AN: Okay, so I love Harley Quinn, probably more than Hugh Jackman loves Wolverine, yeah that bad. In my mind, I've written a hundred fanfics all focused on Harley Quinn because I feel like the Batman universe has left a lot of questions up in the air about her. Anyway, this one is just a one shot that just sort of sums up the relationship between Harley and Ivy.
Warning: There's a lesbian relationship in this fanfic, please if you don't like it don't read it.
Pamela Isley pushed a loose strand of fiery hair out of her face as her eyes darted across the pages of her book. It was something that would be considered boring and dull to the average person, as it was entirely about recent advances in the uses of genetically manipulated plants. Regardless, Pamela was captivated by every word and detail as her eyes swallowed them as a starving man would devour his first meal, completely glued to the page. This was the information she hungered for, this was what everyone should strive to learn and understand, the beauty and usefulness of plants, to hold them in respect and love, how could people not see-
Her reading was cut short by the ringing of the apartments landline phone; lowering her book, Pamela raised a curious eyebrow, that was odd, no one should be calling that number. The building had been abandon for years, it had been scheduled for demolition but due to city zoning laws and financial reasons that Pamela couldn't care less about, the concrete structure had been left to rot. Now the Queen of Plants called it home, a home that she feared was being invaded with each ring of the phone. There was only one person on the planet that she had told about this place. Pamela got to her feet and stared at the phone with a new interest. Could it be, she wondered as her fingers curled around the cream colored receiver, could it really be?
Closing her eyes, Pamela stood stone still and tried not to breath, there was no way she was making the first sound just in case it wasn't who she was hoping for, no way she would willingly give herself away. Then a squeaky yet unusually quiet and tentative voice came from the other end, "Red?"
A sigh escaped from Pamela's lips, "Damn it Harley you scared the crap out of me," she rubbed her forehead as though that would relieve the stress that was slowly lifting, "I thought I was fucking found out."
"Oh," Harley replied, her voice sounding weak and any sign of her normally over excited to the point of irritation perkiness was completely gone, "I'm sorry if I was botherin' ya', I j-just couldn't thinka' anyone else to call," her voice cracked as she was over taken by hiccups caused by her sobbing.
Pamela's eyebrows pulled together in confusion, "What's wrong?" she demanded, long ago she had abandoned trying to approach Harley's woes, all generally circled around the Joker or Arkham, delicately because Harley had a nasty habit of trying to wiggle away from the truth and make it sound not so bad, even when it was clearly upsetting Harley.l.
The other end went silent for a moment before Pamela was able to pick up the faint sounds of her friend sobbing, "Oh Pami," Harley was finally able to force out, "I've gotten myself all messed up again."
That was a line Pamela had heard before, one that she knew meant the Joker had used Harley as a punching bag worse than what he normally did, enough to shake even Harley's unwavering faith. Without a second thought, Pamela asked, "Where are you? I'm coming to get you."
Harley sat up on the curb, her legs stretched out into the empty street as her head hang, supported on her gloved hands. Her make up had began to run under her eyes and down her checks from the tear tracks and her shoulders were hunched over in defeat. There was dried blood under her nose but she hasn't bother to wipe it away, her nose wasn't broken and there was other parts of her body that were in pain so she didn't feel the need to worry about a little blood. Parts of her body such as her ribs, every time she took a breath her chest hurt, a few rough kicks had at the very least given her several ugly bruises.
The illumination of headlights forced Harley to pull her legs in toward her chest so they didn't get run over, but the motion made her wince. Turning her face as the car drove past, Harley turned to hide her shame from the stranger that probably wasn't even giving her the time of day. Once upon a time, she had been a strong woman who had more than her fair share of hardship before she had ever utter the word the Joker and come out on top, with barely a scratch to show for it. Not anymore. The Joker was a trial that she couldn't win, she was down deep with the Devil and had no way of getting out. Red always said that there was, that Harley didn't have to put up with all the Joker's shit, but that wasn't true, Harley had burned any other bridge, pissed away all the opportunities that she had clawed and fought so hard for. Plus it wasn't just about necessity, it was so much deeper than that; Harley truly loved the Joker, with her whole heart, maybe not everybody saw that but somewhere in his black heart there was a part that knew love because of her and shared the feeling, even if he didn't show it.
