"I'm glad you decided to bring me along for this little excursion," Selina smirked, watching Ivy as she scanned a row of diamond necklaces that lay beneath a glass case. "I'm not sure there's anyone alive who knows jewelry better than me. Although why you insisted on buying something is beyond me. Not when I could—,"
"Exactly," Ivy distractedly interrupted, moving to another row, this one of various jade and emerald pendants. "So make yourself useful for once and help me find something."
"You know, Harley's taste probably runs a little cheaper than most of this stuff," Selina ignored the jab, following Ivy as she all but pressed her face against the glass. "You could probably get off with a Candy Pop ring and I'm sure she'd still be all over you."
"Rings," Ivy echoed, her eyes falling on the display case of diamond rings as she said the word. She migrated towards them, Selina in tow. Each one sparkled like a star, so bright, it was difficult to focus on one without being drawn to another. There were rubies inlaid in some, sapphires as bright as Harley's eyes in others—those ones she lingered on longer.
There was a small card below them that read Engagement Rings and Ivy felt her heart flutter in her chest at the thought of presenting one to Harley. Promising herself to her. A symbol of eternal love.
She wondered briefly what Selina would do were she able to hear her thoughts. Gag, probably. And the image made Ivy chuckle.
"What are you giggling at?" Ivy glanced up to see Selina staring down at her, arms crossed, light smile playing on her lips.
"You." Ignoring the confused expression that tightened Selina's features, Ivy straightened, leaving the rings behind. Giving one to Harley was nice in theory…But they weren't those people. The suburban house, the two kids, the dog, the 9 to 5 jobs…It would never be theirs. Could never be theirs. A ring would be inappropriate, it stood for too much. And still, it tugged at Ivy's heart to walk away from them.
"How about these?" Selina drew her from her thoughts, pointing to a case of bracelets. "You could get them engraved. 'If lost return to Mommy', 'I'm Mommy'."
"I do not have a Mommy complex, Selina," Ivy growled, looking pointedly away from the bracelet case. "And that joke is getting tired."
"You do. It isn't. And I won't hear otherwise," Selina shot back triumphantly.
Rolling her eyes, Ivy walked away quickly, finding herself in a less sparkly corner of the store. The jewelry all looked older, cared for, polished…but older, like each one already held years' worth of memories. She found what looked to be a row of brass lockets, each barely the size of her thumb, hung on a small chain necklace.
Picking up one of the lockets, she popped open the case, surprised to find them empty. No room for a picture certainly, nothing engraved…But perhaps she could ask—
"Find anything?" Selina asked, peering over her shoulder. "That's kinda dingy looking."
"No," Ivy disagreed, taking a second locket off the shelf. "It's perfect."
/
Ivy came in the front door, the package hidden in her coat pocket, to find Harley fussing over something on the living room couch, back facing her.
"Harl?" she called, creeping forward. "Is everything alright?"
Whipping around, Harley's eyes widened when she saw Ivy and she jumped up from the couch as if she'd been burned, hands tucked behind her back.
"Hiya, Red!" she plastered on a grin that was too wide. "Didn't expect ya home so soon. I thought ya were goin' out with Kitty."
"I did," Ivy smiled, cupping Harley's cheek with her free hand for a featherlight kiss. Stroking Harley's blonde bangs away from her flushed face, she asked again, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Harley's fake smile melted into a dreamy one, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in for a deeper kiss. When they pulled apart, Harley was giggling, the sound making Ivy smile automatically.
"What's going on, Harl?"
"I have somethin' fer you," she simpered, toeing the rug and biting her lip, peering up at Ivy from beneath her eyelashes.
"Well, I have something for you as—,"
Harley didn't give Ivy a chance to finish, taking a step back and holding out a polished picture frame with both hands. Carefully, Ivy took it, peering through the thin glass to see an image depicting her and Harley inside the convertible.
She straddled Harley's lap—hands twisting in the fabric of the blue shirt she wore—who was trying to kiss her despite the wide grin that spread her lips. One of Harley's arms went out of frame as she stretched as far as she could to get them both in frame, the other cupped Pam's rear, pulling her close.
Ivy knew this picture. She…already had it, hanging in the hallway just before the kitchen. Except for, in this version, Linda had been replaced with Harley.
"From the—,"
"The last day, yeah. I got it framed. Fer the wall, ya know." Harley gestured vaguely to the hallway. "Thought ya might like an updated version."
"Wait, wait, just stay there. Hold still."
"What are you doing?" Pamela laughed, watching Linda stretch her arm as far as was humanly possible, pointing the camera back at them.
"Trying to get us both in fame." Linda bit her lip in determination as her index finger searched for the button. "OK!" her tone was triumphant as she cupped Pamela's cheek with her free hand. "Kiss me!"
Linda never had to ask twice.
…Linda never even had to ask once.
Grinning, Pamela's hands fisted in the soft blue material of Linda's sweater, leaning down as she pulled their lips together.
Their kiss was more smiles than lips, but it had the same effect on the butterflies in Pamela's stomach as their most intimate exchanges.
She pulled back after hearing the click of the camera, opening her eyes to find Linda smiling up at her, blue eyes sparkling with the same happiness Pamela could feel rooted deep in her chest. A happiness Linda had planted there the moment she dropped her books on Pam's desk that first day.
