So months and months ago because-destiel-thats-why on tumblr asked for Carlos to have a voice kink. I don't think that this is quite what she had in mind, but it's what came out. Just take it up that I do fill requests (eventually); you can hit me up either here or over at tumblr where I'm theravensdesk.
Thanks as always to my lovely beta Painless_papercuts over on Ao3, who is some sort of fairy goddess or something.
Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear from you. Enjoy!
Carlos absolutely hated this. At some point he had apparently developed the desire to do whatever was necessary to keep his boyfriend happy, and putting that crushed look on Cecil's face made his heart feel like it was cracking in two. He was leaning against the side of car with Cecil standing in front of him, trying and failing to look brave. Carlos moved his hands back down to his friend's waist and leaned in for what was going to be their fifth last kiss.
Cecil sighed when they separated, pouting just a little bit. "I don't want you to go."
"I have to go; it's my job," he replied, telling himself that there was no reason for him to feel guilty. "Scientific equipment companies won't ship to Night Vale, and I need new supplies."
Cecil nodded, obviously trying to be understanding. "I know you do, but I'm still going to miss you."
"I'll miss you too, but it's only for two days," the scientist answered, rubbing his thumb across a cheekbone, "three tops. It's no big deal."
"It is a big deal," Cecil insisted, grabbing onto his love's forearms. "Anything could happen. You could get in a car accident, or get sucked into the void, or get lost in a time loop. Or you could just decide to go live somewhere with a lower death rate. What if you don't come back?"
Carlos pulled the man against him, petting his hair comfortingly. "None of that is going to happen. Everything is going to be fine; I promise."
"You can't possibly be able to promise that," he complained, muttering into his boyfriend's neck where he had his face buried. "As far as I know you have no psychic powers, so you couldn't possibly promise me that."
He smiled, pressing a kiss on his temple. "Watch me."
Cecil cracked a smile despite himself, returning the kiss against the closest piece of skin, before becoming serious again. "And what about the other thing? You haven't really left since you got here; what if you leave and realize that you like somewhere else better?"
"Now that's definitely not going to happen," he answered, gently pushing his friend away so that he could make eye contact. "I'm not going to leave you Cecil; I could never do that. I would never want to."
"Promise?" He asked, looking ridiculously hopeful.
"Promise," Carlos answered, purposefully maintaining eye contact. "I'll be back before you know it. But I really do need to get going; I've got a long drive and I want to beat traffic." He leaned in for what was well and truly their final last kiss, and this time Cecil let him go when he pulled away. Carlos climbed into his car and started it up, watching his friend in the rear-view mirror for as long as he possibly could.
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Carlos really liked driving; he always had, but Night vale wasn't very conducive to long, leisurely drives, so it had been a while since he had gotten a chance do enjoy it. He drove for most of the day, enjoying the peace and quiet and reveling in the idea that he didn't have to hurry to be somewhere at any sort of specific time. He had left early all the same, never sure of how long it would take him to get out of Night Vale's sphere of influence. He drove in silence, happy to be alone with his thoughts. He stopped when he got hungry, eating at a small diner where he ordered off an actual menu, paid a real bill with real US currency, and left without risking his life once. Once he was back on the road, he put in the mixed cd Cecil had burned for him, smiling as it reminded him of his boyfriend.
He reached his hotel late, much later than he had anticipated, but he didn't have any plans for that evening so it wasn't really a problem other than him being exhausted. He placed a quick call to his partner, just to let him know that he had arrived safely, before collapsing into the ridiculously comfortable bed and falling asleep.
The next morning he got up early, eating a deliciously wheat-filled breakfast in the hotel restaurant. He wasn't able to pick up his packages until that afternoon, so he spent the morning shopping for things he couldn't easily find in Night Vale — mostly books — as well as a gift or two for Cecil. He had Italian for lunch, again eating as many wheat based products as he could stomach. Afterwards, he took his purchases back to his hotel room before driving over to pick up his packages.
