For drinks, Celine settled on lemonade – heavy on the ice. Her face still burned like a hot coal and it took everything in her not to smoosh her forehead against the chilled glass. Something Joker must have been aware of, as he kept on side-eyeing her with such smug satisfaction that she had to cease looking in his direction altogether, lest her face combusted.

June was all too happy to pour them their drinks while Dolores sprinkled cinnamon atop the apple pie that'd just come out of the oven. Marc had excused himself just a few seconds earlier to go mingle outside.

She felt a little bad about how uncomfortable Joker was making him feel. But ultimately, it was preferrable to the alternative. She would rather he suffer temporary embarrassment over a formal introduction to one of Joker's many, many knives.

"And what to drink for you, Jack?"

His arm was once again slung over her opposite shoulder. Its weight and occasional twitch had her tummy all light and fluttery. She was making some progress on cooling off her face, but the sensitivity in her loins had skyrocketed to an almost uncomfortable degree. It didn't help that standing so close had her practically bathing in his body heat. Or that all the time they've been spending outdoors was beginning to make him smell like woods, like ocean, like wind, like fire, like spruce, like a breath of fresh air.

I don't know if I want to slap him or jump his bones. Probably both.

"Cider's fine," Joker rumbled.

She did her best to relax and focus on a gameplan that didn't involve shoving him down on the nearest couch and riding him into next Tuesday.

Would he actually eat my ass? It seems so... unsanitary. And god forbid I accidentally fart in his face.

She bit her tongue, preventing a very unbecoming chortle from exiting. Could their soulmanship survive something so catastrophically mortifying? Just the thought of it alone made her want to dive headfirst into a bed of quicksand.

"Here you are."

Joker accepted June's glass and quickly downed the contents. A few dribbles of cider spilled from the corners of his lips, dampening his shirt in the process.

June looked a little taken aback whereas Dolores chuckled a little.

"You may have to send them home with more than just a couple gallons," she teased.

Joker swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He wasn't the least bit embarrassed by the mess he'd made.

"It would appear so," June remarked. "Can I get you some more, Jack?"

"Mm, please."

Her brows rose as June took his glass and filled it all the way up before handing it back to him.

Did he just say please without any hint of sarcasm?

It occurred to her that between her two aunts, Joker appeared to prefer June. She suspected her more subdued, observational nature blended better with his personality. Or maybe she was simply tougher to win over. If Joker loved anything, it was trying to crack a nut whose shell seemed impenetrable.

"We'll be outside then," she said, lifting her glass. "Thank you again for the drinks."

"Anytime, Celine. There's a veggie and fruit tray out there if you need something to nibble on."

As if on cue, her stomach churned out a lengthy grumble. The anxiety-high of introducing Joker had briefly distracted her from the fact that she'd not eaten properly since yesterday afternoon.

"Oh dear," Dolores noted. "Did you not eat much at Leo's?"

Her tongue hesitated on divulging the truth.

Joker didn't share the same indecision.

"We uh had a real cun-." Her gaze instantly met his, a bit of panic bleeding into her expression. "-mm, excuse me, where are my manners. We had an... unpleasant waitress. She didn't appear to like Cece much, which ah didn't make me the happiest duck in the pond."

Her aunts exchanged a glance.

"That Dawn's always had it out for you and Nora," Dolores disapproved. "What did she do this time?"

Celine shook her head.

"Nothing worth getting upset about," she assured. "Just Dawn being Dawn."

Joker's gaze narrowed. His hand slipped down to her back. Again, he bunched up her blouse into a tight fist. This time, it was less a response to the unknown and more as a means of controlling his temper.

"It ah really gets on my nerves when you let others disrespect you," he blurted, more so to her, entirely ignoring the raised eyebrows from her aunts. "Lucky you got someone that doesn't tolerate that shit."

It made her redden a little that he'd dare make such a bold statement in front of her family. Though, this also seemed to be a reoccurring theme. Everything from the beating she'd taken by the Gotham media after Martha Graves's interviews to Gil maiming her to this most recent example at Leo's.

Joker didn't appreciate her passivity, not one bit.

"That's not fair," was what ended up coming out of her.

"And it's fair that I get a front row seat to others being rude to ya?" he shot back, grip tightening on her blouse.

"No," she answered softly. "No, it's not."

I don't think I realized just how much this genuinely bothers him.

"I'm sorry," she followed up. "I- I used to give in to anger and retaliate in ways that... I'm not the proudest of. I just... taking the high road is something I've spent years disciplining myself to do. It's hard to undo it."

He didn't respond, nor loosen his grip any.

