This is for the second day of Killervibe week, the Meet Cute theme! Based on something that happened to a Facebook connection of mine, although as far as I know it didn’t turn out this cute.
You’ve Got Mail
The first note was stuck to Caitlin’s door with a piece of scotch tape. She frowned and unfolded it, wondering if the new neighbor already had a problem with her erratic hours.
Hi! (read the computer-printed note)
I just moved into 202 and wanted to introduce myself to all my neighbors. I'm Cisco Ramon and I'm starting my Masters' in electrical engineering at the university. Normally I'd knock and say hi but this whole quarantine thing kinda keeps me from doing that. :(
I speak English and Spanish and a little bit of Klingon. I cook sometimes but mostly get too much takeout so any good restaurant recommendations are welcome! I like tinkering and video games and SF/F books and movies and shows, like you couldn't tell from the Klingon. I have a cat named Buttercup who is a giant butt and I love him. If you see him outside, I’d really appreciate it if you called or texted because he's not an outdoor kitty.
He'd added a picture of the cat, staring menacingly at the camera as if promising that anyone who tried to pet him would lose a finger. Caitlin smiled in spite of herself.
Hope you have a great day! Cisco Ramon, Apt 202
He'd also added his phone number.
Caitlin read it through a couple of times before looking across the courtyard and up a floor at 202. It being 11:30 at night, the door was shut tight. There was a muted bluish flicker in one of the windows, like he was watching TV. It would be rude to knock on his door at this time of night.
Also, they were all practicing social distancing right now.
Caitlin was a champ at social distancing. She could social-distance on Olympic levels.
She went into her apartment, shutting the door behind her.
***
On her way to the hospital the next morning, she left a plastic container full of cookies on the mat of 202. There was a note carefully taped to the top.
Thank you for your nice note. Here are some cookies to welcome you to the building. They're chocolate chip. If you can't eat them, it's okay to throw them away. I've been baking a lot in quarantine.
She was halfway to the hospital when she realized she hadn't put her name or apartment number on the note. So for all Cisco Ramon knew, some anonymous benefactor had dropped cookies on his doorstep.
She sighed. She really was bad at this, just like Jay had said.
***
There was another note on her door when she got back home, this one hand-written in a sprawling, jagged scrawl.
Hello Cookie Queen!
I hope I'm not creeping you out or anything. I saw you through the window, leaving the cookies this morning, but I didn't want to freak you out by opening up the door right away.
They were delicious. I will happily eat any baked goods that you want to get rid of. That's not a beg, by the way. I can make my own cookies, once I find a good grocery store. (Any recommendations?) Just if you're the kind of person who likes to make entire batches and then has to eat them for the next three weeks, I can help with that. I don't have any allergies or anything.
Anyway I think I've weirded you out enough for one note.
Cisco
***
Hi Cisco
My name is Caitlin Snow and you already know my apartment number. The grocery store I like is the Safeway at the corner of Livingston and Bellmore because they are very firm about masks and disinfecting right now, much better than the Kroger. Also closer. There's a Taco Galaxy across the street from them that delivers until midnight and I like their chicken taco salad.
She stared at the note for a few minutes, then wondered if he would think she was saying a Mexican place because he was clearly Latino. She crossed out and substituted The Golden Wok on Bellmore delivers, and they do a good sweet and sour chicken.
I am a first-year resident so my hours are kind of strange but please let me know if I can ever help out with anything.
Caitlin, Apt 106
She chewed her lip for a moment, then added to the last paragraph before the sign-off, I wasn't weirded out.
Then she wrote it out in pen on a clean sheet of paper and found another plastic container to fill with butterscotch oatmeal cookies.
***
Hi Caitlin!
Nice to have a name and stop calling you Cookie Queen. Unless you want me to continue calling you Cookie Queen, that's okay too. Thank you for the second batch! Just as delish.
I took your tip about the grocery store and stocked up. Also got green pepper beef at the Golden Wok. Nom, nom, nom! Any ruling on the Taco Galaxy across from Safeway?
I'm major impressed with the residency thing btw. Are you doing okay? Is your ICU totally packed? I have a sewing machine because I do cosplay but obvi no cons right now, so I've been making masks and stuff too. Do you need any?
Cisco
***
Cisco,
We're doing okay right now. I'm not treating many COVID cases personally because I'm in my first year, but everybody is doing more than they would have normally. If you have extra cloth masks, I know some shelters and the local food bank are distributing them.
I like the chicken taco salad at Taco Galaxy.
She paused, studying the note. She wanted to continue this conversation. She liked him - his warmth and his humor. Maybe she should start texting him. She had his phone number, after all. Or would that be weird?
She wrote down, Where did you move from?
Caitlin
***
They traded notes back and forth, at least once a day but more often twice. Their correspondence ranged from the mundane - he'd moved from Coast City, she had come here from Gotham - to the personal - neither of them had very good relationships with their families - to the downright philosophical.
I dunno, he wrote one rainy day, I feel like the people who say this is God's punishment or whatever are totally getting God wrong. Like I don't believe in God anymore but if I still did, I don't think I'd believe in that kind of God.
A virus is a virus, she wrote back. There's debate about whether a virus really counts as alive or not, but it's just doing what all life does. The pandemic is definitely down to human hubris and selfishness and shortsightedness. No need for divine punishment. And I don't believe in that kind of God either.
At work, she would mentally compose parts of her next letter during her rare free moments, and every time something funny or strange or horrible happened at the hospital, she found herself telling him about it. No names, of course, because of HIPAA, but writing them down helped her work them out.
