For eleven-thirty on a Saturday night, the Verge was kind of dead. So when Cisco walked up to the bar, it was empty, except for one person. It would be impossible to pretend he hadn't seen her.

He leaned his elbows on the edge and said with his most casual voice, "Hey."

Caitlin looked over, and her utter lack of surprise indicated she'd been as aware of him as he'd been of her. "Hi."

"So you picked this place too?"

"Howard did."

"How is Howie?"

"Howard is great. Thanks for asking. The girl you're with - she looks cute."

"Yeah. Annie. She's new in town. She found this place on Yelp and I'd never been so we thought we'd try it out."

"Mmm." Her fingers drummed on the bar. "She's cute."

"You said that."

Her drinks arrived, and she grabbed them. "Okay, well, have a nice night."

"Yep," Cisco said. "See you Monday."

"If not before."

When he got back to the table with the drinks, Annie said, "Cisco, did you know that girl? From the bar?"

"Ah - "

She's the girl I haven't been able to stop thinking about for two and a half years. Her perfect, wonderful fiance died in the particle accelerator explosion last year. Two months ago, she kissed me, and a little after that, I kissed her, and it's been super fucking awkward with us ever since. She started dating this guy off the Internet, and I'm really, really trying not to be a total child about it because I was the one who said I didn't want to be her rebound. But he's tall and he's handsome and she never rolls her eyes at him and he doesn't even have the decency to be a douchebag so I can hate him properly. Because I'm scared I missed my chance, and I'm scared I never had a chance in the first place.

"We work together," he told Annie.

"Oh! Should we - I mean. Do you think we should ask them to join us?"

He looked over at Caitlin's table, involuntarily. She jerked her head forward, as if he'd caught her looking at him.

"No," he said definitely. "I don't think so."

"Oh. Okay. Whatever. I just thought it would cool to meet somebody who works with you."

Cisco was finding it tremendously difficult not to brag about the cool stuff he got to do all day, but he couldn't if he wanted to keep his link to the Flash under wraps. He loved his toys, but how would he explain them? So, today I made a cold gun.

Why?

Be . . . cause my freezer broke?

So he shrugged and acted as if he forgot about his job the minute he walked out of the office, like most adult Americans. "She doesn't do the same stuff. And I told you, I make gadgets," he said. "Not really that interesting unless you're totally into nuts and bolts."

"Well, I like screws."

He blinked, and she burst into giggles. "I'm sorry. My sense of humor is - I get it from my students. It's really stupid and really dirty."

He grinned. "Well, that's perfect, because my jokes are so dumb that seventh-graders would groan. How is the new ELL classroom going?"

"I think I'm getting a handle on it. And now I know how to say 'fuck you' in Nepali, Somali, Burundi, Arabic, and Spanish."

"Who says you never learn anything in school?"

They chatted about her students. He semi-promised to come in and demo some stuff for her simple machines unit, and they spent some time snickering at each other over "unit." She was cute, like Caitlin had said, and sweet, and fun, and it was so easy to be with her that it was like swimming around in a warm bath.

All the while, he was electrifyingly aware of Caitlin, just across the dance floor, smiling at Howard, laughing and touching his hand as he smiled and laughed with her. Ugh. Douchebag.

No. Nope. No way. This was your choice, Cisco Ramon, and you are her friend first and you're gonna be happy that she's smiling again, even though she's not smiling at you.

All the same, when Annie suggested going to a club a couple of blocks over, Cisco agreed immediately, leaping to his feet to go take care of the tab.

The credit card machines were old and grumpy, the bartender told him, smiling apologetically. As he waited for the transaction to go through, she went down to the end of the bar and started a low-voiced conversation with a guy whose picture could have been printed next to scuzzy in the dictionary.

Cisco watched the receipt start to crank out. He looked down the bar, where the bartender seemed not to notice.

"Look, it's been really slow," she was saying. "I don't quite have it yet. Give me another week."

"I've been giving you another week for a month. I'm done waiting, I want my fucking money. You've got a fucking cash register right there. Open it up."

"We don't have enough in the drawer."

"Bull."

"No, we don't. I - " Was that a sniff? "My dad doesn't trust me anymore. He left an hour ago and put almost everything in the safe, and I don't have the combination."

"Poor you. Not my problem."

