Oh you give me love
Just to break my heart
Put me back together
Just to pull me apart
You give me a hand and kick me to the ground
Oh you fill me up
Just to tear me down
...
Harley didn't see Joker again for a full week after he attacked her. She wanted to more than half a dozen times and those half a dozen times it was his name on her lips as she sprawled in the bathroom.
He was in lock down for his bad behaviour but she could have organised a session with him, he still had permissions to attend treatment after all. Part of her was punishing him.
He wanted to throw her up against a wall then he could languish with his nightmares for a while. It would be more satisfying if hadn't started to feel like she was punishing herself. She was fidgeting like an addict on a come down.
He may be in her system but there was still one drug she'd choose over him. Power. And letting him rot alone in his cell was power even if she knew it would do nothing for his mental health or their rapport.
She consoled herself by pouring over his case file again. It was one of the fullest she'd ever seen and possibly the least enlightening. This was maybe the hundredth time she'd read it but now she had some more context.
His dreams about a hurt child couldn't be any more vague but it was still a clue. It could be a representation of his forgotten childhood. It could be purely symbolic. Whatever it was or wasn't, Harley knew it was new insight into an enigmatic man.
She also had her apartment to herself again which was a mixed blessing. As predicted, Jonathon had soon realised he was neck deep in domestic life and had extricated himself. Harley wasn't offended - in so many ways he reminded her of a cat. Capable of warmth and affection but only on their terms.
On one hand, she no longer had to stifle her moans and she was able to read the Joker's file ad nauseam on the comfort of her couch. On the other hand, his absence left the apartment feeling emptier than before. And more than ever, she had the sense of unfinished business between them.
All that time in her bed and he hadn't touched her. Anyone else and Harley would have written them off. But in Jonathon it piqued her interest.
Sometimes she wasn't sure who owned the blue eyes in her fantasies.
She was a woman divided. When she was near Jonathon, she was consumed with thoughts of green hair and messy ink and the thought of teeth sinking into her thigh hard.
When he was gone, she still thought of Joker but it was so she'd stop wondering what the fuck was going through Jonathon's head.
She knew Jonathon Crane and knew his ego would love the fact he had her puzzling again. Harley realised it wasn't healthy to distract herself from the complicated relationship with Jonathon by seeking to spend time with a mass murderer who had tried to choke her.
She rang Arkham, scheduled a session all the same and planned it perfectly.
Maybe it was dangerous but she was going to prod the bear and see what happened.
...
Joker was disappointed in himself for the level of excitement he experienced when they told him he could eat dinner in the cafeteria. It wasn't anything special but staring at nothing but white walls was enough to anyone crazy... crazier?
Maybe he should have known something was up when they led him to a table rather than let him collect food. The table was unoccupied except for his recently elusive therapist.
Harley was sitting there holding a cup of pudding with a blank expression.
He would have greeted her more boisterously but her face was the first sign that everything wasn't returning to normal. Not yet.
"Harls."
He took the seat opposite her. Hands on the table so everyone could see them. It wasn't just so the guards would know he wasn't up to anything but also so Harley would look at his long fingers, pale and illustrated ,and think about what he'd done to her.
Sometimes fear didn't need big gestures or loud noises.
Her eyes didn't even flick downwards. Her shirt was lower-cut then strictly professional. He could see the swell of her breasts. Pleasant visual but he didn't enjoy it. Carefully constructed Harley didn't do anything casually.
She was flaunting the unblemished skin to show him how little impact he'd had. It was as calculated a display as his hands. In fact she was showing more skin than he expected and all her brand new scars were there for anyone to see. Maybe that was a deliberate move too.
He hoped she didn't know how possessive those marks made him feel, how they sent tension straight up his spine. Joke tried to look at all the pieces in between the wounds because if he focused on them he was likely to try and rip the table out of the ground. They were on a see-saw for dominance and one wrong move might tip it in her favour.
Joker drank in the details of Harley that weren't going to send him into a temper tantrum. She was obviously sleeping better, her skin had some colour from the sun. Her arms were more toned than he remembered and realised there was a new rigidity to her posture.
