Harley Quinn (
totalwildcard) wrote2024-08-05 03:00 am
Needful Things Building; Monday
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!)
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!)

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A beat.
"And don't say 'cause it sucks to be you."
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Kind of literally, all things considered.
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"Okay, no one is exactly like you, I get that," she said. "Wasn't pretending I was gonna find a carbon copy. But I also have the luxury of lookin' at you from the outside, and I'm not just talking 'bout your pretty face."
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She was telling him all of this so seriously, too.
"But also someone who doesn't get scared off by crazy, stays calm faced with most things, and is kind by having people's backs - like, those people are gonna be a real select few, but still. It counts. Also, someone who smiles and is funny if you're patient and cajole it outta him."
Sorry to expose you so, Marc.
"And someone who'll check up on me and my hyena after we've been plastic for a weekend, too."
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But there was a tightness in his chest and voice as he said, "I'm not me without the rest of it. You don't get me without it."
Both as a concept, and as a result.
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She should know, after all. For professional and for private reasons, both.
Her thumb brushed against his cheek.
"And ya don't see me running back to Gotham to try and find that guy, now do ya?"
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"'cause he's not better looking?"
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"Probably doesn't fuck like a hurricane, either."
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Plus it wasn't exactly terrible for Harley to kiss him back, all warm and soft in return as well, her hands still cradling his face.
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The multiverse begged to differ, probably, but see if Harley cared.
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She was the original to him. What the multiverse had to say about it didn't matter.
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"Yeah, I'm stickin' with what I've got, too."
She pressed a kiss to his forehead. Because she could - and because he'd done it to her earlier, and she'd liked that.
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Funny how he didn't sound like he minded.
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How nice of her!
Also she'd heard his tone. Didn't really have any worries.
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Very select, actually.
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