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Gotham's rare sunny days always seemed brighter in Pamela's greenhouse. The sun filtered through the glass panels, casting a golden glow on her lush collection of vibrant flora. Pamela Isley, known to most as Poison Ivy, knelt beside a cluster of orchids, her delicate fingers inspecting each bloom with care.
“What do you think, Ivy?” Selina Kyle's voice broke through the tranquil hum of nature. “Too much color, or just enough?”
Pamela turned her head, arching a brow at the sight before her. Selina had draped herself across an antique wooden bench, her black leather jacket catching flecks of sunlight. A black-and-white kitten lounged on her lap, pawing playfully at Selina's fingers.
“I didn’t realize you were such a garden critic,” Pamela said, smiling as she dusted off her hands and stood. “Though I suppose even you can’t resist the charm of these blooms.”
Selina grinned, tilting her head. “Oh, I’m not talking about the flowers.” She gestured to the large straw hat Pamela had perched on her head. “That thing is practically begging for a runway debut.”
Pamela let out a laugh, a rare sound that softened her usual sharp demeanor. “It keeps the sun off my face while I work. Practicality over fashion.”
“Still, you’re pulling it off.” Selina smirked, her fingers scratching under the kitten’s chin. “So, where’s Harley? I thought the two of you were thick as thieves these days.”
“She’s out wreaking havoc somewhere,” Pamela replied with a wave of her hand. “And you? Shouldn’t you be out stealing diamonds or seducing billionaires?”
“Day off,” Selina said lightly, letting the kitten hop down to explore. She stood, stretching with catlike grace, her eyes scanning the greenery. “Decided to check in on my favorite eco-terrorist instead.”
Pamela crossed her arms, leaning against a nearby table covered in potted herbs. “I prefer the term ‘environmental advocate.’ But I’ll let it slide, seeing as it’s you.”
Selina sauntered closer, her eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “You’re lucky I like you, Ivy. Otherwise, I’d have to ‘liberate’ a few of these.” She gestured to the array of exotic plants around them.
Pamela chuckled softly. “Stealing from me would be a death sentence. Even for you.”
“Good thing I’d never risk your wrath,” Selina said smoothly. Her hand brushed Pamela’s as she leaned against the table, and their gazes met—Selina’s full of warmth, Pamela’s touched with rare vulnerability.
“You’re not just here for the scenery, are you?” Pamela asked, her voice softer now.
“Caught me.” Selina grinned, her fingers brushing a stray lock of red hair from Pamela’s face. “I was thinking maybe you and I could, I don’t know... spend the afternoon together. Do something fun.”
Pamela’s lips quirked into a smile. “And what exactly do you find ‘fun’? Scaling buildings or tormenting Gotham’s elite?”
Selina laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I was thinking more low-key. Like... showing me around this jungle of yours. Unless you’re worried I’ll outshine your plants?”
Pamela rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the fondness in her expression. “Fine. But don’t touch anything without asking.”
Selina gave a mock salute, her smile brighter than the sunlight streaming in. “Yes, ma’am.”
As Pamela led her deeper into the greenhouse, pointing out rare species and sharing tidbits about each plant, Selina stayed close, hanging on her every word. And when their hands brushed now and then, neither made an effort to pull away.
For once, in this small pocket of peace, there were no masks, no Gotham, no chaos. Just Pamela and Selina, bathed in sunlight, surrounded by life.