fandomtownies | Steps of Pick Your Poison, Friday Morning

This Harley had a yellow carnation stuck into her hair behind one ear, a big takeaway coffee in one hand, approximately half a sandwich in the other, and a spring in her step as she traipsed up the street.

No sign of Bruce, this time. He'd already had his morning walk, this was Harley's. Yes, usually those were the same thing, but this week was weird and different and way too energetic.

Not for the first time, Pam caught the color before she caught anything else about Harley, and for a moment, her heart leaped back in her chest-- before settling down immediately, as she looked up and took in Harley-not-Harley's shorter hair and unfamiliar tattoos.

"Figures," she muttered into her coffee.

It was the color that got through to Harley's attention at first too, all that red.

"Oh hi!" she called - except not quite that clearly. There was a good chunk of sandwich making sure of that. The wave (with what remained of the sandwich) was a little better?

Pam let out a breath, sitting up a little straighter. She gave a small wave in return.

"Hi, Harley."

Oh god, looking had been a mistake. That was a definite flare of sapphic panic.

Panic? There was panic? Harley had been too busy riding the high of the week to have noticed any cause for that sort of thing, and she wasn't about to start now.

... Okay so maybe seeing Pam, specifically, did feel a little different, in a reactivated memories kind of way, but... Don't worry about it!

"Beautiful morning, right?"

"It's good," Pam agreed, and swallowed a gulp of coffee-- too fast. "I mean. I've seen worse."

Couldn't Harley have stopped by earlier in the week?

Well she'd only come back from the mainland two days ago, so... No?

Harley came to a stop near the steps and bounced on her heels a little. "It's all fresh and stuff!" she said. "Ya gotta give the small town its due, at least it's not all smoggy like Gotham."

"It's hard to find anywhere as polluted as Gotham," Pam said, looking down at her coffee.

And not at Harley's...

Well. Harleys.

"Also in Gotham you never get a week where everyone's on sexy drugs!" Harley said, cheerfully.

What? It was true!

"Good, too, 'cause the population's not all as high up the attractive scale over there, neither!"

Pam coughed into her hand. "Well," she said, "Not usually."

Though if there had been one, it had probably been her fault.

Harley shrugged, oblivious.

"Anyway! How are ya?"

Except absolutely gorgeous, from this close. Harley bit into her sandwich again.

Edited 2025-02-14 18:47 (UTC)

"Wondering when this pollen is going to die down," Pam said. She looked down again, and realized she was out of coffee.

She was just. Going to keep fake-sipping anyway.

"It's distracting."

Well, it was now.

"Last time," Harley started, then stopped, then swallowed her bite, then started again. "Last time, I think it was like a week? Maybe? Coulda been more."

Her memory didn't always work great and reliable-like.

Also, her nose scrunched up, with a realization.

"Wait, does that mean the fun's almost over?"

Edited 2025-02-14 19:08 (UTC)

"The fun," Pam echoed.

Oh. Please don't answer that, Harley.

"You know! The higher-than-usual probability for sex and-or makeouts?"

Duh!

"Not everyone thinks that's fun," Pam pointed out.

Say, for example, the poor redhead who wasn't currently sure where she and her own Harley stood or what that meant for sex and-or makeouts with other people, and...

Ugh.

This Harley (or more specifically, her hormones, whose totally solid guidance she was following) had decided the week was a free-for-all.

Whether her currently absent person of aggressively undefined relation to her was going to feel the same, uh, remained to be seen.

"I do!"

Yeah, no one was surprised anymore, Harls.

"And so did that really pretty girl I made out with at the bar!"

Pam made a noise.

It was a little sputtering noise. It was not the kind of noise that say, Adrian Blackwood would expect to hear coming out of her. But there it was. Being a stupid noise.

"This is stupid," she muttered, abruptly getting up to her feet. "I'm supposed to have a grip on pheromones."

She badly wanted to grab Harley and kiss her silly. Getting up was not strictly the best way to stop herself from giving into that impulse, but she held her ground.

Okay, but now she was also giving Harley a full body view of herself, and Harley was not being subtle about looking her up and down.

"God," she said, "I keep forgetting how tall you are! Did you grow since college, or is it all just -- confidence?"

Well.

"I grew," Pam said dryly. Tried to say dryly. It wasn't quite as deadpan as she'd have liked.

And ... yes. Maybe this had been a mistake, she realized, as she looked Harley straight in the eye and then found her eyes-- tracking. Downward.

Harley shrugged.

Also, street clothes, today. As eclectic as usual. Not doing too much to obscure the shape of her body, sorry.

"Well it looks good on ya."

"Thanks."

That came out strangled.

Oh god oh god oh god oh god she really needed to go.

Harley took a big gulp from her big thing of coffee, and asked, "Whatsa matter, Pammy?"

She sort of sounded like she meant to continue, add something else on to that question, but then she got distracted looking at (remembering) Pam's lips, so...

Great minds think alike, and all that, because Pam's own gaze landed on Harley's lips at roughly the same time.

And then, like an idiot, she lunged forward to meet those lips with her own, fingers grabbing at Harley's shirt, her shoulders hunching forward so she could meet Harley on her own level.

Harley made some ridiculous, startled noise like 'eep!' at the suddenness of it.

But then said suddenness led to everything being Pam, and she practically lurched forward into the kiss - and into the grabbing, too. It was very chest-forward of her, she couldn't help it. Instinct! Like the kiss! Like how she threw herself immediately into it at full power.

Ngggggh.

