Work Text:
The funny thing about the world almost ending every other day, it doesn’t give you a lot of time for chores.
Cisco ran his fingers up through sweaty bangs, pushing them out of his eyes. He was sitting in the middle of one of Star Labs’ many, many storage rooms, going through all the random junk that had been accumulating for years. They’d fired the janitorial staff months ago, after realizing that Barry zipping in and out at all hours of the night would be sure to tip someone off, and the last thing they needed was someone going to the papers talking about Flash’s home base. So Cisco decided to dedicate a quiet weekend to consolidating their stock into as few rooms as possible. The less they had to clean every other day, the better.
Cisco pushed aside another empty container and pulled another closer to himself. It was Saturday afternoon and he’d gotten through two rooms already that day--he was just about ready to take a break and do a Big Belly Burger run. Maybe he’d even call Caitlin and ask if she was done doing whatever it was with her mother so she could come help out; she was getting tired of looking for her spare medical supplies in a million different rooms and Cisco wasn’t comfortable rifling through her stuff, so he was just leaving her boxes alone. Plus he could use the company, after everything. He pulled the lid off the container and froze.
Sitting in the container were the heat and cold guns they’d taken from Captain Cold and Heatwave.
He had actually forgotten that he’d managed to sneak them away from CCPD to store them here; he didn’t want them falling into the wrong hands and CCPD was hardly a fortress. He felt a sort of phantom soreness across his cheeks as he recalled his kidnapping and subsequent rebuilding of the guns. He should destroy these, he knew he should. But he couldn’t help but feel a bit of attachment towards them; they were his creations, and they were damn fine pieces of hardware. Heart pounding, he reached out slowly toward the fuel tank of the heat gun.
The second his fingers brushed the surface, his vision went blue.
Flashing. Everything was confused and jumbled and panicked. People dressed strangely saying strange things. Anger. Pain. Confusion. Betrayal. Fire. Fire, fire, fire, so much of it everywhere. And he was falling falling fallingfallingfalling and he couldn’t stop--
With a gasp, he pulled himself out of the vibe and threw himself back, as if trying to escape what he’d just seen, and pulled himself to his feet, nearly tripping over them as he ran out of the cortex.
He didn’t really know why, but he needed to get in touch with Mick Rory.
---
Somehow, amazingly, Mick was in Central City. Cisco tracked him down to a dive bar in the bad part of the bad part of town, and he almost didn’t go in (hell, he almost didn’t get within 50 yards of the place) but the vibe was still so fresh in his mind that he was pretty sure he’d beat himself up worse than anyone in this neighborhood if he didn’t.
Walking into the bar was like a scene from a bad action movie where the good guy shows up somewhere he isn’t supposed to be. Every head in the place turned toward him. Some people even stared him down as he walked in, back straight, eyes looking resolutely forward. All that was missing was the jukebox suddenly going silent with a record scratch.
Mick Rory was sitting at the very end of the bar, hunched over and staring into a glass of something dark and strong-looking.
The bar patrons were clearly giving him a wide berth, several empty chairs next to him despite the fact that the bar was packed with the Saturday night crowd. For a moment, Cisco was kind of jealous; even at his most threatening he never managed to get anywhere near intimidating enough to scare people off. He carefully sat next to Mick, trying his best to casually flag down the bartender, who looked like he was doing his damn best not to notice him.
“So, uh,” Cisco began. Mick didn’t look up from his drink. “Nice place. You have excellent taste in shitty dive bars.” It earned him barely a grunt. He was kind of insulted on behalf of his sense of humor. That was some damn good material.
He shrugged and decided to stare down at his own hands, hoping Mick’s curiosity would win out and he’d ask Cisco what he was doing there. He couldn’t quite bring himself to start the conversation properly. “Hey I had a vision of some bad stuff happening to you and I wanted to make sure you were okay” seemed like a bad way to start things off.
As he was contemplating just leaving and being done with it, three things happened very quickly.
First, a raspy, laughing voice behind him said, “Hey princess, pretty far from the castle, huh?”
Second, a hand dropped onto his shoulder and squeezed hard enough that Cisco was sure he’d have bruises in the morning.
