A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
"Are you sure you want to come with us? You can stay here if you feel uncomfortable. Floyd and I are more than capable of doing this on our own."
"I'm sure, Red," Harley replied, scuffling her feet and tugging on the hem of the green sweater she'd borrowed, looking incredibly unsure. Pam struggled not to be distracted by the way the sweater clung to her slim form, highlighting every curve and muscle. She was failing miserably.
If Pam had her way, she'd have given it a few more days before confronting Jay. But if Harley was going to stay, she couldn't very well continue borrowing all of Pam's clothes. Although Pam didn't mind seeing her wearing them in the slightest. It made her feel close to Harley. Intimate, in a way Pam knew they couldn't be. Not right now anyway.
But the more time they spent together, the more the lines between friendship and…. something more, began to blur. Harley had curled up in bed with Pam again the night before, spooning her, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Pam hadn't been able to sleep soundly that night. She woke whenever Harley shifted-a common occurrence-and struggled to find sleep again, excruciatingly aware of the feel of Harley's…. everything, pressed against her back.
Pulling herself back to the present, Pam reached for Harley's hand. She perked up and grabbed it immediately, lacing their fingers together as they left the apartment. Floyd was waiting for them, leaning against the hood of his rusty pickup truck. He straightened when he saw the two women approaching.
"Ladies," he greeted, tugging open the side door for Harley, who grinned at him and squirmed into the middle seat.
"Thank you for doing this, Floyd," Pam murmured before taking her place beside Harley. He gave her a subtle nod and walked around to the driver's side of the truck. The old engine rattled to life, and Floyd pulled away from Pam's apartment complex, into the streets of Gotham.
Pam hadn't wanted to bring anybody else into their mess with Jay, especially not Harley's coworkers, who could easily lose their jobs if he found out they had helped. But it would have been impossible to walk all of Harley's things back to Pam's apartment. And Floyd had volunteered readily when Pam called him and relayed Harley's current predicament. It was a good sign that Floyd, and hopefully the rest of Harley's friends, seemed to be more loyal to her rather than Jay. They didn't appear to be afraid of him either, Pam noted. Which was important, since Pam knew she and Harley would need all the support they could get when, inevitably, they had to confront Jay.
The walk from Pam to Harley's apartment wasn't far, so the drive only took a couple of minutes. They'd arrived before Pam had time to ready herself for a possible confrontation with Jay. Seeming to sense her reluctance, Floyd killed the engine and said, "Jay's down at the shop today. We shouldn't have any trouble."
Pam nodded, glancing at Harley, who was bouncing her leg anxiously. Once Floyd stepped out of the truck, Pam placed her hand on Harley's knee, drawing the girl's attention.
"It's going to be alright."
The blonde nodded, forcing a smile and following Pam out of the car. Together, the three made the trek up to Harley and Jay's apartment. Harley scrounged around underneath the little welcome mat in front of the door before pulling out a small key.
"I lose my keys a lot," she explained with a sheepish shrug, although nobody had questioned it.
Fitting the key into the lock, she pushed the door open slowly, looking to Pam as if she were afraid Jay would jump out like a ghoul in a haunted house.
Apt comparison, Pam praised herself. Although he's more of a clown than he is a ghoul.
Together, the three pushed into the apartment. It was quiet and dark, and there was no sign of Jay, like Floyd had promised. They decided to split up for efficiency's sake. Floyd took the living room, Harley the bathroom and that left the bedroom to Pam.
Stifling the wave of revulsion that washed over her at the thought of coming across anything Jay might keep there, Pam pushed the door open and crept inside.
It was dark, the yellowed blinds on the far side of the room blocking out the afternoon sun. Clothes were strewn haphazardly about the room, both Jay's and Harley's from the looks of it. And the sheets on the bed didn't fare much better. Pam picked her way across the clothes covered floor, rifling through one of the bedside dressers that she quickly realized must have been Jay's. Inside lay the handcuffs from Harley's birthday (Pam ignored those) and her shattered phone. Picking it up, Pam pressed down on the power button, not surprised when it turned on. She scrolled through the dozens of messages she'd sent, confirming what she already knew. Jay had taken Harley's phone in an attempt to break them apart.
