#rick goes out of town and harley's a hot mess

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Just a gal trying her very best to hold it together

Got the prompt “Rick going out of town and Harley missing him like crazy” over on AO3 and this was the result! Probably both the second angstiest AND second spiciest thing I’ve ever written. Yeah, this one is a spicy one so if that’s not your thing feel free to skip it.

He broaches the subject one night over dinner on the couch. A few of his army buddies reached out to him about a reunion trip. “But,” he stresses, “I don't have to go.”

Harley slowly sets her slice of pizza down, suddenly feeling like she's gonna vomit. Inwardly, her heart sinks. Outwardly, she forces herself to smile and tells him, “Have fun!”

“You're more than welcome to come,” Rick says.

“Nah, I don't wanna get in the way of your boys trip. Besides, I'm a literal terrorist. Probably a bad mix.”

He hasn't seen his army buddies in years and he deserves to spend some time to himself without her dragging him down with her baggage. Also, a small part of her wants to prove to herself that she can function without him.

He doesn't look convinced so she throws her leg over his lap so she's straddling him and boops his nose. “I'll be fine, I promise.”

His hands sneak under her shirt to caress her back. “Well alright. If you're sure, I'll let 'em know I'm coming.”

She tries not to panic when he tells her he'll be gone for an entire week. A couple days she could maybe handle but she knows a whole week will be a struggle. She's determined to get through it though. She refuses to let herself ruin this for him.

He sighs and asks one more time. “Are you sure you'll be okay?”

Suddenly needing to feel close to him, she reaches for his belt buckle and says, “Yes, now shut up and kiss me, Flag.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he responds, before crashing his lips into hers.

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Harley awakens the next morning to the sensation of Rick's stubble against her cheek as he presses lingering kisses along her neck down to her shoulder.

She leans into the contact and smiles. Eyes still closed, she teases, “Whatcha doin'?” knowing full well where this is going.

He nips at her shoulder softly and slips one hand under her shirt to grasp her breast while the other one slips under the waistband of her panties.

“Giving you something to remember me by,” he answers, before sinking two fingers into her wet heat, thumb circling her clit.

She gasps at the sensations he's eliciting and quickly falls apart as he sucks a bruise into her neck and whispers encouragements in her ear.

Her ears are ringing once she comes back down to earth—flopping down on her back—but he's not done with her yet.

“C'mon, Harls, I think you got a couple more in you,” he rasps in her ear before his kisses start moving downward.

He manages to make her fall apart one more time on his tongue and a third time on his cock.

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She's completely boneless—floating on cloud nine, too exhausted to move by the time he slips out of bed, promising to call as soon as he lands. He kisses her softly and tells her, “I'll be back before you know it. I love you.”

She echoes the sentiment before her eyes drift shut. She curls up on his side of the bed and tells herself she'll just take a quick nap.

She has a panic attack almost as soon as she wakes up once it finally hits her that she's truly alone.

She recognizes it for what it is almost immediately and snatches Flaggy the soldier bear off the nightstand, hugging it to her chest. She wracks her brain as she tries to remember what she's supposed to do for a panic attack amid all the hyperventilating and cold flashes. She has a PhD for fuck's sake! It shouldn't be that hard!

For some reason all her stupid brain is giving her is the memory of that time Rick took her out for ice cream and her cone fell on the... ground! That's it!

She quickly works her way through the grounding exercise, Rick's voice in her ear the whole time walking her through it.

Her phone ringing is what finally snaps her out of it completely. She scrambles to pick it up, already knowing who it is on the other end of the line. She hopes her voice isn't shaking when she says, “Hiya baby!”

Rick chuckles. “Hey, Harls. How you doing without me?”

She lies (the first of many) and says, “Doin' great! I hung out with the Birdies today!”

She scoops his discarded shirt up off the floor and slips it over her head—inhaling deeply as Rick's scent immediately calms her down.

He tells her about his flight and what he has planned for the next week and she tries to sound enthusiastic about it, when all she wants to do is beg him to come home.

She ends up crying herself to sleep once he hangs up.

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Harley tries, she really does, to hold it together. The Birdies force her out of the house as often as they can, and she's pretty sure that's Rick's doing. It doesn't help the crushing loneliness though.

Every night, once she hangs up the phone, she cries herself to sleep and wakes up from nightmares. The bed feels too big without him in it.

By day four she's too exhausted and depressed to even get out of bed. She still forces herself to sound peppy when she answers the phone—but this time he's not buying it.

“Are you okay, Harls? And I mean really.”

She's too exhausted to keep the charade going and immediately breaks down into tears. “No, I'm really, really not okay! I haven't slept more than five hours in the last four days and—” She manages to catch herself before she admits just how frequent her panic attacks have become since he left. So much for not worrying him.

As she breaks down she registers shuffling noises on the other end of the line and then a door slam. “I'm on my way to the airport.”

“Don't you dare!”

He sighs. “Harls, you obviously need me right now.”

“Nuh-uh. You are finishing this trip and having a great time with your friends!”

He starts to protest but she cuts him off. “Promise me you won't come home early just for me.”

He sighs again. “I promise.”

“Great! So what'd ya do today?”

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He's, of course, lying through his teeth when he tells her he won't cut his trip short. He's already booking a ticket home and saying his goodbyes as soon as he hangs up.

He's home by late afternoon—dropping his bags by the front door and hurrying to the bedroom. He finds Harley curled up in a ball on his side of the bed, her soldier bear clutched to her chest.

“I'm home, Harls,” he says softly—toeing off his shoes and getting ready to crawl under the covers with her.

