Disclaimer: I own neither The Joker nor Harley Quinn. But I can always wish.
She knew, the moment that she'd opened her mouth, that she had made a mistake. The words slipped out before she could even register what she had said or how stupid she had been. After all, she was still learning, and she hadn't yet learned how this game went. Fortunately for her, Mistah J was an excellent teacher, and he knew how to keep his pupils in line. He must have thought she showed promise, because he never gave up on her; he knew that eventually she would get it. However, this was just another one of those times when she didn't.
It was for this reason that Harley currently found herself huddled against the wall outside of their hideout, clutching her bare legs against her chest. If her teeth weren't chattering, she might have commented to herself that early December was probably not the best time to be outside in a pair of silky shorts and a tee-shirt, but then again, she hadn't planned on being thrown out this early in the morning, either. Looking down at her fingers, Harley noticed that her nails were starting to bear a strange resemblance to the color of her latest set of bruises, courtesy of Mistah J, of course. Her jester's hat was still on her head, though, acting as a makeshift dunce cap, it seemed.
She knew that later it wouldn't matter and he would have forgotten all about the incident, but for now, she had to stay out here, at least until he had time to calm down. It never took very long; Mistah J was good at turning his emotions on and off like a light switch. Still, Harley never wanted to test his moods, because the next time, she might not be so lucky.
The wind was starting to pick up speed. Harley braced herself against the force, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling the prickling sensation of a thousand needles piercing her skin at once. It wouldn't be so bad. At least it wasn't snowing, right?
At that moment, a single, white flake landed on Harley's nose. Looking up at the sky, Harley could see a few more flakes gently falling down, one hitting her square in the eye. She pouted.
"You hate me up there, don't you?"
"Haaarley!" Harley looked up in time to see The Joker standing in front of the open doorway, hurling a long, purple coat and matching purple pants at her head. The pants landed near her feet while the coat landed perfectly atop her red and black headpiece, obscuring her vision so that she could only see The Joker's black spats in front of her.
"While you're out here being useless, why don't you go get my suit dry-cleaned?" In a second, he was gone, the metal door slamming behind him with a thud, and Harley was pulling the purple coat off of her head. For a second, she stared confusedly at the clothes, wondering why he would ask her to dry-clean them. It wasn't Wednesday. Plus, these clothes looked nearly perfect.
Eyes lighting up, Harley silently took the pants and slipped them on over her silk bottoms. She gently picked up the long coat and put one arm, then the other, through the arm holes. Anyone passing by would think she looked ridiculous, wearing clothes ten sizes too big for her small frame and topped off with her jester's cap, but she didn't care. Inhaling deeply, she took in his scent, still clinging to the clothes, his warmth filling her up.
For a moment, she forgot that it was below-zero weather. She couldn't feel her limbs, or her frost-bitten nose or ears or lips. True, it may have been because they had all gone numb, but still. All she could feel was him, and he was all the warmth she needed.