Author's Notes: worry not, this is the last chapter before actual Night Vale stuff. Also: I should warn there's implied domestic abuse in this chapter, just in case that's a sensitive topic for anyone reading.

Chapter 2 - Status Quo

Is being good enough ever really good enough?

It had been a long two years since Carlos had gotten lost somewhere in the desert in Arizona. Two years and countless late nights of writing and refining and theorizing until he had produced his masterpiece, his crowning achievement - his dissertation. He read the title again, syllable by syllable, the words not even sounding real after so many careful spelling checks. This was it, the final step. All that was left was to submit the dissertation to the university board. If his was the hypothesis they selected for the research opportunity, he would receive a hefty grant and finally be able to achieve his dream - he would discover the unknown, expand scientific horizons, and just maybe leave some sort of mark in history so the world would know he was here. After wavering for several minutes just staring at the email, he finally clicked send and quickly closed the laptop. He glanced over at his partner who sat beside him on the sofa sipping the last dregs from a bottle of beer. Carlos hadn't told him about the opportunity yet, nor that he had applied, too afraid that speaking the words aloud would jinx the chances of his dream becoming a reality. His heart was racing, his nerves all on edge with anticipation. There was a story unfolding on the television screen - it was movie night after all - but he felt too restless and twitchy to pay much attention. He glanced back over at Brandon, who was typing away absently at his own laptop. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if Brandon even noticed how excited he was, or even really noticed him at all. It was a silly thought - after all, the two had been a couple for six years now. This was how they spent their time together, sitting next to each other, both absorbed in their own work. It was comfortable, and it was routine. Puppy love was for teenagers. This was the steady glow of normality, Carlos reminded himself. But he still couldn't help himself from indulgently pulling his feet up and resting his head on Brandon's broad shoulder.

"Everything okay, babe?" Brandon asked without glancing away from his computer screen.

"Mm," Carlos replied, trying to decide if he would be more comfortable without his glasses. His attempts to re-adjust position a few times were proving futile. He peeked at Brandon's computer screen to see about 6 different internet windows open at once. It never really occurred to him to worry too much about Brandon or his activities online. It could be porn or plane tickets for all Carlos knew, but he never bothered to care, since they'd had a relatively happy, stable relationship for such a long time. Status quo was the key to contentment. It was partially why he was finding it hard to tell his partner about his decision to apply for the grant. On the slim off-chance that the board would even read his paper on the anomalies he had experienced in Night Vale, and then choose to fund his expedition out of all the dozens of submissions, there was a good chance he would be leaving for a temporary assignment to a desert thousands of miles away from their Chicago apartment and the law firm where Brandon worked. It would mean a drastic shift in the status quo, and he wasn't good with shifting. Finally, he gave up trying to find a comfortable position and reached across for the empty bottle on the coffee table, planting a casual kiss on Brandon's cheek in the process.

"I'm gonna get something to eat, you want anything?" he offered. Brandon shook his head, so Carlos escaped to the kitchen to collect his thoughts. He decided to stall by making a bowl of popcorn. As he watched the numbers count down on the microwave, he tried to think through all the possible scenarios. Maybe Brandon would be willing to take a leave of absence from the firm for a few months. He was a corporate partner after all, since his father and grandfather owned the whole company. Maybe he'd open up his own branch in Phoenix and Carlos could commute for partial weeks at a time to a research station actually in Night Vale. Or maybe…maybe Brandon would say no to the entire idea. In which case Carlos, too, would say no and thank you to the board and...and what? The microwave beeped, indicating that time was up to hypothesize imaginary outcomes. He wandered back into the living room and placed the bowl on the coffee table, plopping down onto the sofa with a little sigh. "Hey, Brandon, I was- I have something to tell you," he said in a rush, reaching for the remote and pausing whatever action movie neither one of them had actually been watching. Brandon looked at him expectantly. "It's um. It's good, don't worry." He smiled to himself a little. "Remember a few years back when I went to Arizona with Andie and we found that town?"

"Night Vale, right?" Brandon offered, having heard the story retold in every possible form.

