Harley whines in protest but the growl of her stomach, which hasn't known a full meal in weeks, overrules her. She disentangles their limbs and rolls off him, setting him free at last.
She sits up and stares blearily around the room, clearly not entirely awake yet.
"You're still here," Gale reassures. When he sits up, he presses a kiss to her forehead, where a vicious bruise is spreading in sickly shades of yellow as it heals. "Sleep as long as you like. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."
It's hard to say how much time passes, whether Harley drifted back off and for how long, but eventually the smell of bacon sneaks into the bedroom to rouse her.
She makes a pleased little noise at the kiss and wraps herself back up in the blanket. She sleeps another hour before wandering into the kitchen, his stolen shirt hanging off her shoulders. Her time away took a toll on her, and she doesn't have a magical ring to hide behind anymore.
Harley shuffles up behind him and leans against his back, her forehead pressing between his shoulder blades.
Gale freezes with his knife halfway through a strawberry. Harley is warm against his back, and part of him worries that any sudden movement will chase her away and ruin everything. "Good morning." He does eventually start chopping again, movements slow so that he doesn't jostle her. "It would really be more accurate to say that I contain a volatile magical sphere, but in effect, that would be a fair, if reductive, statement." He casts mage hand to flip the bacon over the fire so that he doesn't have to move.
When he laughs, it shakes her too. "Well, in that case, you've come to the right place. Maybe that's what drew you here. A tressym hurling fireballs and a man who's a bomb."
Harley has never been touch averse, but the casual affection is new. He had realized just how much he missed it until this moment, and he rocks back on his heels a little, pressing closer. "I decided to make crepes. There are sweet ones, accompanied by berries and cream, along with savory ones with bacon and roasted onions and potatoes. I thought you were probably hungry after all that time spent in the underdark."
Harley laughs too. He's not wrong, really. Tara's fireball had charmed her immediately and Gale's weird haunting secret definitely piqued her interest.
Her stomach growls again as he describes the meal and the little noise of want she makes is, honestly? Slightly obscene.
"Oh fuck, more than you can even imagine."
She steps away from him to pour tea, because of course he would already have tea ready, and sit at the table.
"I was eating a lot of spider, at the end. Good source of protein, actually."
And she's kissed his face! With her mouth that had spiders in it! By transitive property, he has now been smooched by spiders.
Gale notices the noise she makes and what it sounds like, but tries to put
it out of his mind. Gods, it's been a long time since anyone has paid
attention to him in that way, but that's no excuse for inappropriate
thoughts about a friend with no such interest in him. He's relieved when
she steps away, though he feels a bit bad about being relieved. If there's
one things he's good at, it's tying himself in metal knots.
"Could you pour me a cup as well?" By now, he doesn't even need to tell her
how he takes his tea. "I'll get our plates."
Gale looks at her with the disgusted expression of a man who has lived in a
city his whole life and never once needed to contemplate eating a spider.
"You ate a spider." It's not a question, because he believes her,
though he wishes he didn't. He's had enough debates with Tara over whether
eating pigeons is any different than eating chicken (it is, he says), but
eating spider is a bridge too far. Several bridges too far. "Well, I'm
fairly confident that I can top that meal any day."
He didn't bother to ask her what she wanted because he had apparently
decided that she wanted everything, and a lot of it. In fact, he sets two
plates in front of her, one for sweet and the other for savory, before
sitting across from her with his own more modest portions.
There is a second cup for him before he even asks, waiting in his spot at the table.
"Spiders, plural. Real crunchy guys." She will keep this in her pocket and share the gory details whenever she feels like he needs to be shoved out of his comfort zone.
She sits up straight when two full plates are set in front of her. Gods, he knows her so well. She might actually cry from happiness.
"Oh my gods, look at it all. Can I keep you? Please?"
"Surely, you at least cooked them?" He's hopeful, though he's not sure how
much of an improvement it would be.
He laughs, a bit bashful, but he's also preening under the praise. "I'm not
planning on going anywhere." At least, not anytime soon, though the orb
could change that. But there's no need to bring that up now.
She arches a brow but doesn't answer. Let him ponder the question in private torment. There is a breakfast feast to address. She loads up her fork and talks with her mouth full. "True, it is your house." Not tower. "So I guess you have to be the one to keep me."
He hadn't thought he was very hungry while he was cooking, but now that the
food is in front of him, his stomach growls. With the arcane hunger sated,
more mundane hunger has a chance to rise to the surface. He loads his fork,
though his manners remain intact. "I dare say Tara would claim that she is
the one keeping both of us."
For a few moments, they just eat in silence, too focused on food.