"Jack."

It was Dolores that spoke. Her tone was gentle, sensing the growing tension between them.

"Our family may be partially at fault for how we respond to difficult people. We drilled into all the kids at a young age that if you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all. I know in my heart Celine doesn't mean to make you feel like your efforts to defend her are in vain. I appreciate you looking out for her, it's good she has you in her life to say what she struggles with."

His fingers loosened on her blouse. The tic that had been pestering his jaw, subsided.

Inhaling harshly through his nostrils, Joker's gaze landed on Dolores.

"She doesn't make it easy."

Celine blinked, a little disarmed by how truthful he was being. And that his frustrations were being so patiently understood.

"Lu was that way too when we first started seeing each other," she explained with a wistful smile. "Willing to defend me at the drop of a hat. I didn't know how to take it at first. It can be a little... well, overwhelming having someone care that much about you. But as time went on, I realized what Lu really wanted was to make me realize my own worth. So that I might defend myself, even when he wasn't around."

No one spoke.

"I know where your discipline stems from, sweetheart," she told Celine. "I know the troubles not holding your tongue have gotten you into, and why you've worked so hard at doing better. But... it's no longer just you alone. You have Jack. Try to understand where he's coming from, it'll only benefit you in the end."

The sentiment was interrupted by another grumble courtesy of her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed.

"Go get some food in you," Dolores suggested. "Both of you."

Opening her eyes, she nodded.

Joker's hand had flattened out into a palm against her as they made their way to the screened-in back porch. The second they were through the entryway, door clicking shut behind them, Celine attempted to give herself some distance. Attempted being the key word.

"Now where," he griped, tugging her into him by her blouse, "do you think you're going?"

She swallowed tightly and looked up at him. On a side table near them, she deposited her drink. He did the same.

"Did that conversation really need to happen in front of them?"

His eyes narrowed into slits.

"I ah told you," he said, free hand gripping her chin. "You've been alone for far too long. If I can't get that through to you, I figure you'd listen to people who can."

It bruised her pride a little, she wasn't going to lie. Having been on the receiving end of a scolding. Granted, it was a polite one, and Dolores did her best to be sympathetic to them both. Still...

"I think Aunt D would reconsider if she knew what you did to Martha Graves. The extremes you go to defend me are... concerning."

He rolled his eyes, fingers digging into her chin until she felt the sting of nails.

"Or she'd bake me a fucking cake because she's soo relieved her little niece is being cared for pro-perly. Now-." He moved her head up and down. "'-let's drop this, hm? Cos you're gonna piss me off if you don't. And we're having such a good time, aren't we?"

She released an unsteady breath. As much as she hated the condescending tone he'd adopted, she knew it was wiser to adhere to it. Joker getting pissed off was a death sentence to everyone present

"Okay."

"Mm, good, good." He was stroking her bottom lip with a thumb. "Ya know, it's a real strain on my patience, seeing you all hot and flustered. There uh anywhere we can go to relieve some tension."

This time it was her turn to roll her eyes.

The earlier bubbling of arousal had cooled significantly after what transpired in the kitchen. She also got the impression applying this sort of control over her fueled his own desire. Knowing how carefully she had to tread to avoid upsetting him, how compliant she had to be with his emotional state. To boot, the hand on her back was clawing into her to ensure she was allowed no further space, and his thumb flirted with taking a dip into her parted mouth.

"Sorry, but no," she murmured. "Now isn't the time."

The look he shot her made her gut lurch. She knew she wasn't going to like what he said next.

"Mm, your cousin was right," he acknowledged. "You are a sore loser."

With that, he pushed her away.

She bit her lip, fighting the unexpected urge to tear up.

That had... hurt. Not until she met the feeling head on did she realize just how much.

This is why I worked hard not to let him too close. Not to give his words staying power. Because... given the chance, he can devastate me.

She turned her back on him and walked to one of the six windows overlooking the backyard. As she worked on breathing exercises, she too tackled the unexpected self-loathing weighing on her.

I have no one to blame but myself. I gave him the weapon he's long been after- access to me. Why did I think he wouldn't use it against me? Why did I think I'd be spared? I keep forgetting. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A shaky inhale got trapped in her throat. She was no stranger to beating herself up, but long had it been since it was this intense. So intense in fact she was having trouble counteracting it with reason, with objectivity.

Her gaze swept over everyone scattered outside. Briefly, she allowed herself to find solace in their cheer.

About fifty yards ahead, Eli, Rita, Marc, Layla and Nelson were lounging around a patio table, all of them - with the exception of Rita - sipping on a beer. Nelson appeared to be deep into a story that must have not been entirely accurate as Layla kept interrupting him with a playful slap to the shoulder to tell it right.