Linda set the camera down, placing that hand on Pam's hip, subtly untucking the redhead's blouse so her fingers could brush over her soft skin. "I'm getting that one developed," she decided. "We'll frame it. Put it on the wall so everyone has to see it once we don't have to hide anymore."
"Wh—Linda, please." Pam laughed like it was a joke. "We're kissing in that photograph. The developer will see, there's no way around that. It's far too risky."
The blonde's smile waned slightly, the mirth in her eyes replaced with an intense sincerity. "You're worth the risk, Pamela."
"Why?" Pam asked, fingers untangling from her sweater.
Linda stroked Pam's cheekbone with her thumb, kissing her softly. "Because I love you."
Pam bit her lip at that, eyes falling to the lap she was sitting in. "I love you too."
"But?"
"I'm scared," Pam's voice was barely louder than a whisper.
She could feel Linda's gentle smile pressed to her forehead when the blonde murmured, "Me too." And then, "But you make me want to be brave."
Pam closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of Linda's warm lips on her skin for a peaceful moment. "OK," she finally granted. "You can have it developed. But be careful. Promise me."
"Cross my heart and hope to die," Linda swore.
"No, don't say that." Pam's eyes shot up to meet hers once more. "Don't ever say that. I don't know how I'd live without you."
Linda chuckled, her thumb once again stroking Pam's cheek. "Well, how did you live before me?"
Pam hardly needed a moment to contemplate her answer. "In black and white."
"Ah…well…" Pam could feel the blush in Linda's cheeks when she kissed her. "I'll make sure to have this developed in color, then."
Ivy stared at the picture, guilt filling her stomach thanks to some misplaced sense of loyalty. Her attempts at breathing kept getting caught in her throat and tears stung the corners of her eyes.
"We'll frame it. Put it on the wall so everyone has to see it once we don't have to hide anymore."
Setting the picture down on the coffee table slowly, Ivy braved a look up at Harley. At her nervous, expectant expression. Her throat tightened when she zeroed in on those blue eyes, soft pink lips, that gentle smile, blonde hair that curled around her shoulders.
Harley would never truly appreciate not having to hide.
She and Linda…they'd risked everything to get that picture up on her wall. Their careers. Their bodily autonomy, even.
All Harley did was snap a picture. It was that easy.
Linda, you would cry at how easy it is…
Opening her arms, Ivy grunted slightly when Harley bounded into them, pressing an excited kiss to her lips, ignorant of the trembles that passed through Ivy's body.
"Like it?" she teased, brushing her thumb along Ivy's lower lip when they parted.
"I love it," Ivy nuzzled her nose, deciding to live in this moment with Harley, the tight pain in her chest loosening slightly. "I love you."
"Didja have somethin' for me?" Harley asked hopefully, not even trying to hide her excitement.
Nodding, Ivy reached into her pocket and pulled out the package containing the little heart shaped lockets, allowing Harley to tear it apart unceremoniously.
"Pammy! What—These are beautiful!" Harley squealed as she lifted the lockets. "Which one is mine?"
She bounced excitedly as Ivy took one of the lockets, opening it to show her the small ivy vine engraved on this inside. "This one is yours."
Harley opened the other one, revealing a diamond. "And yours?"
Ivy nodded, slipping the vine engraved locket over the blonde's head, touching it reverently when it rested against the center of her chest. Harley returned the favor, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she cupped Ivy's cheeks and kissed her.
"Thank you! This is beautiful," she gushed, looking down at the locket and fiddling with the chain.
"It's to remind you how I feel about you. How much I love you," Ivy explained, heat rising in her cheeks when Harley's sparkling blue eyes met hers. "How much I'll always love you. I don't…Don't know what I'd do without you now."
"Well, what did ya do before me?"
Ivy didn't respond, but Harley didn't seem to need her too.
"Yer sweet, Red," she sighed, falling into her arms and nuzzling against her neck. "Thank you."
Heart swelling, Ivy carded her fingers through blonde hair, pressing a kiss to Harley's temple and breathing her in.
/
"I hate that I agreed to this," Bruce muttered as he and Selina walked arm-in-arm towards the restaurant, both outfitted in thick black overcoats to brace against the icy wind that seemed hell-bent on reminding Gotham City that it was November.
Selina laughed. "Agreed to it? You suggested it. Now we both have to suffer."
"Why are you suffering?" Bruce asked, glancing over a her. "These are you friends, aren't they? You live with them at least four months out of the year."
"Yes, but…" Selina slowed to a stop, looking straight ahead. "They've become insufferable."
Bruce followed her eyes when she didn't move any further…and found it was because, roughly 10 yards in front of them, Poison Ivy had Harley Quinn pinned against the brick wall of the restaurant.
The two were seemingly completely oblivious to the world around them, their kisses slow, and…wet. Bruce could hear them from where he stood, even with the wind whistling in his ears.
Ivy had her hands inside Harley's jacket, wrapping around her waist, while Harley cupped Ivy's face softly with the mittens she wore.
"Christ," Selina exhaled when Harley and Ivy failed to acknowledge them. "Eh-hem!" she cleared her throat with significant exaggeration.
Harley's eyes flitted to them, and she smiled slightly against Ivy's lips, pulling back just a bit, so their lips only bushed when she whispered something.
