Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hey guys! This has been rated M for language, violence, and eventual smut up and coming. I have up to chapter eight written so far so if everyone likes this I can post updates pretty quickly but, here's chapter one to give a taste of where I'm headed with this. A little explanation – This coupling has been done and redone multiple times so I took a little creative freedom to try and mix the back and forth humorous dialogue that The Animated Series couple offers, while adding in the steamy and squishy side of the couple that Suicide Squad gave us. Hopefully it comes off that way – Enjoy!

Trapped. That's all she could feel was trapped. Like a rapid dog in the pound with nothing to lay on but the concrete. An alarm sounded, signaling that someone was entering the arena. She had two cells, one inside the other, making her space seem even smaller. "Hey hey Harley Babe!" His voice made her stomach clench, anger bubbled up from her esophagus to her ears but she swallowed it down and smiled sweetly at him.

"Griggles!" she squeaked as she sprung from her seat on the floor in the corner and skipped to meet him at the bars. "Whatcha bring me? A cookie? Jell-O? Mmmm! Mac and cheese!?" Her hopes raised higher as the grumbling in her stomach switched from aggression to hunger. When was the last time they'd fed her anyway? Not that time had much meaning in this hell hole.

"Loaf!" He replied grinning as he slipped the paper plate through the bars in her cell and dropped it unceremoniously onto the floor. She grimaced and stared at it. "Sorry babe. No sneaky snacks tonight. I'm still pretty mad at you for what you did to my guys. You know Smith is still in the hospital?" Her anger flipped like a switch.

"Ain't it shitty enough that you took away my bed?! My hammock!? I've been sleepin' on the floor for…" she paused. Again with the time conundrum.

"Yeah and you've been on hunger strike since. Another day or two and you could starve to death. And I can't have that; not on my watch." She scoffed at him.

"What do you care?! One less mouth to feed right? Ain't prisons run on tax payer money and all that?"

"You're right, doll face. I don't care."

He put his face dangerously close, his arms resting inside the bars. Her eyes darted down to his exposed limbs and the hunger in her stomach quickly switched to anger once more. The world around her seemed burred by red blotches that started to swirl. There was a ringing in her ears that she couldn't quite locate, nor did she care to try.

"But as long as you're in my care, it's my job to keep you alive. Now eat the damned loaf!"

He was starting to get red in the face. Or was that the fog rolling in that was tinting his skin? She heard a laugh; it sounded female, maniacal. Before he could realize what he'd triggered, the world around her was engulfed in red with the letters "HA HA HA" written in black everywhere. She tasted blood, smelled cooking flesh, felt herself get hurled back and her head hit something hard, then everything was black.

She awoke again and immediately began to panic. Oh god, what had she done? How many people had she hurt this time?

"Easy sugar, easy," she heard Grigg's voice and her stomach flipped, the anger bubbling again. Or was it hunger? She couldn't tell anymore. She tried to move again and found herself immobilized. She tried to look down and but her head had been restrained. And what was that plastic smell? Grigg's face panned into view, that shit eating grin he'd had earlier smeared across his stupid face. She wanted to stick a screwdriver between that nasty gap in his yellowed teeth and start popping each tooth out one by one. "Dinner time, cupcake!" He said as he kneeled down closer to her face. "Like I told you. I don't give a shit if you eat, or if you starve. But as long as you're in my care, that fabulous ass of yours has to stay alive. Now: chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla?" He motioned beside him to canned meals. He picked up the strawberry one and she saw there was a bandage wrapped around his arm; that must be where the taste of blood had come from. "Oh wait! It don't matter! You won't be tasting it anyway!" He started to laugh, and she heard the chorus of other laughter around them. He'd brought an audience, really? Who exactly did he think he was?

She felt her nostril widen as the pink sludge he'd poured through the feeding tube slithered its way down her nasal passage. Her head ached and she nearly gagged as she felt her stomach fill without her consent. She felt herself trying to fight, trying to scream.

"Miss?" she heard a familiar voice call to her.

"No!" she yelled, thrashing with all of her might.

"Harley!" the voice called again, shaking her. She shot awake, fist cocked to deck whoever it was that dared to place a hand on her. "Harley! It's me!" her eyes met with familiar brown emotionless ones. She froze, panting, cold sweat dripping down her. Once she realized who was in front of her, her face broke into a grin.

"Frosty!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Mr. J's right hand man and squeezing him tightly. He petted her back awkwardly as if to say 'there there…please stop,' then cleared his throat and backed away.

"Boss wants you downstairs once you're -ahem- decent." She paused then looked down.

"Eek!" she quickly covered her naked torso with the black silk comforter on the bed. THEIR bed. She was home. "Sorry Frosty! I'll be down in a jiff!"

Once he'd left she flopped back down in bed and grabbed the pillow next to her, hugging it tightly and inhaling the smell. HIS smell. Her puddin'. It was last night that they'd been reunited; he'd romantically sprung her from her cell and whisked her back to their ha-ha-hacienda; aka the upstairs penthouse of Mr. J's strip club 'Lady Luck.' She lay there for just a few seconds longer, thanking whatever higher power there was for clean silk sheets, a real room with a window, a real bed, and whatever food she was about to find downstairs. But most importantly, she needed to thank her Puddin'. Well, more so than she had last night.