A second car pulled down the street going too slow, Harley wondered for a moment if that headlights belonged to a cop car, but she couldn't be bother to pull her up off the curb, it was too much effort for her aching body. Let them take her in if they wanted to, see if she'd care. She didn't, not one little bit. The car came to stop and she stayed still, her eyes fixed on nothing, the blue pools gazed over with sorrow. She waited, waited for someone to start shouting or push her again the pavement or handcuff her or maybe shoot her, but it didn't happen. The engine hummed quietly for a moment before she heard, "Come on Harl, let's get outta' here."
The blonde's head spanned up and she stared into the green eyes of the one person on the whole planet that she wanted to see in that moment, "Ivy," she sighed, slowly getting to her feet and opening the pink door.
Pamela's grip on the wheel tightened as she watched Harley labor to get to her feet, normally the energetic blonde would've jumped in and demanded she be taken to a 'night on the town', which generally meant a crime spare but a few times actually meant bar-hopping. Now the jester looked frail and timid, which made Pamela growl, "I'm gonna' fucking kill him," under her breath.
Apparently not quiet enough, because Harley's already doe eyes grew even wider, something Ivy had been sure was impossible, "No Pami, pleeease," she grabbed the red heads arm so tightly that her knuckles went white under her gloves and the other woman winced in pain, something that Harley ignored, "you can't, what would I do without Mista' J? He's everything I got, all I have."
Her words were like a knife to Pamela's heart and she held back the desire to remind Harley that the Joker wasn't all she had, Pamela would never abandon her, something that couldn't be said about Harley's Mista' J. The rest of the ride was in silence, Harley curled up with her feet resting on the edge of the seat against the car door, while Pamela fought to keep her eyes on the road instead of allowing them to rake across the distraught blonde.
Parking the car under the abandon building, Pamela shifted in her seat so that she was facing Harley, "You have to tell me what he did," she demanded softly, her voice eerily calm, the sort of calm that meant Pamela was serious. The red head reached for the doe eyed woman, placing a comforting hand on Harley's shoulder, but the jester flinched away like she had been struck.
"I'm not talking about it," Harley insisted, shaking off Pamela's touch and fumbling to open the door. The moment she was out, Harley made a beeline for stairs, the clicking of her shoes echoing against the empty concrete garage.
A sigh escaped from Pamela's ruby lips, as she scrambled to catch up with the clearly upset little jester, who's elegant figure was bounding away. Pulling her overcoat off her shoulders, she wrapped it around Harley's shaking frame, pulling the other woman close, "Alright, Harl, I'm letting it go for now, but I can't swoop by and pick up the pieces every time he brakes you," Pamela rambled, "one of these times he's going to kill you, you have to know that somewhere in your skull."
By the pitiful sideways glance that Harley shot her, the little blonde had no idea, it was clear that never in her wildest dreams had Harley considered that her life could be ended by her lover. Pamela let the conversation drop as the two woman made their way up the many flights of stairs to her apartment. Opening the door, a strong floral smell hit Harley in the face, and it hung in the air like a fog. She wondered how Ivy could breath in here but figured not to waste air asking the question.
In silence, Pamela watched Harley take a seat at her counter, slumping in the stool and staring into space. Without her having to ask, the flower lady poured two tall drinks, and handed one over to the woman in ruined face paint, "Drink this," she commanded, her hand curling around her own glass, "we could both use it."
The alcohol burned the back of Harley's throat but she didn't let that bother her as she quickly drained the glass. Then her blue eyes pulled up to Ivy's face, watching the way her lips cupped the glass, "Why are you so good to me all the time, Pami?" she asked, "all I do is let ya' down."
Placing the glass on the counter, Pamela leaned on the cool granite, her face inches from the blonde's, while her finger absently twirled one of Harley's pom poms at the end of her headpiece, "I suppose it's 'cuz I care about you. I don't like to see you hurt, and I don't like people who hurt you. I just want to protect you, Harley."
"I don't know why you think I need protection," Harley huffed as Ivy filled her drink. The red head shoot her companion a cold look but didn't dignify her argument with a response because they were both smart woman, they knew bullshit when they saw.
After the two drained a few more glasses, Harley carefully rose from her seat but as she began to walk down the hall, she slipped. The jester scrambled for footing but found none, and instead she had to catch herself right before she could crack her chin on the wood floor. Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes and before the clown could stop herself, a sob escaped her. Pamela was by her side in moment, helping her to her feet and guiding the distraught woman into her bedroom, the only one in the apartment and sat her down on the bed.
