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“Hey, Batsy!” Harley crowed, flipping to the next balcony over before he could grab hold of her. “It’s my birthday next week.”
“I know,” Batman said. His voice wasn’t as close to a growl as it once had been, but he was readying that grappling hook of his, so Harley jumped down into someone’s carefully maintained hydrangeas. She whispered a quick apology to the trampled flowers, hoping the surrounding plant network wouldn’t report back to Ivy. Then she set off running.
“I’m turnin’ thirty,” she called over her shoulder. Bats was gaining on her, but that wasn’t so bad. She wanted him to catch her; it was only what he did next where they differed. “I’ve been talking about it with Ivy, and she agrees that I should get to have something special. Only if you’re okay with it. She’s been tryin’ not to use those pheromones of hers on anyone who’s not a real scumbag, and you’re a pretty stand-up guy even if you do get in the way an awful lot.”
“Harley,” Batman said, voice unaffected by the punishing pace he was keeping up, “did you rob Oswald Cobblepot just so you could ask me to join you and your girlfriend for a threesome?”
“Whoa, you’re good,” Harley grinned. This was going well. She stopped running and started clambering up a fire escape. “They always say you’re this great detective and all, but I thought I was gonna have to come right out and say it, and that’d be pretty awkward, don’t’cha agree?”
“In every other way, this is the ideal manner in which to proposition someone,” Batman said dryly, stationary at the bottom of the fire escape. She wondered if he was waiting for her to get to the top so he could use the grappling hook again.
“You don’t have’ta get so snooty about it,” Harley said. “Look, it was only stealing from Cobblepot. He’s way worse than I am.”
“Stealing is wrong,” Batman intoned, with all the moral relativism of a five-year-old.
Harley sighed. It wasn’t so fun to climb when he wasn’t coming after her. “If I give the jewels back will ya sleep with us? I promise it’ll be a hoot.”
It was Batman’s turn to sigh. “I’ll think about it,” he said.
“Really?” Harley trilled. She was nearly up to the top of the building, but she wrapped her thighs around one of the metal bars so she could clap her hands together. “That’s way better than I thought this would go! After what happened with Catwoman and all, her sayin’ you wouldn’t put out—”
“I said I’d think about it,” Batman said. “Will you give the diamonds back?”
“Sure,” Harley said, beginning to shimmy back down. She’d had the foresight to hide a couple of the shiniest diamonds in her bra, anticipating this ultimatum. Not so many that Batman would notice, probably. Unless he patted her down properly, which was sort of the point anyway. And it wasn’t like Penguin was doing anything fun with the diamonds, keeping them all locked up in a safe. They’d be happier with Harley.
“Next time,” Batman said, helping her down the final stretch, real gentleman-like, “you could talk to me without committing a crime first.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Harley asked. “’sides, it’s not like you’ve got a phone number we can use. That’d ruin your whole mystique.”
“I think that if supervillains are trying to have sex with me, the mystique may be gone already,” Batman replied.
“Nah, that just means you’re doing your job right.”
The next time, she didn’t even steal anything. She was pretty proud of herself, thinking she was going to get a big, dramatic reveal—but as soon as Batman got into his car he sighed and said, “Breaking and entering?”
She rolled up to a sitting position in the backseat. “I know you were just blowing me off the other day so I’d give the diamonds back.”
“What gave me away?” Batman said without inflection. Harley pouted.
“I thought I’d try getting in touch normal-like this time. But you still don’t have a phone, so—”
“You broke into my car.”
Harley shrugged. “It’s really not very smart to have it voice-activated. At least add a fingerprint sensor or something. Though then I s’pose someone would just have to cut off your finger and they’re in!”
“No one’s broken in before,” Batman said.
“Really? Not even Catwoman?”
Batman paused. “No one else.”
“Well, you know how ta make a girl feel special, I’ll tell ya that,” Harley grinned. “It wasn’t even that hard.”
She clambered into the front seat, making sure to put her ass on display as she moved. She never claimed to be above dirty tricks, after all.
“If it’s a matter of us bein’ evil and all,” she said, settling in, “we’re not even that bad anymore. We only hurt people who deserve it, same as you do. And Ivy’s been a ‘vital part of restoring Gotham’s ecosystem’, accordin’ to the Daily Planet.”
“Well, he would say that,” muttered Batman incomprehensibly.
“So that can’t be it,” she continued, undeterred.
