The next morning, Harley stirred in bed, reaching out to Joker, but he wasn't there. She opened her eyes and sat up – he wasn't in the bedroom. She pulled on her robe and headed out into the hideout. "Puddin'?" she called.

"Study!" called back Joker. Harley entered his study to see Joker hunched over some papers.

"Didn't you get any sleep, puddin'?" she asked, stroking his hair back as she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"Not much," he replied, jotting down some notes. "Got a lot on my mind."

Harley nodded. "I'll go make coffee," she said, heading into the kitchen. She returned with a mug and a bowl of cereal, which she placed in front of Joker. "You don't wanna see the paper this morning," she commented.

"How come?" he asked.

"Vicki Vale has written something about you and Bats being allies – I figure it would just be a painful reminder for you," said Harley.

"What did she say?" asked Joker.

Harley unfolded the newspaper. "Frenemies: Batman and Joker Secret Allies? This reporter was stunned yesterday when, during a routine interview, she noticed Batman and the Joker in the same place, and not beating each other up. Further digging confirmed uploaded videos from the internet of the two of them in a fast food restaurant, apparently enjoying a meal together. Are the two foes finally starting to see eye-to-eye, or has their whole antagonistic relationship always been a sham? Only time will tell, but this reporter suspects an elaborate cover-up of the true nature of the Caped Crusader and the Clown Prince of Crime's relationship. Could they both be agents of a foreign government hoping to keep Gotham City trapped in an endless cycle of crime and violence? It's going to take more hard-hitting and fearless journalism to find out. Fortunately, this reporter will not rest until she gets to the bottom of it."

"Government conspiracies, what will they think of next?" sighed Joker.

"You should tell 'em your theory about the writers," commented Harley.

"Nah, they think I'm crazy, so they'd never believe the truth," said Joker, returning to his work. "Lex will be mad we stole his thunder though – he'll be in prison for a while now without that outpouring of public sympathy. And Bats will probably make a statement about the videos being fake or something. I don't think I need to address it."

"You working on a new plan for Bats?" Harley asked.

"Nah, need a few weeks to cool off after what he put me through," he muttered. "I still can't believe he would lie to me like that. You think you know a guy."

"So what are you working on?" she asked.

"It was gonna be a scheme to get back at Lex for trapping me, but I've got nothing," he retorted, flipping the papers over and rubbing his eyes. "It's all a big pile of nothing. My brain won't turn off, but there's no inspiration. So you just sit in front of a blank page driving yourself nuts."

"Maybe your Harley could give you some inspiration, puddin'," purred Harley, pulling herself up onto the desk.

She expected Joker to just shove her away as usual, but was surprised when he smiled. "You are always so eager, aren't you?" he chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her. "Don't ever change, Harley Quinn."

"Never, puddin'," she breathed, kissing him and pulling him down to her with his bowtie. They had knocked both the coffee and the cereal onto the floor when the doorbell suddenly rang.

"That better not be Bats interrupting the mood again," snapped Harley, glaring at the door.

"I'll get it, pooh, you stay there," said Joker, climbing off the table. He opened the front door to reveal Francois, the only tailor for supervillains in Gotham, holding up a suit on a hanger.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Joker!" he said. "Your suit is ready!"

"Suit?" repeated Joker. "But I didn't order any suit…"

"Oui, Monsieur, you did, yesterday," said Francois, holding up a piece of paper. "It was clearly not for you, as these are not your measurements. It is a suit for someone, how do you say, burlier than you? One purple suit, orange waistcoat, and green bat-shaped bowtie…"

"Oh yeah, that was meant to be a present for…never mind," said Joker, taking the suit from him. "It was for…a friend of mine, but he won't be needing it anymore, and I'm not in the mood to give him a present anyway. It turns out he was just using me to get to another guy."

"Ah, I have been in your shoes, Monsieur Joker," said Francois, shaking his head. "Men can be such bastards. Still, he has excellent measurements, of very good physique, so I cannot blame you for being seduced…"

"Yeah, he's not that kinda friend," interrupted Joker, hastily. "Anyway, thanks for dropping it off, and I'm sorry I'm gonna have to burn it. It looks like fine craftsmanship, as usual."

"Oui, Monsieur, it is French," replied Francois. "Only the finest quality."

"Hey, what part of France are you from?" asked Joker.

"Paris," replied Francois. "Why?"

"Good, I could use a few tips…" said Joker, glancing inside and then shutting the door behind him.

