revmeup | call me out

Harley flips the good doctor double birds on their way out the room and takes a moment to apologize to Mr. David for the upcoming temper tantrum after slamming the door shut.

She slings an arm around Malcolm's shoulders and leans against him.

"You good, babe?"

Martin follows them as far as the lead will allow him, staring after them through the window in the door. "Pity you're leaving so soon," Martin says, looking at Harley. "I was going to offer my assistance to you with your work. I understand you've been interviewing Peter Smithson."

Malcolm glances at his father and then back at Harley, wondering how she'll react to that. "Yeah. Are you?"

Edited 2020-07-22 01:19 (UTC)

Harley doesn't pay Martin's parting shot any mind. He's already dead to her. Peter Smithson runs his mouth for anyone who will listen, and it's no surprise word of her work has reached Martin.

"Me? I'm peachy." She kisses Malcolm on the cheek. "I think that went well, don't you?"

"Hey!" Martin calls after them, the facade falling. "Don't you dare leave yet. I have questions and you know I'll get my answers. Don't think you're going to date my son without my blessing."

Malcolm squeezes Harley's hand and does not turn around to look at his father's tantrum behind them. He just keeps walking, focusing on the door in front of them.

Harley really intended to ignore Martin, but she can't help but react at him falling apart so predictably, so fast. Her laugh is loud and brash, echoing through the hall. That sound will be ringing in his ears for some time after. She has to lean against the wall once they're through the door before her knees buckle from cackling too hard.

The way she laughs sends a shiver up his spine and he wonders, for a brief second, if he just saw Harley the way she was when she was with Joker. Was her cackling just an act for Martin's benefit or did she forget herself for a moment.

Malcolm wraps his arms around her so that she doesn't fall to the ground. "Are you alright?" he asks, brow furrowed.

Harley slips her arms around him and pulls him in for a kiss. She's high off the win, and the tension of a fight in the air needs somewhere to go now that she didn't get an excuse to beat Martin to a pulp.

"I am great. But what about you?"

"Fine," he replies, returning the kiss. He's not actually sure how he is after all that, but it could probably have gone worse. When Malcolm looks down at his hand, it's still shaking. He runs the trembling hand through his hair.

Maybe he's not fine.

Harley clocks that tremble and takes his hand in hers.

"Let's go home."

She leads him out of the building and hails a cab. She guesses he won't want to open up with a stranger in the car so she waits until they get home to press him.

"Talk to me. What are you feeling?"

Malcolm hates that he's panicking. He holds her hand in the cab the whole way home and sits down on the couch as soon as he's back in the apartment.

"It's... the yelling," he says. Malcolm has faced down a hundred serial killers who have yelled far worse things at him and he's hardly batted an eyelash. Martin Whitly is the only one who gets under his skin, and for obvious reasons. "And then you laughed, and..."

"My laugh?" She sits next to him and puts one hand on his back and the other on his thigh. She doesn't see what her laugh has to do with it. And, it had been funny, hadn't it? Sometimes it's hard for her to know.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have suggested it."

Malcolm shakes his head. "No, it was good. It needed to be done." He doesn't regret it, even if it had triggered a panic attack in him. That's just how it is sometimes after he visits his father.

"Your laugh was just... maniacal sounding, though it was probably just me. I was already upset after he suggested he I needed his approval to date you."

It's honestly stupid. Martin probably can't do anything to them, but he still has a mental hold over Malcolm after all this time.

"We don't need his approval for jack shit."

She wants to pull him into her arms and hold him the rest of the day, but she doesn't want to overwhelm him. Especially when she worries she was part of what set him off.

"Were you ... scared of me?"

He furrows his brow. "Not... exactly. It was just kind of shocking after dealing with my father." Malcolm looks up at her. "When I heard you laugh like that, for some reason it made me think of when you used to be with Joker."

Not that he really knew her then, but that crazy laugh had to be related to that time in her life. Even if he wasn't afraid of her, it was still chilling.

She sighs when she thinks of her time with the Joker, and it's not entirely regretful. "He did make me laugh like that," she murmurs, almost to herself. There had been good times. Well, good for them. Not for anyone caught in their storm.

"I didn't stop being that person. I'm...trying. To be less..." She stops and furrows her brow, chews on her lip. It's hard to explain, and maybe not the time.

Malcolm squeezes her hand. He knows she had some good times with him. She wouldn't have stayed with him if it was all bad.

"I know." He nods. "You're trying very hard. I don't fault you for your past, Harley." His eyes turn up towards her then. "It's okay."

Harley smooths his hair back with her free hand and presses her lips to his temple. It's not as okay as he says, and she could be trying harder, but that's not the conversation they need to be having right now.

"Do you want me to grab your pills?"

"Yeah." He hates having to take them when he gets like this, but at least when Harley's around, it's more bearable. While he loves being strong for her and being her protector, he knows he doesn't need to be that to her all the time. He can show vulnerability around her and she won't love him less.

After she gets his pills and he takes one, he sighs and pulls her in close again, tucking her head under his chin. "Thanks. For today."

Harley wraps her arms around him and rubs his back. She's happy to be held by him anytime, even when he needs to be the one comforted.

"Sure, I'll sass your dad anytime you want, no prob. I'm real good at it." Martin has set up quite a comfortable routine for himself. It's high time somebody inconvenienced him.

She's more comforting than she gives herself credit for. Malcolm can't help but think that she's always been that way, even if she insists that she's not a nice person.

"You are really good at it," he agrees with a small smile. "I think he likes you though."

"Everybody likes me," she asserts despite all evidence to the contrary. Universally liked people have not had nearly so many attempts on their lives, but she tends to figure if she survived then they didn't really mean it.

"Probably the next time he tries to talk to me," and there will be a next time. Martin is too clever to be avoided forever. "He'll have some bullshit speech ready about what could have been if he'd been my patient instead of the Joker. I get that one a lot. It's super boring." Narcissists tend to love the idea of having someone find them so irresistibly amazing that they can't help but follow their every whim like a loyal dog. She's been sent a lot of "fan" letters.

"I'd say we're about equal when it comes to likability," Malcolm answers, meaning that both of them are an acquired taste. Their strangeness is part of what keeps them together.

He gives her a slight raise of an eyebrow. "If that's his way of hitting on you, then I'll stab him myself. Again." Malcolm can be a little possessive when it comes to the beautiful woman in his lap, especially where his father is concerned. That nightmare had sickened him. He'd rather die than see Harley with his father.

Harley raises her brows and her lips quirk into a little smile. "I probably shouldn't think that's one of the hottest things you've said to me, huh?" She kisses the corner of his mouth and rubs the back of his neck.

"It's got nothing to do with me, just stroking their own egos. Nothing to worry about."

"You're allowed to think it's hot," he says. "I understand why." And while he still doesn't think he has it in him to kill, if his father tried to do anything to Harley Malcolm would definitely hurt him. Even if she can protect herself, he still feels protective towards the woman he loves.

"As long as that's the only thing he's stroking," Malcolm murmurs, turning his head to nuzzle her cheek. "You're mine."

"Yours," she practically purrs in answer. Her arms slip around him and her fingers grip the back of his jacket. "Nobody else's, just for you."

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