"Yeah, Night Vale. I worked it into my dissertation because it fit in pretty closely with my thesis on the correlation of time and gravitational pull. I mean, I was there for one night and really only part of that night and even I felt the anomaly in both," Carlos enthused, excitement coursing through his voice. Brandon nodded. "Anyway, the university foundation is giving away a research grant. It's a really great opportunity, I mean, they'll fund a six-month hands-on expedition, and they'll provide equipment and you can even choose your accompanying team. It's really great, and I," he blushed slightly. "I submitted my dissertation." He looked up shyly, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Babe, that's great," Brandon replied, reaching for Carlos's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Thanks, I mean, there's a lot of competition for it. Some people have been researching things for years, and they have solid findings and factual evidence to support their hypotheses, so they're probably not going to actually pick mine," he stuttered. "But I actually went for it, and I'm really excited at the chance that someone will at least read my dissertation and maybe care what I have to say."

"I'm proud of you." Brandon said with a smile. Carlos beamed. He could vividly remember the last time someone had said those words to him; his grandmother had told him so on the day he had been accepted into grad school over four years ago. He was so pleased with the reaction that he impulsively leaned over and gave Brandon a peck on the lips. "But, don't be too broken up if you don't make it." Brandon added quietly. Carlos's smile faltered slightly but he shook his head as he sat back down.

"No, I know. It's a slim shot."

"You're brilliant, you really are." Brandon quickly amended, giving Carlos's hand another squeeze. "Just, science is a tough field and sometimes brilliance isn't enough. And if it doesn't work out, and you just keep on as faculty at the university, well, you'd still be good enough for me." He leaned over and gave Carlos a kiss on the cheek before resuming his typing. Carlos forced on a smile and resumed the movie. At least it hadn't gone badly. And good enough was sufficient, it was status quo. It was contentment, he told himself. Being good enough really is good enough.

It was the first day of snow in the city. Brandon wasn't much for traditions, but one of very few that they still kept was the first Snow Day. They couldn't remember the date they had actually met, only that it had been the first snowfall of the winter. Carlos, fresh out of college, had landed an internship at a research laboratory which was great, but internships don't pay bills, so he had taken a job as a barista at Starbucks to afford rent and save a little extra for the school bills now that he was just starting grad school. Brandon had walked in, tall and broad-shouldered with snowflakes buried in his tousled brown hair, and ordered whatever the barista thought was warmest with a wink. Carlos had made him a peppermint latte with extra whipped cream and on a whim signed the drink holder with his name and phone number. Brandon had taken the coffee, wandered into the corner and promptly called the number, asking when Carlos would get off work. He waited a full 40 minutes until Carlos had clocked out and then they had wandered up and down the narrow downtown avenues in the snow until they couldn't feel their toes. Brandon had invited him back to his apartment and feeling alive and strangely impulsive, Carlos had agreed. As soon as they got upstairs though, it became evident that Brandon had been in the cold a little too long as he began sneezing uncontrollably. He nearly died of embarrassment, but Carlos had just laughed, made him sit down on the sofa, and made hot cocoa and a can of chicken soup, and they had sat and watched cheesy romance movies. They fell in love quickly, and it wasn't long before they had begun to split rent on their own apartment together. Almost everything had changed in the years since, but they always called in sick the first day of snow to make chicken soup and hot cocoa and watch movies in their sweatpants.

It was the first snowfall of the year and Carlos happily called into work with his annual bout of bronchitis. Brandon had a big meeting at the firm that morning, but promised to be home by lunch. Carlos pulled on an oversized hoodie and sweatpants and curled up on the couch in anticipation, glad they'd out ruled computers for the day this year. Minutes stretched into hours until Carlos checked his watch. 4:33. He flopped down over the armrest with an aggravated sigh. He'd given up science for this, for this one day to shirk responsibility and be blissfully happy. Somewhere amidst the disappointment, he fell asleep and only woke up to the sound of the front door opening. He sat up with a bolt, already apologizing for falling asleep, to see Brandon walking through the door with a middle-aged couple in tow. Carlos just sat there, a little stunned, his hair disheveled and his glasses cocked to one side, sweatshirt slipping off one shoulder.

The look on Brandon's face was a mixture of shock and disappointment. "Mr. and Mrs. Cathcart, this is my-" he paused slightly "partner Carlos." Carlos forced a quick smile. He was bad at meeting new people on a good day, much less having just woken up in his sweatpants on the sofa.

