"I cannot fucking believe you!" Harleen was angrily attempting to button her shirt whilst maintaining an argument with Pam. "I mean, Jesus, could you be any more fucking selfish?"
Pamela had watched her button the shirt unevenly three times now. "Can I help you, please?"
"No!" Harleen was adamant. "You don't get to touch me for at least another hour."
"Harleen…" Pamela sighed, closing the space between them and forcing the other woman's hands away from her shirt. "Stop it," she maintained focused eye contact while she did the buttons correctly, although Harley had to look away more than once as she bit back angry tears. "We knew this issue would eventually come to roost."
"Don't even start with that," Harleen pushed her away after she'd finished with the shirt. "We said we were going to discuss our options when we had to. You just greenlighting some sort of bullshit witness protection program is not us discussing our options."
Pamela was clearly using all her willpower not to escalate the situation. "We gave the kids your last name for this very reason. This isn't unexpected, it's just inconvenient."
"Inconvenient?" Harleen's laugh was devoid of humor. "Understatement of the fucking year. Can we even be married anymore?"
"That's already been taken care of," the redhead assured her.
Harleen looked up at the ceiling like she was hoping some celestial being would come down from on high and tell Pam she was being ridiculous, but when none came, she did it herself. "WHAT. DOES. THAT. EVEN. MEAN?"
"Well, Bruce had some connections at—"
"Oh my God…" Harley interrupted. "Did we already get divorced and then married again?"
"…Yes," Pam answered, cautiously.
Harley couldn't even look at her, plopping down on the foot of the bed with her face in her hands. "Do we have to move?"
"Yes," Pamela answered again. "Anthony will need to change schools, which is just as well seeing as I wouldn't exactly describe his current institution as academically rigorous."
Harleen was shaking her head. "I hate you so fucking much right now."
Pam decided to leave that one alone, allowing for a moment of silence between them. Harleen was upset, yes. Reasonably so, to some extent…but they really had discussed this before. They'd said when the age difference...Oh, right. Of course.…Pam crossed over to the bed and knelt down in front of it, tentatively placing her hands on the other woman's thighs. "Daffodil…this isn't about you. It's not about how you look or how we look. It's about how I look to my coworkers."
"Yeah, maybe today," Harley said in a strangled voice. "But pretty soon, Pam, it's going to start looking weird."
"Honey…" Pam pushed the other woman's hair away from her face with a reassuring smile. "You objectively look about 35 right now."
"Great. And when Jolene starts school, I'll objectively look 40 while you look 30," Harley said, trying to still sound more angry than sad. "When Anthony graduates High School, I'll look 47 while you look 30. And when Jolene starts college I'll look 53 and you'll—,"
Pamela cut her off with a hard kiss, breathing in deeply through her nose as she pulled Harley to her with a firm hand around the back of her neck. "This wasn't my choice, Harleen," she told her once she'd allowed them to separate. "And I am filled with so much resentment…but without this…inconvenience, I would have never met you and we would have never had any of this. It's a blessing and a curse, Daffodil. Always has been."
Harley didn't give any sort of indication that she'd even heard her. She just stared blankly ahead. Tim had arrived just a bit ago and was now playing in the yard with Anthony while Jolene sat in the grass. Pamela knew this conversation with Harleen was important, but she had to check her watch, and…yeah, they were going to be late. She sighed and stood up, heading over to the dresser for the earrings she wanted to wear.
"I won't be able to work again," Harleen realized from where she was still sitting on the bed. "We won't be able to attend another charity event together and we can't ever go out onto the town with Selina or Bruce again since the tabloids know you as Paula Irving and me as your wife."
"That's right…" Pam confirmed, watching the other woman in the mirror.
Harleen nodded slowly, realization dawning. "My secret identity is a 43-year-old stay at home mom…I went to medical school to end up a 43-year-old stay at home mom."
"No," Pamela said, bristling a bit. "You went to medical school to become a nationally respected practicing psychiatrist for 15 years."
"I always thought I'd go back…" Harley's tone was morose. "Someday, when the kids were old enough…I didn't know I was done."
Pamela had finally located the earring and was clasping it into place. "You don't have to be done. Why don't you do what everyone with a PhD does after they retire?"
Harleen looked up. "What's that?"
"Write a book."
