This was originally posted on Tumblr as two drabbles, combined here for convenience's sake. Based on a post posing this hard-to-resist scenario: "okay but imagine Cisco getting nabbed by a villain and they want him to call the flash and he has to explain why he's saved in his phone as 'Bae.'"

Enjoy!

Not good, Cisco thought upon regaining consciousness. Definitely not good. At first the only sensation he could register was the burn at his wrists where he was tied to the chair and the throbbing in his skull. That, however, was amplified by a stinging slap to the cheek that brought him back into full awareness.

"We asked you a question. What is the Flash's name?"

Cisco squinted groggily and tried to catalogue his surroundings. Basement. Two kidnappers. One holding a phone. The other holding a tire iron. "Sorry, didn't hear you, what with being knocked out and all."

Another slap. "The Flash's name. So we can call him and let him know we have his precious sidekick."

At once, it all clicked. The guy with the cellphone was scrolling through with a frown on his face. Oh.

"You won't find a contact labeled 'Flash,' if that's what you're looking for," Cisco said. "I'm not dumb."

"Which is why we're asking you what his name is." Cisco swallowed as the man with the tire iron advanced—the slap-happy one. He was suddenly transported back to that fateful day with Snart and Rory, with frostbite demanding Barry Allen's name as ransom, with Cisco's metallic fear forcing the identity out of his throat. He'd caved because of Dante; would he hold up when it was his own life?

But then he realized—Barry Allen's name wasn't in his phone. Oh. Oh no.

"I'm…I'm friends with very powerful people," he stammered, trying to distract, trying to delay. "You know…other metahumans. Who are going to be pissed if anything happens to me."

"Uh, boss?" The man with the phone held it up uncomfortably. "There's a contact in here—Killer Frost."

Despite Caitlin's resentment toward it, Cisco thanked the good fortune that had compelled him to label his friends with wacky nicknames in his phone. "That's right," he said. "Very powerful friends. Never heard of Killer Frost? Well, let me tell you, she'll, uh, kill you if you hurt me. Because she's a…killer."

He was sweating now, because he could see that although a glimmer of doubt passed over Tire Iron's face, he was far from convinced. Cisco braced himself for the worst, which, now that he thought about it, could be either of his options: death, or giving up Barry's contact info.

"I don't care who you're friends with," Tire Iron said. "What I care about is the Flash. Now, I'll ask you one more time: what is his name?"

Cisco could tell there was no more use stalling. He cleared his throat, tried to keep his eye contact with the burly man steady. Then, in a small, almost defeated voice, he admitted:

"Bae."

"What?"

"The Flash is in my phone as Bae," Cisco repeated. "Yeah, I said it."

Whatever bravado he'd had was gone, and he could feel the heat rise to his cheeks in one rush. Both men stared at him, unsure of what to say. Then Tire Iron lowered his signature tire iron, limp with disbelief.

"For real?"

Cisco watched on miserably as Tire Iron finished his quick, menacing call to Barry. Once again he tested his restraints, but it was no use. The zip-ties chafed his wrists, so he sat back, resigned.

"…and come alone, or your precious sidekick will be sent back to you in little bloody pieces."

Tire Iron hung up the phone and tossed it to his own sidekick. He looked Cisco over, appraising. The quiet between them was fraught, tense. Then: "Seriously, I can't believe you're dating the Flash."

"For the last time, we are not dating," Cisco burst. "Can we please stick to the kidnapping stuff?"

"You have him in your phone as 'Bae,'" Tire Iron said.

Sidekick nodded. "Trust me, bro, that don't sound platonic."

Cisco sighed. "Fine. It's complicated. It's a long story."

"We've got time," Tire Iron said, sitting back against the table full of sharp instruments.

"Bro, the Flash is on his way," said Sidekick. "I think this is the one instance we don't have time."

"Fine," Tire Iron said. "Well, does the Flash know you have complicated feelings for him?"

"Oh. My. God." Cisco would have buried his face in his palms if he'd had free movement of his arms. "I am not taking dating advice from a supervillain."

"He's right," Sidekick said. "If you like him, seems the first step should be telling him, bro."

"Except there won't be a chance." Tire Iron reverted back to menacing. "We're going to kill the Flash."

On cue, the door burst open. A flash of yellow lightning, a blur. Cisco's heart leapt. Sidekick went flying backward into a wall; Barry rushed him and used zip-ties to bind his hands behind his back. With his back turned, he didn't see the tire iron that came flying toward his head. Cisco's shout of warning came a fraction too late. Barry turned to evade, but the metal still glanced off of his temple, and he stumbled.

In the delay, that slight moment of disorientation, Tire Iron moved behind Cisco, and the new thrill of hope dropped to his stomach as sharp metal was pressed to his throat.

"Stand down, or your boyfriend bites it."

Barry stilled, bleeding from the corner of one eyebrow, and Cisco stared at him, watching the determination and adrenaline in Barry's face waver for an instant. It was all he needed. He threw his head backward, catching Tire Iron in the jaw and sending him to the floor. When he'd processed what had happened, Barry rushed forward and restrained the large man, then kneeled in front of Cisco.

"Cisco, I'm sorry." His words tripped over themselves as they always did when he was nervous. He undid Cisco's restraints with shaky hands. "This is my fault…you shouldn't've gotten mixed up in this…"

"Barry." Cisco planted a hand on the speedster's shoulder, looked him in the eye. "I'm fine. I swear."

Barry appeared unconvinced a moment more, but slowly his shoulders relaxed. "I really am sorry, though." A thought struck him, and he crinkled his brow. "Uh, why did that guy call you my boyfriend?"

Cisco stood stiffly, and he found himself smiling. "Dunno. But how about we talk about it over dinner?"

Thanks so much for reading! And thanks for Matt Fraction's Hawkeye run for inspiring the comically-overused "bro." If you feel so inclined, please leave a comment below with your thoughts!

And, for anyone who is interested in the progress of my next longfic, have no fear! It is almost done, and should be posted sometime this week (on my normal posting schedule, so either Wednesday or Sunday). Thanks so much!

Till next time,

Penn