The day he mentioned his most recent ex, she caught her breath, a strange flutter in her stomach.
She did a number on me, I'm telling you. It's weird because I do think she liked me, maybe as much as I liked her. It's just she was in some bad stuff with her brother, and she wasn't really interested in getting out. When I realized that she was using me to help him out, I was done. Probably way after I should've been, but that was the last straw. I'm not saying that breakup was why I picked CCU for grad school and moved here two months early but I'm not NOT saying that.
She lay on her couch reading the note over again. His tone was cheerful, as it usually was, but she could almost feel the regret and self-recrimination behind it.
Also, did this mean he was single? He hadn't wrapped it up with any other mention of someone else he was dating now.
I know what that's like, she wrote back. My most recent ex was -
She lifted her pen and stared at the paper. How to describe Jay?
My breakup with my ex was pretty bad too. You just start to doubt everything that you ever thought or felt. Like, is this real or is this another time bomb he put in your head?
God RIGHT he wrote back. The good exes leave nice little presents for you in your head. You think of them because you see a movie they liked or something they used to wear and it just makes you smile. But the bad ones leave freaking land mines and time bombs.
***
More than once, she arrived home to find a bag of takeout or a tupperware full of some recipe he'd tried out. His tastes were a little more adventurous than hers, but she willingly ate whatever he left. Knowing somebody was thinking about her was as nourishing as the meal.
And some of it was really good.
She kept baking, leaving cookies and bread and other treats at his doorstep. Sometimes she experimented, too.
One day as the first leaves were turning, she left a jar with a note taped to the top. I decided to try something. Let me know if Buttercup likes these.
She got a reply within hours.
Buttercup would like to formally request to move into your apartment now, because I'm a terrible kitty papa and never thought of making him treats. Also I'm very cruel because I won't let him eat the entire jar no matter how much he yells. You are a genius.
She laughed and wrote back, Obviously you're an excellent kitty papa because you love Buttercup very much. It was a pretty simple recipe. I'll attach it for you so you can make your own. I'm glad he likes them.
She didn't see a reply on her door that night. This wasn't unprecedented, though it was unusual, and she found herself cycling through a few anxious loops of what-if - what if he was sick? what if he had nothing more to say to her? what if it had been just too weird for her to make treats for his cat? what if he was talking to someone else now?
But the next day when she went out to get her mail, she found a note tucked into her screen door. She grabbed it and opened it up.
Hey I realize this is kind of a weird question since we've been passing notes all this time, but would you be okay with texting? Or FaceTiming or WhatsApp or something? I don't know if you kept my number but here it is again anyway.
She read the short note through a couple of times, trying to identify the feeling bubbling up in her stomach.
She did like writing the letters. There was something so calming and old-fashioned about sitting down with paper and pen and writing everything out that was on her mind. And getting a letter back felt like a present.
But on the other hand, this felt like a step toward something . . . new. Something more. Closer.
She looked up at 202. A curtain twitched, and she caught her breath. Cisco leaned against the glass, spotted her, and lifted his hand in a wave.
She waved back.
She'd seen him a couple of times, leaving something at her door or going to grab his mail. She liked his face and his smile, what she'd seen of them.
He saw the note in her hand. That much was obvious. Even from here, he looked a little nervous. Or maybe that was her, projecting.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped in his number. He looked away from the window, reached out to grab something, and lifted his phone to his ear.
"Hi," she said shyly. "It's Caitlin."
His smile spread over his face, big enough to bathe her in warmth from one floor and a whole courtyard away. "Hi, Caitlin," he said. "Cisco here."
She smiled back. "So. How's your day going?"
It would be a long time before they actually got to meet in person, without a mask. But she was looking forward to it.
Title: Celebrate Me Home
Pairing: Caitlin Snow/Cisco Ramon, Killervibe
Summary: Summary: Day 7 of Killervibe Week 2020, for the theme ‘media adaptation.’ Playing House AU. When Caitlin loses her fiance in the Star Labs explosion, her best friend Cisco moves in to help her.
Happy Killervibe week, y’all! This first story is for the Coffee Shop theme.
Closing Time
Cisco shut the door behind the last wifi hound, locked it, and raised both fists in the air. "And we're done!"
Done for the night, done for the pay period, done forever. In two days, he'd be starting his grad program at the university and a TA-ship with it, and he'd never have to make another latte unless it was for himself.
"Not quite," his manager said. "We've still got to finish the closing."
"But done with customers," he said, coming around the counter. He started to clean the espresso machine, singing, "No more frothers, no more cards, no more Karens' dirty looks -" He paused. "Huh, you got anything that rhymes?"
Caitlin, already pulling the drawer, rolled her eyes at him and turned to go into the office where she would count the money and deposit it in the safe. Also her last time.
Cisco hit the button for the cleaning cycle, shut off the canned Jitters-approved music on the overhead speakers, and pulled out his phone. "Requests?" he called into the office.
"You pick!" she called back, as she always did.
He decided it was an old-school cheesy hair band kind of night and put on Aerosmith as he started emptying the dishwasher, stacking all the cups and plates up for the next morning.
He liked closing with Caitlin, because she always had them do all the little tasks and chores way before closing. He knew some of the other baristas bitched and moaned, saying there was plenty of time to take out the trash or do the pastry inventory after they were closed and she was just cracking the whip because she could. But Caitlin always got them out on time and also never left anything undone for the openers if she could help it.