Pam smirked. Manipulative as he may be, Jay had still failed and now Harley had chosen to fight back. He could break as many phones as he liked as far as Pam was concerned. He couldn't hurt Harley anymore and that was what mattered.
Pocketing the phone, Pam moved to the closet, grabbing as many of Harley's things as she could find and carrying them out into the living room. The three converged there and began making trips down the two flights of stairs to Floyd's truck.
They managed to fill the few cardboard boxes Floyd had brought and then some. Harley's more superfluous items littered the truck bed in the same haphazard way they'd been displayed in her apartment. After the final trip, Harley set her key back under the mat and paused in the doorway, one hand gripping the knob.
Pam stood behind her and waited, a silent supportive presence. No matter the abuse she'd faced here, Pam knew this moment couldn't be easy. The apartment was familiar, it had been home for Harley for the better part of three years. Or maybe home wasn't the best way to describe it. But leaving it meant leaving the comfort of her routine. It meant facing the unknown. It meant change.
I'll give you something so much better. Trust me.
Pam placed a hand on Harley's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. Harley turned and, to Pam's surprise, offered her a genuine smile. Closing the door behind her, Harley took Pam's hand and descended the flight of stairs for the final time.
She didn't look back.
/
Harley hummed to herself as she moved around the apartment, unpacking her things. Pam watched her pull her belongings out of the boxes Floyd had helped carry up and bounce from the bathroom to the bedroom and back to the living room, only to start the process all over again. Pam had offered to help, but Harley seemed determined to unpack on her own. And based on the speed at which Harley was moving around the apartment, Pam felt that she would only get in the way if she intervened.
It was almost comforting to watch Harley dash around the apartment, throwing her things in with Pam's. After what they'd had to go through to reach this point of complete trust, the act of unpacking felt like validation for the moments when Pam thought she'd shattered their friendship for good. But it was more than friendship now, Pam realized. It had to be. And living together meant broaching some of the things that had gone unspoken between them for too long. The things that made Pam question how Harley really felt about her. However, pushing the subject also held the potential of pushing Harley away. And the last thing Pam wanted to do was make Harley feel uncomfortable when she had nowhere else to go. As much as that thought unnerved Pam, she knew the conversation needed to happen, no matter the outcome.
"Hey, Red?" she called from the bedroom. "Left side or right?"
Pam blinked as Harley's question pulled her out of her thoughts. "I'm sorry?"
"Left or right?" Harley reiterated, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. Pam gave her a blank stare. "For the closet! Which side do you want my stuff on?"
"Oh." Was I supposed to reach that conclusion on my own? Come on, Harl. "I really don't mind, Harley. Whatever you like."
Harley nodded and disappeared inside the bedroom again. Pam looked around at the items spread out across the living room that they'd yet to find a place for. Movies, comic books, make up, a pair of roller blades (Pam hadn't been expecting that one) and the giant stuffed dog Harley had insisted on bringing (Pam really hadn't been expecting that one). Lou was it's name…or Bud. She couldn't remember, and it struck her as trivial that Harley had named a stuffed dog in the first place.
So long as it doesn't find its way into my… our… bedroom.
As strange as it was to think in those terms, there wasn't any other way to look at it now. This was no longer just her apartment. It was Harley's too. And that shared ownership didn't end at the bedroom. Heat rose in Pam's cheeks at the thought. Our bedroom. There was a certain intimacy to the implication that couldn't be ignored. Maybe acknowledging that would help her initiate the conversation she needed to have with Harley.
Just… maybe not tonight, Pam thought as anxiety rose in her chest. They had time now after all. And the subject was a heavy one. It would be better to discuss it once they weren't both so exhausted from the move.
She returned to the book she'd been trying to read just as Harley wandered back into the living room, clapping her hands together victoriously.
"All unpacked!" she declared, ignoring the various items still scattered across the living room. Hopping over the back of the couch, she plopped down next to Pam and reached for the TV remote. As she waited for the old television to come to life, she glanced over at Pam, cocking her head in an attempt to read the title of the book.
