More Jarlos fluff for ya'll. Sorry it's so insanely short, and it might not flow very well, or make any sense, but I've had some really terrible shit happen to me this week… PM me if you're interested in hearing about my worthless personal life… anyway.
On with it.
There's a few things James knows about Carlos.
First, he knows that Carlos' favorite color is green, his favorite meal is chicken nuggets with honey and chocolate milk, and his favorite animal is a dinosaur. (Logan had tried to tell him, multiple times, that dinosaurs were extinct, that they couldn't be his favorite if they didn't exist, but in return, Carlos had replied, "My favorite species of dinosaur is a T-Rex.")
Second, he knows that Carlos is a ball of nothing but endless energy- enough to power New York City, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas five times over. He knows that Carlos is allergic to dust mites, Tylenol, and peanut butter (although he once ate an entire jar of Jiffy's without missing a beat, and nothing happened).
Third, he knows that inside that little bundle of fun, there is a deeply sensitive and hurting Carlos Garcia. James knows that he wears his helmet to protect against the humor and confident façade, to shield the bruises and wounds that have yet to heal.
He remembers, back in Minnesota, the evening when he woke up at two thirty in the morning. Unable to go back to sleep, he had decided to take a walk. That was when he found Carlos laying on an old bench in the park, closed in on himself and crying, shivering from the freezing early morning air. James remembers picking him up and carrying him back to his own house, he remembers Carlos clinging to his sweatshirt like if he let go, he would be lost with no hope of finding his way back home.
James remembers calling Kendall and Logan, and the two had hurried over to James' house, where they had wrapped Carlos in layers of blankets and clothes and held him close, just listening to what he had to say and consoling him when the stories became too much for him to handle.
James knows that Carlos moved in with his grandmother, his abulita, when his father finally got arrested for child neglect and abuse. He knows that Carlos had the third room on the left in the second story of the house, and he loved it because it was old and musty, full of mysteries and wonderment.
James knows that Carlos can't sleep when he doesn't know where his helmet is, that he has a little, harmless crush on Kelly, and that he is frightened beyond belief to kiss Stephanie.
James knows that Carlos sometimes thinks that he's invincible, and that sometimes gets him in trouble, because of the sheer impossibility of it.
But then, with Carlos, anything is possible. The unexpected is only to be expected.
James remembers, smiling fondly, when he was sick with the flu a few weeks before. Carlos had taken it upon himself to take care of him, and when he tried to make soup, he ended up mixing chicken noodle and cream of mushroom together, because he wasn't sure which one James preferred.
James knows that Carlos had an imagination that stretches from California to Mars and back, and that he sometimes sucks his thumb in his sleep when he has nightmares.
James also is reminded, every single day, that Carlos loves to play Bandanna Man and Helmet Boy.
Around four thirty every afternoon, James and Carlos would meet in their room, once Logan has retired to the room he and Kendall share to study his medical books, Kendall is on a date with Jo, and Mrs. Knight and Katie are out shopping.
Carlos is grinning as James suits up in full purple bandanna gear, and he straps his helmet on. "BANDANNA MAN AND HELMET BOY, TO THE RESCUE!" they shout in unison, leaping from one bed to the other.
They go on like this for hours, or until Logan bangs on the too thin wall and tells them to shut the hell up, or he's going to call the cops. And then they do stop, because all four boys know from previous experience that you do not want to get involved with the Los Angeles County Police Department.
And then, when Carlos is sleeping on his chest, hair lightly brushing along the underside of his chin, James knows that he wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.
So… yeah. Reviews always make me feel better, especially now when I really need cheering up. If you have an idea that you want written, tell me, and if I like it, maybe I'll do it? I think my life has caught the plot bunny in a trap and frozen him into very fattening fro-yo treats.