Her nose nearly immediately wrinkled, an expression of pure distaste overtaking her features. “You serious? They wanted you to marry into money no matter what the…what, guy, girl? I guess it doesn’t matter. No matter what they were like?” She reached out, brushing her right hand through Harley’s hair, brow furrowed and heart lurching with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. “You’re too good for that.” She flexed her fingers against her scalp, before withdrawing her hand and placing it back in her lap. “At least my parents love each other. Sometimes too much.” She went a little pale at the memory of walking in on her parents. It happened enough that she was desensitized, at least some, but it was still not something she liked to think about. “You should always call Sage,” she laughed, reaching out and tapping Harley on the nose, “She makes me behave. Otherwise I’m this. A normal me is like somewhat less crass and annoying, but not by much.” Not by much at all, truthfully. She still had liberal use of the word fuck when alone at home with her dog. “Oh, no,” she groaned, pressing a hand over her mouth. “That’s just a travesty. I – I have an idea. What are you doing for Christmas?”
“What’s best behavior like for you, anyway?” Grace asked, smiling again as she reached out and tapped Harley’s thigh. “This seating arrangement is making me uncomfortable,” she joked, leaning forward and placing both hands on her thighs this time. “You look like a Girl Scout.” She didn’t, not at all, but prim and proper seating just didn’t fit Harley at all in Grace’s mind. She sat back a moment later, running a hand through her hair. “Fuck me, I have no idea.” She thought for a minute, brow furrowed as she picked at the label on her beer. “Okay. Sweden. Or no…no, Norway. It’s not like I wouldn’t fit in.” She lazily gestured to her appearance. “I just lack the height, probably. All those girls over there are tall as shit. But they’re blonde and blue eyed, I’d blend right the fuck in.” She breathed out a laugh, fingers tapping against her thigh. “No though, in all seriousness, it just seems like an ideal place for me. It’s cold, and I like the cold. There’s mountains in Norway and I like the mountains. Beaches too, but I think I’d like the lakes more. Plus it’s like…things are nice there. Relatively low crime rate, all that stuff. I don’t know, I just think I’d like it. What about you? I’ll ask you something when I get an answer.” She shot her a cheeky grin, eager to keep the game going.
“I am. Like, even before training I was good at talking to people. How do you think I got through high school?” she teased, shrugging. “No though, I don’t know. People can be easy. Sometimes. Just depends on the situation. I read things well, I guess?” She nodded, pressing her cheek into her palm of her hand, holding it up as she listened. “I bet you get all types in here, huh? People spill their guts to the bartender all the time. Never understood that. I mean…it’s just a person trying to mix you drinks, like…” She trailed off, before she snorted gracelessly, laughing a moment later. “I’m clearly a model example of following my own rules here. I’m spilling my guts to my bartender.” She reached out and tugged on the ends of Harley’s hair, smile crinkling the corners of her eyes once more. “Though, I think we’re a little more than bartender and client. Or, I’d like to think so anyway.” She sobered a minute later, a small, barely noticeable shadow passing across her face. “We do see mostly bad yeah. Really bad sometimes. It’s not all shit though. We see some really amazing things too. People go to great lengths to help other people sometimes.” She laughed, sudden and bright, and surged forward to press a kiss to Harley’s cheekbone again. “I’d hope I’m your favorite. The other two got nothing on me,” she teased, brushing her thumb over the small smear her chapstick had left behind. “You’re my favorite too,” she admitted, small, affectionate smile on her face.
“Oh yes,” she snorted, fixing Harley with a look that screamed disbelief, “I’m sure that was the very first thing on your mind when I arrested you the first time.” She took a sip of her drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You don’t want those handcuffs,” she laughed, rubbing her wrists, “You need the padded stuff. The ones I have are designed to be uncomfortable, I swear. They slap us in them in the academy. Among other things.” She’d done a ton of relatively dangerous things during her training. “The worst is the pepper spray though,” she said quietly, recalling with perfect clarity her streaming eyes and pained scream before they doused her face in milk. She wasn’t stupid, she’d looked away quickly, but she’d seen the sudden flush and sudden glance to her mouth before she’d done so. She felt a sudden punch of desire low in her stomach and she had half a mind to reach out, snag Harley by the back of her head and press her lips securely to Harley’s. Predictably though, Grace chickened out, letting loose an audible swallow in the process. Her mind was buzzing with the possibility, and she glanced distractedly back in Harley’s direction as she started speaking again. She reached blindly for her beer, the new one sending a shock through her system as she wrinkled her nose. It was gross, truth be told, but she’d drink anything at all as long as she was still feeling like this. The words sort of registered, and Grace laughed in the appropriate places, but the sudden smile made the already drunken buzz in the back of her mind increase tenfold. Before she could stop herself, her hand was reaching forward, thumb dragging along Harley’s lower lip, eyes trained on the movement. “Mhmm,” she hummed, mostly to somewhat contribute to the conversation she’d missed most of.
