"Hi, Mom!" Harley called, a little breathlessly, when she heard Ms. Quinzel unlocking the front door of the apartment. (She was breathless because she had a Zeb draped over her shoulders and a Henry attached to one of her legs as she dragged them both down the hall playing "Monster.")

She heard her mom sit down heavily at the card table in the kitchen. "Go play in your room," she whispered to the boys, who groaned but scampered off when Harley growled at them all monster-like.

"Hey, kiddo," her mom said, rubbing the bridge of her nose with two fingers. She looked up at Harley. "How were the boys today?"

Harley grinned. "Still can't take me on in Monster, especially now that Harry is too cool for it."

Her mom smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Harley . . . we need to talk."

The blonde sat down across from her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, if this is the sex talk, we did that when I was nine – remember? And plus, I'm pretty sure Pam's not gonna knock me up." She giggled, but quickly sobered and slowly retracted her hand when she saw the look on her mom's face.

"Harleen. It's not that. It's –" the older woman trailed off as if she weren't sure how to proceed. She rested her head in one hand, her elbow on the faded brown top of the card table. "It's not just sex. It's – sometimes, you think a person is someone they're not – you two are from such different worlds, I don't think she even – and god, sweetie, I just want the best for you." She looked up at Harley and smiled wanly, dropping her hand to the table. "You get what I'm sayin', right?"

"Yeah, Mom, you're comin' through loud and clear," Harley said with an answering smile. She put a hand on her mom's where it rested on the table. "Sounds like you love me, you want what's best for me . . . and you don't want what happened with Dad to happen to me. That about right?"

"How did I raise such a smart girl?" Ms. Quinzel said, patting Harley's hand now.

"Well," Harley said, batting away a balloon that Henry had just sent flying their way, "a) I had a really good role model, and b) I'm pretty sure you used up all the smarts on me." She giggled when her mom shot a mock-disapproving look her way. Then she cleared her throat and said, "Mom . . . it's not like a you and Dad thing. It's just . . . I want to be around her all the time, ya know? Like now, for example. She's probably waiting outside right now because I told her I'd go ta the movies with her when you got home." She scrunched up her nose and made her best cute face at her mom until the older woman sighed and flopped a hand toward the door.

"Go," said her mom. "But be home by 10. It's a school night."

"Love ya, Ma!" Harley said, smooching her forehead before she dashed out the door, calling "Be good, boys!" as she went out.

Sure enough, there was a conspicuous red Tesla in the parking lot and an even more conspicuous head of red hair in the driver's seat. "Hi," Pam said in that low voice Harley knew only she got to hear, climbing out of the car. Harley melted into her arms and said, "Right on time, just as predicted."

"Well, I knew your mother's shift ended at 4," Pam said, "so I googled the distance from her workplace, allowed six minutes for various leaving-work activities, and planned my departure so I would arrive precisely one minute after she did."

Then, before Harley could so much as roll her eyes affectionately, Pam was pulling her into a kiss that lasted longer than either of them intended, and somehow tongues got involved, and only when they had to come up for air did Harley realize that Pam had her pressed up against the side of the car, one of Harley's hands tangled in her curls and the other teasing under the hem of Pam's dress.

"Wow," Harley breathed, grinning up at her. "If human beings didn't require carbon dioxide to survive, I'm pretty sure we woulda had round 6 right there against the car."

Pam opened her mouth, but shut it quickly when she saw the glint in Harley's eye. "You're joking," she said, less robotically than she probably would have a week ago.

"Mm hmm," said Harley, nuzzling into her neck, burying herself in Pam's scent, just because she could. "I know that human beings breathe sulfur, not carbon dioxide."

"God, you're lucky your face is so pretty," Pam murmured into her hair, "or I don't know if I could take your casual disregard for the most basic scientific principles." She released Harley (who couldn't suppress a groan when she felt the loss of that warm pressure against her) and walked around to the passenger's side.

Harley tilted her head. "Whatcha doin'?"

"You chose the movie, you're driving us," Pam said evenly. Then she smiled reassuringly. "Harley. You're ready for this." As she got in and clicked her seatbelt, she added, "Also, I've mapped us a route to the movie theatre such that you should encounter a minimum number of stressors."

Harley got in, tentatively. She buckled her seatbelt and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She looked at Pam. "You sure about this?"

Pam leaned over the center console and gave Harley one of those firm, wet kisses that made her feel like she could do anything. She only pulled back a millimeter before whispering, "I'm sure."