Also, it didn't hurt that he was kind of head-over-heels in love with her.
" - jonesin' on love, yeah, I got the disease," he sang as he wiped down the table where the last wifi user had been sitting, dropping crumbs into his keyboard until the bitter end. "Falling in love is so hard on the kneeeeeees -"
She was pretty and smart - she was going to med school! How hot was that? - and kind of funny, once you got her talking. In his year behind the counter, every single one of his favorite shifts had been with her. He'd even agreed to work closing on Saturday nights because that was her closing night, and nobody else ever wanted that shift so it was always just them hanging out as he cracked jokes and told stories and made up alternate lyrics to the music on the loudspeaker and generally acted like a third-grader trying to get the attention of his first crush.
Not that she'd ever reciprocated. Oh, she was friendly enough, in her reserved way. But though she would banter with him if there was nobody in the store, she'd never flirted back or texted outside of work, even when he would shoot her a what's-up every now and then to test the waters. She'd never even given him the look when they were alone and the store was locked up and he'd just made her laugh, and . . .
Clearly he was a fellow Jitters employee and nothing more.
He sighed, tossing the cloth into the laundry bag. It was probably good they were both leaving. Unrequited love was probably great for radio hits, but terrible for his self-confidence. Maybe he'd get lucky and lock eyes with a hot fellow TA during orientation, and if he ever ran into Caitlin around campus, he could smile and catch up without that tinge of longing pressing on his chest.
He checked the bathrooms, just in case that one last "no, I'll be five minutes, I really need the bathroom" guy had left a horrible present behind.
Luckily, they were spick and span. Caitlin had cleaned them a couple of hours ago, so he could probably eat off the floors. He narrowed his eyes at the toilet paper holders and opened one. "For Chrissakes," he muttered.
Caitlin was rolling coins when he knocked on the door jamb. "Hey, Charmin' Hal hit us again," he said. "I need the keys."
She looked up. "What? When did he get in?" She handed him the key to the supply closet.
"Maybe when we had that drive-thru rush around nine? He got all three spare rolls."
She shook her head. "What does he use them for?"
Cisco shrugged. "We don't have to care in -" He checked his phone. "About thirteen minutes."
By the time he'd replaced all the spare rolls, Caitlin was signing the deposit slip. "We good?" he asked.
"Just about. I have to lock up the safe. Can you grab the pastry cart?"
"On it." He tossed her the keys to the supply closet, and she caught them. "Wooo!" he cheered. "A stellar catch from Snow on third!"
She smiled in a way that made his stomach all warm, but turned away and started gathering up all the stuff to go in the safe. He grabbed the cart and wheeled it out front to start filling the ruthlessly cleaned pastry case so it would be ready for the openers.
After a few moments, the safe thumped closed, the light in the office switched off, and she came out to help him with the last pastries. When they'd filled the case, she handed him a roll of bills, his share of the tip jar. "Oh, and this. It came on the truck today."
It was an envelope with something stiff and plastic inside. He ripped it open and found a gold Jitters membership card. "What's this? Some kind of comment on how much free coffee I drank in my tenure here?"
She smiled. "Every Jitters team member that leaves on good terms gets a lifetime membership in the loyalty program." She nodded at the card. "You were here for more than a year so you get gold."
And fifteen percent off Jitters drinks and food. "Nice!" Discounted caffeine was not to be sneezed at, especially in the program he was going into. "What'd you get? Titanium? Diamond-encrusted?"
"Managers get platinum," she admitted.
"For the kind of crap you put up with, you should get free Jitters for life, not just twenty percent off," he said. He'd personally seen her smack down entitled Karens, kick out jerks creeping on baristas, and call the cops on a dude who was flashing people in the drive-thru.
She shrugged. "It's still a good deal." She reached out and hit the lights, so the lobby went dim and quiet.
More than once, he'd wondered what she would do if he leaned over and kissed her in the soft after-close darkness. The thought came up again. Why not? Last chance, right? She was so close he could smell the hazelnut syrup she'd spilled on her apron earlier. What if he just -
But her silhouette had already turned and started walking to the back, and her voice floated to him. "Come on, let's clock out."
He cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah. Let's do that."
He'd cleaned out his tiny locker earlier, so all he had to do was whip off the apron and toss it in the laundry bag. Caitlin's landed on top of it, and she picked up her purse and the bag of things from her own locker.
"Have you got everything?" she asked. "I signed my key back to Tina earlier, so I wouldn't be able to get us back in."
He patted his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone. "Got it all," he said, grabbing the bag of stuff from his locker.
He clocked out, approved his time card, and then stepped back to let her do the same. The staff door shut behind them with a heavy, final thunk, the lock clicking.
"End of an era," he said. "The Cisco and Caitlin closing show is no more."
"Yep," she murmured.
They stood in the tiny parking lot, the lights spilling down to form a pool around them, keeping the darkness back. On the other side of the building, traffic rushed by.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly awkward. "So, uh. This . . . this was cool. I liked working with you."
"Me too."
"Good luck with med school and all that. Maybe I'll, um, I'll see you around campus."
"Probably not," she said. "The med school is on the other end of campus from the engineering building."
He looked at his shoes. "Yeah, I guess it is."
"So maybe we should arrange to meet up sometime," she said.
It took a moment for the words to percolate, and then he blinked at her. "To - "
"Meet up," she said again. "For, um, for coffee or something."