"Nice to meet you," he said, adjusting his glasses and blushing furiously. He raked a hand through his tangled dark curls, hurriedly shoving blankets into the basket next to the sofa in a fluster. Squeezing awkwardly past the couple, he leaned up to whisper in Brandon's ear "can I see you for a minute?" under the guise of a kiss.

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" Brandon offered politely. "Please make yourselves at home." Carlos led him down the narrow hallway into the bedroom in the back of the apartment. "What in the hell, Carlos?" Brandon hissed.

"Could you have given me some warning? I dunno, maybe called or something?" Brandon ignored his questions, frowning in disapproval as he tugged at one Carlos's off-kilter curls.

"I thought we had decided it was about time you got a trim. And what are you even wearing?"

Carlos looked down at his clothing, and realized with a strange emptiness that Brandon had apparently completely forgotten this year. "It's nothing, I took a personal day," he muttered.

"The Cathcarts are a very wealthy couple, we're trying to convince them to plan their estate with the firm, so I need you to pull yourself together and get dinner on while I sweet-talk them." Brandon turned and left the bedroom, obviously not noticing the disappointment evident on his partner's face. Carlos did his best, tossing together an assortment of things from the refrigerator and praying it turned into an actual, decent meal. His hair was still strangely unkempt from his impromptu nap, and he couldn't seem to tame it despite his best attempts. He'd slipped into the first sweater he could find, and a pair of khakis that he was fairly sure had been most recently washed. With a deep breath and a forced smile, he brought the best bottle of wine in the kitchen to the table. The crystal glasses tinkled as he carefully arranged them, trying his best to look interested as they discussed the fascinating world of estate planning.

"What do you do?" Mrs. Cathcart asked politely to Carlos as he poured her a glass of wine.

"I'm a nuclear physics research developer at the University." The look on her face was familiar to him. It was the look he always received that let him know his job description went way over the listener's head. "I'm a scientist," he clarified. She nodded with a smile. He poured a glass for Mr. Cathcart easily, stepping around the table to stand behind Brandon.

"Have you made any great discoveries lately?" Mr. Cathcart asked good-naturedly. Carlos always jumped at the few and far-between chances to gush about his theory on gravitational fluctuation. No sooner had he opened his mouth to respond, but Brandon reached down and squeezed his wrist with a jerk beneath the table. Carlos winced as the bottle slipped from his other hand and crashed to the floor in a puddle of deep red. Embarrassed, Carlos wrenched his arm free and hurried back to the kitchen to get a dishcloth. He could hear Brandon's booming voice in the dining room.

"Carlos is more of a theoretical scientist. He doesn't make actual discoveries. It's all just ideas and best guesses and scribbled notes on every visible surface. You should see the office!" There was a ripple of polite laughter around the table.

Carlos was content to hide away in the kitchen and clean up while Brandon entertained the guests after supper with some complicated joke that the scientist had never found funny. Socializing itself had never been particularly appealing to him, which was another reason why he spent much of his life burying himself in science. Equations and theories didn't require him to find the right words without stuttering and they certainly didn't make derisive, pointed remarks under the guise of small talk. He politely excused himself for the evening after finishing the dishes, blaming an early morning the next day even though he wasn't needed at the university the next morning until nearly 11. He crawled into bed, and lay there for a long time staring at the faintly patterned beige wallpaper, thinking about the second law of thermodynamics. The scientific part of him interpreted it to mean that the world was slowly decaying into an increasing state of entropic disorder. The rest of him interpreted it simply as the changing of things that comes with time. Weather changed and places changed and people changed. Some days he wondered if he'd ever again see the man with the flecks of snow in his hair and the booming laugh, the one who used to hold his hand under the table at stressful family gatherings and who had encouraged him to keep going when his dissertation was rejected for the sixth time in as many months. Brandon had changed; it had been unnoticeable at first or maybe Carlos had simply refused to notice it. The change seemed obvious now as his eyes focused on the purple ring blossoming around his wrist. It wasn't the first bruise Brandon had given him, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He'd never breathe a word of it of course, not even to Andrea. In her opinion he was just a bit clumsy, clumsy enough to break a Nokia and trip over a coffee table in the dark to gain a black eye. The lab coat was helpful in hiding the rest.

