10. Under the Ragdoll's Hood
Garfield had only just achieved enough mental quiet for another night of what might be called sleep. It was immediately interrupted by the sound of fists rapping upon the glass of his cell.
"Gar! Wake up, Gar!"
"Ohhhhh, Garfieeeeeeld!"
Garfield rather frustratedly rolled out of bed to see Peter and Harley on the other side of the glass, waving at him excitedly. Between them was a large stand with a television and a DVD player set up on it.
"You…you came back…" Garfield said in mild disbelief.
"I told you it was hard to get rid of me," Peter bragged, and his smile was back at full radiance.
"Peter told me all about what happened to ya," Harley added, "and we both agreed it wasn't fair that you had to be stuck down here in this little room and miss all the fun. So we brought some of the fun to ya!"
"How…" Garfield began.
"I lifted the key to Harley's room off one of the orderlies," Peter explained. "The television is hers."
"We thought we could have a movie night just like old times!" Harley said excitedly, holding up a DVD. Garfield recognized it as one of the animated musicals she'd picked out for a past movie night.
"You didn't have to do this," Garfield said softly, overcome with emotion.
"Sure we did!" Harley chirped.
"Now, we only have a couple hours before a patrol comes through," Peter reminded the group.
Harley set the DVD to play, and she and Peter sat down on the floor, their backs to the wall, a good distance apart so Garfield could settle in between them from the other side, which he did.
This time, he joined in singing every song. About halfway through the film, the triad thought they could hear Basil Karlo faintly yelling at them from down the hall to shut up, but he was promptly ignored.
As the credits rolled, Garfield knew he had to say something, but he found himself at a loss for words. "You guys…I…"
"Absolutely love us and don't know what you'd ever do without us?" Peter supplied.
"Actually, that's not far off," Garfield admitted. "Look. About the whole…you know. Trying to kill you both by blowing up Gotham thing. I…it…it won't happen again."
"We get it," Harley reassured him. "Peter explained everything. You just went a little crazy. But that's okay, because now the three of us are a matchin' set!"
"I'm still not convinced there's actually anything wrong with Peter," Garfield commented. "But okay. I'll go with it."
"If we didn't forgive each other for acts of unspeakable evil," Peter pointed out, "we wouldn't have any friends at all."
"True," Garfield said with a shake of the head. "Turns out there are two things I like about Gotham after all." He then realized what he'd said. "Okay, you're going to forget I said that."
"I'd rather lord it over you forever that you're secretly a sap," Peter decided.
"Hey. I'm mentally vulnerable right now."
"When has that stopped me before?"
Harley couldn't help but grin watching her friends banter.
The sound of footsteps alerted Harley and Peter to an approaching patrol, and they both snapped to their feet, grabbing ahold of the television stand and wheeling it out of the hall as hastily as they could. As they bolted, Peter fired off a quick "Toodles!" at Garfield.
Garfield was considerably happier as he returned to his bed to attempt to sleep again. It was easier to quiet his mind.
...
Sometimes he dreamed about Blaze.
She stood some distance away from him, her back to him. He took a step toward her, and she turned to face him. "Garfield?"
"Blaze…" he breathed, reaching out for her.
His hands were still human flesh as he placed them upon her face, running his thumbs over her cheeks.
But all of a sudden, his skin cracked and split, bursting with heat. Blaze screamed under his touch as her face burned and melted.
Garfield awoke suddenly, but the more he thought about the dream, the more he was able to just brush it off and try to go back to sleep.
...
Blaze turned to face him. "Garfield?"
"Blaze…"
He reached out, stroked her face gently. As before, his hands transformed without warning, scorching her, and she screamed.
He awoke. He acknowledged the dream. He went back to sleep.
...
"Garfield?"
"Blaze…"
His fingers caressed her, then bloomed into flame. She howled, trying to wrench herself away from his grasp.
He awoke, he shook it off, he returned to sleep.
...
Blaze turned to face him. "Garfield?"
"Blaze…" he breathed, reaching out for her.
His fingers gently ran over her face, but this time, the details of it changed beneath his touch. She was taller. She wasn't even Blaze anymore.