Batman sighed. “Maybe I just don’t see you that way.”
That brought a frown to Harley’s face. “Really? Are you gay?”
“Not exclusively.”
“Huh,” Harley said. “Not a lot of men who’re into chicks would turn down me and Ivy, though. I’ve seen the message boards.”
“I daresay you’re right about that,” Batman responded cryptically. This was getting ridiculous.
“Well if you don’t want to, you just have ta say and we’ll back off,” Harley said. “I’m not gonna keep goin’ after someone who’s not interested. But if it’s to do with all those weird moral conditions you keep yourself under, you know I used to be a psychiatrist! I can probably help you with all the Catholic guilt or whatever it is.”
She looked at him. It was always difficult to tell what Batman was thinking, with only his jaw fully on display. Right now it was clenched, like he was biting something back. In fairness, Batman’s jaw was often clenched—but she decided to take it as a good sign.
In a smooth pivot that avoided knocking into any of the scary-looking controls, she maneuvered herself into his lap. It was a position she’d been in before when he was tied up, which she hoped wouldn’t put a damper on the current situation.
“Harley,” Batman murmured.
“Say no, then,” she said.
Batman was quiet, so she leaned in and kissed him.
It was even nicer than she’d dreamed: the rough scratch of his stubble and the way his hands came up to span her back, clutching her closer. Batman sort of kissed like he was in a romance novel, which was one of the better surprises of Harley’s life.
She didn’t have any idea how to start getting him out of his weird body armor, so she decided to stick with this for now. Making out in the front seat of someone’s car wasn’t something she’d done since high school, but those cars had been beat-up second-hand Toyotas, and this was the Batmobile, so at least she knew for sure she was moving up in the world.
Batman was keeping his hands above the waist, but his grip there was tight and rough. Harley felt giddy. She knew it was the rush of doing something that felt forbidden, but she didn’t care; it was perfect.
“What do you want, Harley?” Batman asked when she gave him a moment to breathe.
“Well, most’a that’s up to you,” Harley said. “We weren’t sure we’d get you this far. I’m happy with pretty much whatever.”
Batman’s lips, still wet and red, curved into a smile. It was captivating.
“I’d like to give you what you want,” Batman said. “If you know what that is.”
Harley shivered against him. She hadn’t slept with many men since the Joker, but in her experience, this wasn’t usually how it went when you offered them the keys to the kingdom.
“You wanna come back to my place?” she responded. “Ivy’s there, and she’s really the planner outta the two of us. I betcha she’s got something good up her sleeve.”
She felt Batman’s hesitation.
“Look, you can do whatever Bat-checks for traps you want when we get there. But I promise you it’s safe. It’s real nice, actually, Ivy’s got it all done up with flowers and—well, it’s just like you’d think.”
“Is she expecting us?”
“Sure is,” Harley said. “I mean, she’s expecting me. She was sure you’d say no, for some reason.”
“Hm,” Batman responded, and then his hands were moving down, spreading over her thighs. “We should probably get going, then.”
Harley blinked. His hands were very distracting.
“Uh,” she said. “You could—just real quick—”
“Get you off?”
She nodded.
“You only had to ask.”
Her shorts were tight but elastic, so it was no trouble at all getting his hand, glove and all, down there. His other hand smoothed over her thigh, and he was looking at her sort of like the way he looked in the middle of a fight, intense and focused. She couldn’t deny that, in the new context, it was really doing it for her.
“Oh,” she said softly, rocking into the unyielding leather of his fingers. She wondered if at some point this evening she might actually see his hands, if he’d take any part of his armor off on their account. She bet his hands were nice.
“Quickly, Harley,” Batman said. “We shouldn’t keep your girlfriend waiting.”
It was in his deepest register, so low it almost vibrated through her. Her thighs clenched and she moved faster, more urgently, against him.
“Maybe if you weren’t makin’ me do all the work—” But he cut her off, kissing her again, and the hand that had been scratching along her thigh came up to cup her breast, and with a final thrust against him she was coming, arching and making a high-pitched sound unsuited for the Batmobile.
“Satisfied?” Batman asked while she got her breath back.
“Not nearly,” she said.
Apart from Harley giving directions, they didn’t speak during the drive. Harley was still winding down, slumped in the passenger seat, her core clenching every now and then as if to remind her that the orgasm she’d just had was still floating through her.
