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vexic929 · 1 day ago

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Karaoke Night

Caitlin and Hartley should've been besties so I'm fixing that~

Warnings: drunk shenanigans, Hartley being Hartley

"Do you have plans?"

Caitlin's question was blurted with a haste that told Hartley she hadn't thought about it before asking. He raised an eyebrow, turning to face her, and crossed his arms, tilting his head curiously.

"Why?"

Caitlin chewed her lip nervously. "You helped us with the Time Wraith so I thought-"

"You thought I needed a gold star and a pat on the head," he said dryly, looking at her over his glasses. "Snow, I don't need your gratitude, least of all in the form of off-key screeching and bad beer."

Caitlin sighed, shifting her weight between her heels. "I just thought it might be fun," she said, her voice dipping just slightly into something softer. "You like music, don't you?"

Hartley set his jaw but he couldn't argue. He did like music. He loved it. It was the one thing in his life that had always made sense, the one thing that had never abandoned or disappointed him - unlike his family, unlike Harrison. His love for music had been the first thing he'd ever shared with another person and it had been the first thing taken from him when the particle accelerator had left his ears a raw, unfiltered mess.

But Caitlin didn't know that. Not really. She knew facts. She didn't know the weight of them.

"Fine," he said at last, uncrossing his arms. "But if you drag me to some heteronormative hellscape playing nothing but top 40 I will be forced to cause a scene."

Caitlin's lips twitched. "Noted."

The moment they stepped inside Caitlin's chosen venue, Hartley stopped dead in the doorway, nose wrinkling in instant disapproval. It smelled of cheap beer and grease, filled with the kind of people who thought badly belting Journey was a personality trait. A television mounted in the corner displayed a football game. A football game.

"Absolutely not," he said, turning on his heel so abruptly that Caitlin nearly ran into the door frame trying to keep pace.

Caitlin frowned, heels clicking on the pavement as she rushed to catch up. "It doesn't seem that bad-"

Hartley interrupted. "Do you know how many more interesting things I could be doing with my night than listening to off-key renditions of Sweet Caroline while some frat boy named Chad yells at a screen? I could be alphabetizing my records. I could be stabbing myself in the eye."

Caitlin sighed and rolled her eyes as Hartley marched back out onto the street. "Fine," she said, arms crossed. "Where do you suggest, then?"

Hartley's first choice, a place called The Eighth Note, was everything the previous bar wasn't. The lighting was moody, casting the whole place in a dim violet glow, and the sound system was, at the very least, tolerable. The clientele was a mix of drag queens, theatre kids, and impeccably dressed professionals who knew the exact right amount of cologne to wear. A glittering disco ball hung overhead and the air smelled like citrus cocktails instead of sweat and stale beer.

"This," Hartley said, gesturing at the lounge with a flourish, "is an acceptable karaoke bar."

Caitlin rolled her eyes but didn't argue, instead making a beeline for the bar. Hartley followed, ordering something stiff and complicated while Caitlin got some ridiculous sugary mess that Hartley was fairly certain had more garnishes than actual alcohol.

The first hour was spent mocking performances (Hartley) and giggling at them (Caitlin). Hartley had an acute appreciation for music, which meant he had very strong opinions on just about everything, and he wasn't shy about sharing them, delivering scathing critiques worthy of a venomous music professor. He winced through a particularly egregious cover of Whitney Houston, clicking his tongue.

"Some people," he said, taking a slow sip of his drink, "should have their vocal cords revoked."

Caitlin snorted into her glass. "Oh, come on. It's karaoke. It's supposed to be fun."

"I'm sorry, do you like having your ears assaulted?" Hartley asked dryly.

"Well then, why don't you get up there?" Caitlin countered.

By the time Hartley relented and let Caitlin drag him on stage, he was several drinks deep, warm with the pleasant buzz of alcohol and the even more surprising buzz of genuine enjoyment. He hadn't expected to have fun. He certainly hadn't expected to get along with Caitlin Snow and yet here they were - her clutching his arm with tipsy enthusiasm as he flipped through the list of songs at the DJ booth.

Hartley scanned the list of songs with a critical eye, humming thoughtfully. "If we're doing this, it has to be something with actual musical integrity."

Caitlin, leaning heavily on his shoulder in tipsy determination, pointed dramatically at the screen. "Ooh! What about Total Eclipse of the Heart? It's dramatic, it's emotional, and it's a duet!"