"Whatcha readin', Pam-a-lamb?"
"A book by Peter Raven. He's got a fascinating theory on the biology of plant life and how it pertains to-….What?"
Harley was staring, her blue eyes owlish. "You wear glasses?"
Pam had forgotten she'd been wearing the large, boxy brown frames. They weren't exactly flattering, but the function of her glasses was more important than their appearance. "Yes, I do. I need them to read."
"Oh." Harley's voice was small and she looked away quickly when Pam attempted to meet her gaze. But Pam could have sworn she saw a blush coloring Harley's cheeks.
"You look—they look…nice. Good! On you. They look good on you…" She trailed off, scrabbling for the remote and flipping through the channels rapidly. Pam watched Harley straighten, her eyes riveted to the TV, her knee bouncing up and down.
Does she….? Is she….? By my glasses?
A grin spread across Pam's lips, but she returned to her book without pushing the subject. As subtle as Harley tried to be, Pam caught every glance she sent her way as she pretended to watch television. The act would have been more convincing if she hadn't been pretending to be riveted by a documentary on the indigenous people of the Ice Age.
Setting her book down after the documentary had ended, Pam stood and stretched, her shirt riding up with the movement. Harley's eyes fell to her midriff and then snapped back to the TV which had changed to show a rerun of an old cartoon.
"I think I'm going to call it a night, Harl." The unpacking had taken more energy than she thought it would. And technically, they still weren't done. "Turn off the lights when you come to bed?"
"Sure thing, Red." Harley eyes didn't waver from the TV. A little disconcerted by her suddenly solemn behavior, Pam paused in the doorway to the bedroom, studying Harley. She seemed frozen in place, her still form illuminated by the light of the TV.
Hoping it was the events of the day catching up with her and not something Pam had done, she left Harley to her cartoons and continued with her bedtime routine.
She could still hear the sounds of the TV by the time she slipped underneath the cool covers. Pam pulled them up to her chin, waiting anxiously for Harley to join her. After nearly an hour, the sounds quieted and the light from underneath the door disappeared. But still, Harley didn't come.
Quietly, Pam slipped out of bed and padded into the living room. Even through the darkness, Pam could see that Harley had curled up on the couch, clutching her stuffed dog to her chest.
Confused, and a little wounded that Harley had opted to sleep on her own, Pam returned to the bedroom and crawled underneath the covers again, suddenly much colder than when she first went to bed. She tossed and turned and wiggled and tried to find a position that would quiet the thoughts running rampant through her brain. Fleetingly, she thought back to the night before when Harley had so willingly snuggled against her. What had changed so drastically that she'd chosen to sleep alone tonight? On the uncomfortable little couch, no less. As hard as Pam tried to relax, sleep didn't come, and the one question that kept her awake continued to spin around and around in her mind.
Why?
The next morning, Pam woke alone. She stared up at the ceiling as the rays of the early morning sun stretched across the bedroom floor. Part of her had expected Harley to join her sometime during the night. What struck Pam as odd wasn't the fact that Harley may have wanted some space after the move, but that she seemed unwilling to even look at Pam before she'd gone to bed.
Resentment?
Harley had expressed nothing but gratitude after Pam had asked her to stay, but maybe the reality of the situation had finally hit her. Maybe she was already regretting her decision.
Or maybe….
Finally, it came to her. Harley's entire demeanor had changed when she'd noticed Pam's glasses. And the looks she'd snuck while 'watching' the documentary….Pam frowned as she realized that it was entirely possible Harley had spent the night on the couch to avoid being close to her. The last thing Pam wanted was for Harley to feel uncomfortable in any way. It was time to discuss the unspoken tension between them.
Kicking off the covers, Pam shuffled into the living room and crept towards the couch. Harley was still asleep, of course, curled around her massive stuffed dog.
Pam watched her for a moment and then knelt beside the couch, gently brushing a few wayward strands of hair from Harley's face. Harley must have felt Pam's fingers drifting across her cheek, because a moment later, her blue eyes fluttered open and a tired grin appeared on her face.