/
If Harleen had been forced to take a quiz at the end of the night based on what they'd spoken about at the party, she would have failed it spectacularly. Her conversations were brief, her tone short…she was certain Pamela had apologized for her behavior more than once…Look, she was happy for Barbara and Dick, OK? Wanted to be, at least. But she was too lost in the realization of her new circumstances to sell it. And she straight up hated Pam at the moment. Like it pissed her off to even look at her and her stupid face or hear her stupid voice…and yeah, maybe Barbara and Dick were serving alcohol and maybe, just maybe, Harley had downed a bit more than her fair share. So what? She was a grown woman
The situation with Pam turning into Dr. Flower-Power was inevitable. Harley knew that. But she should have fucking talked to her before accepting a new identity! That definitely seems like something you should run by your wife first, especially seeing as how it drastically effected their family life. Where does she get off? Oh, right. Poison Ivy is a narcissist. Duh. The fucking world revolves around her. OK…That's enough…Harleen cut herself off the booze, although it was a bit too late.
She was still lost somewhere in that train of angry thought when Pamela began shuffling her out the door, citing the need to relieve the babysitter. Pam smiled and waved for both of them (which was clearly difficult for her), saying their goodbyes and offering Barbara a few last minute compliments on her home before ducking out of the house, dragging Harleen with her.
"You could have at least tried tonight," Pam spat as she climbed into the driver's seat.
Harley crossed her arms petulantly, not bothering to put on her seat belt or even acknowledge Pamela's presence. She looked out the window and stayed silent as Pam pulled away from the house, setting them on the path back home (though it wouldn't be their home for long—ugh).
Pamela tried to fiddle with the radio, settling on NPR before Harley leaned forward and shut it off. For a moment, it looked like Pam might protest, but ultimately she reconsidered, allowing the silence as they sped along the darkened streets.
They were about two blocks from home when Harley finally spoke. "Pull over."
"What?"
"Pull over," Harley repeated.
Although apprehensive, Pam did what she was told, pulling into the currently abandoned parking lot for the park where Harley and Selina sometimes took the kids.
Wordlessly, Harleen reached over and shut the car off, then took the other woman's hand and tugged gently. When Pam's only response was to raise a questioning eyebrow, Harley patted her lap, signaling for the driver to abandon her seat.
Again, Pam did as she was told. This wasn't an uncommon way for the two to diffuse the tension of an argument. Sometimes Harley just got tired of talking about feelings. Getting paid to do it all day every day made the practice of domestic quarreling even more exhausting, so sometimes it was just easier to, you know…fuck. Yeah, yeah, maybe it wasn't the most mature approach, but it had been effective so far. So, according to the precedent they'd set, Pam had no reason to distrust Harley's motives.
When she'd settled on her lap, Harley attempted to put her at ease with a kiss, and before long Pam was panting hotly into Harley's neck as she rocked into her, rising and falling on Harley's fingers. Harley was experienced enough in these situations to make do with the confined space, and also know when her wife was getting close.
"Fuck, Harl…" Pam tossed her head back, knocking it on the roof, but too busy to care.
…and that's when Harleen stopped. Just, removed her hand and sat back against the seat.
Pam's head snapped back to attention. With her skin flushed and her breathing labored she asked, "Wh—what are you—"
"Trying to communicate to you what I feel like right now: frustrated, betrayed, and a pretty fucking embarrassed, honestly," Harley told her.
Pam had forced her complexion pale for the party, and so the redness in her face was obvious. And yeah, there was a bit more shame in there than Harley intended, but that was sort of satisfying in itself. Pam was too proud to beg for sex, so she didn't, even though she clearly wanted to finish. Instead, she leaned down and traced circles on Harley's neck with her tongue in an attempt to stimulate her into continuing.
…But it was then that Harleen arrived at a crossroads and, without much deliberation or thought of any kind, chose the darkest path. "So eager…" she whispered.
Pam immediately froze on top of her.
Don't fucking do it, Harleen!
"What's the matter, Pammy?"
STOP IT!
"Aren't you a good girl?"
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
Harleen expected the slap. She even braced herself before impact, and it came hard and fast. A knee-jerk reaction from Pamela as she backed up as far as she could, angry tears welling up in her eyes. Then she looked from her own hand to the welt on Harleen's face, and that look of horror in her eyes hurt worse than the slap for Harleen.
Quickly, Pam pushed herself off of the other woman and back into the driver's seat where she rapidly exited the vehicle. Without stopping to readjust her dress from where Harleen had forced it up her thighs, Pam started into the park at a jog and didn't look back.