[ Since when has Cisco ever been able to resist a challenge from Harry? The answer is, of course: never. He knows there is a chance that Harry is just trying to get him to agree to cook for them sometime, but he doesn't care. The bait is too tempting not to rise to it, and besides. Cooking for Harry out of a pugnacious determination to prove himself is just as much fun as cooking for him because he likes him, likes doing nice things for him occasionally (very occasionally). ]
Okay, I'm a totally average cook. Look, I'm not about to win Chopped or anything but contrary to popular opinion, when our lives aren't totally under siege, I don't usually live on takeout alone.
[ He is touching on something he doesn't quite know how to talk about just yet - what it's going to be like, now that Zoom is gone. Cisco has no idea how hectic things may be. For all he knows, another supervillain may show up in a day. Or maybe things will be back to what he thinks of as normal - or some approximation of it - with Barry running around dealing with lesser criminals and metahumans, and him and Caitlin and Harry helping out, but without all the long nights and stress and terror Zoom had brought with him. Or maybe it will be like after the singularity: Barry might need a break, a few months of quiet, a tranquil sort of holding pattern.
If the last option is true, he is glad Harry will be here, to keep him entertained through it. To keep him company. The last time had been pretty damned lonely. ]
[ Harrison rolls his eyes at that, starting to scrub at the plates in the sink and then putting them away in the dishwasher. And isn't that a novel thing, he considers idly as he does so. Even when they'd moved in to their own place, he and Jesse hadn't really had time to buy any of the essentials, so they mostly lived off of paper plates and disposable utensils. He'd grumbled earlier while digging through Cisco's cabinets as he wondered what he did or didn't own but really, he was in no place to judge when most of what he'd had on this Earth should have been tossed out five uses ago.
(That, and Cisco was fairly well prepared when it came to pots, pans, and other kitchen utensils, but details.)
The corners of his mouth twitch a bit, despite his best efforts to suppress a smile. ]
Yeah? I'll believe it when I see it.
[ Once he's finished loading most of the dishes in, he dries his hands off, eyes straying towards his bags, which are still sitting in the hallway. The dufflebag . . . he still doesn't have the willpower to deal with that tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either. Harrison wouldn't be too surprised if a week passed and it was still exactly the way it had been when it was shoved into his arms. His backpack was much less of a surprise at least, even with the gifts Cisco had planted in there.
Which reminds him. ]
You got a laptop around here somewhere?
[ It's Cisco, so it goes without saying, but he's too tired to go digging around the apartment for a computer when he can have Cisco point him in the right direction. ]
[ Oh, it's on. He is going to cook for Harry and it is going to be something fancy and he is not going to burn any part of it and they'll see who is smiling, then. When Harry moves out of the kitchen, Cisco takes that as his cue to swoop in and finish with the rest, pushing up his sleeves. The question about the laptop isn't that surprising - Harry didn't exactly show up with a whole ton of stuff. Cisco nods towards the low table in the living room, which has one of his laptops sitting on it. He doesn't even bother to ask why Harry wants it, just turns and starts washing the last few pots and pans.
But his curiosity gradually increases, and before long he's peering over his shoulder at Harry with interest. The angle is not right for him to see what Harry is doing. He could just ask now, but that would be far too easy. So instead Cisco finishes the scrubbing and rinsing and the rest of it as quickly as he can, before coming over to not so much sit as flop onto the couch beside Harry and openly look at what's on the screen... ]
[ Harrison wanders over to his backpack, kneeling down to unzip it and fish out the flash drive Cisco had planted in there, then heads over to the laptop, pulling it over and plugging the drive in. He can vaguely hear Cisco doing the dishes in the background, but— whatever. He's the one who made the damn thing in the first place. If he didn't want him looking at whatever was on it, then he wouldn't have given it to him in the first place.
It's at that moment that Harrison idly considers the possibility of Cisco slapping something like a sex tape on a USB, just to razz him from another universe. Given their states of mind the previous night, he probably didn't, but then again, it was Cisco. He never knows. Needless to say, he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees several image files populate the folder and no video files in sight.