She sprung out of bed, straightened the sheets, and threw on a comfy pair of pink shorts along with Mr. J's button up from last night. Then, donning her pink fuzzy slippers, she skipped downstairs as she threw her hair up into two messy buns.

"Mornin' Mistah J!" she cooed to him as she kissed his cheek and threw her arms around him. He sat at the bar of the club, which was currently empty since it was about 11:00A.M., reading the paper and sipping a steaming cup of black coffee. He tossed his paper aside onto the bar to wrap his arms around her and pull her into a full smooch.

"Harley, I've missed you so," he said as he looked up at her "The light of my mornings! Things just haven't been the same." She blushed and kissed him again as he grabbed her rear firmly and growled in his throat.

"Easy now, Mistah J. You know I need coffee in me before we start on round two," she giggled as she pulled away to sit up on the bar, spin around, and hop over. She made her way to the mini fridge to dig for an orange before pouring herself a cup of coffee with extra sugar and caramel creamer. Peeling her orange, she enjoyed the silence between them for a moment. She felt at peace as she stole a glance over to him, watching him reading his paper and sipping his coffee.

"Whatcha readin' puddin'?" she asked as she walked her quaint breakfast over to him; she needed to start small, her stomach was probably the size of a golf ball.

"Apparently there was a break in! Belle Reve had its walls blown in and a known convict is loose on the streets! Authorities have not released any names yet…" he sounded proud of himself as he gave his synopsis. Their eyes met and both started to laugh like a pair of crazed hyenas.

"Oh Mistah J! You sure know how make a headline!" she managed through her laughter. She didn't hear his laugh behind hers anymore so she stopped and met his gaze; her sea green eyes locked with his steel grey ones. He seemed serious and she gulped. It had been a long time since he'd beat her; he didn't know it but she was working with him on that (she was still a shrink after all), but the gaze was definitely familiar.

"I have to ask ya Harls. That...Griddles? Grimey? What was that asshat's name…?" Oh. Him.

"Griggs." She said his name through her teeth, as though it put the taste of dirt in her mouth, and it did: strawberry-pepto-bismol-flavored dirt.

"Yes! Griggs!" he exclaimed, standing to stalk her around the bar. She backed into the corner counter and he pressed into her, his hands on the black and gold granite on either side of her, his eyes never leaving hers. "He said you two knew each other quite well. Said that he was 'taking excellent care' of you…now just WHAT do you supposed he MEANT by THAT!?" He started screaming at her, clearly enraged at the thought of another man caring for or potentially touching her.

Normally this behavior would be met with her iron gaze, her chest puffed out, and her fists ready to swing back. But not this time, not this morning. Instead, she broke, her eyes welling with tears. Her forehead fell to his shoulder and she began sobbing into him, clinging to his maroon button up for dear life, as though he'd vanish the second she opened her eyes. She felt him relax around her; clearly the relationship was not what he'd imagined when Griggs had described it to him, and this was not the way he had intended this morning to go. His arms wrapped around her petite frame and he propped her up to sit on the counter.

"Shhhh….baby baby…"he cooed, petting her hair. And they said psychopaths couldn't love. He let her take a moment and just held her there, trying to calm her into an explanation.

"What happened, my queen?" he asked, tipping her chin up with one finger for her to meet his gaze. Her eyes had shifted to an icey blue that stood out behind her tears and reddened face. He'd never seen her like this and, dare he think this, it killed him to see her hurting so badly - he had to fix it.

"Oh Puddin'! It was just awful! They took away my bed and made me sleep on the concrete! They all ganged up on me and kicked me around; there must have been 20 or so! I tried to fight, they said five went to the hospital but I don't remember, I just remember being cold and alone and bruised and…and…" she sputtered out as much as she could before she hiccupped out a few more sobs. "They tried to feed me this…rat shit block thing? I don't know what the hell was in it but I said I didn't want it. So they tazed me and strapped me to a chair and that…that…ASS FACE…force fed me some strawberry shit through my nose. My NOSE Puddin'! I didn't even know you could eat through a nostril!"

"Oh ohhhhh, simmer down, my pet. Your Puddin' will fix everything," he cooed to her, petting her head but she could feel how tense he was now as he tried to calm her back down. Someone had laid their hands on her. HIS Harley. He handed her a paper towel, which she honked her nose into before handing it back to him. He grimaced and tossed it away before wiping his hand on his pants where she couldn't see.

"FROST!" he called out to the only henchman whose name he'd bothered to remembered, his right hand man. Frost shuffled into view, never far away despite Joker's need to scream out his name.


"Clear my schedule and bring the car around….we're going for a drive." He growled as he let go of Harley.

"Stay here, have another cup of coffee and shower it off, my sweet." Joker said as he buttoned his shirt and placed his pistol in the holster under his arm. His pocket knives were slid into numerous different pockets, one even into his sock, then finally he slipped on his silver jacket. She clutched to her cup of coffee as though it would fly away and stared into nothingness as he kissed her forehead and met her eyes. "I'll call you when we're ready for you." He checked his hair one last time in the reflection of the golden walls before making his exit, Frost at his heels.

Once the door shut behind them, Harley set her cup down and gripped the counter top, her knuckles white from the pressure. A laugh bubbled in her throat and escaped her lips, echoing off the walls of the empty club, rising louder and louder and ringing in her ears as she slammed her fist on the counter in hysterics.