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

The night is like so many others. Nothing significant or outstanding has happened. Sure, the team has crazy things going down, as per usual, but nothing they can't handle, and every day has to end at some point.

Cisco has spent most of the night on the couch, curled into Hartley's side, head pillowed against his boyfriend's chest. He draws idle patterns against Hartley's knee, only half-listening to whatever documentary they were watching and focused entirely more on the soft thud of Hartley's heartbeat.

Easy as breathing and perfect in their simplicity, these were the moments he lived for, above all else. He's comfortable and relaxed and bordering on half-asleep. "Totally gonna fall asleep on you." he mumbles, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

"That's novel of you." Hartley definitely didn't seem to mind, mostly because he wasn't inclined to move and even less inclined to lose the warmth of Cisco on top of him. They'd earned some downtime and nothing was more relaxing than lying on the couch like this, his fingers lost somewhere in Cisco's increasingly luscious hair and his mind only half-awake, barely focusing on the television. "I'll fall asleep under you."

He can tell from the sleepy note in his own voice that Hartley's not much more awake than he is and he smirks a little. "How convenient." he mutters softly, eyes sliding shut against the feeling of fingers in his hair. Yeah, he could just fall asleep right here, like this, and be fine.

Or his phone could ring and interrupt the very comfortable moment he'd been having. Cisco groans and lays right where he is for a long moment before heaving a sigh, untangling himself from his boyfriend and sitting up to grab the offending device from the end table. There's a confused frown as he picks it up. "My dad?" He shoots a glance at Hartley, bewildered because when's the last time he even got a call from either of his parents. "Hello?"

The confusion fades from his face almost instantly and the sleepy contentment he'd been wrapped up in is swiftly replaced with a harsh awareness, his heart slamming against his chest and a chill slowly flooding in his veins. He's, by habit and default, switched to Spanish, and his words come in a rapid-fire rush. "Wait, wait-- slow down, I don't--" There's a look of horror on his face as he listens. "I-is he gonna be okay? Dad? Dad, is he gonna be okay?"

There's a moment of silence that probably wasn't as long as it felt as he listened to the explanation and then the call is ended and the phone drops to the floor with a thud. He's frozen to the spot for several excruciatingly long minutes, vision blurry, hands shaking, unable to process the news he'd just gotten.

When he finally speaks again, it's still in Spanish because he can't be bothered to switch and Hartley can understand him regardless anyway. "I need to go to the hospital." His voice is thicker than usual. "There was a wreck. Dante... they don't think he's gonna make it."

Hartley is wide awake the moment he hears how Cisco's voice changes. He sits up and reaches out to put a hand on Cisco's shoulder, overhearing more than he means to, simply because of how his hearing works. He knows before Cisco talks and until he is ready to talk, he simply wraps his arms around him, holding him without agency, other than to be there.

When Cisco finally explains, he nods, not letting go. "I'll get you there, Cisquito. Come on. Let's get dressed."

Not that they are naked, but not ready to go out either. So he takes Cisco by the arm and leads him to the bedroom, handing him a jacket while he pulls his own hoodie on. He isn't sure if there are any words of comfort that he can or should offer. Everything that comes to mind sounds either hollow or fake.

"I'm with you," he finally offers, still in Spanish, and he means it.

Cisco is suddenly extremely glad that he's not alone. He kind of likes never being alone, always having Hartley within reach was a comfort he'd grown incredibly used to. But this is different, a deeper feeling that comes with the arms wrapping around him at just the right moment and the gentle guiding toward the bedroom. Cisco would rather just go, but he might need things like shoes and a jacket.

He's pulling on the jacket Hartley handed him when those three words make him remember how to take breathe. "Thank you, querido." He reaches for Hartley's hand and threads their fingers.

The trip to the hospital isn't very long, but it feels like ages and when they finally get there, it's just more waiting. He sits in a chair near the corner, leaned over his knees, palms pressed to his eyes.

There is still nothing more to say or do then be there and Hartley never thought of his presence as particularly worthwhile or comforting, unless the reason he was present was to use science or his powers or something along those lines. Just sitting around? He doubts it does much good. So he looks for other ways to do some good, leaving Cisco's side - if not for long - and gently placing a hand on his shoulder when he comes back.

"I have hot chocolate, if you want some." His most useful contribution right now. "It's the good stuff, I stole it from the nurses' lounge."

Hartley may not think of himself that way, but Cisco finds his presence comforting and important. Especially here, now, when he might be more apt to let his panic swallow him whole. Where he tends to run on emotions, Hartley has a logic that grounds Cisco when his feelings threaten to run too wild. He isn't even sure Hartley knows that, but it's no less true for it.

