Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Cece, honey," Carlos' hand was poised in the air, two or three inches from the solid oak of their bathroom door. He wanted to knock, to try the doorknob and see if it was locked... to do something. He settled on, "Are you alright? I thought I heard crying -,"

Cecil cut him off with a loud sniffle, "It hurts, Carlos."

"Cecil?" Another whimper. "I'm coming in, okay? Just hold on and -,"

The door opened with a pathetic whine, and where Carlos had expected a catastrophe of epic proportions he found... Cecil sitting on the toilet, knees drawn into his chest and pale, beautiful hands cupped over his left eye. He looked perfectly fine, save for the tears that streaked down his lovely cheeks and the redness of his nose. Having caught sight of his boyfriend, Cecil's lower lip began to wobble and the sobbing fit began afresh. 

Carlos prided himself on being highly observant - finely tuned observational skills were a must-have for any self-respecting scientist, after all. When Cecil had entered the bathroom a half hour earlier, he'd started his usual Saturday morning routine: shower, shave, put in his contact lenses... The bottle of contact solution lay sideways on the counter, making a mess as it leaked a steady stream of fluid. Cecil's lens case, a gorgeous violet that matched the color of his eyes, lay open, the right contact still untouched. 

"Honey," Carlos said gently, kneeling down in front of the toilet and gently taking Cecil's thin wrists in hand, "Honey, I know it hurts, but I need to see your eye."

Cecil's lower lip jutted out petulantly, "I... I don't wanna. The air is only gonna make it hurt more." He whined. 

Carlos sighed, "Cecil, if there was something wrong with your contact, it could've scratched your cornea. Now, I am a scientist, not a doctor... but even I know that that is a serious injury that requires immediate medical attention." Cecil's eye was still shut tight. "Please, Cecil? For me?"

Cecil whimpered, "Promise that you'll be gentle?"

"I'd never hurt you willingly, honey. You know that."

Cecil nodded once, as if reminding himself of the truth of that statement. This was Carlos. Perfect, gentle Carlos. He just wanted to help... He let Carlos slowly pull his hands away from the injured eye, and at the feel of his cool, calloused hand, allowed the reddened orb to flutter open. The eye was red and irritated, with the occasional tear dripping off his coal lashes. He didn't appear to show any sensitivity to the harsh bathroom lighting, which Carlos took to be a good sign. He also wasn't complaining of a headache, just eye pain. 

He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Most likely, there'd been a slit in the contact that Cecil simply hadn't seen or some debris that hadn't washed away when he'd cleaned the lens before attempting to insert it. It would still hurt like a bitch, but it wouldn't mean permanent damage. Carlos went over to the medicine cabinet and grabbed a squeeze bottle of numbing eye drops, before taking one of the off-white washcloths from the rack beside the shower and returning to Cecil's side. 

With a little bit of coaxing, he managed to convince Cecil to tilt his head back. Unscrewing the cap, he quickly squeezed three drops into Cecil's eye, cooing words of encouragement in his ear all the while. Gradually, the tears stopped falling and Cecil managed a watery smile. Carlos leaned forward and planted a kiss on Cecil's forehead, right over where his third eye was still shut tight. Drawing back, he slipped Cecil's bright purple frames onto his face and gave him a reassuring grin.

"There... now don't you feel a little bit better?" Cecil nodded. His left eye still looked red and angry, but the pain had stopped for now. Hopefully long enough to get Cecil back into bed and get some pain medication in his system... and put a cold compress on his eye to help with the swelling, "You want to come back to bed now, honey?"

"I have to... have to finish getting ready for work." Cecil murmured, even as he let Carlos help him up and lead him back into their bedroom. "Station Management won't be happy if -,"

Carlos just continued on, as if he hadn't heard, "We can cuddle on the couch and read Emily Dickinson... I know how you love her macabre romantic prose." 

"You have to write a five-thousand word petition to use your sick time and have Station Management's response deciphered by the station oracle..." he paused for a moment, "Can I wear my furry yoga pants? The ones that make my ass look nice."

Carlos wrinkled his nose. He could've sworn that those pants were made of cat hair, because they always made his eyes water and his nose run... but Cecil loved them, and right now, Cecil desperately needed comfort. "Whatever you want, baby."

"Do you think my glasses make me look... funny?" Cecil murmured, letting Carlos pull him into his arms and begin to lead him from the bathroom.

"Of course not... I think they make you look rather adorable, actually." He said sweetly. 

"Adorable?" He raised one pale blond eyebrow.

Carlos nodded, "I think everything about you is adorable, honey. From the way your tattoos turn bright pink and mimic frantically beating hearts whenever I'm around, to the way your third eye likes to flirt with me when you're not paying attention... you're blind as a bat, sweetie... and I love you for it. And even if you had perfect vision, I'd love you just the same."

Cecil flushed a dark violet, "My perfect Carlos... you're such a romantic."

"Besides, it is a scientific fact that men that wear glasses are 23-percent sexier than men that do not."

Carlos could admit that that was a completely hypothetical conclusion that was based in no actual fact, and any scientist worth their salt could not simply alter the results of their analysis... but it made Cecil smile, and Carlos much preferred that bright, toothy grin to the tears from earlier. Besides, he reasoned, the results were not completely fabricated. As far as Carlos was concerned, there was nothing hotter than watching Cecil stumble out of bed in the morning, hair askew, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips... and glasses slipping down his nose. 

An hour later found them twined together on the couch - Cecil had smeared his blood on the coffee table and said the customary chant in modified Sumerian that was common practice for attempting to take sick leave (he had about ten years worth of it stockpiled, and if he didn't have such an unhealthy obsession with his job and a blatant disregard for his own health he probably would've used them sooner) - Cecil's bare feet in Carlos' lap and his head propped up on all the pillows they could find in the house, a cool washcloth draped over his eyes. 

Gently, Carlos massaged Cecil's right foot, lazily flipping through the pages of the municipally approved book of poetry in search of Cecil's favorite. "Is that better, love?"

"Much." Cecil agreed easily. "Though my thumb still burns a little. I probably should've used another finger for the blood sacrifice, considering that I'd used my thumb for the last two days to bleed on the arch down at the radio station... but it usually doesn't hurt this bad. You'd think after so many years of performing blood sacrifices, I'd be numb to the pain -,"

Carlos took Cecil's injured hand and pressed the still-bloody thumb to his lips, effectively silencing Cecil. "There, that should do it."

"Are kisses scientifically proven to make injuries heal faster?" Cecil asked, probably thinking it could be beneficial for Carlos to kiss his eye. 

But the scientist shook his head, "No, not particularly. But I have deduced that they have a 98-percent success rate at distracting you."

Cecil hummed, "Well, then, my dear Carlos..." he pursed his lips dramatically, "distract away."