Chapter Text
The Bench on the Edge of Night Vale
6:31 pm
"Here you are," Carlos said softly as he came to sit next to Cecil on the cold, wrought iron bench. "I found you." The sun was almost fully set, and it cast its orange and pink hues across all it still touched. A light breeze chilled the air nearly to the point of being uncomfortable, but by pressing oneself up against one’s lover to share body heat, the cold was easily negated. In return, Cecil's head came to rest against Carlos's. For a few silent minutes, as the sun slowly sank ever further into the horizon, they basked in each other's company.
"Aren't you going to ask me?" Cecil said once the color of the air had turned to dusky purples around them.
Carlos slipped an arm around his shoulder, his fingers climbing up to stroke through Cecil's pale waves of hair. "What would you like me to ask?"
"You're supposed to ask me, 'Cecil, why are we sitting here on this bench staring at a perfectly normal street? Perfect being a descriptor that does not actually exist, and normal being relative, because nothing is normal in Night Vale.' That's what you're supposed to ask me."
Carlos chuckled. "Is that how you think I talk?"
Cecil shrugged, and leaned further into the scientist's gentle caresses.
"Well, I think I know the reason why," Carlos continued. "But okay, Cecil. Why are we sitting here on this bench?"
The radio host sighed and gestured to the sparsely inhabited street before them. "Because this road is the last one in Night Vale before you are officially in Desert Bluffs. If we crossed here, we'd be leaving our home town and entering just the worst town. Scum of the earth kind of place. Ugly and full of weirdos and- Sorry, I'm getting off track. The point I was trying to make is that this is where Night Vale ends, and I guess I... I wanted to get one last look at it while that is still a true fact. As of midnight tonight, the Night Vale and Desert Bluffs merger will officially take place. As of midnight tonight, the Night Vale I know, the one I've lived in my whole life-" Cecil breathed in and let it out in a long, deep sigh. "-it will be forever changed. It will never again be the exact same town because it will be something... something new, something bigger and different. This street, this one right here... it will just be another street in a wider, larger version of Night Vale."
Carlos traced the ear stem of Cecil's glasses with his finger, back and forth, back and forth. The action caused a shiver to run down the radio host's body, and he nuzzled into the crook of the scientist's neck. "It's a lot to take in, especially for you. How are you feeling about it?"
Cecil groaned. "Complicated," he finally answered with a soft exhale of breath that tickled the scientist's throat. "I'm so used to hating Desert Bluffs, but now it's going to just be another part of Night Vale. Like they're fusing together into something that should be recognizable, but isn't. I... I don't know, Carlos. I know Desert Bluffs needed our help. They needed Night Vale's help, and I know in my heart that Dana made the right choice, that helping them is the right thing to do, but..."
"It's okay," Carlos assured him. He could hear in Cecil's voice how heavy the weight of this internal debate was for him. "It's okay to feel conflicted. It's going to be a big change."
Cecil turned his face in to hide it against Carlos's shoulder. "Yeah," he said wearily. "Change... change is never easy, is it? It feels like an ending to a time and a place we can never return to. Grief, nostalgia, fear of things being different, fear of what may come from all of this... it all mixes together into an inescapable soup of anxiety and melancholy."
"Hey," Carlos said, interrupting the radio host's slide into introspection before things could get too maudlin. "I have an idea."
"Hm?" Cecil peered up at him from the lapel of the scientist's labcoat, his eyes a misty lavender.
"If this really is the end of Night Vale as you know it," he explained, "then let's go celebrate it. Let's celebrate every place in town you love, every inch, every building. Every place that you find special, that makes Night Vale Night Vale to you. And we'll say goodbye to it. We'll say goodbye to Old Night Vale so we can welcome in New Night Vale in the morning. What do you say?"
Cecil lifted his head from Carlos's shoulder. He looked cautious, but the hue of his eyes was brightening with every passing second. "You... you really want to do that?"
Carlos nodded. "Mmhm. We've got-" He checked his watch. It was not the one-true timepiece in all of Night Vale, as Cecil still owned that one, but it did well enough for what he needed. "-a little less than five and a half hours left before midnight. Wherever you want to go, let's go. Let's take a grand tour of Night Vale, one last time."
"Y-yeah. Yeah! Carlos, let's do that!" The smile that spread across Cecil's face was all the incentive the scientist needed to grab his lover by the hand and lead him, sprinting, back to his waiting hybrid coupe.
***
Old Woman Josie's House, Out Near the Car Lot
7:10 pm
Josie was sitting squarely in an old, creaky rocking chair upon her porch when Carlos and Cecil pulled up. With her short legs crossed underneath her, she waved to them, her seat slowly dipped back and forth. Two of the Erikas were playing chess together on the far edge of the veranda, the tips of their many wings twitching as they pondered their next moves.
"Well, looky there, Erika," Josie said to a third Erika, who was sitting on the porch steps strumming a lute. Erika looked up only briefly before returning to the incomprehensible song they were composing. "What brings you two boys out this way? At this time of evening, no less?"
"Carlos had the greatest idea," Cecil started gushing before he had even properly exited the car. "Because he is the best boyfriend who has the best ideas and I love him for that."
"Cecil, you're getting derailed," Carlos noted as he, too, stepped out of the hybrid coupe.
"Right, sorry." Cecil gave him an embarrassed half-smile before rounding the front of the car and taking his hand. "Carlos and I are going on a grand tour of Night Vale, and we thought we'd start here, since your place is one of the farthest spots in town."
Josie's eyebrows rose with surprise, and she laughed. "Wait, you're just starting?" she asked, shaking her head. "How late it is, I thought maybe you were ending here."
Carlos coughed into his free hand. "Uh, well, we only just decided to do it."
"Now, isn't that delightful," Josie said, rocking her chair forward and back with renewed vigor. "Where else you boys going to be stopping tonight?"
"All sorts of places," Cecil answered. "As many places of significance as we can fit in before midnight."
"And seeing as we have a limit," Carlos added, stepping in, "we really only have time to say hi."
"You have a time limit and you chose to use some of it to say hello to little old me?" Josie asked. "Why, aren't you two the sweetest. Oh! I have just the thing for your adventure. You boys wait right there and I'll go get it."
"Oh, you don't have to give us anything," Cecil was saying as Josie slowly got to her feet, slowly waved him off, and slowly trundled off into the house.
Carlos rested against the door of his car. "What do you think she's getting?"
Cecil shrugged in return, and then sat on the steps next to Erika. He tapped his feet along to the 11/8 time signature the not-angel was performing in. Their fingers flew across the strings with ease, a task made easier by the sheer amount of fingers they had to use. Carlos could admire the mathematical precision with which Erika played, though it did sound an awful lot like beautiful noise to him.
Only once before had Carlos been to Josie's house, back when she taught him how to sew. He knew the inside of her home to be a mishmash of different vintage styles from a wide range of the decades in which she'd been alive. Her decorations could span anything from the folk-art pottery she kept in her china hutch to the sleek, modern kitchen furnishings to the surrealist painting of melting spoons she had hanging on her wall.
