Actual conversation between actual authors #7:
AmerZ10: I'm a fantastic (selective) reader, and there are some stories out there that I just can't even-they're too cute. Helps that Harley/Ivy is the only fandom I really partake in.
areyoukiddingmedude: haha ur so gay 4 them
AmberZ10: Totally unapologetically 100%
areyoukiddingmedude: awesome
AmberZ10: I'm gay for them the same way Selina is. Like a weirdly possessive straight girl.
areyoukiddingmedude: I don't know how I'm gay for them. Probably just like a lesbian.
The parking lot was nearly empty when Alec dropped Pam off on Monday morning. She supposed that it was due to the early hour, as the majority of her peer group tended not to share Pam's passion for punctuality.
Or – if she were being perfectly honest – they didn't share her current mission to spend as little time in the Isley manor as possible.
"My schedule for this afternoon isn't finalized yet, Alec," Pam said as she exited the car. "I'll contact you if I need a lift."
"Sure thing, Ms. Isley," Alec said genially, tipping his cap as he shut the back door for her.
Pam allowed herself a moment to reflect on the surprise she'd planned for Harley that afternoon, not aware of the smile on her lips or the slight pink flush on her cheeks. She'd been actively working to bring it to fruition since the idea first occurred to her in the relative quiet of Harley's bedroom.
(Other ideas that had occurred to Pam but which she'd not yet had the opportunity to fully execute included: giving Harley a private tennis lesson on her tennis court and then whisking her behind a tree and kissing her; sneaking Harley to the projection room above the auditorium and kissing her; taking a private jet to Paris and treating Harley to dinner on the Champs-Elysees . . . and then kissing her.)
She shook her head slightly, attempting to clear it, chastising herself (not unkindly) for getting distracted from her reflection by thoughts of Harley's soft lips. The plan, Pamela, think through the plan! She'd come up with the plan during dinner and had identified concrete next steps while Harley walked her to her car and they shyly kissed goodbye. The initial research phase had commenced as soon as Pam had parked the Tesla and quietly crept up the back staircase, wishing to avoid whatever unpleasant, chilly, passive-aggressive treatment her mother felt like dishing out in response to Pam's absence during dinner. And when she'd completed the necessary research, she'd made a late evening phone call to put the entire plan in motion.
They would meet at precisely 5:10pm, allowing Pam enough time to wrap up her tennis practice and get to the front of the school. And from there . . . it would just be her and Harley.
Pam was quite satisfied, both with her objectivity in the matter and with the rapid turnaround time. As she walked through the dimly lit entrance hall, she tried to assess which moment she anticipated more eagerly: the big reveal this afternoon, or the first time she would see Harley at school since they . . . whatever this was.
Wait – what is this? Pam thought. It suddenly occurred to her that while she was prone to constant, specific flights of fancy regarding herself and Harley, she had yet to take a step back from the situation and ponder the big picture.
The attraction was mutual – that was obvious, blindingly so. And the beginning overtures of a friendship were there as well. But – were they 'together' now? Pam suspected as much, though of course she hadn't had a chance to discuss it with Harley yet.
She concluded that for now, the logical thing to do would be to maintain the status quo at school until the two of them could come to an agreement on how to proceed.
And as she walked, she imagined happening upon Harley in this deserted hallway, knowing that if she did, she'd push her right up against the lockers and kiss her breathless.
/
Someway, somehow- probably divine intervention- the bus was running on time that morning, getting Harley to school a comfortable 15 minutes early. Usually she would bike to school, but she wasn't sure if…after gymnastics, maybe…well, she hadn't talked to Pam yet. Not like she had to, not like they were a…well…look, riding the bus was easier, OK?
Harley made a beeline straight for Professor Gordon's classroom, not because Pam might be there or anything. Harley didn't already like "miss her" or whatever, she just…maybe Professor Gordon might have some tips for Harley on how to succeed in her class or in life or something. Professor Gordon seemed…wise. Definitely. She wore glasses and seemed pretty young to be a teacher, so…yeah. She was obviously super smart and probably had a lot of wisdom and was just waiting to dispense it to a kid in need of direction or something.
