The interior of Celine's former home sat at just a little over 1500 sq. feet; boasting three generously-sized bedrooms, one full bathroom right next to what was formerly Nora's master bedroom, a half bathroom immediately to the right of the front entryway, a small mudroom near the east entrance of the house facing the cliffs, a cozy, semi-open kitchen bearing the same vintage rose-colored wallpaper that'd been there since its conception, and next to it a spacious living room with a door leading out to the porch facing the ocean. A large set of bay windows on either side of the door made for viewing some absolutely stellar sunrises and sunsets.
Joker was liberal with his question-asking throughout the tour. She had to hand it to him, he really was one curious little clown.
"What-ah happens with the dirty clothes? Or do you just walk around stark naked?"
He gave her a long scan up and down, the corner of his lips curling up. It didn't take a mind reader to know what he was picturing at the moment.
She ignored his heated gaze. He was most likely interested in the lack of a washer and dryer.
"We've always handwashed our clothes at the basin sink in the mudroom," she admitted. "Then hung everything out to dry on a clothesline."
"Mm…seems tedious."
She shrugged.
"It was just the two of us for so long. When you spent most of your life doing it, you don't see it that way. Plus, it saved on the water bill."
Upon his perusal of the full bathroom, he made a face. She tried following his gaze, intrigued as to what prompted it. Her money was either on the 1920's clawfoot tub surrounded by a curtain stenciled with a bunch of tiny sailboats or the light cyan wall color with a strip of white wallpaper all the way around bearing blue anchors or the salmon pink seashell-shaped sink. Granted, the nautical theme was present throughout the entire house, but not nearly as condensed as it was in the bathroom.
"You ah like living like you're still stuck in the sixties?"
She crossed her arms.
"It's homey," she defended. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
He scoffed, leaning back on the entryway and mimicking her crossed arms.
"This place reeks of an old people's home. Only thing missing is the stench of piss and mothballs."
She humored him.
"Well I do have to pee…and I can text Lucien about bringing over some mothballs if you'd like."
He made sure she didn't miss his eyeroll.
Before being shown the master bedroom, he paused to examine the door leading in. This time she hardly faulted him for his intrigue.
"My mom was in love with Jim Morrison," she said, eying the life-sized poster taped on the front of the door showcasing Jim intimately cupping a microphone on stage with eyes closed. "When she was eleven her best friend's dad managed to get tickets to what would end up being his last concert in the US before he passed. Even though it was a total disaster - he was pretty much a shell of his former self by then - seeing him in person was surreal to her. She cried for a week straight when she learned he O.D.'d. To her he was the epitome of free love and self-expression."
"Didn't ah he start a house on fire while his girlfriend was locked in the closet?"
She scratched the back of her neck, chuckling nervously.
"Well, no one's perfect, eh?"
His eyes lingered on her for longer than she was comfortable. When he didn't respond, she cleared her throat and opened the door.
With the exception of the clothes in the dresser drawer, everything remained as it was when Nora last occupied the room. The same queen-sized bed neatly made, the same dated manila wallpaper, the same framed photos of family gatherings or collages of polaroids that'd been collected depicting the scenery along the coast, the same vanity and mirror, the same empty Chifforobe, and the same recessed lighting that had been wildly popular during the seventies.
Joker approached the bed and ran two fingers along the duvet covering it. He studied the dust coating his fingertips.
"I take it you're too sentimental to sleep in mommy's old room?"
She didn't care for how he voiced this but elected to overlook it.
"My room's fine," she answered with a shrug. "The adults will sleep in here to give the kids in the other rooms more privacy, but otherwise we don't really utilize the space unless we have to."
"A little superstitious, don't ya think?"
"Is it so bad to honor one's memory?"
"When ya treat a space like a mausoleum it ah might be time to examine why."
She didn't want to admit to it, but his observation held some weight to it. No matter who stayed at the house they all treated Nora's room like an extension of her. And no one wanted to be the first to begin erasing her memory.
"You're welcome to sleep in here," she offered.
His jaw visibly tightened. She was somewhat confused by the reaction.
"What?"
He tilted his head, peering at her through his hair.
"Mm…good sign of a generous host is giving them an option on sleeping arrange-ments."
"Sure, where do you want to-." Her eyes widened. "In your dreams. I just spent eight hours trapped in a car with you. When I go to sleep, it will be by myself…in my own bed…minus you."
Joker's pout was the definition of shameless.
"Believe it or not that ah last time we shared a bed was the longest I slept in years. Help a clown out, hm?"
"No."
His pout deepened.
"Pretty please? With ah extra cherries and sprinkles on top?"
"You're either sleeping on your own or you're not sleeping at all. Your choice."
He grumbled something she couldn't make out.
"Fine," he agreed. "I'll take mommy's former bed. Just a forewarning…ya might wanna change the sheets in the morning. Might be a bit…crusty."
She froze.
"You are not masturbating in my mom's bed."
His smirk was deadly.
"I've been carrying around a pretty hefty hard-on for ya most of the day." He palmed himself firmly to emphasize his point. "Can't exactly blame me for wanting a little…stress relief."
"There's always the shower," she deflected. "Or use one of your socks."
"'M not a teenager, Cece."
"You're not masturbating in my mom's bed," she reaffirmed.
"I won't…if ya let me sleep in yours."
She gritted her teeth.
"Jack."
"Ce-cee."
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she looked up at the ceiling.
"Okay, fine, whatever…masturbate til the cows come home, I don't care."
Sorry mom. I don't trust myself with the alternative option.
"Plan on it."
She led him to her bedroom, still seething a little at his declaration. And embarrassed at the miniscule part of her that was aroused at the idea of him jerking off to her.
Cool your jets, woman. Otherwise your hand might be just as busy as his tonight.
He surprisingly said very little upon taking her room in. The space was slightly smaller than Nora's; the walls bathed in a berry pink color. Hand painted on those walls were about a dozen or so black dahlias courtesy of her friend Cathy. Before meeting her untimely end, she dabbled for years in painting and for Celine's 13th birthday surprised her (after getting Nora's approval) with the artwork.
After Cathy's suicide, sleeping in this room was…not easy. But over time she came to see the artwork as a means of preserving her friend's legacy. Cathy was talented and passionate and alive once and she loved Celine enough to create an environment that reminded her of that.
"Where's uh all your stuff?"
He was accurate in his inquiry. With the exception of a mahogany dresser and twin-sized bed, the room was bare.
"I took everything with me to Gotham when I got enrolled at GIT," she said, frowning a little. "Posters, books, movies…the stuffed animal I used to sleep with. When I was homeless for a short spell I…sold all of it for food or booze."
He was eyeing her with a tilt of the head.
"Ya know for someone who's sitting on a fine chun-k of change in the bank, you sure use it sparingly. Other than the basic necessities – food, rent, clothes – or a gift for one of your…friends, you don't spend much on yourself. I mean…look at what you drive! Ya had me stumped for awhile on why that was…but I ah think I get it."
She rotated her finger counterclockwise.
"Go back, go back…how do you know who I spend my money on and how?"
He sighed as if she were dense.
"You really think your banking information is difficult to get into?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Undeterred, Joker continued.
"You don't feel deserving of possessions, do ya?" He took a step closer to her. "I mean with the exception of your TV for entertainment, your laptop and phone for work and a few nick knacks, your apartment is about as bare as this room. That's it, isn't it? You screwed the pooch once… forced to get rid of everything you held dear, and now that you've got more money than you know what to do with…hesitate on using it on yourself. Because…you don't feel…deserving of it. Because you know…how easily it could poof! disappear just like that."
