Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You are coming to the wedding, right?”

“No, Cisco, after years of watching this whole will-they-won’t-they spiel, I will take a pass on that,” Hartley shoots back after a moment of consideration. He snorts lightly as he answers, pronouncing what they’d all thought. Cisco would never admit it out loud - he thinks he isn’t allowed to, as Barry’s best man - but it was tiresome to hear Barry pine after Iris while she’d been oblivious to it, and then later to have Iris doubt whether they could even work like that . Hartley wasn’t even present for the time where Eddie was in the picture and Cisco just about thought to shove them all together into a room and see what would happen. Hell, for all he knows they could have ended up as a throple.

He also really hadn’t been sure about Hartley’s attendance to the wedding. Sure, he’s a member of Team Flash now and Cisco’s urge to rip off his head is more good-natured nowadays than ever before - courtesy of his own spending time with Harry, he supposes, their tempers are pretty alike - but that doesn’t mean Hartley likes socializing with them. Cisco’s even pretty sure it isn’t the fact that he’d have to spend time with them but the fact that he’d have to interact with people, period. Hartley knows how to handle people in a negotiation and he knows how to talk to the press. He’s a smooth talker there, probably because the Rathaways had meant to include him in the business politics before they decided to be assholes about just about everything, but that doesn’t mean he can socialize . In fact, Hartley is terribly awkward in a normal conversation.

And not in the foot-in-your-mouth and oversharing way that Cisco breeches into sometimes, no. Hartley’s more of the opposite, in the way that the talk would be terribly stiff and short-lived. It frequently happens with Iris and Joe; Hartley’s a scientist first and human second, as it seems, so everyone he could discuss formulas and stuff like that with when in doubt is easier to handle for him, even if the topic doesn’t go that far. It might be a sense of security. Cisco’s also wondered, sometimes, if it’s a guard Hartley’s put up while he hid his true self from his parents, one that only grew stronger when them finding out about him being gay turned so ugly. Defense mechanism and all.

Thinking about it like this, it’s clear that Hartley wouldn’t have a good time at the wedding, looking at it objectively. There'll be lots and lots of people, both foreign and familiar, who’d either make him feel completely isolated and try to rope him into awful conversations. God, just thinking about it almost makes Cisco’s protector instincts kick in. 

It only makes his idea seem more appealing. 

“Well, do you have a date?” He asks, spinning the wrench in his hand around his finger. It almost flings into his face. 

Hartley hadn’t turned back to his project just yet, instead watching Cisco when he felt the conversation carrying on. It’s something he regularly does, especially since he found a solution for his tinnitus and is back to his normal Hard of Hearing self. Which means his lip is twitching at the display of Cisco’s talents, but he refrains from making a remark on how that’s connected to his lack of intelligence or something. That’s progress. 

He sobers up in a second, instead frowning at Cisco’s question. Looking back down on his notes, he demands, “Why do you ask?” He tries to sound casual in his reply, but his voice actually sounds strained. 

Something about his tone makes Cisco hesitate, sensing that it must be a sore topic. Man, he doesn’t even know if Hartley ever got around to date anyone, period. It’s probably been impossible when he’d been trying to keep it under wraps and honestly, Cisco cannot imagine that anyone would be up to being in a relationship with the guy whose outing made newspaper headlines, so maybe Hartley’s ventures into dating have never been successful. Still, now that he’s started talking about it, he figures he should probably go through with it. 

He takes a deep breath and starts, “Well, I was thinking, that we could-- you know, as friends or whatever, just so people wouldn’t bother either of us and--” Honestly, that’s just about the reasoning he’d come up with so far. Something to keep people from pitying him about how Cindy broke up with him and to shield Hartley from human interaction.

Hartley raises an eyebrow at him. “I thought going stag as the best man was just about anyone’s dream,” he says, instead of actually answering Cisco’s question. It’s annoying.

“Yeah, maybe if you’re actually interested in hooking up with someone,” Cisco tells him. “Or did not just get out of a relationship, which everyone knows about, so if people talk to you, it’s to tell you how sorry they are.”

For a second, there’s something passing over Hartley’s face, but it’s gone too quickly for Cisco to decipher it properly. Instead, his doubtful expression is back in place, one that Cisco has always been familiar with, though it, too, got less and less mocking recently. “I don’t see how us attending the wedding together would keep people from talking about your failed relationship.”

By now, Cisco knows Hartley well enough to notice when he means to be harmful and when he doesn’t. And while the word ‘failed’ is a bad choice here, he can tell that it wasn’t meant as an insult or whatever; it’s just what it is, to Hartley, and frankly, it’s way too accurate. Just as his conclusion is, actually, when he thinks about it. He’ll be surrounded by friends anyway, so why did his mind think it’ll stop the conversations from heading down there? 

“Unless, of course, we claimed to date,” Hartley continues with a shrug. His words carry a weight, though he acts like it’s just something you say. Hell, this time Hartley hadn’t even looked up as he spoke. 

“Dude,” Cisco lets out. “did you just offer to fake-date me?”

It makes more sense than going there as friends either way. A new relationship is definitely on the same level as the old one. And if they said it’s fresh, then surely nobody would want to bring up Cindy - who had originally been invited by Barry, but declined after cutting things off with Cisco. You don’t mention the ex when someone shows up with their new partner. Plus, if it’s a new relationship, there’s none of that ‘oh, and when is it your time to get married?’ talk that weddings bring with themselves.

It’s a brilliant idea, honestly, and Cisco can’t even hide how surprised he is about Hartley being the one to come up with it. As calculated as he is, he’s bad at guessing other people’s reactions, usually. Especially when it’s things like courtesy or something similar. 

On the other hand, Hartley knows just exactly how to manipulate people. Cisco figured it’s something he’d learnt from childhood on. “That depends,” Hartley says, a sly smirk in place when he looks over to where Cisco’s sat up straight on his chair, “on what I get out of it.”

He probably should have seen this coming. Hartley may have had a change of heart ever since finding his spot on the team, but it’s not like he’s suddenly become completely selfless. And this is a huge favour, so it only makes sense he asks for something in return. 

Cisco had it clearly in mind, how they’d both profit from this deal, but suddenly it seems a bit weak. Offering to protect Hartley from conversations, like he cannot talk for himself or is socially inept, would probably seem offensive, come to think of it. Hartley would have probably migrated to their group either way, and with Barry and Iris being the stars of the show and Caitlin having a kind of date with Julian (their relationship status had been wonky before, but ever since Julian had been back in London for half a year, it’s even blurrier), it’d have meant he would have gotten stuck with Cisco either way. He doesn’t need to act like they’re a couple. Cisco, on the other hand…

“Uh,” he starts, smartly. He has no idea what to offer: Hartley doesn’t like anyone touching his things, so cleaning up his workbank for, like, a year or so won’t cut it. Money’s off the table, too, not only because Cisco doesn’t have any but because Hartley always insisted on paying his share of take-out or stuff like that so he probably wouldn’t welcome being bought like this either. “Anything you want?”

He wonders, briefly, if this wasn’t the wrong call to make. Hartley’s been a super villain, after all! He’d been so mad in his anger that he’d accepted casualties, and here Cisco goes and offers him the world. But Hartley’s changed, he reminds himself. He doesn’t want to take on the world anymore. Hell , he’s helped save the city. Multiple times. 

“Hm,” Hartley makes thoughtfully. He taps the back of his pen against his lower lip, not taking his eyes of Cisco as he mulls it over. “You know, I have been a bit jealous about that whole alternative-world-hopping you do.”

“What, you want to visit another world?” Cisco summarizes. Truth be told, Hartley wouldn’t even need to give him anything in return for that one. Just one question, and Cisco would have been game; he likes exploring the different worlds when it’s not the fate of the world depending on it. 

Hartley shrugs. “Maybe multiple?” He proposes softly.

Cisco bites back a laugh in reply. It’s adorable that Hartley thinks he’s asking for a lot here, but he won’t tell him that. It truly is the best that he can offer, so he won’t ruin this deal. So he just says, “Sounds doable.”

“Good,” Hartley nods. He doesn’t try to hide his smile at that, though - if he does, then he’s failing miserably. He clears his throat and adds, “I suppose we can work out the details then.”

Whether he means the trip or the wedding, Cisco doesn’t know, but he nods nonetheless. He almost feels bad about how happy Hartley had looked at their agreement; he could fulfill the guy’s wish so easily and yet he sticks to demanding something in return… But the whole thing had been Hartley’s offer, really, so it’s his own fault. Cisco would never have come up with that… that ploy if it weren’t for his evil mastermind, so if that’s the payment he requires, it’s what he gets.

-

It's a beautiful wedding if Cisco is allowed to say so. Of course, he's been involved quite a lot, but it's gone a lot smoother than he could have imagined. Knowing their track record, it's quite the miracle that the city wasn't under attack; it would have been just their luck, because there wouldn't have been any superheroes left to protect it. They even had plenty of vigilantes from other earths around, for heaven's sake. Not to mention the many high-ranking cops they pulled from the force for this. 

For all the worrying and stumbling that Barry had done before, his vows have been so captivating that Cisco didn't even have the time to wonder just how stupid he looked standing right next to Oliver Queen during the ceremony, even though the suits they picked are freaking awesome. His own has been fitted so nicely that he didn't consider clawing at his hips even once.

The reception has been nice, too. And the same goes for his speech. Sure, his references and humour have gone straight over most people's heads, but it's mostly been meant for his friends either way. The groans from them have been worth it. 

Joe's speech made everyone weep, in contrast, so he guesses his has been good on everyone's mood.

Now, the bridal couple has the dancefloor to themselves, swaying softly to a slow song of their choosing.   They look so happy and in love, it makes Cisco's heart sing. Truth be told, there'd been a time where he doubted they were such a good fit, at least romantically, back when Barry was hopelessly pining after Iris. Hell, she'd even gotten engaged to another guy, so don't call him a pessimist. Watching them recently, though, it's become clear that they belong together.

His thoughts get interrupted when someone sinks down next to him, in Barry's vacated seat. "Well, you clean up nicely," Hartley says in lieu of a greeting. "When your outfit does not consist of a shirt that has a tux printed on."

Cisco ignores the insult, instead raising his brows at him. "That's not your seat," he points out. He hadn't seen Hartley yet, safe for a few glimpses at the church, but those don't count because Iris and Barry know a lot of people. Now that he's right next to him, Cisco can catch a good look at the dark suit Hartley has chosen to wear - it's got a green undertone, he notices now, but given that he'd sent him a few snaps of his own suit beforehand, they should still fit together. 

Hartley blows a raspberry. "I don't think our dear groom will come back any time soon," he answers with a nod towards the pair. "Besides, I think it'd truly be a crime if I didn't sit next to my date."

Cisco wouldn't have put it quite so dramatically, but he does have a point. While they're not at the whole party stage of the day yet, people are switching their seats around as they please. Oliver has already taken Iris' chair and manoeuvred it between Felicity and Caitlin's, probably wanting to be close to his girlfriend in such an atmosphere. 

It also means that Caitlin has scooted over towards Cisco, putting her into a better position to listen in. "Wait," she says, leaning forward so that she's directly looking at him. "Hartley's your date ?"

"It's just so happened!" He answers in a panic. It's technically not a lie, even if Hartley raises an eyebrow at him in a question he can't make out. Is he bothered that Cisco isn't rasping down the backstory they came up with? Hell, it's Caitlin. She'd be the first to know if Cisco had developed a new crush or anything. Besides, the whole taking-Hartley-as-his-date thing is more for their extended friend group; Caitlin and Barry both know there's no point in mentioning Cindy to him. He's discussed it with them entirely - even before the break-up, when he'd already felt like it won't work out, which is why the pitiful looks are even more annoying.

Caitlin knits her eyebrows together as she leans back, a small, "huh," escaping her lips. It's the tone she uses when she has Thoughts™️ ( yes , with a trademark; it’s one of her many unique features) and won't disclose them yet. Cisco hates it. 

She's turned herself back to watching Joe, who has taken over Iris' place now, spin Barry around, much to the laughter of everyone. At the sideline, the bride looks like she's about to douse herself in her drink, that's how hard she's throwing her head back as she shakes herself.

"So, when are we dancing?" Hartley wants to know. He's looking at the dancefloor, too, his head propped onto his hand. He looks almost bored.

"What?" Cisco yelps. He figured he'd be dancing, yeah, but later - at the party . The dancing at the reception is always so slow and intimate and… well, watched . And Cisco knows a few standard dances, but he hasn't had to use those skills ever since his Quinceñera (and wasn't that an awful experience in itself). Hartley's probably spent his whole life dazzling people at boring celebrations with boring dances, which means he'll have the fun of his life ruling him up.

To his surprise, though, Hartley squints lightly at him and offers, "Well, I figured-- I mean, we don't have to--"

He sounds so surprised that Cisco can't do anything but look at him for a moment. Hartley's probably right - a date at a wedding should include a dance. It's not like he thinks Hartley really wants to dance with him, but now that he's brought it up, he'd feel stupid to not go through with it. "I just don't know the procedure here, that's all," he claims. Again, it's not a lie. It's not like he frequently visits weddings.

"Guess we'll just wait for someone else to join them," Hartley offers.

"Sounds good."

In the meantime, they pass the time in light small talk. For all the struggles Hartley has while interacting with other people, he's a master at being judgemental, so his forte right now is shit talking people's outfits. It almost makes Cisco feel special that he got praise for his looks earlier, but rather than revelling in it, he reminds him to be nice. It's a wedding, there's no space for negativity. Caitlin helps keep the conversation stay happy, but only until she excuses herself and declares she should probably look for her own date, too. That explains that, then, Cisco figures. 

It only takes a bit longer until more and more people join the dancefloor - where Iris and Barry have now been reunited when Joe started dancing with Cecile - and Cisco figures it won't hold up anymore to keep sitting here. Soon they'll be the only ones still at the table, and that's counterproductive, too. The music is still slow, but not as lovey-dopey as before, which is a relief. 

"Okay," he says, pushing his chair back. As he gets up, he holds out his hand and asks, "Hartley Gerard Rathaway, may I have this dance?"

When he looks up at him, Hartley looks puzzled, almost like he had forgotten about it. He catches himself quite quickly, though, even if he eyes Cisco's hand suspiciously. His mouth does grow into a smile when he puts his own into it, however, which Cisco happily counts as a win. Still, as they make their way to the dancefloor, Hartley's got his quip back. "You know that's not my name, right?"

"Yeah, whatever," Cisco shoots back cleverly. "I hope you can lead, by the way." Every time that he's been involved in a dance like this, he'd been the one who followed, so this could get ugly.

Hartley snorts. "Of course I can," he answers easily. And he demonstrates it by arranging them in a proper position, though there's a significant space between them; one that Cisco knows shouldn't be there. 

He looks at him in question. 

Hartley hesitates once more, looking down at their hands as he talks, his voice low. "Um, are you sure that you're okay with this? It's not like we're really… and I don't want come across as the predatory gay guy, you know--"

"Hart," Cisco cuts in carefully. He gets Hartley's fears, knows the same one from the times where people kept pushing for him to use the other restroom, no matter which one he was in, and he knows to take them seriously. "It's cool, alright? Now that we're here I'd get pissed if you didn't swipe me off my feet."

It coaxed a chuckle out of him, one that gets muffled slightly when Cisco pulls them closer together now. Not flush just yet, but he can feel the outline of Hartley's torso against his own. 

Only a few seconds pass by where Hartley might be counting the beat, and then he starts to push and pull him into the right direction until the dance flows smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it could work for them, anyhow. They still bump against each other at times, leading to snappy remarks being passed back and forth, but it's a nice experience nonetheless. Maybe because of it. It feels comfortable and nice.

They do earn a few confused looks here and there, but probably not for the fact that they're two guys. It's more about them having been sworn enemies once upon a time, and how they're now huddling together for a slow dance. But it's Central City, where stranger things have happened, so they quickly drop their surprises.

"Think they're buying it?" Hartley mutters. With how close they are, it directly goes into Cisco's brain from the feeling of it. 

Honestly, looking at it now, he thinks that all his worries have been for nothing - the people here have other things to think about than his past relationship, and if they don't, then they certainly won't mention it to him . He supposes it's just just been too present in his mind for him to think rationally, so that's where that particular panic came from. But hanging out with Hartley like this is cool, the dancing is fun, and he doubts that he'd have learnt about that if it hadn't been for Hartley's offer to go as a date . 

"Yeah, I think so," he replies quietly, leaning a bit into the touch. He can't wait to rope Hartley into dancing to EDM or something later, though.

Chapter Text

Caitlin shakes her head at the supplies lying on the table in front of her, but the small huff she gives already tells Cisco it’s not directed at them. “You know, if you told me four years ago that you and Hartley’d go on a little road trip together, I’d have asked what chemical you’ve been exposed to,” she says, though not unkindly.

“It’s not a road trip,” Cisco corrects. That would mean they are dependent on roads as the most important way of transportation, which is just not spot on. It’s more like a dimension-hopping trip. “It’s an exploration quest.” For good measure, he taps down on the Binder he and Barry are flipping through. It’s something he’d started after they’d become in contact with more and more other worlds, jotting down details that he’d remember, that Barry told him and, most of all, Cynthia passed on. He’d thought it would be strange to be reminded of her like this, but it’s weirdly… comforting. She’s the most experienced person with Vibe powers that he knows, so it’s a nice resource to have.

“Just make sure you stay away from Earth-27,” Barry says earnestly. Cisco doesn’t know if he just doesn’t care about what Caitlin’s just said or if he hasn’t listened. He’s been focusing on the words on the pages way too much, for Cisco’s likings, only displaying worry about the whole affair. 

He frowns in return. “Why? I thought you defeated that Johnny dude.”

Barry grimaces at that. His little venture to that Earth was stressful for so many reasons that Cisco would need a decade to list them; the fact that he’d faced off with Eddie’s doppelgänger being the cherry on top. “Yeah,” he says carefully, casting his eyes towards Cisco. “But you’re supposed to be dead on that Earth.”

With the way hurt paints his words, Cisco wonders if maybe his friend had been present to that. He’s certainly never mentioned it, but it would be a Barry thing to do - he tends to suffer in silence until it’s too much one day and he explodes. He supposes that’s something they all got in common, actually, not wanting to lay more on each other. 

It’s why he just blows a raspberry. “Eh,” he shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” It really wouldn’t, but the empty glare Barry gives him says the joke doesn’t work.

Of course, this is the moment Hartley decides to stride into the cortex. He’s got a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, carrying his gloves in the other hand. It’s a casual gesture, one that wouldn’t have been thinkable only months ago - in contrast to the years Caitlin has to offer - with them being Hartley’s mode of defense. That time ago, Cisco also would have reacted differently upon seeing the weapons.

“What wouldn’t be the first time?” Hartley wants to know. He sets the duffel bag down on a chair and takes the gloves along with him to Cait’s desk. He probably wants to look them over once more; Hartley’s a perfectionist like that.

“Us getting along,” Cisco says quickly before either of the others can start. He doesn’t miss the surprised looks they give him when he latches onto that part of the conversation, the one they’d avoided just now, but he can’t help it. Hartley’s looked forward to seeing other Earths so much, he doesn’t want to colour the experience with any negativity. And talking about murderous villains who’ve killed doppelgängers of theirs… Well. Talk about a mood killer.

Just like him, Hartley’s very much aware about how much their stance towards another has changed. On the other hand, he’s still Hartley Rathaway, so he insists, “A rare occurrence, nonetheless,” while not even taking his eyes off Cisco. Only then does he let himself take in the whole picture, concentrating on the Binder between him and Barry. “Which Earth was Hocus Pocus from, again?”

“Ours. Just the future.”

Hartley knits his brows together then. “Are you sure?” He wants to know, crossing his arms. “I doubt that a person could survive such a trip without any vehicle. No offense, Barry.”

At Cisco’s side, Barry sputters a little. “Uh, none taken?” He offers. “I used a treadmill to get to Pocus’ time, but, like-- before, I talked to people who said we’ve been in 2968, so…”

“Yeah, I know,” Hartley cuts in. “But, as I said, it seems unlikely you managed that. I guess you travelled to another Earth, where it just so happened to have been that year.”

As much as Cisco hates belittling Barry’s powers - and as much as he hates agreeing with Hartley - he has to admit he has a point. After all, Barry’s never really achieved that kind of speed ever again and, frankly, that speed formula he’d mentioned didn’t work either, so maybe… Maybe Hartley’s right. Running almost a thousand years into the future is insane, even for their standards, but Cisco never thought about it too hard. It’s the best way to approach the way their lives have turned lately. “Could be,” he admits. “But then we don’t know which Earth it’d be, so let’s best be careful.”

