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The coin flies into the air in a perfect end-over-end motion, its smooth metal faces catching the red light as it reaches the apex of its arc.
Head.
Tails.
Heads.
Tails.
It hangs in the air, spinning in its long continuous motion, sucking in the details of the world around it until finally, gravity takes hold of it and falls. It drops into Two Face’s palm, fingers closing around it. Now, he holds fate hostage in his hand.
The hall is bathed in swaths of pulsing red light as the alarms blare– they’re in rhythm with his own frantic pulse not that it really shows on the surface. There’s a deafening symphony of voices, machinery, and other things in his periphery–or yanno, just another Tuesday riot here in Arkham Asylum. Really, nothing to worry about.
Two Face slinks down the hall not bothering with the terrified janitor that flies past him or the stapler wielding maniac hot on his heels. He’s pretty sure he’ll be fine. He hears a yelp. See? He’s fine. Not that it’s his problem anyway.
What is his problem is the gaggle of men huddled in front of the door he wants to pass through.
If he was a patient man, he could circle around just to find another way in. However, he isn’t a patient man nor does he have the time to waste, so he swings the pipe in his hand.
The first man goes down easily enough, just a swing and a conveniently placed wall and he’s down for the count. The second, third, and fourth aren’t any harder. It’s not that he’s complaining about it but he is a little bored. Though, he really would love to use a gun right now. That would be faster but a lot less satisfying than cracking skulls.
He taps the pipe irritably against his shoe as the fifth man stares him down. “C'mon, don’t have time to wait ‘round. Step aside or come at me.” He says, waving a hand tauntingly.
The man goes for the latter option, lunging at him with wild eye and a feral grin. Two face side steps and cracks the man on the back of the skull. Had his henchmen really been this easy to take down? No wonder the Bat was so grumpy all the time.
He clicks his tongue annoyed with the delay then proceeds down the hall. It was surprisingly clear given the amount of patients out and about.
The path his feet take is almost second nature as he wanders down the winding corridor. Keeping the coin pressed firmly into his palm, he tries to ignore the blood rushing in his ears and his heart beating its way out of his chest. It doesn’t make sense for him to be this nervous. All he’s doing is double checking. You should be holed up in the safe room along with the rest of the staff. Should be.
He turns the pipe in his hand as he rounds the corner. He has the urge to hit something just to get this antsy feeling out from under his skin but the hall is empty. That’s a good sign. Right?
He shakes his head but the anxiety remains. He just has to check then he can either try to bust out or just go back to his cell and take a nap.
Two Face recedes as Harvey places a hand on the door, the metallic texture of the door makes him realize the surrealness of the moment of being the one to open the door rather than just being shoved through the doorway. It opens easily with a soft squeak and his heart stops banging in his chest. It only starts back up again when it occurs to him that that just means you weren’t in the room. You’re probably already squirreled in the staff room, safe and likely bugging someone to play cards with you.
For once in his life, he’s happy for a wasted trip.
His sigh of relief snags in his throat when he hears a soft thud against the desk.
“(Y/n)?”
On cue, you peek up from your desk, still rubbing the top of your head. “Harvey?”
You stare at each other in the pulsating light, both equally confused. It seems like an eternity passes between the two of you before you speak. “Harvey, what are you doing out?” You ask, standing up, an otter-shaped paper weight clutched tightly in your hand.
“Riot,” he answers, pointing to the blaring lights.
You look at him flatly then sigh. “What are you doing here?” You ask, waving your free hand around the office. He notes the fresh cut on your palm and his grip on the pipe tightens.
The honest answer is the coin said to check on you but instead, he says: “Your couch is comfy.”
This makes you crack a smile that makes his skin warm and fills him to the core like a skeleton. He shakes his head, trying to focus on anything other than your smile. “Why are you here?” He walks up to you, stopping short of your desk. He doesn’t want to go any further.
You look to a space above him then to his left then to his right. And that ladies and gentlemen and whoever is in between is when Harvey knows he has to brace himself for an absolute leap in logic.
You rub the back of your neck and set your paper weight down. “I–” you pause, fluttering your hand. “Ok so, do you remember Elle?” Harvey answers with a pitch of his brow, so you back track. “I think.. I think people call her Dr. Hottie or Dr. Thottie or I dunno. Anyway, you know the doctor who wears mini skirts all the time. I ran into her while I was trying to make my way to the safe room.. She told me all the routes to the safe rooms were too dangerous. She was gonna hold up in her office and that I should do the same.” He watches you slowly realize the ridiculousness of your situation with each word till you finally reach the end of your story, “I guess I should have suspected something when she took the wrong turn at the end of the corridor.”
Harvey just takes a moment to absorb all of this. It takes a solid minute to even just get around the fact that you trusted someone, anyone, wandering these halls. Why were you even out here? Why was no one looking for you? Where the flying fuck are the guards? Shouldn’t they be doing their goddamn jobs? The anger swelters in his bones and he could feel Two Face resurfacing again, gruff voice bobbing to the surface?
You clear your throat sheepishly. Blinking up at him shyly, you cough: “And now we’re here.”
Harvey runs his hand over his face pushing Two Face down. His other half lets him nudge him down but he keeps his eyes open. “And now we’re here,” he repeats and he groans into his hand. “You moron.”
You make an affronted little noise, shoulder rising and fists balled. Then you calm down, waving your hands. “I’m safe here,” you whisper, shrinking back to your chair. You bow your head and stare at the floor.
“You did see how I just walked in here, right?” He says, squinting at you.
