show, or would you rather just wait and see what everyone else says? I mean, it's up to you, and we'll hear about it anyway in the break room..." Ah, the break room. Where the souls of the uncommon man came to die. Steve had often been the subject of many sniggers and pranks, someone once actually taking the time to put all of his belongings in jello. But now Carlos was the one who was beginning to get intriguing comments as the popular radio host spoke more and more about him. It had only been light teasing so far, nothing terrible. Carlos was just so handsome, and likable...
"I'd rather not," Carlos said with a tiny frown. "Not worth my time. We have a lot of work to do." He bent down and reached into one of the desk drawers, pulling out a tub of gelatinous grey substance, decorated with curly black hairs. "We have to figure out what element this is," he said shortly, looking to Steve for permission before removing the paperwork in front of him and setting it aside. "Want to help?"
Smiling softly, Steve put away his calculator, storing in in it's usual home in his desk, retrieving some gloves and forceps as he glanced curiously over at the... the... whatever it was.
"This is really something. Is this another of the clock creatures? Well, I don't know if I'd call it a creature, but still." He set up the usual camera, switching it to video as he fiddled with the settings. "Have you tried setting that electric current through it yet? You sounded so excited about that at lunch yesterday."
"It doesn't seem conductive," Carlos said, carefully pulling out several wires and chargers and setting them on the table. He put on a pair of gloves of his own and gave a rare smile, scooping out a small amount of the gelatinous substance. It almost looked like mesoglea, only hairy. He put one wire one one end of the lump and another on the other, holding his breath as he switched the machine on with a tiny click.
The thing on the petri dish jiggled, as if poked by an invisible finger. Giving Carlos a small smile of his own, Steve clicked the camera off, making a few notes on his laptop's spreadsheet. "A little anticlimactic, no?" He gently reached out a gloved hand to tickle the thing's hairs. "Maybe the hairs act like antenna of a sort..."
"I don't know what to think anymore," Carlos said, grabbing one of the many empty watches he'd accumulated over his time in Night Vale and and taking a drop of the grey glob into his hands. The screws and gears in the clock were bent, rusted, and worn, but the moment he put the gel in it began to tick away. "Nothing makes sense here. I don't know how you've managed this long." It was an aside, an off-comment, and he walked across the laboratory to get a microscope. Coworkers whispered as he went by, all of whom he ignored. This was science. Not social hour.
Well, Steve had survived almost exclusively from a strict regime of immersive video games, a white picket fence, and desperately ignoring any indication of abnormality. It was a little like using cotton balls to sop up a tsunami, but at least he was trying to not completely and utterly insane. The day he started huddling in the back lot with the other citizens, or denying the existence of mountains, would be a very cold day in hell indeed. It would be... oh gods, hopefully he would stay nice and normal in his carefully manicured house and his stamp collecting Sundays... "Well, Carlos, I think it's all about attitude."
“Hah, you’re optimistic.” Carlos walked over with the heavy machine in his hand, huffing slightly. The whole lab seemed to be at least twenty years outdated, and it proved to be a larger obstacle than he’d initially anticipated. He plugged in the microscope and selected a smaller sample, placing it beneath the lens and lifting up his chunky glasses to observe it for the eighth time that week. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, sitting back and rubbing at his eyes. “Hair excluded, it’s not made up of anything. No elements, no sediments, no liquids, no nothing. It’s just itself.” If there was one thing that stressed Carlos out, it was not understanding something.
"It's very frustrating, huh?" He sighed, typing up the information and throwing out his gloves. "Believe me, I really miss life outside if here. But the weirdness kind of... takes you over, becomes a part of you almost." He sighed, shaking his head with a smile. "Sorry, I'm just a touch tired. I was doing a little late night baking, and I-"
"Yo, Carlos! You're on the radio!" One of the engineers plucked down a large, older fashioned radio and cranked up the volume if the smooth voice coming out of it. "...and when I say 'romantic tension', I mean romantic tension that you could cut with a knife, or at least a ceremonial bloodstone dagger. Those can cut through anything. But I digress, Dear Listeners. Carlos... sweet, sensual Carlos... asked me about Night Vale's dating system!"