“I thought that was the plan either way,” Caitlin pipes up. She wears her stern expression, the one where she’s not okay with their shenanigans, but Cisco couldn’t care less, to be honest. She’s ventured around and about herself during her self-finding stunts, he figures it’s his time at last. Besides, they’ve already waited until Barry and Iris were back from their honeymoon so that it wouldn’t just be her and Wally looking out for the city. 

“Of course. We’re not like Flash here,” Hartley starts, inclining his head in Barry’s direction, “who has the worst hero complex ever. We won’t interfere where we’re not supposed to.”

At first glance, it’s accurate. For himself at least. Cisco’s not so sure what he’d be doing when he finds a world under attack; he’s been a member of the team from the start, after all, which means moral courage is stitched into his DNA by now. Hartley’s always been more focused on himself, but the way he’d actually get on the field lately rather than just offer directions from the safety of the Labs is a sign of change, Cisco thinks. 

“Sure,” Caitlin says. “Anyway, I’ve packed you just about anything. From antidotes to bandages and stuff like cough syrup, just in case…” She says, patting a red box in front of her lightly. Cisco’s not sure if it’ll fit into either his or Hartley’s back, but it’s probably better to be prepared, especially if they end up on a foreign Earth by accident.

“Good,” is all Hartley answers before he reaches for a screwdriver to work on his gloves. That he doesn’t argue about it means that he appreciates it, though Cisco wonders if Cait is aware of it, because she steps over to Barry and him without another word. Hartley doesn’t seem to mind.

“Man, I’m kind of jealous-- every time I go to another Earth, it’s full of crises,” Barry says, scratching the back of his head. 

“At least you’ve been to another Earth voluntarily,” Caitlin huffs, but breaks into a grin soon after. Maybe that’s the reason for her mood today - maybe Cisco should have asked her to come with. That would have made things less awkward between him and Hartley, for sure. But now it’s probably too late. 

He’s not sure what kind of Earth Hartley wants to see, though. For now, their plans had been to go to Earth-2 and -38 to visit friends and to go from there on like they felt. His looking through the Binder with Barry is really just to make sure that all the information is correct. He doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if he’d jotted down anything in the wrong place. Of course, Barry isn’t the best option for that either, seeing how he’d only been to a handful of Earths, too, but it is what it is.

Hartley’s been oblivious to their conversation, as it seems, because the next thing they hear from him is shuffling back to his bag. He gently put the gauntlets into it, Cisco watches, making sure they’re easy to reach if need be. It's always nice to see someone treat technology with kindness, so Cisco smiles at the sight. Even if he feels a twitch in it when he gets images of what the gauntlets have been used for, in the past.

Once he pulled the zipper close, Hartley doesn't come to join them. Instead, he hovers where he is without moving any more. Well, it’s not like they need to discuss where to head first, so he doesn’t need to look at the Binder yet anyway.

-

“So, you’re leaving again soon?” Harry asks, though it sounds more like a conclusion than a question. Of course, Harry knows he won’t be staying for too long, though he doesn’t know any details about it.

“Yeah,” Cisco says easily, turning the lollipop between his teeth. It’s a type they don’t have on Earth-1, might even be a taste that does not exist there, period. Come to think of it, maybe he should import a bag or two of them - only for his own stack, of course. “We figured we’d go to Kara’s Earth next, with there being aliens and all.” 

It’s definitely more exciting than Earth-2, where the changes are so subtle it’d take a month or so to even notice them really, unless someone mentions them outright. Sure, there’s many differences here, but too many parallels, too. It’s the reason why Hartley isn’t here right now but rather venturing about this version of Central City. Harrison Wells - or Eobard Thawne, rather - is still a sore topic to all of them, but Hartley had gotten literally sick the last time he’d seen Harry, so they figured it’s for the better if he didn’t spend too much time with him yet. It makes Cisco wonder just what kind of torture the speedster had reserved for him; before the big reveal, Hartley’d just been furious at him, but afterwards… he’s been downright horrified, almost more so than Barry had been, and that’s saying something. 

Hartley’s claimed he’d probably deck Harry out of habit, if he were to see him, using that as an excuse, but Cisco knows better. It also means they wouldn’t have a place to stay, since staying at Harry’s and Jesse’s place is out of the question, the same going for STAR Labs in general, and they can’t really book a hotel room since Cisco’s supposed to be dead on this Earth and Hartley… a famous conductor, if Harry’s to be believed. Cisco’d asked him before Hartley set out, wanting to know whether he could be confused for his counterpart and what that guy is even like - apparently there’s no danger of confusion, since this Earth’s Hartley Rathaway is a long-haired ginger. So while he won’t be mistaken for his doppelgänger, it also rules out booking a hotel room, period. 

Besides, with Harry and Jesse being the only people they know here - though, come to think of it, Barry 2.0 should be back from Atlantis by now - it wouldn’t do to stick around for too long. It wouldn’t feel good to leave Hartley running around on his own while he’s catching up with his friends. And, as said, Kara’s Earth has aliens. Much more exciting than the metahumans they’re already too familiar with. 

“That does seem like a scientific challenge,” Harry agrees. He hasn’t outright asked about Hartley, but when they’d excused him when he’d practically run off upon being faced with him the last time, Harry must have catalogued all the intel he got on him. Most prominently the scientist aspect of him, of course.

Cisco nods. “You know it.” Even normal people would appreciate the hell out of a world where aliens just walk out and about, he guesses. Getting the opportunity to explore that as someone dedicated to sciences, even if it’s not astronomy or whatever that may belong to, is just the cherry on top. He’s still giddy just thinking about it and he’s helped fight aliens - the same must go for Hartley, undoubtedly.

He supposes that he’s taken up enough of Harry’s precious time by now. With their stay being so short-lived, he hadn’t cleared out his schedule. Projects are waiting to be attended to and, well, Cisco feels pretty awkward just sitting around in the office like this. If he could help , at the very least, but Harry won’t let him. He’s stubborn like this.

“I think I best go look what Hartley’s up to,” Cisco says carefully, patting his legs as he stands up. “The last time he’s been unsupervised, he’s wreaked havoc across the city.” It’s meant as a joke, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, they taste bitter. It’s a lie, too, because Hartley’s murderous tendencies have been long gone.

Harry doesn’t comment on that, just keeps his poker face as he conjures his Stark Tech -like hologram screen and scans what looks like a map of Central City. “I’m scanning for any obvious frequencies,” he says in a lew of explanation. That makes sense, naturally, since it’s one of the most obvious things that help distinguish between people from different Earths. He presses a few buttons on the side of his watch, directing it towards the hologram. “There. He’s at Jitterbugs.”

“That’s open again?” Cisco remembers Jesse mentioning how it’s been closed ever since the attack that Barry’d been present to, along with just about any other business in the city. He guesses it must have eerily felt like Diagon Alley in Part 7.

Harry shrugs. "Apparently." It's not really surprising that he doesn't know; he's not exactly the type to frequent that lounge bar. Though it must have been open for a while, businesses in a city used to metas don't take years to refurbish, Cisco knows that first-hand.

“Okay,” he says then, taking another look at the map. Earth-2’s layout - that of Central City, at least - is vaguely the same as his Earth’s, but it’s for the better if he checks that he’ll end up in the right place. Plus, he better check if there’s a back alley he can use for his entrance where there won’t be any people being startled by his powers. He’d rather not conjure the collective PTSD of Central’s inhabitants. And he’s lucky just like Jitters, Jitterbugs has its own small alley filled with nothing but trash cans.

Saying goodbye to Harry is always a bit strange, in Cisco’s opinion. There’s never a guarantee when they’ll see each other next and under which circumstances it’ll happen, and it’s not like Harry’s the most touchy-feely guy, even if he can’t even pretend anymore that his snark is anything other than a facade. Cisco’s very much aware that Harry likes him in his own twisted way, and Harry knows that Cisco knows. That doesn’t mean he won’t get an earful if he got all sentimental or something. And his powers could give him the opportunity to go back and forth between Earths to visit every day if he feels like it, but… it still doesn’t mean he feels like saying goodbye for only a day or something.

Luckily, Harry takes the lead. “Well, you better get going,” he says briskly. “See you around, Ramon.” He even gives him somewhat of a smile, which is a rare happenstance and apparently enough for him, because before Cisco can reply, he already turns the hologram off and goes back to sit behind his desk.

Though he wants to shake his head at that, Cisco feels a smile creep onto his face. Yeah, that’s heartfelt, alright. He gives another nod towards Harry and opens a breach then.

-

Cisco hadn’t even noticed how late it had gotten while he’s visited Harry - courtesy of STAR Labs having no normal windows and the things that he’s been told they’re up to to ensure there won’t be another meta-infused crisis like Zoom’s reign of terror again. He’d been hanging onto every word of Harry’s, listening to the ideas and offering his own, that he had completely forgotten the time; he feels a bit bad now, having left Hartley on his own for so long. He can only hope he’s found a way to entertain himself.

Pulling his hood over his head, Cisco enters the lounge. Reverb might have had a somewhat different look than him, but it’s still the same face, the same reason as to why he’s portalled himself to the loneliest corner applies here. Thankfully, Hartley is easy to make out. He’s chosen a table in the far corner of the room, facing the entrance. He’s reading something, from the looks of it, but Cisco notices the glance he shoots to the door before directing his eyes back to the page.

Trying to be low-key, Cisco walks past the counter and directly towards Hartley’s table. The other man keeps his eyes glued to the page even when Cisco sits down, not saying anything. If he didn’t know better, Cisco’d think he’s pissed.

“Hello to you, too,” he tries. 

Hartley doesn’t answer right away; apparently he’s actually reading - the newspaper, as it turns out - rather than just ignoring Cisco. He doesn’t return the greeting when he’s finished, but puts the paper down and perps his chin up on the back of his hand, asking, “Did you know one of the Rogues is Mayor here?”

Cisco recalls having heard about a certain Mayor Snart when he and Barry had first come over to Earth-2. It still freaks him out, to be honest, but then again he should be used to changed mindsets across different Earths by now. “I suppose he didn’t become Captain Cold here,” he muses. If Reverb never built the Cold Gun, then history can’t repeat itself, right?

“Wrong Snart,” Hartley says with a click of his tongue. “It’s Lisa.” There’s a certain annoyance to his voice, but he masks it by reaching for his cup of coffee and taking a sip.

“Huh,” Cisco makes, thinking about it. The Lisa he knows is manipulative enough to pull that off - but maybe she doesn’t have to be like that here. Maybe she’s just a good politician here. Though, with his experience, he doesn’t know if that isn’t the same anyways. The last Mayor on Earth-1 was definitely not the friendliest man. “Yeah, I can picture that, actually.” It’s definitely more comforting than her brother.

In return, Hartley gives him a long look. It isn’t searching for anything, not casting over him in curiosity, and it doesn’t say anything on his part either. It’s just a neutral stare, one that makes him squirm nonetheless. What it produces, in the end, is a sigh. “I forgot you had a thing with her.”

“It wasn’t a thing !” Cisco insists immediately. It was… well, he doesn’t know what it was , but it’s not like there is a lot that it has been and-- It’s confusing. And a lot. He puts a hand to his head. It’s an obvious distraction, but not a lie, when he declares, “I’m hungry.”

Hartley raises an eyebrow. “What, all that time in STAR Labs and they didn’t offer you a snack?”

“Maybe it’s escaped that brilliant head of yours,” Cisco says, “but I’m supposed to be a dead supervillain here. So, nobody except Harry knew I was there. Which is also the reason why you’d have to go and buy a cronut for me - pretty please?” He gives him a pout for good measure and slides a few dollar bills across the table. 

For the first time since he’s met him Hartley looks genuinely speechless. Which is weird because it’s not that Cisco just said something weird or anything - well, not to their standards, at least - so Hartley looking baffled seems a bit out of place. He stills doesn’t say anything, just gives another sigh while taking the money.

Caught by surprise, Cisco stares after him when he walks to the counter. He'd figured Hartley would argue, say that he isn't his maid or something, or at the very least insist that a cronut isn’t the best food on the earth, but there’s nothing like that. Incredible as it is, but Hartley really just follows suit and orders something for him at the counter.

That’s fucked up. Cisco turns back around, inspecting Hartley’s things - without touching them, of course, he isn’t an idiot - trying to find an explanation for it all. There’s nothing to spot, however: Hartley’s duffel bag is the same as before, sporting the STAR Labs logo that he would have tried to scratch away only a few years ago but has come to accept by now, neatly packed into the corner. The mug of coffee is only half-way drunken, and other than the newspaper, he doesn’t seem to have purchased anything. Cisco actively has to keep himself from reaching over and sniffing the coffee for any added drugs or something the like.

Instead, he crosses his arms on the table and puts his head down on them. Even looking at it objectively, even if Cisco pretended they don’t hate each other’s guts, it absolutely makes no sense that Hartley would agree to do something for him so easily. After all, he’s left him walking around a foreign city for an entire day while catching up with a guy who looks like their shared abuser. For once in his life, Hartley has a right to be mad at him.

And yet he goes out of his way and does something for him without even arguing . Clearly, he must have planned a ploy to get back at Cisco. He probably shouldn’t be eating his cronut, come to think of it.

And just as he’s made that decision, a plate with said cronut is put down in front of him. And a mug of steaming coffee next to it. And a cupcake which has cream in the colour of that flavour they don’t have on Earth-1. All of Cisco’s self-control is gone when he sees it, so he grabs it and whisks a fingertip of cream into his mouth. 

“Oh my God,” he moans. “How’d you know how much I love that-- whatever it is?”

When he looks up at Hartley, who’s already slid back onto his seat, he finds him looking at him with the weirdest expression. There’s a smirk there, too, though, filling Cisco with embarrassment and causing him to sit up straight again. “It looked atrocious enough to be your thing,” he explains with a light shrug. 

It’s enough of a normal insult that Cisco lets it slide and finally digs into the cupcake completely. “I just wanted a cronut, though,” he points at, gesturing to the coffee as well.

Hartley quirks up an eyebrow. “Are you complaining I got you sweets?”

“No, never.” If there’s one way to Cisco’s heart - his good graces, he means - then it’s totally via sugar bombs. He’s pretty sure someone could lure him into a death trap with them and he’d only thank them, even if he knew what it’d result in. 

He doesn’t miss the way Hartley shakes his head at him. “You’re ridiculous,” he declares. Then he lifts his own mug to his lips, taking one, or maybe several sips. 

When he refrains from adding anything else, Cisco decides to try his drink, too. It’s what others would call an absolute abomination - aka the absolutely perfect beverage for him. Odd that Hartley would get it right, but Cisco’s guessing he just went for something he would absolutely hate for himself and gave it a shot. 

While he dives into his dinner, Hartley picks up the newspaper again. Cisco doesn’t know why he’d read it in such great detail when it doesn’t concern either of them - if they stayed for longer, then it might. It would be good to be well-informed if they intended to stay for more than a few hours just so they wouldn’t screw anything up. But as it is, they’ll leave in just a few more moments, so there’s no need for that. He supposes it must be part of Hartley’s sightseeing, in a sense, this absorbing of all the info he can gather around this world without making a big fuzz. It would certainly explain why he leaves out not a single article in the paper. If he discovers any new oddities, he keeps them to himself.

He certainly takes longer with reading than Cisco does with his food and drink. In the end, he can’t do anything but look around and take in the appearance of the place, but that doesn’t hold for long. Sure, it differs greatly from Jitters at home, with it being a night locale rather than a regular coffee shop, but that’s about it. Not many differences to look at, really. So before he knows it, his eyes trace back to Hartley who seems oblivious to Cisco’s boredom. Either that, or he just doesn’t care.

Which would be perfectly on point for him, come to think of it. And Cisco won’t have that. “Any other weird things in there?” He asks, nodding down at the paper.

Hartley lifts his head at that, frowning at him. Well, not exactly frowning . It’s more like he’s staring at Cisco in search for his lost brain cells or something.

“Yeah, okay,” Cisco says, lifting his hands in defense. “It’s all very mirror universe-ish here.”

Hartley doesn’t look like he gets the reference, but he nods anyway. “Beyoncé is a senator.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” Cisco chuckles. When he’d first heard about that, he’d wondered what career paths their celebrities could have taken if not for their talents. Or education. Or money. “I mean, she’s definitely got the potential on our Earth, too.”

In response, Hartley doesn’t seem to have any clear opinion about that. Maybe he’s got barely an idea who Beyoncé even is. “The city’s still recovering from Zoom,” he changes the topic. “Takes them quite long.”

“He’s done lots of damage,” Cisco argues. “And even before, he was a serial killer. He knew how to hurt them the most.”

“Of course. But so do plenty of the villains at home,” Hartley says after a short moment. “And we don’t take as long with rehabilitation.”

At that, Cisco feels like a vein in his forehead is about to pop. “You know, not everyone copes with trauma the same way,” he says. “Some take longer. Not to mention that Zoom’s terror went on for longer than any villain on Earth-1.”

Cisco absolutely expects Hartley to continue arguing because that’s how they roll. Even with them working together nowadays, it doesn’t mean they get along - sure, not as many real fights as usually, but there’s rarely a conversation they have that doesn’t end with them on opposite sides. Even when they both mean the same thing, actually. It’s always a matter of how they want to achieve things, stuff like that. Different approaches. 

To his surprise, though, Hartley gives something that’s both a shrug and nod at the same time. Almost like he’s fighting himself over his agreement. “Their hero and villain being the same person must also have added to the severity.”

“Understandably,” is all Cisco can find himself to answer, too surprised at Hartley giving in so easily. A part of him is a little bothered, too. He’s actually always a little curious to see the other’s points of view, even if he doesn’t agree. It’s mind-opening, to say the least, because they are so different. 

But either they really are in agreement now or Hartley doesn’t feel like elaborating - both of which would be a first, really - since he just goes back to focusing on the paper. Which he’d finished only moments earlier. Cisco supposes he might be up to no good after all, because he puts it flatly down on the table, meaning that there’s no way Cisco can busy himself with it, too. 

He fights the urge to shake his head to himself. For just a single second he’d almost thought this trip could work out without any big struggles; that he wouldn’t have to strangle Hartley. At least not any time soon. Finding that that brief moment was utterly mistaken is a little comforting, to be honest.

It’s probably one of the most normal things he’s got going on in his life, even when he’s not sitting in a lounge on a parallel Earth where his evil Doppelgänger got murdered by an even more evil dude. 

Chapter Text

Cisco has been to Earth-38 exactly once, and he did not like it very much. Granted, that's probably because it's lasted for a maximum of two minutes while he tried to help Barry with convincing Kara that she's gotta come with and help defeat weird aliens. Not exactly much to base his opinion on this Earth on. He does remember it to be bright and nice, sunny California despite the literal universes between the one he knows from home, and thinks this could truly be a vacation.

If it weren't for his companion, that is. Sure, he and Hartley have yet to rip off each other's heads, but it's not completely chill either. It would be a miracle if it were. 

When they step through the Breach, they're embraced by Kara's apartment. The light is dim this time, almost as if created by fairy lights rather than an actual light bulb, and he feels like maybe she's moved her furniture, but it's not like he can be too sure. It's been a blurry experience, the last time. 

He closes the Breach after making sure Hartley's through. As interesting as it seems, he'd rather not test out what happens if a Breach is closed while someone's in the middle of stepping through. Knowing Hartley, he'd probably sue him if his leg were left behind on Harry's Earth or something. 

But no, Hartley looks fine and whole. Curious even, with the way he raises his eyes to the ceiling.

"Cisco!" Kara tells at once, jumping from her seat on the couch. They're probably lucky she doesn't catapult herself at him - she probably could. In an instance, she's pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, Kara," he grins, patting her back. He likes Kara. She's cheerful and pretty and funny and a nerd. She's practically a female version of Barry. Only stronger. When they part, he gestures closely into Hartley's direction. "You remember Hartley?"

"Yes, of course. Your cute date," she winks at him. Oh God. Then she turns towards Hartley, who is already holding out a hand. "Nice to see you again."

"Likewise," Hartley says back. He moves his hand up and down exactly once before letting go, retreating to his own figure. He doesn't look uncomfortable per se, but not completely in place either. 

"Oh, come on in, you two!" Kara continues cheerfully, gesturing towards her couch. "Are you hungry? I ordered enough pizza for an army, according to Alex. Figured I could tuck in already since I didn't know when you'd arrive." That's fair, Cisco supposes. He just hopes their vague planning didn't keep her at home the entire day.

Before he can reply anything, Hartley announces, "Oh, we just ate." He's still lingering behind, but followed suit when Cisco stepped after her. 