At their feet rested one of two dogs belonging to Lu and Dolores – a golden retriever named Rocket. From his sideway position on the grass, he appeared thoroughly pooped.

Just a little to their right, Lu, Marty, and Eugene were gathered around two large charcoal grills. One grill had a plastic bag hanging off its side shelf, and with a careful squint she was able to detect at least four empty beer bottles inside it. Which were most likely courtesy of Marty and Eugene as Lu didn't like to drink while he cooked.

The other golden retriever, Archer – he and Rocket had been pups from the same litter – was gazing longingly at whatever meats were being slowly sizzled on the grill.

She spotted Lauren and Vivian near a large oak tree with a tire swing attached to the thickest branch. Whatever they were discussing was of a more serious nature as they both wore somber expressions.

As was always the case, seeing Lauren filled her with an unpleasant mix of tension and remorse.

Lauren was only two years younger than her, and when they'd been kids, it was Celine she looked up to. Unfortunately, in those early years, she'd been painfully insecure and had no qualms about taking advantage of Lauren's admiration of her. After all, when you feel bad about yourself, you project it in some unkind ways. You scavenge for love and respect from others to make up for just how much you lack toward yourself.

By the time they'd both entered high school, Lauren had grown tired of it. In a heated exchange, she admitted to just how low Celine made her feel at times. And she'd carried that grudge with her for years. Family gatherings had been painfully awkward as Lauren pretended she didn't exist, whilst she wallowed in the guilt of how inconsiderate she'd been.

In retrospect, she knew the falling out had to happen. It was one of those pivotal moments where someone holds a mirror up to you and you're forced to examine yourself in a deeply uncomfortable way. That's not me, is it? Have I always behaved this way? How did I become comfortable hurting others?

Their relationship nowadays was just north of lukewarm. Time didn't heal all wounds, but it did make it a little easier to forget. They were cordial with one another at these cookouts, conversation never straying beyond general pleasantries. It never not disappointed her that their relationship lacked the substance of when they'd been young. Despite the bad, there had been some good.

But a part of maturing is accepting the role you played in the deterioration of a friendship. It wasn't her place to demand Lauren accept her apology, nor was it her place to push for a rekindled relationship.

Sometimes, you simply have to let things be, even if you long for different circumstances. Sometimes you have to bear the guilt just so you can learn from it. And sometimes, that has to be enough.

Releasing a deep breath, Celine nodded to herself.

Jack is projecting, just like I once did. I... can't take it personally. Easier said than done, but that's the truth. He aimed for this specific insult because he knew it'd get under my skin, and he knew I regard his opinion with more importance than a month ago. It sucks that this is his go-to response, but again, I chose this path, even when I knew it wouldn't be easy.

Her breathing was gradually returning to normal. That self-loathing that once had a permanent home knew it had overstayed its welcome. It was intimidated by the boundaries she'd learned to set, by the compassion she'd learned to bestow upon herself, especially in moments she didn't think it was worth bestowing.

I banish thee to... Scottsdale, Arizona. Oof, maybe that's too harsh. How about Toledo, Ohio? Hmm... tough, but fair.

She smiled a little. And just in time too as Lucien chose that moment to glance behind him. Upon locating her through a window, it was like his entire body physically melted into the ground. He offered her a couple of waves, of which she returned.

This caught Marty and Eugene's attention.

"Cece's here!" she heard Marty shout.

She took a few steps back so she was out of view and glanced at Joker.

However tumultuous her inner monologue had been, it was nothing compared to him. His frown was so severe and his eyes so dark she briefly debated letting him take her car and go back to the beach house. The man standing in front of her was in no position to be interacting with other human beings.

"You can leave if you want," she said softly. "Seriously, Jack, you've gone above and beyond what I expected out of you. I appreciate all the effort you've put into being here with me."

He shook his head so violently she worried he was going to strain a muscle.

"Stop it."

Her brows shot together.

"Stop what?"

"This," he spat, pinning her with a glare. "Being so fucking nice and forgiving. I'm trying to make you feel bad. I want you to feel bad. Stop enabling me, it only makes me work harder to hurt you."

She recoiled a little, blown away by the potency of his anger. A surge of something abrasive crackled in the air between them. Like Joker managed to set fire to oxygen itself.

It took courage to face that anger head on, to try and glimpse the culprit behind it.

Inhaling, she took a step toward him.

"No."

One of his hands twitched.

"Wha-t?"