She wasn’t too worried about letting Batman see where she and Ivy were living just now: Ivy had lots of hideouts, and safe houses, and all the things that came with being a planner. Harley preferred to go with the flow, which was why she was the one who came out and asked superheroes to sleep with them and Ivy was the one who made sure said superhero didn’t take the opportunity to get them arrested. It was an ideal partnership, really.
Batman drove fast, with the screen in the center of the console turned off. That figured, too: Harley bet she could learn a ton of Batman’s secrets if she was really trying. She just felt a bit too lazy right now, content to lounge in place, watching him.
When they reached the converted greenhouse, Batman muttered ‘of course’ and then went around the car to open Harley’s door for her. There were some serious manners on this guy, that was for sure.
Harley could tell Ivy was around, just from the smell of the air. It was like all the plants were blooming, all at once, and all working in tandem to give the air the most wonderful sweet scent. Batman was still, maybe even nervous, so Harley took his hand and led him inside. It was a nice place, with all the plants framing the regular amenities Harley had insisted on, like a kitchen and a bed. The bed was in the center, on a kind of pedestal of knotted tree trunks.
“Nice place,” said Batman, who was perhaps being ironic.
“Thanks!” Harley replied, ignoring that possibility. “Hey, Ive, I got him!”
Ivy emerged as she always did, dramatically. There were flowers all over her, a riot of reds and pinks, and in the spaces between the petals Harley could see that she was naked.
She bounded over and kissed Ivy with such enthusiasm that they might have toppled over had a thicket of vines not emerged from the ground and wrapped around their ankles and lower legs, rooting them in place.
“I really didn’t think you’d say yes,” Ivy said when they broke apart, an eyebrow raised skeptically in Batman’s direction. She clearly thought the handcuffs were about to appear any second, and not in the fun way.
“Your girlfriend is…persuasive,” Batman responded.
“Aw, Batsy,” Harley simpered theatrically, crossing the space to wrap an arm around his neck. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She kissed his cheek, or what she could reach of his cheek with the cowl on. It was a half-and-half situation.
“Hm,” said Ivy, watching them. “How far are you willing to trust us?”
Batman’s usually impassive face quirked into a grin. “I presume this is about tying me up.”
“Well, look,” Ivy said, “I’d hate to be getting into things and then look up and find myself in Arkham.”
Harley stage-whispered, “Isn’t that half the fun of this, though?”
“How about this?” Batman said, very businesslike. There was really no indication in his face or voice that he was planning the logistics of a threesome. “You know I can escape your plants if I really need to. So I’m willing to be tied up any way you’ve done it to me before. Nothing new.”
“Alright,” Ivy said, and in an instant two thick vines had snaked out to wrap around Batman’s wrists.
His breath hitched. “This, for example, is acceptable.”
“Oh, I think it’s better than acceptable,” Harley grinned. “I always thought you’d be one’a those ultra-toppy guys in bed, but you really aren’t, are you? Well. Psychiatrists can’t be expected ta get it right a hundred percent of the time.”
“I knew,” Ivy said. She wasn’t smiling, not yet, but her eyes had begun to sparkle. It figured. She was one of those ultra-toppy gals in bed.
“We should give you a safe word,” Harley said thoughtfully. “Oh, hey, you can borrow mine. It’s ‘Joker’.”
“Naturally,” Batman said.
“Ivy’s is ‘Exxon’, if that’s better for ya.”
“I’m sure I’ll say whatever feels right in the moment,” Batman said.
“Excellent,” said Ivy, and then two more vines were emerging to get his ankles. They were the special kind of vines—Harley always forgot the name—that could be relied upon to lift a not-insubstantial man in body armor halfway across a room and onto a bed. There, Ivy got him trussed up to the branches with a wave of her hands.
It was all very smooth; she’d had enough by way of practice.
“Harls,” Ivy said, “can you go figure out how to get into that suit of his?”
“Not the mask,” Batman said, quite unnecessarily.
“We get how the secret identity rodeo goes,” Harley assured him, settling with her legs spread over his thighs. “Is there any way to get your dick out without me losing a hand, or?”
“There are some safety measures,” Batman admitted. “But the crotch piece is detachable.”
Harley waggled her eyebrows.
“For practical purposes,” Batman said, ruining her fun. “If you run your finger along the right side of the—yes, there. There’s a notch.”
She stuck her fingernail in, and the hard material—some kind of alloy, maybe?—parted from the rest of the suit.
