Author's Note: This one has been swimming around in my head for a while now, and I thought, "What better time to write this than Halloween?"
So here it is: a little drabble-y, yes, but finished none-the-less. Enjoy, and remember to review.
He felt… normal. About as normal as he could possibly feel in his own skin.
A man waved at him, hollering something over the blaring music. The Joker leaned forward, watched the man's lips move, his arms wave a bit, and finally, noticed him pointing at his face.
He felt anger bubble up inside of him, leered at the man, and took a step forward, his hand instinctually moving to his pocket.
Harley caught his arm, held on tight, and pulled hard against him.
"Don't worry about it!" She yelled in his ear, just barely audible over the music. He turned and looked at her, and she grabbed both of his hands with her own, leading him away from the man. That man was very lucky. On any other occasion, the Joker would have sliced his face off for any comment about his scars, but tonight… tonight was for Harley.
She had somehow convinced him to leave their home, go out in public, and – what was most concerning of all – had somehow convinced him they should go dancing. She begged and pleaded for what seemed like an hour before he finally screamed that'd he go if it meant she'd shut up.
She, of course thrilled by the idea, quickly got ready and began to whine when he wasn't nearly as prepared as she had been. She went on and on and finally, fussing over how his hair was looking and what he was going to wear, decided she would have to dress him. He scowled at the idea, but (of course) let her do it. Anything to keep her from whining for the next two days.
He could imagine it. The "You never let me go out!" or the "We never go anywhere that isn't for a job!" blah blah wah wah wah. It made him angry just thinking about it.
And so, here he was, in the middle of a sea of undulating bodies, ears filled with a loud, thumping, grinding beat, Harley's petite frame pressed against his. He felt her wiggle and shimmy and move in such a way against him that he was sure he would have to throw her over his shoulder and take her back home. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her against him firmly, and leaned down close to her.
He looked over her shoulder, glanced around the room. He felt threatened in the crowd, like he was sure someone was coming after the both of them and it was just a matter of time before they would pounce.
He felt the vibration of Harley squealing, but didn't hear the sound. She grabbed his shirt, clenched it tight in her hand, and continued to sway with him, hips bumping from side to side in time with the music.
One of her hands traveled up towards his head, settling on the crook of his neck, and pulled him in, filling the little space between them. It was like they were melted together in the middle of the dance floor, one being for just a brief moment in time.
And he felt… normal. Human. He felt naked without his greasepaint, but somehow unafraid. Like he didn't have a care in the world. No Bats to worry about, no policemen, jail… nothing but the woman in front of him, whose arms were entangled with his.
He breathed, closing his eyes and bowing his head to the sound around him. He shed the weight of his life for a moment, feeling the warm air swim past his newly exposed flesh, the soft fabric that enveloped Harley's torso under his hands, the swelling crash of the song building higher and higher, until, suddenly, it stopped.
His world stopped.
He opened his eyes and peeked up, seeing the world around him in slow motion. The lights were flashing violently, and it created the look that everybody was moving in the same, jolting fashion: like everyone had planned how to dance, and executed it without warning at the drop.
The lights dropped and then swelled up, rising from the floor to the ceiling in a brilliant shade of red. He could hear the crowd roar, cheering in exhilaration at the music. It all felt so foreign. To see it happening before his eyes… it didn't seem real.
He thought, for a brief second, what had changed? In the time it took him to unveil himself from the burden of his identity, the rest of the world changed theirs and left him, once again, as an outcast. Even when he thought he felt normal, he still seemed to be a misfit.
Another man looked over at him, saw the red light flash across his face, and the Joker watched as his expression changed from curious to terror. He moved away, his hands beginning to quiver, and reached for the nearest person to turn and see what he was seeing.
The Joker pulled at Harley, beginning to push her towards the exit, and said as loud as he could that it was their time to leave. She was confused at first, protesting that they had just gotten there, and then she turned and saw the small of group of people pointing and trying to shout over the music.
She turned on her heel and took his hand in hers, picking up her pace as they hurried from the dance floor. They shoved past bystanders, knocking a waitress to the ground before sprinting out the exit. The cool night air hit their skin forcefully the moment they were outside, and knocked the sense back into the Joker.
He growled and turned to give Harley an angry look, suddenly very upset that she had convinced him to leave the house in the first place.
"Of all the nights to be recognized, you wouldn't think it'd be Halloween." She whined, letting his hand fall away and crossing her arms. "I saw at least six other people dressed up as you, and that one bum just has to find you and think it's you."
She huffed a little more and he felt his anger melt away. The corners of his mouth pulled inward, and he grumbled "Let's just go home…" He had had enough fun for this evening.