Author's note: Hi there. This is my first fic in oh, about 6 years. So forgive me if this is rough around the edges. Comments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are highly in need. If I don't get feedback, I'm far less likely to continue with where this is going. Yes, I'm doing it for myself, but there's no reason to put it online if no one else is reading or enjoying it. My version of Harley is a bit different than the series(s), but this is my rendition of her before she finished her degree and became a professional. The Joker will be in TDK style format, as Heath Ledger's dazzling performance. This story is in your honor, HL. RIP, we miss you.

Let's put a SMILE on that face!

Laugh. Out. Loud. A Joker x Harley Story

Chapter one: Click, click, pwn

Blood was everywhere. Bodies lined the floor. One person stood over them in victory, a smile lined their face. The guns and sharp little utensils dropped to the ground with a clatter.

"Goddammit, Harlequin." A male's voice came over the receiver.

A high pitched laugh rang through the headset. It was giddy, joyful, and plastered in supremacy.

"Not fair that a girl can pwn so well, it really isn't."

"She's probably a fat bitch anyways."

"Shut up, dude, Harlequin's a good player. Don't get your balls in a frenzy just because she annihilated your sorry ass."

Boys argued over and over through her headset as Harleen Quinzel cackled in real life. She strung away from her computer and smiled gleefully at her mastery in first person shooters. For a nineteen year old girl, she wasn't your typical one. She curled up on her swivel chair and took a few spins. She stretched her arms.

"Where are you from, anyways, Harlequin?" Asked user MonsterKill23.

She stopped spinning and took a click of the computer mouse as she tilted her head towards the mic.

"The states." She said.

"We know that." Said a boy with an aussie accent, TheYAxis.

"Mmm… Gotham City." She knew the rules of the internet. Don't give out your name or where you lived, but she honestly couldn't say that she cared.

"Gotham huh. Oooh Spooky, aren't you scared of the joker!!" Autro asked.

"Not really. He's all locked up and stuff now." Harleen responded, bored of the subject already. "The city is really big anyways. That's like asking people in New York if they're afraid of terrorists."

"Yeah, but that stuff just 'appened to you a week ago." TheYAxis said.

"It didn't concern me." Harleen responded. "Anyways, you guys up for another rou—"

She was quickly interrupted by an old woman's faint voice.

"HARLEEN!"

"Actually guys I gotta go, bye." She quickly stated and threw off her headset. The girl named Harleen stampeded down the stairs, jumping the last step and landing in the kitchen, her sneakers skidding across the tile floor.

"Uh, yeah?" She quipped casually, folding her arms. Her aunt turned away from the stove and looked at her with a tired expression. Her uncle flipped through the newspaper, getting ready to go to work. He took a swig of his coffee, not noticing Harleen's abrupt appearance.

"You've been up all night again." Her aunt sternly said. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a statement. It was an accusation. Harleen didn't get a chance to open her mouth to even speak a word.

"You're 19, you're failing your classes in community college and you're unemployed. You don't do anything for this household and you don't do anything for yourself but have fun and play video games. You're such a bright girl, why are you wasting your potential." She ranted. "And you used to be the star little gymnast and won all those awards in junior high too."

Harleen rolled her eyes. She was tired of getting the same spiel everyday. She nodded. Nodded. Agreed. Then.

"So your uncle and I have decided to employ you at Arkham."

"Hey Now! I'm not THAT crazy!" Harleen bristled; her blond hair took a swish as she took a step forward. "Wait, employment?" Her aunt nodded.

"Well your uncle is in the board of directors there. And we both know you need a job, isn't that right, honey." Her uncle nodded, face in his newspaper, sipping his java.

"I refuse." She stated bluntly.

Her Aunt sighed once more. "Then I suppose I'm disconnecting the internet."

"You can't do that, What if I have a psychology paper to write!" She snarled. Wikipedia was a god. End of story.

"Oh for heaven sake's, Harleen, it wouldn't destroy you to work there. It would be good for your major, too. Right, honey?"

He nodded.

"I can't believe this." Harleen whirled around to the cabinet and poured herself some coffee as well. The hot taste wasn't even comparable to her anger right now. It was just… suppressed.

"You took your medications, right?" Her aunt asked. Harleen shot a look to the corner of the counter where 8 different bottles sat. She opened one by one and swallowed her pills.

"Uh. Yeah." She sighed. She hated taking medications. She wasn't sick though, she was just different. That's what she always told herself, but an 8 hour gaming session was enough to get any bad thoughts away.

"You can be an intern there. You know, minor paperwork, house cleaning after a patient..."

"Oh boy, sounds fantastical." She growled into the streaming cup after she twisted the lids back onto the bottles and tossed them back in their corner.

"I guess if you're going to be picky, you can pick any one you want." Her uncle gave in, finally speaking a word. How rare of him to care.

Did it matter which lunatic she took care of? She didn't care. Wait…

Wait…

Yes, yes she did. A smile adorned her face as she slid around, amused and alert. If she was going to have to do work, she might as well have it her way.

"The Joker." She couldn't help but laugh.

--

So that's what I got. Like I said, I haven't done this in years, so it will take a little getting used to. Tell me what works, what doesn't, what's what, you name it. Tell me if you want me to kick it up a notch on the rating and… other things. eyebrow wiggle

By the way, did I ever tell you how I got these scars?

Joker in the next chapter. Oh yus.