Pam would remember why this was a bad idea in a moment. Right now she was thinking about chest (getting her hands all over it) hips (running her hands all over them) mouth (kissing Harley back deeply) hands (her arm wound around Harley's shoulders and her other hand, the loose, useless thing, found Harley's waist like it was a natural thing).

It was hard to remember, because this was still Harley, and she was a live wire made solid heat.

Yeah, if anyone here was going to be remembering anything about anything to do with the outside world, it wasn't going to be Harley.

Her thing of coffee fell - got dropped - onto the ground where its contents sloshed onto the pavement near their feet. The newly freed hand wasted no time in finding Pam's waist, curving along it, pawing, sliding. The rest of her was leaning in way close like Pam's arms were extending an invitation she was giddy to accept.

And then there was the kiss itself, yeah, and she was exhibiting even less restraint there, because it was familiar but new, and over indulging was practically in her blood.

It wasn't exactly as if Pam and her Harley had ever been good at quitting while they were ahead.

She let Harley indulge passionately, wild thoughts spinning around about her lips and the grounding presence of that hand. It had been months, more than months, since she and Harley had last tipped over into bed, laughing and happy, or close to happy, almost-happy but the worm that hadn't wanted to stop churning and gnawing in Pamela's chest. And then the world had flipped around, and the gnawing had been this: longing for this, missing this.

Wanting this.

Even if it was the wrong Harley.

The thought disoriented her. It should have thrown her off her stride. But she didn't want to give into it, not yet, so she pushed even closer, letting out a soft grunt against Harley's lips. Opening herself to it. (Please make me forget.)

Was there a convenient wall or something for Harley to push her against? She kind of seemed to be trying to. One of her hands was still gripping what remained of the sandwich, more reflex than anything, but even that arm was still snaking its way around Pam.

There was the shop, but it was a few steps away, and-- Pam's heels knocked into the steps and she swayed, pulling back half an inch of breathing space as she tried to catch her breath.

"Um..."

She had. Um. Thoughts. Placed. Somewhere?

Harley swayed after her, making a noise like a question mark. A dazed sort of '...mhh?'

"...Sorry?" Pam tried.

It was that or kiss Harley again.

(mmm. Harley. No, wait--)

"Got nothing to be sorry for!" Harley told her cheerfully, like a person living entirely in the present momeny.

Also like a person trying to lean in to kiss her again.

Edited 2025-02-15 12:34 (UTC)

Phfhfftttttttdfkjlkj.

Pam let her. Because see above re: quitting while they were ahead.

Harley just made an excited noise and got right back to it, with as much enthusiasm as she had before.

What? Like she was going to do something else?

Well. This time, when they moved backwards, Pam at least remembered to take the steps.

She'd stop before this really got out of hand. She was just. Promising herself that, as her hands cupped Harley's cheeks and she kissed back with gusto.

Where was the line where it got out of hand? Because Harley had just now lost her grip on her sandwich (RIP you thing of beauty, gone too soon) which meant it was getting pretty serious. Not so serious she would've let go if it'd been from Sal's, but still!

Also she was being pretty insistent about pressing Pam against the wall, now.

When... clothes... did... something...

...

Pam was very obliging about letting her. And now at least one of her hands went wandering again, stroking down Harley's back, grabbing her-- okay, it was still over the clothes.

She moaned against Harley's mouth.

(No, Pam. Stop. Pamela. Stop.)

Harley had real bad news for Pam about the sorts of things she'd been getting up to fully clothed, recently. Or great news, depending on your point of view!

The very strategic placement of her leg between the two of Pam's - because the grabbing was nice, and nice things deserved more nice things - might've been a clue, though.

And for a moment, there was pleasure. Just a spark, but a heady one, and she wanted to lean into it more. She wanted to take Harley upstairs and she wanted to stay here and let Har--

Nope.

"Harley," Pam breathed, wrenching her head back. Couldn't go far, hit the wall. "Harley, stop."

Harley froze instantly, a stupefied, lost look on her face.

"What? Pammy, what?"

Had she stepped on her toes? Otherwise hurt her?

"This is," Pam said, and then she needed to take a breath, because she'd forgotten what it was like to get Harley's full and undivided attention and-- it was heady. "...A bad idea."

Edited 2025-02-15 13:29 (UTC)

"... Oh."

The stupefied expression crumbled a little. Harley's hands fell away from Pam's body as she began to pull away.

"Right," she said, and then again, "right. Bad. Stupid."

"Sorry," Pam said helplessly. She wanted to tug Harley back, and it wasn't all the pollen this time, that was the worst of it. "Sorry, it's just-- you and I are-- complicated and she and I are-- even more complicated, and--"

She fumbled up to check her ponytail. It was a mess.

Harley waved a hand. As a gesture it was muted, by her standards. "No, I get it." She didn't get it, actually, but she was in saving face mode, now. "You don't have to explain, I'm not a child."

This felt awful familiar.

"I should, um."

Pam swallowed, helpless. She tugged on her hair, tried to tighten all the loose strands back into place. "I should call Harley," she said. "I-- my Harley."

Harley wasn't even looking at her anymore as she stepped back. She made a vague huff-like noise and waved a hand. None of her business, none of her business in the slightest, so... She turned to go.

Ad stepped directly into the remains of her sandwich. Made a much more wounded noise, and shook it off the bottom of her shoe.

"Sorry," Pam choked out, one last time.

Then she pushed open the door and fled inside.

Heroically.

Steps of Pick Your Poison, Friday Morning

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