Cisco squints at him. Not just because he certainly has not seen Hartley eat anything - then again, though, he could have done so before he'd joined him at Jitterbugs - but because he wouldn't classify a cronut as actual food . Not when compared to wonderfully smelling pizza, at least. The aroma fills not only the entire apartment, but Cisco's nostrils, too. He can feel himself start to drool. 

"I can always eat!" He insists, though with a glance at the three empty boxes on Kara's table, he adds, "Well, probably more figuratively than you."

She lets out a laugh at; open and melodic. It even hexes a light smile onto Hartley's face. 

They sink down on the couch (which, thankfully, is more comfy than Cisco expected) and Kara opens a few of the boxes, revealing their insides to him. There's a few with ingredients he's pretty sure they don't have on their Earth, but that won't keep him from trying them all.  He's heard from Barry just how good Earth-38's food is. 

While he eats, Kara asks about just about anything: The status of Central, whether Barry and Iris are awfully cute about being married at last, how their trip to Earth-2 had been. In the midst of it, even Hartley starts joining the conversation. 

For the better part of it, he had kept to himself, letting Cisco and Kara catch up and argue about the pizza. He didn't grow comfy on the sofa either but kept sitting on the edge of it, his hands folded on his lap, almost as if he weren't sure how to behave. Cisco had to prompt him to actually say something, explaining how they had parted ways on Earth-2 - refraining from saying why, though, because that's not his thing to share - and saying that Hartley could probably tell her more about what the Central City there is like. 

Hartley seems actually surprised by being addressed like this, squirming a little under the wide-eyed look Kara gives him. "Oh, it's-- um, still recovering. Zoom's reign has held on for long enough that the effects are long-lasting, it seems."

Kara lets out a wistful sigh. "That's awful for them."

"Their STAR Labs is doing plenty to help with rebuilding," Cisco adds. "Though the politics are also going crazy. They're debating putting meta dampeners across the entire city, just to make sure the same won't happen again." He suppresses the shiver that comes up to him at the thought, just like he'd done when Jesse had first mentioned it to them a few months ago. He hasn't had his powers for that long, in comparison with others, and won't even claim that he's completely happy with them, but they're still a part of him. Having them ripped away without asking seems like a cruel thing to do. 

Kara seems to agree since she doesn't even try to hide her offended gasp. 

"That's horribly generalizing," Hartley says. "I understand the need for caution, of course, but stripping the metas of their powers could lead to the opposite effect. They should integrate them to contribute positively to society."

"You mean like superheroes?"

Hartley shakes his head. "No, as regular people. At home, metas make up a rather small portion of Central's inhabitants, though there's probably a bigger number than we're aware of. Earth-2 seems to have even more, so why act like they're a secluded group? There must be many powers that could be integrated into normality, without much pretense."

"So, you suggest they exploit the metahumans?" Cisco summarizes. He feels a twist in his stomach at that, one that's probably not just because of the heaps of pizza he's just had. Suddenly, he's plunged back into memories of the Pied Piper, the villain who wouldn't have minded killing people if it gave him what he wanted. He's reminded of the Hartley Rathaway Before, the one who'd think he's better than anyone else, trained to do so since his birth.

Hartley pulls a face, but somehow it doesn't seem to be directed at him. "No, I don't. I just… they shouldn't be forced, of course. But not devalued either. They should be… benefited, if they want."

"I figured that's what you meant," Kara says easily, reaching for another slice.

That she came to that conclusion so easily almost makes Cisco feel bad. But then again, this is practically the first time she's talking to him; she has no idea what Hartley used to be capable of. Maybe still is capable of. Cisco knows that, just like everyone who's been closer to the man who pretended to be Harrison Wells, Hartley has been flung into a personal crisis once the truth came out. He knows that Hartley has been caught in it already before, when his parents rejected him when he came out, and that he's been reassessing his beliefs and ideas about specific topics then. It's difficult to figure out where he stands nowadays, at least in some regards. And nobody can blame Cisco for being the last one to try to solve the puzzle. 

"There's areas on this Earth where humans and aliens live in harmony - no matter where they are from," Kara continues. "Everyone can work as they please. If someone has special powers and wants to put them out there, they can. If they don't feel like it, they don't have to."

"That's cool," Cisco says, because it is. Beside him, Hartley just hums. Well, that's that conversation then.

-

They easily come to the conclusion that there's no point in going out any more. It's already been fairly late when they arrived at Kara's place, much later when they've been fed - even Hartley has let himself be persuaded to try a slice of pepperoni by Kara, though Cisco can imagine he just didn't want to be rude - and while the others would have still been up to hit a bar together, Cisco decided that they wouldn't. Especially after Kara assured them they'd definitely see them tomorrow either way. It's not that Cisco is particularly tired - he thinks superheroing deprived him of that particular skill - but a glance at Hartley tells him that he's had enough. Not physically exhausted either, but mentally for sure. It's been quite a day.

Not that Hartley would have said so himself. He's much too stoic to admit that he's drained out. Being nice, Cisco doesn't call him out either, but declares it as a general thing. If Hartley notices, he doesn't mention it.

"I should have figured that, shouldn't I?" Kara says apologetically. She tilts her head as she talks, obviously scolding herself for forgetting about their human needs. Though, Cisco has no idea how much sleep a Kryptonian needs. Should he ask now? "Right, well. I have this couch to offer," she pats it lightly. "It's a pull-out, so don't worry--"

Cisco can feel the alarmed look Hartley shoots him. “Um, Kara. There’s actually something we need to clear up. At the wedding--”

“You mean that you guys aren’t dating for real? Yeah, I know. But this really is the only extra sleeping space I have. Don’t worry, you can pull the parts apart, so it’ll be like two beds.” She rattles on, already getting up and pulling at the sofa, pushing their legs up onto the newly produced part. She’s completely oblivious to their baffled looks until she holds out her hands, presenting her creation and waiting for… applause? Her face falls then. “Oh, come on, guys. I have super hearing!”

“So do I,” Hartley grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Sometimes,” Cisco reminds him. Then he focuses on Kara again. “So you… knew?”

“Honestly, the way you guys acted it didn’t even cross my mind I was supposed to think of you as anything but friends--” She laughs. “But yeah, caught a bit of your conversation there. And while I am curious what that’s all been about, I won’t pressure you into telling, don’t worry.”

While Cisco hears Hartley’s muffled chuckle ( asshole ), he feels somewhat embarrassed upon hearing this. He’d realized that the whole fake dating had been unnecessary, yeah, but… they danced . Which the two of them would never have done if they hadn’t pretended to be dating. Not that Kara would know - come to think of it, she probably thinks they’re tight or whatever, with them even going on this dimension-hopping trip together. God, in a calm second, he’ll really have to clear up so much. 

But not now. He really doesn’t feel like explaining what he’d expected to happen at the wedding and their whole stupid plan and… yeah, not happening. At least not today. That he is definitely too tired for. “Uh, thanks?” He offers instead.

Kara doesn’t answer verbally this time, just gives him a kind smile. She’s good at that. He kind of wants to keep her. 

“You get that one,” Hartley tells him, jabbing his thumb out at the part Kara’s just pulled out. He doesn’t even look smug about ordering him around, it’s just a fact to him. 

Honestly, Cisco doesn’t care, so he shrugs. When Kara goes to retrieve some blankets and linen, he tags along into what seems to be her bedroom. It’s a big room, decorated nice and friendly even in unnatural light, that fits to her perfectly. She hadn’t lied when she said the couch is the only sleeping place she has to offer: her own bed is pretty narrow, really just meant for a single person. It looks new, too. 

She must have caught his assessment of the bed, because she explains, “I threw the old bed out after… It didn’t feel right to sleep in it anymore. Without him.” Her voice is a bit muffled, whether by her choice or the fact that she’s flipping through her wardrobe. 

Cisco’s only vaguely aware of what she’s referring to. He’s met Mon-El during the whole Music Meister stunt - and wasn’t that something. He still has to wrap his mind around the motivation of that guy - and next he heard was that he’s had to leave the planet. Why and when, he hasn’t learnt, but he didn’t feel like it’s his part to kow. He just heard Barry mention it once, that all. But it’s pretty apparent that she misses him and the love he gave her. His heart aches for her.

He just debates whether to go for a hug or not when she pulls back all of a sudden. “Ah, found them!” She declares, pulling a few sheets out of the wardrobe. She hands them over to him and dives back in. “Gonna look for a few pillows, too. You and Hartley can already fix these, right?”

“Sure.” Cisco shrugs and trots off.

Back in the living room, Hartley has already cleaned the sofas off the throwaway pillows, making space for the bedding. He's also pulled their bags closer, his own lying next to him with its zipper pulled open but nothing taken out so far. Cisco catches another sight of his gauntlets, still neatly within reach. He directs his eyes away from them quickly. 

Truth be told, he still doesn't know how to act around them. They're Hartley's way of defense; it'd be stupid to expect him to put them far away when they're of a foreign Earth, surrounded by people with powers they have no idea of. At the same time, he acutely remembers just what the tools can do. Sure, they have never been aimed at him, but he's seen first hand how much damage they have done. He wouldn't want to have then directed at him, even if he has his own powers nowadays. For all he knows, a fight between him and Hartley could create a sonic boom of a frequency that would be deadly.

“Here,” he says, holding out the blanket and linen to stop himself from thinking about that. “Kara’s looking for pillows.”

“Makes sense,” is all Hartley gives as an answer. He doesn’t say anything more, just starts putting the things down on the couch. Cisco supposes they must have reached his limit of smalltalk for the day. Not that he’s particularly desperate to talk to him anyway, so he doesn’t care.

The rest of the evening routine goes by with silent huffs and looks to indicate whether the bathroom is free and even though Cisco wants to be annoyed by that, his exhaustion creeps up on him in the end. He even mutters a goodnight in Hartley’s direction but gets no reply - he just hopes that he’s already asleep and not properly ignoring him because that would be rude and have another storm coming. 

-

The day had turned out to be as much of an up and down as the entire trip had been so far. 

Hartley had already been awake, dressed and immersed in a book snatched from Kara’s bookshelf when Cisco woke up, while the woman in question had gotten ready at superspeed. Nothing unusual there; Cisco’s lived with Barry for a few weeks, who, unlike Kara now, did not have any moment to spare for a chat despite his powers. Kara joined him for a cup of coffee, though, as did Hartley (if his not fleeing the tables as soon as Cisco sat down can be counted as such). It was a nice change to be actually properly waking up before having to leave the apartment for once. Kara explained that she couldn’t let them tag along to her work like she’d done with Barry when he had been here because apparently there was a new boss now who had it out for her. It had been absolutely alright with Cisco because CatCo may be a big number on this Earth but that doesn’t mean he was any more interested in her work than Iris’. 

Hartley had agreed easily, too - though monosyllabic in his responses - and then they’d all set out with the agreement to meet at Kara’s favourite bar one her work had finished. She’d given them a phone, too, so they could communicate. Apparently that had been Alex’ thinking, provided by the DEO. It was the first thing that coaxed a real reply out of Hartley; he voiced his approval while pocketing it before Cisco could even extend his hand. Of course being overly prepared would be Hartley’s thing - Cisco had to suppress an eye roll at the guy’s behaviour. It’s not like Cisco wouldn’t have been able to vibe Kara if anything happened. She’s given him a sympathetic smile when she noticed.

Anyway, when they left the apartment in the end, Hartley had grown more open and active . Cisco had soon found himself mostly tagging along as Hartley kept googling - or whatever the equivalent is here - for sights and locations. Which isn’t to say that he kept deciding without consulting Cisco or anything. He got to suggest and enjoy plenty of stops and even got to choose which coffeeshop to get breakfast at. (Lunch was a different question because they couldn’t agree on anything that they both liked.)

National City isn’t just much sunnier than Central, there’s been hints about aliens everywhere. They haven’t seen anyone in action, actually, but there’s been articles about several alien sightings - apparently A Byrnian is the same as the infamous Florida Man here - and lots of merch for Kara (and her cousin, probably). 

The excitement about so many new impressions had even caught up on Hartley rather quickly. Soon he’d actually show his delight at certain things, articulate his interest in others and discuss them with Cisco. In a productive manner rather than their usual arguments. There’s only been a few times where Hartley grew frustrated when they didn’t find something right away or when something wasn’t explained adequately because it seemed to be a given on this earth, but he’d quickly sombered when it got sorted out. So all in all, Cisco had counted the say as a win, as surprising as it had been.

And yet, he was more than glad when they finally got Kara’s message. There’s only so many miles a man can walk in a day. Earlier, he’s already been happy that he’d initially left out his binder and only put it on when it had gotten too hot to keep wearing the loose shirts he could hide himself in over his regular one. Sitting and talking was a very appreciated change of scenery for him, and judging by Hartley’s relieved sigh it was the same for him.

When they arrive at the place in question, Hartley says, “That looks cozy,” with an easy-going attitude. No jitters there (and no Jitters , either) but no annoyance either. That could go well.

It’s one at the corner of the street, barely lit save for the LED letters proclaiming the name “AL’S DIVE” over the door. It’s not exactly as secluded as Saints & Sinners, but Cisco gets the same vibe ( hah ) from it. Not that he’s been to that bar either, but he’s heard and seen things about that criminal hang-out.

Seeing Hartley’s nonchalance at its appearance, Cisco wonders if he’s ever been to Central’s dive bar. He’s heard rumours about him having tried to get with the Rogues, but after Cold and Heatwave have left them to themselves, that team had quickly disappeared - Hartley’s probably never even pulled a single gig with them. Still, bars like these could have become his second nature after being thrown out of his high-society life for all that Cisco knows.

It doesn’t fit the sunshine that is Kara Danvers, if you ask him, though, so he checks the dropped address once more. It’s supposed to be the right one. Hartley’s the one who pulls him inside.

Stepping through the door, Cisco doesn’t feel like much better about it, but it doesn’t look as shady anymore. It is a bar, so it’s a given that it’s kept in darker colours, but there’s fairy lights and a well-lit counter and tables and a pool table. It’s… a bar . It’s okay.

Kara spots them easily, whether with her powers or with normal eyesight, Cisco doesn’t know - is she even able to turn that off? He should ask. Anyway, she comes up to them, dressed in the normal clothing she wore in the morning, so she’s probably pretending to be human, and greets them brightly. There’s no hugs this time, but that’s fine by Cisco. 

She takes an arm of each of them and pulls them along, making him and Hartley bump into each other a few times. When Cisco looks at him in those moments, he’s met with an amused smile. Maybe a miracle has happened and he’s somehow wound up with a version of Hartley that’s in a good mood .

The others are perched in a corner of the bar, talking animatedly. There’s one white dude who gestures widely and just based on this, Cisco supposes that must be Winn. He’s heard plenty of how much they are alike, apparently, so he thinks it could extend to mannerisms as well. There’s two black guys, one around Kara’s age, the other much older, and a woman who Cisco guesses must be her sister Alex. They’re so immersed in their conversation that it takes until they arrive at the table for them to even notice them, even though Kara’s disappearance must have been a pointer.

Still, they all stop at once and look up at them, smiling politely. There’s still giddiness in the air from whatever they were talking about, which is a good thing in Cisco’s book. Just from the first impression he thinks that they could all get along. 

“Gang, meet Cisco and Hartley,” Kara declares happily, letting go off their arms and gesturing at them instead. “Cisco, Hartley, meet the gang.”

They all raise their glasses in a toast before Kara sets off to greet them individually. Cisco’s more focused on the people before them when they shake hands, but out of the corner of his eye he can see that Hartley’s own polite smile has vanished for some reason. Maybe his face muscles just aren’t used to it, Cisco doesn’t know.

He meets James, who works with Kara in her life as a human, and J’onn, who’s somewhat of her boss when it comes to superheroing. A mentor-figure, which initially gives Cisco the heebies because his team hasn’t had such good memories with these, but J’onn seems to have been loyal for long enough and… well, he seems nice. Which, all in all, means that he’s guessed correctly that the cheery and bubbly figure is Winn. Alex is definitely more reserved than him, but she’s open and nice when they sit down and start discussing their day while Kara goes to order new drinks.

Hartley’s pretty much shoved him down on the chair besides Winn in comparison and then rounded the table to take the one between Alex and James. Judging by the half full glass still standing there it’s most definitely been Kara’s seat, which absolutely can’t go unnoticed by Hartley, but he makes no moves to get away from there. The others look a bit surprised and don’t say anything, and the same goes for Kara when she comes back and hands them both a coke to begin with. Maybe Hartley’s just had enough of Cisco for the day. That could happen.

The conversation starts a little stiffly, with nobody being too sure about what to say, but that’s normal for first meetings. Soon enough they’re drinking and talking comfortably-- with the exception of Hartley.

At first, Cisco thinks that maybe it had been a bad idea to meet as a group, even if it’s not even as big as Team Flash is, because these are new people and meeting new folks is always an extra flavour of exhausting. He would have understood if that’s the reason why Hartley keeps himself out of conversations - but he’s come to know what that kind of social fatigue looks like on the other, and this… ain’t it. 

It’s more like he’s actively , deliberately, drawing back, for a reason he can’t quite place. He could have understood if Hartley kept more to the other part of the group, even if the conversation between Winn and Cisco is more his speed, content-wise, just because this gives him a chance to take a break from being around Cisco - Caitlin was right, them having to be so close to each other for so long will lead to an explosion, eventually - but it’s not like Hartley’s joining another conversation either. At least not really.

He mutters and nods, but he doesn’t converse, doesn’t engage fully like he usually does, all the while shooting bitter or confused looks into Cisco’s direction. Maybe they’re a plea to go back to Kara’s place, but the few times that he’s come around to ask if Hartley wants to leave, it’s been declined. And maybe it’s shitty of him, because it’s obvious Hartley does not want to be here, but Cisco’s having a good time with them all, and if Hartley doesn’t say that he wants to go…

So they stay. Hartley still doesn’t say anything, doesn’t enter conversations even though it’s so out of character for him not to argue , and Cisco enjoys talking science and references with Winn, mentioning musicals and books to Kara and discussing what it’s like to be the badass on the sidelines with Alex. He doesn’t find as much of a connection with James, but he can agree with Winn when he says that J’onn is like a papa bear. He does have a Big Joe West Energy. 

Cisco should be fully invested in what’s going on, in making new friends that he gets along with splendidly - he hasn’t had that in a while. Being a superhero, or even just on the Team like he’s been at the beginning, keeps you from having conversations outside of that. You can’t tell people what you’ve been up to and you can’t really discuss the physics of a man throwing a super sonic punch with just about anyone without getting funny looks. So yeah, the venn diagram of Cisco’s friends, colleagues and fellow superheroes have not just intersected recently, but been a single circle. And these are superheroes, too, of course, but another team, one from a whole different earth, so practically everything that he tells them would be brand new information and not nodded away with a “yeah, I know,” or “yeah, I was there,” or “Cisco, that happened five minutes ago”. Point is: Cisco should be having the time of his life.

But he isn’t. Instead, he finds himself looking over to the other end of the table where Hartley’s nursing the same drink as he’d been half an hour ago. Whenever Cisco looks over, he would quickly avert his eyes and pretend he hadn’t been staring instead of socializing himself. And Cisco would repress a sigh and figure out how to act - there’s a realistic chance that he’s reading Hartley wrong. Or that Hartley would get mad if he spoke up for him. Or that he offends the others, because this is the only night they’re hanging out, probably, and he really doesn’t want to leave early.

In the end it’s J’onn, accepting his Papa Bear duty, who mentions that they all have to work the next day and should get home soon-ish. Cisco wonders briefly if Supergirl is one of those lucky superheroes who only gets her villains during the day. Oliver’s mostly active during the nights, Cisco knows, which leaves him enough time to act on his cover during the day, but he also thinks it must be hella tiresome. He has yet to decide whether Barry’s lucky with the meta’s who just pop up whenever - though probably not, because you can never be sure you can go through with any plan since a meta might be close by. He remembers the awful story of Barry and Iris’ first real date.

Cisco pretends he doesn’t see the relief on Hartley’s face when they all slowly get up after another round of drinks. Instead, he tells the others what a nice evening it had been and that he’ll try to come back soon, and maybe he could bring Caitlin along because she’d love to discuss superhero medicine or whatever with Alex. None of that is a lie and yet Cisco feels like he’s rushing through the goodbyes, especially when it becomes awkward when neither Hartley nor the others are particularly enthusiastic when it comes to the guy. 

It’s almost sad, really. 

He tries to bask not too much in the admiration of his powers when he opens a breach into Kara’s apartment, but he can’t hide a grin at it. It might be the alcohol. Or the fact that even on an earth where aliens are normal, his powers are still seen as something cool. And then Kara and Hartley step through it and the evening comes to an end, having felt like an eternity and much too short simultaneously.

