cisco_ramon | (no subject)

Entry tags:

psl,
sirius black

(no subject)

It probably doesn't hurt that Cisco's been to another dimension before this, though the last time he'd crossed into the mirror universe intentionally, and he'd known how to get back home. So far this place is nothing like Earth 2; he hasn't found anyone's doppelgangers, and though there are several people here with varying powers, the only metahuman he's met is Barry Allen. It's the real Barry from his Earth, Cisco's best friend, the same Barry he left behind when he came here, though from what Cisco considers their past.

Neither of them know how to get home, which is actually fairly unsettling considering they're both smart guys with experience in this sort of thing. He can't really believe it when he first considers it, but Cisco actually wishes Dr. Wells was here, or Harry, more accurately. As much knowledge as Cisco and Barry have, the real genius behind all of it has always been Wells.

Still, Cisco isn't the the type to give up easily. He can't get his hands on anything much more powerful than a regular (out of date) laptop, but he's making do. The calculations take longer and he has to do a lot of work by hand, but at least working makes him feel like he's doing something. Sitting at a cafe with his computer, pen and paper, and a fresh cup of coffee he can almost pretend he's at Jitters, that Iris or Caitlin will sit down across from him, that he'll get a text from Barry or a call from Joe. Drowning out everything with his headphones, Cisco lets himself get caught up in the dream, oblivious to everything around him, focused entirely on the screen in front of him and the music in his ears.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sirius has yet to find a single establishment in all of Darrow that can serve a decent cup of tea. He's honestly lost count of the number he's tried and yet he still hasn't given up hope. They may very well be in a town overrun with Americans, but surely one of them must know how to make a decent cuppa.

He's trying this one today, a little coffee shop stuck between a bookstore and a bakery that boasts its tea on the propped-up sign out front. He doesn't have the highest hopes, but the sheer number of people inside must say something about the product.

Unfortunately, it also means a considerable lack of empty seats. After some looking, he spots one across from a young man hunched over a computer, ears covered with Muggle headphones.

Sirius doesn't bother to ask permission before he pulls out the chair, merely flashes the guy a bright, easy smile and takes a seat, his velvet blazer billowing to the sides. "Don't mind, do you?" he asks, lifting his cup in something like a salute. "Cheers."

When Cisco faintly hears the chair across from him move, for a euphoric, blissful second he loses himself to his fantasy from before, turning his eyes up with the completely real expectation of seeing Caitlin, so it shocks him out of his smile when the long-haired guy who's really there shatters the illusion. It takes him a moment to recover before he says, "be my guest," his voice a little loud as he speaks unnecessarily over the music in his headphones. He shakes his head at his faux pas, sliding the headphones off around his neck.

"Hi, sorry," he says at a more appropriate volume. "I was..." he falters as he tries to explain where his mind was, then he gives up; if this dude has been here long, he probably knows exactly where Cisco's mind was.

Snapping his laptop shut, Cisco reaches for his coffee. "It got busy in here all the sudden," he says, looking around at all the full tables around them.

The man's reply comes a good deal louder than Sirius is expecting and he reels back just a little, blinking as a grin tugs at the corner of his lips. It only widens as the headphones are quickly discarded and the man's -- boy, really; he's certainly not much older than Sirius himself -- expression turns sheepish and faintly apologetic.

He takes a sip of his tea and waves the apology away with a flick of his hand.

"Popular place, it seems," he agrees, resting back in his chair before glancing down at the contraption so recently snapped shut. "I've one of those in my flat," he says. "Not that I've a clue what to do with it. You seemed pretty keen on yours though. Tell me, if you can -- what exactly is it I'm missing?"

It takes Cisco a minute to grok what the other guy means, he's still too new to this place, but he realizes quickly that the guy's talking about his laptop. "Oh, the computer?" he says, looking down at the closed lid of his laptop. "I'm using it to run some algorithms," he says, and then amends, "calculations. I'm trying to figure out how I got here," he explains more simply, giving the guy a knowing look.

"I'm Cisco," he says after a moment's silence, moving to offer his hand in introduction.