Pam was not there when Harley entered, but Professor Gordon certainly was. Professor Gordon and…Selina. Selina and Bruce. Great. The couple was sitting at their desks speaking in relatively harsh whispers and because Harley's assigned seat was right in front of theirs, she decided to delay her arrival just slightly.
"Good morning, Professor Gordon." Harley greeted her with a broad grin.
The woman was sipping a mug of coffee and somewhat distractedly scrolling through what was probably today's lesson plan on her iPad. But she did look up at the sound of Harley's voice. "Good morning, Ms. Quinzel. Seems like you got a head start on me." She raised her mug to indicate she meant in terms of caffeine consumption.
"I think the more chocolate syrup you put into it, the faster it hits the bloodstream." Harley winked, prompting a good-natured chuckle from the professor.
"I don't doubt that," she said. "But I can't exactly go down to the gymnasium and work it off like I used to."
Harley's face sunk, realizing she meant because she was in a wheelchair.
Professor Gordon laughed again. "Harley, honey, I made the joke. Don't get depressed on me."
Still sucks you can't walk, though.
The older woman pressed on when Harley didn't offer a verbal response. "Are you ready for your first meet?"
The blonde's eyes lit up and a smile animated her features once more. "I hope so. Hey, how did you know I was a gymnast?"
Professor Gordon smiled as she set her coffee down on her desk. "Would you believe me if I told you I used to be a gymnast here?"
"Shut up!" Harley! You can't tell a teacher to shut up! Even if you're being friendly. "Sorry, sorry—I mean, really?"
"Yeah." The professor laughed. "Class of 2003. State all around champ my junior year."
"So then where'd you go to college? Did you keep competing?" Harley had never been so interested in a teacher.
"Cal Berkley." Selina piped up from where she sat, interrupting her conversation with Bruce. "Barbara Gordon, collegiate silver medalist."
The professor nodded. "That's right, if not a little creepy, Ms. Kyle."
Harley would have laughed had that not been the moment that Pamela swept into the room. Backpack draped stylishly over one shoulder, glamorous hair bouncing with each sure-footed step. She addressed the room with a dazzling smile.
Selina affected a southern drawl: "Pamela Isley, only 8 minutes early, why I never!"
Pam's hand grazed Harley's just for a moment as she brushed past her to take her seat near Bruce and Selina.
Harley didn't realize how silly her lopsided grin must have appeared until she looked back and saw Professor Gordon's perplexed expression.
/
AP Literature was challenging for Pam under the best of circumstances.
It wasn't that she had any kind of issue absorbing the material – far from it. She could tell from the way Professor Gordon spoke about literature, however, that the professor overvalued the emotional response invoked by a great work, perhaps even more than its intellectual contributions. And Pam would greatly prefer analyzing and deconstructing classic works over having to write about her feelings in some kind of . . . feelings journal.
Thus, even under normal circumstances, AP Literature required that Pam bring every ounce of her considerable willpower to bear if she wanted to focus and perform adequately.
And it was impossible to consider these normal circumstances.
Not when she could feel Harley sitting there to her right, evoking memories of the first time they'd sat in these same chairs – was that only a week ago? It seemed like far longer – not when she could smell the faintest scent of the lotion Pam had given her, somehow smelling fresher and lighter on Harley than it did on Pam – not when every inch of her skin felt as though it were buzzing and flickering like a light bulb that wasn't quite screwed in all the way.
It was quite disconcerting.
Pam forced herself to stare straight ahead, likely unnerving Professor Gordon with the constancy of her gaze, but she knew that if she so much as caught Harley's eye, their entire situation would be laid bare on Pam's face for everyone to see.
When the bell finally rang, Pam let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She sat there, unmoving, until Selina cleared her throat imperiously behind her. "Yes?" Pam croaked, turning to see Selina crooking an eyebrow and Bruce wearing his normal confident grin.
