Star taking her hand in her own surprises her for a moment, eyes widening only a fraction, but she’s quick to school her expression. Touches are still strange for her, especially when they’re so gentle and caring. Harley’s too used to Joker and how everything had traipsed in their relationship. Star is nothing like him; she’s attentive and it makes Harley’s heart lift ever so slightly, hope an ever dangerous thing. It makes her bite down on her bottom lip ever so slightly —— she knows that she’s falling, no matter how hard she keeps trying to stomp her foot down on the brakes. She hadn’t meant to feel this way; things have just carefully started to tip toe in that direction, no matter how many times she tries to dig her heels in and stop it. Star is an unmovable force, a cosmic entity driving into her at such a high speed that her head still hasn’t grasped that she’s in her orbit.
A small nod is all she gives Star in response; she knows how hard it is to find words sometimes, and she’s nothing but patient with her. She helps her when she can, but is never cruel about it —— people don’t have to know anything, and Star’s trying her best to learn.
Warmth floods her when she feels the full length of her torso press against her side, and then a leg is swinging over her thighs. Eyes soften ever so slightly, her free hand reaching out to settle on her thigh, thumb sweeping back and forth to keep herself occupied and to provide an ounce of comfort in return. Star doesn’t have to be doing any of this; she’s doing it because Harley’s affectionate by nature, wants to be all up in someone’s space in order to feel wanted, needed. Her other hand is still trapped, but she doesn’t mind it. Instead, she leans her head against the cushion and allows her eyes to drift along Star’s face, taking in the passion in her voice as she speaks.
It’s easy to forget that Star isn’t from here, that she’s an alien and a princess on top of that. How much adversary has she faced since joining the Titans? Even Supes didn’t have an easy time in Gotham, and he was a good guy. It makes her want to reach out, makes her want to pull her close and protect her. Star doesn’t need her protection and she knows it; the lasers that can easily manifest are more than enough to fend for herself, never mind the sheer wit that drives her. Sometimes she thinks that if the Titans didn’t have her, they’d be nothing. Just some losers in capes, running around wanting to pretend that they have some semblance of relevance along themselves. Her mind drifts back to the hesitance of Cyborg, the slight understanding in Beast Boy, but the overall denial and pure annoyance from Robin. And he called the shots, so the Titans naturally followed. Part of her wants to take Star away from them and see them scramble to try and pick up the pieces. She wants them to know how damn beautiful and powerful Starfire actually is.
It’s selfish and she refuses to do it, refuses to bring someone else down with her. She’s done it to Selina and Pam entirely too many times now —— and she might love Star just a little bit more than them. The sheer thought makes her heart race, and she lets out a shaky breath that she tries to contain.
Swallowing thickly, Harley feels her eyes prick ever so slightly, burning with the emotions that are beginning to rise. It’s not often that she cries, especially in front of others; but no one has ever told her that they were proud of her. Their proud always came with conditions, half heartedness because they knew that she’d go back, that they were proud in the moment but that was about it. Her fingers shake slightly against the alien’s skin, and she closes her eyes for a moment. She tries to swallow down the emotion and focus herself, but it’s hard. It’s hard when she can’t focus on anything but the way that Star’s words echo around in her head, a food for thought, being filed away where good memories lay. Her fingers twitch ever so slightly with the effort to hold back, and she manages to let out a shaky breath that almost comes out as a laugh. Not at Star, but because of the joy that is starting to fill her chest where it’s once ached.
❝ The word you’re looking for is proud, love. ❞ Her voice is quiet, accent clipped ever so slightly, and she squeezes the firm thigh underneath her grasp. Everything is making her head spin and she’s not sure how to ground herself, not when she feels like she’s flying, like maybe there’s a gift looking at her right now. Maybe everything is meant to happen for a reason, a soft link to the world, someone who pulls her down and anchors her as much as letting her float.
She knows that she should get home; Bud and Lou are going to be whiny in the morning if she doesn’t, and Ivy gets cranky if she leaves them with her for long. But she can’t bring herself to dislodge from Star’s grip, her eyes soft and blue eyes open, vulnerable. It isn’t often that she allows herself to be like this, especially after everything that’s happened.
