Chapter Text
Harley Quinn kisses people, that’s what she does. Totally.
She also doesn’t stay awake thinking about one (1) specific kiss. Not at all.
She rolls over in bed, her eyes falling on the picture of her and Poison Ivy that she keeps at her bedside.
She stares at it, how happy they look together in that moment, how pretty Ivy is, how Ivy smiles, those lips that she--
Definitely didn’t enjoy kissing at all!
She flips down the picture frame and rolls onto her front, screaming into her pillow and punching her bed with wanton frustration. The springs in her old mattress croak back at her and she knows she’s being noisy, but it doesn’t matter. Her only neighbor, Doctor Psycho, was gone, and Ivy, well...
Fuck Ivy. Fuck her! It doesn’t matter.
She rolls onto her side again and picks up the picture frame, once more staring at the photo. The feeling of sadness that overwhelms her is one that she’s gotten more and more accustomed to these past couple months, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it anymore. For the first time in a while she truly, honest-to-goodness cries, snot and tears mixing together in the wetness of her face as she embraces the frame. She hates this, hates feeling this way, like an angsty teen with nothing better to do than worry about her love life, but God does it hurt so much.
Harley Quinn has fallen in love with Poison Ivy.
It doesn't matter.
In a brief fit of frustration Harley throws the picture out of the LUSH store she’s claimed as her bedroom, listening to it shatter against the tile of the mall. It takes her a few seconds to process what she’s done, and more tears well up in her eyes.
She pulls herself out of bed to retrieve it, her path lit only by the moonlight that seeps in through the skylights. The pieces of shattered glass from the frame reflected the light in a beautiful way, and if she were in a more artistic mood she might’ve been able to conjure up some inane metaphor about it.
Harley bends over to pick out the picture from the mess, and quickly withdraws her hand at a sharp sting.
“God fucking damn it,” she hisses, sucking her now-bleeding finger. She hates this broken glass, hates this dark ass mall, hates Kite Man for taking Ivy away, hates Ivy for being too fucking good.
She finally fishes out the picture, more carefully this time, and sighs as she examines it again.
“Harley! Are you okay?” the distant and growing voice of King Shark calls.
Of course he would be awake, he hardly sleeps. She quickly wipes at her face with a sleeve to rid of the wetness, jogging back to her makeshift bedroom. “Uh, yeah I’m fine! Just… sleeping!” she calls back.
By the time she’s made herself cozy in bed again, his enormous frame pops into the doorway.
“I smelt blood and I got worried,” he explains sheepishly, wringing his hands, “What happened?”
“I started my period,” she lies lamely.
“No you didn’t, it doesn’t start for another week.”
“What?”
“I memorized your cycle.”
“Again, what?”
King ignores her confusion, making his way to her bedside.
She sighs, turning away from him and pulling up her cover. “Sweet, awesome, just let yourself in.”
He ignores her again. “Listen, Harley, I know you’ve been kind of… down... since you got back from the Hole a while back. I don’t know what happened there and you don’t have to talk about it, but remember that me and Clayface always got your back.” He sits on the edge of her mattress, the bed and frame groaning at the excess weight. Harley slides towards him as the bed tilts. He pats her shoulder and continues, “I don’t want you to resort to coping in unhealthy ways. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
At this Harley shoots up and stares at him in horror. “Oh my god, do you think I’m cutting myself?”
He pulls his hand away from her and shifts nervously, the bed croaking under him again. “I-I mean… Maybe?”
She groans and falls back into the bed. “Dude, I’m not. I’m literally a psychiatrist. PhD, remember?”
He blinks at her. “So?” he asks in confusion.
“I know more healthy coping mechanisms than I can count on two hands!”
“We all know you don’t always take the ‘healthiest’ route. We’re just worried about you.”
She lifts up her head to glare at him silently.
“I mean look at you, Harley. It’s obvious you were crying.”
“Is it really that obvious?” she mutters, wiping at her eyes self-consciously.
“Yeah, your pillow is soaked with salt water. I can smell it.”
“Oh.”
“You can talk to me, you know I’m a great listener.”
“I know, King.” She mulls over what he’s said, pressing a hand to where she hid the picture of her and Ives under the pillow. She decidedly pulls it out and holds it out to him. “I threw the frame and it broke, I cut my finger on the glass,” she confesses.
He takes it gently, looking at the memory of the happy pair. “What happened between you two? Why are you so distant now?” King presses, sounding almost as sad as she does about it.
“We… kind of… maybe… kissed?”
He gasps dramatically at the admission. “But Kite Man!”
“I know, I know!” She throws her hands over her head before burying her face in them. “It was just spur of the moment adrenaline, it didn’t mean anything!” she mumbles.
King gazes at her inquisitively, taking in her exasperated demeanor for a few moments. “It meant something to you, didn’t it?”
She's surprised at his perceptiveness, but still doesn’t bother to look up at him. Instead she just nods slowly, filled with shame and frustration. “I’m stupid, aren’t I?” she asks, laughing dryly.
“Not at all.”
“But I am.” Her voice cracks, betraying her emotion.
He places a comforting hand on her again. “You’re not! PhD, remember? Love is just an illogical thing sometimes, I have plenty of experience with that.”
Her shoulders stiffen and she finally spares him a glance. “I never said anything about love.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Harley doesn’t bother to argue, knowing damn well that it was probably obvious to everyone except Ivy herself. And, well, Kite Man, but he doesn’t count. She sits up again, pulling her knees up to her chest. “What do I do, King?”
“Tell her!”
She rolls her eyes. “I tried! But she's so grossly in love with him I just…” She tapers off, and King nods at her unspoken words.
He hums in thought, tapping his chin. “I don’t think there’s one right thing to do, Harley. Relationships are weird like that.”
“Yeah, that’s fucking obvious and not very helpful.”
“Sorry,” he shrugs. “All I can say is that I’ll always be here for you, no matter what happens. Clayface too.”
She gives him a small smile, recognizing his efforts. “I appreciate it, King. Honestly.”
“Just update me if anything changes!”
She rolls her eyes again at his obvious enthusiasm, letting silence brew between them for a few moments.
“I should probably sleep,” she finally says.
He nods and stands up without complaint. The mattress moans in freedom. “Goodnight, Harley.”
“Goodnight, King Shark. Oh, and if you tell anyone I’ll kill you.”
“I hope you’re joking because I’m bad at keeping secrets, but I know you’re definitely not.” He waves as he walks out of the doorway. “Bye!”
“Bad at--Wait what? King!” she calls after him, but he’s already long gone. She rubs her temples and grumbles several profanities.
It was going to be a long week.