based on an anonymous prompt for Cecil & Carlos getting matching tattoos together! mild cw for mentions of Cecil's scars from interning. Night Vale belongs to Commonplace Books!
The trip to the tattoo parlor is Carlos' idea. The tattoos themselves aren't, necessarily. They've talked about it together for a while, and each had expended a handful of makeshift writing utensils distractedly doodling blotted design ideas on notepads and napkins for a few months now. Gradually they settled on a pair of corresponding patterns and even matching placement. They had more or less decided to wait to bite the figurative bullet until their first anniversary, but the closer time took them towards the Parade, the more Carlos casually began to bring it up. It was settled then: the day before the long-whispered rebellion would be attempted, Cecil and Carlos finally walked hand-in-hand through the door of Night Vale's modest, but well-kept parlor to each get their first tattoo.
"You're absolutely sure you can get tattoos?" Carlos asks for the sixth time this morning, if Cecil's count is accurate.
"I asked during my last checkup, and Teddy reassured me it's perfectly safe," Cecil repeats in his most disarming tones. Carlos nods in acceptance as his eyes wander down the exposed skin, his gaze arriving finally to the chosen location. Cecil wanted it right above his hip - it would be easy to cover, he had said, and it could be kept like a secret reserved for just the two of them (and the entire force of Secret Police, of course - though that much went unsaid). The other reasons that contributed to the placement also went unsaid: the small expanse was one of the only portions of Cecil's body not marred by scars from his intern days or affected by the depigmented patches that covered a good percentage of his skin. They didn't speak about that aspect, mostly because Carlos sometimes saw the way Cecil would poke and prod at the markings with self-conscious distaste. In fact, Carlos rather hoped that allowing Cecil some measure of control over at least a part of his body would help ease his insecurities a bit.
During the process, Carlos keeps a hold on Cecil's hand, even during a brief stint of white-knuckled intensity. And then it is the scientist's turn. After the process is all said and done, neither regrets the decision in the slightest, though Carlos winces a bit and mourns the loss of side-sleeping before such an important and long-awaited day.
–
"Did your tattoo ever heal properly?" Cecil asks drowsily, positioning his phone in that sweet spot between stolen wi-fi coverage from the Pinkberry across the street and charging capabilities without having to leave the comfort of the bed. From the opposite end of the connection, Carlos tilts his phone camera down to show off the long-healed ink. The simple black lines beautifully complement his dark skin.
"I wasn't sure if it would," Carlos admits, tugging his shirt back down and readjusting the camera accordingly. "I mean, all that talk of keeping it out of the sun, and the first place I come is an endless desert filled with perpetual light. But it seemed to have healed pretty well for all that! What about yours?"
Cecil casts a glance down to where his matching half lies covered by the borrowed flannel he wears to sleep in. For a moment he wavers, but forces a coy smile. "You'll just have to come back and see for yourself," he teases in a flirtatious sing-song. Carlos wriggles closer to the screen as if he could catch a peek by changing his perspective.
"Not fair," the scientist mumbles. "You know, I'm thinking of getting another. I think I told you about it, the one with the anchor and roses and the definition of science. I want it to have a skull too," he babbles, gesturing excitedly with his hands. "So, like, science but badass, because I feel like that's so… me." Cecil bursts into a fit of giggles at the self-appointed title of 'badass scientist', and despite his mock offense Carlos catches them too.
–
The first thing they do when they are reunited is not the first thing the interns have joked would happen. The first thing they do is just hold each other, for a very long time, until Carlos finally breaks away to take Cecil's hand and excitedly tug him on a whirlwind tour through the little town they've built in the desert. The scientist fosters introductions among the entire masked army, and they all have a nice dinner together around a roaring bonfire. Only then do the pair of lovers make what they believe - very incorrectly, as Doug would later assure them - to be an inconspicuous exit.
It's a strange contrast of the familiar and the new when they finally do reach Carlos' new apartment. Eager passion collides with nervous expectation in a string of stop-and-go sparks that eventually winds up with them on the bed, just kissing slowly for a while as they retrace well-known and much-missed explorations. One-by-one Carlos undoes the buttons of Cecil's now-permanently-borrowed flannel and slips it from his shoulders. It's difficult to go slowly, but scientists are thorough in every observation; Carlos very carefully traces the trajectories of each cherished mark with a combination of soft touches and sweet kisses. Eventually he reaches the healed scar of the inscribed symbol that corresponds to his own.
His fingertip dexterously follows the lines of a molecular structure - norepinephrine. Carlos' own is dopamine, the pair coming together to form the basic structure of love. Cecil's tattoo is outlined, however, by a pale backdrop.
"You have a new patch," Carlos realizes.
"The scar-" Cecil stumbles. "It's a wound, and technically- well, sometimes it happens with fresh wounds. New patches, I mean. Teddy had said it might, but I thought.." he trails off, averting his gaze with a quirk of his lips.
"Is that why you didn't want to show me when it first healed?" Cecil squirms a bit in a noncommittal gesture. "How do you feel about it now?" Carlos asks quietly.
"I don't mind it too much, I guess. What's one more patch, right? I just wish it weren't as noticeable. Yours looks so natural and beautiful on you and mine- oh," the rest of the sentence is silenced by the gentle flutter of lips brushing along the mark.
"Yours is beautiful too, and you are beautiful," Carlos insists, returning his attention back to Cecil's mouth.
"Alright," Cecil concedes with a breath, "but is it edgy enough for my badass scientist?" he teases in a whisper, and feels Carlos smile against his lips as a result.
notes: the reason my Cecil has vitiligo is that it runs in my own family, and I've had a lot of conversations on the topic and with how underrepresented and stigmatized it is. Also I need Carlos to canonically get that science tattoo at some point in the future. If you'd like to send me a prompt of your own or see art of my Cecil, my tumblr is ducktelepathy!