A/N: Just to clarify—I'm kinda sorta using bits from the "Mad Love" comic as part of these three's history and as a basis for Harley's characterization. If you haven't read that one, there are a few spoilers ahead.
Chapter Three: Domestic Disputes
Despite Batman's protests, Joker dragged him through the doorway and into the run-down apartment.
The place was a disaster—broken furniture was strewn across the floor, and everything appeared to be coated in a thin layer of dust. Small trails of mouse droppings littered the floor. As Batman observed his surroundings, his mental calculation of the likelihood of contracting some kind of disease from this experience increased substantially.
"Harley? Where are ya?" Joker called.
From behind the closed door of the bedroom, an annoying voice sing-songed, "In here, Puddin'!"
He gritted his teeth at the despised nickname.
"Puddin?" Batman teased.
"Shut it, Batshit," Joker snapped back, but he smiled a little as he led Batman to the door. Somehow, it didn't bother him as much when Batsy said it.
Joker motioned for him to stand off to the side of the doorway, where he would be hidden from view. Joker didn't want to give the surprise away too soon—timing was everything, after all. He caught Batman's eye, put a finger over his lips in a shhh gesture, then smirked and opened the door.
"Harley, I've told you not to call m—" he stopped, taking in the sight before him and blinking a few times.
Harley was sprawled on the bed, wearing a flimsy red negligee that left little to the imagination. That, however, was not what stunned him—it was the room. In contrast to the rest of the building, this one room had been fixed up and furnished quite impressively, and there wasn't a hint of dust anywhere. The lingering scent of fresh paint stung his nostrils.
"Like it, Mistah J?" Harley asked, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "I got your favorite colors."
Actually, she had gotten almost every color, but there was slightly more purple and green than anything else. The bedspread was a dark purple, the pillowcases were green, and a couple of floor-lamps with green lampshades stood in opposite corners of the room. The walls were painted purple as well, although Harley had splattered them with a little of every other color too, a la Jackson Pollock. A few other random oddities graced the room, including a furry pink beanbag, an assortment of ugly throw pillows featuring pictures of very somber and creepy looking cats, and a gigantic purple lava lamp. To top it all off, on the floor there was a large kitschy rug designed to look like a giant joker card.
"Went a little overboard, didn't ya?" he said. True, he had told her to fix the place up a little when he'd left to meet Batsy, but he'd only meant for her to sweep up the mouse shit—he hadn't expected her to go all Martha Stewart On Acid on him. The whole room looked like a rainbow threw up on it.
Harley shrugged and smiled flirtatiously. "Well, I want our first time together to be special."
At this, Batman's eyes widened in surprise—he caught the Joker's eye and mouthed First time? Batman thought it was bad enough that the Joker hadn't told Harley about this in the first place, but to spring it on her when she's expecting some kind of romantic first time between the two of them?—even Bruce Wayne had never been that big of an asshole. Joker responded with a microscopic half-shrug, still trying not to give away Batman's presence.
He looked back at Harley and grinned. "It'll be special, all right." Harley grinned back, and Joker continued, "I brought a, uh, surprise." He didn't add for you, since it wasn't for her—no, Batsy was there for him.
"Ooh, I love surprises Mistah J," Harley giggled. "What is it?"
"I'll give you a hint," he said, then chucked a batarang in her general direction—Batman checked and, yes, one was missing. When did he manage that? Batman wondered, as the batarang flew past Harley's head and embedded itself in the wall behind her.
Harley said, "Eeek!" and twisted around to examine the batarang. "Batman?" she said, puzzled. Then her eyes lit up and she said, "Ha! I was wonderin' why you're in such a good mood tonight—didja finally kill 'im?"
Joker rolled his eyes and sighed. "Harley, don't be a dumbass. I don't wanna kill him."
"But Mistah J, you said—"
"I say a lot of things, Harley, it doesn't mean that they're true."
Harley ignored that, preferring not to think too hard about what else he might've lied about, and said, "So, what's the surprise?"
Joker glanced over at Batman and his grin widened—it stretched his scars uncomfortably, but he barely noticed. His hand shot out and closed around Batman's wrist, and he tugged Batman into view, shouting, "TA-DAH!"
Harley shrieked, using one hand to yank a blanket up to cover her near-nudity and the other hand to retrieve a gun from the nightstand drawer. "What's he doin' here?" she demanded, staring at Batman with a mixture of fear and hatred, aiming the gun at his face. She blamed Batman for ruining her imagined fairy-tale life with her Puddin', and she had told Batman as much in their previous encounters.