Josie also collected Erikas like a hoarder collects cats; each one occupied their own space, did their own thing, and were barely aware of whether they were tripping any human up or getting in the way or sitting on a keyboard as they groomed themselves. The only person they reacted to with any amount of consistency was Josie herself, and that may have only been because she fed them. Whether or not Erikas actually needed to eat, or just liked to eat, Carlos had yet to determine.
Erika finished their song, to which Cecil applauded appreciatively. Erika coughed into one of their many hands and held another one out, long fingers extended. Cecil sheepishly dug his wallet out of a pocket and placed a five dollar bill across the waiting palm.
"What? It was a good song," Cecil said when he noticed the look Carlos had given him.
At last, the screen door opened and closed with a bang, and Josie returned to them, making her way over on wobbly feet under the weight of an oversized bag. She heaved it unceremoniously into Cecil's arms. "Now, you can borrow the blanket for tonight, but I'm going to need it back before Sunday. The Erikas say its going to be a beautiful day and I'm making egg salad just for the occasion. Egg salad is Erika's favorite, and you know they-"
"Josie?" Carlos interrupted her before she could launch into an uninterruptable story. "What blanket?"
Instead of answering, she pulled two large pins out of the top of the bag. They were the size of sand dollars and both sported the same message: I ❤ NV. Josie hooked one onto Cecil's shirt, attaching it with as much care as if the radio host were her own son. The second she merely handed to Carlos, who, while quite fond of Josie, was not sure they were on the level of casual touches yet. He was just as happy to put the pin on himself.
"Well, now, if you young men are taking a grand tour of Night Vale," she explained, taking a step back to admire her handiwork, "you might as well look like tourists."
Cecil grinned as he looked down at the pin on his shirt. "Thanks, Josie."
"But what are we doing with the blanket?" Carlos insisted.
Josie winked at him. "You're a smart boy. I'm sure you'll figure something out, dearie."
***
The Night Vale Public Library
7:45 pm
"We're not going to go in, are we?" Cecil asked as he side-eyed the scientist sitting next to him. The car was idling across the street from the main branch of the Night Vale Public Library. From there, they could see that every window had been boarded up; between each wooden slat glowed a pale, blue light, through which a shadow would pass every now and then. Despite this, the building remained eerily silent.
"No, I think... yeah, I think this is fine," Carlos said. He turned off the ignition. "We can appreciate the, uh, the architecture from here. It looks very... informative."
"Informative, yes, that's one word for it," Cecil agreed. "Were we to venture inside, I'm sure we could learn all sorts of things about Helen Hunt. Ow." He had shifted in his seat, and in doing so, banged his knee against the glovebox. The last person to sit in Carlos's passenger seat had been Winchell, who was decidedly much shorter than the radio host. In ramming his patella up against the compartment, Cecil managed to knock it open, and his annoyance quickly changed to delight. "Oooh, Carlos! You have such cute stickers in here!"
Carlos did have cute stickers stored in his glovebox. He'd bought them earlier that day to replace the ones he used up as positive reinforcement for Luisa and Winchell. They featured a variety of smiling animals and said things like Good job, champ! and Wow! Awesome! and Science is neat.
"You know," Cecil started conversationally, "there's a tradition amongst the teenaged youth of Night Vale regarding the library and stickers. It's like a test of courage."
"You mean the summer reading program?"
Cecil chuckled and shook his head. "Well, that, too, but I mean more of an everyday kind of test of courage. What you do is, you take a sticker-" Here, he peeled off one of the cartoon lions from the sheet and stuck it to his forefinger. "-you run up the stairs, fast as you can, and you leave it on the front door." He placed the king of the animals onto the passenger-side handle, where it would forever be declaring, I've got a good feline about you!
"That's it?" Carlos asked. "That's the test of courage?"
"Librarians hate stickers," Cecil said seriously. "And you had to do it before they noticed you, otherwise you would never earn the respect and admiration of your peers."
"So, did you? Earn the 'respect and admiration of your peers'?"
Cecil shook his head. "No. I was supposed to, though. My Boy Scout troop decided we were all going to do it, one at a time, and if anybody got in trouble, we'd have the whole group to protect them. We were so psyched, you know, in that way groups of pubescent boys all egging each other on can be?"
"What stopped you?"
"Earl broke his leg."
Carlos gasped. "You mean a librarian got him?" Though he'd never seen one of these so-called monsters himself, from the stories he'd heard, the scientist could picture in his mind a scene straight out of a horror movie. A long, grey hand reached out from behind the library doors to grab a hapless, teenage version of Earl Harlan. He could hear the crack of snapping bones in his head-
"What? No," Cecil quickly dismissed the notion. "Earl fell off while he was trying to get his Motorcycle Dressage badge. It was really embarrassing for him. Put a damper on the whole day."
"Oh."
There was a pause in the conversation until, spurred on by a childish impulsivity that could only be brought on by his love for the radio host, Carlos said, "I dare you to put one of those stickers on the library entrance."
Cecil, who had been studying the sticker sheet with an impish grin spreading across his face, answered, "Only if you do it, too."
Carlos's hand shot out, palm-side up. "Give me one." He received the image of a penguin that proudly announced, Very cool! Cecil stuck it onto his awaiting fingertips, and then chose his own that said, You are so koala-fied for this job!
What followed was a scramble from the car and a mad dash across the street. Carlos took the steps two at a time, and felt his lungs burning with the effort. Still, he breathlessly slapped his penguin sticker onto the brass handle of the library's front door just as Cecil caught up with him. The penguin defiantly did not stick, and fluttered to the ground.
"Oh, for crying out-" Carlos hissed. He stooped down to retrieve it, but it had already collected enough grit from the stone steps that there was no way it would have enough adhesion to stay in place.
"No, no, to the glass," Cecil whispered urgently to him. "Here, here!" The radio host guided the scientist's hand to the glass pane inset on the door, where the penguin could hang on by the tiniest corner of still viable stickiness. He stuck his own koala overlapping it to keep it in place.
From within the depths of the library came a blood-curdling shriek, alerting the two that it was best they not dawdle. Both scientist and radio host turned tail and ran, fast as they could, back down the steps, their shoes pounding the pavement as they hoofed it back to Carlos's waiting car.
"I am... so out of... shape," Cecil panted once they'd both collapsed inside and slammed the doors.
Carlos turned the car on, ready to get the hell out of there. "You should be going... jogging with me in the mornings," he told him, though he, too, was out of breath and feeling his age. "You still have your... fancy, aerodynamic shorts."
"Ahhh, who has time for that?" the radio host said, slumping into his seat.
Carlos pulled out of his parking spot, ready to head for their next destination. "Do you think the librarians are mad?" He glanced over his shoulder at the building they'd just vandalized, and, as if on cue, the front doors rattled in their frames. A rage-fueled howl could be heard from behind it, even from inside the running car, and not for the first time, Carlos was glad the library had been barred shut.
"We should go," Cecil said.
"Yeah," Carlos agreed. "Time to go."
***
Night Vale Community Radio Station
8:13 pm
The sound bouncing off the walls in the men's bathroom was overwhelming, nearly staggering Carlos with the sheer volume. The cacophony caused by a whole clowder of floating cats was deafening. Their eyes (so many eyes, so very many eyes) followed the two men as they entered, and each feline excitedly meowed and shrieked and showed off their little, adorable fangs (so many fangs).
