“Ok, Barry Allen, you’ve been standing in front of that cast party poster for, like, the last five years ,” Hartley Rathaway said, bumping shoulders with Barry as he stood in front of the pinboard that hung outside the changing rooms.
“Hartley, why do you always have to say my whole name like that?” Barry sighed.
“Because it’s perfect. Barry Allen . It’s like a superhero’s alter ego name or something,” Hartley continued, power posing for a moment.
“Yeah. Totally.” Barry said sarcastically.
“You are going, though, right?” Hartley asked.
“Ehhh,” Barry shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not a lead or anything and-”
“That doesn’t mean anything!” Hartley cut in. “I’m totally going and I know a few of the other lighting guys are going. The cast party is for everyone, not just the leads. With this musical, that would mean Kendra and Carter would have to hang out with Vandal of all people and that would just end horribly, we all know that.”
“I guess you’re right,” Barry laughed.
“Of course I’m right, Barry Allen,” Hartley scoffed, patting Barry’s shoulder and walking away. Barry sighed and looked at the poster again. Cast Party TONIGHT it read. Come celebrate all our hard work with booze! The bottom of the poster advertised the time and place as Kendra and Carter’s apartment after today’s practice. Barry sighed and entered the changing room to get out of his costume.
Go to the cast party, Barry Allen. It’ll be fun, Barry Allen. Barry thought. He was standing in the kitchen at Kendra and Carter’s cast party, attempting to drink a cheap beer and petting their cat. He had retreated to the kitchen after Hartley had started flirting with one of the leads, Michael. There weren’t a lot of people at the party yet. Everyone had wanted to go home and shower first. How long does it take people to shower? Barry thought to himself, glancing at the door. The cat, Mau, nudged his hand. He took another drink from his beer and winced. He turned to continue petting the cat when someone else walked into the kitchen, muttering to himself about mixing drinks. He stopped in front of the plethora of alcohols that lined the counter across from Barry and huffed, putting his hands on his hips. Barry stifled a giggle and picked up the cat. The man jumped and turned to Barry.
“When did you get there?” the man asked, clutching his chest.
“I’ve been in here since Hartley crawled into Michael’s lap,” Barry said, rolling his eyes.
“Wow. How many years have you been in this kitchen?” the man laughed. Barry giggled and Mau decided he didn’t want to be held anymore, leaping out of Barry’s arms and stalking out of the kitchen. Barry sighed and took another sip of his beer, wincing again.
“So, I’m really sorry I’m about to ask this,” the man started, “but what’s your name?”
“Barry Allen. And don’t feel bad, I don’t know yours either.”
“Cisco Ramon. I work in costuming,” Cisco smiled and turned back to the booze. “I think I remember meeting you once when you got your costume.”
“Oh!! Yeah, I remember now,” Barry said, stepping across the kitchen to lean on the counter next to Cisco. “So you’re the first person to come in here and touch any of this stuff, just fyi.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Cisco sighed, picking up bottles and reading their labels, picking out a few, then opening the cabinet above his head and pulling out a container labeled ‘sugar’.
“Um, what exactly are you doing?” Barry asked, hopping up onto the counter.
“I am mixing myself a drink that doesn’t taste like bottled pee,” Cisco answered with a huff. “These heathens all insist on drinking that cheap beer when they have all this alcohol in the house.”
“I thought I saw Kendra with a rum and coke,” Barry offered.
“Yes, the easiest drink to make,” Cisco laughed.
“So, what are you making then, Mr. Bartender?” Barry asked.
“A tequila sunrise,” Cisco said, spinning to open the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. He put the carton on the counter and grabbed a tall glass, filling it with ice. Barry watched as Cisco made the drink, pouring in the orange juice, tequila, and grenadine. Cisco turned to the fridge again, putting back the orange juice and taking out a red bull. Cisco cracked open the drink, took a long drink, then poured the rest into his cocktail, filling it to the brim.
“Don’t try this at home,” he said, smirking at Barry and taking a careful drink from the full glass. Barry laughed.
“I thought you were gonna shake something,” Barry said, teasing, “I’m a little disappointed.”
