Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

🎵🎵🎵

"The songs on the radio are okay."

Jaime danced around his room, his steps perfectly synced with the song's beat. He rearranged some papers on his desk, singing along, his overhead headphones completely cancelling out the rest of the world from his ears.

Jaime twirled toward his mirror, air strumming as he swayed to the music.

"Host, you are being far too loud-"

"BUT MY TASTE IN MUSIC IS YOUR FACE!" Jaime grabbed an empty water bottle from his nightstand and brought a hand to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. "And it takes a song to come around to show you how," he sang, giving the best performance of his life. "She's the tear in my heart, I'm alive!"

He then spun on his heels, tossing the bottle into his garbage, sinking the shot perfectly. Jaime beamed, swiping imaginary dust off of his shoulder. "I'm just too good," he breathed.

"Yes, host, that shot was impressive considering your sad track record in basketball," Khaji Da deadpanned, his voice somehow louder than the blaring music in his ears. "Now, may I remind you that-"

Jaime puffed, his shoulders deflating. "I'll have you know, I'm great at basketball. I- I always win against Bart!"

"Well, the Bart Allen may be the only person in the world who is worse at basketball than you are," Khaji Da stated flatly. "Statistically speaking."

"Puta." Jaime frowned, moving back to his bed, nicely tucking the sheets under his mattress. "Now, I gotta rewind the song because I missed the best part."

"You don't even know all the lyrics."

Jaime rolled his eyes, pulling the comforter over his bed. "Maybe I would if you didn't always interrupt me when I'm jamming."

"Excuses," Khaji scoffed, sending a chill down Jaime's spine.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy listening to music." Jaime grabbed his phone, rewinding the song back to the bridge. "You and I both know I have great taste."

Khaji had no response to that.

Jaime smiled, smugly pressing play. He threw his head back, swaying his hips and bouncing his arms. He inhaled deeply, ready to sing. "You fell asleep in my car. I drove the whole time, but that's okay. I'll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine. I'm driving, here I sit, cursing my gove-"

"Jaime!"

Jaime jumped, his head snapping to look at the door, his fingers scrambling to find the pause button on his headphones.

His mother, Bianca, now stood in the once-closed doorway, a hand on her hip and a small smile pulling at her lips. With her free hand, she gestured to Jaime's headphones.

Jaime quickly pulled them off, sighing out. "Mama, you scared the crap out of me!"

"Well, maybe if you didn't listen to your music on full volume, you would've heard me calling your name," Bianca laughed. "Ay, Dios Mío, it's a miracle you haven't gone deaf."

"I tried to warn you," Khaji, ever so helpfully, said.

Jaime placed his headphones on the bed, chuckling. Now that he could hear the world around him, he noticed the beautiful voice of Luis Miguel coming from their living room. "Where do you think I get it from?" Jaime smiled, waving toward his mom. "You and Papa are always blasting music."

"But I'm not screaming the lyrics, mijo," Bianca replied, stepping further into the room. "Even though your voice is muy bien, I doubt the neighbours want to hear you singing at 4 pm on a Saturday."

"That's true." Jaime shrugged. "But they're fortunate to be blessed by my voice."

Bianca scoffed, shaking her head fondly. "You're spending too much time with Bart; you're starting to sound like him."

Jaime sat down on his freshly made bed, his brows raised. Yeah, being overly cocky wasn't usually Jaime's thing; it was more of Bart's signature move. "He's actually coming by later to hang out."

Bianca scanned the room, her features softening. "So that's what you've been doing."

"I'm just cleaning up. There's nothing weird about that."

"I know." Bianca's brown eyes fell onto Jaime's, her warm smile contagious. "But you only clean when he's coming over. You don't even try to tidy up for Tye."

Jaime hung his head back, staring at his ceiling. "Well, Tye's known me forever. Bart... hasn't. It's different."

"Oh, that I understand," Bianca replied knowingly. "Are you sure... that's the only reason?"

"Huh?" Jaime snapped his head back to look at his mom, and his face scrunched up very incriminatingly. "What other reason would there be?"

Bianca watched Jaime, looking him over carefully before responding. "You know I like Bart. He's always so sweet, and he loves my food. Your Papa has a soft spot for him, too. Even Milagro likes him."

"I-" Jaime furrowed his brows. "I'm glad. But why are you telling me this?"

"No reason." Bianca shrugged, her tone suggesting otherwise. "Just a reminder, mijo."

"Uhhh, okay."

"Host, the mother's mannerisms indicate she is lying. Integration may be necessary-"

"Do you need help making dinner?" Jaime jumped up from the bed, hoping to shut Khaji Da up—no integrating family. We talked about this. He forced a smile. "I'm all done in here."

"Well, now that I know Bart's coming over, I'm going to need to make twice as much food," Bianca sighed. As much as she pretended not to enjoy it, every ounce of extra work was worth it for Bart's rave reviews of her food. "Should I make paella?"

"Definitely. Last time you made it, Bart wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks," Jaime said, slipping his phone into the pocket of his joggers. "Plus, it's delicioso."

"I'm happy to hear that. Do you mind running to the store to pick up some extra things for me?" Bianca asked, beaming. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a premade grocery list, holding it out for Jaime to take along with some money. "You may need to buy double of some things just because of Bart. I've never seen such a skinny boy have such a big appetite."

"Maybe we should make him a pan for himself," Jaime suggested, grabbing the list from his mom.

"Oh, I'm sure he'd love that," Bianca snarked before leaving Jaime's room. "But I don't think he could eat that much."

Little did she know, Bart definitely could.

And probably already has.

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"I still think this may be too much food," Bianca sighed, carefully placing the second hot paella pan on their dining room table. "When I told you to buy extra, I didn't mean enough to feed a whole army, Jaime."

"I did the math, and this should be enough," Jaime shrugged, grabbing a stack of forks from the kitchen drawer. "Hopefully."

Well, Khaji Da did the math, but it's not like his mom needed to know that. Jaime just mindlessly followed his instructions, like he usually did in battle. But maybe buying three bags of jumbo rice was a little... extreme.

"This is more than enough." Bianca raised a brow at Jaime, lowering two lids over the freshly made pans of food. The steam rose, fogging up the clear tops, making Jaime's mouth water. "We'll have leftovers for days."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Mama," Jaime groaned, laying out the forks beside the set plates. "I also think you're underestimating Bart."

Bianca paused, folding her hands together as she turned to watch Jaime, her skeptical expression morphing into something sweeter. "Mijo, things don't need to be perfect."

"Perfect?" Jaime echoed, straightening out the fork to align flawlessly with the plate. "I'm not trying to make things perfect?"

Bianca grabbed Jaime's hand, pulling him away from the fork, a gentle smile tugging at her lips and creasing her eyes. "There are things a mother always notices."

"Hm?" Jaime's brows furrowed, and he looked away, scanning over the paella, practically tasting the saffron from here. "You're being so cryptic today."

"I'm just trying to be helpful," Bianca said, her voice low and gentle, "because sometimes it's hard to see what's right in front of us."

Jaime turned back to his mom, his eyes scanning her face. He aimlessly searched for meaning in her words but kept coming up empty-handed. He was clueless, and she knew that. "I don't understand?"

"Neither do I," Khaji Da interjected. "Perhaps I should scan her."

Bianca's eyes narrowed, the brown of both irises easing. She opened her mouth to speak, Jaime desperately hoping she would clarify, but a knock at the door cut her off.

"That must be Bart," Jaime said, pulling out his phone to check the time and his texts. "What were you gonna say?"

Bianca untied her apron, shaking her head. "Nothing important. You go get the door, and I'll call your Papa and Milagro to come eat."

"Uh- Okay." Jaime's lips folded in a thin line as he watched his mom head for the stairs, leaving him with only more questions. "Now I'm just confused."

"Integration may be the best way-"

"I already told you, no integrating my family!" Jaime bit back, hoping his mom was out of earshot. "I'm sure she'll explain it to me later."

"But with added information, I could at least deduce some idea of what she was referring to," Khaji Da replied.

"No means no. I'm just going to focus on what I do understand," Jaime huffed before heading to the front door. He grabbed the knob, his hand hovering over the lock. "Be good while Bart's over."

Khaji Da sighed, making the base of Jaime's head feel weird. "I'm always on my best behaviour, host, with or without the Bart Allen around."

"Well-" Jaime was about to argue with the scarab but bit his tongue, knowing that the debate would only waste his time and energy. Instead, Jaime finally unlocked the door.

"Bart!" Jaime beamed, his mood instantly lifting as he opened the door. "Come in!"

Bart turned back to face Jaime, a huge toothy grin already plastered on his face. "Jaime!" Bart moved forward, catching Jaime in a quick hug. "I thought you were gonna let me freeze out there!"

Jaime pulled away, noticing Bart's rosy nose and cheeks, taking a mental picture for keepsakes. "Lo siento, hermano. I was setting the table. I didn't realize it was cold out tonight!"

"Well, it's December," Bart remarked, shimmying his messenger bag off his shoulder and letting it drop to the floor. He then unbuttoned his white coat, shooting Jaime a sly grin. "Plus, the sun already set... that's why it's like 45 degrees out."

"And you run hot." Jaime rolled his eyes, helping Bart out of his jacket on reflex. "You're like a mini furnace."

"Okay, and? Do you treat all your guests so kindly?" Bart stuck his tongue out at Jaime, wiggling out of his sleeves.

"You've been here too many times to be considered a guest," Jaime teased, taking Bart's coat and bag and carefully hanging them on the rack. "At this point, we might as well give you a key."

"Not that I would need it," Bart smirked, smoothing out his windswept hair. "Y'know, I could just phase through the walls."

"What a comforting thought, creep," Jaime chuckled, ruffling Bart's hair.

"Hey! I just fixed my hair," Bart pouted, swatting Jaime's hands away. "I gotta look presentable for your family, her-man-o."

Jaime took a second to look Bart over properly. His outfit was nice, not too fancy and not too casual, a red sweater with a white collar poking out from under it and a pair of dark blue jeans. Bart's face was still red from the cold outside air, and his hair was an effortlessly curly mess. "You look amazing," Jaime said softly, the words rolling out his mouth without warning.

Bart glanced up at Jaime, their eyes meeting, and he froze. "Amazing?" Bart echoed, his face suddenly bright red. That must have been from the cold, right?

"Uh," Jaime stammered, his cheeks erupting with warmth. Jaime's hand flew to the back of his neck as he looked at anything other than Bart. "Yeah, I like that sweater on you. You look good."

Bart's smile widened, his face shifting into a new expression Jaime had never seen on him. Was he embarrassed? Flustered? Bart's face was getting so red it looked like he was about to explode. Part of Jaime found it endearing.

The other part of Jaime, however, was an asshole.

"I- I mean, better than you normally do," Jaime blurted out, immediately regretting it. "Not that you normally look bad-"

Bart's smile faded, but his face remained bright red. "Smooth."

"I didn't mean it like that-"

"It's okay, Blue," Bart deadpanned, his words soaked in cockiness. Bart's eyes fell to Jaime's chest, and he smiled a shit-eating grin. He reached out his hand, poking Jaime's chest, looking up at his best friend, a fierce stare in his eyes. "Not everyone can look as good as you in a "Kiss the Chef" apron. I should be taking notes."

"Huh-" Jaime looked down, his stomach dropping at the sight of the white apron still covering his torso, smudged with grease stains. The words 'Kiss the Chef!' were, in fact, scrolled out in bright blue letters across his chest. Jaime glanced back at Bart as the speedster lowered his hand, realizing Karma moved quicker than he thought.

"If the food's good enough, though, maybe you'll get a kiss," Bart laughed, obviously enjoying Jaime writhing under his gaze. "If you're lucky."

"Host, I have detected an elevation in your heart rate-"

"Oh-" Jaime's face suddenly felt ten times hotter, and his mouth was incredibly dry. "I-"

"You two are so weird."

"Milagro!" Jaime yelped, noticing his younger sister was now watching them from the living room. "What are you doing?!"

"Mama wanted to know why you were taking so long. The food's getting cold," Milagro replied, unfazed by Jaime's irritation. "I'll just tell her you were too busy flirting to come eat."

"We weren't-" Jaime frowned, crossing his arms as he marched over to her. "Tell her that, and I'll tell her what happened to the 'missing' cup in our cabinet."

Milagro gasped, her eyes narrowing. "You promised not to!"

"I won't," Jaime replied, a smirk unmistakable in his tone, "as long as you don't tell Mama we were... 'flirting' because we weren't. Bart was kidding. Obviously."

"Ugh, fine," Milagro groaned. "I was joking anyway."

"Of course you were."

"Hi, Milagro!" Bart sheepishly waved, still standing by the front door. "How's school going?"

"Hi, Bart! Christmas break starts next week, so I'm almost free!!" Milagro exclaimed, her mood switching instantly now that she was talking to Bart. "I can't wait!"

"That's exciting!! Have you finished your Christmas shopping yet?" Bart asked, stepping further into the room.

"Almost! Most of my gifts are under the tree already," Milagro smirked, gesturing to the giant tree in the corner of the room, decorated head to toe in lights and ornaments. "There's even one for you."

Bart's whole face lit up. "For me?"

Milagro nodded, failing at hiding her bashfulness.

"That's so crash, thank you," Bart cooed, walking over to the tree. He took a second to inspect the decorations with a careful hand before adding, "I already got you a gift, too."

"Your gifts are the best!" Milagro practically cheered, waving her arms around in excitement. She'd never looked so happy when Jaime had given her a gift. "Remember when you got me that-"

"Isn't the food getting cold?" Jaime eagerly cut Milagro off, already knowing she was about to start gushing about Bart's birthday gift for her this year. It's not his fault Bart was impressively good at getting gifts, and Jaime was simply... subpar. He forced a smile. "We should probably go eat."

"Oh, you're right," Milagro said, twirling back toward the dining room and walking through the doorway. "Don't want to leave them waiting!"

"You don't have to be jealous," Bart chuckled once it was just the two of them in the living room, their surroundings lit up by the warm fluorescent bulbs of the Christmas tree. "You give great gifts, too."

Bart's other superpower, besides running at the speed of light, was somehow always knowing what Jaime was thinking.

"I know, I know."

"Seriously, I love everything you've ever gotten me," Bart said, his voice smooth like honey. He turned back to face Jaime, the left side of his face bathed in the orange glow from the tree. Bart's green eyes glistened as he stared back at him, an unspoken electricity coursing through the both of them, making the hairs on the back of Jaime's neck stand up. "So, what's for dinner? It smells great in here."

Jaime blinked a couple of times, breaking the trance Bart had seemingly placed on him. "You'll see. C'mon, I hope you brought your appetite, ése."

"Is that even a question?" Bart sang, happily following Jaime into the dining room. "I'm starving."

"Finally, there you two are!" Jaime's dad, Alberto, cheered, his contagious laugh filling the room. "I was starting to think you got lost."

"Well, this is a big house," Bart replied, waving to Jaime's parents. "How are you, guys- holy crap, is that paella?!"

"Sí, Bart." Bianca smiled, pulling off the lids to both pans of paella, releasing a flourish of steam and aroma into the air.

Jaime stifled a laugh as he watched Bart stare at the paella, practically in love.

Bianca also seemed amused, judging by the quizzical look on her face. She grabbed the wooden spoon from the pan closest to her, scooping some food onto Milagro's plate. "Jaime and I made it- mijo, take off your apron."

Once again, Jaime was reminded that he still had that stupid apron on, so he dramatically untied it, doing his best to cover up his embarrassment as he took a seat.

Bart did the same, right beside Jaime. "Well, the food looks crash and smells even more crash."

"And it tastes the most crash," Alberto chimed in, helping himself to the food. "Did- did I use that right?"

"Yes," Bart laughed, slowly filling his and Jaime's glasses with water. "Perfectly."

"I hope you're hungry, Bart. There's extra just for you," Milagro said, a massive smile on her face as she dug into her food. With her mouth full, she added, "Well, Jaime made more for you. He told Mama-"

"Milagro, don't talk with food in your mouth," Jaime hissed, purposely avoiding his eyes from Bart. "Let's just eat, I know I'm hungry."

"Me too," Bart smirked, Milagros's comments flying right over his head. After Bianca finished putting food onto her plate, Bart grabbed the wooden spoon and started piling his plate high with rice, like he was at an all-you-can-eat buffet. "Thank you again for the food!"

"Anytime, Bart," Bianca replied, her eyes moving from Bart to Jaime, a small smile spreading across her face as if to say something words could not express. "We're always happy to have you."

🎵🎵🎵

"Man, that food was so good." Bart flopped onto Jaime's bed, a satisfied smile on his face. "I could eat your mom's cooking for the rest of my life."

"Hey, I helped make it," Jaime whined, closing his bedroom door behind him.

"Okay, then I could eat your cooking for the rest of my life," Bart corrected, batting his surprisingly long eyelashes at Jaime. "Happy?"

"Very." Jaime smiled, pulling off his sweater and draping it over the back of his desk chair. "I'm just glad we made extra."

"I don't know why your mom was so shocked when I finished a whole pan of food myself," Bart shrugged, watching Jaime light a candle. "I'm a hungry guy."

"I tried to tell her, but she thought I was being ridiculous," Jaime sighed, placing the freshly lit candle on his dresser. He stepped back, admiring his cleaned room, now smelling faintly of sugar cookies. "So, what do you wanna do?"

Bart sat up, looking around Jaime's room carefully. "I don't know. What d'you wanna do, Blue?"

Jaime tsked, turning on the tall lamp in the corner of his room. "We could play some video games?" Jaime suggested, turning off the overhead light. The lamp covered the room in a cozy, warm glow, making Jaime's whole room feel more homey, which was perfect for a night in with Bart. "I just downloaded some new ones I think you'll like. There was a huge Black Friday sale on a bunch of games."

"I'm down!" Bart flashed Jaime a bright smile, making Jaime feel even more at home. "I'm just gonna go grab my bag from downstairs, back in a flash-"

"Bart." Jaime held his arm out in front of Bart, already knowing what he was about to do. "No speeding in my house."

Bart fell back onto the bed, groaning as dramatically as he could. "But it's so much faster."

"Remember last time?" Jaime's hands fell to his hips, a brow raised as he watched Bart slide off his bed and onto the floor.

"I only knocked over a couple of things," Bart's frown deepened at the memory. "And it technically wasn't even me. It was the breeze."

"The breeze from you running." Jaime couldn't help but smile, staring at Bart as he practically folded in on himself. "The sound of all that glass shattering still haunts me to this day. You know how hard that was to clean up?"

"Well, at least your mom thought it was an earthquake."

"After I convinced her it was," Jaime rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh. "You couldn't have looked more guilty if you'd tried, standing in the living room, staring at us with puppy dog eyes."

"Lies!" Bart jumped up, his frown turning into a pout, one that Jaime could never take seriously. "She didn't suspect a thing."

"You were bright red! And you couldn't stop apologizing!" Jaime grinned, almost enjoying Bart being so in the wrong. "So yeah, you looked guilty."

Bart opened his mouth to defend himself but shut it, crossing his arms. "I wasn't that red..."

"Go get your bag," Jaime said, patting Bart's shoulder, "but no running."

"Fine," Bart huffed as he headed for the door. He grabbed the knob, turning to look back at Jaime. "But I'm gonna take extra long now just to prove a point."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," Jaime smirked, turning to his TV. "I'll set up everything while you're gone."

"Okay, don't miss me too much," Bart sang, opening the door.

Jaime looked back at Bart, the speedster still standing there, expectingly. Jaime didn't even realize he was already smiling back. "No promises," Jaime replied, his voice coming out far softer than expected. He winked, committing fully to the bit, and Bart looked like he was about to explode again. His mouth twitched into that weird look from earlier, the one Jaime couldn't stop thinking about during dinner, and Bart took a big gulp of air.

"I gotta- I- BYE," Bart squealed, quickly escaping Jaime's room.

"Wai- what?!" Jaime yelled out.

But he was met with the sounds of Bart's rushed footsteps hurrying down the hall.

"What... just happened?" Jaime's smile fell, and his eyes were glued to where Bart had just fled. "That was really weird, right? Even weird for Bart?"

For the first time, even Khaji Da was left speechless. He stayed quiet, letting Jaime spiral out alone.

After a second of stillness, practically locked in a state of confusion, Jaime pulled away, looking back at his TV. He saw his reflection on the screen, dark and distorted but clearly puzzled. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weirdness as he turned on the TV and then his PlayStation.

Thankfully, Jaime knew how to brighten his mood.

He walked over to his sky-blue record player sitting on his shelf, pulled open the lid and turned it on. Eagerly, he ducked down, sorting through his basket of vinyl records underneath it. He shifted through the albums and EPs, stopping once a purple album cover caught his eye. He carefully pulled the first vinyl out of the sleeve and loaded it onto the record player, moving the arm and dropping the needle onto it. The record started to spin, the needle diving into the divots, translating the grooves into music.

Almost immediately, the rhythm of an upbeat guitar and strong drums poured out of the record player, filling the room with song.

Jaime couldn't help but feel the music, bobbing his head along to the song and swaying his shoulders in time with the beat. He placed the album next to the record player just as a soft voice started, louder than the guitar and beat, perfectly mending into each other.

It was Tame Impala, one of Jaime's favourite bands, even though it technically wasn't a band because it was just one guy (yeah, Jaime was confused about that too).

"Let it happen," Jaime quietly sang along, now moving his feet in sync with the song. "Let it happennn; it's gonna feel so good."

He shimmied his shoulders, gaining more momentum. "Just let it happen," he repeated, dancing back over to the PlayStation. "Let it happennnnnn."

Jaime plopped himself down on the floor, turning on both controllers. The backing track calmed down as the voice swelled, more prominent than before. "All this running around, tryin' to cover my shadow," Jaime continued, his singing getting slightly louder. "A notion growing inside, now all the others seem shallow."

