Ember ; Harley Quinn

• three •

Y/n's POV:

"Did you know that Psychology states falling in love has a similar neurological effect as getting high on cocaine?" Harley asked while we sat up in the VIP area.

I raised an eyebrow, shaking my head, "I didn't know that."

"Yeah... I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It was just random and sometimes I just blurt things out." Harley cleared her throat.

"You don't have to apologize, Harley. It was an interesting fact." I smiled kindly at the woman.

"Mr. J hated when I told him random facts. He said that, that wasn't who I was anymore. I wasn't some woman with a college degree. This was a new life, a new beginning." Harley explained, sitting criss cross in the booth.

I nodded to show I was listening, taking a sip of my glass of water, "You're broken up now so you're free to do and say whatever you want. Fuck him."

"Yeah! Fuck him!" Harley giggled, drinking the fruity drink she ordered through her straw.

"Have you ever been in love?" I asked softly, tearing my eyes away from the night scene downstairs.

"Yeah, I thought Mr. J was the one. I've also done a lot of cocaine though so I can confirm the fact is true."

I laughed, "Thats great. I want to hear another fact."

"Okay," Harley hummed, "I really want to dance right now."

"Then what are you still sitting up here for?" I asked.

Harley stood up, out stretching her hand towards me, "I want to dance with you, silly! Come on, we're both drunk and I want to have some more fun!"

I blew out a breath, shrugging my shoulders while I took her hand. Harley squealed and pulled me to my feet, dragging me to the dance floor.

Harley shoved people of out our way, making it dead center while the dj switched up the music.  Both of us danced to the music, feeling the bass vibrate in my chest as Harley turned around and started grinding against me. My hands fell to her hips, both of us lost in a drunken haze.

"I didn't know you had a tattoo!" Harley slurred, rolling my sleeve up the rest of the way to reveal the Medusa portrait with roses.

"Got it when I turned sixteen." I told her, looking at the ink on my skin.

Harley traced her fingers along the line work, sweaty bodies of people of all ages dancing around us.

"You got any plans tomorrow, shot buyer?" Harley grinned.

I snorted at the nickname, rolling my sleeve back down to cover the ink, "Nursing a hangover I'm sure."

"Perfect! I know a cute little sandwich shop that makes the best egg sandwiches. Wanna go?" Harley bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

I bit the inside of my cheek contemplating on what I should do. Go out in the city with one of Gotham's most wanted, and strike the possibility of my father finding out... or, say fuck it and grab a bite to eat anyways.

My father did say that he was going to put Harley in Arkham at some point, maybe I could help. Maybe it didn't have to come down to a fight between the two, resulting in her running away or something worse happening. Maybe I could do this the easy way.

I shrugged, "Sure, sounds fun."

Harley jumped up and down, shooting her hands in the air, "Yes! I'll see you there, y/n/n."

Harley patted my chest before disappearing further into the crowd. I made my way off the dance floor, finding a more secluded spot in the club to take a breather.