The whole process took hours. Carlos had to catalog each piece of equipment, repack it, and then fill out pages and pages of paperwork. When he was finally finished with that, he had to take everything out and carefully load it into his car, making sure that everything was secure enough that nothing would break. He felt nervous about leaving that much expensive equipment in the car overnight, but it was a good neighborhood and everything was out of sight, and it really was a better option than trying to carry everything up to his hotel room and then back down to the car in the morning.
By the time he was finally done, he was starving. He went to dinner, once again eating alone and beginning to feel really lonely. He normally ate at least one meal a day with Cecil, and even though it had barely been two days, he was already missing his boyfriend terribly. After dinner he went back to his room, not really sure what else to do. He took a shower, reveling in the fact that he didn't have to chant once in order to get hot water. Then he settled in to watch some non-council approved television. He sat in his boxers propped up against the headboard of his bed and flipped channels. He finally settled on a documentary about astrophysics, deciding to find one about mountains later if he got bored.
/
Carlos couldn't focus on the TV. He was lonely and homesick and more than a little bit horny. He had tried taking care of that last one himself but had given up after only a few minutes; he had never really been good at masturbating — even as a teenager — it just felt too, creepy; if he didn't have something to focus on then he'd just get distracted and then the whole thing would be a waste, but if he thought of any specific person then he felt voyeuristic and intrusive. And porn just made absolutely everything worse. He had eventually developed a knack for thinking of vague, non-personal individuals to fuel his fantasies, but that skill had flown right out the window pretty much as soon as he had met a certain community radio host which was very, very frustrating. It had ceased to be a problem, however, after they started actually sleeping together. Cecil was very enthusiastic about their love life, to say the least, and he was rarely opposed to what Carlos refused to refer to as booty calls.
But Cecil wasn't anywhere nearby, and apparently the fact that Carlos had been given an all-access pass to the radio host's bed did not make masturbating any easier. Without Cecil physically there to keep him focused, the Scientist's mind wandered, getting caught up on things that he was normally able to ignore, usually involving their age difference. When they were together, it was pretty easy for Carlos to focus on the fact that Cecil was a mature, responsible adult who was more than capable of making his own decisions, but when it was just him and his hand, he couldn't help but calculate that when Cecil was starting high school, he was probably half way through his under-grad, or, worse, when Carlos was going to his first school dance (although he admittedly spent most of the evening standing awkwardly in a corner), Cecil was just about learning how to walk. Thoughts like that made him feel like a creepy cradle-robber, which killed any chances at masturbatory success, leaving him feeling guilty, ashamed, and even more sexually frustrated than before.
He was interrupted when his phone rang and Cecil's picture popped up on his screen. He sighed and wiped his hands on the bedspread, hoping that talking to his boyfriend would help distract him from the fact that he utterly failed to accomplish something that moronic teenage boys did on a daily basis.
"Hey Cecil," he said, trying to keep his frustration out of his voice. "What's up?"
There was a dreamy sigh from the other line before the broadcaster spoke. "Hello Carlos, beautiful Carlos. I've just been missing you terribly."
Carlos smiled, knowing that his boyfriend was being purposefully melodramatic and yet completely sincere at the same time. "I've missed you too, Cece. But I'll be home tomorrow."
"Did you get everything you needed to?" He asked, sounding excited.
He nodded, forgetting that he couldn't be seen. "Yep, it's all packed up and ready to go, so I can leave early tomorrow morning. I'm sorry I missed your show, though."
Cecil giggled, sounding almost bashful. "Oh you didn't miss much; it was a fairly slow news day. I'm sure that what you did was much more exciting."
"I sincerely doubt that," he answered wryly. "I was just shopping and then filling out miles and miles of paperwork. Why don't you tell me what I missed?" He leaned back and closed his eyes, hoping that his friend would be able to distract him from what was currently going on — or not going on, as it were — in his boxers.
