Harley emerged from the bathroom at last after having finished her book. "And they lived happily ever after," she quoted, tossing it into the trash can. "Yeah, right."
She looked up at that moment to see that the room had been completely altered in her absence. It was lit solely by candles that had been strewn about the room, and a trail of rose petals led from the bathroom to the bed, where the Joker lay, dressed in a similar costume to the cover of the book, including the too tight trousers and open shirt.
"Hope you don't want more kids, because I think every second I spend in these pants, I'm lowering my sperm count," he said.
"Mr. J? What is all this?" asked Harley, looking around.
"This is your fantasy come true, pumpkin pie," said Joker, beaming at her. "I read your book…well, most of it. Some of it. Skimmed it, really, but I got the gist. You want me to be the super romantic guy of your dreams. Well, I'm here to make your dreams come true, cupcake."
Harley stared at him. "Is this another joke of yours?" she demanded. "You get my hopes up only to set me up for some kinda horrible fall?"
"No joke, pooh bear," said Joker. "Not this time. I was in the bar with Brucie trying to drink something to help the keys go down, and got to thinking about how we all got crazy, unattainable, impossible dreams. Well, Brucie probably doesn't, but me and Bats and you do. And if I indulge Batsy in his crime-fighting dream night after night, the least I can do is indulge yours for one night. So here I am, your fantasy Mr. J come to life, acting just like I do in your book. Y'know, all sincere and sweet and honest and saying I need you and I'll die without you…"
"That's great, Mr. J," interrupted Harley. "But you really ain't got the face for sincere, y'know. I don't really believe you when you say those things, because I know you. And I know you don't really feel that for me."
"I don't, huh?" asked Joker, frowning. "Think you know me better than I know myself, is that how it goes? Well, I'll show you, you know-it-all brat…I mean…why, Harley, you mustn't be so hard on me," he stammered, trying to look innocent. "It hurts me to hear you say you don't believe me, when I've given you everything, my soul and my life…"
"No, you ain't," retorted Harley. "See, this only works if it rings true to the character, Mr. J. And my fantasy Mr. J ain't the same character as real Mr. J – that's why it's a fantasy. In reality, you'd never say those things to me."
"I'm saying 'em now," he said. "And look, I got us some champagne," he said, reaching for a bottle by the bed. "And some chocolates with a nice note in them – read what it says," he said, handing her the box.
Harley half-expected a boxing glove to pop out of the box and hit her in the face, but was surprised when she opened the box to see just chocolates, and a note. He's probably poisoned the chocolates, she thought, as she read the note: To Harley Quinn – the love of my life, and the only woman I'd tolerate honing in on my act this long.
"Yeah…the first bit was kinda romantic, but then you ruined it with this second bit," said Harley, pointing.
"Maybe," agreed Joker, nodding. "But you say you know me, and that's true, isn't it? You are the only woman I've ever tolerated honing in on my act. Before we met, I was a solo act, and happy to remain that way for the rest of my life. You were the only person to make me reconsider that, to think that a double act might be the way to go, and now a quadruple act with the kiddies. It's pretty miraculous when you think about it. You know me – I don't change my mind or myself for anyone. But I did for you. And I'd do more if I could," he continued, back in his romantic mode. "I'd give you the stars and the moon, and anything you ask for. Because you're my whole world, Harley Quinn. My life wouldn't be worth living without you in it."
"I'm not buying it, Mr. J," retorted Harley, folding her arms across her chest.
He shrugged, and then pulled back the covers on the bed. "Can I give you a backrub?" he asked. "That's what caring, sensitive guys like me do to the women they love after a hard day."
Harley shrugged. "Ok," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She expected him to try some stupid joke then, maybe shock her with the joy buzzer, but instead she felt his strong, masculine fingers gently soothing the muscles in her neck and shoulders and back.
"Oh…Mr. J," she whispered, beginning to feel receptive to his advances despite herself.
"Harley," he breathed in her ear, as she felt his bare, muscled flesh against her back. "I need you."
"You do?" she whispered, shutting her eyes. "More than anyone else?"
"Yes," he murmured, kissing down her throat.
"More than Batman?" she asked.
He drew away suddenly. "I've never needed Batman like this!" he snapped. "I don't know what you're implying!"
"Mr. J, don't ruin the mood!" snapped Harley. "Not when you were doing such a good job!"
"Well, don't talk about Batman then!" retorted Joker. "You're always getting on me for that!"
He returned to rubbing her back. "The first time I saw you, I knew I wanted to be with you forever," he whispered. "You were so unlike any girl I'd ever seen before…"
"You'd never seen a girl doctor before?" asked Harley, puzzled.
