A/N: Soooo, this was gonna be super angsty but I think after episode 90 we've had enough unsure angst. So instead I wrote some funny, less angsty than usual fluff. It came from a list of amusingly odd prompts I found on tumblr and this one was: "My shower's broken but I've got a date tonight could I possibly use your shower please?" "Oh sure (neighbour that I've been crushing on for the past six months) of course you can use my shower to get ready for your date (fuck fuck fuck)" Credit to nerds-are-cool for writing the prompt.

I promise a sequel to this one.

Crises

"… yeah, so my shower is completely broken, I mean, water won't even come out and that is so weird, but I have a date tonight with one of my lab assistants, who is so pretty and so, I hate to ask but could I possibly use your shower?"

Cecil was melting. Carlos, sweet Carlos, handsome Carlos, perfect Carlos from across the hall had come over to ask if he could use his shower. So that he could date someone who was not him. The melting feeling was quickly replaced by a freezing one but Cecil just smiled and nodded him inside.

"S-sure, no problem!"

Fuck.

Now what was he going to do? Stepping back, Cecil totally did not stare at Carlos's rear end in those very tight skinny jeans as he showed him hastily to the bathroom. Carlos the Scientist. Well, technically, he was a chemical researcher, as he had told Cecil in the lift the first time they had met, one week after Cecil had moved in, but Cecil preferred Scientist. He had then felt like an idiot for explaining that he was a lowly radio host, working three other part time jobs just to pay his rent because his small-town radio show, playing every night at 9pm, wasn't exactly popular. Admittedly, Carlos had taken it well, with a laugh and a friendly slap on the back (which made Cecil's shoulder and cheeks burn for several minutes), assuring him that doing what he loved was never anything to be ashamed of.

And now he was in Cecil's shower, naked. And that was possibly too much to think about. Rubbing his red cheeks, Cecil slunk into the kitchen, splashing water on to his face to try and calm himself down. He had known Carlos nearly 7 months now, Cecil mused. He had thought that the sudden infatuation with the pretty Latino man who lived two doors down would have faded after a week, maybe a month. But no. Carlos had managed to worm his way under the radio-host's skin and left him feeling hot and bothered every time he spoken to him.

What Cecil wouldn't give to be the one Carlos was dressing up for. He actually could not think of a single material possession he would not relinquish for that to be reality. Pining over people was really a problem of his, wasn't it? First it had been Earl Harlan, his old friend. They had been childhood sweethearts but something hadn't been right. Neither of them had felt comfortable in the relationship and there had been no use pretending that everything was okay. But now Earl had a son and a family and a good job in a restaurant somewhere that wasn't this pokey town in the middle of the American nowhere. Then there had been other people: Diego (Also a scientist but really not an ethical one); Kevin (A very big, bad mistake which Cecil still had scars from) and Jack (sweet, but had really only been experimenting with boys and had run off with Cecil's best friend). So, perhaps he had not had the most luck with love.

That had not stopped him falling head over heels for Carlos. Fuck. The shower had stopped. Quickly, Cecil hurried to his desk and pretended to look very busy writing his show for tonight. He only had a few minutes to compose himself before Carlos entered the room, looking like a god. He had styled his hair into a small, curly quiff, the premature grey streaks at the temples making him look very dignified. He wore a sharp black suit jacket, white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and skinny jeans.

"So, how do I look?"

Like a sex god. "Good. I hope you have a good night." I hope your dumb lab assistant skips into the sunset with you whilst I am swallowed up by the ground.

"Thanks, Cecil!" No, don't grin like that, I'm trying to hate you, you perfectly beautiful man. Fuck.

And then Carlos was gone, with a wave, leaving only the scent of very expensive cologne. Cecil promptly introduced his forehead to his desk, hard.

After a single torturous hour trying (and failing) to write his show, followed by 2 hours on air which had gone rather well to say it was all improvised, Cecil was home again. He was tired and a little lovesick and all he really wanted was his kitten, Khoshekh whom he found in the bathroom again. After curling up on the sofa, his cat in his arms, Cecil groaned, long and loudly. Why was Carlos such a distraction? Just as he began to drift once more into miserable thoughts, there was a knock on the door. Cecil stood, causing Khoshekh to hiss and jump down, displeased with the movement, and moved over to open the door.

Carlos stood there. From the redness of his eyes and his nose, he had been crying and if the half empty bottle of wine in his hand was anything to go by, he had also been drinking. Cecil firmly repressed the excited leap his stomach did when face with what appeared to be the ruins of Carlos's date.

"Carlos?"

"He left me there. He left me at the table. Th-three hours, Cecil, and he didn't show!" Carlos was crying again and although his crying was very ugly, Cecil could only see it as one of his other imperfections that made him perfect. So he did the only thing he could: he invited him back inside and held him whilst he cried.

And it was okay when Carlos cried himself to sleep on Cecil's sofa.

And it was okay that Cecil got no sleep because he was too afraid of leaving Carlos.

And it was okay that Carlos's wine split on the carpet.

It was all okay because Carlos was there, in Cecil's arms and Cecil couldn't help but think that maybe, he could actually be Carlos's next date.