Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own the Joker or Harley Quinn. All credit to DC Comics for Batman in general and Christopher Nolan for The Dark Knight.
"I fell out of Heaven, to be with you in Hell"
-The Raveonettes, 'Lust'
Joker wasn't a man who kept too many memories floating around his skull. He was a man of action, of impulse, a man who weaved together bits and pieces of what might have been the truth and filled the holes with whatever else came to mind. But he would always remember, clear as the cut from a freshly sharpened switchblade, the first time he caught sight of His Angel.
He'd been at Arkham maybe three days, he wasn't sure, his clothes replaced with scrubs; make-up, dirt, and grease washed clean. Trapped like a monkey in a zoo, nothing to do in his cage but twiddle his thumbs until it was decided whether he could handle the common room. He was so fucking bored, he thought about whipping it out and jacking away the next time an orderly walked by.
But it was her who walked by. Natural silvery blonde hair pulled back in a bun, cool pale skin, gray-blue eyes the smallest bit too wide, chin a bit too pointed. Little wisp of a thing, maybe 5'0", 5'2" at most, barely a handful of tits. She just looked so… fragile. Like a porcelain angel. And there she was, wandering around the bowels of Hell, gazing around at all the demons like she was a little girl picking out a fucking puppy to take home and love.
And oh how he wanted the little snow white angel to pick him, to invite this particular demon to her sanctuary so he could pin her to her altar and defile her. Not forcibly, he decided. Where, after all, was the fun, the sport, the satisfaction in that? No, it had to be of her own will; she would beg him to desecrate her, beg him to satisfy her carnal need, beg him to make her as corrupt as him…
He had always been good-looking, knew he still was in spite of the scars. So, when she wandered casually over to his cell, he brushed his green-tinged dirty blonde curls to the side and fixed her with a reptilian stare that clearly stated "I am going to devour you." Her breath hitched unexpectedly at the realization that he was penetrating her with his dark, circled eyes. As soon as she made eye contact with him, he broke his gaze only to noticeably inspect her from bottom to top, then slide the corners of his scarred mouth upward, letting her know he liked what he saw. Fireworks went off inside his chest when he saw a deep blush creep into her pale cheeks and her hands begin to shake.
And then -- she smiled back. It was a small, uncertain smile, the kind you make out of helplessness, when you're not sure what else to do, and it made the blood rush straight to his dick. He blinked a few times and touched the thick glass of his cell, dropping some of his dangerous stance and inviting her over to play. She moved closer. Close enough he could read her badge: Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Intern, Arkham Asylum. Harleen Quinzel. Harley Quinn. Harlequin. It was so perfect, he almost laughed aloud. Oh, if there had been any doubts before, now the little angel was his for the taking.