AN: Thanks to Adaline Keff, AReiss215, Eliley, ShanouNash, and taitlin for reviewing!
So much for sun and sand.
In an ideal world, Barry would be awoken by soft rays of sunshine creeping through the cracks in the blinds, the warmth easing him out of sleep's gentle hold.
Well in an actually ideal world, Barry would have woken up at home, but here he is.
A crack of thunder starts him awake. His eyes shoot open wide and his heart starts thudding at a hundred miles a minute. He holds a hand to his chest and starts panting
After a second crack Cisco lets out a manly squeak.
"Oh god we're dying I'm gonna die a virgin!"
Barry squints at him through the dim lighting and the early-morning grogginess.
"Really? You want those to be your last words?"
"Oh god are we actually dying?"
Barry buries his head under the pillows like an ostrich in the sand.
"Barry, I don't wanna die a virgin."
"I can't help you there."
He doesn't know if Cisco can understand his muffled voice through the pillow and he frankly doesn't care.
Another crack of thunder makes Cisco screech. If nature hadn't fully awoken Barry, then that scream certainly did. He uncovers his face, glaring at the ceiling.
"Please stop screaming."
"I'm not screaming! I'm… reacting!"
"The rain slams viciously against the window and the wind nearly shakes the foundations of the hotel. Barry rubs his eyes.
"What time is it?"
"7:17." Cisco's voice is nervous and shaky.
"Great. This is exactly how I wanted to spend spring break."
Cisco disentangles himself from the blankets, trudging over to the window.
"Maybe it'll pass soon?"
He cracks the blinds and is greeted by a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder.
"Yeah, maybe it'll pass soon."
"Dammit!" Cisco exclaims, stomping his foot like a child who isn't allowed to get a cookie until after dinner. "Come on! This was supposed to be beach day!"
"Isn't every day supposed to be beach day?" Barry asks dryly.
"Gypsy was gonna wear a bikini, and she was gonna ask if anyone had any sunscreen, and I was gonna be all hey I have some suncreen and she was gonna be all oh if only I could reach my back and I was gonna—"
"Cisco, please don't share your wet dreams with me." Barry sits up and runs a hand through his bedhead. "And did you even check the forecast?"
"Yes!"
He gives Cisco a pointed look.
"Well, kind of."
His expression doesn't waver.
"Okay, I didn't, but seriously, when does it ever rain at the beach?"
Barry looks at the window and then back at Cisco. He sighs.
"Point taken."
Cisco trudges back over and flops onto his bed, pulling out his phone. Barry instinctively reaches for his own, only to grasp thin air on the bedside table. He stares at the bare surface in confusion. His phone is always on the bedside table. Out of necessity, really. If the alarm doesn't go off he's liable to sleep half the day way.
He forces himself out of bed, trudging around the room in search of his device. He checks under the beds, on the windowsill, in the bathroom, in the mini-fridge (it would not be the first time), and then digs through his bag for a couple of minutes. When all of those searches prove fruitless a sinking feeling rises in his gut. Did he leave it at home?
"Cisco?" he asks. "Have you seen my phone?"
"Hm?" Cisco doesn't look up from his screen.
"My phone. Have you seen it?"
"Nah," he yawns.
"Great," Barry mutters, standing and scanning the room thoughtfully.
Wait.
He couldn't have left it at home. He and Caitlin were jamming the entire car ride. Come to think of it, that's the last time he remembers using it. Ergo, it must still be in the car.
Another building-shaking thundercrack startles him.
Ah, yes. In the car. Out in the pouring rain. With all the force of mother nature pelting down on the entire town. Perfect.
"I think it might be in the car," Barry grumbles, slipping on his shoes and hoodie. "Can I borrow your keys?"
"Nah, dude, it's unlocked."
Barry's too tired to berate him for not locking the car in a town like this.
"Oh, hey, did I tell you how it went last night?"
Barry gives him a confused look.
"We just woke up, Cisco. How could you have told me?"
"Well it went really well."
He offers a small smile.
"Good."
Cisco continues typing away on his phone.
