Arthur's eyes bleared open and sickness was the first thing he was aware of.
Lots and lots of sickness and a terrible throbbing headache.

As soon as he was capable of thought -- it took a while for him to get passed how incredibly shitty he felt, and his drunken sleep may as well have been a coma -- he tried to piece together the events of the previous night.
Not trusting his own mind was problematic as it meant he didn't quite trust his memory either. There was definitely gaps and his hangover was slowing him down.

Okay so how had he gotten into this state to begin with?

The imported vodka given to him by King? Well, he couldn't really blame him, after all he hadn't forced Arthur to drink it.

Why had he drank it? His nerves. In which case it was nobody else's fault except his own. If he could just man-up and fully embrace his Joker persona then he wouldn't have needed to rely on alcohol and therefor wouldn't be lay here feeling like crap in...

where was he exactly?

Alice's house?

He figured he had to still be in Alice's house, but he had no clue about how he got from the sofa to here.
A bedside lamp lit the unfamiliar room, and a quick peek out of the window beside the single bed he was in, confirmed that it was still dark out.
It had to be her place, she wouldn't have kicked him out in the middle of the night, she was much too kind to do anything so drastic. Although he wouldn't blame her if she had. It also wouldn't come as any great surprise to him if he hadn't completely blown things with her now, after all, who wanted a drunken loser for a boyfriend?

Oh, wait. He wasn't technically her boyfriend. They'd mutually agreed not to label their evolving relationship.

It had been five days since that conversation took place.

After the ride on the Ferris wheel was over, Arthur had taken Alice into the Fun House to show her his HQ and to introduce her to some of his new gang members.
However, whilst Alice's knee boots and dress were an incredibly sexy outfit they were also completely impractical. As soon as she'd taken one look at the revolving tunnel she knew she'd never make it through without spraining an ankle, and if she had, by some miracle, then it would inevitably happen on one of the tipping floors or moving stairways.
So Arthur had sent for a goon who proceeded to shut it down, enabling them to go upstairs safely to what was now the office, and introduce his beloved to Ace and Ten.

Alice had seemed a little quiet, Ace a little stand-offish but she usually always was, and Ten was his usual chatty, easygoing self. In fact he was so easygoing Arthur found himself envying his ability to be so laid back and cool.

After that he'd sent for Jack and instructed him to take Alice home. Not only did Jack have his own car so he wouldn't attract too much attention like he no doubt would if he'd used Blake's, but Arthur also trusted Jack to keep Alice safe.
And to his credit, the loyal henchman had.

Two days later while Arthur had sat repeatedly rolling up his shirtsleeve, looking at the telephone number Alice had written on his forearm in pen before she'd left, Ace had spotted him and encouraged him to just call her already.
Ten on the other hand, advised Arthur to play it cool and wait at least three days before calling her. Ace had then thrown a stapler at Ten and proclaimed him to be a dick, insisting that a nice girl deserved better than to be kept waiting while a guy dicked around playing mind games.

So Arthur had taken her advice, picked up the phone and dialled the number.....

"Hello?"

"Hey, Alice. It's me Arthur."

"Arthur I know it's you. I know your voice by now." She giggled.

Arthur felt a peculiar mix of embarrassment and elation.
She knew him. She knew the sound of his voice. She hadn't forgotten what he sounded like.

"Oh right, yeah." He faked an awkward chuckle. "How are you? You been up to much?"

"Yeah, I'm doing good thanks. I've actually been pretty busy."

"Yeah? That's great."

"How are things with you?"

"Oh they're fine. Uh, so listen....I was wondering when you might want to see me again? No pressure though, because if you're busy--"

"I'm not too busy for you, Arthur."

Arthur's heart gave a twinge, as if it were connected to strings and her words just tugged on them. She wasn't too busy for him. This statement was enough to make him want to punch the air in triumph, but he refrained due to the office door having opened at that precise moment, and King strutted in.

"Oh, uh, that's really great. So I was thinking maybe I could come over sometime soon? I can't wait to see you again."

"Sure. Whenever you like. I'm looking forward to seeing you too." Her smile was audible in her tone and it made Arthur's heart soar.

