Smile With Me

“Look, Quinn, Joker’s been seen downtown, around Ridley Towers. I think he’s casing them out.”
“So he’s not looking for me,” I ask quietly, focusing on his skin under my fingertips. I’m stitching up his shoulders, the flesh ripped apart and bloody.
“Not at the moment. Weird. It’s like one second he’s obsessed with you, the next everything in the world matters more than you do. You become nothing to him.”
I frown and tug harder, getting a mean enjoyment out of his wince. “Thanks.” He doesn’t apologize. I don’t expect him to. Done with stitching, I pat his shoulders and step back. “All set.”
Hood nods, pulling his shirt on with a caution I recognize. My ribs are still sore. “We’ll go when he starts asking around for you again.” I suppress a shudder and nod.

Hood takes the bed back that night, with his hurt shoulder. I curl up on the couch, try to escape memories of my first days with Joker, handcuffed to a couch, pissing my pants like an animal, the scars he left that I still have.

By the time I wake up, Red Hood is back on the couch, my feet in his lap. His head lolls. I know if I move he’ll be up in an instant, so I stay still, staring up at the ceiling until spots swim across my vision.
Nights spent with the Joker, his hot breath in my ear, staring at the ceiling as he wormed his gasoline soaked fingers under my shirt, giggling. His presence overwhelming and, at the time, wonderful.
I must tense up, because Hood murmurs, “Quinn?”
“Hey, sorry, did I wake you?”
He yawns, lets his head fall back. “Nah. Time s’it?”
“Eight, I think.” The sun will be out by now. I haven’t seen the sun in weeks. I don’t really miss it.
“Mhm.”
“How’s your shoulder?”
“S’fine. Had worse.” I frown, but he doesn’t say any more.
“Kay.” He squeezes my ankle once and falls back asleep. Eventually, I do, too.