Actual conversation between actual authors #5? #6? oh, f*ck it.
AmberZ10: Remind me when we're doing tongue
areyoukiddingmedude: This is the weirdest message to get out of context. And the answer (IN context) is: whenever it feels right, girl.
AmberZ10: It's coming soon. I promise.
AmberZ10: My chapter, I mean. Not the tongue.
areyoukiddingmedude: bahahaha thanks for clarifying
It was better in real life: that, Pamela could state unequivocally. Harley was shocked at first, Pam could feel her body bracing at her touch, but the redhead was insistent, desperate, even. Harley leaned in, her skin warming below Pamela's fingers as they savored the feel of each other's lips.
Harley seemed to have gathered her courage as well because she threw her arms around Pam's shoulders and drew her closer. But it was that action that reminded Pamela where they were- at a bus stop just outside her neighborhood. With extreme reluctance she pulled away from Harley's kiss, settling instead for reverent eye contact as they remained in that close proximity.
"So your mom…" Harley's pale cheeks were flushed beet red. "She wouldn't like you doin' that?"
Pamela offered a gentle nod and a slight smile. "Can you get in the car now?"
Harley bit her lip to contain the grin that threatened to nearly split her face in two. "Mhm."
Pamela couldn't properly articulate the relief that washed over her then. She'd wanted something, and she'd taken it. Just like Diana would, just like Selina would. It made her feel…powerful. Harley welcomed it. Wanted it. She wanted her. She kissed back, with fervor even. Harley's response satisfied Pamela's equation and at that, the redhead felt like her heart was expanding in her chest.
A car honked at Pamela's idling one in the bus lane and in keeping with channeling her inner Selina, she promptly flipped them off, which earned a laugh from the blonde.
"Can you drive me home?"
Without a word, Pamela stepped off the curb and opened the passenger side door for her, helping Harley in and shutting it behind her.
"I didn't know you could drive," Harley said, almost shyly, once they'd gone a few blocks.
Pamela liked the feeling of Harley's eyes on her, she was- of course- paying attention to the road, but the blonde's gaze left a hot trail on her skin. "Bruce taught me."
"Bruce Wayne?" Harley was incredulous. "You're kidding."
"Why would I kid about that?" Pam chuckled. "I've known Bruce nearly as long as Selina, if you can believe it. They've dated on and off for years, but he's always around even when they're not. Besides, our parents converse on the charity circuit."
"The Waynes, the Isleys and the Kyles…" Harley said, her focus now out the window. "How posh."
"Gotham is an industrial city." Pamela explained, oddly appreciative of being able to discuss a subject that wasn't what just happened at the bus stop. "The community of high-earning families like ours is rather small."
"Oh, how tragic." Harley mocked, although Pamela could hear the smile on her lips. "So what makes you guys so rich?"
Pamela sighed, preparing the information she'd stored. "Well, the Waynes own nearly half of Gotham. Thomas Wayne is a real estate man with a special interest in the waterfront, so he's able to charge a fee for companies shipping through his port."
Harley laughed. "Be honest. Is there anything you don't know?"
Pamela smirked, suddenly (for some unknown reason) wishing they were back in her bedroom rather than driving in her car.
"Alright." Harley's gaze was focusing on her driver once more. "So what about the Kyles?"
"Well, Mr. Kyle is an antiquities dealer and Ms. Kyle – Dr. Kyle, really – is the most in-demand plastic surgeon east of National City." Pamela informed her as she stopped at a light, taking the opportunity to look over at her passenger.
"Really?" Harley seemed to be in some sort of "awe". "I guess that's why Selina's so pretty."
Pamela couldn't tell if Harley was joking, but she felt oddly offended on Selina's behalf by the comment. She knew any response would come out sounding angry, so she stayed silent, pulling away from the stoplight with her mouth drawn into a hard line.
