Joker and Harley oneshots and headcanons.

Drunken Cries.

Wordcount:2,343

- 

Harley hummed to herself as she combed her brush through her hair, sat at her vanity in her black nightgown, waiting patiently for Joker to come home from his meeting at SMILE AND GRIN. She didn't feel like going out, she was still a little sore from the night before, though not from dancing.

So she sat waiting to surprise him in her nightgown, just because she was sore from last time didn't mean she couldn't get railed.

Putting the hairbrush down, Harley picked up one of her many eyeshadow palettes. She chose one of the deep blacks, as it matched her nightgown, and went for the usual smokey eye she did when she was dressing to seduce him. Not that she thought she needed it. She didn't need any makeup or skimpy nightgowns to seduce him, she knew that, she just enjoyed dressing up sexy, both for him and for herself.

"C'mon, puddin, I'm bored," Harley muttered, touching up her lips with a bit of lip gloss as she started to grow restless. Both mentally and sexually.

Eventually, Harley got bored of sitting at her vanity and got up to get some grape soda and wine glasses, she placed the two bottles and two glasses neatly on their nightstand. She debated pouring a drink for herself while she waited, but decided against it when she checked the time. 12 am. Any minute now.

Instead, she got the things they usually needed after sex. Wipes, cloths, and moisturizer since they often massaged each other a little bit as aftercare. She put them on the nightstand just behind the soda and glasses.

- 

Harley kicked her legs in the air, laying on her back on the bed, reading a magazine. "Puddiinnnn," she whined, tired of waiting.

As if answering her plea, Harley heard the door handle jiggle. She jumped up, throwing her magazine across the bedroom. She rushed to sit cross-legged on the edge of the bed, arms behind her, palms against the mattress, holding her up.

Joker staggered into the room, unsteady on his feet.

Harley's mood quickly switched from aroused to concerned. She rushed over to him, all thoughts of being seductive thrown out the window. She managed to get ahold of him and move him onto the floor, resting against her.

Harley gently stroked his jaw, kissing his forehead. He looked at her through half-lidded eyes, seeming semi-conscious. "Sweetie? Are you hurt or drunk?"

Joker moved to snuggle into her chest, arms around her waist. "Baby..."

"I'll take that as drunk," Harley giggled, not even upset that he ruined the special night she had planned. "Baby," J mumbled again, face against her chest. "Yeah, honey?"

"You're so pretty."

Almost dumbfounded, Harley let out a breathy laugh. "Thank you, sugar," she said, not quite sure how to react. "You wanna get into bed? Have a cuddle?" She asked, since J was clearly in a very clingy mood. A sober Joker being clingy was one thing, a shitfaced drunk Joker being clingy was another.

J nodded, arms still tight around her.

The second they managed to get into bed, J immediately nuzzled back into her, face in her chest. He didn't seem to notice the exceptionally skimpy nightgown she had on or her makeup, or even the fact that he basically had his face in between her bare breasts. Over the years, Harley learnt that there were three different kinds of drunk Joker. Number one was murderous, angry, irrational and stubborn, number two, Harley's personal favourite, was horny, kinky, touchy, all and all ready to pound to shit out of her, number three was clingy, touch starved, and mushy.