She let him look at her and she stayed quiet. Not passive quiet either but sternly silent. Her lack of words made him uncomfortable. They were her first weapon so what was she waiting for?
"Are you ready to take me back as a patient, Doc?"
He sounded glib but he was acutely aware of the listening ears all around. She hadn't dismissed the guards like normal. It was also dinner time which meant that the room was milling with patients and medical professionals with enough sanity to listen to them.
She tapped a finger nail against the top of the unopened pudding. The nail was blood red.
"I am. But with one condition."
Joker tilted his head and slouched backwards, creating a wary distance between them. "Why should I give you a damn thing?"
"Because even you don't want to spend every day of your miserable life alone," she fired back, tone cold. He hated to admit it but she was right. Having no one but his own thoughts for company in a small room with no distractions sounded pretty shit. But that all depended on the terms.
He rapped his knuckles on the table. "What's the condition?"
"I want an apology. Right here, right now."
He narrowed his eyes at Harley. "An apology?"
"Tell me you're sorry for trying to strangle me the other day."
Joker snorted loudly. "That's it?"
"That's it. I'll even give you this afterwards." She proffered the pudding cup which seemed like a poor offering after the rare steak she'd given him not that long ago. Not known for being much more than impulse personified, Joker still knew a trap when he saw one. It sounded like such an innocent offer but it was laden with subtext.
They both knew the value of the infamous Joker apologising for his violent outburst and in front of so many witnesses.
Keeping a broad smile painted on his face, he smoothed back the green hair that threatened to fall in his face. It had the double effect of showing her the tattoo on his forehead, reminding her who she was dealing with. She didn't flinch.
"I'm not a dog for you to leash," he hissed all the while maintaining his pleasant demeanor.
"And I'm not a victim for you to strangle," Harley retorted, hands drifting almost unbidden to her throat. Catching herself before following through on the vulnerable gesture she mirrored him and smoothed down her already impeccable blond hair.
Her face might as well be made of stone for all it was giving away but there was heat in her eyes now. Maybe she wanted to slam his face into the table. Maybe she wanted something else, something from him.
"You liked it." The realisation dawned on him. He said it softly, only for her to hear.
"Apologise!" she snapped, loud enough for everyone to listen.
It wasn't enough to rattle her, she was still going to make him go through with it. Fury uncurled in his chest. No matter the truth of the situation, that his arm against her throat had got her hot under the collar, she was going to win this round if she got him to apologise.
Joker weighed his options with lightening speed. He could probably kill her with his bare hands before they got close. She had made him angry enough to consider it. But when the reality of the option sunk in - Harley gone, no more Harley - he kept his hands where they were, trembling slightly with rage.
He lifted his chin and made sure she could see the lie in his eyes when he spoke. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to hurt you."
The room seemed stunned into silence and he comforted himself by picturing them all dead. Every single person in the room lying on the floor with their throat ripped out.
"You can leave us," Harley said over his shoulder to the guards, who faded away and left them with some privacy.
Harley smirked at him and then slid the pudding cup across the table.
"Good dog," she murmured with an almost unbearable smugness.
He didn't take the food. His stomach was nothing more than churning ice and hate.
"You enjoy your little victory, Harley. I'm gonna make you regret it."
Harley arched a disbelieving eyebrow and started to stand. "Whatever you say, puddin'."
"I'm going to choke the breath out of you one day," he growled, fixing her with a flat stare. "I'll choke you and fuck you at the same time. And you'll like that too but I'll make you hate it too. And I know your little secret now, Doc. I know your panties are probably getting wet just thinking about it."
Harley had frozen by the table and her fingers curled into a fist. Perhaps she was going to hit him. Instead she placed her lips right near his ear. "I'm not wearing any underwear," she whispered to him before nipping his earlobe with such speed he wasn't sure it even happened.
She was gone before anyone could process that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. He was left fuming and breathing hard, trying to ignore his dick hardening in his pants.
...
Feet pounded the pavement. Harley was running fast. Faster than was probably wise given the last time she had really gone running was years ago. She'd started light jogging to supplement her gymnastics training but tonight she was running like the devil was chasing her.
There was someone behind her but it wasn't the devil. It was a scarecrow.
