Parking Lot (Welcome to Night Vale; M)

[Spoo]

Hi. So, I wrote a thing.

This is based on Perfect Carlos Nova's doodle. All credit for the double!sickness idea goes to her. I'm just an inspired writer. Hurr. If you're unfamiliar with "Welcome to Night Vale", it's this really awesome podcast about a creepy desert town where weeeeird things happen. I'm talking Courage the Cowardly Dog kind of weird.

Also, there's no visual images for the characters. It's up to the listener to envision how Cecil and Carlos look, though there have been some epic interpretations so far - including Cecil possessing a third eye (among other things).

Anyway, enjoy~

~*~

Parking Lot

by Spoo

Station Management wasn't pleased.

Well, at least that's what Cecil could gather based on the flailing inky tendrils he'd seen just beyond Station Management's door on his way out. Not that he could really blame the uproar, mind you. He'd spent more time sneezing and blowing his nose during his latest broadcast, rather than talking about the sinkhole at the playground, or the smoldering chemical spill across from the bowling alley.

He wasn't complaining, though. He didn't regret getting sick in the first place, and he definitely didn't regret exposing himself to the individual he'd gotten sick from. Oh no. That was impossible, because Perfect, Lovely Carlos' germs were just that: Perfect and Lovely. And if Cecil was being honest with himself, a cold was worth it if it meant he'd gotten to spend time with his not-quite-but-almost-boyfriend.

That and the harmless rhinovirus was nothing compared to lyme disease or throat spiders - both of which Cecil had, most unfortunately, been a victim of at least twice in the past three years.

As the unwell broadcaster stepped outside of the station and into the faintly acidic air of the evening, he tugged his vinyl jacket tighter around his tall frame. Above him, the dark sky was tinted a neon shade of green, but that must have been attributed to the lingering smog from the chemical spill.

Eager to get home and into bed, he started towards the parking lot while taking great care to avoid the storm drain grate beneath the rounded curb. He hadn't taken such a precaution last time and had, sadly, encountered a far too "friendly" tentacle.

Once he'd advanced further down the long line of vehicles, he began fishing for his keys in his velvet trousers, yet he abruptly stopped when a telltale feathering sensation bloomed in the northernmost corner of his wrinkling nose. He would have groaned, but such a noise at such an hour was likely to attract some kind of flesh and organ eating creature.

With hopes to manually snuff out the itch, he pressed a curled knuckle into the dome of one nostril and sniffed forcefully. The buzzing tickle tapered off, providing relief, while also allowing him to finally make it to his car sans nasal incident. He extended his hand to unlock the door, but movement out of his peripherals prevented him from continuing.

For whatever reason - though, Cecil believed it to be the coffee - some of the station's interns had begun experiencing unexplainable periods of madness that often resulted with them viciously mauling employees at the most inconvenient of times. Cecil desperately hoped that wasn't the case; he didn't have the energy to pry a foaming Sean the Intern off of him.

Luckily, his concerns were dismissed when he noticed (much to his utter delight) a familiar figure emerge between a row of cars. In spite of the fact that he, too, was sick, Carlos was the absolute epitome of attraction; he never failed to make Cecil's pulse accelerate. The paler of the two attempted to put words together in his head - to, perhaps, ask what Carlos was doing there, but all the flabbergasted male could manage was a small, albeit extended:

"Hiiii."

…Which he internally kicked himself about, because of all the colorful greetings he could have gone with, he chose the plainest most ordinary one of the bunch.

"Hi, Cecil," Carlos returned quietly, lifting one of his hands to reveal the lidded cup of tea in his grasp. "So, I still feel bad that I got you sick and I, um, brought this."

Cecil could already hear himself narrating his next broadcast in his head:

'And then, dear listeners, beneath the ominous glow of a flickering light pole, Perfect Carlos brought me tea. I could feel my heart starting to race - race towards Carlos, who continuously manages to make my insides dance to a passionate samba.'

Reaching out, Cecil accepted the tea in his hand. His gaze, however, never once left the dark-haired scientist in front of him. Eventually, he forced himself to speak again.

"Thank you."

Carlos smiled, though the gesture was hastily interrupted when he turned to the side and coughed into the upraised bend of his elbow; the sound was accompanied by a few wet crackles of congestion, but Cecil felt that the bronchial spasms came across a lot healthier than the tight, hoarse barks Carlos had been plagued with earlier that week.

Regardless of the improvement, Cecil felt a strong swarm of concern rush through him. His eyes softened behind the lenses of his glasses, and before he could stop himself (or feel embarrassed by his sudden forwardness) he asked:

"Do you want to come over?"

Carlos blinked and turned to glance over his shoulder - presumably in the direction where he'd parked his car. Afterwards, he looked back at Cecil, who was now clutching his tea with both hands, sniffling, and looking much like a timid animal.

"Okay," he agreed.

Once again, Cecil's mental narration took off:

'I didn't actually think he'd say 'yes', because who says 'yes' to being asked straightforward and awkward questions in a parking lot? But he agreed, listeners. He actually agreed. I was so shocked by this unexpected agreement that I almost spilled scalding tea all over myself. The third-degree burn would have been worth it, though.'

With their makeshift plans now made, Cecil transferred his drink into one hand and used his other to unlock the door; the passenger side also unlocked, granting Carlos entry to the car (if he wanted to get in right away). He did, and as he was fastening his seatbelt he issued a statement.

