AN: Slightly unedited. If you find any mistake let me know. Oh, many of you are looking for smut, it'll start on ch 40, the night of Harley's birthday party.
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[Next Morning]
The first thing Maureen noticed was the quiet. Harley Quinn was never quiet. Usually, mornings at J&H&M were chaos wrapped in glitter—Harley blasting old pop songs, teasing John about his serious face, chasing her around with whipped cream just to make her laugh.
But today? Silence.
Harley stood at the kitchen counter, tapping her spoon against a coffee mug, eyes unfocused. When John passed behind her, she flinched slightly, then laughed it off way too fast.
"Oh! Hey! Morning, big guy! You, uh, sleep okay? Beds still comfy? Air not too dry? Pillows fluffed?" she said, voice a touch too high.
John just gave his usual grunt. "Yeah. You?"
"Me? Peachy," she said, smiling like someone who'd forgotten how to smile naturally. Then she dropped her spoon and muttered, "Crap," before scrambling to pick it up.
Maureen leaned against the wall, arms crossed, studying her like a scientist watching a malfunctioning experiment. Harley Quinn, the woman who could handle bullets and explosions without blinking, was suddenly fidgeting like a schoolgirl.
Something had definitely happened.
At breakfast, Harley nearly burned the pancakes because she zoned out staring at John's reflection in the toaster. When he asked if she was okay, she mumbled something about "thinking deep thoughts" and changed the subject so hard it left skid marks.
Maureen forked her food, pretending not to notice. "So... deep thoughts, huh?" she said casually.
Harley blinked. "What? Oh! Yeah. Deep. Real deep. Like, Mariana Trench deep."
"Right," Maureen said. "You sure it's not... romantic deep?"
Harley froze mid-bite, syrup dripping from her fork. "What? No. Ew. Me? Heheh. Romantic? Please, I'm like, emotionally lactose intolerant."
Maureen raised an eyebrow. "You're blushing."
Harley slapped both hands to her cheeks. "No, I'm not!"
John walked in right then, towel around his shoulders, hair still wet from a shower. "You seen my white shirt?"
Harley jumped. "Your what? Shirt? Nope. Don't know it. Never heard of it. Maybe aliens took it."
John gave her a look. "You're acting weird."
"I'm always weird," she said too fast, then laughed, eyes darting anywhere but him.
He shrugged and went to his room.
By the time breakfast was over, Maureen had one thought running in her head: 'Yep! I think he finally said yes.'
She didn't ask. Harley would either deflect with a joke or blow something up to change the subject. So Maureen just watched.
Downstairs, the shop opened like usual. The morning rush came and went, and Harley was still off her game.
She forgot an order, mixed up toppings, and tried to hand a customer a milkshake she hadn't even made yet. When John pointed it out, she laughed it off, cheeks pink.
"Guess I'm still wakin' up," she said, twirling her hair with that nervous energy Maureen hadn't seen before.
"Uh-huh," John replied, not buying it but too polite to say so.
Between deliveries, Harley hovered near him like she didn't know what to do with herself. If he went to the counter, she found something to "check" nearby. If he walked to the back, she suddenly remembered something important that needed doing there.
Maureen noticed the way Harley's voice softened when she talked to him. How her jokes landed half-heartedly now, how she smiled differently—less chaos, more care.
When Harley thought no one was watching, she'd glance at John with that faraway look. The kind people get when they're remembering something they don't want to admit was real.
Maureen wiped down a table and watched through the reflection in the window. Harley was at the register, pretending to read the menu board while sneaking a peek at John cleaning the oven. Her lips tugged upward, faint but there.
Maureen smirked to herself.
"Harley Quinn, blushing like a teenager. Never thought I'd see that," she murmured.
Later, when the crowd died down, Harley went to restock the cooler. She moved more slowly than usual, humming softly under her breath. Something almost sweet. Not her usual chaotic rock.
John passed by with a tray of clean plates. "You good?" he asked.
"Me? Peachy keen, lightning machine," she said quickly, then almost tripped over a box.
John caught her arm before she fell. Their eyes met for a split second. Harley's face went bright red.
"Whoa there," he said, steadying her. "Maybe slow down."
"Yeah. Gravity's out to get me today," she muttered, stepping back like the floor might swallow her. "Stupid physics."
He gave her a small, puzzled look before heading out front again.
As soon as he was gone, Harley leaned against the fridge, biting her lip and letting out a shaky laugh. "Pull it together, Quinn," she whispered to herself.
Maureen pretended to be busy stacking napkins but caught the whole thing.
Lunch hour at J&H&M was winding down. The tables were mostly empty except for a few stragglers finishing slices and soda. Maureen flipped the CLOSED sign halfway, signaling break time. She caught sight of Harley sneaking through the hallway toward the kitchen, moving like a cartoon burglar who thought she was invisible.
John was at the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing trays. Harley crept up behind him, the kind of grin spreading across her face that usually meant trouble. Maureen tiptoed and peeked inside.
Harley stopped behind John, hesitated, then suddenly wrapped her arms around him in a quick, tight hug when he turned around. She then stood on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
"Tehehehe!" She ran away before he could respond through the back door while giggling.
John stood there, frozen for a good five seconds. Then he smiled, muttered something under his breath, and went back to work as if nothing happened.
Maureen couldn't help it. She grinned.
"Called it," she whispered to herself.
