Midnight Manor Laundry Room; Sunday Morning

[totalwildcard]

Boy, had that gone poorly! Harley hadn't slept much, and some of the reasons why could maybe be inferred by how, come morning, her makeup looked like perhaps she'd been caught in a heavy bout of rain. Rain that also made your eyes look kinda red and puffy? It was Fandom, okay, genuinely much stranger things happened all the time! Leave her alone!

Also, thanks to the aforementioned lack of sleep, Harley wasn't actually feeling all that much better, come morning. She actually kind of felt like she needed to bite something.

Or maybe go egg the Wayne Foundation building in town.

Set something on fire?

... Or kick a dryer, apparently. Sorry about the occasional clanging noises (and the accompanying swearing), Midnightites! Midnighters? Midnightees...? People of Midnight. Sometimes you just had to laundry aggressively.

It was so much better than actually dealing with your feelings.

(open!)

Comments

[hasaknightjob]

To which Marc went to kiss her on the cheek if he could manage it.

[totalwildcard]

It took Harley by surprise.

It also meant that she didn't immediately straighten back up, either. "What's that for?" she asked, with a chuckle.

[hasaknightjob]

"I need a reason?" Marc replied. In a way that implied he had a reason and wasn't saying it.

[totalwildcard]

"You do when ya say it like that," Harley retorted, and poked him - very gently! - in the chin. "Immediately makes you sound like you're holdin' something to yourself."

[hasaknightjob]

"I wanted to," Marc replied. He gestured to where she'd been standing. "You were over there for a while."

[totalwildcard]

It probably said something about Harley's day that that put like a flood of unexpected warmth in her chest.

Stupid little thing like that.

"Is that why ya wanted me to sit down?" she asked, not managing to keep all of the ensuing softness out of her voice. "For kissy action?"

[hasaknightjob]

"Maybe I thought you were far," Marc said.

Shut up.

[totalwildcard]

"You fuckin' softie," Harley murmured.

And pressed a kiss on his cheek.

[hasaknightjob]

"You're going through shit," Marc muttered in his defense.

Didn't shy away from the kiss though.

[totalwildcard]

"Sof," Harley retorted, "tie."

Then, of course, she kissed him for real. On the lips.

She'd solve the whole 'leaning down to him' thing in a moment, okay?

[hasaknightjob]

Marc kissed her back. He reached to cup her cheek as he did, touching her in a way that was as much about offering a little comfort as it was reminding himself what she felt like.

For reasons.

[totalwildcard]

It was comfort Harley immediately craved much more of as soon as she had just a bit of it.

Her words got sighed right into it. "Shoulda done this in your office."

Oh, now she remembered.

[hasaknightjob]

"There's no laundry in my office," Marc replied, because he was sometimes still a wise ass.

[totalwildcard]

"But there's a spinny chair that holds two people."

She assumed. Thing looked sturdy enough!

[hasaknightjob]

It probably would!

"Your place has a bed," Marc pointed out. Again as though multiple beds in that very building were somehow not an option.

[totalwildcard]

Harley gave a soft huff, and touched her forehead to his. "Sure, if ya want me to go home instead of climbing onto your lap."

[hasaknightjob]

"Oh," Marc said, very intelligently. "That works too."

[totalwildcard]

"What, the goin' home? Just say the word!"

He was not the only wiseass in the room.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc decided to reply to that by trying to hook an arm around her waist to pull her into his lap.

[totalwildcard]

"Marc! The rickety chair!" Harley objected.

In words. Because otherwise she didn't seem to object or resist at all.

[hasaknightjob]

"Then balance good," he told her. "Ms Silks. Sorry, Doc Silks."

[totalwildcard]

Harley made an affronted noise that sounded suspiciously like it was hiding a laugh.

She settled sideways onto his lap, this time. It gave her more freedom of movement with the arm that didn't immediately slide over his shoulders for some of the aforementioned balance. "The silks ain't got a doctorate!"

[hasaknightjob]

Marc for his part put the food back on the table so he had hands free to wrap around her waist and hold her in place. For balance.

"What? No stage name?" Marc asked.

[totalwildcard]

Harley was still holding on to the pitiful remains of the pancakes.

"Ya gotta get on stage to need a stage name," she retorted. "Also, what, Harley Quinn ain't enough of one for ya?"

He knew that wasn't her government name!

[hasaknightjob]

"My lap ain't a stage," Marc replied. "You're Harley with me."

That... felt like there was layers to that statement in a way that had nothing to do with names.