"How 'bout tonight?"

At that, King spoke up, throwing a spanner into the works...

"Hold on there Romeo, we've got to get everything finalised for this upcoming bank job. If you're not here we can't make the decisions that need to be made. This is your operation after all."

Arthur placed his hand over the mouthpiece so he could respond without Alice overhearing. "Can't we do that tomorrow?"

King shook his head. "Hardly. It takes time to plan these things. If it's rushed or done sloppy things go wrong. You'll realise that once you've had a bit more experience."

Feeling chastised, Arthur nodded grudgingly. "Okay, so tomorrow then?"

"Hm, that's still cutting it a bit fine wouldn't you say?"

"Well when then?" Arthur demanded, and the sharp edge in his voice was enough to make both Ten and Ace stop work and look up.

King looked thoughtful, taking his time as he took a drag on his Cuban cigar. "Friday?" He suggested eventually. "Friday could work."

Arthur frowned, darting a perplexed look at Ten and then Ace, before returning his gaze back to King. "But Friday is the day before the bank heist."

"And?" King gave a carefree shrug of his Guci-clad shoulders. "All the loose ends should be tied up by then."

Confused by King's contradictions but not wanting to keep Alice waiting, Arthur turned his full attention back to her.

"Alice? Um, is Friday good for you? I'm sorry I'm kinda busy until then."

There was a slight pause before she responded. "Oh uh, that's okay. Friday evening isn't a problem but I've got a job interview in the afternoon."

"You have? That's great news! What's the job?"

"Oh it's just bar work, nothing special. But it's better than nothing, right?"

"Oh." Arthur said, suddenly feeling a lot less happy for her. "Uh, okay. Yeah I guess so."

Hearing his deflated tone, Alice responded knowingly. "I know it's far from ideal, Arthur. I don't deal well with people but I don't have much of a choice. Work is hard to come by these days."

"I...I know." He said leadenly, momentarily feeling yet another stab of guilt for the part he played in her having lost her job. "So....I'll come by Friday evening then, and you can tell me all about it?"

"Yes, sounds great. I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see you then."

When Friday afternoon had rolled around and all the strategising and meticulous planning had been done, King had pulled Arthur to one side for a word in private...

"Listen fella, I've been thinking about your little ruse to throw the cops off your scent and figured taking a few extra precautions might be a good idea. So, how about this....I get one of the boys to wear your suit, and in full makeup, he leaves in your car? Brilliant huh? That's the perfect decoy, giving you chance to slip out in Jack's car, wearing a clown mask, completely undetected."

Arthur listened patiently before pointing out, "Actually Jack was going to drive me while I lay down on the back seat."

"Hey do that if you like, you're the boss. But either way it wouldn't hurt to take extra measures to avoid being followed or raising suspicion, am I right?"

"Yeah...I guess you are."

Whether he consciously meant to or not, Arthur couldn't help admiring King. Despite him coming across as a bit of a slick, smug bastard, he was unarguably affluent as well as enviable. He had made a career for himself in illegal arms dealing, as a broker in fact, the middle-man with a computer and a phone. He was also married to Queen, the final member of the Royal Flush Gang. She was a beautiful but deadly assassin, trained in espionage and reportedly had once worked for the KGB.
They made a formidable pair, and while Ace was wary of them both -- naturally she was wary of everyone, being a dirty cop herself -- Arthur had been dazzled by the glamour, knowledge and experience of the power couple, especially King.
At the age of 45, he was only a few years older than Arthur himself, and he looked up to him as a kind of surrogate older brother.

It was this admiration that had led him to disclose a few things to the successful businessman in confidence, such as his anxiousness around females and complete ineptitude when it came to leading a criminal organisation.

"Relax fella, you'll learn. It just takes time, it's not the kind of thing you become good at overnight." King had assured him. "I can give you a few pointers along the way. Don't worry, I won't steer you wrong."

With such reassurance, Arthur felt much more at ease, believing himself to be safe following King's guidance. However when it came to the matter of relationships, he already felt foolish for having shared such a personal problem with someone so much more experienced with women.

"Here, this'll help."

