Harley: Falling Out

[amichan]

 How long are they gonna be talking bullshit down there? It’s getting so boring hanging out up in the rafters. Only so much climbing, swinging and flipping practice a gal can do before shit starts swirling around in her head again.

Too many egos in that room plain and simple.

I told him that when he first strutted the grand plan, no, Grand Plan.

 

“Go big or go home?”

“Oh, no one’s going home, Harley-baby—this one’s record breaking.”

“Hmph,” was not the answer he wanted. He wanted jubilation, excitement and praise of his brilliant scheme to pull it off and come out on top of the others at the same time, “Croc, might not appear to be as smart as the rest and those are not all as smart as they strut but they are going to expect to be crossed, you know? Half of them are going to try the same--”

“Harl--” he started, turning, but I was ready for that and up over the table, hands up in front of me.

“Come on Mistah Jay, please...” big eyes, big pout, ego stroke was a good idea at that point baby doll, lean over the table, “I’m not saying it’s not a smart plan, pudding. I should have said that first I just don’t want,” slid over the table, “anything to happen to you again I couldn’t take it,” stroked his hair back behind his ears, faces close together.

“I understand,” he said, low, dangerous.

A pit of anticipation, need spiked from that voice, the turn on started but also concern, fear because of the other side it could mean, they battled low in me, “but don’t doubt me,” and I’m backward over the table and onto the floor other side, “I know what I’m doing!”

I picked myself up using the table, “Of course you do.”

“That’s right,” he said, looking back at the table surface and straightening things that had been knocked in my various trips across it.

I gave him a moment to his work to process things. He might well turn words about in his head realize my point and make it own—change his mind.

Didn’t happen.

Maybe later. Hopefully.

If some of them team up against him—us. I don’t want to be in Arkham on the other side especially if John and his “experimental treatments” are still there—maybe I can luck out and get put in regular jail. But when does that ever happen? Did John get found out? I know I reported him—he was being investigated. He ran at some point, didn’t he?

“Harley—don’t look so worried,” he was close, but not harsh, “I told you it’ll be fine,” hand turning my face up to his, “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” I gave him the smile he wants, “It’s them I don’t trust.”

“Well, neither do I so all will be fine,” there’s that damned wicked smile as he leaned in to kiss me.

It was a moment before I could breathe again and by that point my legs were locked around his waist and hands around his neck.

“Better than fine then,” he said, as he nuzzled my neck and leaned round for a moment to look at his wrist, “I think we have time to mess up the papers again before they get here, whaddaya say?”

I dug my fingers into his back and squeezed more tightly with my legs, “You have to ask?”

 

It was half-dressed pick up and scale into the ceiling when people started arriving, pulling the rest of my outfit back on and hanging around listening for a while but the posturing made me sick so I went up the rest of the way, and now I’m not sure how long it is later. I’m not the one who wears a watch and they’re still here: Penguin, Croc, Scare...so, no, of course John isn’t at Arkham he’s right there, you’re supposed to be smart. So, even more likely things are going to go sideways, why would he help? I’m the one who ratted him out. I’m the reason he doesn’t have a toy box to play in.

Of course there’s a chance it’s gone the other way and he’s happy to not have to hide behind the civilian persona any more and be out and proud and more spectacular and theatrical the way “Mister Jay” really prefers to be Joker but that’s our inside joke pet name thing now so it’s stuck. That would require talking to him to find out and I really don’t want to try, especially because we’d both know what I was trying to do.

Anyway: Penguin, Croc, “Scaaaaarecrow”, Riddler all around the table, after a fashion anyway. What fashion? I hang myself upside down again. The color clash alone. Don’t laugh too loud. Distracting Harley cause too much trouble. Interrupt the big men talking their talk. Might get tempted to say what I really think about all this bullshit, again, but in front of everyone with a capital E. Everyone.

That’d be too much.

Too too much.

Oh, thank you. Everyone with a capital E is packing things up and leaving. I start to slowly lower myself back down to the main floor, dropping down as one of the other goons closes the door behind them as they go.

“So,” Joker says, “What do you think?”

Oh, this could easily be a trap. Tread so careful. I sit on the edge of the table moving what remains of the papers, and watch him for a moment. His measured stance.

“Oh, come on,” he says, “I know you were listening.”

“I was, but do you really want to know what I think? We already talked about things before.”

He nods, taking a step towards me and holding my hands in his, “and that was before and it’s done with. You’ve heard the conversations with everyone now.”

Fuck it.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Last time you tried a multiple person event it didn’t work. So the answer is to add more people to the mix?” I shake my head, as he grips my hands more tightly, “I feel like we’d be better if we were just doing something by ourselves...”

There’s just silence.

Our hands are still.

His face is still.

My breath is still.

The next movement is so fast I don’t realize it happened until I’m on the floor. Though I realize that aside from his hand hitting my cheek I also bounced against the table on the way down. He’s hot with rage, but I’m hot too as I spring back up.

“You asked!” I spit at him, “I asked if you really wanted to know! You said you did or at least your words intimated that you actually did. Don’t do those things if you’re going to--” the hand again but I’m ready for it and block as if he’s the Bat or one of the flunkies. It’ll make him angrier but right now I don’t care. I don’t want him...why don’t you…?

I feel like my brain is not entirely making sense right now.

Even to me.

Of course I did just vibrate off two hard services—surfaces.

“Harley,” he snarls.

“I love you,” I snap back, “I want you around. If you don’t know that by know then you’re an idiot!” The tears that are coming now mean I don’t catch the smack that comes towards my face. I don’t go all the way down though. I just stumble and catch myself against the table and then shove all his stupid shit all over the place and on to the floor, running around the other side of the table while I’m doing it.

“You want to be like that?” he tips the table over.

 

I jump back narrowly avoiding my feet from being trapped.