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Bart Allen doesn’t do slow. He’s never been able to. His whole life he’s been leaving everyone in the dust, himself, even, if he stops to think about it. Without the help of top scientists, he can’t even age at a normal rate. Crashing the mode is what Bart Allen does--he doesn’t know anything else.
Bart doesn’t tell Jaime his birthdate, or how many years he’s actually been alive. It would make things weird. And things aren’t weird enough already. Like, how Jaime’s abuela keeps poking his belly and pointing to the tamales and the pozole, saying the one word in English she knows: “Eat!”
And he does. But Bart makes a point of eating each bite with slow precision, constantly eyeing the pot to make sure he’s leaving enough for the rest of them. There’s always a space set at the table for him, and a room with a bed for him to sleep on. Nuestra casa es tu casa. Maybe one day he’ll finally call it home; maybe one day he’ll finally accept Jaime’s familia as his own.
“Hey, Jaime?”
Jaime stops, narrowing his eyes in that way he does when he’s thinking. He can tell something’s different about Bart, maybe in his tone, or the way he calls him by name, instead of Blue, like he normally does. “Yeah, ese?”
Crap. Bart means to ask him the question--the question, but all he can think about right now is how his heart is pounding in his ears. This is probably too soon. He’s probably going too fast. He’s always going too fast, but he can’t help it. Bart means to say the words, but instead he ends up laughing like an idiot.
Jaime laughs too, in that punctured sort of way, that means he doesn’t know what’s going on. Bart can’t decide if that’s a good or a bad thing. “¿Qué?”
Even though the twenty-third century has automatic translators, Bart’s been learning español from Jaime. It gives Bart’s brain something to work on, something to focus on--it helps keep him present. Mostly, though? Bart loves to hear Jaime talk, especially in español. Sure, Bart read the entire El Paso Public Library one night, including the Spanish dictionaries, but knowing the words and knowing how to say them are two different things. “I want to tell you something,” he manages to blurt out.
“I can tell.” Is Jaime blushing? He shifts back and forth on his feet, waiting, but not pushing. Jaime’s eyes shift to the left, like he does when he’s muttering to himself, or is it the scarab he’s talking to? Bart has yet to work up the nerve to ask.
“I...I like you. I reallyreallylikeyou.” Wait, that’s not it. “Notinthefriendssortofway...Imean...notinIhateyou, butImorethan like you. Ilikeyou more thanjustafriend.”
“Oh?” Jamie says playfully, before the words sink in. “Oh.”
Crap. Crud. He shouldn’t have said anything. It isn’t just enough to crash the mode in his life. No. Bart Allen has to go and crash everything else along with it. “Sorry.” Bart says quickly, turning around. “Uh...catch you later."
Just as Bart is about to take off across the planet, Jaime takes his arm. “Ese! Hold up.” Jaime’s hand feels so impossibly warm. “Give a guy a chance to think.”
“Okay.” Bart says quickly, stopping himself, and sinking back on his heels. “Okay.” He says again, turning around to face Jaime.
They stand closer to each other, now, close enough that Bart can hear Jaime’s breathing. “I….” Jaime seems to realize then that he’s still holding onto Bart’s arm. He drops it. Bart’s heart drops into his stomach, only to race when Jaime offers his hand. “I like you too. Really like you.”
Bart’s heart surges back upwards, until it’s hammering in his ears. His thoughts race out of control, flipping through every dating advice article he read the other night, as he stares at that offered hand.
Jaime grimaces. “Sorry, Bart. That didn’t come out how I meant it.”
Bart hardly hears him, his mind is spinning so fast, but not fast enough to decide what to do.
But when Jaime touches his face, Bart’s whole world slows to a crawl. “Te quiero no solo por como eres, sino por como soy yo cuando estoy contigo.”
“I have no idea what you just said. But it sounds beautiful when you say it.” Bart finally takes Jaime’s offered hand then, and squeezes.