Ivy kissed her once more, retracting her hands as she did and helping Harley to button her coat before pecking her on the nose and finally turning around to acknowledge them. "Hello," she greeted, slow and smooth. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to know what your tongues sound like," Selina replied, a mocking edge to her tone.
"Well, until you've seen Holly's labia parted by the shaft of—,"
"Pamela! Pamela," Harley laughed nervously, her accent…gone, Bruce noticed. "Let's play nice, please. I'm too hungry to have one of us storming off before we even order."
Her voice wasn't the only thing Harley had disguised. Rather than her typical pigtails, her blonde hair was pinned into an elegant up-do, her blue eyes sparkled behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses (squarer than the pair worn by the pale-skinned redhead in front of her), and the white, woolen overcoat she had on looked no less expensive than the ones worn by Bruce and Selina.
Pamela glared sourly at them, not even trying to hide her disgust for Bruce, it seemed. Though, it didn't feel nearly as threatening without the green skin. Actually, Poison Ivy looked practically benign in her charcoal peacoat, pale cheeks rosy from the cold, green eyes less dangerous when magnified by her round glasses.
"Fine," she acquiesced, allowing Harley to lead her by the hand into the restaurant.
Bruce followed, watching the couple curiously. As they approached the host, he leaned into Selina's ear, whispering, "I didn't think Harley had your talent for acting."
"She doesn't," Selina murmured quietly. "She's a method actress, hardly any talent in that. The longer you wear the mask, the easier it is to play the part."
"Reservation for Wayne," Bruce said when the host prompted him.
"Oh course," the man smiled. "Right this way, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce wasn't oblivious to Ivy's eye roll at him being the only one in the party that was addressed, but she followed anyway, pulling Harley's chair out and waiting until the blonde was seated to sit down herself. Bruce did the same for Selina, and the four waited in silence until their waiter arrived.
"Good evening," he greeted, smiling at each of them individually. "I'm Raul, I'll be your server for this meal. We'll bring some menus out to you shortly, but in the meantime—,"
"Alcohol," Selina interrupted. "Bring us alcohol."
"Oh, yes, Ma'am. Is there anything you had in mind? Our wine list is—,"
"Just something red," Ivy cut him off. "Thank you."
Raul nodded. "Of course. Will that be all for now?"
Bruce dismissed him with a curt nod, and he quickly got the hint, heading back towards the wine cellar.
Again, the four sat quietly for a moment, allowing the ebb and flow of the conversations around them punctuate their silence.
"Oh! Oh no!" Harley suddenly laughed, grabbing for her purse. "Pammy, your lipstick." She produced a tube that matched the shade of the now faded coloring Ivy wore on her lips, and opened it, leaning forward to apply it for her, smiling when Ivy puckered her lips to make it easier. "My fault," she said, capping the tube and turning back to the table. "Totally my fault." When the atmosphere remained awkward, she sighed and spread her hands out on the table. "OK, let's just get everything out in the open, yeah? I saw your dick, Bruce. We saw your dick. We also saw Selina's…everything, but that's old news."
"Hey!" Selina protested.
"Anyway, thank you for inviting us," Harley continued, disregarding Selina's interjection. "Pam spends all day cooped up in a lab, we hardly have any time to be social with actual human beings."
Bruce was legitimately curious as to just how stupid they believed him to be, so he decided to humor them. "A lab?" he directed his question at Ivy. "What is it you study?"
"I'm a biochemist," she answered without pause. "My latest research is focused on plant polysaccharide-degrading enzymes."
"Sounds like that would all go over my head," Bruce chuckled good-naturedly, hoping to put Ivy at ease for everyone's sake. "But it's important work, I'm sure."
"It is, yes," Ivy agreed, her voice smaller as she picked distractedly at the cloth napkin she had yet to lay in her lap. "It's taken me years to develop a holistic understanding of the intricacies of substrate recognition and catalysis…they're diverse, specialized enzymes—biocatalysts—with application potential so wide-reaching it's almost criminal the lack of attention they're paid."
Huh… "You know…" Bruce began, watching her closely. "My company has a chemistry department…"
"Yes, I know," Ivy moved the napkin to her lap, and her eyes followed. "I applied there when I first moved to Gotham.
Bruce…hadn't know that. "And you were turned away?"
"There was already a woman working in the department," was Ivy's explanation. An explanation Bruce found odd until he remembered how old Ivy was.
Must have been my Father's decision...
"Well, if you'd like to re-apply…" Was reforming Poison Ivy truly as easy as just offering her a job?
"I'm fine where I am, thank you," Ivy almost snapped, finally raising her eyes and glancing at Harley, like the blonde's presence alone helped to calm her down.
Selina snickered under her breath at his failed olive branch.
Fine. Bruce rapped his knuckles on the table. "Must be difficult being a redheaded scientist named Pamela in this city," he remarked, his delivery joking.
"Why?" Ivy challenged him.
"Well, after Poison Ivy…I assume it's like…being named Adolph and living in Germany."
Ivy watched him for a moment, like she was gauging his sincerity, deciding whether he was blind, stupid, or winking. Her response was to smile ever so slightly.
Stupid. She thinks I'm stupid.
