CLOSED x 2

[itistolaugh]

WHO: Harley Quinn & Jonathan Crane
WHERE: Crane's home
WHEN: May 8th, 7 PM
WHAT: What better way to celebrate mothers than willingly subjecting yourself to probable psychological torture and experimentation?
WARNINGS: Did I mention the probably psychological torture and experimentation?


[ She doesn't trust him. She doesn't know if she is going to get out of this in one piece, physically or mentally.

But.

She's pretty sure there might be pizza in it for her.

So she knocks on his door, on time of all things. ]

Little pig, little pig, let me come in.

WHO: Harley Quinn, Lucifer, Dean Winchester.
WHERE: Church of The Morningstar
WHEN: May 14th, midday-ish??
WHAT: Bait-and-switch bootycall.
WARNINGS: A whole lot of bad sex decisions, I suppose.


[ This is, like, suuuper dumb. Not the dumbest thing she's ever done, by far. Not even in the top ten. But she feels like texting ACTUAL LITERAL SATAN for a bootycall and then driving down to meet him and his very special man-slut friend, that's got to be it's own special category of dumb.

But she'll be damned (ha HA) if she lets freakin' Crane lecture her into making better choices when dangerously handsome men are involved, and the only friends who could maybe talk some sense into her are a universe away.

She hopes he hasn't seen Rosemary's Baby or The Omen recently. ]

Comments

[restingstitchface]

[He opens the door with a cold look in his eyes, that's mirrored by his tone.]

Punctual. I'm impressed.

[Not really. But he's going to study. There's a bunch of mice running around inside all the straw stuffed into his head. He's excited.]

Come inside.

[itistolaugh]

[ She slips past him, barely acknowledging him, and makes herself quite at home in his living room. ]

Dinner first, then you can show off your new toys.

[restingstitchface]

[The smell of a meat feast pizza drifts over from the kitchen. He believed she would co-operate better if stuffed and sated before hand. Though in truth? He just doesn't want her dragging the cheese-and-tomato stench into the same place as his beloved books.

He turns on his heel and heads back to where it's waiting. In a takeout box because fuck cooking when he has important work to finish.]

This way. I hope you're not dissatisfied.

[Dissatisfied with his choice of meal. Though, honestly, he doesn't care. Only in so much as it affects himself.]

[itistolaugh]

[ She takes a slice for herself and holds out a greasy slice for him. ]

Eat. Man cannot live on pretension alone.

[ If he doesn't take it, she's going to just ... kinda ... smush it against and around his mouth. Mm-mmm here comes the airplane! ]

[restingstitchface]

[He wrinkles his nose; and bats her hand away when it comes towards his mouth. Oh, what the hell is she doing?]

I ate some time ago. Now sit down and eat your meal.

[itistolaugh]

You mean this is all mine? You got this just for me? Aw! AWwwwwww!

[restingstitchface]

I simply believe I stand a greater chance of co-operation doing this now rather than afterwards. It is hardly personal.

[Maybe just a little.]

[itistolaugh]

Professor, I think by now it's always a little personal between us.

[restingstitchface]

[Well, she really is a child. Calling him professor because she craves a toy or pocket money or something.

A new hammer, perhaps? He sighs to release his suffering, and raises an admonishing finger.]

For you perhaps. For me it's nothing personal, I assure you. I assume you'll want some idea of what I'll be working on?

[itistolaugh]

[ Hey, she wouldn't do it if it didn't work.

She wipes a greasy hand on her jeans and smirks at him. ]

You're actually going to tell me what's up instead of jumping right in? Why, you really are spoiling me!

[restingstitchface]

[Better she's wiping her greasy hand on her jeans, than ruffling his hair with those oil-slicked fingers. All of the color would return to his face, and more besides. He turns his shoulder and begins to walk away. An awkward pause in which he tries to think of something neutral to say to keep things ticking over, and then he tilts his head.]

Your spoiled attitude is exaggerated to the point of caricature. I hardly see the need to add to it. Let's sit down.

[itistolaugh]

My spoiled attitude is charming and adorable.

[ She leaves the pizza on the counter, not even making the slightest attempt to clean up after herself, and practically skips to a chair. She doesn't sit, though. There's no need to make herself comfortable, and certainly not to let her guard down in anyway, when Crane is in an experimenting mood. ]

Okay, so what're we doin'? What's on the menu?

