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She gets taken out of her cell at three in the morning. She wasn’t asleep, but she doesn’t really appreciate being disturbed at such an odd time by men in boring uniforms. When she asks them where they’re taking her, they studiously avoid her gaze, mouths sealed tight. She rolls her eyes.
"You boys are so dull," she says and one of them, a man with dark hair, glares at her. She smiles back, all thirty-two teeth on show. The guards take her to an office, and another man in a darker uniform stands at a desk, looking at her with discomfort written all over his wrinkly face. She takes a piece of bubblegum from the front pocket of her orange jumpsuit and tosses it into her mouth, still watching the man. A vein in his forehead twitches. Nervousness, Harley concludes.
"If this is for another mission, the answer is no. You can tell that awfully broody man who’s in love with the demon that he can find someone else," Harley says before blowing a bubble. The man watches her carefully, shoulders stiff and hands clenched at his side.
"Your cell is being exterminated," he says finally. His right eye twitches slightly. He’s lying.
"Jeez, if you’re gonna lie, you might as well try be convincing, Mister."
"The high-security areas of the prison are currently fully occupied so you’ll be staying with Floyd Lawton," the man instructs and it takes Harley a full second to realise that he’s talking about Deadshot. Floyd Lawton. It suits him. She sort of forgot that he had a name and she’s never heard anyone call him that before.
"He is my friend," Harley says and the man’s mouth twitches.
"You try anything, Ms. Quinn, and there will be consequences."
"Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister!"
The man’s jaw twitches. "At present time, we’re unsure of how long the extermination might take."
Harley smirks. "Must be some real scary bugs."
"However," the man continues, "you will be back in your cell as soon as possible."
"Aw shucks! And here I was thinking I had enough time to teach Floyd how to braid my hair," Harley replies, still grinning. Her cheeks hurt but the look of discomfort on the man’s face is worth it.
"You can take her away now," he says to a guard that watches her with almost as much unease as the old man, face almost white. She smiles sweetly at him.
"C’mon pumpkin, take me to Floyd!"
The guards face becomes even more pale.
***
Floyd’s cell is closer than she expected and before she knows it, the terrified guard is gone and Griggs stands in front of her, smirking. She wants to punch him in the face.
"Well hello there, Harleen," he says and she grins back.
"Aw Griggs, it’s been so long. I almost started to miss you and you’re dazzling personality," she responds, voice chirpy. He glares at her, and takes out a set of keys, unlocking the cell door.
"If you two try anythin’, I’ll have your heads on a stake," he warns and Harley snorts.
"Oooh, I’m shaking in my boots," she says and he pushes her into the cell before slamming the door. Deadshot’s, or should she say Floyd’s, head snaps up and his eyes widen, mouth in a straight line.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, but he looks relaxed.
"They’re exterminating my cell," Harley informs him, sitting next to him. He snorts.
"Bullshit. Boomerang tried to escape, but he’s somewhere in the prison. They probably think one of us is in on it with him so they’re putting us together so it’s easier to keep an eye on us," he says, stretching his legs.
"And by us, you mean the squad?" Harley questions and Floyd’s shoulders tense.
"Yeah, I guess so."
He doesn’t say much more after that, and they both just sort of sit there for a while. Harley twirls her hair, and he watches the wall opposite them, and it’s sort of nice. The only other person she’s been with alone was the Joker and the memories of him were always gun shots and murder and, bruises and blood that didn’t always belong to the victim. They sit like that for a couple of more minutes before Harley gets bored of playing with her hair.
"So Floyd Lawton, huh? That’s a pretty fancy name," she says and he cracks a small smile. “I was thinking of just calling you Deadshot for the rest of our lives.”
“You still can,” he says and she grins.
“But I like Floyd more. I think I’ll call you Floyd,” she says excitedly, and he shrugs.
“Alright,” he says.
“You’re kinda shitty at making conversation when we’re not fighting possessed archaeologists, has anyone ever told you that Floyd?” Harley asks and Floyd laughs.
“Or maybe, you talk too much,” he counters.
“You betcha,” Harley responds. Then, “so how’s your daughter?”
Floyd stiffens, then shifts and looks at her. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes.
“She’s fine,” he answers rigidly. “How’s your, uh, Joker?”
Harley does her best not to stiffen. She rolls her eyes, very aware of Floyd watching her carefully.
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in a while,” she responds.
“That’s good,” Floyd says and Harley turns to look at him. He shrugs one shoulder.
“He’s an asshole,” Floyd elaborates and Harley keeps quiet. After a second she hums in agreement.