Cisco looks up when he comes back, hot chocolate in hand and there's the briefest ghost of a smile on his face as he accepts the cup. "You would." He huffs a soft sound of amusement and takes a careful sip.

Sarcastic commentary. He is great at that too. But so far he's mostly offered tea and whatever else he could find in this place to Cisco's parents and finally secured the hot chocolate for Cisco and somehow refrained from any sarcastic comments, which he considers an achievement in itself. He smiles back at Cisco and watches him take a sip, glancing at his parents before focusing on him again.

How do straight men even offer comfort to their straight friends? Could he put a hand on his shoulder if he added a 'no homo'? This stuff should come with a manual. Hartley doesn't mind hiding what they are, especially not given circumstances, but it does make some decisions a bit tricky. "I'm a vigilante. Or a supervillain, I haven't decided yet. Either way, it means stealing hot chocolate is something I get to do."

However... "I flirted with the nurse inside and he let me."

Under different circumstances, Cisco might even be up to just giving his parents a shock with the truth, but...all things considered, he's glad Hartley doesn't mind hiding it. Even if it does make the comfort touches a little harder to navigate.

"Sneaky." He smiles a little, but it fades a moment later. He casts a glance over at his parents and drops his gaze to the cup of cocoa nestled between his hands. "Feel like I should say something...but I don't know how to talk to them." Maybe it's less his own feeling and one of those things that he knows he's supposed to do.

"Last time I talked to my parents I was told that I should have never been born, so I might not be the expert on family communication." It's self-depreciating humour, it's not as if his story hasn't been well known to Cisco from the very beginning, he's not fishing for sympathy. Instead he looks at Cisco's parents and then back at Cisco, knowing quite a bit about their complicated relationship as well. Families.

"I think just that you're here, that's important. Sometimes there's not much you can say."

Cisco gives a facial shrug at that. No denying it. As messed up as things are with his parents? Hartley's worse off in that department. Not exactly a game anyone goes looking to win. "Yeah," he mutters softly, nodding a little, "maybe you're right. I just wanna know som..."

He trials off when he hears the footsteps down the hallway, the well-trained neutral voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Ramon?" His breath catches in his throat and the only other thing he hears, around the sound of his own heart thudding in his ears, is "I'm sorry. We did everything we could..."

That's it. That's the world crumbling at his feet. A thousand chances of tomorrow are gone. He can't think. He can't breathe. He doesn't care about pretenses any more, he leans instinctively against Hartley as the first sob is ripped from him.

Hartley doesn't hesitate, immediately wrapping his arms around Cisco, one hand going up to his hair to run his fingers through the dark strands. He holds himself back from turning his head to actually kiss the top of Cisco's head and he keeps his voice even softer than he normally might have, even though he sticks to Spanish. "I'm sorry, Cisquito. I'm here. I'm so sorry."

What else is there to say? Sometimes there's nothing. Cisco's parents certainly seem to be wordless in their grief as well. Hartley has no idea how to handle this, how to best help Cisco. Being there is about all he can do.

He's never been more glad to not be alone in a moment than this. He's not sure he could have handled this without Hartley at all. He doesn't respond, mostly because he can't and it's not like there's anything to say anyway.

The rest of the time at the hospital is a rushed blur of goodbyes and protocols. By the time they make it back home, in the all-too early hours of the morning, Cisco's reached a comfortably numb phase. At least it's better than the tears. His breaths are still a little stuttered, not quite as even as he'd like, but he isn't just smack in the middle of a breakdown anymore. For now? He's not sure it's over completely, so that may be more appropriate.

Cisco sighs heavily as he leans against the apartment door as they get inside. What's he supposed to do now? Live like it's all the same, and nothing's changed? He scrubs a hand down his face and pushes off of the door, turning long enough to make sure the locks are set, and heads toward the bedroom. "I'm just...gonna go to bed." And it sounds like that handful of words took a lot for him to even manage just now, but his fingers brush Hartley's as he walks by him to go crawl into bed. He doesn't think his boyfriend will be all that far behind.

"I'll be there in a second." Hartley doesn't really know what to do with himself, but he gives Cisco the time alone. It's habit more than anything that has him reach for his phone and dial his mother's number. He holds it to his ear while he walks around the kitchen, waiting until it cuts to voicemail, hearing the few seconds he can of his mother talking in a friendly tone. Of course he doesn't leave a message, he knows better than that.

Instead he puts the phone away and then heads for the bedroom, closing the door behind him and then climbing into bed next to Cisco so he can wrap his arms around him. What is he supposed to do? "Do you want to talk about him?"