"I love him," Carlos whispered to the empty stretch of beige that stared blankly back at him. The words were half a reminder, half to convince himself. He heard the front door close, knew Brandon would wander into the kitchen to wash the coffee mugs, knew he'd find the cup of cocoa and bowl of soup left out on the counter. Some time later the bedroom door opened quietly. He felt the mattress shift as Brandon sat down on the other side of the bed, but he closed his eyes tightly pretending to be asleep.

"I'm so sorry." Brandon whispered, planting a kiss on the top of Carlos's head before leaving to get ready for bed. Carlos kept his eyes pressed tightly shut and forced his mind to a blank.

His hands were shaking as Carlos opened the letter. The university emblem bloomed across the top of the paper inside. Six long months had passed in anxious waiting for the letter that would decide his fate as a researcher, and here it was in his hands, smooth and plain and completely ordinary to anyone else in the world. His eyes quickly scanned the document, stopping to re-read key words in complete disbelief. Twelve months of full funding, support for a research team of 15, and the latest equipment on the market. The words he kept re-reading were the closing statement. 'If results warrant, extensions in 6- 12- and 18-month segments may qualify. We look forward to working together!' Finally, finally he was going to make something of himself, maybe even change the world somehow. His hands were still shaking with excitement as he immediately began to dial Brandon's work line from memory. He stopped himself as his finger hovered over the dial button. Brandon. What in the world would he say about this? He'd be proud surely, and hopefully he had at least considered once or twice over the last six months that Carlos could possibly be chosen. Either way, news this big required a fancy dinner, some sort of celebration. It was too important for a phone call. Carlos called Andrea instead, who had been counting down days with him, marking them off on her classroom calendar with large red x's.

"Did you open it?" were her first excited words.

"Hello to you too," Carlos teased.

"Shut up and tell me if you're moving to Arizona!" she retorted with a laugh. Carlos smiled and rubbed his face with his hand.

"Well I guess, since they're funding me." Andrea squealed, her voice jumping an octave.

"OH MY GOD, did I not tell you you were brilliant? I knew they would choose you, they had to, it was the only logical choice!" she gushed. Carlos just laughed. "How do you feel?"

"I feel relieved, that's for sure," he sighed. "Excited. I'm going to Arizona, Andie! The preparations all start as soon as I accept, and they want my answer by next Monday." She squealed again, almost more excited than he was. "If I go, you'll come with me right? I get to pick my team, and I want you to be on it."

"I sure as hell am coming with you, and I'm just going to let you believe you had a choice in the matter." Carlos laughed. "Have you told Brandon yet?" Andrea asked after a moment.

"Not yet. I'm not sure what he'll say."

"Listen, Carlos." she began in her well-practiced cautionary mom-voice. "I know you two have been together for a while, and I envy that kind of stability, I really do. But don't give up your dreams just because you're comfortable."

"Andie, I love him," Carlos sighed, not wanting to dampen the excitement of the moment with logic. "I'm not going to actually go unless it's what we want."

"Okay, okay," she allowed. "But just remember that there's a plural 'you' and what 'you' want, and there's a singular you and what you want. Just try to consider both, okay?" Carlos bit his lip and tried to push the idea from his mind.

"Okay."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know how things go."

Carlos didn't call tomorrow, or the next day. In fact, he didn't call Andrea at all that week, because he still couldn't figure out how to broach the subject with Brandon. Time was running out to answer, so that Friday night he decided it was time to have the uncomfortable discussion.

He carefully adjusted the silverware on the table, making sure it was perfect. It was incredibly unprofessional for Carlos to take two personal days in the same month, but he broke his rule specifically to clean up and make sure everything in the entire house was perfect, including the scallop ceviche that he had carefully prepared from scratch from his grandmother's recipe. Brandon unlocked the door and trudged in, scraping the snow flurries from his shoes at the doormat.

"Carlos?" he called as he set his briefcase down on the desk and hung his wool coat in the closet.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Carlos hollered back, slipping off his oven mitts and smoothing down the front of his best green dress shirt. He wanted everything to be perfect. Brandon wandered in and sat down at the little dining room table with a heavy sigh. "Long day?" Carlos asked as he gave Brandon a quick kiss hello.

