Chapter Text
“I’ll miss you guys.” Harley pouted, brow scrunching a little as sadness tinted her senses. “Maybe we can create a group chat or somethin’, like getting matching tattoos. Look! I already got mine.” she pointed at a black patch in her inner arm, prompting Ivy to squeeze her eyes and raise an eyebrow as she caught sight of the scrappy handwriting she recognized as Harley’s, if not a little shakier than usual.
SKWAD. Indeed small, but certainly not invisible.
“You spelled it incorrectly…” Ivy drawled out, quietly wondering if the mistake was intentional.
Harley’s brows shot up and a toothy grin took over her features. “Exactly! Great idea, huh?”
Deadshot somewhat craned his neck to see the tats before slowly shaking his head. “You’re nuts.”
“Oh, come on, cowboy! Y’know I’ve done much worse.” with a self-depreciating laugh, Harley shot her eyes closed and fiddled with her spiky metal bracelet under the table. But as quickly as her mood vacillated, it did again and she was already bouncing in her seat, changing the subject with an ease only she could manage.
Ivy’s mind drifted again, and she regarded Harley with half lidded eyes which implied she was in deep thought.
Ivy discovered, not recently, that this is where she would find Harley the most comfortable, when she was around people she liked, having easy chit-chat. Her eyes would light up and she’d listen and talk at the edge of her chair, senselessly stuffing food into her mouth and laughing without scruples. She knew that Harley had chosen former profession out of pure love for people. Apparently, the jester’s hope in humanity was endless, and Ivy wondered from time to time how she ended up with someone with so different than her.
Ivy didn’t chime in the conversation for the rest of the night, speaking only when talked to, which was mostly Harley trying to integrate her with the squad; she appreciated the gesture, but it was unnecessary, as she knew to have fun in her own way. And next thing she knew, Harley was poking her arm relentlessly, prodding the redhead out of her reverie.
“C’mon, Red. The bar is almost closing.”
Deadshot stood up and strolled to the entrance alone, letting Croc and the women at the table.
“Ya ain’t comin’?” Harley turned to Croc, who had his arms lazily thrown around the chair’s back. He shook his head and grunted in lieu of a verbal response. Harley nodded to him and laced her fingers with Ivy’s, going directly to the front door.
Reaching outside, the chilly breeze played with Harley’s blonde tendrils, and the jester sharply ducked her head in order to get the hair out of her view. The second sway almost hit Ivy and the redhead stilled her walk, pulling Harley back with their joined hands to face her.
“Be a little patient.” Her velvety voice served almost as a blanket to Harley, and the jester closed her eyes, lips stretching forward in a pucker up, expecting something entirely different than what she received.
Ivy reached to the back of Harley’s head, gathering all the blonde locks she could manage, and put them through an elastic leafy ring. She finished the bun with a slight pull and grabbed Harley’s hand, mindless of the flabbergasted expression in the other woman’s face.
“Where’dja find this.” Harley pointed to the band tying her hair with a confused expression.
Ivy smiled coyly, bringing a finger to her own green lips. “A magician never reveals her tricks.”
Harley’s brows both shot up, and from their slight tremble Pam knew that only one of them had been told to move. “What kinda magician are ya?”
At this point, Pam was mostly amused, calm like a pet dog, but she winked anyway and half closed her eyelids. It always worked. “I don’t know. You tell me.” She finished each phrase with a warble and Harley didn’t even blink, she just blurted out “You’re a hypnotizer.”
“What makes you think that?” Pam shot back.
“I’ve seen ya turning people into zombies a lotsa times.” Harley explained surely and Ivy side-glanced at her before sighing.
“You lost your chance.”
“What!?”
“You could have totally thrown a cheesy line in there.” Pam could barely contain her laughter, the sound infectiously tinting gradually tinting phrase, in rushed breathes and squeezed words.
Harley tsked herself and somewhat hopped, taking a belated cue. “Ya didn’t let me finish. Yer a hypnotizer; every time I look at ya my brain shuts down.” Harley grinned, proud of herself, and Pam smiled again.
“Surely that can’t be healthy. And it’s hypnotist.” Pam answered, dropping a quick kiss on the tip of Harley’s nose. “I loved it anyway.”