Jonathon was having a tough time keeping pace with her but she appreciated the effort. She'd practically heard his confusion when she texted him to see if she wanted to go running instead of meeting at restaurant.
He'd said yes and kept any observations to himself so far.
Harley had a stitch in her side and the healing skin of her arms felt tight as she pumped them back and forward for speed.
She was trying to drain her body. It was filled with too much energy, triumph and frustration in even measure.
Harley ran until her thigh buckled and she was forced to stop. Jonathon caught up with her and hunched forward with his hands on his knees.
"You wanted to talk about it?" he asked in between gulping down air.
"No."
"Really? You'd rather just kill us both from exhaustion?"
"Maybe." She sounded petulant but how could she explain it to Jonathon?
"What happened at work?" he asked, despite her attempts to shut down the conversation.
"The usual."
Jonathon rolled his eyes, an undignified display for him. "If you don't want to tell me that's fine. But don't insult me by lying to me."
Harley rubbed her mouth. He was right. Jonathon wasn't someone she could throw off the scent by lying.
"You ever feel like you're taking one step forward and seven steps backwards?"
"All the time." His gaze was heavy on her for a moment, making it harder to breath than it already was. "Is this about the most notorious patient at Arkham?"
Jonathon's voice was neutral but Harley saw something in his eyes that was scary. For her sake, he wouldn't say anything about the fact he was her patient but she could tell he didn't think much about him.
Knowing it would just annoy him if she lied again, Harley exhaled. "Just when I think I get a win on him, he does something that makes me want to-" Hit him? Fuck him? Kill him? All of the above? "-scream."
"You're doing better than anyone thought. You got him to apologise to you. That's a massive break through, to get him to take responsibility for his actions."
"How do you know about that?" Harley asked.
Jonathon shrugged. "I still have connections, even without my license."
That was interesting. Harley wondered what else Jonathon might know.
"He was lying through his teeth," Harley argued, choosing not to interrogate Jonathon about his so-called connections.
"He wouldn't even lie for anyone else. Take this win, Harleen. Fight again tomorrow."
It made sense. Jonathon always managed to appeal to the level-headed, logical part of her. She even felt calmer.
"You're probably right," she conceded grudgingly.
"Probably?"
"More than likely. Stop fishing for compliments about how smart you are."
Jonathon chuckled, his cheeks still flushed from the exercise. It was unusual to see him as anything other than perfectly composed. Even as it reminded her a little of his brief dabbling with insanity, Harley realised she liked it.
Without thinking she brushed a lock of hair away from his sweaty skin. The blue of his eyes was suddenly very dark and Harley felt the urge to run fast all over again.
"Do you want to keep going?" she asked, pretending everything was normal.
Jonathon checked his cell phone. "I can't, I have somewhere to be."
"Somewhere to be?" Harley prompted.
"Connections remember," he teased. Even when she glared at him, no answers were forthcoming.
"Fine." She threw her hands in the air. "Be mysterious. See if I care."
"Oh you do," Jonathon said assuredly. "Do you want me to call a car to get you home?"
Harley glanced around - the sun would still be up for another two hours and there were plenty of people milling around. She was safe for now.
"It's ok. I want to keep running for a bit longer."
"Are you sure," Jonathon also scanned the environment, but came up more suspicious than she was.
"Yes," Harley insisted and forced herself to laugh. "Go! I'm not going to get kidnapped in broad daylight on a busy street."
She wished she felt as confident as she sounded. She also wished Jonathon believed it too. But he didn't argue.
Not liking the concern on his face, Harley began running. She knew this neighborhood well and stuck to paths with lots of foot traffic. Graham might be out in the world but he wouldn't get her.
She repeated that in her head. But a snide voice that sounded suspiciously like the Joker asked why she was running so fast if she wasn't scared?
I'm running away from you, Harley informed the imaginary clown in her head. There he had lewd red lips and white face paint that masked some of the nuances of his expression. It was a barrier between them.
You don't have to run from me, Harls. I haven't hurt you. Not really.
Not yet.
You're running away from you, the clown countered. From what you want.
Shut up.
You shut up! I'm nothing but you. Just go home and get yourself off like the rest of the times I got under your skin.
I don't need to do that.
