What is this? Me actually writing a full-length NV fic? What?!

Tis, true, dearies! I have been bit by a rapid plot bunny! (No seriously. It bit and hung onto my elbow, I grabbed a notebook, and the story wrote itself right then and there. Literally half a notebook in four days. Not kidding. All of this is the final drafting.)

Currently it is the Christmas season, and I'm always itching to write a holiday-themed fic around this time of year, and for some reason, I chose Night Vale as my newest victim. While I know that there are only a handful of fics out there (most on AO3) about Cecil meeting Carlos's family, but I've noticed that none of them involve the issue of homophobia, which I found vaguely interesting. While I myself am 100 percent against homophobia, I feel that it is an important topic, especially within the dynamics of a family, that need to be addressed before understanding and acceptance can come into play. While the topic of homophobia will be, indeed, partially central to the plot of this story, it is mostly a fic about Cecil becoming integrated into Carlos's family, with some interesting mishaps along the way. ;) (And Christmas. Love the Christmas.)

Anyway! I hope you enjoy! This is only the second WTNV fic I've ever written, so I'm still getting the hang of the characterizations. :)

CHAPTER SONG: "Counting Stars" by OneRepublic

Disclaimer: WTNV is a production of Commonplace Books. It is written by Joseph Fink and produced by Jeffory Crannor. Cecil owns himself. I own nothing.

It Came Upon a Voidless Clear

A Welcome to Night Vale fanfiction

By doodlegirll

...oOo...

Chapter One: God Rest Ye Night Valeans

He hated that damn alarm clock, with its annoying wail and incessant clicking noises at ungodly hours of the morning when he'd much rather be enjoying the blessed sanctity of slumber. Hated it. Damned it to hell for all eternity.

Carlos groggily groped for the snooze button on the alarm clock next to the bed, refusing to open his eyes. He finally located the offending contraption and jammed his fist down onto it, silencing the wretched crooning that had interrupted his peaceful sleep. He groaned, forcing himself to turn his head to squint at the fuzzy, glowing green digits in the darkness of the room. He found his glasses where he had left them the night before next to the lamp, and slipped them onto his nose. The time on the clock swam into view.

6:22 AM.

Carlos groaned again and yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. While he knew that the clock was bound to go off again, louder this time, if he didn't get out of bed, he couldn't bring himself to budge just yet. Today was already a tangled mess of a day; couldn't he at least get five extra minutes of sleep?

Something warm shifted beside him in the bed, and Carlos turned his head to find Cecil still sleeping, snoring quietly, curled into a ball against Carlos's side. It was nothing short of a miracle that he had managed to sleep through the earsplitting chorus of the alarm clock; Carlos was absolutely convinced that the man could sleep through a nuclear war and wake up the next morning as perky and cheerful as ever.

And, considering everything else he'd seen and experienced the last year and a half, Carlos wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't too far from the truth.

Careful not to disturb Cecil, Carlos slowly extracted himself from the warm sheets of the bed, setting his bare feet on the plush carpet of the floor. He tiptoed quietly to the door, slipping into the hallway.

As he made his way towards Cecil's tiny apartment kitchen, the tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit him like a brick wall, wafting seductively from the coffeepot in the corner next to the microwave that had a tendency to steal bites of food, in particular lasagna. Carlos whispered his thanks to the Faceless Old Woman that (not so) secretly lived in Cecil's quaint abode, and poured himself a cup into Cecil's NVCR mug by the sink.

He stood with his back pressed against the counter as he slowly drank the coffee, allowing the warmth to slowly bring him back to life. As his brain waves began to return to normal functioning levels, the scientist sighed contentedly, enjoying the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the dimness of the kitchen. The Faceless Old Woman had brewed this batch just as Carlos liked it: black, with a slight oaky tone to it, with just a hint of a sweet aftertaste. Once he had downed the cup and went back for half another, he made sure that there was still enough left in the pot for Cecil and deposited the mug in the sink, making sure to run water into it so that his radio host could use it later.

Quietly, he padded his way back down the hall and into the bathroom, where he retrieved his gym shorts and old Caltech t-shirt from where Cecil had neatly folded them on top of the hamper, next to his clothes for the day. He pulled the shorts over his boxers and peeled off the shirt he had slept in, replacing it with the Caltech one. He quickly brushed his teeth and sloshed some of Cecil's fruity mouthwash around for a few seconds before drowning down a Dixie cup of water from the tap. He carefully laid his glasses down on the counter and made his way back into the living room, where he found his socks and old tennis shoes where he had left them by the door. He pulled them on and laced them up before very quietly opening the door.

The chilled desert air struck his face as Carlos stepped outside of the apartment building into the early morning atmosphere. He loved Night Vale in the early morning, just before the sun came up. It was always so serene, a time when there were no tiny armies preparing for war beneath Lane 5 of the bowling alley, no sentient glow clouds raining dead animals and/or various sets of patio furniture, no doppelganger-inducing sandstorms. All was well.