And then Harley was sure, too. She put the Tesla in reverse, grinned at her girl, and started navigating Pam's stressor-less route to the theatre.

/

"I'm beginning to regret buying you a convertible." Pam mumbled as she adjusted her hair once they'd come to a stop.

"Y'know, I think you might have a tic. Your hair looks great. It always looks great." Harley came around to open the other girl's door, offering her hand to help her out.

Pam shot her a look, but took her hand anyway. "My hair is no small task."

Harley rolled her eyes as she pulled her up, planting a quick kiss to Pam's nose before locking the car. Pamela subtly glanced around, knowing it was irrational to fear being recognized in this part of town, but feeling a bit paranoid all the same. She forced herself to relax when she determined there weren't any eyes on the couple, and then kissed Harley for real as the girl smiled excitedly at her.

"So you're truly excited to see this film?" She interlaced their fingers and started them on the walk across the parking lot.

"Uh, robot cars fighting other robot cars while Victoria's Secret models watch? Are you kidding? Of course I'm excited!" Harley did a little skip that made Pam laugh as she was reminded for nearly the millionth time in their short courtship just how charming Harley was.

Pam hesitated once they reached the window. "Two for…"

"Transformers: Age of the Age of Another Age Not Starring Shia Labeouf." Harley helped her out.

Pamela suddenly wished she hadn't let Harley choose the movie. "Yes, two for whatever she just said."

Harley skipped into the lobby without bothering to hold the door for Pam, and it seemed her hurry was in favor of the concessions stand. At the theater near Pamela's house, gourmet refreshments were brought to you, but it seemed that here, the film patrons had to stand in line for their orders. How inconvenient, Pam thought as she rejoined Harley.

"So what do ya think?" The blonde asked. "Popcorn and sodas? Ooh, and candy. I like Reese's. What do you like?"

"Oh, umm…" The question took Pam by surprise. "I don't…I'm not sure."

Harley giggled. "You don't know what kinda candy you like?"

"Well Mother never allowed simple sugars in the house, and-"

"Shhh…" Harley put a finger to Pam's lips. "You're makin' me sad. We can just share, all right? You like sour stuff?"

As the cashier called them forward, Pam leaned over and whispered: "I'd rather something sweet…" hotly into the blonde's ear, and the girl was such a bumbling mess when they got to the counter that Pamela nearly blushed just by association.

"She would like a…Reese's?" Pamela ventured as Harley struggled to bring herself back under control. "And a large popcorn."

"I'm on it." The boy seemed unduly chipper when fulfilling Pamela's request, but her effect on him was not atypical. "You want butter flavoring on that?"

"I'm sorry, butter flavoring?" Pam asked, not quite understanding his request.

"Yeah." The boy nodded, pointing to a set of dispensers with pump handles. "It makes your popcorn taste like butter."

Pam furrowed her brow. "But what is it actually, if not—"

"Yes!" Someone seemed to have switched Harley back on. "Extra. Please and thank you."

The redhead couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the bright yellow liquid that was being pumped onto their popcorn. "Harley, that is repulsive."

"Yep!" Harley grinned, taking the candy and bucket of popcorn off the counter as Pam paid. "But you can't see Transformers 13 without movie popcorn. That would be downright sacrilegious."

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for it." Pam muttered as she directed them into the theater, choosing a spot perfectly in the middle, a luxury afforded to them as a result of arriving 10 minutes early. Pam turned her phone off immediately after sitting down, which made Harley laugh.

She placed the popcorn between them. "Try this, OK? Just one bite."

"Harley…" Pam sighed. "If I try some, will you house the bucket over there? I can't stand the smell."

The blonde rolled her eyes affectionately. "Geez, Red. High maintenance, much?"

Pam regarded her critically. "Are you being intentionally vexing?"

"Just keeping you on your toes." Harley winked, jostling the popcorn a bit. "C'mon. One bite."

Reaching her hand in tentatively, Pam pulled out four greasy kernels and eventually, after glancing at Harley once more, popped them in her mouth, chewing quickly. "Oh, God. It feels like my teeth are wearing a sweater now."

Harley belly-laughed, doubling over in her seat. Thankfully the theater was nearly empty. "You know…" she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "That would be a deal breaker if you weren't perfect in just about every other way."

"Well, you made me eat it," Pamela huffed. "So now you're going to have to help me get this awful taste out of my mouth."

