Needful Things Building; Monday

[totalwildcard]

The Dream House was gone by morning, replaced again with the antique store and the apartment above it, both with all four walls intact, and the color scheme decidedly less pink.

And in said apartment, late in the morning, Harley woke up with a start. Like fully bolting upright and everything, with a gasp.

"... Barbie looks like me."

She couldn't believe it. She brought her hands up to her face, smooshing her cheeks.

"Like me."

This jaw! These cheekbones under her skin!

Something about it was making her eyes well up.

At least, until something else about the weekend came back to her. "Bruce!" Oh, God, he'd been eating something obviously plastic, all weekend long! Harley scrambled out of bed to find him - only to, yes, find him curled up in one of his usual spots, seemingly right as rain.

She still ended up taking him on a long walk around town. It took a while for her to be convinced that just as magically as he'd turned into a toy dog for the weekend, whatever the plastic stuff he'd been eating (and, to be fair, pooping out at what seemed like an alarming rate for a fully functioning gastric system) had just as magically turned into actually edible stuff in his guts when he'd turned back. He seemed fine! He was leaving behind dog shit that was the usual level of disgusting!

Still, between the long walk and then breakfast for both him and herself, the morning had already turned into the afternoon by the time something occurred to Harley, and sent her bolting down the stairs into the store.

There, she found the display of dolls of varying ages and kinds.

And there, tucked near the back, was a Barbie. Harley carefully pulled her out from between a Victorian-ish porcelain doll and a fairly creepy 1950s baby, and smiled down at her.

It was a little watery, but there was no one here to see it, was there?

"Oh, there you are."

Something in her chest ached a little.

(expecting one!)

Comments

[totalwildcard]

"You're one to talk."

A classic re-direct, and yet also true!

[hasaknightjob]

"Always am," Marc replied. Because he was sometimes self aware. "Anyway, it's your turn."

[totalwildcard]

Harley made more noises of protest, but they were a little half-hearted. One of her hands continued to clutch the doll, but her other arm slid around him in return, finally.

"Just --" she tried, but didn't get much further before a pause, groping for words. "She's perfect. She's literally perfect, that's her whole deal, that's how she was made. By people! In a factory!"

[hasaknightjob]

"Perfect, and she looks like you," Marc said. "Somebody thought you were perfect."

[totalwildcard]

"Yeah."

Oh, good, she sounded very choked up about it again. But that was only because her eyes were welling up about it again!

Totally fine.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc rubbed her back with one hand. "As you are. No change needed."

[totalwildcard]

"I just... I can't believe it, yanno?" Harley mumbled, sounding increasingly like she was crying. Pretending to herself she wasn't, though, which had to count for something, right? "And I know I ain't supposed to care. I don't need validation from society or from a toy made for kids."

And yet.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc moved his other hand up to stroke Harley's hair. "Don't need doesn't mean it's not nice to have."

[totalwildcard]

Harley sounded like she wanted to object and protest some more.

But instead, what came out was a muffled, teary wail of, "And it's so nice to have!"

[hasaknightjob]

Marc's heart - well had an emotion, for a start. But the emotion in this case was an ache on Harley's behalf.

"I'm glad," he said, quietly. "That you have it."

[totalwildcard]

You know what?

Harley was just going to take a moment to give in and ugly cry here for a bit, if that was fine with him.

At least it was over something good?

[hasaknightjob]

That was okay with Marc. He didn't mind if his shirt got wet. He was just going to hold Harley tight and keep stroking her hair. She could take as long as she needed.

[totalwildcard]

That was good, because Harley was about as dramatic about this as she was about many of her feelings. And the front of his shirt was most certainly getting wet.

Her shoulders shook, and she clung to him a little harder.

[hasaknightjob]

"I gotcha," Marc said. Quiet. Not interrupting her, just reassuring. "Whatever you need, Doc. I gotcha."

[totalwildcard]

"You're not a Ken."

It made sense to Harley, okay?

Also her voice sounded all garbled with the tears, it was great.

[hasaknightjob]

"Lotta confusion on that one," Marc said.

Okay with the one person, but that still represented a significant percentage of Marc's socializing over the weekend.

[totalwildcard]

"Sorry," Harley mumbled, like she'd had any control over that. "I know you're Marc. You're the best Marc I know."

She was maybe a little tear-drunk right now, even if the worst of the shuddering had passed.

[hasaknightjob]

"You're fine," Marc told her. He paused stroking her hair long enough to place a kiss on the top of her head, then resumed again. "Weird weekend. Least I wasn't actually a Ken?"

Yes, there'd been a compliment in there. He'd heard it. He was trying to sneak past it.

[totalwildcard]

Harley didn't even think of it as a compliment, just facts, so he was going to get away with his sneaking this time.

"Like you better this way anyway," she muttered.

[hasaknightjob]

"Like you better this way too," Marc said.

He hugged her tighter, this time for his own reasons.

[totalwildcard]

Harley sighed, going just a little more lax in the embrace, the way she sometimes did when there was enough pressure.

Thebn she frowned, unseen, since her face was very much still pressed against his chest.

"Wait, did ya come here to... check up on me?"

[hasaknightjob]

The question caught Marc off guard enough that honesty happened.

"Yeah."

[totalwildcard]

Harley peeled her face away from his chest enough to look at him - and, yeah, his shirt was not just wet now but also likely had some mascara and stuff on it as well, based on what a mess Harley's makeup was now. Oops?

"Oh," she said.

And then, very small: "I like that."

[hasaknightjob]

Marc didn't mind. Shirts could always be washed or replaced.

"It was weird for Steven and Watts," Marc said, trying to shrug it off. But not so much actual shrugging since he was still holding her. "Figured. Maybe you too."

[totalwildcard]

Harley tilted her head a little, like she was considering that. Maybe trying to read his face a little, too?

But what she actually said was, "You wanna go upstairs?"