Hang on, was this like a post-employment thing? Meet up with your manager afterward? To what, like, talk about work stuff? She was aware that they worked (had worked, past tense) at Jitters, not a Fortune 500 company, right?
"Sure," he said slowly.
She put her hands behind her back. "Only if you want. I know you'll be busy."
Something pinged in his brain. Maybe it was that bashful motion, maybe it was the angle of her chin as she looked away. Maybe it was the trace of a blush across her cheeks.
He held up a hand. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
Her eyes went big, and her cheeks went pinker. She bit her lower lip.
"Oh my god," he said in wonderment. "You are. You're asking me out."
She looked utterly crestfallen for a split second, then rallied. "Okay, I can see I might have misinterpreted certain -"
He almost yelled, "I didn't say no!"
They both goggled at each other for a moment.
"What are you saying then?"
"I - yeah, absolutely, yes, let's -" Hook up? Date? Have a torrid love affair? Get married and have a succession of fat happy babies? Yes please, all of the above. "Let's do that. But - you - you knew I liked you?"
"You were kind of flirty," she said.
"But you never - You acted like you weren't even the tiniest bit interested!"
"Cisco, I was your manager up to three minutes ago! That's like the definition of sexual harassment!"
"Not if I'm cool with it!"
"Okay, but if we'd started dating a year ago, every time I made a schedule, people would have said I was giving you more hours or better shifts or not making you do the icky jobs, even if it wasn't true. You know they would've."
"A year ago," he said. "You've had the hots for me for a year?"
She primmed up her mouth. "As you well know, you're very cute."
He felt his grin spread all across his face. "Damn right I am. I'm such sizzlin' hot stuff that you couldn't wait three minutes after you were officially no longer my manager to hit on me."
She went pink to her hairline. "I - I just - it seemed like a good -"
He almost collapsed into laughter. God, why had he never taken that into account? All his pining and longing and yearning, and he'd never once considered how conscientious Caitlin was. Of course she wouldn't have acted like the other manager, Ralph, who was nice enough but went through the cute new baristas like a hot knife through butter. And yeah, people did say that about whatever newbie he was swapping spit with.
When Cisco had chortled himself into silence, she stood shaking her head. But not in a "I changed my mind, you're a complete goober, no fat happy babies for us." More like, "I knew what I was getting into and I still think you're cute, God help me." She had a little smile on her face.
He wheezed out a breath. "So," he said. "We're doing this?"
She nodded, and her smile widened. "Sounds like."
"Just one request, okay?"
"What's that?"
He reached out and took her hand. It slipped into his shyly, but she didn't pull away. He said, "Let's do Slurpees and mini-golf, or hit the pizza buffet, or something. Just, anything but coffee."
I also used this prompt from @dailyau which literally made me coo aloud.
Roll Call
Caitlin settled into the first chair on the second row from the windows. Close enough to get the good light, but not in the row where all the daydreamers sat. This was AP chem, this was important.
The clock at the front of the room said she still had two minutes before the bell. She took out her notebook, opened it up, and spread it smooth on the surface of the desk. A mechanical pencil with lots of lead, a pen just in case, a highlighter. Last of all, her planner, an old-school paper one with clean, crisp pages.
There.
One more year in this school and then she was out. She'd looked into graduating early, but she'd been short a few credits. "Why would you want to do that anyway?" her counselor had chirped. "You'll miss prom! And spring break! And graduating with all your friends!"
Caitlin had smiled tightly and left her office, knowing there was no way to convince this counselor, with the cheerleading pictures on her walls, that the social aspect of school was nothing but misery to her. The only good school years she'd had were in second and third grade. She'd still been an awkward nerd, but she'd had at least one friend.
But he'd moved away, and no matter how she tried, she'd never been able to find anyone else she fit with so well. Every other friend seemed to want her to be different. Don't be so weird, Caitlin. Why are you always such a know-it-all, Caitlin? God, Caitlin, can't you act normal for once? More of this, less of that, as if she were a piece of marble they had to chip away at until she fit some predetermined shape.
Only Cisco had ever seen her the way she was and given her his big grin as if to say Just right.
"Hey, Snow," a low, leering voice said in her ear.
She stared fixedly at her planner, even though it had blurred in front of her eyes. Please don't let him sit next to me, she begged whoever was listening. Please.
How had Tom McClaine gotten in this class anyway?
"You gonna help me with this class, Snow? Huh? You gonna help me? I might make it worth your while."
The class was filling up. Someone was behind her, something was on her right side. Dread filled up her throat as she realized the seat to her left, next to the window, was still empty, and Tom was going to sit in it.
Then someone - not Tom - slid into that seat. "Hey!" the newcomer said. "Oh my god, hey, how are you? So good to see you! I thought if I saw you anywhere it'd be in this class."
Tom looked up, a sneer curling his lip. "I don't know you, man," he said. "That's my seat. Get lost."
"I don't know you either," the boy said. "And this is my seat. I was talking to her."
Her? Caitlin thought. Does he mean me?
He tossed his bag on the floor and leaned on his desk, smiling hugely. "What's new? How you been?"
"I - um - fine," she said.
She had no idea who he was. He must be new this year. He had golden-tan skin, shoulder-length dark hair, and a grin that spread all the way across his face. That grin nudged something in her memory, but it flitted away before she could grasp it.
She guessed he could be called cute.
She felt sorry for him. Tom was a spiteful bully and this new kid had just painted a target on his own back.
Tom loomed. "Hey, you little asswipe, I said move. That's my seat."