Harley was quiet too, for a moment, although she was clearly examining the redhead's behavior. "You kissed me." Harley realized, for what sounded like the first time.
And like a blade of grass breaking through the concrete, Pamela's blush interrupted her suddenly steely expression. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Harley's hand crept across the divide to rest gently on her thigh, and Pamela shivered at the contact, that familiar tingly feeling seeming to spread from Harley's touch.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, their silence comfortable but exciting all at once. It wasn't until Pamela turned onto her block that Harley spoke up.
"How did you know where to go?"
"I was…" Pamela cleared her throat as she pulled up in front of the apartment complex. "I was researching your bus route." She moved her gaze to her passenger as she shut the car off and saw that the blonde was grinning broadly beside her.
"Did you google me?" she asked with a giggle.
Pamela felt a now familiar pang of bashfulness in her chest. "Just once," she assured her. "I have a photographic memory."
"Of course you do." Harley grinned. "You're—"
She was interrupted by a knock and a pair of eerily familiar blue eyes pressed up against the driver's side window. Pamela jumped and Harley laughed as the boy knocked again.
"Harley! Is this a space car?!"
"It's a Tesla," Pam corrected him automatically.
"That's my little brother." Harley giggled again as she squeezed Pamela's leg reassuringly. The boy scampered into the building. "Do you wanna come in?"
/
When she invited her in, Harley half-expected Pam to say no. But the invitation was out there, and Harley just couldn't seem to move her hand from Pam's leg for some reason, and wait what did that have to do with anything?
"Where do you go when you look like that?" Pam said, stroking a finger gently down the center of Harley's forehead.
Harley grinned sheepishly, knowing- finally- that her touch was purposeful. "I just . . . spend a lot of time in my head. You know?"
Pam nodded and murmured, "I do know." They were both leaning slightly over the center console now and Pam's nod brought their faces even closer.
Then someone said "Whoa!" right outside Pam's window, and they reflexively sprang apart. "My other brothers," Harley explained, running a hand through her hair a little nervously.
"So . . . I believe you had just invited me in?" Pam said, clearing her throat and reaching for the door handle.
"Y-yeah," said Harley, scrambling out after her.
All three boys were walking around the car, admiring it. "See, I told you it was a space car!" the littlest one said. "Who are you?" He pointed a chubby finger right at Pamela. "Are you a pretty spaceman?" The oldest rolled his eyes, and the middle one pushed up and down on the bumper to see if the car bounced.
"Physical attractiveness has no bearing on one's admittance to or participation in the space program." Pamela informed him as if she were talking to a fully formed human being rather than a 4-year-old. "Or a degree in astrophysics, for that matter."
The littlest didn't seem to know what to do with that response.
"So, yeah. These are my little brothers," Harley said, moving on like Pam's literal answer to such a childish musing was normal. "The 12-year-old there is Harry." Pam extended her hand gracefully, and Harry glanced up from his phone long enough to grab her fingertips and shake them for a second. Harley bit her lip to keep from giggling at the perplexed expression on Pam's face.
"This hood ornament is Henry. He's 8," Harley continued, trying to pry Henry off the hood of the car. Sorry, she mouthed to Pam, who waved her off with a smile.
"And I'm Zeb!" yelled a little voice next to them.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Zeb," said Pam, extending a hand to him. He grabbed it and smacked a sticky kiss on her fingertips, and Harley was just going to have to follow her around with a camera one of these days and catch all of her priceless reaction shots.
"Do you know Harley's boyfriend?" Zeb asked, tugging on Pam's blouse, and okay, that face was a little scary (but Harley still wouldn't mind a picture of it). She covered her smile with a hand and said, "They saw Alec drop me off Friday night, and now they think he's my boyfriend."
"Come on!" said Zeb, pulling Pam by the hand. The others trailed after them as he tugged her all the way up to their apartment.