"You know," she said, leaning forward and clasping her hands under her chin. "The most magnificent thing about our ecosystem is that it will always adapt. It has always adapted. Long before humans were given the privilege of evolution. Through volcanic eruptions and ice ages…through floods and famine…The ecosystem is the very life force of the planet, Mr. Wayne." She was only slightly less condescending out of costume. "And so, as we humans continue on this destructive path. Not being grateful for what we've been given. Betraying the paradise we were provided...the ecosystem will continue to evolve. We'll all be under water. Dead. The planet uninhabitable…for us, at least. Only for us. The humans and the animals without the common sense to develop gills and fins. But the ecosystem will remain, alive and well in whatever form it takes. It's wonderfully efficient that way." She smiled at him, pausing as the waiter returned briefly to fill everyone's glasses with wine. "This is why I always find it fascinating how the media and our resident vigilante insist on calling Poison Ivy a villain. From what I understand, she, herself, is part plant. A hybrid, yes?"
"Yes." Bruce struggled not to grit his teeth.
Ivy lifted her glass to her lips. "Then she will evolve too. She and her precious ecosystem. Her cause—her crusade, it does little to benefit her existence. That will continue on regardless of our continued complacency." She took a slow sip of the red liquid, the same color as the lipstick Harley had just applied for her. "Poison Ivy targets logging companies, the coal industry, the oil industry, CEO's and politicians side-stepping environmental regulations. People who are helping push the human race faster down the oil-slicked slope towards our inevitable demise. Seems almost…paradoxical, calling Poison Ivy a villain and these people victims in the same sentence."
"How's that?" Bruce asked, aware of how cautiously Harley and Selina were watching this conversation.
Ivy bit her lip, squinting slightly as she formulated a response. "A mother puts a pot of boiling water on the stove," she started, setting her glass down so that she could speak with her hands. "She has a child—one old enough to know better—that she instructs, in the clearest possible terms, to stay away from the pot. But the child doesn't listen. They wait until their mother is out of the room, and then pull a stool over in front of the stove…climbing upwards until they can peer over the metal lip of the pot…The child, being inquisitive and rather simple-minded, reaches a hand out, wondering why the water bubbles like that, how it rolls so smoothly…And that's when the stool wobbles beneath them, the legs sliding backwards on the linoleum floor as the child leans forward."
Harley looked legitimately anxious at this point, and even Bruce shifted uncomfortably.
"The child, not wanting to fall, grabbing desperately at something that they hope will keep them upright, makes the mistake of grabbing the pot and pulling it down with them," Ivy continued. "But the Mother heard the stool. And, like any Mother, her reflexes are quick. She rushes forward, grabbing the pot out of the air by the piping hot metal handle as the child falls. But, in the end, she can't save her child completely. A sprinkle of boiling water splashes out of the pot as she catches it, falling onto the child—burning them." Ivy leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "The Mother tried to save her child from themselves, and succeeded in the end, despite the burn now marking their child's skin. But my question is: whose fault is that injury? The mother's? The mother who did everything she possibly could—everything in her power, from warning them, to leaping into the line of fire herself—to save them? Or is it the disobedient child's fault. The one who disregarded her. Who defied her. They might be scarred, but they're still breathing, because of their Mother and despite their own reckless actions."
No one answered Ivy's rhetorical question. Just watched her.
"Humans have a nasty habit of doing things we know we shouldn't," Ivy mused. "Neglect our seatbelts in the interest of time…Throw our garbage into the ocean…Eat another slice of cake even though we're on a diet…Trust that man with the oily smile despite the knot his presence ties in our stomachs…and…pull stools over to the boiling water our mothers told us to leave alone."
Bruce pursed his lips. "And Poison Ivy is the mother in this scenario?"
"I think the nastiest habit we humans partake in, is labeling our saviors 'villains' when we don't want to accept what they're telling us," Ivy said. "Easier to go about our merry lives and ignore the consequences of our actions, rather than make the conscious effort to change that behavior whose correction won't deliver us instant gratification. Ensuring human survival is a task each generation believes they can hand off to the next...and so they do. So, no," Ivy summarized. "I am not ashamed to share my name or profession with Poison Ivy. Unlike most children, I am grateful for Mother's intervention."
Selina sloshed her wine around in her glass, while Harley was already halfway done with hers.
"She's still a murderer, Pamela," Bruce reminded her.
Ivy shrugged. "Lincoln and his Union army had to murder the Confederates in order to free their slaves. The allies had to murder Nazis in order to save Europe. The history books don't call that murder. Such a pity Poison Ivy chose a cause without an army to fight against. Without the need for men whose sacrifices they can glorify. Without women whose contributions they can pretend to celebrate while ultimately disregarding them. Hers is an invisible war. But a war none-the-less."
Bruce was gripping his glass a bit too tightly at this point. Something Selina obviously noticed because she quickly intervened, electing to change the subject. "Holly, tell us about California! How was the weather?"
"Selina Kyle, we live in a dumpster, I swear to God," Harley laughed. "Literally every town we stopped in was nicer than this crime-infested hell hole."
Harley was clearly working harder than Ivy was to sell her fake identity.
"The beach was beautiful…Pam was beautiful…" she leaned closer to the redhead, smiling when Pam obliged and kissed her. "Dream vacation, for sure. We'd love to show you the pictures."
"No thanks," Selina answered quickly. "Think I've seen enough of those."
Harley snickered, evidently unable to fight her nature completely, while Ivy blushed.