Cecil giggled again before clearing his throat and launching into his story. His tone easily switched into his Radio Voice, and Carlos quickly realized that there had been a rather huge flaw in his logic. He had always found Cecil's voice attractive, even when he was more terrified of the man than anything else, and that was something that had only grown with their relationship. The worst part was that Cecil wasn't even trying to be sexy; he was just talking, obviously running through the stories he had told on his show while Carlos had been gone. He was slightly less professional than normal, speaking directly to His Scientist instead of out into the void like he usually did on air. Carlos tried to focus on what the other man was saying, but he kept getting lost in his voice.
He had completely lost the thread of the story, Cecil was saying something about Old Woman Josie and her Angels, which really should have killed it for Carlos, but instead of his erection flagging like he had hoped it would, the sound of Cecil's voice just made thing ten times worse. Cecil was describing some baked goods that Josie had made for, something, and he gave a groan to punctuate how good they were; it wasn't particularly pornographic, but it was more than Carlos could handle and he couldn't keep his whimper from escaping.
"Carlos?" Cecil asked, sounding concerned. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
Carlos squeezed his eyes shut, his face burning with shame. "Nothing's wrong; I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" He pressed, not sounding at all reassured. "You don't sound very comfortable. Maybe you should contact the local secret police; they tend to know first aid, or at least the number for the local healer."
He grit his teeth, barely resisting the urge to just hang up and pretend this conversation had never happened. "That really isn't necessary. I'm completely fine; I promise. You can finish what you were saying — something about, um, Josie." There was a long pause and he began to hope that his friend was actually going to let it go.
"Carlos," Cecil finally said, sounding almost offended, "are you aroused?"
The scientist covered his face with his free hand, horrified to realize that he might actually start crying from embarrassment. "Yes. I am."
"Was it," he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "Was it because I was talking about Old Woman Josie? Or her muffins? Or was it the… Erikas."
Carlos laughed, startled out of his mortification for a moment. "No Cecil, it's not because of Josie, or baked goods, and especially not because of the Erikas."
"Then why?" He asked, still sounding confused and upset.
He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. "Yes, why would I be even remotely turned on, sitting alone in my hotel room and talking to my boyfriend? It's a complete mystery to me."
"It's because of me?" He asked, his voice getting higher and more excited. "Really?"
He chuckled. "Really. Cecil, why would it be anyone else?" He took a deep breath, knowing that Cecil needed more of an explanation. "I was thinking of you in the shower, and then you called and it didn't go away. I'm sorry; you can keep talking — I really do want to hear about everything that I've missed. I'll pay better attention; I promise."
"I told you, you really didn't miss much," he said, sounding vaguely amused. "Why didn't you just, you know, take care of it yourself."
Carlos closed his eyes again, feeling a fresh wave of shame crest over him. "I can't."
"Why not? Did the City Council there forbid it?" He asked, sounding far too scandalized for a man who days before had announced a ban on whistling without batting an eye.
He sighed, again having to resist the rather juvenile urge to just turn off his phone and bury himself under blanket and hide. "No, it's not against the law. I'm just incompetent."
"You're not incompetent," Cecil protested, almost reflexively. "Why don't you do what you normally do?"
He groaned, wishing that he could avoid this conversation. "I normally don't. It either goes away or I call you."
"So you don't ever?" He asked, sounding mildly awed and mostly confused.
Carlos sighed. "Not since I met you. It doesn't really work."
"Why not?" he asked, sounding equal parts confused and intrigued.
He closed his eyes, hating the fact that he could feel mortified tears pricking his eyes. "It just doesn't. It never really has. It always feels kind of creepy, thinking of someone else without their permission. The only way it ever even kind of worked was if I managed not to think of anyone at all, but that's been absolutely impossible since I moved to Night Vale." He paused, hesitating for a moment before admitting, "You're kind of hard not to think about."