Oh you're afraid it won't be good enough this time. That it won't be as good as the real thing. Any time you want, you can come sit on my face, Harley Quin.
Laughter echoed in her head.
Harley clenched her jaw and moved faster, hoping her pounding heart would drown out the unwelcome conversation she was creating in her head.
And they call me the crazy one. More laughter.
Harley was forced to slow her pace by a small crowd milling around on the side walk. It was exclusively women and Harley was curious despite the fact they tried to move out of her way with smiles and apologies.
"What's going on?" Harley asked one of the women breathlessly.
"Self defence class," the woman explained and Harley noticed they were all dressed in exercise gear.
She nodded but instead of running further, she stay in spot. The door opened and the women filed in, chatting and laughing. Harley watched them go. They had squared shoulders and confident eyes. All of them were muscled and lean. This wasn't a beginners class. Harley followed them in without being sure why.
If the attendees thought it was weird then they didn't say anything. She hovered in the corner until the class started, lead by a woman with an unplaceable accent and a no-nonsense attitude. Unable to help herself, Harley started to assess this woman. The way she spoke, the way she stood, screamed military. The only way Harley could guess her age was the gun metal streaks in her dark hair. And she knew her stuff. She moved fluidly and efficiently.
Harley stayed to watch the entire lesson, fixating by the self-possessed woman teaching.
Her presence didn't go unnoticed and the woman approached her.
"You have the look of someone who wants to fight." The woman skipped introductions. Harley raised her eyebrows. Clearly the assessment had gone both ways.
"What style is that? I don't recognise it."
"Krav maga."
"Are you Israeli?"
The woman shook her head. "Lebanese." She extended her hand. "Hamia."
Harley took it and noted the strength in her fingers. "Harleen."
"So Harleen? Do you want to join my class?"
"I really do."
...
"You getting into trouble again, Princess?"
Joker flicked his eyes to her bruised forearms when Harley looked at him confused. He saw the time it took to transfer her concentration from the game of chess to the question.
His apology still sat bitter on his tongue and his threats weren't forgotten but the burgers that were half eaten on her desk were enough of a peace offering for now. Their sessions had been stilted and combative since their show down in the cafeteria.
But Harley was almost back to normal when she summoned him to her office. As soon as the guards left, the Doctor was gone too. If she recalled his offer of rough sex she wasn't showing it, though he was willing to take bets that it had been on her mind. This evening was damn close to civilised.
"No trouble," she explained with a shake of her head and a wistful smile. She didn't elaborate.
"You haven't tried to dig inside my brain yet either. That's enough to make a man suspicious."
"What will put you at ease?" Was she flirting? A playful Harley was an interesting turn of events after she'd gone after his balls like that in front of everyone. He wanted to tell her to shove it up her ass but he wasn't strong enough to resist teasing her back.
He stroked his chin and pretended to think. "Answer a question for me, Harls."
She hesitated "One question." Ah good, there was razor wire there. He didn't want the sugar without the spice.
He paused for dramatic effect. "What's your favorite book?"
Harley laughed suddenly. "That's what you want to ask?"
He gave a one shouldered shrug, lounging back in the chair like a cat.
"Do you even read books?" Harley demanded, still smiling. "What's your favorite?"
"IT. Easy."
"IT? The one about a killer clown? Could you be more of a cliché?"
"Probably." He watched her closely, waiting to see how she would answer. Alone in his room, he'd come to the conclusion, he didn't know where he stood with Harley. Not that long ago she'd crept into his bed, she'd asked him to kill her monsters, she'd abandoned herself to pleasure right in front of him. He had been convinced he had her hooked on the line like a stupid fish. But she'd effectively shattered that illusion when she'd played him like a fiddle and messed around in his brain. It was even more surprising when she'd gone out of her way to score points over him.
Joker liked chaos and unpredictability but he had a plan relying on anticipating her behaviour and manipulating her into doing what he wanted. If she wasn't as dependent on him as he thought then he was in a precarious position. He wasn't used to being on almost even footing with someone. It was more than time to score his own points.
"Alice in Wonderland," she finally told him.
He tampered the grin. If he showed too many silver teeth, maybe she'd sense she had made a mistake.