❝ Yeah, yeah I can stay. Maybe we can watch a movie, yeah? ❞ And Harley can feel her heart beating hard, her eyes sweeping all along Star’s face. Every part of her wants to say more, wants to thank her, but she just can’t. Words evade her right now, and it’s rare that that happens. Then again, Star’s doing that a lot to her, making rare instances occur where she never thought they would.
And then, because she can’t keep herself from doing it any longer, she leans forward and cradles Star’s cheek in her palm, pressing their noses together, and then their lips. It’s tentative and patient, unsure as to if she’s reading all the signs right or if it’s nothing more than wishful thinking.
She’ll have Star either way; friend or lover, it doesn’t matter which to her.
“Proud,” she repeats, a grin carving deep into a tan silhouette, evoking dimples, cracking marble. She’s never known such patience from another, has never been familiar with willing aid in both the English language and other Earthly means. Has never been reassured from an accompanied tender touch. “I am proud of you.” There! Fixed it! Plus, it definitely needed to be reiterated. She even adds another touch of her own, a brush of fingertips across knuckles, but not to mirror the same assurance she received prior. No, this is completely and utterly out of sheer adoration.
“I’m proud of what you are, what you did to get where you are, and for everything that you will be. An infinite amount of the pride.” So much so, her chest hurts from where it’s being contained. Mixed with love, sprinkled with joy that intertwines with beatitude.
“A movie!” She perks right up then. Head lifts from the couch cushion and eyes expand with enthusiasm. “Can we watch the one with the animated dogs that eat the pasta?” Lady and the Tramp. She means Lady and the Tramp. A full grown woman’s favorite movies are the ones by Disney, sue her. “I haven’t seen it yet but I see the picture every time I go onto the streaming service’s front page. Oh they look so cute, Harley.” There’s a dreamy look in her eyes, very teenage. She blames the hollow drumming of wings that flap and batter against the lining of her stomach-- all nine of them.
But then there’s a palm to her cheek. But then there’s a kiss. But then there’s fireworks. Cliche, she knows. But what else could be used to describe the burst of colors that flash bright behind eyelids with an impact that ruptures every sense from eruption that occurs behind the plate of her chest? There’s a vehement b a n g followed by a series of muffled b o o m s. It’s the aftershock of an earthquake. And Harley Quinn was the epicenter.
She reciprocates, of course she does. Her heart wills it, her atoms plead for it. There’s another smile, still the same one from earlier, just taking a different form. It’s a little smaller, but remains more genuine than ever. She presses back and there’s no doubt that Harley can feel it. A smile transplant, if you will. But she has to pull away, only just, only briefly, to reopen her eyes and to let that smile of hers broaden and brighten. It’s blinding and brilliant. She’s afraid she won’t be able to share a second kiss with the other with the ache in her cheeks from the corners of her mouth being hiked and pulled.
“I love you. Do you know that?” A hand lifts, untangling from Harley’s fingers and touching the curve of her jaw, grin still plastered. “I know there are different types of love, I’m pretty good at identifying them. And I think the one that I have for you is more than the one that is found in friendship.” A pause, smile thinning to something warmer, something doting. And that hand and those fingers that linger around a pale profile slide further down to tilt a chin up so that she may indulge in a second kiss. Soft. Slow, painfully slow. Heart breaks, leaving behind a piece on Harley’s lips. “I am in the love with you.” She’s so sure of it. She’s so sure of it.
“I care a lot about you. Immensely and irrevocably so. I also care a lot about the people and things you surround yourself with. Including both your friends and enemies. And your canine companions, which I know are home alone right now. So if you still wish to watch a movie with me, I do not mind doing the waiting, for you to leave and return. I could even fly you myself.” Hand slides down from a chin, fingers trailing the length of a neck before resting a palm against a pulse point. “Or if it is easier for you, we could watch the movie at your place. I have no preference.” Fingertips stretch, nails lightly scratching along a blonde hairline. “I just want to be with you.”
In any way.
In every way.
In any way.
In every way.
2087
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