"Mmmmm, no, it's not," the new boy said. He tipped his head back and grinned at Tom, but there was a different quality to to grin now. A steeliness that said, I may be smiling but I'm only moving out of this seat when I feel like it and not one moment before.
Caitlin stared at him.
The bell rang, and Dr. McGee came in from the hall. "If you haven't found a seat yet, do so," she rapped out in her crisp British accent. When almost everyone had settled in, she glared at Tom. "You. Find a seat."
"I did," Tom said, "but he's sitting in it."
"Then find another seat," she said. "Go. We have a lot to cover today."
When Tom lingered, glaring at the boy, she added, "That seat can be in the office. Your choice."
Finally, Tom slouched away, and Caitlin let out her breath. She'd probably pay for this later, especially if Tom had decided that she was going to get him through this class. But she would take relief where she could get it.
The new boy leaned over. "Hey, you didn't really want to sit next to him, did you?" he whispered.
She shook her head, eyes fastened on the teacher as she started passing out the syllabus.
"Good, because he's a tool. Trust me, I know one when I see one."
"Listen," she said very low, as the rustling of the syllabus filled the room, "thank you for what you did, but you don't have to keep up the charade."
His forehead scrunched up. "The charade?"
"It means - "
"I know what it means," he said. "I just don't know why you - unless - " He cocked his head, and the smile disappeared altogether. "You don't recognize me, do you?"
Dr. McGee was taking attendance now, writing names down on what looked like a seating chart. If this boy didn't stop talking, he was going to get them both in trouble. She hissed, "No, I don't. Would you please leave me alone?"
He sat back, his smile fading. "Fine," he said. "Got it. Whatever you want."
Attendance continued down the alphabet, Caitlin half-listened, reading the notes she'd put in her planner for her previous classes, very aware of the boy to her left and the unreadable expression on his face.
Maybe she'd been a little mean, but the last thing she needed was to get in trouble in this class, and her focus was on getting out of Central City High alive. She'd long ago given up on the whole idea of making friends.
As Dr McGee finished with the Ms and called out a name in the Ps, Caitlin straightened up. She didn't want to miss her name, like a couple of other kids had. She wanted to make a good impression on this teacher.
"Francisco -"
"Cisco," the boy called out and Caitlin went rigid with shock.
It couldn't be.
It couldn't be.
"Cisco Ramon," he said firmly.
But they'd moved away! Eight years ago! To Coast City! She'd cried practically the whole summer. When had they come back? And why?
He glanced at her and gave a little nod, as if to say, Yes, that's me. Then he tilted his head toward the front of the class and raised his brows.
Belatedly, Catlin heard Dr. McGee call out, "Caitlin Snow?" She sounded impatient, as if she'd already said it at least once.
She whipped her head around. "Here!" she gasped. "I'm here."
"Hmmmm," she said, and moved on.
Cheeks flaming, Caitlin looked down at her desk. Then, unable to help herself, she snuck a look at Cisco - Cisco, could it really be him? The little boy who'd been half a head shorter than her, with buzzed hair and dinosaur shirts, who'd gotten beaten up regularly? Could that boy really have transformed into this broad-shouldered, long-haired boy with the confident smirk that faced down Tom McClaine?
When she saw the familiar little green car, Caitlin felt her stomach lurch. Her friend Iris, who'd driven up at the same time as her, gave her a worried glance. "You gonna be okay?"
"Fine!" Caitlin said breezily. "Fine."
"Uh . . . huh," her friend mumbled. "Look, if you just want to stay for a little while, Barry would totally understand."
"It's been a year since Cisco and I broke up," Caitlin said. "We dated for a year. You know there's that formula where you grieve the end of a relationship for half the length of time the relationship lasted?"
"I mean, that's like a guideline, really, " Iris said.
"Okay, a guideline. By that guideline, I'm well beyond the grieving period and I'll be just fine."
"If you say so."
The door opened and Barry lit up, swooping in to kiss Iris. Caitlin, well used to their grand romantic gestures, waited patiently until they came up for air. "Hi, Barry," she said.
"Hi," he said, eyes zeroing in on the dish she carried. "Oooohhhh. Pie?"
"Mmhm. Chocolate peanut butter."
"Nice," Barry said. "Okay! So! Fun fact. Cisco's here."
"It's okay," Caitlin said. "I saw his car."
"And he brought somebody."
Caitlin's stomach dropped.
"Wait," Iris said, holding up a hand. "This is Cisco. He's friendly. He's probably introduced you to half the people here today. Did he bring somebody or did he bring somebody?"
Barry looked baffled for a moment. "Whichever one means he has a new girlfriend?"
Caitlin felt her stomach go ice-cold.
"Oh shit," Iris said. "Babe, you didn't tell me he was dating someone new."
"He said it's only been a couple of weeks, so they're all kissy and huggy and snuggly -"
Iris hissed at him and turned to Caitlin. "Should we hate her? We can hate her."
"No," Caitlin said. "I'm sure she's very nice. Cisco's always had good taste in partners, mostly." She hesitated.
"This isn't a Lisa situation," Barry said promptly. "I checked. No Lisa vibe."
"See?" Caitlin said. "No Lisa vibe. What's she like?"
"Uh, her name is Kamilla, and she's like a photographer, I think? Oh, and she's vegan. That's all I got."
Caitlin mustered up a smile. "Great."
Barry cocked his head. "Great, like, you think she sounds awful and that's great? Or -"
"Look, I still care about Cisco and I want him to be happy. So great means great. I'll go out there and I'll say hello, and I'll meet her, and it'll be - "
"Great?" Iris suggested.