Cisco tries not to be mad at Hartley for his behaviour; he probably hadn’t known how to behave either. The rational part of Cisco knows that. the other one, however… maybe he isn’t the nicest when they get ready for the night, but it’s not like Hartley is a stranger to that.

-

If there’s one sound that Cisco is overtly familiar with - other than numerous soundtracks of sci-fi movies, naturally - then it’s, sad as that is, the sound of someone trying to hide their crying. Cisco knows it from his own experience, but he’s seen Barry and Caitlin try to hide their sorrow so often that by now it’s something he recognizes at the first clue. It wouldn’t be something to wake him up, usually, but Hartley’s been shifting and rolling around for so long that the noise of sheets rustling and the springs in Kara’s couch squeaking lightly-- it’s a surprise Kara hasn’t come to put a stop to it yet, considering her enhanced hearing.

Those sounds, the ones that did wake him up initially, have long ceased by now and Cisco’s tried to fall back asleep, deciding that he won’t address it because Hartley would only cuss at him or something, with the mood he’s been in lately. But now there’s a new sound, the one of muffled sniffing and heavy breathing, and well . Cisco’s not an asshole.

“Hartley?” He asks softly into the darkness. He doesn’t mean to startle the other, so he keeps lying where he is for now.

Apparently, Hartley hadn’t expected him to be awake, judging by the sharp inhale he does. There’s some more rustling, this time faster, like he’s in a rush. Cisco guesses he’s wiping away tears. “Cisco,” he croaks, then clears his throat. “Why aren’t you asleep?” His voice is a bit shrill, even when it’s hushed.

“I--” Cisco hesitates, trying to find a way to address it delicately. Hartley is clearly embarrassed by his crying, so if he told him it woke him up, well… He’s had enough close encounters with Hartley biting off his head lately, so he’d rather pass. “Are you okay?” He tries.

“Tired.” Hartley lies. Well, maybe it’s not a lie. He could very well be tired. On top of something else.

Okay, so he won’t bring it up on his own. Cisco decides to bite the bullet. “You… um, you were--”

Again, Hartley gasps. A few moments tick by before he starts, “Oh.” He stays silent for a second, like he’s trying to find a way out. To Cisco’s surprise, though, he gives an admission. “I had a nightmare.”

He probably should have expected something like that - you don’t start crying in the middle of the night for no reason, after all - and yet Cisco finds himself surprised. Maybe simply by the fact that Hartley would actually tell him that, more than the fact that he has nightmares. Hartley’s been through as much as anyone else on Team Flash and they certainly all struggle with their experiences; it would be odd if he didn’t have nightmares. “Shit,” he answers, though, because even if it should be common, it’s never a good experience. “Wanna talk about it?” He asks and sits up.

Hartley lets out a dry laugh. “Not really.”

“Fair,” Cisco comments. Now that they’re both awake like this, he feels a bit awkward. “Um, mind if I turn on the light?”

From the sounds of it, Hartley wipes over his face once more. When he’s finished he says, “No, go ahead.”

Cisco tries not to squint at Hartley when the light hits him, but it turns out that in his shifting and whatnot, Hartley’s come much closer to the edge of the couch than Cisco had anticipated. A few centimeters closer and he would have smacked him in the face while reaching for the light switch of Kara’s reading lamp. Hartley’s not sat up as well, but he’s propped himself up on his elbows where he’s lying on his stomach.

With him being so close, Cisco gets a good look at him regardless of whether he wants to. It’s already unusual to see him without his big glasses, but the fact that his hair is unkempt and eyes red and swollen really aren’t helping the case. Hartley looks like shit, simple as that. There’s dark circles under his eyes and his face is full of red spots from where he’s rubbed earlier and-- yeah. Not good.

Cisco averts his eyes quickly, but he doubs Hartley didn’t notice his staring. Because Hartley’s been looking at him, too.

“You got braids,” Hartley breathes and reaches out to touch one of them. He’s clearly really sleep-deprived or else he wouldn’t be doing this, Cisco’s sure. And the same goes for him, or he would have swatted away his hand already.

“Uh, yeah,” Cisco answers with a frown. He’d done them before going to bed, actually, but Hartley had been too busy avoiding him to notice. “You think my curls come all by themselves?” He jokes, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Hartley’s still moving his thumb over the end of his braid. A part of him feels embarrassed about it, seeing how Hartley’s never been so close to him outside of a dangerous situation, and certainly should never be, but the other part… doesn’t really mind. Hartley’s careful and slow, as if he’s actually curious as he inspects the way Cisco’s woven his hair.

“It’s, uh… good,” Hartley says lamely then, dropping it unceremoniously. He leans back again, trying to make his face look neutral, but it’s still red from earlier, so he looks just like a mess.

Now, Cisco’s not completely sure just what is good, according to Hartley. The fact that he takes care of his hair? That shouldn’t be too surprising - long hair needs more care (a rhyme Cisco’s proudly made up and repeated whenever his mom complained about the mass of products he bought back when he tried to find the right ones) and even Hartley should know that. His hair doesn’t look completely ruthless either. The other suggested meaning, though, would be that it looks good, which is just ridiculous. Not only because Hartley’s barely managing to see anything and because it’s the middle of the night and whatnot, but because Hartley wouldn’t be saying that. At least not to Cisco .

Being hit by a wave of self-consciousness at that, Cisco smooths his own hand over the braid Hartley’d just been touching so that it’d fall down again. 

Meanwhile, Hartley rolls onto his back, putting his hands over his face with a light groan. His sleeping attire consists of long pants and an old t-shirt that used to have a logo on its chest that’s no longer recognizable - it’s a graphic tee, like the ones Cisco wears on the daily and get stupid comments for. Talk about hypocrisy. The thing is, though, in the movement the shirt riles up slightly, revealing a sliver of Hartley’s pale stomach.

Quickly, Cisco looks down at his blanket again. There’s a few loose threads that have been bothering him earlier. He picks at them now. When Hartley drops his arms again, he doesn’t look up.

When Hartley talks , however, he does. “So… Winn is my ex’s doppelgänger.”

“Oh, what?” Cisco perks up. He’d seen that Hartley hadn’t been exactly comfortable earlier, but he’d thought it was about social interactions in general. Or about the fact that everyone was… well, pretty outgoing and enthusiastic. That could have gotten exhausting for him pretty fast.

“Yeah,” Hartley nods. He’s still lying on his back, looking up at the barely illuminated ceiling rather than Cisco as he speaks. “I guess that, between meeting him and having been so close to seeing Wells-- I mean Harry -- that might have triggered something. Not like I have good experiences with exes.”

“What about the firefighter?” Cisco remembers him to be nice, at least by what he’s heard passed on from Caitlin and Ronnie. It’s not like he even talked to Hartley back then, so he’s never met the guy.

Hartley grimaces. “Ugly break-up.” He looks like he wants to add something more, but then closes his mouth before a single word comes out. 

“Uh, so… Do you wanna talk about it? Your dream or-- or Winn’s doppelgänger or something?” Cisco prompts. “Was he, uh, a bad guy?”

“I-- No,” Hartley shakes his head. “But he, well, he’s an ex, so--”

“Yeah, got it.” Cisco nods. Running into an ex is never fun, but he doesn’t even wanna know what it’s like when it’s a completely different person who just looks like someone you had feelings for and doesn’t even know. There’s another layer added to his feeling bad for his reaction to Hartley’s behaviour earlier.

Hartley turns his head to look at him, an eyebrow raised. He looks more like himself by now, even if the lack of glasses is disturbing the image. In a second’s worth he makes a noise that Cisco can’t quite place. “I don’t think you do,” he grumbles, probably more to himself than Cisco.

“Hartley, what do you--” He starts, but cuts himself off when Hartley sits up once more, looking at him directly. There’s much written in his eyes now, but Cisco would be damned if he could name one single thing. 

Hartley’s breathing is shaky all of sudden. It’s unsettling. “Cisco, is this trip your revenge on me? Are you playing A Christmas Carol on me, but-- but instead of Christmas ghosts it's with people I was… infatuated with?”

“I-- what,” Cisco breathes, utterly confused. He can’t help but stare at Hartley this time, trying to figure out the joke. “What are you talking about?”

“First you go and have a merry day with Wells’ doppelgänger while I’m wandering out and about, seeing his freaking face everywhere, and now we’re here and there’s-- there’s Winn, looking like--” Hartley’s hands are reaching into nothing, like he can find the words or his thoughts there and explain the problem, all the while his chest is heaving. His eyes aren’t on Cisco anymore, it looks more like they’re actively avoiding him now and--

There's a lot that Cisco wants to reply,  like how Hartley was the one who wanted to go on this trip and how he didn't have a single clue about Winn, goddammit, but then his brain fills the gaps in Hartley's speech. And it makes sense to him all of a sudden.

Cisco had heard rumours, of course, because STAR Labs had, despite the joined IQ of probably over one million, a company like any other. Of course the workers have talked and joked and gossiped. So, naturally, Hartley being Wells’ - Thawne’s - favourite employee had been obvious to everyone and sparked quite a few conversations. Cisco, however, had never really believed them, even though he’s seen the clear admiration in Hartley’s eyes whenever he had looked at their boss; he’d simply thought of it as natural, because they all had at least a professional crush on the man’s skills, and then there was the addition of him being nice on the eyes. In fact, Cisco had outright refused to believe the rumours, because they’re so common when it comes to men who like men and he would’ve been nothing but hypocritical if he started to believe them. And then there was the idea that maybe Hartley’s whole employment came down to whatever was going on between those two and Cisco has had to laugh . Even when he despised Hartley, he’s always been objective enough to admit that he’s highly intelligent and skilled - clearly, the people who thought he’d need to sleep his way up the ladder had suffered from inferior complexes.

Cisco still doesn’t believe that that had been the nature of the companionship between Hartley and Fake-Wells, but… maybe those co-workers hadn’t been completely off, as it seems. And somehow, when he thinks back to the utter disgust visible on Hartley’s face when he saw Wells, and the way his whole body reacted to it, so violently - well, maybe it hadn’t been a one-sided crush like they could happen, sometimes.

“Oh shit,” Cisco breathes. He isn’t really sure what to say or do, because fuck , it explains so much . He hadn’t faulted Hartley for not warming up to Harry like the rest of them have done - he knows everyone’s reactions to trauma is different and doesn’t follow a single pace - but he’d be lying if he hadn’t wondered why it took Hartley so much longer than him (who legit has flashbacks to being killed by the man’s doppelgänger) or Barry who… well, whose whole life has been shaped by him. But now he sees that there’s layers to Hartley’s trauma he didn’t even dare imagine and… “Shit, I had no idea --”

Hartley’s still avoiding him, but Cisco can see the panic in his face and the calculating look, like he’s mapping out on escape plan--

“ Hartley , fuck--” Cisco starts again. “I-- Give me your hand?” That’s actually not what he wants to hold, but he thinks a hug might be pushing it, especially with what Hartley just practically confessed. Cisco doesn’t want to trigger anything, he wants to calm down Hartley and reassure and ground him, so he goes with the minimum and--

Reluctantly Hartley does offer his hand. He’s still looking ahead, doing it blindly, but the twitch in his hand as he reaches out slowly is also searching . Cisco struggles not to rush when he goes to meet him halfway, but then Hartley’s hand is in his and he cups his other over it, squeezing softly and drawing circles over its back with his thumb.

“I swear, I had-- I had no idea. About… about either. Okay?” He assures him, desperation dropping into his voice. He just hopes that Hartley doesn’t really think so little of him, believing that Cisco would basically pull him along on a hell trip like that. “I didn’t-- Look, we’re here because you wanted to, right? We’ll just-- Next stop, I’ll make sure we don’t meet any doppelgängers or-- or we could go back home, to Earth-1, if you want--”

“I-- I don’t know,” Hartley admits, which is something Cisco never thought he’d hear. If this wasn’t their situation, he’d make a joke about it. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Cisco insists. It’s not. It’s something real and hurting and he doesn’t want Hartley to hurt. And he certainly doesn’t want to be the one doing it. “It’s… okay.”

Hartley gives another of those sarcastic snorts, but it sounds wet. 

“I mean it.”

He looks at Hartley, awaiting his answer, and tries to stand still. Hartley looks down at where his hand is still between Cisco’s, cold to the touch, and then looks up at him slowly and carefully. 

“I don’t know,” Hartley repeats. This time it doesn’t sound like deflecting. “And-- and I’m tired. It’s the middle of the night.”

Cisco doesn’t want to pressure him. Even if he can open a breach at any time and they wouldn’t need much planning in advance, he wants to give Hartley the time to decide properly. Still, he’s not so sure if he should completely drop it yet. “Are you sure you can sleep?” He asks instead. “We could put on a movie.” Kara had told them where everything is, just in case she’d be gone when they wake up, for one reason or another, and given permission to use anything they like.

Hartley, however, shakes his head. “No, it’s-- I’m tired.” He repeats, lifting his free hand to rub it over his face and comb through his hair.

“Okay,” Cisco says. Something inside of him still isn’t happy with that conclusion, but he won’t push Hartley. He’s the one who should make decisions right now. So he nods and pulls his hands back-- only to feel Hartley grab for one of them.

He’s holding onto his ring finger when Cisco stops his movement. There’s a hint of embarrassment in his face when he turns his head away a little. “I, um-- Can you--” He starts, but doesn’t seem able to find the words.

Cisco understands anyway. “Yeah,” he says quickly. “Yeah, of course.” He lets Hartley keep ahold of his hand while he sinks back into the cushions, finding a comfortable position while holding out his arm. 

Hartley does the same, turning off the light in the process, and then it’s dark and they’re lying there and both move their hands to fit together better.

“So, uh,” Cisco licks his lips. “Good night. Again.”

Hartley hums softly, but he doesn’t sound sleepy yet. But maybe that’ll come once they keep silent.

-

Cisco isn’t sure just when he’d managed to fall back asleep; in fact, he’s quite surprised that he even managed . Or that he didn’t have a dream/vibe. Because that’s usually what happens when he thinks about Thawne too long, or when someone reveals something that should have been obvious to him for a while. It’s like his subconscious - or his powers, he doesn’t know - wants to make up, either by showing him in great detail just what exactly he’s missed or by vibing something entirely new. And even though it’s surprising this didn’t happen, Cisco is very much thankful for that: He wouldn’t have wanted to see any of … that .

Waking up, he blinks repeatedly, trying to come back into reality. The first thing he notices is that Hartley’s not on the couch - like yesterday, actually, because the guy seems to be a perpetual morning person. What’s different, though, is that the blanket and pillow aren’t folded and aligned this time, but left as they were as if Hartley had been fleeing from his sleeping space. 

He hasn’t come far, though, because he’s sitting at Kara’s dinner table, still wearing his pajamas, and reading something. Right now, through Cisco’s sleepy eyes, in daylight and from afar, he looks much better than last night. Whether he fell asleep once more, too, Cisco can’t tell, though. It could very well be that reading just helps Hartley to look more like himself. It’s very much in character for him to seek out someone’s bookshelf when left alone in their apartment either way.

Cisco doesn’t want to disturb him per se, but he starts feeling awkward the longer he watches him scan the pages. So, at some point, he croaks, “Morning?”

He risks Hartley ignoring him, he knows, but it’s not like that’s something he isn’t used to. Especially after opening up last night, being so vulnerable, he can picture Hartley carefully reassembling the walls that have gotten towed down; Cisco couldn’t fault him for it, really. 

But just like his powers have, Hartley surprises him. It’s not like he greets Cisco with a bright smile and happy eyes, but he does put his finger between the pages and closes the book on it, looking into his direction. “Ah,” he makes. “Morning.”

Cisco rolls onto his back, stretching a little before he really sits up. There’s sunlight coming through the window, a brightness that’s still foreign to the day, so it might be still early. Maybe it just looks like it to him, right now, because he just woke up. “What time is it?” He asks. He wants to ask where Kara is, too, if she’s already at work or still asleep, but instead another question leaves his mouth. “And what are you reading?”

Now a small smile creeps onto Hartley’s lips. “ Lord of the Rings ,” he declares proudly. “It’s barely comparable to our version.”

“Really?” Cisco can’t hide the excitement in his voice. He knows about differences in pop culture, of course, but he never thought that if the same franchise exists, it would have differences in itself. He realizes now that that thought makes absolutely no sense.

Hartley doesn’t belittle him for it. Instead, he nods and seems just as giddy about it as Cisco does. That’s… weird. “Yeah,” he nods, “Boromir doesn’t die.”

“What?” Cisco likes Boromir. He was devastated when he died, both in the movies and the books. Still, he can’t see how the story would even work out if he were still alive when they reach Gondor. What about Denethor’s behaviour towards Faramir? It makes no sense. 

He tells Hartley as much and gets a chuckle in return. Maybe it’s the act in itself, maybe it’s the way it sounds, but suddenly Cisco knows Hartley hasn’t slept again. Or if he did, then it wasn’t much. He feels bad now, for leaving him alone to his sorrows.

“I don’t know yet,” Hartley answers his question about how the plot plays out. “I’m just about to finish the first book.”

Cisco whistles through his teeth. “Dude, since when are you up?”

“I started it yesterday already,” Hartley deflects. Not giving a straight answer probably means that Cisco’s guesses are correct. The guy definitely hasn’t fallen back asleep. He doesn’t look like he’s about keel over, at least. 

It makes Cisco wonder just how often Hartley’s come into STAR Labs being fatigued. Sure, a full night’s rest is rare for all of them, with what they do and what they’ve seen, but he knows from his own experience that you can tell when someone from the Team has had a bad night. Not just because they usually spent the night together when that happens, but because they all have their tells. Caitlin will practically inhale cup after cup of coffee, despite probably knowing better, Barry becomes overly bubbly in a way to cover up while Iris is his polar opposite and only gives snappish comebacks, and Cisco himself, well, he takes any chance of a nap that he can get. 

Right now Hartley doesn’t seem any weirder than usual, except maybe for properly conversing with him, but even that isn’t too odd lately, which brings the question of whether he’s ever had a good night sleep in the time that Cisco’s known him. Maybe he’s frequently plagued by nightmares. 

He’s still trying to figure out a way to ask him about it when Hartley - surprising him again - brings it up himself, in a way. “You know, this is why I wanted to go on this trip,” he says, holding up the novel, his finger still in it. God, even the cover looks fundamentally different than any that Cisco knows. “The differences between the various earths are much more interesting than their parallels.”

It’s vague but determined, and Cisco tries to make sense of it. He’d like to ask for clarification, but the look in Hartley’s eyes tells him he isn’t finished yet. He’s taken the lead on this conversation right at the start, he realizes now. He’s probably had it before Cisco even woke up; there’s a chance he’s done a whole layout while he should have been asleep.

“I don’t want to go back yet.”

Back to Earth-1, he means, of course. A part of Cisco is relieved, for a reason he can’t fathom yet. Maybe because that would be an admission of defeat - about how of course , the two of them couldn’t make it through a trip together, just like Caitlin had said. It would have been a bit sad, too, to cut it so short. Another part is concerned. “Oh? Are you-- are you sure?” He asks, remembering quite clearly how shaky Hartley had been last night.

“ Yes ,” Hartley counters pointedly. “I want to see more.”

“I mean-- we can take the trip another time, it’s not like I--”

“We’re already gone, Cisco. Now we’re gonna pull through.” It’s not a statement or a normal contribution to a discussion. It’s an order . Hartley has made up his mind and unless Cisco wants to argue for real, he’ll have to agree. Even from the couch, he can see something mixed into the determination in Hartley’s eyes - something he interprets as a silent plea. Hartley really wants to keep going, and Cisco can’t tell his reasoning. 

Still, he nods. “I’ll make sure we won’t encounter any more doppelgängers,” he promises.

Hartley snorts. “You can’t promise that,” he points out and opens the book again, ready to continue reading. There’s a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, though.

“I can try,” Cisco insists, feeling the smile on his own face, too. 

In return, Hartley just shrugs, back to looking down on the script. And that’s that.

Chapter Text

Apparently, Cisco should not have let his D&D die decide which Earth to head to. Because once he’s closed the Breach behind himself, he finds Hartley giving him the most displeased expression. Assessing the situation, though, Cisco has to admit that maybe he has a point for once. 

It’s… not dark, exactly, but it’s as if there’s a coat around them, wrapping everything beyond where they’re standing into black. The surface they’re standing on is weirdly grey and dusty, but under Cisco’s thin soles it’s hard and strange. The worst of it all, though, is when he looks up and… shit, is that the Earth?

He swallows thickly. “Dude, I think we’re on the Moon.”

“Don’t be daft," Hartley answers. He's crouching down now, inspecting the ground closer. "If we were, we wouldn’t be able to breathe.”