Jaime reached for the controller's charger, still happily singing. When he grabbed the cord, he saw movement by the door."All this running aro-AGH!"

"AHH!" Bart, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, flinched at Jaime's sudden alarm. "I- Sorry, did I scare you?"

"Yes?!" Jaime grabbed his chest, his heart slamming against his rib cage. "Holy- How long were you standing there?!"

"Long enough to know you have a nice voice," Bart replied, shutting the door behind him. He casually walked past Jaime as if nothing weird had happened less than five minutes ago.

Maybe that was for the best.

Jaime jumped up, quickly heading over to the record player. He turned down the music, trying to minimize his embarrassment. "I didn't realize you were-"

"Why are you turning it down?" Bart asked, dropping his bag off on Jaime's desk chair. "I like this song."

Jaime's eyes widened. "You do?"

"Yeah! It's cool!" Bart nodded along to the beat.

"I didn't know you liked Tame Impala?!" Jaime gushed, pausing the song altogether. "Do you have a favourite song by them?"

Bart seemed to freeze. Slowly, he mumbled, "What's this song called?"

"Let It Happen, from the album Currents," Jaime said, holding up the record. "You probably know the album cover."

Bart looked at the cover, carefully scanning over the album art. "Hm," Bart started, sounding nervous, "I don't think I've seen it before."

"Oh, but you've heard their stuff, right?" Jaime rephrased, his excitement only faltering a little. "I mean, they're pretty popular."

Bart sucked in a breath, a guilty smile pulling at his lips. With a shrug, he replied, "This is the first time I'm listening to a song by them."

"Really?!" Jaime gasped, taking a second to regain his composure. "I'm surprised; I feel like I hear their songs a lot nowadays. They're one of my favourites, though. But if you like this, you should listen to their other songs. I think you'd like them- oh! I could give you some recommendations!"

"Does all of their stuff sound like that song?" Bart asked, taking a step closer to the record player. "Because that was funky."

Jaime eagerly nodded. "Don't worry, I'll make you a playlist."

"I would love that," Bart smiled, his eyes locking onto Jaime's. "Thanks, Blue."

Now that Jaime thought about it, he had no idea what kind of music Bart listened to. Surprisingly enough, Bart had never talked about music before. And even though Jaime was obsessed with music, the topic somehow never came up in all their years of friendship.

"Anytime." Jaime flashed Bart a look. Seizing the opportunity, Jaime pulled out the box of records and placed them on his bed. "Here, why don't you put something you like on?"

Bart hesitated again, only staring at the basket with pursed lips.

"And—uh—if there's nothing in there you like," Jaime started, gently grabbing Bart's hand and leading him to the box. "Then you can connect your phone to the record player. It's Bluetooth. Cool, huh?"

"That is pretty crash," Bart replied before he finally pawed his way through the vinyls, taking a second to look at each album, clearly reading the artist's name and album name. "Who's this?" Bart asked, pulling out a blue album.

Jaime raised a brow. "Tyler, the Creator. That's his album, Wolf. He makes incredible music. All his stuff is like within its own genre. That's how groundbreaking it is. I have almost all of his records, but I've been looking for the special edition IGOR vinyl for a while now. Tyler's another one of my favourites; you've never- have you heard of him?"

Bart lifted his eyes to look at Jaime and shook his head, his lips folding into a line.

"What about Coldplay?" Jaime asked, pulling out two other albums. "Or Gorillaz?"

"I don't think so," Bart shrugged.

Jaime put the records down, his interest piqued. He looked Bart in the eyes, a hand on his hip, a sly smile on his face. "Okay, what kind of music do you like then? Is it super underground?"

Now, this question must have stumped Bart because all he did was take another deep breath, eyeing the music basket. He scratched his head, his lips dropping into a frown. "Don't kill me," Bart whispered, his voice so tiny, "but I don't listen to music."

"WHAT?!" Jaime yelped involuntarily.

"I mean, it's not really my fault!" Bart flinched, his shoulders deflating. "There was no music in the future!"

This made Jaime even more upset. He was almost yelling, not at Bart, of course, but at the insane idea of a world without music. "NO MUSIC?! How?!"

"Well, y'know." Bart's brows bunched together, his face falling deeper into worry. "An alien invasion makes it kinda hard to listen to your favourites on the radio."

Jaime walked right into that one. "¡Ay, Dios Mío!" Jaime threw his face into his hands. "I'm an idiot."

"It's okay, Jaime," Bart replied, pulling Jaime's hands away from his face. "Even I forget too sometimes."

Jaime dared to look Bart in the eye, his own widening. Bart's eyes were an ethereal green, swirled with flecks of blue and evergreen. It was so easy to get lost in them, like beautiful waters just off the coast, so clear you could see the sandy floor below. They were unbelievable to look at. It was hard to believe those hopeful eyes belonged to someone who had been so hurt in the past... or future, technically.

"You okay?"

"What?"

"Jaime, you're just... staring at me," Bart repeated, letting go of Jaime's wrists. He smiled a soft, tender smile, trying to reassure Jaime. "I swear I'm not upset."

"Oh! I-" Jaime blinked a couple of times, a heat creeping up the back of his neck. His eyes fell back to his record player. "Lo siento, Bart. We can do something else fun-"

"No, I wanna listen to your music," Bart eagerly interrupted Jaime, falling back onto his bed. He dug his hands back into the basket, skimming over the options.

Jaime turned back to Bart, trying hard to keep his cool. His chest felt light, and he couldn't help but smile. Watching Bart happily look through his music was weirdly exciting. Jaime sat down on the other side of the box. "So, you've never listened to music before?" Jaime asked, genuinely curious.

Bart paused, looking back at Jaime. He furrowed his brows in thought, tapping the side of the basket. "I mean, I have," Bart finally said, not as confidently as Jaime expected. "In this time, music is everywhere. It's harder not to listen to it. It plays in ads, movies... the grocery store. Oh, definitely in the grocery store. I've probably heard it there the most."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but grocery store music isn't usually good music. No offence. It's overplayed songs that were popular like ten years ago."

"It's not like I ever focused on it," Bart shrugged, returning to searching through the vinyls. "I go to the grocery store to buy food, not listen to music. I don't think anyone goes to the store to listen to music. Unless it's a music store..."

"Fair enough," Jaime said, picking at a frayed piece of his pants. "Are you looking for any genre in particular?"

Bart hesitated once again. "Genre?"

Jaime had to stop himself from gasping. "It's like a category of music that groups similar-sounding songs. It's kind of like how books and TV shows have genres, except it's music. Everybody has genres they like, even if they don't really listen to music."

"Really?"

"Yup," Jaime said before starting to count off fingers on his hand. "Cassie likes rock music, Tim leans more toward sadder songs, but I guess he likes indie rock, Virgil listens to old school hip hop and oh! Garfield loves K-Pop, even though he tries to deny it."

"K-Pop?" Bart echoed. "Are those the songs he knows all those dances to?"

"Yeah, that's K-Pop. I don't know why he's so embarrassed by it. It's good music," Jaime nodded. "It's just not for me."

"What do you like?"

"Hm," Jaime clasped his hands together, looking over his records. "I'd say indie, rock and rap. Oh, also Spanish music, the stuff my parents played when I was growing up."

"So you're not too picky. You like a lot of genres," Bart smiled, sliding the basket over to Jaime. "It's only fair you pick what to listen to since you know best."

"Okay, well," Jaime sighed, narrowing his eyes at his record player. "Do you wanna listen to more Tame Impala?"

"Sure!" Bart clapped. "I like your record player, by the way. It's much nicer than Jay's. I don't even think his works anymore. I've never seen him use it."

Jaime stood up and moved back to his record player. "Gracias. I got it for my birthday a couple years ago. The old records are from my parents, but everything else I bought."

"That makes sense." Bart followed Jaime to the record player, watching him mess with the dials. "Some of the covers looked a little worn at the edges."

"'Well-loved' is what my Papa told me," Jaime chuckled. "Here, you can pick a song." He handed Bart the album, already flipped to the back.

"By name alone?" Bart hummed, looking over his options. "What about 'New Person, Same Old Mistakes'? That one sounds interesting."

"Ooh, good choice." Jaime nodded in approval as he took the album back from Bart. He removed the first vinyl from the turntable, replacing it with the other from the sleeve. Carefully, he tucked the original away, laying the album down next to the record player. He flipped the vinyl over, making sure the yellow sticker at the centre was labelled with a giant letter D.

"How do you skip songs on a record player?" Bart asked, leaning in closer to read the sticker.

"It's easier than you think." Jaime pointed to part of the record. "You see how it looks like it's divided into three parts? Where these little ridges are?"

Bart nodded.

"Well, each ridge is the start of a song. There are three sections because there are three songs on this side of the record, so if I want the last song on the record," Jaime began, grabbing the arm of the player and moving it on top of the last ridge. He slowly placed the needle and then turned the turntable on. "Ta-Da! You really shouldn't do that too often because it can scratch up the record, but it's fine on special occasions."

For example, when your best friend wants to listen to your favourite music with you for the first time, what could be more special than that?

The needle danced over the record's grooves, and the song filled the room. The heavy bass guitar notes were accompanied by a choir of hmms and consistent drumming. It was pretty easy to dance to, the music taking hold of Jaime's limbs and making him sync up to the beat. He immediately bopped his head.

"Woah, this is funky," Bart tapped his foot along to the music. The song seemed to have the same effect on the speedster. "This is fun to listen to."

"Now you know why I like them," Jaime beamed, swaying his hips to the beat.

"So now, what do you do?" Bart asked, watching Jaime with a giddy grin on his face. "Just... listen?"

Jaime stopped dancing, and his brow rose in disbelief. He blinked back at Bart. "You do whatever. Sometimes, I sit and listen. Other times, I put it on in the background while working or cleaning because it helps me focus. But most times, I dance."

Bart still looked hesitant.

"There's no right way to listen to music, hermano," Jaime spoke, his voice full of reassurance. "All that matters is that you're enjoying it."

"Okay," Bart nodded to the beat. "This song is crash. He has a nice voice."

"It's very soothing, right." Jaime touched his feet together on the beat, swinging his arms along, feeling the music reverberate in his chest. "All the signs I don't read. Two sides of me can't agree," he sang out, earning a wry look from Bart.

Bart tried to mimic Jaime's movements. He still looked stiff, as if he weren't entirely comfortable yet.

"Will I be in too deep? Going with what I always longed for..." Jaime slid toward him, outstretching his hand. Their eyes locked, green colliding into brown, and Jaime gave Bart an encouraging grin. He wiggled his hand, trying to tempt the speedster. "Feel like a brand new person..."

Bart laughed, and almost as if scripted, he latched onto Jaime's hand as the beat dropped, all of the instruments coming in at once.

Jaime pulled Bart toward him, the music swelling almost poetically. He intertwined his hand with Bart's, moving his other arm to rest on the midsection of Bart's back. He drew him in closer, carefully leading him in a spin. "I don't care, I'm in love!" Jaime cheered, stealing a glimpse at Bart.

Bart laughed, holding onto Jaime's shoulder, following Jaime's lead.

Jaime stepped back, his hand still safely tucked in Bart's and rolled his shoulders, grabbing Bart's other hand as he leaned in.

Bart's eyes widened, watching Jaime curiously.

The song warned, " Stop before it's too late." But Jaime kept dancing, helping Bart get into the groove.

"I knoww." Jaime let go of Bart and twirled around him, stopping once they were back to back. "Feel like a brand new person!"

Bart whirled around to face Jaime, his movements more in time with the song.

Jaime grabbed Bart's hand, holding his arm up as he motioned for him to spin. "I finally know what it's likeee."

After a second of confusion, Bart clumsily spun toward Jaime. He moved fast, feeling more comfortable, letting Jaime catch him at the end of his spin.

Jaime held Bart against his chest a second too long, admiring his messy curls now pressed closely to his face. At this point, he was merely feeling the beat, but all of his focus was on Bart, the words of the song blending into the instruments.

It was weirdly invigorating dancing with Bart. Once he finally got into it, Bart moved freely, every step bolder than the last. For someone who had probably never really danced before, he had a surprising amount of rhythm.

Bart twirled out of Jaime's grasp, snapping Jaime back to reality, and turned to face him. Bart grabbed both of Jaime's hands, weaving them together.

Jaime raised a brow, his smile never faltering as he peered down at the speedster.

Bart pursed his lips, staring down at the ground. It looked like he was wracking his brain for a dance move for them. Suddenly, he started wiggling their arms like they were doing the wave and tapped his feet haphazardly.

Jaime laughed but willingly followed, attempting to get them more on beat. He stepped one foot forward, pulling the other back, and alternated.

Bart saw this and tried to copy Jaime's movements. When Bart did it, though, he looked like he was hopping over an imaginary jump rope, his steps completely unsynced.

"Like this," Jaime tried, slowly moving one foot toward Bart and the other away from him. "See?"

Bart lowered their arms, attempting to focus. Their hands stayed locked, and neither attempted to escape the other's hold. Carefully, Bart brought a foot forward, hesitantly pulling the other back. "Did I do it?"

"Yeah!" Jaime beamed. He then alternated his feet, moving the other foot forward. "Then you do this."

Bart copied Jaime perfectly.

"Okay, now you put it all together," Jaime looked back up at Bart, grinning. He did the steps again, quicker this time, adding his hips to the mix. "Just like that."

Bart nodded and repeated Jaime's dance, trying to keep pace with Jaime. It didn't look as smooth when Bart did it, but it didn't look bad.

"You're a natural," Jaime replied, swinging both of their arms as he continued to move his feet.

Bart danced along, each step more confident than the last. He moved faster and faster, getting carried away with the song and embracing the rhythm. But one of Bart's steps landed weirdly, and he lost his balance, tripping backward. He had no choice but to pull Jaime down with him.

Before Jaime realized what was happening, his knees slammed onto the edge of the bed, and his feet slid to a stop against the carpet. He looked down only to find Bart awkwardly tucked under him, their hands still linked. Their breaths were rushed, but they had somehow synced up.

Bart was now pressed against the bed, and his face was the darkest shade of red Jaime had ever seen. He stared up at Jaime, his eyes so bright and big, millions of thoughts racing behind his eyelids. He moved to speak, but Jaime felt him slipping out from beneath him.

Jaime let go of Bart's hands and grabbed his waist, carefully hoisting him further onto the bed with ease. He unbuckled his knees, successfully stopping Bart from falling off the bed. He was so wrapped up in the motions he selfishly didn't realize he still had his hands on Bart's waist.

Bart sucked in a breath, and it almost looked like he'd stopped working entirely. All he could do was look at Jaime, his mouth twitching into an indescribable emotion. It looked like he didn't know what to do with himself; he must've wanted to move but was frozen.

Jaime also seemed to have short-circuited, suddenly so close to Bart he could count every freckle if he wanted to. His eyes darted down Bart's features, starting with his eyes and eventually landing on his lips. He was being greedy. But he couldn't stop himself, even though every part of him urged him to. He should move, he should really pull away-

Bart's gentle hands slid on top of Jaime's, which were still holding Bart's waist, and Jaime stumbled backward, letting go of Bart. "Bart," Jaime muttered, his eyes glued to the floor, his hand flying to his face. He tried to laugh, but the hot sting of embarrassment burned his throat. "I don't know why-"

"It's- it's okay, Blue," Bart's fingers were still on his hips, resting on the ghosts of where Jaime's hands once were. "I fell. I should be the one apologizing..."

But Bart's voice faded into the background, blending with the music.

"Host," Khaji Da cut through Jaime's daze, his voice cold enough to send shivers down Jaime's arms. "I have detected elevated stress levels in your body, and your heart rate has spiked exponentially. There are no threats in the area. Why are you on high alert?"

"Jaime?"

Jaime turned to look at Bart, feeling a wave of heat climb up his neck and spread to his ears. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, watching as Bart sat up straighter.

"Did you hear me?" Bart repeated, his brows furrowed.

"Khaji Da was talking to me," Jaime said, still not meeting Bart's eyes. Hopefully, Bart didn't think he was being an asshole. "What did you say?"

Bart stood up, daring to stare Jaime in the face. Bashful green crashed into timid brown, and he held his gaze for a beat too long before talking. "I liked that."

Jaime recoiled, his brow raised. There was no way he could've possibly heard him correctly. "You did?" Jaime said, his tone dripping with disbelief.

Bart nodded. "We should do that again."

Only then did Jaime realize the song had ended, and the room was now blaringly quiet. He walked over to the record player, happy to have an excuse not to look at Bart.

"All of it was really fun," Bart added, almost as if reading Jaime's mind. "Even if I'm not a great dancer."

"No- no, you're great. I was," Jaime paused, his eyes finally finally grounding back on Bart, at first, hesitant. "I was surprised."

"Surprised?" Bart echoed, his voice ringing with amusement. Surprisingly bold, he took a step toward Jaime. Now, in the lamplight, it was clear Bart's face was still flushed red—almost the same deep shade of his sweater. It was endearing. "Did you doubt me?"

Jaime took a deep breath, not strong enough to break his gaze on Bart's eyes. "Only a little."

Bart smirked, looking over at Jaime's records. "Maybe we should practice some more," he cooed. "Then you'll never doubt me again."

What... what was Bart doing?

Jaime felt hot all over. His heart was still beating alarmingly fast, lodged somewhere between his ribs, trying to escape the cage of bones holding it back from wreaking havoc. His brain wouldn't let him forget what had just happened: the closeness of Bart, the warmth of his skin against his hands, the smell of his bargain-brand shampoo-

"So?" Bart had said, his voice fading back into Jaime's senses. "C'mon, you had fun too."

Jaime shook himself free of his thoughts, picking up the record from the player.

Was none of this a big deal to Bart? How could he act so calm unless...

"I did, but," Jaime sighed, his tone suddenly ice cold. He slid the vinyl back into the sleeve, steadying himself. "I think that's enough for tonight."

Whatever this feeling was, Jaime couldn't guarantee it was mutual. He had to tread carefully. There was no use letting himself selfishly indulge in delusion.

"What- really?" Bart almost sounded upset. "Can we just listen then? We don't have to dance or anything-"

"Maybe we should take a break and play some games now," Jaime said, trying to sound upbeat, but the lingering taste of embarrassment tainted his words.

Bart huffed, eventually giving in as he trudged to the PlayStation, waking it up. He plopped himself down and grabbed his usual controller. "Okay, but don't come crying to me when I kick your butt in every game we play, her-man-o."

Jaime bit back a sigh of relief, thankful Bart was seemingly unfazed by what had just happened. Because the very thought of Jaime holding his best friend's hips, being so close he could feel his breath and notice how soft his lips were, kept replaying in his head, over and over. Jaime knew he should feel embarrassed for... liking it so much, but he was too selfish to deny himself the memory.

"What's with the face?"

Jaime raised a brow, Bart's voice pulling him back to the present. "Huh- What?"

Bart made a face, twisting his mouth in concern, his brows bunched in thought. "This face," he pointed. "You just made this face."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it looked much better when I did it, though."

"Oh, you wish," Bart stuck his tongue out, patting the empty spot next to him on the carpet. "C'mon, I can't wait all night to beat you."

Reluctantly, Jaime moved toward the speedster, carefully lowering himself down. He left a respectable amount of space between them, not wanting to risk any other close encounters. He grabbed his controller, gripping it tighter as realization hit him.

Did... did he like Bart?

Jaime saw movement in the corner of his eye, and he froze.

Bart's hand suddenly fell on Jaime's, and he held it lightly. "Stop strangling the controller," Bart chuckled, his eyes fluttering up to meet Jaime's. Quietly, he asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Jaime's hand felt like it was on fire. His brain raced for a response, but everything that stumbled from his mouth was disjointed and almost gibberish.

Bart fully turned himself to Jaime, placing both hands on his shoulders. "You look so tense," Bart mumbled, scanning Jaime's face with his mesmerizingly green eyes. "What if... I gave you a massage?"

"ARE YOU SLEEPING OVER?!" Jaime blurted out in a yelp. He had jerked away, fighting the pull Bart's eyes had on him.

Bart's face dropped, practically falling into Jaime's lap from his sudden movement. "What?"

"Are you sleeping over?" Jaime cleared his throat, his face growing hotter by the second as Bart stared up at him, confused.

"Yeah-"

But before Bart could finish his sentence, Jaime had fumbled upward. "I'm gonna go grab the uh- the thing. The- uh the- sleeping bag."

"But, Jaime-" Bart moved to stand, but Jaime was already grabbing the doorknob, eager to escape. "Can't that wait?"

He needed to take a walk and get some air. "I- I forgot where I put it last time. It might take a while to find it," Jaime choked on his words, failing to maintain a levelled tone. "Like a really long time."

"Well, I can help you look, Blue-"

"No, no, no, this is a one-person job. At least you can do something fun while I look," Jaime practically squealed out the last half of the sentence, hoping Bart would miss that.

Bart, of course, didn't. "I don't mind-"

"Nope, stay here," Jaime grimaced, attempting a smile. He opened the door. "I'll be back. Don't worry if I take forever."

Bart's frown deepened. "Jaime, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Jaime chirped, laughing stiffly. "I'm fine. Great. Muy bien, actually. Don't worry about me."

"But-"

"Hasta la later," Jaime squeaked, slipping through the door. He almost slammed it shut behind him, his nerves getting the best of him. "Ay, Dios Mío."

"Host, why are you running away from the Bart Allen?" Khaji Da asked, his steely voice slicing through Jaime's thoughts. "You are behaving erratically."

Jaime grabbed his knees, letting out a giant puff of air that had been trapped in his lungs. All of the adrenaline coursing through his body seemed to have drained as soon as he left his room, and he wouldn't be surprised if he just collapsed into the ground in one miserable heap. His arms shook, and he almost felt like he was going to puke. "I think I'm having an existential crisis," Jaime breathed.

