Here's chapter numero dos and it's kinda small, but i can promise chapter 3 will be longer =D

I woke up in a bed. I didn't remember falling asleep here. Where am I? The previous day's events had completely slipped my mind at the moment and I had no idea what the hell was going on. I glanced around the dimly lit room. The walls were blank except for some 'HA HA's etched lazily into them. The one window in the room was mostly spray painted over in black, but not entirely, so that it allowed a bit of light into the room. The bed that I was lying in had green silk sheets and a dark purple comforter. Green and purple. They looked familiar, like they reminded me of someone. Then it hit me like a freight train full of bricks. Slimy green hair and a dark purple coat. The Joker. Then, speak of the devil, his voice floated in from outside the door accompanied with loud, obnoxious knocking.

"Up and at 'em kitten," he sang before his footsteps disappeared down the hall. I groaned as I stretched and hopped out of the bed. I opened the door and cautiously peered out into the hallway. Left, right. All clear. I stepped out of the room, shut the door, and headed the way that I'd heard the Joker's footsteps fade. I came to the flight of stairs and padded quietly down them. I was now back in the room that the Joker and I been alone in the previous day. Still no sign of the clown.

I was about to head back upstairs and catch some more z's when humming was heard coming from the back room. I slid silently over to the doorway and peeked into what seemed to be a kitchen. The Joker was in his usual attire, save the coat which was slung over the back of a chair at the table, and was cooking! There's no way in hell. I'm still dreaming. I rubbed my eyes and pinched myself. Ow! Nope, not dreaming. I stared at the Joker as he hummed tunelessly. There is no way in holy hell that an evil, psychopathic, homicidal clown cooks. No. Freakin. Way. I continued to stare at his back, but then my eyes started to wander down to his purple pinstripe pants. Nice ass. I shook my head vigorously. No, no, no. Don't think like that. Bad girl. I had to restrain myself greatly from strangling myself. The Joker started chuckling.

"Ya gonna stand there all day kitten?" he said as he turned his head to look over his shoulder, a smirk on his lips. I realized he had no face paint on. I giggled nervously and slid my small figure into the kitchen. With another chuckle, the Joker looked me up and down, then turned back to his cooking. My face flushed slightly as I took a seat. The hell is wrong with me? I blushedjust because he checked me out?! I must have some mental illness or something… But he is pretty sexy without his makeup. I shook my head again to clear my thoughts. The Joker finished preparing whatever he had been cooking, put it on two plates, grabbed two forks, then strolled over to the table. I watched him as he placed a plate in front of me then sat down across from me with his. He still had both forks and I waited patiently for him to hand one over to me, but he just sat there smirking evilly, leaning back in his chair. Damn him. He wants me to ask for it. I sighed.

"Can I please have a fork?" I questioned, my ego bruising greatly. The Joker's smirk, if possible, seemed to go ear to ear. Oh yeah, scars.

"Can I please have a fork who?" he questioned, cupping his hand behind his ear. I stared at him blankly.

"Can I please have a fork, Joker?" I asked uncertainly. The clown grinned and outstretched his arm towards me.

"Why of course kitten," he said as he opened his hand, the two forks resting on his palm. I watched him warily as I reached out for the fork, but I hesitated. Oh what the hell. I swiped the fork, my fingers brushing over his palm.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I turned my attention to the plate in front of me. The Joker had made scrambled eggs and bacon with a side of extremely burnt toast. It smelled pretty good, except the toast. There's still no way that he cooks. The look that I must have been giving the food gave him a hint. Either that or he was a mind reader.

"Normal people aren't the only ones that cook. Psychopathic, homicidal clowns can do it, uh, too," he chuckled as he ate some of his eggs.

"I didn't say you couldn't cook, it's just that you don't seem like the cooking type," I said blankly. I looked down at my food but didn't touch it. "You look like the type that cooks only if it's poisoned." The clown placed a hand over his heart and pretended to look hurt.

"You think I'd poison you? Oh that's cruel," he said as he shook his head sadly. I giggled before I could stop myself. He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. "I would never hurt you kitten." I scoffed.

"And this is coming from the same man who made me blackout twice," I said as I scooped a bit of egg onto my fork and hesitantly ate it. I chewed, swallowed, waited, and waited until the moment the poison would take action and make me gasp for air then fall over dead. But it never came. I looked at the Joker. He was grinning smugly.

"Told ya," he chuckled as he ate some more of his eggs. I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my bacon. We ate in silence for the next couple of minutes.

"So," I said casually "What's up?" The Joker laughed hysterically and slapped his knee.

"What? I was just trying to start a conversation," I said blankly. The Joker was still chuckling and shook his head.

"What happened to the, uh, PMSing bitch yesterday?" the clown questioned, a smirk on his lips.

"I was tired and stressed out. You choose the wrong day to mess with me," I accused, pointing my fork at him. "And stop smirking. You do that way too much." The Joker scrunched up his face, his eyebrows furrowing.

"So? Are you the boss? Hm?" he questioned with raised eyebrows.

"I-"

"No. You're not. I am, and I'm the only one who gives orders around here," he growled seriously. I was half tempted to ask why he was so serious, but I knew it would only lead to a bipolar outburst from him. And besides, he was a lot easier to get along with when he was like this. I poked my eggs with my fork.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're the puppet master, blah, blah, blah. I just thought that you would respect my wishes is all," I stated blankly. He grinned devilishly.

"So if I said 'Let's have sex', you'd respect my wishes?" he quipped. I thought for a moment.

"I'd consider it," I said, choosing my words carefully.

"Really?" he asked skeptically. I nodded. "Then let's have sex," he said casually, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. I raised my eyebrows and leaned back in my chair. I really had to think this over. Well, he is sexy in a crazy, psychopathic, homicidal clown way. I'm probably mentally ill for thinking that, but he is. And I'm not a smut who wants to sleep with a guy at the first chance she gets, but it's not like it's anything new. And there's just something about him. He's an extremely dangerous man. Nothing but pure sin and danger. And I was very attracted to that. So, why not? I know I'm risking a lot here, but let's see how far I can get with this clown. I can deal out mind games… The Joker studied my face as I ran through my thoughts. I glanced up at him.

More on the way! =3