She didn't bother arguing his assessment. He was very nearly close to the truth.
"I am deserving of things," she said. "I just…maybe have this irrational worry that shit will hit the fan again in the future. And…the less I spend on myself, the less I can equate material possessions with…wealth. With…importance. You are right, it could all disappear. I…want to be content with what I have. So, if something like that happens again…I won't be poor, not really. I'll have…me at least."
Her eyes were suddenly adamant on studying the carpet. Because of this, she missed the way Joker smiled at her; lips lacking his usual mockery. He liked that answer a lot. Far too many people these days guarded and viewed material possessions like they intended to take them to the afterlife with them. Celine saw the bigger picture…the most valuable possession was the self. So few could take that away from you. Well, so few other than him.
Just as quickly, his lips smoothed out.
"And what ah- what stuffed animal did you use to sleep with?'
She looked up, amused by the question. Until she realized what the answer was.
"I…don't remember."
"Mm…" Joker made his way toward her, tapping at his chin. "I think you do. And I think I know too…I just…want to hear you say it."
Instinctively, she began to back away. This only hastened Joker's grin.
"C'mon little bunny, I know it's on the tip of your tongue." He licked his lips, eyes flicking to her own. "So uh…out with it."
Her shoulders struck the wall behind her first. She looked at anything besides his approaching form. When he was an arm's length away, she exhaled deeply.
"It was a…teddy…bear."
He brought both palms to rest on either side of her, forehead gently bumping into hers. His breathing was much more composed than hers.
"Ironic, isn't it?" he mentioned lowly. "That a cuddle bear would find its way back to ya? Don't you want me back, Cece? I have missed sleeping in your bed so terribly."
She didn't think her face could get any redder. Even though he was taunting her, the playfulness with which he did…the rumble of his voice…it was all doing rather…unholy things to her.
"I-." One hand shot out and pushed him back so there was at least some separation between their bodies. "I'll show you outside real quick."
Before he could argue, she ducked under one of his arms and power walked to the door. Joker bit his bottom lip but followed dutifully behind.
First, she showed him the porch on the east side of the house facing the cliffs. Currently, a wooden porch swing occupied the space overlooking the ocean. More seating options – including patio furniture and camper chairs – were stored away in the garage.
She then showed him the porch on the west side of the house facing the woods.
"We've got some pretty awesome trails if you want to explore them tomorrow. This is usually where us kids hung out after the sun went down and we wanted some privacy from the adults."
Her gaze was trained on the firepit just a few feet away from where the deck ended. When Joker didn't answer, she glanced at him.
Go figure.
He had discarded the tarp overtop the jacuzzi lodged right against the house. One arm was resting on the tub while the rest of him was peeking inside.
"A recent addition," she mentioned, moving beside him. "Lu installed it maybe…two years ago? I never saw the need for it when you've got the ocean…but…I also wasn't a pinky down back then."
"Be a shame not to utilize your uncle's hard work."
"I'll pass," she diverted, not wishing to confine herself, half naked, in such a small, steamy space with him. "If you want, I can fill it up for you, you're more than welcome to use it."
He pushed himself away from the jacuzzi, suddenly not as impressed with it. Without a word, he made his way back inside, her following suit not soon after.
Leaving Joker to his own devices had her feeling all sorts of anxious, but she really, really needed that shower. As it turns out, sweat, grime and greasepaint were a very unpleasant combination to be covered in.
"Did you need anything?" she asked before retreating to the bathroom. "Something to drink? Eat?"
He was busy picking up various photos off the fire mantle in the living room, studying the occupants within the frame closely. When he didn't answer, she deemed him content.
The shower was a lengthy one and she felt ready for a long nap after stepping out. For obvious reasons, she had taken a change of clothes in with her. Joker wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut if he saw her clad in only a towel. And she was pretty exhausted with the amount of blushing she'd done today. The heat in her cheeks alone could power up a grill.
When she finally found her reluctant companion, he was sitting on the kitchen table, legs swinging back and forth. A near empty quart of apple cider was resting beside him as he typed out a message on his phone; wearing a smile that made her uneasy.
Don't ask, you're not going to like the answer.
She focused instead on his apparent love for apple cider. At this rate, they'd be out by tomorrow. Not that she was complaining. Her Aunt June took pride in the cider making process, and it made her heart flutter that Joker took to it so much. She wondered if he'd at all be interested in the spiked version of the drink. Her aunt and uncle were whiskey and rum lovers and a few of the quarts they filled up were blended with both liquors, creating a delicious concoction.
"You gonna stare at me all night sweetheart?"
She shook herself out of her thoughts. His phone was tucked away, and he'd taken to watching her for the past few minutes.
"Sorry." She shook her head and ran a hand through her damp strands. "Um…did you want to hang tight here while I run up to Wal-Mart?"
He was on his feet immediately.
"No-pe." He clapped his hands a couple of times. "Let's giddy up."
She scanned him from head to toe.
"I have some spare t-shirts and sweats you can throw on if you'd like."
He patted his vest and dress shirt, an adorable frown crossing his face.
"What's wrong with what I got on?"
"Well there's nothing wrong…it's just that…aren't you worried you might be…recognized?"
He arched a brow.
"Ah no, not really. And even if I am…what are the chances Gotham's finest criminal would be caught shopping at a Wal-Mart in Maine at-." He glanced at his watch. "-seven-ten on a Saturday evening? Odds are if I am recognized, they'll convince themselves they're the crazy ones. And I like that…making them think they're bonkers without even lifting a finger."
She hesitated before answering. Being seen in public with him…caught on surveillance cameras…it would be extremely incriminating should the wrong eyes see it.
"You're sure?"
The discomfort in her tone wasn't able to be blotted out entirely.
"Yup."
Her nod was reluctant. Joker picked up on it right away.
Sighing dramatically, he unbuttoned his vest and tossed it on the back of a chair, followed shortly by his tie. Humming under his breath, he went to the sink and wetted his hands. He then ran both soaked hands through his hair so it was slicked back some; any loose strands tucked behind his ears.
She tried not to stare when he began rolling both sleeves of his dress shirt up until the fabric was bunched tightly around his elbows.
His. God. Damn. Forearms.
Her gaze strayed down to his shoes. The longer they spent around one another, the more she found to admire about Joker's physique. It was lucky she'd had the hindsight to bring her favorite vibrator. With how rampantly her hormones were influencing her thoughts, it wouldn't take long to use it.
"Best you're getting," he stated, stretching out his arms. "Watcha think?"
The day's events had smeared a good portion of his greasepaint off. Only around the eyes and mouth was the color still heavy. His manila dress shirt minus the vest and tie gave him the appearance of someone eccentric. She supposed she preferred eccentric over homicidal.
"Undo the first button."
Did she really just say that?
Joker seemed just as surprised. He did, however, comply with her wishes; exposing his pale throat and Adam's apple.
She was sorely tempted to kiss it, but priority won out. They needed to get going before it got too late.
Unfortunately, she wasn't nearly as discrete in her admiration as she hoped to be. Joker was grinning like he'd been let in on a dirty little secret of hers.
"Looks great. Good. Tolerable. Acceptable," she babbled, turning to the front door. "Ready to go?"
When he spoke, she could tell he'd covered some distance between them.
"I can always undo another one," he suggested. "Or another…or another…and if ya really want, I don't have to be wearing anything at…all."
Gulping, she shook her head.
"One is good," she promised, heading to the empty fruit bowl in the hallway which held her keys. "I-maybe try and think up a list on the way? Whatever you need, I'll get it."
