No longer did he look like some prep school kid who just happened to take the wrong turn in a bad neighbourhood, some genius had finally told the silver spoon to change his clothes and while he looked considerably less handsome in them, the odds of him getting his ass kicked lowered a lot. The hoodie was pretty thick material and the jeans weren't badly worn, a good haul actually. His first set of clothes from a shelter were just full of holes, all his shit kept falling out of his pockets.
He looked up from where he was lying, sprawled on the bonnet of an old abandoned car that had been trashed in a riot a few months ago and was little more than a burnt out shell really but still, it remained there stubbornly in the worst part of town in the worst area. Not really a good place for a pretty boy like Hartley but a fine place for someone like James. He was waiting for a friend. "Passing by? Bad idea. Especially this late." He took a deep inhale from his cigarette and lazily blew smoke upward into the sky. "Unless you've come to buy drugs. Which is also a bad idea but hey, I'm not gonna stop you. Whatever you want to blow your money on."
"I don't have enough money to blow them on that." Also, no, he probably would not. Maybe one day, just because life was a shit show anyway. Hartley was still trying to apply to schools, something that was almost impossible without a steady address and a lot of funds. Hell, there weren't enough scholarships in the world. It was a worry, but what else was he supposed to do? He had to try to still have a future.
"Why is it a bad idea for me, but you're lying around like you own the place?" He had stopped himself short of calling him Rum Tum Tugger, so there was that at least. Musical references still a solid zero, nice save there.
"You don't need money. You can trade, you can sell items, you can even use your body if you're that desperate. I have it on unfortunately good authority that some dealers are open to trade blowies for blow." With an amused grin, he turned his head to Hartley and then lifted one hand up, pointing directly above them at the smog covered sky with a playfulness that he didn't try to hide. "I'm watching the stars. Can't a guy chill out in a dangerous neighbourhood and watch some stars?"
He took another inhale from his cigarette and held it in for a moment, blowing it back out in a big huff like he was some kind of dragon. "I'm waiting for a shooting star then I'll wish myself a fortune and live happily ever after. That's what I'm doing. So what are you doing?"
Hartley hadn't seen James since James had kissed him. Since Hartley had kissed back and James had shoved him away and called him a faggot who took a joke too far. Calling him names in turn and then grabbing his things and storming out had been the easy part.
The hard part came when he found himself in some dark street nearby and reality caught up to him. Hartley hated that he broke down into sobs. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He knew falling for James had been a mistake, but who could have helped it? James with his incredibly blue eyes, who always came just a bit too close and touched him just a bit too much. Who made him laugh and smiled at him, who helped him when he had no one else. Who flirted with him in that playful way, where he could never be sure if he really meant it.
Then that kiss and somehow he was the one that had fucked up? Fuck this. Fuck him.
But nevertheless, almost a month later, Hartley thought James out. Hands in his pockets and his expression guarded. He had his reasons for talking to him.
Oh God. Not this again. Hartley. James shoved down that little guilty part of him that felt bad and tried his best to put up all his walls. He didn't get what the big deal was, he said he wasn't gay and he wasn't gay, he was just trying something out and then Hartley got all into it and used tongue. It was too much. He wasn't some lame fag like freaking Axel, he was just -- curious? Is that what people called it? There was a guy, he was kind of pretty, he wanted to try it.
It wasn't his deal.
"Need something?" James tutted from where he was lounged out, smiling at Hartley like nothing had ever happened between them. "If you need something, I need something. You know how this works. We do some kinda swapsies or no deal."
Never in his life had he been so glad to see Hartley on the ground. And yes, that may have seemed like a weird thing to be glad of but last time he came here, he was on the roof and the roof was not somewhere James liked to be. He really didn't need to have to climb all the way up there and likely, you know, die when the world began to spin and everything got further away and the air got thin and-- yeah, heights scared him.
He didn't know what to say to Hartley but he kind of needed him. He needed someone and that asshole Axel wasn't answering his phone. Stupid asshole, making him go to Hartley.
"Hartley?" He kept his tone as neutral as he could and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, not just because it was cold, he needed to keep something hidden. "I need your help."