"I can go home and talk to him - "

"That was your solution last time. You know what? I got a better idea. You don't leave. He comes here, he opens up that safe for me. Get him on the phone."

"What if he doesn't answer?"

The man shrugged his jacket open to reveal a gun. "Get him on the phone."

All of a sudden, signing his receipt didn't matter so much anymore. Cisco stepped back carefully from the bar, hand going to his pocket. This was starting to look like a job for -

A hand clamped onto his shoulder. "Not gonna call anybody, are you?" a voice growled in his ear.

The primal lizard part of his brain recognized the growl of a predator. "Nope," he said, lifting his hands. "Nope. Sure'm not."

"Boss, we got a problem."

Boss looked around from where the bartender was dialing the business phone with shaking fingers. "You gonna play hero, little man?"

"Wasn't planning on it," Cisco said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caitlin half-rise from her seat, and tried to send her telepathic thought-beams - lie low, text Barry, call 911. "Actually, my date and I were just leaving."

"Huh. No, I don't think you were." Boss made a gesture, and the hand on his shoulder tightened until the bones ground together.

"Honestly, we were." He saw Caitlin hiss something to Howard, and Howard looking at her in confusion. She started rooting in her purse.

"Yeah? Now you're not," Boss said. "Now you're staying here." He raised his voice. "Now everybody is staying here."

The faint murmur of conversation halted. All eyes turned to the gun that Boss pulled, letting it catch the dim light.

"Everybody up. In the center here." The goon with the death grip on Cisco's shoulder shoved him forward, and he stumbled to the postage stamp of a dance floor, where nobody had been dancing. Another burst of pressure sent him to his knees.

"Cisco!" Annie cried, running to him.

"I'm okay," he reassured her.

"I'll call - "

"No heroics," Boss said, herding everyone else to the floor with sweeps of his gun. "We're all waiting nice and quiet, for Little Miss's daddy to bring me my fucking money. Nobody calls anybody. Nobody texts for help. In fact, everybody throw your phone right here." He gestured at his feet with the barrel of his gun. "I want 'em all. Right now."

A couple of phones skidded across the varnished wood to bump his shoes. He snarled. "All of 'em! I want all of them."

Cisco pulled his phone out. Neither Boss nor his henchman was looking at him right now. His thumb hovered over the screen briefly.

"Now the other one," the henchman said to the man next to Cisco.

"I've only got one," the guy said.

The henchman slammed the butt of his pistol into the side of the guy's head, sending him sprawling. He leaned down and plucked the second, smaller phone off the guy's hip. "That's what you get, smart ass."

Cisco started to lean over to help the guy sit up, and Boss said, "Ah - " and waved the gun at him. "You. Phone. Not saying it again."

Cisco swallowed, straightened up, and tossed his phone into the center of the circle. His fingers trembled. This jackass might talk like a movie bad guy, but he acted like one, too, and a lot of the innocent bystanders in movies tended to end up bleeding. Cisco preferred his vital fluids on the inside, thanks.

He took one deep, measured breath. When he'd blown out a second one, he was able to look around the circle of scared people.

The bartender had apparently managed to talk to her dad, because now she sat on one of the bar stools, clutching a cordless phone in her lap and trying not to look at Boss, who stood glowering at the side of her head. His henchman was gathering everybody's phones up, tossing them on the end of the bar, far away from where anyone could reach them. Next to Cisco, the guy that the henchman had knocked over was managing to sit up again.

On his other side, Annie, who was breathing in soft, quick pants - he reached out and squeezed her hand, and she gave him a grateful look. Next to her, a couple of women, clutching each others' hands. A guy and a girl, doing the same. Two women in the white shirt/black skirt combo of the waitstaff, hands clenched around their order pads as if they didn't know what else to hang onto. Howard, who was stroking Caitlin's upper arm, more like he was trying to comfort himself than her.

And Caitlin.

She sat, legs folded neatly under her, bolt upright, tight and still. When he caught her eye, she raised her brows. OK?

He nodded, just a dip of his chin, and raised his brows back.

She nodded the same way, then glanced down at her hands, resting on her knees. He followed her gaze. She had her hands cupped together as if holding something and wiggled her thumbs. Asking if he'd texted Barry before they'd taken the phones.

He bit his lip and shook his head. From the way her shoulders dropped, she hadn't managed either.

