#harley is an emotional clingy drunk after that third margarita

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Harley's an emotional clingy drunk after that third margarita, but Rick's not complaining

So, this was inspired by one of those angsty prompt lists here on tumblr and the lines I specifically used were "Please come get me" and "Sit tight, I'll be right there". Yeah, basically, Rick thinks something bad happened but Harley just got really drunk and emotional and missed him. You're welcome.

Rick’s dozing on the couch when his phone buzzing jolts him awake. He snatches it off the coffee table and squints at the bright screen. It’s a message from Harley.

“Please come get me”.

He automatically assumes the worst and gets off the couch and gets his shoes on as he types out a reply.

“Where are you?”

He gets a response by the time he’s out the door and sends a message back.

“Sit tight, I’ll be right there”.

The sight that greets him at the club, however, is not what he expects. He expects Harley to be having a panic attack in the bathroom. What he sees is Harley laughing and having a great time with her friends, seemingly.

One of them notices him approaching and nudges Harley to get her attention. She turns around and her whole face lights up before she starts rushing towards him. He braces for impact as she launches herself into his arms—arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He shoots a confused look at her group of roller derby friends, who just shrug in response. Although one does comment, “Wow you’re actually real. Half expected her to be lying.”

He focuses his attention back on his girlfriend, who’s currently nuzzling her nose into his neck and trying to get as close to him as possible—which is impossible given the fact that she’s wrapped around him like a spider monkey.

“Uh… you okay, Harls?”

“Yeah,” she sighs happily. “I just missed ya.”

“You missed me?”

“Wouldn’t shut up about you for over two hours,” one of her friends complains. “To anyone who would listen. And even some who wouldn’t.”

“What’d she say about me?” he asks, suddenly very curious. He knows how chatty drunk Harley can be and he’d rather not be arrested tonight.

“Oh, just about how amazing and badass—”

“He literally almost killed my ex with his bare hands, it was sexy as fuck!” Harley yells, before burying her face back into his neck.

“—and how great you are in the bedroom,” her friend finishes.

“I swear to god it was ten!” she picks her head up to yell over her shoulder. “He made me count ‘em!”

He can feel his face heating and quickly decides to change the subject. “How many margaritas have you had, Harls?”

“Um… four?”

That explains a lot. Harley has a tendency to turn into an emotional clingy drunk after that third margarita. Not that he’s complaining—he secretly adores clingy Harley.

“Okay, let’s get you home, Harls,” he says, as he makes a move to set her down—but she tightens her grip on him.

He sighs and asks one of her friends to hand him her purse. He slings it over his shoulder and makes sure he has a good grip on her before carrying her through the club and out the door.

They’re halfway down the block where the car is when she starts nibbling on his ear and telling him, “Take me home, Colonel.”

Because, oh yeah, that’s right—she’s also a horny drunk.

He sighs as he unlocks the car. “Harls, we both know you’re just gonna pass out as soon as we get home.”

She actually ends up passing out before they even make it home. She stirs a little bit as he unbuckles her seatbelt but remains asleep as he carries her up to their apartment. He carefully maneuvers her out of her clubbing outfit and into one of his t-shirts before tucking her under the covers. He goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water and the bottle of painkillers and puts them on her nightstand before getting himself ready for bed and sliding under the covers with her.

---------

He’s up bright and early the next morning and goes about getting ready to go to the gym—quietly, so as not to wake Harley, who’s still dead to the world.

He hears a groan from behind him as he’s pulling on a shirt and then Harley’s groggy voice mumbling, “Ugh, I wanna climb ya like a tree right now but I feel like I’m gonna puke and my head is killing me.”

He chuckles and goes over to the bed. He kisses her forehead and tells her, “Ibuprofen’s on the nightstand. I’ll be back in two hours.”

He comes back bearing two of Sal’s signature egg sandwiches and they spend the rest of the day cuddling on the couch while Harley nurses her hangover.

Is their relationship over the top and a little unorthodox? Maybe, but Rick wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

So, I used an angsty writing prompt list for like a bunch of the dialogue of my last quinnflag fic that everyone seemed to really like and I want y'all to know that one of those prompts was "please come get me"

So next fic is gonna be Harley texting that to Rick while she's out drinking with her friends and he thinks something bad happened but she just got really drunk and emotional and missed him

You're welcome