First time writing for this fandom, so I hope that it turned out okay! Content warning for vomit. This isn't set at any particular point in the show, just after they've gotten together and share an apartment. Enjoy!
Awakening to unusual sounds in the middle of the night is considered a common pastime in Night Vale. But usually those noises are sounds like screeching, screaming, howling, wailing, and other signs that something terrible is happening, has happened, and will continue to happen. Forever.
Retching, however, is a much more mundane sound, hopefully not signaling anything tragic or life threatening, but rather the unavoidable aspects of human life such as illness or spoiled food that has been carelessly consumed.
"Carlos?" Cecil asks, squinting in the midnight darkness of their bedroom. He had gone to sleep next to the comforting warm presence of his boyfriend, but now, Carlos is not in their bed. The rumpled sheets are still warm where he was laying earlier, so he can't have been gone for long. "Carlos? Where are you?"
Faint light filters in through the bathroom door that has been cracked open slightly, along with a tired groan that is swiftly followed by a pained gag. Cecil hurries over to the bathroom. Fortunately, the wall is not bleeding, so they haven't woken anyone or anything that shouldn't have been woken.
"Oh, my poor Carlos," Cecil says, crouching beside the sick scientist and rubbing his back. "Do you think that the imaginary corn disagreed with you?" he asks when Carlos finally finishes heaving, slumping back against him bonelessly and sagging with exhaustion. Everyone knows that imaginary corn occasionally will become sentient and violently disagree with the digestive system of the poor soul that consumed it. It's a risk that you have to be willing to take.
But Carlos shakes his head. "I wasn't feeling well earlier today. Since this morning, probably." He sighs and leans his head into Cecil's shoulder, coming to rest with his nose pressed against his boyfriend's collarbone. It should be uncomfortable for both parties, but they fit together, as perfectly imperfect as always.
Cecil strokes Carlos' scientifically beautiful bangs out of his face, frowning at the heat he feels there. Most likely a fever, but nothing is certain, after all. "You should have mentioned it earlier. We could have had a night in instead."
"But it was date night. We're supposed to do something romantic."
"Spending the night in watching movies and caring for your boyfriend and eating takeout is very romantic," Cecil counters, but looks contrite at Carlos' wince. "My apologies. Perhaps we should avoid thinking about or mentioning food for the time being." He resumes rubbing soothing circles on Carlos' back. "Are you feeling any better? Do you want to go back to bed?" he asks after a moment's pause.
Carlos thinks about it for a moment. "I am feeling a bit better, less 'ugh' and more 'bleh.' Scientifically speaking, I believe that the best course of action would be to go back to bed and attempt to sleep this off."
"That sounds like a good plan to me. How about we get you settled, and then I'll see if I can cajole the medicine cabinet into relinquishing some medicine for you?"
"Oh Cecil, you don't have to do that. I'll be fine."
"No, I don't have to, but I want to," Cecil points out. "Isn't that part of being a good boyfriend and a good scientist, wanting to help others?"
Carlos seems pleased with Cecil's knowledge of the qualities that make a good scientist, and with no further argument, he allows to Cecil help him stand and make his way back to the bed. Once Carlos is settled under the covers with a wastebasket within easy reach ("just in case"), Cecil gathers his courage and resilience and steels himself to negotiate with notoriously stubborn bathroom cabinets.
The medicine cabinet roars with displeasure at being awoken, but quietly, as it too does not wish to wake the neighbors or the apartment wall. Cecil makes his request, which is followed by some disgruntled squelching and gurgling. In the end, he obtains the desired medicine with only mild bleeding and shrieking, with a glass of water thrown in as a bonus. Truly a success.
He returns to bed with Carlos, who is already half asleep in the cozy comfort of their bed. Reluctantly, he shakes him awake and helps him sit up and take the pills and sip at the water. "Feel better soon," he murmurs before they both succumb to the temporary black void that some call sleep.
Outside, the moon is blood-red, plastic bags howl ominously, and mysterious lights hover about a hundred feet above the Arby's. But here in their shared apartment they are safe and warm and reasonably healthy, or most likely will be in the foreseeable future.
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