Eventually, Gale clears his throat. "I... Do you have any... Questions for
me? About this recent discovery?" Now that all his cards are on the table,
it only feels fair to ask.
She shrugs and nods. It's true. Tara rules the roost.
"Yes!" She points the fork at him and waggles it like a scolding finger. "You're going to show me all your research and notes, because obviously you've been keeping records. And you're going to take off your shirt. And! You're going to pay for a full cosmetic set because you broke my ring."
"Those are all demands, not questions," he retorts, brandishing his own fork to point at her, a war of silverware. "Anyway, what do you mean, 'take off my shirt'? There's no cause for that. You've already ripped open one shirt, you saw the mark, what more is there to be gained?" With the hand not holding the fork, he hooks his finger in his collar and tugs it down a little. "See? It looks the same as it always does. I don't mind showing you my research, though. Of course Tara and I have been keeping records."
He at least has the decency to look contrite when he says, "I will buy you a cosmetic set, or replace the ring, of course."
"I saw the mark. I didn't look at the mark. Has a doctor been doing regular physical exams? Hmm? Bet not. Bet you've only thought about magic effects and solutions." Friggin' wizards. Makes her mad just thinking about it. She takes that anger out by spearing a chunk of potato.
She chews like she has a personal vendetta against crepes and shakes her head. "Ring is from Feywild. You're not gonna replace it." She tips her head, a little thoughtful, and smirks at him. "And anyway, it's much too early to be shopping for rings. I haven't even met your mother yet!" A flutter of lashes. "But of course I'll say yes anyway."
He throws both hands up in exasperation. "I've seen healers and chirurgeons, there's nothing they can do for this," he tells her. "It's... it's a magical orb!" That's an oversimplification, but it will do for the sake of argument. "Of course the solution is going to be magical in nature!" He shakes his head. It's not as if a chirurgeon could open him up and there, near his heart, would be a nasty little black pearl of malevolence, as easily plucked out and disposed of as a splinter. Nothing in his life could ever be so easy.
"Yes, well, I may not be able to replace that exact ring, but I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult to find something of a similar--" He stops talking as suddenly as if he had run into a wall once the rest of her words catch up to him. His blush strikes his cheeks first, but keeps marching south through the wilds of his beard before conquering his neck as well. He sputters, tries to say at least three different sentences at one time, then drinks some of his tea to cover while he takes a moment to think. It's still too hot, but at least his burned tongue gives him something to narrow his focus. "If I were going to propose, or even talk about proposing to someone, I'm far too much of a romantic to bring it up offhandedly over breakfast." No, there would be moonlight and flowers and poetry. He grins, "Besides, you've given me far more rings thus far than the reverse. Ought I to expect a proposal from you in the near future?"
"You haven't seen me," she shoots back. She's part of this now, and already proven that she is perfectly willing to ruin shirts. Gods above and below, are there no limits to her villainy?
Harley sits back and enjoys the sputtering and blushing with a triumphant grin. He really is the best to tease. She laughs when he turns it back around on her and, horrifyingly, slides out of the chair to sink to one knee beside him. She takes one of his hands in both of hers, looks up and him with eyes full of love and hope, and asks the most romantic question.
"So we doing this or nah?"
Apparently, a bath and a good rest were all she needed to get back to being a general menace.
"Yes, and you mentioned seeing a doctor. Are you secretly a doctor, Harley? A healer, chirurgeon, or cleric?" Some part of him wouldn't be all that surprised. Harley is constantly surprising him. He huffs, waving his fork dismissively, and it might as well be a white flag, because he knows he's lost this argument. "Fine, I'll show you the mark. When we're done eating, you can look your fill, though I'm not sure what good it will do."
When Harley drops to one knee, Gale is at least a little prepared for the obvious next step in her shenanigans. He hums, as if he's genuinely considering it. And for a moment, he can't help but actually imagine it. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? Truly and officially sharing his life with her? He'd like to be married to someone who really loves him someday, he thinks. The thoughts only last a moment before he shakes his head a little to dispell them. Absolutely ridiculous. Pathetic, even. He doesn't even know her last name. And anyway, who in their right mind would want him, a disgraced wizard with a bomb in his chest? As soon as someone shows him an ounce of platonic affection and he's losing his mind. He might not even have a 'someday' to be married on, if he can't solve his problem. He would not be a husband, merely a burden. "Afraid not. I take a bit more wining and dining to woo. Not to mention, you haven't even met my mother." He grins at her and tugs at her hand to help her up. "Maybe another day."
"I'm not secretly a doctor just because you never thought to ask. Lots of people know."
Harley raises a brow and wonders when he will finally accept that she is, truly, the most amazing person in the world. She can do it all.
