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Plus One

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“This. Is. Hilarious,” Cisco laughs when he catches Harry practicing what he’s going to say to you to himself in the Workshop. The scientist spins around at the sound of his colleague’s voice at having been caught.

“Is not,” Harry insists, embarrassed.

“I’ll help you,” Cisco offers, thinking himself a total ladies man who could pass on all his golden knowledge.

“Not necessary.”

“Fine then. It won’t be my fault if (Y/N) finds someone else to go as her date to the wedding…” The engineer begins to leave the room.

“Ramon, wait.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”




He won’t ask me. Why would he? I’m not his type. We work together. Would it be weird if we went together? I mean, we’re all going to be there together, but going as each other’s dates. That would be a whole new level. Uncharted territory. Why am I even thinking about this? It’s not like he’s even-

Your mental tailspin is cut short when the tall, dark, and handsome scientist walks into the Cortex. Harry wears his all-black ensemble as usual, and you find yourself wondering if he’s going to wear an all-black suit to the wedding…

“Harry!” you exclaim. You really need to learn how to relax around him. “Yo… what’s up?” You cringe. Not that relaxed. Harry doesn’t even seem to notice how weird you’re being. It seems something is on his mind, though. He’s acting nervous. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

He stands with his arms folded and looking very intently at the cleared desktop on which the monitors sit.

“No. Nope. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then what is it?”

“The West-Allen wedding… I-”

“-Oh no! Has something happened? Are they okay?”

“What? Yes, yes, of course, they’re fine.”

“So… what about the wedding?”

Harry rubs the back of his neck, still looking downward, but then he flicks his eyes up to look at you.

“I don’t want to presume anything, in the event that you already have a plus one to the wedding, but in the case that you don’t, which would be ridiculous- not that you’re ridiculous, I’m just saying, well, I’m asking, or rather trying to-”

“-Harry,” you try to snap him out of his rambling and excessive hand gestures.

“(Y/N), would you care to be my date to the West-Allen wedding?”

You don’t even care that you may have stopped breathing. You don’t even care that your mouth is hanging open in the biggest smile you’ve probably ever had.

“Um, yeah, yeah, I’d love to.” Tone down the smile, lunatic. You press your lips together and nod.

“Great. Excellent,” Harry says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, I’ll message you later? About coordinating details and such?”

“Yes! I will await your message, then.”

“Perfect.” There’s an awkward yet blissful pause. Harry makes a thumb motion towards the door. “Well, I’ll just…”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably…”


“I’ll see you around?” you ask dumbly.

“I do live here,” he points out, looking amused.

“That’s right, you do.”

“Okay, well, take care.” Harry slowly inches backward to the Cortex exit, not once turning his back to you.

“You too, Harry.”

“Bye, now.” His smile is killing you, and just before he rounds the corner, he gives you a quick wink that could have been missed if you hadn’t been staring so hard.

“Bye.” You raise your hand just above your mouth and mindlessly run a finger over your lips.

Thank you, Barry and Iris, for finally getting married.