"What makes you think that?"

Jaime stumbled into the bathroom across the hall and quickly shut the door. He looked himself in the face, staring at his reflection as he tried to ground himself. "I think I might have- feelings for Bart," Jaime confessed, his words hushed as he turned on the tap. "But- I'm not sure. I'm just so confused. So much just happened and-"

"Feelings? Of what sort?" Khaji asked, reminding Jaime who he was confiding to.

Jaime sighed, watching the water rush out of the tap and into the sink. "Like romantic feelings. But- Khaji-"

"Perhaps it is mutual?"

Jaime paused, his eyes returning to his reflection, where he met his overwhelmed gaze.

Bart had always been touchy and clingy—that's just how he was. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't.

"I- I don't know," Jaime frowned. "I feel like I don't know anything right now."

It felt selfish to even humour the thought.

🎵🎵🎵

Chapter Text

🎵🎵🎵

Exhaustion ate away at Jaime as he lay in his bed, counting the tiles on his ceiling, silently praying sleep would wash over him soon enough.

Jaime rolled over, his limbs repositioning for what felt like the ten thousandth time. At this point, he was scared to look over at the window, too afraid he'd find the sun already pouring in through the blinds. He felt like an insomniac.

Bart, on the other hand, had no problem falling asleep. As soon as Jaime had laid out Bart's sleeping bag (the same one Jaime spent thirty minutes 'trying to find'), Bart happily crawled into it, rested his head on the borrowed pillow and drifted off within minutes. Bart had probably been sleeping for about two hours now, peacefully lying beside Jaime's bed, hopefully lost in dreams, not nightmares. It always impressed Jaime how quickly Bart could fall asleep, anytime or anywhere.

Jaime had the opposite of that ability.

Thanks to the giant scarab infused into his spine, getting comfortable was always a struggle. Lying on his back was a nightmare because it felt like he was trying to sleep with the world's most unpleasant rock perfectly positioned in between his shoulder blades, never letting his back be fully flesh with his mattress. Lying on his side was alright, but the number of times he had to readjust his arms and legs was just annoying. Ultimately, the thing that worked best for Jaime was sleeping on his stomach. Even then, he still sometimes woke up with a sore neck.

Jaime had flip-flopped to every position he could think of, and nothing worked. It felt like he'd been trying to sleep for days. His eyes burned even when he squeezed them shut, and his body was tired of repositioning itself aimlessly. All he wanted more than anything was to sleep.

He just had too much on his mind.

Jaime still didn't know exactly what he felt or why; he just knew the feelings had been there for a while now. But they had never been as strong as when Bart and Jaime danced together and when... that happened.

Jaime flushed at the thought. He slid the pillow out from next to him and slammed it into his face, wanting to scream. He was too tired for this.

Besides, he had already spent far too much time debating his feelings with Khaji Da, who couldn't offer him much help from an emotional standpoint, only scientific. But was a scan supposed to tell him if he was being delusional or... if he did like Bart?

Jaime huffed.

He wasn't a stranger to crushes. He'd had enough to count them on both hands alone. Jaime never fell easily, though. It took him a while to warm up to people and even longer to feel anything romantic. But he had never fallen for one of his long-time teammates, let alone his best friend.

And he had never fallen so hard, so fast.

But that's the thing about Bart. Everything was fast with him.

Jaime was stuck now, his mind running in circles, his thoughts an endless train of 'what ifs.' Of course, it didn't help that Bart was just an arm's width away from Jaime as he questioned their entire friendship, blissfully unaware of Jaime's inner turmoil.

Jaime groaned again, moving the pillow from his face, and decided to give up on falling asleep. He needed to drown his thoughts, distract himself and get lost in another world.

Jaime leaned over his bed, unplugging his phone from the charger. He opened his nightstand, the one on the opposite side of where Bart slept, and reached inside, fishing out his headphones. Quietly, he turned them on, connecting them to his phone, slipping them over his ears.

He peered over the bed again, making sure Bart was still asleep.

There, still peacefully oblivious, was Bart, tucked snugly away in his sleeping bag, fast asleep. He was turned toward Jaime, his pale cheek squished against the pillow, his auburn hair strewn over his face. He looked so calm, his brows relaxed and his expression gentle. Jaime rarely saw Bart act as anything other than a jumbled mess of energy. Seeing him be so tranquil was weirdly enthralling.

Jaime looked him over, taking his time to drink up Bart's stillness. He was being greedy again, and he knew that, yet he couldn't help himself.

As if Bart could sense he was being watched, he dug his face further into the pillow, nestling his soft features into the pillowcase.

Jaime held his breath, waiting for something to happen.

But after a few seconds of nothing, Bart sank further into the pillow, and his breathing levelled. Thankfully, he was still asleep.

Jaime sighed, embarrassment swelling at the thought of Bart catching him staring. The last thing he needed was Bart to think he was an even bigger weirdo than he already was, although his earlier freakout definitely ruined any hope of Bart ever thinking he was normal. That and the fact he talked to himself... constantly.

Jaime shook himself free from his thoughts and willed himself to move. Carefully, he leaned back into his bed frame, pulled out his phone, and turned it on.

The screen immediately blinded him, blasting him with blue light that flashed his face and the wall behind him. Jaime quickly turned down the brightness, blinking away the dots of light staining his corneas. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he was met with his lock screen. It was a picture of him and Bart at the arcade.

Bart had never been to an arcade before. So, on his nineteenth birthday, the team surprised him with an all-expenses-paid trip to play arcade games (thank you, Tim). The arcade they ended up going to had just about everything: bowling, laser tag, hundreds of games and endless amounts of food. It was practically heaven on earth for Bart.

While they were there, Jaime and Bart realized that thanks to their powers, they had an unfair advantage in any game with timed events. This 'exploit' helped them win the almost impossible ticket jackpot on most of the rigged arcade games, which they used to their advantage. By the end of the night, they had enough tickets to buy exactly what they wanted: a giant Garfield the Cat plushie. That's right, the orange cat who hated Mondays and loved lasagna.

Jaime squinted at his lock screen. It was the picture Cassie had taken of Bart, Jaime, and their giant Garfield plushie, holding it as if it were their son.

Bart was thrilled when they won jackpot after jackpot, and he looked like he was going to explode from excitement when they finally exchanged their tokens for the plushie. His smile was even bigger and toothier in the photo, and Jaime looked equally as giddy. That plushie currently sat in Bart's room, usually propped up on his beanbag chair, safe and sound in his other 'dad's' possession.

Jaime sighed, trying not to think too much about it as he typed in his password. When his phone unlocked, he opened his music app and scrolled through his playlists, sifting through the options.

Jaime was far too trigger-happy when it came to making new playlists. He had over one hundred of them, each created with a different intent behind it. He liked to think of his playlists as snowflakes; no two were ever the same. He had playlists separated by genre, neatly organized with the best of the best, but he also had playlists based on specific seasons and moods. A select few even marked the memory of special days in his life, filled to the brim with songs that meant the most to him.

Jaime continued to scroll until he paused, his thumb floating just above a playlist.

He blinked, rereading the playlist's name a few times, his finger hesitant. Jaime didn't even need to click on it; he knew what songs were in there. He remembered having that playlist on repeat for days every time he had a crush. It was packed with his favourites about love and passion, and just about the most tooth-rottingly sweet songs he could find. When he had it bad, he would sing those songs at the top of his lungs, dancing around his room, feeling free.

But listening to that would only make things worse, so Jaime sped past it, looking over all his options.

Unfortunately, his pre-made sea of playlists was far too much choice for Jaime's sleep-deprived brain, so he settled on putting his liked songs on shuffle.

Before pressing play, he made sure the volume wasn't too loud. Even though Bart was a deep sleeper, he didn't want to take any chances and wake him up. Just because Jaime couldn't sleep didn't mean they both had to suffer through exhaustion tomorrow.

Jaime took one last peek at Bart as he pressed play, leaning back into his pillow and placing his phone on his chest. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in as the music started, the song flowing into his eardrums.

The first song that played was way too loud and fast, and the lyrics were harsh on Jaime's tired brain. It was the kind of song he would work out to, not listen to while trying to forget reality.

Jaime cracked his eyes open and lifted his phone, pressing the skip button.

The next song was equally fast, the lyrics overpowered by the electric guitar in the backing track. It bashed against his temples, digging deep into his head.

Jaime rolled his eyes, huffing quietly as he skipped the song again. He was starting to regret letting fate decide what he listened to. Another song shuffled on, and he kept his phone clutched in his hand, his trigger finger ready to skip.

Jaime paused as the next song started, pleasantly surprised by the soft guitar strums filling his ears. The rhythm was smooth and simple, perfect for his sleepy state. A soft voice accompanied the guitar, light and airy, as she sang, "If you wanna dance, then dance with me."

Jaime raised his brows, looking back down at his phone. He recognized Beabadoobee's voice but not the song. He glanced at the title and frowned. As if fate were hell-bent on torturing him, the song was called 'Dance with Me.' A little too on the nose for Jaime's taste, he hesitantly unlocked his phone and pulled up the lyrics.

She continued to sing, the verses taunting Jaime. "It's pretty fast, but it's what you do at parties, right?" A few piano keys played behind her words, drawing Jaime deeper into the song.

Jaime thought back to earlier, when Bart had fumbled his dance moves, but moved quicker as he gained confidence. He smiled to himself, replaying Bart's laugh in his mind.

"And I know it's hard to tell." The chorus started, bringing Jaime's attention back to the lyrics, his eyes narrowing in on one line in particular. "But I think I really like you."

The piano notes danced against Jaime's eardrums, and his eyes wandered over to where Bart slept. Heat crept up the back of his neck, spreading to his ears. Jaime felt warm all over, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself.

"Just take it slow," she sang, her words striking a chord in his chest. It felt like Beabadoobee was talking directly to Jaime. Maybe it was a reminder to calm down, or maybe it was about Bart and Jaime's 'moment' earlier. Either way, it made Jaime feel flushed. "And move your feet to the beat."

Bart's janky moves flashed in Jaime's mind. His dance was offbeat and awkward, but when Bart's green eyes landed on Jaime's, he knew he was having fun.

Jaime moved his free hand, feeling the ghost of Bart's warmth. He looked over at Bart, remembering how perfectly their hands fit together, Bart's fingers interlaced between Jaime's, safe and at home.

"'Cause if we dance, then you don't have to speak."

Jaime looked back at the lyrics, sighing.

He should've taken Bart up on his offer to dance more. It was the perfect excuse to be close to him, chest to chest, hand in hand, without seeming weird. Jaime wouldn't have had to think about anything. He could feel the music. He'd be able to dance, free in Bart's presence, feeling fully himself. And maybe Jaime could've pulled Bart in close, and just when the song built, he could've kissed him-

Jaime's eyes jolted back to his phone, ashamed.

He was being selfish.

He could never do that to his best friend.

"And I know it's hard to tell, but I think I really like you-"

Jaime groaned, ripping his headphones off his head. He chucked his headphones in front of him, and they fell against his phone with a loud clink. He threw his head into his hands, sighing out all the hot air from his lungs, running on pure exhaustion.

What was wrong with him?!

"J- Jaime?"

Jaime's eyes slammed open, but he didn't dare move.

He felt a hand land on his thigh, and goosebumps danced their way up his torso, covering his arms just before crescendoing at the back of his neck.

"Jaime," Bart repeated, softer this time. "What's wrong?"

Hesitantly, Jaime lowered his hands but didn't dare look at Bart. "Did I wake you?"

"It's okay," Bart tried, his voice thick with sleep. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Jaime cleared his throat, getting rid of everything, but the words still caught on his tongue. He took a deep breath, hoping he'd eventually come up with some sort of lie. "I- I'm fine."

Bart shifted, patiently staring up at Jaime. "You don't seem fine."

Jaime finally glanced down at Bart, immediately wishing he hadn't.

Thankfully, Jaime couldn't meet Bart's eyes. They were halfway hidden behind the hair that flopped in his face. So Jaime's eyes had nowhere to land; they instead wandered down to Bart's collarbone, which was now exposed. They carelessly traced the neckline of Bart's oversized shirt, ending up at his right shoulder, where the shirt now hung off of. Bart slowly blinked, suppressing a yawn as his lashes fluttered lazily.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Bart asked. Every drawn-out syllable was soaked in honey, slow and coarse, Bart's voice deeper than usual.

Jaime was finding it hard to concentrate, his tired eyes landing on Bart's lips.

As if Bart was trying to make things worse, he licked his dry lips as he waited for an answer from Jaime. Bart's grip on Jaime's thigh tightened, hard enough to remind Jaime that he wasn't dreaming but light enough to send him into a mild panic. "Do you want me to come up there?"

"What?" was all Jaime managed to mutter.

Bart gave Jaime a sad smile and stood up. He shooed Jaime, grabbing hold of the blanket. "Scooch over."

"But-"

"I can get your mind off the nightmare." Bart slipped into the bed as Jaime moved over, fitting in the empty space perfectly as if it were destined for him. "Or whatever's making you upset."

Little did Bart know that this was only making things worse. But Jaime was far too tired to try to fight Bart over sleeping in the same bed. And maybe a little too selfish.

Bart picked up Jaime's phone, along with his headphones. "Were you listening-"

Jaime swiped both things from Bart's hand, feeling his face erupt in heat. "Don't mind that. I just- I must've- I-"

Bart raised a brow, its effect even more deadly thanks to their newfound closeness.

Jaime inched his way to the edge of the bed, trying to stay calm. He stopped the music, turned off his headphones and quickly slipped everything back into his nightstand. "Anyway, time to sleep."

"Woah, don't you wanna talk about it?" Bart asked, the sleepiness fading from his voice.

"Talk about what, hermano?"

"Don't 'her-man-o' me." Bart sat up straighter, rolling his eyes. "What happened?"

"What?" Jaime re-fluffed his pillow, thankful for any excuse to avoid Bart's knowing stare. "Nothing happened."

"Jaime, you can talk to me." Bart grabbed Jaime's arm, pulling his eyes back onto him. "I'm not gonna judge you."

Jaime froze, scanning over Bart's expression in the low light. He sighed. "I just... have a lot on my mind."

Bart nodded, his hand still on Jaime's arm for reassurance.

"Okay. Fine." Jaime swallowed hard, tiptoeing his way around the truth. "I, uh- have this... friend, and we're super close. I've known them for a while now, but recently, I realized I-"

The words caught in his throat.

"No judgment," Bart mouthed, flashing Jaime a small smile and a thumbs up.

Jaime took a deep breath, the exhaustion overpowering his sense of reason. "I think I like them," he finally said, his insides immediately flooding with emotions. His chest tightened, but he fought through it, quietly adding, "A lot."

Bart bit down on his lip, taking a second to process this new information as he blankly stared back at Jaime.

Suddenly, the realization hit Jaime like one of Garfield's infamous tackle hugs.

Did he just-

"Ohhh!" Bart lifted his hand from Jaime's arm, his smile seemingly cracking. "That's- wow, that's amazing."

Jaime physically winced, watching Bart pull away.

Bart, having noticed, immediately perked up, yet his smile still didn't meet his sleepy eyes. "I mean- a crush!! That's so crash!! When was the last time you even had one of those?"

"I don't know if it's a crush, hermano," Jaime scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But it's been a while. Y'know how I am."

"Sooooo, do I know them?" Bart's eyes brightened as he leaned in, a hand on his chin. "Did you meet at college? Are they on the team?!"

Jaime almost fell off the bed, trying to keep his distance. "No, no, you don't know them. They don't have powers either," he stammered.

"Maybe that's for the best after what happened with you and Traci," Bart shrugged. "So, what're they like?"

"Uhhhhh," Jaime mumbled, his brain drawing blanks when it came to describing his imaginary friend. "They like food? And, um, also, walks? Yea- yes! Huge fan of walking. And other things, too. Obviously. Well, I could go on and on about them, but I don't want to keep you up all night. You need your beauty sleep!"

"So do you. Those bags under your eyes aren't doing you any favours," Bart replied, sticking out his tongue.

"Hey!" Jaime grabbed his pillow and smacked Bart with it. "Mocoso."

"You're lucky I'm too tired to start a full-on war," Bart grumbled. "Can I at least know what they look like? Do you have a picture?"

"No, I- I don't have any pictures of them," Jaime tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a pained sigh. "They're, uhhh, super against pictures. They don't even have... social media."

"Huh," Bart pursed his lips. "Maybe they're a vampire."

"Host, you are failing at tricking the Bart Allen into believing your lies," Khaji Da, always so helpful, chirped. "Perhaps you should stop talking entirely?"

Way to offer me assistance, Khaji.

"So, what are you gonna do about it?"

Jaime watched Bart from the corner of his eye. "Hmm?"

"Are you gonna ask them out?" Bart repeated, his fingers picking at a frayed piece of the blanket.

"I- I didn't even think about that," Jaime sighed, folding his knees to his chest. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I-" Jaime looked at Bart, surprised to find him already staring back. He blinked, fighting the tiredness. "I don't wanna ruin our friendship."

Bart sucked in a breath.

"My friendship with them," Jaime quickly clarified. "Not our friendship like you and me-"

Khaji jumped in. "I advise you to stop talking."

Jaime immediately slammed his mouth shut, his head falling. Would it be in poor taste to try to beg Bart to strangle him with the pillow?

"I think you should take the leap."

Jaime slowly lifted his head back up, trying to mask his surprise as he eyed Bart. "Really?"

Bart shrugged, turning to look at the door in front of them. The moonlight poured in through the blinds, bathing his side profile and highlighting his furrowed brow and button nose. "I do."

Jaime's eyes wandered to his lips as he spoke. The light running over their curves only seemed to intensify Jaime's yearning.

"I mean, if this friend is as important to you as you say they are, I think they'll understand," Bart replied, his voice soft as silk and clear as waves crashing on the shore. "I know it's scary risking everything over some feelings, but maybe your friend feels the exact same way and is just as scared as you to make the first move. But you won't know unless you try."

"You make it sound so easy."

Bart laughed quietly, running a hand through his messy curls, redistributing the moon's glow. "I know it sounds crazy, coming from a guy with basically zero experience. But if something like this is enough to ruin your friendship, then maybe it wasn't built to last in the first place. It might be awkward, but I think it's better to take a chance and miss than not take a chance at all."

Bart turned back to face Jaime, a small smile on his face. "Who knows, maybe it'll be the best thing you'll ever do."

"Wow, Bart, that was-"

"And then you can thank me when I'm the best man at your wedding," Bart smirked, winking at Jaime.

Jaime's smile dropped as he scoffed. "I was gonna say that was actually really sweet, but you kinda ruined it at the end there."

"What? Am I not gonna be the best man at the wedding?" Bart asked, almost looking hurt.

Jaime stifled a laugh. "Let's just take one thing at a time."

If Jaime were lucky, Bart would never have to be the best man at his wedding... because it would be their wedding. Heat crept its way up Jaime's neck, burning his ears at the greedy thought of Bart in a suit. Gracias a Dios that Bart couldn't actually read minds.

"Well, you gotta keep me updated," Bart replied. His smile was contagious. "Because I'm more than willing to plan the wedding for you."

Jaime dug his face into his hands, hiding his hopefulness. "You're something else, hermano."

"I know," Bart yawned, looking back at the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Was that helpful?"

"Yeah, I feel much better," Jaime replied, looking back at Bart. "Gracias."

"Anytime," Bart said. He adjusted his pillow and lay back, pulling the blanket to his chest. "We should probably try to sleep now."

"You're right. It's late." Jaime nodded, moving his pillow behind him and lying down on his side, purposely facing away from Bart. Once he settled in, he pulled the blanket over himself. "You're a great guy, Bart."

Bart laughed lightly. "I know."

"Seriously."

"Thank you," Bart breathed.

Jaime heard Bart shift, taking a second to get comfortable. He took a deep breath, holding it in before exhaling, trying to relax into the mattress. Just when the stillness started to eat away at Jaime, Bart mumbled something.

Now, he wasn't a hundred percent sure, but it sounded something like: "Your friend would be lucky to date you."

Heat rushed to Jaime's cheeks, his chest tightening. "What?" he whispered in disbelief, turning back to watch Bart.

Bart kept his eyes on the ceiling, trying to cover up a yawn. "G'night, Jaime."

Jaime yawned in return, his eyelids getting heavier. He could ask Bart about it in the morning. "Goodnight, Bart."

Jaime shut his eyes, and his body finally relaxed, sinking into his mattress. And for the first time ever, Jaime had no problem falling asleep.

But that had nothing to do with Bart sleeping next to him. It was just a coincidence that Bart's warmth was strangely comforting.

🎵🎵🎵

Two weeks had passed, and Christmas had come and gone, along with the busyness of the holidays.

Jaime hadn't hung out with Bart one-on-one since their impromptu dance party, but he'd seen him around. He wasn't avoiding Bart; he was just... busy. Every time Bart asked to hang out.

But they did sit together at the team's holiday party, and Jaime got to see firsthand Bart's excitement at his Secret Santa gift from Eduardo. It was a baby Flash plushie, a notebook, and a box full of Chicken Whizees. Knowing Bart, that box was now empty.

Jaime made sure to take a mental picture of Bart's face when he opened the gift because his green eyes were so bright, and his smile was so big.

It took Bart forever to guess who his Secret Santa was, and of course, his immediate reaction was to point fingers at Jaime, which made Jaime's heart skip a beat. Bart may have been wrong on his first guess, but he stayed persistent. Apparently, Jaime's flustered face looked incredibly guilty in Bart's eyes. That, mixed with Bart's disregard for personal space, only made things worse for Jaime's feelings.