"Mornin'."
"Did you sleep alright out here?" Pam asked, keeping her voice low.
"Mhmm," Harley mumbled, turning her face into the couch cushions as her body quivered with an enormous stretch. "Kinda lumpy. S'okay though. I'm used to it."
A million questions passed through Pam's mind all at once.
Why did you stay out here? Was it something I said? Did I make you uncomfortable? Are you going to stay out here every night?
Do it, Pamela. Ask her. Her nerve vanished and the questions Pam knew she needed to ask died on her tongue. Instead she settled on, "Do you want to help me make breakfast?"
Harley nodded, stretching again and squeezing Bud…or Lou. "You bet…just ten more minutes…."
/
Pam was beautiful. Really beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made anything she did look graceful. The kind of beautiful that made Harley feel scrawny and frumpy in comparison. The kind of beautiful a person could end up just staring at if they weren't careful.
And that was exactly what Harley was doing. Pam stood in front of the stove, the long t-shirt she wore riding up on her hips as she stretched to turn the temperature knob. Harley's eyes fell to the lacy green underwear she wore and then traveled slowly down her long shapely legs.
You're staring, Harleen.
Harley was too busy gawking at the way the light from the window haloed Pam's hair to acknowledge the voice in her head. Pam shifted, brushing that fiery red hair aside and exposing the long smooth line of her neck.
Oh my god….
"Is it ready, Harley?"
Harley's eyes snapped immediately to Pam's questioning face….her sharp cheekbones, strong jawline….She stared dumbly into Pam's rich green eyes until the older woman raised a single perfect brow and pointed to the mixing bowl full of batter Harley was supposed to be finishing.
Good work. Smooth. 10/10 Harls. Keep it in your pants please.
"Uh…almost," Harley sputtered, rapidly beating the batter. Pam gave her a curious look, watching as flour jumped over the rim of the bowl and decorated the countertop.
Harley stared hard into the lumpy batter mixture, her cheeks beginning to burn. Pam was beautiful alright. And as much as she wanted to be closer to her new roommate, her confusing feelings had caught up with her the night before. Sleeping in the same bed after seeing Pam with those glasses….Harley was afraid she'd do something she might regret.
Because, for as head over heels as she was for Pam, she had no idea how the other woman felt. She was kind, she obviously cared about Harley's well being, she was gentle with her, patient, motherly. Friendly. She let Harley cuddle and hug her to bits, but there was no indication she wanted more. And why would she? She was Pamela Isley, PhD. Intelligent, powerful, confident.
STUPID HOT.
Harley ignored her mental peanut gallery. A woman like Pam wouldn't want someone like Harley. Drop-out, laden with emotional baggage, broken, directionless. And more importantly, Harley didn't want to do anything that might jeopardize the friendship they'd built.
Harley finished the batter in silence, handing the bowl to Pam when she was done, failing to notice the look of concern on the red head's face.
"Would you like to do the honors?" She held out a ladle for Harley and gestured to the bowl of pancake batter. Harley gave her a timid smile and reached for the ladle. Their fingers brushed and Harley imagined it would probably feel better to set her own face on fire than continue blushing as fiercely as she knew she was.
If Pam noticed, she didn't say anything. Lifting a scoop of batter, Harley began carefully pouring it onto the sizzling skillet.
"You know, when I was little, my ma and I used to make pancakes all the time," she began, unsure why she felt it was important to share this story. "But we'd always make shapes. Never normal pancakes."
Harley finished off her Mickey Mouse shaped pancake with a flourish. It took Pam a moment to recognize what it was, but when she did, she smiled brightly.
"That's very sweet."
"Yeah. Sometimes she'd let me use chocolate chips for eyes and stuff too," Harley continued, beginning a rocket ship. "You ever had chocolate chip pancakes, Red? To. Die. For."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Actually do you have any- Oh… Wow, okay, uh, let's toss this one." Harley's attempt at a rocket ship had gone awry and now resembled a generous example of male genitalia. Pam took one look and burst out laughing. Harley grinned. She loved that sound. It was deep and rich, and it made her insides tremble. And Pam always laughed at the things she said or did. Not vindictively. Not because she thought Harley was stupid. But because the things she did genuinely made Pam smile. She made Pam smile…
"I promise I made much better ones as a kid," Harley said, dumping the ruined pancake onto the serving plate and beginning a flower.