She sighs with overblown drama at his rejection after she laid her heart on the line. "Aw, dang! Okay, I'll ask again next week." She pulls off the disenchanted ring and slips it on his little finger. "You can keep this anyway."
He raises his eyebrows, lowering a forkful of food that was nearly in his mouth. "Are you a doctor or healer?" He's genuinely not sure whether she's joking. He tends to lean toward assuming that she is, because it would be more embarrassing to think something genuine that she meant as a joke than the reverse, but he's never completely sure. "Can you really blame me? You're hardly forthcoming with details about yourself and your life, and I don't want to press where the intrusion would be unwelcome." As always, he is well mannered.
"I-" but it's already on, and it does fit his pinkie finger, so he has no excuse to take it off. It has lost most of its value when he divested it of its magic, so there's no real reason not to accept. He huffs a little laugh. "Alright. We'll revisit it next week," he says, not actually expecting them to do so, because of course she's only kidding.
"It's more your style anyway." And it does suit him. A simple, thin silver band with a tiny chip of pale purple stone.
She takes the seat across from him again and leans her elbows on the table. "I'm a lot of things, Gale," she coos with a flutter her lashes, "including your future wife." She winks and blows him a kiss, then takes up her fork again. "But yes, I am really a doctor."
She pushes a berry around her plate like it's trying to dodge the subject. "The details are mostly bad." She shrugs, doesn't look at him. The pity is the worst part and she doesn't want to see it from him. "You're sad enough about your own stuff, so what's the point of adding mine? I've already dealt with it."
"Simple?" he asks, jokingly. Nearly everything she's seen him wear thus far has been of good quality, but simply made, nothing ostentatious. He lifts a hand to rotate the ring around his finger until it has made a complete circle. He doesn't know it yet, but this will become one of his common fidgets, the same way he unknowingly toys with his earring.
"Do you work more with spells or scalpels?" She really is a little bit of everything. "I'm not going to be thrilled if you propose cutting me open, just so we're clear."
He frowns, feeling like he's done harm in even bringing it up. "They say that joys shared are doubled, but troubles shared are halved. Anyway, sometimes people tell each other about themselves because they care? It can't all be bad. Being a bard and a doctor aren't bad." Both things he had discovered quite on accident. "How about something easy to start. What's your name? Your full name, I mean. Are you hiding some atrocious middle name?" Is Harley Quinn your birth name, or something you came up with later? That's what he's really wondering, but he supposes she'll tell him as much as she'd like and nothing more anyway.
"I mostly don't work," she non-answers. "Thought you'd figured that one out already." She does a lot of awful things, and even her legitimate jobs are questionable. Gale is a gentleman of great pretensions. She's certain he would not approve.
"My full name is Harleen Frances Quinzel. I'm sure you now see why I abbreviate."
He waves her off, "You know what I mean. If you want to be involved in... this," he puts a hand over the mark on his chest, "I've got to know what your skills are."
He sits back, shaking his head with a smile. "No, I like it. Harleen. Harleen," he tests it out with his typical precision, like memorizing a new word in a foreign tongue. "Thank you for telling me. You know my name already, of course. Gale... Dekarios." Saying it all together like that feels like admitting defeat, like Gale of Waterdeep is already dead, leaving behind his useless, powerless shadow. He tries not to let on, though, keen to prove that he isn't so sad about his own problems that he couldn't bear to hear hers. "Though..." It feels important to offer something in return for this piece of information, even though she already knows his worst secret. "No middle name. My middle name was my father's surname, but as far as I'm concerned, he took it with him when he left."
She sighs, since he seems determined to stay on topic. She sets her fork down and leans back in the chair with her arms folded over her chest. So they've reached the interrogation stage of the relationship.
"My focus is on trauma responses, mental and physical." A pointedly arched brow at his clearly traumatized self. "And there's no way you go through what you're going through without significant strain on several processes. Even without considering magical effects." If he keeps pressing then she'll have to find a copy of her doctorate thesis and hit him in the face with it.
She ... doesn't know how to feel about hearing him say her name. Nobody has called her Harleen in years, and almost never a friend. It's like he's talking about someone else. She doesn't know that woman anymore.
"I think it's a family name? But I don't know for sure. Doesn't matter."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She sits up and stares blearily around the room, clearly not entirely awake yet.
"I'm still here?"
no subject
It's hard to say how much time passes, whether Harley drifted back off and for how long, but eventually the smell of bacon sneaks into the bedroom to rouse her.
no subject
Harley shuffles up behind him and leans against his back, her forehead pressing between his shoulder blades.