But luckily, Jaime played it super cool. He didn't at all have to excuse himself to go awkwardly grab another plate of food immediately after. He also didn't get any weird looks from any of his teammates when he purposely weaved around any and all mistletoe while Bart followed him. And there was no way anyone even noticed him staring at Bart's butt in his new jeans, which Jaime wouldn't have done anyway, even if they somehow hugged his hips really well. Jaime, as always, was just soooo calm and collected.

Jaime laughed at the thought as he filled up his gold gift bag with his surprisingly well-wrapped gifts. It was only a few things, one of which couldn't be wrapped.

Jaime did end up making a playlist for Bart. He sent it to him on Christmas Day, and Bart hadn't mentioned it since.

Jaime's stomach sank at the reminder. He had good reason to worry, though, because he had added hours' worth of songs to the playlist. But it was just really easy to make Bart a playlist; there were so many songs that made Jaime think of him, whether he wanted to or not. That's how plenty of love songs somehow slid their way into Bart's playlist. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice that, and if he did, he wouldn't think anything of it.

Bart was probably busy. There were a lot of songs on there, so maybe he just hadn't finished the entirety of the playlist?

Jaime tucked in the red tissue paper, flaring out the edges until it looked picture-perfect. Then he stood up and turned, giving himself a once-over in the mirror.

Jaime ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to make it look a bit more effortless, almost as if he hadn't spent thirty minutes trying to get it to look nice. He grabbed the navy blue sweater hanging off his chair and slid his arms through it, zipping it over his white band tee. He stepped back, realizing his jeans were dragging, and cuffed the bottoms once. Jaime sighed, ruffling his hair again.

"Host, I am positive the Bart Allen will approve of your appearance," Khaji Da chirped. "He always does."

"I know." Jaime rolled his eyes, pulling his denim jacket off his bed. "But I want to look extra nice. Even if I'm not making a move today, I want Bart to think I'm the most handsome guy he's ever seen."

Khaji made some sort of noise, one that Jaime could only assume meant he disapproved.

"That's when you say, 'But host, you are the most handsome guy he has ever seen!'" Jaime scoffed, waving his hands around as he perfectly mocked Khaji's voice. "You're a terrible hype man."

"I am no 'hype man' as you humans say. I am a weapon of mass destruction designed for-"

Jaime put his denim jacket on, furrowing his brows. "We'll work on it."

"That has no tactical benefit," Khaji said, steely.

"Not everything needs a 'tactical benefit,'" Jaime muttered, grabbing his gift and wrapping it in a shopping bag. He placed the shopping bag in his backpack, carefully zipping it up. He hoisted the bag on his back, grabbing his phone. "The human experience is more than just fighting."

"You and the Bart Allen's relationship has taught me that," Khaji replied, softer than Jaime was used to.

"That may be one of the nicest things you've ever said." Jaime smiled, unlocking his phone.

He texted Bart, 'I'm leaving my house now, be there in 20 :)'.

Bart instantly replied. He must've been waiting for Jaime to text him, and the thought made Jaime's uneven smile grow bigger.

Bart's text read: 'kk, can't wait :D' and Jaime felt his stomach do a flip.

Jaime walked to his desk and unplugged his charging headphones. He turned back to the mirror and frowned.

"What about your hair, host?" Khaji asked with almost enough emotion to sound concerned.

Jaime narrowed his eyes at his nicely done hair, his eyes slowly falling back down to his headphones.

"All of the best things in life require sacrifice," Jaime whispered, more to himself than to Khaji, and slid the overhead headphones on, wincing as his hair squished under the band. "Besides, the wind was gonna mess up my hair anyway," he added, with a totally nonchalant air about it. At least, he tried to be nonchalant, but in reality, his ego was on the verge of tears as he gave himself one last look over.

Jaime reached for his skateboard, turned off the light in his room, and closed the door. He then eagerly headed down the hallway, walking down the set of stairs and through the living room on his way to the front door.

"Off to see your boyfriend?"

Jaime whipped around, his eyes landing on Milagro watching TV on the couch. She smirked, watching his face twist.

"Bart's not my boyfriend," Jaime sighed. "If I'm lucky, he will be soon."

Milagro's smirk deepened. "Well, buena suerte. You guys will be so cute together."

"You think?"

Milagro nodded, finally pulling her eyes away from her show. "I know it, Jaime. Even Mama and Papa are rooting for you guys to get together."

"You told them?!" Jaime yelped, almost dropping his skateboard. "It was supposed to be our secret!"

"Well, Mama knew you liked Bart before you realized, so it wasn't really a secret," Milagro shrugged. "I mean, they both have eyes."

Jaime bit down on the inside of his cheek, remembering how oblivious he was only two weeks ago. Go figure, Milagro had a point.

Swallowing his pride, Jaime nodded, saying, "That's true." He then threw his arms open, hoping to avoid more questions. "Okay, I gotta go. Come, give me a hug for good luck."

Milagro jumped up off the couch and ran over to Jaime, hugging him tightly. "You got this, Jaime," she replied as she pulled away.

Jaime smiled down at her, using his free hand to ruffle her wavy hair. "Gracias, Mila. I'll see you later. Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."

Milagro laughed, heading back over to the couch and sinking back into the same spot she was just in. "It'll be hard, but I'll do my best."

Jaime turned back to the door and unlocked it, sliding his shoes on. "¡Hasta luego!" he yelled before slipping outside. He shut the door behind him, sticking his key in the lock and turning it swiftly.

"Does that set you at ease?"

Jaime pulled out his phone and walked down the path from his house to the sidewalk. "What?" he hummed, opening his music app.

"The fact that all of your household approves of your romantic pursuit of the Bart Allen," Khaji reiterated. "I know in human tradition, having family endorsement is a requirement with most relationships."

Jaime paused, his finger hovering over the playlist he made for Bart. He looked up at the El Paso sky, the slate grey clouds blending into the fiery orange sunset, and realized he was already smiling. "I guess it does."

Jaime plopped his skateboard on the ground and rested his foot on top of it, gently guiding it back and forth as he connected his headphones to his phone. He placed the headphones properly over both ears, making sure all he could hear was the music as he pressed the shuffle button on Bart's playlist.

Jaime slid his phone into his back pocket as the song started, instantly realizing it was Tyler, The Creator and Kali Uchis's 'See You Again.' Jaime hopped on his skateboard and pushed himself forward along the sidewalk, getting in the zone. The lyrics repeated "okay" over and over as he built up speed, the cold December breeze flying past his face.

A few piano notes trilled out as Jaime dropped off the sidewalk, carefully steering his board nose-first onto the road. He pumped himself forward with his right foot, trying to build momentum, and eventually brought his foot up to the board, cruising down the street.

Jaime reached a stop sign, looking both ways as he mouthed along to the song. "Twenty-twenty, twenty-twenty vision. Cupid hit me, Cupid hit me with precision." The instrumental swelled, and Jaime rolled ahead, leaning forward to gain more speed. "I wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind," he hummed.

The city blurred in his peripheral vision, and houses and trees passed him in a haze of browns and reds as he rode further into El Paso. Jaime had taken this route hundreds of times, and he could practically do it blindfolded. So his mind wandered, his body on autopilot as the song continued, building more and more.

"I can only see your face when I close my eyes," Tyler, the Creator sang, and all Jaime could think of was Bart.

Jaime steered himself right, leaning his body weight as he weaved around a corner. "Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever?" Jaime belted louder as he picked up speed, his wheels gliding downhill. The wind hit his body, running through his hair and slithering in through his sweater, sending chills dancing along his skin. "I said I'm bout to go to war, and I don't know if I'mma see you again."

No one was on the street at six on a cold Saturday night, so luckily, Khaji Da was Jaime's only audience. Albeit an unwilling one.

Jaime slightly leaned down to his board, wiggling as he adjusted his center of gravity. As the hill steepened, he picked up speed, riding as fast as he would if he were flying. He tilted to his left, threading around a manhole, the breeze flapping his denim jacket back like a cape.

The chorus looped again, and Jaime practically yelled the lyrics over the wind. "Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever? I said I'm bout to go to war, and I don't know if I'mma see you again."

Bart's face flashed in his mind, Jaime's heart skipping a beat. He'd see him soon enough. He just had to pick up the pace.

Jaime neared the end of the hill, still zooming at top speed. He leaned to his right, standing up carefully as he stuck an arm out, ready. A rapidly approaching stop sign caught his eye as he headed straight for it, putting all his weight into his back leg. Jaime's hand caught the pole, and he used it to swerve himself around the corner swiftly while still keeping good speed.

Jaime's eyes locked on the sky above, marvelling at how the rich blues swirled and blended perfectly into the electrifying reds. Thanks to the overlap, the clouds were stained purple and were like something straight out of a Bob Ross painting. It was ethereal to look at. The mountains against the sky only sharpened the moment, and Jaime took a mental photo as he steered himself further down the street.

His ears focused back on the song as the beat slowed again. "I'm so sick of, sick of, sick of, sick of chasin'. You're the one that's always running through my daydream," Jaime sang, his eyes landing on a giant fence down the street. "I can only see your face when I close my eyes."

Jaime pumped the board forward, a quick few steps with his right foot as he skated toward the fenced area. The music swelled, and he hummed along to the chorus. As Jaime approached the sidewalk, he leaned down and did a perfect kickflip up over the curb and onto the sidewalk.

Once Jaime landed, he slowed his skateboard, stopping right outside the fenced lot's gate. He put a foot on the tail of his board and flipped it up. Jaime caught it with his right hand, pausing his music before walking over to the lock.

"Is the coast clear?" Jaime whispered, side-eying the street as his hand floated toward the fence.

"Affirmative. Scans indicate no life forms are within our radius."

"Perfecto," Jaime breathed, bending down and sliding his skateboard under the gate. He then grabbed onto the chain-link fence and climbed over it as quickly as he could without hurting himself. Once at the top, he lifted his legs one by one over the fence, carefully turning himself around before he dropped down. Jaime landed gracefully with both arms out like an Olympic gymnast, then dusted his pants off.

"Jaime Reyes, it would have been far more efficient to use your wings to fly over the fence," Khaji stated matter-factly, his tone reminiscent of the party pooper he could sometimes be.

Jaime rolled his eyes, picking up his skateboard and tucking it under his arm. "That's boring," he scoffed, turning back to look at the junkyard before him. "It's way more fun to feel like I'm breaking in."

"You technically are," Khaji deadpanned. "Even if the team owns the lot, they are unaware of your constant use of the Zeta-Tube."

"I'm pretty sure they have a log for every time one of them is used, and nobody's said anything to me yet, so I'm sure it's fine. Not everyone can sprint across states at the speed of light like Bart," Jaime replied, heading further into the junkyard.

After a minute of walking, he made his way to the very corner of the lot, where a lonely shed sat. Jaime shook his cold hands as he looked around, making sure no one was watching. He then opened the old wooden door an inch before closing it abruptly.

"Oh! Wait, I should take a picture of the sky," Jaime mumbled, fumbling for his phone.

He aimed his phone at the sky, doing his best to get the perfect shot with his skateboard tucked under his arm. Jaime made sure to include the mountains and the clouds, lining his camera up to capture it all, but a lens could never catch every detail the human eye picked up on. Once satisfied, he tucked his phone away.

"Okay, let's go," Jaime sighed, opening the shed door once more.

The shed itself was incredibly underwhelming. It was a small shack, about three feet by three feet, built entirely of wood and shoddily topped with an almost deteriorating roof. It was tucked back in the furthest corner of the seemingly abandoned junkyard, and it looked like it was on the verge of collapse. But that's what made it the perfect Zeta-Tube.

Jaime stepped into the dark shed, pulling off his headphones and letting them rest around his neck. Unlike the outside of the shack, the inside was lined with rows of metallic sheets, reflecting what little was left of the sunset. The floor, also covered in bolted-down metal, was slightly singed, the only real indicator that it wasn't just some shed—that and what smelled like the faded smoke from a blown-out birthday candle.

A small device dropped down from the ceiling, staring down at Jaime. Suddenly, a blue light shot out of the apparatus, slowly scanning Jaime's entire body twice over before retracting back into the roof.

"RECOGNIZED. REYES-JAIME. D-03," the Zeta-Tube's robotic voice chimed.

Above Jaime, an orange beam of energy started to charge, whirring to life as it lit up the tiny shed. The floor beneath his feet started vibrating, and heat waves swirled down toward him as the hairs on his head stood up.

Jaime took a deep breath, clutched his skateboard tightly and closed his eyes.

The burst of energy exploded, beaming bright even through Jaime's closed eyelids, hitting him in a quick flash of orange.

When Jaime reopened his eyes a second later, he was standing on the dock of the Zeta-Tube in The Watchtower. He only caught the last part of the sentence, but the computer had just announced his arrival to the entire building. Luckily, it seemed like no one was around, and if there were people, they were too busy to care.

Jaime blinked a few times, shaking away the pins and needles before walking to the computer terminal next to the giant Zeta-Tube. He leaned his skateboard against the wall before starting to route his next teleport.

Jaime pulled up the giant map and quickly typed in 'Central City.' Little icons instantly appeared on the map, each with a street name and coordinates, but Jaime ignored almost all of his options, zeroing in on the Zeta-Tube closest to Bart's house. He clicked on the icon, locking in his selection, and the computer beeped in confirmation.

The giant Zeta-Tube started up once more, and the mechanical buzzing bounced throughout the massive room.

Jaime grabbed his skateboard, rushing back over to the dock just in time to watch as the iris of the Zeta-Tube opened up before him, the energy within ready to fire.

Once again, Jaime closed his eyes, bracing for impact as the Zeta-Beam blasted at him.

Jaime's chest dropped, his body being pulled down, slipping through the floor and falling further by the second. He flinched, his arms grabbing forward, his hands catching nothing but air. His heart banged against his ribs harder as he felt himself plunge deeper into the void.

As the light came and went, Jaime's shoulder slammed against something hard, and his eyes shot open. His skateboard hit the ground, and the clank echoed throughout the small space. He was now in an old 'out of service' phone booth, awkwardly crumpled up against one of the metal-lined walls.

"Ow." Jaime frowned, standing up straight as he adjusted his backpack and picked up his skateboard. "How does that happen every time?"

Khaji sighed. "The Zeta-Beam's capabilities are extremely powerful. The human body was not built to withstand constant usage."

Jaime rolled his eyes as he left the phone booth, carefully shutting the door behind him. "I'll never get used to that feeling," Jaime mumbled, glimpsing back at the decrepit-looking Zeta-Tube buried in the trees. His face fell as the all-too-familiar flavour of burnt toast crept into his mouth. "Or the aftertaste," Jaime coughed.

Jaime climbed his way out of the bushes, stumbling back onto the path. He paused, trying to steady his legs and calm his racing heart.

The Zeta-Tube closest to Bart's house was, unfortunately for Jaime, hidden away just off the footpath of a park. It wasn't in the most convenient of spots; the bushes and weeds were almost always unkempt, and Jaime ended up looking like he was lost in the woods once he escaped back onto the path, covered in burs and leaves, sometimes scratches if he was unlucky.

Jaime placed his skateboard on the ground before he dusted himself off. He could only imagine how dishevelled he now looked. So much for trying to impress Bart.

He slid his headphones back over his ears, pulled out his phone, and pressed shuffle again. He tucked his phone into his back pocket and hopped back onto his board, pumping himself forward as the song started up. It was one of TV Girl's songs, 'Not Allowed,' but Jaime wasn't focusing on the lyrics, only the overall beat.

The ride to Bart's house wasn't long, and luckily, the scenery made up for the unideal Zeta-Tube spot. Hundreds of trees lined the path leading out of the park, their branches reaching high into the sky. In the warmer months, flowers bloomed freely, and their colours blended into one paint smear of pastel as Jaime rode past on his skateboard. In fall, the leaves would crumple under his wheels, and it always smelled like wet earth.

Jaime looked up, watching as the last of the sunset poured in through the season's bare branches. A cold breeze filled the air, shaking the trees and ruffling Jaime's hair, bringing his attention back down to the path.

Jaime brought his other foot onto the board, veering out of the park and back onto the sidewalk.

Unlike El Paso, Central City never seemed to get quiet. The streets were full of cars, all in some sort of rush to get somewhere at some specific time. The sidewalks were more barren, but a surprising number of people were still out at sunset, even in the cold December chill.

Jaime slowed at a busy intersection, clicking the crosswalk button impatiently.

"Host, scans indicate your heart rate is elevated higher than usual during physical activity. You are nervous?" Khaji sliced through Jaime's absent thoughts, his question sounding like more of a statement.

Jaime furrowed his brows. "What? No, why would I be?"

"You have not seen Bart one-on-one in a while. Not since you realized-"

"Yeah, I know," Jaime groaned, clicking the button to cross a few more times. "But I'm not gonna be fully alone with him; the Garricks will be there. So I'll be fine."

Khaji hummed. "Scans indicate otherwise."

Jaime rolled his eyes, watching as the cars raced past. Why was the light taking forever to turn? "I'm not trying to make a move tonight, so I have nothing to worry about."

"But-"

Khaji's voice was drowned out by a car slamming on its brakes, squealing to a stop halfway through the crosswalk as the light turned red. The pedestrian signal switched across the street, changing from the red hand to the little walking man.

Jaime pumped his foot on the ground, running with the board before hopping back on, zooming around the car and onto the other side of the sidewalk. He raced down the street, picking up speed as the road dipped.

He dropped off the sidewalk and onto the road, making room for a group of joggers who ran past him. He stayed on the road until he made it to the next stop sign, where he slowed, looking both ways before crossing.

Jaime steered himself back onto the sidewalk, and after a few minutes of riding down the main road, he took a right down an alleyway, which was almost always empty.

"Just don't be weird when we see Bart, okay?" Jaime finally said, much louder now that he was sure they were alone. "I don't need you freaking me out."

Khaji sighed, a shiver rippling down Jaime's neck. "Jaime Reyes, I will only make observations when necessary, as I normally do."

Jaime frowned, his eyes trained up ahead on the exit. "Yeah, of course. I love your helpful observations," he scoffed.

"I am detecting sarcasm in your tone."

Jaime flew out of the alleyway and across the street, speeding up as he entered Bart's neighbourhood. "Look, another one of your spot-on observations! ¡Buen trabajo!"

If Khaji had a human form, Jaime imagined he would've rolled his eyes, throwing a hand on his hip. Maybe even raise an eyebrow, looking Jaime up and down, unamused. Instead, Khaji bit back in his steely voice, "Do not patronize me."

"I'm joking." Jaime tried to fight the smile as he rounded the corner, gliding down the sidewalk. "Either way, maybe keep the comments about Bart to a minimum for tonight?"

"Understood," Khaji agreed, but there was a hint of disdain in his tone.

Jaime slowed as he neared the Garricks's house, his sights set on the sky.

The sun had fully set, and the sky was now an indigo, with the last of the fiery orange glow slipping under the horizon of trees. Unlike El Paso, the stars were hidden behind the light pollution, but the moon was making its way into the sky, big and proud, just a wedge away from being full.

Jaime's eyes fell, landing on Bart's house, and he stopped his board, looking at his home from across the street.

If Jaime were a moth, he would've already sprinted across the street because their house was the brightest thing on the whole block. The Garricks's home was covered top to bottom with Christmas lights, strings of multicoloured bulbs shining out at all angles, beckoning Jaime closer. A giant inflatable reindeer sat on their front lawn, flailing around as the cold breeze blew, staring Jaime down with an enormous smile on its face.

The house looked a lot jollier than Jaime felt.

"All by yourself, sittin' alone. I hope we're still friends. Yeah, I hope you don't mind."

The song's lyrics caught Jaime's attention, and he stilled, watching the light in Bart's room flick on.

Jaime took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he tried to calm his unease. He bent down to grab his skateboard, his nerves diving into his stomach. The lyrics repeated, burning the same sentiment into his head. Art imitates life in the weirdest ways.

"I hope we're still friends. Yeah, I hope-" But Jaime clicked, maybe even smacked, the pause button on his headphones, stopping the song altogether. Thank you, universe, but he got the point.

"Wish me luck," Jaime muttered, clenching his skateboard. Reluctantly, he crossed the street, heading up the path to their house, and stopped face to face with the blood-red door. He steeled himself and slowly raised his hand.

Jaime was halfway done with his first knock when the door sprang open.

"Jaime!" Bart cheered, rushing forward.

Bart's arms wrapped around Jaime quickly, and he squeezed him tight, standing up on his tiptoes so he could tuck his head in the crook of Jaime's neck. It took every inch of Jaime's willpower not to erupt into flames right at Bart's front door.

Jaime hugged Bart back lightly, not wanting to be too greedy. "Hi!"

Bart pulled away, and Jaime caught a whiff of what he thought was... cologne? Bart gave Jaime a huge smile, looking him over for a second before replying, "Hi!"

Jaime already knew his cheeks were red.

Bart looked nice. He was wearing a pair of grey jeans and a red hoodie, his hair perfectly curled, and his smile was big and toothy. Jaime's favourite.

Another cool gust of wind rippled through the evening air, making Jaime shake. Or maybe the shaking was from the nerves. He blinked back at Bart, not sure what he was waiting for. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah! C'mon in!" Bart laughed, gesturing his arms wildly into the hallway. "You know you don't have to ask at this point."

"I've got manners, hermano." Jaime moved past Bart, slipping into the hallway. "Unlike someone who threatened to break into my house."

"I didn't threaten to break in; I just said I could technically phase into your house whenever I wanted," Bart sighed, closing the front door behind them. "But I also didn't make you wait outside in the cold. Which might be even more manners-like if you ask me."

"Not all of us have super speed." Jaime leaned his skateboard against the wall, slipping off his shoes. "Besides, I didn't make you wait outside for long."