Carlos jogged his way through town, enjoying the placid environment as it welcomed the first rays of sunlight like fingers reaching for the cookie jar at the edge of the cupboard. He raised his hand in greeting as he passed Old Woman Josie's house, where she sat on her front porch in her pink fluffy bathrobe and house slippers, her white hair up in curlers as one of her angels handed her a steaming cup.

He ran past the Dog Park, shuddering as he gave it a sideward glance. As curious as he was to study the scientific properties of it, Carlos had never gotten around to doing so. Cecil refused to speak of it off-air, and quite frankly, Carlos found it slightly creepy. He suppressed the scientific tingling at the back of his brain and sped up just a bit, grateful to leave the looming obsidian walls of the Dog Park behind him.

He slowed to a walk as he finally neared Big Rico's, fishing around in his pockets and producing the key to his lab. He walked up the empty driveway – his car was currently parked next to Cecil's back at the apartment building – to the front door, where he inserted the key into the lock and walked inside.

It wasn't that he needed to come by; Carlos had made sure the night before that everything was in order. He had left emergency numbers and a series of lists on the corkboard in the corner detailing his instructions for his teammates while he was gone for the next nine days, as well as the total inventory list of supplies that was set to be delivered by the end of the week.

He smirked lightly as he passed his hand over the smooth counter, and he felt tiny sparks of anticipation bloom in the pit of his stomach like butterflies hatching from their cocoons.

Nine days. After a year and a half in Night Vale, he was finally getting a chance to get away and enjoy life in a world where science made sense 24/7, not only when it felt like it (which was never). As much as he had grown to love the odd little town he now called home, it would be nice to experience normalcy again.

And, not only that, but it would be nice to spend some quality time with Cecil.

He knew his brother and sister were excited to finally meet the eccentric radio host he had called his boyfriend for a little over six months now, and he knew that his parents were at least curious, his mother demanding photos and Skype calls that he never got around to sending. He had been anxiously counting down the hours to the day Cecil met his family since their first date, and finally, that day had arrived.

Carlos sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

It wasn't that his parents were absolutely against the fact that he was gay; in fact his mother was wonderfully supportive and accepting of the knowledge. His father, on the other hand, was less accepting, leaning more towards homophobic than the rest of his family, however much he and his son actually got along, but Carlos's homosexuality was not something that was spoken of often.

Still, he supposed he could count his father's agreement to allow him to bring Cecil along to spend Christmas with them as a sign that he was, at the very least, trying.

While Carlos had no doubt in his mind that his family would love his boyfriend as much as he did, even his father, he was, however, nervous about introducing Cecil to his grandmother. His Abuela was a loving, but stern lady, and very devout in her Catholic beliefs. While he had come out to his parents and siblings about his sexuality at sixteen, he had never quite gotten around to revealing the fact to Abuela; the timing had never seemed quite right. She never asked him about his personal relationships much whenever he called to talk to her, and even when she did, Carlos always wrote it off by saying he didn't have time for romance, what with his leading the mission in Night Vale and all.

A scientist is self-reliant, he reminded himself dryly. That's the first thing a scientist is.

What truly made him uncomfortable, however, was the fact that he had not bridged the topic of this to Cecil. While Carlos was used to the ridicule and stares that usually came with being a gay man in a society that considered it an abnormal practice, he wasn't sure Cecil had ever encountered anything like it before; Night Vale was many things, but prejudice against any and all forms of love was not one of them. He knew that he couldn't allow Cecil to go into the world outside of Night Vale blindly, but he also couldn't bring himself to approach the subject in a way that he knew he'd be able to adequately explain. The concept of homophobia didn't exist in Night Vale, and he wondered if Cecil had ever even heard the term in the first place. Carlos had always kept his sexuality under wraps, never allowing himself to reveal more than he felt necessary, but his boyfriend had never been as reclusive, even going so far as to speak of his unending love for him on the radio whenever the opportunity arose.

Not only was explaining homophobia to Cecil downright uncomfortable, but the idea of having to explain that Carlos's own father fell into at least a subcategory of it made his skin crawl. He knew his father tolerated it, but he also knew that he preferred not to acknowledge it, if at all possible, even going so far, over the phone when the Carlos first pitched the idea of Cecil coming to him, as to suggest that he and Cecil sleep in different rooms. Carlos's mother had intervened then, citing that it was likely they had already, at the very least, shared a bed by now. His father held no contest to his mother's word.

Carlos's siblings had never had a single negative thing to say in regards to his sexual leanings, and for that, he would be forever grateful. In high school, shortly after coming out, Carlos had found himself the butt end of many a joke, in particular from those of more athletic status than himself, and had once almost been shoved into a locker had his older brother Andre not stepped in. He swallowed the memory like a bitter pill. He had walked away from the situation in tact and, more importantly, not shoved into a locker, but from then on he had also been seen as weak and unable to fight his own battles; it wasn't until he began allowing some of the boys from the football team to copy his chemistry homework that the torment became stagnant.

