Fic: "Glass", Harley/Batman, PG
Hello. I'm piecesofalice.
And I'm a Harley Quinn/Batman 'shipper.
"Hi, Piecesof!"
Not to say they're exactly a pairing you can 'ship, per se, but I love the idea of their dynamic and wow, hot, wow. So I wrote this to make bantha_fodder go "LOL OMG", and she did, and now you can read it too.
Title: Glass
Fandom: Batman, Harley Quinn/Batman
Rating: Uh...M?
Disclaimer: DC's, not mine.
Glass
Batverse, Harley/Batman
----
For Pennifer.
---
She was beautiful like glass, especially when splintered across the ground like this.
Her hand, bent back behind her head by his leathered glove, as the stage makeup ran down her face - her costume torn and ravaged by exposed nails and bat-shaped weapons, by injuries caused by a fly-by-night fight that they never finished and probably never would.
She snapped and fought, the spit from the venemence struck his face, her teeth bared in a nasty scowl as one shoeless foot paused in the scuffle to slide between his legs in the elegantly wasted way he'd come to know as her fighting style.
"C'mere, sweetheart, I can feel you wanna take me."
And she could, because he did, even if it meant being cut by the shards.
---
When she'd been thrown aside by The Joker, she hung up her red and black Lycra for a twelve hour day in a Gotham diner. A rehabilitation program, complete with a parole officer on her heels and an electronic bracelet around her leg, for a broken woman who hadn't wanted to be rehabilitated in the first place but was willing to give it a try for the sake of her obsessively broken heart.
For two weeks, he'd watched, going in every lunch disguised as a wharf worker and waiting...waiting...waiting for her to not just give up but give in.
Two weeks and one day was all it took, before her leg bracelet was found wandering the back docks on the neck of a mongrel and there were flashes of red and black diamonds across the Gotham skyline once more.
---
"I honestly thought you had a chance, Harley."
"Shutup," she'd spat, coating his words in the stupidity they deserved with her tone. "Don't even pretend, sugar, to understand me."
Blue eyes to blue eyes, stupid costume to stupid costume. It all screamed into focus and seemed so ridiculous, so inappropriate as the wind whipped around their ears and Gotham slept below them.
He touched her face, ignoring the greasepaint and blood, and, for a moment - for a second - there they were.
Then, like always, she kneed him in the balls and got away, leaving him smarting again.
---
She slipped through his bedroom window without a silencer, pressing the barrel of her popgun against his head. Large, oversized Chanel sunglasses framed her face, her hair pulled back into a blonde bun and her body clothed in a bright, red trench coat. It was noon, and he was asleep, and she was there and any pretence he'd had of his identity being a secret from her was shattered, again, like glass.
They were kissing before he could stop himself, The Bat and the Harlequin; throwing the sunglasses to the floor and pulling her down onto his naked body and bed.
She bit his shoulder and it hurt, just like he'd thought it would.
Still, they fondled and played and arched closer to the line between lover and enemy, and he could feel every inch of his body being pinched by sharp, razored shards.
Like strong, beautiful glass.
--------
Fin.
--------
LOL that was actually good.
In other news: I got a Norrington action figure in the mail today. Expect my housemates to tease me unrationably. And my fic for the vote_petrelli Fic-a-thon is finished, with less than twenty-four hours to go.
GO TEAM PIECES.
And I'm a Harley Quinn/Batman 'shipper.
"Hi, Piecesof!"
Not to say they're exactly a pairing you can 'ship, per se, but I love the idea of their dynamic and wow, hot, wow. So I wrote this to make bantha_fodder go "LOL OMG", and she did, and now you can read it too.
Title: Glass
Fandom: Batman, Harley Quinn/Batman
Rating: Uh...M?
Disclaimer: DC's, not mine.
Glass
Batverse, Harley/Batman
----
For Pennifer.
---
She was beautiful like glass, especially when splintered across the ground like this.
Her hand, bent back behind her head by his leathered glove, as the stage makeup ran down her face - her costume torn and ravaged by exposed nails and bat-shaped weapons, by injuries caused by a fly-by-night fight that they never finished and probably never would.
She snapped and fought, the spit from the venemence struck his face, her teeth bared in a nasty scowl as one shoeless foot paused in the scuffle to slide between his legs in the elegantly wasted way he'd come to know as her fighting style.
"C'mere, sweetheart, I can feel you wanna take me."
And she could, because he did, even if it meant being cut by the shards.
---
When she'd been thrown aside by The Joker, she hung up her red and black Lycra for a twelve hour day in a Gotham diner. A rehabilitation program, complete with a parole officer on her heels and an electronic bracelet around her leg, for a broken woman who hadn't wanted to be rehabilitated in the first place but was willing to give it a try for the sake of her obsessively broken heart.
For two weeks, he'd watched, going in every lunch disguised as a wharf worker and waiting...waiting...waiting for her to not just give up but give in.
Two weeks and one day was all it took, before her leg bracelet was found wandering the back docks on the neck of a mongrel and there were flashes of red and black diamonds across the Gotham skyline once more.
---
"I honestly thought you had a chance, Harley."
"Shutup," she'd spat, coating his words in the stupidity they deserved with her tone. "Don't even pretend, sugar, to understand me."
Blue eyes to blue eyes, stupid costume to stupid costume. It all screamed into focus and seemed so ridiculous, so inappropriate as the wind whipped around their ears and Gotham slept below them.
He touched her face, ignoring the greasepaint and blood, and, for a moment - for a second - there they were.
Then, like always, she kneed him in the balls and got away, leaving him smarting again.
---
She slipped through his bedroom window without a silencer, pressing the barrel of her popgun against his head. Large, oversized Chanel sunglasses framed her face, her hair pulled back into a blonde bun and her body clothed in a bright, red trench coat. It was noon, and he was asleep, and she was there and any pretence he'd had of his identity being a secret from her was shattered, again, like glass.
They were kissing before he could stop himself, The Bat and the Harlequin; throwing the sunglasses to the floor and pulling her down onto his naked body and bed.
She bit his shoulder and it hurt, just like he'd thought it would.
Still, they fondled and played and arched closer to the line between lover and enemy, and he could feel every inch of his body being pinched by sharp, razored shards.
Like strong, beautiful glass.
--------
Fin.
--------
LOL that was actually good.
In other news: I got a Norrington action figure in the mail today. Expect my housemates to tease me unrationably. And my fic for the vote_petrelli Fic-a-thon is finished, with less than twenty-four hours to go.
GO TEAM PIECES.