"Easy for you to say," Bart scoffed, offering his hand for any of Jaime's things. "I could've frozen to death out there."

Jaime slid his backpack off his shoulders, handing it to Bart while shooting him a very well-deserved eye roll. "You act like we haven't had missions in the Arctic Tundra. Now that's cold."

"That's NOTHING compared to how cold you treated me," Bart exaggerated, throwing a hand on his head as he pretended to weep. His frown turned to curiosity as he stood up straight, staring back down at Jaime's bag. "Man, this is heavy. What's in here? A bunch of rocks?"

"What!?" Jaime hung his denim jacket up on the coat rack before quickly snatching his bag back. He coughed, averting his gaze from Bart's bright green eyes. "It's n- nothing! Just my... stuff and... things."

Bart rolled his lips into a thin line and nodded slowly. "Of course," Bart drawled, "your stuff and things. How could I forget?"

Jaime stepped backward, hoisting the backpack back onto his shoulder. "So, uh, how have you been?" he spat, desperately trying to change the subject while also being normal about it. Both of which he was failing miserably at.

Bart shrugged. "Good. What about you?"

How was Jaime? Well, internally, he'd been freaking out.

Every night for the past two weeks, it had been the same thing, tossing and turning while his brain tormented him. Each night, his mind seemingly prepared a different version of what would happen when Jaime confessed to Bart. Some nights, it was straight out of a movie, complete with fanfare and tension, with music that would build and build until BAM! They would kiss and ride off into the sunset or something like that. Most nights, however, it was more like a low-budget high school play, and it felt like some rip-off of a Shakespearean tragedy. Those always ended in heartbreak and turmoil, and some nights, if he were extra unlucky, his brain would make sure to add a stabbing with some metaphorical blade. Jaime had to fight back a shiver.

"Me? I've been so good," Jaime almost groaned, forcing a painful smile.

"That's crash." Bart flashed him a quirked brow but pressed forward, sliding past Jaime and down the hallway.

Jaime willingly followed Bart further into the house, realizing his sense of smell was right. Bart was definitely wearing cologne, which was weird because, as far as Jaime could remember, Bart NEVER wore cologne, and if he did, it was never this strong.

Jaime had to stop himself from leaning in closer to Bart because whatever he was wearing smelled good. Like, really good.

Even from two steps behind the speedster, Jaime was getting hit with vanilla. It wasn't overly sweet, but sweet enough that Jaime found himself wanting more. It smelled like the inside of a bakery, as if a batch of vanilla cupcakes just came out of the oven, the scent warm and inviting and swirling in Jaime's lungs as if he took a long drag of it, puffing out what he could only describe as the same stupidly giddy sensation that filled his stomach. It made him want to bury his face in Bart's neck, hold him close and inhale his very being. His face warmed at the thought.

"Did you hear me?"

"What?" Jaime looked up, noticing that Bart had stopped walking and was now staring at him.

"I asked if you ate dinner yet," Bart repeated, his eyes doing a quick once-over of Jaime's guilty expression. "You okay?"

"I just remembered I didn't?" Jaime exclaimed, which technically wasn't a lie. "I'm gonna guess you're hungry too?"

Bart nodded; Jaime's excuse seemingly good enough. "I was thinking we could order pizza?"

"That's good with me."

"Crash!" Bart smiled, heading into the kitchen. "You can go put your bag in my room while I order the pizza. You just want your usual, right?"

"Mushrooms, bacon, hot peppers and definitely no olives," Jaime replied, watching Bart move toward the phone. "Did the Garricks eat yet?"

"Oh." Bart looked up, a small smile spreading across his freckled face. "We actually have the place to ourselves tonight, her-man-o. Jay and Joan went to one of their friends' for an early New Year's party. Since the place is over two hours away, they're just gonna stay the night."

"Oh, wow." The words had fallen out of Jaime's mouth before he even had the time to process what was happening. It sounded condescending and flat, and it made Bart's smile falter. Quickly, Jaime stumbled over his words. "Uh, more pizza for us then! And we can make as much noise as we want!?"

"True." Bart nodded after a moment, pulling a flyer off the fridge. "And we have free rein on the house. We could even watch movies on the big screen down here if we want!"

Jaime swallowed hard at the thought of just him and Bart sitting on the couch, slowly inching closer together, so close that he could snake his arm around Bart, pulling him in and feeling his warmth and- Jaime shook off the thought, feeling his chest swell. "We'll figure out what we're gonna do after pizza gets here. But I'm gonna- uh- go put my bag in your room."

"'Kay, sounds crash. I'll order the pizzas right now," Bart said, the buttons on the landline beeping as he dialled the number to the pizza place.

Jaime wandered away to the stairs as Bart started to talk, his voice slowly being drowned out by all the adrenaline rushing to Jaime's ears.

Being alone made things... different.

It almost made everything easier for Jaime. There would be no one to catch the way Jaime's eyes lingered on Bart a little longer than necessary. No prying eyes would notice his excuses to get closer to Bart or even hold his hand. Joan wouldn't give him knowing looks, and Jay wouldn't make comments about how they constantly bickered like a married couple. The air felt lighter knowing he wouldn't have to put on a front for the entire household, only Bart. And he could put up a good front, so good he didn't even realize he liked Bart in the first place.

Being alone also gave him an opening, the opportunity to be honest and vulnerable with Bart.

But Jaime didn't plan to make a move tonight. He hadn't even planned what exactly his move would be; he just knew it had to be flawless with absolutely zero room for failure. Acting on impulse, however, almost guaranteed that things would end badly.

Jaime made his way to the top of the stairs, rounding the railing. He headed down to the opposite side of the hallway and stopped in front of the door, grabbing the cool knob. He let himself into the room, pushing the door quietly shut behind him.

Jaime let out a sigh, one he had been holding in his entire hike up the long stairs.

Bart's room looked surprisingly neater than usual. His bed was actually made, for once, and his desk was organized, with his sketchbooks neatly stacked on one side and his laptop on the other. His bookshelf looked like it had been rearranged, and there wasn't a single book out of place. Their giant Garfield plushie sat proudly on Bart's beanbag chair, side-eyeing Jaime as he stepped further into the room.

Bart had obviously done his best to clean up his room before Jaime got to his house, and there was still a hint of lemon in the air from whatever cleaning spray he used.

Jaime eyed the floor and almost gasped. Had he... vacuumed? Bart's rug was spotless; not a single footprint was left on its fluffy surface. It was almost unnerving.

It wasn't that Bart's room was usually a mess; it was just that it wasn't normally the cleanest either. There was almost always some stray pile of folded clothes sitting on his desk chair and maybe an already open bag of Chicken Whizees (or some other remnant of food) lying on his bedside table. But there was no way Bart had cleaned his room just for Jaime. Right?

No, that would be out of character for Bart. He never let the messiness get to him. He was probably just getting a head start on his New Year's resolutions.

Jaime placed his backpack down on the bed and took off his headphones, leaving them next to his bag. He had to resist the temptation to flop face-first onto Bart's invitingly soft-looking bed. His eyes fluttered to the mirror, and he frowned.

What was he supposed to do now? He was practically given the perfect opportunity to make his move on a silver platter, and yet, he could already feel his nerves fighting against even the thought of confessing to Bart.

Jaime moved to the mirror, fixing his windswept hair. His lips folded into a thin line as his thoughts spiralled, doubt taking hold.

"Host," Khaji spoke, his voice unnervingly soft, "perhaps you should trust your instincts."

Jaime shook his head gently. "But you know how I am."

"You are what the humans call an 'overthinker.' Jaime Reyes, you have been debating how to handle your feelings for weeks. Are you not tired of constantly dreaming of acting out your desires?"

Jaime closed his eyes, squeezing them shut until all he could focus on was the tightness from his face scrunching together. "You're right, I am. But I just can't- I'm- I'll say the wrong things, and I'll only make things worse for myself."

"How do you know this if you have yet to try?" Khaji asked.

"I don't, I guess." Jaime folded his arms over his chest, his eyes reopening and landing on the door behind him. "I should go back downstairs. Bart's probably wondering what's taking me so long."

"What will you do now, then? What is your plan of action?" Khaji insisted, a hint of bias peaking through.

Jaime took a deep breath, doing his best to calm his nerves. He steeled himself, standing up straighter as he rolled his shoulders back, his eyes eventually landing on his reflection.

"Whatever happens, happens."

🎵🎵🎵

The pizza came surprisingly fast.

Bart ordered three extra-large pizzas for himself (two of which he swore were for leftovers), and Jaime got one medium pizza to enjoy. Or at least, enjoy in theory.

Jaime's stomach was in knots, and the nerves were clawing away at his insides. He was trying his best to act normal, but it felt like he had forgotten how to eat properly, or how to sit like human beings do, or just relax in general. Had he even been breathing?

Jaime took a deep breath, ripping off the crust from his pizza, and carefully sighed, doing his best to be quiet. At least he still knew how to do that.

"How's the pizza?" Bart asked, grabbing another slice from his box.

Jaime looked up and smiled, watching Bart excitedly shovel the pizza onto his plate. He picked up his glass, asking, "It's good. How's yours?"

"Totally crash," Bart said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. He then cleaned his hands, laying the napkin back down beside his plate. Bart stared down at his pizza for a moment before glancing back up at Jaime. "Is everything okay, Blue?"

Jaime almost choked on his water. "What?" he coughed.

"You mangled your pizza."

"I didn't-" Jaime's words got lost in his throat as he looked back down at his plate, covered in shreds of his pizza. He carefully put his glass down, his eyes glued to Bart's hands. "Okay, maybe I did."

"You've been doing it the whole time," Bart added, fiddling with his hands.

Jaime sat up straighter, his ears burning. How long was Bart watching him? "I didn't even realize I was doing it," Jaime tried to laugh. He grabbed a chunk of bacon and ate it, doing his best to act unaffected. "It makes it easier to eat, though."

"Jaime."

Jaime's eyes met Bart's, which were already staring back at him, his green eyes knowing. They had a hold on him; they were like enchanted crystals a fortune teller would use, treasured for their purity and their charming prowess. And maybe they were magic because somehow, Bart's eyes always knew. And somehow, they were so easy to get lost in, and staring into his eyes turned Jaime into a love-sick sailor lost in a mossy lagoon, being drawn in by a siren. He wondered if Bart thought the same about his boring brown eyes.

Jaime blinked, pulling himself back to the present and smiled. "I'm okay."

Bart's brows pinched together. "You sure?"

Jaime nodded. "I'm just thinking."

"Should I be scared?" Bart joked. "That doesn't happen very often."

"Oh, you're so funny." Jaime rolled his eyes, crumpling up his napkin and throwing it at Bart. "I can't believe I'm getting dinner and a show."

Bart took another bite of his pizza, desperately trying not to laugh. His cheeks darkened as he swallowed his food. "We both know I'm the funniest person you know."

"I think you're giving yourself too much credit," Jaime laughed, easing into his seat for the first time all night.

"Well, I make you laugh, don't I?" Bart smiled back at Jaime, and his sincerity caught Jaime off guard. "I love making you laugh."

Jaime fought a smile, a rush of heat climbing up his neck.

"What?" Bart whined, staring back at Jaime. "You have a nice laugh!"

Jaime sucked in a breath, standing up. The butterflies had found a new home in Jaime's stomach and had eaten what little hunger he had to begin with, replacing it with yearning. "You like my laugh?" he asked, hesitantly indulging himself in delusion.

Bart paused, almost shrinking into his chair, his face growing red. He turned away, his eyes landing on his box of pizza. "I do. Is that... weird?"

Jaime grabbed his plate, practically gripping it for dear life. "I don't think so," Jaime said, low and gentle, "I mean, your laugh is nice too."

"Really?"

"Yes," Jaime admitted. "Even when you start to snort after laughing really hard. And then your face gets really red and-"

Bart looked up at him, wearing an unreadable expression.

"I'm gonna wash my plate now." Jaime blinked, realizing how lovesick he sounded. He smiled, his cheeks warming, before he sidestepped over to the sink with his plate. His hands were shaking as he slid the graveyard of shredded pizza into the compost. "I'm not as hungry as I thought," Jaime said flatly.

"Is this about your friend?"

"What?" Jaime looked over his shoulder, almost dropping his plate once Bart appeared an inch away from him.

"The friend you like." Bart took a step back, holding his empty plate. He raised his free hand in defence, a guilty smile on his face. "You were stressed out the last time I saw you, and I just thought maybe something happened."

Jaime sighed, running the water. He tilted his plate, watching the tiny crumbs fly off the porcelain and hit the bottom of the sink, hopelessly being dragged down the drain. "Nothing happened," he mumbled.

"So that's what it is then," Bart said, walking to the right of Jaime and placing his plate on the counter. He leaned against the cabinets, crossing his arms as he tried to study Jaime's face.

Jaime grabbed Bart's plate, rinsing it off before pouring dish soap on both plates. He grabbed the sponge and began to scrub extra thoroughly, keeping his head down. Bart could read him like a book, and every small mannerism would give him away in a heartbeat. "I guess."

Jaime could see Bart nodding out of the corner of his eye. He waited for Jaime to continue.

"I don't know." Jaime frowned, washing the bubbles off the plates. "I just- I'd rather not think about it."

"Well, you might wanna act sooner rather than later," Bart suggested, walking away from the counter. "You never know who might come in and try to swoop your friend off their feet. Somebody might even come and try to sweep you off your feet."

Jaime turned the water off and whirled around, his hands covered in bubbles. "Oh yeah? Like who?"

Bart shrugged, twirling away from Jaime. "Just a hypothetical, her-man-o," he sang.

Jaime's brows furrowed, and his stomach sank. There was no way he was being for real.

But people on the team did tell Bart things, weirdly enough. He was like a human treasure trove of secrets, filled to the brim with people's most personal truths. The team trusted Bart, and he was extremely personable and nonjudgmental. Even though he loved to talk, he was also really good at listening, and he somehow always seemed to understand. No matter the problem or the person, Bart would listen. He was the personification of a safe space. He made Jaime feel warm even on the coldest nights.

"What do you know, speedster?"

Bart kept his back to Jaime, laughing as he walked toward the stairs. "You're gonna have to catch me to find out."

"Oh, unfair, ése," Jaime scoffed, wiping his wet hands on a cloth.

"Are you giving up already?" Bart cooed, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He shot Jaime a smirk over his shoulder. "Is it because you know you'll lose?"

"I don't lose."

Bart scoffed, his hand grabbing the railing, tracing its grooves. With a shit-eating grin, he challenged: "Prove it then."

Jaime let out a battle cry as he jumped over the island in one bound. He sprinted toward the stairs, an arm outstretched for Bart.

Bart smiled, screaming out a laugh before he raced up each flight of stairs.

Jaime took the stairs two at a time, rounding each corner as quickly as possible. He reached the last flight, grabbing the railing as he dashed up each step. By the time he reached the last step, Bart was nowhere to be seen.

Jaime huffed out a breath, taking a step onto the third floor. He eyed each door in the hallway, his heart hammering in his ears. His eyes landed on Bart's door, and he noticed it was cracked open. Slowly, he tiptoed down the hall, his footsteps cushioned by the carpet, as he inched his way toward Bart's room. He held his breath, his hand reaching for the knob. He grabbed it, flinging the door open and jumping inside, flicking on the lights, ready for-

...Nothing.

The room was empty.

Jaime walked further in, his eyes scanning the perfectly cleaned room, covered head to toe in Bart's personality, until his eyes stopped.

There was a big blue box sitting on Bart's bed with a giant bow taped to the top of it.

Jaime moved forward, slowly, grabbing the tag and flipping it over. There, written in Bart's messy handwriting, was Jaime's name. He placed both hands on the box, about to pick it up when-

"TA-DA!"

"AHHH!" Jaime shrieked, flinching back to see Bart standing in the doorway. "¡¡Ay Dios mío!!"

"BLUE, I'M SORRY!" Bart rushed into the room, his brows pinched. "I didn't think it was even possible to sneak up on you?!"

"It usually isn't!" Jaime panted, holding a hand to his chest, his heart beating like a snare drum. He exhaled, eyeing Bart wearily. "Khaji normally warns me when somebody's trying to scare me."

"Host, you told me to keep my comments to a minimum for tonight," Khaji stated matter-of-factly. "I was following orders."

Jaime bit back a sneer as he stood up straight, regaining his composure. "Well, congrats on the once-in-a-lifetime chance of scaring me."

"Now that's crash," Bart tried to cover his laugh. "I wish I got it on video, though."

"No one will believe you," Jaime declared proudly. "Many have tried to scare me, and all have failed."

"All but me," Bart beamed.

"No need to brag."

"Speaking of bragging..." Bart flung his arms around Jaime, wrapping him tightly. "I guess I caught you instead. So no secrets for you."

Jaime's breath hitched as Bart's hands lingered, his fingers hot against Jaime's back. His chest swelled, and suddenly he was holding his breath, not wanting the moment to end.

"Really? You're not gonna argue with me?" Bart asked, trying to catch Jaime's eye.

"Hm?" Jaime hummed, getting another whiff of vanilla and maybe... cinnamon? It was an undertone of spice, subtle, but the closer the two got, the more prominent it was. His hands almost instinctively pulled Bart closer. "I mean-"

"I just proved you wrong, and you hate losing," Bart stated, his fingers dancing along Jaime's spine as if he were waiting to be freed from his clutches. "Like, really hate losing. It always makes you feel the mode."

Jaime stepped backward, jolting back to reality as embarrassment activated his fight-or-flight. "Well, uh-"

"The gift," Khaji Da hissed.

"Well, I... can't argue with someone who got me a gift!" Jaime exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm, picking up the box. "¡Gracias!"

Khaji sighed. "You are welcome, host."

"You're welcome." Bart shrugged, flashing him a toothy grin. "That's why I yelled 'ta-da'. It's your Christmas gift!"

Jaime placed the box back on Bart's bed, unzipping his own backpack. He reached inside, grabbed his gift bag and placed it next to the other gift. Quickly, he re-flared the tissue paper's edges, turning back to face Bart with a timid smile on his face. "And here's your Christmas gift!"

"Oh, thank you!" Bart grabbed the gift, grinning. "So this is what was weighing down your bag."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "I didn't want to ruin the surprise."

"You only made me more suspicious," Bart snorted. "How do you even go on stealth missions being that obvious?"

"You're one to talk, mister 'I act on impulse'," Jaime replied. "That doesn't really mix well with stealth missions, either."

"Well, it looks like we're a match made in Hell for recon, then. Now," Bart continued, gesturing wildly to Jaime's gift, "open your gift, please. The anticipation is killing me."

"Okay, okay." Jaime put his backpack on the floor and took a seat on the bed. He placed the gift in his lap and patted an empty spot on the bed for Bart to sit.

Bart took a seat, eyeing Jaime's gift with a huge smile on his face. "I hope you like it," he said, tapping his hands against his thighs. "One of your gifts was really hard to find."

"I'm sure I'll love it." Jaime stole one last look at Bart before turning back to the gift. Carefully, he pulled the bow off the box and stuck it to Bart's leg.

"Hey, I'm not your gift," Bart laughed.

"I wish."

"What?"

Jaime blinked, his head shooting up, realizing he said that much louder than he planned to. "I miss! I- I meant, I missed. I meant to put it on the bed." Jaime bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the heat creeping up his neck wouldn't reach his cheeks. "Bad aim."

Bart unstuck the bow from his leg and carefully placed it on top of Jaime's head. "Well, it's yours to keep, sharpshooter. Now, c'mon, open your gift before I die from excitement."

"Wow, this must be really good then," Jaime tried to laugh off his embarrassment, quickly pulling off the lid to the blue box. Inside were three gifts: two were small, and one was huge, big enough to take up almost all of the free space in the large box. Everything was wrapped, the small ones with a teal paper and the big one with polka-dotted wrapping paper.

"Open the big one last," Bart added, his tone brimming with eagerness.

Jaime obliged, picking up one of the smaller gifts. It was rectangular and wrapped with lots of tape. It was obvious Bart had tried his best. Carefully, Jaime peeled off the wrapping paper, catching a peek of the PlayStation logo in the corner. "Is this what I think it is?"

Bart squealed as Jaime fully freed the video game from the wrapping paper.

"Split Fiction!" Jaime exclaimed, holding the game up closer to inspect the cover. "This game looks sick, it has such good reviews and-"

"-It's two-player!!" Bart cheered, finishing Jaime's sentence. "We can play it together!!"

"That's gonna be utter chaos, I can't wait to play," Jaime gushed, looking over the back of the case. "This is perfecto. ¡Gracias, Bart!"

"Just wait 'til you see what else is in there," Bart said.

Jaime side-eyed Bart curiously before placing the game back into the box. Next, he picked up a cylindrical item, the wrapping job being even worse than the video game's.

"That was so hard to wrap," Bart winced. "Not crash."

Jaime chuckled, ripping off the paper. Instantly, Jaime was hit with the scent of caramel. He pulled the object free, realizing it was a candle.

"I wasn't sure what kind of smells you liked, but I remembered your room always smells sweet, like something just got baked," Bart explained, watching Jaime inspect the candle's description. "So I thought bourbon and spice would be nice. I liked it, at least. I've never had bourbon, but that stuff smells like caramel to me."

Jaime pulled off the lid, sniffing the three-wick candle. "This smells so good."

Bart was right. At first, the candle smelled very strongly of caramel, but the longer he smelled the candle, the more the other notes became prominent. The spice suddenly hit him, and it was warm like cinnamon, filling his lungs with comfort. Then came the vanilla. It was soft and quiet, tiptoeing into the air, trailing behind the cinnamon aroma. All together, the candle was like a vanilla sundae topped with caramel drizzle and crumpled cinnamon rolls. The smell reminded him of the latte his mom always ordered from their local coffee shop. It felt homey, and it felt personal, like Bart really knew him.