Cisco huffs. Hartley didn't exactly use his insulting voice, but the casual way he said it in doesn't make it any better. It's like he doesn't even want to argue about how dumb he thinks Cisco is any more. “Hartley. We know multiple people with superpowers. My best friend can travel through time. We’ve hung out with aliens. I keep portaling us from one alternate dimension to the other. Excuse me if I think there could be a possibility that there’s an Earth out there where we could, hypothetically, breathe on the freaking Moon," he raps down. "Also, you should probably turn around."

While Hartley’s done nothing but roll his eyes at the many evidences Cisco’s just listed, he follows that order surprisingly easily. The ground makes the weirdest noise under his boots when he turns around swiftly and Cisco flinches a bit at it. He can’t see Hartley’s face now, but it’s visible in his stature that the sight hits him now. His shoulders go tense the second he recognizes the blue planet as the Earth, but in the next moment they go lax again. “That doesn’t have to be real,” he says off-handedly as he turns back around to Cisco.

"Don't tell me you're one of those people who believe the moon landing was faked," Cisco says, a little speechless. Once upon a time, he has participated in those conspiracy theories himself, though mostly for fun. Nowadays, it doesn't seem so far off that humans have walked the moon. 

Hartley doesn't look impressed. He's got his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow at him. "Any other words you want to put into my mouth?"

That surprises Cisco. There's been times where he's assumed the worst of Hartley, yes, but this comment just now wasn't meant as anything other than teasing. Sure, the guy looks more than stressed about where they are (even if he, as he claims, doesn't believe they're on the moon) and they don't get along perfectly, but there's no need to get so defensive. Also… any other? "What are you--" 

Before he can finish the question, Hartley scoffs. Pushing his fists into his jeans, he starts trotting off, kicking a stone with each step he takes. Looks like he's either not caring about where they are or still doesn't believe. Well, Cisco certainly won't start going all Mulder here.

He does, however, start following him. No sense if either of them got lost, just in case that he'd been wrong after all. If they are on the Moon, they'd probably find their ways back to each other, yeah. Though, he's got no idea how big the moon actually is. Sure, it may look small in pictures, but that's always a question of comparison. So, just in case they wouldn't…

Hartley keeps up with his passive-aggressive schtick, but he doesn't turn around and get outright pissed at Cisco for following. For good measure, though, he makes sure to keep a few feet between them. It wouldn't do if Hartley suddenly got into his face, yelling at him or whatever - Cisco may know how to work with his powers nowadays, but that doesn't mean he has absolute control over them when he's angry. And that definitely is the effect that a full-on argument with Hartley would have.

If his stalking around has any purpose, then it's not obvious for Cisco. His eyes are on the ground, not taking in anything, so Cisco takes it upon himself to assess their environment closer. 

He's not going to lie: it's weird as hell to be here. Like, even if they aren't on the actual moon, it's eerily quiet around them, not to mention the darkness engulfing everything. Actually, though, that isn't right. If he looks up, there's stars just about everywhere, specking the black with dots of white. It looks the same as the view from earth, only that it's so all-surrounding. It's beautiful, and at the same time Cisco is glad he isn't here on his own.

That would be scary as crap.

His thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Hartley. No, that's not right. He crashes into Hartley, with his entire body, because he's just stopped walking without making so much as a noise.

"Dude! Could you--!" Cisco starts, but is shushed immediately.

Hartley's elbow finds its way into Cisco's rib cage, knocking the air out of him and cuts him off. Additionally, Hartley lifts his index finger to his lips. "Shh, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Instead of giving him an actual answer, Hartley shushes him again, sounding more frustrated by the second. He looks into the darkness, squinting, and tilts his head as if he's actually listening for something.

"I don't know how to tell you this," Cisco says, admittedly quietly this time, "but sound doesn't travel in space."

"Oh, suddenly you want things to make sense?" Hartley barks. Cisco supposes he's got a point. If they can breathe without any tools, why shouldn't they be able to hear? They've been talking just now, too, after all. "I hear a phone."

"You hear a phone," Cisco repeats. "On the Moon."

Hartley gives him a look so sour, that he fears Kara might have taught him how to shoot lasers from his eyes. 

Cisco raises his hands, retreating before he gets to test that. He keeps his mouth shut, too, and instead of talking listens out for whatever Hartley hears as well. It's no surprise that he can't make out anything; he doesn't have those fancy hearing-enhancing aids that Hartley wears. If either of them could notice a sneak attack before it happens, it would be him. Another point as to why it's been a good idea to follow him, even if Cisco would never admit it.

As they walk, he looks around. He should probably be looking for that phone Hartley insists he’s hearing, but how’s he supposed to focus on the ground or whatever - though, he supposes that’s got an extra layer of coolness to it, given that it’s the Moon - when he’s in space? He can see the Earth from afar, the darkness of the universe around him and-- okay, this is very different from their home, of course, because he’s very sure the Moon back at home would not have an atmosphere that would let them breathe, he has to agree with Hartley there. So when he looks at the Earth, he can’t help but take a closer look and wonder if maybe there’s different continents and stuff like that. 

It’s exactly the kind of thing why Hartley’s wanted to go on this trip, actually. A part of Cisco wants to grab him by the shoulder and shake him, remind him of that. They’re scientists who’ve just landed on the frickin’ Moon, they should be looking for that kind of stuff, for God’s sake! Though he supposes that hearing a random phone ring in space is worth an investigation. Maybe Cisco would be more into it if he could hear it, too, and wouldn’t just have to trust that Hartley isn’t leading him on.

Maybe he’s developed trust issues in the past. Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t trust Hartley. He doesn’t know.

And yet he follows him around, rather than to stop and do his own thing. Or to hop to another Earth where Hartley won’t feel compelled to trot around. Okay, so maybe his curiosity’s irked as well. That happens. 

He keeps quiet, just as Hartley’s asked, so that he can keep listening for the phone. Cisco wished he’d paid more attention to astronomy, actually, just so he’d know how big the moon is exactly and how long they could be wandering around until they find something.

And just when he thinks that, he suddenly hears it, too. A literal RRRRIING like old phones produced, which is in itself a creepy sound for someone as technology-advised as Cisco is. That it’s on the Moon isn’t really helping, if you ask him. 

“Hart--”

“Shh,” Hartley makes immediately. He turns to him and lifts his index finger to his lips, as if Cisco hadn’t known the whole time that he’s supposed to be quiet. His brows are furrowed as he concentrates, but there’s a look of utter confusion, too. 

Suddenly Cisco wonders just how many sounds are lost to him. He hadn’t heard the phone until now - what if there’s other things he’d missed as well? Hartley could have been hearing them the whole time, making it even harder to dissect them. 

So, basically, it’s even more important to let him now that Cisco can help now, too. “I hear it!” He announces, lifting his arms in a tada-gesture.

Hartley just shoots him another glare, the one that conveys the mixture of  disbelief, annoyance and disappointment that Cisco’s way too used to by now. He’s looking at him now, though, which means he’s acknowledging what Cisco’s said. A win. And also a reminder that Hartley wants him to shut up, yeah.

He gives an eye roll before he nods curtly, confirming that he will keep quiet now. 

And then they continue.

Cisco feels a little like walking in darkness - which, he supposes should technically be meant literally, but the moon’s surface (at least of this one, hell if he has any idea about the actual one at home) is so dang reflective, he thinks he might be blinded if he looks at the wrong stone - because while he can faintly hear the ringing, it’s nowhere near loud enough for him to locate it. He stalks after Hartley like the blind following the blind, only that it’s more like the-average-hearing-person following the deaf-turned-superhearing-person. 

He has no idea how long they move like this; time management is kinda lost to him here, truth be told. It just feels like a huge relief when Hartley points into a direction at some point and when Cisco follows that line he sees a phone. 

One of those ancient ones that you connect to the old times of, say, the 80s or 90s, the one that perfectly fits to that creepy ringing he’d been hearing. It’s bright red, too.

Ugh, he feels like he’s in a bad comic strip.

He stops in his tracks to stare at it, because while he felt relieved upon seeing it at first, that feeling is slowly vanishing now. Because while he’d thought of it as a task, a puzzle to be solved, on its own, he realizes now that it’s still ringing. And hell, he may not be an expert on the whole space thing, but even he knows that an abandoned telephone ringing on the Moon can’t lead to anything good.

Hartley, however, does not seem to think that way. Being the one ahead, he’s oblivious to Cisco having stopped walking, and goes along his way. Right towards the phone. Which is still ringing.

Jesus, someone’s really patient there. Probably have to be, if they think they could reach anyone in outer space.

Cisco watches as Hartley crouches down to look at the phone, but when he starts to reach out his hand, he can’t hold back any more. “Dude, you better not pick that up! We don’t wanna have a Phone Booth situation, do we?”

Hartley gives him an unimpressed look, clearly not getting the reference. Uncultured as hell.

“You know, the whole ‘If you hang up, I’ll kill someone’ thing?” Cisco tries. When he doesn’t get a sufficient answer, he gives up that approach and outright says, “For all you know, someone could be threatening you!”

For some reason, that makes Hartley smirk. “And that wouldn’t spike your interest? Come on, Cisquito, you are a hero , you should be the one advocating for going after them, then.”

The way he singles out Cisco here isn’t lost on him. “But… you’re a hero, too,” he points out. 

That Hartley just gives a light scoff in return, makes him feel a twist in his chest for some reason. The Pied Piper may have been a villain in the past, but that had been caused by him seeking personal revenge. Hartley hadn’t meant to hurt just about anyone; he’d been dealing with what looked like being replaced, by a man who turned out to be a liar rather than the trusted scientist even before his big reveal as Eobard Thawne - if Hartley hadn’t lashed out, then that would have been weird. And sure, he’s still an arrogant jackass, but he’s helping. Maybe it’s still caused by a hunger for revenge, or maybe he feels like he needs to atone for the things he has done in his rage, but that doesn’t mean Hartley isn’t one of the good guys. 

Before he can say any of that, though, Hartley bends down and picks up the phone. It’s an old one, the cable of it ending in the ground, which shouldn’t make sense, but it is what it is. Cisco isn’t questioning the logic of their situation any more. It doesn’t mean he’s any more comfortable with Hartley answering the call, though.

“Hello?” Hartley asks carefully. At least he’s not answering with his name. That would be just what they would have needed, probably. Some weirdo on the phone addressing them by name. While they’re in space.

Cisco can’t make out any words, but what he hears from the other end of the line is a frantic ramble, sounding almost like the person is in a panic. For a second, he feels the same feeling creep up on him, too - he can't help it. For all the witty one liners he has, he's still somewhat of a coward. Hartley may be right, he's definitely on the side of the good guys, but that doesn't mean he isn't frightened. Hell, he's pretty sure he's the one person on Team Flash who loses their shit during almost every gig.

Hartley, on the other hand, is always somewhat of a safe haven. He’s always got his emotions in check (sometimes too much in check) and right now it’s no exception. “Okay, hold on, alright? I’m gonna help you,” he says into the phone, his voice surprisingly soft. “Why don’t you tell me where you are? Describe what you see, if you don’t know.”

He gives Cisco a death glare when he tries to get his attention, which is pretty rude. Like, shouldn’t Hartley tell him what’s going on? Because it sure as hell sounds like they’re gonna go on a rescue mission or something and Cisco would like to prepare for that. He has enough short-notice stunts to attend to at home.

Hartley is intent on focussing on the voice on the other end of the line, frowning as he listens. Apparently, whoever’s talking to him doesn’t do a good job describing what Hartley wants to hear, if the frustration that’s slowly creeping into his face is any indication. 

Cisco’s not sure what makes him do it, why he thinks it would do anything, but as if it were a reflex, he reaches for Hartley’s arm; the one that’s holding the receiver. His Vibe powers are alert, so maybe it’s them guiding him to do it. And he kinda knows what he wants, but he’s not entirely sure if it would work. He’s only ever vibed people while holding onto something that belongs to them, is connected to them somehow, or when he knows a precise location. This whole thing is not his area of expertise. 

Maybe a part of him really pictured how the Vibe would go, like in cartoons where you can follow the path it takes. But thankfully, Cisco doesn’t get an image of flying up Hartley’s arm and crawling into the phone, squeezing himself through the line. no, the Vibe happens just as it normally would.

He’s suddenly standing in a large office, judging by the rows of desks with huge computers on top of them - personally, Cisco would call them old-fashioned, just like the phone had been, but maybe that’s what’s modern on this earth. He doesn’t feel like he’s in a place to judge, really. There’s a blue tilt to the light, but he doesn’t know if that’s what the Vibe decided to do or if it’s evening wherever he ended up. He takes a moment to look around, searching for something, when he hears a voice.

It’s louder now, but still as high as it had been before. “Hello? Are you still there?” There’s a frightened tone to it, and a sniffle that only adds to the dread in Cisco’s bones. 

Knowing that he’s not really here, he rounds the corner-- and spots her, crouching at the end of the room, hidden below another desk. He really wouldn’t have seen her, if he hadn’t heard her voice. 

It’s a girl with long curls, clutching both her hands around the receiver in her hands. As he steps closer, Cisco can see the traces of tears on her cheeks, and it breaks his heart. He really hopes Hartley knows how to talk to her - the girl probably needs someone, well, warm and not as calculating as Hartley is.

He takes another good look at the girl and tries to memorize how to find her; hoping that she won’t be moving around. The way she’s hidden herself down there, though, he doubts that she’ll do that.

When he comes back to his normal senses, Hartley’s still on the phone, trying to calm her down. He doesn’t know if Hartley’s been checking in on him the entire time or if he can tell when he’s come back, but soon his eyes fall on Cisco. They are quickly directed down to where he’s still clutching against Hartley’s arm, and Cisco hurries to draw back.

Somehow, Hartley still finds time to put a question into his look as well, trying to figure out if Cisco’s found something useful. He gives a nod when Cisco gives him a thumbs-up. “Okay, listen,” he says into the phone. He’s sounding almost like he always does, Cisco almost misses the hint of pressure, panic, behind his words. “We’re very sure we found your location, so if you are patient for just a tad longer we’ll come and find you, okay? That would be me and a friend. Then you won’t be on your own any more.”

Whatever the girl is answering, there must be somewhat of a change to her mood now, because for a second, Hartley slips from his caution. If she’s not as frightened any more, though, Cisco already counts that as a win. Scared children, he has discovered ever since he first stepped out as Vibe, can be a source of danger for both themselves and everyone around them. That she’s calmed down is already a big step towards ensuring she’ll be alright. 

Taking her into their care is the next one.

-

Once they’re through the Breach, Cisco learns that it’s actually pretty bright outside - his Vibe had tinted the world into a darker colour. He has yet to figure out why it does that sometimes and if there’s any implications to that habit. Maybe it works like a mood ring? He should definitely look into that. 

For now, though, he takes a look around the room, trying to figure out if the Breach opened the same way that his Vibe had done. He wouldn’t like to be walking into the wrong direction, not just because that would be wasting time but because Hartley would never let him forget it. Thankfully, he hit the right office, from the looks of it. There's soft noises from outisde and, while Cisco found being on the Moon as cool as it obviously is, he's quite thankful to be rid of the utter silence. He's never been good without background noises.

Hartley seems to be taking an earnest look around rather than just searching, like he’s really taking in their surroundings for their sake. Cisco’s never really understood the guy’s priorities, but especially now he can’t help but gape at him.

Before they start a quarrel, though, he thinks better of it and nods into the right direction. “This way,” Cisco declares and sets off.

He’s quickly located the right desk - he’d been correct, the girl stayed in the same spot the entire time. She’s hidden herself away more now, probably because she doesn’t have to hold on to the phone’s cord any more, and makes no move to indicate that she saw them. Again, Cisco directs Hartley towards her. Since he’s the one she’s talked to on the phone, it might be better if he approached her, too.

Thankfully, Hartley catches on and slowly steps to the desk. “Hello,” he says carefully, his voice soft so he won’t spook the child. He’s crouching down, leaving some space to the gap and holding out a hand to leave them the choice to move. “It’s gonna be okay, alright?” He adds soothingly. “We spoke on the phone, you know?”

Cisco catches a glimpse of the girl’s wide eyes, the way the shimmer in the sparse light, framed by unruly, as he sees now, red curls. He wonders how long she must have been on her own, or what she’s seen, for her to hide away like this. Because this isn’t just crouching behind the next surface, it’s making yourself small so you fit into a hidden space. 

Hartley’s talking does work, though - and how shouldn’t it? It seems that, with his enhanced hearing, there’s also come the power of utmost control over his voice. It doesn’t falter one bit, just sounds completely soothing in a way that it sinks into Cisco’s bones, too. He feels himself calm down and believe Hartley when he says everything is fine, even if the rational part of his brain is aware that Hartley knows as little about the situation as him and should not be in the position to sell that assurance so convincingly. 

But the girl only has Hartley’s voice to listen to, believe his words without any hint of them not being completely accurate, and it works. She doesn’t take his hand, but she does lean forward and get on her knees. 

Hartley moves backwards automatically, on instinct or something because he only breaks his eye contact with the girl when he bumps into Cisco, who’s reacting way too slowly, even though there’s no harsh movements in the room anyway. Hartley’s eyes narrow at him only for the shortest of moments, reprimanding him for not being attentive enough, but then they flicker back to the girl.

She’s come out of the corner now, but still keeps her distance towards either of them. In fact, she might not have known that Cisco was there before, because now her eyes keep flickering between the two of them. They even get a little bit accusatory when they dart into Hartley’s direction.

Naturally, with him being Hartley and all, he catches up on that immediately. He leans back some more - so far, in fact, that Cisco reaches out on reflex to stop him from falling onto his ass - and gestures into Cisco’s direction. “This is my friend, Cisco,” he tells the kid without any hesitation, like it’s clear that they are friends. Cisco’s not so sure, truth be told. “And I’m Hartley. Do you want to tell me your name?”

His voice is still so goddamn soft and soothing that the girl’s stance changes at the sound of it. Her shoulders lose some of their tension and in a swift motion, she goes from leaning on her knees to sitting cross-legged on the ground. “Lita,” is all she says while picking at her worn out boots.

“What are you doing here?” Cisco wants to know. He keeps his voice low, like Hartley’s done, but it slips up a bit because this place? It’s creepy, okay? “Where are your parents?”

At that, her eyes grow wider again and Cisco can see them filling up with tears. Shit. How the fuck is it possible that Hartley’s so good at this, so good with this kid, when he can’t deal with other adults at all? He’s not even using any of his safe topics as a metaphor, it’s just like he gets Lita and it’s just… it’s so confusing. 

She calms down almost right away when Hartley shushes her. “Why don’t you tell us your mom’s name?” he prompts. “I’m sure we can find a way to find her,” he adds with a glance at Cisco.

He gets what Hartley’s getting at. And maybe he even actually believes it to be possible himself. But maybe he just makes empty promises to this kid, which is why Cisco refrains from pointing out that he’s neither Professor X nor does he have a Cerebro device at hand to help him handpick a single person just by knowing their name. 

Lita gives him the funniest look at that. “She’s called mom,” she answers, the subtone in her voice making clear that she thinks he’s stupid for even asking that. It hits Cisco in that moment just how young she is - not knowing that your mom has an actual name is a sign for really just being a child, isn’t it? Damn, he really hopes she hasn’t been abandoned here on purpose.

Looking at her, she seems to have been taken care of. She’s dressed warmly, maybe a bit too much for the weather they’d encountered when they arrived outside, like someone’s just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be freezing. That’s not what a bad person would do, right? Cisco quickly shoves away the thought hinting at the fact that he (and Hartley, too, for that matter) has frequently been subjected to bad people helping him be alright just so they could profit from it later.

He doesn’t want it to be the case for this girl. But if it is, he’ll make sure to change that. 

Hell, he’s Vibe. He can do that. 

Come to think of it… He may not have a Cerebro, but he can vibe. He’s become an expert at that by now, not those baby vibes he did at the beginning that would knock him out. Hell, he’s pretty sure he’d discovered a new kind of Vibe just a few minutes ago. Now, if only he had something to vibe. 

And at this rate he gives up trying to find a way to talk to Lita in a way that won’t make her give him death glares - honestly, at this rate he should be used to those, it’s Hartley’s MO - so he just asks, “Do you have anything that belongs to her?”

Lita must hate him already, actually, because she shoots Hartley the most exasperated look. Seriously, if there were subtitles for her thoughts, they’d totally read, Can you believe this guy? Cisco’s a bit hurt, to be frank.

Hartley isn’t fazed. Instead, he just asks her, “Your scarf - is that self-made?” When Lita nods, he adds, “Did your mom make it?” with quite a nice smile. 

“My gramma,” Lita says.