Third, Mick Rory was out of his seat with his heat gun out and pointed at the guy’s face so fast Cisco would have sworn he was moving at super speed.
“Walk away,” Mick growled. It was truly, unfairly hot. Cisco could only dream of achieving that level of sexy intimidation. The guy stumbled off, mumbling a vague apology. Mick looked up at the gawking crowd. “Anyone else got a problem?”
The rest of the bar suddenly became distracted by their own shoes. Cisco didn’t blame them.
Cisco whistled in appreciation. “Damn,” he said, drawing out the word a little. “That must come in useful.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here,” Mick said, glaring at him, “But go home before you get hurt.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Cisco told him meekly. “You didn't tell anyone you were back. I was worried.”
Mick scoffed. “‘Cause we're such good friends?”
Cisco definitely did not pout and fiddle with a napkin on the bar. “We...could be. Maybe.”
“Yeah, but we're not.” Mick glanced around them and Cisco followed his line of sight to discover that they were attracting a lot of not-very-subtle stares. “Fuck. Let's take a walk.”
He grabbed Cisco by the upper arm and practically dragged him out of his seat, throwing a 20 on the bar as he went. He didn't let go until they were out on the sidewalk and Mick's hand loosened just enough for Cisco to wrench his arm free and rub where it was only a little sore. Mick had apparently learned a little bit of restraint. Maybe that meant that Cisco wouldn’t get his nose broken tonight.
Without so much as a see ya or a come on, Mick turned on his heel and started walking away. Cisco stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching. Was he supposed to follow? Was this Mick’s way of saying fuck off? He’d said “let’s take a walk” right? So was that supposed to be both of them? Was that--
“Are you coming or what?” Mick shouted, nearly a block away. Cheeks burning, he ran to catch up.
They walked a few minutes in silence, Cisco’s hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and Mick fiddling with the handle of his gun in a way that almost seemed reflexive, like he was waiting for someone to jump out at them. To be fair, it wasn’t a bad reflex to have in this neighborhood; even with super powers, Cisco wasn’t entirely thrilled to be walking around here so late at night. He hadn’t quite mastered the blasts that had suddenly developed in his encounter with Black Siren and he definitely didn’t trust them to defend himself with.
Mick’s presence put him oddly at ease, and if you had told him a year ago that that was an actual thought that he would have without any irony or sarcasm, he would have suggested a psych evaluation.
“If you’re expecting me to start sharing,” Mick said softly, so suddenly that Cisco jumped, “this is gonna be a short and quiet walk.”
Cisco pulled one hand out of his pocket to rub at his neck. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually a good place,” Mick said, giving him a sideways look.
Cisco grinned. “Well, I was born on a beautiful starry night in Detroit--”
Mick cuffed him on the back of the head gently. “You know what I mean, smartass.”
“Yeah,” Cisco said, the smile fading from his face. “So, uh. I have powers.” When Mick didn’t respond, he continued. “I can see things, sometimes. When I touch something that someone owned, I can sometimes see what they’re doing, or what they’ve done. Like visions. We’ve been calling them vibes.”
“And you had one of me,” Mick finished the train of logic.
“I didn’t mean to!” Cisco swore quickly, holding up placating hands in case he really was about to get punched. “I can’t always control it. I was just going through our old storage rooms at the lab and I came across your old heat gun, the one CCPD took. The second I touched it--”
“What did you see?” Mick snapped, clearly trying to control his temper and failing.
“Not a lot,” Cisco told him honestly. “Mostly flashes of stuff. None of it made any sense. All I knew was that something happened to you. Something bad. I just, I just had to make sure for myself that you were okay.” He crossed his arms in front of himself as if to protect himself. “I heard about Cold--about Leonard Snart. I’m sorry.”
Mick scoffed. “Really?”
“Yeah, really,” Cisco said. “We both know I didn’t have any warm or fuzzy feelings for the guy, but I didn’t want him dead. Especially not after everything you guys did.”
“Everything we did?” Mick asked him blankly, and Cisco realized with a jolt that he wasn’t actually supposed to know any of that.
