Okay so since the latest episodes of Night Vale have been EXTREMELY PAINFUL, I wrote an extremely not-painful fic about Cecil and Carlos going to France.
That's it. That's the fic.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own WtNV.
Carlos couldn't believe how difficult it had been to get Cecil out of Night Vale. As an Outsider (the term seemed to deserve capitalization, from the way everyone always said it), Carlos was able to leave with relative ease. He just had to fill out a few forms and be sure to inform the City Council of his destination, purpose in leaving, and how long he would be gone. But it was a much bigger deal for the Voice of Night Vale to leave town for a week. That was all the Council would allow, no matter how much Carlos tried to protest and ask for more time. A week was enough, though; they would make do. After studying pamphlets and an atlas, Carlos and Cecil decided to go to France for their vacation, to Paris, more specifically.
"It's the City of Love, Carlos," Cecil explained. "Of course we should go there. We're in love, right? It's a city just for people like us!" Cecil scrutinized Carlos. "Do you think they'll allow us to perform a marriage without doing the seven quests of honor?"
Carlos was interested in how taking Cecil out in the real world would go.
They decided not to get married in Paris, although the Parisians didn't require the seven quests of honor that Night Vale apparently did. After deliberating about it for a while, they (well, mostly Cecil) decided that they'd rather have their potential future wedding back in Night Vale, where they could invite friends like Old Woman Josie and, if she ever returned from wherever she went off to, Intern Dana. Carlos wasn't quite sure he wanted to go through the seven quests of honor, but Cecil assured him that they did them together and most couples made it out alive. That wasn't quite the assurance Carlos wanted, but then again, it was Night Vale. He should have known there would be something like that as a marriage tradition.
The plane ride was an adventure in and of itself. Cecil had never flown before and he didn't seem to like it very much. Carlos had to keep him from running to the door when the plane hit some turbulence, and during the landing, he swore Cecil was chanting something that sounded vaguely Sumerian. Carlos just hoped it was a prayer and not some sort of curse to bring the plane down. He figured it was probably about a seventy-thirty chance.
The plane landed successfully, so if Cecil had been cursing the plane, it hadn't worked. Carlos figured that moved the chances to eighty-twenty, considering most of Cecil's curses were pretty effective. Even still, Carlos couldn't build up the nerve to ask Cecil what he had been saying.
The hotel was lovely. Cecil explored it curiously, searching the room from top to bottom. He was surprised there wasn't a bloodstone circle (Carlos wasn't), but he had brought his own travel one (Carlos wasn't surprised by that either). After some chanting, Cecil declared the room safe. Carlos didn't ask what he had protected them from.
They had dinner in their room after calling for room service. Carlos didn't think bringing Cecil out to the dining room on their first night was a good idea. It turned out to be a good thing, considering Cecil's reactions to the wheat and wheat by-products. Rather than eating it or something normal, Cecil gasped in horror and grabbed a ceremonial-looking knife (how the hell had he gotten that past customs?) to stab the bread with. Carlos managed to stop him. Barely. Cecil still refused to eat any wheat or wheat by-products, and he winced every time Carlos did.
"Cecil, please," Carlos said with an eye roll. "Wheat and wheat by-products won't hurt you."
"You were there!" Cecil protested. "We all almost died. Wheat and wheat by-products are dangerous!"
"Not here," Carlos corrected. "They're not dangerous." Cecil gave the bread a suspicious glare and refused to touch it. Carlos, on the other hand, relished the bread as if it were some sort of exotic specialty. He knew he wouldn't be able to eat it again once he returned to Night Vale, so Carlos was determined to eat as much bread as he could before then.
"If that bread in your stomach turns into a writhing snake in the middle of the night, I'm not helping," Cecil threatened. Carlos sighed.
"It won't." Cecil didn't look convinced. Carlos sighed again. "I swear, it won't."
Cecil still avoided the bread. He liked the vegetables, though. And the salad. Carlos tried to tempt him with croutons for his salad, but Cecil was horrified by the very idea. He didn't like the cucumbers either, but that was just because he didn't like the taste.
The bed was comfortable and Cecil and Carlos snuggled the whole night. When morning came, Carlos watched Cecil's morning rituals with bemusement. (And when he said rituals he meant literal rituals with the bloodstone circle and the incense and everything. Again, how Cecil got all that past customs was a slightly worrying mystery.) Breakfast wasn't a problem, and Carlos promised they would find some gluten-free place for them to eat lunch. He wasn't quite sure where to find gluten-free places in Paris, but he'd figure it out.
The day passed fairly quickly, and Carlos did manage to find a gluten-free place after asking around a bit in abysmal French. They saw the Louvre - Cecil's commentary was priceless - and took a walk in the park nearby. The next day was equally lovely, and so was the entire week, until they reached the last day of their vacation.