That relief is short lived though as he slowly goes through the files, brows furrowing. It's . . . him and everyone else, not just Cisco. Sure, there are a few here and there of the two of them — the pictures that Cisco managed to twist his arm into letting him take, reassuring him that no one else would find them. Which— good, because Harrison wouldn't want to explain the picture of Cisco draped all over him on one of the rolling chairs in the workshop while still managing to take the shot of the two of them to Joe, thanks. But there are others, too. A quiet moment in the lab with Snow, her silently offering him a pen without even looking up. One of his many back-and-forths with Allen — and he doesn't know how he missed it before, how the corners of Allen's lips had been curled, like he was suppressing a smile. Him with Joe and Iris West, going over some of the modifications he'd made to her firearm. Jesse, too — Jesse with Wally, out somewhere that Iris must have taken them to, because he doesn't recognize it.
It's overwhelming is what it is.
He stares numbly at the machine as he tabs through one image after another, expression blank as though the wind were taken out of him. It's like a punch in the stomach as he goes on, because this— he almost left this, all of this, behind him here. Jesse was right. He finds that most of the time, she is — an infuriating trait that she shares with her mother. She'd been wrong here and there more lately, but not this time. Not now.
Harrison's so absorbed in it all that he doesn't even notice when Cisco flops down next to him to lean over and take a peak. ]
[ As soon as Cisco sees what is on the screen, he glances at the thumb drive and understands. Harry must not have gotten a chance to even look at these, when he got to Earth-2, so he is checking it out now. And it's clear from his body language, his facial expression, how deeply absorbed he is. How emotional. So Cisco doesn't say anything, even though a joke about looking up memes on his computer had been at the tip of his tongue. He merely scoots closer, fitting his body next to Harry's and dropping his head onto Harry's shoulder as he keeps scrolling through.
Cisco remembers how late it had been, when he had been putting together this makeshift album. It had been nearly morning, by then. He'd made the adjustments to Harry's watch, first. Less than a day ago. Cisco remembers scouring through his phone and all the messy folders on various hard drives, picking which to include and which to leave off. He'd been dry-eyed the whole time, but his heart had ached.
He doesn't speak up until Harry gets to a picture of himself and Jesse, sitting at the bank of computers in the cortex. That had been right after they dealt with King Shark, Cisco's almost positive. It's a rare candid in which Harry is actually smiling, his hair a mess and his glasses sliding dangerously low on his nose. ]
[ When Cisco scoots closer to him, slotting himself right in next to him, Harrison almost immediately pulls a hand away from the laptop, sliding his arm around him and letting his fingers curl against his side. He glances over at him when he speaks, giving him the smallest of half-smiles before turning his attention back towards the screen. That had been . . . well. An exhausting period of time. Adjusting to a new world, getting Jesse reoriented with everything, and tracking a giant shark-man on top of all of that? It had been something else, to say the least. ]
Yeah. [ A beat. ] So do I.
[ He pulls Cisco in a bit closer at that. It's hard to relax — he's not sure he'll even be able to for awhile, if he's being honest with himself. But that pit of regret that had dug into his stomach hours ago on an entirely different universe is finally starting to clear up, at least. ]
[ Cisco is more than happy to come in closer, to drape himself against and on top of Harry while he continues to go through the pictures. What Cisco had suspected about Harry's mood is confirmed by the fact that he doesn't snark about Cisco taking pictures when he didn't realize it, or about the state of the workshop, or anything else. And Cisco doesn't want to interrupt this mood, to rush Harry past it. He'd made a huge decision, coming back here. Anyone would need time to process that - even Harrison Wells.
So Cisco doesn't say anything else for the rest of the album, though that doesn't mean he is entirely silent. He lets out little huffs of laughter or soft hums of recognition for this or that photo. As they are nearing the end of the files, he brings a hand up to the back of Harry's neck, massaging idly - not enough to be distracting, but a little. That way it is easy, when Harry gets to the last photo (one Joe had taken of Cisco, Barry, and Caitlin all laughing hard about some joke Cisco can't even remember), to tug gently at Harry's neck and pull him forward into a kiss. Cisco's eyes slip shut as he moves his mouth against Harry's, slow, careful, and even tender. If there were ever a moment when tenderness was called for, Cisco thinks that this is it. ]
[ He's already setting the laptop to the side — on the table, out of the way — when Cisco starts to tug him in. And for once, though really, for the first time in a long, long time, his mind isn't racing a mile a minute, with intrusive thoughts of evil speedsters and the damage he's done leaking through. Harrison leans in to meet him, and there's a certain rough quality to it — a sort of tiredness mixed in with need, with want.