"Long day," Brandon agreed.

"Tell me all about it, I'm just finishing up dinner," Carlos said as he hurried back into the adjoining kitchen to pour the microwave vegetables into a glass dish. Just because he could cook a few Mexican dishes his grandmother had taught him didn't necessarily mean he was a good cook.

"That Peterson estate case that we were handling was contested. Apparently they think the guy wrote a secret will. If you ask me the old widow has seen one too many suspense movies, but she's convinced." Brandon shook his head. "It's ridiculous either way since the guy owned a tiny house and a few acres out between a Purdue plant and a trailer park. Not exactly a millionaire." Carlos smiled to himself. Brandon always complained about the strange people he came into contact with at work, but Carlos suspected that he secretly enjoyed the variety. He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, remembering that he had been meaning to get it cut for a while now, before shrugging and taking the dishes to the table. He sat down opposite Brandon, half-expecting a comment about the fact that they were actually eating dinner together and it wasn't even from a box. Brandon didn't seem to notice – not the candle in the middle of the table or the quiet music in the background – or if he did, he just didn't mention. Carlos told himself it was okay, because things like that were just what you did when you love someone. No recognition means that they already know, so in a strange way it was a mission accomplished. His stomach tightened as he stared down at his scallops. In a final attempt to stall, he took a sip of wine and coughed trying to swallow. The conversation wasn't even started yet, and he was already choking.

He took a deep breath and sputtered "H-have you given any more thought to that research opportunity I told you about a few months ago?" Brandon's expression was hazy for a moment as he tried to recall. "The one in Night Vale."

"A little," Brandon replied as he took another bite. Carlos watched the flicker of the candle.

"What have you thought about it?" he asked haltingly. Brandon shrugged.

"I don't know, I mean, I'm glad you went for it I guess. It took courage to put yourself out there like that."

"I mean, have you thought about what would happen if I actually got it?" Carlos asked gently. Brandon set down his fork with a sigh.

"Carlos, look, I try to be supportive - I really do. But, I just don't think it's in the cards. Hope is great, but there's a thin line between hope and false hope." Brandon's hazel eyes locked on his. "I think holding on to this is false hope."

"But if I did," Carlos continued, dropping his gaze back to the candle. Words were beginning to slip away from his reach. "If I had to go there for a few months to study, would you come with me?"

"Listen," Brandon said, the frustration clipping at his words. "I love you, but, well, you're not the next Einstein. You're good at what you do, but you're not exceptional from other people who are good at what they do." The words stung, and Carlos bit down on his lip sharply. "There's no shame in being average, in just being you. If you keep trying for impossible things, you're only going to fall short. It's better to settle for something you're good at than to find out you're not as special as you thought." The words were spoken with a definite finality, but Carlos pressed one last time.

"You're not answering my question." Brandon slammed a hand down on the table, causing Carlos to flinch involuntarily.

"You're so stupidly fixated on some pipe dream, Carlos. People respect you because you're pretty damn smart, but you need to let this Night Vale crap go. If you keep talking about glowing lights in the sky and ghost cars and zero gravity, you're gonna lose that respect and people will start to think you're crazy, and how do you think that will make me look?" Regret crossed his face the moment the words had left his mouth.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" Carlos asked quietly, surprised by the steadiness in his own voice.

"Carlos, babe-" Brandon tried to reach across the table for his hand, but he slid it out of the man's reach.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" he repeated slowly. Brandon sighed.

"I think you were tired that night. I think it had been a long day and it was late, and I think you saw a meteor shower. You and Andie both admitted you were spooked and felt like it was the first scene in a horror movie, and I think you thought you saw things that weren't there." The tears were threatening the fringes of his vision again, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to force them back.

"You said you believed in me," he whispered.

"I do believe in you." Brandon sighed. "I just don't think you saw what you think you saw. I mean it was the middle of the desert and you may have had a few drinks, I don't know-"

"Oh my god," Carlos laughed in frustration, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up. "I was not drunk, Brandon, I've been sober for four years now."

"Babe, I wouldn't be mad if you were-" Brandon tried to offer, but Carlos cut him off.

