myheadisaprison | {Don't be gone when I get home, you're all I have

He grins a little wider as Hartley tangles their fingers together. Maybe it's kind of silly, but little things like that always mean a lot to Cisco. Hartley's a sight better at keeping up with finances than Cisco. It's not that he can't, but he just doesn't pay as much attention to it as Hartley tends to.

"No," He shakes his head a little, "don't really feel like going anywhere." That was his answer to such questions more often than not these days. More often than used to be usual for him. This time, though, the answer is just a tad heavier than usual, tone low, voice a little quieter. He'd only mentioned in passing before heading to the store that Paco had come by for awhile earlier. He hadn't gotten into the details of their discussions, and the conversation is still weighing on him.

Explaining what happened was exhausting on his emotions at best, and explaining it to another version of himself was far more taxing. Because he felt it too, even if he'd presented it all as anger, Cisco's not dumb. He knows it was a mask for the pain, for the thought of losing his own brother that it forced into Paco's mind just to hear about it.

"Good. I never feel like going anywhere." A slight exaggeration perhaps, but in all honesty, really just a slight one. Hartley watches Cisco right now and of course the pain is plain to see. Cisco has no poker face and he has always been far too easy to read, even before they've become as close as they are now. "We'll stay in. Do nothing. Watch something." Hartley is fairly sure that right now Cisco has sunken so deep into his grief - understandably - that whatever he's saying is just a few steps above white noise. "Or I can practise my lap dance skills on you. Good evening, ma'am."

Those last few words are to address the cashier, who proceeds to stare at them both with wide eyes while Hartley hands her the wares to scan.

Despite himself, Cisco can't stop the smile that breaks across his lips at those words that fall out of his boyfriend's mouth as they approach the cashier. The smile that takes him no time to make as suggestive as possible, "Well, practise does make perfect and I'm the perfect audience."

He really couldn't be more thankful for that dumb little quip Hartley threw out, always quick on his feet to find a way to deter situations no one wants to be in. The last thing Cisco needs is to end up a sobbing mess in the middle of the grocery store. All he has to do is hold it together until they get home. He can do that much.

"Excellent. You have to score me afterwards. Multiple categories, ten-point-system. It's like figure skating." Hartley packs the groceries into a bag, carefully placing the happy cow milk inside it first. Doesn't keep him from keeping up the admittedly and obviously ridiculous conversation. "Less gay than figure skating."

Because even wiggling on his boyfriend's lap has to be less gay than that. He's watched Yuri on Ice, he knows what he's talking about. The cashier, evidently, does not. But that's part of the fun.

The looks they're earning from the girl behind the counter are making it hard to keep a straight face during this, but he manages. "I'll even make score cards." He throws him a grin.

Cisco certainly knows what he's talking about and can't help laughing a little, taking one of the bags as she finishes ringing up the last of their items.

"I'd expect nothing less." Hartley says it in perfect sincerity, then thanks the cashier and wishes her a good evening once more as he carries the bag and walks out onto the street next to Cisco, lowering his voice to confess a secret to him that is in all likelihood entirely untrue. "See, after I got fired and discredited, I had the choice between becoming an Apple Genius or a stripper. You have three guesses and the first two don't count."

Cisco casts one last glance at the flustered cashier as they leave the store. He leans a little into Hartley's side, his own voice lower in response, "You gotta show me what you're workin' with later." He winks as he falls into step next to him.

Despite the facade while they were out after that kick in his gut as he'd reminded himself of all the things he didn't want to think about, it isn't long after they get home that it fades. The amusement dies and as he helps Hartley put things away, the heavy feeling he'd barely managed to escape earlier starts creeping back in. It's in his face, his movements, everything, because Cisco is a terrible liar unless he's really trying or has enough of a distraction to manage it.

As if out of nowhere, he's being gut-punched, Cisco's breath catches in his throat and he leans back against the counter. "It's not fair." He says suddenly, voice soft as he tries to keep it even.

"No," Hartley agrees, without hesitation, "It's not." He steps up to Cisco, one arm going around him, thumb hooking through his belt loop as he used his grip to pull him closer against himself. His lips brush the side of Cisco's neck, keeping it soft, not teasing, just a presence. "Life isn't fair. I'm sorry."

He's sorry that he's who Cisco has to comfort him right now, because he knows he falls short in a multitude of ways. It almost feels selfish that he's arranged for himself to be in this position, to be his boyfriend, when he's a cynical asshole more than anything and he doesn't have much to offer besides agreeing that the world sucks. No inspirational speeches are about to come from him.

For a moment, Cisco's quiet. Eyes closed, leaning into Hartley and he just takes in the presence of his boyfriend. Solid and whole and real and here.