Cisco considers it. Sure, it’s not her next of kin, but that could be an idea. He catches Hartley’s eyes and tries to communicate that, even if they’ve established he’s not a telepath. Hartley’s usually not good at interpreting other people’s facial expressions either, at least not as far as Cisco knows - which is weird because he’s perfected certain expressions for himself - but this time he feels like it almost works. He can see how Hartley mulls it over in his head until he decides to nod. 

Then he turns back to Lita. “Are you and your gramma--” Here he perfectly mimics the word like she’s said it “--close? Do you stay at hers sometimes?”

At that she vehemently nods. “Yeah!” She basically yelps. “I was at her farm when I fell!”

“So you are supposed to be there?” Cisco clarifies.

“Yes, that’s where my mom is, too.” Lita’s voice sounds like it should have been obvious from the start. That’s child logic right there.

Hartley doesn’t bat an eye at that but gives her a serious nod. “That’s good. If you give Cisco your scarf, he can find a way home for you,” he explains softly, and even though she looks at him sceptically, she reaches up and pulls it off her neck. Cisco does not feel offended when she gives it to Hartley instead of him directly.

When it gets passed over to him at last, though, Cisco doesn’t take long to get a Vibe. Sometimes, he needs to concentrate extra hard, but for some reason, it just happens as easily as thinking of a simple equation right now. As if there’s something around that enhances his ability. Maybe meta-powers are stronger on the moon? That would be some sick water-bender move, if you ask him. 

Be it as it may, the point is: He quickly vibes Lita’s grandmother - one of those round white women who’ll feed you disgusting sweets where any proper grandma would insist you eat some greens. Cisco’s abuela? She’s a mix of the two, but her food’s always tasted good, even if it was secretly broccoli. Anyway, Lita’s gramma is the kind you’d find in a picture book for tiny caucasian children. Even if her mom wasn’t there, Cisco wouldn’t feel too bad leaving the kid in her care.

“--I fell into a Hole, of course!” Lita is saying when Cisco comes back to his non-metahuman senses. There’s a drawl in her voice that fits so much to the annoyance that Hartley displays when you don’t immediately catch up on what he’s saying that, suddenly, he actually understands how Hartley can talk to her so well.

And maybe Hartley catches on to that parallel, too, because he blinks a few times in surprise before giving their conversation another try. “What kind of hole?”

Now Lita just eyes him like he’s an alien. “The ones in the ground? There’s people falling into them all the time, it’s why there’s phones, like, everywhere.”

Hatley shoots a quick glance at Cisco, like he’s trying to convey… something. Cisco’s just not sure what exactly. He, himself? He thinks that’s somewhat of an explanation, like for why there was a phone on the freaking moon, but at the same time it raises so many more questions. That’s normal here? Or is there something going on in this world that makes it happen? Should they step in?

It seems to be pretty normal for Lita, though, so Cisco doesn’t say any of his thoughts about that. Knowing her, she’d probably bite off his head for being stupid. So instead, he just announces, “Okay, I can get us there.”

“You can?” Hartley asks.

Cisco can’t help but gasp at him. Hartley’s seen him work so many times-- relied on his powers so many times, why would he still question them? “Of course I can!”

“Really?” Lita asks now, too, but where there was doubt and dislike before, he now sees something like hope. 

So he nods. “Absolutely,” he tells her. “I’m gonna, uh, open up one of those holes-- but not in the ground but, like, in the air, yeah? And then Hartley’s gonna check if it’s right. If it is, we’ll go through, too. Is that a deal?”

Thankfully, Hartley doesn’t argue this time around. Not even when Cisco describes to him what the farm he’d vibed looked like - Lita, while probably not completely sure what’s going on, gives a few pointers that Cisco failed to mention. Hartley’s closed his eyes as he listened, conjuring the image in front of his inner eye as they spoke. He doesn’t ask for any more details, but declares that he’ll recognize it if it’s the one. 

Weirdly, Cisco trusts him. “Okay then,” he announces. “Here we go.”

And then there’s the familiar sight of a Breach.

-

“That went well,” Hartley announces when they step away from the farm. 

Cisco has to agree; it has been Lita’s mom, in the end, who saw them first. She’d reacted like any mother would: fretting about her child, alternating between scolding her and checking if she’s okay, all the while forming both angry and soothing words, before she moved on to look at them. She didn’t trust them, of course, but when they all - including Lita, thank God (for a second, Cisco had thought she might throw them under the bus just for fun) - explained what happened, she quickly thanked them for bringing her daughter back. Well, they didn’t explain all of it, of course, because now that would have been a lot to take in.

They’ve even accepted her offer to join them for a slice of pie (which became several more, naturally, because like any picture-book grandma, Lita’s baked a mean strawberry pie) since they’ve been lost in whatever this world is for way too long without any time to eat. On their way inside, Cisco caught sight of a way too familiar name on the doorbell, but if Hartley hasn’t seen it, he certainly won’t mention it. After all, he’d promised they wouldn’t run into any more doppelgängers. 

He’d be lying if he claimed he doesn’t want to see what this world’s Heat Wave is up to.

“Yeah,” is what he replies to Hartley, though, because it did go well. They weren’t shot on sight and got Lita back home. Cisco even got a thanks from her, in the end. He’ll cherish the look on Hartley’s face when she hugged him forever, that much is clear. “Kinda curious about those Holes,” he adds. Nobody really mentioned them during their conversation, which only added to his hypothesis that they’re really normal here.

“Me too,” Hartley says promptly. Then, after a moment, he continues, “But I feel like it would be unwise for us to investigate them. Who knows where they might lead?”

He’s got a point, Cisco has to admit that. But still, he wouldn’t be himself if he let it slide like this. “Why,” he says and nudges Hartley’s side, “Where’s your sense of adventure, Piper?”

Hartley’s expected reaction is the eyeroll he gives him. However, Cisco appreciates the grin that accompanies it, too. “We are on vacation,” he insists. “Besides, I’d rather we avoid life or death situations for the foreseeable future.”

“Roger that,” Cisco mock-salutes. Another promise he has no guarantee of keeping, but here he goes. Somehow, he feels like he’ll end up telling Hartley that he’ll pluck the stars from the sky for him while they’re on this trip if he doesn’t stop that soon.

But worse? He can already envision that he’d try.

And that’s fucked up, isn’t it?

Chapter Text

This, Cisco thinks, is where his powers should have brought them all along. The sun is shining, bright above them, and there’s a hum in the air of people speaking in a language he doesn’t know. It even smells differently. All in all, just the way a parallel Earth should be. 

At his side, Hartley is looking around with that halfway-hidden curiosity of his, where he keeps his face guarded but seems to soak in just about anything he can see. Once upon a time Cisco had thought that expression was an unfazed glare, something that was meant to irritate whoever was the victim of that stare - by now he recognizes the openness in the eyes, the slight flicker behind them as Hartley seems to take mental notes of every single detail. In retrospective, considering how often that expression has been aimed at him, he wonders how long Hartley’s list of things that pissed him off about Cisco must have gotten by now.

There’s people around them, hurrying along in clothes that look much thinner and more appropriate as the sun burns down on them; the two of them stick out like a sore thumb with their dark hoodies and jeans. So much even, that they attract some pointed fingers by small kids and raised eyebrows by their parents. 

“I suppose we should go and buy something… more fitting soon,” Hartley tells him quietly at some point. “If we can pay somehow, anyway.”

It’s the first thing he’s saying out loud since they stepped out of the Breach and made their way to where the noise had been coming from, but Cisco actually hadn’t minded. It was quite the comfortable silence in fact, maybe a little tired - which Cisco could whole-heartedly agree with. He can’t even tell how long they’ve been going without sleep since they left Kara’s Earth. In either case, Cisco hasn’t minded being left to take in this Earth without having to examine it right away.

Now, however, Hartley has begun talking, so Cisco thinks it’s the time for swapping notes. “What do you think, where are we?”

Hartley lifts an eyebrow now, looking like he’s not sure if Cisco’s honestly asking that. He seems halfway about to drop some obnoxious line when he stops himself, closing his mouth again for a brief moment. Whatever the hell that is about. “Egypt,” he simply says.

“You… sound pretty sure,” Cisco blinks.

Hartley’s face goes blank again as he starts listing off the things he has noticed. “The language sounds like Arabic, maybe with an accent, the fashion seems similar to stereotypical depictions of Ancient Egypt, and,” now a small grin creeps up on his face, “you should probably turn around,” he finishes, copying the way Cisco’s said the exact same words - what, hours? - earlier.

He looks so smug that Cisco has half the mind to keep standing there as he is just for the sake of it. If you ask him, he’s already done enough things for Hartley on this whole journey and even with that …. well, somewhat intimate conversation they’ve had at Kara’s place, Cisco’s nowhere at a point where he’s just following Hartley’s orders.

But they’re also on an entire new Earth and he’d be lying if he claimed he isn’t curious. Plus, actually, Hartley doesn’t just look smug but also pretty delighted, so whatever he’s seeing must be pretty cool. For his standards, anyway. And Cisco’s just learning that those aren’t that far off, actually. 

So he does turn around. But only after a beat, because Cisco would like to preserve his dignity, thank you very much.

What he sees, though… Well, Cisco had thought being on the actual freaking moon would be a situation that’s pretty undefeatable, but maybe he’s been wrong. Because, honestly, who can claim that they’ve seen a pyramid while it is built?

“Holy frack ,” he breathes, not sure what else to say. This sight is absolutely overwhelming, even if he’s got to admit he did not expect an ancient version of construction cranes standing there. He sure hopes that it means this Earth solely relies on that method of building rather than to physically harm an entire people that they’ve enslaved.

Hartley’s stepped closer to where Cisco’s been awestruck and their shoulders bump against one another. “Impressive, huh?”

“Impressive?” Cisco echoes, his eyes snapping over to Hartley. “You know, I eat impressive for breakfast! This is… That’s just… wow.”

“Eloquent.”

“Oh, shut up.” Cisco sticks out his tongue, which may seem childish, but so has Hartley’s tone been.

Hartley’s mouth opens like he wants to reply, but before a single word leaves it, he bites his lip and resolves to a light shrug. “So… what was that about not being able to cross Earths and times?” He wants to know after a moment.

“I never said that was impossible,” Cisco argues. “We just hadn’t had that possibility on our radar, don’t blame us for believing in Barry’s powers.” Those seem to develop more and more by each day, so it’s not like it’s completely unfounded that Barry might find himself running towards the next Big Bang or something. 

Again, Hartley looks like he’s about to counter with something, and for once Cisco has to admit he’s a bit disappointed when he keeps quiet. He’d actually like to hear Hartley’s thoughts about that. He’s got something of an outsider’s perspective, what with having been on the other side of the board at the beginning and then keeping away from the team for a few years. He must be noticing things that the rest of the team happen to overlook.

Cisco gives him a moment more, just in case his love for arguments wins over whatever dislike for him Hartley feels right now, but when Hartley keeps quiet, he sighs. “Okay, then,” he declares, “let’s go look for some new clothes.”

-

They don’t get far, actually, until two very muscular guys step into their way. Cisco’d thought they were just passing by, but it seems like they purposefully meant for the two of them to run against them, if their crossed arms and sour expressions are anything to go by. 

Next to him, as they step back, Cisco can hear Hartley take in a sharp breath. He quickly sends a prayer up to the sky, asking that Hartley will not say whatever’s come to his mind, because that sure as hell will be inappropriate, considering they’re practically in the arms of shirtless hot dudes. Then he thinks that he might have fucked up, since they’re apparently in Ancient Egypt and nobody in this time or space knows of his God. He thinks? He’s got to admit, he’s a little confused.

Thankfully, Hartley keeps his mouth shut and no lightning bolt zaps down to them either. Cisco counts that as a win, even if he’s met with grim stares. You can’t have everything, he supposes.

And before they can even try to start communicating with these dudes in any language or way, they’re both grabbed by the arms and pulled along. 

Come to think of it, Cisco might prefer being lost in space after all.

-

Their things have been taken away and they’re locked up. Well, tied up, rather. And not even inside a haunted pyramid. Cisco honestly can’t tell if he should be relieved or disappointed.

No, they’ve been taken to a… he’s not sure, really. Either a temple or palace, but he supposes those are difficult to distinguish. Were those even separate buildings? He remembers that pharaohs were supposed to be reincarnated gods or something. Tiny Jesuses - or popes…

“You had to take us to an Earth where we’d stick out,” Hartley sighs next to him. He’s still not given up inspecting just about anything around them. Which, admittedly, isn’t much. They’ve been tied up to the wall with heavy chains that cut into Cisco’s wrists with every single movement he makes, and the same material has been used to keep the metal doors shut. (He hadn’t even known there were doors in Ancient Egypt.)

While Hartley’s leaning forward to take a look at said door - and how does he even do that without wincing in pain? Cisco’s barely moved his hands and felt like he’s drawn blood with the sharp edges of the cuffs - Cisco’s leaning against the wall. He barely even has it in him any more to argue. Still, it’s not like he can let Hartley have the last word. “Excuse me?” He gasps. “We never had problems with being stuck on the wrong Earth and place until you mentioned it!”

“You just didn’t know about it!” Hartley counters. “Barry has been stuck on that evil Earth you mentioned!” He practically snaps back when the momentum hits, the chain restricting him. He couldn’t even make a single step forward, that’s how tightly wound they are.

Cisco can see him clenching his teeth and feels a pang of sympathy. He sighs when Hartley bumps back to the wall, hitting his shoulder in the move. “Doesn’t matter whose fault it was,” Cisco decides. “Fact is: We’re stranded in Ancient Egypt and we can’t even talk to these guys. Like, seriously! You speak six languages!” He says. And okay, he did just say they shouldn’t blame each other but that’s something worth noting, he thinks.

Hartley clicks his tongue. “Sorry that it didn’t cross my mind to learn the language of an ancient civilization just because we might--”

“You speak freakin’ Latin!” Cisco interrupts, a dry chuckle leaving his mouth. Then it clicks. “Wait. You speak Latin,” he says and turns his head to face Hartley.

“Yes, thank you for that reminder, Cisco,” Hartley answers. He doesn’t miss the eyeroll.

And oh, if this works he’ll have boasting rights forever. The fact that Hartley doesn’t connect the dots? Fantastic. “Dude!” He exclaims. “You’re not with me. Think about it: The Egyptians were in contact with the Romans, right? Like, Caesar and Cleo, the whole shebang.”

“Yes, there is a whole history; they switched from allies to enemies about a thousand times.”

He still doesn’t get it. Slowly, Cisco wonders if Hartley really is a genius after all. “So... they understand Latin.”

Now it clicks. “What,” Hartley makes, his eyes wide at the realization. “You want me to go speak in the language of their potential enemies? Cisco, the pyramids aren’t even built yet! There’s no way they already bonded with the Romans.”

“Potential is the magic word.” Okay, so maybe Cisco didn’t think that far. But at least he thought of something.

“That’s not helping!” Hartley’s voice is shrill in a way that hurts Cisco’s ears. He doesn’t even want to think how it must sound with his hearing aids being turned on. 

Damn, he really doesn’t want to deal with a panicking Hartley Rathaway. Not ever, but especially not when locked up in a small area. Stranded who knows when in Egypt. 

“Look,” he says carefully. Man, this really would be easier if he could put a hand on Hartley’s shoulder or something. The guy’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t even react. "Hartley, look at me,” he tries again, this time bumping his elbow against Hartley’s side. It works, thankfully. Hartley looks like he’s seriously about to freak out, which in turn makes Cisco’s heart try to jump out of his chest-- he isn’t supposed to be the calm one! He never is! “We just need them to free us from the wall. They don’t even need to free our hands. I can open a Breach behind my back, but we need to get through it,” he explains. “So it really doesn’t matter if they greet us as friends or decide to kill us, they just gotta let us move."

Hartley’s face grows sour at that reminder, which honestly? It works as a relief. That means Hartley’s stopped rushing from one scenario or the other but really thinks about Cisco’s plan. If he comes up with something better, he can totally be his guest. But that’s the game plan for now.

Apparently, it stays like this, because Hartley narrows his eyes at him and states, “I really hate you.”

-

Cisco prides himself in having a loud voice. It’s always driven his family, particularly Dante, up the wall, which was kind of the whole point. And testing out the limits of his range when his voice finally broke at 17. So yeah. Cisco knows he can summon up quite the volume when he feels like it.

Hartley, though… That’s a whole new level. He doesn’t even wince at Cisco’s shouts, but trumps them, too. It’s quite the difference to how quiet, just like his beloved rats, he usually is. It’s a bit freaky, especially since they basically shout nonsense, just trying to catch their captors’ attention. 

It works, in the end, even if it’s just one dude who wants to make them shut up, if his expression is anything to go by. Cisco’s pretty sure he wouldn’t mind doing it with his fist.

He grumbles something, again in that language they don’t speak. According to Hartley it’s Arabic, or rather an old dialect of it, but to Cisco it sounds more like the mumbles Dante’s let out while he slept.

Which doesn’t mean they’re any closer to actually speaking it, though. Something Hartley recognizes, too, because he looks up at the guy with something akin to doe-eyes and asks, “Latinum?”

Might be a good idea, truth be told. Even if this guy doesn’t speak Latin, he might recognize its name. He definitely seems to mull it over. 

And then he says something more - seriously, shouldn’t he have gotten by now that they have no clue what he’s saying? - before turning around and stalking away.

“Well,” Cisco says as they watch him leave, “at least he didn’t kill us?”

And maybe he deserves Hartley’s response being a groan.

-

To be honest, Cisco always kind of enjoyed listening to Hartley when he dives into a foreign language. Even if he usually uses them to show off and to taunt people… Cisco would be lying if he claimed he didn’t like seeing how the other’s lips form around the words almost effortlessly. Hartley’s Spanish is average at best, yeah, but it works well enough. Whenever he speaks another language - ASL included - Cisco tries to figure out what he’s saying; in French and Latin, he can make out single words sometimes, with them being so close to Spanish, but never whole phrases.

Right now, Cisco doesn’t have a single clue what Hartley is saying - he’s dived back into yelling after some time of being left behind there, seemingly growing less and less patient. It sounds like gibberish to him, but he can tell Hartley tries to seem more put-together than he is. It’s audible in the shaky breaths he takes in between sentences, though Cisco can’t tell if he really hears them or if he feels them through where their chains meet at the wall.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take too long, once their yelling started again, until there’s footsteps approaching, though Harley seems oblivious to them. He doesn’t falter one bit in reciting the speech he’s produced on the go; no, instead it’s become somewhat melodic, like he’s repeating it again and again. Cisco can’t tell if it’s really the case, but the way Hartley squints like he’s trying to conjure a memory makes him believe it.

Hartley only stops when Cisco elbows him. His eyes fall open instantly, giving him a glare that he’s once hated but that only reminds him of a sleepy cat nowadays. Only when Cisco nods into the direction of their visitor - visible now as he steps closer and closer - does he follow his gaze.

It’s a young man - probably younger than either of them - with a shaved head, safe for a ponytail at the side of it. Somehow he looks familiar. His bare chest is muscular, abs fading into the bright skirt - though Cisco thinks this might be the wrong term to call it - he wears. Whether they are real Egyptians or not, Cisco is definitely jealous of the eyeliner skills visible on his face. 

If Hartley notices what a fine specimen he is, he does not comment on it, thankfully. Instead, he takes another deep breath and sits up as well as he can. Then he starts talking again - from the sound of it the same as before, but more quietly now that someone is here to listen to his words.

Only to interrupt him after what must have been only a few sentences. The guy lifts a hand as he speaks, a gesture that’s so familiar that Cisco suddenly has a name for the face: Carter Hall. Or, Khufu, if he remembers correctly. Definitely looks darker than the version of him that he’s met in his time, but that doesn’t mean he’s not flooded with dislike as soon as he realizes. Great, really. Carter’s lookalike is calm as he talks, this time in a language that sounds different from the one the men used before and more like Hartley’s. It’s good that he doesn’t sound angry, Cisco supposes, though he can’t tell what he is answering.

Hartley hesitates for a second, probably trying to find an excuse for them being here. Cisco notices his eyes flicker over to him for the briefest of moments before he gives an answer. It’s not as long as what he’s said before, but there’s something… something like pleading in the tone he uses. Truth be told, that’s not something Cisco’s expected to ever hear in his life.

The Egyptian doesn’t seem to be convinced just yet, if the raised eyebrow is any clue. He says - or maybe asks? - another thing, clearly expecting an explanation. 

Seeing as he won’t understand anything of the conversation either way, Cisco decides to concentrate on the little things. For example, the way Hartley squirms a little against the wall, moving his hands as if he wants to gesture - or maybe use ASL, which would be somewhat comforting. Hartley always sounds way too fluent when he talks, like he never has to think about vocabulary. It’s good to have a reminder that Hartley’s human, too.