Then Garfield's hands erupted into fire. He immediately withdrew his grip, but it was too late. The person Blaze had become clutched his face in pain, screaming in agony.
Garfield awoke in terror, his heart beating faster. Had he retained the ability to sweat, he would have been doing so coldly. He was used to the terrible visions of Blaze burning under his touch.
But the nightmare of Peter burning was something different altogether.
...
Lunch was delivered to Garfield with utmost care as to not disturb his cell and upset the balance of the controlled air that preserved his skin. The staff tried to give him the same food as everyone else, but while Garfield could finally touch it and digest it without burning it to ash, it all tasted burned and charred to him. He very nearly threw his tray at the wall out of sheer frustration, but refrained, knowing he'd just be hungry later.
As he picked at his tray, expecting to spend another lonely lunchtime, he became aware of Harley stepping into view of his cell, looking around to make sure the hall was deserted. She took a big bite of a red, juicy-looking apple, then approached Garfield's cell. "Hey, Gar," she greeted.
"Hey, Harley," Garfield replied. "What are you doing down here?"
"Hopin' they don't catch me skippin' out on lunch," Harley answered. "I wanted to talk to ya some more."
"I'm not the best conversationalist right now," Garfield warned her. "My life is literally this room. It's as boring as it sounds."
"I kinda figured," Harley replied. "See, I'm probably not gonna be hangin' around much longer. Mr. J's figured a way out, and he's takin' me with. Now, I know what you're gonna say: I shouldn't go with him."
"It's not like I can do anything to stop you from in here," Garfield grumbled.
"I just thought you might wanna talk before I go," Harley suggested. "I know I might not look it, but I am a trained psychologist. Don't take this the wrong way, but I get the sense that you NEED a psychologist, at least for a little bit."
"They've assigned therapists to me," Garfield informed her. "None of them did any good, but I have them. I dunno. Maybe you can put things in a better way than they can."
"Watch the student become the teacher!" Harley bragged. "Whaddaya need help with?"
Garfield sighed. "I still think about destroying everything. And those thoughts still feel…weirdly satisfying. Then I remember the reasons I shouldn't. It keeps on coming into my head, like a channel I can't change. Everyone keeps telling me the reason thinking about blowing up the city is wrong, and, yeah, I get it. I can't make it STOP. And I can't make it stop feeling right for those two seconds before I remember."
"This one's easy," Harley boasted. "Well…okay. I know the answer to it easy enough. It might not be so easy to pull off, but ya need to practice. I get thoughts like that all the time. Not as bad as yours, but I got all sorts that I wanna just have go away. The first trick is to not try so hard to make it stop. The more you think about not thinking about it, the more you'll think about it."
"Makes sense," Garfield said with a nod, wondering why no one else in the entire facility had put it that way before.
"If you're thinkin' about destroyin' Gotham, then just…let yourself think about it," Harley encouraged. "You said you got reasons not to actually do it now. So long as you know those reasons and you can hang onto 'em, you won't actually do it. Which brings me to the second trick. Balance the bad thoughts out with good ones you think on purpose. I…well, I…I like to think about the people I love."
"Wouldn't you know it, I actually have a couple of those," Garfield admitted.
"But it can be anything," Harley told him. "Remember how fun it was just to burn things down as part of the job? That way, you only hurt the people you WANTED to."
"Staff would NOT like hearing you tell me that."
"That's how I get by, sometimes," Harley admitted. "Thinkin' about somethin' I can steal, or gettin' revenge on somebody who messed with me or my friends. We're the bad guys around here, and if it's between that and worse thoughts, is bein' bad really so bad?"
"Harley," Garfield interrupted, "I kind of…have a question. Since you got me thinking about the whole 'people I love' thing. I never watched your show, but you always did romance advice, right?"
"Yup!" Harley nodded fervently.
"I…actually might need that kind of advice."
