Rated for goon gore and some naughty words ;) Someone needs to start up a Goon Protection Program. Srsly.

I love Harley Quinn. I think everybody does. She's such a train-wreck, it's sad. And yet, she's always so very awesome...

I think most people are out of character here. But it's totally a tense situation, so you can't expect them to be top of their game. Also, the plot's very chaotic. This definitely isn't my best fic. But I think it's a cute idea.

Also, Batman fails epically. It's not my fault, I swear. Let's put it down to a hangover from being Bruce. There, that'll do.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, Harley Quinn would be in everything, and Batman would solve all his problems by thrusting and yelling 'BAM!'. And that is why I own nothing.


The Joker shoved his delusional lover away for the upteenth time. She fell heavily to the ground, pouting.

"I'm sorry, Puddin'. I was just bein' affectionate." She placed the tips of her index fingers together, gazing up at Joker with her baby-blues wide. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face in an exaggerated gesture of exasperation.

Gunshots rang through the air. One of his masked goons keeled over beside him, blood pumping from a gaping hole in his throat. Joker pushed a new clip into his Glock, moving behind a large column.

"Harley, baby, there's a time and a place." He fired a few shots and stepped back behind the column. "Now, unless you want to get killed… never mind." He ducked as a series of rapid shots blew chunks of marble from his hiding spot.

Harley crawled petulantly back behind her own column, picking up her black-market bazooka. Hoisting it over her shoulder, she stepped out into the open and fired. Everyone ducked as an explosion rocked the lobby, blasting glass from the floor-to-ceiling windows every which way.

"See, Harls?" Joker grinned. "That's what you do in this time and place."

Harley beamed as she pulled a shard of glass from her thigh. She'd done good; Mistah Jay was proud.

There were still shots coming from outside the lobby. Another goon staggered into the wall behind Harley, looking at her in shock; his mask was gone, and so was half his face. He slumped forward and Harley poked him with a delicate foot.

"Hey, Puddin'?" She called sweetly.

"What?" He was firing into the dust which was still settling from the explosion, pausing between shots to listen for the screams that would tell him if he'd hit anything.

"Maybe, if there's anythin' left of this place when we're done, we could rent a room. Just me an' you." She smiled coyly. "Wouldn't that be fun, Puddin'?"

the Joker fired a few more shots, then motioned to his remaining men to follow him. They all ran backwards through the lobby, vaulting over the gold-and-marble concierge desk. Two more fell- one shot in the back of the head, the other in the upper calf. His pitiful wails added to the din.

"Well, Mistah Jay?" Harley batted her eyelashes, twirling a jester-point around her finger.

"Harley…" Joker sighed. "There is no one left to rent a room from, even if it wasn't one of the worst ideas you've ever had."

He gestured around them with a gloved hand. Hotel staff were scattered about in various states of death. Harley herself was sitting on the manager, his neck twisted at an impossible angle and a look of terror frozen on his face.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully as Joker fired shots over the top of the counter.

"Look, baby," he said distractedly as a bullet whizzed past his ear, "when we get out of here, I promise we'll find a room in some nice little hotel which you haven't blown to smithereens. Alright?"

"Okay!" She beamed, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Jesus, Harley!" He yelled, yanking her off forcefully. "Time and place!"

Sorry Puddin'." She replied meekly.

"An' don't call me 'Puddin''." He grumbled.

At that moment, a black-clad figure dropped into the lobby. A cape swirled around his shoulders and a mask covered his face, revealing only his strong jaw, thin lips and terrible eyes.

"Shit." One of Joker's men swore, scrambling backwards. "It's the fuckin' bat! Shit, boss!"

The Joker looked at the man with disgust, shooting him casually between the eyes. He slumped forward, another faceless clown to join the carnage.

"Time to make our escape." Joker observed sardonically, vaulting over the counter and running along the back of the lobby. Harley Quinn and the two remaining goons followed suit, firing shots over their shoulders as they ran.

Batman shadowed their path, piercing their shadows with a smattering of batarangs. The fugitive four barged their way through a back door, shooting down the few helpless officers who were guarding it. They found themselves in the hotel's underground parking lot. A terrified valet held out the Joker's keys, too loyal to abandon his post. The Joker ruffled the valet's hair, then shot him in the foot with a pleasant smile (just for the Hell of it).

Batman burst into the carpark behind them with a growl of anger. Harley stepped out from behind the door, where she had been hiding, and whacked in the back of the head with the butt of her gun.

"God work." Joker observed dryly, then started walking toward the BMW he had stolen. He stopped in his tracks when a beaming Harley wrapped her arms around him.

"For fuck's sake!" He roared, pulling her off and slamming her against a nearby SUV. "How many times do I have to tell you, Harley? How many times?!"

"So are you just going to leave Batman there?" She asked curiously, oblivious to the offence.

Joker's eyes narrowed. His voice took on the tone of a reprimanding schoolteacher. "Yes. If I'd been the one to hit him, we wouldn't have to leave him there. As it is, you're going to stay here until he gets up." Joker frogmarched her back to where Batman lay. "When he wakes, you will call me. No sooner. Understand?"

Harley nodded, then paused. "But… what if the police come first?"

Joker stretched his scarred mouth into a menacing grin. "Then you get to spend a little time in Arkham. And I get to spend a little time alone."

"But Puddin', what about the hotel room?" Harley's eyes were wide as she gazed into Joker's smug face.

"Sorry, doll." He began walking toward the car. "There are boundaries, and you crossed them…"

The Joker casually shot the two remaining goons, climbing into the BMW and driving off with a screech of tyres. Harley sat on Batman's chest with a sigh. She looked at the young valet, still clutching his foot in pain.

"He does love me." She informed him confidently.

"That's great." He winced, clenching his teeth.

"He's just not into public displays of affection." She smoothed a crinkle in her suit thoughtfully. "But when we get that hotel room…"

Harley smiled happily, and was still smiling when Batman came to, the police found them, and she was put in her regular cell in Arkham Asylum.

"Mistah Jay does love me. I know it."