Arthur looked down at the glass bottle containing clear liquid that was being handed to him. Taking it, he read the label and frowned. "Vodka? How is that going to help?"

Throwing his arm around Arthur's shoulders he gave him a clap on the back. "Not just any old vodka, this stuff is the best. Consider it Dutch courage. A few glasses of this and you won't be anxious around your new lady friend. Trust me. It worked for me."

Arthur raised a brow sceptically. "It did?"

"Absolutely! You just ask Queenie, she'll tell you." Leaning in he whispered secretively in Arthur's ear. "I would never have been brave enough to ask her on a date if I'd been stone cold sober at the time! This stuff is like fucking courage in a bottle."

Arthur accepted the bottle dubiously, still not wholly convinced drinking was the solution. In fact, what if it ended up leading to further problems? "I can't drink tonight, King. Got an early start tomorrow."

King gave a flippant hand gesture. "So sit this one out. That's what you got goons for. Spend the night with your little lady."

"I'd love to, but I can't do that. I sat the last job out like you told me to and I can't miss another one." Arthur argued. "It looks bad."

"It was the first job, Artie-boy, you had to sit it out. Too much at stake. What's the hurry anyway? You need to have a little patience. Watching and learning is good experience."

"But isn't experience good experience too? If I'm gonna be the Clown Prince of Crime I gotta step-up, King."

King clicked his tongue. "Fine if that's what you want to do. Like I said, you're the boss."

Arthur made to hand the bottle of alcohol back to him. "Yeah and I better not drink this, I'll need a clear head."

King scoffed, refusing to take it back. "Geez Artie, don't sweat it. I'm not telling you to drink the whole damn bottle, you only need a couple' glasses. That won't be enough to get you drunk. It'll just help you relax and not disappoint....if you know what I mean?" Nudging Arthur in the side, he grinned and winked conspiratorially.

Arthur's face burned in shame. "Y-yeah, I get it." He'd then broken into a sudden, yet thankfully short, fit of awkward laughter.

None of the gang or goons knew about Arthur's condition, and so far, whenever it had happened whoever was present laughed along, assuming it to be his warped sense of humour.

That evening Jack had dropped him off at Alice's place, and Arthur danced up the driveway, filled with confidence.
Admittedly, he always was more confident when wearing his makeup, but the swigs of booze had most definitely added to it. Deciding to play it safe, he'd opened it during the car journey and drank straight from the bottle, believing he was consuming a lot less than a glass or two.

No sooner had Alice opened the door and he was on her.
Large hands cupping her face tenderly as he claimed her beautiful lips in a deep, spine-tingling kiss.
Her reaction had been one of pleasant surprise. She had also been surprised to see him wearing the white t.shirt, grey hoodie and black pants as opposed to his suit, while donning his Joker face paint.

"Oh it's all part of a ruse." He'd told her. "One of the guys borrowed my suit to trick the cops. Neat huh?"

"Yeah, aren't you clever." She'd giggled as they'd made their way upstairs.

Arthur shamelessly took the credit for what had been King's plan. He liked Alice thinking he was clever, and he was on a roll so he wasn't going to admit it wasn't his idea.

"I'll go and wash this off now, okay?" He'd informed her, indicating to his makeup. "I know you like to see me without it."

Before Alice had left the fairground during her visit, she'd happened to comment that as much as she liked Joker, she also really liked Arthur, and enjoyed seeing him without the face paint too.
And she had smiled at him gleefully when he'd told her of his intentions to wash, seemingly grateful that he'd taken her feelings into consideration.
What she didn't know was this was precisely the kind of thing that had spurred him into drinking the vodka. He simply didn't feel bold enough yet to kiss her, to make the first move, when he was just plain old Arthur.

After that things had gone well enough. Swimmingly well in fact, from what he could remember. Apart from encountering a difference of opinion regarding Alice wanting to take the bar job, everything was fine.

That was until everything became a blur.

Arthur scrunched his brow now in concentration, which resulted in his monstrous headache hurting even more.

They'd danced...hadn't they? And then sat down together to watch a movie. He couldn't remember what the movie was or what they talked about. The only thing he could recall was about halfway through the movie, there'd been a rather steamy make-out session on the couch. Shit, he was remembering that only too well now, and he wanted to cry with sheer frustration. Why couldn't he remember what happened next?
Had he passed out?
Fuck.
How fucking embarrassing.