She looked to his right. Her brows pulled together. She looked back at Cisco and very clearly cut her eyes to the right again, just as the man at his side groaned softly.

Cisco risked a glance over, and frowned. His neighbor didn't look so hot. He was pale, and the hair just over his ear was matted with something dark and thick and red.

"You okay, dude?" Cisco whispered.

"Hurts," the man mumbled.

Damn, Cisco thought. Then he spotted the packet of cigarettes sticking out of his new pal's shirt pocket, and he had one of those glittering silver moments when he could see precisely what he had to do and what he was going to get when he did.

Those glittering silver moments usually coincided with mouth-related idiocy, which was why he said, "Hey, Mr. Henchman, man?"

"What?"

Wow. Whoa. Hello, Henchman and his best buddy, Big Fucking Gun. Cisco swallowed. "Not to cut in on your busy schedule or anything, but this guy might need a doctor."

Caitlin said immediately, "I'm a doctor. I can look at him."

"He'll be fine," Henchman said.

"I dunno about that," Cisco said. "He doesn't look so good."

"He might have a concussion," Caitlin said.

"He's bleeding like crazy," Cisco added. "Seriously, somebody's gotta look at it."

Henchman looked helplessly at his boss, who pressed his lips together and jerked his head in a sharp nod.

"You, over there." He used the gun to direct Caitlin across the circle.

As she scrambled over, their eyes met. Cisco gave his head a little shake, warning her to pretend she didn't know him. Last thing they needed was for Boss or his henchman to think they were plotting against him, especially when that was exactly what they were going to do.

Caitlin looked away from him and at her patient. "Hi. Can you tell me your name?"

"Jim," the guy said, sounding uncertain about it.

"Jim, I'm Caitlin. I'm going to have a look at you, okay?" She looked up. "Does anybody have a flashlight?"

"I do," Cisco said. "Can I get it?" he asked Henchman. "It's right in my pocket. Right here."

After another glance at his boss, Henchman nodded, glaring down at him until Cisco held out his hand, showing he only held the tiny penlight. He allowed Cisco to pass it to Caitlin.

"Do you know what year it is?" she asked Jim, flicking the light into his eyes.

Jim answered her questions - year, place, president. The answers were right, but something in the replies - their slowness, maybe? - made the skin around her eyes go tight. She held the light out to Cisco, saying imperiously, "You need to hold it for me. I need both hands free here."

He shrugged at Henchman - what the hell can you do, with a bossy woman? - and held it up, aiming the light at the side of Jim's head as Caitlin leaned in to study the wound.

With her face shielded by her loose hair, she mouthed at Cisco, What do you need?

He looked over her head, at the end of the bar where all the phones were heaped. His own stuck out from the bottom of the stack, taunting him. He checked Henchman and Boss, who were muttering to each other.

He looked back at Caitlin and breathed, "Distraction. And accelerant."

Her brow quirked. She said aloud, "Higher. Okay. Right there. Stay there. This is pretty nasty," she said to Jim. "Do you feel woozy or nauseous?"

Having gotten a negative answer, she nodded. "Okay, I need a first aid kit," she announced.

"I-it's in the back," the bartender stammered. "I can -"

"No," Boss snapped.

Caitlin's mouth twisted. "Then I need something to soak up the blood and something antiseptic to clean it."

"The fuck you think this is, a hospital?"

"Alcohol is antiseptic," Caitlin snipped.

"If that's okay," Cisco added quickly. Don't overplay it, Cait.

As if she'd heard him, Caitlin slid him a quick side-eye that said, Please.

"I'll - um. I can get some vodka or something," said the bartender.

"And give you the chance to hit the silent alarm? I'll get it." Boss leaned over the bar and grabbed a bottle, passing it to Henchman, who put it down in front of Cisco.

"Thanks, man. But. Um. Napkins?"

Henchman grabbed a stack off the bar, and Cisco pushed both at Caitlin.

She soaked some of the napkins with vodka and used them to wipe down her hands - as sanitary as she could get without gloves, Cisco guessed - before using more soaked napkins to start cleaning the wound.

A few seconds went by before Jim hissed - which, okay, that wasn't good. Dude was out of it, and when it came to head wounds, that was light-years away from good. The skin tightening around Caitlin's eyes confirmed that, and the snap in her voice when she told him to hold the light steady wasn't entirely feigned.

