Notes: Hartmon Bingo I4 - Altered States of Mind

I'd say Hartley's state of mind is sufficiently altered here, anyway.

Anyway, this was inspired by a tumblr post I read by squireofgeekdom that I just couldn't get out of my head. The idea of Hartley picking Cisco as the person to bitch about how freaking weird everything's been was just too funny to let go of.

Rumor Has It

Cisco's phone starts ringing at one-thirty in the morning and he's too asleep to really understand what's happening until the ringing stops. By that point Cisco's staring blankly at the phone in his hand trying to figure out why it was making noise in the first place.

It filters in that its his phone so of course it was ringing but Cisco figures it's done with now, so he sets it back on the nightstand. He doesn't recognize the number and it doesn't seem like a voicemail is going to be left, so Cisco snuggles back into his covers and prepares to go back to sleep when...

When Cisco set that ringtone, he'd really liked it. But at this early hour of the morning, it makes Cisco want to stab something. Most likely the phone, but he can't entirely rule out the person calling.

Grabbing the phone - and knocking his alarm clock to the floor in the process, which Cisco swears sleepily over - Cisco answers the phone. There's a chance it could be Harry calling from a payphone somewhere - are payphones still a thing in Central anymore? - otherwise Cisco would have just... ignored it. He can't turn off his phone in case of a Flash emergency, but he could silence unknown numbers.

"Hello?" Cisco greeted sleepily.

"Cisco, Cisquito... Ramon..." came a familiar and somewhat... drunk sounding voice.

"Hartley?" Cisco asked blankly. "What are you... why are you... it's almost one-forty in the morning."

"Is it? Oh, wow, I've been awake for soooo long today. But I just can't... I just can't stop thinking about it," Hartley drawled, voice definitely a little drunk.

"Thinking about what?" Cisco sighed, flopping back onto his bed and wondering if it'd be alright if he just hung up on Hartley.

"The weird shit that keeps happening around STAR Labs. And Harrison. He's dead, it should be over and it's not over. Why isn't it over?"

Oh, this is a conversation Cisco doesn't want to have. "How did you get this number?" Cisco finally asked.

"Ciscooooo, you're not listening to me," Hartley whined.

"No, seriously, Rathaway," Cisco said in frustration. "How did you get this number?"

"Cisco, Cisco, Cisco," Hartley drawled, "the hell is going on at STAR Labs anyway?"

"Are you drunk?"

"I have been drinking, but I am cold stone sober." Considering Cold Stone was an ice cream chain, Cisco was fairly certain drunk Hartley had just mixed up his word order.

Like hell he was sober.

"Like-like... okay, so Harrison wasn't parized. Palyzed? Para-lies? He was a liar, but that's not... his legs. They worked fine. The wheelchair, he didn't need it..."

"Paralyzed," Cisco corrected, gently, "he wasn't paralyzed. Yes. We figured that one out ourselves."

"Sorry. I should have told, but I just... I was in a screwed up place," Hartley said. "But it's just. So much weird going on with Harrison. Like, why the yellow suit? That was so freaking weird, right? I didn't - I didn't put that together until later. I really didn't. But, like... banana yellow, Cisco, I thought he had better taste then that. If I'd know his aesthetic was so awful, I'd never have slept with him."

"Okay, things I never wanted to know about you and Dr. Wells. Please, Hartley, just drink some water, leave out some aspirin for yourself in the morning, and go to sleep." Cisco put a hand over his eyes and groaned sleepily. "I want to sleep."

"Banana yellow," Hartley repeated, ignoring what Cisco said altogether.

Honestly, Cisco is entirely unsurprised.

"But okay, he fucked up with the accelerator again. Made a singularity. Got himself killed. Don't care why, just glad he's not able to do accelerator things anymore. Please tell me it's gonna be dismantled? No more accelerators at STAR Labs, Cisco. It's just baaaad, okay?"

Cisco huffed a loud sigh, but let Hartley keep ranting.

"Okay, okay, okay, so... Harrison's dead and there's no body. Which is a cliche, but so many other people died in the singularity. Lotsa dead, no bodies. So I left Central. Keystone is so much nicer. Got a good job. Well, okay job. Not really matching my qualifications. But the upportunities. Upward tunitites? Yes, that. It's goooood. Nice job. I like it." Hartley sounds genuinely pleased. "But, like, what was he even doing with the accelerator, Cisco?"

"Time travel," Cisco said dryly.

"Really? That's so cool. And bad. So bad. Bad idea, no time travel. Break time to easily and then you can't put the pieces back together. Time isn't a puzzle. Can't put the pieces back together and get the same picture every time." Hartley sounded offended. "No wonder he made a singular thingy."

"Singularity."

"Uh-huh. That. That's just... He replaced me with an idiot, Cisco," Hartley grumbled. "I mean, it was one thing when he replaced me with you - or I thought he did? You were annoying and dress like an unpaid intern with colorblindness but you're a genius. But Allen's an idiot. All he's got going for him is the whole speedy mouse thing he's got going for him. He's just so... boring and unobservant and is unfairly hot in that suit. My suit, you know it was my project first but Harrison gave it to you didn't he? Supposed to be for Chip..."

"Chip the firefighter? Your ex?" Cisco asked, surprised. He'd known the firefighter suit project had been Hartley's but he'd though Hartley'd started it after breaking up with Chip, not before. Regardless, however, it was Cisco who had taken the designs from paper to reality. Whatever Hartley might say, it was Cisco's suit.

"Yeah... Chip would've looked soooo hot with that thing hugging his ass. Much nicer ass than Allen's. I mean... Allen's ass isn't bad, but it's not..."

"Hartley," Cisco interrupted sharply.

"Did Harrison really murder Allen's mom? That's just so fucked up. Did I sleep with a murderer, Cisco?" Hartley sounded genuinely concerned.

"Hartley. For your own sake, just... let this go, okay? Go drink some water. Right now. Hartley?"

"Fine, fine, fine, so bossy."

Look who was talking.

There was the sound in the background of running water. "Okay. Drank water. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." Cisco massaged the bridge of his nose. "Now set out some aspirin in easy reach of your bed."

"Aspirin, aspiririn, apserin," Hartley muttered. "Oh, found it!"

"Put it and a glass of water on your nightstand. And then go to sleep."

"But Cisco, I haven't even asked about... Harrison's been seen around Central City. It's... bloggers. Bloggers have been talking about it. He's been... pictured. Camera-ed. At Big Belly Burger. Midnight food runs to Harrison's favorite restaurant. Always told him the grease was bad for him, but god he still had amazing abs. And arms. Those arms were so... you were mesmerized by those arms too, do not even lie."

"I am not discussing Dr. Wells' arms with you, Hartley." Cisco huffed a sigh. "Go to sleep. And please, just... if you really want answers, call me when you're sober."

"I'm gonna hold you to that. Call you in the afternoon. Want all the answers, Cisquito."

"Go to sleep, Hartley," Cisco repeated.

"I'm in bed, what more do you want?" Hartley grumbled. There was a soft shuffling noise and, after a few moments, a soft not-quite-snore reached Cisco's ears. He ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand, wincing when he heard it bounce to the floor.

Groaning, Cisco buried his face into his pillow. He needed to sleep too.

(In the morning, after fishing his alarm clock out from behind the nightstand, Cisco found his phone under his bed with a text from Hartley's number. 'STAR Labs is still fucking weird. Still calling you this afternoon.')