Bruce was finding this performance Harley was putting on awfully peculiar. It was almost disquieting, how natural she seemed. "So, Holly…it's Holly, right?"
"That's right," the blonde smiled, taking Ivy's hand beneath the table.
"Where are you from, originally?"
"Oh, Seattle," Harley told him. "Infinitely more beautiful than here, but unbearably rainy."
Ivy had an odd reaction to that line, but Bruce wasn't focused on her at the moment.
"Moved out here not too long ago," Harley continued. "I'm a psychology professor. Used to teach at Seattle University, now I've got an application in to GSU. Crossing my fingers."
They paused their conversation to order their food. A salad for Ivy, the branzino for Selina, and steaks for Bruce and Harley.
"Have you ever heard of a man by the name of Jonathan Crane?" Bruce asked once they were alone again.
"Mmm…The Scarecrow," Harley said it mockingly. "It's terrible, what obsession can do to a person. There's nothing more dangerous than single-mindedness, but!" she down the rest of her wine. "Helped create a job opening for me, so I say, parade around town with a potato sack on your head, Dr. Crane. You do you."
The corner of Bruce's mouth tugged upwards into a slight smile at that. "What about Harley Quinn? Seems mental health professionals don't tend to fare well here."
Harley pursed her lips, tapping her index finger on the table a few times before speaking. "That's a sad case, really. A dependent personality disorder, lying dormant, or at least undiagnosed, in an otherwise competent professional. Her infatuation with The Joker completely decimated her career, or…so I've read, anyway. As far as I can tell, Harleen Quinzel turned from a promising young doctor to a…well…fool, I suppose. A bumbling idiot, as far as the media is concerned. I feel for her, I do," she said, expression sympathetic. "But this is why we in the mental health field have to set and maintain boundaries. It's paramount. Otherwise…" she took a sip from her wine glass. "You end up thrown out a window by a man who spends hours painting himself to look like a clown every morning."
Selina and Ivy seemed as surprised by Harley's answer as Bruce was, all three starring at her slack-jawed. Ivy just blinked, while Selina opened her mouth to speak a good three times before ultimately electing to just stare silently.
"I hear Catwoman's a twat," Ivy offered, unprompted.
Bruce ignored both Ivy's original statement and Selina's responding, unapologetic scoff. "What brought you here, then?" he asked Harley. "Moving across the country, that's significant."
"Well…I was looking for someone," Harley smiled dreamily over at Ivy, raising their still-joined hands to kiss Ivy's knuckles. "Love makes people do significant things."
Ivy practically melted at that, her body relaxing completely, eyes softening and cheeks blushing bright red once more. It would have been a cute display if she wasn't a narcissistic psychopath.
Bruce glanced over at Selina to find she was trying her best to hide a smile, even despite Ivy's most recent jab. There were times when Bruce sincerely didn't understand she and Ivy's friendship. They both knew better than to trust each other, but seemed to do it anyway. Regardless, one thing had always been blatantly obvious about their dynamic: seeing Ivy happy made Selina happy…meanwhile, seeing Selina happy made Bruce happy, making this a bit of a difficult situation for him.
"How did you two meet?" Bruce asked, knowing that whatever answer they provided would be a lie, but interested anyway, for some reason.
"Mmm…Pammy saved me," Harley smiled at her, and Bruce noted how intently Ivy stared back. "She helped me out of an impossible situation. Helped me get back on my feet…my knight in shining armor." Harley leaned forward to kiss her briefly. "Just…right place at the right time." She let her eyes drift away from Ivy, turning back to Selina and Bruce. "What about you two? You never told us, Selina. What's up with that?"
Bruce realized Selina would have to lie too.
"I know how Pamela feels about 'the straights'," Selina teased. "Didn't want to bore you."
"Bore us, please," Harley encouraged. "It's either that or Pam's gonna start on her polysaccharide thing again. I can see it. She hasn't asserted her intellectual superiority in like 6 whole minutes. It's killing her."
Ivy scoffed, "Yes, let's make light of 10 years' worth of research."
"Yes…let's," Harley giggled, receiving a playful shoulder nudge from Ivy.
"Fine, umm…" Selina squinted slightly, turning to Bruce like she wished he could telepathically communicate an answer. "Well, we were both orphans. Lucky him, in their will his parents dictated that his butler could take care of him if they died. I was a little less lucky, was in and out of the orphanage until I turned 18…and when I, eventually, came into some money, I went back there to donate…"
"And I was there visiting a boy I was planning to adopt—my son, Richard," Bruce finished for her.
"He goes by Dick, right?" Harley asked. "I've read about him in the paper. Didn't know he was adopted, though. He looks just like you."
Bruce smiled despite himself. "I have four sons, actually. Dick, Jason, and Tim are all adopted, and my youngest, Damian, he's my biological son."
"Wow," Harley looked legitimately impressed. "That sounds like a handful."
"Jason and Damian, yes," Bruce laughed. "Jason's too much like me and Damian's too much like his mother. I do my best, though. Dick is a huge help, and my girls are a bit easier on me."
Harley seemed to be in absolute awe. "How many of those do you have?!"
"Just two, just two," he assured her. "Stephanie and Cassandra. Cass is still adjusting, there's a bit of a language barrier we're trying to work around, but—,"
"Bruce, this is maybe the most I've heard you talk in the last three years," Selina laughed. "You and Cass have that in common."
