A/N: Written for FemFeb this year. For those who may not know: In the Batgirl Adventures one-shot comic tie-in to the Batman animated series, Harley mentions that Ivy gave her a shot so that they "can play and [she] won't get sick at all." I remembered this out of the blue in the middle of my work shift and decided to base a ficlet on it. Enjoy!

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"Don't tell me you're afraid of needles," says Ivy, eyebrows twitching up.

"'Kay," says Harley, eyeing the syringe in Ivy's hand and looking one step short of vaulting off the counter she's perched on. "I won't tell you."

Ivy doesn't take a step toward her so much as shift her weight. Harley shrieks and, sure enough, launches herself into a flip backward, landing crouched on the other side of the counter. She clutches it with white knuckles, peeking up over the top at Ivy with eyes like those hyenas of hers when they want a treat.

"Harley," says Ivy. She sighs, setting aside the syringe. The thought of abandoning the project– and any hope they have of being intimate safely– twists her stomach but she doesn't show it. "I'm not going to fight you on this."

"I don't wanna fight!" Harley insists, pushing herself up to lean across the counter. "I wanna get this done! I just don't want it to hurt."

"Hurt?" Ivy scoffs, though she has to look away from Harley's trembling bottom lip to do it. "It'll only pinch."

"Pinching hurts!" Harley huffs, flopping onto the counter; her arms fold on the way down and her chin settles over them. She rolls her eyes up to look at Ivy and asks, "Don't you have some kinda anesthetic?"

For a shot? Ivy almost asks. The words stop at her lips, which twist in thought– and then pull into a smile. Putting one hand on the syringe but not taking it up just yet, she leans in toward Harley. From deep in her throat, she asks, "How about this?"

She's pretty secure in thinking that the whimper that trips out of Harley a few seconds later, caught up against Ivy's lips, has nothing to do with the needle sliding home under her skin. She draws back to watch the last of the formula disappear, then grabs a swab to press over the puncture as the syringe is pulled free and handed aside to a waiting vine. Harley stares up at her as if through a dream, a silly sigh parting her smile.

Ivy opens her mouth on a quip, only to suck air in between her teeth. She narrows her eyes at Harley, who opens her own wide in an innocent act that Ivy wouldn't buy on a discount.

"You're not afraid of needles," Ivy says, flat with her certainty.

Harley drops the innocent act immediately, a grin sliding over her face like a contented cat. She points out, "I never said I was."

Ivy lashes out whip-quick and pulls Harley across the counter– and Harley comes along, eager and pliant. Her grin drops when Ivy leans in to whisper into her ear, "I hope that was enough to tide you over. A little kiss is fine but we need to wait twenty-four hours for the formula to take."

"Aww, Red!" Harley whines. "You just made that up!"

Ivy smirks and walks away– but she never says she didn't.