"Well why don't you think about me now," he said helpfully, sounding understandably flattered. "I assure you that you have my explicit permission to think about me whenever you want."
He sighed, positive that this was going to be the low point of their conversation. "It doesn't work like that, apparently. I get distracted without you here to help me focus." He absolutely refused to mention the age thing; Cecil had never shown any sign of self-consciousness about their age difference, and Carlos certainly had no intention of changing that; besides, even if they had been exactly the same age, his mind would have found some other inconsequential thing to focus on.
"Oh," Cecil answered thoughtfully. "Do you want me to help?"
"I don't see how you can help considering that you're there and I'm here," he answered, still feeling incredibly embarrassed.
He chuckled, obviously amused. "Has Mr. Scientist never heard of phone sex?"
"Oh," he answered, his embarrassment increasing. "I don't know about that. Why don't we just forget about it?"
He sighed. "We could, but wouldn't it be more fun to not forget about it? I promise it'll be fun."
"I don't know," he replied, feeling awkward. "I don't know how exactly to do that."
"That's okay," he said kindly, his voice deepening into something distinctly seductive. "I know what I'm doing. Please say yes."
Carlos sighed, feeling way out of his depth. "Fine. What do I need to do?"
"You can start by telling me what you're wearing," Cecil said, his seductive tone slipping in his excitement.
He briefly considered lying before realizing that he would never be able to sustain a fiction for very long, and that he had no real idea what a suitable lie would be in this situation. "Um, boxers and a t-shirt."
"Ooh, what t-shirt?" He asked, sounding more curious than anything else.
He smiled, relaxing a bit at such a typically Cecil reaction. "My NVCR shirt — the black one."
"It's funny how you call it your shirt considering you stole it from me," he quipped, trying to sound miffed but barely keeping himself from laughing.
The scientist rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Oi, you're one to talk. I simply failed to return it after you left it at my apartment; you, on the other hand, stole my college sweatshirt out of my laundry hamper and snuck it out to your truck while I was sleeping.
"And let's not pretend that you just happened to wear a shirt two sizes to big for you over to my place and then conveniently forget it the next morning with no ulterior motive whatsoever."
"Carlos!" Cecil spluttered, sounding very scandalized. "Are you really accusing me of being so conniving over something so petty?"
Carlos laughed more openly. "Oh don't pull that with me, mister. You know damn well that you would be that conniving over something so petty." Cecil laughed as well, sounding very pleased with himself.
After a few moments Carlos quieted down again and decided that he should probably get back on track, feeling decidedly more relaxed than before. "So, what are you wearing Cece?"
"Um, your college sweatshirt," he answered, sounding slightly sheepish.
He chuckled. "Just the sweatshirt?"
"What? I'm not going anywhere," he said, mildly defensive.
"Well it sounds very hot," he answered, feeling awkward but managing to keep his voice even.
The broadcaster giggled appreciatively. "Thank you. I'll have to make sure to be wearing it when you get home."
"That sounds very nice," he said, closing his eyes, almost able to imagine it. "I'll be looking forward to it."
"Are you still hard, Carlos?" Cecil asked, his voice deepening again.
Carlos flushed, his embarrassment rising once again now that they were so obviously back on topic. "Um, yeah, yeah I am."
"Good, very good," he said slowly. "And you really haven't touched yourself since getting to Night Vale?"
The sound of his boyfriend's voice was almost enough to keep the shame from spiraling up his spine. "I, uh, I actually did twice, before we started dating."
"Oh really?" He said, sounding interested. "This sounds like an interesting story. Tell it to me."
He closed his eyes, wondering why he hadn't just lied. "Um, it was after the wheat thing. I couldn't really sleep, but I was so tired. Your show came on, I don't know how. And I just couldn't help myself.
