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"Carlos."
It's dark outside. Because it's nearly three in the morning and the sun has set, not because of any ash clouds or solar eclipses or bans on natural light.
It's dark outside, and it's raining. Because it's dark, Cecil can't be sure if it's raining water, or blood, or acid, but he has a good feeling.
It hasn't rained water in months.
"Carlos." Cecil repeats, just a bit louder than a whisper. "Carlos, wake up, it's raining."
Carlos blinks awake slowly, looking at Cecil (squinting slightly, because, as previously mentioned: dark) and frowning. "Cecil? Is something the matter?"
They're not yet at the point in their relationship were sleeping at each other's homes, and in each other's beds, isn't something to gloss over. Cecil is continuously pleased by Carlos' continued lack of surprise, horror or regret to be waking up next to him. In fact, when Carlos opens his eyes to see Cecil lying next to him, he looks pleased. Cecil has decided there is little better than Carlos, still half asleep, perfect hair a perfect mess, looking pleased to see him.
"It's raining." Cecil repeats happily.
"Right. What's it raining?" Carlos sounds resigned. It rained strawberry milk last week, and everything still smells slightly rancid, so Cecil will forgive him for being less than enthusiastic.
"I'm pretty sure it's water." Cecil says, beaming. "Will you come outside with me?"
Carlos blinks. "It's raining."
"Exactly!" Cecil says, glad Carlos understands.
"It's past curfew." Carlos adds.
"No one will notice; the Sheriff's Secret Police hate the rain." Cecil assures him. "Come on, get up! Quickly, before it stops!"
(Cecil thinks Carlos rolls his eyes and complies because he agrees with Cecil about the glory of rain. Cecil's wrong. It's more that it's really hard to say no to Cecil when he get's excited. He's like a puppy. A three-eyed, purple-haired, over-excited puppy).
Cecil doesn't let Carlos put on a coat or shoes, because it's not like there's any point, they're going to get soaked either way, better to save his clothes. And so they end up outside in the (torrential) rain wearing nothing but the t-shirts and boxers they were sleeping in.
"What now?" Carlos asks, perfect hair already sticking to his perfect face, voice bemused.
"Dancing!" Cecil says, doing an excited little twirl. He can't help himself. He loves the rain, and he loves Carlos (not that he's said it out loud quite yet), and he loves being outside after curfew (now that he's even thinking that what did you hear him think that no you didn't because he didn't think that don't be ridiculous). This couldn't get any better.
Carlos says, "Dancing. Of course." He still sounds bemused, and there's this smile on his face, his 'my boyfriend is ridiculous and it's great' smile. It's one of Cecil's favourite Carlos smiles, second only to his 'my boyfriend is adorable and amazing and it's amazing' smile and his 'my boyfriend should come over here so I can ravish him' smirk.
He takes a step closer to Cecil and asks, "What kind of dancing?"
"This kind." Cecil replies, grabbing Carlos' hands and starting to dance. It probably has an official name, the dancing they're doing, but Cecil just knows it as the 'my big sister is very happy and wants to express this fact through energetic movement' dance.
Carlos picks it up very quickly.
Soon, they have a rhythm going, both tuned into music only they can hear (as, unbeknownst to them, broadcasted by Erika the angel, who is a big fan of any kind of dancing and tries to encourage it whenever they can). And then Cecil spins Carlos, and Carlos ends up pressed close against Cecil's front, and, well.
"Hi." Carlos breathes.
"Hey." Cecil breathes back. He can't quite catch his breath, though whether that's because of the dancing or his proximity to Carlos, he's not sure. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Fancy indeed." Carlos mutters, apparently to himself, as he tugs Cecil down for a kiss. It's a slow, leisurely kind of kiss, Carlos licking his way into Cecil's mouth with practiced ease, Cecil catching Carlos when his knees give out, both of them groaning into each other's mouths with a wild kind of abandon only achieved by already having done something you know you shouldn't have.
Neither of them notice the music fading (as Erika retreats quietly, to give them their privacy), or the rain stopping, or the moon coming out and casting them both in washed-out light (the moon is nowhere near as courteous as the angels, and is quite happy to watch something she knows she has no right to see).
They kiss for a long time, an immeasurable amount of time, and not just because all of Cecil's clocks are currently in pieces in Carlos' lab. When they finally break for air, they're both breathless and soaked to the skin and starting to shiver.
"It'll be much warmed inside, you know." Carlos mutters, his lips almost-but-not-quite brushing Cecil's. Cecil shivers, and not because of the cold.
"Right. Warmer. Right." he replies, like a dork. Carlos grins, and tugs him back into the house.
(It is, indeed, much warmer inside).