"You're right," Bruce granted, squeezing Selina's hand when she placed it on his lap.
"I wasn't aware you had so many children," Ivy spoke up, her tone softer than the one she'd used with him previously. "Selina has mentioned Damian before, evidently he's not a huge fan of your relationship with her."
"He's stubborn," Bruce admitted. "And angry. But he's not hateful. Not really. He respects Selina, at the very least."
Selina actually laughed out loud at that. "Bullshit he does."
"Well…he's coming around," Bruce amended. "It's a process."
"Do you have any pictures?" Harley asked, leaning over the table.
"Yeah," Bruce grinned, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket. "Of course."
It wasn't until they'd finished their meal, and Harley had finished "Aww!"-ing at Bruce's entire camera roll that he remembered he was talking to two of the most dangerous members of his rogue gallery.
Ivy had told him all his children were beautiful, and the way she said it felt so…sincere, that his suspension of reality lasted until after he'd paid the check and they'd all exited the restaurant.
"We should do this again sometime," Harley suggested as she looped her arm under Ivy's. "We can skip the whole, we walk in on you thing, though, if that's alright. Just jump straight to the double date."
"Oh, shut up, you liked it," Selina laughed.
"I can assure you, we did not," Ivy set the record straight.
Bruce watched them walk away after a quick goodbye, feeling Selina nuzzle into his side after a moment.
"I'm cold," she complained once Harley and Ivy disappeared from view. "What the fuck are we still doing here?"
It took a moment for Bruce to acknowledge her. A sadness had crept over him suddenly. The same one he felt when he looked in the rear-view mirror of the Batmobile and saw the District Attorney, psyche cracked in half…saw a brilliant cryogenicist, too heartbroken at the loss of his wife to ever accept it…a lab experiment gone wrong…a woman forever trapped in the body of a child…a man born with the skin of a monster…a promising young botanist with the power to change the world, but too traumatized to do anything but hate…and a bright-eyed psychiatrist with a mind that had been so severely twisted, she'd sooner die than leave the man that twisted it.
"What?" Selina asked, curious now.
"They could have been good people," Bruce's voice was quiet.
"They are," Selina replied after a while. "In their own way."
"They're high profile criminals, murderers."
"And my friends," Selina combatted, watching Bruce's jaw clench. "They're still human, Bruce. They still deserve a chance. Everyone does. Except Joker," she added as they walked away. "You should have killed that prick a long time ago."
/
Ivy looked back over her shoulder, smiling at Harley where she lay on the bed, still fully clothed, just watching as Ivy got undressed.
"I think Bruce is sweet." Harley propped herself up on her elbows. "Sorta…toothless fer Kitty, though, right? Don't see how he could keep up with her."
"Well, she has Batman for that," Ivy sighed, slipping out of her skirt. "She keeps the two of them in boxes. They fill different needs for her.
"Mm," Harley grunted, watching as ivy began to untie the bow at the neck of her blouse. "Hey, Red?"
"Yes?" Ivy turned to face her, her fingers on the top button.
Harley sat up fully, tangling her legs criss-cross-apple-sauce, her hands folding on her lap. "I was wonderin' if you'd maybe wanna….play a game with me tonight."
Ivy raised a curious eyebrow. "A game?"
"Like…roleplay," Harley giggled. "You know, pretend we're other people."
Narrowing her eyes, Ivy took a cautious step towards the bed, smiling when Harley bit her lip…when her blue eyes raked up her body… "I suppose it depends on the role you assign me."
"OK, umm…" Harley sat forward, grabbing Ivy by the hips and tugging her forward so she stood just at the edge of the bed, Harley looking up at her, their ankles tangling. "You're a scientist…" she wrapped her hand up in the fabric of Ivy's blouse, pulling her slowly downwards. "Work from 9 to 5 at some lab downtown…traffic's always a bitch…the baristas at the coffee shop you visit every mornin' never go fast enough. Traffic sucks on the way back, too, but you listen to the radio to pass the time, and the trip is a little easier knowin' you're coming home ta somebody at the end of the day." She kissed Ivy once, slowly…smiling up at her as she whispered, "Your name is Pamela…and mine is Harleen." Her accent slipped away. "I work at Arkham—state institution, so the pay's shit, but it feels important somehow. I take comfort in the idea that I'm helping the helpless."
Ivy swallowed uncomfortably, trying to back up, but Harley held her there, with her hands and her gaze.
"That last session of the day is always hard, though." Harley smiled wistfully, her hand trailing up to cup Ivy's cheek. "I'm thinking about you…wondering if you're home already…hoping you made dinner because all I had for lunch was a candy bar from the vending machine."
"D—did I make dinner?" Pamela whispered.
"Mm…no," Harley giggled, helping Pam with her remaining buttons. "So I convince you to order pizza." She stripped the shirt off Pam's shoulders. "We watch Forrest Gump because it's always playing on some channel and you can't hate Forrest Gump, and then we turn in early, though we don't plan on sleeping just yet."
"OK, Harleen…" Ivy chuckled, even though she didn't feel like laughing. "I'll bite." She pushed Harley backwards on the bed, crawling slowly over her.