As the blood started flowing more freely, she grabbed some dry napkins and laid them carefully over the wound. They turned red under her fingers. Boss watched beady-eyed until he was satisfied that she wasn't going to do anything but try to save a hostage's life.

When he was satisfied Boss had looked away, Cisco leaned in under the guise of trying to see. He murmured, "In a minute, complain about your hair. Ask for a rubber band."

She dipped her chin to show she'd heard. "I don't need the light anymore," she said.

Cisco leaned back, shifting his weight until he could put one hand over a discarded napkin, pink with vodka and blood, and tuck it under his ankle. The dampness soaked into his sock, chilling his skin.

Caitlin blew her hair out of her eyes. "God. Can someone get me a goddamn rubber band?"

"I might have one," Cisco said immediately. "Wait - " He dug in his pocket and pulled out a crazy tangle of them.

She looked at them, rolled her eyes. "Just one."

Cisco exchanged a look with Henchman. Geez. That was what he got for trying to help. Women, amirite?

Removing one required taking the whole knot apart. He left most of them scattered on the floor in front of him and handed her the thickest one. She yanked her hair back into a tail at the base of her neck and added more napkins. This time, the red took longer to seep through the paper. "Jim, are you still with me? Focus. Hey, you," she snapped at Cisco. "Hand me that light. I want to check his pupils again."

He handed it over. She flicked it into Jim's glazy eyes. Frowned. Handed it back.

He bobbled the pass, and the penlight slid down Jim's chest and into his shirt pocket. Caitlin made an exasperated sound.

"Sorry," Cisco said to both of them, digging around in Jim's pocket. "Sorry -"

"His pupils aren't responding evenly," Caitlin said over her shoulder to Boss. "That's not good. He probably does have a concussion. He needs treatment."

"He stays there. You all stay here. Got it?"

"How long?"

"Until I say so, girlie."

When Caitlin bristled, Cisco jumped in. "Hey. Caitlin, right? Chill. Okay? He won't let Jim die or anything. Right?" He looked at Henchman. "I mean. You wouldn't do that."

Henchman hesitated, looking from Cisco to Boss.

Boss snarled, "We stay, asshole." He shot Cisco a narrow-eyed look. Cisco looked down at his lap, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible.

He had to be careful to hold his forearm level, or the Zippo he'd slipped out of Jim's pocket would clatter out of his sleeve to the floor.

He suddenly remembered Annie, and glanced to his left. "Okay?" he murmured.

"Uh-huh."

With a flush of guilt, he realized he'd been pretty much ignoring her for the past ten minutes. "We'll get out of this."

She nodded tightly and gave him a little smile.

He smiled back, just as tightly, and reached out to scoop up two or three of the rubber bands from the tangle out of his pocket. He started weaving his fingers through them.

Henchman looked at him and opened his mouth. Cisco forced his hands not to pause, his shoulders not to stiffen. He was just playing with some rubber bands, he was bored, this was nothing sneaky.

His heart thundered in his ears. If Henchman barked at him to put the rubber bands away - or Boss noticed -

Henchman shrugged, closed his mouth, and kept pacing.

Cisco swallowed and unwove a couple of the loops and twists he'd made while Henchman was looking at him. He shifted, wove, twisted, slipped one last loop from his right hand to his left, and let both wrists rest casually on his knees.

Caitlin tapped the floor next to his foot, almost soundlessly. He glanced at her.

Soon? she mouthed, cutting her eyes at Jim, who just looked dazed now. She'd gotten him to hold the napkins to his own head, but his hand slipped every so often, as if he couldn't remember why he was holding them.

Cisco nodded, then tilted his head ever so slightly to the left. She shifted, her shoulder blocking Boss's line of sight to Cisco's hands.

In one smooth motion, he scooped up the vodka-soaked napkin from under his foot and tucked it into the cradle of rubber bands in his hand. He shook his sleeve so the Zippo slid into his palm. He didn't dare look to see if it was oriented right, so he ran his thumb up and down the case until he felt the hinge, then twisted it into position.

He watched Henchman pace the now-familiar pattern. One, two, three - and there, he turned.

