"What the fuck are you smiling about?" Selina asked through labored breaths.

"What?" Harleen panted, not quite registering what Selina was saying as she began her sprint interval. Her mind shut off for the next 60 seconds, but when she began to slow down again, Selina was still jogging on the treadmill beside her, staring at her judgmentally.

"That stupid smile," she posed the question slower this time. "Why is it on your face right now?"

Harley brought herself down to a speed walk and felt her face with her hands. "Oh," her smile widened and she jumped to set her feet on the fixed portion of the treadmill on either side of the moving track. With her arms thrust out wide she sang, "I JUST HAD SE-E-EX!"

Selina's feet stopped running but the track kept moving, flinging her off the back of the machine. She was, of course, able to land on her feet, but was visibly shaken. "Doogie, why?!"

Harleen laughed as she jumped back on and started her final interval. Still giggling, although breathlessly by the end of it, she shut off the machine and wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel. "Oh, knock it off," she rolled her eyes at Selina who was clutching her stomach as if she were ill. "We were having a bit of a dry spell, but that's over now," she sang the last part to the tune of It Must've Been Love.

"Please stop," Selina threw over her shoulder as she headed for the weight section of Wayne Manor's private gym. "I'm so sorry I asked. I really don't want to know."

Harleen grabbed her waterbottle and followed behind her. "Well…like…it was mostly me taking and her giving, which she likes to think is a punishment for me somehow, but like…I'll take it—anytime, anywhere—you know?"

"I hope you're talking about my fist and not sex from Ivy," Selina seemed to be resisting the urge to cover her ears.

"Oh, no way," Harleen laughed, skipping now. "We never get that kinky."

"Get out," Selina said immediately. "Leave this place. Now. Go on, get. You're not wanted here."

Harley waved her off. "So what should we start with?"

"Muscle-up/pull-up supersets, remember? That's what we—" Selina stopped herself. "Hey! No. This is no longer a joint-workout. You lost that privilege."

"The Great Catwoman, a prude? Who knew!" Harley spread her hands out like the words were up in lights. "I can see the headline now: 'Gotham's Second Most Notorious Sex Pot—a Fraud."

Selina groaned. "Go fuck a plant, Harley."

"I did!" The blonde laughed. "That's how we got into this mess in the first place!"

Resolutely ignoring her, Selina jumped up and grabbed a hold of the pull-up bar, gathering momentum by swinging slightly and yanking herself up over the bar. She held herself at the top for a moment, her elbows locked under her before gently swinging down and returning to the starting position. She was beginning her second repetition when she noticed Harley dancing on the ground below her, thrusting her hips like she was playing a male stripper in Magic Mike. Selina swung forward and kicked her in the chest, pushing her to the ground.

"Rude," Harley grumbled, dusting herself off as Barbara entered the room.

"No crying in baseball," Barbara told her, smirking. "And no sitting in the gym. Them's the rules, Baby."

"Yeah, well…Selina, I seem to remember you saying that we don't hit our friends," Harley huffed. "I take it you're not one to lead by example?"

"Kicking is totally different," Selina reasoned as she dropped down, having finished her set. "Any chance Pam was able to take a quick break from her sexual exploits to replenish my skincare regimen?"

"Oh, what?" Harley crossed her arms. 'So you won't let me talk about my sex life but you will accept free shit from my wife?"

Barbara furrowed her brow. "I feel like I missed something here…"

"Consider yourself lucky," Selina told her before raising an expectant eyebrow at Harleen. "So…?"

Harley sighed. "Yes, she did. You'll have to come over and get it, though."

"OK, no. But really. What did I miss?" Barbara glanced back and forth between the blonde and brunette in front of her.

"I guess Ivy was finally able to get her dick hard," Selina informed her, promptly receiving a punch in the arm from Harley.

Barbara's fingers were soothingly rubbing her temple. "That's…a mental image I wish I could un-conjure."

"Alright…well…" Harley took a swig of water. "At least I'm getting laid."

"I'm getting laid," Barbara told her.

"I'm getting laid," Selina seconded.

Harleen flipped them off and jumped up onto the bar Selina had just abandoned.

"So…why are you celebrating sleeping with your wife?" Barbara prompted. "Isn't that sort of…implied?"

"Yeah, I'm way more interested in possible trouble in paradise than hearing about how a 90-year-old woman behaves in the bedroom," Selina agreed.

"Extraordinarily limber," Harley grunted as she pulled herself up. "As for the other question: don't worry about it."

Selina rolled her eyes and sat down on the bench behind her. Barbara was slightly more difficult to shake.

"Seriously…" The younger woman's tone was sincere. "Are you guys alright?"

"I appreciate—the—mmph—support, but I—ah—got it covered," Harleen struggled through her final rep.

Selina narrowed her eyes. "Dr. Quinzel, are we back to handling our wife?"

"No!" Harley wiped her palms on her thighs. "That's—no."

The brunette didn't exactly seem convinced.

Harley's brain worked overtime thinking of a quick subject change, but Barbara ended up supplying it for her. "How much do you think your natural face-lifts cost, guys? If Pam were to charge you."

"Mmm…" Harley stroked her chin thoughtfully. "She'd probably be able to pay my alimony with it."

/

Pam would never wish them to be fighting, but it was nice to have a little bodily autonomy for a stretch.

"Harleen—can you just—space, I beg of you," Pam implored, pushing the blonde off of her shoulder where she was scrolling through her phone. "Don't you have to go?"

"Not for another hour…" Harley smiled, turning onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. "How about we do something constructive until then…" she walked her fingers across the comforter and up the other woman's arm

"Good idea," Pam acknowledged. "I'll finish reading this, and then…you'll go to work."

