You noticed it the moment you walked into the room.
The shift.
The Joker wasn't pacing. He wasn't yelling into his phone or threatening anyone's fingers. He was sitting — actually sitting — in his chair near the window, legs spread wide, arms draped lazily over the armrests like a king on his throne.
His eyes were already on you.
You paused in the doorway like your feet had forgotten how to move. "Um... I brought your coffee."
He didn't answer right away — just tilted his head. The moonlight pouring through the window caught the sharp edges of his jaw and the glint of silver at his throat. His pupils looked blown, wide, like he wasn't quite seeing the room. Just you.
"Kitten," he purred, voice low and velvety, "you always wear that little nervous look when you see me. You know that?"
You blinked. "What?"
He smirked, tapping one long finger against his lips. "Like a bunny who wandered too close to the lion's cage."
You held the coffee out like a shield. "I... I just thought you'd be in a mood today. Full moon and all."
That got a grin out of him — slow and lazy and sharp. "Mmm. Full moon, huh? That why you think I'm feelin'... different?"
You swallowed. You hadn't meant to say that out loud. You'd just felt something all day — something off. Normally, Joker had a way of making you feel like a walking inconvenience. You were used to the barked orders, the eye-rolls, the sharp little jabs disguised as jokes. But today? He hadn't raised his voice once.
In fact... he'd complimented you. Twice.
Once when you were walking past his office — "Look at that sway in those hips. You trying to kill me, doll?"
And again in the kitchen — "Tch. Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be makin' my coffee. Should be sittin' on my desk lookin' decorative."
Now he was looking at you like you were something he wanted to taste.
"I didn't mean anything," you mumbled quickly, cheeks going warm. "You're just being weird. I mean—different. You're usually... um..."
"Mean?" he offered, leaning forward.
You nodded once. Slowly.
He chuckled — and it wasn't the maniacal laugh he used when he was about to bash someone's skull in. It was quieter, husky. Like he was genuinely amused. Like he liked this little game.
"I don't gotta be mean to get what I want, sweetheart," he said, standing now — slow, graceful, dangerous. He crossed the room in three lazy steps, and suddenly you felt tiny under his shadow.
You held the coffee between you like a peace offering. "Your drink's probably getting cold—"
He didn't take it.
Instead, his hand came up — cold fingers brushing lightly under your chin, tilting your face up until you were forced to look him in the eye. His gaze flicked down to your lips, then lingered.
"You blush so easy, you know that?" he murmured. "Makes me wonder what else I could do to you."
Your heart nearly exploded. Your brain flatlined. Words? Gone. Dead. Buried.
"I-I don't know what you mean," you stammered, voice almost squeaky. You hated how breathless you sounded — like he could unravel you with just one sentence.
God, maybe he could.
He chuckled again, deep in his chest, like your embarrassment was his favorite thing he'd seen all day.
"Sweet little thing," he drawled, fingers dragging slowly down the side of your neck — just barely there. Your knees locked to keep from squirming.
"I'm just playin'," he said, stepping back finally, as if he hadn't just wrecked your nervous system in less than sixty seconds. "Or maybe I'm not. You tell me."
You stood frozen, coffee still in hand, mouth open like you were buffering.
The Joker flopped back into his chair, arms stretched again, head tipped back so the moonlight caught the tattoos along his throat. He looked every bit the devil wrapped in silk — relaxed, smug, absolutely unbothered.
But his voice turned lower, darker, more dangerous as he added:
"You're always actin' so small around me. So quiet. So careful. You ever wonder what would happen if you stopped being scared and started being mine?"
Your throat went dry.
He didn't wait for an answer. Just flicked his eyes to the coffee. "Now bring me my drink, baby. Before I really give you a reason to be flushed."
You walked forward on shaky legs, cheeks burning, heart pounding loud enough you were sure he could hear it. He took the coffee from your hands this time — and when your fingers brushed, his smirk returned, sharp and knowing.
The moon was still high, and something told you it wasn't done with him yet.
Or you.