"What? Why?" It was a good question. James wasn't like him. He made friends easily. Everyone liked him. In that sense, he might be the opposite of him. Hartley watched him curiously, not even thinking about how upset he was with him and how their last conversation had ended. "What's the matter?"
He had just been sitting here, listening to what he could hear through the window. The music was faint, but he had good ears. Hartley stood up now though, his focus on James.
"You have a visitor, Hartley." Ronnie didn't bother to hide the surprise in his tone, although a look from Caitlin convinced him not to make any comment. It was somewhat gratifying when Hartley looked even more surprised as he looked up from his work, the smell of tomato and garlic giving away just who that would be even before he spotted him. "What are you doing here, James?"
"Hey! You forgot your lunch. Well, you never made a lunch so you didn't forget but you need to eat lunch." He came over to Hartley's desk and dropped the food down onto it, grinning at his idiot friend who clearly had no idea how to take care of himself. "Eat it or you'll never grow up to be big and strong."
"Dude, that smells so good." Cisco eyed the bag curiously, unable to believe that first off, this guy had a friend somehow and secondly, he could cook like that.
"Thanks, I made it actually. It's only something simple." James shrugged and leaned against Hartley's desk, waving playfully at the people trying not to stare at him. "I'm James, me and Hartley are occasional room-mates. As in I keep turning up to sleep in his house and he doesn't kick me out. Most of the time."
It was a long shot and judging by that look on his face, he didn't believe him any more than the police did. He had seen the way Harrison Wells looked at Hartley, it repulsed him. All he wanted to do was go in there and protect him and then suddenly, mid way through talking, he hit himself in the head with his pencil holder off the desk and shoved it into James hand before triggering the alarm.
He had a record, the police knew him, of course they assumed he'd broke into steal, panicked and attacked that psycho asshole. And here he was, back in jail, a panel of glass separating then and talking into a telephone. "I didn't try to steal anything. I went in to talk to your creepy pervert boss. Do you see the way he has his eyes all over you? He's a freak. I was trying to have your back. I never hit him."
"I believe you didn't try to steal anything." Hartley sighed, fingers tightening around the phone. "I'll try to get you your meds, James. You sound paranoid again."
Very paranoid. Hartley knew that Wells had never been anything but professional with him, so he had no idea what could have triggered this kind of reaction. Usually this kind of behaviour from James was at least based on something, but apparently he had gotten even worse. "I'm trying to pay the bail, but... It's pretty high. I'm sorry."
Hartley didn't even remember building the implants he had now. He just remembered the blissful feeling when the pain finally subsided. When he passed out afterwards, it was simple exhaustion. He hadn't slept since the accelerator exploded. Now upon waking up, he was alone. Shocker.
For a long while, he just stayed as he was, silently in bed, carefully touching his ears. It wasn't until a long while later that he dared to speak, just to see if he could hear himself. Later still, he managed to get a nurse to let him have his phone and he turned it on, not even bothering to check whether he had any missed calls or messages - he doubted it.
Instead he called his parents, listening to the familiar voice mail message. When the beep sounded, he realized that he had no idea what he even wanted to say. "Hey, mom. Dad. I just wanted to say that I'm fine. I'm okay. I... You don't really care, do you?"
Great. Now he was making himself cry over a message his parents weren't even likely to get. "I don't know why I called."
The explosion had been something he sort of knew would happen, hell Hartley gave him a heads up and all. He didn't know what to do at first, he sort of paced for a while, panicked a little, he wanted to do something to find out if Hartley was even still alive. He had no information, he couldn't bring himself to call him and he didn't even know if going outside was even safe.
It wasn't until Axel heard that one of the guys who'd been hit in the blast had seen a guy who looked like Hartley in the hospital near the ward he was in that James knew he was alive. And he thought that could be enough, just to know he was alive but the whole night he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking of Hartley and how he must feel, that he was alone there and no one was visiting. He couldn't stand it.
He didn't know what to say or why he came but he did, he had to come. He listened to him talk to his parents voice mail and waited for him to hang up before he came into the room slowly, arms behind his back to hide what he had, unsure if he was even welcome.
This was rather embarrassing, all things considered, but luckily Hartley lived with someone he could trust. Trust to laugh at him, sure, but also trust to help him.