"Ten minutes before we all split up for second period," Selina said a bit coldly. "And you know Bruce's bananas aren't going to fellate themselves."
"Selina," Professor Gordon warned from her desk.
"My apologies, Professor. My friends and I will just be going now," Selina said, her voice smooth as honey. She swept past Pam's desk and Bruce trailed after her.
"As much as you know I enjoy watching Bruce satisfy his extensive metabolic needs," said Pam, "I-I need to get to AP Biology early today and speak with Professor Woodrue."
Selina rolled her eyes and kept walking, for once opting not to engage, and it was only when Pam turned to follow her that she realized Harley had already slipped out of the classroom. Pam's heart sank right into the red soles of her Louboutins and stayed there . . .
. . . for about 30 seconds, until she exited the classroom and locked eyes with two clear, smiling blue ones, just before blonde pigtails bounced around a distant corner.
You're Pamela Isley, she reminded herself as she hurried after her. Head high, chin up, maintain decorum.
And then Harley's hands were fisting in the front of her shirt, tugging her insistently into an empty stairwell, and their lips met effortlessly, hungrily as Pam's back pressed against the cool wall of the stairwell, and decorum was quite literally the farthest thing from her mind.
After a few moments of breathless kissing, Harley pulled back and looked up at Pam. She released the front of Pam's shirt and swiped vaguely at it, attempting to smooth it down, giggling at her fruitless efforts. Then she nuzzled against Pam's collar affectionately and said, "Hi."
"H-hi," Pam said, easing her tight grip on Harley's hips and doing a little smoothing of her own.
"Well, this is embarrassing," said Harley, taking a step back to look her up and down.
Wait…she's embarrassed? Of me? Pam thought a bit desperately, but Harley was grinning so mischievously that she quickly realized it was a joke of some kind.
Harley gestured back and forth between the two of them, indicating their uniforms. "We totally wore the same outfit!"
Pam's startled laugh echoed in the empty space, and she clapped a hand to her mouth. "Come on," Harley said, "we'd better get to bio. You go first and I'll come in a few."
And if there was a tinge of sadness to Harley's words, Pam chose not to investigate it just then, instead nodding at the practicality of the plan and reluctantly tearing herself away from the girl who was quickly becoming a focal point of her life.
/
"Gravity, bitch!" Selina yelled, startling Roxy so thoroughly that she lost her balance, falling to the mat below the beam. "That's what the pressure sounds like, Curly Sue. And it will never, ever, go away- like a bad case of gonorrhea or some dumb dog you found in an alley. Now get up and do it again."
Harley furrowed her brow as she watched Roxy dust herself off and jump back onto the beam. "Is that an Annie reference?"
"You bet your ass it is." Selina's arms were crossed indignantly. "Annie is an American classic."
Harley couldn't help but laugh. "Does that make you Ms. Hannigan?"
"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Selina asked, a glamorous eyebrow raised. "Because, right now, it definitely feels like I'm dripping with little girls. Get your ass back on the uneven bars, Crotch Rocket. I refuse to let the team be docked points because you can't hold a fucking handstand."
"Harley's not a bar specialist." Talia argued.
"Thanks for the input, Resident Evil." Selina shot back. "But frankly, I don't care. We want to win the team all around, correct?"
"Yeah." Cassandra, who was stretching on the side, admitted. "But you seem extra pissy today."
"You know what, Kiki's Delivery Service? Why don't you stick a landing every once in a while. Then maybe I'd care about your opinion on my temperament." Selina spat.
Roxy landed a front flip on the beam without wobbling. "I'm pretty sure she's still hung over from Friday. I heard she fucked Pam Isley so Bruce is going to dump her."
"Crotch Rocket, please tell me Shirley Temple over there didn't just speak about me like I wasn't here."
But Harley was suddenly too angry at the misinformation to register what Selina was saying. No, I took Pam home that night to make sure that DIDN'T happen. She could feel her face getting hot but wasn't sure who to direct her emotions at…Selina was probably the best candidate, but Selina was also drunk that night and drunk people do stupid things, so maybe the situation wasn't 100% her fault. That J kid certainly hadn't helped things. Harley was somehow able to get herself slightly under control before responding: "Bruce isn't going to dump her, and she didn't sleep with Pamela Isley."