Feeling too antsy and agitated now to be still, Arthur threw the comforter back and did his best to get out of the bed without throwing up.
His best it seemed wasn't good enough, and he was overcome by a wave of nausea.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way his guts twisted and turned violently. Breathing slowly, he made his way to the bedroom door while trying to keep swallowing, but his throat kept clenching. No matter what, despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop the sickly feeling rising through his chest. Then he was tasting it at the back of his mouth.

Stumbling along the hallway in the dark, he felt his way along the wall blindly, in search of the light switch, all the while his stomach feeling like a set of bag-pipes being vigorously squeezed.
At last he found a switch, which conveniently turned out to be the bathroom light, giving him just enough time to rush towards the toilet, drop to his knees and cling to the bowl as if it were the last life raft on a sinking ship.

Maybe once he was sick he would feel better, he hoped, as with a heaving lurch of his stomach, he couldn't prevent the stream of rancid liquid that spewed from his mouth.

"Oh god..." He muttered to himself between retching.

Just then there was a soft knocking on the bathroom door, which he'd only partially closed.

"Arthur? Are you okay?"

It was Alice's voice but Arthur couldn't respond, as he was mid-retch and although he was trying to be quiet, being sick quietly was a physical impossibility.

"Arthur.....you're being sick."

"Uugh, n-no I'm...f-fine." He insisted, gasping for air.

"Really? You don't sound fine."

Behind him Arthur heard the door being pushed wide open and internally screamed. The last thing he wanted on earth was for Alice to see him like this. Straining and retching and shaking, crouched on the floor, leaning over the toilet bowl, heaving his guts up.

"Oh, Arthur. You look even less fine than you sound."

Hastily Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then immediately wished he hadn't, because honestly, what must she think of him? But he didn't want her seeing him dribbling either.

"I...I'm okay....I'm okay." He repeated over and over between gasps, as she joined him in the bathroom.

"You don't have to act the macho man for my benefit, sweetie. Just let me help you."

Distracted by her having called him sweetie, Arthur wasn't able to object to her pressing the flush on the toilet and rubbing a hand on his back comfortingly.

"I'm so sorry." He exhaled shakily. "You really don't have to do this."

"I know. But as gross as it is, I want to be here for you."

"Are you out of your mind?" He managed, half-joking.

Alice laughed. "Possibly. It's the affect you have on me. Seriously though, I want to help you."

Taking a washcloth from the side of the bathtub, she soaked it in cold water and carefully wiped his face and mouth with it. "Stop worrying. I've seen a lot worse."

Arthur smiled a watery smile. "That isn't much of a comfort right now."

She laughed again, brushing his hair from his face, then pressed the cooling cloth to his warm forehead. "It would be if you'd had to deal with some of the stuff I've cleaned up in the past."

As soon as Arthur felt confident enough to stand, she helped him to his feet where he sat down shakily on the toilet seat, holding the cloth over his closed eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said again. "I'm an idiot. I don't usually drink."

"That explains a lot then. But you're not an idiot, we've all been there." She assured him. "Is there anything else I can get you at all? Anything?"

Peeling the cloth away he blinked up at her and noticed for the first time what she was now wearing. It was some sort of grey and pink pyjama set, made up of a little vest top and rather short shorts, accentuating her long, bare legs.

Damn. Why did he have to feel so crappy right now? He would've given anything to be able to pull her into his arms and ravish her.

"Hello, earth to Arthur?" She waved a hand in front of his face, smiling nervously. "You still with me? I said is there anything I can do for you?"

There was no question in his mind that there was plenty she could do, but he couldn't exactly risk voicing his inappropriate thoughts or zoning out again. So instead he smiled lazily and asked if he could take a bath, and maybe have a glass of milk.

"Of course, no problem."

She quickly set about running him a bath, then went off downstairs to pour him some milk, leaving him alone to undress and try and calm his fevered thoughts.

By the time Alice returned she found him half-dressed, his trousers still on but unzipped, and shirtless. It was a sight she stupidly hadn't been prepared for, and it took all her self-restraint to keep her hands and eyes to herself.

