Frown | A Joker Leto Fanfiction | SEQUEL TO 'SMILE' | {BWWM}

T E N

~ We're A Team ~
~ day 13 ~
• C H E Y E N N E •

I take a deep breath, taking in the scent of the room. There was his scent, mixed with mine. Sweet and musky, soft and harsh, dancing together in what seemed like perfect harmony. It wasn't even disrupted as Dahlia and Graham come into the room behind me, as a matter of fact, the aura seemed to waltz around them, ignoring their presence completely. I watch as Dahlia and Graham examine the expanse of it, awed by the floor to ceiling windows and the dark purple satin sheets and the black velvet comforter.

"This place reeks of rich asshole. It's almost vomit inducing," Dahlia grumbles, raising her hand to seemingly feel the air before turning to look at me. I could tell she felt that aura I was talking about that.

"This is where you've been living?" Graham asks, dropping an empty duffle bag on the bed before slowly walking around the room to take in everything carefully. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he began to pick up and examine items around the room. It was like his second nature to examine every little thing about someones personal belongings, even when he wasn't meaning to and he was so good at it. "None of this is your stuff."

I chuckle at his matter of fact tone, nodding. I move toward the dresser and begin pulling my stuff out and tossing it near or on top of the duffel bag. "This is Joker's bedroom. I was staying here cause he doesn't sleep here often."

"Where does he sleep?" Graham asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he picks up a bottle of Woodford Reserve that was sitting on top of the fireplace, next to the empty champagne bucket.

"He has some place in the hills. There. With his girl, probably," I mutter, my jaw clenched as I eye the champagne bucket and my mind begins to wander to the first time he ever brought me here. That night was what started a quick downward spiral.

I press a single kiss to a spot right below the tattoo on his stomach. I could feel him tense, even though it was ever so slight. His hand smooths over my hair, giving me a warm, comforting feeling for a moment. When he chuckles, I look up at him, mustering the most innocent of looks before giving him a smile and sliding his dress shirt off of his shoulders. "What, J?"

"I'm not telling you," he chimes, his grin disappearing behind the glass of champagne that I had previously been sipping from. I roll my eyes, hands dropping into my lap, pretending to be disappointed while he seemed so smug. Little did he know, what I really wanted was lying on the floor by his feet.

"Fine," I pout, narrowing my eyes at him. He checks my chin with his forefinger and gives me a chuckle before turning away from me and towards the dresser with the champagne bucket on it. With his back turned to me, I lean forward picking the dress shirt up off the floor. When I saw the lipstick stain, my suspicions were confirmed. "You smell like a female."

I could sense the fear like a tigress could smell fear on its prey. I watch as he stares at himself in the mirror above the dresser. His jaw clenches as he pulls the bottle of Dom Perignon out of the bucket, pulls out the cork, and takes one big swig, mustering the courage to give me the dumbest excuse he could give. "I've been in your apartment for the last two weeks. You don't expect me to smell like I usually do, do you?"

I almost felt insulted. I smelled like Yves Saint Laurent, always. I knew, and he knew, I smelled better than any woman he's ever been with.

"You must think I'm stupid," I scoff, pulling my pistol out from behind the pillow of the chaise I was sitting on. I take slow steps toward the window, watching the sunset, tracing the horizon with the barrel of my pistol. "You have that nasty orange lipstick on your finger, on your neck, on your collar."