"Who said anything about sleeping?" Roxy laughed as she began her dismount.
"How about you tap dance your way to the showers." Selina sneered, roughly tossing Roxy her water bottle. "And go wash that mouth out with some soap!" She waited for her to exit in favor of the locker room before turning to the other girls. "I'm not trying to be a bitch; I'm trying to make us better. If anybody else has a problem, I will see you tomorrow. Our first meet is in a week. We HAVE to buckle down."
Harley nodded along to her captain's words. She might not agree with Selina completely, she definitely seemed to take pride in her general bitchiness, but this was part of the reason she'd transferred to Gotham Prep. And anyway, you don't have to like someone to respect them, and she definitely respected Selina as a gymnast. "Let's go." Harley helped Cass to her feet. "Do you think we could see your floor routine again?"
Cass sighed. "Yeah, fine."
And was that…a smile on Selina Kyle's lips?
The first thing Harley did when she got to her locker was to check her phone. She doesn't have to text you, Harley. Just chill, OK? But when she unlocked the screen to find a text from Pam waiting for her, she couldn't contain her giddiness. The message itself was simple: Meet me at the drive-through three blocks over.
Harley giggled- only Pamela Isley would spell out the word "three" in a text message. She touched up her makeup as quickly as she could, deciding just to pull some sweats on over her leotard and go because the text had come a half hour ago, meaning Pam was already waiting.
Selina watched her curiously, but didn't attempt to talk to her before the blonde burst out into the waning daylight and- despite her exhaustion- began her jog towards the drive-through. Harley tried to ignore the fact that she would probably look like a hot mess in comparison to Pam because she figured Pam would appreciate her being on time more than in a cuter outfit.
And then…there she was. Harley slowed as she rounded the corner into the parking lot and saw the redhead leaning against a sleek, red convertible Tesla. Harley could identify the brand now as it was the same as Pam's other car.
"Is that…" Harley approached her, panting. "Is that a new car?"
Pamela's perfection came complete with a knowing smirk. "It is."
"Why do you…" The blonde rested her hands on her knees, squinting up at Pamela through the day's final rays of sunlight. "Why do you need a new car? Yours works totally fine."
"I don't need a new car." Pamela laughed. "But it's come to my attention that you don't have one at all."
The color drained from Harley's face. "You didn't…"
"I did." Pamela grinned from ear to ear. "I'm sorry it's not the exact model as the picture in your room depicted- I researched and the gas consumption for a 1965 Chevy Impala was just far too severe for me to openly support. This one is electric, you see, but also quite stylish."
Harley's mind was absolutely blank. She didn't even know how to think about this…gift. "You bought me a car?"
Pamela nodded, but her smile began to fade as she observed Harley's expression. "Do people not often buy cars for others?"
"You can't be this rich." Be nice, Harley! "I mean, your mom is only a makeup scientist." Shut up, shut up, shut up.
Pamela's expression suddenly turned cold, and she looked more like her mother in that moment than either of them would probably care to admit. "My mother is the lead chemist at a cosmetics company that my father owns. I could buy you five cars if I wanted to."
Oh…
"I don't want you riding the bus. The schedules are unpredictable." Pamela crossed her arms, but her expression wasn't angry, it was almost…embarrassed.
This girl saw a picture on my wall, went home, did research, made a purchase and then gave me a fucking CAR all in the span of 24 hours. And then suddenly Harley was launching herself at Pamela, kissing her, hard, up against the side of the car. "That's so stupidly thoughtful, Pam. You can't just go buying random girls cars! That's crazy! This is a crazy gift!" She kissed her again. "You're so weird and beautiful and buying someone a car is weird and beautiful and—"
This time it was Pam that kissed Harley- likely to silence her.
Bonus Question: Is Pam's gift weird or cute?