There was a mischievous glint in Harley's eye. "You mean like with something sweet?"

"That's exactly what I mean." Pam smirked and leaned in to capture Harley's waiting lips.

/

It occurred to Harley not two seconds after they entered the movie theater that Pamela Isley had never had a true moviegoing experience.

So naturally, it fell to Harley to make sure she had one.

Butter flavoring? Check. Unnecessarily large box of candy? Check.

Despite her lack of prior experience, however, her girl's instincts were on point: Pam was the first one to steal a kiss in the darkened theater. (Stealing a kiss in the darkened theater? Check.)

It only made Harley more determined to win this game Pam had no idea they were playing.

"Accidentally" brush your fingers together when your date surreptitiously reaches for more of the buttery goodness she claimed not to love? Check.

Yawn and stretch and sneak your arm around your date's shoulders? Check.

Snuggle in tight and lean your head against your date's shoulder, then turn your head just enough to shock her with a wet, lingering kiss against her neck? Check.

Slide a warm hand from your date's knee tantalizingly slowly up her leg until your fingers just barely graze parts they shouldn't be grazing in public? Che – hey wait a minute, those last two were Pam! Harley thought, coming out of her Pam-induced daze.

"Heywheredtherobotsgo?" Harley whispered in one breath, trying to focus on the on-screen action, and Pam's answering chuckle against her neck made little hairs stand up all over Harley's body.

"What robots?" Pam said in a husky whisper of her own.

Full-on semi-public makeout sesh? Oh hell yes, check and double check.

Harley turned so their lips could meet, hungrily, messily, like two teenagers making out in a movie theater should be. She was dimly grateful that no one had sat in the rows behind them – surely, Pam wouldn't be nearly as adventurous if they had.

But what Harley didn't see was that four rows ahead and off to the side, a pair of green eyes was locked on them – widening in shock and then narrowing with a cold resolve.

/

Pam turned to Harley as soon as the credits began to roll. "What time did your mother want you home?"

"10." Harley told her with an almost sad smile. "But it's already 9:30."

"What?" Pam's jaw dropped. "That movie was 5 hours long?"

"Yep," Harley nodded, getting up. "They didn't want to sacrifice a single explosion. They actually blew up that city, you know."

Pam couldn't believe it. She was in a daze, weak on her feet. "I sat in a movie theater for 5 hours?"

"No!" Harley laughed too loudly for the people still watching the credits, drawing some harsh looks. "You're the most gullible genius I know, Pam."

"But…wh…" However long that movie was, Pam certainly felt it had cost her a few brain cells. Maybe even an IQ point or two. She turned her phone back on and followed Harley out of the theater as she looked at the display. It was only 7:10pm. Three was better than five, Pam supposed, but if not for Harley it would have been an embarrassing waste of time.

The blonde was waiting for her just outside the door of the theater, leaning casually against the wall, one knee bent with a sneaker flush on the surface behind her. "Well?" Harley asked with a smile. "What did you think?"

"Of the film?" Pam inquired, wrapping her arms around Harley's waist, appreciating that the lobby was almost empty since there seemed to be some sort of post-credits scene for the movie they'd just walked out of. "It was quite possibly the single worst film I've ever seen, Harl."

The blonde giggled. "Did you mean to give me a nickname?"

Pam playfully bumped their foreheads together, her hands finding their way into Harley's back pockets again. "Do you presume I shortened your name out of stupidity?"

"No." She felt Harley attempt to suppress a shiver at the added contact. "But if you get 'Harl', I get free rein on Pam-related puns. Deal?"

The redhead chuckled. "Well, that hardly seems…" And then all of a sudden, they weren't alone.

"Pammy, Pammy, Pammy." Selina's tone was cloying, "Groping my athletes, are we?"

Pamela ripped her hands away from Harley quicker than she'd ever done anything in her life. She knew that her face had turned nearly the color of her hair, she was so flushed. And there Selina stood with that self-satisfied smirk, her green eyes shining dangerously. "No—it's not—I was just. Why are you here?"

"Well, as a matter of fact…" Selina rested her hand against the wall, casually dropping her hip, essentially assuming the relaxed stance Harley had, at this point, abandoned. "Bruce and I just saw a movie we would be embarrassed to tell our friends about. You, namely. So imagine my surprise when I spot the great and powerful Pamela Isley in the very same theater, watching Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch tear up a city. And with Crotch Rocket, no less."

