Actual conversation between actual authors #8:

AmberZ10: It's up

AmberZ10: My dick, I mean. Obviously I mean my dick and not chapter 14.

areyoukiddingmedude: OBVIOUSLY. I just assume it's that. Good to know you posted a chapter too, though.

If you'd told Harley a week ago that on this Monday afternoon, she'd be standing in the parking lot of a fast food drive-through, trading eager yet chaste kisses with the most gorgeous, arguably most popular girl at Gotham Prep against the car she had just bought for Harley . . . well, she probably would have smiled and made a joke about it, but as you walked away she would have been concerned for your mental state.

Yet here she was, here they were, doing just that.

Until suddenly, both girls realized their current proximity to the school and broke apart. Pam bit her lower lip and smiled shyly, while Harley tucked an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear and moved to lean against the car beside Pam, their shoulders touching.

"Thanks," she said softly. "This is – you're incredible."

Pam sighed. "You make it hard to keep my hands off of you when you say things like that," she said, hurrying through the words as if she wasn't quite sure she should be saying them out loud.

"Do you have to?" Harley asked, scuffing her toe against the asphalt of the parking lot. "Keep your hands off of me?"

There was a lot below the surface of those words, and they both knew it. "I-I don't know," Pam said, her tone a bit guarded. "It's just – I've never – we don't even really know what this is yet." She paused. "Do we?"

Harley thought for a minute, overheated now in the late afternoon sun from her sweats and the jog over and – probably – her feelings. She instinctively moved her arm over slightly and reached for Pam's hand, missing a little on the first try but quickly solidifying her grip and twining their fingers together.

"Well," she said, "I think . . . we probably don't have to define it right now. But –" she cleared her throat and looked at her foot some more – "I like you, like like you like you, and I know that sounds super middle school but I needed you to hear it." She risked a glance over at Pam, who was now looking at her own feet in a 100% unsuccessful attempt to hide her grin. Harley breathed in new courage and went on. "And I think it's pretty clear where we stand when it's just the two of us, but at school I get that it's hard. Lunchroom politics and Selina's scary smiles and just, I don't know, it's weird. But eventually – not today, but eventually – we'll need to figure out where we stand when we're at school, too." She squeezed Pam's hand, and the redhead finally turned to look at her. Harley shrugged. "Whatcha think?"

Pam leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Harley's lips, smiling at the blonde's wide-eyed look of surprise. "I think," she murmured, "that until we get all these things figured out, we need to spend as much time hanging out alone as humanly possible." Now it was Harley's turn to grin, and they looked at each other for a second before Pam said, "Well, do you want to take me home now?"

Harley burst out laughing and Pam blushed. "I didn't mean – ugh, you know what I meant!" she said. "Would you like to drive your new car? And also, I left my driver at home today, so I was merely being practical."

"I'd love to," said Harley, looking up at her, "but at my old school, there was a fee for Driver's Ed, and for the license itself, and we figured that if I wasn't gonna be driving anyway . . ."

"You don't know how to drive?" Pam said.

"That's what I'm sayin'," said Harley.

"Well then, get in," the redhead insisted, reluctantly letting go of Harley's hand and walking around to the passenger side. "This is your first driving lesson." When Harley hesitated, Pam said, "I assure you, I'm quite qualified."

Harley burst out laughing yet again – god, she's adorable – said, "Whatever you say, Red," and climbed into the driver's seat.

/

"No, Harley." Pamela said in her most patient voice. "This is an automatic transmission."

"Then why the hell is there a gear shift right there!" Harley was already panicked and they hadn't even started moving yet.

"Shifting from park to reverse, or drive or neutral is all this gear shift is responsible for. Unless you're going to change directions, you can keep both hands on the steering wheel." Pamela demonstrated this by lifting Harley's hand off of the gear shift and clasping it around the leather wheel. The blonde nodded earnestly, and Pam couldn't keep a smile off her face. "Now we did our safety checks? Walked all the way around the car, adjusted our mirrors?" Harley nodded again. "Great, so now, if you're ready, go ahead and put your foot on the brake."

