PART II.
Not Everyday Panties
Harleen Quinzel sat at her kitchen table, the Joker's medical file sat open in front of her. She sighed, and picked up his black and white photograph.
She stares down at the monochrome Joker, who's make-up had been wiped clean off. He's staring back up at her, with malicious eyes, his head slightly bent, his hair messy and greasy just the way she likes it.
She put the photograph back in the file and shut it. Harleen glanced at the clock. 8.30pm. She couldn't wait until 6.30am.
She liked the morning sessions she had with the Joker. Sometimes they'd talk, talk about his dream from the previous night, what he wanted for breakfast, if he wanted anything at all. He quite liked eggs, poached actually. Arkham ever only served it scrambled though, which she knew the Joked hated. Sometimes, however, they'd just sit there and stare at each other for an hour.
Harleen Quinzel never really had much confidence, so when she volunteered to analyse the Joker as part of her intern ship she'd surprised her fellow colleagues. She knew that taking up the Joker's case would change her career, but little did she know that it would change her entire life too.
Harleen glanced at the Victoria Secret bag that was sitting on the chair next to her, unopened. She picked it up and walked up the stairs and into her bedroom. Leaving the door ajar, she peeled out of her casual clothes (her boss at Arkham had told her there was no need for her to go in that day, much to Harleen's annoyance and disappointment.)
Stripping off her underwear, she stood in front of the mirror naked. Sighing she opened the bag and stepped into the lacy black panties, pulling them up over her thighs. She slipped into the matching lacy bra, and fastened it securely at the back.
Harleen did a little twirl in the mirror, her blonde hair bobbing on her shoulders for a few seconds. Harleen wasn't a confident woman, she always thought she wasn't good enough. Her last boyfriend, never appreciated her body, which lowered the little self esteem she had into nothing.
"Give us another twirl, Doc." A deep voice said from the shadow of her open doorway. Harleen jumped, instantly grabbing at her body with a shriek. Then she stopped, realising who it was..
"Joker.." She whispered, her arms falling limply to her sides.
The Joker grinned, as he saw the flicker of recognition in her shocked face.
"Give us another twirl." He repeated, eyeing her as he leant against the door frame of her bedroom with his arms folded across his dirty shirt (he had discarded the guard's jacket in a backstreet garbage bin).
He watched as Harleen Quinzel gave him an awkward spin, the contours of her curves illuminated in the soft light of the dim lamp on her bedside table. The Joker felt something dormant stir inside him, from the very core of him, and it scared him.
His spine gave a tiny shiver as he continued to watch her. She stopped and stood there in the middle of her bedroom, staring at him, waiting for the Joker to make a comment. He didn't, he just gave her a tiny impressed smile. She blushed.
"How..how did you get out?" She whispered. "How did you get in?" The Joker smiled and walked towards her. Harleen's heart thumped wildly in her chest, for more than one reason. Fear mingled with excitement as the Joker sat down on her bed, and motioned for her to join him. He leant back against her ghost white pillows, lifting his legs onto her bed too, crossing his left leg over the right one.
"I killed the night nurse." He said casually, like he had just announced he was making a cup of tea.
Harleen sat there, in the dim darkness, stunned and awed, both at the same time, much to her confusion.
"You killed the night nurse?" He heart was thumping in her chest.
"Of course I did. And the fat guard who likes doughnuts." The Joker said, watching her as she took all this in. Harleen suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, flinging herself backwards on the bed, landing on his legs with a bit of a bump. She didn't seem to realise as she rolled over, facing him, laughing hysterically.
"What's so funny?" The Joker asked, alarmed, frowning.
"Nothing.." She said as she finally stopped laughing, wiping a tear from her eye. She rolled over onto her back, still lying on the Joker's legs. He didn't seem to mind.
"Why did you come here?" She asked.
"Do you not want me here?" The Joker asked, looking down at her with a dangerous glint in his eye.
"Of course I do!" She exclaimed quickly, sitting up suddenly. The Joker raised an inquiring eyebrow, an amused look on his face. Harleen opened her mouth then closed it again. "I- I just..wondered." She finished hopelessly.
"That's good." The Joker rubbed his belly. "You got any food?"
Harleen got up off the bed and pulled on her silky robe, which she teasingly left open, the ribbon floating by her sides.
"What would you like?" She asked him as she made her way into the hall.
"The entire contents of your kitchen, sweets." The Joker said as he settled himself more comfortably on her king sized bed. The Joker wondered who she shared it with, if she ever did share it with anyone. He stroked the silky quilt, his mind wandering back to the image of Harleen Quinzel twirling in front of her floor length mirror..the pang in his chest and the dormant feeling in the pit of his stomach made him mentally kick himself. Hard.
Harleen leant over the kitchen sink, shaking. She poured herself a glass of water and gulped it down, barely stopping to breathe. The Joker had escaped from Arkham. She slammed the glass into the bowl of the sink and walked over to the fridge, where she emptied the entire contents out into a basket. Next she raided the cake cupboard. Did the Joker like cake? He definitely did not like doughnuts.
"Hurry the fuck up would you dear?" The Joker yelled from the bedroom as Harleen quickly made her way up the stairs, a bread bun toppling out of the full basket and bobbing back down the stairs. She walked into the bedroom, shutting it behind her with her bare foot.
Harleen joined the Joker on the bed, the basket overflowing with delicious food.
"I have everything in here; bread, cakes, cheese, ooh and there's some fruit at the bottom and I think I picked up a few cheeseburgers too." Harleen said, as she started to unload all the food onto the bed.
"Hm, I haven't had a cheeseburger for ages." The Joker said as he picked one up and took a big bite. He relished the taste of the cheese and the meat as it slid down his throat.