The moment her fingers wrapped around the keys; his arms snuck around her waist, palms covering her tummy. She was frozen in place as he tugged her back into his front, chin coming to rest atop her shoulder.
"Mmm…whatever I need?" he mumbled into her ear. "I ah don't think you'll scan at the register. Unless you've got a barcode somewhere I don't know about."
He took to examining her closely, one hand sneaking up her shirt, fingernails grazing across her belly.
She jumped at the sensation, an involuntary laugh bursting from her throat.
"That was not the best word choice," she agreed, biting her lip. The strength in his body was making it difficult to remember why it was she should be leaning away from him and not into. "I promise I'm barcode free. If I ring up, it'll be just as much a shock to you as me."
"Oh, you'll ring up allll-right," he assured, arms tightening on her as his nose brushed the curve of her jaw. "Problem is-." He licked his lips, watching her pulse throb. "-I ah can't purchase something I already own."
She should have been offended by the implication, but he chose that moment to kneel and scoop her up in his arms bridal style. Her arms quickly found safety around his neck, slightly bewildered at the shift in positions.
Joker was peering at her through hooded eyelids, wearing a smirk that made it feel like the ground was dropping out from beneath her.
"Don't think you'll fit in a bag either," he mentioned. "Best I ah put you in the car myself, hm?"
Her brain was racing from one thought to another. What prompted this sudden playfulness? Should she engage? Should she put a stop to it? What were the consequences of either route?
Don't think, just…be.
"You're going to leave without taking the receipt?" she asked him, placing a hand on her chest. "What if you want a refund? Or I break and you want a new one?"
"If you break, I'll repair you," he answered, making his way to the front door. "And I'm not someone who believes in refunds…sign of a lazy, unoriginal mind. And as you so eloquently pointed out earlier, I don't believe in the concept of paying, so…I ah guess you're technically stolen goods."
It was impossible to hold back a smile. He was enjoying his little roleplay so much and she simply didn't have the heart to dampen it.
"Oh no!" Her eyes widened as one arm shot behind him and pointed at an invisible offender. "I think security knows you're stealing! Run, Jack!"
He didn't need to be told twice, booking into a run toward the front door. With an impressive hastiness, one of his hands grabbed the doorknob and yanked it open.
Regrettably, he hadn't quite thought through how to get her out the door in the horizontal position she was in. Which is why the moment he tried to sprint through the entryway, the side of her skull struck the wooden siding with a teeth-rattling thump!
Arms suddenly vanished from beneath her, causing her to drop on her back with a groan. Two fingers went to the tender, newly forming bruise on her temple as her chest heaved up and down.
"Ow," she mumbled, eyes fluttering. "Gah, I should be used to this."
When Joker started to laugh, she slung an arm over her eyes and moaned.
"Oooh hee hee hah hah hahaha." He was struggling to stand straight and not launch back into another fit. "Sorry 'bout that sweets, I ah forgot you're not doorway-sized. Mm…need me to kiss your owie all better?"
Yet again he had an arm outstretched toward her. He wasn't choosing to be a complete dick about the mishap, which is what she chose to focus on.
"No, I'm fine." She grabbed his hand and let him pull her up. "Just…don't do that again."
The moment she was on her feet, Joker used his opposite hand to cup her skull and bring her face up towards his.
"Wha-."
He proceeded to shower her face with an onslaught of dry, sloppy kisses. One above her right eye. The middle of her right cheek. Her chin. The bridge of her nose. Near the crown of her forehead. Everywhere but the blossoming goose egg on the side of her temple.
Once he thought her sufficiently healed by the magic of his mangled lips, he leaned back to peer at her; beaming like he was the second coming of Mother Teresa.
"Mm…all better?"
She released a breath she hadn't known was being held in. No, the ache was still prominent. But…yes…she wasn't opposed to his handling of her injury, even if nothing was actually done to better it.
"Be more careful with your purchases from now on," she murmured, eyes glued to his mouth. "Kissing it better won't always work."
"Hm…I think you underestimate the healing qualities of these beauties."
He smacked them once, his scars twitching upwards at the action.
She tried hard not to giggle at the action. Tried being the key word.
"You're a dork," she said softly, pinching the tip of his nose. "Let's go before I suffer another concussion."
The ride to the nearest Wal-Mart in Higginsville – a slightly larger town about ten minutes away – went smoothly for the most part. Joker kept any smart-ass comments to a minimum and ended up revealing something about himself that made her realize just how brilliant of a brain he had in his possession.
"What ah exactly was it you called me in French in front of your uncle?" he asked. "'A good friend'?"
"Yeah." She looked at him, lips parted. "You understood all of that?"
"Most of it. Don't know it as cleanly as I do Russian, Italian, or Spanish."
Her eyebrows rose. Thank goodness she and her uncle hadn't said anything too uncomplimentary about him.
"How many languages do you speak?"
"Mm…speaking and understanding are two separate beasts. How many do I understand? Six. First learned Russian …it's most of these so-called "mobsters" mother tongue. Never let on that I knew it of course…much more beneficial to hear them speak it as if you're too dumb to understand. Now, how many do I fluently speak? Three."
"Russian, Italian, and Spanish," she repeated, connecting the dots. "The most common languages amongst people in your…workplace."
"Right-o."
She could very easily envision him playing dumb as whatever mob family he was propositioning conversed among themselves, nonethewiser that he understood exactly what they were saying. He was meticulous, she realized, in keeping to himself with what he excelled at. No point in cluing the enemy in prematurely.
"Do they talk about the scars a lot?"
"More times than I can count. Gets to be very aggravating when you're trying to con-duct business."
She nodded.
"Our family has always been pretty proud of our French heritage," she mentioned. "All of us were taught it along with English, at a young age."
"Didn't need to understand French to know your uncle doesn't like me much."
"He's…wary of you. Showing up in the state I did…it didn't paint a good image in his mind. Don't take it personally."
"Wasn't planning on it."
She pulled into Wal Mart's parking lot not soon after. Thankfully, the traffic was pretty light, and she was able to find a spot very near the front doors. The little things in life!
"Got a list?" she reaffirmed after turning off the ignition.
"Mm…more or less. Don't always know what I want until I see it."
Again, he offered her a thorough scan.
The comment left her mouth before she could reign it in.
"Why the excessive flirtation? I'm not putting out for you, so you might as well save your breath, no?"
He threw a careless shrug in her direction.
"Tough to get under your skin," he explained. "Flirting with you seems to be the only thing that turns ya into a hot, blushing mess. Plus, you can deny it alllll you want, but it gets your motor running a little, doesn't it? Knowing such a bad, bad, bad man wants to plow ya like you're a ten-foot snowbank. Wants to lap up the honey between your thighs like its nature's sweetest nectar. Wants to-. "
"Okay," she interrupted, feeling her cheeks throb. "Point taken."
"Ya sure?" He was grinning from ear to ear. "The list of things I wanna do to ya is by no means meager."
"Positive."
As they got out of the car, she got to thinking.
So, he's behaving like this to get a rise out of me? Because it's one of the few things he can do that will give him a guaranteed reaction? Well…that makes it easier to ignore, doesn't it? Hell, he probably wouldn't follow through with half the sexual things he's threatened to do to me. Is it possible he just wants a quickie? Wham bam thank you ma'am, then trot on on his merry way when I'm out of his system?
She didn't immediately know why that stung to think about. By all means her life would be so much easier without his fixation on her. She and Bruce would no longer be at odds. Her conscience wouldn't be suffering a crisis every few hours.
He's my soulmate. And I…am not a casual person. If he gives himself to me, I want him to be…mine. For as long as fate allows it. If this is all just fun to him…a way to see me squirm…what am I even doing here? Why put in the effort when he could so easily discard me like a toy he outgrew interest in?