There was nothing over sensitive about telling him her favorite book but she had told him something true, something that meant something to her. He could see her cracks again, her desire for approval and connection. She hid them so well but he was building a map of her fragile planes and he was easing behind her barriers.
Joker couldn't pretend it wasn't the most fun he'd had outside of chasing down that over-sized and frustrating Bat. He got slowly to her feet, non-threatening maybe if you couldn't see his face.
Harley could and her muscles tensed. Maybe she would have stood up but he was looming over her before she could remember it was a good idea.
Standing now would put her body almost flush against his, and for all her bravado those last few days his invasion of her space still intimidated her. Though not nearly as much it would others. He'd seen grown men wet themselves when he looked at them like this. Harley, the suicidal bitch, was less scared than she was so god damned curious.
And hell take him, that curiosity snaked up over his skin like a physical touch and he was left with the most unfamiliar sensation of indecision. Kill or keep? Keep then kill. That had been his plan. But what was it now?
"We've been so angry at each other, Harls. I just want to be your friend."
"I doubt that," she managed to rasp out, eyes flicking to the door, to the bottle on the desk. He hoped she'd fight him. Maybe this point scoring wasn't going to be as subtle as he thought. Maybe subtle was entirely outside his repertoire?
Harley licked her bottom lip.
Or maybe it would be a little misdirection and Harley would mistake his intentions.
"I never properly apologized for hurting you," he continued, voice low and crooning.
"Yes you did." She was struggling for composure but it was disappearing in a bloom of colour across her skin.
Joker wrinkled his nose. "I said words. Words, words, words, words." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. "Words are nothing more than pretty sounds." He brought his teeth together with a snap.
"What are you getting at?" Her last ditch effort to sound authoritative, to sound brave.
"Actions mean so much more than words."
He'd crossed the line by saying that and adrenaline pumped into her system but she had left it too late to try and stand. A fast hand on her shoulder kept her in her seat. He had height and leverage. Her eyes widened. People sometimes thought because he was lean he wasn't strong but he was. The baggy hospital clothes hid the lines of his muscles as well as they hid the cascading, inky laughter down his chest.
Harley opened her mouth to speak but before she could, he kicked her legs out wider. First one and then the other. She hadn't taken her heels off so if she chose to kick him now, he'd be on the rough end of a stiletto. Luckily Harley was frozen like a deer in headlights. And still she managed to keep her beautiful face calm.
Joker waggled his free finger in his face. "You bit my ear. Didn't you get raised better?"
"Who even raised you?" she shot back, voiced honeyed with anger. He did laugh then. Laughed because she was so freaking crazy and fearless. Her fingers were curled in a tight fist of anger.
Abruptly he sank to his knees before her. Whatever she'd been expecting, that wasn't it. She jumped in her seat.
He wrapped his hands around her calves before she could do anything. "Where are you going, Harls? I'm just trying to say I'm sorry."
"You're a fucking liar." She was holding herself rigid in her chair. "You're trying to prove something."
Of course she was right but he faked offence. Her pulse was visible in her neck. She was so scared it was intoxicating. So he did the only thing that would scare her more. He gave her a choice.
He released her suddenly and sat back on his heels. "If you don't want to accept my gesture of good will, then get up."
His hands were raised, palms open to show just how harmless he was. "Five seconds, Harls. Stand up and I'll let you go."
He counted out loud, dropping his fingers with every second.
"One."
The look on her face was indescribably wonderful.
"Two."
His voice was deeper, more menacing.
"Three."
Her heels planted harder in the carpet. Like she was going to stand up.
"Four."
One second left and it could still go either way.
"Five."
...
The count down came and went. Harley was still there. She glanced down at the chair as if surprised to find herself sitting there. Joker could hear her breath was ragged but she hadn't taken the opportunity to flee.
Moving with speed his arms wrapped around her legs, dragging her closer. Despite being there of her own free will she was so strained he half expected her to shatter when he touched her. But the scars were evidence she was made of tough stuff.
Her eyes fluttered closed and he was tempted to command she open them but he kept the demands nestled in his chest. There would be another time and place for barking orders at her. And besides, he was confident she would open her eyes all on her own.