"Well, hello," Cecil cooed as he reached up to scritch one of the kittens. (Kittens was a misnomer at this point, for all Khoshekh's progeny had become full-grown cats. However, it seemed Cecil could not get out of the habit of referring to them as such, much to Carlos's dismay over the misclassification.) The radio host was, of course, wearing the appropriate safety gear required for handling the bathroom's permanent residents. Today the uniform was simplified to two bright yellow gloves, as the entire HAZMAT suit was not necessary; none of the creatures were currently emitting any of the spores they sometimes shed during the summer months.
The kitten upon which Cecil was currently administering his affection raised its chin, yellow eyes turning to slits with pleasure. Its legs paddled in the air quite uselessly as it spun slow, centrifugal circles.
Cecil leaned in towards Carlos. "Don't tell the others," he whispered, "but Mixtape here is my favorite. After Khoshekh, that is. The OG is still my best boy." Scanning the room, his eyes came alight when they spotted the beast in question in the farthest corner, and when he next spoke, it was with a tone high in pitch and entirely cloying. "That's right! Who's my best boy? Who's my very bestest boy in the whole wide world?!"
Khoshekh, caught mid-doze, lifted his little black head from where it rested upon white paws. Two sets of eyes slow-blinked at different intervals, and he meowed a scratchy, soul-wrenching greeting. The sound was akin to a semi running over a crate full of accordions.
"Ooh, look, Carlos!" Cecil said as he reached up and lifted one of the sleek, black appendages protruding from the animal's back. "His tentacles have barbs today."
"That's... great," the scientist replied halfheartedly, popping into the nearest stall to retrieve a wad of toilet paper. His eyes were already running being in such close proximity with the whole Khoshekh family, and it was only a question of how long? before he started sneezing.
"I brought you a treat!" Cecil was reaching into the brown paper Ralph's bag they'd picked up along the way. "I know how much you like your tuna. You like your tune-tune? Khoshekh like his toony-woony?" A fresh chorus of cat cries filled the air, as the prized seafood was lusted after by more than just the beloved patriarch. All eyes were on Cecil as he held up the sealed can for his "bestest boy" to inspect.
Khoshekh wasted no time getting to his feet (another phrase that was not quite right, for there was not actually anything for him to stand on) and gingerly sniffed the offering. A quivering tentacle was the only warning before the black tendril shot forward, the barb on the end piercing the metal in one end and out the other. Cecil had had only the briefest of moments to drop the can before he himself could be speared. Before he could do anything other than exclaim in surprise, the tentacle had retracted, straight into an opening on the cat's back. The package of Starkist disappeared into what one must assume was Khoshekh's stomach.
"I guess he was hungry," Cecil said as he inspected the hole left in his yellow glove by the near-miss. His second glove was still intact, however, and he used it now to stroke along the feline's ridges. Khoshekh arched up into the caress, and a deep, rumbling purr emanated from his body as he relaxed. "It's a shame about your allergies."
Carlos shrugged. "Research suggests that if we'd had a cat while I was a child, I might not have been allergic to them now." As if to punctuate the sentiment, the scientist blew his nose.
"We always had a dog when I was growing up," Cecil explained. "Until Mom left, anyway. Couldn't really afford one after that. So, I always just assumed I was more of a dog person. You know, the whole immediate, unconditional love and loyalty thing? I didn't really get cats."
"Cats take time, I guess," Carlos said. "They're more aloof. A dog will just run up to you and start licking your face, whereas cats are more likely to run away from you."
"Khoshekh was no different," Cecil went on, leaving the floating feline to snooze. Slowly, he took off the rubber gloves. "When he showed up here, in the bathroom, he wanted nothing to do with me. But, you know, that first moment I saw him, suspended several feet in the air, I gotta say, I-"
"Let me guess," Carlos interrupted. "You fell in love instantly?"
The radio host chuckled as he disposed of the used gloves. "Something like that. He is... not a perfect pet, but no pet is perfect. For the longest time, he wouldn't let me anywhere near him, let alone allow me to give him the affection I so desperately wanted to shower him with. I couldn't blame him for that. He was in a new place, and a new situation, and it was probably scary for him. He didn't know if he could trust me. But little by little, I learned how to show him my love, and little by little, he began to return that affection. Now look at us. I couldn't imagine my life without him."
Carlos felt a lump of his own affection growing in his throat as he watched the man he loved gaze at the temperamental, floating kitty. "Cats and dogs aren't the same, but they both love the same. They just show it differently."
***
Tourniquet
8:57
The neon sign that hung overhead the entrance blinked in bright, friendly invitation, catching the attention of any hungry passerby that happened to be in the vicinity. Tourniquet, it said, whispered seductively into one's mind as they gazed upon it. If the sign did not manage to convince them, then the mouthwatering aromas emanating from within was sure to do the trick. Looking through the windows, one could spot just how many diners had been lured in; this in itself was also a way to convince potential customers to make that reservation, so they, too, could enjoy the trendy, haute cuisine, the dull roar of conversation, and the candle-lit ambience that made everyone look more romantic, more interesting, and much more companionable.
"I really should have called Earl first," Cecil admitted, his jaw set with determination as he tried desperately to spot a free parking space. It should have come as no surprise that they were having trouble, as the queue to get in circled the building. Many patrons were shivering in the chilly night air as they waited, though a few were warming themselves next to the decorative fire features that lit up the night.
Why certain restaurants always felt the need to light their exteriors on fire, Carlos wasn't sure, but maybe it added some kind of vibe he wasn't aware of. "So, what do you want to do?" he asked after their third circle of the parking lot.
Cecil bit his lip and drummed his fingers on the passenger door. "If we had more time..." He didn't finish the thought, as there truly was no helping the situation. They could have had hours in which to dine, but without a reservation, they'd still spend the entirety of it waiting outside. "Big Rico's?"
"Big Rico's," Carlos agreed.
***
Big Rico's Pizza
9:04 pm
"One large cheese and pineapple to go!" Cecil announced almost as soon as they were through the door of Big Rico's. "And make it quick!"
Big Rico himself was leaning over the host stand, ready to greet and seat customers. He'd been idly completing the puzzle on the child's placemat in front of him, but looked up when spoken to. "You two in a hurry, I take it? It'll be twenty minutes."
"That's fine," Carlos said, checking his watch again. "I believe we've budgeted our time well enough that we can spare it."
Big Rico gestured them in. "In that case, you can wait at the bar, and I'll get your order started."
As they passed the podium, Cecil grabbed two of the child placemats and a handful of crayons. He smiled when Carlos raised his eyebrows at him. "To keep us occupied until the pizza is ready."
The bar at Big Rico's Pizza was a handsome length of polished oak, with cushy, deep-red vinyl stools occupied by cushy, deep-pocketed regulars. These were the customers who spent most nights ordering a beer and a slice and gossiping the evening away, though they'd hardly describe it as such. Each one nodded to the two newcomers as Cecil and Carlos sat at one end of the bar.
"There's a map of Night Vale on the back!" Cecil announced excitedly after he’d turned his placemat around and discovered that both sides had printing. Night Vale looked as though a particularly untalented third grader drew it, but it was identifiable enough. Cecil began placing check-marks on the locations they'd already been, and then studied it further for places they were yet to go.