She was mildly unsettled at how much anxiety this train of thought prompted. Why was this such a concern all of a sudden? Was she mistaking him relaxing around her for something more than it was? Was he playing the part he knew she wanted to get what he needed?
"What?"
He was standing directly in front of her, studying her through narrowed lids.
She shook her head and shot him a half smile.
"Nothing. Sorry."
The moment she tried to step around him, he grabbed her by the jaw and pulled her toward him. One hand slipped into her hair, fingers tightening around the strands until she was securely in his hold.
"You're up-set," he observed, voice lowering. "Why?"
"I'm not."
He brought her face closer to his, scars ascending the deeper his frown got.
"You are. And if you don't tell me why, you're gonna make me upset. And trust me, ya really, really don't wanna do that."
Why does he care? Shouldn't this be amusing to him?
One look in his eyes disproved that theory.
He…cares. About what I think. And this…this is the only way he knows how to express it.
"I'm not a patient-."
"Are you going to leave me?" she blurted, jawbone aching from his hold on it. "If I have sex with you that is. I…you're just trying to get it out of your system, right? And your flirting…by your own admission, it's just a ploy to get me to react. Like…if I did put out for you tonight, you'd be gone back to Gotham by tomorrow morning? Mission accomplished sorta thing."
This line of questioning appeared to blindside him. Enough at least to release her chin and take a step back.
His expression was closed off again, and not even her intuition could wager a guess as to what he was contemplating.
"Only one way for you to find out," was his calculated response.
This answer did little to inspire morale. She frowned and looked towards the store.
When did this become so confusing? Before or after we arrived home?
"I think I already know," she said quietly.
Again, she made to step forward, but an arm snuck around her waist and tugged her body toward him.
"You're thinking far too much," he warned. "Knock it off and let what's happening happen. Who cares if I nail ya and run? Who cares if I stick around? We focus on the fun of it, hm?"
Her chest felt like it was constricting. She didn't know where this sudden ache hailed from. All that she knew is she wanted it gone.
Before he could make another remark, she hooked both arms around his neck and drew him into a kiss. He was just barely able to part his teeth before she had her tongue seeking his out, fingers curling into his locks and pulling him closer. He responded by pushing her back against her car, one knee slipping between her thighs so he could brush his hard-on against her.
Their make-out session was long and sloppy and a whirlwind of bites, groans, and quickly building arousal. She tried not to whimper each time he rubbed himself against her center, but his rutting was getting harsher and his tongue refused her any semblance of a hiding place in her own mouth.
To be fair, she wanted him to pursue. His words had left her feeling so wildly conflicted. She longed to have him as close to her as possible just as much as she longed for him to never darken her doorstep ever again. She desired utter commitment from him just as much as she'd be relieved if he never paid any attention to her from here on out. And the only way she could express this maddening paradox was to kiss the air out of his lungs.
A deafening honk! finally forced them to pull away; a drool of spit connecting their mouths. Some young guys cramped in a car had stopped near them and were staring out the window, offering a few hoots and hollers at the show they'd just put on.
"How much for you to kiss me like that baby?" one shouted at her.
In the blink of an eye, Joker had retracted a semi-automatic pistol concealed in the back of his pants. He aimed at the guy who propositioned her and fired two shots. The guy was just able to duck out of the way, both bullets whizzing over his head and coming out of the back-passenger window. The driver of the car slammed on the pedal and tore out of the lot.
His breaths were coming out just as fast as hers. The muscles in his neck were taut as a bow.
You idiot, he's not going to leave you after a lay. And even if he does, who cares? You're letting worry talk…insecurity. Be mindful when it has control over your voice. You're rusty when it comes to romance. It's been a long time since you committed to someone. Anxiety will rear its ugly head, probably more often than someone who's seasoned at these sorta things…just…relax. He may be your soulmate, but he owes you nothing. If a fun time is what he's looking for, then enjoy yourself while you've got him. It doesn't have to be so…serious.
She nodded at this. It was exactly what she needed to hear from her inner self. Observe anxious thoughts, don't absorb. Observe, don't absorb.
Joker was still seething at the comment, staring off in the direction the car had fled. Graciously, the only witness to the attempted shooting was an old man sitting in his car in the handicapped area, smoking a cigarette. When Joker glared in his direction, the old man raised the hand clutching the cigarette in a silent confirmation: I won't say shit, have a pleasant evening. Such was the Maine way.
She took a hold of his hand and intertwined their fingers. He abruptly peered down at their joined limbs, then up at her.
"Thanks," she said, smiling crookedly. "I mean you could have killed him and royally screwed yourself…but…I appreciate you doing something."
"There's still time to catch up to them."
He eyed her car expectantly.
"Not worth it," she promised. "And sorry about earlier, I'm…picky about who I give my time to. I realize…it's extremely unfair to expect out of you more than you're willing to give. It's as you said…so long as we have fun in the moment, that's all that counts, right? If we go our separate ways after, it's not a big deal." She laughed a little. "I mean look at us…a long-term relationship of any kind is not in the forecast. If you left tonight, I'd be a little disappointed. You're really quite good company when you're not all threats and mood swings. But…you are free to do as you please, and I'll find a way to enjoy myself regardless."
He was watching her closely.
"Not a fan of the mixed signals you're giving me," he noted. "One minute you're pouty cos you think I'll leave after I fuck ya, the next you're wanting to play tonsil hockey with me."
"I am sorry," she repeated as he re-concealed his gun. "You being here has really, really thrown me for a loop. But…I think you were right in the car when you said I'm committed to seeing you a certain way. There is more to you than I gave you credit for. There's more to you than you give yourself credit for. I'm sort of…uncertain how to navigate this unorthodox relationship we've formed. And I am thinking too much about it. So, yes, let's focus on the fun. I'm actually…having quite a bit of it."
"You are?"
His voice was thick with suspicion.
"Minus the concussions, shooting at random strangers, and overwhelming me with police tickets…yeah."
She laughed a little, brushing some hair out of her face.
"I'm having fun," she said again, glancing up at the sky. "What strange parallel universe have I wandered into?"
Joker's spine stiffened at her admission. His frown was harsh, expression guarded.
Oh…he doesn't know how to respond to this branch of genuineness. He's just as out of his element as I am mine, he just won't ever admit to it.
"Does that scare you?" she followed up, tilting her head. "That I sometimes enjoy your company?"
His jaw tightened.
"Feelings!" She rose both hands in the air and waved them around like she was a specter. "Intimacy! Communication! I am spooking the shit out of you, aren't I?"
"You're not," he defended.
"Am too."
"Are not."
"Am too, times infinity."
He was searching for a suitable response. Upon finding none, he resorted to his last resource: sticking his tongue out at her.
She attempted to snatch it with her fingers, but he was quicker; diving under her arm and clamping a hand over her mouth. His opposite arm slung around her waist and pulled her into his body. He clearly had a thing about having her as near to him as possible.
"Am not," he repeated, smirking down at her.
Her response was muffled by his palm. She tried licking his skin, but that only made him ticklish. He giggled at the endeavor, until she reached up and jammed three fingers into his mouth.
She expected him to bite down, but he instead lathered her digits with his tongue.
"Ew," she tried to state, yanking them out and rubbing them over her jeans.
"You keep behaving like a brat," he murmured into her ear. "I'm gonna treat you like one."
"Pfft, where do you think I learned it from?" she shot back, meeting his eyes.
"Wayne," he deflected. "Biggest brat I can think of."
"Mm…I don't know, I think you could give him a run for his money."