Cisco splayed his fingers wide so the rubber bands went taut. He hooked the middle two fingers of his other hand into a loop that had been carefully left out, and pulled it back. With his remaining fingers, he flicked the Zippo open, touched the flame to an edge of the vodka soaked napkin, and let go.

The burning napkin shot straight into the air and wedged itself into a metal frame that stuck down from the ceiling.

Henchman had enough time to say, "What was - " before the fire alarm and the sprinkler system went off, a mess of spraying water and shrieking alarms as Cisco dove for the phones.

The sirens had shut off, although the lights were still making a crazy disco of the street. Head Wound Jim had been bundled into one of the ambulances and taken away. Henchman and his boss had been tied up in back-to-back chairs, ready for the police when they'd burst in. They hadn't been in much of a position to fight anyway, since Caitlin had nailed Henchman in the knee with the bottle of vodka a split second after the sprinklers had gone off.

Also, Cisco wasn't going to be charged with arson.

"Thanks," he said to Eddie, who had just delivered that piece of news.

"Under the circumstances, waiving the charges is the least we can do," Eddie said dryly. "It was quick thinking, Mr. Ramon."

Cisco shrugged modestly. "The Flash did most of the work."

"How did he know what was going on? He's gotta have a police scanner, right?"

Police scanner?

Well, yeah, in a certain very derivative way, Cisco's beauteous setup that monitored police, fire, and Coast Guard bands, plus satellite feeds, plus real-time weather maps because Barry really bitched about running through raindrops, like seriously, suck it up buttercup - maybe you could call that a police scanner.

Although technically the Flash had gotten a text tonight.

Eddie was still waiting. "Um," Cisco said. "Yeah, that makes sense. I guess."

Eddie hmmed to himself. Cisco kept his face amiable and a little dumb.

"The paramedics looked at you?"

"Yep."

"Okay. We may be calling you if we need anything further."

"Anything I can do to help truth, justice, and the Central City way."

"Anybody ever tell you that you read too many comic books?"

"Dude, Superman is straight-up real. I've been to Metropolis, I've seen him."

Eddie turned away, shaking his head and smiling to himself. Cisco hopped off the hood of the police car and went looking for Caitlin.

He found her leaning up against the building. "Hey," he said, leaning up next to her.

"Hey."

"All done?"

"Mhm."

"Whoa, is that a space blanket?"

She looked down at the foil package in her arms. "The paramedics offered it."

"Man, I didn't get one!"

"Want it?"

"Hell, yeah." He took it and beamed at the flimsy foil. "This stuff is crazy useful. You know it retains 97% heat?"

"Yes," she said. "That's why I took it."

He transferred his beam to her, and she grinned back. "What are you going to use it for?"

"Who knows?" He tucked it under his arm. "Where's Howie?"

"He left. I told him to," she added at his look. "Where's Annie?"

"She left. I offered to take her home but she said she had a ride and Eddie still needed to talk to me." His brows quirked. "Wonder if she caught a ride with Howie?"

"That would be a little too neat, don't you think?"

"Mmm."

They watched the activity of the cops and the EMTs, scurrying around like beetles. He put his hand down by his side, resting it on the brick almost casually. It bumped into Caitlin's hand. Their fingers tangled.

"You okay?" she whispered.

He meant to say, What, me? I'm fine! but what came out was a shaky, "Been better."

It was hard to say who dragged who around the corner into the alley - harder still to say whether it was him who shoved her back against the bricks, or her who grabbed his shirt and dragged him close. Either way, they were kissing by the time her back hit the wall. No, kissing was too tame to describe what they were doing.

It was like Caitlin Snow was trying to eat him alive, and he was returning the favor.

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her so close that he could feel the slam of her heart against his chest. She was making these little whimpering noises into his mouth that honestly killed a good seventy percent of his brain cells, but whatever, who needed those. She bit his lower lip - he moaned - her hands fisted in his hair - it hurt - but that was okay, that was fine, pain meant he was alive and she was alive and it was over and nobody was pointing a gun at either of them and everything was going to be okay now.

Everything.

Was going.

To be.

Okay.

After a long time, they had to pull apart to breathe, because choked gasps in between kisses just weren't doing it anymore. They held each other up, gulping air.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned. "Oh, Cait, fuck."

"I know," she wheezed. "I think my heart stopped at least a couple of times."

He kissed her neck and felt her pulse hum under his lips. "Doing okay now."