All around them, red gingham covered the tables, and those tables were filled with families just finishing their weekly, mandated pizza nights. Couples discussed and argued over their bills, children got bored and wandered away from their parents, and toddlers, up far too late past their bedtimes, squalled and made it known to everyone that they were not, in fact, tired at all, thank you very much.
Other tables were occupied by community college students who, convinced they would live forever just as they were in that moment, had only now begun their night of revelry. So what if they had class in the morning? They were full of energy and vigor and maybe just a little alcohol. The night was young and so were they. Who knew what shenanigans they'd get up to the rest of the evening? But first thing's first, they needed sustenance, and that sustenance came in the form of pizza.
"Do you want to stop by the lab after this?" Cecil asked, spinning around on his barstool like a little kid. "For old times' sake?"
Carlos thought about it while he completed the placemat's maze puzzle. "Well, there's nothing saying we couldn't," he answered. "It is right next door, after all, but... wouldn't it be a little awkward? You know, with Winchell living there now?"
"He lives there? I thought he was just haunting the place."
Carlos laughed. "I've told you, Winchell is not a ghost. He just... kind of looks like one. Actually, ever since I told him to 'be himself,' it's been a lot harder for him to sneak up on me. He's been blending in a lot less after he started wearing black nail polish and dressing like an employee at Hot Topic."
"Is that the store at the mall where goth kids eat spicy chicken wings and try to answer trivia questions?" Cecil asked.
"... Sure."
Cecil came to a halt on his stool and rested his elbow on the counter, his eyes turning a serious shade of amethyst. "How are things going at the lab for you? New intern, new assistant..."
Carlos shrugged and drank from the glass of courtesy water that had materialized before him when they first sat down. "The other day, in between experiments as I looked around the room... For just a brief moment, it felt like I didn't recognize anyone. I realized, in a way, I didn't. Mark, Luisa, Winchell? I don't know them, not well, anyway. The only one of my original scientists left is Stan, and to be honest, I didn't even know him until after we got here."
Cecil drank from his own glass. "Does that bother you?"
"A little," Carlos admitted. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful. Without Stan, things would have fallen apart while I was gone, and... things probably would have fallen apart after I came back, too. He's been a massive help keeping us afloat. And I've really come to respect Nilanjana. She's a great scientist, and I'm so glad she decided to join the team when she did. But there are times when I just... miss the way it used to be."
The radio host nodded sympathetically. "I think I know what you mean. When I began working at the station, there were other interns, too. They all started at the same time as I did, and we would have lunches together and go on assignments together, and there was Leonard Burton, fearlessly leading us all. But, well, you know how it is with interns. Eventually, I looked around, and I was the only one left. And then even Leonard was gone, and it was just me on the air, all alone, left to wonder what had happened to everyone. Of course, there were other interns by that time, but it wasn't the same."
Carlos set his hand on the counter and slid it towards Cecil, who placed his own palm atop it, gripping it tightly. Silently, amidst the noise and chaos of dinner hour, they were able to communicate something to each other. No words necessary.
"Pizza's up, boys!" Big Rico announced, coming out of the kitchen with a flat, square box balanced and spinning on his finger. He deposited it into Cecil's waiting hands while Carlos pulled out his wallet to pay.
On their way back to the car, Cecil paused to look up at the lab next door, with its little apartment on the second floor. "Hello, Carlos's Lab!" he called to it, using his free hand to cup his mouth and enhance the volume of his voice. "Though we won't be stopping at you tonight, know that you are an important landmark to me as well! Perhaps one of the most important! You are the reason Carlos came to Night Vale, and stayed in Night Vale, and continues to enjoy living in Night Vale! That would be reason enough to celebrate you, but I also experienced the joy of making love with Carlos for the first time in that apartment upstairs, and that is a really good memory of mine!"
Carlos hid his face with his hands and hoped maybe Winchell was out with friends for the night. A light came on in one of the second story's windows, dashing those hopes immediately.
***
Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex
9:33 pm
"Just one frame?" Cecil pleaded with Teddy Williams, his eyes sparkling as he tried to persuade the bowling alley owner to squeeze them into his busy night. "I swear, we won't take long. We're kind of on a time crunch here, and all we really need is to take one turn each, and then we'll be out of your hair. Please, Teddy? Teddy, please. Please please please please-"
"Okay, fine!" Teddy at last caved in. He pointed a serious finger at Cecil's chest. "But you are paying full price for the shoe rental, the ball rental, and you're buying a basket of chicken wings to go. You got that?"
"Yes, sir, we can do that!" Carlos jumped in before Cecil could object. They didn't have time to negotiate further. Having been given permission, the two rushed hand-in-hand to complete the requisite rental process.
They hadn't been able to return home for Cecil's personal bowling ball, but he swore he could make do with those available at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. Once suited up in flashy, rented shoes and holding flashy, rented balls, Carlos and Cecil made their way to Lane One. (Carlos had to cover his eyes with his free hand as they passed quickly by Lane Five.)
"Speed round!" Cecil said with excitement as he readied his ball.
"First up to the line is Cecil Gershwin Palmer," Carlos announced in his best approximation of a sports caster's voice. "With an average score of 177-"
"I'd say that's a pretty good score myself!" Cecil retorted, turning away from the lane to address him.
"No, not 'average' like... like, your 'average' is... nevermind!" Carlos shook his head with amusement. "Time limit, babe! Just bowl!" Cecil spun around again, allowing Carlos to continue his commentary. "Cecil Palmer has chosen the violet urethane ball with the golden flecks. We'll soon see whether the glitter present in its pattern is a benefit to the player or a hindrance. Urethane balls provide friction and increased hook potential, useful for knocking down additional pins. Now, whether or not Palmer knew this when choosing this ball, or if he just liked it for the sparklies, is yet to be determined."
Cecil turned around again, his ball held up to his chest and a furrow between his brows. "Are you trash talking me?"
"That depends," Carlos answered back. "Is it working?"
"I... I don't know."
"Bowl, bowl!" Carlos called, tapping his watch.
Cecil pulled back and let the ball fly; it hit the lane at a decent angle, but began veering off halfway down, knocking only a single pin at the far end. Cecil threw his hands up in the universal sign of What the actual fuck?! before turning to face Carlos once more.
"It would seem the sparklies are, indeed, a hindrance to Palmer's technique."
"Listen, you," Cecil said, though he was grinning too much to be truly threatening. "No sparkly is going to throw off my game."
"Prove it," Carlos countered, his own perfect grin upon his face.
Cecil maintained continual eye contact with the scientist as he retrieved his ball and returned to the lane, only breaking it when he was forced to throw the ball again. It rolled, straight and true, landing him a spare as the rest of the pins came crashing down. He held his arms out in a proud bow to Carlos, who applauded his efforts.
"What a powerful bowling machine you are," the scientist said upon Cecil's return. "So strong. Such good aim."
"Is this Carlos speaking, or the bowling announcer?" Cecil asked. "Because, honestly, I'd like either scenario."
"Then, it's both," Carlos answered. "If you're allowed to talk about my perfect hair and teeth like a... how did you describe it? Like a military cemetery? Anyway, if you can talk about me on your radio show like that, then I'm going to talk about you on my bowling show."