“Yeah, uh--” he stammered, running fingers through his hair. “Side effect of being plugged into the universe, it makes me super sensitive to changes to the timeline. I remember pieces of stuff that happened before you changed it back.”
Mick nodded, looking impressed. “Maybe I should bring you on board. That must be useful as hell.”
“Well, sorta,” Cisco conceded, shrugging. “It’s not so awesome when the timeline I’m remembering is one where I’m brutally murdered by someone I saw as a mentor.” Mick hummed in agreement and they fell back into silence.
Cisco didn’t even know where they were going. This wasn’t exactly a neighborhood he enjoyed exploring, even in the daytime, and he was pretty sure Mick hadn’t been back long enough to have a place of his own.
“You need a place to crash?” Cisco asked him, suddenly. “I have a couch that’s fair game.”
Mick stopped short, looking shocked. “You inviting me home? Last I checked, you didn’t have any warm or fuzzy feelings for me, either.”
“Well,” Cisco replied, shrugging, “I figure I owe you for trying to defend my honor back there.”
“Trying?” Mick echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Cisco grinned at him and casually punched a hole in the fabric of reality in front of him. “Yeah, trying. It was sweet.” He spun on his heel and stepped backwards toward the breach leading to his living room. “You coming or what?”
He stepped back through the breach before he could catch Mick’s response, but from the look on his face, it was probably a good one.
---
Mick hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted to bring Cisco back to his ship and take him along. He’d been gone the next morning when Cisco had zombie-walked out of his bedroom to see if Mick had wanted breakfast. He tried not to be disappointed; he knew there had been about a 10% chance of him sticking around, at best.
Two days later, however, Cisco was in his workshop fiddling with a few projects that had been set aside to focus on Zoom, when his phone lit up with the message, ‘On the roof.’ He hadn’t given Mick his number, but there were several of the Legends who had it, and there was a good chance the text wasn’t even from Mick's phone, if he had one. Since Zoom’s defeat, there hadn’t been much going on, and Barry was taking a long-awaited vacation from superhero-ing, so he really didn’t have any reason not to head up. He dropped the screwdriver he was using to tinker around with his new gauntlets, grabbed them and his goggles, and tried not to run up to the roof.
Where Mick was waiting for him. With a freaking spaceship.
Cisco gawked, because how could he not? “You have a spaceship,” he said blankly, the only thought in his head. “There’s a spaceship on our roof.”
“If you’re impressed by the outside, you should see the inside,” Mick told him, smirking. “We’re heading to 2137, something about Roman soldiers being spotted in downtown Central City. You in?”
Cisco glanced back at the door leading back into the lab. “I can’t just disappear…”
“This is a time machine, genius,” Mick said, rolling his eyes. “We can bring you back to exactly this moment.” He paused. “Probably.” After a moment, he shrugged and stepped backwards until he was close enough to punch at a button on the outside of the ship, causing the hatch to slowly open. Cisco was in awe and Mick knew it. He smirked and turned to walk inside, clearly expecting Cisco to follow him.
Follow him onto his spaceship slash time machine. Cisco didn’t even need to think about it.
He followed.
---
Mick’s crew was happy but confused to see Cisco.
“Aw, it’s cute that Mick’s making friends,” Sara teased from her seat after they stumbled through an explanation of how they’d run into each other once the time jump had completed and Gideon announced they'd safely arrived in the 22nd century. Mick flipped her off and she stuck her tongue out at him, then swung her chair to face Cisco. “Since when do you have powers?”
Cisco shrugged. “Since the particle accelerator exploded, apparently. They didn’t show up until about a year ago, though.”
“Cisco was the first one who figured out what I was,” Kendra said. She glanced at Mick with an odd expression on her face. “It’s nice to have you here, Cisco.”
“I thought he could help out with the Roman situation,” Mick announced. “He’s psychic or something.”
Cisco snorted indelicately. ‘Psychic or something’ was an excellent assessment of his powers. “I call it vibing. I touch something that belonged to someone and sometimes I can see where they are. Or where they’ve been. Or where they’re going to be.” He paused, shrugging. “Sometimes it’s helpful, but most of the time, it’s just annoying.”