"That's you," she said.

"Thanks. No, but seriously. There's a reason Barry does this crap instead of us."

"Yeah, it's called superpowers." She kissed him, deeply, and he fell into it, into her. This should not be familiar. He had really, really good reasons for not wanting to date Caitlin Snow and they were really good even if he couldn't remember them right now because she'd hooked one knee over his hip and there went the rest of his gray matter.

When they pulled apart again, she let her head drop back against the brick wall. He tucked her hair behind her ear and nuzzled the earlobe. She shivered.

"At least one of those times my heart stopped," she said clearly, "was when that meathead had his giant goddamn cannon pointed between your eyes."

"His goddamn cannon wasn't that giant," he said. "Trust me."

"Looked like it from where I was sitting. Jesus, Cisco! 'Hey, Mr. Henchman, man'?"

"Worked," he pointed out. "He underestimated me."

"Nice job with that. And getting him to commiserate with you."

"Play to your strengths. Nice job, giving us something to commiserate about."

"Play to your strengths," she said, and kissed his nose.

He tilted his head up and kissed her mouth.

"We make a good team," she said quietly, after another few minutes.

"Well, we have been working together for a long time."

"You know what I mean."

He looked away. "What about Howard?"

Her hands flexed on his shoulders. He couldn't decide if the motion was a push or a pull or neither. "Howard's my rebound. Isn't that what you wanted for me? A rebound?"

He blinked at her, taken aback by the acid in her voice. "I wanted - I want you to be happy. That's what I want."

She sighed. "Howard is a nice, kind, intelligent, attractive man -"

Oh.

"And I've been trying to like him that way, I really have. But the thing is, Cisco, I shouldn't have to try. And you'll notice that I'm here, right here, now, with you. Not him."

He swallowed. "I - um. Yeah. I noticed."

"I know you said you don't want to date me, but this - " She waved one hand to indicate their tangled bodies. "This is sort of undermining your point."

"What I said was we don't want the same things and that never ends well."

She shoved at his shoulders - a definite get-away-from-me shove. "How do you know what I want?"

He stepped back, feeling cold all of a sudden. And also horny. Man, he was about one button away from doing something really illegal in public with her. Probably a good thing they were having this conversation then, with as many cops as there were swarming the area.

Her lipstick was smeared, her hair was wild, and her dress was askew. She was so beautiful it hurt his heart. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest. "Caitlin - "

"No," she said. "You don't know."

"I've been right here the whole time. I saw what you went through and I see where you are now."

"But you don't!" Her voice rose. "You're not in my head, Cisco! You keep pushing me away, you keep saying, 'I refuse to do this' and walking off before I can -"

"Because I have done this! I have been that guy and it's a one-way ticket to Maximum Hurtsville. I'm not doing it again! Not with you!"

He gulped. He hadn't meant to let that out.

Her lips parted. Her eyes narrowed, the way they did when things were clicking together.

He took a shaky breath, feeling raw and naked and not in the good way. Usually he didn't mind letting his emotions flare - healthier that way - but this was too much. Cut too deep.

He swallowed again. "Look. We - this. We can't. This. Right now."

She actually seemed to understand. "We're too wound up. Both of us."

"Yeah," he croaked.

She crossed her arms. "But we need to have this conversation and don't say we don't."

"I know," he admitted. "Okay. Look. What if we meet up tomorrow?"

But she shook her head. "I've got things to do tomorrow. What about Monday?"

He looked at her, horrified. "At the lab?"

She physically recoiled. "No. God. No. Somewhere neutral." Somewhere without every last second of their history inside its walls, she meant.

"Jitters," he suggested. "First thing. Before work." Depending on how this talk went, they would either be able to work smoothly together for the first time in two months, or they would have to alternate calling in sick for another two months.

"Okay. Yes. Okay. Jitters."

"Right."

He ran his hands through his hair, which probably looked like he'd been headbanging in a wind tunnel, and checked his pants (okay, decent, phew). She tugged her dress straight and, wincing, pulled the rubber band out of her hair. She frowned. "Is that your phone?"

"I thought it was yours."

They both checked, and said, "Barry," at the same time. The rolling line of texts had bloomed into all caps halfway through, and the last one was just exclamation points. He was on the scene, trying to find them. He'd been texting for the past ten minutes. Cisco hadn't noticed the buzz in his pocket because he'd been too busy committing semi-public almost-indecencies with Caitlin.

