Harley Quinn & The Joker One-Shots - Book 1

Beautifully Wounded

—
When Mistah J comes home with a very deep wound, and Harley wants to care and comfort him.
—

Harley's petite body rested on their enormous couch, while watching the TV, as her hands fiddled against the hem of her pajama shorts.

Her soft curls were let loose and tossed against her shoulders.
She whimpered, missing her Mistah J. Though he'd only been out for an afternoon, it felt like eternity.

Watching the news — her eyebrows furrowed with the boring updates on Oswald Cobblepot's so-called, massacre of 30 people!
Puh-lease! The death of 100 citizens was what she and Mistah J called "Playtime"!

With nothing to do, her eyelids grew heavy, and her once rapid breathing slowed down to a calmer pace.

Harley ran her fingers down the velvet couches, thinking of her green-haired mad man.

Jack Napier, the King of Jokes, holding her tight. She dreamt of his warm body up against hers. Without thinking, she absentmindedly began cuddling the green pillow next to her, drifting into her world of escape from reality.

Before she could completely fall into her deep sleep, the rustle of the door knob yelled into her ear. And momentarily a grunting mess stumbled through the room.

"FUCK!" He groaned.

Her weary eyelids watched him execute his limp into the room, as he ambled towards the staircase.

"Pu..Puddin'." Her once bubbly attitude drained. Her voice moaned into a sleepy whimper.

With her eyes squinting every now and then to keep them opened, she heard his raspy voice grumble against the pain.

And despite the hassle opening her eyes at 2:00 in the morning, she did, and carried her limp legs up the couch.
Her toes ran past the carpet, up the stairs, to see blood trailing down the white marble steps into the bathroom.

"Puddin'." She asked, waiting for a response, only to hear a soft groan come from the bathroom, and an immediate sound of shattering glass.

"Holy fuck." He groaned, kicking the cabinet.

Harley rambled beside the fallen blood and erratically shook the door knob.
And to her dismay, it was locked — while she giggled to herself, and pulled out a hair pin from her hair.

She stuck it into the knob, twisting it.
Glancing forward, she saw her Mistah J staring at her with heavy blue orbs. A large gash was penetrated into his shoulder blade as he winced ever so slightly as she pushed the door.

His green electric hair was now lightly splattered in specks of blood, and she looked down, glimpsing at the bloody suit thrown on the marble floor.

She reached her arm out to hold his cheek, only to win an unwanted response.
He pushed her arm away, hissing from the immediate pain it gave him.

"Does it look bad, Harls?" He moaned in pain. Pushing his arm against the sink counter. His hand combed through his hair, and his raspy voice spoke against the silence.

"Are you fuckin' alive? Harls?" He rolled his eyes, grunting to move his position — only to find Harley stuttering.
"Uh..Uh, Pudd..Puddin' it looks real bad."