When she entered his bedroom she heard water running.

She sighed.

Oh well, she'd talk to him anyways. Always trying to avoid…

She found the bathroom, and continued in. She could see his silhouette behind the shower door. Harley smirked. The Joker in the nude…How vulnerable.

Her eyes then viewed the contents of the tiled floor. His clothing was strewn here and there on the linoleum and he had placed a towel on the sink.

She plopped down on the toilet seat, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.

Who knew one man could be so difficult?

She massaged her temples.

Maybe she shouldn't bring up the name because it would bother him. But...she just had to ask! How couldn't she? She deserved to know. Besides, he started it all. If he wasn't so stupid maybe she wouldn't pry.

She really shouldn't though. The man obviously had some family issues. Big time.

Maybe she'd drop it? Harley sighed again and leaned back against the wall. She would at least apologize.

Wait. No. She shouldn't. He started it! All of it. Hmmfp. Instead, she'd make him apologize for making her concerned. Yes. That's exactly what she would do.

The water turned off.

He opened the door.

She looked up.

He stepped out.

She hugged him.

"What the fu-mmffp!" The Joker looked down at the woman invading his personal space. Her arms were around his neck and she was pressing her fully clothed body, to his sopping wet and naked one. She's got to be fucking kidding.

He sighed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry…" She mumbled against his chest.

"For what?" He asked, brows raised.

"For prying…" Harley muttered. Her voice vibrated his stomach, giving him a tickling sensation.

He rolled his eyes. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I just need time." He rested his arms on her lower back. "You didn't pry, you asked. I chose not to answer." He titled her head up with a forefinger. "I'm naked. Get off."

She registered the thought finally and smirked deviously, her blue orbs full of suggestion.

He pointed a finger at her and spoke in an authorative voice, "No."

Her expression dropped as he grabbed the towel on the sink and wrapped it around his waist. "Why not?" She whined.

"Because I'm-" He swallowed hard and grimaced. "-helping you." He opened the door and stepped out into his bedroom. "And those who are helping the helped do not sleep together, capiche?" He threw a glance at her forlorn expression before opening his top drawer and removing a light purple dress shirt.

"We could make an exception?" She said; hope lacing her tone, as she sat herself on the edge of his bed. He didn't even look back, just shook his head.

She glared. "Eunuch," Harley spat as she turned away from him, arms crossed, defeated.

He smirked and let out a low chuckle. He glared playfully at her over his shoulder. "That's exactly why I won't fuck you mah dear," He slipped the shirt over his head. Opening the bottom most drawer, he pulled out a pair of dark, faded jeans and slipped himself into them.

Harley turned back to him as she heard the familiar zipping noise of his jeans. "You didn't put on boxers," She stated.

"And?" The Joker asked, his eyebrows raised and his mouth downturned into an expression as if to say so?

"Do you always do that? Go…'commando'?" She asked, eyes wide.

"It's more comfortable that way," The Joker shrugged. He hadn't buttoned his shirt yet. "So you were watching me, hmm? Creepy as hell…" He shook his head and sighed, walking back into the bathroom.

"Oh, and you're not?" She shouted at him, arms airborne.

"Never said I wasn't, love. But at least I don't stare you down as you dress or hug you when you're naked or kiss you randomly or watch you-" Harley decided to cut him off when he began to count of her creepiness on his fingers.

"Alright! Shut up already," She yelled, throwing herself back onto his bed, arms spread eagle. He smirked. "And wipe that stupid smirk off your face! I can still see you, yah know!"

"My point exactly! You are currently creeping," He stated as he began to shave his stubble. She gave up with a huff.

It was quiet then, besides the low hum of the Joker's razor.

He still hadn't buttoned that god damn shirt. She could see his tan chest, still wet from his shower. The bastard. He was teasing her. She glared at the ceiling.

The hum of his razor stopped and she heard the opening of the drawer below the sink as he put the tool away. He wiped his face with a towel before leaving the bathroom. He stared at her.

She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

"What now?" He asked jokingly, placing the towel in a basket next to his dresser. He grabbed a belt off the back of his closet door and looped it around him.

"I've been thinking…" She started. She got up from his bed and sauntered towards him, hips swaying. (He couldn't help but notice) Her lips spread into a wry smirk.