"Why?" Harley was incredulous. "We're not even moving."

Pamela giggled. "It's how you start the car."

"Pam, don't be mean." Harley pouted. "I know a key starts a car, not a brake. I'm not that dumb."

"There isn't a key." Pam told her, the ghost of her laughter still lingering in her features. "There's just this." She produced the fob from her pocket and Harley eyed her suspiciously.

"I think you owe my brother an apology. This is a space car."

Pam chuckled. "Will you just trust me, please? Press the brake."

Harley narrowed her gaze. "You have to swear you're not messing with me."

"Swear on what?" The redhead asked, crossing her arms.

Harley thought for a moment. "Swear on your biology textbook."

Pamela looked her in the eyes with all the sincerity a human being could possess, then leaned over and kissed her- slowly, deeply, until Harley's hands left the steering wheel and wrapped around her neck- and by the time they separated Harley was closer to the color of Pam's hair than to her natural pale complexion. "Press the brake," Pamela urged, gently.

Harley bit her lip and did just that. True to Pam's word, the car's engine did start, and Harley turned back to Pam excitedly.

"Good." Pam smiled. "Now check your zones and put the car in drive."

"Not reverse?" Harley asked, her hands nervously gripping the wheel.

"We're in a parking lot," the redhead reminded her. "There's plenty of room to maneuver. Let's just work on going forward first."

Harley took a deep breath. "OK, here goes nothing." And slammed her foot down on the gas.

"No! Harley! Gradual!"

/

At lunch the next day, Harley was still thinking about that lesson. She'd only had a couple of brief moments with Pam that morning: Selina had spirited her away after AP Lit, and Woodrue had separated them in AP Bio after he caught them whispering one too many times. So Harley's mind returned, over and over, to their last meaningful contact.

Harley hadn't been quite ready to leave the parking lot just yet, so Pam had driven them to Harley's apartment complex and cut the engine (using magic, no doubt). They turned to face one another shyly, leaning their heads against their seat backs.

"Let me guess," Harley said. "That was . . . satisfactory for a first attempt?" Her impression of Pam was so dead-on that Pam smacked her lightly on the shoulder, mock offended. Harley caught her hand and held it in both of hers, then turned it over to look at her palm. She was expecting smooth, perfect skin, so the calluses took her by surprise and reminded her that in addition to everything else Pamela Isley was, she was also a hard-working athlete.

Harley impulsively pressed her lips firmly to the center of Pam's palm, then brushed them more gently along the inside of her wrist. "Thanks for the car," she whispered. Then she looked up at Pam through her eyelashes and only had a second to process the wild look in the redhead's eyes before Pam was lunging over the console, crashing their lips together, pressing Harley back into her seat as her tongue slid hungrily against Harley's.

Well, this is new, thought Harley as she reached up both hands to tangle them in Pam's hair, as she felt a sharp, almost painful jolt a few inches below her belly button.

After not nearly long enough, Pam pulled back slightly, pressing her forehead to Harley's, both of them breathing hard. "You're welcome," she said, then sighed as she retreated back into her own seat.

Harley cleared her throat. "So, you're sure it's cool to keep the car at your house until I can actually, y'know, drive it?"

"Of course," said Pam, regaining a bit of her composure. "We have the space for it."

"Do you have space for all five of my cars?" Harley asked, a wicked glint in her eye.

"It's quite a large garage," Pam said. Then she looked a little sheepish. "Oh – you're joking."

"Yes, quite," said Harley. She leaned over and pecked Pam on the cheek. "See you tomorrow," she said quietly, and Pam smiled.

She was still smiling as she pulled out of Harley's parking lot.

And now Harley was too, as she dragged her attention back to the present.