"This is a candle I would've picked for myself," Jaime noted, taking one last smell of the candle before closing the gold lid. He turned to Bart, smiling. "Great choice, hermano!"

Bart beamed. "Oh, you're gonna make me blush."

Jaime rolled his eyes, trying to act exasperated, but fondness slipped through the gesture. He placed the candle back into the box, carefully picking up the last gift, the biggest one of the bunch. It was a large, flat square, about the length of his forearm, completely covered in polka-dot wrapping paper. Jaime gave Bart a glance, noticing he was leaning in closer, practically on the edge of his seat.

Jaime peeled off the wrapping paper, tearing off a corner to reveal a sandy coloured piece of the gift. He pulled off more of the paper, gingerly, having to pause once he realized what he was looking at.

"There's no way-"

Bart jumped up off the bed, twirling in front of Jaime with his arms outstretched. "TA-DA!" he cheered.

Jaime looked back down so fast he launched the bow off his head, and it tumbled off of his gift- the limited edition IGOR vinyl, the same one he'd been trying to find for years. He ripped the vinyl free, staring at it in utter shock. "How?" Jaime sputtered, looking back up at Bart.

Bart smirked. "Well, apparently that vinyl was super limited edition, because it was a major pain to find. It was sold out literally everywhere in North America, but I found some guy in Sydney who was selling it for a great price, and it was unopened!"

"Sydney? Like, in Australia?" Jaime gawked.

Bart nodded, his hands landing on his hips. "I didn't want to pay the crazy shipping fee, so I just met up with him in Australia. Really great guy, you'd like him."

"You ran there?"

"'Course," Bart said nonchalantly, "it's kinda my whole thing."

Jaime heaved in a breath, trying to keep calm. Not only did Bart find the best and only gift he ever really wanted, but he also went all the way to Australia on foot to get it. How could he not melt at how thoughtful Bart was? Maybe Milagro was right, Bart was the best at getting gifts.

"Are you gonna open it?" Bart asked, grabbing the leftover wrapping paper and crumpling it into a ball. "I wanna see the colour of the vinyl in person."

Jaime looked up, still trying to power through the shock and the sudden urge to hug Bart as tightly as humanly possible. He smiled, pushing away the thoughts of showering him with all of his love. "I guess I should. I just- I can't believe this is actually happening."

"Do you need me to pinch you?" Bart laughed, tossing the ball of paper into his garbage.

"Maybe," Jaime marvelled, inspecting the album.

The cover of the album was a drawing of Tyler, The Creator, messily sketched with what looked like charcoal. He was drawn with his head cartoonishly big, wearing huge black sunglasses. Half of his head was hatched with yellow, and the other was filled with brown. He had a mint green suit on, and next to him was the album name: IGOR, smudged in charcoal, along with some other doodles.

"Here," Bart said, handing Jaime a pair of scissors.

"Gracias." Jaime took the scissors, carefully slicing the protective plastic along the edge of the album. He peeled off the plastic, his hands feeling the sturdy cover, matte to the touch. He opened up the album, moving it as if it were made of glass. On the left-hand side were all of the song names with their lyrics, and on the right was a picture of Tyler wearing a pink suit, sunglasses and a blond bob. There was also a poster, one side featuring the album cover, and the other side was the same picture of Tyler.

Jaime took a deep breath, his excitement building as he pulled out the vinyl, safely tucked away in a white protective sleeve. Slowly, he freed the vinyl, unveiling the mint green record.

The inner circle of the vinyl was salmon pink, which went surprisingly well with the mint green surrounding it. The pictures he'd seen of the vinyl hadn't done it justice; the green was far more vibrant and beautiful in person. It reminded Jaime of spring; it was refreshing and would be the perfect pop of colour among his vinyl collection. He couldn't help but smile, his eyes running over every little ridge of the record.

"Wow," Bart gasped, taking a closer look. "That's a nice, slimy green. It's so pretty."

Jaime scoffed. "You think this looks like a slime green?"

"Kinda." Bart sat down on the bed next to Jaime. "Just like my eyes."

Jaime looked at the vinyl and then at Bart's eyes. Delicately, he held the vinyl up beside Bart's head, his eyes going wide as he compared the two. "It's almost the exact same colour as your eyes! Wow. That's- that's actually wild, ése."

"Maybe that's why you wanted it so much," Bart teased, fluttering his lashes. "It reminded you of me."

Heat raced to Jaime's cheeks as he almost dropped the record, quickly pulling it away from Bart. He looked down at the vinyl, thumbing the edge of it. "Well, now I can't unsee it."

"So do-"

"But," Jaime started, keeping his eyes locked on his lap, "your eyes aren't slime green."

"They're not?" Bart asked, doubt oozing from his voice.

Jaime shook his head, reluctantly looking at Bart. "If anything, it's closer to matcha green. But that doesn't do you justice either. I'd say it's like the colour of grass in a meadow on a really sunny day. Or maybe the colour of a freshly sprouted flower, but like right before it blooms. Either way, it's... It's earthy, not slimy."

"Oh," Bart replied, his voice soft and low. He smiled, tucking some stray curls behind his ear before meeting Jaime's eyes. His face slowly grew redder, his freckles standing out like stars in the night sky. "I never thought of my eyes like that. That was really nice. Thank you, Jaime."

"I'm just being honest." Jaime shrugged, doing his best to fight the embarrassment rising in his throat. "Not that I'm like- y'know, staring at them all the time or anything, I just- they're nice."

"Your eyes are nice too, Blue. They may be dark, but that just means you have to get up real close to appreciate them," Bart tried, pausing to find the right words. "If my eyes are earthy, then so are yours. I'll be the grassy meadow, and you can be the forest of trees. We're nature's best friends."

"I guess that's true," Jaime sucked in a breath, his heart shooting into his throat. He carefully tucked the vinyl back into the album's sleeve, then shut it before placing it back into the box. Slowly, he turned, smiling at Bart. The heat was already burning his ears. "This was amazing, Bart. Everything was perfecto, especially the vinyl. I really appreciate y- it. Everything. Gracias, you're the best."

Bart beamed, his huge smile reaching his eyes. He gave Jaime a quick hug. "You know I had to go all out for you, her-man-o."

"You always do," Jaime said softly, reluctantly pulling away from the hug. "Now, it's your turn."

"Oh, yay!" Bart cheered, grabbing the gold gift bag. "I'm excited!"

"Mine definitely isn't as good as yours, but I did my best," Jaime mumbled, watching Bart dig both hands into the bag.

"You give the best gifts, Blue," Bart replied, quickly catching Jaime's gaze. "I know I'll love it. I always do."

Jaime swallowed hard. Bart's reassurance only seemed to make the butterflies in his stomach even harder to ignore. "Open the big one at the end."

"Oh, I see," Bart said, pulling out one of the smaller presents. "We did the same thing with our gifts. I guess we really do share a brain cell."

Jaime laughed. "Just because Cassie says it, doesn't mean it's true."

Bart raised a brow. "I think we both know it is true."

"It is physically impossible to share one brain cell," Khaji stated. "However, many alien races such as-"

"It's an expression, Khaji," Jaime scoffed. "Open your gift, Bart, before you confuse my poor scarab even more."

"Okay, okay, but I'm just gonna assume you agree with me," Bart snickered to himself. He held up a rectangular gift, wrapped perfectly in snowflake wrapping paper. Wasting no time, Bart ripped into the paper, wildly tearing the gift free. "Copic markers?!" he exclaimed, holding up the case of six alcohol markers, in multiple tones of red, blue and yellow.

Jaime nodded. "I hope you like the set. The lady at the store said primary colours were the best for beginner artists. Plus, I think that one shade of blue is really nice."

"That blue is nice, but so is the red," Bart said, opening up the plastic case of markers. "And the pink, oh and the yellow- all of them are such pretty colours. I've been wanting Copics for so long. I'm so excited to use them! They're CRASH!!"

"I'm glad you like them!"

"They're perfect, thank you!" Bart said, putting them aside. He shoved his hand back into the bag, pulling out another rectangular gift.

Jaime watched as Bart eagerly shredded the wrapping paper, uncovering the cover of a book.

Bart's face instantly lit up, his eyes falling back on Jaime. "This Savage Song! How did you know??"

"I saw you marked it as 'want to read' on your Goodreads," Jaime replied, eyeing the floor. "I've never read any of her stuff, but Barbara told me it was a great book and that V.E. Schwab was an amazing author. Plus, it's about superheroes and villains, and I figured you could see how realistic it is to our lives."

Bart's smile slowly grew. "You talked to Barbara about books? About books I'd like?"

"Well," Jaime sputtered, scratching the back of his neck, "You... have so many books already, and you have like too many in your to-read folder. I needed an expert to help me narrow it down, and Barbara was perfect for the job. She was so helpful."

Of course, Jaime didn't tell Barbara all the specifics on why getting Bart an amazing gift was so important to him, but he did try his best to convey a sense of urgency to her. They went through a lot of books. Like, at least fifty. Barbara was surprisingly patient with Jaime's pickiness. Maybe part of her knew how he really felt about Bart.

Jaime shook off the thought, looking back at the gold gift bag, the last of Bart's gifts still tucked away.

"Thank you! I can't wait to read it," Bart said, flipping through the paperback.

"I was gonna get you a bookmark too, but I know how much you love dog-earing your pages," Jaime added. "Couldn't be me."

Bart stuck his tongue out at Jaime. "I love marking up my books. Makes them feel more lived in."

"No judgment," Jaime said, raising his hands in defence. "I just could not imagine highlighting lines from my books, or writing in the margins."

"That's 'cuz you only read comics and graphic novels," Bart protested. "I don't mark up my comics 'cuz I'm not evil."

"Good," Jaime clicked his tongue. He gestured to the gift bag, the nerves eating away at him. "There's one left."

"Best for last?" Bart raised a brow, switching out the book in his hands for the gift bag. He dug his hand into the bag, then called his other hand for backup to help pick up the gift. The tissue paper fell out of the bag as he pulled his arms out, freeing the last of his gifts.

Jaime couldn't help but smile.

"No way!" Bart gasped, looking at the box between his hands. "You got me earbuds??!"

"Good quality ones, too," Jaime smirked as Bart did his best to rip off the tape from the box. "It's a big upgrade from your old wired ones."

"I like my crappy earbuds, I'll have you know," Bart objected, finally cutting through the last piece of tape using his nails. "If I plug them in just the right way, I can get sound in both ears, which is pretty crash."

Jaime narrowed his eyes at Bart. "Well, you won't have that issue with these; there are no wires required. It's Bluetooth!"

"Now that's even more crash," Bart said as he pulled off the lid of the black box. Inside was a round red case, only slightly larger than a bar of soap. He picked it up, setting the box down before opening the case, which revealed the pair of red earbuds. "Woah, these are fancy looking."

Jaime laughed. "That little wing thing at the top is adjustable. It's supposed to fit perfectly on the inside of your ear so they won't fall off. I did a lot of research, and these are apparently the best earbuds for runners."

Bart glanced back up at Jaime, a small smile spreading across his face. "So I can wear these while working out and stuff?"

"Exactly, hermano."

"And they won't mess up my beautiful hair," Bart noted, picking up one of the earbuds. "No offence."

Jaime frowned, his eyes darting back to the mirror. Was his hair messed up still? He could've sworn-

A hand landed on his, and Jaime whipped his head back toward Bart, almost crashing into his face. Had they always been sitting this close?

"Can you do it for me?"

"Do what?" Jaime scanned Bart's face, which was now an inch away from his. Jaime's greedy eyes jumped from each of Bart's features, his doe-like eyes, the constellation of freckles covering his button nose, all before lingering on his pink lips for just a second too long.

Bart must've noticed because his lips narrowed into a firm line, pulling his hand away from Jaime's to gesture to his ear. "The earbuds? Can- can you, like, adjust them for me?"

Jaime looked back up, noticing Bart's cheeks were growing redder by the second. "Oh- yeah, ye- of course!" he stuttered, clearing his throat as casually as possible. "Here, let me see them."

Bart averted his eyes, handing over the earbuds. He turned his head back to face the wall.

Carefully, Jaime brushed Bart's curls away from his ear, tucking an auburn strand out of the way.

Bart shuddered slightly at the gesture, but neither of them mentioned it.

Jaime picked up the left earbud in his right hand, and he gently tucked it into Bart's ear, twisting it back until the tip of it was down the ear canal. Then, he grabbed onto the adjustable wing, bending it until it fit perfectly tucked against the top of Bart's ear. "How's that?"

Bart, without warning, started thrashing his head around wildly. His curls bounced, and it was almost mesmerizing to watch the sea of auburn spirals ricochet in chaos.

Jaime leaned back, his brows automatically furrowing. "¡¿Ay Dios mío?!"

Bart stopped, his hair landing somehow unaffected, as if violently headbanging was part of his curl routine. He looked back at Jaime, presumably blinking the dizziness away, as he flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. "It stayed in!"

"I was hoping it would, but you could've given me a heads-up before going all Blair Witch on me," Jaime teased. "You looked possessed, ése."

"Well, how else was I supposed to test if the earbud was in right?" Bart asked so matter-of-factly that it made Jaime's heart shoot into his throat. "It's very comfy though."

"I'm glad," Jaime sighed, standing up and moving to Bart's right. "Now let me put the other one in, but no more headbanging. You can do that on your own time."

Bart's laugh filled the room, and a lightness filled Jaime's lungs. "But who's gonna tell me if I have good form or not?!"

"I am not teaching you how to headbang, if that's what you're asking," Jaime snickered, leaning down by Bart's ear. He got another whiff of vanilla, the undertone of spice making an appearance. Without thinking, he whispered in Bart's ear, his tone soft like velvet, "You are a quick learner, though."

Bart shivered, and Jaime could see the hairs on the back of his neck prickle up. Redness flushed Bart's ears almost instantly, spreading to the rest of his face. He dipped his head, his hair sliding over his ears and a bit of his face, covering up whatever expression he was wearing. "Tha- thanks."

Jaime almost felt powerful in that moment. It didn't take much to make Bart turn red, but when he did, it was hard to miss.

Jaime crouched down lower, closer to Bart, slowly moving the curls from Bart's ear for the second time. Delicately, he tucked the strand away, his hand hovering for a moment. A sudden surge of confidence came over Jaime, and his hand drifted down to the back of Bart's neck, brushing the exposed skin before settling at the base of his neck.

Bart sat up straighter, and his breath hitched. His head stayed still, and he was deathly quiet, which was a first for Bart.

Jaime didn't know if that was a good sign, but whatever he was doing had some effect on Bart, and that made his stomach do flips. "Is this okay?" Jaime asked, his voice almost hoarse.

"Yes," Bart said so quietly that Jaime almost didn't hear him. "You're good."

Jaime internally screamed. He'd never heard Bart's voice sound like that. Low and breathy, his words were wavering and slow, calculated.

Jaime took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he slid the other earbud into Bart's ear, adjusting it to hug the wall of his ear. Jaime glanced down at the bed, noticing Bart's hand grabbing at the blanket, clutching onto it.

And then Jaime backed away, pulling both hands off of Bart and stepping back, regret now entering his bloodstream. "How's that?" his voice cracked.

Bart paused for a second, slowly letting go of the blanket. He then shot up, his back turned to Jaime. "That's- It's crash. I'm just- I just remembered I- I'll be right back."

Jaime sidestepped around Bart, trying to see his face. "What?"

"Back in a flash," Bart stammered, turning himself toward the door.

Jaime reached for Bart's arm, but by the time his hand touched him, Bart was gone, zipping out of the room in one streak of colour, leaving Jaime to bask in his own stupidity.

Jaime folded his fingers into his palm, grabbing at the vanilla-scented air that Bart had left in his wake. He groaned, his shoulders sinking. "I'm such an idiot."

"Do not talk down on yourself, host."

"But I am," Jaime mumbled, sitting on the bed. "I just made things so awkward. He just- he literally ran away from me."

"There is most likely a logical reason for the Bart Allen's swift exit," Khaji Da suggested in his sensible voice. "You are so quick to doubt."

Jaime flopped back against the bed, his shoulder landing on top of Bart's crumpled wrapping paper. He sighed, trying to exhale the embarrassment that swirled in his stomach. "Have you met me? That's kind of my favourite thing to do."

"The Bart Allen's heart rate was elevated while you were assisting him with the music device," Khaji stated. "He was also holding his breath."

"He was?" Jaime asked, all too hopeful. "Is that good or bad? Does that mean- did I make him nervous?"

"Make who nervous?"

Jaime almost jumped out of his skin, his head shooting up to see Bart standing in the doorway.

"Did I scare you again?!" Bart marvelled, a hint of smugness in his tone.

Jaime sat up, holding his chest. "No, no, no, you didn't-"

"Ohhh, I so DID!" Bart laughed, doing a little happy dance that Jaime couldn't help but smile at. Suddenly, he felt a bit better. "I'm on a roll!"

"Well, you just walk so quietly with your dainty little speedster feet, maybe you should try stomping from now on," Jaime snapped, but there was no heat behind his tone.

Bart's brows pinched together, and his eyes widened. "You think I have 'dainty little speedster feet'?"

A rush of heat spread to Jaime's cheeks. "Woah- no, I just- oh, whatever. Where did you go?"

Bart walked into the room and over to his bag of gifts. "I just had to check on something," he chirped. "No biggie."

"Oh, okay," Jaime said.

Bart was acting... normal. It was almost as if on his way to, well, wherever he went, he bumped his head and somehow got amnesia that specifically made him forget the last five minutes. It was like none of the strangeness had just happened, as if Jaime wasn't just whispering in his ear and making his heart race. As if his hand wasn't resting on the back of his neck, his face so close that Jaime could've just-

Jaime shook himself free of his impulsive thoughts, watching Bart take out his earbuds.

Bart smiled at him, and Jaime's chest swelled. "Thank you again for everything."

"I'm glad you loved your gifts," Jaime replied, sliding Bart's book into his gift bag. "And thank you again for everything you got me. You're the sweetest."

Bart paused, giving Jaime that same new expression from the last time Bart was over at his house. The one that Jaime loved seeing because it made him feel special, as if it were the newest and rarest wonder of the world. He still didn't know what to call it. He almost looked bashful?

"What's with the face?" Bart asked, plopping the headphones back into their case.

Jaime instantly shifted his expression, realizing that not only had he been staring, but he'd also been ogling Bart with probably the giddiest-looking smile imaginable. "I'm just happy to be here," Jaime said, but what he really meant was: I'm just happy to be here with you.

Bart flashed him a toothy grin before grabbing Jaime's hands and pulling him up straight. Quickly, he hugged him, leaning his head against Jaime's chest. "I'm happy you're here too," he practically whispered.

Jaime inhaled sharply. Slowly, he placed a hesitant hand on Bart's back, hugging him lightly in return. Bart was far too sweet for his own good. And for Jaime's good, too, apparently, considering how Jaime's body froze under his touch.

"So," Jaime said, pulling away faster than he would've liked, "What do you wanna do now?"

Bart peered up at Jaime, his expression shifting into something far more mischievous. "Well, it's funny you ask that, Blue, because there's something waiting for us downstairs."

Jaime quirked a brow. "I'm not a fan of surprises."

"I know, I know," Bart sang, his smile growing bigger by the second as they reached his excited eyes. "But this is a great surprise. I know you'll love it."

Jaime crossed his arms, his curiosity piqued. "Can I have a hint at least?"

"No," Bart stuck his tongue out, moving toward the door, "just leave your stuff up here."

"My phone too?"

Bart nodded. "Everything. Now," Bart replied, stretching out a hand for Jaime. "Do you trust me?"

Jaime sighed, grabbing onto Bart's hand. "Is that even a question?"

"Crash. Let's go, then." Bart smiled, his eyes locking onto Jaime's before twirling around, pulling Jaime toward the door.

Jaime gave Garfield the giant cat plushie one last look, as if the stuffed animal could do anything to help him. He found solidarity in Garfield's half-lidded smirk, and if he could move, he'd imagine the giant cat would flash him a thumbs-up with a wink, supporting him fully.

"C'mon," Bart urged, snapping Jaime's attention back onto him.

Jaime turned the light off as they passed through the doorway, and he happily let Bart drag him down the hallway, treasuring the feeling of their hands interwoven. He trained his eyes on the back of Bart's head, admiring how his hair bounced with every confident step he took.

"Should I be scared?" Jaime asked as they reached the stairs.

Bart laughed but didn't answer his question, bringing him down the first flight of stairs.

Jaime had no idea what they were walking into. Knowing Bart, it was something big and elaborate, because he loved any sort of spectacle. He loved fireworks, county fairs, and roller coasters. The louder, the better. Bart's favourite things made your stomach drop and your heart race, all of those moments that made you remember how beautiful life could be. He loved things that made him feel alive, and he loved making other people experience the excitement of existence. And that was something Jaime lov- liked about him.

Bart always thought big, and he constantly showed his love for others through gifts and unexpected surprises. He was thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness always made Jaime's knees weak.

Jaime's heart beat faster the closer they got to the main level of the house. Even through the anticipation, his mind was still somehow focused on Bart's warmth seeping into his palms, the sense of home he felt every time their arms brushed against each other.

...Jaime Reyes had it bad for Bart Allen.

Bart's hand tightened on his as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and Jaime's heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, they rounded the corner, walking down the last set of wooden stairs, the creaks echoing throughout the main level, which was now pitch black.

Jaime's chest tightened as his foot hit the floor, and Bart pulled his hand free from Jaime's.

"Gimme a second," Bart said, walking further into the darkness.

Jaime squinted into the pitch black that was now the living room, looking around for something. Or someone. He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to be looking for. He turned to where Bart had wandered off, but was met with more darkness. Bart had faded into the shadows as if he were Batman.

