Somewhere along the way, in some weird twist of fate, Cisco actually started calling Mick Rory 'friend'. He isn't entirely sure how it happened or when that shift solidified, but he mostly just doesn't bother questioning it. It's easier to just accept it.
He doesn't see Mick too often, they're both busy with their respective corners of world-saving going on, but whenever he has half a second to jump back to Central City in 2016, Mick drags Cisco out for drinks or whatever. It's weird, but it's not the worst.
Cisco's not in the best of moods, he'd planned on no company and not going out. The first Christmas without Dante looming above him meant he would rather lock himself up in his apartment and pretend this whole stupid holiday didn't exist. He may not have had the perfect relationship with his brother, but that doesn't make the whole thing feel less hollow. So the absolute last thing he expects is a knock on his door that night. He waits, thinking maybe whoever it is will just go away if he doesn't answer. People aren't something he remotely wants to deal with right now. But there's another loud round of banging on the door and he pauses his game and drops the controller on the couch, pushing himself to his feet with an annoyed sigh.
"This better be good," he starts as he's almost to the door, "because I am not in the mood for--" his words stop short, breath caught in his throat as he swings the door open and finds Mick on the other side, holding Dante in place by a well-placed hand on the back of his neck. His chest is tight and it's hard to breathe and oh, fuck, oh, fuck, what had Mick done?! Cisco isn't much more than a wall of cascading emotions that can't figure out where to land as he stares, blinking rapidly, at the ghost in front of him. "I-I-- what-- how--"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-12-17 05:25 pm (UTC)He doesn't see Mick too often, they're both busy with their respective corners of world-saving going on, but whenever he has half a second to jump back to Central City in 2016, Mick drags Cisco out for drinks or whatever. It's weird, but it's not the worst.
Cisco's not in the best of moods, he'd planned on no company and not going out. The first Christmas without Dante looming above him meant he would rather lock himself up in his apartment and pretend this whole stupid holiday didn't exist. He may not have had the perfect relationship with his brother, but that doesn't make the whole thing feel less hollow. So the absolute last thing he expects is a knock on his door that night. He waits, thinking maybe whoever it is will just go away if he doesn't answer. People aren't something he remotely wants to deal with right now. But there's another loud round of banging on the door and he pauses his game and drops the controller on the couch, pushing himself to his feet with an annoyed sigh.
"This better be good," he starts as he's almost to the door, "because I am not in the mood for--" his words stop short, breath caught in his throat as he swings the door open and finds Mick on the other side, holding Dante in place by a well-placed hand on the back of his neck. His chest is tight and it's hard to breathe and oh, fuck, oh, fuck, what had Mick done?! Cisco isn't much more than a wall of cascading emotions that can't figure out where to land as he stares, blinking rapidly, at the ghost in front of him. "I-I-- what-- how--"