Holding His Ale

Chapter Six

Joker frowned, then blinked as he barely recognized his own hideout. His death traps had all been shoved to the side with his favourite armchair, where dark cushions and mats with pillows and blankets had been put in their place. Their TV (which they'd borrowed from Bruce Wayne fairly recently) had been wheeled in amongst the black and red mound of blankets, which made his jaw drop... had she moved all this by herself?!

He could hear her humming from the kitchen, and he could smell whatever she was cooking ... He was kinda worried because it actually smelled nice.

As he soon got over two shocks about his henchwench in such a short space of time, he took the liberty to snoop around further.

Then something dawned on him ... why did the two of them need so much space? Wouldn't she rather that the two of them were close as possible, in their own bedroom? At least that's what he thought the crazy dame would want - then again what did he ever know about anybody in love? He didn't even know what love was... or whether he was in or out of it half the time.

"Harley?!" he yelled, getting a mumbled coo of "Yes Puddin'?" from her in the kitchen to which he rolled his eyes in return. "You are intending to have this sleepover just for us, right Pumpkin?"

"Uh ..." Harley started, stuttering as she clattered dishes and pans. "O-Of c-course Mr J!"

"Then how come we need so much space?!" he snapped, and she suddenly turned and he was right there behind her, staring her right in the shiny blue eyes. "And why so many blankets?! And pillows?! It's not like we can have a wrestling match now that you put all that crap there!"

Harley knew he hadn't understood her when she'd said 'sleepover'. Even though she may have said it was just going to be the two of them... she'd needed to say that to get his approval. Plus, she'd be punished for lying to him and she always kind of liked it when he taught her a lesson.

"Mr J... A sleepover ain't a sleepover if there's only two people..."

"Yes it is!"

"Well not really - "

"It is if I say it is! And how dare you lie to me about this being a private shebang! Wait until I get my hands on you - "

He launched forward wrapping his icy hands around her throat and squeezing his fingers into her skin, glaring into her eyes, as the pale eyelids slowly drooped over them. A hollow tapping sound from the main hideout interrupted the couple and he took his hands off her reluctantly, shoving her into the kitchen counter behind her, the look of pleasant alarm on Harley's face.

"Is that your first guest, Miss Hostess?" he mocked, grinning in that sinister way that only Harley could find handsome. "Oh please I do insist! Just let some of your lamewad friends know the whereabouts of our favourite hideout! Who knows?! If we're lucky, Bats might even turn up!"

The knocks on the secret door continued to rattle on.

He cackled, lifting up his hand and then struck her right cheek, the way she had done to him the night before.

Tears began trickling from her eyes and her cheek glowed a tomato red, and Joker stopped laughing. "Taste of your own medicine as they say..." he whispered tauntingly, leaning into her face. "You better hurry toots, or your first guest might think the whole party's off... and I couldn't have that... after all, I'm never a party pooper!"

Harley's lip trembled as he laughed and she tried to shove him away but he stood still.

She looked up at him, challenging his gaze with her own enflamed eyes. He wore a serious emotion all of a sudden, and then brought his lips down onto her marked cheek.