Harrison seems content to just stay there, taking it all carefully, quietly. After a moment or two, he draws out a long kiss, then dips his head, reaching up to remove his glasses and then set them to the side, with the laptop, before moving back in. As he does so, he gently pushes Cisco back down against the couch cushions, taking his time. Before, he'd either been in a rush or pressed up against one deadline or another as they snuck about in the labs or wherever they'd settled in on that particular day. But now— they had time. More than enough of it, more than he knew what to do with, anyway. They'd figure it out. For now, they could be slow and tender and maybe a bit clumsy and awkward as well. He doesn't really care right now. ]
[ Cisco's powers might not allow him to read other people's minds, but right now, he wouldn't need to even if he could. Whether or not they like to admit it, he and Harry are very similar in a lot of ways. It's easy enough to guess what it is that's making Harry's kiss a little different from any that have come before. They hadn't had time for his, before. Harry had already thinking about his departure when they beat Zoom, and that had gotten in the way of any celebration.
Cisco's not the same as he had been a day ago - ecstatic, bouncy, joy pouring out of him with the force of a volcanic eruption. Yet the joy is still there, muted but deep. He lets Harry push him back, move him wherever he wants him, with a smile curling the corner of his mouth. It's wonderful to be kissed like this - to be the focus of Harry's singular and unhurried attention. ]
Hey, Harry.
[ Cisco doesn't even bother pulling away to speak; he mouths against Harry's lips between kisses. The words are breathless and soft: ]
We won.
[ It bears saying, after all. It bears saying a hundred times at least. ]
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franciscoramon) wrote2015-02-21 01:38 am
no subject
[ Since when has Cisco ever been able to resist a challenge from Harry? The answer is, of course: never. He knows there is a chance that Harry is just trying to get him to agree to cook for them sometime, but he doesn't care. The bait is too tempting not to rise to it, and besides. Cooking for Harry out of a pugnacious determination to prove himself is just as much fun as cooking for him because he likes him, likes doing nice things for him occasionally (very occasionally). ]
Okay, I'm a totally average cook. Look, I'm not about to win Chopped or anything but contrary to popular opinion, when our lives aren't totally under siege, I don't usually live on takeout alone.
[ He is touching on something he doesn't quite know how to talk about just yet - what it's going to be like, now that Zoom is gone. Cisco has no idea how hectic things may be. For all he knows, another supervillain may show up in a day. Or maybe things will be back to what he thinks of as normal - or some approximation of it - with Barry running around dealing with lesser criminals and metahumans, and him and Caitlin and Harry helping out, but without all the long nights and stress and terror Zoom had brought with him. Or maybe it will be like after the singularity: Barry might need a break, a few months of quiet, a tranquil sort of holding pattern.
If the last option is true, he is glad Harry will be here, to keep him entertained through it. To keep him company. The last time had been pretty damned lonely. ]
no subject
(That, and Cisco was fairly well prepared when it came to pots, pans, and other kitchen utensils, but details.)
The corners of his mouth twitch a bit, despite his best efforts to suppress a smile. ]
Yeah? I'll believe it when I see it.
[ Once he's finished loading most of the dishes in, he dries his hands off, eyes straying towards his bags, which are still sitting in the hallway. The dufflebag . . . he still doesn't have the willpower to deal with that tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either. Harrison wouldn't be too surprised if a week passed and it was still exactly the way it had been when it was shoved into his arms. His backpack was much less of a surprise at least, even with the gifts Cisco had planted in there.
Which reminds him. ]
You got a laptop around here somewhere?
[ It's Cisco, so it goes without saying, but he's too tired to go digging around the apartment for a computer when he can have Cisco point him in the right direction. ]
no subject
But his curiosity gradually increases, and before long he's peering over his shoulder at Harry with interest. The angle is not right for him to see what Harry is doing. He could just ask now, but that would be far too easy. So instead Cisco finishes the scrubbing and rinsing and the rest of it as quickly as he can, before coming over to not so much sit as flop onto the couch beside Harry and openly look at what's on the screen... ]
no subject
It's at that moment that Harrison idly considers the possibility of Cisco slapping something like a sex tape on a USB, just to razz him from another universe. Given their states of mind the previous night, he probably didn't, but then again, it was Cisco. He never knows. Needless to say, he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees several image files populate the folder and no video files in sight.