Batman's hand subtly moved towards his cache of batarangs, but Harley said, "Uh-uh, don't move!"
Joker stepped in front of Batman, blocking Harley's line of fire and glaring at the hench-wench, his eyes radiating a terrifying, stormy rage.
"Mistah J, what are you d—?"Harley started, but Joker lunged forward, closing the distance between them, and he twisted the gun out of her hand, not caring if he broke a few fingers in the process. Joker threw the gun aside, and Batman uneasily watched it sail out of the broken window.
Joker backhanded Harley and closed a hand around her throat, growling, "What did I tell you last time?"
Last time referring to Harley's misadventure in which she'd tried to kill Batman herself, to impress her Puddin'. Batman had only escaped because he convinced her to call Joker, who had immediately rushed to the scene and freed Batman after furiously tossing Harley out of a five-story window.
"Joker," Batman growled, taking a warning step towards the pair.
"Do me a favor and stay outta this, Bats," he replied, turning his attention back to Harley. "Now, what did I tell you?"
Harley struggled a little, trying unsuccessfully to keep the fear out of her eyes—Mistah J looked almost as angry as he had that night—and she managed to squeak out an answer, "—that…he's—yours."
"Exactly," Joker said. "He's mine. You pull that shit again and I'll be more creative than just throwing you through a window. Understand?"
Harley blinked back tears and nodded. Joker nodded too, mocking her.
"No, ya see, I don't think you do," he said venomously, licking his scars.
Joker's hand tightened around her throat, and he failed to notice the shadow of movement behind him.
"That's enough," Batman said in his ear, reaching around and firmly closing his hand over the Joker's wrist. "Let her go."
Joker shuddered and his eyes briefly slipped shut, although he maintained his grasp on Harley's neck. He leaned back against Batman, craning his neck to look up at the Dark Knight. Joker smiled, and said, "Make me."
Batman squeezed the Joker's wrist, clamping down on a tendon and forcing the hand to involuntarily slacken enough for Harley to pull free. She fell back down onto the bed and tried to catch her breath. Joker laughed as Batman twisted his arm uncomfortably and shoved him down on the bed as well—but Joker held on to Batman's arm and used the momentum to bring Batman down with him—right on top of him.
"Ha ha, let's get started, shall we?" Joker said, his hands roaming over Batman's armored chest. "Don't be gentle," he said, tracing a finger around the bat symbol almost reverently.
Batman shoved the Joker's hands away and jumped up from the bed, putting an acceptable distance between them and trying not to freak the fuck out.
Joker sighed in frustration.
"Are you gonna be like this all night?" he snapped, scowling at Batman.
Harley sat up, rubbing her sore neck and looking at Joker in confusion. "Whaddya mean, all night? Puddin', what's he doing here?"
Joker snickered and replied, "He's gonna be doing me and you, pretty soon."
Batman rolled his eyes.
"What?" Harley's expression was cautious, and her eyes had the blank look of someone who knew exactly what was going on, but whose mind would rather shred itself to pieces than accept the truth.
Joker gave Batman a can-you-believe-this-chick? look, then said, "Okay Harley, I'll talk slow and use small words—those kids we took? They're hostages. And they get to live if Batsy here keeps his end of the deal and has a threesome with me and you."
Harley stared, barely registering his condescending tone as she tried to rearrange his words to spell out a different meaning—one that wasn't completely insane. She opened her mouth to speak, but it took a few tries before she could manage actual words. "Th—this is a joke—right, Mistah J? I mean, it's—it's a joke, isn't it?"
She stared at him with a desperate, forced half-smile, her eyes begging him to agree.
Instead, he pointed at himself and deadpanned, "This is my serious face."
"But—but," Harley stammered, looking lost and shell-shocked. If she hadn't tried to kill him so many times, Batman might've felt sorry for her. "But you said that we were gonna pick out one of them kids to raise as our own!"
Joker's brow furrowed, and he gave her a sidelong disbelieving glance. "And you believed that? Honestly, Harley, can you really not tell when I'm being sarcastic?"
Harley stared at him, her lip trembling as she struggled to form words.