"Is that so?" Cecil quickly closed the distance between them, a smirk plastered across his face. "Well, Mr. Big Shot Bowling Personality, it's your turn."
Carlos leaned forward until they were chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, practically lip-to-lip. "Okay. Watch me." He darted around Cecil before the radio host had a chance to catch him and kiss the competition right out of him.
He grabbed his green, speckled ball from the rack. "Here comes Carlos T. Scientist up to the line. He has chosen the lightweight, polyester ball, a classic specimen often used by beginners. Though he is new to the sport of bowling, he has proven that, through Science, even an amateur can make a good showing. He lines up his shot... he pulls back... he rolls...!"
"He gutter balls," Cecil finished for him.
***
Moonlite All-Nite Diner
10:07 pm
The bell hanging above the Moonlite All-Nite Diner's doorway gave a merry, almost eerie jingle as Cecil entered, followed closely by Carlos. At this time of night, what was usually a vibrant, welcoming atmosphere was lent a more sinister vibe courtesy of the harsh, fluorescent lighting that flickered in the far corner. The red-vinyl booths with their accompanying blue Formica tables sat mostly abandoned, save for a single, forlorn man; he'd been seated under the aforementioned flickering light.
The only other customers were a duo of men drinking coffee at the diner's counter; the one who was not tall had a macchiato, while the one who was not short took his black. They were holding hands and talking in quiet, private tones.
The waitress, flush with a multitude of fresh, red fruit, leaned across the bar towards the newcomers. "Cecil," she said with a nod. "What brings you around so late? Don't normally see you during the midnight shift. You two want a table?"
"That won't be necessary, Laura," Cecil answered as he took a seat on one of the stools. "We won't be staying long."
"We were hoping we could get some invisible pie to go," Carlos added, hoisting himself up next to Cecil. The stools matched the booths, and, while not as cushy as the ones at Big Rico's, had a classic, retro look that was just as aesthetically pleasing.
"Sure thing, sugars," Laura said. "Just as well. 'Tween you and me? I hate filling in this time of day. Those of us on midnight shift are on midnight shift for a reason. You didn't hear that from me, though."
Cecil leaned forward, resting his elbows upon the counter. "Oh, well, maybe your midnight shift just needs a little encouragement? Maybe I should order something."
"Babe," Carlos insisted. "Time limit."
The radio host pursed his lips. "Maybe I could get something that can be prepared quickly?"
"I'll get Cook to whip you up something real fast," Laura said with a chuckle. Her fruit bobbed as she disappeared through to the kitchen, still shaking her head mirthfully.
Cecil turned towards Carlos and rested his cheek upon his hand. "What? I was hungry," he said after observing the stern look his boyfriend was giving him.
Carlos merely sighed and checked his watch again. "Okay. I suppose we can spare a little time. But we do have food in the car, you know."
"But that's for later," Cecil countered. "And Laura is right about the midnight shift. Cook's been stealing eggs, but maybe he wouldn't have to steal eggs if more people came in at ten o'clock at night."
Just a few stools further down, the conversation between the man who was not tall and the man who was not short died off. They both eyed their fellow diners with narrowed, suspicious eyes. In return, Carlos gave them a lopsided grin. Whatever they'd been discussing, the scientist hoped it wasn't too covert. He didn't want to get in the habit of eavesdropping topics that could potentially get him bumped off.
Laura returned, a plate heaped with golden, sliced potatoes in one hand and what appeared to be an empty dessert box in the other. "Here you go, sugs. One order of fries and two pieces of invisible pie to go." She then proceeded to set two plastic glasses of ice water in front of them.
"Thanks, Laura," Cecil said as he grabbed a thin, rectangular potato sliver from the top of the pile and shoved it into his mouth. "You are the best. And be sure to tell Cook that these fries are top-notch! He is doing a fine job and he should feel proud of himself and proud of the work he's doing here."
"You're laying it on a little thick there, hon, but I'll let him know," Laura said. "So, tell me, what are you two up to that's got you in such a hurry?"
Cecil wasted no time in detailing their mission as best he could around the mouthful of fries he was chewing on. Laura listened dutifully, her fruit swaying with each of her nods. "So," the radio host finished, "before the clock strikes midnight, we're hoping to see every Night Vale landmark we can."
"Well, sug, you always were the sentimental type," Laura said. "Sounds lovely. Wish I could join in. I can't say I haven't been feeling apprehensive myself about this whole merger business. Two years ago, those Desert Bluffians caused us nothing but trouble. When StrexCorp owned the Moonlite, I swear to you, the stress it caused me? I didn't bloom a single bud the entire time. Now we're supposed to just pretend that didn't happen and welcome them in with open arms?"
Carlos sat up a little taller. "Now, that's not entirely fair," he reasoned. "There are plenty of people from Desert Bluffs who were just as unhappy working for Strex. They didn't have a choice in the matter. StrexCorp took over their town, and it would have done the same to Night Vale, if not for... well, many factors." He could still hear in his head the way Kevin had tentatively spoken of his former employers and of the psychological damage they had inflicted upon him. Kevin had been a lot of things, not all of them good, but Strex had had a heavy hand in shaping him that way.
"Oh, I suppose you're right," Laura conceded with a sigh. "And I know the worst of their lot got chased off through those old oak doors. Just the rank and file left behind to pick up their lives. Been seeing more and more of that type lately coming in here, actually. Like him over there?" She nodded towards the single man sitting in the corner beneath the malfunctioning fluorescent light.
"He's from Desert Bluffs?" Carlos asked.
Laura nodded, and her voice dipped low as she continued. "Sure is. Far as I can tell, he used to work HR for StrexCorp. Saw some nasty stuff there. Probably did some nasty stuff. But he's a decent sort of fellow. Doesn't tip well, but... I suppose most of them are pretty tight on money these days, what with the mass job losses over in The Bluffs now that StrexCorp is under new management. Guess that necessary restructuring of the company left a lot of people without work. He's always been polite to me, so I always try to bring him a few extra pencil shavings with his coffee. It sure don't cost me any to be neighborly."
"Aside from the cost of the pencil shavings," Carlos put in.
"But that Smiling God of theirs?" Laura said. "Doesn't seem quite right, if you ask me. Now, I was raised to believe that providing a gruesome, messy death was the job of our government and not the job of our gods. But hey, what do I know? Cecil, hon, you been awful quiet over there. Course, we all know how you feel about Desert Bluffs."
"I, uh..." Cecil stammered out something unintelligible, clearly at a loss for words. It was a state Carlos hadn't seen much since the early days of their relationship; back then, the scientist's mere presence would fluster the radio host into incoherent, one-word answers. Their first real date together had consisted mostly of Uh huh and Neat! and Go on, with the occasional surprise eloquence dropping in when Carlos least expected it.
Once they both managed to relax around each other, such speechlessness had been almost entirely banished between them. Now, it was rare for Cecil not to have an opinion on something, especially where Desert Bluffs was concerned; it was even rarer for him not to voice that opinion. Laura, it would seem, also knew this fact about the radio host, and she took his silence on the matter with confusion, tilting her head and throwing raised eyebrows in Carlos's direction.