"Well, I'm gonna go get my phone."
"Don't drown."
"Thanks."
He exits the room with a sigh. To be fair to Cisco, he didn't check the forecast either. He came here under the same willful delusions that it would be all sunshine and rainbows. Which unfortunately means the most insulating clothes he brought are the hoodie and sweatpants he's wearing now.
That's why he ambles down the hall at a snail's pace. He's in no hurry to get rained on. Or to catch hypothermia. Or to drown, as Cisco was so worried about.
He stares around absentmindedly. He hadn't really noticed the night before, but this is a damn nice hotel. The carpets have pleasant, unobtrusive swirls in a pleasing mix of tan and baby blue, the wallpaper has nice floral patterns, and there are little faux tiki torches on the right side of every door. It's very beach-y and sort of treads the line between tacky and stylish. It scratches his aesthetic itch.
Despite his hesitancy to come here at all, he loves the beach. He's loved it all his life. Some if his fondest memories are from summer vacations his family used to take him on.
He sighs as he rounds a corner.
Perhaps that's one of the reasons he didn't want to come, even if only subconsciously. Maybe he doesn't love the beach so much as the memories of it. His parents chasing him around on the shore, building sandcastles, staying up late watching movies, and making his dad read him stories until he fell asleep.
A small smile graces his features.
Barry doesn't let himself think about them often. Drudges up too much hurt. Makes it difficult to stay positive.
He shakes his head.
See, this is why he needs a solid eight hours of sleep every night. If he doesn't, he gets all mopey and contemplative and down and life's too short to waste time on that. He's just gotta keep going.
And so he does. He walks through the lobby, waving to the receptionist as he goes. The woman rolls her tired eyes and takes a long sip of her coffee.
"Another one?"
Barry stops, giving her a puzzled look.
"Sorry?"
"I thought I wasn't going to have to deal with you for at least a few more hours." She takes a long swig. "Whatever. Have fun with your girlfriend. Don't make a mess."
Barry isn't sure how to respond, so he just stands there in confusion. The woman doesn't look up again.
"Dining room."
He turns to look at the cafeteria, partially visible through the doorway of the lobby. It's dimly-lit and filled mostly with older people. Mostly.
Caitlin sits in the far right corner, staring at the wall. He feels drawn to her, so he makes his way from the lobby through the dining room doorway to her table. His steps are loud, as to not startle her. She looks up as he approaches.
"Hey," he says.
She offers a tiny smile.
"Is this seat taken?"
She shakes her head just a little. He pulls out the chair across from her and takes a seat, resting his fidgeting hands in his lap. She looks more tired than ever. The bags under her eyes are darker and heavier than usual, and the neutral expression she typically sports is replaced by a frown. He guesses she slept less than he did.
"Are you, uh…" He hesitates. Should he treat her like something's wrong? "Are you okay?" She doesn't meet his eyes.
"I don't know."
It's a relief to hear her voice, regardless of how tired or unsure she sounds.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Her smile is wistful, which almost seems worse than no smile at all.
"I don't know."
Barry leans back in his chair and frowns, unsure of how to respond. He could keep barraging her with meaningless questions but she'd give the same response every time. And sitting in silence doesn't seem any more helpful. Some people need company to feel better. People like Barry, actually. He thrives on being surrounded by those he loves, even if they're not talking about or doing anything significant.
But Caitlin's not like him. She'd probably take a book or some English homework over sitting around doing nothing with her friends. He supposes he could offer to get her a book. Or some English homework.
Barry sighs. She's probably growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment, and he's here brainstorming idiotic hypotheticals. He wonders what Cisco would do in this situation.
"Cait, what's wrong? I mean, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I just need you to know I'm here for you, okay? I'm always here for you if you need me."
To which she would give a polite 'thank you,' before trying to change the subject. And then he would keep asking if she needs anything and she would get more and more uncomfortable and—
A light bulb blinks on in Barry's head.
Treating her like something's wrong will just make things worse.
"Hey," he says, doing his best to sound casual. "Do you like hot cocoa?"
She finally meets his eyes, an eyebrow quirked.