"But—"
Joker gave her a scathing glare and said, "What, are you gonna cry now? You're the one who's always jabbering on about wanting to 'consummate our relationship,'" he said, making air quotes and spitting the phrase out as if it burned his tongue.
She stared at him, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and desperation. "But not like this! I just want you," she pleaded.
"All of me?" he asked. Harley nodded emphatically, her eyes lighting up with hope, and Joker continued, using an irritated tone that an impatient parent might use when explaining something ridiculously simple and self-evident to a child, "Well, you can't have all of me without him… Understand?"
Harley's face fell, and she stared at him, blinking a few times and furrowing her brow in confusion.
"Of course not," Joker muttered, more to himself than to her. She also didn't understand that she could never really have any of him—he belonged to Batman.
Batman watched the exchange in silent disbelief—he understood. The Joker was obliquely talking about the supposed connection between them again. Almost a year ago, in that interrogation room, the Joker had told Batman that he completed him. Batman had told himself, each time the echoes of those words returned to haunt him, that that painted criminal was just trying to unnerve him, that he hadn't really meant it—but now, Batman wasn't so sure. The Joker could've demanded anything in exchange for the captive children, and this is what he asked for? Furthermore, as far as Batman could tell, the Joker hadn't even involved the police or the media—whatever game he was playing, whatever point he was trying to prove, it wasn't for the public—it was apparently just between them.
At first, Batman had been convinced that this was all part of some sick strategy to humiliate him—and he had been okay with that, because at least that had made sense. Now, however, he couldn't quell the nagging suspicion that, in some twisted way, the Joker actually cared for him—and that possibility unnerved him more than anything.
"Mistah J—" Harley started, grabbing Joker's arm and fighting back tears.
Joker yanked his arm free and snapped, "If you're just gonna be a whiny bitch all night, then leave. Me and Batsy can manage just fine without you."
He winked at Batman.
Both Batman and Harley's faces transformed into identical expressions of horror, and Harley protested, "No, I'll do it—I'll stay!"
"Well then quit complaining!"
Harley sulked, leaning against the headboard and pouting. Directly or indirectly, it seemed like Batman was always stealing her Puddin's attention, always distracting him and coming between them. Goddamned Bat-freak, she thought viciously, glaring at Batman, why won't you just leave us alone! We'd be happy together if it wasn't for you, always ruinin' everything!
Joker glanced at her and said, "If you're sticking around, go make us some coffee—I hope you thought to steal a coffeemaker too, while you were, uh," he gestured at the room's furnishings, "redecorating."
Harley nodded. "Yeah, I got one." She knew all too well how he got if he went too long without a coffee fix—last time she'd forgotten a coffeemaker he had massacred his entire crew and shoved her down three flights of stairs.
"Go make some then," Joker snapped, waving his hand dismissively.
Coffee addict? Bruce thought, Well, that explains his teeth. Because smoking is socially unacceptable, so it couldn't possibly be due to that.
Harley beamed and said, "Sure thing, Puddin," happy for an opportunity to please him. She climbed off the bed and headed for the door.
When she thought Joker wasn't looking, she rammed her shoulder into Batman as she passed him, glaring daggers. Joker saw, but merely chuckled and taunted, "Oh, look—she's jealous."
Harley clenched her fists and bit her lip as she stormed out into the kitchen.
When she was out of earshot, Batman asked, "Was that really necessary?"
"Yeah."
Batman glanced at the empty doorway, crossing his arms. "You shouldn't provoke her," he warned. "I wouldn't put it past her to poison the coffee."
"Nah," Joker said dismissively. "She wouldn't. She's got these delusions that me and her are gonna get married and have kids and all that nonsense—ha, can you imagine?" he cackled. Sure, she was helpful in some of his schemes, and they had fun causing mayhem sometimes, but as for settling down with her someday—? Yeah right.
But, having a totally devoted self-proclaimed girlfriend had its perks, and Joker was certain that no matter how angry Harley got, she wasn't stupid enough to try to poison his coffee—Batman's, on the other hand…
"I'll, uh, be right back," he told Batman, heading for the kitchen.
Batman watched him go, a little disconcerted by the fact that he'd just had a casual, nonviolent conversation with his arch-nemesis.
Alone now, Batman leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to relax and gather his wits. Part of him was still hoping that he would wake up in his penthouse and discover that this was all just some demented and horribly fucked up nightmare. The other, more realistic part was telling him to get a hold of himself—he had to do this, there wasn't any way around it that wouldn't result in a busload of dead kids, so there was no point in wallowing in denial and pretending it wasn't happening.