"What are we going to do today?" Cecil asked as he and Carlos ate breakfast. Carlos smiled.
"I know just the thing." It was something Carlos had been saving for last and he couldn't wait to finally do it. Cecil beamed as Carlos dragged him out of the hotel. They took the metro deeper into Paris, then Carlos led Cecil the last little bit.
"Oh!" Cecil gasped as he realized where they were headed. Carlos beamed as they stood in front of the Eiffel Tower. "Oh, it's huge!"
"Follow me." Carlos dragged Cecil over to the shorter line.
"What is it?" Cecil asked excitedly. Carlos turned to him and beamed.
"We're climbing up!" Carlos went up to the front of the line, still holding Cecil's hand, and bought the tickets. The two made their way to the staircase.
"I would have bought tickets for the elevator, but it's always a ridiculous line and I thought the stairs wouldn't be that bad," Carlos babbled. "Is that okay with you? I should have asked. Is it? Cause it's okay if it's not. I mean-"
"It's okay with me," Cecil interrupted with a smile. The tension left Carlos's shoulders in a rush.
"Oh. Good." Carlos showed their tickets to the man at the front, they passed through the metal detector, and they began to climb. The stairs looked like they would go on forever, but there weren't many people on them, so they were able to stop whenever they needed to.
The first level had incredible views. Cecil trailed after Carlos as he took picture after picture of Paris. "Ready to go up?" he asked, once they had seen every view.
"Of course," Cecil replied. If Carlos hadn't been high on his own excitement, he would have noticed that Cecil was lacking his usual passion. But Carlos was high on his own excitement, and thus he did not notice. Instead, he dragged Cecil to the stairs and climbed up.
The second level was even more amazing than the first. Carlos took dozens of pictures, almost forgetting about Cecil in his excitement. He'd wanted to climb the Eiffel Tower ever since he was a little kid. This was a dream come true for him.
Except, Carlos noticed as he turned back to look at Cecil, it didn't seem to be a dream come true for him. "Cecil? Are you alright?" Cecil was pale and his eyes kept darting around. Carlos took his hand. It was sweaty.
"I'm fine, darling Carlos," Cecil replied, but his voice was rough with panic, which did nothing to ease Carlos's worries.
"Is something wrong? Is there something here that I didn't notice?" Carlos had thought he would notice if something from Night Vale's weirdness had bled through to Paris, but Cecil was the expert.
Cecil laughed, but the sound was slightly hysterical. "Nothing's wrong!" he told Carlos, his voice slightly high-pitched. Now even more concerned, Carlos dragged Cecil over to one of the benches and sat down with him.
"Cecil, what is it?" he asked gently, taking both of Cecil's trembling hands in his own. "Please tell me what's wrong."
"But you were having such a nice time," Cecil whispered. Carlos shook his head.
"I can't have a nice time if you're not. Tell me what's wrong."
"We're very high up," Cecil finally admitted in a small voice. Suddenly, it all clicked together.
"Cecil?" Carlos asked gently. "Are you afraid of heights?"
"I know it's ridiculous," Cecil replied, sounding a little embarrassed. "It's not even a logical fear like wheat and wheat byproducts or Granny Smith apples or dog parks." Carlos wisely decided not to comment on the "logical" fears. "But I just don't feel comfortable this high up," Cecil admitted.
"Why didn't you say something?" Carlos asked. "If you'd told me, I wouldn't have brought you up here. I thought you were okay with it."
"You seemed so excited about it. I didn't want to ruin it," Cecil mumbled. "And now I have ruined it. I'm sorry, Carlos."
"Hey." Carlos lifted Cecil's chin so he was looking at him. "You didn't ruin anything."
"But I did!" Cecil protested. "You were having fun, and now you're not."
"I'd rather you be comfortable," Carlos replied honestly. "Should we go down now?"
"Only if you're ready to," Cecil replied. He was looking around nervously, though, and seemed to be getting less and less comfortable. Carlos took his hand and stood.
"I think I took enough pictures," he replied, leading Cecil over to the stairs. "Let's go."
"Really?" Cecil asked, looking down the stairs. "You're sure?"
"Positive," Carlos replied. Still holding hands, the two started down the stairs. Cecil got more and more relaxed the closer to the ground they were, until he seemed completely normal at the bottom. They made their way over to the little benches nearby and say down, their hands still clasped.
"Thank you, Carlos," Cecil whispered, leaning his head on Carlos's shoulder. "I really like the city of love."
"So do I, Cecil," Carlos replied, dropping a kiss on Cecil's forehead. "So do I."