The Morning After

Had other things on my mind when writing this… But tried my best for you guys:') hehe

The Joker lay on his back. He woke with a girl nestled under his arm and her hand resting on his stomach. For a moment, he just took in that feeling: the feeling of how her hand rose and fell with every breath he took, how he could feel her slow exhale against his skin even through his shirt.

Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair - stroking it off her face. She was even more beautiful asleep.

This was something he'd never done with Harley. 'Boy did it feel good.'

Several minutes later…

An outraged Harley burst into the Joker's room - she was wearing her red/black checkered nightie and her hair blonde hair was riddled with tangles. It didn't stop her alerting her puddin'.

"Mister J, mister J - the hostage has escaped!"

She skidded to a halt when she saw. Her eyes darted around the room for a second (expecting to see him awake) before falling onto the bed. What she saw horrified her: her puddin' asleep in bed with another woman. They looked comfy, too. And what was she wearing?! 'Why have I got that knock-off jumpsuit and this little brat gets to be Mister J's other half?!"

Springing onto the bed, Harley childishly jumped up and down on her puddin's legs. The Joker woke with a groan. His voice was deeper from sleep… Huskier.

"Y'know…" he began, eyes still closed. "Cute little girly hostages really shouldn't wake their kidnappers like that…"

Harley slapped him round the face. His makeup had been smudged when she came in, but now practically half of his face had been revealed. The Joker just grinned. Like he'd said before; he loved that fire in her.

He mocked her overly dramatic approach. "Look, I can explain!" He tried to sound serious, but his voice was barely audible through his uncontrollable laughter.

Harley slapped him again - this time harder. "Stop it! Stop laughing puddin', this isn't funny!"

"No, no no no. Not funny at all. But the look on your face is." The Joker started again. Now his laughter was hysterical.

Leila began to stir in the Joker's arms. He mimed shushing to his disgruntled Harley. For some reason, she did. Mumbling something into his chest, Leila began to wake. She tugged on the buttons on his shirt, as if telling him to be quiet. Harley couldn't be quiet any longer.

"How did you get in here?!" she hollered. "Mister J locked the door!"

Before Leila could answer, her kidnapper was already explaining. "Looks like our little visitor is smarter than we thought, Harl." He patted Leila's hand (the one on his stomach) affectionately. It reminded Harley of a proud father praising his daughter.

He continued to look smug before announcing; "she picked the lock. All by herself! Aren't you impressed?!"

Harley sighed, exasperated. She slumped onto the other side of the Joker, lying down in a similar way to Leila. She hoped he would put his arm around her, but he didn't. In fact, he acted quite coldly.

"But why is she in your bedroom, puddin'… Why is she in your bed?"

"I told her she could."

"Even I don't sleep with you, puddin'!"

"Atata," The Joker put a finger to her lips, "I've slept with you plenty of times."

"Not like that!" Harley exclaimed, looking disgusted. She paused in thought. "You didn't do that with her though… did ya?!"

This just set the Joker off again; the hysterics were back. "You have your own room Harl, this little one doesn't even have a house anymore thanks to me!" The laughing continued.

Harley lay there and stared at him. She could understand how uprooting someone so violently would be appealing, but how it could be that funny, she didn't understand. Sometimes she wished she'd just left him and his psychosis in Arkham.

"How could ya do this to me, puddin'…" moaned Harley.

"Y'know… It wasn't actually my fault. I mean, after all, it was your weapons that let her get out, sweetcheeks."

"But I couldn't help it!" Harley's voice turned to a wail. "I always put my things out when I get dressed for bed… How was I s'posed to know she could pick a lock?"

The Joker chuckled. "You're just too adooorable when you're angry, Harls."

"I'm serious, Mister J! I want her gone! If she's not outta here by tomorrow morning, I'll get a lot angrier!"

She saw the excitement in her puddin's eyes and growled as she got up from the bed and moved to the door. Yet another reason why she should've abandoned him in Arkham: he was delighted by her threats. 'God Harley, you're an ex-psychiatrist, you should know what to threaten him with!' she scolded herself forcefully.

Leaning in the doorway, she warned him again. Hopefully this time he'd take notice "Out. By. Tomorrow. Morning."

The Joker smacked his lips before grinning cockily. Harley huffed a final time as she marched out of his room, slamming the door loudly behind her.

This was enough to wake Leila up. She woke with a start, only to find herself in the most unimaginable place possible: the Joker's arms. He was warm. In such a cold building, the warmth of his body was a strange comfort. "What was that?"

"What was what."

"That noise… it sounded like a door… slamming?" Leila's sleepy voice was weak. To the Joker, it sounded like she was helpless. He loved that.

"No, that was just that damn green eyed monster again, toots. Constantly throwing a hissy fit. Women, eh?"

Leila snuggled closer into his chest and closed her eyes again. The Joker resumed his new hobby of watching her. It was curious how he didn't want to move her. He never wanted her hands to move from his stomach, she was too beautiful. Misery loves company, that's what they always say, right?

The arm that was round her shoulders traced down her frail spine and to her lower back, pulling her to him. She moaned faintly at the strength in his touch: his was forceful, even when pulling her a fraction of an inch. It was like he was a guard at a prison and she was his prisoner. Not only did he like this, but she did too.

After the long pause, Leila continued. "Harley was in here?" She could only vaguely remember that she had unfinished business with her.

"Yeah."

"What did she want?"

"The usual sort of demands when we get hostages. She gets jealous. Wants them out by the next morning."

"And are they out by the next morning?"

"Usually. What Harley says goes, see. Usually she wants me to get angry with her so I can give her little tush a good walloping." He chuckled, remembering the kinky things Harley was into.

Leila flinched, remembering how powerful he'd been when pulling her to him. 'That must be painful…'

"And will I be gone by morning?"

The Joker paused also. Would she be gone by tomorrow? He was suddenly confused: he liked her company. He didn't even want to carve her face before she left. He wanted her to stay. "Not forever!" he corrected himself angrily. He wouldn't go soft because of a cute little girly hostage like the one lying in his arms.

He moved his other arm so it was over her hips. It was a sort of cuddle.

"No, doll. I don't think you'll be gone by morning."

Sorry if this chapter was terrible (I didn't plan it out like I usually do and didn't get time to read it over:( ) - again, any ideas for this fanfic would be much appreciated (in the reviews) ;') Thanks to all readers and all reviewers! x