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‘College is meant to be hard.’
Was the quote that Cisco was attempting to indoctrinate himself with in order to help him as he lugged eight heavy, hard backed textbooks up the stairs at two in the morning. It was his second night with less than five hours sleep, he needed something.
Grass is green, the sky is blue, atoms are mostly empty space and classes are meant to be hard…
Cisco had dealt with smarmy teachers. He’d laughed in the fact of arrogant rich classmates who didn’t think that he could make it into anywhere prestigious. He knew that he’d had it harder than this, and that he’d gotten past it. He just couldn’t really remember how. He’d dealt with the feeling that came after waking up from a night of studying to the shrill sounds of his parents shouting at him for being so lazy. He’d dealt with walking the stage as salutatorian at his graduation with nothing to guide him but the flimsy promise that ‘someone’ would be there… just as soon as Dante’s recital finished.
Even with the hardships he’d faced it didn’t seem normal to fall asleep on your feet after being in class for twelve hours straight and then heading to the library to do some more. It seemed like everyone in his lectures was the sort of Type A compulsive personality that relished in having the juice squeezed out of them violently… Cisco didn’t think he’d ever be that and decided that was probably why it was so much harder for him than anyone else.
It was a struggle up the stairs, bone tired and loose with mushy sore muscles and a brain too fatigued to command them. He shoved the key into the lock, all of his energy going into a stunted, shaky turn and a slight push open. Cisco rolled his head against the wooden door, shimmied his body inside and very nearly collapsed there.
He knew he could do this at least, if not everything else he needed to.
His muscles (though screaming at him) were fine. He just had to get to his bed, uncover his mouth and pass out and hopefully it would all be better in the morning. He staggered blindly through the hall to the kitchen couch, not bothering to flick on a light switch. In his state, it was easy for him to miss all of the signs of intrusion. There was the red coat in the doorway, the high heeled shoes someone had hastily stepped out of leading up to the door, and the button that had ricocheted off of the floor and on top of the TV.
Cisco reached the bedroom door and bashed his body against it to push it open. Breathing out a sigh of relief he stumbled four steps and straight up collapsed into his bed.
Well… ‘his’ bed to the best of his knowledge at that point. He almost immediately found out that while he’d definitely collapsed on to ‘a’ bed it was not in fact ‘his’ bed.
The evidence that alerted him to this fact was the soft, warm mass he’d fallen on. He assumed at first that it was simply his extremely freckled, perpetually covered in ink roommate Barry. Then he heard a distinctly feminine gasp and nearly jumped into heaven with how high he sprang.
‘WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?’ he shouted as he leapt into the air and off of the bed. ‘WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? AND WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TRYING TO DO TO BARRY?’ he continued, beginning to regard their intruder. She was slighter than he’d expect a burglar or mass-murderer to be, but he didn’t focus on that for long. She had to be one of the two. There was no other plausible reason for Barry to have a strange, gorgeous woman in his bed.
Then she started to giggle, and her giggles gave way to beautiful, squinty eyed, cheek straining smiles. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness Cisco realised almost immediately that he recognised her. Then she stuck out one hand, with the other firmly festooning Barry’s sheet to her collarbone, ‘Iris West.’ she said.
Annnnd thatwas the story of how Cisco realised that there was a reason that a woman would be in Barry’s bed which didn’t involve her trying to kill him.
So he reached out and took her hand, ‘Cisco… err…Ramon’ he offered back. Iris daintily shook his hand, giggled and tossed her hair back. Barry seemed to finally find his voice as he managed to croak out, ‘Cisco man, can you um… can we have a moment?’
It was at that moment that Cisco realised how freaking awkward he was being and took his bleary-eyed self out of the situation and into his own room. He hit his bed at the same time that he heard a burst of laughter from the wall adjacent to him that bubbled like a stream and a few seconds after, a groan like the rocks underneath.