"Selina…" Pam could barely breathe. "Don't…Please, don't."

"No, no." Selina stopped her. "Canoodling with a subordinate is not a punishable offense, stop your groveling." It was then that Bruce emerged from the theater, coming to stand behind Selina, offering Harley a somewhat pleasant smile and Pam a raised eyebrow. "We're just a bit hurt you didn't tell us, Pammy." Selina affected a condescending pout.

"I'm sorry." Pamela said quickly, knowing that she'd lost her edge in this exchange the moment it started.

"Hmm…" Selina's eyes passed over her friend once more before moving on to Harley. "Congratulations, Crotch Rocket. You're a very lucky girl. And Pam letting you choose the movie? I suppose you must be special. I'm surprised she didn't take you to Les Amies Dangereuses. It's playing at our theater across town, Pammy. Did you not realize? You do so love French cinema."

Pamela wanted desperately to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. From the dagger Selina had just sunk into her heart, from the embarrassment on Harley's face and the look of genuine betrayal on Bruce's…but she didn't. She bit the inside of her cheek- hard- and said, in the most confident voice she could muster: "I hope you enjoyed the film." But she broke quickly, adding another "I'm sorry" before turning for the door, not even checking to see if Harley was following.

Outside, Pam leaned against the wall, crossing her arms protectively, trying – and failing – to stop her mind from wandering to the not-so-distant past.

/

"So, in summary . . . I give that movie a D+," Pam finished, sitting cross-legged on her bed, already dressed in her nightgown. Selina lay on her stomach just in front of her, flipping aimlessly through a magazine, and when she didn't respond, Pam nudged her shoulder lightly. "Hey," Pam said. "Did you hear me?"

Selina sighed and paused her page-flipping. "Yeah, Carrot Top, I heard you. Maybe I'm just not in the mood for prop comedy tonight."

Pam cocked her head to the side, bemused. "Selina . . . I don't even know what that means, much less its relevance to my summation of the film we just went to."

The brunette shrugged. "Whatever."

Pam pushed her shoulder again, harder this time. It caught Selina off-guard and in lieu of flopping onto her face, she rolled over onto her back, her momentum pulling the redhead over on top of her.

The two girls froze, staring wide-eyed at one another. Then, agonizingly slowly, Selina bent her knee up, sliding it between Pam's legs. "Selina . . . we said we wouldn't anymore," Pam breathed. "Bruce . . ."

"Bruce is a boy," Selina said, her jaw set in a way that allowed for no argument. "A boy I am very fond of. But we . . . are women." Pam groaned as Selina's hands trailed down her back until they cupped her rear – and then started pulling her gently, rhythmically, insistently against Selina's leg.

Part of her hated herself for letting Selina do this to her – for the way she turned into a wanton mess at Selina's whim.

The other part panted and rocked against her best friend desperately, craving her in a way she knew Selina could never truly return – but Pam would nonetheless settle for this, taking whatever Selina would give her, over and over again.

This time was different, though. Pam's world suddenly spun as Selina flipped them so she was on top, their legs still intertwined, their hips moving slowly together. The brunette dipped her head down, and Pam could feel her warm breath on her neck, her lips grazing Pam's jawline. "You know why you gave that movie a D+, Pammy?" For some reason, Pam found the childhood nickname incredibly arousing, and silently chided herself. She shook her head.

"It wasn't the writing –" Selina rolled against her, and Pam moaned – "or the score –" another roll of her hips, and Pam could feel herself about to break – "or the goddamn cinematography, Francis Ford Coppola." She pulled back and looked straight down into Pam's eyes, ceasing the movement of her hips. "You didn't like that movie because the two bestest girlfriends didn't ride off into the fucking sunset together."

Pam gulped. "Wh-what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Selina practically purred, and now Pam felt her hand sliding up a trembling thigh, just barely under the hem of Pam's nightgown, "that you – want – more." The backs of her fingers brushed against Pam, over her panties, and the redhead hissed at the contact, noticing just before she threw her head back that Selina's eyes were practically black now.

Selina licked at Pam's throat, then sucked gently, just this side of leaving a mark. "Tell me what you want, Pammy," she murmured against her collarbone, holding her fingers perfectly still. "Tell me that you need me. That you'll always need me."

"God, Selina," Pam moaned. "I-I want you. I'll always need you." Then she whispered, "Please."

And Selina smiled as her fingers moved once more.