Carlos felt his face heating up, striding over to the small radio and punching the ‘Off’ button. “That’s enough of that, Henry,” he said to the engineer, handing him the device and motioning for him to stand up. Sometimes it was nice being second in command. He could make people respect him, and the dash of fear involved was more than a little helpful. “Have you finished your seismograph charts, Mr. Bently?”
“I- no, but-”
“Get to it.” He turned around and pretended to be busy with a clipboard, smirking in silent satisfaction as the door to the break room shut closed and the broadcast was put back on. They could hoot and mock him all they wanted, so long as it wasn’t in his presence. At the end of the day, he had the final say. The control he needed over his life. He had no trouble hiding his sensitive layers. Not anymore.
“Sorry, Steve, what was that?”
Steve shook his head, the corners of his lips turned up in an almost nonexistent smile. "Oh, nothing vital."
Oh, Carlos. That man seemed like he could take on anything. And while Steve wasn't one to judge someone on their looks, he couldn't help but admit that the other man was quite handsome. Still, he shook the thoughts from his head and moved on. His life was a perpetual dream, a dream of leaving Night Vale, this drawbridge in the desert, where pens were banned and mountain believers were scorned. Leaving would never happen, not ever, but he could at least carry that small dream.
The day passed by normally, as normal as Night Vale would allow. Steve and Carlos worked together in their unofficial partnership, Carlos doing most of the work but Steve giving him little reminders to 'turn this up a degree' or 'don't forget to point this down, friend.' Carlos truly was a scientific genius, but he tended to forget the little details. That’s where his coworker came in. That, and Steve was the only other scientist who didn’t laugh at him over the whole ‘Cecil craze.’ While he didn’t understand why or acknowledge the comfort that brought, he did appreciate it. The snickers behind his back were eating away at him, slowly eroding at his shield.
“Do we know if it’s acidic?” Carlos said, chewing on a cracker rather noisily as he bent over a stained report. “Or basic?”
Steve munched on his own sandwich, reaching over with his pen to circle the pH test results on the report. He had heard the snickers as well, the talk at the water fountain and in the molecular scanning ray's holding room. Small towns were normally raging pits of gossip, with people like Cecil trembling with anticipation to find something new to blab about, but Carlos was a special case after all the attention from Night Vale's main news source. "Well, I really think that we should do the tests one more time, considering that there were some tarantulas in the pH solution and-"
He was interrupted by some giggling from across the room from one of the interns. Stomach dropping, Steve held up a hand for Carlos to be quiet, creeping up behind the young interns. They were /supposed/ to be working, and Steve was their supervisor. He had told them plenty of times for them to keep working, and now-
He caught a look at the screen, the girls laughing harder as he blushed. Cecil’s blog… Oh, this was worse than he’d thought...
Carlos looked up from the apparent acidic results, frowning at Steve's pale complexion. He looked so sickly all the time, being a nervous sort of fellow, but he'd never been the target of such expression. He walked over to where the girls were giggling, gently pushing Steve aside. "Now ladies, let's not--"
The girls only laughed harder, falling back into their chairs and clapping their hands as they gasped for breath. Carlos frowned and leaned forward, turning the laptop towards himself and scrolling back to the top.
[...never thought he'd be so forward. I brushed my hand against his cheek, just once, and his beautiful stubble made the most beautiful sound. It scratched against my fragile skin and sent the most delicious sensations throughout my body. You can’t even imagine how erotic the situation was, dear readers...]
Carlos skimmed the page, looking to Steve then back to the laptop. He slammed it closed, unusually red in the face. "Get to work," he said darkly, a child in him deeply disturbed by the seemingly harmless fondness. He walked back over to his desk, silently shoving things back into his satchel as he pushed the memories away.
He wasn't going to be the target of another obsession. Not after last time.