"How dangerous…" He teased, his own smirk playing on his scarred mouth.

She ignored his insult and began to button his shirt. Once her task was completed, she pulled him roughly towards her, still gripped the front of his clothing.

"What if…we didn't classify me as the helped but more like…the assisted? Because then you wouldn't be helping me and there would be no 'helping' connection and then you could fuck me all you wanted?" She glanced up at him suggestively; hope glistening once again in her azure eyes.

He gripped her wrists, chuckled, took a deep breath, and replied, "No." He pulled her off him and walked out his bedroom door.

She stood there stunned for a moment before following him down the rickety staircase. "Ah, c'mon!"

"No, Harley. It's the exact same thing. If I sleep with you, there will be a connection; the connection of me and you wrestling. And that will not be happening."

They met the ending of the staircase and he plopped himself down onto the couch, crossing his feet on the clear coffee table in front of him.

Harley stomped her foot. "Why not?"

He rolled his eyes. "I told you, we're working together. And by fucking you, I'd have to like you, and then I'd have to trust you, and then you'd like me, and we'd develop feelings. I don't have those kinds of feelings nor do I want to develop them." He turned around to glare at her over the back of the couch. She stood there; arms crossed meeting his glare with one of her own. "I don't believe in trust or love or feelings. I don't do well with relationships, sweetheart." He seethed his last sentence, trying to get her to see his point.

She said something he didn't expect. "Neither do I," Harley spat, her eyes hard.

He nodded at her. "Good," The Joker finished, turning around and turning on the television.

She walked around the couch and sat down next to him. She watched him as he squinted at the news in disbelief, shook his head and chuckled, and scribbled his thoughts on a pad of paper. He felt her eyes on him. Not this again.

He stopped what he was doing. He let out a breath, placed his pen and pad of paper on the table in front of him, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What Harley?"

"Can I call you Jack?"

"Didn't we already discuss this?" He said, exasperated and placed his head in his hands, running his palm down the front of his face.

"So no then?" She tried.

He glared at her. "Please, nuisance, let me work." He raised his eyebrows at her before turning back to the television, huffing and rewinding what he missed.

She leaned back into the couch and crossed her arms. "Well can I at least call you something fun?"

"Like what?" He mumbled, playing the news and picking up where he left off.

"Like….Chicken Man!"

"Chicken…what?" He shook his head, scarred mouth open in amusement. "Where do you come up with these?"

"Hmm…no not that one…to….stupid. How about…Don Waffle? Or…Mark?"

"Oh yes Mark, real threatening. And 'Don Waffle' isn't even a name." He glanced at her over his shoulder, her head pressed into the couch, and eyes toward the ceiling. Her mouth currently blowing a bubble. "How 'bout something with a little more 'pizzazz' , tiger?" He gave her a sloppy grin as she looked at him, eyes bright.

"How 'bout Mr. J?" She smirked, eyebrows upward.

"Perfect," He said. He leaned back into the couch himself, propping his feet up. "Now, quiet you."

She scooted closer to him and laid her blonde head on his shoulder. He tensed and glared down at her.

"Oh stop it. I didn't ask you to marry me. It's just my head on your shoulder, calm down, Mary Sue." She said, mirth lacing her voice. He felt her warm breath on his neck, a sensation that sent a rush of blood to his groin. God fucking dammit.

"I'm just being careful. Knowing you, my pants could be off at any moment."

He felt her foot connect with his knee.

"And no kicking!"

She giggled.

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Fin.

A/N: Hello! Yeah, yeah, I know haven't updated since April, but with the end of school and The Legend of Korra being so awesome, I haven't had the motivation. But it's back! I hope to have another chapter soon. ^-^

Please Read!: Any Zutara fans out there, have any of you read a fic between Zuko and Katara where Zuko is the blue spirit, and he saves Katara and then they have sexual intercourse because she doesn't know who he is, but then she finds out while they're doing it because she takes off his mask…and Oh God. Does any of this lovely summary ring a bell? Blutara/Zutara? Smutty One or Twoshot? I've tried to find it, but to no avail. :[ Help me! I have no idea what the title is. v.v

If any of that rang a bell, PM me or leave it in your review! :D