Your head jolts up then down. “I forgot to lock it…”
“You… Forgot?” He repeats very slowly, chewing out all the syllables until they were stale. “You forgot.” You flicker your eyes up to him. His tone rises and the texture of it makes you stand to attention, your throat tightening where Two Face had gripped it a year ago. He looms over your desk, large and menacing. “God, do you know how stupid that is?! I could have lost you!" The volume of his voice booms over the sirens, easily filling the room. He was skirting into Two-Face now and you had to admit angry Two-Face still scared you.
He grabs your shoulders hard enough that your shoulder crumples. "Then what would I do huh?!”
In the wake of those words, the room feels cold and steady as they sink in. Harvey’s body goes rigid and your breath snags in your throat. He stumbles back as if burned.
He puts his hand over his mouth. “(Y/n),” he swallows, “I’m–” Oh god, he almost hurt you. He almost. His breathing picks up. He almost lost you and all he could do was hurt you. He should go. He should leave before he does something worse.
“THAT’S WHAT THEY MEANT."
He looks up at you.
Your face is blown wide with discovery. His heart flutters despite himself. Harvey turns to you, mind rattling in confusion. "What are you talking about?”
You flap your hand nervously. “Well, I know the other patients were… I shouldn’t talk about that… uh the HIPPA code…”
“Doc, focus."
You stammer in the middle of your rambling. "Right,” you tuck a strand behind your ear. You try to speak then blush when the syllables come out disjointed in a stutter. You fiddle with your hands and Harvey feels himself relaxing a little. “Sorry…” You bury your face in your hands. “Fuck,” and the word clatters like a stecatto gunshot. Has he ever heard you swear before? You sit yourself on your office chair, face still hidden. “This is so bad. I am so bad at this. I’m sorry.”
Harvey sits down on the couch, leaning cheek into his hand. “Doc, that happens to be my line.”
Your head snaps up to look at him. “No, but it’s worse since I’m the professional.”
Harvey’s stomach flips and he perks up. He searches your form for anything that would tell him he’s reading you wrong. “Are you saying?”
Steam emanates from your skin as it heats to boiling. You’re too embarrassed to look at him. This is so unprofessional. The board will strike you where you stand like some kind of angry eldritch god with too much paperwork if you answer but you don’t want to leave Harvey wondering. You nod.
He sucks in a breath and the riot, the sirens, and everything else just falls away. “Doll.” The word is all hesitation and nerves and hope. Would you recoil? Would you reject his attempts to push further? He feels himself stand up and say the word again, just a touch louder but no less desperate.
Your hands fall away to show the hesitant look in your eyes. Not hesitant with rejection but something more unnameable. It carries over with the tremble of your voice as you say: “Harv.”
A bolt strikes his heart. “I wish you knew what that name did to me every time I hear it,” Harvey swears under his breath. His heart races again, so loud in his ears that he’s afraid his head might explode.
“I can stop.”
The offer was unwilling but you offered it all the same.
“I’d be upset if you did.” He shrugs, grinning.
Another smile. Another leap for his heart.
You two are quiet for a moment. It’s long but not painful. It’s just comfortable. Just a moment to take it all in.
"You know I love you,“ you say, voice barely above a whisper.
Reality hits him for the first time and his heart careens to the floor. "You shouldn’t, doll,” he says in a voice not any louder than yours.
He looks small despite the hitch in his large shoulders. The laugh that escapes your lips is sharp and your crooked smile is back, done away with your own shyness. “That’s what you have to say to me after my grand love confession? Where’s the pizzazz? The drama? I know I shouldn’t but here I am telling you, you idiot.”
Harvey chuckles. “But I’m your idiot,” he says and smirks at you. It’s oddly handsome even on the scarred side of his face.
Your mind stammers again. Damn it. You thought you were over that already. Harvey for once sees the pause for what it is. “And you love me.” He leans over your desk, crowding your view. He places two fingers under your chin, carefully tracing the line of your jaw, and tilts your face towards him. “C'mon babydoll, say it again.”
There’s a ripple in your chest. It feels like fear, the way it rushes through your nerves. “You heard me. Do I have to?” It’s not fear. It doesn’t stagger or settle where it is. It rises, oozing out of your skin, seeping into your chest.
“I’ll trade you for a kiss, how does that sound, babydoll?” He chuckles, lifting your face to meet his, only a breath separating your lips. Your nerves tingle.
“No deal.”
“Want me to do more?” He chuckles. There’s a glint in his eyes. A suggestive promise.
“No,” you squeak, waving your hands. “I just want to hear it from you too…. but I’ll also take that kiss.”
“Pffffft.”
“It’s a reasonable request!”
Harvey shakes his head, grinning, teeth looking sharp. “I suppose it is.” He dips his head down to yours and ghosts his lips over yours. Your lashes tangle as you stare into each other’s eyes, sharing breaths as you drink in the moment before a kiss, the precipice.
“I love you too.”
He kisses you cautiously at first, simply letting the parts of his face that could feel savor the feeling of your skin against his. It’s slow going and relaxed. The hunger flows in as a trickle. Your lips taste like a mix of black coffee and tangerine-flavored lip gloss. Whatever his tasted like, made you hum as if you’d tasted your favorite dish. It sends sparks racing up his spine, deepening the kiss, letting his hand tangled in your hair.
You two part, sharing another breath. He presses his forehead against your nose, nudging it and smiling against your lips. He looks deep into your eyes and wants to promise you the world. You’ve given him so many wonderful things without even being asked, without even thinking, making him feel like he was owed these things, as if someone like him only deserves good things. He wants to wrap up everything good and wonderful and put it in a little box for you but for now he gives you this: “We’ll make it work.”