Hurrying into her bathroom, Ivy grabbed a damp washcloth, and when she returned to Harley's side, she began gingerly wiping the make up away, "It's okay Harley," she cooed softly, "I've got you, it'll be alright."
Still tears fell freely from the blonde's eyes as she sat passively on Ivy's bed, letting the other woman clean her up as though she was a child. When there was no trace clown nor blood left on her face, Harley laid her head on Pamela's shoulder, "I love you, Red," she whispered in her ear, "you're my protector, I just forget sometimes."
The words sent a shiver down Ivy's spine, and she closed her eyes for a moment, "I love you too," she replied, wrapping her arms around the other woman's shoulders and drawing her closer. Her heartbeat had picked up and with Harley so near, Pamela was sure the blonde noticed it.
Harley lifted her head, her face free of makeup, her blue eyes taking the red head it, "After all the nice things you do for me," Harley whispered, her hands coming up to cup Ivy's face, and seeing the lust behind those deep green eyes, "I think I should show you how much I appreciate you."
Her lips came upon Pamela's with a greedy, urgent mission, the passion burning up both women like a flame. While Ivy laced in fingers deep in the long blonde hair, Harley let her fingers slip downward, to Pamela's two perky, lovely breasts. The sudden grasp caused Pamela to pull back with a quick intake of breath, "Wait," she said, trying to catch her breath as she got to her feet, hovering over the bed, "are you sure you want to do this?"
Harley had never been shy about affection, often kissing Ivy and cuddling with Ivy when she stayed the night, but that was all. It was clear by the mischievous glint in the little jester's large eye that told a much dirtier plan for that evening. Regardless of how much Pamela would love to give into her lust for Harley, she couldn't push it out of her head that the only reason Harley wanted to have sex with her was to take her mind off the Joker's cruelty. Still Harley slid down to the end of bed, wrapping her arms around Ivy, pulling the woman close as Harley's hand found it's way between Ivy's leg, "Come on, Red," she whispered in her best seductive voice, "don't you wanna' rev up your Harley?"
After applying more pressure to Pamela's center and hearing the red head release a moan, Harley knew an resistant that Ivy had had crumbled under the jester's touch. Hooking her hand behind Harley's neck, Pamela brought her lips down to Harley's with crushing urgency, tickling the edge of the blonde's mouth with her tongue until Harley gave her entrance. The night was full of a tangle of limps, a meeting of passion, a holding of bodies, a release of affection, a sharing of kisses and a revealing of the truth.
As the morning rolled in, Ivy's hand curled around the bedsheets where she had remembered Harley laying down. As she blinked awake, her mind still hazy in the fog of sleep, she noticed she was alone in her bed. Sadness spot through Pamela as she stumbled to her feet, pulling a long teeshirt over her head to cover her naked form. She hurried down the hall, hoping to be pleasantly surprised; in her mind she imagined that when she reached the kitchen Harley would be standing there making the world's worst breakfast, due to the fact that the little jester was hands down the worst cook Ivy had every met. Once Harley had successfully burnt everything, Ivy pictured that she would step in and save breakfast, but reality hit hard when she actually entered the kitchen. It was empty, no burning smell, no blonde bobbing around the kitchen, just eerie silence.
Ivy wanted to be shocked or, at the very least, mildly surprised that Harley had left without a word but she just wasn't. She also wished that she could regret last night, but again, even if she felt used, she didn't feel bad about sleeping with Harley. As she made her way through the kitchen she noticed a piece of paper tacked to the fridge.
Pami,
Sorry to run out on you, Red, Mr. J was looking for me, well I'm sure he needs me, the man wouldn't be able to find his socks without. Anyway, I had to go make sure he was okay after our little disagreement, they can make him so upset. I'll see you soon, baby.
Love,
Your Harley.
The red headed woman sighed as her fingers brushed over the red lipstick lip marks Harley left when she kissed the paper. Part of her wished she could rescue Harley from her life, Ivy wasn't a hero type like Batman but she had this irrational need to save the little jester, yet the other part of her wished she could just not care about Harley and brake the terrible cycle. Still Poison Ivy knew that when Harley called again she wouldn't hesitate to do whatever the beautiful blonde wanted.
AN: I hoped you liked it, I tried to keep it classy, with only a little smut, not that smut's a bad thing its just not what I was going for.