"Home sweet home," said Harley once they were inside. She tried to imagine what the place would look like through Pam's eyes – the peeling countertops, the toys all over the floor, art on every square inch of the fridge . . .
"I love it," Pam said, looking back at Harley and smiling. "I can just imagine you getting up here every morning."
"Well, hi there! Who's this?" said Harley's mom, coming into the kitchen from the hall.
"Hi, Mom!" Harley said, kissing her on the cheek as Henry zoomed around both of them in circles and Zeb held on to Pam's hand. "This is my friend Pam. From school?"
"She is not a pretty spaceman," Zeb stated categorically, having learned his lesson earlier.
"Pam! I've heard so much about you," Harley's mom said, ignoring Pam's proffered hand (and her youngest son's bizarre comment) and pulling her into a quick hug instead. "My Harley says you're the nicest person in that place."
Harley blushed and looked away, suddenly very interested in the fridge art.
"It's truly a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Quinzel," said Pam.
"Pammy, I just have one question," the older woman said, her face suddenly grave. "What are your thoughts on brunch?"
Harley turned back. Her brothers froze. They knew that how a person answered this question accounted for the majority of their mom's approval or disapproval.
Without hesitating, Pam said, rather loftily, "Personally, I've never seen the point. Why can't people get up at a decent hour on the weekend and eat breakfast?" And all four Quinzel children let out the breaths they'd been holding.
Harley flashed Pam a thumbs up and said, "Mom, we're going to my room [To make out]!" Oh, thank God I didn't say that last part out loud…She pulled Pam down the hall as Zeb yelled after them, "Pam! Guess what Harley made us for breakfast today – pancakes!"
Once they were inside her bedroom, Harley shut the door and leaned against it. Pamela Isley, hottest girl in school, is in my bedroom. Her heart beat faster at the thought as she watched Pam take a look around, absorbing everything. "Do your brothers all share a room?" she asked.
"Yeah, but Zeb usually ends up snuggling with me or Mom by the end of the night," said Harley. "I don't mind." I wouldn't mind snuggling with you either, in a less platonic way, I mean…that doesn't sound even remotely cool.
Pam stopped looking around the room and walked over, facing Harley. "I like your family," she said. "And I like your room." She took a step closer, and Harley gulped. "I just have one question . . ." here, she leaned closer and ran the backs of her fingers gently down Harley's cheek – "do I need to be worried about you and Alec?"
Harley giggled- Pamela Isley, hottest girl in school- and pulled her in for a kiss. "Not even a little bit."
/
'Quaint.' That was the best word Pamela could come up with in searching her extensive vocabulary. The Quinzels' home was small. Three bedrooms, Pamela guessed, or maybe just two and they'd converted a spare room. Either way, Pamela hoped Harley had her own room. Not for selfish reasons…it's just, a girl needs her own space. Especially the lone girl of a four-child family. That's what Pamela assumed, anyway. She herself was an only child, so these matters simply weren't applicable to her up until this point, but now, just as she'd felt offended for Selina, she was concerned for Harley.
The size, the location…If Pamela had to guess, this apartment likely cost the Quinzels between $850 and $1000 per month, and a wave of guilt swept over the redhead as she realized she may have near that amount just in her purse.
"Home sweet home." Harley was saying.
And Pamela looked into her eyes then and saw an odd mixture of fear, pride and shame. Then Pam understood; the house was warm. It was friendly and interesting and a bit kitschy, but in an endearing way. This was Harley's home, and so… "I love it," Pam said, looking back at Harley and smiling. "I can just imagine you getting up here every morning."
Harley liked that answer; Pamela could tell. The littlest child was still holding her hand. He was a curious little boy, obviously overfriendly, but Pamela didn't find the physical affection completely unwelcome. And again, Harley seemed to appreciate Pam's friendliness towards him, so she allowed the handholding to continue as a petite brunette appeared in the hallway. She was relatively young for having a 16-year-old daughter, but still clearly Harley's mother.