[Night – 10 Minutes Before Closing]
Maureen was sweeping the sidewalk in front of the shop. The neon sign buzzed above her, throwing a soft glow across the pavement. She was humming a tune.
Harley's bike roared into the alley, kicking up dust. She parked the bike in the garage and jumped off, still wearing her red helmet. Maureen looked up, one eyebrow raised.
"You're back early," she said.
Harley pulled off the helmet and brushed her bangs out of her face. Her grin was too wide, too bright. She looked like a firecracker that hadn't decided whether to explode or sing.
Without saying a word, she grabbed Maureen's hand and tugged her into the garage.
"Whoa, what's—" Maureen started, but Harley shushed her, pacing in small circles like she was trying to burn off nervous energy.
Harley stopped, took a deep breath, and opened her mouth to speak—then froze when Maureen crossed her arms and smirked.
"He said yes, didn't he?" Maureen said, voice cool and certain. "And you two kissed. And let me guess, you couldn't wait to get it out of your system and need someone to talk to, right?"
Harley blinked, mouth still half open. "How do you know?"
Maureen leaned on the wall, smug. "You've been bouncing around all day like a soda can someone shook too hard. Plus, you hugged and kissed him in the kitchen and ran off giggling. Real subtle."
Harley groaned, covering her face. "Ugh, I'm a disaster. I was supposed to play it cool! You know, mysterious femme fatale stuff. Instead, I turned into a Hallmark movie."
Maureen laughed. "Yeah, but a happy one."
Harley peeked through her fingers. "You think so?"
"I know so. You've been floating since breakfast."
Harley dropped her hands, cheeks flushed pink even under the garage lights. "Okay, fine. You got me. I kissed him. And it was—ugh—it was amazing. Like fireworks and lightning and a little bit of trouble mixed together."
Maureen smiled. "Sounds like you."
Harley twirled a strand of hair and giggled. "He looked so serious after. I think I broke his brain."
"Pretty sure you did," Maureen said. "He hasn't said more than five words since lunch."
Harley let out a soft laugh, leaning against the wall beside her. "Guess we're both a mess. But hey… feels kinda nice, y'know? Not the 'robbing banks and outrunning cops' kind of nice. The quiet kind."
Maureen nodded. "You deserve that kind."
Harley looked at her, eyes softer than Maureen had ever seen. "Thanks, Bluebell."
There was a moment of silence before...
Harley tilted her head, that sly grin sneaking back in. "So tell me somethin', Bluebell. You ever been in love?"
Maureen blinked. "What? Where did that come from?"
"Oh, come on," Harley said, waving her hands dramatically. "We're havin' a girl talk moment here. I spill my mushy guts, you spill yours. Fair's fair."
Maureen looked away, rubbing her arm. "I... I don't know. I mean, I was homeless for years, Harley. Love wasn't exactly on the grocery list. I was too busy trying not to starve."
Harley's grin softened into something gentler. "Yeah, I get that. Still, you got a heart in there somewhere, right? Don't gotta be fancy love. Could be a crush. A 'he's cute but don't tell him' kinda thing."
Maureen frowned. "Why are you asking me this?"
"Because," Harley said, leaning closer, her voice playful again, "I've seen the way you look at Johnny boy sometimes."
Maureen blinked. "John?"
"Yeah. Mister Broody himself. Don't tell me you never thought about him that way."
Maureen's throat went dry. "I... I... what? No. What are you even talking about? He's with you."
Harley's eyes narrowed playfully. "Didn't answer the question, though."
Maureen's cheeks heated. "Of course not. I mean, he's nice, yeah, but he's your guy. You two are... you know, together now."
Harley chuckled, leaning against the wall again. "Relax. I ain't accusin' you of tryin' to steal my man. I just notice things, that's all."
"Things?" Maureen repeated, wary.
"Like how you look at him sometimes. Same way you look at a warm blanket on a cold night. Comfort kinda look." Harley smirked. "Ain't nothin' wrong with that. He's the type you can lean on. Makes people feel safe."
Maureen crossed her arms, trying to sound calm. "I look at everyone like that."
Harley snorted. "Uh-huh. Sure you do, Frosty."
They stood there in the garage light. For once, Harley wasn't teasing to mock. Her tone had softened, curious but kind.
Maureen shifted uncomfortably. "Even if I did... which I don't... it doesn't matter. He helped me, gave me a home, food, and a job. That's not love. That's gratitude."
Harley tilted her head, eyes warm now. "Sometimes that's where it starts."
Maureen swallowed hard, suddenly wishing she hadn't dropped her broom. "You really gotta make everything weird, don't you?"
Harley laughed, pushing off the wall. "Weird's my brand, sweetheart."
Maureen huffed. "Well, your brand needs boundaries."
Harley winked. "Nah. Boundaries are for people who don't like fun."
They both laughed, the tension fading a little. For a moment, it was just two misfits standing in the glow of the garage light, talking about love like it was something they both barely believed in.
Then Harley reached over and ruffled Maureen's hair. "Don't worry, Bluebell. I ain't gonna tell him. Girl talk's sacred."
Maureen rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "You're impossible."
"Yep," Harley said proudly. "And lovable as hell." She walked out and stopped just before the door, and turned back. "Oh, just go for it if you want." She winked.
"What?!" Maureen was stunned.
"That way, we can be a big and happy family without any sexual tension between us," Harley said with a naughty smirk before walking out.
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AN: Time to upgrade their lifestyle.
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