It had started to rain a little, and that gave you something to look at as Frost drove you, Joker, and his goons to your new home. You were occupying yourself with focusing and unfocusing your eyes, that way at one moment, you could see the raindrops collecting on the window, and the next, you could see the scenery beyond the glass. It was a stupid way to pass the time, but it was better than the alternative: opening your mouth and embarrassing yourself in front of Joker. Or worse, pissing him off.
Every so often, though, you'd glance over at Joker to monitor his movements. Even though you were on his team now, you still felt suspicious of him and his unpredictable nature. But, every time you looked, he was in the same position as the last time: head tilted back, eyes closed, and red lips parted. You mentally noted the fact that, in some sick, twisted way, he looked handsome.
Was he asleep? Did Joker ever sleep? You didn't know. To you, he seemed like a subhuman being. One that didn't need the typical human necessities to survive. One that could be up at every hour of every day and thrive, and one that never had to eat or drink. He looked like he could simply exist without relying on anything. Like some kind of supernatural entity. You knew that was an unrealistic thought, but when had anyone ever seen Joker doing something normal like sleeping?
You realized that he wasn't asleep when you looked over at him for the umpteenth time. This time, his eyes were wide open, blue irises piercing your soul with icy fear. Your breath caught in your throat, and you were incapable of speaking.
He just smiled at you before closing his eyes again. He liked to catch you off guard, that was obvious. But, you didn't like it one bit. Hopefully, as you grew to know him more, you would get used to it. Or, better yet, he'd lose interest in you. You, no doubt, had some sort of appeal because of how new you were to him. Once you had lost your luster, you'd just be another Frost. And that was something you were okay with. The spotlight was never something you had yearned for in any capacity other than criminal. In fact, you hated social spotlights more than anything else.
After Joker had caught you looking at him, you didn't dare look over there again. Instead, you continued your pastime of focusing and unfocusing your eyes. You could feel an itching sensation at your side; not really a physical one, though. It was more akin to the feeling of being watched. And you knew that you were definitely being watched by a certain green-haired criminal seated next to you.
After a bit, Frost pulled into the driveway of what could only be described as a grandiose mansion. You were so focused on not looking at Joker that you had forgotten to really process where you were. Sure, your eyes had been glued out the window, but the imagery that hit your retinas didn't quite hit your brain. So, you couldn't help the small "wow" that tumbled out of your lips at the unexpected sight. The mansion was gorgeous, and its white exterior made it stand out prettily against the night sky. It even had a fountain in its yard, for God's sake! You had always imagined Gatsby's mansion looking like this whenever you had been forced to read The Great Gatsby at school.
Joker had evidently heard your exclamation of pleasure, for he chuckled. "Like it?"
You looked at him and nodded, speechless.
"Good, good."
You reached for the door, eager to see the inside of this place. You exited the car with far more enthusiasm than everyone else, surveying the structure before you with glee. Gotham wasn't exactly the richest city in the world; it was a dump, honestly. So, mansions (or even decent-looking houses) were new to you. You were more used to rat-infested apartments.
You knew that starting now, your life was about to improve tenfold. You had initially made a scene over leaving your things behind, but who cared? If you could live here, any loss that you went through would immediately be replaced with things of equal or greater value. Joker was right; he had everything you could ever need.
Joker placed a hand on the small of your back and began to lead you up the driveway. Something about his hand placement made you shiver. And, by the smug smile that spread across his face and how his hand slowly slid further down your back, he noticed.
Once you all reached the door, Frost reached into his suit's pocket and pulled out a singular, silver key. You noticed it was in the shape of a J. He unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped aside for everyone. "Welcome home, (Y/N)," he said with a friendly smile. Clearly, he had already taken to the idea of you joining him on Joker's crazy journey.
With a grateful nod, you stepped inside, gasping quietly at the majesty of the place. It looked like something out of a movie. There were two staircases on either side of the room, both leading to the second floor. That design was definitely redundant, but classy all the same. The railings were made of elegant, polished wood, and the steps were marble. In between the two staircases was a grand piano, which surprised you. You didn't take Joker for the musical type. He probably wasn't; he just wanted to look fancy.
You looked to the right, and there laid a gorgeous living room. A huge, flat-screen TV was affixed to the wall, and a beautiful, white couch and a few loveseats were placed on the hardwood floor. You wondered if Joker had to replace those a time or twenty with all the blood that was likely spilt here. A singular lamp provided the room with its only source of light, a delicate golden glow.
Beyond the staircases, you could see a large kitchen. Several men were running about, probably fixing a meal for Joker and his grunts. It didn't seem outlandish for him to want a warm meal when he got home. And by the scowl that made its way onto Joker's red lips, that meal should have been ready by now, but wasn't.
Eager to explore the lower level of the mansion, you looked at Joker, knowing that he would guide you. You didn't want to interfere with the usual business of the home, or step in areas that you weren't supposed to be in. You were the new kid on the block; strutting around the place like you owned it would not gain you much favor with the green-haired villain who was now your ally.
Instead of leading you toward the kitchen and the rooms behind, Joker gently guided you toward the left staircase. "Your room is on the third floor. After going up these stairs, walk straight until you see the next staircase. Then, it'll be the first door on the left."
You turned to face him, blinking. You had always been a little slow with verbal instructions; it took you an embarrassing amount of time to piece together what he was saying, and for it to really stick in your mind.
He noticed your mental buffering and grinned. "Oh, doll, if you can't handle finding your room, how do you expect to hold up on a mission?"
"Well, hopefully, we'll have a game plan beforehand. So, if that's the case, I should do just fine," you said back, a little nervous that he could consider your response talking back.
But, he just kept grinning. Something in his eyes, however, shifted. You couldn't tell if it was a good or bad shift. You figured the latter as he crept up behind you.
