#kevlos but onesided but also Kevin doesn't know he's in love

[asydicsydney]

Guess who started to write a fic during the great AO3 shutdown and finished a month later!!

Ever since I saw that post about Kevin being bird-coded, I've imagined him with wings tattooed on his back. Here is Carlos (and frankly, Kevin) discovering them while stuck in a Desert Otherworld

TW for average Kevin stuff (mentions of blood and injury), 1.2K Words

"Could I study you, Kevin?"

Kevin's third person camera flickers as he spins his chair to face Carlos in the shared office space. "Wha-ha-at?" His nerves bubbling up in laughter in the middle of the question.

Carlos continued, "I've done a study on Cecil before. You know, marking his Night Valean qualities. I wondered last nigh- yesterd- earlier... If you had any similar qualities, since you're doubles and all." He eyed Kevin up and down, searching for a resemblance that didn't quite come up.

"Ohhhh-kay!" His tone lilted up to hide his initial perception of the question. "But I can assure you, Carlos," his voice was tinged with blood oranges, "I am genetically identical to... Him. We are doubles."

"I'm not certain on that," Carlos corrected him, walking to his side of the office and lifting his arm up. Kevin flinches. He does not know if it is from trauma or affection or an odd twilight between the two. "You don't have tattoos like he does. You've seen his, yes?" An 'mhm' is squeaked out through pursed lips as he stares at Carlos' hand turning his arm over. He does not notice his nails digging into his palms. "He has these tattoos of tentacles all over. They move not quite on top of the skin like an animated film. And I know they're not really tattoos because they turn into real tentacles. It's... Fascinating. But you don't have any..." Carlos sounds oddly upset at his final note, dropping Kevin's arm back on the armrest.

Now that he's been freed of the clinical gaze and grasp, Kevin lets out a shaky breath. The desert otherworld may be stuck at 76 degrees Fahrenheit, but his arm and face are reaching the mid 80's, at least. Only now does he process what Carlos said. "I do have a tattoo, actually."

Carlos drops the notes he was returning to and turns on his heel. "You do? What is it? Where is it? Does it materialize like Cecil's? Can I see it?"

The mention of the rival radio host from Carlos' mouth gives him pause, like it has been for the past few months since they built their shared living space, but he regains his composure because, oh my smiling god, he's finally interested in something about him! He does not read into this reaction. "Of course!" He takes the hem of his standard-issue StrexCorp yellow sweater vest, with it's interlocking triangle design across the chest, and starts to pull it over his head.

"Woah, wait, I-I-I didn't mean for you to str-"

"It's on my back, Carlos."

"Oh."

-

The sweater vest lays piled on his office chair like the grand mountains of the otherworld. He feels this ethereal weight lift off of him. Must be the heat. Really, who wears a sweater vest in 70 degree weather? He positions his third eye just so to aid the process in unbuttoning his work shirt. No one really gets how hard it is to push little buttons though little holes when your depth perception is every which way. He usually doesn't even entertain the thought. Back in Desert Bluffs he could be summoned to a meeting at any moment. There wasn't time to change into his hot pink satin loungewear.

"Do you...need...help? With that?" Carlos snaps him out of his walk-in closet mind at the same time he snaps a button off of its thread.

"I'm fine," he smiles a panicked smile, a smile he's perfected though it is not perfect, "Why would I need help?"

"I can see you biting through your cheek."

A bloody stream of spit drips onto his lapel. He stops chewing and lessens his smile. The last button comes undone and he moves the third eye to look back at him because he can't believe it. He's wearing a Desert Bluffs town fair volunteer shirt. Originally yellow but stained orange by the blood dunk tank he was running. DBCR was a shining sponsor of the old summer event. He smells traces of cotton candy (and blood) and sighs while his face is hidden from view. He tosses the undershirt on to the chair with the other pieces of his work outfit and turns around. "It's neat, right? I can't exactly remember when I got it, but it moves just like...His."

Carlos's brain starts backlogging information. Kevin's gaunt figure, scent, the many scars and still open wounds, his usage of the word 'neat', and the faint gold depiction of wings that, true to his word, are moving. They seem stiff, individual feathers stretching back to full plumage. And although they are not quite as sentient as Cecil's tentacles, they seem to shiver with fear. Carlos traces the sunset arc across Kevin's shoulder blades, feeling the slightest singe on his finger. Unlike with Cecil's markings, he could not keep his hands on the heated skin, not without lab gloves or giving off wrongful impressions of intimacy. "Can you materialize them?"

"I... don't know?" The wings ache each time he tries to move them. Their unfurling requires the energy of a younger Kevin, one who has not been physically shackled to a desk and forced to read out stock reports.

Carlos scratches his five o'clock shadow (he had just started growing it out before getting stuck in a dimension where nothing changes) and 'hmms' thoughtfully. Kevin's third eye spectates Carlos' scrutinizing, he sees his own body tinge red with increased blood flow, and he sees Carlos stab himself in the hand with a scalpel.

"CARLOS! Are you okay?" He moves his vision to get a better look at the wound. Oh, how the blood oozes and gathers to start building a scab and how expertly trained on the location of certain vital internal parts Carlos must be in order to still be standing right now. He bites his lip and draws blood there too. He tastes it and wonders what Carlos' would taste like.

"Kevin. Your wings- they're- astounding." The third eye whips back around to see its body's wings in all their gold tinged glory for the first time in years. Unlike their inked form, the manifested wings are a stark white that ignore whatever lighting conditions surround them, although the tips of each feather still shine a golden glow.

"They...they are. But, how did you get them out? I was, um, distracted."

"Oh, right! Well, Cecil's tentacles can involuntarily manifest when he's excited, and I know you like blood, so I stabbed myself. I can't actually do any damage, the Otherworld will just heal it. Look-" Carlos raises his hand to where he thinks Kevin's looking, showing the complete lack of a scar or scab on his palm, "I'm not hurt. And-" he squints as he walks closer to his lab partner's wings, "These are just stunning. The way they emit pure light is mind-boggling and makes them really hard to look straight at. Can you fly with them?"

-

Kevin freezes while his body feels a rush of heat never before known. He sees the endless sky outside the Otherworld lab, with zero smog clouds and just one ever present lighthouse. He sees himself next to the red light, wishing it a good morning, and diving off the railing. He sees his town, his new town, from a perspective unlike those of his spectral eye. The masked army looks like regularly sized people and Carlos looks like a very scientific ant. He lands next to his radio station and he folds his wings back together before he lets them dissolve back into the golden tattoo under his magenta DBTCR tank top, the same color he used to see the world through. He opens the door and the vision dissolves too.

-

"I can try."