I’m Just Fucking Dying Over The Idea Of Harry And Cisco Remembering Some Parts Of Each Other, As Small

i’m just fucking dying over the idea of harry and cisco remembering some parts of each other, as small as they are, and trying to fit their earth’s versions into the holes in their lives. but it doesn’t work??? of course it fucking doesn’t. harrison hates to be called harry, wears actual suits to work, always treats cisco with respect, and never once catches cisco’s pop culture references. meanwhile there’s harry, strangely obsessed with reverb- wondering why he’s so certain this weirdly collected super villain has some hidden sweet side, all smiles and snark and brilliance.

and when harry steps through that portal, cisco looks up at him with those big, unguarded eyes that harry’s been fucking dreaming about for what feels like years, and whispers, “harry?”- and he’s missed that; it’s never even happened and harry’s fucking missed it so much the relief feels like a punch to the chest

they fall into impossibly familiar rhythms so quickly the rest of the team (including e1 harrison) is watching them in sidelong glances and small peeks. they finish each other’s sentences, speak in sync. their belongings mix together immediately, tossing tools and markers back and forth as they work. harry, grumpy and tired and completely done with the judgmental looks from a man with his face, quickly drives away caitlin and barry (which hurts, deep in his chest, for some reason), but cisco turns to him, jabbing the air with a screwdriver. 

“i do not need your sass right now, mister,” cisco hisses- but he’s smiling. and, amazingly, harry finds that he is, too.