A/N: This was meant to be much shorter than it was but I accidentally wrote 1.7k. Light angst, light whump, a lotta UST and a bit of drinking too.

Thanks to SophiaCatherine for betareading this. :)

Both Is Good

Cisco slowly drags his hands over his face, stretching out his tense muscles as he does. He's exhausted – mentally and physically. Days like this aren't as rare as he'd like, not now he's Vibe. His abilities are pretty handy but that's why he finds himself pushed to the limit more often than not.

Seeing Hartley Rathaway turning the corner might be his last straw, depending on how sympathetic Hartley is feeling today. Hartley isn't exactly known for his bedside manner but he's surprised them more often than not since he was semi-officially part of the team. Although Hartley may be 'their guy' these days, that doesn't change his ridiculously high standards, his default level of snark, nor his competitiveness. Sometimes his attitude is necessary, or entertaining, or even useful for kickstarting Cisco's brain. Just not today.

Hartley's eyebrows raise at the sight of Cisco and his features form a quizzical expression, like Cisco has distracted him from whatever he'd come down here for. Does he look that bad? Cisco wonders. Hartley also opens his mouth but doesn't immediately say anything, uncharacteristically struggling for words. Helpfully that gives Cisco a small window to cut off whatever his opening gambit was going to be. No matter how much Hartley dialed down his generally abrasive personality, it probably wouldn't be enough for Cisco in his current mood. "Stop right there. I've had a rough day and honestly, all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with."

Hartley gives him an odd look, one Cisco can't place. Not one of his usual expressions, that's for sure. "I could help with half of that."

That certainly piques Cisco's curiosity, because he hadn't expected Hartley to stick around, let alone give an ambiguous offer of help.

And that ambiguity winds through him, settling low, causing an entirely different kind of tension all of a sudden. A reminder of how wound up he has been for...ages, really.

Before he can think better of it, Cisco goes with voicing his first thought purely instinct. He licks his lips, and then asks, perhaps a touch huskily, "Which half?"

Hartley seems stunned for a moment. Rationally Cisco can compute that Hartley Rathaway surely isn't offering to snuggle up with him. The idea seems absurd - they've barely ever hugged. Mostly only engaging in a few pats on the shoulder or high-fives, awkward expressions of camaraderie. The few occasions they might have hugged, it wouldn't have been because of their sort-of friendship. More like a need to reach out after near-death experiences, just a connection to the first warm body there was – a 'hey, we're alive and all limbs intact, ain't that grand'.

But somehow, Cisco's body doesn't get the memo on how ridiculous the idea is. Or that it wouldn't be like that; he'd be lucky enough to get a platonic hug.

Cisco realizes he probably zoned out for a while when he's jerked back to reality by Hartley turning to leave. Did Hartley freak-out at what his tone implied? Is his leaving without another word a sign they are simply not going to ever speak about it again? As he swears out loud at one more bad encounter for the day, Cisco thinks he could definitely go for the 'pretend it never happened' option. Which is why he lets Hartley go. He hasn't got the energy to do any damage control on their conversation anyhow.

He's gonna chalk this reaction up to being very tired and in pain from the low-grade headache still reverberating around his head after using his powers longer than Caitlin would consider advisable. And not having gotten laid in far too long, that too. Because Hartley Rathaway, no matter his good looks, has never ever been remotely close to being filed under 'would go there'. The previous detractors that made him a no-go might not apply anymore (Hartley had apologized for his past behavior on several occassons now) but Cisco is determined not to think about the merits of Hartley when his judgment is impaired. Kinda like don't shop when hungry, except don't eye up teammates as potential hookups when thirsty as hell.

He's just gonna do the same thing he does every night – the bare minimum post-mission maintenance of systems. Followed by unwisely breaching himself home to seek out a combination of drink, whatever comfort food his apartment cupboards offer and some eminently binge-able media that's forever awaiting his attention. And if he's not put to sleep by that, there's always his right hand, ready and willing.

It's been a roller-coaster of a day and Cisco can't wait to collapse into his couch. Yet he can't sit down to take a breather or he knows he won't be able to get up again.

He's almost done, getting wearier by the second, when the surprising happens: Hartley comes back.

Hartley comes back with a fancy looking bottle of something Cisco doesn't recognize. Whatever it is it's mostly full, too.