Sirius knows the word, of course. He'd heard it even before his arrival in this city though the things he'd imagined back home were a good deal larger than anything he's seen here in Darrow. And he still isn't entirely sure of their purpose regardless of size.

Instead of asking, however, he sits up and reaches to shake the boy's hand. "Sirius," he replies with a grin, letting go only to take another sip of his tea. "I've been under the assumption we all showed up here by magic. Not certain you can gauge such a thing on a Muggle contraption though. Are you having any luck?"

The name rings a bell immediately, but Cisco isn't sure why until a moment later when Sirius says magic and Muggle, and he can't help the way his eyes go wide when he realizes that this is Sirius Black who is Harry Potter's godfather, a man who can turn into a big black dog whenever he wants, who's ridden a Hippogriff and a broomstick and who has a wand with which he can make magic, real magic.

Cisco's wide-eyed and silent for long enough that Sirius starts to give him an uncomfortable look, and Cisco hurries to release Sirius's hand.

"I, uh, no," he finally answers Sirius's question. "No luck so far. I think it might be an alternate dimension, but so far I haven't been able to pick up on anything useful to prove the theory true or false." Cisco pauses, clearing his throat and taking a drink of his coffee, which as gone cold.

"So, where were you before you came here?" he asks, trying to sound nonchalant, curious from what part of the timeline Sirius was pulled here.

The guy's eyes go wide, merely staring at him for a long moment. Sirius can only assume it's due to the mention of magic which, he's noticed, seems to be a point of disbelief for many living here. Not all, though, of course. Sirius has quickly learned he isn't the only magical one in this town even if the magic itself is different.

"Ah, yes, alternate dimension. I've heard this theory as well. I suppose it's no less believable than magic for some."

Still smiling, he takes a sip of his tea, making a slight humming noise when Cisco asks his question. "England," he says, not certain how much detail he feels comfortable providing a stranger. "South of London a bit. Looking for some friends. You? Somewhere in America, I assume."

Okay, so maybe Cisco shouldn't have expected Sirius to tell him basically what chapter of which book he came from, but "looking for some friends" is vague enough that Cisco can't really pinpoint it. It's clear Sirius is young, pre-Azkaban, because he doesn't have any of those rad prison tattoos (or were those only movie canon? Cisco can't remember), but he could still be at Hogwarts maybe, or he could be talking about James and Lily. Cisco figures it's pretty rude to ask a virtual stranger deeply personal questions even if Cisco's read all of those books a million times, so he doesn't press for specifics.

"Yeah, Central City," he says instead, answering Sirius's question. "Central City, Missouri. Smack in the middle of the Midwest," he further explains, knowing that Sirius probably has no idea where any of those things are. "Do you know Barry Allen?" he asks then, the idea coming into his head.

In truth, Sirius hasn't a clue where any city in America actually falls on a map. He's fairly certain New York City is on the far eastern coast, but precisely where, he isn't certain. And he's positive he has no idea where this Central City, Missouri, or Midwest happen to be, so he simply imagines a spot right in the middle of the country itself and still has not a clue what that particularly means.

His smile doesn't waver any though and he shakes his head in response to Cisco's question before stopping himself a moment later, a smile curving his lips. "Ah, yes. I think I have. Tall, skinny bloke, yeah? With extremely straight teeth?"

Cisco's more than a little glad Sirius knows Barry, because people like Barry, so being able to tell Sirius he's Barry's friend is an alignment that will likely only help him.

"That's him, yeah," Cisco says with a fond smile. "Barry's my best friend," he tells Sirius. "Like, from home. He was my best friend before we ended up here." He doesn't know how forthcoming Barry's been about his powers here, so he doesn't mention how they knew each other before, just that they did.

"Ahh, I see," Sirius replies with a tip of his head. "He seemed a nice bloke, very friendly."

In truth, Sirius doesn't remember all that much about Barry apart from his bright, easy smile and the way he'd seemed to stare at Sirius an awful lot. If nothing else, it had been wonderfully flattering and he'd left the encounter happy to have met Barry even if he hasn't happened to stumble upon him since.

