#ciscosass

Today, he was getting to the bottom of it. Whoever it was–he bet it was Wally, that little shit, or maybe Barry? Or HR–it was HR that hipster fuck–they weren’t getting away with it. He was ready this time.

Or so he thought. And, alright, part of him felt like he definitely should have at least suspected. 

His trap (which consisted of him sitting his cup down, looking away and looking back just as fast) didn’t seem to have any effect since he still was down another cup of coffee. But this time the culprit didn’t leave. Just sat there, arm thrown over the back of the chair, one leg crossed over the other, eyes twinkling at him over the lip of his coffee. 

So, she knew how to make an entrance, too. 

“Hey, Cisco,” she said, matter-of-fact and a little impatient, like she’d been waiting for him to notice her for a while. She took another sip before saying, “I had to speed things along, didn’t seem like you were ever gonna figure it out.”

It took him a second to get over how oddly, really happy he was to see her. “Well, can you blame me? Didn’t expect you’d be back for a coffee run for a while.”

“I ran out.” 

“Uh-huh.”

She looked away, a little self-deprecating smile playing at her lips, and he blinked. “What–forreal? It’s only been a month!” not that he’d been counting. 

She met his eyes,“Well maybe I went through it a little faster than necessary.”

His heart seemed to be beating in several conflicting directions at once; that probably wasn’t healthy. “Well maybe instead of you stealing my coffee–which is a crime by the way,” she let out a snort, “one of these days I could just buy both of us a cup, which we’d drink. Together.” 

She smiled, but still decided to take forever to answer, because apparently she wanted to establish that she was going to torture him at any and every given opportunity.“Cynthia.” 

He frowned. “What?”

“My name,” she said, like maybe it was obvious, “if you’re gonna take me on coffee dates you should at least know my name.” She took another sip of his coffee, “And my name is Cynthia.” 

He smiled a little bit, “Cynthia,” he echoed, drawing it out. He didn’t miss the way she seemed to light up hearing him say it. 

She stood, sliding his cup back to him. “I want mine with the little hints of chocolate next time,” she thought for a moment, “but not as much sugar, you put too much sugar in yours.” She threw him a wink before the undulating blue waves of a breach folded around her, and she was gone.