Characters: Harley Quinn, Jim Moriarty When: Tuesday mid-day (Backdated) Location: Jim's Cabin Warnings/Rating: Creepiness! Smuttiness? Definite violent cougar action warning! Summary: Harley and Jim meet post-power swap to freak each other out compare notes Status: Closed/Ongoing
The first couple of times Harley had passed by Jimmy’s door, she’d gone on tiptoes; skittering past like he might somehow sense she was out there, and yank open the door. But it had been days since she’d seen anyone she could really call a friend on the train; days of not sleeping well and worrying, and feeling small and stupid and useless, and trying to ignore the way her hand hurt. Trying to ignore that something as dumb as punching a wall could make her hand hurt enough to notice it at all.
Trainnesia was bad but the Train Drain was even worse. This time she knew it was happening. And Harley was put out and a little scared and- and lonely.
Jimmy wouldn’t know, she reasoned. It wasn’t like she had to do flips and one-handed handstands and try to punch another hole through the wall. They hadn’t last time. They could just, like, talk. Except last time talking had almost led to- but that wouldn’t happen either. She wouldn’t do that to him.
The excuses had gotten her through the food she made; nothing fancy, just spaghetti, garlic bread, a couple cans of soda. The waffling had been pushed back far enough to get her to his door, the heavy tray she’d scrounged up balancing against one hip, her still-bruised knuckles raised to knock. But then everything came back, all the worries and nerves, and even when Harley tried, she couldn’t, couldn’t, get her hand to move any closer.
She bit her lip, her shoulders slumping, and sighed, hand falling back to her side.
Jim had sensed each and every time Harley had walked past his room. How slow her gait was, how tentative. He’d been surprised the first time; all he’d registered was a familiar smell, and attaching Harley to that scent so quickly made him snarl and shove his head under a pillow.
He had nothing against base instincts. But he wasn’t an animal.
He’d ignored her the second, the third time, still abiding by his resolution to stay out of sight and out of the way for the duration of this particular madness, but now she just stood there, and she’d brought food. Real food, not the snatches Jim had scavenged in the night when he’d sensed no one about. Why on earth didn’t she just knock? It was Harley- he was half-surprised she didn’t just barrel into the room without any warning. That she knew of.
Stuck in his room monitoring nothing but his blood pressure and the network for three days was beginning to take its toll, and his patience was thinning. Besides, he’d been giving what Maryanne had said a lot of thought. He wouldn’t endure two weeks like this; he couldn’t. So there was management to think of. If he could maintain himself.
“Harley,” he called, calm and mellifluous, “would you please make up your mind one way or the other? You’re beginning to annoy me.”