"Where'd you get that? It's not..."

"Not Harri- Eobard's, no. It's Akvavit. Mikkelson had a stash in his old lab on sublevel 3."

Cisco props himself up on the edge of one of the tables and Hartley follows suit, leaning next to him. It's not properly sitting down or else he'd be likely to end up sleeping here on the floor. However worn out he is, he doesn't want to show Hartley. He doesn't want that kind of concern from him. The drink will do and is, frankly, more than he expected from the man. At least this surprise was one of the day's pleasant ones. More or less. Perhaps he could do without the trip down memory lane it prompts.

Mikkelson hadn't come in the day after the accident. Or the one after that. Cisco doesn't think he ever formally handed in his notice. Like a lot of former employees, they'd just drifted away, distancing themselves. So many people who survived the particle accelerator incident Cisco never saw again, making it feel no different than the others who had died. Although really it was more like they'd pretended he'd died, ghosted

At least one of the former HR department was convinced to come back, on an extortionate consultancy rate, for a single day to handle all the paperwork so Cisco didn't have to. Mikkelson's lab was one Cisco hadn't done much to in the sweep of the facilities; nothing more than check for dangerous substances and ensure nothing in it would go kaboom anytime post the kaboom they'd already had.

Hartley opens the twist top and offers Cisco first dibs. No glasses or mugs then. But Cisco isn't one to stand on ceremony, and the bottle shows a pretty high alcohol content so he isn't really concerned about swapping germs with Hartley on this occasion. He takes a large swig and swallows it down, relishing the burn of it. The after-taste is better than he expected and he feels bad he didn't take the time to savor it when it's clearly a decent drink.

"Wow, this is good shit. I didn't know any lab techs here got paid well enough to afford this kind of – I'd say moonshine but it's like the polar opposite."

Hartley takes a swig himself and coughs at the strength, as if he's out of practice or possibly not used to drinking in the first place. He nods in agreement briefly as he gets his composure back and Cisco takes the bottle back eagerly. He doesn't know what to say and drinking seems infinitely easier.

A few swigs in, Cisco has even less filter than before and gets to admitting something he probably shouldn't. "I was kinda hoping you were gonna say you could help me out with the other part of my problem."

Drinking does tend to have the effect of bringing out either sharper snark or reckless confidence with him – he's not sure which would have been more welcome right now.

Hartley gapes, blushes and ultimately winds up speechless. He's avoiding looking at Cisco, mouth moving like he's trying to bring himself to say something. Cisco can't help but grin, despite his intentions and the slight sense of mortification lingering. It's sort of...cute, even though he wouldn't normally associate that word with Hartley.

"I...You don't...You-"

"Relax," he says with a hand clasping Hartley's shoulder. "I wasn't expecting you'd want to."

He's not sure why he chose to lay hands on Hartley like that. His brain supplies an idea of it being reassuring, friendly. But he hasn't removed his hand and come to think of it, he's rather close to Hartley as well.

Close to a Hartley who is pale, except for a light blush on his cheeks that Cisco put there. He's close enough to see Hartley swallow hard and Cisco feels that tension inside winding tighter in anticipation of something that isn't going to happen. Knowing it's ultimately nothing is agonizing in its own way, even though it's for the best he doesn't do anything drunk he might regret later. Besides, any minute now Hartley is going to get annoyed with him, brush it all off or decide this was a bad idea and then he'll be alone again. He regrets that probable outcome more than anything else at the moment.

Instead, he finds himself enveloped in a hug. There's a second of WTF at his being body pulled to Hartley's before Cisco leans into it, going with the flow and taking what comfort he can get. As he relaxes, he gets to enjoy the soft warmth of Hartley's hoodie-enshrouded body. Hartley's arms wound around his back grasp him with just the right amount of pressure, a welcome sensation of being held but not suffocatingly so, feeling protected.

He doesn't say anything, resists the urge to sigh contentedly or to pull Hartley closer – he lets them both have a moment where there's no tension, only a soothing bond between them. Though that's not quite true. Cisco is feeling other things about the closeness, things that are better not to dwell on when he's in such close proximity. Plus this is not about anything like that, he doesn't think. Of course, his thoughts aren't very straight right now and he doesn't trust his instincts to rule over him in his state either. What it means he can't say for sure but it's nice. It's what he needs.