A Bit of Fun
It had been a good day, thought the Joker, leaning back contentedly in the car and trying to catch his breath after one of his admittedly not unusual laughing fits. A plan he had been working on for months had finally come to fruition, a plan that he had invested a lot of energy and effort into, and it was always rewarding to see hard work like that pay off. On top of which, he was now once again a free man. Sure, he had some minor injuries from his latest Bat beating, but what did that matter in the grand scheme of things? Wounds healed – they wouldn't stop him from reveling in that feeling of victory as he glanced over at the girl who had sprung him from Arkham Asylum, the former Dr. Harleen Quinzel.
She had blown out his cell door, introducing herself as his "new and improved Harley Quinn," and calling him "puddin'" in the process. Which had been dreadfully annoying, and the only drawback in an otherwise perfect escape – she had used gag items to cause serious injury, one of Joker's favorite things to do to unsuspecting citizens. She was emulating that whole clown thing really well. And that harlequin getup wasn't too shabby either. She was a masterpiece, thought Joker, smugly – a testament to his persuasiveness and charm. The girl had thrown her life away as a successful doctor just to help him break outta the nuthouse. It was a great joke, just like he had planned. The perfect gag, and a whole lotta fun.
Harley glanced at him, grinning. "So…where to, puddin'?" she asked.
"Yeah, don't call me that again," said Joker, his smile falling slightly in annoyance. "I ain't really the type for pet names."
Harley shrugged. "You're the boss," she said.
"Yes, I am," agreed Joker, beaming again. He had been in control of everything – pulling the strings so the shrink would pity him, and then when that pity had gradually grown into something deeper, making his move. Telling the girl that she was only one who could possibly understand him, the only one he trusted with his secrets, and the dumb blonde had been so gullible that she had swallowed every word, hook, line, and sinker. She lapped up his sob stories, cooed over his lies, and finally, when the moment was right, had surrendered herself completely to him. The Joker didn't think of himself as a Don Juan type – romantic seduction wasn't his usual, go to method. But it had been too perfect to resist with Harley. The poor little thing had never been in love before, didn't seem to have any friends or relationships – she confided her deepest wishes to him, her deepest hopes and dreams of true love, and it had been simplicity itself to take advantage of those, to make her believe that she was special to him, the only woman who could ever save or redeem him. She had wanted to believe that, and so she had. It hadn't even been particularly difficult to seduce her, she had been so utterly naïve. She had wanted to see the best in him, even if that best didn't actually exist. And so when the time came for her to fall, she fell hard.
Truly one of the greatest jokes of his career, thought Joker, looking at her. But that's all she was – a joke. A bit of fun, that he had used to escape from Arkham. And now…now he was interested in seeing her next move. Maybe the joke wasn't over yet, and he could play with her some more. When the Joker grew tired of his toys, he broke them, but he wasn't tired of Harley Quinn just yet.
"The hideout's just up here," he said, pointing. "Left and then a right. The boys should roll out the welcome wagon."
Harley's face fell slightly. "Oh. The henchmen stay in the hideout too? I kinda thought…it'd just be us."
"Nope," said Joker. "Not a huge amount of privacy in the hideout."
"Oh," repeated Harley, her face falling again. "That's a shame. Because I kinda wanted to celebrate our escape properly…y'know," she said, grinning at him.
What is wrong with this woman? thought Joker, frowning. Apart from the obvious, of course. Even when they were in Arkham, where their intimate moments together had to be brief out of necessity, Harley always wanted more, completely disregarding the risks of them getting caught. Sex wasn't really something the Joker was particularly interested in – it had been a necessary tool in order to ensure Harley's cooperation in his escape, but he wasn't ever seized with uncontrollable sexual urges, which this woman seemed to be all the time. Just his luck that the one time he did try the Don Juan route, he had seduced a nymphomaniac. Maybe he would break the toy sooner rather than later unless she cooled off a little.