“That’s so cool,” she said. He just looked at her from behind the mask, impassive, as she attempted to get the multiple layers of crotch protection (necessary for a guy who got into so many fights, she supposed) and his underwear out of the way. “Does it all come off in parts like that?”
He said nothing.
“Come on, it’s just small talk. I’m not tryin’ to figure out how to get you down to your skivvies in the middle of a fight or nothing.”
“Some of it does,” Batman said. He sounded very calm for a man lying tied up by plants with his cock hanging out of his super-suit. Harley admired that about him.
She admired his cock, too, which was rapidly hardening in her hand. It seemed as though the suit had offered some sort of preventative effect, and now freed his arousal was catching up with him. She shuffled down and licked at it, got the head in her mouth and sucked until he was hard and wet and dripping into her mouth.
She was too out of practice with men to do much more than that, but it wasn’t like Batman was complaining. His breath hissed loudly in and out, although he didn’t let any sounds slip free. She frowned.
“You’re quiet,” she commented, resting her chin on his hip.
“Sorry,” Batman said, which was a first.
“No problem. Just don’t hold back on our account. All the plants absorb sound, I think. And we haven’t got any neighbors.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Batman said.
“Perhaps we should keep his mouth busy,” Ivy suggested wryly, close behind Harley. “Which would you prefer, darling? His cock or his tongue?”
As she spoke, Ivy pulled Harley’s shorts down her legs, unhooked her top. She even rolled her socks off her feet, leaving Harley well and truly naked, sprawled across a man who was still covered, ninety-five percent, in body armor. Harley shuddered. Ivy’s fingers were light, ticklish and teasing, and her entire body expanded into a throb of need, an itch waiting to be scratched. Ivy’s touch always did that to her. It was like the brush of a stinging nettle, coalescing into pleasure instead of pain.
She moaned, couldn’t help herself. Her legs opened wider.
“You decide,” she said. It was a rare occasion when she took the lead in bed—after all, Ivy was the planner.
“Oh, I think you’d like him inside you,” Ivy told her. “You want my fingers first?”
Harley nodded, her head still bent to Batman’s hip. His costume was cool against her burning cheek.
“Up, then,” Ivy instructed. While Harley got into position, she addressed Batman: “You might just be big enough to satisfy her. Unbelievable, the amount she can take.”
“Do you have a condom?” Batman asked.
“Oh, sure,” Harley said. “We got them in all different sizes, since your suit leaves a helluva lot to the imagination. What you do think? Large? Extra-large?”
“I’m sure large will suffice,” Batman said. “No need to flatter me.”
“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Harley responded. “Or something.”
She got herself onto all fours on top of him, bending her mouth to his. She was trusting Ivy to work out the logistics.
It wasn’t a long wait at all before Ivy’s fingers were teasing at her entrance, with her other hand settling at the base of Harley’s spine. And all the while Batman’s lips were rough and perfect against hers.
Ivy quickly took her up to two, then three, fingers. Batman’s tongue was in her mouth, making her see stars—or maybe it was some combination of the two of them, launching her up into the stratosphere. Regardless, Harley was restless, trying to roll her hips into Ivy’s hand and to rub herself up against Batman, all at once. Her nipples kept catching on the divots of his armor, sending shocking little jolts through her. Her skin hadn’t felt this over-sensitized since she’d first taken a dip in the acid.
“Stay still,” Ivy said, and Harley shook her head without parting her lips from Batman’s, a rough little twitch.
“Can’t,” she said.
Ivy slapped her, just once, a stinging hit to the top of her thigh. Harley bit down on Batman’s lip, a sound of pleasure-pain ricocheting between their connected mouths.
It was during the aftershocks that Ivy removed her fingers. The next thing Harley knew, her hips were being guided into position by Ivy’s strong, sure hands.
Batman’s eyes were always a bit of a mystery with the cowl on, so Harley studied his mouth as she lowered herself onto his dick: his lips were smudged open, slack with pleasure. His body strained against the restraints, all his not-inconsiderable strength devoted to getting closer. Harley laughed breathlessly, sitting up straight so she could better observe his struggle.
The movement was good, and she looked to Ivy for permission before she began to ride him in quick little rises and drops, adjusting to the feel of it. She spread her hands over the bat symbol on his chest for leverage.
“Fuck, Batsy,” she said, “that’s nice.”
She bent over again, molding her body to the hard, unyielding surface of his suit. She kissed him as she rolled her hips in irregular bursts of energy.