"Well, hi there! Who's this?" The woman's tone was good-natured and she wore a smile on her face that eased Pamela's nerves just briefly.
"Hi, Mom!" Harley kissed the woman on the cheek as the middle boy- the one without regard for the well-being of a luxury vehicle- began to run around them in lazy circles with his arm stretched out as if he were some sort of airplane. He was making a sound effect to match, although he obviously didn't have the lung capacity required to mimic the sound of a jet engine with any real accuracy.
"This is Pam. From school?" Harley pulled the redhead's focus back to her.
The littlest boy squeezed her hand tighter as he assured their mother that Pam was "not a pretty spaceman." So he was able to retain that information. Pamela smiled down at him. Very good. But then she was being pulled into a hug and Pamela didn't hug often, so she was surprised, but not so much that she missed Harley's blush at the fact she'd discussed her previously with her family.
And then there were pleasantries exchanged and a question about brunch for some reason that Pamela just answered honestly because she wasn't given adequate time to prepare. Before Pamela knew it, they were alone once more. Harley was leaning against the door after she shut it and her shoulders were relaxing, but Pamela had to look away because Harley did have her own room, and it was all very…different.
The walls were decorated with handmade collages depicting things that Harley must be interested in, like bands Pamela had never heard of, some singer named Jared Leto who looked like a bit of a prick in Pamela's opinion, and various other assorted things like red convertibles and Olympic gymnasts.
"Do your brothers all share a room?" Pamela asked, although her focus remained on her surroundings.
"Yeah, but Zeb usually ends up snuggling with me or Mom by the end of the night. I don't mind." Harley told her.
Pamela nodded subtly, taking one more look around, cataloging all the information she could before walking back over to Harley. Flirtation had never been difficult for Pamela; it was like putting on a mask. This time, however, Pamela hoped that it wasn't innocent. This wasn't like with Selina. Harley's kisses, her words…they meant something.
Pamela liked their second kiss better than their first. It felt almost like…breathing. No, that's too fantastic a description. Breathing is breathing, kissing limits air supply. But it was certainly enjoyable. Not as precise as with Selina, but infinitely more emotional.
Harley's hands tentatively made their way down from Pam's shoulders to encircle her waist and Pamela smiled because this reality had gone on far too long to be a dream. She'd just begun to probe the blonde's lips with her tongue when Ms. Quinzel's voice carried down the hall: "Harleen, is Pam going to stay for dinner?"
"No." Harley yelled back, momentarily separating from Pamela's lips. "Her mom wants her home at 6."
"No- I'll stay." Pam said as she stroked Harley's cheek with her thumb.
Harley's eyes were excited and sympathetic all at once. "You're gonna get in trouble."
Pamela shook her head. "Nonsense. I promised you a tutoring session."
"Yeah?" Harley giggled. "What's today's lesson?"
The redhead grinned. "The electric or magnetic force from a body or particle that draws another towards it."
"Oh?" Harley raised an eyebrow. "What do they call that?"
"Attraction." Pamela pulled Harley into a kiss more searing than the last.
/
The most common phrase running through Harleen Quinzel's mind on that Sunday evening just before dinnertime was This is really happening.
Harley's hands were slipping around Pam's waist to touch her lower back! This is really happening.
OMG that was Pamela Isley's tongue pressing delicately yet insistently against Harley's lips as they kissed against her bedroom door! This is really happening.
Pam makes science puns when she's making out with someone! Okay, actually that one isn't much of a surprise.
It took all of Harley's (not very extensive) willpower to keep their kisses fairly chaste for now – she was drowning in the soft feel of Pam's skin, the press of her lips, her intoxicating scent – but some gentlemanly part of Harley's mind realized that Pam had only ever kissed one person, and the situation with Selina seemed a little sketchy. So that made Harley the "experienced" one (she'd had a fairly free-range upbringing and was extremely outgoing and not very cautious, so . . . there you go).