"It's a help having someone here from home," he continues with another sip of his tea. He doesn't mention James or Lily or Remus, even the thought of them making his stomach tight with guilt, but he does manage another smile when he says, "My godson is here. He's... quite a bit more grown than I remember, but his presence is still invaluable. I'm not certain I'd be faring half so well if not for him."

Again Cisco has to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out anything embarrassing like 'OHMYGOD Harry Potter is here?!' and making Sirius uncomfortable, but holy crap, Harry Potter is here. He wonders if one of them could teach Cisco magic because he's always wanted to know what his patronus would be or if he'd be any good with some of the repairing spells because he ends up fixing things a lot and it would be so handy.

He realizes after a moment he's staring all wide-eyed again and he tries to smile in a way that isn't completely crazy. "It's nice having Barry here, yeah," Cisco confirms, nodding. "I mean, I'm sorry Barry is here because, you know, he misses home like the rest of us do, but I don't know what I'd have done if I'd showed up here without knowing anyone at all. Like you said, I'm doing way better having Barry here too."

There's another little awkward silence and Cisco takes a drink of his (cold, ugh) coffee. "Man, I miss the coffee at Jitters," he says, sort of offhandedly, making conversation.

Cisco stares at Sirius in much the same way Barry had, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. It's slightly uncomfortable, Sirius will admit and he offers a rather strange smile of his own before Cisco seems to catch himself, glancing away briefly and taking a sip of his coffee. He's just as friendly as Sirius remembers of his mate Barry and, while they look nothing alike at all, they're certainly both attractive.

All in all, Sirius can think of worse ways to be spending a few minutes of his afternoon.

"Jitters?" he asks, frowning slightly then, curious. "A shop back home, I take it. We've not much of the sort where I'm from. At least none that I cared to frequent much. Pubs, however. That's a different story."

Cisco tries not to be too gleeful, thinking about The Three Broomsticks and The Hog's Head, about how he'd gotten to go to them (sort of) at Universal Studios in Florida on his last vacation. He would love to gush about butterbeer and ask Sirius if he ever actually drinks it, if fire whiskey really tastes like Jack Daniels, what Honeydukes is really like, but Sirius is a person here, not just a character in a book he loves. Maybe, if they ever become friends, he'll start asking more, but for now he's going to try as hard as possible to not be a fangirl.

"Yeah, Jitters is a coffeeshop," Cisco confirms. "Barry's, er. Well, she's his step-sister, sort of, and also the girl he's been in love with since grade school – it's complicated – Iris, she's a barista there. You'd probably like the place," he adds. "They have a drink named after Barry that's pretty awesome."

That is something Barry had certainly not shared in their short talk and Sirius finds both his eyebrows raising, a grin tugging at his lips once more. "In love with his step-sister," he says, his voice nearly teasing. "Now there's a scandal. I'm assuming she doesn't know."

He takes another sip of his tea then, humming at the taste even if it's not quite as good as anything he'd been able to acquire back home. "And why a drink named for him? It's nothing to do with Iris, is it? He's he there so frequently they decided to honor him? That does seem like an accomplishment, I'll admit. Perhaps I'll start frequently one of the pubs here in the hopes they'll name a cocktail after me. Something black, of course. With a little bit of a mischievous twist."

"Oh, she does now," Cisco replies with a grin. "She didn't for a really long time, but Barry finally told her." Of course the timing had been a little wrong, considering Iris had been with Eddie at the time, but it seemed like the timing for Barry and Iris ended up always being bad, no matter what was going on.

Sirius's next question, though, is more difficult to answer. Cisco doesn't think Barry's trying to keep his identity secret here, but he isn't sure who all Barry's told about his super speed, and he doesn't want to be the asshole who outs him if Barry's keeping it on the DL. "He did go to Jitters a lot," he says by way of answer. "And not just for Iris, but I'm sure that didn't hurt," he adds with a smile. He doesn't mention that he'd had his own crush on a barista there, mostly because the story is kind of long, and even though what happened is cool, Cisco didn't end up getting the girl in the end anyway.