"And you can't answer 'I don't know,' because there is absolutely no middle ground for hot cocoa."
She smiles, a genuine if small expression, and lets a little puff of air out of her nose. One of those little half-laughs she does when she's amused but trying to hide it. Barry knows it well.
"I'm fine with it."
He tsks.
"Yes or no, Ms. Snow," he says. "Hey, that rhymed."
She rolls her tired eyes.
"No. I suppose I'm not very fond of it."
He smirks.
"Perfect." He stands abruptly and walks over to the counter with all of the coffee machines, teabags, and other such hot drink products. He looks back at Caitlin and gestures for her to follow. Her expression is questioning, but she joins him nonetheless.
"This will be a fun challenge."
"Challenge?" she asks with a yawn.
"I am going to teach you how to make the best damn cup of hot cocoa in the world and you will fall in love with it."
He grabs a package of Swiss Miss, ignoring her skeptical look.
"I doubt that. There's too much sugar in hot chocolate anyways."
He scoffs.
"Come on, when has a little sugar hurt anyone?"
"...diabetes?"
"Now you're just being sanctimonious."
There's a lapse in the conversation has he grabs a styrofoam cup.
"I ask out of genuine curiosity: do you know what that word means?"
He shrugs and she lets out a small chuckle.
"Step 1: always shake up the hot chocolate mix receptacle to spread out the flavor." He shakes the pack around in the air furiously, garnering the curious looks of a few other occupants of the room. Caitlin smirks.
He tears the package open with precision, making sure the perforated line is followed to perfection. He begins pouring it into the styrofoam cup.
"Aren't you supposed to put the water in first?"
Barry pauses the pouring and gapes at her.
"I beg your pardon? Water? What do you take me for, a barbarian?"
She crosses her arms.
"What's wrong with water?"
"Woman, do you even know what hot chocolate is?"
She rolls her eyes again.
"Apparently not, seeing as you found it so necessary to teach me."
He grins confidently.
"I will teach you the hell out of this hot chocolate, don't you worry."
That line was, in retrospect, a lot cooler in his head.
(Okay, maybe a little cooler.)
She cocks her head to the side, as if urging him to continue. He complies, grabbing a carton of milk from the counter and making a big show of unscrewing the lid.
"You must always begin with a highly-scientific test to ensure the milk has not passed its expiration date."
"Reading the label?"
"Of course not."
He puts his nose right above the top and inhales. He catches her tired expression shift out of the corner of his eye. It looks like she's holding back a laugh.
"Very scientific," she says.
He nods and drops to his knees to be eye-level with the cup.
"A professional hot cocoa maker never uses spoiled milk."
"I don't believe anyone with common sense uses spoiled milk."
"Next, you have to make sure you get just… the right… amount… of…" He pauses dramatically between words, pouring the milk as precisely as possible. He stops just as the mixture rises to the brim of the cup. "Boom. Perfect."
He slams the jug back onto the counter and throws his hands up in the air. He gets a few annoyed looks for the commotion but is undeterred. Caitlin bites back a smile.
"Okay, professor, what's next?"
"So glad you asked, my student."
He grabs a stirrer.
"You must stir both clockwise and counter-clockwise for equal amounts of time. I recommend ten seconds per spin cycle but you may adjust as you find necessary." She shakes her head bemusedly.
"You are ridiculous."
"Count with me, ready? One-two-three—"
"One-two—"
"No, you started after me. Ready? One-two—"
"—three-four—"
"Why didn't you start at one with me? Okay, we need to start again. One-two—"
This continues for some time.
Eventually, Caitlin bursts into a fit of giggles. "Why am I laughing? It's not even funny."
He smirks. "Maybe I'm just that charming."
She stares at him, amused smile turning honest for the briefest of moments.
"Anyways, once you've finished the stirring process, it's time for the heat-ant process."
"I don't believe 'heat-ant' is a word."
"If coolant can be a word, why can't 'heat-ant' be one?"
She offers no response as he moves to the end of the counter towards the microwave. He pops it open and kneels down again.
