A/N: Completed for Hartmon Finish Your WIP Day. It's been an age since I posted any Hartmon fic so I am happy to be able to complete this lil oneshot I've had hanging about since last September. There's a lot more that could be done with the scenario I realise but I think this snapshot of it is all I'm likely to do, I enjoyed trying to capture the emotion of the aftermath.
Warning for temporary character death and mildly dubious consent. Rated M because I think it's a bit more than is okay for Teen but it's a mild M really.
Not A Martyr
Hartley understands anger. Vengeance, more specifically. The desire to hurt those who hurt you. It seems like justice, if you squint and ignore the sinking feeling that accompanies each step you take away from who you thought you were.
However, he doesn't understand what Cisco is feeling. The undirected rage. His lab trashed for no apparent reason. The team doesn't understand either; he can't decide if that's for the best or yet another problem he has created for Cisco. It's almost enough to make him regret using the Lazarus Pit...but not quite. Not when the alternative was no more Cisco. Mick owed him one, and the nice thing about timeships was that they could take you back to before Team High and Mighty destroyed all the remaining pits. It was good enough for Sara, for Thea; they survived, they adapted.
Hartley thought any cost was worth it when the alternative was Cisco given over to oblivion. To Barry turning him down with pitying eyes and well-meaning, hypocritical advice about non-interference. As if Cisco was meant to die.
Perhaps he's just doomed Cisco to another type of oblivion, to emptiness filled up with something he's not equipped to handle. Where's the love in that.
John had told him he has his soul, as if that's a comfort and not more cause for alarm that there was a possibility, or even a moment when, he hadn't.
Sara had told him he'd get through this, that he just needed to find a way to channel the bloodlust. She'd also sighed and yoinked Hartley and Mick away for a not-so-private 'chat' where she reamed them out before sending them unceremoniously back to S.T.A.R. Labs.
Supposedly, he's just as human as the next guy or gal or nonbinary pal – if you discount the Legends, seeing as Charlie's not exactly human. But Cisco doesn't feel like himself. He's drowning in his emotions and this time it isn't grief or anger at Barry. It isn't even anger at Hartley for choosing this for him. It's just anger full stop. The need to beat something. To keep going past that self-preservation motive, until his hands would bleed. Because that might make him feel something else, for a moment.
As Cisco looks over the disarray of trashed equipment and furniture, he thinks back to what he'd heard back on the Waverider when Hartley justified himself to Sara. The anger at the injustice of Cisco dying and it being accepted. B ut for Hartley that had been just a quick flash of anger that passed, moving increasingly into pure anguish at the reality he couldn't let stand and couldn't understand how others could . His voice got low at that part of the explanation to Sara, hard for Cisco to overhear, but his voice had cracked , that much Cisco was certain of.
Despite their past, they were good friends now, but he'd never have guessed Hartley would care that much. To defy not only Team Flash but risk the wrath of Sara Lance too. It was...something, but then Hartley usually was bold, striking his own path, sometimes purely to spite others. How much he cared though, it sent a flare of hope up inside Cisco. Filling him with something equally as hot as the anger thrumming in him, except it made for a core of something else he found easier to understand – desire.
Cisco finds Hartley in the Cortex. All he says is an uncharacteristically gruff "I need you," before he's pulling a confused Hartley away from the console. Hartley's eyebrows shoot up at his words but he doesn't say anything once he catches Cisco's look, letting him drag him away to the nearest empty room. It's only when they are alone that Cisco stops to second guess his intentions, dropping Hartley's hand and turning away, putting distance between them because he doesn't trust himself right now. Is he about to ruin a perfectly good friendship? He'd latched onto the thought of how much Hartley cared and the idea there might be something there requited but maybe he wants it to be true too much. At least if he's wrong he's got a good excuse in how he's not himself.
When he turns back to Hartley, intent to close the distance again and try, Hartley looks concerned. There's no explanation for Cisco's behaviour other than his recent 'changes' but apparently that doesn't inspire any fear in him. It shouldn't surprise him really when Hartley has never been afraid of him, even when he should have been. Before he'd been too cocky to believe Cisco could really hurt him and now...Now, Cisco isn't sure what's going on in Hartley's head, but as he stares intensely at the man he notices he looks a little out of breath, a little sweaty and that makes the heat in Cisco coil tighter and he knows he's rapidly reaching a snapping point that is scary to consider.
"What are you waiting for, Cisquito?" Hartley says petulantly, pulling Cisco to him by his lapels. The open collar of his shirt is tight around his neck at the action, uncomfortable, but that sensation is quickly drowned out by the need practically burning in him to touch Hartley and the fact Hartley knows what he wants, is welcoming it. So Cisco lets go, his passion directed into kissing Hartley however he damn well pleases. In pressing up against him, pressing him to the wall until there's no space left between them anymore. The physical heat calls to him as they wrap themselves up in each other.
With every second he can feel the bloodlust quelled a little more. The desire is no less needy, but it's smoother in his veins, turning from a fire consuming him into a headier slowburn of lust that pools warm in his belly. Cisco's holding on for dear life, even if it's not his body he's holding on to. It's less terrifying because he's not alone here; he knows Hartley cares, perhaps even loves him if he's lucky. That's the bright light inside that stops the darkness from swallowing him. And Hartley moans enthusiastically in response to everything he does, hands pulling him needily closer as well, currently eagerly onboard with Cisco abandoning all reason and living for the moment. As reason starts to creep back in though, he has the niggling thought that there are definitely conversations to be had about this. And conversations will come later, but Cisco's just glad to be alive somewhere in there, glad to be alive at all.