"I don't know what you're talking about, these are fantastic." Pam was struggling to contain another fit of giggles.
"What can I say? I'm an exceptional artist," Harley replied jokingly.
"You are, you know."
"I am what?"
"An exceptional artist." Pam had calmed and was pinning her with that powerful green gaze that turned Harley's legs to mush.
"Thanks…" Harley murmured. "I kinda wonder if I'll ever be able to do it again."
"You don't have to leave your job, Harley," Pam said, watching her finish the flower shaped pancake. "Jay won't be able to hurt you when your coworkers are around."
"But what do I say to him, Red? He's not going to just ignore me. Not after what…. I don't know what I'm supposed to tell him."
"You tell him the truth," Pam said simply. "Tell him you're not going back to him, that you're staying with me, that you expect to maintain a professional working relationship with him in spite of the circumstances."
Harley stabbed her spatula into the flower, cutting it in half. "I dunno if that's gonna work on Jay."
"Well, if the parlor doesn't work out," Pam continued slowly. "You could always go back to school."
Not a bad idea. Not one Harley had actively considered. But she recalled the conversation they'd had during their first outing to the coffee shop together. So much had happened since then, it almost felt like that conversation had been in another lifetime.
Go back to school.
To be honest, the idea excited her. But the thought of losing her job in the process was crushing. She loved the tattoo parlor and she loved working with her clients. If Jay fired her now, in a fit of rage and resentment….She knew she'd made the right choice in leaving him. But even still...
Pam must have sensed how overwhelmed Harley felt, or maybe she'd read it on her face, because she placed a hand between Harley's shoulder blades and rubbed gently. Pam's touch was comforting, but it certainly wasn't helping to unscramble Harley's confused feelings.
"Harley? We have time. Why don't you help me with the flower shop for a few days? Give Jay some time and space and then, when you're ready, you can go back to work and talk with him." Harley nodded, avoiding Pam's gaze. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes and she didn't want Pam to see. It didn't matter really, because Pam placed warm fingers underneath her chin and turned Harley to face her.
"It's alright, Daffodil," she murmured. "Whatever happens, I'll be here for you. You're not alone."
'Daffodil'….What would I do without you, Red?
Pam pulled her into a hug and Harley immediately buried her face in waves of lavender scented red hair. Pam's arms tightened around her waist, sending Harley's heart into overdrive. She squeezed back, trying to memorize the feel of Pam's body against hers. But the moment was over all too quickly. Pam pulled away and gave her a reassuring smile, brushing her thumb across the small heart tattoo on Harley's cheek.
"Come on." She gave Harley's hand one final squeeze before reaching for the plate of pancakes. "Let's eat."
"Okay…Dibs on the wiener one."
/
Mrs. Pembroke was waiting outside the flower shop when they arrived.
"Pamela!" she pushed herself away from the door and hobbled towards them, leaning heavily on her cane. "I was starting to believe that you'd closed this place down without telling me."
"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." Pam offered the old woman a smile as she unlocked the door. "I've been a little busy the last couple of days."
"It's quite alright, dear," Mrs. Pembroke said, following her inside. "I think a little personal time is warranted considering how hard you work. And Harley," she turned her attention to the blonde who trailed some distance behind them, somewhat shyly. "It's wonderful to see you again as well."
Harley grinned. "Sorry for keepin' Pammy away from the shop for so long."
"Keeping her away?"
"Yeah," Harley nodded earnestly, following Pam around the front desk. "She's been helpin' me with some personal stuff."
"Personal stuff," Mrs. Pembroke repeated, her gaze falling on the faded bruise around Harley's eye.
"We're roomies now!" she exclaimed, throwing an arm around Pam's shoulders, making her stumble.
