Caring

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===Author’s Notes- Here it is: a simple Bart/Cissie fanfic. I don’t know where the idea for this came from…but, here it is. And don’t you dare flame me for it!! Okay? This is dedicated to all the wonderful people who asked me to write a B/C fic. Also, for anyone who’s going to ask why on Earth Bart is showing affection, for Cissie…firs of all, he’s impulsive and somewhat flighty, but he’s not a brick. For instance, in the mentors conference issue, everyone thought Wondergirl was asking Secret a bout sex – and, yes, even Impulse was giving her a condescending look. The boy is mentally fourteen, remember? He should have a good grasp on girls-and-guys, people. However, I don’t think Bart would be screwing anyone. 0.o;; And now for a very short rant: Bart has a crush on CAROL?! Gag me with a spoon! >.< *shudders* ANYbody but the carbon copy of Linda West! (I like Linda…but Carol? I’d sooner choke on my tongue, thank-you very much. What’s funny is I’ve been toying with this incredibly strange idea for an Inertia/Carol fic, but I don’t know if I want to do that to poor Thaddeus…) Also, to continue my ranting/babbling…jealousy is NOT a sign of love, and jealousy is something Carol seems all too good at, whereas Cissie never seems really jealous about Bart. (Okay, maybe she doesn’t like-like him…ha!…sorry…but, still!)===

Summary: A very strange Bart/Cissie fic with absolutely no semblance of a plot. (ie, what happens when you throw a speedster and an archer in a meadow after a drizzly rain?) Aw, heck…just read it, then give me, ahem, constructive criticism. (Plug! Plug!)

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The ground shivered, sucking the moisture of the rain clouds into its brown depths with each dull, thudding raindrop. It was miserable, it was horrible, it was a weak spittle instead of a thick, pounding rain. She stayed out in the soft wetness, letting the rain touch and caress her face, mingling with the bittersweet tears on her face. Why was her mother so cold, so materialistic? She hated her life, hated the unfairness of it all. She wanted a mother that cared about her…wanted so badly for someone to talk to in the loneliness of the dormitory. Traya was a wonderful friend, but Cissie wanted someone she knew, deeply, affectionately, perfectly.

Someone like Bart.

Shaking off excess dampness, she turned around slowly, reentering the dormitory building, quietly slipping up the creaking steps.

She’d call him at his house; it was Saturday, after all, and she knew from past experience that he was always at his and Max’s home in Manchester on a Saturday.

Traya was asleep in her bed; the covers were nestled comfortably about her small frame.

Cissie smiled briefly, flipping up the phone by her bed, fingers hovering over the digits.

She couldn’t do it.

Frustrated and angry at herself, she nearly tossed the phone away from her before she reigned in her sudden temper. Why couldn’t she do it? He was her best friend, the first person who had liked her for who she was, even if he only thought of her as a friend.

What was that? ‘Even if he only thought of her as a friend?’ What did that mean…?

Cissie dropped the cordless phone onto the wrinkled sheets of her bed, bringing one hand up to rub her forehead anxiously. She liked him.

More than a friend?

Yes, she realized morosely, she had a crush on, of all people, Bart!

Sighing in defeat, she placed the phone back on the receiver, hooking it up.

Of course, it chose to ring at that point.

She stared at the phone, wishing instant death to whoever was calling. If anything, the phone rang even harder and more insistently, jarring itself off the hook lightly. "Go a-WAY," she hissed, careful to make sure Traya was still asleep, "I’m trying to contemplate my hormonal feelings!"

It continued to ring.

Exasperated, she grabbed a pillow and thrust it over her head, attempting to block out the annoying, shrill screeching sound. Finally, after what seemed a bitter, warring eternity, she threw the pillow somewhere in the nether regions of the closet, snatching the phone up. "Yes? What do you want?" she snapped irritably.

"Um, hi, Ciss!"

Cissie made a mental note to ask God why he enjoyed tormenting her; her cute bigfoot himself was on the other line.

