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It was quite nice down here. The breeze from the - currently turned-off - air conditioner sank to cool their feet, while the hot desert air rose up top to annoy all the tall people. Or the people who were simply standing up, or sitting down, and not resting on their knees. People like Carlos.
“Are you really okay with this?” Cecil asked, pointedly not getting distracted by the view of Carlos’s strong thighs just inches from his face. That was very nice.
“I’m fine.”
“You know, when I insisted on celebrating your not-death anniversary, I didn’t mean right where it happened.”
“That’s not it.”
“Oh?” Cecil rested his chin on Carlos’s inviting knee. His own knees were well-cushioned by the bowling alley carpet, so he had no worries there. “Then what’s bothering you?”
Carlos tugged at the collar of his lab coat, shifting in a manner that didn’t make him distinctly aware of the man between his knees. That is, in a manner that was impossible to pull off.
“I’ve never done it in public before.”
“Hm.” Cecil pondered on his words, cheek nuzzling the fabric of Carlos’s suddenly too-tight jeans. “I suppose that’s why we snuck in here during closing hours. There’s nobody here.”
“I know, I know what we agreed on.” Carlos bit his lip, letting out a soft sigh. “I forgot about that one hooded figure. The youngest one who keeps setting new strike records. What if he comes by?”
“Oh, that one! I told him I’d buy him a soft-shell burrito if he stayed away for tonight. He has a penchant for Mexican food.”
“Really?” Carlos sighed again, and this time it sounded like relief. “Well, carry on then.”
“Yay!” Cecil said, and did so.
(“Wrong finger holes, Cecil.”
“Oh my God, and you call me a dork.”)
“Are you positively, absolutely sure it’s one hundred percent safe? It hasn’t exactly been approved by the Night Vale Health and Safety Department.”
“I told you about my findings after conducting an interview with Intern Dana.” Carlos pulled off his glasses, folding them neatly and setting them atop the pile of his equally neatly-folded clothes. “We’ve been apprehensive of this house for no reason at all.”
“You mean this nonexistent house,” Cecil reasoned, though he was taking off his t-shirt all the same. “This house that doesn’t exist.”
“Exactly right.”
“But Carlos,” Cecil said, when Carlos stepped forward and was just about to kiss him. “This is private property. We’re trespassing.”
“Hey.” Carlos poked the corner of his mouth with his pinky. “Nonexistent house, remember? There’s nothing to trespass on.”
Cecil blinked, eyes suddenly sparkling. “You’re right.” He laughed, kissing Carlos first himself. “You’re perfectly right.”
And since the house didn’t exist, neither did they, for at least twenty blissful minutes.
(“You are such a delightful rebel.”
“I’m still not getting nipple piercings, Cecil.”)
Emboldened by their recent non-rule breaking, Cecil suggested a number of forbidden places for their next rendezvous.
The Dog Park? “Definitely not. Too risky. Might lose body parts.”
The Forbidden Forest? “We could, but I think sentient trees would count as an audience.”
The new wing of the Public Library? “The window panes are see-through, Cecil! There could be children watching!”
The Water Park and Recreational Area? “That could work.”
Except they forgot it couldn’t, due to the lack of water. Carlos’s disappointment radiated from him in waves. He’d even brought floaters. Cecil’s heart twisted a little in his chest. He put on a brave smile, tucking it into the crook of Carlos’s neck to press it to his skin, to share it.
“We’ll make it work.”
(“That turned out better than expected. Anyway, it’s scientifically proven that water is a terrible lubrication, so we may have just avoided several accidents.”
“That’s very fascinating, Carlos, and I’d like you to elaborate after you get me unstuck from this waterslide.”)
It had been a night of relatively normal sex and pillow talk. Had been.
“I don’t think we’re in your house anymore,” Carlos said, blinking at the sudden appearance of the bright, starless sky. It wasn’t dark, not at all; it was lit up by the lights above the Arby’s, hopeful and poignant and just a smidge threatening.
“Uh-huh.” Cecil agreed above him, glancing around. “I certainly don’t recall driving a pick-up truck into my living room.”
“Where’s the pick-up truck?”
“We’re on a pick-up truck. At the back of one.”
Further analysis proved Cecil’s observation correct. Cecil watched the calculations fly across Carlos’s eyes before they settled on a conclusion. “Does this happen often?”
“Random displacement? Not very. Only in places with high concentration of…”
“Of what?”
Of, well.” Cecil’s face warmed, and it wasn’t because of the desert climate. “High concentrations of love.” He cleared his throat. “You could run an experiment. See why it happens.”
“I could.” Carlos nodded, though there was the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. “But for now, I’d rather just lie here, and look at the lights again.”
“That sounds like a fine idea.” Cecil scooted a little bit to make room for Carlos beside him. They held hands, as if on cue.
(“Carlos?”
“You too, Cecil. You too.”)
“Is the mic turned off?”
“Yes, I checked.”
“Did you check again? We don’t want a repeat of last time.”
“The number of listeners spiked that week…”
“Cecil!”
Cecil grinned at the admonishment, nuzzling the hairs on Carlos’s chest that were gradually revealing themselves as he worked his way down the buttons. Carlos often told him that he undressed too slowly, but Cecil never strayed from his leisurely pace. There were some moments he wanted to milk for all they were worth.
“We’re off air, you silly goose.”
Carlos pinched his shoulder, but not unkindly. The stress was seeping out of him, and frankly they both needed this, with Street Cleaning Day right around the corner. A few more buttons and ten zippers later, they were finally, blessedly naked.
“Oh, Carlos,” Cecil breathed as they rocked against each other. “Carlos!”
Carlos groaned, pulling him closer. “Use your inside voice, Cecil.”
“This is my inside voice! I’m a radio announcer!”
There were footsteps outside that neither of them heard. There was the opening of a door, a “guys? Are you all right in there…?” Then a shriek, and a hurried slamming of said door.
Cecil turned red, from his hairline and all the way to his toes. Carlos, on the other hand, was taking it remarkably well.
“Well, according to the statistics, it was bound to happen sometime.”
(“Scientists are nosier than interns! It’s in the job description.”
“Whatever you say, dear; we’re still doing it in your lab.”)