The One Rule

The aroma of home-cooked pizzas swept and lingered around the apartment as Laurel Lance hurriedly tidied in anticipation. Cisco had lost the coin toss, and naturally had to cook for the evening, something Laurel felt no great disappointment in. She dashed to and from the living area and their bedroom, pulling all manner of trinkets and doodads related to their night-jobs from side-tables, windowsills, the mantelpiece and throwing them all onto their bed.

Initially, if she was honest with herself, Laurel had felt apprehension around the idea of getting a place together. It all seemed so... permanent. After losing Ollie and Sara, and then Sara again, and then Ollie again (not to mention the hubbub in between), the last three years had been tumultuous to the point of damn-near breaking her. Her darkness, that creeping voice inside of her, had taken over. She'd lost to her addictions, to her weaknesses. She'd hit rock bottom and had pushed away almost everyone she held dear. That Laurel was gone now, beaten and conquered by a crime-fighter. A hero. But she had still struggled with the idea of settling down. Of allowing herself, just for a moment, to believe that she would be able to have some sort of status quo. Trusting someone that much? No, give her a pissed off metahuman any day.

It was Cisco who had convinced her. He'd moved all the way to Star City for her, leaving behind everything; his friends, his job, his life. The way he told it, you'd think he'd just set off one day, following his heart for the girl he spoke to every night. Barry told it differently – a Cisco who had worried for months about even suggesting the idea, and needed to be literally pushed and stranded (luggage and all) three miles down the road by a very good, and very fast, friend. But when he'd shown up, flashing that smile, his smile, how could she say no? He melted her. And not because he was smooth, or idealised, or perfect. It was because he was awkward, and real, and hers – which really, when she thought about it, was perfect.

The kitchen overlooked the living room, with a breakfast bar between the two that was currently being stacked high with all manner of fried potatoes, pizzas, and breads. He caught sight of her, his brown eyes glancing up, and that trademark grin bursting across his face as if he was seeing her for the first time.
"Wow" was all he could manage. An almost daily occurrence, but a welcome one. She'd made an effort this evening. Gold dress, glowing make-up, plum lips. Cisco had tried too; He'd put a blue blazer on over his Space Invaders t-shirt.
"Stop staring, they're gonna be here soon. You do realise there's only four of us, right?"
"I.. uh, well yeah. But it's pizza. Are you honestly gonna stand there and pretend you can have too much pizza?" he joked, finger wagging, "Because I didn't peg you for a liar Ms. Lance."
Laurel smiled inwards, and continued the mammoth task of tidying, tossing a pair of ripped fishnets across the hall and into their room.
"Now those were fun. You should absolutely wear fishnets more often."
"I don't think the Black Canary would find them very practical." Laurel mused with a wry smile.
"Hey don't knock it 'till you try it, man! Did you take care of the coffee table yet?"

She sighed, glancing across the mountain of paperwork that spilled across the coffee table in the living room. Case files, court notes, cold cases. Miles upon miles of manila folders arranged in an organised chaos that only Laurel really understood. She often pretended there was some great, mysterious system in place whenever Cisco asked her, but it was really just current stuff on the left, and older stuff on the right.
"I was kind of avoiding it..." she admitted.
An idea occurred to her. Disappearing momentarily into a cabinet beside the TV, she soon retrieved a red checkered picnic blanket. Laurel draped it, gingerly, over the paperwork. There. Perfect.
"Okay, everything's done. Which means if Felicity's scarily impeccable timing is anything to go by-"
Before the district attorney could finish, as if scripted, there was a knock at the door.
"Dude. That is scary," Cisco Ramon nodded.

Laurel flung the door open as Cisco scurried to stand next to her, tossing away the 'World's Best Girlfriend' apron he'd bought her and routinely borrowed. Standing in the doorway was Oliver Queen, bottle of wine in hand, and Felicity Smoak. Ollie had chosen a crisp white shirt that looked as if it were in a fight with his pectorals (and losing), whilst Felicity had gone for a pink dress to match her lipstick.
"Hey, new place!" Felicity cried, as she grabbed Laurel in a hug, her glasses skewing against her friend's face. Cisco took the bottle from Oliver and shook his hand, before twisting his thumb and bringing the vigilante in for an unexpected hug of his own.
"Hey to you too, Cisco."
"What up, guys, welcome to our crib!" Cisco enthused, gesturing around the apartment, "Pretty nice, huh?"
"You have a lovely place," Ollie nodded to Laurel, as she mouthed a 'hey' to him. His stoic, brooding, bad-boy schtick always looked incredibly lost next to Cisco, much to the amusement of their partners.
"Thanks bro. Make yourself at home," Cisco continued, tapping Ollie on the arm "Mi casa es tu casa guys. We only have the one rule..."
Laurel smirked, fully anticipating what was coming. Cisco pointed proudly to a sign beside the door with the one hand, as the other found its way onto the small of her back as a comfort. The sign was evidently home-made, and apparently Cisco's talents for technology didn't stretch to arts-and-crafts. A plain black background dotted with small white spots, adorned with nineteen words scrawled in a hollow, yellow typeface:

'LANCE / RAMON APARTMENT RULES

RULE NO.1 - DO NOT USE THE 'M' WORD

RULE NO.2 – THERE IS NO RULE NO.2'

Cisco beamed, eyebrows raised, as he nodded: "Pretty dope, huh?"
Sufficiently pleased with himself, he took their coats, and headed back around the corner to the kitchen. Laurel brought them further into their home, as Cisco dipped his hands into oven gloves, and took the last of the garlic bread out of their oven.
"The, uh... 'm' word?" Oliver began to ask in a hushed voice, as Felicity held onto his arm, "You mean motherf-?"
"No, no," Laurel explained, doing her best to whisper, "... midichlorians."
A sudden crash emanated from the kitchen, sending cutlery sprawling and clattering across the laminate flooring.
"I made a sign!" Cisco protested, whirling back to the group "Laurel, come on, it took me like three hours!"
"I'm sorry, what is a mini-chlorine? Is that a band?" Ollie asked, raising an eyebrow.
Laurel's brow furrowed, as Felicity patted him on the chest lovingly.
"Oh... Oh, you're so pretty," She smiled to her clueless lover.
Cisco just blinked. Several times, before he could say a word. His stunned, envious horror was palpable.
"... You mean you seriously don't know?"
"Cisco, I have literally no idea what a millie-fourteen is."
"But you've seen Star Wars, right?"
"I mean, the older ones, once, sure..."
Laurel laughed as Cisco dashed over to Felicity, his gloved hands taking hers. He was being silly, but she knew part of him genuinely meant it, which amused her even more.
"Protect him. Never let him know," Cisco said, earnestly, "He is rare and precious and unspoiled... like a unicorn... or a new episode of Sherlock."
"I promise, Cisco"

Utterly bemused, Oliver merely followed a chuckling Laurel into the front room. Laurel's hands linked with Cisco's as he went past, craving the contact, before he dashed back once more. The three sat down on plush sofas, Felicity with Ollie on the seats just in front of the hall, and Laurel on the sofa with its back to the breakfast bar. She folded one leg over the other, as Cisco put the finishing touches on his 'pizza bar'.
"Okay, so uh... no saying the 'm' word around Cisco," Oliver acknowledged.
"Around Cisco?" Laurel answered back with a smile, "Oliver Queen, if you ever dare utter that word under my roof, I will kick you so fast that even Barry wouldn't see it coming."

And then, enthusiastically from the kitchen, "My girlfriend's a nerd!"