The dim, golden glow of the penthouse flickered against the vast Gotham skyline. From their perch high above the city, Joker and Harley lounged on the plush velvet sofa, basking in the aftermath of their latest masterpiece—the chaotic, blood-splattered bank heist.
The TV droned in the background, playing news reports of the massacre. Images of panicked civilians, bloody corpses, and a visibly shaken mayor flashed across the screen. Reporters spoke in hushed, horrified tones about Project G.O.T.H.A.M., how its exposure could bring down Gotham's entire political elite.
Joker, wearing his usual satisfied smirk, poured himself a drink, watching the footage with a childlike delight. He grabbed a second glass out of habit—one for Harley. But just as he went to pour, he paused. His green eyes flickered with realization, then amusement.
"Oh, right," he mused, tilting his head. "Almost poisoned the kid."
With a shrug, he poured extra for himself, raising the glass in a mock toast before taking a long, indulgent sip. "Guess I'll drink for the both of us."
Harley, perched on the arm of the couch, rolled her eyes but smiled. Her hand brushed over her stomach briefly before she crossed her legs, trying to play it cool. She still hadn't fully processed everything yet.
Just then, the penthouse doors swung open, and in walked Jonny Frost. Dressed in his usual leather jacket and slacks, he had the unmistakable look of a man who had something important to say—but also wasn't sure how to say it.
Jonny stopped mid-stride, his gaze flicking between them. His sharp eyes narrowed on Harley.
"You ain't drinking tonight, Harl? Do I need to call a doctor?"
Harley chuckled but before she had time to answer Joker, grinning like the devil himself, and cut in.
"I knocked her up."
Joker leaned back, swirling his drink, relishing Jonny's reaction.
Jonny blinked. Then blinked again. He looked at Harley, then at Joker, waiting for the joke.
But Joker wasn't joking.
The realization hit him like a truck.
"Oh, shit." Jonny exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "That's… wow. Congrats, Harl."
Harley grinned, shooting him finger guns. "Thanks, Jonny-boy."
Jonny turned to Joker, still processing. "And you're—cool with this?"
Joker tilted his glass lazily, his eyes twinkling. "Cool? I'm ecstatic. My legacy, my little protégé. A new Prince—or Princess—of Gotham."
Jonny let out a low whistle, nodding slowly. "Huh."
Then, Joker's grin faded. He leaned forward, his voice dangerously soft.
"And if you breathe a word of this to anyone before we're ready, I'll cut your tongue out and use it as a bowtie."
Jonny cleared his throat. "Got it."
Shaking off the shock, Jonny took a deep breath. "So… anyway. That's not why I'm here."
He pulled out a folder, dropping it onto the table.
"The crime families are freaking out," he explained. "Project G.O.T.H.A.M. put all their dirty laundry on display. But there's one guy—one boss—who ain't scared. Actually, he's got the balls to request a meeting with you."
Joker arched a brow, intrigued. "A meeting?"
Jonny nodded. "Wants to talk business. Thinks you and Harley are causing 'too much noise.'"
Joker let out a slow chuckle. "Well, that just won't do."
Harley twirled a strand of hair around her finger, smirking. "So, what's the plan, Puddin'?"
Joker leaned forward, his grin growing wider. "We accept, of course. But…" His voice dropped into a mockingly refined tone. "We make it a dinner party."
Harley's eyes lit up with excitement. "Ooooh, I like the sound of that."
Joker clapped his hands together. "We hijack the restaurant, make it a night to remember! Fine wine, five-star meals, and a little… entertainment."
Harley giggled, already plotting. But as she leaned back, a sudden wave of nausea washed over her. For the first time since learning she was pregnant, she felt a flicker of uncertainty.