Disclaimer: I don't own Batman in any way, shape or form. I'm not making any money off of this, either. Duh.

Pairing: Joker x Harley Quinn

Rating: PG / PG-13 for a brief glimpse into Harley's dirty little head.

Universe: I like my Joker to the comic book Joker with a dash of Animated Series Joker thrown in, just in the way that I imagine Mark Hamill's voice. ;) This isn't in the section for Animated Series because it isn't based on that universe. I just borrowed the voice and a few mannerisms from it. If you have a problem with that, please take note that many of the other fics in this section do the same thing I'm doing. Suck it up, plzkthnx?

Notes: This is my first piece of Batman fan fiction. You have been warned. Just a little scene that popped into my head the other day and wouldn't leave me alone. I actually wrote this at work on receipt paper. A very long piece of receipt paper. Review and tell me if it's okay or if I failed miserably, please? ;)

XXX

Dry Clean Only

Nov. 29, 2009

"Har-ley!"

Oohboy. She knew what that tone meant, and it wasn't good!

Jumping up from her spot on the floor where she had been lovingly shining her Mistah J's shoes, Harley scurried into the bedroom and slid to a stop just a few feet from the towering Mount Vesuvius that was The Joker.

Yeaahh… he wasn't happy.

"Cupcake," he began in a false, syrupy voice, "would you like to tell daddy what happened to his coat? His very best and most favorite Bat-Busting coat?"

Harley gulped. She'd stuffed the thing in the back of his wardrobe in an attempt to stave off the inevitable, but apparently she was having no such luck.

"I-I took it to the dry cleaners, just like you said, Puddin'! But they musta done it wrong, 'cause it - well, it ended up like that! They paid me for the damages…" she trembled, lowering her gaze and shuffling her feet a bit.

"Oh, I see. And the money they gave you, Harley… is that going to make this," he wildly flapped the severely shrunken coat in her face, "the right size again? Hmm?!"

She squeaked, than rapidly shook her head. "N-no, sir! But it wasn't my fault at least, huh?" she gave a nervous giggle and a (hopefully) winning smile, then squawked as he simultaneously threw the ruined coat aside and smacked her upside the head, causing her to stumble sideways and land on her bottom.

"As far as I'm concerned you cursed it with your idiocy!" he roared, with a few well-aimed kicks that she barely managed to scoot away from.

"Please don't be mad at me Puddin'! We can buy a new one!" she rushed to placate him and he snarled.

"Do you know how many Bat-thrashings that coat and I went through? I don't want a new one!"

The small part of Harley that recalled her schooling as a psychologist wanted to begin drawing parallels between her man's emotional projection onto his coat and the way a bereft child behaves when a pet dies ("I don't want a new puppy, I want RUSTY!"), but she quickly shut it off before she got into more trouble. Instead, she looked up at him, nervous tears beginning to well up in her eyes, and snatched the coat from the floor.

"Look, Mistah J, it ain't that small!" she insisted, shaking the invisible dust off of the garment and holding it up toward him.

"What are you, completely brain-dead? The Boy blunder wouldn't even fit into that handkerchief!" he insisted, snatching it away from her with a growl. "I can't believe this, Harley! It's so inconsiderate of you! I mean, I trusted you with my best coat, and this is how you repay that trust?" You know how hard it is for me…" he affected a saddened expression and forced himself not to burst into delighted laughter as Harley became significantly more distressed and burst into tears.

"I'm so s-s-sorry, Puddin'! I didn't mean to let you down! You can trust me, please Mistah J!"

"Can I, Harley? Can I trust you? I'm not so sure any more…"

She wailed, and as she threw herself at his stocking feet to clutch desperately at the hem of his pants, he couldn't hold back a pleased chuckle.

"Punish me, do whatever you want! Just d-don't be mad at meeee!" she sobbed, burying her face against his leg. The Joker grinned above her.

"I suppose I should teach you a lesson, hmm?" He tapped his chin for a moment, eyes rolling up to the ceiling in mock-thought. "All right, get up!" he demanded, before sitting down in the chair by his desk with a flourish.

Harley stood before him nervously, chewing on her lip.

"Get over here." he hissed as he pointed clearly at his lap, and she rushed to drape herself over his legs.

"Ah, ah, ah, Harley-girl… you're forgetting something. Daddy likes to see his handy-work, remember?" a crude, maniacal grin stole over his features as Harley scrambled to her feet and wiggled out of her costume as fast as she could, then assumed her previous position on her puddin's lap.

"Much better." He purred, than delivered a powerful blow to her bottom.

Harley yelped, unable to help herself and the Joker laughed as he struck again, and again, and again, refusing to stop until her bare rear was bright, fire-engine red and she was sobbing.

"Had enough?" he asked sweetly, and she sobbed harder at the realization that it was a trick question. Oh God, yes she'd had enough! She'd had so much enough! The aching in her tush was second only to the throbbing need between her legs, and the worst part was that she knew that he knew, and her punishment would be more the lack of release after her spanking then the blows themselves.

Letting out a frustrated, pained sob, Harley turned her head to the side and glanced up at her man. There he was, grinning broadly above her, hair hanging over his forehead as he peered down at her with wild eyes.

"N-no, sir." She managed to sob out, and with another sharp bark of laughter he laid into her again, several more brutal strikes that would have her hobbling for weeks, at least.

Finally, he stopped, and just listened to her gasp for breath and hiccup and sob for a few minutes.

"Aww, my poor girl…" he murmured, drawing her up into his arms and congratulating himself on further ensnaring Harley's sanity as she burrowed into his chest for comfort – even though she was seeking comfort from what he had just done! Yes, he certainly had his girl trained well…

"There there, pumpkin pie…" he cooed, stroking her back and placing a little kiss against her temple, "you learned your lesson, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, daddy." She mumbled, voice muffled by his chest.

"Of course you did."

Slowly Harley's breathing went back to normal, and the Joker looked thoughtful for a moment, before shoving her from his lap and proclaiming "stand up!"

She stumbled to her feet and watched him pick the coat up and look at it critically.

"Arms out." He demanded absently, than draped her in the purple cloth. "Yes, just as I thought…"

He stepped back and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"Maybe this isn't a completely lost cause… and just because I'm not wearing it doesn't mean it isn't still my accessory, what with you along…"

Harley stood still in the coat, watching her volatile man warily.

"Yes, that settles it!" he suddenly proclaimed. "You can wear this coat on special Bat-breaking occasions!"

Harley blinked, then beamed, relieved that her puddin' was back in good spirits.

Suddenly, he frowned.

"Harley… you didn't' do this on purpose just to get my coat, did you…?"

She gulped.

It was going to be a long night, after all.