“Well, any help you can offer is appreciated,” Sara told him. “We’ve been chasing anomalies around for ages and Gideon can only do so much. It would be nice to have a psychic to help out.”
“I can’t be gone long,” Cisco said with a sheepish smile. “I really do have to get back.”
Kendra smiled at him. “We’ll get you back, don’t worry.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the hallway into the rest of the ship. “Come on, we’ll get you set up with some future fashion.” She shot him a pointed look that said ‘and we’re gonna talk’, then turned on her heel and walked away. With a sigh, he followed.
They were silent as they walked through the hallway. Kendra had changed since Cisco saw her last; she spoke with more confidence, held her head a little higher, walked with a little more purpose in her step. He was suddenly, fiercely proud of her and how far he’d come.
“So uh,” he started awkwardly. “How’s Carter?”
The rhythm of her walk stuttered suddenly, and she gave him a sad almost-smile. “It’s...complicated. The Carter you met died last year.”
“Oh man,” Cisco said, the bottom dropping out of his stomach. How had his vibes missed that? “I am so sorry. I’m an idiot.”
“No, no,” she said, holding up a hand to interrupt his apologies. “We haven’t exactly been keeping in touch. There’s no way you could have known. And we actually found another incarnation of him.”
Cisco nodded. “Doppelgangers. I know how that goes.”
“Oh yeah?” Kendra asked him. “How’d that work out for you?”
Cisco shrugged, faux casual. “Oh you know, I met an evil me and then watched him get a speeding hand through the chest. No big deal.”
“Evil you?” Kendra echoed, eyebrows raising. “I’m having trouble picturing that.”
“I miss the days when I did, too,” Cisco said. “So where’s this other Carter?”
“Dropped off on Earth in his own time,” Kendra explained. “He’d been brainwashed by Vandal Savage for years. We figured he deserved to rest and recover before we start dragging him through time.”
“Rest and recovery?” Cisco asked, grinning. “What’s that?”
She grinned back at him, then abruptly stopped walking, pressing a hand against a panel on the wall that opened the door in front of them. Cisco tried not to trip over his own feet to follow her into the room.
Inside was a costumer’s wet dream.
Closets lined the walls, each one with a placard above it announcing it’s time period. They had everything from 1800s’ ball gowns to silvery futuristic-looking suits. Off to the right side was what looked like a room that put Foot Locker to shame; boxes upon boxes of shoes, some taken out and strewn across the floor. On the other side was a room full of mannequin heads with wigs perched atop them.
“Damn,” he breathed. “You guys are...prepared.”
She smirked at him and strolled over to the section labeled 2100s, rifling through what looked like a lot of neon. “Well we can’t always show up in modern clothes, and blending in usually helps us gain trust with the locals.” She pulled out what looked like a flannel. “Yes, no?”
He made a face at it. “I’m mourning for the fashion of the future.”
“Apparently they really love the 90s,” Kendra explained, shrugging. She turned back to the clothes as Cisco started poking around a basket of sunglasses. There was a pair of garish, oversized red and yellow striped ones that he almost wanted to steal for himself, just to see if he could fit the hardware from his visor into for shits and giggles. After a moment, she spoke again. “So...you and Mick.”
Frowning, Cisco looked up at her, but her head was still buried in clothes. “Me and Mick, what?” he asked, not following her train of thought like she clearly expected him to.
She finally stepped away from the closet with a reasonable-looking blue windbreaker in her hands. “I know I don’t have any right to tell you how to live your life, but I just want you to be careful,” she told him. She held the jacket out to him. “I think this is the least offensive thing we have in here for the 2130s. You could wear it over your regular t-shirt if you want.”
Cisco crossed his arms, ignoring the jacket. “Be careful about what?”
Kendra sighed, arm dropping. “I’m just saying, Mick has...been through a lot. I’m glad he’s reaching out and making friends, but he’s working through some really heavy stuff. And you’re just...you’re really nice, and sometimes he isn’t, and I just don’t want to see feelings get hurt.”