"Well…maybe later," said Joker, slowly. "Maybe I can get the guys to clear out…or something."
Harley giggled – that was clearly enough to be a positive confirmation for her. Well, he wasn't going to be pressured into anything by some sex-maniac dame – she would have to learn to control herself. There was no way he was letting this little toy, this tool he had used to bust outta Arkham, push him around or awaken his libido. He liked his apathy toward sex just fine – made his appetite for murder and mayhem even stronger. And the quickies they'd had in Arkham had been fun and all, but that was all they were – quick and emotionless. Sex, real sex, could get messy and complicated with things like feelings and emotions and all that stuff the Joker was pleased to be able to do without. And there was no way he was letting this dumb blonde change that.
As long as what they had was always just a bit of fun, and nothing else, Harley could stick around. The moment she wanted anything more serious, Joker had vowed to put a bullet in her head himself.
He nodded firmly in resolution as they pulled up to the Joker's hideout. A bunch of henchmen rushed out to greet him. "Boss, we weren't expecting you back so soon!" exclaimed one, Rocco Demarco. "The Bat only dragged you back to Arkham last night!"
"Yeah, but I had a little escape plan all worked out, Roc!" chuckled Joker, as he was helped outta the car by Harley. "And ain't she just a peach?"
All the henchmen stared at Harley in bewilderment. "Uh…who is she, boss?" asked one, slowly.
"Harley Quinn," said Harley, beaming at them. "Pleased to meetcha!"
They all still stared at her in confusion. "Harley…Quinn, y'know, like the clown character?" said Harley, slowly, looking around at them all. This clearly didn't ring any bells, and Harley shrugged. "I'm the Joker's girlfriend," she said, nodding at him.
Joker stumbled at this and she caught him. He laughed uncomfortably. "Harley…let's not get carried away with labels!" he chuckled.
"Whaddya mean, puddin'?" asked Harley. "I am your girlfriend, ain't I?"
"Girlfriend is…such a strong word," said Joker, slowly.
"No, it ain't," retorted Harley.
"Sure it is!" laughed Joker. "Has a lotta…connotations, y'know."
"Like what?" asked Harley, puzzled.
"Like…y'know…like we got kinda a relationship going on."
"Don't we?" asked Harley.
This was really, really awkward, thought Joker, feeling the stares of the henchmen on them. He cleared his throat. "Why don't we go inside, sweets, and discuss this privately? Boys, just…go back to doing…whatever it was you were doing."
He leaned against Harley as she helped him into the hideout. Joker nodded toward his room at the end of the hall, and Harley took him there. "Boy, I'm beat!" exclaimed Joker as she closed the door. "Literally and figuratively!" he chuckled, gesturing to his wounds. "Think I'll hit the sack straightaway…"
"Mr. J, what did you mean out there?" interrupted Harley. Clearly she wasn't going to let this drop – typical woman. "About labels and stuff?"
"Just that…there's no hurry to label things, is there?" asked Joker. "Why not just the enjoy the fun and casualness of the whole thing?"
Harley looked at him. "I just kinda thought…after what happened between us at Arkham…that we were kinda…together."
"Together," repeated Joker. "Right. Like…"
"Like in a relationship. I'm your girlfriend, right? Just, y'know, when you're…intimate with someone like that…that means you're in a relationship, doesn't it?"
Joker laughed nervously again. "Kiddo, sex doesn't automatically lead to a relationship! It's just casual and fun. Don't you enjoy fun, cupcake?"
"Sure I do," agreed Harley, nodding. "But…y'know…what I've done for you, giving up my life and all…I did it because I wanted to start a new life in a committed relationship with you. I love you."
