Untitled Bart & Cassie ficlet (700 words)
Untitled practise ficlet, in which the world's fast, and Bart's patient, and Cassie's having a hard time dealing.
Cassie's talking to him, speaking fast. Well, maybe her normal speed, but it sounds faster, higher. It's kind of like learning a new language--well, no, because it's not like no one was ever at his speed. It's more like his friends have finally learnt his language, and he needs to adjust to not mentally translating for them. Needs to stifle the urge to lengthen his vowels and exaggerate the pauses before he speaks. Needs to learn to listen to their voices instead of piecing together meaning from streams of elongated sounds.
Cassie has a really nice voice. He knew that--it was nice before--but it's. Different now. She's different now, in really strange ways. There's her voice, and she's really--twitchy, and she's kind of avoiding any Wonder Girl questions. But she looks the same. Like, exactly the same. He's had years, real years, where all he had of her and Tim and Kon and the rest of them were his memories; he's practically memorised the placement of their pores. And there's nothing about her now that's physically any different from when he left--he came back to where he was, and he's the only one who's older. Or who looks it, anyway. It's hard to get his head around.
But that's pretty much the only thing that's the same. Cassie's smiling at him, maybe a little strained, a little fake, but mostly like she always did. Except that the muscles at the neck of her sweatshirt are tight and her hand keeps gravitating to where she keeps her lasso when she's in costume. She looks so young to him now, but also wary, hard, experienced. Do they all look like that to the adults? Did he look like that, or is it just--
And it takes him that long to get that she's not comfortable around him anymore. She's trying, he can see that, but every time she opens her eyes from a blink (fast), she tenses up again. Like she'd expected to see Impulse sitting across from her when she opened her eyes--or at least Kid Flash. Like she thinks she can pinch herself and he'll be young again, he'll be the same, it'll be just like it was.
It's not just that, not just the age thing. It's--
"--nothing personal, it's just. You're so calm." She shrugs. "You're so--I interrupt you now. It's, well..."
Bart waits, but she doesn't finish her thought. "Freaking you out?" he suggests, finally.
She makes a visible effort to relax, quirks her lips in a micro-apology that he barely catches. "Yeah," she says. "Sorry."
"No, I get it," Bart says. And, yeah, he does. He's always been patient--he's had to be, to interact with anyone outside the Flash family--but it used to be relative patience. This must be
"Really weird," Cassie says, then apologises again.
He wants to give her time to get used to it, but he also kind of wants to go, find someone who'll just get it. Kon would've adapted fast, wouldn't have had any problem, but he's--
Anyway. He doesn't think he wants to talk to her about him. He's had time, but she's still--raw. It's not like when Troia died; she's hiding it well. It's just this look in her eyes, like she doesn't believe it, won't accept it. It's the sort of look he wouldn't really have noticed before, when they'd been friends. She'd always been such a good friend--they all had--but there was so much Bart hadn't noticed or hadn't understood. He'd apologise for that, if he could do it without explaining.
He pushes his chair back, stands up.
"I have to catch a bus back," he says, and Cassie gapes at him again for a moment before she remembers, again, about his speed. "Sorry, it's. Work tomorrow, and it's a long ride home."
"You could stay on my couch?" she offers. "I could fly you back in the morning. I'm faster than a bus, anyway."
She means it, but she still looks relieved when he declines. He just--he has to get used to it sometime. And it's not like the bus ride will be too long; these days, the time just flies.
Cassie's talking to him, speaking fast. Well, maybe her normal speed, but it sounds faster, higher. It's kind of like learning a new language--well, no, because it's not like no one was ever at his speed. It's more like his friends have finally learnt his language, and he needs to adjust to not mentally translating for them. Needs to stifle the urge to lengthen his vowels and exaggerate the pauses before he speaks. Needs to learn to listen to their voices instead of piecing together meaning from streams of elongated sounds.
Cassie has a really nice voice. He knew that--it was nice before--but it's. Different now. She's different now, in really strange ways. There's her voice, and she's really--twitchy, and she's kind of avoiding any Wonder Girl questions. But she looks the same. Like, exactly the same. He's had years, real years, where all he had of her and Tim and Kon and the rest of them were his memories; he's practically memorised the placement of their pores. And there's nothing about her now that's physically any different from when he left--he came back to where he was, and he's the only one who's older. Or who looks it, anyway. It's hard to get his head around.
But that's pretty much the only thing that's the same. Cassie's smiling at him, maybe a little strained, a little fake, but mostly like she always did. Except that the muscles at the neck of her sweatshirt are tight and her hand keeps gravitating to where she keeps her lasso when she's in costume. She looks so young to him now, but also wary, hard, experienced. Do they all look like that to the adults? Did he look like that, or is it just--
And it takes him that long to get that she's not comfortable around him anymore. She's trying, he can see that, but every time she opens her eyes from a blink (fast), she tenses up again. Like she'd expected to see Impulse sitting across from her when she opened her eyes--or at least Kid Flash. Like she thinks she can pinch herself and he'll be young again, he'll be the same, it'll be just like it was.
It's not just that, not just the age thing. It's--
"--nothing personal, it's just. You're so calm." She shrugs. "You're so--I interrupt you now. It's, well..."
Bart waits, but she doesn't finish her thought. "Freaking you out?" he suggests, finally.
She makes a visible effort to relax, quirks her lips in a micro-apology that he barely catches. "Yeah," she says. "Sorry."
"No, I get it," Bart says. And, yeah, he does. He's always been patient--he's had to be, to interact with anyone outside the Flash family--but it used to be relative patience. This must be
"Really weird," Cassie says, then apologises again.
He wants to give her time to get used to it, but he also kind of wants to go, find someone who'll just get it. Kon would've adapted fast, wouldn't have had any problem, but he's--
Anyway. He doesn't think he wants to talk to her about him. He's had time, but she's still--raw. It's not like when Troia died; she's hiding it well. It's just this look in her eyes, like she doesn't believe it, won't accept it. It's the sort of look he wouldn't really have noticed before, when they'd been friends. She'd always been such a good friend--they all had--but there was so much Bart hadn't noticed or hadn't understood. He'd apologise for that, if he could do it without explaining.
He pushes his chair back, stands up.
"I have to catch a bus back," he says, and Cassie gapes at him again for a moment before she remembers, again, about his speed. "Sorry, it's. Work tomorrow, and it's a long ride home."
"You could stay on my couch?" she offers. "I could fly you back in the morning. I'm faster than a bus, anyway."
She means it, but she still looks relieved when he declines. He just--he has to get used to it sometime. And it's not like the bus ride will be too long; these days, the time just flies.