"Gettin' Blaze back?" Harley asked. "Gar, I don't know if that's…I mean, I know I always said not to take no for an answer, but you burned a pretty big bridge there. It'd take somethin' epic to get her to – "
"It's not about Blaze," Garfield quickly stated. "That's the weird thing. Blaze tried to get me to stop by telling me I'd destroy her. And that didn't do ANYTHING to me. I didn't CARE. Now, as you see, I obviously do. And that's probably because of the meds they're lacing the air with. But…something happened, and I'm starting to wonder if it means something."
"What?"
Garfield had thought about trying to keep it vague, but then he realized he absolutely couldn't. The situation was so unique that even if he did try to keep it secret, Harley would figure it out. "You have to PROMISE not to tell anyone. ESPECIALLY the person it happened with."
"What if this person really needs to know – "
"PROMISE, Harley."
"Aw, fine, fine, I promise," Harley sighed. "Now gimme the goods! Like we're on an episode of Heart 2 Heart." She took another bite of her apple, wiping the juice off her face with her hand.
Garfield decided to just come out with it and see how bad the damage was. "What does it mean that Blaze couldn't talk me into saving her, but the minute I REALLY knew I screwed up was when I told Peter about it and he stopped smiling?"
Harley's apple hit the floor.
"Yeah, I know," Garfield sighed. "You probably didn't see THAT one coming. But I've had a lot of time to think down here, and when it's NOT about death and destruction, it's about…" He shook his head. "Okay, so this has to be literally the worst time to be thinking about this, right? You'd think this would turn me off the whole romance thing even MORE."
"There's somethin' I shoulda told you a long time ago, way back when you mentioned not being into relationships in the first place," Harley stated, knowing she was treading unsteady ground but still unable to hold back her opinion. "If you're really not into it, that's fine. But if it's just 'cause a bad experience made you once bitten and twice shy, the only cure is to get right back on the horse and find somebody better. Sorry for mixin' metaphors."
"I have these dreams, too," Garfield admitted. "Dreams about setting Blaze on fire. And they didn't bother me. Guess I'm desensitized. But one of them was about setting PETER on fire, and it was a nightmare. So I started…really thinking about him. I've always felt way too comfortable being able to tell him everything. Which, when you think about the fact that it's Peter, shouldn't make any sense. When we were caught by Rumor…I was HOPING he would find me. And that's the other thing. Rumor. Tony Zucco. When those guys messed with him, I got…" Scared. "Really, REALLY mad."
"How much do you look forward to seein' him?"
"A lot, Harley. I know he's right here in Arkham and he didn't see me too long ago, but I miss him." He shrugged. "And maybe I noticed some of this stuff before, but I figure everyone's a little in love with their best friend, right?"
"Were you ever a little in love with me?" Harley asked with a wink.
"No," Garfield realized.
"Describe him to me," Harley demanded. "Right now."
"Well, he's a jerk."
"I know. Describe him MORE."
"He's always got that stupid idiot smile on," Garfield said off the top of his head. "He's confident. As in, I'm pretty confident, but sometimes I wish I was more like him. He's weird. You can't forget the guy. He's fun to be around if you're on his good side. Which I am. And he's…" Garfield muttered the next word so quietly, Harley couldn't hear it.
"Come on," Harley encouraged. "Say it out loud. I won't say a word."
"Beautiful, okay?" Garfield blurted. "He's beautiful. Have you SEEN him move? Just…when I'm around him, things are actually great. And I don't ever want him to stop smiling. Especially not because of me. Gahhh, how long have I actually been thinking about this?"
"Hmm…" Harley wondered out loud. "Couldn't have been all that long, since Blaze got to ya first."
"I…don't actually know. Blaze was just like…wow. All at once. But the more I think about Peter, the more I think the stuff I like about him has ALWAYS been there. He's just…always been my partner in crime."
"And he makes ya happy?"
"Yeah."
"Does he make your heart beat faster?"
"Actually, now, yes."
Harley gasped. "You LOVE him!"
"That's…what I was afraid of," Garfield groaned. "Literally could not be a WORSE time. Or a worse place. And probably not a worse person."
