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jamjar"I ain’t gonna do it, Red."
"Uh-huh." And if she adds just a trace more –-oh, maybe more than a trace of nitrate, because her babies deserve it-- then she can increase the growth just enough to—
"Are you listening to me?"
"Of course I am, Harley," Ivy says. And then if she lets them grow on that wonderful soil she found in the--"
"That was the last time, ever, because you never respect me after," Harley says.
"Hmm. No, of course no--" Wait, what was that? Ivy looks up at Harley’s back. Her ponytails float above her shoulder and even from behind, Ivy can tell that she has her arms crossed and her lips pouting. "Harley, what’s this about?"
Harley turns around, knocking over several valuable test tubes and sending Ivy scrambling for them. Harley, as ever, is oblivious to the chaos she causes in Ivy’s carefully ordered lab. "I’ll tell you what it’s about! It’s about respect. It’s about you showing me a little appreciation. I don’t go jumping in the Gotham City Aquarium for anyone, ya know," she says, sounding hurt. Her arms are folded under her Arkham Amateur Softball Team T-shirt and she still smells like seaweed, pacing up and down the workbench. "And I don’t get any thanks. No respect." She stops pacing and stands still, looking down at Ivy. There’s a smear of dried mud, probably gained during her scramble through Swamps Of The Worlds. "You don’t repect me at all."
"Because you were caught," Ivy says, trying to keep her voice patient. "You almost brought the wrath of the Bat on us. And of course I-- consider you a good friend."
Harley looks down at her suspiciously. "So does that mean you respect me?"
Anything to get you off my work surface and away from my-- "Yes," Ivy says. She looks Harley in the eye and makes her voice sincere, curling one hand around Harley’s ankle to prevent any more pacing. "Of course I do." She really does smell of seaweed. Ivy tugs her, not quite enough to get her off balance and Harley takes it as a cue, somersaulting down. She holds her hands together, pressed against her chest.
"You really mean that, Red?" Harley says, sounding hopeful. Her hair looks like two shocks of wheat in the sterile lights of the lab. "’Cause you’re my bestest galpal, ya know?" She’s up on her tiptoes, leaning forwards, kinetic energy in waiting. It was a particularly rare strain of kelp she dove for, distinctive in colour and chemical composition, with a fascinating potential phylogeny...
"I know," Ivy says. "And you’re..." She pauses, leans forward to wipe a smear of sugar off the corner of Harley’s mouth.
Harley beams, leans forward and kisses her.
"Uh-huh." And if she adds just a trace more –-oh, maybe more than a trace of nitrate, because her babies deserve it-- then she can increase the growth just enough to—
"Are you listening to me?"
"Of course I am, Harley," Ivy says. And then if she lets them grow on that wonderful soil she found in the--"
"That was the last time, ever, because you never respect me after," Harley says.
"Hmm. No, of course no--" Wait, what was that? Ivy looks up at Harley’s back. Her ponytails float above her shoulder and even from behind, Ivy can tell that she has her arms crossed and her lips pouting. "Harley, what’s this about?"
Harley turns around, knocking over several valuable test tubes and sending Ivy scrambling for them. Harley, as ever, is oblivious to the chaos she causes in Ivy’s carefully ordered lab. "I’ll tell you what it’s about! It’s about respect. It’s about you showing me a little appreciation. I don’t go jumping in the Gotham City Aquarium for anyone, ya know," she says, sounding hurt. Her arms are folded under her Arkham Amateur Softball Team T-shirt and she still smells like seaweed, pacing up and down the workbench. "And I don’t get any thanks. No respect." She stops pacing and stands still, looking down at Ivy. There’s a smear of dried mud, probably gained during her scramble through Swamps Of The Worlds. "You don’t repect me at all."
"Because you were caught," Ivy says, trying to keep her voice patient. "You almost brought the wrath of the Bat on us. And of course I-- consider you a good friend."
Harley looks down at her suspiciously. "So does that mean you respect me?"
Anything to get you off my work surface and away from my-- "Yes," Ivy says. She looks Harley in the eye and makes her voice sincere, curling one hand around Harley’s ankle to prevent any more pacing. "Of course I do." She really does smell of seaweed. Ivy tugs her, not quite enough to get her off balance and Harley takes it as a cue, somersaulting down. She holds her hands together, pressed against her chest.
"You really mean that, Red?" Harley says, sounding hopeful. Her hair looks like two shocks of wheat in the sterile lights of the lab. "’Cause you’re my bestest galpal, ya know?" She’s up on her tiptoes, leaning forwards, kinetic energy in waiting. It was a particularly rare strain of kelp she dove for, distinctive in colour and chemical composition, with a fascinating potential phylogeny...
"I know," Ivy says. "And you’re..." She pauses, leans forward to wipe a smear of sugar off the corner of Harley’s mouth.
Harley beams, leans forward and kisses her.
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-11 11:41 pm (UTC)And, also, thank you. Very much. :)
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Date: 2006-01-12 07:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 01:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 07:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-12 03:25 am (UTC)*makes them always smooch*
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Date: 2006-01-12 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-21 11:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-21 02:08 pm (UTC)