Hartley shot her a withering look. "I will throw myself into the sun before I sing Bonnie Tyler in public."

Caitlin pouted, undeterred. "Fine, Bohemian Rhapsody?"

"Five and a half minutes of vocal acrobatics? Are you trying to kill me? Besides, nobody should be singing Bohemian Rhapsody other than Freddie Mercury," Hartley replied, flipping the page.

"Ooh! Spice Girls!" Caitlin suggested with delight as she spotted Wannabe on the list.

"I am nowhere near drunk enough for that." Hartley refused automatically.

Caitlin hummed in thought, then jabbed a finger at a title. "Oh! What about Take Me or Leave Me?"

Hartley gave her a slow, assessing glance. "You're suggesting we sing Rent. At a gay bar. Bold choice."

Caitlin grinned, nudging his arm. "C'mon, it'd be fun. Plus, it's a duet and I know you'll sound incredible even if I don't."

Hartley exhaled sharply, torn between his better judgment and the persuasive nudge of alcohol. "Fine," he relented. "But if you butcher this, I will disown you as a drinking companion."

The moment the music started, Hartley knew this was a mistake. Caitlin launched into the first verse with the kind of enthusiasm that could almost, almost make up for her utter lack of pitch control. She was loud. She was off-key. She was entirely too confident about both.

And yet - somewhere between Caitlin absolutely butchering the first verse and Hartley dramatically taking over the chorus like some Broadway lead who'd been born for the spotlight - something shifted. The crowd, half of whom were also pleasantly drunk, cheered them on. Hartley, against his better judgment, got caught up in the moment, his voice effortlessly soaring over Caitlin's chaotic enthusiasm.

By the time the night wound to a close, they were both tipsy - Hartley a little more relaxed, Caitlin a lot more giggly. They were leaned against the bar, enjoying a slightly pitchy rendition of a Cher song, when Caitlin had a realization.

"You know," Caitlin said, stirring the dregs of her drink with a straw, "you're not as much of an asshole as you pretend to be."

Hartley arched a brow over his glass. "How dare you."

She laughed, adjusting on her stool and nearly slipping off. Hartley caught her elbow automatically.

"I mean it," she continued, eyes glassy but sincere. "You act like you think you're above everyone but you care. You do."

Hartley tsked, downing the last of his drink. "Don't psychoanalyze me, Snow."

Caitlin shot him a grin, setting her glass to the side and digging in her purse. Her grin quickly turned into a grimace as she pulled her phone out.

"Oh god, is that the time? It cannot be two in the morning already."

"Two in the morning," Hartley repeated flatly. "Fantastic. How do you propose we get home then? You certainly can't drive in this state, and I-" He gestured vaguely at himself. "-refuse to subject myself to the horrors of the Central City late-night bus system."

Caitlin hummed, tapping at her phone. "We could call Barry."

Hartley let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh yes, excellent idea. I'd absolutely love to owe the resident superhero a favor. No thank you."

Caitlin frowned, swaying slightly on her barstool. "He's the fastest option. And he can't possibly be drunk."

"He's the most annoying option," Hartley corrected.

"Okay, then...Cisco?" She suggested brightly.

Hartley groaned, pulling out his wallet to pay his tab. "I stand corrected. Ramon is the most annoying option. Call the superhero."

Caitlin grinned triumphantly though it was short-lived. Hartley pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply through his teeth as Caitlin fumbled with her phone, squinting at the screen like it was a particularly difficult medical journal.

"Barry..." she murmured, holding the device precariously in one hand while she stirred the remnants of her cocktail with the other. "Where is he in my contacts again? I swear I didn't delete him-"

Hartley snatched the phone out of her hand before. "For the love of- give me that."

Caitlin let out an indignant noise but didn't stop him as he scrolled through her recent calls. Barry Allen. There. He hovered over the name, considering.

Calling Barry meant owing him, however indirectly, and Hartley loathed the idea of being indebted to someone he had no interest in keeping in his orbit. Barry was the sort of person who seemingly did things out of the goodness of his heart and that alone made Hartley suspicious.

Caitlin poked his arm with all the force of a slightly inebriated kitten. "It's the green button-"

"I know how to make a phone call, Snow."