Cisco neither hates or loves the time alone. Some part of him appreciates it, another part just silently counts the seconds until he hears the soft footsteps coming down the hallway. The second he's next to him, he curls against Hartley, seeking both the warmth and the comfort. Hartley may feel like he's at a loss, but there's little more Cisco could want or need from him right now.

"Not really..." his voice is quiet, a little hoarse and there's a frown etched into his features. He's silent for a little while, tracing patterns against the material of Hartley's shirt. Despite his denial for sharing stories, his next words seem to just bubble out of their own will, "We used to be closer... when we were kids. Til I was like, nine or ten, I guess. That's when he started pulling away." He shrugs one shoulder. "No teenager wants to hang out with their kid brother, I guess. I always hoped it'd change...in the future, somehow, we'd come full circle. The gap wouldn't matter and we'd be close again." His voice drops to a whispers. "So much for that."

"People grow apart. You are very different." Mostly he's thinking that by all accounts, Dante was a giant jerk that over-compensated for not having his brother's intelligence by making him feel inferior in spite of being the opposite, but that's clearly not something he'd share. Not right now and likely not ever. It doesn't matter anyway. None of that makes them not be brothers, none of that means that Dante didn't care for Cisco. Obviously it doesn't mean that Cisco doesn't care for him. "There's still good memories, right? Family."

"Yeah," he nods a little, "there are some good ones...but it's all they are. Memories." And what good did that do him? "I always thought there'd be time to fix it." A bitter, mirthless laugh escapes him at that. It was a harsh irony, in light of everything he now knows about time and timelines and the way there's never enough of it, or a way to catch it.

"That's something though. I'm sorry, Cisquito." There's really no use to pointing out that things might have never been fixed between them, because ultimately? That hardly matters. He kisses Cisco's hair, tightening his arms around him. There's been a timeline where they never were anything but enemies. That same timeline that has Barry, who he's come to think of as a close friend, still eye him with cautious wariness. Things can change so easily. "I'm sorry it happened."

If it's possible, he curls tighter against Hartley, shifting enough so his cheek rests against his boyfriend's chest, his ear just above his heart. There's not much left to say, but he can can let the soft, steady thud of Hartley's heart lull him to sleep.

Can I come over?

[Because he and Cisco had been over and over this by now more than once and apparently it was rude to just open a breach in his living room and come over, even if he wanted to. Cisco had to approve, it was his house, his Earth. And Paco could be a good boy, he sort of owed Cisco as much.]

[That might actually be something like pride he's feeling when Cisco finds the text from Paco. But... huh. He hadn't thought about it, really, but he hadn't even heard from him in awhile. He and Hart had been busy and it's not like Cisco's been too up to socializing lately.]

You're learning. Good job.

Yeah, tho. Sure.

[There was no further texting or warning, the breach just ripped open and there was Paco, walking through the breach and sealing it swiftly behind his. He's alone but there's no shock there, he wasn't big on dragging Hart around the place while he was still recovering and he didn't like to risk him being in any more danger.

Not that he'd left him alone, of course. He was protected.]

Cisco. [He nods his head in acknowledgement.] It's been a while.

[Cisco's not surprised at the lack of response after that, and is pretty prepared for a sudden breach in his living room--for once. He's on the couch when Paco pops in and lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave.] Hey.

[He tries to smile, to not seem like anything is wrong, but there's certainly a distinctive difference in his demeanor than the last time they'd seen each other. Not that Cisco's offering up any information on the immediate.]

Hey. [Usually it was him that offered the sort of held back smile or the reserved gestured but here was his excitable dorky mirror and he was being oddly solemn. Paco tilts his head to the side and watches Cisco for a while, it's easier to see the signs in Cisco because it's like looking at himself but Paco isn't the sort who likes to handle emotions.

Hence why he doesn't comment, he just takes a seat.] I wanted to offer my thanks. I didn't get much of a chance to. Me and Hart, we both owe you.

[He notices the odd pause, but he doesn't think much on it. It's been awhile, that's all.

When he offers that up, it feels like something that happened years ago now to Cisco. So much had happened since then, his life was completely upended.]

You don't owe me. [He shakes his head, sounding almost incredulous about that particular fact. He hadn't done it for an IOU or because it'd be nice to have someone like Reverb to call in a favor from if he ever needed it. It was...the right thing. It was what they both deserved--to be at each other's side, to know they weren't as alone in the world as they'd both been made to think.] I couldn't just...leave him there. It was the only option, Paco.

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

{Your last breath leaves ice in my veins

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