"No," she repeated. "I'm not going to stop trying to be patient with you. Or to understand where you operate from. My intent isn't to enable you. It's to give you the freedom to feel what you have to feel, unapologetically. Even if... I would respond differently."

She ventured another step toward him. He instantly took one back. Then glared down at his foot, as if just recalling he wasn't the type of man to back away from anything.

"And you are right, Jack," she continued. "I should've said it sooner. When I was in and out of homeless shelters, I came to the realization that I had gotten me there. Me, no one else. And who got me out of that situation? Me, no one else. Who have I let care about me in such an intimate way? Me, no one else. I cling to myself because I'm all I have. And you... I struggle to accept you. I struggle to carve a place for you within me. I don't know how to... not let my self-preservation be my bodyguard. I don't know how to let you do things for me."

Joker didn't budge as she took another step toward him.

"This is so foreign to me... letting you in isn't like letting strangers or friends in. I risk losing so much, and that voice in my head knows this. I-I... am sorry if it seems like I've been ungrateful, I don't mean to be. This between us is so- it's so-."

Her throat tightened up. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

"This is so beyond anything." She rested both palms over her eyes and expelled a harsh laugh. "And I'm just trying to—and sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's like I've known what to do all my life. Other times, I choose a direction in a dark room and hope it leads the way to a door. Sometimes it does, sometimes it leads me to an even darker corner."

She didn't hear him approach. Fingers suddenly wrapped around her wrists. With a firm tug, she was studying him through a bleary gaze.

Joker was peering at her so intently she briefly forgot how to breathe. A frown marred his face, but the real battleground was his eyes. A dizzying number of emotions passed through, all having been tossed inside a colosseum, equipped with a sword and shield.

"I-." Sniffing, she met his gaze. "-I don't want to be a burden on you."

Not until she said it out loud did she realize how evasive this anxiety had been. Hiding behind any convenient emotion so as to avoid ever revealing itself for what it was. Fear. Insecurity.

Joker didn't speak for a long time. His grip on her wrists was impossible to break out of, though, truthfully, she was grateful for it. The influx of emotions bombarding her had her feeling like a hot air balloon that lost everything keeping it secured to the ground.

When he finally did speak, it was so quiet she nearly missed it.

"You're not a burden."

She released a shaky breath.

"It's a little... insulting you think that," he said, thumbs stroking the insides of her wrists. "But ah... childhood is... a real bitch. So many assumptions you form about yourself and uh... if you're lonely, like I was... like, you were... you ah don't exactly let anyone close enough to counteract that perception. You uh... you carry it with you, convinced there's no person on this planet to ever... challenge it."

He dropped her wrists and grabbed onto her face. Fingers cradled her cheeks; his thumbs massaged the outline of her dimples.

"Admittedly, I might've saw ya as a burden at first," he continued. "Pushing me to... examine things I ah... wasn't so thrilled to examine. Still not thrilled. I liken you to a... migraine. In this case, I ah also happen to be a masochist. I... welcome the pain ya bring. The discomfort. It uh pisses me off at first until I see red, and then... then it's like removing a pebble in my shoe I never realized was such a god damn nuisance. You've helped me... remove a lot of pebbles, which is good 'cos I didn't realize how badly my feet were killing me."

No part of this speech was organized, she could tell he was blindly choosing words, shoving them into slots in an attempt to form sentences, and hoping they were accurately getting his point across.

Personally, she was touched by the analogy, even if he had compared her to a migraine. It confirmed one of the things she'd unkowingly longed for—impacting him on a deeper level than she often times witnessed.

"Now." He lapped at each of his scars, eyes glued to her lips. "You ever imply you're a burden to me again and I'll gut you a smile that rivals mine. You understand?"

The mixture of comfort and terror was disorienting. Whether Joker would go through with this threat remained to be seen, but in this moment, he fully believed what he was saying. As a result, it took her a few seconds to answer.

"I-I understand."

He lowered his voice.

"Don't even think it," he growled, fingers tightening. "I know how you behave when you think it. And I really don't wanna mar those cheeks, sweets. Ha! Cheeksweets. Oh, how you inspire."

He shook his head.

"But ah- I prefer your smile au natural. Only cheeks I wanna leave a mark on are the ones you got squeezed into this godawful skirt."

A gasp shot out of her as his hands dropped down to her backside. He grasped a cheek in each hand and pulled her into him so they were nose to nose, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis.

"Mm, or how about this?" he redirected, pressing his forehead into hers. "Anytime you suspect you're being a burden, give me a sign and I'll ah throw ya over my lap and spank ya as atonement. Get you all nice and warm and wet until you get that silly thought out of your mind."