He knocked his foot against James' door, then walked in, clearing his throat. Right. He should probably try to have an explanation for why he was half-naked with his hands locked behind him. He really wished he had a better explanation.
"...can you help me?" Hartley turned around, looking at James over his shoulder as he indicated his hands. "My gloves got tangled."
James sat there, lollipop half hanging out of his mouth as he stared straight ahead at Hartley with utter confusion plain on his face. What was this? Like self bondage gone wrong? Was he that horny, bored and alone? Poor bastard. "You can't just whack it like a normal guy, you've got to go and get all risky?"
He snorted in amusement and reluctantly got to his feet, moving towards him and tilting his head to the side to look at his gloves. "So what are they? Like ... kinky mittens or something?"
Leonard Snart was the kind of person who liked to work alone, in peace and away from everyone else. James knew that. James didn't care. They had a big job to do, everyone was prepping and Leonard had his usual gang of very disposable sidekicks. James knew he was fortunate to have not been shot so far like all the others but he didn't seem to be that concerned over it.
If he was going to be shot in the face, it would have happened by now.
So while Leonard looked over the blueprints for his newest plan, a small little puppet appear from the table in a big blue parka and a little pair of glasses, looking very much like a miniature Leonard Snart. And it spoke with an annoying high pitched voice.
"Hello, I'm Lenny!" The puppet waved at Leonard. "I'm such a workaholic, I never have any fun any more. I don't even want to help my dear friend Jesse with his problems."
"You don't have problems yet. But I could make sure you do. Ice your hand." Just a thought. A pretty pleasant thought. But James was easy enough to ignore while he focused, so Len didn't even look up. He had things to do and this couldn't really wait. Not that he'd ever be inclined to wait just to enjoy a show of Trickster puppets.
On the other hand, he might have to, just to get him to shut up.
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No longer did he look like some prep school kid who just happened to take the wrong turn in a bad neighbourhood, some genius had finally told the silver spoon to change his clothes and while he looked considerably less handsome in them, the odds of him getting his ass kicked lowered a lot. The hoodie was pretty thick material and the jeans weren't badly worn, a good haul actually. His first set of clothes from a shelter were just full of holes, all his shit kept falling out of his pockets.
He looked up from where he was lying, sprawled on the bonnet of an old abandoned car that had been trashed in a riot a few months ago and was little more than a burnt out shell really but still, it remained there stubbornly in the worst part of town in the worst area. Not really a good place for a pretty boy like Hartley but a fine place for someone like James. He was waiting for a friend. "Passing by? Bad idea. Especially this late." He took a deep inhale from his cigarette and lazily blew smoke upward into the sky. "Unless you've come to buy drugs. Which is also a bad idea but hey, I'm not gonna stop you. Whatever you want to blow your money on."
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"Why is it a bad idea for me, but you're lying around like you own the place?" He had stopped himself short of calling him Rum Tum Tugger, so there was that at least. Musical references still a solid zero, nice save there.
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He took another inhale from his cigarette and held it in for a moment, blowing it back out in a big huff like he was some kind of dragon. "I'm waiting for a shooting star then I'll wish myself a fortune and live happily ever after. That's what I'm doing. So what are you doing?"
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The hard part came when he found himself in some dark street nearby and reality caught up to him. Hartley hated that he broke down into sobs. He was supposed to be stronger than this. He knew falling for James had been a mistake, but who could have helped it? James with his incredibly blue eyes, who always came just a bit too close and touched him just a bit too much. Who made him laugh and smiled at him, who helped him when he had no one else. Who flirted with him in that playful way, where he could never be sure if he really meant it.
Then that kiss and somehow he was the one that had fucked up? Fuck this. Fuck him.
But nevertheless, almost a month later, Hartley thought James out. Hands in his pockets and his expression guarded. He had his reasons for talking to him.
"I need something."
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It wasn't his deal.
"Need something?" James tutted from where he was lounged out, smiling at Hartley like nothing had ever happened between them. "If you need something, I need something. You know how this works. We do some kinda swapsies or no deal."
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He didn't know what to say to Hartley but he kind of needed him. He needed someone and that asshole Axel wasn't answering his phone. Stupid asshole, making him go to Hartley.