He sighed, mentally berating himself for giving in so easily—why hadn't he asked for a few days to consider the offer? Or demanded that Joker release all of the children first, and then apprehended both him and Quinn? It was all the Joker's fault—Batman could never think straight in the presence of that damn lunatic.
What the hell, Batman thought, if I have to do this, I might as well give it my best. Half the time, he played the role of a playboy billionaire and a lord of sex and decadence—he could let Bruce Wayne drive tonight. It would feel strange to play that role with the mask on, but he was pretty sure he could manage. Joker thinks he's punishing or humiliating me by making me do this, Batman reasoned. But I'll turn the joke around on him—I'm going to do this, and I'll make myself enjoy it. I refuse to let him win.
A series of loud crashes from the next room interrupted Batman's thoughts. His eyes snapped open, and he hurried through the doorway to see what was going on.
He entered the kitchen, where Harley was on the floor, along with the remains of several destroyed dishes and a puddle of coffee. Joker towered over her, shouting, "And just how do you 'mistake' Ex-lax for sugar?"
Joker threw the bottle of laxatives at her.
"I'm sorry, Mistah J—I thought it'd be funny!" she explained, nursing a split lip. And we were all out of arsenic, she added mentally.
"Leave the fucking jokes to me," he snarled, hauling her up by her hair and shoving her towards Batman. "I'm really starting to lose my patience with you, Harley. Now, apologize to Batman."
"What?" she crowed.
"You heard me. Apologize," he ordered, his tone deadly.
Harley turned to face Batman, gave him a death-glare, and muttered an unconvincing, "Sorry."
"No, no, no—," said Joker, "Like you mean it."
Harley gritted her teeth, and when she spoke, her tone was dripping with saccharin and strychnine. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Batman. I didn't mean nothin' by it, and I'll never ever do it again."
Joker ignored her obvious sarcasm, and said, "Now lick his boots."
"But—!"
"That won't be necessary," Batman interrupted, giving Joker a stern look. "You've made your point."
"I'll be the judge of that. Lick his boots, Harley."
"No, don't," Batman countered.
"Why are you taking her side?" Joker demanded. "She was trying to slip a shitload of laxatives in your coffee!" Joker giggled a little in spite of himself—it was kind of funny. But, nothing ruins the mood quicker than explosive diarrhea.
Sick of delaying the inevitable, Batman mentally sighed and decided, let's just get this over with.
"I'm not taking sides—" he said, slipping into his charming playboy persona and making eye contact with Joker before looking him up and down very obviously, and continuing in a lower, more seductive tone, "I'm just wondering why you keep stalling."
He smirked, and both Joker and Harley stared at him with wide eyes and mouths dropped slightly open in shock.
"I mean," he continued, starting to turn away, "I'm starting to think you don't really want this."
A half-second later he heard footsteps rapidly approaching behind him, and he tried not to smile at the fact that his ruse was working. Joker slammed Batman's back against the wall, pinning him there, his hands planted on the wall on both sides of him, and his face only inches away from Batman's.
Joker tilted his head, staring at Batman for a long moment. "Who the fuck are you and what did you do with Batman?"
Batman smirked and purred, "What do you want to do with him?" He leaned forward slightly and glanced down at Joker's scarred mouth, then back up to meet his eyes in a silent challenge.
Joker stared back, a little surprised at this turn of events—he'd thought he would have to be more, uh, persuasive with Batsy. Batman was giving in a little too easily—unless…maybe this wasn't exactly Batsy he was dealing with.
"What, uh, what're you doing?" Joker asked, unconsciously licking at his scars.
Batman licked his own lips in response. Slowly. "Isn't it obvious?" He tilted his head down and gave him the patented Bruce Wayne 'come-hither' look, which had never once failed to get its recipient into bed.
Perhaps the effect was ruined by the mask, because Joker smiled a humorless smile and said, "Yeah, actually, it is. Knock it off."
"I don't know what you're tal—" Batman started, but Joker promptly punched him in the jaw.
"I don't want whoever you pretend to be under that mask," Joker growled. "I. Want. Batman."
"Fine!" Batman growled, the anger he had been so carefully holding back finally escaping him. He aimed a punch at Joker's face—Joker dodged it, but while he was distracted Batman landed a roundhouse kick that sent the Joker stumbling backwards, laughing.