"Criminals must think on their feet," he whispered in your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "You'll have to adapt to last-minute instructions all the time. Will that be a problem, Miss. (Y/N)?"
You shook your head, your throat dry. "No. I can handle it."
"Very good. Then, I trust you'll find your room just fine." His lips were so close to your ear that they were practically brushing against it. Your shuddering was almost constant at the close proximity; something about him made you so unbelievably intimidated, and so unbelievably flustered.
"Yes, J, I will," you finally got out.
With a pat of acknowledgment on your shoulder, he began to walk away. Presumably to yell at his lackluster kitchen help. But, as he did, he combed his fingers through your hair playfully. His touch was electrifying, but you simply chalked it up to the sick admiration you had for the guy. In some twisted way, he was your idol.
With a nervous swallow, you began to ascend the staircase that Joker had ushered you in front of. Your heels clicked against the marble as you stressed out about finding your room. It was such a trivial task, but wandering around the place like a buffoon was the last thing you wanted. You desperately tried to remember Joker's instructions, then let out a small sigh of relief when you realized that you had.
Up the next set of stairs, first door on the left.
You had reached the second floor by this point. The first thing that jumped out to you was a huge J on the floor, complete with black and gold tiles.
He sure loves himself, you thought. But, you figured that you would love yourself too if you had managed to find the success that he had.
Looking around, you noticed two rooms on each side wall. The doors were shut, so you hadn't the foggiest idea of what horrors they could hold. Maybe guest rooms, maybe torture rooms. Who knew? You weren't exactly eager to find out without a tour guide, so you focused your attention right across from you, where Joker had instructed.
Sure enough, there was another staircase. You walked to it, climbing that one as well. As you arrived at the third floor, you could see that it didn't look much different from the second; there were just more rooms, which were slightly closer together, and there was no ostentatious J on the floor. You figured that this must be the floor designated for Joker's grunts; otherwise, why would there be so many rooms, and why would you be staying here?
You found what was allegedly your room, the first door on your left. The door was made of the same polished wood as the railings of the staircases, but it was closed. Of course, this made you overthink, and question if this was truly your room. Wouldn't they have the door open if they were expecting someone new to be staying in there?
You shook off your annoying, un-criminal thoughts. If you were going to hang with Joker and his crew, you need more confidence. You knew this was your room; Joker told you so. So, without another thought, you grabbed the metal doorknob and pushed open the door.
A breathless laugh escaped you.
The room was beautiful! A king sized bed stood st its center, its cream-colored walls complimented by white curtains that billowed in the nighttime breeze. You not only had a bureau for storage, but a walk-in closet, too, which was already open for your perusal. It was filled with both clothes for men and women, very obviously prepared for help of any gender to stay here.
There was another door toward the side of the room. Curious, you grabbed the handle it opened it.
Your own personal bathroom greeted you, complete with a shower and toiletries such as toothbrushes and toothpaste. You grabbed the shower curtain and pushed it aside, pleaded to find that the shower was already stocked with shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
Joker really did have everything you needed.
You returned to your bedroom, shutting the bathroom door behind you. You absently ran a hand along your bed's comforter, which was adorned with gold accents that very much suited the vibe of the room, and the mansion in general. It was so soft, way softer than the hard mattress you had grown accustomed to. Returning to this bed after a mission as supposed to your old one sounded like a dream. You would really be living like a criminal here.
"Is the room to your liking, doll?" asked a familiar voice from the room's entrance.
You jumped, turning to the source.
Joker was standing there, arms folded and looking at you with a grin. He strode into the room, looking around like it was his first time seeing it, too. "It's fit for a princess, don't you think?"
"Yes, it's beautiful. Thank you for the hospitality, J. I appreciate it more than you know."
As you were looking at him, you noticed a bit of what looked like blood on his purple jacket. Upon further inspection, that blood-like liquid was smeared on his neck, too. You felt your throat tighten up as you realized that he probably murdered his lackluster kitchen help.
Your face must have given away your fear; Joker grinned and stepped closer to you. "What, sweetheart, you can't handle a bit of blood?"
You swallowed your fear and forced yourself to look into his eyes, even though you could still see the blood in your peripheral vision. You figured that honesty would be the best policy in this situation; it was better than appearing squeamish.
"I can handle blood just fine," you replied. "I don't give a single fuck if you murdered someone just now. I'm just worried that you'll do that to me as well, if you can so easily murder your own kitchen help."
He let out a deep, amused chuckle, using his fingers to trace your jawline. "Oh, (Y/N). I don't just kill the help for no reason," he cooed. "If you're fulfilling your duties and are being useful, you have nothing to worry about."
"Promise?" you whispered. You didn't know why a promise from him meant so much to you; he could easily lie through his teeth. That came with being a villain.
"Cross my heart," he answered with a grin, and, despite everything, that comforted you. "Just be good, do what you're told, and we won't have a problem."
He stroked your lower lip with his thumb before stepping away from you. "Anyway, before all of that melodrama," he said with an exaggerated hand motion, "I was just gonna inform you that dinner is being served in ten minutes. Keep getting acclimated until then. And, doll, don't be late. I don't like to be kept waiting."
With a sly wink, he left the room, closing the door behind him, and leaving you alone once more.
You sat on your new bed, heart racing at the interaction you just had, which had proved two things to you.
One: despite Joker's generosity, he was still a basket case that could kill you for any small mistake. You had to watch your back, and make sure you performed to the best of your capability. Otherwise, you may not live to see a better reputation in the crime world.
And two: Joker made you unbelievably flustered, and you couldn't deny that. He was weirdly attractive to you. And because of that, your performance may be affected by his presence. Which means that your demise was all the more likely.
You sighed, running a hand down your face.
Maybe you should have approached Two-Face instead.