A/N: This was absolutely inspired by seeing Carlos Valdes in "Up Here" back in March and wondering what a short-haired Cisco would do to Hartley. Thanks to blueelvewithwings for betareading.

Double Take

The thing about Cisco is that Hartley hasn't really looked at him since that fateful day in S.T.A.R. Labs when Harrison had introduced him. And back then, he'd mostly been distracted by Cisco's altogether too informal taste in clothing, and the surge of jealousy he'd felt at Cisco being the new guy. Cisco had been a threat to him, and any thoughts on how else he looked, apart from what he could use to insult and bristle him, got discarded as irrelevant.

The last time Hartley could remember having any conscious interest in Cisco was right around the time he started suiting up as Vibe. And that he'd blamed on the new suit; anyone was bound to look good in that type of get-up. So sue him, he had a costume kink to go with his competence kink; leather-clad superheroes or villains were like catnip to him. But then they'd actually become friends, rather than merely reluctant allies trying to take down a Time Wraith together. So Hartley tried, and mostly succeeded in, not thinking about Cisco like that. Especially since enemies to friends seemed better than he deserved already-anything more would be a pipe dream. Though it was hard at times, out in the field especially, trying not to die usually took precedence and distracted him from being tempted to check Cisco out too much. But a little wouldn't hurt.

And then Cisco cut his hair. This was the last thing Hartley expected him to do under normal circumstances, because Cisco had made it clear that his hair would not be touched whenever people suggested on many occasions that he could change something in his life. Except, metas of the week didn't care what they ruined in the pursuit of their goals, and Cisco's hair was the latest casualty. At least the glue was possible to cut out of his hair; it could have been so much worse. If it had gone over his mouth and nose instead...

Cisco missing a chunk of hair on one side had unfortunately seemed hilarious at the time. Cisco, however, had pouted and glowered and then stormed out muttering angrily to himself before everyone else in the room burst out laughing, unable to help themselves. It might not have been fair to Cisco, who was mourning the loss of his beloved hair, but they'd needed an emotional outlet after that mission. Glue didn't sound particularly dangerous, more annoying or an inconvenience, and yet that mission had been one of the most dangerous in some time. Barry had been hit in the face and only the advantages of being a speedster had allowed him to escape that hazard rapidly enough that it wasn't a huge problem.

When he next saw Cisco, his jaw had dropped. Intellectually, he'd known Cisco would be getting a haircut, but that hadn't prepared him for the reality. His brain can't get used to it and he does a double-take every time he sees Cisco now. And the problem with that is he's really seeing Cisco again, or perhaps even for the first time given he's not biased anymore. Or at least, not biased against Cisco.

Oh, no, he thinks, looking quickly away and swallowing down a lump in his throat. It isn't that Cisco looks hotter with short hair, it's that looking properly at Cisco at all is making him notice that Cisco is indeed hot. And cute, even as he scowls at Hartley, displeased with the new hair being made into A Thing when he clearly just wants to ignore it. Cisco has been hot this whole time and all Hartley has been achieving was ignoring it. But he can't anymore – his stomach is twisting at the knowledge because it doesn't feel like just lust now – and he has no idea what to do about it.

"Would you quit looking at me like I grew a third eye already," Cisco grumps the next time Hartley's caught staring at him.

"Sorry," he says, turning away under the guise of reaching for another tool, hoping he isn't blushing.

"Wow! An apology from Hartley Rathaway. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Cisco jokes. Usually, Hartley would snipe back, though somewhat good-naturedly; his reply fulfilling the social contract that they maintain some level of antagonism as a norm for them. This time he doesn't dismiss it. At least if Cisco thinks he might be ill then it might also do double time and explain the blush as well, should he notice it.

"You know what, I don't actually feel great. I'm going to-"

Cisco spins around in his chair and Hartley looks up just in time to see Cisco's eyes narrowing. Cisco always was a little too perceptive to get much past. And liable not to leave things be, Hartley is reminded as Cisco opens his mouth.

"No, there's something more to it, isn't there? You look..." Cisco stares at him intently and Hartley definitely does blush this time. "Guilty?"

"I don't like your hair," Hartley blurts out for a lack of anything better to say, simply wanting to get out of this conversation as fast as possible.

Cisco's eyebrows raise in surprise. "Don't hold back on me now. Way to rub salt in the wound."

"It's... distracting," Hartley says and he winces internally at his choice of word that's entirely too close to what he wants to avoid admitting.

"Oh no, poor Hartley. Sorry if my hair crisis is impacting you. Wait, how is it distracting exactly?"