". . . and that's when I decided that omphalophobia is the funniest phobia of all!" Jonathan concluded triumphantly. Edward laughed, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Harley was only dimly aware of any of it – Jonathan's phobia-of-the-week story, Eddie's creepy half-smile, the bouillabaisse that was currently dripping off her tilted spoon – because for the third time in five minutes, Pam's gaze had casually flicked over to their table, snaring Harley like an emerald tractor beam.

A tractor beam? I've been spending too much time with these guys, Harley thought, then instantly felt guilty for having mildly traitorous thoughts about the first two people to be nice to her in the entire school.

As if psychically summoned by Harley's train of thought, Talia and Roxy appeared at their table. "Hey, Harley. Finish your food. We're going to practice in the gym," Roxy said.

"During lunch?" Harley asked dumbly. Edward and Jonathan weren't faring any better – both were gaping openly at the two gymnasts, who were at least 2.25 levels of social standing above them.

"Harley . . . just go," Edward said out of one side of his mouth. Talia and Roxy exchanged a look.

"Okay!" said Harley, brightening. "Let's do this!" She picked up her bowl and chugged a little bouillabaisse for the road, then stood up and followed Talia and Roxy across the cafeteria.

Their route to the tray return took them right past the varsity jocks' table, and as the little group of gymnasts drew even with that table, several things happened.

Selina looked at them disdainfully, but Harley swore she saw something close to – pride – in that steely glare. The queen bee was too busy twirling a lock of hair around her finger and mouthing Curly Sue at Roxy to notice that Talia looked directly at Bruce and smiled. It was tiny, and knowing, and intimate. And the look made Harley lurch a bit because it was definitely heated, somehow. Harley selfishly sought just one second of her own loaded eye contact.

But Pamela Isley was nothing if not committed to previously agreed-upon plans, and if they'd agreed to maintain the status quo in public, that's exactly what she would do. Her gaze never once wavered from Dick Grayson, who was animatedly recounting a story across from her, during the tiny eternity when Harley was walking past her table.

Harley pretended to be extremely interested in her tray . . . and then in the mechanics of the tray return . . . and then in her cuticles, the tiled floor, anything that would keep her head down and her puppy-dog eyes hidden, her true feelings hidden, as she and her teammates made their way to the gym.

/

"No, Dick. I'm not saying theoretical physics is useless." Pamela sighed.

"Then what are you saying? Because I'm pretty sure that's literally what you just said." Dick took a long slurp of his chocolate milk.

Pam was trying hard to forget she now knew he fantasized about Professor Gordon. "I think it's a fantastic choice of major for someone with…an imagination. Theoretical physics is about rationalizing, explaining and predicting. But that's just it, it's not a physical science. With experimental physics you get to probe the phenomena you observe."

"Theoretical physics is still a branch of physics. Physics is a physical science; therefore, theoretical physics is too." Dick argued, crinkling his empty milk carton in his hand.

Pam rolled her eyes. "I meant 'physical' in the literal sense of the word. Theoretical physicists work in classrooms, not labs. Their experiments are theoretical, as in 'based on or calculated through theory rather than experience or practice.'"

"OK, well…" Dick opened up a protein bar from his backpack, having already finished his lunch. "I can't remember why we started this."

"Me neither." Pam admitted as she felt rather than saw Harley exit the lunchroom with Roxy and Talia. Bruce was watching them openly- his eyes lingering on Talia- and Pam took the initiative to kick him in the shin underneath the table.

He jumped and Selina looked at him oddly, but ultimately turned her attention to Pam. "When's your first match?"

"Next Wednesday," the redhead told her as she absently swirled the broth that was left in her bowl.

Selina attempted to clarify: "What time?"

"5:30." Pam said, nodding at Diana as she sat down at the table.

"Oh, good." Selina smiled. "I'll come then. Bruce too."

Pam grinned, although her expression was tinged with the sudden dilemma of now not being able to invite Harley. "It isn't supposed to be a good match."

