totalwildcard | Apartment Above Needful Things; Later Friday

Entry tags:

apartment,
marc

Apartment Above Needful Things; Later Friday

It was not as dusty in the upstairs apartment as it had been the last time Marc had been up there. Like, sure, it was still dusty in places because Harley and her attention span had prioritized the spots that she actually used on a daily basis, but still! The living room slash kitchen space that they entered into from the stairs was actually looking lived in now, with stuff like cereal packages and coffee on the kitchen counters and some empty takeaway cartons littering the coffee table Harley had hauled up from the store.

Hey, the narrative had said it wasn't that dusty anymore, not anything about there being no mess. It wasn't too bad, anyway, there was just a little bit of clutter!

So far.

Whatever, Harley had put some personal touches in. Some eclectic decor pieces around the place, a pop art style painting on one of the walls, that sorta thing. (And a taxidermy beaver in a tutu on the counter, but Beaver wasn't decor.)

"Well, here we are!" Harley announced. "I promise this place isn't as much of a sneezing hazard anymore."

(for that guy, continued from here! NSFW)

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"Surprising?" Harley teased, settling down with her head pillowed on her arm. "You've said."

"Like you're not proud of it," Marc replied. He moved the hand resting on her side towards her back. His fingers traced idle patterns there, mostly unconsciously.

Harley looked smug again, but it had a languid, content quality about it. "I can be proud," she replied, "and point out when you say it again. Actually, those two things go great together!"

A thoughtful pause, and her smile grew wider.

"Like you and me just now!"

Marc thought about making an understatement of a joke, like Wasn't too bad, I guess. But it was nice seeing Harley be so cheerful. He didn't want to risk ruining it by potentially hitting one of her vulnerable spots.

So instead he went with, "Better than I expected."

Harley still snorted, but it was soft and easy. "You expected worse?"

Oh, like it hadn't wildly exceeded her expectations.

"Like it's my fault you're hotter than I imagined," Marc replied. "Not like I'm complaining."

Plus now he had all new mental images to enjoy.

"Well, anything to help that poor imagination of yours along," Harley told him, amused, tapping a few fingertips against his chest. "And no complaints, either." Just so that was clear! "Even about the imagination. Ooh, or what this did to mine."

Marc smirked. "Glad I could help. Maybe you can tell me about it sometime."

Not this second though. A guy needed to recover.

"Oh, look at you bein' all patient."

She knew it wasn't about patience.

"I figured give you time to actually come up with something," Marc said.

Of course then he realized with Harley maybe she'd already thought of plenty of things. Her mind wasn't exactly slow.

Yeah:

"Why would I need time?" came out of Harley's mouth, sincere in its confusion.

Even though Marc expected it, it still got a laugh out of him.

"Guess I gotta try harder to distract you next time."

Harley was visibly torn, in response. Not like it was a serious matter, but still!

"Do I tell you that's impossible," she wondered, "or that yes, you absolutely should try? 'Cause one of those options is kind to you, but the other sounds intense."

And, well, he'd already seen how she did with intense.

"Impossible means try harder," Marc said. "So both."

"That's not what impossible means," Harley retorted, taking the excuse to poke him in the chest. Which may have just been yet more muscle appreciation than anything else. "But I like the sound of tryin' harder. There's not even a Harley-shaped crater in this bed yet or anything!"

"Had to give you something to look forward to," Marc replied. His hand moved lower to caress her hip and thigh. "Can't use everything up on the first go."

Technically they were past second now, but first in the bigger picture of things. Like first time coming up to her apartment with this goal in mind.

"I already had plenty to look forward to," Harley assured him with a smirk that was on the soft side. She splayed her fingers fully against his chest now. "Craters, schmaters."

Marc rolled onto his back. He kept his hand on her hip to encourage her to come with him, and put his arm out in case she wanted to use that as a pillow instead. "By the way, I'm not arguing."

If that sounded like a non-sequitur, that's because it kind of was.

Well, if he was offering such a nice arm, of course Harley was going to shift with him and gladly switch pillows.

While also giving him a quizzical look. "Not arguing about which part?"

"This one," Marc replied, and he ran his fingers lightly over that tattoo across her abdomen. The one that said Lucky you.

The touch was light enough that some of the muscles under it jumped a little. Harley looked down, and her confusion melted into a smile that was a little too warm to be smug.

"Oh," she said, with a breathy chuckle. "No false advertising there, hmh?"

Marc made note of that physical reaction for future reference.

"Pretty accurate from where I'm sitting," he said. Or lying down. Whatever. He moved the hand that was behind her up to lightly trace those idle patterns on her shoulder, since that was easier to do than reach her hip from this position. "'course I've been told you're pretty clear about who you are and what you want."

By her specifically, in fact.

It was rare that Harley left anything unsaid, but in this moment she didn't say anything about what some of her other tattoos may have communicated about who she was.

"Uh huh," she said instead, gaze drawn back up to his face. "You're catching up! Especially to the fact that I'm a catch to bring to bed with you."

And yes, of course she was going to get distracted for just a beat, then add, "Or a wall. Kitchen table? A nice secluded back alley somewhere..."

By this point Marc had clocked that J on her arm, but he was ignoring it. He figured she'd talk about it if she wanted to. In the meanwhile, he'd give her whatever space about it she needed.

"I'm not fucking you in a back alley," Marc told her.

Harley pouted at him. It was very exaggerated and thus didn't read that serious, sure, but still a pout!

"Not even a tiny quickie?"

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