He abruptly pressed two fingers down on the bump in her temple.
"Ow!" She launched her elbow into his stomach, forcing him to release her. "Jackass."
His laughter was giddy.
"Oh, you are too much fun, even when ya don't intend to be," he praised, rubbing his tummy.
"Let's get what we need before I strangle you."
"Promises, promises."
As they made their way toward the entrance, Celine couldn't help but marvel at the rollercoaster of emotions they both underwent in the past ten minutes alone. And that they worked through them and were back on amicable terms was just as amazing.
I don't think he's looking to pick a fight. Neither am I for that matter. Keep the peace. Switzerland during both world wars, minus the Nazis.
Upon entering the superstore, Joker's eyes landed on the elderly worker struggling to stand up from her assigned chair.
"Welcome to Wal-Mart. Let me know if I can help you with anything."
She barely batted an eye at Joker's appearance, which had him cocking his head in contemplation. Were people from this state really just that laid back? Or was everybody blind?
Celine's gaze landed on the shopping cart area. Specifically, the motorized scooter nearest to them with a large basket hanging in front of it.
A devious idea infiltrated her brain.
"Thank you," she said to the worker, looking up at Joker. "Let's get a cart, honey."
He arched a brow; immediately picking up on her playful tone.
She left his side and walked over to the scooter. Once she was properly seated and both hands were secured around the handles, she peered at Joker expectantly.
There's no way he'll do it.
"Well?" She gestured at the cart with her head. "Hop in."
Though his gaze had narrowed; a smirk was reforming on his lips.
"With pleasure."
She bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing as he approached the front of the scooter, gripped onto the section of the handles she wasn't touching, and jumped up backwards; his butt and half of his thighs fitting snugly into the basket.
The elderly woman's mouth parted. She didn't appear to know what to say.
"Thank you again," Celine said.
With that, she pressed down on the throttle and began to drive.
"Where to first?" she asked.
She had to strain to see around him, but again, the store wasn't all that busy and most of the aisles were pretty sparse. Likewise, she'd been coming to this place for over a decade. The layout was practically imprinted in the back of her head.
"Candy! No, no…cakes. Like the uh Little Debbie ones."
"Snack aisle it is," she accepted, picking up speed.
Just for fun, she began in the frozen foods section and proceeded to veer in and out of the aisles until they reached their destination. Joker's feet pouring out of the basket was comical to witness, but what really had her stifling back giggles was the way he would raise his arms in the air each time they took a curve around an endcap to get to the next aisle.
"Weeee!" he'd proclaim, catching the attention of some curious shoppers.
When they got to the appropriate section, she slowed down the cart so he could languidly peruse the various cupcakes, brownies, swiss rolls, and just about everything sugary in between.
"There!"
She threw on the break, following his pointed finger.
Hostess Twinkies.
"Eight, ten, or twelve pack?"
"Mm…thirty-two."
Thirty-two!? It's a wonder he's able to stay in the shape he does.
"Thirty-two twinkies, coming right up."
She extended a hand and grabbed the party pack sitting on the bottom shelf. He practically snatched them out of her grasp the moment she had them, hugging the box securely to his chest as if it were a beloved stuffed animal.
"Where to next?"
"Your choice, sweets. I got all I came for."
"What about some clothes for you?" she offered. "Especially if you end up swimming or walking some trails with me."
"Don't mind doing either in the nude."
She didn't have to see his face to know he meant it.
"I'm getting you some clothes," she confirmed, setting off again.
Just as they were nearing the end of the aisles, a tall, heavily-pimpled employee blocked their exit route. Despite the acne and side-swept bangs, he appeared to be closer to Celine and Joker's age. She even thought she recognized him faintly from back in the day…perhaps just a few years below her in school. His nametag read:
Kyle White
Assistant Manager
"Ma'am, sir," he addressed when she came to a halt a few feet from him. "The scooters are reserved for those that need it. I'm going to have to ask you to get off and use your feet like everyone else."
The second he tried to take a step forward, Celine let her fingers do the thinking for her. She struck a switch that immediately had them reversing backwards.
Kyle White, Assistant Manager, blinked at them a few times. Joker merely offered him a pleasant wave.
When they finally backtracked all the way out of the aisle, Kyle began a brisk walk towards them.
"You're going to want to hang on."
Joker responded with an excited round of clapping.
What ensued was a chase for the ages. The scooter could accelerate at an impressive twenty-five miles per hour and accelerate Celine did. Through the food aisles, cutting a corner at the pet supplies, evading a second assistant manager who popped out in the automobile section (he'd been clued in via his walkie-talkie that there were hooligans at large), speeding past the baby and infant section, managing to shake off a third employee in the personal hygiene area (well, shake off was a tame term, more like he'd surprised them and in an attempt to make a successful escape, Joker ended up whipping his box of twinkies at the poor guy's head; the corner of the box catching him square in between the eyes).
By the time all was said and done, it took fourteen employees total to corner them into the electronics section, Kyle at the helm of the inquisition.
"If you don't remove yourselves from the scooter in ten seconds, I will call the police."
The gig, sadly, was up; much to Joker's chagrin.
"The last thing I want is Gotham PD catching wind of this," she whispered to him. "You don't want our vacation to end before it begins, do you?"
She tried to appeal to what made him sneak into her car in the first place: curiosity.
"Mm…fine."
He was deeply reluctant, but knew it beat the alternative.
Unfortunately, they really left a foul impression on Kyle White, Assistant Manager. Before they were escorted out of the store, he snapped a photo of each of them on his phone.
"I'm enforcing a lifetime ban on both of you," he confirmed, adjusting his glasses. "Either of you ever step into my store again, I'm pressing charges."
She was tugging on Joker's hand before Kyle finished his sentence, knowing such a statement would only antagonize him into doing something…violent. It took a bit of force, but eventually he allowed himself to be led out.
Having never been banned by a local business before, Celine realized they would need to head forty minutes in the opposite direction to get to the second nearest Wal-Mart to Calgary Cliff. She would have been saltier about the situation, but she'd been the one to start it after all.
Throughout the duration of the drive to the city of Ellsworth, Joker made numerous attempts at convincing her to let him blow up the Wal-Mart in Higginsville.
"You don't even have to get your hands dirty; I'll do all the heavy lifting."
"No."
Ten seconds later.
"What if I-."
"No."
Two minutes later.
"Ya know I'm good at-."
"No."
He scowled and pouted and moaned and groaned but she held firm in her choice. With how densely rural her neck of the woods was, you needed to travel a sizable distance to get to another large supercenter. She wasn't going to take that away from the local citizens, especially not during the winter when blizzards often made travel hazardous.
Their second time around shopping went much smoother than the first. Ellsworth being a city rather than town spiked up the traffic of people inside the store, and from the moment she grabbed a cart and headed to the grocery section, she knew they were being stared at.
But Joker seemed whole-heartedly content to ignore them, sticking by her side dutifully and actually giving some thought as to what he'd like to eat during his stay with her.
Which was why by the time they were done with the grocery shopping portion, her large cart was filled halfway with an assortment of cake-based snacks, tubs of ice cream (he was a sucker for Neapolitan), an array of chocolate and gummy-based candies, some bags of chips that shared the commonality of heat (she gave in to temptation and grabbed a bag of her favorite Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles), five various handmade pies, at least seven different cereals, a large bag of marshmallows and graham crackers, extra buttery popcorn, and two 24 packs of bottled water (the tap water at home had always held an aftertaste of iron she wasn't all that fond of).
