“Hey, Carlos…”

Smiling crookedly, “Yes, Cecil?”

“Your hair is perfect today.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me ‘perfect,’ damn it.”

“Okay. Amazing. Your hair is amazing.” Cecil’s grinning, unrepentant. He slides an arm around Carlos’s waist, leans his head on the scientist’s shoulder.

“Here. Let’s try an experiment,” and Carlos kisses the top of his head, lightly.

“Ooh! More science! I love it.”

“See if you can actually say something insulting about me. Go on, I’m waiting.”

“You won’t admit that you’re perfect.” The Voice is almost saintly in its innocence, but Cecil’s eyes are mischievous.

“Now, that’s just pathetic,” Carlos says, but he can’t help grinning back. They must look ridiculous, smiling at each other, but he finds he doesn’t care. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

“Um. Okay. Er… you were late to breakfast this morning.”

“Your fault,” grin widening.

“You, well, you’re sometimes rather an unsafe driver.” Cecil tries to sound stern. “You don’t pay enough attention to the traffic signals.”

“I skipped semaphore class in college. Weak. Try again.”

“Uh… you chew more loudly than is sometimes preferred?”

“Hopeless!” Carlos laughs outright. “Cecil, what am I going to do with you?”

You’re hopeless,” Cecil drawls, rebelliously, without moving his head from Carlos’s shoulder.

“You're incorrigible.”

“Moon apologist.”


“Non-municipally-approved-book reader.”


“Adrenaline junkie.”

“Depraved stalker,” and Carlos takes advantage of the pause left by Cecil’s look of mock outrage to stop his mouth. Forgets all over again, lost in the kiss, what he was doing before the radio host distracted him. Hopefully it isn’t too urgent.


(Accidentally caused by this piece of adorable fanart. I’d apologize, except I’m not really sorry at all. >.> My huge fanfic of doom is still in the angst stages, so I can’t write happy fluff for that yet. Speaking of my huge fanfic of doom, leave a note for me if you think I should put it up online.)