"Mm. Hi. Are you a bomb or did I dream that?"
no subject
no subject
"That's okay. I love bombs."
She rises on her toes to drop a light kiss on the back of his head and tucks her chin on his shoulder.
"I have a lot of questions. Most importantly, whatcha cookin'?"
no subject
Harley has never been touch averse, but the casual affection is new. He had realized just how much he missed it until this moment, and he rocks back on his heels a little, pressing closer. "I decided to make crepes. There are sweet ones, accompanied by berries and cream, along with savory ones with bacon and roasted onions and potatoes. I thought you were probably hungry after all that time spent in the underdark."
no subject
Her stomach growls again as he describes the meal and the little noise of want she makes is, honestly? Slightly obscene.
"Oh fuck, more than you can even imagine."
She steps away from him to pour tea, because of course he would already have tea ready, and sit at the table.
"I was eating a lot of spider, at the end. Good source of protein, actually."
And she's kissed his face! With her mouth that had spiders in it! By transitive property, he has now been smooched by spiders.
no subject
Gale notices the noise she makes and what it sounds like, but tries to put it out of his mind. Gods, it's been a long time since anyone has paid attention to him in that way, but that's no excuse for inappropriate thoughts about a friend with no such interest in him. He's relieved when she steps away, though he feels a bit bad about being relieved. If there's one things he's good at, it's tying himself in metal knots.
"Could you pour me a cup as well?" By now, he doesn't even need to tell her how he takes his tea. "I'll get our plates."
Gale looks at her with the disgusted expression of a man who has lived in a city his whole life and never once needed to contemplate eating a spider. "You ate a spider." It's not a question, because he believes her, though he wishes he didn't. He's had enough debates with Tara over whether eating pigeons is any different than eating chicken (it is, he says), but eating spider is a bridge too far. Several bridges too far. "Well, I'm fairly confident that I can top that meal any day."
He didn't bother to ask her what she wanted because he had apparently decided that she wanted everything, and a lot of it. In fact, he sets two plates in front of her, one for sweet and the other for savory, before sitting across from her with his own more modest portions.
no subject
"Spiders, plural. Real crunchy guys." She will keep this in her pocket and share the gory details whenever she feels like he needs to be shoved out of his comfort zone.
She sits up straight when two full plates are set in front of her. Gods, he knows her so well. She might actually cry from happiness.
"Oh my gods, look at it all. Can I keep you? Please?"
no subject
"Surely, you at least cooked them?" He's hopeful, though he's not sure how much of an improvement it would be.
He laughs, a bit bashful, but he's also preening under the praise. "I'm not planning on going anywhere." At least, not anytime soon, though the orb could change that. But there's no need to bring that up now.
no subject
no subject
He hadn't thought he was very hungry while he was cooking, but now that the food is in front of him, his stomach growls. With the arcane hunger sated, more mundane hunger has a chance to rise to the surface. He loads his fork, though his manners remain intact. "I dare say Tara would claim that she is the one keeping both of us."
For a few moments, they just eat in silence, too focused on food. Eventually, Gale clears his throat. "I... Do you have any... Questions for me? About this recent discovery?" Now that all his cards are on the table, it only feels fair to ask.
no subject
"Yes!" She points the fork at him and waggles it like a scolding finger. "You're going to show me all your research and notes, because obviously you've been keeping records. And you're going to take off your shirt. And! You're going to pay for a full cosmetic set because you broke my ring."
None of these, not a one, is actually a question.
no subject
He at least has the decency to look contrite when he says, "I will buy you a cosmetic set, or replace the ring, of course."
no subject
"I saw the mark. I didn't look at the mark. Has a doctor been doing regular physical exams? Hmm? Bet not. Bet you've only thought about magic effects and solutions." Friggin' wizards. Makes her mad just thinking about it. She takes that anger out by spearing a chunk of potato.
She chews like she has a personal vendetta against crepes and shakes her head. "Ring is from Feywild. You're not gonna replace it." She tips her head, a little thoughtful, and smirks at him. "And anyway, it's much too early to be shopping for rings. I haven't even met your mother yet!" A flutter of lashes. "But of course I'll say yes anyway."
no subject
"Yes, well, I may not be able to replace that exact ring, but I'm sure it wouldn't be too difficult to find something of a similar--" He stops talking as suddenly as if he had run into a wall once the rest of her words catch up to him. His blush strikes his cheeks first, but keeps marching south through the wilds of his beard before conquering his neck as well. He sputters, tries to say at least three different sentences at one time, then drinks some of his tea to cover while he takes a moment to think. It's still too hot, but at least his burned tongue gives him something to narrow his focus. "If I were going to propose, or even talk about proposing to someone, I'm far too much of a romantic to bring it up offhandedly over breakfast." No, there would be moonlight and flowers and poetry. He grins, "Besides, you've given me far more rings thus far than the reverse. Ought I to expect a proposal from you in the near future?"
no subject
Harley sits back and enjoys the sputtering and blushing with a triumphant grin. He really is the best to tease. She laughs when he turns it back around on her and, horrifyingly, slides out of the chair to sink to one knee beside him. She takes one of his hands in both of hers, looks up and him with eyes full of love and hope, and asks the most romantic question.