Carlos, however, took Cecil's non-answer in stride, and continued to sip at his ice water as if nothing peculiar had happened. If this evening had taught him anything, it was that the radio host's thoughts on Night Vale's former regional neighbors and soon-to-be regional roommates had, as of late, been in a tumultuous upheaval. He'd stated earlier that he felt 'complicated' about the merger, something that would have been unheard of a few years ago. If he couldn't even describe his feelings to his scientist boyfriend, how could he possibly explain it to Laura?
If Carlos had to guess, he thought perhaps the change in his lover's disposition towards Desert Bluffs had started immediately after the conversation the radio host had had with three eras worth of Kevins.
"That's okay, sug," Laura said awkwardly, the leaves of her branches twitching as she shifted her weight back and forth. "You don't have to say it. You've been saying it for years now. And, honestly, that button on your shirt says everything anyway. Take your plate?"
Wordlessly, Cecil handed her his now empty fry plate, the slightest furrow between his brows. Laura soon disappeared back into the kitchen with the promise of a bill forthcoming, and once she'd gone, Cecil's shoulders dipped. He unhooked the I ❤ NV button from his lapel and flipped it over to inspect it. He ran the tip of his thumb along its outside edge as a cloud of mauve shifted the hue of his eyes.
"I, uh, I kind of forgot we were wearing these," Carlos said, attempting to lighten the sudden change in atmosphere of this visit.
"What did she mean by that?" Cecil asked quietly, still studying the pin in his hands. "I do love Night Vale. What does that have to do with... with what I feel for Desert Bluffs?"
"Maybe she thinks you're trying to make a pro-Night Vale, anti-Desert Bluffs statement?" Carlos suggested carefully. "Considering the things I've heard you say about Desert Bluffs, I wouldn't be surprised if she took that button as some kind of propaganda."
"I'm not trying to make any statement," Cecil insisted. "Other than that I love Night Vale. That's... that's what tonight is about. It's not about hating Desert Bluffs."
"I know."
"You don't think Josie-"
"No," Carlos interrupted him before he could voice that doubt. "I'm certain Josie wasn't looking at it that way. She understood what we're trying to do tonight."
"Okay." Cecil fell quiet, his gaze never leaving the button he held. His fingernail made soft click click clicks as he ran it across the ridged edges. "And Carlos, you don't think-"
"No," Carlos repeated. "I'm not from here. I've never had a stake in this feud between Night Vale and Desert Bluffs. I love Night Vale, of course, but I don't hate Desert Bluffs like everyone else in town seems to. I guess, in a lot of ways, that means I'm still something of an 'interloper.' But, keeping that in mind, I hope you realize I would never have suggested we embark on this tour of Night Vale if I thought you were, I don't know, trying to make a case for this being the 'real' Night Vale or something. Like the merger tomorrow means Desert Bluffs is 'fake' Night Vale."
Cecil thought about it a moment longer, then set the button down on the counter. He placed his now free hand atop Carlos's and gave it a squeeze. "Okay. You're so much smarter than I am. I'll trust that you would tell me if I were making a statement I didn't intend to."
"I'll do that," Carlos answered. "You should put the button back on. You do still love Night Vale. And I'm sure you'll still love Night Vale tomorrow, even when it's bigger."
***
The Dog Park
10:25 pm
Street lamps illuminated the sidewalk in pools of yellow light, attracting a myriad of tiny, flitting bugs to their luminescent glow. At this time of night, the walkway was generally abandoned, save for the occasional roaming band of college students fresh off their late pizza dinners and ready to start whatever aforementioned shenanigans they had planned.
While not allowed to actually go into the Dog Park, Carlos and Cecil could at least traverse the exterior of the fence with little issue; the hooded figures weren't interested in them if they weren't actually attempting to enter.
The walls to keep them out were high and thick, and were covered in a nasty barbed wire that ran along the top like painful lace trimming. Carlos couldn't imagine how Cecil had managed to jump these barriers in order to visit the Otherworld last year. Love had been what was driving him that day, for sure, and perhaps nothing could have kept him away.
Every fifty feet or so, a local, artistic youth had left a variety of spray-painted graffiti upon the broad, stone wall. Some were intricately designed. Some were simple phrases. Some were abandoned partway through their creation; no doubt the artist had been interrupted by the looming presence of hooded figures.
No matter their origins, Carlos found the idea of leaving one's rebellious mark upon the world fascinating. If he had been an anthropologist, he might have been able to better explain the psychological why's of the illegal act. Seeing as he wasn't, all he could do was admire and keep a running log of the most interesting phrases they came across.
They Are Watching.
Come, Be Devoured.
ALL HAIL
Jerry's Furniture Barn - We Open Now!
Even with these occasional distractions, Carlos could feel his thoughts straying away from the present. As he ran his hand along the cold, rocky exterior wall, his thoughts became lost somewhere in the decade he'd spent away from home. So occupied in his own mind was he that he failed to notice Cecil watching him until the radio host reached over and squeezed the scientist's hand.
"Should we not have come here?" he asked with a gentle, steady tone.
Carlos breathed out, allowing himself a moment to come back into his own body, into the here and now. What was he feeling? "I'm fine. In a strange way, I think... I think it helps to be here, on this side of the fence. I can see with my own eyes that I'm... I'm out. I really am on the outside now. I am no longer in the Dog Park."
Another stretch of wall, another work of art. Mountains Are Real, written in elegant script. Below it, another's hand had written, Mountains ARE NOT Real. The debate continued on.
"That sounds... good," Cecil said. "It sounds like you're making progress."
Carlos bumped shoulders with him as they continued to walk, hand-in-hand. "I didn't realize you were such a big fan of the Dog Park, to include it with your must-see places like this."
Cecil hummed as he thought about it, and then shrugged. "I don't know that I am, in the traditional sense of the word. This place... it took Dana away. Then, it took you away. I've only been within its borders twice, and the first time I didn't even realize the Otherworld was in the Dog Park."
Until All Are One
Fuck the Moon
"To be fair, the Otherworld is also in The House that Doesn't Exist," Carlos said. "Anyway, you're not really making a case for The Dog Park being on the list, Ceec."
Cecil laughed. "Okay, but I'm not done with my explanation yet. It caused such strife with its sudden appearance in town, introduced hooded figures into our lives, who can be quite violent when provoked, and it doesn't even allow dogs within its walls-"
No Dogs Allowed
"See?" Cecil gestured to the words and the accompanying picture of an adorable beagle puppy with an X across its face. "Now, why aren't dogs allowed in The Dog Park?"
"Still not helping. You are yet to convince me."
"I'm getting there!" Cecil insisted. "The thing is... This park came into my life at the same time you did. It is inextricably tied into a moment in which my whole world changed for the better. When you were gone, and I was deep within the throes of my very worst despair, this Dog Park saved me. It was the key to escaping my difficulties and my woes and reuniting with man I love, if only for a short time. If this Dog Park weren't an entrance to the Otherworld, I... I don't know what I would have done. I don't know how I would have gotten through last year."
Любовь к матери
C~L~O~U~D~S
"Oh, Cecil."
"No matter its faults, it still means something to me," Cecil concluded. "Something beautiful. Plus, it's kind of nice having a municipal park in this neighborhood."
Carlos laughed. "Okay, I can see your point. The Dog Park is officially one of Night Vale's best monuments and I'm glad we visited it tonight."