Harley ached to tell Garfield about Peter's admiration for him that had lasted for a year and then some, but she knew she couldn't say a word without betraying Peter's confidence. She equally ached to take this news back to Peter, but she had also just sworn to Garfield that she wouldn't say a word of the subject…and most importantly, if the two of them were going to get anywhere, they couldn't be brought together by someone else. They had to figure it out face-to-face. "Just take it for what it is," Harley advised. "Let yourself love him. Who knows? Maybe if you tell him – "
"Okay, THAT'S not a good idea."
"But why not?"
"Um…hello?" Garfield reminded her. "Fire monster, trapped in a room in the basement, mind is FRIED? I'm not exactly boyfriend material here. And even if I was, do you know how hard he'd lord it over me if he knew? At least it'd give him something to laugh about."
Harley bit her lip. She wanted to at least do something to get things moving in the right direction. "If you say so," she relented at last. "But you won't know unless ya chance it."
"I'll think it over," Garfield decided. "But the answer's probably no. Thanks for not making fun of me for it at least."
"I'm a professional, remember?" Harley gave another coy wink. "So. Feel better?"
"Yeah. A lot."
"Good," Harley said with a nod. "Lunch is probably almost over, so I better get upstairs. But I'll see you again sometime, okay?"
Garfield doubted he'd ever see her outside of the confines of Arkham again. They'd made no headway whatsoever in the way of reversing his transformation, and he was finally ready to admit that while in his current physical state, there was nowhere he could go and nothing he could do. Still, all the same, he said, "See ya."
The following day, as she'd speculated, Harley and Joker were both gone, free to run about Gotham and wreak havoc.
...
The Arkham staff kept sending their therapists to speak to Garfield, trying to crack his psyche. That was during the day. By night, after curfew, Peter would slip into the hallway through the vents, delivering to Garfield a detailed report about who had done what during the day's activities and who had been the easiest to rile up.
It was no contest between which of these constant sources of conversation made Garfield feel any better about his situation.
And as Garfield and Peter spoke, Garfield found himself memorizing every physical detail he could about Peter. The shade of his hair, the shape of his face, the way his too-large orange uniform bagged around his slender body. And most of all that gorgeously idiotic smile.
It wasn't a new revelation so much as it was the uncovering of something that had been long buried.
...
One day – perhaps it was because he'd exhausted every other topic he'd had to discuss, or perhaps he just couldn't hold it in any longer – Garfield accidentally let slip: "So I've been thinking about it, and dating somebody asexual wouldn't bother me as much as I thought it would."
"Oh, really?" Peter raised a brow, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the wall. Garfield was sprawled out sitting as well, almost a mimicry of how they'd sat together in the back of the ice cream truck on their first day on Team Penguin.
"Yeah," Garfield confirmed, slightly panicking. Why had he brought that up? He had to be extremely careful how he tread. "I think I was about ready to trade in even being able to TOUCH Blaze for more firepower anyway. Not that I don't miss being able to actually touch people…or, you know, touch anything that isn't in this cell…but I could live without getting down and dirty if it was the right person. It would have to be someone REALLY special, though."
"Any particular reason you bring this up?" Peter inquired, interest piqued. He could think of a very obvious reason why Garfield might want to mention this, but at this point, he wasn't sure how it could possibly be the truth of the matter.
"I have too much time to think," Garfield snapped. "I think about LITERALLY EVERYTHING."
"Fair enough."
They were both silent for a while before Garfield admitted, "Talking to you might be one of the things keeping me from going completely off the edge."
"I'm flattered, Garfield."
"I mean it," Garfield insisted. "Not that I won't be fine on my own when you figure out how to break out of here." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Hey, Peter…"
"Yes, Garfield?"
"Is it just me, or have you been in here WAY longer than usual?" Garfield realized. "Don't you usually have an escape plan by now?"
Peter realized he'd been partially found out. "Maybe I have one," he admitted. "Maybe I don't want to use it just yet."
"Why not?"
"Because then, who would I have to talk to?"
"You are seriously NOT staying in here because of me."
"Why not?" Peter asked teasingly.
"Because that would seriously be the dumbest reason to stay here."
"Oh, come now, Garfield. Don't sell yourself short."