Harley waited impatiently for Joker to return, settling herself more comfortably on the numerous papers. She knocked a few of them onto the ground by accident, and sighed, standing up to go pick them up. As she bent over them, her name caught her eye, and she suddenly pulled out two airline tickets hidden in between some papers. "The Joker and Dr. Harleen Quinzel, round trip to…Paris?" she gasped, shocked.

The front door opened and shut again. "Harley, if you need any rags to dust the hideout, I got something you can use…" began Joker, carrying the suit into the study.

He was immediately pounced on by Harley. "You're taking me to Paris!" she shrieked. "You're taking me to Paris! Paris! Oh, puddin'!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing all over his face.

"Jesus, it was supposed to be a surprise!" he snapped, trying to extricate himself from her crushing embrace. "But I guess I've learned from Batman that surprises aren't always a good idea. Yes, I'm taking you to Paris for two weeks to say thanks for saving me and winning my bet for me. And I just got some tips from Francois about the best sights and restaurants, and he even recommended a hotel. He's both French and gay, so you know it's gonna be super elegant and fabulous…"

"I'm gonna start packing right now!" shrieked Harley. "I can't wait! I'm going to the City of Love with the man I love more than anything in the world! And we can take a romantic stroll along the Seine river…"

"Or the in-Seine river, with us around!" chuckled Joker.

"And then we can eat in one of those cute little Parisian cafes along that famous street, the Shame Alley Day or whatever it's called…"

"I ain't eating snails," said Joker. "Or frog's legs."

"And we can watch the sunset from the Eiffel Tower, just the two of us," sighed Harley.

"And we can spit on the people underneath us," said Joker, nodding. "Or drop pennies if we really wanna do some damage…"

"And we can go to Disneyland!" shrieked Harley.

"We already went to Disneyland," retorted Joker.

"Not the one in Paris!" exclaimed Harley.

Joker shrugged. "It's your trip, I guess," he said. "You won't see me objecting to an amusement park anyway. I hear there's a fancy art gallery in Paris, so I'm packing my spray paint. People think the Mona Lisa's smiling now, but I think we can do better, can't we, Harley?"

"We sure can, Mr. J," she purred, taking his hand and pulling him into the bedroom. "Now come help me decide what lingerie to pack – I'll model some for you. Gotta be really sexy to compete with those French ladies, y'know."

"You shouldn't try to compete, Harley, you'll never be as sophisticated as them," he replied. "Fortunately sophisticated dames ain't my type – I much prefer cute little clown girls who laugh at whoopie cushions and people getting punched in the face. Sophisticated is for people like Bats, who goes after Catwoman and Wonder Woman and highfalutin dames like that, and you see where that's got him – alone and miserable. But I'm happy, because I got my sweet and devoted little unsophisticated Brooklyn baby."

"Only you could make being unsophisticated sound so appealing," said Harley, kissing him.

"Well, I still maintain that Bats and me have more in common than not," continued Joker, nodding. "And we would make good buddies if he could just learn to lighten up. But I'm a lot luckier than him in the romance department. And you know, I think that'll always bug him about me. I think he's jealous of what I got. Not just good looks, sense of humor, genius intellect, and incredible talent, but also a loyal and loving gal who just adores me unconditionally. I honestly think he'd give up being Batman for that. Unfortunately, no woman is gonna fall in adoring and unconditional love for a guy in a bat costume," he said, shrugging. "You can be good boyfriend material or a costumed superhero, but you can't be both."

"It's a sad fact of life," agreed Harley, nodding. "Fortunately you can be good boyfriend material and a costumed supervillain, though."

"Well, only for a crazy dame," said Joker, grinning at her. "But that's really the only kind a costumed supervillain would want, so it all works out."

"It sure does, puddin'," agreed Harley, grinning back. "Now you just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! You've heard of the Playboy Bunny – well, now you're gonna meet the Harleen Quinzel Rubber Chicken, patent pending!"

"You got…a sexy rubber chicken costume?" asked Joker, slowly.

"Yeah," retorted Harley. "Why?"

"Because why the hell haven't I seen this before?" he demanded, his eyes sparkling. "That's one of the best ideas I've ever heard in my life! Jesus Christ, Harley, how long were you gonna keep something that mind-blowingly amazing a secret from me?!"

"It's new, and I wanted to surprise you," replied Harley. "I also got a sexy burns victim costume for later."

"You little minx – you know burns are my favorite scar tissue," chuckled Joker, loosening his bowtie. "Yep, if Bats could see us now, he'd be really jealous of his buddy."

The End