To emphasize this idea, he reigned a firm spank on one of her cheeks. She squeaked, making Joker grip onto her bottom tighter. Something hard was beginning to dig into her hips.

"N-no spanking," she stuttered out, feeling just a little lightheaded. "I don't trust you'd ever... let me off of your lap."

His responding smirk made her grip onto his shoulders to steady herself. Or maybe to keep herself from diving at his mouth.

How the hell does he do this? Seriously. This man's appeal is unnatural.

"Well ah ya got me there," he murmured, palming her backside with just the right amount of pressure to re-dampen her panties. "Can't help that you're like a cozy little cushion for my dick. Really, it's the best seat in the house, if you're not counting my face."

"Jack-," she choked out. "-so not the time."

He ignored this remark and grazed his lips over hers. Just as she slithered both arms behind his neck, someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

Celine and Joker instantly broke apart.

No inch of her face was spared a blush as her gaze settled on Uncle Lucien.

He appeared just as uncomfortable as them, studying the side table where their drinks sat.

"You uh coming out soon? We're gonna do some shooting while the brisket slow cooks."

"Yes," she said, throwing him a crooked smile. "Sorry, um we were just- we were on our way."

His nod was sharp.

"Good," he said, scanning them both. "And uh- you might wanna adjust yourself, son."

Her blush grew hotter upon realizing how prominent Joker's bulge was, and that Lu got more than a glimpse of it.

He exited the porch as Joker worked on rearranging his crotch, all the while mumbling something incoherent to himself. She thought she caught the words "grouchy old geezer" but couldn't be certain.

Picking up her lemonade, she patted her face with the bottom of the glass.

"Ya know, all it takes is a few minutes to sneak away," he pestered. "Little quickie and uh we'll both be satisfied."

"It's so inappropriate," she defended. "We're guests, I couldn't bear it if someone caught us. They would never let me live it down. And I might not get invited again."

He exhaled noisily.

"My balls are gonna be fucking blueberries by the time this is over with."

She snorted. Not so much at Joker's plight, but the idea of him lowering his jeans just to reveal two blue fruit in their place.

It was so tempting to tell him Lucky for you, I like blueberries but she figured it'd only worsen the situation. When they got flirty with each other was when the clothes started to disappear at a rapid rate.

"C'mon," she gestured. "You'll like this part—releasing some of that pent up energy onto the targets. Lu has an impressive rifle collection."

She could see him perk up a little. Finally, they would be participating in something within his wheelhouse. Granted, Joker's targets tended to be living, but shooting at something inanimate was better than not shooting at all.

To her surprise, he latched onto the back of her blouse again as the other hand grabbed his apple cider. Despite meeting nearly half of her family already, he still wasn't fully comfortable meeting the other half.

After what just transpired and the fact that they were able to civilly reconcile with one another, he could hold her by the hair for all she cared.

"Lu has dogs," she offered. "Golden retrievers- Rocket and Archer."

He didn't seem all too excited by this revelation.

"Countess and Jolly Jane would tear their throats out," was his gruff response. "Retrievers are like- they're like—mm, those motivational coaches. Happy-go-lucky; nothing but sugar crammed into their nut-sized craniums. One look at their dopey little faces and ya just wanna strap them into a catapult and launch 'em into the clouds."

Her eyes widened.

"I'll have you know there hasn't been a single person invited to this house who didn't fall in love with them. Just you wait, you're gonna want to take them with us before this is all over with."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Not."

"We'll see."

Before he could construct a rebuttal, she was leading them outside.

Keep your golden retrievers away from Joker, ladies and gentlemen.

I've been trying to figure out who I've been subconsciously basing Aunt Dolores off of, and it hit me. It's Adele Stackhouse from True Blood. She really was the ideal grandmother figure. I miss that show, though, I also pretend seasons 5-7 don't exist.

I've always been real with you all - mentally, I've been unwell. By the way I write you would think I have my shit together, but that is the polar opposite of reality. Which is maybe why I cling to this story so much, it's a glimpse into a life out of reach.
I had a realization in the midst of a recent breakdown. This isn't depression I've been facing, its despair. Littlefinger said chaos is a ladder, I think despair can be swapped out for chaos seamlessly. I won't go into it, but just know there's a possibility that uploads won't be as frequent. I try to write a little a day, even if it isn't much, even if I sometimes want to bash my laptop in with a sledgehammer.

As always, your support means more than I can express. Thank you all for the thoughtful and encouraging comments, reading what you have to say never not puts a dopey smile on my face.