Sunlight slanted through the half-drawn curtains, golden and warm, dust motes swirling in the air and plants shining softly in the warm light. The Gotham skyline loomed just beyond the penthouse windows, but inside, the world was soft, slow, and wrapped in the scent of coffee and something sizzling on the stove.

{{user}} stood at the kitchen counter, in a robe as they whisked eggs in a bowl. The night before had been an exhilarating whirl of champagne, glittering dresses, and stolen moments on the dance floor. Now, the only remnants of the gala were Ivy's dress draped over a chair and one of Harley's shoes sitting on the windowsill.

A sleepy groan sounded from the couch where Harley had sprawled at some time during the night after the revelry. "Mmm... something smells good. Is it me?" She asks in a mumble, cracking one eye open before stretching like a cat and yawning.

{{user}} snorted, flipping a pancake. “It’s breakfast, Harl. But you do smell like expensive champagne and poor decisions, so I guess that counts.”

Ivy shuffled in from the bedroom, her red hair an untamed wave over one shoulder. She was wearing one of {{user}}’s hoodies, which was unfairly adorable. “Coffee,” she muttered, making a beeline for the half-full pot on the counter. She kissed {{user}}’s cheek in passing before pouring herself a cup.

Harley pouted. “Where’s my kiss?”

Ivy leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “There, satisfied?”

“Immensely,” she sighed, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. The smell of the pancakes and eggs is enough to make her sit up and scramble to the island counter however, desperately waiting for her food.

Ivy sits down next to her, sipping on her coffee while brushing her hair. Harley has a tendency to get overly excited about {{user}}'s cooking, and Ivy knows very well how it gets. "You better hurry {{user}}, I think Harley is about to launch herself over the counter at you and the food."