"Hartley?" He kept his tone as neutral as he could and pulled his jacket tighter around himself, not just because it was cold, he needed to keep something hidden. "I need your help."
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He had just been sitting here, listening to what he could hear through the window. The music was faint, but he had good ears. Hartley stood up now though, his focus on James.
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"Dude, that smells so good." Cisco eyed the bag curiously, unable to believe that first off, this guy had a friend somehow and secondly, he could cook like that.
"Thanks, I made it actually. It's only something simple." James shrugged and leaned against Hartley's desk, waving playfully at the people trying not to stare at him. "I'm James, me and Hartley are occasional room-mates. As in I keep turning up to sleep in his house and he doesn't kick me out. Most of the time."
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It was a long shot and judging by that look on his face, he didn't believe him any more than the police did. He had seen the way Harrison Wells looked at Hartley, it repulsed him. All he wanted to do was go in there and protect him and then suddenly, mid way through talking, he hit himself in the head with his pencil holder off the desk and shoved it into James hand before triggering the alarm.
He had a record, the police knew him, of course they assumed he'd broke into steal, panicked and attacked that psycho asshole. And here he was, back in jail, a panel of glass separating then and talking into a telephone. "I didn't try to steal anything. I went in to talk to your creepy pervert boss. Do you see the way he has his eyes all over you? He's a freak. I was trying to have your back. I never hit him."
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Very paranoid. Hartley knew that Wells had never been anything but professional with him, so he had no idea what could have triggered this kind of reaction. Usually this kind of behaviour from James was at least based on something, but apparently he had gotten even worse. "I'm trying to pay the bail, but... It's pretty high. I'm sorry."
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Please, Giacomo. I need you so badly.
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For a long while, he just stayed as he was, silently in bed, carefully touching his ears. It wasn't until a long while later that he dared to speak, just to see if he could hear himself. Later still, he managed to get a nurse to let him have his phone and he turned it on, not even bothering to check whether he had any missed calls or messages - he doubted it.
Instead he called his parents, listening to the familiar voice mail message. When the beep sounded, he realized that he had no idea what he even wanted to say. "Hey, mom. Dad. I just wanted to say that I'm fine. I'm okay. I... You don't really care, do you?"
Great. Now he was making himself cry over a message his parents weren't even likely to get. "I don't know why I called."
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It wasn't until Axel heard that one of the guys who'd been hit in the blast had seen a guy who looked like Hartley in the hospital near the ward he was in that James knew he was alive. And he thought that could be enough, just to know he was alive but the whole night he couldn't sleep. He kept thinking of Hartley and how he must feel, that he was alone there and no one was visiting. He couldn't stand it.
He didn't know what to say or why he came but he did, he had to come. He listened to him talk to his parents voice mail and waited for him to hang up before he came into the room slowly, arms behind his back to hide what he had, unsure if he was even welcome.
"Hartley?"
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You should be in bed and you're not. You're missing the Looney Toons morning fun time hour.
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I'll be back later. The doctors just said I need rest because it's what doctors do.
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He knocked his foot against James' door, then walked in, clearing his throat. Right. He should probably try to have an explanation for why he was half-naked with his hands locked behind him. He really wished he had a better explanation.
"...can you help me?" Hartley turned around, looking at James over his shoulder as he indicated his hands. "My gloves got tangled."
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James sat there, lollipop half hanging out of his mouth as he stared straight ahead at Hartley with utter confusion plain on his face. What was this? Like self bondage gone wrong? Was he that horny, bored and alone? Poor bastard. "You can't just whack it like a normal guy, you've got to go and get all risky?"
He snorted in amusement and reluctantly got to his feet, moving towards him and tilting his head to the side to look at his gloves. "So what are they? Like ... kinky mittens or something?"
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If he was going to be shot in the face, it would have happened by now.
So while Leonard looked over the blueprints for his newest plan, a small little puppet appear from the table in a big blue parka and a little pair of glasses, looking very much like a miniature Leonard Snart. And it spoke with an annoying high pitched voice.
"Hello, I'm Lenny!" The puppet waved at Leonard. "I'm such a workaholic, I never have any fun any more. I don't even want to help my dear friend Jesse with his problems."
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On the other hand, he might have to, just to get him to shut up.
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