“Feelings,” he echoed.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Denial doesn’t suit you, you know.” She tossed the windbreaker at him as she walked by, clapping him on the shoulder. “You should get dressed. Mick’s waiting for you.”
The door closed behind her when she walked out, leaving him in silence and his own swarming thoughts.
---
When he got back to the control room, only Mick was there.
“Almost ready,” Cisco announced. When Mick looked up, he held his arms out for outfit inspection. “How do I look? Am I good to tackle the 22nd century?” If Cisco didn’t know any better, he’d say Mick’s eyes lingered just half a second too long as he took in Cisco’s outfit. His cheeks grew warm.
“Yeah. You’re good,” Mick grunted.
Cisco let out the breath he didn’t remember holding. “Cool. Just, uh, let me get on my gear and we’ll be all set.”
For a few moments, the bridge was silent as Cisco pulled on his gauntlets and tucked them under his sleeves. Where the ship had felt huge and overwhelming before, now it felt almost too small, and he suddenly wished someone would come back just to break the suddenly awkward tension. Kendra’s words were still echoing in his head, his brain getting stuck on all the implications of the way she’d said feelings, like Mick really brought him here for any reason besides needing his abilities.
“Hey,” Mick said, breaking the silence with a voice that Cisco almost hadn’t heard.
Startled, Cisco looked up from where he was fiddling with his gear, trying awkwardly to stuff his goggles into the too-small pocket of the windbreaker. Mick stood near him, staring at the floor with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Hey,” he echoed absent-mindedly, patting himself down to see if he’d forgotten anything.
“I--” Mick started, and Cisco paused, frowning at him and tilting his head in question. “Look, I’m--I’m sorry,” Mick stumbled over the words, still not looking at him. Cisco froze, confused, and after a few beats of not getting a response, Mick continued. “The stuff with your brother. I’m sorry for how all that went down.”
Cisco was stunned speechless. Of all the things he expected to hear today, Mick Rory apologizing to him hadn’t even made the list.
After a few moments of staring like an idiot, Cisco found his voice. “It’s okay.”
“Is it?” Mick asked, looking up at him. “I would have killed him. I was ready to kill you both that day. You should hate me. When you got that vision thing, you should have laughed it off and went home to sleep like a baby. I've been trying to figure out why you didn't and I'm coming up empty.”
Cisco didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.
“People change,” he said softly. “A year ago I was just another face. I was the tech guy, I was someone that people used to get what they wanted. I blended into the background and didn’t get involved, and I liked it that way. Now I have power and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it, so I gear up and head out and act like I’m a hero, hoping I’ll eventually figure it out.” He paused for a beat. “I changed. So did you.”
There was a beat in which Mick looked like he wanted to say more, but he just shook his head and grunted, “We should get going.”
He turned to walk away, but Cisco reached out and grabbed at his arm. Mick froze, tense, looking down at the hand on his arm, and Cisco had to fight the urge to snatch it away. “I forgive you,” he said almost desperately. “I really mean that. Yes, what you did was really, truly shitty, and that won’t ever change. That day is going to stay with me for a long time. You have to live with that just the same as I do. But we can move on.”
Mick turned back to face him properly. “How?” he asked. “How do you move on from that? How can you even look at me?”
They were standing so close together that Cisco could feel the heat from Mick’s body and he was having trouble forming full thoughts.
“Someone believed that I could be more than I gave myself credit for,” he said softly. “I believe that you could be, too.”
His hand squeezed gently around Mick’s arm in what he intended to be a comforting way, but their closeness made it seem more...intimate, somehow. They fell silent again, but it was different than before; still tense, but less awkward. Mick, not looking away from him, raised his own hand and wrapped his fingers around Cisco’s forearm, squeezing back, and leaned in just a fraction closer--
And at that moment, because clearly the universe hated him, the door nearest to them slid open.
Ray Palmer was staring intently at a tablet in his hand, and therefore missed Cisco and Mick jumping away from each other as if they’d been burned.