Hartley sighed dramatically as he pressed the green button on Caitlin's phone, bringing it up to his ear. The line rang twice before Barry picked up, his voice irritatingly chipper despite the late hour.

"Caitlin? Everything okay?"

Hartley closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. "No," he drawled, "Snow is risking alcohol poisoning, which means, unfortunately, I have to call you."

A beat of silence. Then, "Hartley?" Barry sounded absolutely perplexed if not slightly worried. "Why are you calling me from Caitlin's phone?"

Hartley looked over at Caitlin, who had her face buried in her arms on the bar, giggling into the crook of her elbow. "Because she's currently too busy trying to merge with the counter," he said. "And because, apparently, you are our best option for a ride home."

Caitlin perked up at that, lifting her head. "Hi, Barry!" She called loudly, her voice slurring just a little. "Hartley and I are best friends now."

Hartley rolled his eyes but he didn't argue. "Come get her before she embarrasses herself further."

"Right, on it. Where are you guys? What about you?" Barry asked and Hartley frowned.

"What about me?" Hartley echoed.

"Do you need help home too?" Barry clarified and Hartley cringed. The last thing he wanted was to give the Flash his home address. Still, he had to admit, he was unfortunately much too drunk to find his way home on his own and Allen would be faster. He refused anyway.

"I can make my own way home."

"Really?" Barry asked and Hartley huffed out an exasperated sound.

"Yes."

"You sure?" Barry pressed.

"Obviously."

"Because it kind of seems like you-" Barry started and Hartley groaned.

"Oh my god, fine," Hartley snapped. "Yes, Allen, I am regrettably in need of a ride home. You can drop Snow off first, though, so the last remnants of my dignity can be preserved for an additional five minutes."

Barry arrived in a streak of yellow lightning only a minute or two later. Caitlin, now fully immersed in an enthusiastic discussion with the bartender about the molecular structure of alcohol, gestured wildly with her nearly empty glass. Hartley, slumped beside her with his arms crossed, looked ready to either pass out or commit a minor crime - possibly both.

Caitlin gasped dramatically, latching onto Barry's arm the moment she saw him. "Barry! Hartley sang Rent with me," she announced. "It was magical."

Barry snorted in amusement, slinging Caitlin's arm over his shoulder, steadying her as she teetered on her heels. In another flash of lightning, he and Caitlin had disappeared, only for Barry to return moments later in the time it took Hartley to blink. "Alright. Where am I taking you?" He asked, turning to Hartley.

Hartley hesitated, the momentary lull allowing his brain to catch up with the situation. He didn't want Barry knowing where he lived, didn't want anyone knowing, really. His apartment was a far cry from the lavish estates he'd grown up in and he had no interest in subjecting himself to pity.

Barry must have sensed his hesitation because he softened. "I'll drop you off wherever you want. No questions."

Hartley narrowed his eyes, searching Barry's face for any hint of condescension. He found none - just quiet sincerity, which was almost worse.

"Fine," Hartley muttered. "But if you tell anyone about this-"

"I won't," Barry assured him.

Hartley rattled off his address and had barely enough time to grumble something about "the absolute indignity" of needing to be princess-carried home before the world blurred into streaks of golden lightning and he was deposited, slightly dizzier than before, at his front door.

Barry, to his credit, didn't comment on Hartley fumbling with his keys for a solid ten seconds, nor did he say anything when Hartley muttered, "This doesn't make us friends," before finally shoving the door open.

"Noted," Barry replied, a little too brightly. "Drink some water, okay?"

Hartley shut the door in Barry's face.

The second the latch clicked, the apartment fell into blessed, glorious silence. Hartley exhaled, tipping his head back against the door as the night finally caught up with him. His ears were still buzzing slightly from the karaoke, the alcohol, and the general overstimulation of being around people but it wasn't unbearable.

What was unbearable was the way he actually had enjoyed his night.

With Caitlin Snow.

He still didn't like Allen. He still found Ramon unbearable. And he definitely still had a deep-seated grudge against Harrison and, by extension, S.T.A.R. Labs. But Caitlin? Caitlin was tolerable. Even, dare he say, fun.

Hartley was never drinking with Caitlin Snow again.

(He was absolutely drinking with Caitlin Snow again.)

#karaoke night #caitlin snow #hartley rathaway #barry allen #vexic writes #vexic lives #the flash #the flash cw #cw the flash

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