"Yay!" Harley grinned, reaching over to the bedside table for the glasses they'd both discarded after dinner, pushing Pamela's into place before her own.
Ivy quirked an eyebrow, reaching a hand between them to unbutton Harley's slacks. "You happy?"
"Always with you," Harley smiled, stroking Pam's cheek. "But I need one last thing."
"Mmm…and what might that be?" Pam simpered, her fingers teasing at the waistband of Harley's panties.
"I want to see you, Pamela," Harley whispered, gently tapping on her green skin. "Let me see you."
Ivy stopped, her fingers pausing where they toyed with the soft pink fabric. "Harley…"
"Harleen," the blonde insisted. "What are you afraid of?"
"I'm—I'm not afraid." Ivy shut her eyes. "I'm just…I'm trying to remember how to trust, and…"
"And?"
There were tears in her eyes when she opened them again. "And I'm so in love with you, Harleen."
Harley wiped a tear from Ivy's cheek, and her expression was so earnest, so full of affection and admiration... Pamela felt seen. "Then prove it," Harley said. "Make love to me, Pamela."
Pamela's heart skipped a beat in her chest, her mouth suddenly becoming impossibly dry. This was all she'd wanted for so long…
Closing her eyes again, Ivy worked to disguise her green pigment, stripping off her armor and laying herself bare before Harley. She sat up, pulling Harley upright with her, and her hands shook as she grasped the hem of Harley's sweater, pulling it gently over her head and setting it aside, her heartrate quickening when Harley reached around her to unclasp her bra.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Harley murmured, looking at Ivy completely naked for the first time. Looking at Pamela.
Pam fumbled with the zipper on Harley's pants, her face hot under her scrutiny. She didn't need to feel nervous, though. She knew that. Knew she wasn't a virgin anymore, a graduate student in love for the first time. Pamela had learned since then. She'd loved again. There was no reason Pamela couldn't be every bit as confident as Ivy.
…but that realization didn't stop her from blushing.
Luckily, Harley didn't seem to be in a hurry. In fact, she was equally red-faced at this point.
"I love your body—I love you," Pam pressed the words almost desperately against Harley's lips, and got carried away with their kiss, forgetting she had yet to take Harley's bra off until she reached down to caress her breast and felt fabric rather than soft skin.
She remedied that immediately, setting Harley's bra down by her sweater and laying her back against the pillows. Pam stripped Harley's pants off before following, stretching out on top of her, grabbing blindly for the blankets to pull over them.
Harley smiled into their kiss once they were safely cocooned beneath the warmth of Pam's blanket.
"I can't believe you're mine," Pam whispered, moving her lips down Harley's neck, hips pulsing when Harley squeezed her breast. She nibbled gently on the skin there, using her fingers to stroke patterns across Harley's toned belly, smiling when the muscles twitched below her.
Pam could feel Harley try to wiggle beneath her, attempting to move further down the bed. So Pam shimmied up Harley's body instead, panties dragging against Harley's stomach until her chest hung over Harley's face. When Harley reached up to take hold of her breast once more, Pam guided it downwards into her mouth, moaning when Harley sucked eagerly at her nipple.
Harley let her hands fall away, moving them back beneath the blankets to grip Pam's rear. She slipped her hand into her panties first, and then squeezed, with one hand and then two, pulling Pam to her and then releasing her, again and again, setting a controlled pace with her movements.
Pam's clit was throbbing by that point, and as much as she wanted to take this slow, to savor it…she also wanted to feel Harley's against her. More than anything.
Harley whined when she pulled her breast from her mouth, but allowed her to readjust, happily meeting Pam's lips when she leaned downwards.
Pam felt her arousal nearly drip down her own leg when she reached a hand down to find Harley's panties were just as damp as hers were.
"Oh, Harley…" she groaned. "Baby…"
"I love you, Pamela," Harley whispered, already finding a gentle rhythm to rock against Pam's thigh. Her movements were uncharacteristically measured tonight, Pam noticed. And the sensual restraint Harley—Harleen, gave her, was indescribable.
Pam felt herself getting dangerously close to her peak as she mirrored Harley's movements, rocking against her firm thigh…but she didn't want that just yet. Not until they were pressed together more intimately.
So she stripped Harley's panties off, letting them be lost below the blankets, and did the same with her own, Harley helping to kick them away.
Pam took one of Harley's legs and used it to spread her apart, open her up, and she felt Harley's wetness on her belly as she lowered herself between her legs.
Harley watched her the whole time, blue eyes half lidded, hips pulsing ever so slightly, subconsciously. Pam took a moment to still Harley's body, pressed her weight down on top of her until Harley bit her lip to hold back a moan. That's when Pam angled her hips upwards, shuddering when her throbbing clit slid through Harley's wetness, upwards until it nudged Harley's own.
The blonde gasped at that, one hand gripping Pam's rear, and the other cupping her neck, the mix of passion and affection inspiring Pam to rock against her, feeling herself slip and glide over Harley's straining clit, parting her folds as she trailed down to her wet opening before returning with a slow drag of her hips.
"Pammy…yes…." Harley moaned, tightening her grip on both handholds.
Pam buried her face in Harley's neck, keeping her thrusts controlled, drawing tight circles with her hips before slowing them down, taking them wider, spreading herself over every bit of Harley's arousal.
