AN: This is a short JokerXHarley drabble based on a few of the 100 Themes. Primarily 'acceptance', 'sympathy', 'holding', and 'defeated'. This is my first time writing something like this, so I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Own nothing.

She watches as his fists clench and unclench, the muscles in his hands tightening over and over again. He taps his foot rapidly, and she notes how his shoulders are tense, scrunched up. With his long, prominent nose and sharp features, the Joker reminds her of a hawk.

And Harley is his prey. She tries to dart to the side a second before he descends, but it doesn't work; he is too quick, and she finds herself trapped beneath his lean, wiry frame. He presses his body against her, narrow hips between her wide ones. His silence frightens Harley, but she wills away the fear. She is used to this.

Years of being with the Joker has taught her that the man she loves so much is constantly testing her, seeing if she'll last, if she can endure.

The competitive side of her rises to the challenge, but the psychiatrist in her tells her why he does this. He is scared, perhaps subconsciously, that the one he has chosen to keep by his side and let into his life will one day leave, because she is not strong enough. It makes Harley ache, the mere idea that she would ever leave her salvation, so she vows to show him she cannot be gotten rid of. The short trips to Ivy's are not her leaving him, because she always goes back, and though he says he can't seem to shake her off, she knows, that deep in his heart, he is relieved.

So as his brilliant green eyes burn into her light blue ones, she meets his gaze, allowing him to stare into the pits of her soul, to evaluate the contents. Though the change is almost imperceptible, Harley sees how he relaxes slightly, the tension leaving.

"I don't like losing." He states in a flat tone. He sounds like a grumpy child.

"I know, Mistah J." She replies soothingly. "But it's not really losing. This was just a small battle in the war for Gotham's soul."

His pale, white face is expressionless, but his eyes show how he mulls over her words. His bloodred lips purse thoughtfully and he nods. "True." It takes restraint not to smile as she stares at the beautiful angel settled between her legs. He shifts and she feels a warm rush of love for him. Before she can stop herself, she is reaching out a hand to stroke the bright green curls tumbling over his forehead. He doesn't do anything but watch, rolling his eyes up to stare at the tiny fingers touching his hair.

Harley smooths the strands back and runs her hand down his back, softly pressing on his shoulder blade, and eventually the Joker lays his head on her chest. He turns slightly to the side so his ear is against her breast. She breathes in slowly, inhaling the amazing scent of gunpowder and cologne and chaos. His scent.

She knows what he is doing now- listening to her heartbeat. He likes to do that, and she wonders if it is because he is imagining all the ways to make it stop. How every different method will finish. The beat steadily ceasing, or pounding briefly until there is a sudden silence. Others would think it was morbid, but she liked to think of it, too. A sick game she'd play by herself. Conjuring up ideas of how he will end her life. Everyone looks at her with disbelief when she declares that she would be happy to die by the Joker's hand.

Harley Quinn holds the Joker in her small arms, love radiating from her core, as he clings to this anchor, this strong, unshakeable woman.

They say she is crazy, but the truth is, she is free.

AN: How was it? To be honest, I'm kind of happy with it! I know it's very vanilly and calmish, but it was supposed to be short, where Harley just mused on different things and drifted from her thoughts pretty easily.

Should I do more like this? Let me know by faving, following, and REVIEWING of course!