"I don't mean it THAT way," Garfield said, exasperated. "I mean…don't you have a life to get back to?"
Peter replied to this with a silent shrug and a wide grin.
"You're…really still here because of me," Garfield realized. "I…don't even know what to say to that."
"How about 'Peter Merkel, you're such a good friend! You're the best person in all the world!'?" Peter suggested.
"Like I'm going to say that to your face."
"You said that like you say it behind my back."
"Well, yeah, I HAVE to – " Garfield immediately shut his mouth. He'd gone a stitch too far.
Peter knew he'd somehow pressed a button. "Care to explain?"
"No."
"Well, now I know there's something you're trying not to say, Garfield. Something concerning me. And you know how I feel about it when you bring things up and don't explain them."
"You trick me into explaining them," Garfield grumbled, "then don't deliver anything in return."
"Yes, but I never once used it against you, did I?" Peter pointed out.
"You know what?" Garfield broke. "Just…forget it. I have literally nothing to lose. LITERALLY NOTHING. At this point, I might as well, okay?"
"Might as well what?"
Garfield exhaled deeply. "What I was saying is that I have to talk about how awesome you are behind your back, because if I said it to your face, you'd laugh at me."
"Now, why would I ever laugh at such a flattering compliment?" Peter asked.
"Because…it's more than just a compliment."
"Ohhhhh?"
"I…" Garfield turned his gaze away, looking at the wall. "I might be in love with you."
There was silence in reply. When Garfield actually chanced looking back at Peter, he flinched. Peter's smile was the widest and happiest-looking it had ever been. And that, to Garfield, signaled trouble. "Don't," Garfield warned. "Do NOT hold this over me."
"I wasn't planning on it," Peter stated. "But, really? This soon after Blaze? I would have thought you would have been more disillusioned with the concept of love than ever."
"I had time to think about my priorities," Garfield confessed. "And somebody smart told me to get back on the horse after love bit me, or something. Anyway, there you go. Now you know. I don't know if it's because you actually got me to dance, or because you hugged me and told me there was no one like me when Rumor was gonna kill us, or because you tied off my stab wound with your shirt, or because talking to you keeps me from going crazy in here. But it's probably mostly because of that stupid, STUPID smile."
"I'll tell you what," Peter decided. "Since you told me that…I'll let you know who my secret crush is."
"You still HAVE that?" Garfield was surprised. "You didn't bring it up for, like, a year."
"Oh, I most definitely still have it," Peter confirmed. "Same person all this time, too. Care to hazard a guess?"
"I don't even know who's left," Garfield sighed. "Killer Croc."
"No."
"Mr. Freeze?"
"Goodness, no."
"GOOD. …Joker?"
"I do hope you weren't serious about that one."
"I give up," Garfield said with a small shrug. "Who is it?"
"You really haven't guessed, Garfield? After all this time? I thought it was rather obvious at this point," Peter admitted.
"Obvious?" Garfield repeated. "Who would be OBVIOUS? Unless it's somehow ME, I don't see what…"
Peter was slowly nodding. "Now you're getting it."
"…Me?" Garfield was taken aback. "It…it's me."
"That it is," Peter confirmed. "You're very attractive, after all."
"How…long has it been me?"
Peter pretended to think it over. "I'd say about…Team Penguin, day one."
"That was the day we MET," Garfield said incredulously. "And all this time…? You…?"
"Loved you," Peter said all too casually.
"So…wait. When you said I was hot…"
"I meant it."
"WHEN YOU SAID IT WAS DESTINY THAT WE WERE ON THE SAME TEAM…"
"I really thought you would have picked up on it right then, Garfield."
Garfield opened his mouth to say something, then promptly closed it. He stood up. He crossed the room to the wall. And then he began to ram his head against the wall, yelling out, "IDIOT! IDIOT! IDIOT!"
"Head trauma might not be the best way to go about improving your mental state," Peter pointed out.
"I'M AN IDIOT!" Garfield yelled. "We could have been PERFECT! If I'd just been with YOU from the beginning, I wouldn't have had to go through Blaze, I wouldn't have had to go through ANY of that – "
Peter stood up. "I do fear history might have repeated himself with the Phosphorous incident."