As they rounded the final corner of the park's fence, they came upon a hooded figure. It was hunched over, a can of spray paint in its gnarled hand. It hissed as they approached, causing the two lovers to give it as wide a berth as possible. That didn't stop Carlos from taking a peek at what the figure had written.
Interdum mus, interdum caseus es.
***
Mission Grove Park
11:03 pm
"In retrospect," Cecil said as he scanned the darkened park from outside, "I should have realized it wouldn't be open this late." A red and white striped gate blocked off the driveway, while a nearby sign stated, No entry permitted after sunset.
It was, Carlos knew, a fairly standard practice for metroparks, but still disappointing. Winchell must have been sneaking in before the park closed, back when he was sleeping in his car in the lot.
"I'm sure it's for safety reasons," Carlos said, leaning against the tall stone pillar that had etched into its rocky face MISSION GROVE PARK. There was a matching one on the other side of the entranceway. "I've been coming here to jog more often, and even at dawn, I have to watch my step. I can't imagine trying to navigate the pathways in the dark."
Cecil sighed and crossed Mission Grove Park off his growing list of landmarks he'd wanted to see that night; many had similarly been dismissed because of the late hour, such as City Hall, the Museum of Forbidden Technology, Dark Owl Records, and a handful of other governmental buildings that were long closed to the public. "I don't know what I was expecting, really," he said as he tucked his list back in his pocket. "The only other places that are open at this hour are twenty-four seven convenience stores. It's not exactly 'Iconic Night Vale' to show up at the Marathon station or the BP, is it?"
"No, I don't suppose it is," Carlos agreed.
The radio host kicked a loose stone past the closed gate and watched it skitter into the abandoned parking lot, off into the pitch-black of night. "We should have come up with this plan earlier. There are so many places I still wanted to go. So many places I wanted to show you."
"Hey," Carlos said, pushing off the stone pillar. He crossed the short distance to where Cecil had just begun to pace and took him by the hands, halting him before he could really get going. "It's okay. We've already been all over town. I'd say we hit a good amount of locations tonight. Isn't that enough?"
Cecil's eyes fell, and he gave him a half-hearted shrug. "Is it ever enough? If we only had more time..."
"It's a shame, really," Carlos mused out loud as he idly swung Cecil's hands back and forth with his own. "Time doesn't work correctly in Night Vale, and today feels like it's gone by so fast. Maybe it did go by faster, or maybe it's just our perception. Time always feels to slip by us when we don't want something to end, and I know how much you didn't want tonight to end."
Cecil nodded solemnly.
"And yet," Carlos continued, "I think there's something beautiful in all of this. Tonight, we made the most out of the time we had. We did the very best we could with what we were given. I don't know that there's a better summation of the human experience than that."
A soft smile cracked the corner of the radio host's lips, visible in the soft light of the streetlamps. He leaned forward and bumped their foreheads together. "Oh, my Carlos. You're always looking on the bright side, aren't you?"
"I'm a scientist," Carlos answered. "It's what we do."
***
The Parking Lot at Arby's
11:50 pm
Within the inky black void of the sky, the lights above the Arby's sign shone brightly as they engaged in their nightly courtships. Below them, illuminated by the passing overhead mysteries, two lovers reclined atop a picnic blanket loaned to them from Old Woman Josie. Next to them were the leftover remains of a pizza from Big Rico's, a container of cold chicken wings courtesy of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley, and two slices of Moonlite All-Nite Diner's famous invisible pie.
After awhile, Carlos was aware that Cecil had tilted his head toward him, no longer watching the show in the night sky but the scientist beside him. "Thank you," the radio host said when Carlos glanced over and caught him staring. "For tonight, I mean. For coming up with this... this beautiful plan, and for then accompanying me. While it would have been meaningful for me to visit these places anyway, somehow it means so much more sharing it with you."
Carlos scooted in closer, letting Cecil's warmth seep into him. "Of course," he answered, reaching over and pushing a few strands of the radio host's pale hair behind an ear. As it always did, it fell right back where it had been before. "Babe, I love you. I love the things you love, and you love Night Vale."
"I do love Night Vale," Cecil agreed, "and Night Vale is... changing. But, what I've come to understand after our adventures tonight is that... the places and the people that I love about my town? They're still going to be here tomorrow. They aren't going to go away just because Desert Bluffs is joining us. Towns change. People change. We can still love them, even if things are different. And yes, Night Vale is marrying the worst town I have ever seen, but I still-"
"Did you just say 'marry'?" Carlos interrupted him.
Cecil paused. "I don't think so."
Carlos raised himself up onto his elbow to get a better look at his boyfriend lying next to him. "Yes, you did. You said Night Vale was marrying Desert Bluffs." A blush, just visible in the light cast from the Arby's sign and from above it, began to spread across Cecil's features. "That is an oddly specific way to phrase it, Ceec."
Cecil scoffed unconvincingly. "I'm sure I've heard people refer to town mergers as marriages before. It's... it's not that weird."
Carlos rolled so he had elbows around either side of Cecil and rested his chin on his chest. "This whole thing... this hasn't been some elaborate metaphor for-"
The radio host was already cringing. "Don't say it-"
"-when Steve Carlsberg married your sister and became a part of your family, is it?"
Cecil huffed and turned his face away. If Carlos hadn't already been occupying the space, he'd probably have crossed his arms petulantly. "I don't know what you're talking about. Just because Steve and Desert Bluffs share the same obvious trait of being absolutely awful, it doesn't mean I'm conflating my feelings regarding the two unions."
While Cecil continued to pout, Carlos rolled off him again, lining himself up in order to force the radio host to look at him. "Okay, okay," he said, "I'm sorry. Your irrational hatred of Steve Carlsberg is in no way like your irrational hatred of Desert Bluffs, and I'm sorry I tried to link the two. Forgive me?"
Cecil sighed, but the annoyance on his face was quickly fading. It was ultimately replaced by a soft smile. "Fine. But only because you're so cute." His turned his body towards the scientist, mirroring his position.
"I can see the lights," Carlos breathed out after what he thought was only a few seconds of staring into Cecil's eyes, but was more likely to have lasted an aeon. The lights were reflected within the radio host's purple irises, and though Carlos had seen this before, it somehow always took his breath away.
"I see the lights, too," Cecil whispered as he gazed back at him. Their eye contact was magnetic, drawing them both in until lips met lips, breath to breath. Carlos's lids fluttered shut, denying him the pleasure of the light show, but allowing him the intensified pleasure of Cecil's burning touch.
It was dizzying to be caught between the cold night air and the warmth that flowed like waves from his lover beside him. A hand caught the hem of his shirt, a leg hooked around his leg, a nose bumped into his own and a tongue greeted him with the enthusiasm of an excitable golden retriever. The thought made him laugh, which made Cecil laugh, but only paused their affections briefly.
Slower, and more deliberately, they returned to their kiss. Cecil's fingers found his, interlocking like puzzle pieces, filling the scientist with a cozy heat with every pulse he could feel beating away within the radio host's hand. It was a steady thump, thump, thump that was gradually increasing in tempo, keeping pace with the growing desperation with which they kissed, all while the mysterious lights passed overhead.
buzz buzz
"I think that was my phone," Carlos mumbled into Cecil's lips.
"Who is texting you at... what time even is it?" the radio host asked.