Biting his lip, Steve hurried after the other man, his lab coat swirling around him as he caught onto the other man’s sleeve. “Carlos, don’t worry, it’ll be over soon enough. Cecil gets attached to people rather quickly, but he’ll find someone else soon enough. Hell, he’s got the attention span of a hamster.” He gave a weak laugh, regretting it immediately and simply clearing his throat as he tried to steer the handsome man back towards their shared desk. It was odd to touch him, to press his own slender fingers against that pure white fabric that formed the one-size-fits-all lab coat that managed to make him look even handsomer than if the cheap coat had been tailored exactly to his every curve.
"Eight months," Carlos said, gently pulling himself out of Steve's grasp and continuing to pack. He could feel eyes peering at him, the tingling sensation on the back of his neck he once prided himself on being immune to. But the near-erotica post on Cecil's blog was the last straw. "I've been telling myself that for eight months, but it hasn't changed. I thought I could ignore it if I just shut it out, but he..." Carlos closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The scientist smiled at Steve, expression clearly a facade. "You've been a wonderful partner, Steve. I'd like to call you a friend. I wish you all the best with your future experiments, but I'm going back to California." He pulled out his keys from his pocket, taking off his goggles.
Oh dear…
“I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but I really wouldn’t try that if I were you.” It wasn’t easy to leave Night Vale after even a few days, let alone a few months, but oh gods, eight months? He couldn’t leave like that, the city wasn’t going to let him. He glanced about, eyes landing on their reports. “Carlos, we’re so close to finishing our paper on what the clocks actually are! You’ve really become the center for science in this town, it’ll all just fall apart once you leave.” He looked up at him with pleading eyes. “It’s not easy to leave. Just stay here, and we’ll just try and get Cecil to leave you alone. He’ll only be interested for another month or so, tops.”
Carlos gave Steve a sad smile, shrugging off his lab coat. "You're very kind to think of me," he said, "but it won't be that hard. I have a sister I can stay with, and lots of connections on the west coast." Poor man. He really didn't have any friends, as far as Carlos was aware, but he simply couldn't stay. Steve would just have to fend for himself. Perhaps there was a way to cheer him up, make the separation easier.
"Say, you've been overdue to make a discovery of your own. You're right, we've nearly nailed it, and I'm sure you'd have no trouble finishing the conclusion on your own. This can be your big break." He slapped Steve on the back, rather hard, as a friendly gesture. Poor thing needed some confidence. "The department would be thrilled. You could finally get that promotion you've been on about."
Carlos moved toward the door, frowning and turning around just in front of it. "Could I ask one more favor, perhaps?"
Trying to hold back a gasp as he tried to subtly squirm out of the way of the playful blow, to no effect, Steve nodded pitifully. “I’m not really doing anything tonight, so… yeah. I’m up for it. But really, Carlos, it’s very difficult to leave Night Vale. Theres a good reason so many people stay here once they’ve stayed for a few weeks, and I’m worried about you!” Oh, he had reached out to any number of outsiders, having this exact conversation and trying to warn them, to keep them safe from the dangers that haunted this god forsaken place. But Carlos’s greatest strength was his weakness in this situation. He was Carlos, man of science, and he needed proof to really grasp what was going on. It needed to be concrete, and Steve had nothing like that. “Trust me?”
"I trust you have the best intentions," Carlos said, walking forward and shaking Steve's hand. "But I really need you to talk to Cecil for me. If you can. I gave him my abuelo's wristwatch for the sake of the experiment, and I'd like to retrieve it with as little conversation as possible. Just... tell him I'm going to New York. Make something up. I don't want him following me out or trying to convince me otherwise when I stop by the station later." Steve and Cecil didn't have the best relationship, from what Carlos could tell, but he couldn't just leave a family heirloom behind because he was too afraid of an extensive crush.
Steve opened his mouth to offer another quiet argument, but then nodded defeatedly. “I’ll tell him to meet me for coffee, not to worry. I’ll… I’ll get your watch back.” He would try and get the watch back as well as he could, but it most likely wouldn’t happen. Cecil was his ex, and they had dated for a few months before… before some friends of his got in the way. “I’ll do my best. Don't you worry, friend.”