"Bart?" she asked slowly, calming down somewhat.

"Yup! I was calling ‘cause I was wondering if you’d, I dunno, like to go for a run or something," she could almost see him shrug. "Max’s upset ‘cause I think I broke a really expensive Chinese thingamajig and I’m boredandCarol’soveratPreston’shouse," he rushed the last part, sounding expectant.

Mentally, she erased the note to ask God.

"Okay, I suppose. But it’s ra-"

A rapid knocking sound erupted from the window behind her and Cissie whirled around to see Bart waving cheerfully at her, his outline blurred. Of course. He was vibrating so the drizzle wouldn’t bother him.

The phone buzzed in her hand; obviously Max had found the phone Bart had no doubt left unhooked and dangling from the wall. Shaking her head, she hung up, moving to the window, motioning for him to come in. A simple vibration later and he was in.

"HiCissie,youwannagonow?" he speed-talked and, before she could decipher it, he was pulling her through the windowpane, holding her up in his wiry arms.

The world settled into a comfortable, familiar blur of messy colors and muddled shapes consistently flowing into one another. Sounds faded; the only noises that reached her ears were the rhythms of Bart’s feet slapping against the earth or pavement and the steady beat of her heart, booming and trilling in time with the dull thud-slap of Bart’s feet.

It was odd, how the wind never seemed to be a bother when they were traveling at such high speeds. Technically, she knew, she should be torn to shreds, but she wasn’t. Maybe it was because of the ‘Speed Force’ the speedsters seemed so attuned to. Maybe it was because of their friendship. Maybe there wasn’t a logical explanation.

He came to a sudden halt, in the middle of a meadow, a scattering of grey, fading clouds dotting the sunlit sky, signifying the leaving of a storm. The grass and the trees - tall, majestic, a thousand colors mixed into one - smelled of gentle rain, glistening dewdrops coating the surface of every individual blade of grass and every groove in each leave.

"See?" Bart asked her happily, setting her on the ground, his head reaching her chin; "Max ‘n’ I found it a while ago when we first moved to Manchester and willyawaithereforasecond?" With that said, he was gone, leaving an electrically charged atmosphere – literally – around Cissie.

"You are such a goof," she laughed softly, sneakers molding the pliable earth beneath her shoes, blue sweater and slacks completing her current wardrobe, "silly Bart."

A rush of electricity marked his return and he skid to halt, one large foot before the other, a group of stems clutched in one hand, petals flying behind him. Sheepishly, he blushed, lowering his head a little so his wild red-brown hair partially concealed his yellow eyes.

Trying to stifle a laugh, Cissie took the stems of the once flowers from his hand, tousling his thick locks with her free hand, a smile lighting her lips. "Thanks, Bart," she grinned, "for the, uh, stems."

He turned a red to rival his Impulse suit. Bart ducked his head, shuffling his untied sneakers back and forth a few times, nervously twisting his gold ring with the Flash emblem engraved on it.

"Is something wrong?"

If it was possible, he blushed an even deeper shade of red. "N-no…"

He was standing still. That alone made Cissie suspicious. "Bart, if you’re lying to me…"

"I’m not lying! Nothing’s wrong!" he hastily responded, shaking his hands in a dismissive mannerism.

"Then stop blushing!" she teased, "Why, it’s almost enough to think you have a crush on me!"

It suddenly occurred to her that everytime he blushed harder, his limbs were losing precious oxygen supplies the blood carried.

And he was flushing deeper again.

Plopping to the ground, she patted the damp grass beside her. "Sit, Bart."

He complied, one foot whirring at a mind-numbing speed as it tapped fervently against the swiftly wearing down patch of grass. Apparently, he really wasn’t able to keep still for extended amounts of time.

"Bart?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Caring."

*

End AN: Gaaaah! This sucked! >.<;; Urgh! Ah, well, I *did* write it at around 11 PM and 12 AM, so my brain wasn’t functioning completely. ~PallaPlease.