At the first touch to her thigh, Harley thought that it was just Ivy’s hand—the catch of a thorn took her by surprise and she gasped into Batman’s mouth. The thorns weren’t quite sharp enough to draw blood, only to scratch Harley’s skin as they pulled her thighs further apart, rendering her almost unable to move. She shuddered at the pressure of Batman inside her, at the scratch of thorns against her sensitive inner thighs.
“Don’t move,” Ivy said, to one or both of them. Harley and Batman made matching noises of denial, Harley’s louder but no more desperate.
The next feeling really was Ivy’s fingers, tracing the length of Harley’s spine before dipping lower. The wetness covering them could’ve been lube or it might have been sap—it was generally a fifty-fifty chance with Ivy. Harley strained to bear down on them, the vines scraping red lines in their refusal to yield.
“Don’t move,” Ivy repeated, “or I’ll tie the rest of you up, too.”
Harley felt light-headed, trying to ignore every instinct that was screaming at her to move, to chase the sensations she knew were waiting for her.
Ivy’s fingers breached her with characteristic deliberateness, no teasing once she’d set her course of action. She fingered Harley’s ass slowly, thoroughly, until Harley was writhing with what little leverage she had. Batman’s breath was coming in pants, and when Harley raised her head she saw that his hands were twisting in his restraints, making small progress on releasing himself.
“Holy fuck, Ive,” Harley moaned, raising her torso so she could better bear down on her fingers. Ivy pressed up behind her, biting at her neck.
The vines continued to keep her legs spread too wide to balance, and it felt as though every muscle clenched in her attempt to stay upright while reaching behind herself and pulling Ivy closer.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” Ivy said. Her free hand snaked around, tracing the girth of Batman inside her before she circled Harley’s clit, avoiding touching it directly with unerring accuracy. Harley whined, beyond words. Her eyes were open but she wasn’t taking in anything she was seeing, too focused on the barrage of almost-enough pleasure.
She lost it at the touch of one of Batman’s hands, freed from its restraint, dragging roughly down her side. Her moan was long and high-pitched, and it felt as though every muscle in her body tightened in unison before releasing her, tumbling, into orgasm.
Ivy’s smile was audible when she said, “You can fuck her properly now.”
Harley blinked, watching the vines dance away, leaving Batman fee. She shuddered with the promise of it, with the pleasure that still felt as though it was at its crest.
“Bats,” Harley said, and it was maybe a little bit pleading. She could feel Ivy withdrawing, stepping back.
Batman’s mouth quirked into a rare smile and he pushed himself up so he could kiss Harley’s throat, the softness of his lips counterpointed by the sharp edges of his cowl. He was still inside her, huge and hard and still. It was an unebbing fullness, with Harley clenching helplessly every so often.
“You can do whatever you want to me,” she said, rubbing her chest against him and shivering at the half-pain of it. “Please.”
“Polite,” Batman rumbled, and she laughed.
“Yeah, that’s what people are always sayin’,” she said. Her words were a little slurred. “Please, would you fuck me like you mean it.”
Batman flipped them, one hand under her head and the other in the small of her back to give her a gentle landing. She gasped at the speed of it, at the sureness of action. It could hardly be called surprising, from Batman, but it was still thrilling.
He was back inside her with lightning speed, pulling her legs up to wrap around his waist and thrusting with such force that Harley’s entire body rocked into it. She could feel a smile on her face: dazed, high. When she turned her head, she could see Ivy standing to the side of the bed, watching them. There was a smile on her face, too.
Harley reached out a hand wordlessly and Ivy took it.
“You could kiss me,” Harley said. “Either of ya.”
It was Ivy who took her up on the proposition, maneuvering herself so she was lying pressed against Harley’s side, pulling Harley’s mouth to hers.
Ivy’s lips weren’t harmful to Harley—hadn’t been for years—but they couldn’t be called benign, either. There was something extra there, and even if Harley had the antidote, she could still taste the poison.
It made her lips tingle—made the rest of her tingle, too. She thought she might come again, with Batman inside her and Ivy licking into her mouth, but before she could there was a noise from Batman, something low and rough, and he stilled in his movements.
Harley opened her eyes and pulled away from Ivy, delighted.
“I made you come,” she said, grinning widely. “That’s gotta be some sort of city-wide accomplishment. I should get a library named after me.”
“A library,” Batman repeated, sounding almost winded. Harley had led him on a thousand merry chases over the years, and she’d never heard him this out of breath.