Hartley exaggeratedly sighs, feigning annoyance, because annoyance is what Cisco expects from him, right? He'd long ago learned it's easier to hide your feelings inside what people expected of you.

"It's like when someone takes off their glasses," he rushes to explain. "They don't look right anymore. Every time I see your face you don't look like you and it's distracting," he finishes, slipping into a frown.

"Uh-huh. Well, get used to it," Cisco replies, crossing his arms resolutely. "I can't do a damn thing about it. It's like this until it grows back out," he says, hand motioning to his hair, as if to touch the hair that isn't there and frowning himself at that small reminder. "And out of the two of us, I seriously doubt it's bothering you anywhere near as much as it's bothering me."

Cisco is blessedly silent after that, understandably sulking, and Hartley sighs quietly to himself at avoiding disaster. He's not remotely ready for Cisco to find out the real reason.

Hartley avoids Cisco for a while. If he can just wait it out until Cisco looks more like his old self then maybe the twisty feeling in his stomach he's getting around Cisco will at least abate. He doesn't hold out any hope it will go away completely, but less intensity would be helpful. Easier to ignore, he hopes.

Avoidance works okay, for a while. Until Cisco corners him about a project that they both need to be present for.

"Is it still the hair thing, because it grew out like two inches already. How long, no pun intended, before it's not weird for you anymore?"

"I don't know," Hartley says, and that's at least the truth. He has a sinking feeling when he notes Cisco also looks a bit hurt. Has he missed him? Not that that would be unusual, they are friends. Hartley really shouldn't read into things so much. Cisco is standing too close for his liking and it's hard to think rationally when he's looking at him like that; he wants to make things better but there is no good solution, so all he can think is to make things worse, to push Cisco away and get a reprieve from his feelings at least.

"I really don't have time for this, Cisco," he says curtly, "I need to get going. Back to Mercury Labs. You know, the place where I actually work."

But it turns out trying to push him away doesn't work as effectively as it used to. Instead, Cisco's eyes turn down in a way that makes Hartley feel awful, and Cisco asks softly, "What's this really about, Hartley? Did I do something to make you mad? Did I say the wrong thing? Let me know what to do to fix it."

"It's not you," Hartley chokes out, not entirely trusting his voice to say anything more. He tries to duck around Cisco but Cisco steps in front of him, his ire up now, intent on finding out an answer to this mystery.

"Sure?"

Cisco's up in his face and Hartley makes the mistake of looking at his lips. Which Cisco absolutely notices.

"Wait, when you said distracting, you didn't mean...?" There's a moment Cisco simply looks stunned, gaping a little, a look that shifts into pure tension as comprehension sinks in.

Hartley tears his gaze away from Cisco, trying again to push past him. "I have things to do, Cisquito," he says, drumming up every ounce of antagonism he can imbue the words with.

But Cisco doesn't take the bait, and Cisco doesn't let it drop. Hartley might have seen that coming, but what he doesn't see coming is Cisco pushing him up against a wall. Nor Cisco staring at his lips, watching for Hartley's reaction as Cisco's tongue darts over his own lips. Hartley's brain short-circuits at that and then they're kissing, even though he can't recall who started it. When Cisco gets a hand in his hair, his nails lightly scraping across Hartley's scalp, he whines needily at the sensation. He can't really think. He can't process anything that isn't Cisco on him, but he's not so far gone that he can't manage to return the favor, coordinating himself enough to bring a hand up to grasp the nape of Cisco's neck.

Running his hand through Cisco's short hair isn't quite like he'd dreamed of; he'd always pictured Cisco with his long locks, his hand combing through them, pulling on them just a touch to judge if Cisco likes that. There's still enough to get a grip, and they're as soft as they look, but it's different than expected and it's real. The sound Cisco makes when he does it is indescribable. He's never been more grateful for how intensely he hears things now; hearing every hitch in Cisco's breath, every skipped beat of his heart in response to Hartley's strokes and tugs and nips and teasing of his lips.

When they break apart to come up for breath, Hartley is scared for a moment that this is where Cisco will push him away and say it was a mistake. Instead, what Cisco comes out with is probably the best thing Hartley could hope to hear.

"I've been wanting to do that for ages."

Hartley bursts into a short, sharp laugh, all his nervous energy finally escaping along with the laughter.

Cisco smiles weakly, bemused. His voice is betraying that he's perhaps nervous himself about the strange behavior as he asks, "What's so funny?"

"Me, too," Hartley replies softly, touching his forehead to Cisco's.