“Ok, ok, fine,” Cisco huffed, grabbing the vodka and a few other bottles, turning to the fridge again to grab the container of strawberries and the can of whipped cream. He grabbed the silver shaker from it’s place on top of a bottle of margarita mix and started to mix. “I’m gonna give you a French Kiss,” he said with a smirk.
“OH,” Barry sputtered, the innuendo not lost on him as a blush crept to his cheeks. Cisco’s smile grew and he started to shake the drink, the sound of the ice hitting the metal cup drowning out any conversation. Cisco finished the drink by straining it into a glass and handing it to Barry.
“Wait, wait.” He stopped Barry from taking a drink by shoving a cream-covered strawberry in his face. “This first.” Barry paused and looked down at Cisco with wide eyes. Cisco had moved to stand in front of him, one of his hands on Barry’s knee and the other holding the strawberry by the stem. Cisco looked at him expectantly. Barry took a breath and took a bite of the strawberry, not breaking eye contact with Cisco. He hummed, then took a sip of his drink with a smirk, completely satisfied with the surprised look on Cisco’s face.
“So, are there any other strategically named drinks you’re gonna make me, or are you gonna leave me with this one?”
“How about a blowjob?”
Four hours and eight strategically named cocktails later, Hartley ran into the kitchen.
“I need a bottle,” he said, face flushed, and staring at Cisco. Barry looked at Hartley with raised eyebrows, sucking his most recent drink through a straw.
“Do I wanna know what you need it for?” Cisco asked, handing Hartley an empty vodka bottle.
“No, no, I need a full one,” Hartley said, moving between Barry and Cisco to grab the full bottle of vodka. “We’re playing spin the bottle but if you don’t want to kiss the person the bottle lands on, you have to take a drink. Ok, thanks, byyeeee.” He ran from the kitchen.
“Ok, this is gonna be too good to miss,” Cisco laughed. Barry nodded, jumping from the counter only to sway on his feet. Cisco grabbed his waist to steady him.
“I am more drunk than I thought I was,” Barry said, blinking hard.
“Hey, you can still talk,” Cisco said, leading Barry into the living room. “You’re off balance because I did my job.”
“Why aren’t you more drunk?” Barry asked, sitting down hard next to Hartley in the circle that was forming on the floor. “You drank as much as I did.”
“Yes, but I was leaning on the counter and on you,” Cisco said, smiling as he sat next to Barry. Barry giggled.
“Ok!” Hartley said, excitedly, “Everyone knows the rules already because I shouted them so do we have any volunteers to start?”
“I will,” offered one of the other chorus members that had come to the party. She leaned forward and spun the bottle. It landed on Michael who was sitting next to Hartley, and Hartley gave the girl an evil stare. She giggled and picked up the bottle, taking a swig of it before putting it back in the center of the circle. “Sorry, Mikey,” she laughed, “You’re cute and all, but I bat for the other team.”
The game continued like that for a while. Hartley and Michael had to be separated at one point, Carter sitting between the two. Sara, another member of the lighting team, landed on Kendra three separate times, and every time got a glare from Carter, which she ignored. Hartley had threatened to take away the ‘drink from the bottle’ rule after Barry had avoided kissing someone for the sixth time.
“Barry Allen!! You can’t do that every time!!”
“Yeah, but if I didn’t do it this time I would’ve kissed your boyfriend, so...” Barry trailed off, taking another drink from the bottle. Cisco fell over laughing and Hartley glared at Barry with his face red from anger. Cisco was still laughing when he spun the bottle, not looking at it when it stopped. Barry stiffened.
“Cisco,” Kendra whined. He looked up and looked from the bottle to Barry.
“I told you I’d give you a french kiss,” Cisco said, smiling. He leaned in, cupping Barry’s jaw with one hand. He tasted like gin and orange juice and Barry found himself leaning into the kiss, his hands raising to cup Cisco’s jaw. Cisco sighed and drew his tongue against Barry’s lips. There was a loud cheer from the other side of the circle and Barry and Cisco jerked apart slightly. Barry’s hands were still on Cisco’s jaw, his thumbs rubbing it softly.
“This is why I only drink alcohol that tastes good.”