The Joker was a proud man. A god amongst men, the cheerful boogeyman that waited in your closet. He wouldn't waste a second putting a bullet through someone's head or throwing them off a building, so long as they had a smile on their face as he did it.

He was a strong independent man who feared nothing.

This sentence seemed to be on a continuous loop in his head, as he sat huddled up (''No, 'working'..!'' he thought to himself) in his office. The bangs outside his door had suddenly stopped, and who knew where the dreaded hellbeast was now lurking. He could only pray that Rocco and the others, whose names he didn't have the patience to remember, were somehow safe. He sighed a breath that he hadn't realised he had been holding in. At least in here he was safe. The door was always bolted with multiple locks, and the only way in was through the skylight and if you were 210 pound flying rodent. He squared his shoulders and cracked his neck. 'Right, back to the drawing board… Literally! Ha!'

He had planned on whipping up a quick extermination plan for said rodent. You know, for those rainy days. Everything that The Joker put his mind to was the work of pure genius. Every diagram precise, his words exacting and scattered liberally on the page. Instead what he had before him was a collage of hurried crayon marks, the ramblings of a madman, and paper that was left soggy from when he had spilled his coffee at the shock of the shrill roars of the hellbeast. He remembered that Croc had done something similar in art therapy the last time they were locked up. His face dropped in disappointment and annoyance. Perhaps like a child, and perhaps this wasn't supposed to be his masterpiece, but it was of his making and everything that he made was perfect. He picked up his mug to drain the remaining dregs of cold coffee in defeat.

'Oh Sweetie..!'

The Joker screamed and his mug went flying. How did it break in? What did it want now? Please let it be a merciful death! The dainty claws held his left shoulder as it leant over to look at the collage. With a scrunched look on its face, its jaws of infinite screeching opened once more;

'I know you say never to explain a joke, but you might have to explain this one to me'

He glared at her. If this had been one of those silly little stories that lovesick teenage fans wrote, she would still be in Arkham and not be playing art critic. No, scratch that- he would be on the table and at her mercy… Speaking of which…

'Why are you in that thing again?' he quipped, realising that she had once again found that red negligee that he could have sworn he had burnt one fond past night.

He was an entertainer. When he wasn't bringing joy to the masses, he was finding new and interesting ideas to dispose of the Bat. When he wasn't doing either of those things, well, he had to keep himself entertained somehow. What Harley didn't know was that those were the times that she had his undivided attention. 'Operation Toss Her Out The Window, Operation Toaster In Bath, Operation Let The Shower Run Red With Permanent Ink, Operation Destroy Everything That She Could Use To 'Enhance The Mood'…'

'Oh this thing?' She chimed, pinging the bra strap so to inspect it. 'I couldn't find the old one, so I picked up a new one when me and Red were out shopping last month. See? Purple bows this time!'

'So why are you wearing it? And how did you even get in in the first place?!'

'I don't have to if you don't want…' she purred, completely ignoring the second question.

She began slipping the straps from her shoulders but he grabbed them before she revealed anything more risqué. He took her chin gently as she pouted.

'Pumpkin, we've talked about this…' he cooed, that charming smile that always melted her forming on his face. 'This is mine and Lexy's game night, and you know how I hate to disappoint…'

The pout turned angry, and the hellbeast awoke once more;

'It's always the same with you, ain't it?! Am I not good enough for you anymore? That you'd rather spend the night with some bigshot billionaire? I'll bet it's not even Lex who you go to see! It's another psychiatrist, ain't it? Or a gymnast, or a yoga instructor!'

She began to hit, and he tried to shield himself from the onslaught. When she couldn't get to his face anymore, she pushed him off the chair. He fell to the ground, but she straddled him and continued the beating.

'Didn't I give you a revving last week?' he countered weakly.

'TRY TWO MONTHS AGO!'

She managed to land a slap on his cheek, but he caught her wrists when she recoiled. Jeez, had it really been that long?

She was crying now, still struggling in his grasp. Her teeth were gritted and her makeup was starting to run.

'Look at me'. He was forceful with his tone, maybe from caring or probably from just wanting her to shut up and leave him alone.

Her eyes were still scrunched and she shook her head defiantly. He took both wrists on one hand, and used his other hand to give her a hard slap on the face.

'Look at me!' he growled.

Her eyes finally opened, but the tears still streamed down. He softened his grip and she took back on of her hands to wipe her nose;

'…we never do any of that normal couple stuff… it's just work and Bats and drinking with the boys with you…'

'What about that firework display I took you to last week?'

'THAT WAS THE BANK BLOWING UP AGAIN!' she screamed, eyes suddenly wide and livid.

She looked away again and went back to crying softly. 'Ah, if nothing else, you've got to admire the poetry of those polar opposites of hers…' He stroked her cheek gently with his finger;

'Then what would you like?' He hated himself for asking that, but if he knew what she was expecting, at least she wouldn't keep complaining all the damn time.

She shuffled in her seated position nervously. He knew she was being cute, but all it did was start the beginnings of something down there that would really defeat the object of this whole argument. He growled again slightly, at himself for not having more self control.

'I dunno… Like… Red and Harv sometimes go out on those double date things… Like,… even if it was just us, and a restaurant, or even if you just included me one of those times that you went out… I dunno…' she muttered.

She hadn't thought this through, and that was the worst part. If she didn't even know what she wanted, then how the hell was he meant to know?

Ugh, did this mean that she wanted to come with him tonight?

'It's only a few games of cards and drinks. Nothing that you would find interesting' he told her.

'I like cards…'

'And boy talk. I don't know what you girls talk about at your little sleepovers, but we sure as hell aren't going to talk about our menstrual cycles and unicorns…' She giggled at that, and then pushed him playfully. 'Usually who's making too much of a racket in our little group of friends, or who would win in a fight between Batman and Superman…'

'Sounds like fun...!' she smiled.

The Joker sighed once again in defeat. Perhaps Ol' Lexy would read between the lines with this one and refuse to let her join them…

A/N: Be gentle- this is my first piece in a very long time. Reviews are always nice. I originally intended for the whole story to be serious, but when you are dealing with these two characters, you want to throw in a little comedy for their namesake. As with anything, this is up to the dear reader's own interpretation. However, I'll just put it out there that I am throwing nothing into this story to tie it in with that awful film that has recently hit cinemas. Sorry folks- no tattoos or laughing like Voldemort here. My inspiration for this Joker is a heavy mix of Mark Hamill, John DiMaggio (oh, that voice...) and our dear Heath Ledger. Harley was a general blend of all but the newest film interpretation. Lex originally wasn't going to be in this (I kinda sorta had an idea to tie it in with the awesome Gotham TV Show, though if this story is a hit, I might make a sequel). Lex was then put in because...well... I'mashamelessfangirlandIsawoneinterpretationandIdon'tcareandthat'swhyI'mnotmakinganybaldcommentsinthisdarnthing...

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Enjoy, and I'll see you next chapter. It should be more of a serious thing this time, so don't worry