This is why Jaime didn't like surprises.

Jaime walked further into the dark, taking small and slow steps. He narrowed his eyes, looking for movement. His stomach twisted into knots the longer the silence deafened him.

A bang sounded two feet to the left of Jaime, and his head shot in that direction.

"Ow," Bart whined, sucking in a breath. "That hurt."

"Are you okay?" Jaime asked, taking a step toward the sound of Bart's voice.

"I just stubbed my toe," Bart groaned, his voice moving further in front of Jaime. "But I'll live. Probably."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't be walking around in the dark," Jaime laughed, turning to follow the movement.

Bart didn't reply, but his steps moved further away.

Jaime furrowed his brows, reaching his arms out, trying to feel for any furniture in his path. "Why don't we just turn the lights on?"

Jaime was, once again, met with silence.

He frowned, his arm landing on something, and he gripped onto it. "Bart? Where'd you-"

Before Jaime could finish his sentence, the room lit up with colour. Rays of purple, blue and magenta shot through the air, landing on the ceiling like stars in the night sky. They mixed and swirled, smoky in the air as they flew in every direction, coating every surface of the room.

Jaime looked up in awe, admiring the colours as they danced together, dipping in and out as they swayed slowly in a circle. The mix of light bathed the room in a light purple that reminded Jaime of the lilac clouds he'd usually see during his runs at dawn. His eyes followed the lights cascading down the wall, noticing the couches and table had been moved back, giving them more space to move freely. Jaime then glanced down, still in wonder, before realizing the 'thing' he had been holding onto was Bart's shoulder.

"Ta-da," Bart said surprisingly softly, a goofy smile plastered on his face as he and Jaime locked eyes.

Jaime let go of Bart's arm instantly, taking a step backward. "Bart- when did you-?"

"When I left my room," Bart said, pride edging into his tone. "I had to be quick, or I would've ruined the surprise."

Jaime looked around, taking it all in at once. "But, how-?"

Bart wiggled his hand, waving around a small remote. "It's a portable disco ball," he exclaimed, gesturing to a small spinning orb sitting on the side table. Light poured out of it from all angles, coating Bart in purple. "I also bought it from the guy who was selling your album."

"Bart," Jaime breathed, really looking at him now, feeling an electricity coursing through the room. His heart pounded in his chest, and every part of him yearned to touch Bart, to feel his soft curls and study every inch of his handsome face, but Jaime didn't dare move, scared he might do something he'd regret. Jaime had always been selfish when it came to the things he wanted. "This is amazing."

Bart's smile shifted into something far more sincere. "I'm glad you think so," he said, grabbing at the TV remote, "but that's not all."

The screen flashed on, blinding them both in piercing white light. The screen then faded into something more familiar— a list of songs with a less blindingly bright background. A picture of Bart was then loaded in the corner, and Jaime already knew what he was looking at. It was the same thing he'd been staring at during sleepless night after sleepless night. The same thing he'd listened to on repeat for days. It gave him comfort. It made him feel lovesick. And yet, it kept him sane.

It was Bart's playlist.

And just like the playlist's description said, it was made by Jaime for Bart. What it didn't say, however, was that it was made with no intention of friendship.

Jaime's eyes widened, and he looked back at Bart in disbelief. "You listened to it?"

Bart turned to meet Jaime's eyes, the side of his face cast in the TV's glow. He nodded. "'Course I did," he replied, softly. "Twice."

Heat rushed to Jaime's cheeks so fast. He could've sworn he was on fire.

This whole time, Jaime thought Bart hated the playlist, or that he hadn't had the time to listen to it, but this was earth-shattering news. Not only had he listened to it, but he'd listened to it TWICE?!? The playlist was over six hours long!

Jaime's mouth suddenly went dry, his gaze on Bart not faltering. "Wha- what did you think?"

"I loved it. You put some amazing songs in there, and I've had at least half of them on repeat ever since I heard them," Bart replied. His tone was velvety, every syllable perfectly levelled, but there was an undertone of... something, seeping through his words. He turned back to the screen, his eyes glistening against the light. "I really liked the love songs you added."

Jaime sucked in a breath, doing his best to stay composed. He wiped his sweaty hands against his jeans, his brain scrambling for a response. But before he could even defend himself, Bart spun back to face him.

"If you couldn't tell, this is supposed to be like a dance party," Bart admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. One of the streams of light passed over his face, tracing over his cheekbone. "But since I've never really had a dance party, other than last time-"

Jaime's mind hung onto the way Bart mentioned their last dance together, the way he really drew out every syllable of both words, as if they'd been soaked in honey, or maybe tar, depending on how he remembered last time.

"I hope this is a good setup," Bart stuttered, his eyes glancing around the room. "I saw somebody on YouTube and they said-"

"It's perfect," Jaime almost spat. "It's better than perfect."

Bart's eyes lit up as they landed back on Jaime. He let out a breath, small enough that it would've gone unnoticed by anyone other than Jaime. "Oh- crash! That's- man, that's so crash."

"Why didn't you tell me you listened to the playlist?" Jaime asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he expected, messier than he wanted.

Bart paused, and his smile flattened. "Nobody's ever made me a playlist before. I- crap, was I supposed to let you know that I listened? Or- or if I liked it? I'm sor-"

"No, don't apologize," Jaime said, reaching for Bart's hands on impulse. His brain, two steps behind his body's autopilot, then sent a shiver of panic down his spine, and Jaime dropped Bart's hands. He swallowed hard, remembering not to touch. He was only indulging his greediness. "I'm just glad you liked it. Do you have any favourites?"

Bart's eyes fluttered up to meet Jaime's, and he grinned. "No spoilers, but I did already put some songs in the queue," he whispered, like there was some need for secrecy. "Did you wanna add any?"

Jaime's chest tightened at the proposal. He glanced back at the playlist, looking over the first few songs. 'New Person, Same Old Mistakes' by Tame Impala glared back at him, tempting him with its reminder of what it represented. His eyes then clung to the first song of the playlist, 'Jenny' by Studio Killers, and he knowingly avoided even the thought of putting that on.

Instead, he turned back to Bart, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Dealer's choice," Jaime said.

Bart blinked back at Jaime, his lips pursing. "What?"

"It's a saying," Jaime laughed. "You're the dealer and I'm just the guy looking for a good time."

"Well, in that case, get ready for the best night ever," Bart sang with a wink. "Because DJ Bart is in the house tonight! Whoop!"

Jaime pinched his brows, shaking his head. "Please, never say that again," he groaned.

"Ah, c'mon, you thought it was cool," Bart replied, tucking the remote into his back pocket before moving back to the centre of the makeshift dancefloor. "I know you were totally about to swoon."

Jaime rolled his eyes, his cheeks burning. "Oh yeah, that's just about the sexiest thing you could've done."

"Are you flirting with me, Jaime Reyes?" Bart asked, his voice low and silky. If it weren't for the shit-eating grin plastered on his pale face, Jaime would've thought Bart was asking in all seriousness.

Jaime swallowed the nerves as he met Bart's eyes, narrowing them, bracing himself. He placed his shaking hands on his hips and huffed, his chest tightening. "Oh, you wish, speedster," he mumbled, his voice cracking only the slightest.

Bart stepped toward Jaime, doubling down. His hands weaved around Jaime's, their fingers locking. He tugged him toward the dancefloor, his smile deepening. Even in the dark, it was obvious his cheeks were stained a dark shade of red. "You're an idiot," Bart whispered, his silvery tone overpowering the insult. Bart's eyes looked up to meet Jaime's for a brief second before darting away. He chewed on his lip, clearing his throat.

Jaime swallowed hard, a rush of adrenaline jolting off of Bart's hands and up Jaime's arms, trailing up his shoulders, diving off the top of his back and running down his spine. He did his best to hide the shudder.

The room was unnervingly quiet, and every ounce of silence ate away at Jaime, reminding him that it was his turn to talk. But no matter how hard he tried, his words stayed buried in his throat, trapped in the same flustered state Jaime was in. He pouted back at Bart.

Surprisingly, Bart had no witty retort either, and the two of them were left standing in silence, holding hands as if they were attempting a seance. Maybe if they tried hard enough, they could contact Jaime's composure, because that died the minute he set foot into the Garricks's house.

"So," Bart coughed, fighting the quiet before looking down at his feet. Bart's hands stiffened in Jaime's, his fingers fidgeting for freedom. "Do we- should I-"

"Yes," Jaime practically spat. He shifted his feet, rephrasing his answer. "Play the music- if you're ready."

"I was born ready," Bart smirked, suddenly regaining his confidence. He unlatched his hands from Jaime's, pulling the TV remote from his pocket. "I will warn you, though," Bart cooed, locking eyes with Jaime, "I've been practicing."

Jaime bit back a smile, instead raising a brow in disbelief. "Should I be scared?" he teased.

"You might have to call the fire department because of how smoking hot some of these moves are," Bart purred, with the biggest and goofiest-looking smile on his face. He mimed licking his finger, then placed it on his hip, imitating the sound of sizzling. "Grade A fire hazard."

Jaime rolled his eyes, laughing. "Did you steal that line from Wally?"

"Nope, made it up all by myself," Bart shrugged earnestly, his ears tinged pink against the purple disco lights. "Are you proud of me?"

Jaime gave him a bemused look. "So proud," he crowed, wiping the imaginary tears from his eyes. He placed a hand on his heart and nodded. "You're turning into the little flirt I always knew you'd be."

Bart grinned, his thumb hovering over the play button, taunting Jaime. "So I'm a flirt now?"

"You're getting there." Jaime bit down on the inside of his cheek, knowing he was treading along a very thin line. His stomach flipped, and the next set of dangerous words fell out of his mouth, disjointed. "But you're gonna have to do more than that if you want my approval, hermano. All talk and no show, you gotta impress me."

He had given Bart a challenge, and Bart never backed down from a challenge.

"Oh really?" Bart straightened suddenly, his cheeks darkening. He looked down at the remote, tracing over one of the buttons. His Adam's apple bobbed, the TV's white light tracing the subtle movement. Then his eyes met Jaime's once more; their green was surprisingly bold as he narrowed them. His lips pulled into an unusual smirk, his head tilting out of curiosity.

The purple washing over the side of Bart's face accentuated all of the right features. His chiselled jaw was painted blue, and Jaime followed the heavenly shape all the way up to Bart's cute ears, tucked away under his fluffy curls, strung about with mixed strands of blue and violet. His cheeks popped in the low light, the apples of them looking so sweet and soft that Jaime was resisting every primal urge in his body to reach out and hold him in his hands, so gentle and delicate, as if Bart could break into millions of pieces. He wanted to protect him, to show him all the words that were swallowed by the rushing tide of his fear of rejection. Bart's nose dipped lower as he looked Jaime over, the purple hues swimming over the slight hiccup of his button nose. Then Jaime's eyes found Bart's lips, their cupid's bow sharp and pronounced, and Jaime's mind wandered, imagining what pure ecstasy it would be just to trace a finger along the pink top lip. His hand twitched at the idea of running over the plumpness of his bottom lip, feeling its softness, tasting its sweetness. Biting into it, dragging it between his teeth and-

Jaime swallowed thickly.

Bart must've been thinking of something to say, because his brows pinched, his eyes looking over Jaime in this mutual show of what Jaime hoped was admiration. Bart turned his head to the side, looking back at the TV. Where the purple made him look like he'd been painted with oils back in the Renaissance, the white made him look purely angelic, as if a god were standing before Jaime, basking in their shared silence, eating away at the palpable tension. His skin was bright and glowing, his freckles scattered along his face like constellations in the night sky. His cheeks looked sharper against the harsh white, his brow bone cut to the perfect angle, his nose sculpted by the most tender of hands. He looked like he had been carved out of marble, every inch of him more breathtaking than the last.

Jaime could've studied him for hours in this lighting. Instead, he just settled for a mental picture of Bart in all his beautiful glory.

Bart's green eyes practically glowed against the light, and Jaime could've sworn they twinkled as he smiled, the edges of them crinkling. "Well, I've been trying to win your approval all night." Bart's words were silky and delicate, perfectly chosen and intricately woven together, his tone daring. "Has... it been working?"

Jaime sucked in a breath. "Maybe."

Bart flushed, his hand wrapping tighter around the remote, but he muscled through it, his face twisting into Jaime's favourite unknown expression. He just wanted to kiss it off of him so badly.

Jaime dug his heels into the carpet, steeling himself. He needed to calm down, which was getting exceedingly harder, considering his heart had now jumped into his throat.

"Should I keep going then?" Bart's voice was low and euphonic, like he was getting a sick satisfaction at whatever the fuck was happening right now. "Do I need to try harder?"

"I-" Jaime's heart was now somewhere under his tongue, trying desperately to get a hold of the situation. "Bart-"

"Maybe you could give me some tips," Bart cooed, a slight tremble to his voice. His free hand played with the drawstring of his hoodie, wrapping it tightly around his finger, a nervous habit. His eyes met the floor, taking a step closer. "You did say I was a quick learner, remember?"

Bart's stupid pickup lines were weirdly compelling, and his confidence was staggering. It made Jaime's stomach do a flip as his brain stumbled drunkenly around for a clever response. "I remember." Jaime swallowed thickly. "I mean- you- you are. That's your whole thing." His words fell out of his mouth in one awkward jumble of sounds, and he had to resist the urge to smack himself in the face. "Fuck."

Was it hot in here?

Jaime unzipped his sweater, quickly tossing it onto the couch, feeling a cool chill dance up his spine as Bart watched him, studying him.

Bart tilted his head toward Jaime, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "What, are you nervous?" he asked, wetting his lips.

"No," Jaime stuttered. His eyes bounced down to look at the highlight along Bart's pink lips, his stomach sinking as his selfishness was getting harder to fight. "What makes you think that?"

"No reason." Bart's finger danced above the play button on the remote. "But I'm just trying to return the favour," he whispered.

Jaime's heart was now about to jump out of his gaping mouth and kamikaze straight through the floor. His mind raced for something to say, but it seemed like every sense of logic and reason had been short-circuited by whatever electricity was running throughout the room. Bart had seemingly disarmed him, which was pretty hard for someone who literally had a suit of armour and a catalogue of weapons fused to his spine. When had he become so deadly?

Jaime moved to speak, to say something, some sort of retort, no matter how stupid it sounded, but Bart smirked, lifting the remote, knowing he had already won.

The screen shifted, fading into darkness as a song queued up, the room swallowed by the disco lights.

Bart grabbed onto the bottom of his hoodie, pulling it above his head. His shirt lifted, exposing his toned stomach and the band of his boxers. Bart freed himself from the hoodie, tossing it onto the couch like his life depended on it. His hair was now a mess, every curl flattened in a different direction. He smirked, pulling down his black graphic tee. Under his shirt was a white long-sleeve, which he quickly rolled up to his forearms. "May I have this dance?" Bart asked, reaching a hand out to Jaime.

Jaime willingly took it, but Bart, surprisingly, didn't pull him any closer. He may have been brave with his words, but he wasn't as confident with his moves. Jaime, however, liked it when his body talked instead of his mouth.

The song started, the rhythm of an accordion filled the room, accompanied by a steady clap. The beat was bright and danceable, and Jaime could already feel his shoulders bouncing to the music. But he knew this song; the sound was unmistakable, resonating in his ears, radiating in his ribs along with a sudden rising jolt of panic.

It was 'Jenny' by Studio Killers. The first song in the playlist, the song that surmised their relationship and Jaime's feelings about it, the song that was too perfect to play while they stood hand in hand, bathed in purple light, possibility practically falling into Jaime's lap.

Their eyes locked, a glint of uncertainty building in Bart's.

Jaime rubbed his thumb over the back of Bart's hand, offering a lopsided smile. If he couldn't calm himself down, he could at least reassure Bart.

Bart flashed him a small smile, his hands tightening on Jaime's as the first verse began.

"Jenny, darling, you're my best friend," the airy vocals came into focus, and Jaime bit back the bitter laugh. He swayed his hips on time with the beat, his shoulders following suit.

Bart watched him, and Jaime could've sworn there was a fondness to his expression.

"But there's a few things that you don't know of," Jaime mouthed along, swinging their connected arm as if to kickstart Bart and his allegedly incredible dancing skills.

The steel drums trilled through the air, each hit ringing out in Jaime's chest, in time with his racing heartbeat. He took a step with every clap, hoping Bart would do the same.

"Why I borrow your lipstick so often."

Jaime's eyes floated to Bart's lips, watching a smile form. He was slowly loosening him up.

More of the instrumental played, and Bart's head fell, shadowing Jaime's feet.

"There you go!" Jaime cheered.

"I'm using your shirt as a pillow case."

Bart laughed as the music swelled, building into the chorus.

"I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead," the vocalist sang, her words swallowed into the bottomless pit that was Jaime's stomach. He focused on his dancing, even though his mind hung on every lyric.

"I don't know how to say this, 'cuz you're really my dearest friend."

Jaime lifted their connected arm in the air, signalling for Bart to spin.

Clumsily, Bart twirled around Jaime, ending up behind him. He let go of Jaime's hand, and Jaime turned back to watch him, just in time for the second verse to start.

Bart looked down, starting to sway his hips to the beat, his shoulders bouncing, his hands bopping around. It took him a second to find the rhythm, but once he did, it was hard for Jaime to focus on anything other than Bart.

Jaime smiled, his whole body feeling lighter as he circled his hips, his arms swinging to the claps. His brain had now blocked out the lyrics, adrenaline flooding his ears.

Their eyes met, and Bart smirked, raising his arms above his head, slowly lowering them behind himself, using his hands to trail his neck from back to front before letting them fall below his ribs. He turned his head, his hair whipping back as he lifted his arms again, his hands moving even slower along his neck and shoulders before he dropped them.

Jaime bit back a gasp. Since when did he actually know some dance moves?

Bart turned back to face Jaime, his eyes glimmering as their gazes locked. Did he know what power he held when he moved his body like that? Did he notice the way Jaime's eyes clung to him?

"But it means the world to me," Bart sang, and some part of Jaime hoped Bart was being deliberate in what he was doing.

Without thinking, Jaime grabbed Bart's hands and pulled him in closer as the music built up just in time for the chorus.

Bart stifled a laugh, letting Jaime guide him.

"I wanna ruin our friendship."

He laced their fingers together, alternating arms as he bounced them. Jaime looked up, surprised to find Bart already staring back.

The smell of vanilla surrounded them, and Jaime's smile grew. He started to wonder if Bart would taste just as good as he smelled. Maybe even better.

"We should be lovers instead," Bart mouthed along, copying Jaime's moves. There was a strange gracefulness in the way he danced, a freshly bloomed confidence that wasn't there before. "I don't know how to say this, 'cuz you're really my dearest friend."

A heat climbed its way up the backs of Jaime's hands, trailing up his arms and neck, reaching his cheeks. His whole face burned. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel Khaji Da trying to stay quiet, the tightness of silence pulling at his spine.

"I wanna ruin our friendship," the song echoed, and Bart seemed to step closer. Or maybe Jaime pulled him closer. Or maybe one of them leaned in.

Dulled alarm bells went off all around Jaime as the space in between them was getting dangerously smaller, and Jaime's reservations were starting to melt away the longer Bart stared at him with that look in his eyes.

Jaime's hands fell to Bart's hips, his fingers slipping through his jeans' belt loops. He breathed in the scent of vanilla, filling his lungs, and the hint of cinnamon suffocated his sense of reason.

Bart's breath seemed to hitch as he glanced down at Jaime's hands before looking back up, his eyes half-lidded. The movement of his hips stalled.

"I don't know how to say this, 'cuz you're really my dearest friend," the singer's airy voice continued.

The song slowed as Bart placed his hands on Jaime's and pushed away, twirling out of his grasp and around him, stopping once he was back to back with him.

Jaime frowned, turning around to see Bart's face twisted in that bashful expression Jaime was so fond of.

"Jenny, take my hand," Bart mouthed, backing away, a hand landing on his chest, "cuz we are more than friends. I will follow you until the end."'

Jaime straightened, his heart darting into his throat.

"Jaime, take my hand, I cannot pretend," Bart continued, this time actually singing the verse. He extended a hand carefully, his eyes gentle. "Why I never like your new boyfriend."

The claps came hammering back in, in time with the rush of Jaime's heart as he took a step closer to Bart.

Bart smiled, lifting his free arm into the air, pulling it toward himself as he danced with as much grace as he possessed. Still, Jaime found himself moving closer, no matter how off-beat his moves were.

The song layered over itself, her words blurring over the building synth, and Jaime's chest tightened, his brain overflowing with want.

"Forget those amigos," Bart sang, very pointedly, as he stared Jaime down.

Jaime inhaled sharply, feeling a longing bloom in his lungs, coiling around all of the words he'd ever wanted to say to Bart, pushing out the air and filling him with desire and need. A need to close the gap between them, a need to show Bart how much he meant to him, a need for him. All of him.

Bart closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he let his raised hand fall, the other still waiting hesitantly for Jaime.

"Forget those amigos."

The lyrics filled the air, wrapping around Jaime's legs and pushing him closer to Bart. The song slowed, and the claps dulled, the instrumental mellowing as Bart refused to open his eyes.

Jaime watched Bart's hand, his chest tightening as every part of him craved contact. He took another step closer, carefully and quietly, as if Bart were going to change his mind. His arm was shaking as he raised it, the butterflies in his stomach fighting for control, and he swallowed hard. Their hands were inches away, static pulsing between their bodies.

"Forget those amigos."

He looked at Bart's face one last time, smiling at his scrunched-up nose, letting the tips of his fingers brush against Bart's wrist.

Bart shuddered, only squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

"Is this okay?"

Bart nodded, his arm twitching under Jaime's touch.