Harley wasn’t usually one to talk about her family – in fact, the bartender couldn’t think of a soul she’d mentioned the Lanes to since she packed up her car and left the morning of their fight. She shifted in her seat, discomfort threatening to take root at the thought. The feeling ebbed as Grace echoed her own distaste for the two, and nearly dissipated entirely as she felt the gentle touch. She wanted to dismiss it – shrug it off. Instead, she felt herself lean just slightly into the touch, sad half-smile flickering across her lips. She was filled with a wave of affection for the other woman just then. She hadn’t realized a part of her had needed to hear those words for the better part of 15 years. Harley, for all her bluster and bullshit, stumbled on the sentiment. There was something so genuine about it. “I –” Her lips opened, but quickly closed. That soft smile lingered, expression bordering on bewilderment. “Thank you.” Jesus, who was she all of a sudden? As Grace’s fingers left her, she immediately missed that touch. She laughed, forehead creasing in question. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a story?” She asked, tone playful. It wasn’t much of a surprise the Durand parents were great, considering their children. She chuckled, wrinkling her nose as the tap. “Oh,” she pouted, looking down at her phone. “That settles in. I’m deleting her number.” She hummed, lips curving in that familiar smirk. “You’re perfect, darlin’. You should never deprive the world of full-force Grace Durand. My heart couldn’t take it.” She said. Harley tilted her head, green eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Hmm. The plan was to drink eggnog with whatever sad souls wander into the bar on the merriest day of the year. But,” she mused, shrugging in a terrible attempt of nonchalance, considering that ever-lingering grin. “I fall way too easily to peer pressure. Says so on my third grade report card.”
Harley laughed, expression going briefly contemplative. “Sleeping, I think.” She said with a chuckle. Her own fingers danced along the top of Grace’s hand, her touch feather-light as she glanced down, just barely resisting the urge to slide back down into the stool and further into the other’s hands. Another laugh passed her lips, head tilted back with the sound. “I was one, for all of a week. Turns out pocketing the cookies is kind of frowned upon if you don’t intend on doing that whole ‘paying’ thing.” She confessed, biting her lip. Harley then relaxed, leaning forward and in turn placing her hand on the blonde’s thigh. “Better?” She asked, glint of mischief in her eyes. “Norway.” She repeated with a nod, as if she were storing the information for later use. That smile danced across her lips once more as she tilted her head. “How are Christmases’ in Norway?” She asked, voice trailing off far too casually to be any sort of convincing as she glanced around the bar before letting her gaze drift back to Grace – too quickly, at that. She was having a terrible time letting her eyes go anywhere else for any actual length of time. “Norway’s close,” she said. “Always really wanted to go to Iceland. Not as cold – least, far as I know. But. Mountains, beaches, hot springs. Great beer.” She added.
“Please,” she started, only removing her hand, which had begun tracing lazy circles along Grace’s thigh, to sip from her own drink. “Tell me there are photos of high school Grace I can bribe Sage or River for.” She said with a grin. “Yeah?” Harley asked, brow inching upward. “What’s your read on me? Night we met No bulllshit, I’ll totally know.” She warned, grin creeping onto her lips. She wouldn’t, but still. She was nothing if not a bullshitter. Harley was aware she often made quite the first impression – albeit, it was rarely a great one. She’d never aspired to be great – but she was alright with memorable. Of course, she’d never bothered to ask. Especially not her very charming, very attractive one-time arresting officer. Harley again tilted her head back in laughter at that snort. “It’s my favorite part of the job. Never stop.” She said, words ringing with surprising sincerity. She breathed a laugh, resting an elbow on the bar. “Course we are.” She said, only momentarily looking almost wistfully at the other. “Dunno whether I feel better or worse having you keepin’ Orlando safe. Couldn’t name a better person for the job but…” she trailed off, brows furrowing for a moment as she idly picked at a slightly frayed hem of her shirt, trying to find the words. “Kinda hate the idea of you bein’ in danger to keep the city safe. Nothing against Orlando but if I had to pick, I’m savin’ you every time.” She admitted. An airy laugh followed her words, an attempt to mask the seriousness of her words – but there was little question as her green eyes flickered back up to Grace that she meant them. Her smile came easy and her head cocked slightly to the side. “Don’t go spreadin’ that around, sunshine. You’re gonna break a lot of hearts.” That damned Southern accent that often tinged her words had found itself creeping in, and she’d hardly taken notice.
Harley laughed, putting her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “The heart wants what it wants, pretty girl.” She rationalized, as if that were all there possibly was to it. A surprised chortle escaped her. “That an offer?” She asked, brow raised and expression twisting into a teasing smirk. Her eyes widened. “Pepper spray? Fuck, why did they pepper spray you? Some kind of twisted hazing bullshit, or is it actually some sardonic training thing?” She asked, taking another drink. She almost laughed at the girl’s expression at the second bottle – she wasn't wrong, it had definitely not been her best blind choice. She returned her bottle to the bar, eyes scanning Grace’s features like she needed to be able to recite them perfectly from memory. She could, she was sure of that much. An almost startled breath passed her lips as Grace grazed her lip. Harley felt an almost unfamiliar spark – a sort of giddy nervousness that made her feel both on top of the world, and like she’d come tumbling down any second. She welcomed that fall, though. And Harley Lane had never been a girl afraid of jumping. She leaned forward, letting her worry about ruining this, whatever it was was, fall silent as she brought her lips to Grace’s. It was a gentle kiss, fingers creeping lightly up the other girl’s neck. She forgot, in that moment, that she was at her place of employment, a crowded bar, nonetheless. The world was full of static and a tense relief that she would gladly hang onto for a lifetime, if she could.