Speaking of, Cisco’s not so sure whether that’s the case for their new friend, honestly. He’s rarely seen anyone so ripped, safe for maybe the Kryptonians, so… yeah. Another point to the ‘Might Be Carter Hall’ toll. Didn’t Ancient Egyptians claim to be able to bond with Gods? Full Digimon Tamers move? Or did the Middle Grade books about Egypt mythology that he’d listened to make that up? Honestly, he can’t remember. Anyway, the dude is way too hot and chill at the same time for his liking. Not to mention that Cisco doesn’t have the best track record with Carter. It would probably help if he could make out what he’s saying, whether he’s actually secretly friendly, but Cisco doesn’t trust him one bit.

Which is why it alarms him when the guy says one more small thing before abruptly turning around and leaving them there. That was so not the plan.

“What?” Cisco yelps. “Where is he going?”

Next to him, Hartley looks somewhat relieved. Maybe the conversation went alright then, judging by how he’s leaned his head back against the brick wall. “Retrieving our things.” He talks rather loudly, in contrast to Cisco’s hiss. That might be a confirmation that nobody will understand them anyway.

“What? Why?” Cisco tries once more. Gee, getting anything out of the guy is a whole day’s agenda.

“Because I asked him to?” Hartley offers. At Cisco’s blank stare he sighs. “I said we had an offering from our lord. Not true, of course, but it ensures getting our things back.”

“And having them open our ties,” Cisco doesn’t remind him, but he thinks it needs saying.

“Obviously,” Hartley answers, but it’s lacking venom. In fact, he sounds quite tired. And he didn’t make a single joke about being tied up so far.

“Hey,” Cisco makes, trying to bump his elbow against Hartley’s. He fails thanks to the rope, but he gains his attention anyway. “You okay?”

“We appear to be stuck in Ancient Egypt, unable to use any of our usual defenses. What do you think?” Hartley wants to know. Then he drops his head against the wall once more, probably with more force than he’d meant to, judging by his pained expression. He lets out another sigh. “Look, it’s not like I don’t enjoy action or near death experiences, but maybe we can have an uneventful Earth next?”

Cisco snorts at that. It’s not like he’s chosen for them to jump from one trouble to the next. Hell, Hartley had been the one who picked up the phone on the moon! But he has to agree. This trip was meant as a way of a field trip, yes, but also as a vacation . It would be nice to just relax for once.

Before he can answer anything, though, footsteps echo through the hall once more. This time, it’s multiple pairs that travel much faster than the one before.

“You need to check for your gauntlets,” Cisco declares. There’s no point in getting back their bags when the most valuable things are missing. He’s sure Hartley’s come to the same conclusion but he doesn’t make any remark. “Tell me if we’re good to go.”

He sure hopes that they won’t have to search an entire palace for where they might have brought the gauntlets if they’re not in Hartley’s duffel bag anymore. He’s watched documentaries and the Egyptians built way too grandiose buildings for his liking. And he’d rather not be exposed to the danger of offending any Gods and ending up cursed or worse.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Hartley nod. He’s staring ahead, getting ready for what’s to come.

Carter’s doppelgänger is amongst the newcomers, walking slower than them. Cisco supposes he must be someone important who shouldn't be seen rushing around. The other two men have an even broader build than him, but at the same time they appear almost sheepish when they hesitate and wait for an order.

The VIP doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, he looks into the cell. At them. Cisco bites back a gulp at that. He’s had Carter’s stare directed at him before, with utter dislike when they’d both been interested in the same woman; now, there’s similarity but at the same time, the difference couldn’t be bigger. There’s more calculation in his gaze for sure.

Hartley is the one who speaks up first. Cisco can’t tell what he’s saying, of course, but he notices that he’s keeping it shorter this time. He sounds more serious, too. More demanding.

Their host is in the mood to argue, though, as it appears. He answers something with a frown on his face - a question, maybe? - and shoots a look in Cisco’s direction.

At that, Hartley shifts his weight a bit, leaning into Cisco’s space as well as he can. If it weren’t for the chains that must be cutting into his wrists by now, he’d have stepped in front of him, as if to guard him. Which is stupid, because Cisco’s the one who would be able to use his powers if his hands were free - Hartley has none. While Hartley replies something at last, his voice cold and almost frantic, Cisco takes a look at their bags.

He doesn’t care much for his own. They’d agreed, before, not to take too much technology with them - as much as it’s pained them both - having learnt from stories that the Legends told them about misplacing bits and pieces at the wrong time and place. Cisco didn’t even pack his electric toothbrush. Nothing that’s in his bag could endanger this Earth’s timeline, really, except for the modern style of his clothes. Hartley’s bag, however… there’s not only his gauntlets to watch out for but the Binder, too. Because Cisco pretty much knows it by heart at this point but Hartley decided it makes a good bed-time story. Cisco doesn’t even want to imagine how bad it would be if the Egyptians figured out what to do with the stuff in the duffel bag.

He can’t tell if they’ve opened it yet - at first he thought it’s safe since they’d probably ripped it open when seeing the zipper because they wouldn’t have known what it is exactly - but then he’s met with uncertainty. Regular Ancient Egyptians have already been way too good at figuring out stuff, there’s no guarantee that these here are any dumber. In fact, the opposite may be true. He just had to trust that their respect for other people’s belongings (if it exists) has lucked out.

In contrast to that, it bothers him surprisingly little to trust Hartley’s words. Some time ago he’d have demanded to know precisely what the guy says on his behalf. He’s always known that the Rathaways have trained him to have a way with words, but he always felt like that would never pay out in his favour. Now he has to trust that it will.

He can tell that Hartley grows a little impatient. That’s nothing new - he’s prone to get snarky when others don’t keep up with what he’s been saying, especially when he’s explained it a couple of times already. Cisco’s found that metaphors, the scientific rather than the flowery kind, help Hartley articulate what others are too slow to grasp, but that doesn’t work with everyone. Even Barry and Caitlin have struggled with following Hartley’s brilliantly twisted mind sometimes. Of course, Cisco can’t tell if it’s the same frustration right now, but it does evoke a similar reaction. 

From the sounds of it, Hartley doesn’t repeat himself anymore. Instead, he seems to be trying out different phrasings or something.

What it leads to is the two carriers setting aside their bags when Ancient Carter tells them something in their language. Then he steps towards the door himself.

Hartley says one more thing, his eyes wide for a split second before they fall back into their squint. Whatever it is that he says, Fake Carter orders his henchmen something and they pick the bags up again. Honestly, can’t they just decide? Cisco feels like he’s stuck in an over-done thriller.

But then the guy opens the tie on the door, opening it gently and giving way for the others to step in themselves. They’re careful and hesitate, as if they’re not sure what to do.

“You need to pretend you’re searching for something,” Hartley tells Cisco, apparently assured that their English is the safest choice. Maybe it is. Spanish certainly could be too close to Latin. Before Cisco can answer, Hartley slips back into Latin and addresses Ponytail again.

It’s a whole thing, really. Hartley says something in Latin, and that has to be translated to the carriers there. Cisco kind of wished Hartley would do him the same favour. But he supposes the men aren’t getting any more than orders either.

In the end, the men put down the bags in front of them. Cisco’d just have to stretch a bit and he’d be touching his. He wouldn’t be able to grab just yet, yeah, but he’s in reach. With his feet. That’s a development. When the guys step even closer, he shoots a look at Hartley, trying to figure out if things are going according to plan. This would be so much easier if their hands were free - since Hartkey’s joined Team Flash full-time, they’ve all picked up a bit of ASL; short signs like “go,” “attack,” and the like. Any of those would be helpful right now.

He can’t even trust Hartley’s facial expression. When his friend nods at him, though, he can relax a little. He appreciates the mouthed “Wait,” coming from him, too. It is a nice reassurance because in the next moment one of the men steps into his personal space, reaching behind him.

It takes a few moments until he’s opened the ties, but Cisco feels the pressure leave immediately. It takes all of him not to jump into his fight mood right away. Given their position, he could easily sucker-punch his opponent (maybe even with the moment of surprise on his side). Instead, he waits for the man to step back again - though he stays close, there’s barely 4 feet between Cisco and the dude’s watchful eyes - and slowly lifts his hands to his front again. It's not just something to pass the time until Hartley is freed, too, when he massages his wrists. They’ve been stuck like this for way too long. 

But he does have to wait for Hartley. He’s got the lead now; not just because he’s the one who can understand their kidnappers, but also because Cisco’d already have hopped into the next dimension if he were on his own. Now he needs to wait until Hartley’s made sure they’re not surrounded by thieves. Thank God that he always puts his gauntlets on top of everything else. That should mean it won’t take a long search to make sure they’re still there.

It does not mean Cisco's any patient about waiting until Hartley’s hands are free. If he got higher security than him, then Cisco’d get a little offended, just saying.

And then, from one second to the other, things go fast. As soon as Hartley’s chains snap open, he suddenly excels at multitasking: bending down to grab his bag from where it lies, shoving Cisco’s into his arms and yelling, “Now!”, all the while shoving him into a direction. Cisco’s barely got the time to open a Breach before he’d crash into the next wall.

Somehow, thanks to some miracle, he manages. And, over the sounds of angry yells and heavy footsteps, he manages to close it before any muscular pursuers come after them.

Chapter Text

While Cisco is so relieved that he has to fight the urge to fall to the ground and kiss it - this hasn't been the most dangerous situation he's ever been in, sure, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been scared shitless - Hartley opens his duffel bag immediately again. It's odd, because you'd think someone as attentive as him would take in his surroundings at first, especially when he's only just looked inside his bag more moments ago, but it is what it is.

It confuses Cisco so much that he doesn't look around either, but stares at Hartley as he eyes his gauntlets.

It's why Cisco doesn't miss the soft sigh of relief and mumble coming from his lips, declaring, "They work," before lifting a hand to his ear.

Now, while Cisco is rather intelligent - some might say a genius , thank you very much - he knows that that usually only extends itself to equations and machines and whatnot rather than real-life mysteries like the ones Iris uncovers. He knows he misses out on logical connections sometimes, not to mention the many times he puts his foot in his mouth because he accidentally zoned out during a conversation. Right now, though, his mind suddenly aligns so many things in a line that he fears any moment he'll find himself throwing his fist in the air and exclaim, "Eureka!"

Instead, he reaches for Hartley's shoulder and says, "Dude! Your hearing aids didn't work?" 

It explains so much, actually, starting with Hartley's increasing exhaustion and the way he'd keep squinting and frowning, not to mention  the volume of his voice when he spoke. Cisco still doesn't know just what that Earth's shtick had been - whether they'd really jumped to an Earth that's been stuck in the past, like Hartley had come to think, or if they were in a Stargate situation where Ancient relics are mixed with technology or whatever. If it was the latter, the cell they'd been stuck at could have been laced with something to dampen electronics. If it was the former, then it might just be that those generally didn't work there. Either way, it's clear now that Hartley's aids have been knocked out cold (and the same had gone for the gauntlets, apparently) and he must have been in pain. Pain that only increased the more noise he's had to listen to. Including Cisco's voice. Shit . If he'd known, he would have kept his mouth shut the whole time - he's vibed Hartley once, on accident, when they were figuring out how to improve the aids and got first-hand experience of what the accelerator has done to him. Even when they were on worse terms, Cisco would never have wished it upon the other.

"They're rebooting," Hartley says matter-of-factly. He doesn't look any better yet but didn't flinch at the contact.  The frown is in place again and Cisco's sure that, if he weren't so proud, Hartley would ask him to tune down his volume a bit.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Cisco wants to know. He can see why he doesn't make a big deal of it now that there's a guarantee it will get better - soon, hopefully - but earlier it could've very well been the case that he would have had to suffer for hours if not longer.

For a split second, Hartley's face goes soft, with his mouth opening slightly like he's about to give a real response. But then he shrugs off Cisco's hand and says, "Well, I had to converse, didn't I?"

It's not exactly what Cisco asked, but he figures it's all he'll get, probably. "Okay, you're cranky. We're gonna get you someplace to rest."

He expects Hartley to snark back,  but instead he just nods. The pain must have taken a stronger effect than he figured. Hartley still insists on carrying his own bag and Cisco lets him. He doesn't feel like arguing, really. Before they set off, though, they both look around.

They’re standing on an even ground, with some fields of corn visible not too far off. There’s no hint of any other buildings, let alone a city, anywhere close. Only a large mountain in the distance, which reflects the easy light against his purple surface in a way that it touches everything around it. It doesn’t look abandoned despite the fact that they seem to be the only people around here - Cisco wonders if maybe they should feel out of place, like they’re disturbing the peace of nature, but somehow… somehow it feels like they should be right here.

"So, how do you expect us to find a place?" Hartley wants to know. His voice is much softer now that he doesn't have to shout over a sound only he manages to hear, a bit weak even. 

Cisco opens a pocket in his bag and produces a pack of painkillers. Thank God for Caitlin, he thinks when he passes it over to Hartley. He knows better than to expect a thanks, so he explains, "Well, if this world works anything like I think, we won't have a problem."

Unsurprisingly, Hartley still manages to raise an eyebrow. "Which Earth is this?" He wants to know as his eyes take in the mountain, and everything it colours purple. 

"Um," Cisco starts. It's been a stupid thought, really, and now he feels awkward for going through with it just on a silly association. "Look, you wanted a nice quiet Earth that won't try to kill us, and in my book that's almost as impossible as asking for the answer to the universe--"

"Cisco, are you telling me we're on Earth-42?"

“Look, I panicked okay? We were freaking imprisoned and I had no idea what the frack you guys were talking about, so if you had any plans then you absolutely didn’t tell me beyond demanding we go somewhere safe and it’s not like I have those Earths memorized, like, seriously, do you think we ever just stumble upon our own Aruba?” Cisco spats back. In the next moment he feels a little bad - he knows first hand just how bad headaches, not Hartley’s specifically but in general, can be; he didn’t mean to make it worse with his rant. 

Hartley looks at him, his eyes open instead of squinting in pain, so he guesses he’s in luck. It does not save him from a scoff, though. “You’re unbelievable,” Hartley says, but his voice lacks venom. Cisco supposes he’s still tired.

“It’s called incredible ,” he corrects and somehow that earns him a light chuckle.

-

In the end, they’ve discovered a house that stood open and empty - Cisco checked in more ways than one, even without Hartley’s verbal insisting because he already knew it would be coming. To him, there’s not even a trace that anyone has ever been inside, even though it’s fully furnished and there’s no dust settled anywhere. It looks welcoming despite it being so subtle and… well, empty. There’s not only no people, but also no pictures or anything, as if that house had just been waiting for them. If that thought hadn’t been so disturbing, he’d have thrown it into Hartley’s face since it’s only a testament to the fact that he chose the right Earth.

He’s kept it to himself, though, and somehow managed to talk Hartley into taking a nap because the guy still looked like he needed it, with how pale he’s been and all. He must have guessed correctly, because Hartley hadn’t made a big fuss about it. He’s dropped onto the couch in the living room and got knocked out cold, so fast even that Cisco’s wondered whether he’s meant to stay close in case something was still up with this house or if he was just too exhausted to climb the stairs. It’s probably been a mix of both.

For good measure, Cisco stays downstairs, too. He doesn’t plan on crashing any time soon, he leaves that to Hartley. He’s too high on adrenaline still to sleep it off and, to be honest, he thinks Hartley might have his head if he found out neither of them kept watch in a foreign environment. Even if Cisco insists that it will be fine. How he’s so sure, he doesn’t know. He’s just gotta have faith, he supposes.

So, while Hartley takes his nap, Cisco decides to check out the rest of the house’s ground floor. With every door left open, of course, to ensure he can easily check in if Hartley does so much as stirr. 

There’s a guest bathroom right next to the entrance door; the proper one must be upstairs, then. He’ll have to check for the shower later. Across, there’s the kitchen: a small space, really, with the cabinets lined almost all around every wall, but there’s a table with bar stools, too. The fridge is working and nicely stocked. With so many things tailored to Cisco’s tastes that his assumption about this whole world being perfect. As he looks through the cabinets, he only finds more and more things - and a pack of lollipops, of which he puts one into his mouth right away.

On this level it only leaves doors leading away from the living room - one of them is the terrace, that’s easy to spot, and he leaves that be for the moment. It would be cool to see the sunset properly, he guesses, but he also fears the door could make noise when propping it open and wake Hartley. He’s had enough of his cranky mood for today.

The other door, this one of wood opposed to the other one’s glass, reveals itself to lead down into the basement. Cisco may be a reckless idiot sometimes, but even he knows to leave that one for later, too. Who knows what could await him down there. No, he’d rather stay here until further notice. 

Rummaging through the cupboards in the living room is off the table, too, even though they look fantastic - he’s spotted the big TV and consoles, so he guesses it must truly be a nerd’s Makkah. He knows himself, though, and the way his excitement won’t be stoppable if he finds something that does interest him. He would probably already be too loud just while flipping through the games, so he pries his eyes away from the room altogether - as hard as it is - and lets Hartley have his silence.

His feet lead him back to the kitchen and he wonders how long it’s been since they ate something real. It’s hard to say, really, with all the action and Earth-hopping and whatnot. Now that he thinks about it, he can feel his stomach rumble around practically nothing. And if he’s hungry, then it’s definitely the case for Hartley (whom he hasn’t seen eat once during their whole trip) and he knows how hunger can worsen a headache.

It’s a struggle just thinking about it, really, but he decides to cook. Even if he doesn’t know if Hartley has any preferences - maybe he’s a vegan? It would certainly fit - or allergies. There’s so much food here that if he won’t eat what Cisco comes up with, he won’t starve either way. For good measure, though, Cisco stays away from any meat ingredients and takes stock of the veggies available.

It’s almost pacifying to do something as normal as cooking a meal, Cisco finds as he settles into a rhythm cutting the bell peppers, zucchini and eggplants he found. He can’t help humming softly under his breath; usually it would be way too quiet for him like this, but he keeps in mind to let Hartley sleep. The stove had distracted him enough when he’d tried to figure it out when he put on some rice to cook, but now that it’s heating up, he’s left to his own thoughts.

It’s good that he knows the recipe by heart because as he reminisces about what’s happened earlier, he really doesn't want to be interrupted by his own mind. He supposes that Hartley had a point when he said he was the one who had to talk to those Egyptians, seeing as Cisco didn’t know jackshit about what they were saying, but still… It kinda irks him that Hartley hasn’t said anything about his hearing aids not working. And that he’s meant to keep it a secret, seeing how quiet he’s been even in his relief about them booting up again. Sure, it’s not like Cisco could have really helped in any way, but he’d appreciated knowing about it.

What if they’d have had to fight? If Cisco had relied on him using his gauntlets to have his back like they’d worked on the previous Earth? It’s been reckless that Hartley wouldn’t tell him about it and he can’t buy the language barrier as the sole reason for it. No, it must have been Hartley’s freaking pride again - he’s never been good at admitting his faults and Cisco supposes he won’t start now. 

For such a smart guy, Cisco thinks as he cuts the tomatoes into quarters, Hartley’s really an idiot sometimes. Not only has he had malfunctions of his aids before while Cisco’s been there, he’s also been there for a few of Cisco’s breakdowns. He should know by now that they’re in the same boat sometimes, that Cisco can relate, and that he wouldn’t ever think him weak for it. There’s reasons why he could think less of the guy, but a sensory overload won’t ever be one of them. 

Sure, nobody ever likes admitting to being in pain, least of all to a person who they’ve sworn was their mortal enemy only a few years ago (and look how that turned out), but this has been a whole different situation. Lives have been at stake! Cisco supposes - there’s no way of being sure what could have happened, really, but he’s glad they haven’t stuck around to find out. 

Though he has to admit, he wonders what those Egyptians might have thought when they disappeared into thin air. Crap, they totally fueled those guys’ belief in magic, haven’t they? Maybe they think they’ve been fooled by some gods-- Cisco would love to be worshipped as a god. Even if that reminds him too much of the words Reverb had told him when they were put against one another…

He shakes himself out of those thoughts, forcing his mind to focus on the task on hand. Creating some passable Ratatouille that Hartley won’t make too much of a fuss about. It’s boring, really, but if he doesn’t pay attention to the way he stirrs the veggies around, then he’ll spiral again. As it usually happens when he has no way to distract himself.

In the end, he settles with acting like he’s on a cooking show. That is to say, he comments on everything he does under his breath. Only feels a little stupid for the first five minutes. 

It does do the trick, though. His thoughts are in line the entire time while he tries to make mixing tomato sauce sound interesting and they’re still under his control when he opens the bags of rice. They do, however, get interrupted when there’s a soft chuckle coming from the door.