Hartley may feel like he comes up short in this particular department, and maybe in a lot of ways he does. He isn't exactly built to comfort, he's not wired to hand out meaningless 'it'll be okay''s when he knows the opposite is true. But the reality, the lack of dumb platitudes that people hand out when they have nothing else left to say because they know nothing they say can change anything...that's it's own comfort, in a way. He may not be conventionally comforting, in the way most people tend to think of, but Hartley has his own way of it and it's a way Cisco's used to, leans on a lot more these days because he'll take the honesty over meaningless cliches.

But this also wasn't exactly what he meant. Not the broadstrokes, the generalizations of the situation. And after a moment he pulls back, not to separate from him but to look at Hartley, shaking his head, "No, but-- this, it's different... this-- Dante doesn't have to be dead." The words said so plainly out of his own mouth make his stomach twist. "It could-- Barry could fix it. He could save him and he won't." All the anger and grief twisted together again, burning through his chest.

"Look, Cisquito. Maybe he could. I'm not saying he shouldn't. But I understand it's not something that he can do lightly. At least it shouldn't be. There's always consequences. You know that as well as I do." Hartley lifts his hand so he can run his fingers through Cisco's hair, hoping that he can find the right words. "Barry still can't trust me, because of whatever I did in that other timeline. He was my friend and now he can barely look at me. If things had been different, you might still hate me. We barely managed to take out the time wraith last time."

Cisco has to remember all that, of course he does. If Hartley hadn't figured it out in time, Barry would be gone. The way Zoom was. "I'm not saying Barry can't do it or shouldn't do it, I'm even sure he wants to do it. But he... He has a lot of power and... And..."

It's not really usual for Hartley to search for words like this, but here he is, pressing his lips together in frustration and finally huffing. "I'm trying to think of a different way to say that with great power comes great responsibility so I don't trivialise this with a comic book reference."

It's involuntarily that he leans into the touch, he can't stop it, it's just a natural reaction to the comfort he gets from it. "But it's not-- some things don't matter as much in keeping the timeline in tact, they couldn't or what's the point of having the opportunity and never being able to do anything with it?" The more he talks, the faster he gets, words rushing together a bit, "What if-- what if this is one of those things? What if he could fix it and it wouldn't change anything else? I don't ask for anything, this is the only thing I have ever asked out of him and it's not fair, it's not fair, Hartley, I--"

But just as quickly as he'd gotten on a roll, he loses steam and crumbles against the other man. His fingers twist in the material of Hartley's shirt as Cisco hides his face against him. "I just want my brother back." he says in a choked mumble.

"I know, Cisquito. I know." His fingers slide through Cisco's hair and finally his hand tightens and simply buries in it, holding him as close as he can. There isn't much he can do for Cisco and maybe he doesn't even have much understanding of his situation. He's lost his family through different circumstances and while he misses them, it's different. It's not something worth bringing up. "I'm so sorry."

He doesn't want to give him false hope, but his mind is still what it is and he can't help but consider the possibilities. "If there's anyone who could tell whether a change would affect the timeline and how it would affect it, it'd have to be someone with your powers."

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For a bit, he doesn't say anything, doesn't move, just stays buried and curled against his boyfriend, a broken, sobbing mess. Eventually, the sobs subside, though, and he lifts his head enough to press his ear against Hartley's chest, just above his heart, focusing on the soft, steady beat of it and letting it calm him down. This was something he did a lot when he got like this, if he could just focus on the rhythm of Hartley's heartbeat, he could usually avoid putting himself into hysterics.

When he makes that point, Cisco looks up at him, carefully considering it before he latched onto the hope and tried to run with it. "You're right..." He taps a finger against Hartley's chest a couple of times. "You're right, I should be able to--" Running. Running with the tiny glimmer of hope because it's better than the despair, he twists a little out of Hartley's grip, though he doesn't go very far which probably speaks more to how careful he's forcing himself to be with this currently very fragile thing in his hands. "why didn't I think of it earlier when he was here? I'll call him. Paco- he can help me figure it out."

He's circled back to the rapid-fire speech again, amped by the sudden burst of optimism burning its way through him, "Fuck, he probably already knows how. He said Zoom dicked around in timelines all the time, I bet-- I bet he made him check for anomalies or whatever before he did anything too huge."

Finally, he spins back toward Hartley, something just a little brighter about him in that moment, even if it will probably be short-lived. "You're amazing," he frames Hartley's face with both hands and presses a soft kiss to his lips. "where would I be without you?" He mumbles softly, hands moving down to smooth across his chest.

{Don't be gone when I get home, you're all I have

oops, you wanted pain, right? >_>

always

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