He woke up to the sound of sizzling, the taste of batter heavy in the air and the ice cold frosty breeze that tumbled through his window letting him know that he had made it to Saturday. He stumbled out of bed, wondering for a moment if Barry had finally learned to cook, because the last time he had attempted Cisco had needed a step ladder to scrub at burn stains on the ceiling.
Luckily, it wasn’t Barry.
It was Iris. She was dressed in something that was only revealed to be an man’s shirt as opposed to a stylish ‘shirt-dress’ by how wide it was in the shoulder’s and how it fell right past her thighs and to below her knees. Oh, and also the fact that Barry had totally been wearing that checkered affair just yesterday. It was difficult to tell which of the two of them was smiling hardest. Iris had clearly, and very smartly delegated Barry to assembling plates, and dish-washing and as Cisco made his way down the hall towards the small kitchenette, Barry flicked Iris with suds no more than five times. Iris was wicked skilled with a damp dishcloth though, and kept snapping it across Barry’s legs, thighs and occasionally his ass. It was at the moment when Barry put down a dish and began to walk with purpose towards Iris after she’d flicked his rump, that Cisco decided that he was most definitely not up for a repeat of last night and cleared his throat.
They looked at each other and turned around. There was a quality of ease about them that Cisco supposed came from knowing one another so long. He’d seen pictures of Iris at all ages on Barry’s person throughout the three months he’d known him. There was the recent picture of Iris that he’d recognised her from that winked out from beneath her spectacles whenever Barry booted his computer. There was the picture of a scarecrow like wild haired, lanky, blushing Barry with his arm around Iris on a swing set that sat on Barry’s bedside table. There was even a picture of Iris in a particular green bathing suit, which led to Cisco asking ‘Who is she?’ and Barry blushing, snatching the picture out of his hands and muttering ‘None of your business! Cisco.’ So he was pretty sure they’d ‘Barry and Iris’ for yonks, though, with the blushing and slight fluster maybe they’d only become ‘BarryandIris’ recently?
However long they’ve been together, how they move is something uncanny. They turn at the same time, hands clasped behind their back and Barry seems to subconsciously nudge behind Iris; folding his giant frame behind her shorter one. They look like a couple of kids who have just won Homecoming King and Queen, and who don’t know what to do under the glare of all of their classmates.
‘Hi, Cisco!’ blurted Iris first, like a bubble of energy, brandishing a spatula enthusiastically. ‘I made pancakes!’ and Cisco giggled, ‘I can see that.’ causing Iris to smile, roll her eyes and turn back to the stove, ‘I don’t appreciate that kind of sass, Mister. I get enough sarcasm all day from this one!’ she speaks, gesturing at Barry, who had previously been observing. After watching the exchange Barry seems to realise he’s been summoned and shrugs and says, ‘I’m barely ever sarcastic with you, I’. It was like watching a sitcom unfold, a Ross and Rachel spectacular except with no lights, no cameras, and no forced laughs. Just the blissful nature of unrefined perfection.
Cisco wondered if maybe his level of sleep deprivation was what was making him so sappy, but he contented himself with the fact that it was entirely possible that he was just completely and utterly happy that his roommate, a man who he’d fucking seen just as lonely as him had someone like Iris. Even though it didn’t mean he’d ever find his Iris (who’d be nerdy, like him but organised and disciplined like he wished he could be) it was a hope spot.
He remembered when he’d realised the loneliness that he felt was represented in Barry as well. When they’d first met there had been a mutual comradery, they were brothers almost instantly. They shared so much in everything in their lives and that aspect of their friendship was only continued the longer they’d known each other. It went slowly from sharing geeking out over Star Trek and gadgets to silently realising that part of the reason Barry Allen had a hero complex you could see from a mile away was because of the immense PTSD he had from his childhood, and he was sure Barry had realised the same about him and his humour as an attempt to deflect attention from his… well from his everything fucking else.
That’s not to say that they didn’t have fun, in the labs after hours and running out of the lab, carrying a beaker and shouting at the hall that ‘she’ was ‘going to blow’ wasn’t one of the funniest moments of both of their existences. It was just to say that they were both men who were in need of love, and a friend and that it was good that they had each other and also, Cisco thought, that Barry had Iris.