At once, Cisco freezes in the middle of his movements. Sure, it isn’t the worst activity he could ever be caught in - it isn’t the worst activity that he has been caught in - but that doesn’t mean he isn’t absolutely mortified right now. Because that’s Hartley. Hartley with a stick up his ass who’s all work and no fun and who just came around to accepting Cisco’s quirks and it’s not like he has an explanation for this except that his brain is a little funky sometimes.

"By all means," Hartley says when Cisco's slowly turned towards him. "Feel free to continue." He gestures freely and there's a small smirk on his lips. With the way his hair is ruffled and glasses still missing, he might just be too sleepy still to make fun of Cisco.

“Um,” Cisco makes in return, blinking over at him. He’s never seen Hartley shortly after waking up, because the guy wakes up at the crack of dawn even on this adventure of theirs, so a part of him feels like basking in the sight and look for something to use for blackmail later, like Hartley undoubtedly will with learning that Cisco braids his hair for the night. He finds, though, that there isn’t really anything; sure, he looks ridiculous with his hair unkempt and eyes small, but there’s nothing too awful. In fact, the pillow marks on his cheek and wrinkles in the clothes only make him look cute . “I cooked?”

“I can see that,” Hartley says, nodding towards the stove. “You got your own show, too?”

Cisco ducks his head. “How much did you hear?”

“Not much,” Hartley answers while pushing himself off the doorway. “Thanks for keeping quiet,” he adds, voice more earnest than he’s ever heard it.

“Yeah, of course,” Cisco shrugs. He won’t say how hard it’s been for him because there’s no way that Hartley won’t make fun of him for that. So he turns back to the sauce and explains, “I wasn’t sure what you eat, figured I best make something meat-free. You like Ratatouille?”

“The movie was nice.”

It’s enough to make Cisco turn again. “I’ll be damned,” he breathes. “Did Hartley Rathaway just reference an animated movie ?”

Hartley chuckles in response. Alright, maybe he really isn’t completely awake yet. “Only a matter of time until you rubbed off on me,” he answers and stalks over to the table.

Since he doesn’t complain about the choice of food, Cisco figures it’s quite alright, so he begins to set the table.

While they eat - which isn’t as much of a stiff affair as Cisco had thought and has both of them eating more than he’d expected even of himself - Cisco fills him in with what he’s found out about the house so far. If Hartley appreciates his staying to the ground level, he certainly doesn’t say so. He doesn’t say anything about the perfect stocking of the cupboards either and doesn’t propose that they go check out the rest either. He’s pretty quiet all in all.

“So, how are you feeling?” Cisco wants to know. He could slap himself for not asking any sooner.

“Fine,” Hartley announces. “Which, for your information, would have happened anyway once the aids worked again but… yeah.” He’s looking down onto his plate where he’s left over the eggplant, but lifts his gaze when he continues. “So, what does the Binder say about this Earth?”

“Nothing. It’s tabula rasa here. If anyone we know has ever been here, then they certainly didn’t tell me about it.”

Hartley shakes his head. “I still can’t believe you chose Earth- 42 on a whim.”

“I told you, I panicked,” Cisco insists. “I mean, I had no idea what you chatted about there. Hell , I didn’t even know you were in pain !”

“If you’d known, it wouldn’t have changed anything about your situation,” Hartley answers stoically. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking a bit grumpy.

“What about yours?”

“Hm?”

“What about your situation?” Cisco clarifies. “I could have helped.”

“Oh yeah?” Hartley raises an eyebrow. “And how would you have done that?”

“I don’t know! Shut my mouth?!” Cisco offers. When Hartley still doesn’t look impressed at all, he gasps. “Hey! I totally just proved that I’m capable of not making noise!”

It coaxes a chuckle out of Hartley. “Truly a miracle.”

“Screw you,” Cisco sys, but to his own surprise it doesn’t come out any viciously. For good measure, he sticks out his tongue, too.

-

It’s gotten dark by the time they’d wrapped up dinner and fatigue became more and more noticeable in Cisco’s bones by the minute. He’s just glad that Hartley’s nap has helped keep him from picking an argument because he really wouldn’t have had the energy for it. He feels like he’s gonna fall over any second.

They don’t actually talk about it, but at once decide not to check out the rest of the house tonight. It will have to wait until the morning was the silent agreement they made while cleaning up and retreating back to the living room.

Upon seeing the couch, Cisco really does crash on it face-first, too worn out to even react to Hartley’s laughter. And honestly? He doesn’t even care what the guy is up to. He just wants to sleep.

-

“Cisco.”

It’s a cautious sound, not too loud, as if trying not to startley him but-- but it’s a voice that shouldn’t be there, that can’t be there, because he’s just seen him get killed, stabbed through the chest by Thawne, by Savitar, by Zoom, his back broken by all of them, too, and--

Hands on his shoulders, feeling wrong in that place but at the same time very real and Cisco--

Cisco flinches as his eyes snap open, only to be met by a dark silhouette in front of a darker background. He can’t see, and his chest heaves, up and down, up and down, and he wants to scream because--

“Cisco,” the voice tries again, careful and at the same time shrill, the hands pressing harder into the flesh on his shoulders. “Cisco, you need to breathe. Follow me: In…”

And Cisco does, the air filling his lungs and it hurts to keep it in, but somehow… It helps him calm down, sober up and concentrate on what’s here, what’s in front of him.

“And out…” Hartley says, because this is Hartley; in the flesh, right in front of him and his hands on Cisco’s shoulders, he can feel them. “Yes, that’s it--”

"You're okay," Cisco can't help but breathe, his hands reaching up blindly to find where Hartley is still holding onto him. His fingers are cold where they grip into Cisco's shirt and it's such a difference from the warmth of his body heat that Cisco says it again, taking the difference of temperatures as another confirmation.

"Yeah, of course I'm--" Hartley starts pulling away, but on instinct Cisco holds onto him, closing his hands around Hartley's. "Did you have a Vibe?" 

Cisco's becoming more of himself again by the second, so his brain is slowly kicking up again, too. There's a fine line between a dream and a Vibe most of the time, one that he's worked so hard to figure out that he thinks even when drugged or something he would be able to tell. It didn't feel like a Vibe, though Cisco's never been able to describe the difference properly - Caitlin had asked, out of curiosity, a couple of times and all attempts of explaining have ended in confusion. What matters is that he knows, can feel , the difference and say what it was. 

He's most certainly sure that this just now had been a nightmare, even if an extremely realistic one (and hasn't his definition of 'realistic' changed drastically in the last years?). He shudders at the phantom images still fluttering through his mind - Hartley's face, more sharp than it is now in the scarce light of the moon, contorted in pain. He’s clear enough in the head to keep himself from reaching out to tilt Hartley’s head to check if there’s blood running from his ears, like it’s been the case in his dream… But no, this is real and Hartley is okay and won’t suddenly transform into Savitar’s scarred face--

“No,” he says firmly, finally sitting up. His hands fall from Hartley’s in the motion and maybe that’s for the better. “Just… a dream.”

Hartley stays silent for a moment. He doesn’t move back either, meaning there’s only a few inches between where he’s knelt down next to Cisco’s make-shift bed. Then, he carefully asks, “Is it okay if I turn on the light?”

Cisco hesitates. Being able to see would be a good method to really reassure himself that it had been a dream-- but it could also end horribly. He’s scared, frankly, to find out there is blood running from all the openings of Hartley’s head, all because he hadn’t figured it out quickly enough.

Hartley’s voice is steady as he talks, though, even if whatever flailing and noises Cisco must have made clearly have startled him. He is talking, however, and it’s not even that filled with panic and especially not at himself so maybe-- Maybe Hartley is okay.

Just like he’s already feeling better, what with being plunged back into reality. The last bits of those images flare off, so much so that he’s barely able to grasp them any more. “Yeah,” he answers, nodding even in the darkness.

Hartley doesn’t even need to fumble around, instead the light flickers on in an instant. It’s so bright that they both squirm, but it hopes all the same when Cisco squints at Hartley. The details of what he’s seen are gone now, but the overall feeling is still simming through his bones - seeing that Hartley is here, that he’s alright, almost makes them vanish completely.

“Fuck,” Cisco makes, relief colouring his voice as he drives a hand over his face. He ignores the wetness against his palm at the movement but ducks his head when he notices that Hartley is watching carefully. “I, uh-- Sorry for that,” he offers, lazily gesturing at the wrinkles in the other’s clothing.

Hartley looks even more unsure of what to do, judging by the way his hands open and close but never fall. His eyes aren’t fixed on Cisco after all. Instead they’re moving around, trying to search for something on him just like Cisco’d done with him moments earlier.

Asking him if everything is alright won’t do, Cisco knows that. Hartley would deflect and say that this is about him -- And, well, apart from the usual conversational awkwardness Hartley does seem okay, so Cisco decides to carry on with the talking.

“You know, that’s truly the worst to come from the accelerator,” he says with a sigh. “Dreams just… feel so real.”

He doesn’t miss the way Hartley raises his eyebrow skeptically. “Really? That’s the worst for you?”

“I mean… no, not really.” Cisco rolls onto his stomach, picking at his lip. “I mean, I could have done without the emotional manipulations. Or, like, the headaches. And I don’t really appreciate almost dying every week but-- that comes with being a hero. It’s worth it! I’m a freaking superhero! Teenage Cisco would throw a fit.”

“Yeah, adult Cisco seems pretty chill,” Hartley comments dryly.

Instantly, Cisco feels bad. He’s rattled on about how his life has basically turned into a dream come true to no one less than Hartley . Hartley, who’s already suffered from the consequences of the particle accelerator before it even exploded. Evil Wells has done his best to completely wreck Hartley’s reputation when he came close to interrupting his whole scheme - Cisco has never asked, for obvious reasons, but he can imagine the struggles that must have come with that. Completely stripped of any income, thrown out even of his last vague support system… It must have been awful. And then came the explosion and… until he managed building the first pair of semi-working hearing aids, he must have been in unbearable pain. It’s been a whole series of inescapable nightmares for Hartley.

When he looks at him, though, he doesn’t see resentment for being so blind for Hartley’s struggles. Instead, there’s a tiny smile until he finally changes into a wistful expression. “I miss clubbing.”

“Clubbing?” Cisco repeats. “You? In a club?”

Hartley narrows his eyes when he snorts at the image. “Yeah, imagine. There’s only so many places where you can listen to music as loudly as you need to.”

Cisco supposes that makes sense. Before the explosion, Hartley had been Hard of Hearing, close to complete deafness. He’s never made a big deal out of it, but that’s how it’s been. So, of course he’d enjoy loud music over no music - Cisco knows by now that Hartley’s quite the musical nerd, too.

“So… you haven’t been out since the explosion?” He inquires. It’s the subtext of his words anyhow.

Hartley’s lips curl into a smirk again. “Oh, I’ve been out plenty.” It’s such a bad innuendo that Cisco won’t even react to it. “But no. I haven’t. Didn’t trust the aids too much.”

“Makes sense,” Cisco nods. It isn’t that Hrtley doesn’t trust his own abilities - God knows the opposite is the case - but the materials he’d used for them were leftovers and waste. “That sucks,” is what he adds, because it’s true.

Hartley’s answer is a shrug. Then, leaning forward, he says, “You should sleep some more.”

“No way,” Cisco huffs. “Dude, you only took that nap earlier, I can’t have you running on only an hour of sleep or whatever when we gotta check out the rest of this place later!”

“We can both sleep.”

“What?” Cisco sits up so that he’s resting on his knees. “You wanna take the chances of us both crashing in a foreign environment?”

“I’ve stayed in sketchier places.” Hartley lifts his book as if that were the proof for this house not being dangerous.

Cisco hangs on to his words, however. That confirms that Hartley absolutely did not have a grant time in the monghts they hadn’t seen each other. And yet, somehow… “Man, you’re an enigma, Rathaway.”

He’s rarely ever seen the guy surprised - honestly, sometimes it feels like Hartley is the one who could hypothetically see every possible outcome of a situation - so a part of him feels like revelling in the puzzled look Hartley gives him. It isn’t just surprise either, though Cisco guesses the smile is still a leftover from before. He averts his eyes soon, feeling awkward about trying to figure out what Hartley’s feeling.

“Okay, we both go to sleep,” Cisco decides. “I think this couch is foldable?”

“Or,” Hartley muses as he puts away this book,” we look for actual beds .”

“Too tired.” Cisco’s already gotten up. It’s easy to find the mechanism and, much quicker than it would have been if they went upstairs on a quest first, gives the couch twice its size.

It isn’t at different heights, like it’s been the case at Kara’s place, but Cisco really couldn’t care less. Now that the last traces of his dream are gone, he wants to get back to sleep before he’s really awake. If Hartley minds, he can go look upstairs after all - he’s the one who doesn’t mind the house anyway. (Which is still a bit surprising to Cisco, not gonna lie.)

Thankfully, Hartley doesn’t make a fuss about it but gets up with a sigh. Where Cisco throws himself under the blanket, Hartley gently takes it; it’s big enough to fit them both without requesting that they huddle together. In fact, the couch is wide enough that they don’t have to touch each other at all . It’s pretty perfect, given everything.

“Good night,” Hartley offers, still sounding too awake for Cisco’s liking.

“Night,” he answers. He barely suppresses a yawn and smiles when Hartley stiffens a chuckle.

-

When Cisco wakes up the next morning, he finds that it’s warm. The culprit is found fairly easily - somewhen during the night, he and Hartley must have moved towards each other. He probably should feel weird about his cheek being pressed against Hartley’s shoulder, but a part of him knows that it’s been inevitable; he’s a cuddler by nature and he won’t feel ashamed about it. Plus, Hartley’s still fast asleep, with a quiet snore escaping his throat that’s actually kind of adorable; Cisco can’t help but smile.

He only does it after lifting his head, though, doesn’t want to risk that the movement against Hartley’s skin wakes him up. It’s already surprising that the guy’s still sleeping - from what Cisco’s seen, he’s a morning person through and through, but he won’t wake anyone who could probably use the extra snooze.

As he stumbles up, he discovers that the night has become morning by now, but it’s not too bright outside - something he’s immensely thankful for. He’s prone to being light sensitive at times (which isn’t the best thing when your best friend literally produces lightning as he moves) so he cherishes the early hours of morning or the twilight at best. Not that he gets to experience much of either, anyway. 

Looking back at Hartley’s sleeping form, cuddled deeper into the covers now, Cisco decides that maybe he should make the best of this situation. He can enjoy that morning light; he remembers there being a porch, facing that purple mountain they saw in the far distance when they looked for a place to stay.

He’s always been a big fan of having breakfast outside.

-

When Hartley comes to the table soon - Cisco isn’t surprised by that; he supposes the fact that Hartley did sleep for longer than him was caused by his exhaustion from when his aids stopped working - he looks much better than he’d expected. Like, not just meaning that he looks refreshed, but he’s actually gotten dressed and combed his hair at the very least. Cisco’s still in his pyjamas and didn’t even do as much as take his braids out (preparing a breakfast table is distracting, okay?!) so he shifts a little when he sees Hartley looking perfectly put together.

The asshole even has the audacity to smirk when his eyes grace over Cisco’s appearance. “My, my,” he begins, leaning against the open doorway leisurely as he crosses his arms. “That’s the second time you’ve cooked for me in less than 24 hours, Cisquito. Makes a guy think.”

Cisco sticks out his tongue. “Someone’s gotta make sure you actually eat in-between those naps,” he declares. Then, because he knows Hartley has needed the sleep and he doesn’t want him to go on a sleep-strike or whatever out of spite, he quickly adds, “How’d you sleep anyway?”

Hartley makes a gesture that probably means something in ASL, adding a shrug. It seems like he doesn’t even notice that Cisco doesn’t really get what he’s saying. Instead, he answers, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Did you have any more nightmares?” He actually sounds a little concerned, Cisco would say if he didn’t know any better.

“No, thank God.” Cisco grimaces. “That one was more than enough.” A big part of him is quite thankful that he doesn’t remember many visuals, the other part wonders if those would help make sense of that underlying feeling of unease that’s buried inside of him now. He’s done pretty well ignoring it, and seeing Hartley unharmed doesn’t cause it to flare up , exactly, but it does remind him of the dream as a whole.

“Um,” Hartley starts, “if you want to talk about it-- Well, I can always listen.” 

And Cisco knows by now he probably means that offer, but at the same time he can see that it takes a lot for Hartley to say those words. He looks like he’s in actual physical pain at the prospect of having to discuss feelings that Cisco can’t help but chuckle lightly. He doesn’t want Hartley to feel like he made the wrong move - because he didn’t - but he also feels like he wouldn’t enjoy a thanks or something the like, so he simply says, “If you don’t turn off your aids, that is.”

“True,” Hartley agrees with a tilt of his head. He doesn’t even look embarrassed at there being a possibility that it’s true. Instead, he finally comes over to sit down at the table that Cisco’s decked. 

It’s a small round one that’s already been here. It was full as soon as Cisco’s put three bowls of cut fruit on it and when Harley slides down onto his seat, their knees brush lightly. It’s a tiny porch, too, anyway.

Hartley doesn’t comment on the food as they eat, and on any other day it might have bothered Cisco that he doesn’t even get a proper thanks, but right now it’s… comfortable, really. They don’t need to talk - though it’s not like they don’t have any topics; not just Cisco’s nightmare, but whatever the frack Hartley’s been doing on Fake-Carter’s Earth, or the next destination or just anything about this Earth and how this house miraculously has everything they could be wanting. It just feels right to keep quiet and enjoy the silence.

After a while, though, Cisco can’t help but declare, “I missed this.” He looks into the nothingness of the fields surrounding them. He has the feeling that the sky never loses its colour, painted by the purple mountain, but it does change its tone in what he supposes is the passing of a day. It feels longer than those at home, but maybe it’s just the lack of stress here.

Hartley frowns. “What exactly?” He has a point with that, because it’s not like the two usually have breakfast together. Come to think of it, Cisco’s pretty sure that before this trip they’ve never even been at the same dinner table, probably because Hartley so rarely joins team activities.

Cisco shrugs. “Just… the quiet.”

For a moment, he expects Hartley to scoff at him and make a sarcastic remark. After all, it’s a known fact that Cisco’s always noisy , in a way that it seriously pisses off other people while working - not just back before the accelerator exploded, but even just working with Team Flash… Let’s just say there’s a reason he’s got his own work space and it’s not just for clusters in that his works pile up. He wouldn’t even be able to tell you why, really, but somehow humming along to a song or just hearing something else makes the wheels in his head move way smoother. 

Then there’s his rambling, the one thing that never ceases to stop. In fact, it gets worse and worse the more stressed he is, combined with the bad jokes he makes and-- well, it’s a miracle none of their baddies have killed him yet because he annoyed them like that. 

The thing is: Cisco is the opposite of a person who enjoys silence , and everyone knows that. Hartley definitely knows that.

Still, he gives a grave nod. “I get what you mean.”

Which makes sense, given that he’s the guy who went from being deaf to hearing so much that it physically pains him. It really must have been the biggest relief for Hartley to get his new hearing aids going, Cisco knows that, which is why he was up in his face about them not having worked in whatever version of Ancient Egypt that’s been.

But somehow Cisco feels like Hartley gets what else he’s meaning, which is why his reply surprises him. Because Cisco may not like silence and he gets bored quite easily but he also cherishes having moments to himself. Sure, they are still filled with music and TV and whatnot, but he gets to decide how to fill the time. Something that definitely has happened too little in the past couple of years; most of his time is dictated by the villains and global threats nowadays. He counts it as a miracle that he’s managed to stay caught up on the Marvel movies, to be honest.

Maybe Hartley gets it; Hartley’s been thrown out of his own comfort zone in more ways than one - between being disowned by his parents and being fired from STAR Labs, it’s actually no surprise the guy turned to villainy to have at least some grip on his own life. Good excuse, still a shit career path. 

Cisco missing silence makes as little sense as Hartley missing partying makes. And that’s why both do make sense.

“Tell you what,” he hears himself say before he even truly thinks about it, “when we’re back home I’m gonna take you to a club.”

In response, Hartley’s mouth quirks up. He actually turns to face him as he shakes his head, “Sorry, Cisquito, I don’t think your clubs are quite my scene.”

And now that is intriguing. “Your choosing, then.”

Hartley turns away again as he considers it, as if he’s actually weighing whether Cisco fits to a party. It almost makes him laugh again. Then, Hartley gives another sigh, though this time it sounds exaggerated. “Fine,” he says, “It’s a date.” And the little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away.

Cisco’s own grin just grows wider in the same way a warmth spreads out inside his chest.