[restingstitchface]

Memories. You know how important they are to the fields of psychiatry and psychology. I intend to make a scientific contribution to the field. Since everyone else seems to be doing a poor job of it.

[He's walking around the back of her as he says this. There's no need for Harley to sit at all. No need for her to be comfortable, and he certainly doesn't care about her finding it painless. There's no need on his part for her to sit, either. His powers work just as well if they're standing. So he makes to grab her hand from behind. He's pretty quick, too. Though she's pretty spy so who knows?

Either way, he'll be attempting to send them both into witnessing the "courtroom" back in Gotham... complete with his pile of desks, with him at the top, Gordon at the bottom, and the two of them unnoticed as observers. Maybe he just wants to show off.]

[angelfire]

[ Maybe it is dumb, but who's ever said that Harley is a woman who makes awesome life choices even on the best days.

Lucifer doesn't mind the company of the demon, really. The fact is, he's spent a goddamn long time hanging around with demons century after century. That's just how things are--when he left Heaven, was thrown down, he was condemned to spending eternity belly down with all the other crawling things of the world. Largely, he'd been left to it.

Entertaining booty calls is new to him, though. He'd need advice or something on how to be more decent to women in order to get this shit right. But at least he can help people make interesting friends, right? ]

Harley. [ He knew when she got there, so he just headed down the steps to meet her. ] I didn't think you'd actually come.

[itistolaugh]

[ He didn't think she'd (tee hee) come? It was her big dumb idea in the first place! She didn't think he'd actually invite her over. Now they're locking in some kind of weird game of sex chicken.

(Note to future Harley: come up with better name than "sex chicken") ]

You did say you'd make it worth my while.

[ She's still not sure if this is really happening. There's a catch. There has to be. He's going to rebuff her, re-friendzone her (are they friends?), try and set her up with his house guest for laughs, and she'll go home unsatisfied and a little humiliated.

But here she is anyway.

The small, very small, tiny, minuscule part of her in charge of making rational decisions is tearing its hair in frustration and has given up entirely, so she greets him with a kiss because. Well. Screw it. Now it's his move in this Cuban Missile Crisis only the missile is a dick, maybe?

Nevermind, that's not a better option than sex chicken after all. ]

[angelfire]

So I did.

[ That was all he got to say, because the game was afoot, or whatever they were going with. Really, it wasn't his fault that things had gone this far. His standards had been...adjusted, after all. He had friends, some of them wanted to kiss him--no big deal.

But part of this was not surrendering on his side either. He wasn't exactly scared of kissing, this was how he proved it. Archangel, not overgrown chicken. Like it was a big deal to him (which it was; there were more than enough people scoffing at him as it was).

So he curled a firm, strong arm around her back, the other framing her jaw as he bent to kiss her back. And thank you very much, he kissed like he was going for Olympic gold, thank you very much. He'd learned how a long time ago, after all, it wasn't like it was hard to mash mouths together.

Just maybe they should have gone indoors first, because there's always someone with a camera, Harley. Bad. Life. Choices. It would make a good middle name for her. ]

[itistolaugh]

[ Bad Life Choices would be an improvement over Frances.

And maybe they should have gone indoors first, but there are a lot of things she should have done in her life. It's a bit late to start considering should haves now. Besides, so far she's been getting less paparazzi attention than she did back home. It will do wonders for her social media follower count.

Which honestly isn't something she's even going to think about until later because right now she is being kissed and, really, what else is there to think about except where his hands are and how his mouth feels and he even smells kind of good. If he's going for it this hard right out of the gate, she is more than happy to match. Hell, he could take her right on the hood of her car and it would be just like a Whitesnake video, with less hairspray. And! Bonus! This time she's not standing over a dead Russian and covered in several days of prison funk!

In summary: YEEEEEESSSS yes yes yes yes yes!!! ]

[angelfire]

[ Lucifer is glad he doesn't have a middle name, thanks. Besides, Practically Anything would be better than Frances; sucks to be you, Harley.

Except not right at this moment, with his hands dropping down lower, lifting her off her toes, and therefore to his level before with a whisk of feathers they're back at the top of the steps, and he's slamming her just a little harder than human roughly against the door frame.

He has something to prove, after all. Although to be fair, Dean would laugh his head off at him right now if he caught them. But nevermind. He's crushing, pinning her with his hips, and he draws back only briefly, biting at her bottom lip. ]

This what you had in mind?