“Hey so I think I’ve narrowed down the location of the Romans to a 10-block radius,” Ray announced, scrolling through something on the screen. “But we’re still gonna need Cisco to--” He looked up and cut himself off as he saw Mick and Cisco standing in front of him looking anywhere but at each other or at Ray. “You’re not Sara,” he observed, frowning.
“Are we going or what?” Mick growled, stalking forward and pushing his way past Ray and out through the doorway. Clearly confused, Ray turned to Cisco.
“Did something happen?” he asked, lowering his tablet and putting on his Do We Need To Talk To Him face.
Cisco sighed.
“No,” he replied. “Nothing.”
Nothing at all.
---
2137 was surprisingly underwhelming.
Oh, there were all the technological advancements that Cisco expected, and the fashion had changed, and the money was weird, but somehow he expected everything to...not look like Earth. He’d peeked into other universes and timelines before, and there was always something foreign or fundamentally different that set it apart from his home. This place felt like the same house with a new coat of paint.
“It is the same,” Mick told him when he voiced this thought as they walked past Jitters--well, where Jitters used to be. In 2137, it had apparently been replaced with a clothing store covered in neon and plaid like the 90s had thrown up all over it. “It’s all the same, once you get used to it.”
“You’ll have to tell me what that’s like someday,” Cisco said, shoving his hands into his jacket, careful not to let go of the scrap of fabric that Sara had given him to try to vibe on the soldiers. She claimed it was from one of their uniforms, but it might as well have been from his grandmother’s drapes for all the good it was doing him; he hadn’t gotten a single vibe off it.
“Who said you gotta take off so quickly?” Mick asked, very obviously not looking at him. “Time machine, remember? You could stick around.”
Cisco shrugged. “I dunno. I would feel guilty not being around for my team. I’m not, like, the adventuring type. Flash is the hero, not me.”
“Now, that’s a lie,” Mick told him, smirking at him. “I seem to remember someone trying his damn best to wallop me with his hands tied long before he had any powers besides a sharp wit. Where’d he go?”
“Therapy,” Cisco shot back, but there wasn’t any heat in it. “I wasn’t any use to anyone that day. I betrayed my best friend and nearly got my brother’s fingers frozen off. If that’s not proof that I’m not suited for the heroing business, then I don’t know what is.”
“Let me get this straight,” Mick said slowly, stopping in his tracks. Cisco stopped with him, frowning. “You get a vision of some bad shit happening to me, you drop everything to track me down in the worst part of town, you stroll into a bar full of criminals with your head held high, all of that just to make sure I was okay, and you’re telling me you’re not cut out to be a hero?” He shook his head. “I won’t tell you what to do, you’re not a kid. But if all this bullshit is because you think you’re not good enough, then you need to pull your head out of your ass.”
Cisco had a million thoughts in his mind but none of them were forming an intelligible response. “I just--I’m--”
“You know why I invited you here?” Mick asked him. Not trusting his own voice not to embarrass him, Cisco just shook his head. “I brought you on board because despite everything, you had my back, without hesitation. And I know if you were a part of our team, you would have their backs exactly the same. If there’s anything we’ve learned these past few years, it’s that people like that are a rare type.”
Cisco looked down at his own hands. “I guess.”
“Cisco,” Mick said, then let out a frustrated sigh as Cisco looked back up at him. “Romans.”
He frowned, not following the logic. “Romans?”
Mick grabbed him by the arm and spun him around, nearly dragging him toward a crowd forming a few blocks away from them. There was a glint of metal in the sun--swords.
Oh. Romans.
He pulled his arm free and ran alongside Mick to where the crowd was getting bigger. As he got closer he realized that it was mostly civilian onlookers, probably drawn to the unusually dressed Roman soldiers. If he’d seen these guys walking around downtown Central City in his own time, he would have assumed they were in costume for something; no doubt these people had similar thoughts. More than one even had their phone out to take pictures. The situation needed to be nipped in the bud before it could escalate.
“Alright, show’s over,” Mick shouted when they were close enough to make out the intricate detail on the soldiers’ armor. “Time to go, fellas.” Cisco fought the urge to drop his head into his hands. That was Mick’s plan for rounding them up?