Harley breathed sharply into her mouth when Pam kissed her, their tongues tangling despite their lack of oxygen. Sliding her hands around from Pam's rear and neck, Harley cupped her face, gentling the kiss before brushing her fingers through waves of red hair. Her touch was reverent, so tentative it made Pam's chest ache.
"Ah!" Harley cried when Pam suddenly sat up straighter, placing the blonde's ankle atop her shoulder so that she could move faster, deeper, harder against her. But one look at the woman lying beneath her, at the fragility in her eyes, absolved her lust. That wasn't what Harley wanted. Not tonight.
Loosening her grip around Harley's ankle, Pam adjusted her thrusts accordingly, slowing her speed until she was rocking steadily, hips rolling into Harley's. The blonde tossed her head back against the pillows, hands reaching for whatever part of Pam they could find, fingers dancing over her paled skin.
Already missing the taste of her lips, Pam dropped Harley's leg, letting her body rest completely on top of her, her weight pressing Harley down into the mattress, and the movement of her hips changing from lazy circles to strong up-strokes. Harley sighed with the movement, lips falling away from Pamela's, eyes opening slightly and locking onto the green ones above her.
She took Pam's face again, a dreamy smile shaping her lips before the moan did as Pam ground against her again. Letting her eyes slide shut, Harley ducked her head, burying her face in the crook of Ivy's neck, whispering her name over and over again, "Pamela, Pamela, Pamela…Oh, Pamela…."
Pam could feel the blonde's body begin to shake beneath her. Her fingers clenched on Ivy's skin, tightening as her hips locked up and Pamela felt a rush of wetness mingle with her own.
Pam wished she could prolong that moment for eternity, but she, herself, only lasted a few more strokes before she came too. Both silently. Both allowing their bodies to speak for them.
Harley didn't let her go for a long while. Instead, she continued clutching Pam's body to her, like the redhead was a life raft on some treacherous ocean. Harley's body was still shaking, and it was then Pam realized it was from tears, not from pleasure.
Alarmed, Pam quickly tried to pull back, but Harley wouldn't let her, saying, "No, stop," and continuing to clutch Pam to her, the redhead still resting between her legs.
"Did I…did I hurt you?" Pam's voice was small.
"No," Harley whispered back, her voice hoarse. "You never would."
Finally, Pam was able to escape Harley's iron grip, and propped herself up on her elbows above her, placing her hand below Harley's chin to gaze into her watery blue eyes. "Harleen," she said, making sure Harley was really listening. "You are all I've ever wanted." And then, as she leaned down to kiss away her tears. "You are my everything."
/
Pamela was cold when she woke up.
She shivered beneath the blankets even though she could feel the early-morning sun shining on her naked skin.
"Harl," she murmured, turning onto her side and reaching for the other woman, knowing she would provide all the warmth she needed (and then some).
But Harley wasn't there.
Or at least not within arm's reach.
Confused, Pam groggily opened her eyes, squinting at the bright light filtering through the windows.
"Harley?"
The smell of bacon saved her from her brief panic, and the relief flooded through her so suddenly and so completely that it nearly exhausted her.
For a moment, she contemplated staying put. Thinking, maybe Harley was making her breakfast in bed. She didn't want to ruin her own surprise….
Then again, Harley wasn't exactly famous for her abilities in the kitchen. Besides that, she was known to disregard safety protocols, and Pam's stove was gas powered.
Ultimately, the more cautious side of Ivy's brain prevailed, and she pulled back the covers, rising from the bed and walking out into the hallway without first stopping to get dressed, or even to pull a robe on. If Harley really did make her breakfast, then she imagined she'd be stripping them off quickly anyway, so what was the point, really?
"Harley," she called out again as she made her way down the hallway towards the kitchen. "I hope you're not about to burn the house down."
Pam pushed the door open with a chuckle, in awe that Harley's hunger had finally surpassed her laziness.
The stove was off, though a greasy pan still sat atop it. The room was filled with the smell of bacon and eggs, but it was…empty.
"Harley? Darling?"
As she stepped further into the room, Pam found there was one singular plate in the sink, still covered in ketchup. An empty glass of what had probably been orange juice, judging by the leftover pulp, sat on the counter beside it.
Ivy grew silent when her eyes landed on the last item that seemed out of place in her otherwise spotless kitchen.
A note.
I went for a run, I went for a run, I went for a run, I went for a run…
Ivy visualized those words again and again as she cautiously approached the paper, praying that was the message she would find when she unfolded it.
Sorry I couldn't stay, Red. Was what it actually said.
It wasn't signed with anything.
Not a heart, not a "love", not even her name.
Ivy stared numbly at the paper for a long moment, studying Harley's girlish letters. Eventually, her eyes drifted away, straying first to her own naked chest, before running slowly over the counter and landing on the dirty pan Harley had left on the stove.
She felt her hand drift over to the handle of its own volition, felt her fingers wrap around the textured metal…
She couldn't stay.
Ivy lifted the pan.
Couldn't.
Suddenly, the metal was smashing down on the counter, clanking loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen.
And again.
And again.
And again.
She brought it above her head and smashed it downwards until the wood of the counter splintered, until her shoulder was sore, and the cast-iron pan was mangled beyond repair.
It rattled on the linoleum floor after falling from her hand, and Ivy followed, sliding down to the ground as she burst into tears.