“I already know you're not real so you can just fuck right off,” she snaps.

He slides underneath the covers and spoons up against her back. Her breathing hitches. He presses a kiss to her hair and tells her, “I'm right here, Harls. I'm real, I promise.”

Before he can so much as blink, he's being tackled onto the bed and Harley's sobbing into his neck. He squeezes her as close as he can with her bear trapped between them and rubs her back gently.

Smack!

“Ow!” he says, rubbing his chest where she'd hit him.

“I told ya not to come home early just for me!”

And then she's burying her face in his shoulder and clinging to him tightly. She swings her leg over his hip so she can be right on top of him.

From his vantage point he can see that her hair is a greasy tangled mess and he's sure he would find dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep if she were to look up at him.

“Harls, when's the last time you showered?”

“Um....”

He tries to sit up but she clings to him tighter. He sighs. “C'mon, Harls. Let's get you in the shower.”

She loosens her grip enough to allow him to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, clinging to him like a koala the whole time. He makes sure he has a good grip on her before standing up.

She tosses her bear on the bed so she can cling to him with both arms wrapped around his neck.

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She knows she's being clingier than normal, but she can't help it. She was barely functioning without him.

He sets her down on her feet and she whines at the loss of contact. He kisses her nose and tells her, “I'm not going anywhere, I promise,” before turning the shower on.

He helps her get her shirt off (one of his t-shirts she'd stolen from his dirty laundry pile) before she rolls up on her toes. Leaning against his chest, she asks, “Gonna join me?”

He chuckles. “Would you expect anything less?”

She smirks and slips her hands under his shirt.

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The hot water feels amazing on her skin and she lets out a sigh as soon as she steps under the spray. Truthfully, she had been feeling pretty sweaty and gross but she'd barely been able to force herself out of bed to pee and brush her teeth—let alone shower.

Rick reaches for her shampoo and squirts a bit into his hand. “Turn around for me,” he instructs.

His hands in her hair feel amazing as he works the shampoo into a lather—making sure to coat every single strand. He coaxes her under the shower spray to rinse it out and then repeats the process with her conditioner. She sighs contently as he scratches her scalp gently.

Afterwards, he just holds her—her back to his chest. “I missed ya,” she admits quietly.

He presses a kiss to her temple and tells her, “I missed you too, Harls.”

She turns around to face him and loops her arms around his neck so she can pull him down for a gentle kiss. Well, it starts as a gentle kiss, but she quickly deepens it—suddenly desperate for him. She needs to feel close to him, needs to feel his hands all over her body.

She doesn't give him any warning before jumping up to hitch her legs around his waist but he catches her easily—immediately pinning her against the shower wall. She moans as his kisses move downward—which turns into a muttered “fuck” as he nips at that one spot that always drives her insane. “I need you,” she pants in his ear.

She doesn't need to tell him twice.

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She clings to him tightly as they come down from their collective high, nuzzling her nose into his shoulder and sighing contently. Fuck, she had missed this. Her mood suddenly drops as it sinks in that she hadn't even lasted five days without him. She feels selfish—his trip was ruined because of her.

The tears spill over without her permission and she bites down hard on her lower lip to try to hide a whimper.

Rick's not fooled though. He pulls back to look at her but she stubbornly buries her face in his shoulder. “Harls, look at me,” he commands gently.

She forces herself to look at him—as always, expecting to find pity there but instead only finding love and concern.

“What's wrong? Talk to me, Harls,” he says, cupping her face with one hand and wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“I couldn't even last a week alone!” she sobs. “Fuck, I could barely last a day! How pathetic is that? And I ruined your trip.”

“Gonna stop you right there. You didn't ruin anything.” She starts to protest but he continues, “I still had a good trip, I promise. And you're not pathetic.”

She doesn't have a response to that.

“Listen, Harls,” he sighs. “You're still just starting to process your trauma—and there's a lot of it, no shame in that. It's okay to still be clingy right now. Honestly, I had a feeling it was a bad idea but—”

“Don't ya dare feel guilty about this!”

“How 'bout we just leave it at we both made mistakes?”

He sets her back on her feet and they finish their shower in comfortable silence—finishing just before the hot water runs out. Rick wraps a towel around his own waist before bundling her up in a towel. He quickly towels her hair off and then asks her to turn around. In the mirror, she sees him reach for her hairbrush.

She sighs at the feeling of the bristles on her scalp as Rick slowly and methodically works out all the tangles. When he's done, he wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek. “C'mon, Harls, let's get you to bed.”

She's practically asleep by the time he cleans up the bathroom and discards their wet towels and barely registers him scooping her up to carry her to the bedroom. He sets her on the bed and then rummages around in one of his drawers. She's so busy staring at his ass that she misses him tossing a shirt at her—letting out a startled squeak as the bright yellow fabric hits her in the face. She's delighted to realize it's his yellow bunny shirt she loves so much and slips it over her head.

He ushers her under the covers and then slides in behind her. He snakes an arm around her and pulls her close so her head is on his chest and she throws a leg over his hips and gets comfy—drifting off to sleep in no time. When she wakes up, disoriented, four hours later she's relieved to find he hasn't moved.

But then she panics. She'd kicked him right in the shin and he hadn't moved at all. She leans up to stare at him (maybe a little creepily, she will admit)—trying to see his face in the sliver of moonlight that's peeking through the blinds. She's reaching up to smack him when his arms tighten around her and he mumbles, “Stop starin' at me and go the fuck to sleep, Harls.”

She breathes a sigh of relief and settles back down.

Harley knows she's a hot mess.

But with Rick by her side she knows she'll (eventually) get it together.