Motley
Harley's
The new clothes have arrived when he gets back. J is dozing, head tilted back as he snores. Motley is a big kid, so he pulls on the dinosaur pajamas by himself. He tucks his knife into the front pocket and holds his blanket. It still smells like Leen, just a little bit. Bleach and lilac.
Motley looks up at J. He likes J. He’s never had a dad before, especially not a dad as weird as this. Motley crawls onto the bed and peers at J. His mouth is bumpy around the edges. Motley recognizes these as scars. He likes that J is always smiling.
He likes J’s green hair. Motley reaches a finger out to touch J’s scars. J’s eyes flash open and he grabs Motley’s wrist. There’s a knife to Motley’s throat before he can breathe. J sees him and relaxes, putting the knife away. “What the fuck were you doing, Mot?”
“Wanted to touch scars. Bumpy,” he mumbles, hanging his head.
He hopes J won’t hit him now, like Leen does. J doesn’t. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t fucking touch me when I’m asleep. You might get hurt.”
Motley catalogs the information in his head, nods, and reaches a hand for J’s face. He traces from ear to ear, than smiles. “You’re always smiling, J!” J snorts and shoves Motley away.
“You got some weird ideas, kid.” Motley grins and shakes his damp hair. “Hey. Don’t get me wet, ya little shit,” J says, but he’s smiling.
Motley laughs and flops over, getting tired. “Skip brushing teeth, J?” Leen always made him brush his teeth. It was the only routine thing they had.
“No. You should, eh, take care of those, ha, pearly whites.”
Motley rolls off the bed, brushes his teeth, and gets back in, snuggling down. “Motley, did you use my fucking toothbrush?”
“Yeah....”
“I got you your own toothbrush. Use it from now on. Use my toothbrush again and I’ll, haha, break your legs.”
Motley frowns and nods into the blanket. His knife is a comforting lump against his ribcage. “Night, J.”
“Mmph.” Motley falls asleep easily.
Joker stays awake, looking down at his son. His fucking son. Poor kid’s got Joker blood running through his veins. Which is a weird thought to the Joker. He doesn’t know anyone else who’s related to him. Killed his parents years ago, never heard of other relatives.
It’s even weirder cause this kid is Harley’s, too. He loved Harley. Hated her too, for a bit. Mostly after she left him. The Joker doesn’t need her, but he doesn’t like being betrayed. He rolls over and looks at Mot again.
The kid is sleeping peacefully, one hand resting on his knife, the other tangled in Harley’s blanket. Harley’s blanket. His son. God, he’s used to strange, but the Joker doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to a son.
Motley looks up at J. He likes J. He’s never had a dad before, especially not a dad as weird as this. Motley crawls onto the bed and peers at J. His mouth is bumpy around the edges. Motley recognizes these as scars. He likes that J is always smiling.
He likes J’s green hair. Motley reaches a finger out to touch J’s scars. J’s eyes flash open and he grabs Motley’s wrist. There’s a knife to Motley’s throat before he can breathe. J sees him and relaxes, putting the knife away. “What the fuck were you doing, Mot?”
“Wanted to touch scars. Bumpy,” he mumbles, hanging his head.
He hopes J won’t hit him now, like Leen does. J doesn’t. “Fine. Whatever. Don’t fucking touch me when I’m asleep. You might get hurt.”
Motley catalogs the information in his head, nods, and reaches a hand for J’s face. He traces from ear to ear, than smiles. “You’re always smiling, J!” J snorts and shoves Motley away.
“You got some weird ideas, kid.” Motley grins and shakes his damp hair. “Hey. Don’t get me wet, ya little shit,” J says, but he’s smiling.
Motley laughs and flops over, getting tired. “Skip brushing teeth, J?” Leen always made him brush his teeth. It was the only routine thing they had.
“No. You should, eh, take care of those, ha, pearly whites.”
Motley rolls off the bed, brushes his teeth, and gets back in, snuggling down. “Motley, did you use my fucking toothbrush?”
“Yeah....”
“I got you your own toothbrush. Use it from now on. Use my toothbrush again and I’ll, haha, break your legs.”
Motley frowns and nods into the blanket. His knife is a comforting lump against his ribcage. “Night, J.”
“Mmph.” Motley falls asleep easily.
Joker stays awake, looking down at his son. His fucking son. Poor kid’s got Joker blood running through his veins. Which is a weird thought to the Joker. He doesn’t know anyone else who’s related to him. Killed his parents years ago, never heard of other relatives.
It’s even weirder cause this kid is Harley’s, too. He loved Harley. Hated her too, for a bit. Mostly after she left him. The Joker doesn’t need her, but he doesn’t like being betrayed. He rolls over and looks at Mot again.
The kid is sleeping peacefully, one hand resting on his knife, the other tangled in Harley’s blanket. Harley’s blanket. His son. God, he’s used to strange, but the Joker doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to a son.