"So we doing this or nah?"
Apparently, a bath and a good rest were all she needed to get back to being a general menace.
no subject
When Harley drops to one knee, Gale is at least a little prepared for the obvious next step in her shenanigans. He hums, as if he's genuinely considering it. And for a moment, he can't help but actually imagine it. It wouldn't be so bad, would it? Truly and officially sharing his life with her? He'd like to be married to someone who really loves him someday, he thinks. The thoughts only last a moment before he shakes his head a little to dispell them. Absolutely ridiculous. Pathetic, even. He doesn't even know her last name. And anyway, who in their right mind would want him, a disgraced wizard with a bomb in his chest? As soon as someone shows him an ounce of platonic affection and he's losing his mind. He might not even have a 'someday' to be married on, if he can't solve his problem. He would not be a husband, merely a burden. "Afraid not. I take a bit more wining and dining to woo. Not to mention, you haven't even met my mother." He grins at her and tugs at her hand to help her up. "Maybe another day."
She's Barbie.
Harley raises a brow and wonders when he will finally accept that she is, truly, the most amazing person in the world. She can do it all.
She sighs with overblown drama at his rejection after she laid her heart on the line. "Aw, dang! Okay, I'll ask again next week." She pulls off the disenchanted ring and slips it on his little finger. "You can keep this anyway."
And he's Galenough
"I-" but it's already on, and it does fit his pinkie finger, so he has no excuse to take it off. It has lost most of its value when he divested it of its magic, so there's no real reason not to accept. He huffs a little laugh. "Alright. We'll revisit it next week," he says, not actually expecting them to do so, because of course she's only kidding.
no subject
She takes the seat across from him again and leans her elbows on the table. "I'm a lot of things, Gale," she coos with a flutter her lashes, "including your future wife." She winks and blows him a kiss, then takes up her fork again. "But yes, I am really a doctor."
She pushes a berry around her plate like it's trying to dodge the subject. "The details are mostly bad." She shrugs, doesn't look at him. The pity is the worst part and she doesn't want to see it from him. "You're sad enough about your own stuff, so what's the point of adding mine? I've already dealt with it."
no subject
"Do you work more with spells or scalpels?" She really is a little bit of everything. "I'm not going to be thrilled if you propose cutting me open, just so we're clear."
He frowns, feeling like he's done harm in even bringing it up. "They say that joys shared are doubled, but troubles shared are halved. Anyway, sometimes people tell each other about themselves because they care? It can't all be bad. Being a bard and a doctor aren't bad." Both things he had discovered quite on accident. "How about something easy to start. What's your name? Your full name, I mean. Are you hiding some atrocious middle name?" Is Harley Quinn your birth name, or something you came up with later? That's what he's really wondering, but he supposes she'll tell him as much as she'd like and nothing more anyway.
no subject
"My full name is Harleen Frances Quinzel. I'm sure you now see why I abbreviate."
no subject
He sits back, shaking his head with a smile. "No, I like it. Harleen. Harleen," he tests it out with his typical precision, like memorizing a new word in a foreign tongue. "Thank you for telling me. You know my name already, of course. Gale... Dekarios." Saying it all together like that feels like admitting defeat, like Gale of Waterdeep is already dead, leaving behind his useless, powerless shadow. He tries not to let on, though, keen to prove that he isn't so sad about his own problems that he couldn't bear to hear hers. "Though..." It feels important to offer something in return for this piece of information, even though she already knows his worst secret. "No middle name. My middle name was my father's surname, but as far as I'm concerned, he took it with him when he left."
no subject
"My focus is on trauma responses, mental and physical." A pointedly arched brow at his clearly traumatized self. "And there's no way you go through what you're going through without significant strain on several processes. Even without considering magical effects." If he keeps pressing then she'll have to find a copy of her doctorate thesis and hit him in the face with it.
She ... doesn't know how to feel about hearing him say her name. Nobody has called her Harleen in years, and almost never a friend. It's like he's talking about someone else. She doesn't know that woman anymore.
"I think it's a family name? But I don't know for sure. Doesn't matter."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)