"That's more like it," Joker said.
Batman lunged forward and seized the Joker by the lapels of his jacket, mercilessly shoving him against the wall. Joker was very pleasantly reminded of that night in the interrogation room, and he struggled a little, just so Batsy would press closer to keep him still.
Batman drew back his fist for another punch, but the Joker suddenly looked over Batman's shoulder and angrily commanded, "Don't you dare!"
Batman whirled around just in time to catch the wooden chair-leg Harley had swung at his head. He glared at Harley; she met his eyes and giggled nervously. Batman yanked the chair leg out of her grasp and threw it across the room.
"Damn it, Harley!" Joker said, wriggling free and furiously starting towards her—how dare she interrupt them! Harley squealed a little and hid behind Batman, who grabbed both of Joker's wrists and tried to hold him still.
"What?" Harley cried. "You were fightin'!"
"Has it occurred to you," Joker snapped, worming a leg around behind Batman and aiming an awkward kick at Harley, "that maybe we like fighting!"
"Enough," said Batman, releasing Joker and holding up a palm to each of them in a settle down gesture. Joker glared at Harley; Harley glared at Batman; Batman warily looked back and forth between the two, feeling like he'd somehow wandered into the strangest episode of Jerry Springer ever. "Can we just get this over with?" he said.
"Batsy," Joker scolded. "Why so serious?"
Batman glowered at him and remained silent.
Unfazed, Joker smirked and said, "That's okay, I know how to make some smiles," winking at Batman.
Harley's jaw dropped—she had (unsuccessfully) tried that exact line on him once. Un-fucking-believable, she thought, he stole my line and used it on Batman! Harley huffed angrily and stormed back into the bedroom, leaving the pair to stare each other down in the living room.
After a long moment, Joker solemnly said, "You can still walk away, you know, if you've changed your mind. I'm not gonna force you."
"But you'll kill those kids if I back out," Batman bitterly replied.
"Well, yeah. But it's your choice."
"That's not a choice at all."
"Sure it is," Joker protested. "Just because you don't like the result of a choice doesn't mean it isn't a choice."
"But you knew what I would choose."
Joker shrugged, "That's your own fault for being too predictable … just think of this as another opportunity to, uh, sacrifice yourself for others—we both know how much you love that."
Meanwhile, after only a few seconds of sulking in the bedroom, Harley crept back into the doorway to eavesdrop—she was still furious with the both of them, but she couldn't stand not knowing what they were out there saying or, god forbid, doing. Neither of them noticed her.
Batman stared at Joker for a few eternal seconds before finally asking the question that had been bothering him all night. "Why are you doing this?"
Joker licked his scars, actually looking uncomfortable for a second before he replied, "Me? I'm just trying to, uh, spice things up a bit—get you to bend your precious rules. I don't care what you choose—either way, I get you to finally loosen up a little."
Batman stared at him silently, not quite believing him.
In the doorway, Harley breathed a sigh of relief—of course it was all just part of a plan to break Batman. Ha, I was gettin' all worked up for nothin', she assured herself, of course Puddin' ain't actually attracted to Bat-brain—heh, what a stupid idea. She hated herself for being so insecure, but for a while there she had actually been worried that she had some competition. Although, the way they kept staring at each other like that still made her a little uneasy.
Harley abandoned her post at the doorway and climbed back into the bed, wanting to look sexy for Mistah J when he came in. She wasn't crazy about this whole threesome thing—especially with Bat-freak—but, if it was what Mistah J wanted, then she'd gladly do it for him. She would do anything for him.
In the other room, Joker finally broke the staring contest and asked, "So…you staying, or what?"
What choice do I have, Batman thought, but in the interest of not bantering in circles, he simply nodded.
Joker grinned and extended his hand like an old-fashioned gentleman, telling Batman, "Come on, then," and waiting for Batman to take it.
Batman glanced down at the proffered hand—his first instinct was to slap it away or do one of his ninja nerve-strikes, but he hesitated—he had a feeling the Joker was expecting that. Too predictable, am I? Batman thought, reaching out and seizing the Joker's hand in his own and defiantly meeting his eyes—only to find the Joker wearing a smug, amused smirk. Damn it, he silently swore—somehow the Joker had managed to manipulate him without even saying a word.
This is going to be a long night, Batman mused as the Joker chuckled and pulled him into the bedroom.