"No, Harley, that's obviously not what I meant, you dumb blonde!" snapped Joker. "Y'know, this romance thing is a two-way street – you need to play along and take it seriously too!"
"Sorry," said Harley. Then she frowned. "Wait, I'm not apologizing in my own fantasy! I do enough of that in real life! It's your turn to apologize to me, Mr. J!"
"For what?" he demanded.
"For everything you've done this weekend, for starters," she retorted.
"I ain't doing no such thing!" he snapped. "Anyway, love means never having to say you're sorry! Ain't you heard that expression?"
"Good. Then I won't apologize for anything in future either," said Harley, nodding. "C'mon, Mr. J, work your magic with those hands," she said, pointing to her back. "Let's get the mood back."
Joker drew in a deep breath, but obeyed. "Say some more nice things about me," said Harley.
Joker's mind raced for any other meaningless, romantic crap he had heard over the years. "Harley…you complete me. To me, you are perfect. If you're a bird, I'm a bird. Here's looking at you, kid…"
"Now you're just quoting lines from movies!" snapped Harley.
"Well, what else is romance than quoting lines from movies?" demanded Joker. "It's all fake, Hollywood nonsense! And I hate romance!"
"Well, I love it!" shrieked Harley. "And if you hate romance, you have to hate our relationship!"
"What we got isn't romance, kid!" he snapped. "It's something much better than that! It's a mad, crazy, insane love that don't make a lick of sense! It's not the kinda crap you'll see in any big Hollywood movie, it's not the kinda crap that anybody should ever cry over, or aspire to emulate! But what we got…it works for us. As crazy and messed up as it is, it's our version of love. And it suits us, because we're two crazy, messed up people. And maybe it ain't always perfect, maybe I ain't the kinda guy who's gonna kiss you in the rain and have picnics in the park and tell you you're perfect just the way you are! But I think you're too smart to want something like that, Harley. Something phony and fake and superficial, which you know could never be real. What we got…it's real. And that's what's important. It may be crazy, but it's real. And it beats all the other technicolor crap out there by a mile. Let other people waste their lives dreaming about perfect boys meeting perfect girls and declaring their love for them in public. But we're different. There's nobody out there like us. We're special. And I thought you always liked us being special. I know I do."
Harley sighed. "I gotta be special to have put up with you for this long, huh?" she asked, grinning at him.
"Yep," he said, nodding. "Special, unique, crazy, call it what you will. But that's my Harley girl. And I may not be a serious kinda guy, but I think she knows how I feel about her. She knows better than anybody else, including myself."
Harley smiled. "Yeah," she agreed. "Insane, homicidal, psychopathic, and incredibly selfish - that's my Joker. But I'm just crazy enough to love him madly. Must be something wrong with me, huh, puddin'?"
"Not to me, toots," he replied, smiling. "To me, you're pretty all right."
"Oh, Mr. J!" she breathed. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me! Well, except for those romantic movie quotes, but I know you didn't mean those. But you do mean that, doncha, puddin'? Don't answer that!" she said, as he opened his mouth to respond. "And this whole playing along to my fantasy thing must not have been at all fun for you, especially fitting yourself into those pants – it's something you've done just for me," she continued, her eyes bright and beaming. "I mean, you were probably hoping to get forgiveness and sex outta it, so it's probably a little selfishly motivated, but I don't even care, because the gesture just means so much to me! And the fact that you read my book, when I know how much you hate romance…it's the nicest thing you've ever done!"
"Yeah, it was a bit of an effort getting through it," agreed Joker, nodding. "But the descriptions of me were pretty flattering, so…y'know."
Harley grinned at him. "You just can't admit you were being unselfish for once, can you?" she asked. "That you did something just to make someone else happy?"
"I didn't!" protested Joker. "I did it to snap you outta this mood! Which was grating on my nerves!"
"Deny it all you want, Mr. J – I know the truth," said Harley, smiling. "You love me, and you wanted to do something to make me happy for Valentine's Day weekend."
"That's what I've been saying all weekend…" began Joker.
"Yeah, but I'm finally in the mood to listen to you," retorted Harley, nodding. "And you've finally done something purely for me that doesn't result in me being the punchline to your jokes. Unless this is all a big joke you've set up with a hidden camera or something?" she said, looking around the room suddenly.
"How would that be funny, Harley?" demanded Joker. "Honestly, I may think you're all right, but you'll never understand comedy!"
"I don't need to," retorted Harley. "All I need to understand is that fantasy might be great, but it can never compete with reality. Can it, puddin'?" she purred, pulling off his shirt.
"You tell me," he retorted. "Which Joker do you prefer?"
"My real one," she said, kissing him. She grinned. "Now let's get you outta those pants…"