“Or a statue,” she said.
“I’ve had sex with other people,” said Batman, pulling out and divesting himself of the condom. It figured that a simple orgasm wouldn’t rob him of his efficiency.
“They should get statues, too,” Harley said. “Everyone deserves a statue.”
She heard Ivy laugh from beside her. Meanwhile, Batman had almost reconstructed his suit.
“Hey, don’t go,” Harley said, flapping a hand at him.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Oh.” She supposed it must have felt weird, being fully suited up with only his dick hanging out. Still, she begrudged him covering up. It had been a nice dick, and she hadn’t had the chance to fully commit it to memory.
Ivy sat up. The flowers, previously covering her in strategic places, had receded somewhat. The message was clear enough: it was her turn.
“I think I’ll take your mouth,” she addressed Batman.
His lips twitched. “And I suppose you’d rather stay on top?”
“Safety precaution,” Ivy deadpanned. “You understand.”
“Certainly.”
Harley felt sore and kind of sleepy, but that was no reason to miss out on this. She shifted to get a better view, rising to her knees and putting her hand between her legs, gently teasing her labia.
In the meantime, Ivy got into her position above Batman’s waiting mouth, one of her hands tight on the gnarled wood of the headboard.
Harley knew, intimately, the way Ivy tasted: like forest-air after rainfall, like everything earthy and natural and good. She could hear it the moment Batman tasted, the noise of surprise tapering into a moan. Harley had spent hours licking Ivy out, on occasion, bringing her off again and again and still chasing the taste, searching out where it was strongest.
Her mouth watered.
Batman seemed to be doing a good enough job, though: his hands on Ivy’s thighs and his tongue working her over fast and rough, the way she liked it. All around them, flowers were growing and blooming, the air growing thick with pollen.
Ivy was almost noiseless, but Harley had learned to read her body in times like these. Everything in Ivy was visibly coiled, filled to the brim with delicious tension. Harley worked herself over faster, fingers glancing over her clit as she gasped loud enough for the both of them.
“I never thought I’d get to see this,” she said, mouth dry with wanting. She was close enough to hear the slick sounds of it, to see the way Batman’s fingers were spreading out to tease at the swell of Ivy's ass.
“Is it everything you wanted?” Ivy asked, her voice low and rough. Just the sound of it made Harley clench down on nothing.
She nodded. “You’re so hot together.”
Ivy’s laugh was deep, throaty. “You look beautiful, too, Harls,” she said. “Play with your tits for me.”
Harley flushed a little but did as she was told, shuddering at the barest pressure against her sensitive nipple. It was still flushed with blood and sore from the friction against Batman’s suit. She scratched over it, bearing down hard on the finger she still had on her clit. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” Ivy said. “You’re just perfect.”
Harley nearly toppled over from the force of her third orgasm, her head landing on the pillow of Ivy’s thigh. She kissed what skin she could reach, sloppy and worn out. Ivy’s hand came to rest in her hair, petting at her while she rode Batman’s face.
It was only a couple more minutes before Ivy was coming, too, her mouth forming a single gasp before she lapsed back into quiet, unsteady breaths.
The moment Batman’s mouth was free, Harley was swooping down to kiss him, sharing the taste she’d been denied and sighing happily into his mouth. He held her close, hands covering the small of her back. It was more sweet than sexual, a winding down for the both of them. When she pulled away, Ivy was sprawled out beside them, smiling.
“Glad you said yes?” she asked.
Batman cleared his throat, a delightfully human concession. “I—yes,” he said. There was almost nothing threatening in his voice; for a moment, he just sounded like a man. “Could I—?”
He cut himself off, but Harley leapt on the hesitation.
“You wanna stay awhile?” she asked. “I know it’s probably not comfortable for you with the suit and all, but normally there’s some cuddling.”
“The suit’s…relatively comfortable,” Batman said, which seemed like it was probably a lie. Better not to call him out on it, though.
“Okay, so you’re staying. Just hang on while I get my onesie and some extra pillows. Oh, hey, d’you want a drink? We’ve got a ton of herbal tea and I make the best hot chocolate.”
Batman’s lips curved into a smile. “Hot chocolate?”
“Hey, don’t mock it ‘til you try it. Just for that, I’m giving you whipped cream and sprinkles. You can’t stop me.”
“No,” Batman said with audible amusement. “I suppose I can’t.”