"They do cheeseburgers in the canteen at Arkham." Harleen pointed out, as she picked up a cupcake. The Joker threw the cheeseburger at her head.
"Do not mention that vile place to me!" Joker screeched, his temper rising. He wished he could have hit her with something that would hurt. She was too far away for a punch and the lamp would have killed her instantly, which was something the Joker for once in his psychotic life didn't want to do. He was surprised at himself. The Joker was, however, capable of killing her whether he wanted to or not, whether he felt something or not. Right now he felt scared, scared that there was a human being in the world who he didn't want to kill.
"Sorry." Harleen said, crawling along the bed, over the food, until she was sitting comfortably next to him, their shoulders touching. There was a moments silence – as they sat there, on Harleen's silky bed, littered with food.
The clock ticked away in the hall and the occasional car passed Harleen's apartment block.
"So.." Harleen said, as she threw the wrapper of her chocolate bar on the bed by her feet.
"So, Doc." Joker said as he kicked the empty basket off the bed. "What's the occasion?" He asked.
"The occasion?" She asked him in reply, confused. She heard the Joker sigh, impatiently.
"Well, these panties don't look like they're everyday panties.." He said, as he fingered the lace of her panties at the hip. Harleen closed her eyes in the dim light, the touch of the Joker's fingers on her skin made her shiver in excitement. "Did you realise I was coming over, Harley?"
Harley. He called her Harley. Nobody had ever called her Harley before.
"N-no I just wanted to see what I looked like in them." Harley said, flushing bright red.
"Well.." The Joker said, as he leant close to her bare shoulder. He moved his nude lips across the skin of her shoulder, making her shudder. He smiled as he felt the shiver of Harley's excitement.
"Joker." She said firmly, trying to push him away. She was surprised at herself, wasn't this what she'd been dreaming about since the night she met him? So why was she pushing him away?
"Harley." The Joker replied, looking up at her. "Oh I see. Doctor, patient thing. I get it." He said, shrugging in a oh-well kind of way.
"No!" Harley almost shouted. "No, I-I just..." She trailed off, looking away. Suddenly the Joker grabbed her, dragged her forcefully off the bed onto the floor and straddled her, his hands gripping her wrists as she struggled against him for a moment, before falling limp underneath him.
Harley's heart pounded in her chest as she felt the heat radiating off the Joker's body.
"Harley, Harley, Harley. My beautiful little Harlequin." The Joker mused. "What's wrong dear?"
"Joker-"
"No. I have a pet name for you, why don't you make a pet name for me?" The Joker said, leaning so close to her, their noses were almost touching.
"Puddin'?" She said, suddenly embarrassed. She couldn't believe she had just said that out loud!
"That didn't take long. I guess you'd already been calling me that in your head, huh?" Joker said as he leant even closer. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just..I..I.. I can't." She replied.
"Why fucking not?" The Joker screeched, giving her a hard shake. Harley almost felt her organs jiggle inside her.
"Because I'm scared." She whispered back, a tear leaking out of her eyes. The Joker looked taken aback. He leant away from her, still looking at her.
"That's part of the beauty of it, Harley Quinn." He said, letting of one of her wrists and giving her chin a little stroke.
"But-" Harley started.
"No buts, Harley." Joker said as he let go of her other wrist and got off her, rolling onto the floor where he crossed his legs. Harley lay there, on the floor, panting, her body still in the same position, her hands up by her head.
Slowly, Harley sat up. She crawled over to the Joker on bare knees and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
"Have I upset you'?" She asked nervously, biting her lip.
"Yes you have." He said, shrugging out of her grasp. Harley was shocked, her eyes prickling with tears. No, she thought, I won't cry!
"I'm sorry." She whispered, leaning her back on his, her legs straight out. The Joker leant his head against hers, making Harley smile. She felt like she was the only person in the entire world who actually meant something to the Joker. She did mean something to him, didn't she?
"Joker?" She asked.
"Puddin'" He corrected.
"Puddin'?" Harley flushed.
"Yes, Harley?" Joker replied, his mouth twitching.
"Do I mean anything to you?" She asked, fiddling with her curly blonde hair.
"Of course you do. You're my shrink." Joker said. She felt him shrug. She sighed lowly, her heart felt like it had suddenly deflated, like someone had stabbed it with a pin.
"Psychologist." Harley corrected. Joker didn't reply.
"Puddin'?" Harley asked again. The Joker sighed.
"Harley."
"How did you get your scars?" She asked. The Joker let out a grumbled laugh.
"You ask me this every time we have a session, and I don't answer you. What makes you think I'm going to give you an answer now?" The Joker said.
"Because you're sitting on my bedroom floor." Harley replied. The Joker shrugged.
He lightly touched his scars. He removed his hand before saying; "I'll tell you one day, Harley."
She didn't reply.
An hour passed in silence, as they sat there, back to back, head to head, in the silence and the dim light. Harley's head dropped to her chest. Joker moved his own head and twisted around to look at her. Sure enough, Harley had fell asleep in her pretty laced underwear.
He moved away from her and stood up, where she fell backwards onto the floor. She curled up and turned over to her side. The Joker watched her for a moment or two, before sighing. He scooped her up in his arms and tore back the sheets of the bed and half dropped, half lay her down on the bed. He flung the covers over her awkwardly. Was he supposed to do that romantically? The Joker shrugged; he never had been a romantic man.
He watched her again for a moment or two. He watched the calm up down movement of her diaphragm, the parting of her pale rosy lips as she breathed. Joker watched as she clung to the sheets, curled her legs up towards her torso. She let out a tiny yawn.
The Joker turned his back on Harley, the pang of his chest returning. He'd have to do something about that. Emotions wasn't something the Joker dealt with well. They felt alien, unfamiliar, foreign. Emotions scared him.