"So you're not coming with me then." Brandon looked confused for a moment, glancing down at the table and the candle and how nice Carlos looked, finally piecing it all together. His mouth hung open limply at the realization. Carlos nodded to himself before reaching for his coat, grabbing the keys, and wordlessly leaving the apartment.

Andrea found Carlos sitting in his favorite place in the city, the bench at the end of the boardwalk. The snowflakes were swirling down, the cold air revealing every chilled breath, but he didn't seem to notice or care. She sat down beside him. "It went badly then?" she ventured.

"You could say that. He thinks I made up Night Vale. He even said people will think I'm crazy for studying it." Carlos shook his head.

"You have to admit it's hard to believe. We didn't even believe it at first," she reminded him gently, for the first time sounding genuinely upset to be right.

"It wasn't just that. It was everything else he said. All the 'I love you, but's and the way he looks at me sometimes like he's ashamed of me when he introduces me to people, and how all he cares about is how my choices will reflect on him. I guess I thought it was love when he would tell me I couldn't do things. I thought he was protecting me because he wanted to keep me safe," Carlos trailed off. He looked over at her, not caring if she saw how red and puffy his eyes were. "He wasn't always like this. He never used to be. We used to do spontaneous things and actually care about each other." A sad smile crept across his face as he looked back out over the layers of freezing water. "I guess nothing lasts forever. Not even love."

"Don't say that," she comforted. "Just because Brandon is a dick doesn't mean all guys are. You just have to find the right guy."

"I don't think I believe in the right guy, Andie. Soulmates. It's just a lie we choose to believe to defend our self-esteem against all the crap we take from people who our brains recognize have genetic potential."

"Cynic." Andie nudged him, eliciting a fraction of a smile.

"I'm making the right choice though?"

"Absolutely." She wrapped her arms around him they way she always used to when he was stressing over exams in college. It still made him feel better like it had then too. "The next few weeks you'll be so busy getting everything together, it won't really matter where you sleep at night. Besides I've been trying to get you to see my new place for months now." Carlos shook his head, unconvinced. "I know it's rough, but all the time apart will help you sort things out. A few months away will clear your mind so you can come to an informed decision on how to move forward. Plus," she added in a singsong voice as she rocked him back and forth hypnotically. "What happens in Night Vale, stays in Night Vale." He laughed at that.

"I think I just want to work on my research in Night Vale. I've had enough romance for a good long while. I'm actually looking forward to a break."

The next morning found him sitting at the table staring down a cup of untouched coffee. The few old suitcases stuffed with his belongings were already stacked by the door. His mind was made up; he only needed to tell Brandon. The man wandered out with a yawn, surprised to see Carlos so put-together so early. There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence, before Brandon asked, "Is breakfast ready?"

Carlos was sure his voice was going to shake, but he steadied his resolve. "No, Brandon. I'm not making you breakfast today." He took a deep breath. "Or tomorrow. Or the day after that." Brandon eyed him warily.

"I don't understand…"

"I'm going to Night Vale, Brandon." His voice was firm and unwavering despite the fact his stomach felt on the brink of losing the piece of toast he'd choked down earlier.

"Babe, I thought we talked about this," Brandon began to protest. Carlos stood up and walked deliberately over to his partner, silencing him with one last kiss.

"I love you," he said quietly. "But I have to do this for me now. This is my shot, my chance to be more than just status quo."

"Carlos, I'm sorry for the way things have been. We can work this out, we can talk about things, just don't-" he ran his fingers through the scientist's dark curls the way he always used to. "please don't leave me."

"I'm not leaving you, I'm not even moving out. I'm just going to be gone for a while, long enough that we can both decide how we feel. All my stuff will still be here, so I'll have to come back either way. It's just a breather." Carlos let go, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his denim jacket. He pulled his pack filled with books up onto his shoulder and turned towards the door.

"You could stay," Brandon pleaded quietly. "We're doing fine, aren't we?"

Carlos turned back once more and smiled sadly. "I'll see you when I get back."

End Notes: it's really hard to go back to writing a real world setting when I've been working on the future chapters where weird and disturbing things are entirely acceptable. This is my least favorite chapter I've written so far, so I would like to reassure that it gets better than this. I just kind of wanted to set up the whole background for Carlos so that it can provide a point to contrast against his time in Night Vale.