"Fine," Caitlin said firmly.
They looked at her doubtfully.
"I can handle this, guys, I promise. It won't be like last year. Thank you for the heads-up, Barry." She lifted her pie. "Usual place?"
"Yeah, you know where it is," he said, waving her through.
He turned to Iris. "You think this is going to be okay?"
"Hard to say," she said. "And by the way, honey, we need to work on your definition of fun fact."
--
Caitlin dropped off her pie at the dessert table and circulated through the party, smiling and greeting people she knew. She chatted with someone about their new dog, another person about their job, a third person about the weather.
The whole time, some internal radar was zeroed in on the man across the backyard. Who he was talking to. How he laughed. The bright smile on his face.
How his arm had never left its spot around the waist of the cute girl cuddled up to his side.
As far as she could tell, he didn't even know she was here.
Which was fine by her.
"Hmmm?" she said, vaguely aware that someone had asked her a question.
"I said I'm surprised you came," Sara repeated. "After what happened last year."
"Nice," said her girlfriend.
"What? I'm just saying. It was kind of a blowout."
Caitlin grimaced. "I know. Cisco and I had been on the rocks for a few weeks but that was - " She shook her head. "We should have saved that fight for home." She gripped her elbows and raised her chin. "But we agreed, after we broke up, that we wouldn't put Iris or Barry in the middle of things and we could be cordial to each other, which is what we're doing."
"Okayyyyy," Sara mumbled and took a drink.
It wasn't as if their breakup was the only thing that had ever happened at Barry's annual birthday bash, Caitlin thought, making her excuses and going off to say hi to someone else. She and Cisco had also met here, five years ago. The click had been immediate, almost audible. They'd made plans to hang out within minutes of meeting, had been fast friends by the end of the week.
And two years ago, they'd kissed for the first time - there, around the side of the house where it was quiet and green and smelled like roses.
But Sara was right. Last year, it had all fallen apart.
Sometimes Caitlin tried to track where or how their relationship had collapsed. After all, they'd been good friends for three years before they started dating. But what had been so good at the start had turned bad so gradually that before she knew it they were fighting more than they were talking and the thought of him made her stomach knot instead of bringing a smile to her face.
Then she'd said those terrible words, under that tree right there, where she'd dragged him so they wouldn't be fighting in the middle of the party: "You know what, maybe I don't even want to be with you anymore."
And he'd said the equally terrible words: "Maybe I don't either."
Then it had been all icy silences and stiff texts letting him know that his stuff was on her porch and he could leave hers in its place. Such an awful end to something that had been the best part of her life for so long. Sometimes she thought she missed the friendship as much as she missed the romantic relationship.
The smell of the grill tempted her in its direction, and she was almost there when she realized with a lurch of horror that Cisco and his new girlfriend - what was her name? Kamilla, that was it - were already walking up.
She thought about running in the other direction.
But this would have to happen sometime, and she was hungry, and it was best to get it over with now instead of later. Especially since later, it might be just them, and she didn't know if she could grit her teeth and act cordial without other people around them. At least it was just Barry, who was running the barbecue grill, and if she slipped up he wouldn't blame her.
"Hey, Barry," Kamilla said. "Can you put on a veggie dog for me?"
Cisco hugged her closer. "Go ahead and put one on for me too."
She turned a beaming face toward him. "Babe! You don't have to."
"Yeah, babe, but I wanna kiss you later and you don't like the taste of meat."
She giggled. "Baaaabe."
"Hey, Caitlin," Barry said rather loudly. "Your usual?"
"Yes, thank you," she said, pretending not to notice that Cisco had jerked like someone had tasered him. "Oh, Cisco, hi. I was wondering if I'd see you here today."
Barry coughed, although that could have been some smoke getting blown in his face, and tossed a turkey patty next to the two veggie dogs.
"Hey, Caitlin," Cisco said. Was it her imagination, or did he grip Kamilla's waist a little tighter? "When did you get here?"
"A little while ago," Caitlin said. She smiled at Kamilla. "Hi, I'm Caitlin."
"Kamilla," Cisco's new girlfriend said, smiling back. "So how do you know each other?"
Cisco jumped in. "She’s - ah - she's an old - we dated for about a year."
Clearly, this was new information to Kamilla, from the way the smile on her face went rigid for a split second. But Caitlin had to give her props for recovery. "Hi, Caitlin," she said. "Nice to meet you. So when was this? In high school?"
"Nope," she said. "We broke it off - what, Cisco, about a year ago now?" She was proud of herself for the breeziness in her tone.
"Mmm, yeah, about that," he said, as if he hadn't stormed out of this exact party and she hadn't gone inside to cry in the bathroom for an hour.
"Oh," Kamilla said, sounding only a little bit strangled.
Had he seriously not warned her that Caitlin was going to be here? Or maybe he hadn't given it, or her, a single thought since they broke up. Caitlin considered glaring at him, but thought it might get misinterpreted.
"Well!" Kamilla said. "It's nice to meet you."
"You too! How did you meet?"
"Oh, he came into the bar where I work," Kamilla said, beaming at Cisco. "I thought he was going to spend the whole night hitting on college girls but he spent it talking to me."
"So you're a bartender?"
"Day job," Kamilla said. "I'm actually a photographer."
"You should see her work," Cisco said. "It's really artistic."
"That's so interesting! Do you sell any?"