This is the guy you might be having feelings for? a little voice in the back of his head whispered.
There were a few tense moments in which no one said anything and no one moved, and Cisco thought maybe, just maybe, Mick’s stupid plan actually worked, and then the Roman closest to them lifted his sword above his head, let out a scream, and charged them.
“Well, fuck,” was all Cisco had time to say before downtown Central City officially descended into chaos.
---
The fight did not go well.
There was a solid ten minutes before Cisco could find a spare moment to shoot off some intra-dimensional portals so the rest of the Legends could converge on their locations, but it appeared ten minutes was all the Romans needed to gain the upper hand. Mick was limited in what he could do, since they were aiming for the least amount of injury to the Romans and his only weapon caused pretty much nothing but injury, and Cisco was finding it hard enough trying to concentrate on both fighting off the attack and trying to simultaneously open three separate portals, let alone trying to do all of it with the Legends’ voices screaming in his ear.
In the half-second before he finally got the breaches open, he watched a Roman sword embed itself in Mick’s abdomen, almost in slow motion.
Cisco’s whole world seemed to stop. Mick fell to the ground, sword still stuck, and Cisco could hear the Legends arrive, shouting, and he knew he should help them with the fight, but all his body would let him do was scramble over to where Mick lay motionless.
His hands strayed to the sword, but he stopped himself from touching it--years of working with Caitlin had taught him better. Mick was awake but was clearly not focusing on anything but the pain he was in. All Cisco could do was hold his hand and whisper encouragements to him until the fight finally ended and the Legends came to pick the two of them off the ground.
Back inside the Waverider, the medical bay was a madhouse. Cisco had followed them as they carried Mick in and laid him down on one of the chairs for Gideon to scan. There was a lot of yelling, a lot of cursing, and a lot of Kendra trying in vain to pull Cisco out of the room. Logically, he knew that he could get in the way and there was nothing he could do, but there was a voice in the back of his mind screaming at him not to let Mick out of his sight.
After several minutes of fighting against Kendra’s considerably strong hold, he finally broke free from her grasp, pushing her arms away from him. “I’m not leaving!” he yelled, tensing himself for a fight.
“Then you need to calm down,” Kendra snapped at him, glaring. “Freaking out isn’t helping. Mick will be fine.”
There were a few tense, quiet moments where the only things Cisco could hear were the sound of their heavy breathing and the beeping from the machinery.
“If everyone is finished yelling,” Gideon’s voice came from the speakers, “I believe Mr. Rory is fully healed and should be awakening shortly.”
Kendra shot him a pointed look. He ignored her in favor of crossing the room to Mick, who was beginning to stir.
“Mick?” he called, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
Mick’s eyes opened and for a few seconds they just stared at each other, before Mick reached up to hook a hand around his neck and pulled their mouths together.
“Yeah, I think he’s okay,” Sara’s voice said flatly from somewhere behind him, and Cisco thought he heard an answering chorus of giggles and embarrassed coughs, but then Mick slid his hand up through his hair and turned his head so their lips met better and Cisco lost the ability to focus on anything else but the feeling of Mick’s mouth opening beneath his.
It could have been seconds or hours that they stayed like that before Kendra announced, “Uh guys, not that I’m not happy for you, but maybe this can wait until later?”
Mick broke the kiss but didn’t let Cisco get too far. “It really can’t, Birdie,” he growled. A flash of heat shot through Cisco’s whole body and settled in his cheeks.
“I love love as much as the next guy, but we do have like, a dozen Romans to memory wipe and send home,” Ray said, actually sounding genuinely apologetic.
Cisco smiled. “He does have a point,” he said softly. “And there’s a discussion we should probably have.”
“Maybe two or three,” Mick agreed. He let go of Cisco and hauled himself upright. “That is, if you’re sticking around.”
Cisco froze. It was clearly an out--all he had to do was say no, there were things on his own world, in his own time, that needed attending to. It wouldn’t even be a lie. They may have defeated Zoom but it was only a matter of time before another big bad reared its head and threatened the world. All it would take was one word.
Cisco grinned.
“Yeah. I’m staying.”