Jaime let his fingers wander, running them down Bart's palms. He slowly traced one of the curved lines on Bart's hand until he reached his fingers. Gently, he laced their fingers together one at a time, like he was playing a scale on a well-loved piano.

Then, Jaime wasn't as gentle.

He pulled Bart toward him, drums crashing as his other hand landed on Bart's hip. His eyes fell to his soft pink lips, and vanilla enveloped him, flooding his senses and overpowering every ounce of self-doubt he ever had.

Jaime took a sharp breath, like his lungs had been deprived of oxygen. He inched forward, close enough that their noses were touching. His eyes darted down, then back up to Bart's closed eyes.

"Can I?" Jaime whispered, bracing himself.

Bart inhaled, his hand stiffening in Jaime's.

He breathed out a soft, airy "Please."

And before Jaime could control his selfishness, he was already leaning in.

Jaime's lips brushed against Bart's, hesitant for a heartbeat before carefully caving in. His eyes floated closed as their mouths finally met, and Jaime nearly let out a sigh of relief. He did his best to be delicate, but Bart's lips were so soft, softer than he ever could've imagined, and that sent a heat careening from his cheeks, all the way down to his stomach. His heart was whole, slamming against his ribs; he wouldn't be surprised if Bart could feel it. His lips lingered after their mouths parted, tempted for more.

It was a quick kiss, and it had been as soft as Jaime had planned, and yet it still left him a flustered mess.

Jaime pulled back, slowly opening his eyes, a smile plastered to his lips. But that smile fell the second he looked at Bart, startled by his wide-eyed stare.

Then, his brain remembered what he just did, his blood chilling as realization smacked him across the face. He just kissed Bart. And at no point in that very short and wonderful kiss had Bart kissed him back.

Jaime's stomach dropped, his hand slipping off Bart's hip.

Bart slowly turned red.

Jaime's gaze darted to the floor, his heart now rattling inside his chest, panic setting in. He could feel Khaji Da wanting to say something, his back feeling taut as if he was pulling on Jaime, telling him to stop, to calm down. But how could he be calm after everything that just happened?! Had he been so wrong about Bart's feelings?!

Bart shifted slightly, making a small noise. Of shock? Of confusion? Disgust?! Jaime wasn't sure.

"Bart," Jaime muttered, untangling himself from Bart's hand, his fingers burning with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I- Fuck, what was I thinking, I-"

But the rest of his sentence was lost.

Bart rushed forward, one hand grabbing at Jaime's waist and the other cupping his jaw, and Jaime nearly fell backward from just how fast he moved. A short breath escaped his mouth as he locked eyes with Bart, stumbling back, his hands grabbing at Bart's shoulders. Bart leaned in, and unlike Jaime, he wasn't careful.

Their lips locked, and Bart's teeth clacked against Jaime's.

Jaime laughed, his giggle muffled by Bart's lips, his soft, sweet lips. He tasted like mint, and Jaime had never savoured the refreshingly cool flavour until this very second, his lungs icy cold as the kiss deepened. He craved more. His eyes fluttered shut, focusing on every feeling, every movement and every sound.

Bart's hand started to wander, and it found its way to the back of Jaime's neck, gently holding it, the touch comforting. His scalp was tingling, like someone was whispering into his ear or tracing shapes on his back. Bart's hand worked its way up to his hair, tugging on the same waves he spent so much time styling just to impress Bart.

And here he was, hours later, breathing in the same air, sharing the same space, their lips doing a dance of their own, speaking a language he never thought he could with Bart.

Everything felt right.

His chest was tight, and his head felt dizzy, his legs weak.

Jaime's hand moved to Bart's waist as he melted into the kiss, taking the lead as he set a pace, kissing Bart tenderly, the intensity growing ever so slightly.

Bart sighed, pulling Jaime in closer by his jeans, wordlessly begging for more. He was hungry, his chest heaving against Jaime's.

Jaime smiled into the kiss, slowly breaking away, his lungs full of Bart's minty air.

His breath was caught in his throat, and he fought through the excitement to breathe. Jaime's heart was still hammering against his ribcage, his ears clouded. Slowly, he opened his eyes, readjusting to the purple disco lights before he looked at Bart.

Bart's eyes were still closed, but he had the goofiest-looking smile on his face. It was only then that Jaime realized Bart had been on his tiptoes for the entire kiss.

Jaime's lips were still tingling as his smile grew, his hands slipping away from Bart's waist to his wrists, falling to his hands. His face was on fire, and his stomach felt like he had just finished a rollercoaster ride. His head felt light, his whole body weak, and part of him was convinced he was caught in a dream. None of this felt real. Bart didn't feel real, but here he was, not even an inch away, panting, his breath falling on Jaime's neck.

The kiss was amazing. He felt the electricity as soon as they touched, and sparks exploded throughout his body, every nerve ending aware of what was happening.

And he was happy, happier than he had been in a while. Bart was the thing he never knew he was missing.

Bart's eyes finally fluttered open, and his half-lidded eyes landed on Jaime. He grinned at him, looking a little dazed, before squeezing Jaime's sweaty hands in his own.

"What?" Jaime asked, holding back a laugh.

"Your friend is gonna be so jealous," Bart whispered, his voice surprisingly hoarse.

"You're the friend, Bart."

"Oh."

Jaime chuckled, pulling Bart into a hug, the butterflies in his stomach finally satiated by Bart's vanilla-spiced cologne. He took a deep breath in, savouring the cinnamon notes that were now so tooth-rottingly prominent.

Bart dropped his head against Jaime's shoulder, letting out a very loud and dramatic sigh of relief. He wrapped his arms around Jaime's waist, firmly, like he needed to be grounded.

Jaime planted a kiss on the side of Bart's head. "You okay?" Jaime asked softly into Bart's ear.

Bart shuddered, Jaime's whole body feeling it. His stomach did a flip. "I've never been better, Blue," he whispered, nestling his face further into Jaime's chest. "You're so warm."

Jaime's heart jumped into his throat, and his ears perked as he listened to the comforting sound of Bart's voice. He'd never had the luxury of hearing it so smooth and low, so utterly euphoric. But he would do anything to get to hear Bart talk like this for the rest of his life. "So," Jaime finally broke the relaxed silence, quietly asking, "Do you wanna sit down on the couch?"

Bart nodded.

Jaime carefully pulled away from the hug, his own legs still unsteady as he led them to the couch, hand in hand. Bart flopped down first, and Jaime followed suit.

Bart instantly cozied up to Jaime, his head falling onto his shoulder as he sank into his gentle touch. He was like a cat, curling into his warmth.

Jaime hadn't even noticed, but the first song had ended, and a new one was now playing, 'Yellow' by Coldplay. The soft guitar strummed in the background, accompanied by a steady drum, as a fullness coiled in Jaime's lungs.

"So..." Bart mumbled, looking up at Jaime. He paused, blinking slowly before asking, "How was it for you?"

Heat rushed to Jaime's cheeks. "The kiss?"

Bart nodded, his brows furrowing, and he scrunched his nose. "Yeah, the kiss. Both of them."

Jaime bit down on his lip, suddenly so aware of their closeness. "What? You want constructive criticism?"

Bart groaned, burying his face into Jaime's chest. "How are you so calm?"

Jaime was far from being calm. There was an army of fireworks going off in his chest, and every time one exploded in a flurry of colour, Jaime felt more and more alive. He had kissed Bart. And Bart had kissed him. They liked each other, and that was the most wonderful thing in the world.

"What do you mean?" Jaime laughed, his heart fluttering as Bart's hair tickled his collarbone.

"You're making jokes and stuff," Bart grumbled, pulling himself up and away from Jaime, purposely avoiding his gaze. "And you keep asking if I'm okay."

"Are you?"

Bart groaned, throwing his head into his hands. "No, I feel like I'm going to explode."

"In a good way?" Jaime asked, sitting up. A part of him silently celebrated the fact that he could make Bart react like that. "Or was the kiss that bad?"

Bart sighed loudly, rolling his eyes, a smile still plastered to his face. "No, the kiss was- man, it was so crash, I don't even know how to describe it! It was- so good, so nice. Like, better than I ever could've imagined."

Jaime smirked, pulling Bart's hands away from his face. "So... you've imagined kissing me?"

Bart froze, his face turning bright red. His eyes widened as he grabbed at his white undershirt, tugging on the sleeves.

Jaime leaned in closer to Bart, drawn in by the flustered look on his face. "I have, too, if that makes you feel better."

"Really?" Bart's eyes fell on Jaime, and Jaime's chest tightened, his lungs begging to share more of Bart's oxygen.

"Don't act surprised." Jaime linked his hand through Bart's, pecking him on the nose. "Tú eres mi sol."

Bart smiled, squeezing Jaime's hand in his own. "I don't know if I'm ever gonna get used to that."

"You will," Jaime cooed, "I gotta make up for lost time."

"You know I love you so," the song continued, the guitar comforting, Jaime's smile only growing bigger as he watched Bart squirm.

This was one of his favourite Coldplay songs. And this was now one of his favourite moments.

Bart's head fell on Jaime's shoulder as he made a strangled sort of noise. "This seriously can't be happening. You might need to pinch me, Blue, 'cuz I feel like I'm dreaming."

"It's real," Jaime laughed, his free hand moving up to Bart's hair, absently playing with it. "I would know because none of my dreams ever included you tasting like mint. That was a nice twist."

"I'm so glad you noticed," Bart whispered.

"Huh?"

"I brushed my teeth and popped a gum, just in case."

"Wait, what-" Jaime's eyes widened. "Wait a minute, did you plan this!? Did you know we were gonna kiss?"

"No," Bart said after a beat, stiffening against Jaime, "I just hoped we would. I guess Cas's suggestion to play 'Jenny' first was a great one."

"Cas was in on this?"

"Gar too," Bart admitted, lifting his head, his eyes timid. "Who do you think helped me choreograph my dance?"

Jaime couldn't help but laugh. This whole day, Jaime had been at war with himself, debating whether he should make the first move. Meanwhile, Bart already had all the pieces in place. It made sense now that he thought about it. Everything had worked out a little too perfectly. They were alone in the house without judgment or eavesdroppers, and it would just be the two of them until tomorrow. The subtle flirting throughout the night had loosened them both up. And to top it all off, Bart's impromptu dance party was everything Jaime ever wanted; another chance to dance with him was a gift in itself. Bart knew him so well, and his plan was foolproof.

But what made him feel the most special was that not only had Bart planned all of this especially for Jaime, but he had help. He went out of his way to choreograph a dance with Garfield and prepare a song list with Cassie. The warmth spread from Jaime's lungs to his entire body, knowing how Bart felt about him, realizing it was bigger than words.

"Are you mad?" Bart asked, his hands moving to hold Jaime's knees.

"No." Jaime's whole body melted into Bart's touch, his limbs as weak as jelly. "Bart Allen, I can't believe you're secretly a romantic."

"I had to do what I had to do," Bart shrugged, rubbing his thumb over Jaime's knee. "As soon as you mentioned your crush-"

"No way you were jealous." Jaime leaned back, making sure to get a good look at Bart's face. "I've never seen you jealous before?!"

"I mean, I wasn't jealous-" Bart swallowed thickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just- this is gonna sound so stupid, but I wanted you to myself. I know I would always treat you right. You deserve the world, and I'm willing to give it to you. So, I took my own advice and decided to make a move."

"You wanted me all to yourself? That's not stupid, it's-" Jaime echoed, his voice sounding strained, like all of the oxygen had been stolen out of his lungs. His whole face burned, his hands landing on top of Bart's as he squeezed. He sucked in a breath, the idea of Bart's jealousy doing something to his stomach. "I feel the same, conejito."

"Con-eh-hit-to? That's a new one," Bart replied, his eyes lighting up at the new nickname.

"I've got plenty more where that came from." Jaime grinned, his eyes falling back to Bart's lips.

Bart smiled, and his cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink under the purple lights. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming?"

"Want me to prove it?" Jaime leaned in, a hand landing on Bart's shoulder as he brushed his lips against his neck. Carefully, he kissed him, feeling his soft skin under his lips, sucking it teasingly before pulling away.

Bart shuddered a breath, his whole face erupting in a dark shade of red as his head tipped back, a small noise escaping his lips.

"Your neck is really sensitive, huh?" Jaime said, his voice low. His hand on Bart's shoulder tiptoed over to his collarbone, running along it carefully. "Do you still think you're dreaming?"

Bart leaned in, breaking the distance before planting his lips on Jaime's. He moved fast, and he wasn't very coordinated, catching part of Jaime's lip in his teeth.

Jaime smiled, pulling away from the quick kiss, his heart on the verge of collapse at the thought that they could now do that whenever they wanted. His hand landed on Bart's as he laughed, looking over Bart's expression.

Bart's eyes lingered on Jaime's, his pupils dilated as his beautiful green eyes peered back at him in awe. His lips were still parted, heaving quick breaths as he smiled ever so slightly, the blush on his cheeks complementing his freckles, like a strawberry cheesecake sprinkled with cinnamon.

"Love drunk looks good on you," Jaime replied, every syllable drifting out as feathery as possible. He lifted his hand to Bart's face, cupping his cheek, the warmth seeping into his palm.

Bart giggled, and Jaime made sure to take a mental picture of how handsome he looked.

"Well, your eyes look gorgeous this close." Bart leaned into the touch, nuzzling his hand. "Man, you don't know how good this feels. I've liked you for so long, and finally being able to show you is like nothing I've ever felt before."

"It's freeing." Jaime nodded, his heart skipping a beat at Bart's mention of actually liking him. The words hit his eardrums like a symphony, and his chest swelled at the realization of what this meant for both of them and their relationship moving forward.

"Exactly." Bart beamed, his eyes twinkling under the disco lights. "So... what do we do now?"

"What do you mean?" Jaime furrowed his brows, lowering his hand back to Bart's thigh.

Bart visibly swallowed, his eyes darting to Jaime's hand before looking back up at him. "Like, what do people do after admitting they like each other? After they kiss for the first time?" he asked, his voice suddenly so small that Jaime couldn't tell if it was from having to explain his question or from Jaime's hand on his thigh.

"I mean, we can do anything." Jaime shrugged. "Like, literally anything. We have the house to ourselves, so it's not like we're gonna bother anybody."

Bart groaned.

"What?!"

"That's not helpful." Bart pouted.

Jaime rolled his eyes lovingly. "I guess we could talk about what just happened and how we feel about it? Or we could cuddle?"

"Both are good options," Bart mumbled, twisting his lips in thought. "Or, we could keep going with our dance party?"

Jaime couldn't help but smile. "If you want to, you know I'm always down to dance, hermano."

"Well, Gar showed me some other moves, and I feel like it would be criminal not to use them," Bart began, standing up, "and I practiced some of them for hours."

"Hours?" Jaime repeated, his curiosity piqued. "Now I'm excited."

"Well, it's your lucky day, because this night is about to get a whole lot more crash." Bart extended a hand out for Jaime; this time, there was no fear of rejection.

Jaime took his hand, smiling before letting Bart pull him up.

Khaji Da must have been giving them privacy because he hadn't tried to interrupt once during that entire conversation. Maybe he was just as happy as Jaime was in that moment.

"You should add some music to the queue, too." Bart wiggled his brows, his eyes lingering on Jaime's, their hands still locked.

Jaime's smile grew, still doubting how any of this could be real.

"I really do like-" Bart paused, looking past Jaime, his eyes widening as he gasped.

"What?" Jaime asked, trying to see what Bart was looking at.

Bart's open mouth turned into a smirk as he laughed, pulling Jaime towards the screen door of the backyard. "Just trust me!"

Jaime furrowed his brows, willingly following Bart as he rushed for the door. He could try to ask questions, but he knew that would be pointless. Besides, he trusted Bart with every ounce of his being.

Bart slid into a pair of slippers, and Jaime did the same before Bart unlocked the screen door, sliding it open with as much excitement as he had when opening his gifts. He ran outside, practically dragging Jaime through the door.

A cold wind smacked into them as they stepped out onto the back porch.

A shiver shot down Jaime's spine as he looked around, confused.

The lights that lined the stone path glowed brightly against the night's darkness, leading over to the gazebo. The gazebo in question had been decorated with more Christmas lights, multicoloured, and Jaime's eyes struggled to adjust to the variety of colours.

Other than that, the backyard was empty.

"Why-"

But before Jaime could even finish his sentence, he felt a speck of cold land on his cheek. And another. And another.

He finally looked up, a small gasp tumbling from his lips.

It was snowing.

The once dark blue sky had turned grey, and thousands of snowflakes were slowly drifting down toward them. It never snowed in El Paso, so every time Jaime was lucky enough to watch it snow, he was always in awe. He sighed, his breath a visible puff of smoke in the night air.

"It's so beautiful," Bart muttered, and when Jaime looked down to meet his eyes, Bart wasn't looking at the snow. He was looking at him.

Jaime scrunched his nose, smiling. "It is, isn't it?"

Bart stuck out his tongue, a snowflake landing on it.

Another cold gust of wind blew into them, and Jaime grabbed Bart's hands in his own, trying to keep his fingers warm.

Bart smiled tenderly, his eyes lingering on Jaime's. Snowflakes landed on his hair, sprinkling him in what Jaime could only describe as angel dust. His cheeks had turned pink, his nose the same shade as a rose, his ears the colour of cotton candy. Jaime couldn't tell if he was pink from the cold or how close they were standing to each other.

Jaime leaned in, placing his forehead on Bart's. His chest swelled as Bart's hands tightened around Jaime's.

"Congratulations, host," Khaji hummed, tiptoeing around the moment they were sharing. "I am thrilled to see that you truly had nothing to worry about when it came to you and the Bart Allen's relationship."

Jaime bit back a groan. Are you seriously telling me 'You told me so' right now?

"The data is always correct," Khaji replied, smugly. "But I am delighted that your feelings were reciprocated... I like the Bart Allen very much."

Jaime almost pulled away from Bart in shock. You do?!

"Yes. Do not act surprised."

You seem to think everyone I know is a threat to us. Even my family.

Khaji sighed, Jaime feeling it against his spine. "Well, that is because they all carry some level of threat. Even the Bart Allen does, but he cares about your safety just as much as I do. Therefore, he is worth taking the risk for."

Ahh, so it's strictly a tactical benefit to like and trust him. Jaime raised his brows. It's okay to just like him. I mean, I think he's pretty neat.

Khaji had no response to that, but Jaime knew that meant he had a good point.

"You never told me what you thought of the kiss."

Jaime pulled away from Bart, giving him a quick lookover. "You're still thinking about that?"

"Well, I can tell you that you're a really good kisser," Bart avoided Jaime's eyes, his voice quiet. "I think I might be thinking about your kisses for the rest of my life."

"Wow-" Jaime practically melted along with the snow landing on his arms. "Well, you uh- I mean, I guess I have experience."

"So do I!"

Jaime furrowed his brows. "You do?"

Bart's face flushed red as he looked toward the gazebo. "Yes," he started, his voice almost getting lost in the sound of the night's breeze. "Remember that one game of truth or dare we played with the team?"

"Oh, when you kissed Eduardo?" Jaime's eyes narrowed, a rekindled sense of jealousy entering his bloodstream. If only he had realized then that no, it wasn't normal to get pissed that your best friend was kissing another one of your friends. And it also wasn't normal to then have that memory burned into your brain for days, but never understand why it affected you so much.

... How long had he even liked Bart for?!

"When I was dared to kiss Eduardo by Tim," Bart corrected. "But you're still not answering my question. How was the kiss?"

Goosebumps erupted down Jaime's back, and he smirked, watching the way Bart's eyes lit up. "I'm gonna need a refresher, conejito."

Bart grinned, pulling one of his hands away from Jaime's, placing it gently on the back of his neck before tugging him in closer, close enough he could count every freckle on Bart's face if he really wanted to. And he did want to at some point.

Their lips connected, bringing Jaime back to the present. He let Bart lead the kiss, but his pace was quick and needy, kissing Jaime as if someone would pull them apart any second. He pushed himself further into Jaime, using his other hand to grab his hip.

Jaime's heart fluttered as he brought a hand up to Bart's neck, holding it as he tried to match Bart's fast pace. He closed his eyes, savouring the mint, feeling like he was floating.

Bart made a noise against Jaime's mouth, and Jaime's cheeks grew hot. Jaime happily let Bart do his thing, no matter how fast he moved. He was a speedster, after all.

Jaime found Bart's bottom lip and dragged it between his teeth, Bart's hand tightening around his hip. He smiled, imagining all the new things he was going to learn about Bart.

Bart's hand fell from Jaime's neck, tracing its way down his spine, stopping just before reaching his scarab. His whole back tingled from Bart's soft touch, and his body ached for more, his head feeling lighter by the second.

Jaime's lungs tightened as he broke the kiss, heaving out a breath before pulling away.

Bart tried to lean back in, but Jaime placed a hand on his panting chest, stopping him.

They were both breathless.

"Woah," Jaime laughed, his eyes fluttering to meet Bart's. "Let me catch my breath."

"My bad," Bart sighed out a shaky breath, "I got excited."

Jaime placed a hand on Bart's hip, his cheeks flushed, still recovering from the kiss. He scanned Bart over, appreciating just how dazed he looked and how red his whole face was.

"Hey, buy me dinner first," Bart giggled, his hand falling on top of Jaime's.

Their faces were still close, and they were breathing in the same frigid air.

"I will, when we go on our first date," Jaime cooed.

"Oh, so the kiss was that good then?"

The truth was, Bart was a messy kisser. But Jaime was too lovestruck to care.

Jaime carefully smiled. "I've got a lot to teach you."

"Well," Bart breathed, leaning in closer to Jaime's face. Their noses were touching, their lips brushing as he sighed. "Good thing I'm a quick learner."

🎵🎵🎵