"Just a few prints online, a little stock photography, you know. But I'm hoping to get a show someday. What do you do?"
"Oh, I'm a research scientist," Caitlin said.
"Oh," Kamilla said rather faintly. Was she bored or intimidated? Caitlin had gotten both. "Neat! Researching what?"
"My focus right now is on gene therapies that can hopefully stall or reverse the progress of multiple sclerosis."
Cisco's eyes lit. "Seriously? That's great, I know you wanted to get into that area."
Warmth spilled through her chest, and she smiled at him. He'd always been like this, even at the end. "Yes, I was really happy to get assigned to that project."
"How is your dad doing these days?"
"He's using his cane a lot more lately, but he's also on a new medication that's really helping with his fatigue." She glanced at Kamilla and explained, "My dad has MS."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Kamilla said in that particular hushed, funereal way people had when they'd never had to think about chronic illness even once.
Caitlin kept her smile pasted on. "It’s okay. He's had it all my life. It's just something we've always lived with, as a family."
She thought about asking after Cisco's parents, but at that moment, Barry chirped, "Veggie dogs up!"
He held out two plates to Cisco and Kamilla, their dogs bunned up and ready to go. "Caitlin, it's going to be a few more minutes for yours."
"Oh, sure," Caitlin said. "That's fine."
"Let's go hit the potluck table, babe," Cisco said.
"Oh yes!” Kamilla cried, with outsize enthusiasm given that she probably couldn’t eat ninety percent of the offerings. “Caitlin, it was nice to meet you."
"You too!" Caitlin said, and turned toward Barry. "So how is life at CCPD these days?"
He chatted with her about his job for a moment or two, then said in a low voice, "So that was okay."
"Sure," she said.
He looked sympathetic. "You want cheese?"
"No, I'm all right." She picked up a plate and held it out for her turkey burger, thinking well, that's over.
She sat on the steps of the deck, next to somebody she'd known in her grad program. They chatted about minor scandals in the science world and she ate her turkey burger in slow, careful bites, not tasting a single one.
She wandered by the potluck table, stood staring at the side salads and chips and veggie trays that people had brought. She took a carrot stick and laid it on her plate. It looked small and withered and alone.
So unbelievably alone.
She added a celery stick. That didn’t seem to help. She tipped them both into the trash and decided it was time for dessert.
The dessert table was in the kitchen, so she went inside, air-conditioned air washing around her. She wanted sugar, badly. Chocolate, cookies, popsicles, whatever people had brought that would rot her teeth and block the tears.
She checked on her pie and was gratified to see that her little sign saying "Contains peanuts!" was still there, and that one quarter of the pie was already gone. She had made two pies, leaving one at home in the fridge because she'd known how this would go, so she skipped over it and checked out what else was on offer.
Chocolate chip cookies. Individual ice cream cups in a cooler. Mini eclairs in their Costco box, still frozen in the center. A shining chocolate cake in a plastic carrying case. Yes, yes, all of it.
"Hey."
She looked over, then away, quickly. "Hi," she said a little overbrightly, to the parfait she was scooping onto her plate. Shit. He knew she ate sugar when she was upset. But she also liked desserts in general. Maybe she would get away with this.
He was alone. Where was Kamilla? Bathroom, maybe?
Act natural.
He said, "I, uh - "
"Which one did you bring?" He'd always liked cooking, trying out new things. Sometimes that had been a cause of friction, like when he used every pot in the kitchen and it turned out terrible and they'd wound up going to the drive-thru at nine o'clock at night.
"There," he said, pointing at a box with a clear plastic lid.
"Donuts!" she said.
"Mmhm. Kamilla and I made them together."
"Oh," she said.
They'd attempted to cook together a few times but since cooking was how she relaxed and disconnected, it hadn't gone well.
She opened the box. "Well, I've never had vegan donuts but I'm sure they'll be interesting."
His hand reached past hers and gently closed the box. For a moment, she thought, you don't even want me touching something you made with her? Then he said, "They're not great. Trust me."
“They can’t be that bad."
He shook his head, very solemn. "Vegan donuts are donuts of sadness," he said. "I have learned this."
"I'm sure there are some vegan donuts that are good."
"Proooooobably," he allowed. "But these are not it." He grinned at her, and instinctively, she smiled back.
"Okay," she said, leaving the box closed.
He chose a mini-eclair for himself and bit it in half. “So are you here with someone?”
She meant to say a simple no, but it came out as, “Oh, he was busy today.”
“Oh? He? Someone I know?"
She swallowed, panic bubbling up. “No, you wouldn't know him. I work with him.”
“Another Star Labs workaholic?”
That shouldn't have stung as hard as it did, but it brought back a nasty echo of their hissed fight over by the barbecue grill last summer, as he'd accused her of never having time for him. Her voice went chilly as she said, "He doesn't work at Star Labs and neither do I anymore. I took a job with Mercury."
"You? You left Star Labs? The most prestigious, well-paid research lab in the Midwest?" he asked, echoing what she’d always recited as reasoning for sticking with her job.
"I decided to value my mental health more than money and prestige. Mercury is much more supportive of their employees' work/life balance."
He blinked. “Wow, that’s - that’s great.”
She picked up a spoon and started scooping something out of a random bowl onto her plate. "So how are you? How are your parents?"
"I'm good," he said. "My parents are . . . they were good, the last I saw them."
She glanced at him quickly. Ever since she'd known him, he'd been at his parents' beck and call, running every time they texted. During that last terrible argument, she'd snapped back that he might see her more if he wasn't constantly canceling dates because his parents needed him. "Did they move?"