It would have been too difficult to navigate his way out of the jumble of limbs that was their usual make-out position, but Carlos did his best to lean back far enough to reach his cellphone, left out to hold down one corner of the picnic blanket. The screen was only just darkening after receiving the late-night message when he managed to inch it close enough to pick up. "Twelve-thirty?" Carlos laughed as he held the phone above him. "Oh my god, how long were we kissing?"
"We missed midnight," Cecil said, just a hint of disappointment in his voice. "While I do not regret a single second of macking on you like a teenager, because you are so hot right now, I do kind of wish we'd been able to do the countdown like we'd been planning."
Carlos booped Cecil's nose with his own. "There's always next time Night Vale merges with a neighboring town." He turned back to the phone, deftly unlocking it one handed and bringing up the text that had so rudely interrupted them. "Oh. Oh, Cecil, look."
Cecil took only a moment to read the message. "They had the baby," he said softly, the widest smile crossing his face.
"Yeah, and look at the time," Carlos insisted. The text from Dennis finished with one very important detail: Born at 12:01 am.
Cecil chuckled quietly. "The first baby born in the brand new Night Vale," he whispered as he pressed his forehead up against Carlos's cheek. "Life goes on, doesn't it? That's... that's really something."
"It really is," Carlos whispered back.
***
Night Vale Hospital
8:02 am
"Hey, you," Carlos said as he lingered in the doorway. Somehow, it seemed almost invasive to enter, as if he'd be interrupting something vulnerable and sacred. He waited, every millisecond torturously dragged out until she finally spotted him there, and beckoned him in with a finger. "I came as soon as they'd let me in. I see you, uh, you risked the hospital."
Rochelle gave a subdued chuckle as she raised her elevated hospital bed. Objectively, she looked terrible; her normally immaculate auburn hair was a mess, she wore no makeup or earrings or even nail polish, and that hospital gown was not doing her any favors. Despite all this, and despite the evident exhaustion... she looked happy most of all.
"You try pushing a bowling ball out your hoo-ha without meds," she said, her voice still raw from the physical exertion of giving birth just a few hours before, "and get back to me. No, there was no fucking way I was doing that sober."
Carlos pulled up a seat beside her. "Language," he replied with a smirk as he sat.
She blew a weak raspberry at him in return. "I can say fuck all I want because Cake is off having a check-up, Denny's out getting more coffee, and I am on way too many goddamn painkillers to give a rat's ass about my language right now."
Carlos had wandered around the maternity ward for a while before coming to Rochelle's room, hoping he'd see the giant window overlooking the room where all the babies were kept, just like in the movies. He'd never found it, and had in fact been chased off by a growling nurse when he asked. "You're not seriously calling him 'Cake,' are you? He's not- wait, him? You had a boy?"
"Ah, fuckballs," Rochelle swore. "I was planning on doing a whole big announcement, you know, like all the straight couples do when they accidentally start forest fires and shit. Guess that cat's out of the bag now. Surprise!" She threw her hands up in a slow display of mimed confetti-throwing before letting them drop down onto the bed next to her.
Carlos felt a warm well of affection in his chest. "Congratulations," he said softly.
Rochelle yawned. "No big deal. We're going to assume he's a boy until he's old enough to correct us if we're wrong. And if that happens, we'll just throw her or them another gender reveal party, even bigger and better than anything you've ever seen on friggin Instagram."
"Well, 'Cake' is certainly as gender-neutral a name as you're going to get," Carlos said with a smirk.
"Yeah, his name's not Cake," Rochelle answered. "Now that he's officially out of the oven, I can tell you his real name."
"So?" Carlos asked as she hesitated.
Rochelle tilted her head at him so that when she batted her eyelashes, it would have maximum effect. "Now, don't be mad."
The warmth in Carlos's chest was abruptly replaced with a spike of dismay. "What is his name?" he asked her evenly, trying not to let his suspicion of her show.
"Dennis and I had a long discussion when we found out we were having a boy," she explained. "In the end, we both agreed on the perfect name. Perhaps the most perfect name there ever was for a boy."
"Rochelle...."
"In fact," she went on, her voice sickly-sweet, as if that would win him over to the idea, "we named him after one of my dearest friends."
"You did not."
"Someone who means so much to me."
"You are not a latina, Rochelle," Carlos argued facetiously. "It would be cultural appropriation and I am deeply offended."
Rochelle chose to look flabbergasted by his complaints; her portrayal of confused, wide-eyes and open mouthed bewilderment was Oscar-worthy. "Well, now, I had to name him after his godparent, didn't I?"
Carlos shook his head, his amusement and horror intermingling. He needed to stop this travesty before she could sign the birth certificate. "I am serious, Rochelle. You are not naming your baby 'Carlos.'"
A nurse took that very moment as her cue to enter the room carrying a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. "Look who got a clean bill of health just in time for breakfast!" she announced cheerfully, wholly unaware of the disagreement the two occupants were having. She swept past the frustrated scientist to bring the special delivery straight to his mother.
"Hi, Connor," Rochelle said as the baby was handed to her, her voice the softest version of it Carlos had ever heard. In turn, the infant made a fussed sound, and turned his small, dark blue eyes up towards her face. He looked at her just as if she were his entire world; until a few hours ago, she had been.
Carlos's heart seized onto this moment as something truly special. It was the moment in which his entire view of his oldest friend changed, as he saw the tiny human she had created inside of herself transform her into something new, something different, something... maternal. He hadn't been expecting it to suit her so well.
He spent so long in this frame of mind that he realized much too late the significance of the child's name. "You named him Connor?" he asked, the connection at last forming in his brain. "Oh. Oh, Rochelle, that's-"
"Not too corny, is it?" she asked as she attempted to figure out the best way to hold her newborn. The nurse was still standing at her shoulder, ready to adjust her technique lest she drop him. "I mean, we all said she's just missing and not dead, but still..."
"I think-" Carlos started, but found himself having to swallow down a lump of emotion. "I think it's a lovely gesture. She'll be so happy when she finds out she has a godson named after her."
"Now she just has to get her butt in gear and come back to us so she can meet him," Rochelle said with a laugh. "Isn't that right, Conny?" she asked the child in her arms, though he did not seem to understand the question. As Rochelle gazed into Connor's face, her expression fell. She still smiled, but there was something fragile about it, something tremulous and scared.
"I'm really going to have to grow up now, aren't I?" she asked in a small voice.
Carlos nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose you are."
"Hm," she intoned, and the moment passed as if it had never been there. "Well, I heard the nurse-lady say it's breakfast time, didn't you? So, unless you want to see something you're really not ready for, Carlos-"
"Right," Carlos answered, pushing his chair back to he could stand before the breastfeeding could begin. "Of course. I wouldn't want to keep Cake waiting. I'm... I'm very happy to meet you, Connor. Have your mom bring you around the lab sometime so we can show off to the others how beautiful you are."
"A scientist's baby is always beautiful," Rochelle agreed as he headed for the door. "Thanks for stopping by, Carlos. You know... love you, and all that crap."
"Love you, too," he answered, paused, and then added, "Mommy."
Rochelle groaned and rolled her eyes. "Oh my god, I am so fucking old now!"
"Language!" the nurse scolded her.