And she didn't want to do anything to ruin this.
Because it was really, truly happening.
(But when Harley's mom called them for dinner, and Pam pulled away – breathless, wide-eyed, and actually pouting that they had to stop – Harley still could not believe her good fortune.)
/
"So, Pamela…" Harley's mother prompted as she served her a bowl of cheesy pasta shaped like rabbits. "How is junior year treating you so far? Will you be applying to colleges soon? No shame in not if you're—"
Pam choked on her water and Harley laughed. "Pam's top of the class, Mom. Pretty sure she's going Ivy League."
"Really?" The older woman was impressed.
"The goal is to be accepted to all eight." Pamela informed her as she stabbed awkwardly at a slippery noodle with her fork.
"Are you a genius?" The oldest boy- Harry- asked, much to the surprise of the table.
"Yes." Pamela answered plainly.
Harley's mother laughed like the answer was a joke she'd deadpanned.
"I have a measured IQ of 159." Pam's battle with the pasta was turning desperate. This food is stupid, she decided. "To put that in context, Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking are believed to have an IQ of 160."
"That's right." Harley snatched the fork from her hand in a display that wasn't exactly congruent with the table etiquette Pamela had been taught. "Pam's gonna be a scientist. Plants are her jam." She grinned to herself, collecting enough material from Pam's plate for a healthy mouthful, and even raised it to the other girl's lips before she stopped suddenly, handing the fork back to Pam and turning to her own dinner once more.
Pamela stared down at the fork. Was she about to…
"Are you a model?" Harry asked another question.
"No," the redhead told him before finally taking her first bite of food. She didn't much care for the texture, but chewed and swallowed regardless. Ms. Quinzel had gone through the trouble of…boiling water, the least Pam could do was eat it.
Ms. Quinzel smiled kindly, an expression that Pam decided she liked very much. "But you could be."
"So could Harley." Pam told her, smirking at the blush it prompted in Harley's cheeks.
"Yeah, but you're hotter." Harry assured the redhead, and Harley volleyed a carrot at him in response.
Pamela couldn't help but smile at the dynamics. This was a Sunday family dinner, yet everyone seemed to be enjoying each other's company. The table itself was small, making their conversation seem intimate, but none of it was uncomfortable. Harley's family was warm and inviting, they seemed interested in Pam and what she had to say. It drew a sharp contrast to how Harley had been treated in Pam's home. The redhead attempted to communicate a silent apology by squeezing Harley's hand beneath the table. She wasn't sure the blonde understood her meaning, but she grinned all the same.
/
Harley grinned at how Pam's presence changed her family's dinnertime dynamics – and all for the better. Harry hadn't spoken two sentences at dinner since he turned 12, and he'd just said three things in a row. Henry hadn't broken anything in at least an hour.
And Zeb . . . Harley watched his eyes shine as he gazed at Pam, and wondered absently whether she had the same goofy grin on her face.
Yeah, probably.
She looked up and caught her mom's eye then. Harley couldn't quite read the expression on her mom's face in that moment – it was a little wistful, a little proud, a little concerned. But then she smiled at Harley, looking ten years younger, and there was yet another thing they could thank Pamela Isley for.
Pam was using a carrot to shovel white cheddar bunnies onto her fork now. It was so endearing that Harley almost didn't mind the fact that she'd had to let go of her hand beneath the table.
Almost. Her hand still tingled a little, but it felt cold from the absence of Pam's warm smooth palm.
She leaned over and whispered in the redhead's ear (was that a shiver as Harley's breath ghosted over her skin?): "Do you want me to ask my mom for a spoon? Ooh, maybe a sippy cup?"
Pam gave her a haughty look and Harley batted her eyes back at her, shrugging and spreading her hands innocently.
It was only when Henry knocked his cup over that they finally looked away.
Bonus Question: Anyone else got a nerdy pick up line?