Joker didn't know how to respond to that. It wasn't a joke – her face was deadly serious. Maybe he should say it back, just as a gag, but he just stared at her, trying to comprehend what exactly was going on in her head. The Joker had a very high opinion of himself, and he couldn't blame people for emulating and admiring him. But loving him? He had never thought of himself as particularly loveable – I mean, what was there to love about him? He wasn't a cuddly, heartfelt, sincere guy, not a Romeo type. He wasn't a lover. He was the Joker. A psychopathic, homicidal clown. He had a great sense of humor, and women did tend to like that, but still…he was hardly lover material.
He laughed at last. "Harley…you can't possibly love me. You don't even know me…"
"Yeah, I do," interrupted Harley. "You've told me your secrets, and all about your past."
"But that was all…" he began, then stopped. No need to ruin that joke just yet. "But…that's not who I am now, Harley. I may have had a hard time growing up, but I ain't just some lost, innocent victim. I'm a bad guy, and I do bad things. Nobody…loves a bad guy."
"I do," said Harley. "You're right, Mr. J, your past doesn't matter to me. I've read all about your crimes, and I know the kinda guy you are. And I still love you. I don't think I'm some saving angel who's gonna come into your life and reform you – a lotta women think that about bad guys, but I know I can't change you, and I don't want to. You're perfect just the way you are, Mr. J. That's why I love you."
"And the killing and stuff…that doesn't bother you?" asked Joker, slowly.
"Anybody who would hurt you deserves to be killed," retorted Harley. "Especially Batman. From now on, nobody's gonna lay a finger on my angel without me beating 'em six ways from Sunday. Because that's what you are to me, Mr. J. You're my angel. You saved me from the boring routine of my life and helped me find who I really am. I'm Harley Quinn, your girlfriend. And I love everything about you – your passion for crimes, your intelligence, your sense of humor, your bloodthirstiness, your laugh…everything. I love you, Mr. J."
"Well…ok then," said Joker, lamely. "That's…good for you, I guess. Yeah. Well, I'm heading to bed," he said, changing the subject. "So see you tomorrow, toots."
"Ok. Which is my side?" asked Harley.
"Side?" repeated Joker, puzzled.
"Of the bed," she said, nodding at it. "We're in a relationship, so we share a bed, right?"
"Uh…well, see, kid, what you gotta understand is that I tend to need…all the space," he said, gesturing at the bed. "Tend to…uh…toss and turn and flop around at night, and I wouldn't wanna hurt you…"
"I'm sure I can get used to it," said Harley.
Joker was sick of being nice now – he was generally a charmer, but he had a quick temper, and Harley had been pushing all sorts of buttons since the escape, with this whole girlfriend-relationship-love stuff. And now she presumed she would just impose upon his life by stealing away his personal space – it was the last straw.
"Look, you little brat!" he snapped. "You ain't sleeping in my bed! What, you think just because you helped me bust outta Arkham that you can suddenly come into my life and change everything?! I'm the Joker! Nobody tells me what to do, and nobody invades my personal space! I live and work alone – always have done, and always will do! I don't do relationships, and I don't need a dame, especially not some nagging, irritating little waste of space like you! So get outta my room before I beat you so hard you won't be able to sleep here or anywhere else for a week!"
There were tears in Harley's eyes as she stared at him in heartbreak. But she merely nodded, turned, and left the room.
"Dumb blonde," muttered Joker, climbing into bed. "She'd better learn her place. Won't keep her around if she keeps pushing me – bit of fun ain't worth putting up with a nag. She should be damn grateful she even sparked my interest, not wanting more and more. Girlfriend, relationship, love, ugh!" he said, making a face. "Not for me! Love is all being sincere and honest - no joke in that! I ain't like normal guys – I ain't gonna let some dame come into my life and start turning everything upside down! What does she think I am, some simpering puppy who's gonna pine after her? She better accept that she's just a bit of fun, and when I get bored with her, she's outta here! She don't mean nothing to me, and she better get used to that, and fast."
He spread out on the bed, shutting his eyes. "Love," he muttered. "She loves me. Honestly, how dumb can you get?"