He wasn't about to allow homophobia to interfere with his vacation, or with his holiday. Even if he had to grit his teeth and bear it, he would get through this.

And, of course, he had Cecil. The thought made him smile.

Satisfied that everything was in order, and after a quick note telling his colleagues he wished them a Merry Christmas (and Kwanzaa, in Jason's case), Carlos locked up and began his jog back towards Cecil's apartment.

...oOo...

He had managed to sneak back into the apartment undetected, grateful that the Faceless Old Woman had opted to turn on the computer and troll around the internet reading Sex & the City fanfiction instead of turning up the stereo, which she liked to use to blast polka music if Cecil wasn't looking.

Carlos ridded himself of his sweaty shirt and shorts almost immediately, stepping into the shower and turning it on full blast. The water (which held a slight green tint to it and smelled faintly of candle wax) was a blessed relief has he scrubbed away the thin layer of sweat and grime that had settled on his tanned skin (caramel, Cecil called it) from his run. He washed his hair, running his hands through the thick curls, noting how long it had gotten, and chuckled, knowing his mother would likely comment on it later and suggest a haircut, much to Cecil's chagrin. He had, with his boyfriend's persistence, permitted it to grow out enough to the point of needing to sometimes pull it back when handling excessively corrosive chemicals in the lab, or whenever a Bunsen burner was in use so that the tendrils didn't flop into his face, or catch on fire. He shuddered at the mere thought of the smell of burnt hair; it had taken his lab partner in college weeks to rid himself of the odor.

Finally clean, he climbed out of the shower, setting his feet on the moss bathmat and drying himself off as best as possible. He grabbed the clean pair of boxers from atop his folded clothes and slipped them on before he tugged his clean undershirt over his head. He located his glasses where he had left them and put them on before he attempted to survey himself in the foggy mirror.

As he made his way back into the bedroom to retrieve a clean pair of socks from his suitcase, he found Cecil sprawled across the bed on his stomach, still sleeping soundly, his face buried in a pillow. Carlos shook his head, smiling slightly. His boyfriend often tried to convince others that Carlos was the bedhog, when in reality, Cecil was far from innocent.

Carlos dared a glance at the damnable alarm clock, which had taken to floating four inches above the night stand in his absence, Cecil's purple rimmed glasses next to it, and noted that it was now 8:16.

It was now or never.

Carlos sat down on the edge of the bed, and reached out a hand to touch Cecil's shoulder, shaking it gently.

"Cecil." He said. "It's time to wake up."

Cecil groaned, loudly, as he was pulled from the warmth of unconsciousness, mumbling something that sounded like "day off, sleep in" into the down of the pillow.

Carlos shook his head. Cecil, while most definitely the more morning oriented of the two of them, was never one to get out of bed willingly if he absolutely didn't have to.

"Cecil," Carlos shook his shoulder again. "Come on. It's time."

Cecil raised his head, but did not open his eyes. "Five more minutes." He grumbled.

Carlos chuckled.

"Wish I could let you, quierdo." He said regretfully. "But our flight leaves at noon, and it's almost eight thirty."

Cecil groaned again, and remained firmly cemented to the sheets of the bed. Carlos smirked and leaned across the bed, kissing Cecil's white-blond hair and leaning in close to his ear.

"Lo siento, quierdo." He whispered as he snaked his hand beneath Cecil's torso, and prodded at the spot just above Cecil's navel, which he knew to be the one spot where Cecil was ticklish. Cecil yelped and his body jerked away from Carlos, and he fell, unceremoniously, onto the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs. His bleary violet eyes were wide in surprise.

"Carloooos." He whined, his sonorous voice still thick with sleep. "You know how I feel about sensitivity warfare!"

Carlos laughed and bent down to kiss Cecil's nose.

"All's fair in love and war, mi amor." He held out his hand for Cecil as he straightened himself back into a standing position.

Cecil hmmfed as he took Carlos's outstretched hand. Carlos kissed his cheek as he turned and walked towards the door.

"Are waffles okay for breakfast?" He asked, pausing to turn and look back at the radio host from the door. "The Faceless Old Woman made me coffee this morning, and I'd like to return the favor."

"Waffles would be delightful." Cecil said as he unwound himself from the comforter and began to make the bed. "I'll be there momentarily."

Carlos nodded, and made his way down the hall.

"Oh," he called over his shoulder. "The water in the shower is green today, and sort of smells like wax. Thought you might want to know."

"Hm." He heard Cecil mumble. "Then it's going to rain today."

My headcanon Cecil is loosely based on tumblr user Nazi Nurse's Cecil, though I find it important to note that MY Cecil is human, with sentient tattoo sleeves and white-blond hair, with (only 2) purple eyes. My headcanon Carlos is hers. Seriously, check out her art! It's AMAZING.