"About a week later I, uh, I knew your show was going to be on late, so I, uh, I got really drunk, so drunk that I couldn't think. And I listened to your show, and, you know. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Cecil said, managing to maintain his seductive tone while still sounding kind. "I like the thought of you getting yourself off while listening to my show."
"Really?" He asked, his voice cracking.
He chuckled. "Really. I used to get off work and go home and imagine you listening to me and touching yourself. Oh gods, Carlos, you have no idea how many times I got off thinking of you like that. You don't mind do you?"
"No, I don't mind," he answered, taking a deep breath. "Not at all."
"Good," Cecil answered knowingly. "I didn't think you would. I love the thought of you getting off on listening to me."
Carlos licked his lips, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. "R-really? You do?"
"Of course," he hummed, his voice even lower than before. "I still think about it sometimes. When you're working late and I haven't seen you in what feels like ages. I'll go home and keep the lights down low; I'll sit in that huge, soft chair that you love. Maybe I'll have a drink, maybe I won't — it depends on what type of day I've had."
Carlos swallowed thickly, not wanting to interrupt by saying anything.
Cecil continued without pause. "I take off my tie and unbutton my shirt, but I leave it on because I know you like how I look like that. I go slow, doing my best to keep my breathing slow and even, but gods it's hard, and I can't help but make those helpless little sounds that you pretend not to love as much as you do. I close my eyes and imagine you flat on your back on your bed, listening to my show with the lights off; or maybe you're in your office, scrunched on that awful couch with the door locked. I can't help myself when I think about it; I always come far too soon.
"Oh," he breathed, his chest feeling impossibly tight.
The broadcaster chuckled. "Are you touching yourself Carlos?"
"N-no," he stammered nervously, his free hand clenched on his thigh.
He moaned, the sound only partially forced. "Well I am; I couldn't help it. Why don't you join me? You've been hard for ages; it'll feel so good to finally get some relief."
"Okay," he agreed awkwardly, staring up at the ceiling so that he didn't have to look as he slipped his hand into his boxers. He wrapped his fingers around himself and pulled just a little bit, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and biting his lips to try and choke back his moan.
The other man clicked his tongue, a sound that managed to be simultaneously chastising and soothing. "You don't have to try and hide those delicious sounds you make — especially not from little old me."
The scientist huffed out a laugh at the ridiculous turn of phrase, but when he gave another tug, he didn't bother to try and hide his moan.
Cecil groaned in response, and for the first times the slick sounds of him touching himself came across the phone line. "Oh gods, I do love the way you sound like this. It's my second favorite sound."
"What's your first?" He asked, trying not to feel as if he was getting sidetracked.
He hummed happily, pretending to think for a moment. "Your laugh, definitely your laugh — especially when you're laughing at one of those science jokes you love so much even though I don't understand them at all."
"I love explaining them to you," he replied, smiling to himself. "You always catch on quick enough. And you've even started making your own."
He laughed. "You mean I've started googling my own."
"Well that's a start," he admitted, feeling warmth bubbling in his chest. The banter relaxed him, feeling more like what they normally did. "I certainly enjoy them."
He sighed, deepening his voice seductively. "So Carlos, what do you want to do? Tell me what you want."
"J-just keep talking, please," he answered, feeling awkward again. "I like listening to you."
Cecil cleared his throat, sounding very nearly smug. "And I like talking to you. But what should I talk about, hmm? There are so many, many things that I could say. I could tell you about how much I love it when you come over after my show as a surprise-when you're just waiting for me when I get home. It makes me feel like you've been thinking about me."
"I'm almost always thinking about you," Carlos interjected, barely able to gasp out his words. "If I came over every time I wanted to, I'd never leave."
Cecil hummed happily, the sound morphing into a groan as he did changed his grip on himself. "Don't tease because I really wouldn't mind that; you could come over every night and I wouldn't complain."
"I'll keep that in mind," he managed, affection blooming in his chest in addition to the lust already settled there.