Picking out clothes for Joker went easier than she anticipated. Despite his signature suit, tie, and vest; he wasn't all that picky with what he chose to wear. Their cart accumulated quite a few sweatpants, a couple of dark blue jeans (secretly, she couldn't wait to see him in them), white, gray, and black t-shirts, one wifebeater, two packages of socks, a pair of sandals (he protested against them, but she assured him spending as much time at the beach as they would he'd need them for convenience sake), three pairs of colorful swimming trunks, and three packages of boxers he personally picked out (the graphic design on them had to give him a laugh).
For herself, she grabbed five or six Hawaiian shirts that caught her eye.
Joker snorted at the choices.
"Really?"
She shrugged, fighting down a smile.
"I actually have a growing collection of them at the house," she revealed. "Shortly after I turned thirty, they suddenly became very appealing to me. Though…wearing them makes me feel like a middle-aged father of three."
This admission made him re-examine her. Whatever it was he was thinking, he kept to himself.
The last of the shopping was mostly for miscellaneous items. Toilet paper, lighter fluid, matches, ground beef, butter, bread, shredded cheese, tomato sauce, toothbrush, shampoo for him, and sunglasses (he had to try on nearly every single one on the stand, and even then he couldn't decide between three of them…so she had him put all of them inside the cart, lest they be there until closing time).
He was surprised when she led them into the kid's section of the store.
"I want to try something a little different this year for my mushroom trip," she explained, scanning over the items. "I'm going to play with what I used to when I was young…before I was pushed to grow up and stop being childish. Most adults think playing with toys is beneath them…a sign of immaturity…but toys have no other purpose than to make you happy…make your imagination run wild. And…I didn't get to be a child for as long as I wanted to."
Joker didn't respond to this, but his stare was sobering, and his mouth slanted down a little.
He knows exactly what I'm talking about.
She ended up settling on the boardgame Candyland, two bottles of bubble blowers along with a bubble blowing gun, a variety of acrylic paints and a paintbrush kit, a little handheld device that played three old school arcade games – Frogger, Pac-Man, and Donkey Kong, and a yellow and orange Nerf gun that could fire three darts per round (she bought a pack of 64 darts to accompany it).
Her companion hardly said a word as she picked everything out. She got the feeling she'd unintentionally made him return to a place he didn't care to be.
His childhood shaped him significantly. Maybe I should have done this shopping on my own time.
It didn't help that each child they passed would stop whatever they were doing and stare at him, some looking like they wanted to laugh, others glancing at their parent with a concerned expression before the parent would usher them away to another aisle.
Joker's true feelings about children's toys was expressed just before they departed from the area for good.
There were four beams attached to the store floor that extended very high up. Thick, black netting encased the space between the beams, and within the netting there was at least seventy to eighty large, multi-colored rubber balls. Just as they were passing the structure, Joker slipped out a knife, flicked the blade open, and proceeded to slice through five feet of netting; effectively creating a domino effect as all of the balls poured out through the large gash he'd created.
As they nonchalantly walked away, she dared not make any sort of disparaging remark. If his feelings were as murky as she suspected them to be, placing blame would only exacerbate his temper. They were nearing the end of the day and he'd only held a knife to her throat once. Once was good. Once was excellent.
His spirits did improve upon witnessing a handful of employees sprint past them toward the kids section. And he even managed out a smile when she stopped at the last aisle she needed to browse before checkout.
Fireworks.
She of course got some high-end sparklers, smoke bombs, roman candles, bottle rockets (technically these were illegal to set off in Maine, but she lived in such a reclusive area that no one was really there to complain about it), strobes, peonies, and king crossettes.
The excitement in Joker's eyes was growing with each addition to the cart.
"Much as I ah appreciate a gorgeous explosion…or six," he mentioned, "why pay for them when I can make them for free?"
"People have a habit of dying when you're involved."
He scoffed.
"Their fault for getting in the way."
To his credit, he did pick out a handful of heavy-duty ones she'd never seen lit before. Something told her this summer's firework show would be unlike any other.
When they finally managed to get to the self-checkout area, she was practically using all of her strength to push the cart along. And when scanning and bagging each item, he made no move to assist her; content watching with both hands clasped behind him.
People around them stared of course, but no one was motivated enough to confront them. It was a reflection of rural folks' mentality versus urban folks. The former was far more likely to keep their opinions to themselves, the latter emboldened to blurt whatever was on their mind.
It was when she was ringing up the final item that Joker smacked his forehead.
"Almost forgot," he said. "Be a doll and go get me some shaving cream, will ya?"
She was feeling the exhaustion of the day seep in but nodded nevertheless.
Upon returning thirty seconds later, she was stunned by the scene before her. Joker was signing the payment pad, tongue peeking out through his teeth. In between index finger and middle he was clutching a burgundy credit card.
Shut the French door. Is he…paying?
Not a moment later and a lengthy receipt was being ejected from the checkout machine. The total had not been…cheap, but she hadn't minded; it wasn't like she was spending it all on herself.
"Did you just do what I think you did?" she asked, glancing between the pay pad, the bagged groceries, and Joker.
"Mm…yeah?"
Before he pocketed the card, she plucked it out of his hand. It was more for curiosity's sake. Who did he even bank with? Would the name on the front say The Joker? Jack?
Her brows furrowed together.
"Bruno Caspian?" she read out loud in gold lettering.
On the upper left-hand corner was the name of the bank the card hailed from.
ING Belgium
"Not yours?" she confirmed, looking up at him.
"Nope." He stole it back from her, eyeing it proudly. "Fella I got this from was ah the first mob boss I ever killed. This was back when I wasn't making such a…spectacle of my targets. Pulled it off so well his underlings still think he's alive…I sort-ah…borrowed his identity for a time to fund some personal projects. As far as his colleagues are aware, he's operating part-time off a private island in Oceania; mostly enjoying retirement. Only use this puppy for emergencies…situations that even get me sweating."
There was so much she wanted to say. Did he deem this an emergency? Why? How much had this mob boss accumulated in personal earnings? How had he killed the mob boss? How often did he draw money out? What sort of situations, if any, could make someone like him sweat?
So lost in these musings was she that she hardly noticed Joker taking the can of shaving cream out of her hand and slipping it in one of the plastic bags.
"Bruno Caspian," she repeated, blinking rapidly. "It sounds like a pirate. Or…a porn star."
Joker waggled his eyebrows.
"I like where this conversation is heading."
She rolled her eyes, then studied him a little more seriously.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Duh."
He pocketed the card.
She was so tempted to place a hand on his shoulder but didn't want to press her luck. Internally, however, she was reeling in the best way possible.
"Ask him to do something for you. Inherently, love is not a selfish emotion. If he does what you ask for no one's benefit but your own…there may still be hope."
She hadn't even asked…he just…did it. The why still wasn't clear…he could very well be trying to further his agenda to bed her. At this point, did it matter? There was hope, wasn't there? Wasn't there?
"Thank you," she said, intentionally averting her gaze and wrapping her fingers around the cart's handle.
He didn't answer, and she was fine with that.
As soon as they returned to the car, Joker threw open the passenger door and got inside, closing the door after him. Apparently, his aid had reached its limitation.
She popped open the trunk and began unloading the groceries. With how much there was, she might need to utilize the backseat as well.
It was about halfway through this venture that a familiar voice shouted her name.
She turned and was rewarded with a welcome sight.
"Anthony?"
He half-jogged over to her from his truck. She closed the remaining distance toward him, lips peeling back into a warm smile.
When they were within a few feet of each other, he scooped her up into a tight hug; causing a laugh to stumble out of her as she circled her arms around his neck.