"No, I just, ah, I went low-contact with them. Haven't really talked to them in about - " He considered. "About a month now."
"Oh," she said, looking back at her plate. She'd gotten Chester's dreadful candy bar salad with the pineapple. Ugh. Gross. "Any - um - any particular reason?"
If he’d broken off contact with his parents because of Kamilla, after all the times his mother had been rude to Caitlin, calling her things in Spanish she wasn’t supposed to understand . . .
He laughed, but it held no mirth. "They stood me up for my birthday dinner because Dante needed help buying a car." He shrugged. "I kind of figured out that I was never going to be their favorite or their priority. No matter what I did."
She put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well . . ." he mumbled.
"It's their loss," she said. "Is it better for you?"
"Hurts like hell," he said. "But yeah. It's better."
"You seem happy," she said. "I mean, in general."
"I am."
"Good. I'm glad." She realized she was still holding shoulder, and removed it so she could portion herself some of Iris's ambrosia. "Kamilla's nice," she said brightly.
"She is! Yeah. She is."
"How long has it been?"
"Oh, like a month now? It's really good. I can see this going the distance, you know?"
She felt like she'd swallowed razor blades. "That's great."
He smiled at her. "Hey, you know what, we should double-date."
"We should what?"
"Yeah, me and Kamilla, you and your guy. We should grab dinner together or something."
"Oh. Well, actually - " He lives in London. He has a moral objection to eating out. He's in training to go to the moon. He - "We really aren't like that."
"Like what?"
"Dating. It's just . . . casual." She smiled. "You know? No strings attached kind of thing. When we've both got some free time and need to blow off steam."
He blinked a few times. "You? You have a fuck buddy."
She hated that term. It made her skin crawl. Cisco knew that perfectly well, so she just shrugged. "I guess you could call it that." She ate a grape out of the ambrosia, licking it clean of whipped cream and biting it in half. "Sorry, I don't think a nice foursome dinner is in our future. But it was nice seeing you."
She strolled off, hoping like crazy that Cisco didn't mention this fictitious casual sex partner of hers to anybody else.
She made herself do one more circuit of the backyard. She had no idea who she saw or what she said. She was focused on not looking like she was about to run away.
Even though she was.
Iris found her dumping her plate into the kitchen trash. "Heard the first face-to-face went down," she said. "You okay?"
"I came, I saw him, we were cordial. I survived," Caitlin said. "And if I go home and dive face-first into a pint of Cherry Garcia and a bottle of wine, that's nobody's business but my own."
Iris put her arm around Caitlin's shoulder and hugged her gently. "That whole grieving process guideline?"
"Whoever made that up is full of shit."
--
Some hours later, Barry dropped into the lawn chair next to Cisco. "Hey, man. You awake?"
"Yup," Cisco said, head tipped back, eyes closed. He swung his beer bottle lightly between his fingers. "Almost outta beer though."
Barry considered it. "How many of those have you had?"
Cisco tipped it up and drained it. "Almost enough."
"You okay to drive?"
"Mmmmmm. Might hafta crash on your couch. 'Zat okay?"
"You know it is." Barry nudged him. "You don't even have to use the couch. You and Kamilla can use the guest room."
"Mmmmm." Cisco dropped the bottle to the grass. "Sh'left."
"She what? She left?"
"Called an Uber. Kinda mad at me."
"Why?"
"Says I didn't give her a heads-up Caitlin was gonna be here. Or that we dated. Like, c'mon, we've only been together a week and a half. People have exes. It's a thing."
"Still, she might've appreciated the heads-up."
Cisco sighed. "Yeah, I guess, I just . . . I didn't wanna talk to her about Caitlin. It's like, sore. Who wants to talk about their last ex?"
"A lot of people," Barry said. "Especially when she's going to be at the same party, which you knew, cuz I told you."
Cisco sighed again, more heavily. "Okay, yeah, maybe you've got a point. I'll call her tomorrow and apologize. Plus she has nothing to be afraid of. Caitlin doesn't want me back." He swung his bottle again. "So wait, you know who this guy is?"
"What guy?"
"The guy she's dating now."
Barry cocked his head. "Kamilla?"
"Nnnnoooooooooo," Cisco drawled. "Kamilla's dating me. Caitlin's dating . . . some dude. Actually not dating. She's all like, 'ha-ha, we're not like that.' They're friends with benefits or something."
This was the first Barry had heard of it. He opened his mouth to say so when Cisco plowed on with the tenacity of the sloppy drunk.
"Which, what the hell, man? I suggested friends with benefits years ago and she was like no, I don't do that, it doesn't work for me, I need to be in a relationship. Took me another six months to man the fuck up and ask her out for realsies. Who's this guy that's getting her to settle for less than what she wants?" He wagged his finger in the air. "You! You should find out who he is, Bare. You should find out who he is and kick his ass."
Barry smiled at nothing. "You could kick his ass. I mean, you're the one who seems to think it should be done."
"C'mon, I can't do that, then everyone would say I was just jealous. M'not jealous. Just, she deserves better than, than, you know, some dude who just wants to get laid. Just like a friendly ass-kicking. C'mon."
"Okay, maybe."
"I'm not jealous. I'm with Kamilla."
"Mmmmhmm," Barry said, eating some pie. "I can tell. You're totally over Caitlin."
"Totally," Cisco said, and lifted his head, looking around blearily. "Hey, where'd m'beer go?"