[itistolaugh]

[ The moment he lifts her she takes the opportunity to wrap her legs around him, ankles crossed against his lower back, and her hands are clutching him for dear life (because if he decides to take off, it really could be).

Her breath catches when he slams her against the door too roughly, which is almost rough enough for her. Nevermind everything from before, this is SUCH a good idea. Best idea she's ever had.

She protests his small retreat with a roll of her hips against his. ]

It's a start.

[angelfire]

If I'd had the forethought to anticipate foreplay, I'm sure I could have scrounged up a Russian or two from somewhere. I suppose we'll just have to do without.

[ It really is best that she holds on, all things considered, because there's another whisper of feathers - freedom, power, grace - and he's halfway down the aisle with her. The church is quiet and abandoned tonight--he'd sent everyone inside home who didn't belong there, anticipating the Darkness, and now he's antsy and agitated enough to need to work off some of that frustration. He'd been wronged, tricked, and to feel like himself again he needed his space. His grace filled every corner of the building, it practically shook the candles in their sconces, their flames glowing bright enough to cast the shadow of his magnificent wings up into the rafters.

He was stretching his proverbial muscles, like a stallion cresting its neck, or a bull pawing the ground, a fine feathered bird flaunting preened, glossy feathers. This was his.

And well, all that show of power was bound to draw a little attention. From her, surely, first of all. It might be overwhelming to be that close to it, all things considered. ]

[itistolaugh]

[ She huffs a laugh against the side of his neck that peters out into a contented, fuzzy-headed kind of hum. It's disorienting, the way he jumps from place to place like he's allergic to walking, but isn't that what she's been looking for? Something so huge and overpowering she can burrow into and be swept away so she doesn't have to think about ... about anything or anyone And all the better if it hurts later. This isn't romance, this is desperation.

But she didn't come here to analyze, so she kisses him again shifting from soft reverence to sharp teeth. ]

[angelfire]

[ Really, Harley. They have drugs for this problem. Pharmaceutical cures. Desperately needing rough sex and turning to the Actual Devil for it...

Well, we've covered "Bad Decisions" already.

She returns rough with rough, and he laughs softly, meanly against her mouth, continuing to back up. He lifts her again with rough hands, climbing up the steps and shoving her down on her back on the altar, scattering the offering of flowers gathered there. To break the kiss, he presses her forearm against her throat, drawing back. ]

How do you know this wasn't my plan all along? Perhaps I just need a willing sacrifice, to break the Porter's power over me. [ He ducked lower, voice a low growl. ] That is how these Satanic rituals usually go.

[kickingand]

[ Dean hasn't been taking a nap so much as being absolutely lazy in his newly acquired abode (and drinking more than his fair share) - there isn't too terribly much for him to do aside from wander about trying not to kill people and trying to engross himself into varied entertainment. He'd yet to adapt to the environment, to the fact that he wasn't home, wasn't busying himself in every single bar at every single moment, fucking every single woman he could get his hands on. But having somewhere to be, he supposed, made things a little bit simpler.

Didn't mean there weren't some very obvious downsides to hanging out in Lucifer's church.

Like this one. This unexpected one. This rather horrific sight he passes on his way back to his room, the long aisles opening onto a scene he never wanted to see and one that makes him grimace, even as he pauses to stare, hoping the horror of it will end soon.

Nope. Apparently not. ]

You know some people come here to pray, right? Not lose their lunch.

[itistolaugh]

[ Harley goes rigid beneath Lucifer. Not out of shame for being seen like this (hello, have you met her?), but from sheer teeth-gritting and nearly homicidal rage. It was finally getting somewhere, damn it!

She wonders if she has enough control to drop a sledgehammer right on this guy's head. ]

It is very rude to interrupt!

[angelfire]

[ Lucifer, of course, had felt the brush of Dean's presence, at the end of the aisle, so he'd expected the interruption from a moment before. It was thrilling, though, to feel the deep, undulating current of fury lifting off Harley. That was new. He liked it.

He stroked back her hair with his fingertips, then rocked back, tipping his head over to look up toward Dean. ]

I told you he was rude, [ he answered, loud enough for Dean's demonic ears to hear him. ] But that's demons for you. They have to be the center of attention.

[ He curled his fingers around Harley's hand, and tugged her upright. ]

You two have a great deal in common, in that respect.