"Having a cocktail named after you would be amazing," he says, thinking about what his own drink might be like. "I'd probably end up with something super uncreative. Like a margarita or something," he adds with a smirk.

Sirius can't imagine how that particular conversation might have gone down, if the Barry he met already made that leap or if he's still harboring the secret. In truth, he isn't too bothered either way; merely curious. It's been some time since he last ran into Barry and it's not as though they're anything more than fond acquaintances.

"Ah, but why would a margarita be uncreative?" Sirius asks, genuinely curious as he sits up a little straighter. "I haven't had the best experiences with tequila myself or--" He cuts himself off with a laugh a shake of his head. "I should say I've had very good experiences with tequila, but also many regrets the following mornings. I suppose it's a give and take sort of thing. Which is to say, I'd think it'd be an honor to have ones name linked to such a thing, don't you?"

Grinning, he takes another sip of his tea then lets out a soft, inquisitive sound. "But what sort of name is the question. Would it simply be called The Cisco?"

Despite knowing who Sirius is, he'd forgotten that Sirius comes from a different world than Cisco does, one where, despite having their own level of prejudice, racism doesn't really exist. Cisco's not even sure if the Harry Potter novels had a concept of Hispanic people, but it's clear that Sirius doesn't understand the joke Cisco had been trying to make.

"Well, if it's going to be like Barry's it'd be called the–" he starts to say, then stops himself, again realizing that Barry might not be telling people he's the Flash, and maybe Cisco shouldn't be advertising his own powers either, as generally useless as they are here.

"You know, my name doesn't really sound like a very good drink name, come to think of it," he says with a little laugh. "Yours, on the other hand, would make for a great one. I would totally order a Sirius Black."

There's something curious in the way Cisco stops himself mid-sentence, though Sirius responds only with an arch of his brows. As far as he's found, everyone in this place has their secrets and he certainly can't say he doesn't have his own. He won't pry.

At least not yet.

Instead, he only grins a little and cocks his head, his hair falling over his eyes briefly. "Would you?" he says, voice low and frankly flirtatious. Some of it is intention and some of it Sirius will insist is purely instinct. He's long enjoyed getting a bit of a rise out of people, particularly those who look at him the way Cisco has been. "Dry or on the rocks?"

It doesn't happen to him often, so it catches Cisco off guard when he realizes that Sirius is flirting with him, and blatantly at that. He's sure that the expression on his face is 'deer in headlights' for at least a couple of seconds until he blinks himself out of it, closing his mouth and swallowing.

"Straight up," he says, and his voice is a little higher than usual, but he thinks his expression is at least less insane now. "Well, not straight," he adds with a wink, doing his best to flirt back.

For a moment, Cisco only stares at him with wide, dark eyes. Sirius doesn't waver, however, merely bringing his teat to his lips for another taste, eyebrow arched over the rim.

When Cisco finally speaks again, his smile widens, gaze dropping to the stretch of Cisco's shoulders in his shirt, the fall of hair that isn't very disimilar to Sirius's own. "A little bent then," he says, smirking now as he taps his fingers against his mug. "Not certain what that would entail if I'm honest. Perhaps simply an addition to a regular drink. A promise."

Cisco isn't sure what Sirius means, if the comment is specifically directed at him, or what sort of promise Sirius is insinuating. What Cisco does know is that Sirius didn't explain it because he wants Cisco to ask. If Cisco was a stronger person he'd just shrug and let Sirius do the work of filling in the blanks, but there's no way Cisco's not going to go crazy if he doesn't find out what Sirius is implying.

So he gives in. "What kind of promise?" he asks, pitching his voice low in a way that he hopes comes across as sort of sultry.

It's evident to Sirius that this isn't the sort of conversation Cisco is accustomed to. In truth, it's not one he's allowed himself to indulge in much recently either. A war doesn't quite lend itself to flirtatious conversations with people he's only just met. If anything, he's learned to barely speak of anything at all, invitations given and accepted only with significant looks and barely discernible nods toward darkened corners and back alleys.

To say Sirius's skills are a bit rusty in this department is an understatement.