"Do you know what my favorite thing about when you do that is?" He asked, not pausing long enough for the other man to answer before continuing. "You always have a plan when you show up like that, and I love it when you have a plan. Like last week when I came home to find you sitting on my front steps; you could have gone inside, but you obviously wanted to see me coming. You pushed me up against the front door and kissed me, and, oh gods, you did that thing with your tongue," he moaned for emphasis, low and deep and honest, "and it was all I could do not to beg you to fuck me right out in the open where anyone could see. But you had your plan, and you moved us inside, pushing me into that big chair in the living room.
"Then you made me watch you strip; I wanted to touch so badly, but you wouldn't let me. You were teasing me because I was grabbing myself through my pants; you said I was desperate, and oh gods, I was. I didn't want to interfere with your plan by undressing before you were ready for me to, but you looked so hot, and I was so hard, that I couldn't just sit there and not touch myself. I thought you were going to tell me to suck your cock, and just the thought of it made my mouth water."
Carlos moaned quickening his pace at the mental image his partner was painting.
"But that wasn't what you had planned," he continued. "You climbed into my lap and straddled my hips. You must have had lube in your jacket or something, because I certainly don't keep any in the sitting room, which means you had really planned things out really well, and that turned me on like nothing else. You told me to finger you, and it was so hard to focus; you were unbuttoning my shirt and kissing my neck."
Carlos sighed, closing his eyes and remembering the feeling of Cecil's skin under his lips. He moaned, the sound egging his partner on.
Cecil gave a breathy sigh and continued. "You pulled away, and I thought you were leaving — I couldn't think straight — but you weren't. You pulled my pants down and left them around my knees; I couldn't move, but I didn't need to because before I really knew it you were back on top of me and were pushing yourself down on my cock. Oh gods Carlos, you always feel so good — so fucking hot."
The scientist chuckled at the (probably) unintentional pun and increased his pace, beginning to pant; he had been turned on for so long that as much as he loved listening to his boyfriend, he really needed to finish.
"I remember," he said, gasping for breath. "You felt so good — you always do. Oh god, please keep talking… please don't stop."
The broadcaster didn't miss a beat after the interruption, deciding not to break his rhythm. "I could feel your prick rubbing against my stomach; I wanted to touch you so bad, but I had to beg before you would let me. You must have been so turned on because you were coming so quickly.
Carlos flushed again, retroactively embarrassed for his lack of stamina. "You felt so good; I couldn't help it. You always feel amazing."
"You sound amazing when you come; it was almost enough to make me come just listening to you, but I still needed more. You must have been so sensitive, and I expected you to stop, but you didn't; you just kept fucking yourself on my cock. The sounds you were making were positively divine, and you felt so good; I wanted to come so badly, but it wasn't quite enough. Then you leaned in and kissed me — slow and dirty and perfect — fucking my mouth with your tongue with the same rhythm that you were fucking yourself down around me." He groaned, the slick sounds of his hand moving sped up and became more desperate. "Gods Carlos, it felt like you were everywhere; you were around me and in me and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Oh fuck," he trailed off, starting to focus on what he was doing instead of what he was saying. Somehow that silence was even better than what Cecil had been saying. The sound of the other man's gasps and pants were enough to tip Carlos over the edge.
He groaned Cecil's name, come spilling over his hand. He vaguely registered his partner following suit, but he was unable to really focus. Carlos' taut muscles went lax and he collapsed back against the mattress, trying to catch his breath; he listened to his partner do the same and suddenly wished that Cecil would say something, anything. Now that he was no longer flooded with lust and hormones his embarrassment came rushing back; he could hardly believe that he had just done what they just did, and he was starting to seriously second guess himself. He needed Cecil to reassure him, but he had no idea how to ask for it, or even if he had a right to.
"Carlos," Cecil began, having caught his breath, "you haven't said anything. Have I broken you?"