“Yeah. He is. Can’t believe I called him my puddin’,” she says, and there’s a part of her gut that twists in both fear and regret. Floyd, as if sensing her discomfort, nudges her shoulder with his.
“You think they’re gonna catch Boomerang?” he asks, and Harley grins.
“Of course they are! He doesn’t wanna escape, he’s just a drama queen,” she says and Floyd snorts.
“Well you’re not wrong about that,” he agrees. He rubs his eyes, and yawns.
“Have you been sleepin’ at all, Floyd?” Harley wonders out loud, placing another piece of bubblegum in her mouth. She chews it seven times before blowing a bubble.
“Does anyone get sleep in these shitty cells?” he counters and Harley shrugs.
“I do, when I wanna.”
“Well you’re Harley Quinn, dollface.”
He’s trying to cheer her up, Harley realises. It’s been a long time since someone’s done something for her. She offers him a smile, a real smile that doesn’t stretch her mouth out too wide or make her look psychotic. He smiles back.
“Aw shucks, you’re gonna make me blush, Floyd,” she teases, before blowing another bubble.
“That’s the goal,” he says, nudging her shoulder once again. “And no, I haven’t been sleeping.”
The last part of the sentence comes out quieter and Harley realises that he’s probably not opened up to someone in years, either.
“I have a latte machine in my cell. I could lend it to ya. It helps me sleep,” she says.
“I don’t think coffee’s gonna help me sleep, Quinn,” he responds and she rolls her eyes.
“No, silly! The noises the machine makes as it makes the coffee makes me sleep better.”
Floyd raises a questioning eyebrow at her and she merely shrugs. Then, she leans her head on his shoulder and he’s rigid at first, unsure of what to do. A few seconds later he relaxes, his shoulders dipping lower.
“This is cozy,” Harley says, and Floyd chuckles.
“It sure is, Quinn,” he responds.
“Hey Floyd, do you have any nicknames?” she asks him. She feels Floyd shrug. He does that a lot, she observes.
“Not really,” he replies and Harley makes a noise of disappointment.
“Well I’m gonna give you one,” she says firmly. Then, “Marshmellow.”
“That’s genuinely the worst nickname I have ever heard,” he says, but she can hear the humour in his face.
“Too bad, because you’re stuck with it, Marshmellow.”
Before he can respond, there’s shouting outside. Someone screams, they both hear Boomerang call Griggs an annoying shitbag and then everything goes quiet.
“You think they got him?” Harley asks and Floyd shakes his head.
“Nah, Digger’s gonna give them a good chase,” he says and Harley hums in response.
“Don’t ya get cold in here, Floyd?” Harleys questions because the entire cell is damp and dark. At least her cell is warm.
“You’re cold?” he asks and she shrugs. He wraps and arm around her shoulders, squeezing her bicep.
“Better?” he asks and Harley nods.
“I think I like my cell more, though. Don’t take it to heart, Floyd,” she responds. Floyd chuckles. They sit like that for an hour, mostly quiet save for a few quips. She can feel herself falling asleep, Floyd’s warm body pressed to her side, when the cell door slams open.
“Aw, would you look at that? You both are adorable,” Griggs coos mockingly. “It’s time to go, Quinn. We’re done getting rid of the pests.”
“Looks like they missed one,” Floyd says, as Harley moves away from him. Griggs glares at him.
“We caught your friend, it was too easy,” Griggs says in response, smiling gleefully. But Harley notices how his stature is rigid, how he’s still on edge.
Then, she screams. Loud and piercing. Griggs’ eyes widen and he ducks down. She points behind him, screams cutting off abruptly.
“Behind you!” she shouts and Griggs ducks to the ground, grabbing his gun. The room is silent for a handful of seconds before Griggs gets up off the ground. He looks behind him, and finds nothing.
“Sorry,” Harley says, popping her gum. “I thought I saw somethin’.”
She scrunches up her nose as Floyd watches with amusement. Griggs’ entire face is red, his ears matching and his chest is heaving. Harley smiles at him brightly.
“I’m taking you back to your cell,” he snarls and Harley looks at him with a bored expression on her face. She turns around, walking towards Floyd before she gets on her tiptoes and places her lips on his cheek. She uses one of her hands to grip his. She kisses his cheek lightly before moving her mouth to his ear.
“I’ll see you soon, Floyd,” she whispers, lips brushing the shell of his ear. When she pulls back, Floyd looks surprised but he squeezes her hand as she turns back to Griggs who looks both shocked and slightly horrified. His face has gone from red to ashen.
“Whatcha waiting for, Griggs?” she asks as she exits the cell, looking back to wink at Floyd. He raises his hand in a half wave, one side of his mouth pulled up into a smile.