Garfield paused his head-bashing momentarily, about to say that he was sure Peter could have stopped him from his attempt to bring Gotham down in flames. But then he realized he couldn't be entirely certain of that. Had he been too far gone? Would he have listened? "I…can't promise I'll never blow up another city," he said at last. "But I do know I'm never going to blow up a city that you're in."
"For what it's worth, Garfield…" Peter placed a hand on the glass. "My spark never went out."
Garfield returned to the wall, putting his own hand up against the other side to mirror Peter's, as though they could somehow touch. He looked up, directly meeting Peter's gaze, and Peter observed that Garfield's eyes sparkled the most that they ever had since he'd entered Arkham. "It really shouldn't have taken me this long to light mine."
Without warning, Peter leaned forward, shutting his eyes and pressing his lips directly to the glass. Garfield instinctively laughed at the sight; "Peter Merkel, you are a DORK." Then he kissed the other side of the glass, matching the position of Peter's mouth, closing his own eyes.
They could almost feel each other.
...
By some miracle, the staff of Arkham had found a way to do it. It had taken them months, but with a grant from Wayne Industries (which Garfield resented to no end), they'd managed to come up with a cure for Garfield's condition.
"How do you feel?" one of the orderlies asked as Garfield watched the back of his hand in awe; his crusty, glowing skin gelled back into flexible flesh before his eyes.
Garfield flexed his hand, turning it over, bending each finger. He then surveyed his whole body…and formed his opinion: "I feel like I need pants."
He was handed plain white underwear and an orange uniform, which he gratefully slipped into. "Have you been thinking about destruction lately?" the orderly asked.
"I just don't think that's any of your business," Garfield sassed. The truth was he was still plagued by unwanted thoughts, but he'd learned to let them simply come and go, as Harley had suggested to him. It wasn't to say he was done with destruction as a whole. He realized that as much as he'd claimed to want to get away from the life of crime, he sorely missed his days of arson for hire, watching things burn. He was done being Phosphorous; he just wanted to be Firefly again. Fully dressed, he turned to look at the full-length mirror in the room, then ran a hand over his bald head in disgust. He also wanted his hair back, but that would take time.
"Now that your body is stable," the orderly explained, "you can join the others in the courtyard. I do have to warn you that any violent actions will result in punishment, namely isolation and a revocation of your socialization privileges."
"Yeah, yeah," Garfield said with a dismissive wave. "I'll play nice." He didn't let it show, but he was absolutely eager to be let loose upon the courtyard where the other inmates were gathered. He desperately wanted to see Peter, to be able to actually touch him without a layer of glass in between them.
They led him to the yard, let him enter the crowd of orange uniforms. It took Garfield a moment to locate the person he was looking for, but then he spotted him: seated at a table with Langstrom, Wesker, and Strange, trying to figure how best to cheat them all at Euchre.
Garfield thought of a hundred different greetings, but all of them turned up too corny in his mind. He found he was actually nervous to get close; now that he had a human physiology, his palms were greased with sweat, and his heart pounded in his ears. It shouldn't be this hard, he told himself. You're literally roommates. You've been closer than this.
He forced himself to stride over to the card table, finally settling on simply approaching Peter from behind and tapping him on one shoulder. As Peter turned to look at who'd gotten his attention, Garfield simply said, "Hey – "
Peter practically tackled him, leaping up to pull him into a bone-crushing hug, wrapping one leg up around Garfield's waist in a way that was more playful than sensual, crashing his lips against Garfield's. It was absolute bliss; Garfield, caught off guard, needed only a moment to gather his senses enough to wrap his own arms around Peter's waist and draw him in ever closer. It took them both a moment to realize that literally everyone in the yard was staring at them both.
Peter untangled himself from Garfield, turning to announce to his fellows in cards, "I fold."
"It's a four-person game," Langstrom reminded him.
"Don't care." Peter took Garfield by the hand to lead him to the other side of the courtyard. "It actually worked," he told Garfield, beaming brightly.