"Always place the receptacle in the absolute center of the spinny tray."
"Is 'spinny tray' its proper, scientific term?"
"Of course." He gives her a duh face and she giggles again.
"Of course," she echoes. He draws out putting the cup in the microwave for an obnoxious span of time, adjusting and re-adjusting and re-re-adjusting like it was his tie before homecoming.
"There we go." He shuts the microwave door and lets his fingers hover over the number keys.
"Is this the final step?"
"Nearly, grasshopper."
"I thought you were a professor, not a sensei."
"A man can be two things."
She laughs and he grins widely.
"Always consider the size of your container when choosing how to to set the timer. We're using a standard styrofoam cup with a capacity of exactly hmhm ounces and a height of mhm inches. Apply trigonometric functions and the Pythagorean theorem—"
"—pretty sure that's used for triangles—"
"—and then hit, like, forty-five seconds because that works for everything." He presses the keys and then hits start. "And that, my friend, is how you make the perfect hot cocoa."
"A thorough lesson, Mr. Allen." Her words are laced with formal sarcasm.
"You were a good student, Ms. Snow. Or a good grasshopper, or whatever. That wasn't exactly clear."
They share a laugh, finally abandoning their playful facades.
The microwave whirs on softly in the background as Caitlin runs a hand through her hair. It's messy and curly, sticking up in every which way and falling in front of her eyes. It should be the poster child for bedhead. It's frankly adorable.
"I like your hair," he blurts.
She chuckles.
"You like my awful bedhead?"
"Yeah, it… works."
Her smile turns bashful.
"Thank you."
A silence follows and Barry feels incredibly at ease. Caitlin is smiling. He got her to smile. He's a little proud of that.
However, the pair haven't the time to bask in their happy little silence, as Cisco chooses that precise moment to jump out of thin air.
"Barry!" he exclaims. Caitlin lets out a little yelp.
"Stop doing that!" Barry exclaims back. He just had to kill their moment.
No, that's an understatement.
He murdered the moment.
Nope, still not severe enough.
The moment was a pedestrian, just minding its own business walking down the crosswalk after the little white man appeared on the sign. Cisco was a massive garbage truck who, upon seeing the moment, floored the gas and steered directly towards it. Undeterred by the moment's screaming and wails of agony, he kept going until it was nothing but dust in his rearview.
Cisco committed vehicular manslaughter on the moment.
"Oh, hey Caitlin," Cisco says absentmindedly. "Anyways, daddy needs his raincoat."
Caitlin and Barry share a perturbed look.
"Raincoat?" she asks.
"Daddy?" he asks, significantly more disgusted.
"Cynthia and I were texting and she apparently loves this weather—"
"—unsurprising—"
"—and she suggested we go out for a walk and stuff but I think when she says walk she might actually mean make out in my car which would be pretty damn—"
"Cisco, I swear to god if you don't stop talking about making out with her I'm going to vomit on you and then kill myself."
"Just being honest."
"There is such a thing as too much honesty," Caitlin says, looking as uncomfortable as Barry feels. "And why exactly are you sharing this with us in the first place?"
"Oh yeah! I got so excited I ran out of the room to meet up with her and I forgot my raincoat and my keys."
"Smooth," Barry says, reluctantly digging through his pocket for his room key. "Wait, why did you pack a raincoat if you didn't check the forecast?"
"You know my motto: always be prepared."
"You have literally never said that once."
"You are literally in denial."
Barry rolls his eyes.
"Whatever. Just bring the keys back before you guys… go on a walk."
"And please sanitize the seats before we go home," Caitlin adds.
"Aw, dammit, I didn't even think about that." Barry almost retracts his hand but Cisco has snatched the keys and is already halfway out of the dining room.
"You guys are prudes!"
Barry exhales heavily once he's gone.
"They're moving… quickly," Caitlin manages after a few moments. He nods.
"I'm worried he's gonna get invested and he'll get his heart broken again."
"Do you think she doesn't like him?"
He shrugs. "Who knows? I mean they're all flirty and stuff but she could just be playing around with him."
"Well I, for one, don't believe she would be so heartless."