A smile lit up Mrs. Pembroke's wrinkled face. "Well, that's wonderful news. You two seem like an excellent match."
Harley blushed and Pam cleared her throat a little too loudly. Fortunately, Mrs. Pembroke dragged Pam away after that, but not before Pam tasked Harley with watering every plant in the store.
Unlike with most things, Harley took her time, moving from plant to plant slowly, giving each one care and attention. She found she enjoyed the work. She liked sticking her nose into multicolored petals, or pushing her fingers into moistened soil, or running them along the delicate vines of the trailing ivies.
Pam was still busy with Mrs. Pembroke by the time Harley had finished, so she took a seat behind the front desk and glanced around for something to do. A moment later, her cell phone buzzed in her back pocket.
A grin spread across Harley's cheeks as she read the incoming message.
Hey dollface chato says he misses you wants you to come back to work. So get your pretty little ass back here soon k?
Another buzz.
whatever floyd just said about me is a lie.
Buzz number three.
What I just said about chato is not a lie.
Harley giggled and set her phone down on the desk, rereading the messages until her cheeks hurt from smiling. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Pam, the impromptu messages solidified what Harley already knew. She had to find a way to go back to the tattoo parlor, in spite of Jay, in spite of what he might try to do to her. Her friends and her passion for her work were more important than him. She just had to figure out how to protect herself from his inevitable mental manipulation.
She was just about to send a response to the texts when Pam appeared, peeking over her shoulder. "Who's that?"
"Just the guys," Harley turned around, surprised to see a hard look in Pam's eyes until she saw Chato and Floyd's names on the screen. It confused her until she realized that Pam must have been worried that it was Jay trying to contact her. Which, Harley knew, was still a possibility, and a terrifying one at that. "They wanted to know how I was doin'."
"That's sweet of them." Pam's gaze softened. "Let them know I say hello."
"Will do!" Harley saluted.
What up plant lady
careful harley doesn't wreck that flower shop of yours
After a quick conversation, assuring her friends that she was fine and would be returning in a few days, Harley spent the rest of the day helping Pam with odd jobs around the shop. She was surprisingly exhausted by the time they locked up for the day and headed home.
Home. It was still strange for Harley to think of home as anywhere other than the apartment she'd shared with Jay. But already, Pam's place felt more welcoming and more comfortable than her other 'home' ever had.
There was a chill in the air that hadn't been there that morning. They huddled close together for warmth as they walked, which Harley didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, she kind of wished they'd both forget their coats more often.
By the time they reached the apartment, she was dizzy from the honeysuckle scent that wafted off Pam, and she kept sneaking glances at her from the corner of her eye. As subtle as she tried to be, Pam caught her gaze quite a few times. But she just smiled in return, reducing Harley's insides to goo in the process.
"I'll get dinner started," Pam said as they entered the apartment. Harley kicked off her shoes and pranced inside, while Pam took the time to methodically place hers (and now Harley's) on the small shoe rack by the door. Suddenly, Pam paused and turned to follow Harley into the living room. There was a strange expression on her face and an uncharacteristic hesitance in the way she spoke. "Harley…. I was wondering if we could talk for a moment-"
Both women paused when a knock on the door interrupted Pam. There were very few people who would call on Pam this late in the day. There was her landlord, Mr. Nygma, but the man was too neurotic to drop in without allotting Pam a specified time slot first. And Barbara would have made it known she was coming, unless it was some kind of emergency.
Another knock, this one louder. And suddenly, Harley's stomach filled with dread. She knew her friends wouldn't have told Jay where she was staying. But Jay wasn't stupid. In fact, he was incredibly clever when it came to getting what he wanted. He could have easily found Pam's address on his own. Harley glanced at Pam and saw from the look in her eyes that she'd reached the same conclusion.
"Red…" Harley attempted weakly as Pam moved slowly towards the door. Harley followed her, taking tentative steps. Pam paused, one hand on the door knob, and tugged Harley behind her, using her own body as a shield. There was a tense pause and then Pam flung the door wide open.
"Hey, Pammy. Long time no see."
Until the next update...