"Better go calm him down," Cisco said, and started for the mouth of the alley.

"Wait." She caught his shoulder. "Cisco, I do have things to do, but I'm also taking tomorrow to think. And if you do the same, think about this, okay? Why do you automatically assume you'd just be a rebound?"

It nailed his feet to the cement. She slipped past him.

He leaned against the wall for a minute, feeling like the ground was tilting a little. He shook his head and picked up the space blanket he'd dropped when he'd grabbed Caitlin. He headed out of the alley to see Barry running up to Caitlin (at human speed) and flinging his arms around her.

"Holy crap, where were you?"

"Sorry, I didn't get your texts until just now." She hugged him back. "I'm fine."

"So am I," Cisco called out. "In case you were wondering."

"Hey." Barry grabbed him in a hard hug, then let him go. "You okay? You're both okay?"

"We're fine," Caitlin said.

"Really?" Barry got a look at Caitlin, and his brow crinkled. "Um, you got something right here - " He gestured at his lip. "You sure you didn't get knocked down or anything?"

"Yes," she said, straightening her dress again and wiping at her mouth.

"'Kay," he said and then louder, "I couldn't believe it when Eddie texted me." He mugged ridiculously on Eddie's name.

Cisco shook his head. "Seriously, dude, I'm teaching you how to play poker. You're like the worst bluffer ever."

"What? Why? I know how to play poker."

"Really? Awesome. Papi needs a new soldering torch."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "Barry, really, we're all right. Thanks for coming to check on us."

"What did you do? Why - " Barry checked over his shoulder. "Why were the sprinklers on?"

"Distraction," Cisco said. "I'll tell you later. It was awesome."

Caitlin shot him a side-eye.

"What? It was. Did you see my aim? Right in the sprinkler head. It was a thing of beauty."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. "I'm going home and going right to bed."

"Take care of yourself, okay?" Barry said.

She smiled at him, then headed off, calling, "See you guys on Monday," over her shoulder.

Cisco said, "See you Monday," more quietly. Her step faltered, but then she continued on her way.

Barry turned to Cisco. "She's really okay?"

"You know Caitlin, she's tough stuff. Shoulda seen her with that vodka bottle." As long as he lived, Cisco would never forget the image of Caitlin rising up through the sprinkler's fine mist, swinging the bottle at Henchman's knee like a warrior angel. It had been the perfect balance of terrifying and sexy. He suppressed a moan. "I think going home is the right call," he said. "You gonna stick around?"

"They don't need me. So, hey, can I bum a ride?"

"Seriously?"

"I wanna hear about the sprinklers. Besides, it's been a long night, and Tito's is on the way to my apartment."

"How late are they open?"

"Late enough we can still stop in for burritos the size of babies."

He hesitated long enough for Barry to look at him in surprise. He never turned down food. "Okay. I'm in."

As they walked under a streetlight, on the way to where Cisco had parked, Barry frowned, then his eyes widened. He cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, dude?"

"Yeah?"

"You might want to - " Barry coughed. "Wipe your mouth."

Cisco ran his thumb under his lower lip and looked down to see a smear of red lipstick, the same shade that Caitlin wore. He went hot all over and scrubbed with all his fingertips until his lips felt raw. "Yeah, not my color," he laughed, trying to will himself unblushy.

Barry grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. "You guys have been all weird with each other for weeks. Did you have a date tonight?"

"Not with each other!" Cisco said hastily. "I swear. You know she's been seeing that guy Howard. I had a date with this girl Annie. It was just this random bad karma that we both ended up here."

"Okay. But her lipstick - "

"Would you believe experimenting with gender expression?" Cisco flashed his biggest, goofiest grin.

Barry didn't grin back. "No."

He let it fade. "Okay. Yeah. That was - uh. That was a sort of post-traumatic panic attack."

"I've had post-traumatic panic attacks," Barry pointed out. "None of them involved sucking face with anybody."

"Your loss, dude."

Barry didn't look convinced. He looked in the direction Caitlin had gone. "What's going on with you two?"

Cisco pushed his hands into his pockets, thinking about what she'd said, and what she might say on Monday. "Trust me. When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

FINIS