Barry raises an eyebrow.
"She's not as tough as she wants everyone to believe she is."
"What makes you say that?"
She hesitates.
"After…" She sighs. "After… Ronnie… she came up to me at school. She just sort of looked at me. As if she was trying to think of something nice to say. And after a while she gave me a hug and just let me cry."
His expression softens.
"I'm just saying that I wouldn't be so quick to judge her."
"Alright," he says, pausing to consider it. "I guess I'm more concerned about him."
Caitlin nods with a frown.
"And it's not just Cynthia. It could be anyone. He's probably getting his hopes up about them being a real couple or something."
"Why couldn't they be a real couple?"
Barry pauses to think.
"I dunno, I guess spring break isn't about that. Forming real relationships or whatever. It's more about living in the moment. Being in love for a week and never speaking again. Cisco wants something more and he's not gonna get it here."
She purses her lips.
"I suppose you're right."
The silence that follows is somehow more tense, and Barry is puzzled. A beeping distracts him, however.
"Oh, the hot chocolate!"
After Cisco's surprise entrance their lesson had been nearly forgotten, leaving the cup of hot chocolate in the microwave for a few minutes. Barry opens it and hands her the warm cup.
"Here you go, my lady." He bows with faux formality and she chuckles.
"Thank you, kind sir." She sips it and clicks her tongue.
"What's the verdict?"
"On a scale from one to ten?"
He nods.
"Undecided."
He pouts.
"Come on, you can't just leave me hanging!"
"It's certainly warm."
His pout intensifies and she rolls her eyes. She takes another sip, exhaling in satisfaction.
"Okay, it's amazing. Ten out of ten."
"Not an eleven?"
"Be glad I tried it at all," she says, taking another sip and sighing again. He smirks.
"But it's the best thing you've ever tasted, right?"
"You're going to continue badgering me until I concede, aren't you?"
"I'm not hearing a no."
"Sure. The best thing I've ever tasted."
He pumps his fist in the air.
"Hell yeah!"
A few grumbles echo in the room. The older folks are evidently finding it difficult to enjoy their peace and quiet when Barry keeps making noise. Caitlin yawns.
"Barry?" she asks sleepily. "Do you mind if I take a nap?" Another yawn. "I barely slept last night."
He smiles.
"Of course not. You want me to walk you back to your room?"
She smiles coyly.
"Don't you have to wait for Cisco to return your key?"
He purses his lips.
"Because if you're not here you know he's just going to keep them while they're… walking."
His nose scrunches up in disgust.
"Good point." She takes another sip of the cocoa. "Have a good nap. See you around."
She gives him a quick hug. "Bye, Barry. Thank you. For everything."
He smiles at her retreating figure until she disappears from the dining room. Before he can even turn around to shut the microwave, Cisco sprints in from the other side of the doorway.
"Here you go!" He throws the keys at Barry. They hit his stomach before falling to the floor.
"Ow!" he yelps, but Cisco is gone just as quickly as he left. "Thanks," he mutters to nobody in particular, reaching down to pick up the keys. He shuts the microwave door and begins a slow trek back to his room.
Barry feels a strange pull to go in the other direction towards the stairwell. Towards Caitlin. He sometimes takes for granted how much he enjoys her company, and he already misses it. She's just so easy to be around. So easy to talk to. But her rest is more important, so he ignores the impulse and makes his way back to his room.
Once he enters he notices Cisco's keys lying on the bathroom sink. He rolls his eyes. His friend couldn't even take a millisecond to grab them with his raincoat. Barry props the door open in case Cisco needs to get in again.
He kicks his shoes off and plops onto the bed, stretching out and yawning. He's not sleepy-tired, but all this rain and gloom has him in a lazy mood. He reaches for his phone, only to grab at thin air on the bedside table.
Wait.
Where is his phone?
Wait!
He never went to check the car. He got sidetracked with Caitlin. And then hot cocoa. And then Cisco and all his gross stuff about Cynthia and forgetting his keys and—
WAIT.
He groans, sinking into his pillow in defeat.
"Goddammit."