He'd closed the distance between them. And with rough hands he forced the black dress high up over her thighs.
"You shouldn't." It was a broken whisper.
"I gave you a chance to leave, Harls. The time to tell me what I should and shouldn't came and went."
She made no move to push him away but he couldn't tell if it was because deep down she wanted whatever he was offering right now, despite the risk, or if she was still too shocked to function.
Her stockings ended mid-thigh in a snowflake motif of lace. Joker left them untouched. His interest was further north. Despite her coy confession earlier in the week, she was in fact wearing underwear but they were a black, patterned lace similar to the hose. Patterned enough that he could catch glimpses of skin underneath. Enough to ignite his imagination. It was flimsy material that would come apart easily in his hands.
He controlled himself and filed it away on the ever growing list of things he'd like to do to Harley if he had the time and the privacy. If she thought she was scared now, she'd know real fear if he had her entirely to himself.
When she'd made him apologise publicly, she as good as made him bark like a dog. Fair turnabout would be to bend her over the desk and take her from behind (another thing for the list) but the fun would stop there. A bit of creative thinking and the ramifications would last far longer.
Figuring she'd had enough punishment anticipating his actions, Joker bit the inside of her thigh. Her hips rolled forward even as her legs jerked away from him. He wound his arms around them like vines, stopping her from getting away from him.
Her eyes were open now, just like he knew they would be, and there was rows of red indents along her flesh.
Joker didn't give her time to catch her breath or time for him to overthink the deep feeling of satisfaction that came with leaving his own mark on her body.
Leaving the scant underwear in place her dragged his tongue along the length of her. Material alone couldn't disguise the heat or the heady scent of her. Harley gasped, the muscles in her leg going taunt but not trying to get away.
"This is how you're going to say you're sorry?" It was a valiant effort to exert any control of a situation in which she had none.
He rewarded her attempt by scraping his teeth harder than necessary across her skin. Even buffered by the underwear she could feel it. Technique and warning at the same time.
He'd known all along he'd enjoy this particular type of revenge but maybe he hadn't realised how much. He could taste just enough of her that he craved more, her breathy moans could so quickly be transformed into cries and screams. He might get too close to the edge and, instead of stopping, topple over with her. Joker would happily recommend mixing business with pleasure but only if you didn't lose sight of the business aspect.
Harley was no longer trying to escape although her body had wound so tight it was like she'd been struck by lightening. If Joker was any closer to her, he'd be inside her. His tongue traced her in teasing patterns until he found the ones that made her tense and groan. Then he increased the pressure, mouth closing over her like he was going to eat her alive and stop her heart in the process.
Harley's legs were over his shoulders now, all pretenses of resistance gone now.
It wouldn't take long now. The tongue had found her clit. If he used his fingers, it would be over in seconds but that felt too much like gateway foreplay. Stick one thing in, wasn't long before you stuck something else in. And that second something was already ready to go. He settled for digging his fingers into her thighs so hard it had to hurt but Harley seemed to like the edge of pain.
Her legs were starting to shake and despite himself he grinned against the lace. All her clever attempts to keep him at arms length, to control him, were coming apart at the seams.
His smirk was stolen by the sensation of her fingers raking through his hair. She pulled him even closer, lost in the mindless sparking of an impending orgasm. Her hands wound there, pulling on his hair hard enough to sting. He shocked himself by moaning against her molten skin and biting her again, lace catching between his metal teeth.
It was the final act that made her cry out and sent spasms down her body. Harley collapsed back into the chair, both of them breathing hard. To calm himself, Joker lazily licked at the inside of her thigh, before leaning against her - his head practically resting in her lap. Harley's head fell back and her eyes closed once more.
Her fingers were still tangled in his green hair.
AN: Hi all, oh boy was that a tough one to write. Getting the Joker's voice throughout without becoming far too crude or cringey was a freakin' hard balance to strike. So please review! Review twice if you can.
Also, I am obsessed with soundtracking my writing sessions and have a unique soundtrack for every story I work on. I think I'll start including small snippets from songs that I think are particularly appropriate for the relationship between Harley and Joker. This one was from Tear Me Down by Paul Rey.