"Well, that's all right. I'd rather watch a blowout." Selina assured her with a mischievous smirk. "You make the cutest little face when your opponent runs off the court crying."

"I've had a lot of practice." Pam winked, prompting a laugh from the brunette as she got up. She knew that this was probably just Selina trying to make up for their "disagreement", but her momentary kindness still charmed Pam, like it always had.

"Then it's a date." Selina grabbed her backpack. "I need to talk to Dent about the test we took on Friday. I think his scantron machine fucked up."

"You just keep telling yourself that." Bruce chuckled as Selina planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Toodaloo, assholes!" She waved over her shoulder, exiting the cafeteria.

Bruce got up. "I should probably go too."

"Not to the gymnasium, I hope." There was a warning to Pamela's tone that managed to fix Bruce in place.

"Dick?" Diana turned to the other boy. "Kindly escort Master Bruce safely from the cafeteria, and see to it his Richard remains tucked away in his trousers during the remaining 10 minutes of the lunch period."

"Yes, Princess." Dick pretended to tip his cap to her as he got up from his seat and threw his arm around Bruce's shoulders. "Let's go, old chum. We don't need to put our fingers in all the pies, now do we?"

Once the boys left, Pam began to gather up her things before Diana stopped her. "Now hold on," the raven haired girl said, her tone mock serious. "Last time we saw each other you were sucking on Selina's tongue."

"I was-!"

"Shh…" Diana pat her on the shoulder. "I know drunk Selina can be a bit handsy. It's all good. And Selina got the video destroyed anyway, so it really doesn't matter."

Pam settled back into her chair. "How?"

Diana quirked an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?"

Pam considered for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I don't think I do."

"Good answer." Diana smiled, eyeing the banana still on Pamela's tray. "Are you gonna eat that?"

"What? Oh—no. I can't ever eat them around Bruce." Pam told her.

"Well Bruce isn't here, so…"

"I know," Pam sighed. "It's just…seeing him eat them. I don't…the taste is somehow fleshy now. I know it's psychological, but it's still unnerving."

Diana burst out laughing. "Say no more. I'm going to eat it, though, because my appetite overrides my gag reflex."

And now it was Pamela's turn to laugh. "You're very lucky Selina isn't here right now."

"Yes." Diana giggled as she peeled it. "I really, really am. By the way, tell me about you and blondie."

Pam panicked internally, attempting to maintain a cool exterior. "The New Wave Punk band from the mid to late 1970s?"

"Oh my God." Diana laughed. "I can't believe you actually tried that. No, Pamela. I mean Crotch Rocket."

"Harley." Pamela was quick to correct.

"Harley." Diana smiled, chewing her first bite of banana. "So have you two gone out yet? I know she's into you."

Pamela was almost alarmed at how quickly she blushed. "N-no." She said, attempting to put her foot down on the matter. "I don't—no—that's not it. How's Mera?"

Diana raised an eyebrow as her chewing slowed. "OK, so all this insecurity is adorable, but super out of character. Seriously, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" Pamela attempted to make it sound like she was offended at the insinuation that anything had changed at all.

"OK, alien girl." Diana narrowed her eyes and proceeded with caution. "I'll tell you what…Mera is leaving town on Friday, how about Thursday night you go out with us, you and Harley. I'm sure she could benefit from hearing you and Mera's conversation, since I'm assuming you'll be talking about how cool oceanic rocks are or something and I know Harley needs some tutoring."

"Actually, my expertise isn't in geology-"

"So that's a yes?" Diana interrupted to ask. "It'll be fun. We'll get dinner on the other side of town. Just the four of us. Yeah?"

"Well, I'll have to—"

"Yeah." Diana affirmed her own statement with a grin. "French?"

Pamela had to look at her for a moment before she realized Diana was referencing the classroom they were both supposed to be at in 2 minutes.

"French, and…yes."

Bonus Question: Where would you go on a double date?