A/N: Sort of a prequel to Affection and Incubus, this story delves into the beginnings of the romantic relationship between Harley and Ivy. If all goes well, this story will be followed by a sequel that takes place much later.

The title is kind of a complicated, stupid story. Titles are always where I get hung up, trying to think of something that sounds good and that I won't think is stupid later on (and I always do anyway). I won't bore you with my tale of stumbling around the internet looking for inspiration; suffice to say that Euonymus Fortunei, also known as "Fortune's Spindle", is a vine similar to ivy, and one strain of it is called Harlequin. Add in a slight nod towards the old saying "fortune's fool" and we get Fortune's Harlequin.

Well, that's enough rambling from me. Read, hopefully enjoy and please review!

Ivy dabbed ointment on a particularly nasty cut on the jester's brow. Harley bit her lip as the wound stung and burned.

"Thanks for takin' me in and patchin' me up, Red."

The redheaded villainess scowled. The cold professionalism to balance Harley's madcap antics, their long-lived and tight knit friendship was proof that opposites attract. Not that it wasn't a great deal of work to keep it going, and times like these strained her patience to the limit.

"I don't know why I bother. Every time you come over here, I nurse you back to health and hope that you'll show a modicum of sense, and every time you go back to that...repulsive clown." Nevertheless, she carefully placed a bandage over the cut and smoothed the edges down.

Harley pouted. "You shouldn't say those things about Mr. J, Red! He's really a sweetheart, he just...um..."

"Abuses you."

The jester shifted uncomfortably. "It's just that with Bats always messin' up his plans, he gets all bent outta shape. If the Bat was gone—"

Ivy cut her off with a snort. "You're deluding yourself, Harl. Even if Batman was dead, it wouldn't change what the Joker is." A creep, she grumbled in the privacy of her mind.

Harley huffed and crossed her arms. Obedient in nature though she was, Ivy had long ago learned that when pushed too far Harley would bristle like a hedgehog. "What's it to you, anyway! Why do you care what happens to me?"

Pamela stamped her foot in an uncharacteristically petulant display of frustration. "Damn it, Harley, you're my best friend! You're my only friend." She folded her arms and leaned in until she was face to face with Harley, eyes narrowing to slits. "You're the only person in this disgusting, vile race of planet desecrators that I care about. So forgive me if I'm concerned about your welfare."

The blonde girl blinked, the irritation slowly draining from her face as something harder to identify replaced it. "Do you really mean that, Red?"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Of course I do. Why would I say it if—"

Harley leaned across the few inches separating them and kissed her full on the lips. Pamela Isley froze, eyes going wide as blood surged into her face. A curious tingle coursed through her body, unlike anything she'd ever felt when kissing a man. She wanted to push Harley away, but her body was strangely unresponsive as her brain sluggishly tried to grind into action.

Just before Pam mustered the will to push Harley back, the other woman broke the contact herself, a self-satisfied expression on her face.

"Wh-I-you-wh—" Ivy spluttered before regaining a scrap of her composure. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why on Earth did you kiss me?"

A goofy grin spread across the blonde's face. "Gee, I dunno, Red." She leaned forward and Ivy tensed, but Harley just rested her cheek on her collarbone. "I guess I'm getting sweet on you."

Eyes closed and her straw colored hair spilled across Ivy's shoulder, Harley grinned. "An' I'm startin' to think you're sweet on me, too."

Embarrassed and still off-balance, Ivy managed to utter a denial, but the absence of her characteristic scorn and hauteur was as good a giveaway as if she had stammered. An infuriating smugness infused Harley's grin and Pam had to resist the urge to scoot her chair back, leaving the jester to tumble to the floor. Ivy settled for pushing Harley back away from her and standing.

"My babies need tending," she said in a cool voice before turning and striding from the kitchen.

The door to her greenhouse clicked behind her and she took a moment to lock it before picking up a watering can and turning her attention to her beloved plants.

She had never been so humiliated! Her indignation caused her to splash water haphazardly over the delicate flowers, and she was half tempted to march right back into the kitchen and give Harley a piece of her mind. But as she had hoped, the task of caring for her plants acted as a soothing balm for her temper, and when she had calmed down enough she turned to the task of nursing her stung pride.

With a more level head on her shoulders, she revisited the scene that had just played out in her kitchen. If she was entirely truthful with herself, she had maybe developed a soft spot for the girl that went beyond friendship not long after the blonde jester had turned up on her doorstep for the first time, bruised and tearfully asking for a place to stay. More than once since then Ivy had found her mind idly wandering to a scene remarkably similar to the one that had just occurred, Harley's head on her collarbone as she ran her hand through the girl's soft, luxurious hair...but she'd always pushed such thoughts out of her head before long, as much because of her own pride and willfulness as Harley's apparent heterosexuality.

Which may have just been called into question...

She carefully pruned the leaves of her precious babies while pondering the situation. If Harley was showing interest in her...well, that changed everything. She didn't waste time musing over her own proclivities; men were disgusting pigs, she'd given up on them long ago. The left corner of her mouth quirked up in a tiny smile. But wouldn't it be something if her idle fantasies became reality?

The smile slowly turned into a frown. Was it worth risking their friendship? She hardly required companionship to get through the days and weeks, but even so...it was nice to have someone to talk to. And Harley was the only someone in her life. If she pushed the relationship and it soured, she'd lose something that she truly valued.

Still.

She couldn't rid herself of the intoxicating notion of holding the girl close and stroking her face, tasting her delicate skin, pressing their lips together—on her terms this time. Ivy snorted. The thought of Harley taking charge was not altogether unwelcome, but Pam was not used to ceding control to another and didn't particularly care to do so. Moreover, the scene in the kitchen had introduced her to far more embarrassment than she'd ever felt in her adult life, and she rather disliked the feeling.

If this went any further, it would have to be on her pushing it onward. And ideas, the kind that she had always lingered wistfully on for only a moment before discarding, were beginning to form in her head…

Harley lay with her hands laced behind her head, staring up at the dark ceiling without really looking at it. Ivy hadn't reappeared for two hours, and when she had she made no mention of the afternoon's incident. Harleen Quinzel was hardly one for embarrassment, and even less inclined to regret, but the rest of the day had passed awkwardly and she'd turned in early to get away from it. She couldn't help but wonder if her impulsiveness had led her to cross a line.

An involuntary giggle slipped out of her. Even if Red was cross with her, she couldn't help but feel that it had been worth it; the expression on Red's face had been priceless. Chewing idly on a fingernail, Harley pondered the kiss. She'd never thought that she might have a bit of lesbian tendencies in her—she'd never even experimented in college. But the issue of her sexuality hadn't crossed her mind in the kitchen; kissing Red had just felt right, at the time.

Now that she thought about it in the solitude of the late night gloom, she wasn't sure how she felt. Part of her—particularly the part that was still fiercely loyal to her puddin'—wanted to forget about the whole issue, to laugh at the idea of herself with another girl. But even that part of her couldn't deny the electric zing she'd felt through her whole body when she kissed Pam. Even now the thought of it created a few butterflies in her stomach.

Harley shrugged to herself in the darkness. It wasn't much good second guessing herself; she'd get it figured out in due time. And if Ivy was irritated at her she'd find a way to make it up. Maybe steal some prized orchid or something from the Gotham Botanical Society and give it to her as a surprise gift.

Still unable to sleep but no longer so restless, Harley closed her eyes and hummed a cheery tune until it became difficult to focus on the melody, and she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Her dreams that night were filled with a warm embrace and a cool, crystalline laugh echoing pleasantly in her ears.