Carlos is a lot of things, and a chronic worrier is definitely one of them. He's pacing outside of Cecil's hospital room, running his fingers constantly through his already-unruly curls. Thank god his shift was ending just as the report got in that Cecil was injured, because he may have lost his job if he rushed over to the hospital in the middle of his work. Honestly, right now, all he can do is wait and worry.

A nurse pokes his head out of the room, looking around at the assembled slap-dash of family, police detectives, interns, and Carlos who are awkwardly gathered around the small waiting area outside.

"He won't be awake for some time, but he can take visitors now. One at a time, please."

Cecil's brother is obviously the first one to go in, and Carlos swears he hears a muttered prayer (or maybe it's some Satanic ritual) half-chanted in a language not quite of this world. He doesn't comment, but wary glances and raised eyebrows are exchanged all around. When Jeremy Palmer emerges, he looks pale and grim. No one is brave enough to test it, but they take it as their cue to go in and visit Cecil. Carlos ends up being shunted aside by six others before he can get in.

The sight that meets his eyes when he surveys Cecil's form is not exactly optimal, but he'll take what he can get. The normally enthusiastic face is slack and pale, blonde hair swept messily away from his face. His glasses are sitting on the tray beside him, looking oddly unharmed given the state of their owner. Carlos walks over and slowly runs his finger along the thick plastic rim, drawing comfort from the strange familiarity of Cecil's impeccably clean eyewear. There's an IV drip attached to Cecil's left arm, but there's no oxygen tank, which makes Carlos think it's not as bad as it looks. His cold fingers reach out to circle Cecil's thin, bony wrist as he takes his pulse. It's gentle and a little weak, but it's there, a steady beat of assured life against his skin.

Carlos exhales shakily, reminding himself to breathe, and an uncomfortable knot forms in his throat. He clears it before running his tongue over his chapped lips nervously.

"Hey Cee, it's Carlos, that guy from Forensics? Yeah, ha, uh, I know you probably already know that, but you never know. Uh. I guess you can't really hear me right now, but I just wanted you to know that I'll be back to visit you soon, alright? Stay strong and, um, don't die. So. Yeah." He rocks awkwardly onto his toes, shoving his hands into his lab coat pockets (he must have forgotten to return it before he came over here) before leaning over and quickly pecking Cecil on the forehead.

"Uh, yeah, so, get better soon," Carlos finishes clumsily before walking swiftly to the door and pulling it open, letting one of the interns in after him. All the officers and NYPD-affiliated individuals outside suddenly start shifting and looking in other directions innocently.

"Did I miss something?" Carlos asks suspiciously.

Dana smiles innocently and grabs his arm in a death grip as she forcefully leads him away. "Say, Carlos, how do you fancy some coffee? Black, right?"

Before he can even reply, he's stumbling down the hall in Dana's wake as she marches him to the coffee machine.

"Dana, what-"

She spins him around and presses him up against a wall, pointing an immaculately painted nail at his face and looking extremely dangerous for someone who's about six inches shorter than him. "Ask the man out, Carlos Marco Garcia, or I swear to all the gods watching that I will force your faces together until lip-to-lip contact occurs."

Carlos tries to back away from the finger in his face but ends up hitting the wall instead. "Dana-"

"This isn't optional, you tiptoeing bag of boneless scientist."

"Dana, really-"

"No, Carlos, listen to me, I am sick and fucking tired of watching you pine over each other, it interrupts my life and my work, I cannot even get a quiet moment because I keep getting requests from armed and dangerous police officers to tell me to take a fucking video of you two because everyone knows, and I know, and you know, and you know what?"

"Dana!" Carlos says sharply, cutting her off as she opens her mouth again. "I'm going to ask the man out, alright? I'll talk to him when he wakes up."

The murderous expression clears, and the tiny scientist smiles up at him sunnily. "Go get 'em, Tiger," she says fondly before flouncing over to the coffee machine.

Carlos lets out a silent sigh of relief and straightens his lab coat before accepting his cup of crappy instant coffee and pushing his glasses up his nose with two fingers.

Two days later, Cecil emerges from the soft black oblivion of unconsciousness to find that everything is quite a bit blurrier than he remembered it being. He panics for a moment before sitting up, squinting at his surroundings, and seeing the fuzzy outline of his glasses. He shoves them on his face and looks around at the blank white hospital room before gentle hands are pushing him back down onto the pillows.

"Cecil, you're going to strain your shoulder, please lie down again," says a familiar voice, fond amusement ringing through the words.

Carlos is smiling at him from the chair next to his bed, holding a paperback novel with a cartoonish dragon on the cover. Cecil looks beyond him to see multiple bouquets of flowers and several plush purple octopi. He squeaks a little at the realization that he is in basically nothing but a hospital gown and underwear, and the tattoos he keeps such care to hide around the office are standing out starkly against his pale skin.

"C-Carlos!" he rasps, voice crackling a little from misuse. "I, uh, what are you doing here?"

"I'm keeping you company, Cee. Thought you might want someone here when you woke up. It's been two days," Carlos says quietly, still smiling slightly.

"I-oh. Did they catch her? The hostage is alright, right?"

"Yes, Cecil, everyone's fine, they caught her. You did shoot her in the knee, so I don't think she would have gotten anywhere very fast."

Cecil slumps back against the pillows and huffs a little. "I missed the fun part."

Carlos laughs. "Maybe next time, quierdo," He says, and leans over to press a gentle kiss to Cecil's lips.

Cecil freezes and then yanks Carlos closer, feeling another laugh bubbling up from the scientist's throat. He smiles back sweetly against Carlos' lips, and something in his chest swells.

His only regret is that he had to take a knife to the shoulder before it happened, but he's really not complaining.

Not by a long shot.

And that's all, folks! This was my first WTNV piece, so please please please tell me how I did. Thanks!
~kandyblood