"Perhaps invitation is a better word," he says, still smiling as he sets his tea on the table and leans forward. "To be accepted or rejected by the person paying for the drink."

Cisco's throat goes a little dry and he works to swallow to wet it, managing not to cough in the process. Then he licks his lips.

"And what would the invitation be for?" he asks, his voice dropping to a sort of rough, almost whisper. It's so different from what Cisco's used to, way closer to the night he met Lisa Snart than his experience with any girl he's actually dated. He doesn't think this is going to end the same way (Sirius is definitely not planning to kidnap Cisco and force him to build a weapons for him), but he's not exactly sure how to react. He does know that he's finding the conversation interesting, and in a way that's as much physiological as it is mental.

Cisco reacts adorably, still gaping for a second before Sirius actually sees him swallow and lick his lips. Sirius tracks the momement, his grin widening before he lets out a quiet, endeared laugh.

"Well, I suppose any number of things. A party or concert, maybe. A night out on the town. Or a date, perhaps. One of those frightly American things like bowling or knocking a ball around a tine obstacle course. Or," he adds, his smile widening as he lets his gaze drop down the length of Cisco's torso and back up again, "something a bit more athletic."

Cisco's mouth drops open before he can stop himself, his eyes going a little wide at what he thinks (hopes?) is an implication of sex. He shakes it off quickly as snaps his mouth shut, offering what he hopes is something close to an attractive smile.

"I think you're talking about putt-putt golf," he says, mentally rolling his eyes at himself for landing on that instead of something else. "There are worse first date ideas, though," he goes on, because he might as well. "I've had some doozies. But, uh. Athletic," he adds with a soft, deep laugh. "I could be up for something like that. Figuratively speaking," he adds, his voice breaking in a way that isn't sexy at all.

In truth, Sirius doesn't particularly care what the activity is called, but he does file it away all the same, just in case it might be useful in the future. He's never participated in such a thing before, but he thinks he can see the appeal. At least for awhile; it does seem as though it'd be terribly boring after too long.

His grin widens however as Cisco continues, one eyebrow arching briefly as he glances downward. The tabletop obscures any view he might have of Cisco's lap, but the implication is likely obvious enough. "Yes, figuratively speaking," he says. "Not literally in any way?"

"No, yeah, literally too," Cisco replies, and he's blushing so hard that he feels like his face might actually burst into flame. He's not great at flirting on a good day, not to mention he'd be a lot better at this if he weren't so sober (and caffeinated), and he's never done this with another guy before, so he doesn't even have the confidence of knowing for the most part what he's getting into. And it's definitely not that he isn't interested, because he absolutely is (a fact his anatomy can attest to), but he's just so completely out of his element that he's lost any chill he's acquired over his 27 years of life.

He clears his throat. "I, uh. This point might be moot because we're talking about a theoretical drink at an imaginary bar, but I, um. I'd order a Sirius Black, I guess is what I'm saying."

Dark as Cisco's skin is, Sirius can't tell if his cheeks are reddening in any way, but he's clearly flustered, stumbling over his words in a way Sirius can only describe as adorable. It's a boost to the ego as well and he sits a little more comfortably, taking another sip of his tea as he keeps his eyes on Cisco, admiring the white of his smile and thick hair. Sirius can't help but wonder what it might feel like to run his fingers through that hair.

"Yes, you said," he replies at Cisco's admission, lips twitching into a brighter smile as he licks the tea from his bottom lip. "Straight, on the rocks, or a little bent?"

"I guess it would have to be bent, wouldn't it?" Cisco replies with a soft grin, and though he'd had certain thoughts and feelings regarding his not-quite-straightness for a while, he'd never talked to anyone about it before this. Sirius didn't know that, of course, and the last thing Cisco wanted was to make this conversation (one he was enjoying a lot) weird.

"I mean, assuming I'm interpreting my options correctly," he adds, chewing on his lower lip. The thing is, Cisco really likes the way Sirius is looking at him, and he hopes his fumbling isn't going ruin whatever might happen next, hasn't ruined it already.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only