One of her oldest friends – and an essential member of the crew she'd hung out with growing up – was by no means a short individual. Roughly six foot three, he was equipped with an impressive mane of thick, dark brown hair that extended down to just below his chest. A well-trimmed beard and groomed-mustache gave him lumberjack vibes; bolstered further by the plaid buttoned ups he never outgrew wearing. Classic rock was his passion and he was almost always geared up in some t-shirt of a band from back of the day; this time being no different as the band Van Halen proudly stretched across his chest. Remove the long sleeves and one would find an impressive amount of tattoos scattered up and down his toned arms, mostly comic book and movie-inspired, though he had a distinctive thing for tree roots, branches, and home pride for their state.
"It's so good to see you," she said into his shoulder, peering up when he finally released her. "What're you doing so far north? You and Kayla still live in Calgary Cliff, right?"
Nervousness clouded his expression. He scratched the back of his head, laughing a little.
"Well, I'm here for mom. She needed a very specific tiller for the garden and the local hardware places were all sold out. Labor of love, you know how it is."
She did. Anthony was the type of person to go the extra mile for those he cared for.
"And Kayla…we ah…well, everyone else knows already…but we filed for divorce in April. It was finalized about three weeks ago."
"You did?" She backed up a step and re-scanned him. "I'm sorry to hear that, you guys were so well-suited for each other."
She wasn't lying. They'd been high school sweethearts throughout all four years of school, and though Kayla wasn't a member of their original crew, she would often hang out with them because Anthony had a difficult time being apart from her.
At the time, Kayla's presence agitated Celine only because…well…she had liked Anthony. A lot. To this day, he was the only person she'd have married without hesitance.
She had always found him so cool, so easy to relax around. He was one of the few people who was patient with her when her mental health hit a low. Hour-long, late night conversations in his or her car or over the telephone weren't uncommon. He was the person who taught her how to ride a motorcycle; a vehicle that was his staple all the way until he sold it to help pay for the extravagant wedding Kayla wanted.
To hear that the ultimate power-couple from her hometown were no longer together made her feel bad for them both. Kayla stopped being a threat in Celine's eyes after she had gone away to college and got her much-needed reality check. Hell, they ended up becoming so close she was a bridesmaid at their wedding.
"What happened…if you don't mind me asking."
He shrugged with one shoulder.
"We've been growing apart for years, honestly," he admitted. "We just…knew too much about each other. There was no…newness. No…spontaneity. Traits that we used to love in one another…suddenly we were annoyed by them. It was actually on our seven-year wedding anniversary that we sat down and had a long talk. It was mutual…amicable. Sorry it happened, but glad it was finally acknowledged. I'm looking forward to things for the first time in a long while. And…I…was looking forward to you coming back this summer too."
She stiffened. The look he showered her with was impossible to misinterpret.
You're kidding me. I pine after his butt from childhood to early adulthood and now…now he wants to give romance a go?
She couldn't fault him for the timing, he had chosen who he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with. And she…she needed to experience all that she did to become the person she was today.
It was just that…the timing really couldn't be any poorer. And she didn't think she could love him as wholeheartedly as she had when she'd been a teenager.
Clearing her throat, she redirected the conversation; pushing down the urge to peek over her shoulder.
Please let him be on the phone.
"So, Lisa was telling me that drive-in north of town is having a horror movie marathon? That's pretty awesome, I don't think we've all sat down in our cars like that since that diner with the carhops went out of business."
"Sound about right," he said, running a hand through his hair. "It'll be nice to see everyone again, works got me hauling deliveries all over Maine. I don't really get the chance to sit down and relax for more than a few days. Speaking of horror movies…"
He approached her, lowering his head as if he were letting in on some juicy gossip.
"Rumor around Calgary Cliff is there's been a Stephen King spotting."
"Pfft." She rolled her eyes. "Everyone and their mothers have claimed to see him in the area…I mean we've had alleged sightings of him since we were kids…still no evidence. I wouldn't hold my breath."
He smirked.
"Trina saw him."
Her mouth dropped open.
"The hell she did."
"As clearly as you're seeing me," he assured. "For obvious reasons, she couldn't yell to get his attention. And by the time she got her phone out to snap a picture of him, he was gone."
Another one of their original crew members – Katrina "Trina" – was one of the most honest, reliable people either of them knew. Out of everyone, she'd always been the most responsible…the one who abstained from drinking and often ended up the designated driver…the "mother" of the group who made sure her kids didn't end up in irreversible trouble.
If Anthony claimed Trina saw Stephen King in Calgary Cliff…she couldn't immediately write it off, much as she wanted to.
"I'll believe it when I see it," she settled on. "If there's ever sightings of him, it's usually in the Bangor or Portland area. I don't know what he'd been doing around here."
"Scouting locations for a new book?" he guessed. "Either way, it's got Calgary Cliff in a buzz. Even my mom – you know how much of a shut-in she is – even she's been out and about more lately, never without her copy of Misery for him to sign."
"I'd think James Patterson would be more her speed."
He glanced once in each direction before lowering his tone.
"I stopped by for dinner last Thursday and accidentally found that book everyone's raving about…50 Shades of Grey…you ever read it?"
She chuckled, biting her lip.
"No…I prefer my erotica…classier. Didn't Trina say it was based off a Twilight fanfiction?"
Trina was also a wildly talented writer, be it poetry, essays, or fiction. Before publishing her philosophical works and her short story "Dante", Celine had sent the drafts of each piece to be constructively criticized by her friend. She came away all the better for it.
"Ugh, fanfiction." His eyes briefly looked to the sky, as if attempting to locate God. "Just a bunch of horny teenagers publishing their sexual fantasies to other hornier teenagers. I can't believe you guys used to read that stuff."
Used to? Oh, Anthony you poor noodle…if only you knew.
"Yeah." She laughed nervously. "I can't believe we did either."
There was a moment of silence in which she was staring down at her feet and Anthony was soaking in her face. It was getting dark enough out now that her fading bruises weren't as noticeable as they'd been when Lucien glimpsed them.
"So…I've got a full week off starting today. I'm not sure what you've got planned tonight, but if you're at all interested in coming by…I wouldn't mind your company. We can smoke a little, catch up, I even got a new hunting bow you can try out."
"Anthony, I-." She looked up at him, struggling to find the right words. "-can't. I brought home a friend who'll be staying with me for the week and…I sort of wanted to show him around…let him get the full coastal Maine experience. My heart's pretty set on spending most of my vacation with him."
He wasn't shy about masking his disappointment, and she felt it along with him. He really had been looking forward to seeing her again this summer…to finally address some feelings she hadn't realized had been stored inside him.
"Damn…little Cece's all grown up," he tried to tease. "Half of us were convinced you'd never settle down with someone."
"Let me guess…you all placed bets."
"Heh…well…yeah. Lisa, Nathan, and I are gonna be out $50 come Tuesday."
"Serves you assholes right," she beamed, crossing her arms. "To be fair, I've not settled down…this friend is just a friend, nothing more."
Hope immediately animated his features.
Shit…that's not what I meant to do.
"I mean there's something there," she corrected. "But for the moment, we're just friends."
He nodded, opening his mouth to respond.
Behind her, a car door slammed shut so loudly everyone in the near vicinity turned to look at the source of the sound.
Celine was the only one that didn't need to. What felt like ice slowly started to spread down her spine.
She could tell by Anthony's facial expressions when Joker was just a few feet behind her. His brow had lowered, his eyes narrowed, and one hand hovered at the holster attached to his hip; home to his legally concealed firearm.
Rough, calloused fingers suddenly wrapped around the back of her neck. Joker appeared at her side not a second later.