"Yeah," Garfield replied. "Wish I had my hair back, though."
"I think it's rather a good look for you."
"Well, I think I look better with hair."
"Agree to disagree?"
Garfield nodded. "So. What's new with you?"
"Well," Peter stated, lowering his voice so as not to be heard, "now that I can take you with me, I have a very good reason to leave Arkham."
"Your breakout plan is a two-person plan?" Garfield asked.
"It is now," Peter affirmed. "How ready are you to be back in business?"
"So ready, you don't even know."
...
Harley stirred a drink boredly at her table at the Fourth Circle. Joker had insisted on taking yet another scheme solo, leaving her by her lonesome. She thought getting out to dance and have a few drinks on her own was the obvious solution to her loneliness, but so far, it wasn't really working.
"Care for a dance?" a voice asked from somewhere off to Harley's side.
"No thanks," she began to reply, turning to see who'd addressed her. "I'm a taken – " She gasped, first seeing who had spoken – "Peter!" – and then who accompanied him – "GAR!" She leapt up from the table, throwing her arms around both of them. After a brief embrace, she let go, backing up to look at Garfield. "You're YOU again!"
"For the most part," Garfield replied.
"Garfield, if you complain about your hair again, you're going to leave me no choice but to draw on your head while you're asleep," Peter warned. "Credit to Harley for the idea, of course, after her suggestion about what to do to Basil Karlo."
"Okay, before we go any further," Garfield said sternly, looking to Harley, "Peter tells me you KNEW."
"Knew what?" Harley asked innocently.
"That he was in love with me for a YEAR."
Harley shrugged. "I had to let it happen naturally! Which was real hard, y'know. So are you two…"
"Officially involved with one another?" Peter cut her off. "As a matter of fact, yes." He wrapped one arm around Garfield's shoulders, drawing him close; Garfield aided the effort by leaning in that direction.
"EeeeeeEEEEEE!" Harley squealed. "You two are so CUTE together, y'know that?"
"We know," Garfield replied cheekily.
"So what happens now?" Harley asked. "You guys…probably don't need a third wheel hangin' around."
"Third wheel?" Peter reiterated. "We like to think of the term as 'platonic accomplice.'"
"And we are DEFINITELY in the market for one of those," Garfield added. "In fact, we might just have a job lined up. It's a three-person gig. You in?"
"Am I EVER!" Harley screeched. "On one condition."
"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?" Garfield asked.
"Another one of my songs is playin'," Harley explained. "I want one dance before we go."
"Ohhhhhh, no," Garfield protested. "I'm not – PETER, DON'T YOU DARE – "
Peter was already dragging him onto the floor by one arm.
"PETERMERKELYOUAREAJERK – "
"Spin," Peter commanded, giving Garfield a light shove. Garfield obeyed, spinning out, keeping one hand clasped tightly in Peter's, until they were at maximum distance; Peter then reeled him back in, Garfield spinning in the opposite direction, until they were close enough to kiss, which they did with gusto.
Harley took her place beside the couple on the dancefloor, doing her part as usual to help make Garfield actually look good. Though with Garfield actually dancing that close to Peter, she didn't have to work as hard on it as usual.
...
By the time the Batman had arrived on the scene of the break-in at the gem depository, with Robin and Batgirl at his side, the villains he'd come to pursue were already on the getaway. Harley fled down the east hallway, shaking Batgirl with a grenade. Ragdoll managed to get one very hard punch in to Robin's face before disappearing into the ventilation system. And Firefly, zigzagging to deftly avoid a slew of batarangs, went straight up through the holes he'd carved in every ceiling.
The triple defenders of Gotham skidded out the door just in time to see all three villains reunite in the front seat of a cement truck, the back of which was loaded down with glittering gems. As the cement truck pealed away down the road, jewels spilling out across the asphalt, three whoops of success could be heard echoing throughout the night.
"Something tells me we're gonna get real tired of those three," Batgirl sighed.
"What, you're not already?" Robin retorted.
"We might still be able to catch them," Batman suggested gruffly.
The Batmobile revved up, taking off after the cement truck, and the chase began.