Later on when Cisco had blinked some of the sleep out of his eyes, eaten his fill of pancakes and tried and failed at challenging and failing in drinking Iris under the table with espresso shots, Cisco was stretched back on an armchair. Barry was slung like a wiry spider one leg across the back of Cisco and the other underneath him all to accommodate Iris, who was perched in the V between his legs, on the arm of the armrest, braiding Cisco’s hair. ‘You know, usually it really hurts whenever anyone touches my hair, but this actually feels kind of nice’, Cisco remarked softly up to Iris. Iris chortled, stilling her hands ‘Yeah, I am pretty good if I do say so myself. I learned everything I know about braiding from when I was trying to learn how to cornrow my damn hair from YouTube videos’ she laughed back at him, warmly, ‘It was an interesting phase, it was a good look eventually though, no thanks to Barry Henry fucking Allen’, she said, nudging Barry in his ribs.
Barry looked mock outraged, ‘Hey! I loved that look, I still to this day adore that look, how could you?’ and Iris rolled her eyes and returned to braiding Cisco’s hair. ‘That’s not what you were saying when I was trying to cornrow your bangs in sophomore year.’ She sniped back and he threw back his head and laughed, clutching Iris’ waist as support to stop himself from falling off of the armchair. ‘I only refused because I was scared one day someone would dig it up and accuse me of cultural appropriation’ and they all chuckled until Cisco mock seriously replied, ‘That would have been me, and you would have been out on your ass in seconds, man.’ He said, and the room was quiet for a short moment before they all dissolved into uproarious giggles.
‘So, ah....’ said Cisco, wiggling his eyebrows and looking up at the lovebirds. ‘Are we ever going to talk about what the hell went down last night?’ he started, before he saw Barry tense where he stood and Iris reach her hand down to intertwine with his, even though she was grinning shamelessly. It took a second for the cogs to turn in Cisco’s head before he raised his hands. ‘Wait, no, no. That’s not what the fuck… that’s not…’ he paused, took a breath and looked back at the two. Iris had thrown her head back and was shaking as she laughed silently across Barry’s shoulders whilst Barry was patting her back. Barry managed to look torn between comforting Iris and looking as though he was being backed into a corner by Cisco, his green eyes were widened and his jaw was tensed. ‘I don’t care about what happens in y’all… you know when you guys are doing what… what… what you do… I mean…’ he stopped, sighed again and continued. ‘I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen.’ He started, swallowing and then continuing, away from the minefield he’d clearly just uncovered, ‘I mean, are you guys....? Well I know you guys are soulmates but I mean… you know... deets and stuff.’
Barry smiled more widely than Cisco had seen him smile before today, which wasn’t a hugely strange occurrence seeing as he’d been smiling just the same every time he so much as looked at Iris. ‘I mean we’ve been best friends forever and I’ve been in love with her for just as long’ he smiled softly, ‘I mean I’ve spent my whole life writing out and thinking up these speeches for how to tell her how I felt, and how long and how strongly I’d felt it but…’ his face clouded over, ‘something always came up… that stopped me from telling her how I felt. But then yesterday I opened the door and she jumped on me and I guess, I guess I didn’t have to write out all of that stuff. Which is fantastic, because I don’t really have the way with words that she does’, he said grinning and toying with a tendril of Iris’ hair, as she seemed to visibly restrain herself from kissing his cheek. Iris looked down at Cisco and then was suddenly wracked with hysterical laughter once more, ‘Wait, is that what that letter that I found in your room, in the blue envelope, after you moved out was?’ she chortled, her face scrunching up, ‘I’m pretty sure that started, ‘let’s stop ‘thinking’ and start ‘doing’ and ‘doing’ was underlined’. Barry blushed and hid his face in her hair and Iris twisted her shoulders and held his face, ‘Barry Allen, you are an incurable nerd, you have to know that!’ and Cisco giggled, laid his head back and let him fall into the impersonal pleasure of his friend’s utter happiness.