That relief is short lived though as he slowly goes through the files, brows furrowing. It's . . . him and everyone else, not just Cisco. Sure, there are a few here and there of the two of them — the pictures that Cisco managed to twist his arm into letting him take, reassuring him that no one else would find them. Which— good, because Harrison wouldn't want to explain the picture of Cisco draped all over him on one of the rolling chairs in the workshop while still managing to take the shot of the two of them to Joe, thanks. But there are others, too. A quiet moment in the lab with Snow, her silently offering him a pen without even looking up. One of his many back-and-forths with Allen — and he doesn't know how he missed it before, how the corners of Allen's lips had been curled, like he was suppressing a smile. Him with Joe and Iris West, going over some of the modifications he'd made to her firearm. Jesse, too — Jesse with Wally, out somewhere that Iris must have taken them to, because he doesn't recognize it.
It's overwhelming is what it is.
He stares numbly at the machine as he tabs through one image after another, expression blank as though the wind were taken out of him. It's like a punch in the stomach as he goes on, because this— he almost left this, all of this, behind him here. Jesse was right. He finds that most of the time, she is — an infuriating trait that she shares with her mother. She'd been wrong here and there more lately, but not this time. Not now.
Harrison's so absorbed in it all that he doesn't even notice when Cisco flops down next to him to lean over and take a peak. ]
no subject
Cisco remembers how late it had been, when he had been putting together this makeshift album. It had been nearly morning, by then. He'd made the adjustments to Harry's watch, first. Less than a day ago. Cisco remembers scouring through his phone and all the messy folders on various hard drives, picking which to include and which to leave off. He'd been dry-eyed the whole time, but his heart had ached.
He doesn't speak up until Harry gets to a picture of himself and Jesse, sitting at the bank of computers in the cortex. That had been right after they dealt with King Shark, Cisco's almost positive. It's a rare candid in which Harry is actually smiling, his hair a mess and his glasses sliding dangerously low on his nose. ]
I really like that one.
no subject
Yeah. [ A beat. ] So do I.
[ He pulls Cisco in a bit closer at that. It's hard to relax — he's not sure he'll even be able to for awhile, if he's being honest with himself. But that pit of regret that had dug into his stomach hours ago on an entirely different universe is finally starting to clear up, at least. ]
no subject
So Cisco doesn't say anything else for the rest of the album, though that doesn't mean he is entirely silent. He lets out little huffs of laughter or soft hums of recognition for this or that photo. As they are nearing the end of the files, he brings a hand up to the back of Harry's neck, massaging idly - not enough to be distracting, but a little. That way it is easy, when Harry gets to the last photo (one Joe had taken of Cisco, Barry, and Caitlin all laughing hard about some joke Cisco can't even remember), to tug gently at Harry's neck and pull him forward into a kiss. Cisco's eyes slip shut as he moves his mouth against Harry's, slow, careful, and even tender. If there were ever a moment when tenderness was called for, Cisco thinks that this is it. ]
no subject
Harrison seems content to just stay there, taking it all carefully, quietly. After a moment or two, he draws out a long kiss, then dips his head, reaching up to remove his glasses and then set them to the side, with the laptop, before moving back in. As he does so, he gently pushes Cisco back down against the couch cushions, taking his time. Before, he'd either been in a rush or pressed up against one deadline or another as they snuck about in the labs or wherever they'd settled in on that particular day. But now— they had time. More than enough of it, more than he knew what to do with, anyway. They'd figure it out. For now, they could be slow and tender and maybe a bit clumsy and awkward as well. He doesn't really care right now. ]
no subject
Cisco's not the same as he had been a day ago - ecstatic, bouncy, joy pouring out of him with the force of a volcanic eruption. Yet the joy is still there, muted but deep. He lets Harry push him back, move him wherever he wants him, with a smile curling the corner of his mouth. It's wonderful to be kissed like this - to be the focus of Harry's singular and unhurried attention. ]
Hey, Harry.
[ Cisco doesn't even bother pulling away to speak; he mouths against Harry's lips between kisses. The words are breathless and soft: ]
We won.
[ It bears saying, after all. It bears saying a hundred times at least. ]