Harley/Ivy ficlet

[gargoylekitty]

Something I was randomly musing over though changed before going where I was thinking of making it...
My only issue with it is I'm not sure I'm writing Ivy very well. I've actually written more of this already though am not sure what to do with it so, *shrug*

The bed shifts. A movement that's barely noticable yet enough for Ivy. Even with her eyes still closed she can tell the bedside light's been turned on. The faint noises are someone getting dressed. A drawer opens and closes. A note is written. The light goes off and she opens her eyes watching the vague dark shadow of her friend and sometimes lover as she goes. The door opens pouring the dim light of the building's hallway into the room. Quickly she closes her eyes, willing that when they opened again her wish would come true. The door closes.

Cautiously she opens one eye and then the other. It never comes true.

With a sigh, now more awake than asleep, she sits up and turns the bedside lamp back on. Standing the pale green skinned woman doesn't even bother getting dressed as she makes her way to the modest kitchen. In a few moments she returns to the bed, a cup of juice in one hand, the note that'd been left in the other.

She didn't use to leave a note. Then one day Ivy'd yelled at her, told her how it felt waking up to no sign that someone hadn't just come in and taken her away. In retrospect Ivy'd tell herself those words hadn't meant as much as someone would take them to mean. Her interest in the clown girl was purely in the name of sex and, maybe, someone to watch her back during the more complex 'missions'. Granted 4 out of 5 times in which they'd find themselves apprehended it was the blonde's fault, Ivy found that to be entirely beside the point. Taking a sip of the juice she skims the hastily written words.

'Ivy,

Was fun seeing you again though with Mister J out of the big house I best be getting back. See ya later.

Your bestest gal pal,

Harley'

Setting down her glass she stands, crumbling the note and throwing it to her closest carnivorous plant who happily devours it despite the lack of nutrition. For a moment she feels herself getting angry. A brief flash of something she refuses to call jealousy. And, finally, sadness. She sits down on the bed, the weight of her emotions making standing difficult.

"Don't do it. Not over her. Don't." She whispers to herself pulling her legs up on the bed and wrapping her arms around them. Yet it happens. While not of the same compound of water, lipids, prolactin, and various other attributes as most people's tears, her eyes grow moist. A mildly acidic liquid drips down her face and, as she lies to rest her head on a pillow, leaves tiny holes in the bedding where it lands.

After all this time she'd thought she'd be used to it, adapting and developing an immunity in the ways her plants did. When that failed she'd even attempted to experiment on herself, the result leaving her more plant than ever before yet with her human emotions still holding strong. In fact, it was worse now than ever before. She felt used. She felt betrayed. She felt alone.

The sounds of her crying gets to be so loud she doesn't hear the door as it opens and closes, nor the small sound of surprise that escapes the lips of the woman in the doorway. Though the voice, the question, she hears that.

"Red?"

Comments

[r-e-a-f.livejournal.com]

Damnit! Don't you dare end it there!

You have the Harley/Ivy relationship down to a T.

I'm not that sold on the acidic tears, but hey she's part plant so it could happen.

A great ficlet, Can I have some more please?

[kozispoon.livejournal.com]

I love LOVE Harley and Ivy, and while I am no fan of slashy fics whatsoever, there's something about these two and the way you wrote them that has me eating my own words.
I personally think the acid tears are a great touch- it makes Ivy more inhuman despite the fact she's grappling with pesky things like jealousy and grief. Its a fascinating juxtapose. :)