Freaks
The day had started out so well. The days that began with jokes always did. Harley Quinn was awoken that morning by the words, "What's big and hard and used to rev up a Harley?" The answer was the Joker, and the next couple hours were utter ecstasy, abruptly ended by him suddenly rolling off her and saying, "Go make breakfast, you useless dame."
It was difficult enough for her to stand, let alone make her way to the kitchen and cook. She thought fondly over the last few hours as she languidly fried some eggs, so intent on the memories that she ended up burning the toast. By the time she left the kitchen with breakfast, he was up and dressed and scribbling away at his desk on his usual array of schemes and plans and traps for Batman. She put the plate down in front of him with a sulty kiss, but he shoved her away. "Trying to work here, you greedy brat!" he snapped. "Get lost, would ya?"
She beamed at him. Mr. J wasn't one for cuddling, or tender displays of affection afterwards. But he sure knew how to give a girl a good time when he was in the mood. Their moments of intimacy may have been comparatively infrequent, but the quality more than made up for the quantity. When Mr. J dedicated himself to something, he gave it his all. And when he lost interest, nothing on earth could make him resume. But Harley was used to being patient and biding her time when she had to. It was worth the wait, it really was.
She kissed the top of his head tenderly, then ate her breakfast in silence and returned to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of milk. She opened the refrigerator and sighed.
"All outta milk," she muttered to herself. And she had used up the last of the bread making extra toast. A trip to the supermarket appeared to be in order.
She sighed again, returning to the bedroom and dressing in normal clothing so as not to attract too much attention on the streets of Gotham. "Just heading to the grocery store, puddin'," she said, re-entering the living room and putting her hair up in pigtails. "You need anything?"
"I don't know, Harley," he growled. "I don't keep track of mundane stuff like that. Why don't you look into the fridge and see if we're missing anything? Or are you blind and stupid?"
She smiled at him again, kissed his cheek, and left, shutting the door behind her. Left alone, the Joker wiped his cheek, muttering to himself about clingy, worthless women, while his eyes remained intently focused on the plans in front of him. So intently focused that he didn't hear the figure approaching from behind him. The figure that suddenly and without warning wrapped a cord around his neck and began choking him.
Joker was caught off guard, but was still a strong enough man to fight back fiercely even when taken by surprise. He tried to flip the man over his shoulder, but he was sturdy and bulky, and managed to hold his ground against Joker's struggling, keeping the cord wrapped tightly around his throat. He had dragged Joker to the ground and was kneeling over him, strangling him, when Harley suddenly re-entered the room.
"Forgot my purse, pudd…" she began, but suddenly noticed what was happening and let out a shriek. But Harley was a woman of action, especially when Joker was threatened, and so without hesitation seized her hammer and smacked the man across the face with it. He let go of Joker and started back in surprise as Harley continued to clobber him.
Joker stumbled to his feet, taking shuddering gulps of air. He tried to gasp out to Harley not to kill the guy, as he wanted to find out where he came from, and on whose behalf, but he couldn't catch his breath in time before Harley beat the man's skull in.
The body fell to the ground, and Harley instantly rushed to Joker, embracing him tightly. "You ok, puddin'?" she breathed.
"Don't choke me, you stupid girl, I've had enough of that!" he growled, shoving her away. "And why did you kill him, Harley?"
"He was attacking you, puddin'," replied Harley, puzzled. "What else was I supposed to do?"
"You could have kept him alive for questioning," retorted Joker. "Now we don't know who sent him."
"Gee, I'm sorry, puddin'," replied Harley. "I didn't think…"
"No, that's the problem, all right," he retorted. "And as usual, I'm going to have to do my best to clean up the mess you made because you didn't think."
He bent over the body and began examining it for clues. Harley laughed nervously. "Guess it's a good thing I'm so forgetful, huh, Mr. J? If I hadn't left my purse, you'd probably be dead right now."
"And you think that's funny, do you?" he demanded.
"No, of course not, puddin'," she said, quickly. "Not funny at all. Just kinda ironic, I guess. Y'know, that you're always complaining about how ditzy I can be, and then that ends up saving your life. Don't you think that's kinda ironic, puddin'?"
"Shut up, Harley," he growled. There was no ID on the corpse, nothing on the clothing to indicate any particular allegiance. But there was something unusual, he noticed, narrowing his eyes, on the man's lips. Something that looked like lipstick.
He wiped his hand across the mouth, then held his finger up to Harley. "That look familiar to you?" he asked.
Harley studied it. "Well…yeah, but she wouldn't do something like this, puddin'…"
"Why not?" he interrupted. "The bitch hates me, doesn't she? Why wouldn't she send one of her hypnotized stooges to kill me?"
"It ain't Red's style, Mr. J," replied Harley. "She'd want the pleasure of killing you herself. She wouldn't dream of letting anyone else do it."
He nodded slowly. "You may have a point. But if she didn't send him, she must know who did, since whoever it is has access to her mind-control lipstick. Let's go pay Pammie a visit, cupcake."
"What about the milk, puddin'?" asked Harley.
"You wanna go grocery shopping, or you wanna find out who tried to kill me?" he demanded.
"Well, when you put it like that…" replied Harley, heading for the door. "I guess we can always pick up the milk on the way though, can't we, Mr. J?"
"Just get in the car, Harley," he retorted.
"Fine. But don't blame me when you want a milkshake later and we ain't got no milk," muttered Harley. "Which you will. And it'll be my fault as usual, just like it always it. 'Harley, why are we out of ice cream?' 'Harley, why don't I have any clean socks?' 'Harley, why did you kill the assassin?' I can't do anything right, can I, Mr. J?"
"No, you can't, you worthless dame," he retorted. "Now get in there and shut up."
She got into the car and folded her arms across her chest. He got in the other side and they drove off, sitting in silence for a bit.
Joker suddenly leaned over and kissed her cheek, then fixed his eyes back on the road. Harley immediately melted, sighed in delight, and gazed at him in adoration for the remainder of the journey.