"There's something I want to talk to you about."

Cecil resurfaced from a cautious sip of tea and looked at his unforeseen companion. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Carlos confirmed, leaning back against the furry seat cover.

He then looked in the rearview mirror, as if checking to see if he and Cecil were truly alone. They weren't, of course, but the lurking shadowy figure three cars back seemed immobile for the time being.

Carlos cleared his throat and continued. "I think there's something living in my attic. I know that sounds really vague and borderline weird, but I keep hearing these strange noises. It's almost like...screeching? I thought it was a bat, but when I took a flashlight and tried to--"

"Hht'KSCHHhish!--eht'KSCHHhh!"

The sudden sneezes had Carlos looking away from his flexed hands, which he'd been using to help tell the story, in order to view Cecil. Or what had been Cecil. The other man was more of a heap at the moment, bent towards the steering wheel, one hand cupped over his nose and mouth.

Cecil recovered with a thick sniffle - an action that implied his earlier congestion had returned at full unrelenting force. "I'b so sorry." Snfff! "Please, excuse be," he apologized, feeling guilty that he'd interrupted Carlos' thrilling story.

But the beautiful being beside him shook his head and dug into the deep pocket of his white lab coat. He retrieved what looked to be a small pile of clean tissues before he handed them over considerately.

"It's fine. Bless you, by the way. And sorry again for getting you sick."

Cecil felt a fluttering sigh build up in his chest. Or, maybe that was just a lungworm… Either way, he considered himself incredibly lucky to have someone like Carlos in his life: Someone who brought him tea and shared his tissues when he was ill.

If he didn't have to sneeze again, Cecil would have openly swooned.

"Hht…--KTSCHHihh!"

"Bless you," Carlos repeated.

A comforting warmth settled along Cecil's leg in the form of a sympathetic hand. He glanced down, observing the tan fingers that presently sat on his thigh, stroking soothingly, before he looked back up with a damp sniffle. Was there no end to Carlos' brilliance? To the infinite display of perfection that he flawlessly projected?

No, Cecil thought, shyly setting his bony fingers over the other pair. There really wasn't.

"So, about your attic..."

[SterlingSilver]

Spooooooo! I'm not even too sure what this fandom is exactly, but between your story and Nova's doodle, I'm in cute heaven! This is precious! Such sweet words and detail :3

[murphy dee]

*motions towards your fic with a series of guttural grunts and much flailing of limbs*

DUDE THIS IS GREAT. REALLY GREAT. *sobs from joy*

[Galaxy]

oHHHHH God, Spoo ;o;

This is so amazing! I'm so pumped to see where it goes! Ahhhh I've totally gotten into WTNV too, and this----ohh, dear Lord, this is too cute and I can just hear Cecil's voice talking about his perfect Carlos uvu Can't wait to see where you go with this!

[Garnet]

Spoo! I didn't know you'd already posted it. Ahhh, it's so good! I don't know what you were waffling about, the Night Vale "voice" matches perfectly. Just all the little asides like the overly friendly tentacle in the sewer drain and the shadowy figure lurking a few cars back -- horrifying, but also completely normal and not worthy of more than a passing observation. Love it.

Also, aww Carlos you bein' so sweet <3 And I liked Cecil's habit of immediately launching into mental narration, that's perfect.

GOOD JOB BB.

[Winged]

Oh man, Garnet stole my comments! I too am super impressed by how well you nailed the tone. Like, mega impressed. It's tricky to do without making it seem overwrought or ridiculous, but you handled everything with just the right amount of nonchalance. I think my favorite besides the friendly tentacle in the stormdrain was the interns and their inconvenient mauling sprees.

It's also so perfect and too adorable that Cecil mentally narrates things like he's still on air. And then CARLOS. I'm only like three podcasts in so I haven't gotten a huge feel for Carlos yet, but I adore what you did with him.

Beautifully done (:

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes y e s!!!!!!! spoo you're brilliant thank you thank you THANK YOU for posting. Night Vale is my current obsession and this is beyond perfect oh myyy GOSH . <#333333333333333

[SpookyScarySkeleton]

That is amazing (: love it . It's nice contagion<3

[Bruyere]

I loved this, especially Cecil's internal narration.

"Hiiii." …Which he internally kicked himself about, because of all the colorful greetings he could have gone with, he chose the plainest most ordinary one of the bunch.

Perfect Cecil!

[shingetsu]

*sniffs* That was so... *wipes away tears* BEAUTIFUL!!! Just...Carlos. Tissues. Hand on thigh. *swoons*

[LeapYearKisses]

Spoo, you are awesome and this is awesome and (I'm late but) I had to drop in to tell you. XD

[Salamander]

Another late arrival, what with being new to the fandom, but holy shiiiiiit this is the greatest thing.

[Dusty15]

Also new(ish) to Night Vale...I've only heard the first 3 podcasts but BOY YOU NAILED IT! Narration and tone are spot on! Well done, Miss Spoo

[Spoo]

Thank you so much, everyone! I plan on writing some more of these two, and if I do they'll be located in my drabble thread.

[HoneyBunny]

Another new fan here I can only echo the previous comments - it's so perfectly in character and Cecil's narration is great. Also love the idea of contagion

Kudos!