"Mean," Harleen pouted. "I was thinking something a bit more…intimate," she slowly crawled up over her and swiftly snatched the case briefing away, tossing it behind her with little regard for how or where it landed. The answer to the question Harley didn't ask was: splayed open all over the floor.

"Goddamn it," Pam went to get up, but was pinned back on the bed by her shoulders

"Come on, Red…" Harley whined, her hot breath on Pam's neck. "Don't'cha wanna rev up your Harley? Make up for some lost time?"

Pam raised an eyebrow, aroused, sure, but also not wanting to give her wife the satisfaction. "Are we referring to ourselves as inanimate objects now?"

"Mhm," Harley grinned, hovering over her now. "So are ya gonna let me water your plant or what?"

"Oh, Gaia," Pam covered her face with her hands much like Jolene would. "Can we keep puns out of the bedroom for a while? I'm trying really hard to love you right now," She watched as Harley's expression sobered above her. Pam didn't speak again. She'd said what she meant. But she did gently run her finger down Harleen's cheek, watching them as they brushed against her soft skin.

Harley took Pam's hand and lowered herself so she lay stretched out over her body, her head on her chest. When she spoke, it was after a few minutes of silence. "Why didn't you tell me your Mom's name was Lillian?"

"What?"

"Your Mom," Harley repeated.

Pam's tone was clipped. "What does it matter what her name was?"

Harleen sighed, "I guess I'm just…trying to understand your relationship."

"It ended in me murdering her, what more is there to understand?"

Distractedly tracing the pattern on Pam's tank-top with her index finger, Harley gave a half shrug. "Why is your name 'Pamela Lillian Isley'?"

"My name is Paula Irving."

"No…" Harleen corrected. "Your name is Lillian Rose."

Pam didn't respond right away, instead closing her eyes and allowing herself to be soothed by the repetitive motion of Harley's finger. "My mother was a very intelligent woman," she finally said, using cautious, measured phrasing. "And I think that made her angry."

"Why?" Harley asked.

"Because…Because it wasn't what she was supposed to be," Pam explained. "She was resentful of her own capacity and so she was resentful of mine as well."

Harley just listened, allowing her fingers to come to a stop as Pam went on.

"It's an interesting experience—having a mother that doesn't love you. That truly hates you, as a matter of fact."

"I don't think she really hated you, Pam," Harley said, her voice affected slightly by how he cheek lay on her wife's breast. "Maybe she just didn't know how to express love."

"No…" Pam sighed, now running her fingers through Harley's blonde curls. "It was that unique sort of hatred rooted in jealousy. She had never strived to become anything, so when I did…I was a hopeful child. I was…curious, and that bothered her. She'd never allowed herself to be curious. Never would."

"So she was angry with your dad for making her stay home and she took it out on you?" Harley attempted to summarize.

"No," Pam laughed. "Not back then. She knew her place and that role was so engrained in her she couldn't even allow herself to be resentful of it. I think she hated me from the moment the doctor told her she'd be having a child. Since she knew I was a girl. Since she held me for the first time. I think she looked into my eyes and saw a bolt on the front door, realized that even though she couldn't even conceive of anything else, the screaming bundle in her arms was her life sentence."

Harleen thought that over for a moment. "Then why did she give you her name?"

"I don't know," Pam admitted. "But she hated me the most the day I brought my diploma home. Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley, PhD…every day I wasn't married she ridiculed me for it. Told me I was throwing my life away, wasting my beauty that could be used to create attractive offspring…my Mother thought largely in appearances, it seemed. So, at first, I introduced myself using my full name just to spite her. So she would always be lumped in with my 'life choices'."

"And now?" Harley prompted.

Pam was staring at the ceiling now. "I don't regret killing her. She was cruel. Unapologetically, undeniably, cruel. She taught me to be subservient, and although I rebelled against that for most of my life, I fell back on those teachings when I needed to reject them the most and ended up strapped to a table, in a basement, being brutalized by a man I'd submitted to at first, even though he wasn't what I wanted."

Harley drummed her fingers on Pam's ribcage. "What did you want?"

"Mmm…" Pam smiled a bit wistfully. "The librarian."

Harley raised her head to look at the other woman, quirking an eyebrow playfully. "Who was The Librarian?"

Pam laughed. "I don't know. I never asked. But she wore big, round glasses and her hair was never styled, not under any circumstances, so it would fall in her eyes when she leaned over, to, you know—"

"File books or whatever?" Harleen laughed.

Pam attempted a glare, but gave up rather quickly. "Yes, when she filed books or whatever. In hindsight, I may have spent a bit more time in the library than was strictly necessary."

"Oh my God, you nerd," Harley continued to laugh. "Did you put the nerd moves on her?"

"No," Pam was mildly offended. "The only conversations we ever had were exceedingly brief and were typically about the weather."

"You lived in Seattle," Harley reminded her. "What were your conversations like? 'It's raining again'?"

"Well…yes, if you must know," Pam huffed. "I wasn't exactly as forward as a human and I'm sure she was straight."

"So is spaghetti…til it's wet," Harley winked.

"Oh my God, I married you," Pam realized, clearly horrified. "I had children with you."

Harleen giggled as she lay her head back down. "So why are you doing it now?"

"Because it's a legally binding document and Bruce already had to fast track the new license…"

"No! Why are you going by 'Lillian' now?"

"Oh…" Pam smiled since Harley wasn't looking. "Well I didn't choose it this time, but…I think maybe she would have liked that—if it had been OK to dream of such things. Maybe she'd have liked to be Dr. Lillian Isley."

"Or Rose."

"Or Rose."