Carlos huffed out a small chuckle, sighing in relief at his friend's light tone. "Not quite broken, just breathing. Although I'm sure that if you keep doing things like this, you'll manage it eventually."
"Oh but why would I want to break you? If I did that, you wouldn't be so imperfectly perfect, my beautiful Carlos." His voice was that wonderful combination of teasing and fond that never failed to put the scientist at ease.
He laughed, the tight ball of anxiety in his chest finally loosening. "But what an amazing way to go. If I have to lose my mind, then I'd rather it be because of you and some absolutely fantastic sex."
"Well you do have a point there," he admitted amusedly. After another moment he let out a heavy sigh. "This sweatshirt is really gross now; I'm going to have to wash it before you get back."
Carlos snickered, feeling immature at how funny he found that. "I think these boxers are beyond salvaging. I'll probably just throw them away."
"Well be sure to dispose of them correctly," he said, sounding distinctly wary. "Someone could perform several quite unsavory rituals with your reproductive material; I don't know if wherever you are has a waste disposal system as advanced as Night Vale's."
He swallowed heavily, like he usually did when faced with further evidence of Night Vale's strangeness. "I, uh, I'll be sure to be careful, thanks."
"I'll text you a chant to say as you burn them, just to be safe," he continued, sounding only slightly reassured. "Does your hotel have a bloodstone circle? Some of the cheaper ones don't."
Carlos smiled, having long since learned to take his boyfriend's disturbing oddities as the signs of affection that they were. "I'm sure that the hotel has everything I'll need. Don't worry."
"I always worry when you're gone," he replied easily. "Not everywhere is as friendly as Night Vale is."
"Well I'll be home soon," he answered, deciding not to argue the definition of friendly. "I don't know what time I'll get back tomorrow; if it's not till late then I don't want to disturb you, so I'll probably just go back to my apartment and maybe come over in the morning, or maybe we can meet somewhere for breakfast or something."
"Oh," Cecil said quietly, obviously trying to mask his disappointment. "That makes sense, I suppose. You'll be really tired after so much traveling, and you should probably rest before you have to come and see me. I don't want to inconvenience you." From anyone else it would have been a very obvious attempt at a guilt trip, but Carlos knew that Cecil was being completely sincere — his actual guilt trips were far less effective.
The scientist closed his eyes and bit back a sigh, kicking himself for not realizing how his partner would interpret what he had said. "Cecil, I didn't mean it like that; I just didn't want to disturb you if you were sleeping. I mean… it's rather presumptuous to just assume that I could just come over no matter how late it is. It just seems rude to expect you to wake up and get out of bed just because I don't want to wait to see you; it has nothing to do with me not wanting to see you — I promise."
"Really?" Cecil asked, sounding irrationally hopeful.
He narrowly avoided chuckling, knowing that it would offend his friend. "Really. I'd love to come straight over if you want me to; I just didn't want to assume anything."
"Carlos, sweet Carlos," he said, sounding distinctly amused. "It is always a safe assumption that I want you to be where I am."
"I'll keep that in mind," Carlos replied, stifling a yawn. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."
He giggled. "Of course, but I think that it's time for you to go to bed; you have to get up early tomorrow for your drive."
"Alright," he answered with another yawn. "I guess you're right. I really did want to hear the rest of your story though."
"Well I'll finish it tomorrow when you get back," he promised, sounding flattered. "But for now, goodnight Carlos, goodnight."
He chuckled, his heart fluttering at the sentimental twist to the now familiar phrase. "Goodnight Cecil. I love you."
"I love you too," he replied, giggling as he was prone to do.
Both men hesitated, and there was a moment of radio silence before Cecil finally hung up. Carlos dropped his phone to the mattress beside him and grimaced, looking down at his now sticky hand. Still, he couldn't help but notice that he felt better as he made his way to the bathroom to clean himself up; he hoped that Cecil was feeling a little less lonely as well.