"What's the hold up?"
She gently took Joker's wrist and removed his hand from her neck. The last thing she needed was him in full blown territorial mode. Anthony may have felt safe having a gun on him, but that safety was an illusion. He had no idea what sort of threat Joker posed, and she hoped he would never have to find out.
"Hey, sorry," she amended, glancing at him. "I ran into one of my old friends from the group I used to hang out with. Jack, this is Anthony. Anthony, this is my friend Jack I was telling you about."
Neither extended a hand to shake.
"The hell happened to your face?"
Her eyes squeezed shut, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.
Dear fuck almighty, Anthony, subtlety is a virtue.
"You really wanna know?" Joker's voice was the definition of sinister. "Might ah end up blowing your brains out with that cheap little glock at your side if I tell ya."
The insult did its job. Anthony gritted his teeth, fingers wrapping around the handle.
"Knock it off, both of you," she snapped, eying each of them firmly. "Anthony, Jack served in Afghanistan. Keep that in mind before you insult someone's appearance. Jack, don't be an ass. This is one of my oldest friends. Now...let's get going before the ice cream melts. Anthony…it was nice seeing you and I hope again to Tuesday. Tell your mom I said hi."
She was practically pushing Joker by the abdomen toward her car, the clown making it as difficult as he could for her.
"You need help loading up the rest of your groceries?" Anthony asked, unwilling to let sleeping dogs lie. "Doesn't look like…Jack was of any help to you earlier."
Sweet Lucifer I'm going to bash someone's skull in. Probably my own.
Because her hand was so close to Joker's chest, she could feel the vibrations of the growl he was struggling not to audibly emit.
"No thank you, Anthony. I'm a big girl, I can load a cart of groceries up just fine. I'll see you Tuesday, okay?"
His nod was reluctant.
"I-yeah…okay. Sorry if I came across as rude…um…see ya Tuesday."
Before Joker could comment, she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him after her.
Once at the trunk, she released a deep sigh and started loading in what was left of the groceries. This time, Joker remained just a few inches from her, occasionally glaring at Anthony who was taking his sweet time getting into his truck.
"Funny, isn't it," he remarked lowly, "that he thinks he stands a chance with you."
She hung her head but didn't answer.
"He doesn't, does he?" He gripped her by the waist, pushing his front into her back. "You were a good girl and told him you were off limits, right?"
"Jack, get off," she ordered quietly.
His fingernails dug into her skin.
"I don't share, Cece." His scars kept brushing against her earlobe which in turn made her knees weak. "You have one try left to get that lesson through to him. Then…then it'll be my turn. And I can gua-ran-teee you're not gonna like my method of education. We understand one another?"
"He is just a friend," she returned. "That lesson isn't necessary to teach him."
"Oh it very, very much is," he rumbled back, thumbs rubbing deep circles just above her hips. "Trying to invite you over to…cat-ch up? Crying to you about his divorce? You're not dumb…or maybe I gave you too much credit."
She twisted around and grasped him by the jaw.
"Seeing as you heard nearly everything, you also heard me say I was yours for the week, correct?"
His only answer was expelling some air form his nose.
"I thought so. Which means your behavior is completely uncalled for. I am seeing him Tuesday, it will be with the rest of my other friends, I do have a right to catch up with him, and you are going to get inside the damned car before all of the ice cream melts. Do we understand one another?"
She was too irritated with him to worry about the consequences of issuing such a command. Agatha had warned he could harbor possessive feelings toward her, but this…this was just flat out stupid, alpha-wannabe behavior. He knew better, he was just pretending he didn't to start something. She didn't have the patience for it, not this late in the day anyway.
Joker knocked her grip off him, grabbed her by the back of the head, and shoved his tongue into her mouth. There was nothing pleasant about the kiss; it was a blatant display of dominance. From his perspective, he couldn't control a situation…a person…so the next option was to enforce his will, his feelings onto the individual.
She bit his tongue as a warning to get the hell out of her mouth, and he listened, though not without piercing her bottom lip with his teeth until blood bloomed to the surface, and then lapping it up like a satisfied predator.
She shoved at his chest, which made him release a few cackles.
"Silly Ce-cee," he sing-songed. "Thinking I was gonna run off back to Gotham after fucking her. If she only knew what I had in store for her."
Her face paled slightly.
Well, that answered that earlier anxiety.
"Please…Jack…the ice cream."
She gestured helplessly at the groceries.
"Mm…fine."
Her body relaxed only when he was safely inside the car. Both hands massaged her cheeks, then forehead, then scalp.
I have to tread carefully. No mentioning Anthony in any capacity. Which isn't fair, but I'm not in a normal predicament with a normal person, am I?
Exhaling sharply, she loaded the rest of the groceries into the car. He's my soulmate she kept having to remind herself. His reaction – while extreme – was understandable. Coupled with an insatiable attraction to violence and she was really very lucky things didn't escalate worse than they had. That's what she needed to focus on.
x_X_x_X_x
The drive back was done in relative silence, save for some Pearl Jam blaring in the background. The mood in the car was tense, but she kept her concentration on the darkening sky above as well as the setting sun. The only time Joker chose to break the silence was when he reached out and stroked the side of her cheek with a thumb.
When she looked at him, he was wearing a contemplative expression.
"You afraid of me, Cece?"
"No," she answered truthfully. "Am I afraid of what you're capable of? Yes. Am I afraid you'll take it out on my friends or family? Yes. But you? No…I'm not afraid of you."
"Hm." He sounded surprised. "Good."
They said nothing more and at just a little past ten o'clock, were pulling into her driveway. As per usual, he left her to bring the groceries inside and put them all away.
Upon a scan inside the refrigerator, she noticed some trout and salmon neatly separated. Lucien had delivered and this elevated her mood significantly. Knowing someone that thoughtful was looking out for her filled her with the best kind of joy.
"Bless you, Uncle Lu," she said to herself.
When all was said and done, Celine was ready for an intimate date with her bed and pillow. She found Joker in the living room, occupying a comfortable plush sofa. His eyes were closed, legs spread, and both hands were clasped, one index finger sporadically wagging back and forth.
"Did you want me to fix you some food before I head to bed?"
He acted as if he hadn't heard her. Which was fine by her, she was much too exhausted to battle for his attention.
"Okay." She rubbed her forearm. "All your clothes are in mom's room. If you want to shower, go ahead…I left soap and a towel in there for you. And toothpaste if you need it. Um…good night, I guess. I'll…see you tomorrow?"
When he failed to so much as glance in her direction, she exited the room; trying not to take his silence too personally.
Before tiredness took her to the land of slumber and vivid dreams, a few last-minute thoughts raced through her head.
Today was encouraging, even if it didn't necessarily end that way. I saw Jack…well, glimpsed him at least. And he paid for all the groceries…then threatened Anthony, but that ultimately couldn't be helped. He likes it when it's just us and…I do too. He's comfortable around me. And I'm…getting to be…comfortable around…him.
She was out like a burnt lightbulb in a matter of minutes.
Joker waited another half hour before standing up from the couch and making his way to Celine's room.
He quietly opened the door and softly walked over to her bed; head tilted as he examined her.
She was unaware that he'd thieved some sleeping pills off a shelf earlier at the store when she wasn't paying attention. She was unaware that he'd crushed two of the pills up and slipped it into her water bottle when she was loading the car up with groceries. She was unaware that that's what sent her to bed so early and would keep her there for at least the next twelve hours.
"Sweet dreams, Cece," he murmured.
When she was well and truly sedated, he went over to her dresser, grabbed the car keys, and just as quietly exited he room, whistling to himself.