Classy, Alice. She reprimanded herself mentally, eyeing-up the poor guy when he was sick and looked like he was in serious need of a hug -- a hug, nothing more -- real classy.

Once the tub was filled, she left Arthur to finish undressing, and he climbed in, the blissfully hot water instantly soothing him as he sank down, submerging himself right up to the chin in the soapy foam.
It was still bothering him that he couldn't remember all of the details prior to him passing out. He knew if he wanted to assuage his fears then he'd have to ask Alice, but that wasn't something he felt he could face at the moment. He was tired, and annoyingly still feeling sickly as hell. Although the bath made him feel a little better, and the milk settled his stomach.

Like all people, Arthur hated being sick at the best of times, and as he rarely got sick, he wasn't accustomed to the toll it had taken. His throat felt raw from all the retching and his stomach muscles ached. Even after languishing in the bath long after the water turned lukewarm, he certainly wasn't able to just jump out and go about his business. No, all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball, and sleep for as long as he could before it was deemed hibernation.

"What time is it?" He asked Alice, when he emerged to find her sitting in the living room, nursing a cup of half-drank coffee.

"Just coming up on 2:00am."

Arthur groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. "The last thing I remember was being on the couch and it wasn't all that late. What happened?"

"Well I went downstairs to make you a black coffee to help sober you up, but you must've dozed off while I was gone. I let you sleep awhile, then I woke you and walked you to the spare room. You pretty much passed out as soon as your head touched the pillow."

Arthur fiddled anxiously with the large knot in the towel which hung around his waist, protecting his modesty. It was all he had left now that his dignity was long gone.
"You shouldn't have bothered and just left me on the couch."

"Why when there's a perfectly good bed in the second room now? I actually found it in the basement, can you believe I didn't even know it was down there? One of the neighbours helped me fetch it up."

There was a long pause while Arthur tried to find the words he wanted to say next. He wanted to say so much, like how he was a fucking idiot for getting drunk and then falling asleep on her couch, and how he was furious with himself for having ruined a promising evening.

But then she yawned, and he realised how sleepy she looked. He'd taken up enough of her time as it was, so he smiled weakly and simply said, "I'm sorry for being so much trouble. I don't want to keep you up."

She drained the last of her coffee and stood up. "Don't worry, Arthur. It's okay. Stop apologising." Walking toward the door she picked up the folded pair of pyjama pants from the back of the chair and handed them to him.

He looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "Don't you want me to leave?"

"Leave? At 2am? Of course I don't, why would I?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I messed things up."

Shaking her head she smiled and gently took him by the hand, leading him from the room. "You haven't messed things up. But we can talk about it more later if you like. Right now though I think we both need to get some sleep."

Too exhausted to resist, Arthur let her lead him down the hallway, but like a slave to his emotions he somehow managed to muster the courage to find his voice and speak out before they parted ways.

"Hey, uh, Alice?"

"Hm?" She let go of his hand, stopping just outside of the door to the spare room.

"Can I sleep with you?"

The breath caught in her throat. She had not been expecting that.
But his genteel demeanour and puppy dog eyes made him look so innocent that her heart melted. There was no way he meant it in a sexual sense, in fact that was a thought Alice didn't even dare entertain. Shit. If he was actually suggesting sex whilst being so alarmingly underdressed, well, who knew how sorely tempted she might be.

"Y-you mean you want to share my bed with me?"

He nodded, tired green eyes latching onto hers.

It'll be fine. It's no big deal. He respects me. She reasoned with herself.
Besides he was looking utterly drained and still a little green around the gills. Rest was probably more on his mind right now than exertion. And this was Arthur for heavens sake! Her sweet, innocent Arthur. He wouldn't proposition her, he wouldn't make any unwanted advances. They were a 'thing' now, so why couldn't the two of them share a bed in a perfectly innocent way? It didn't automatically mean it would lead to sex. They were a way off that kind of thing yet.

"Uh, okay then Arthur, sure."

Swallowing hard, all Arthur could do was smile back, suddenly bereft of speech.
She hadn't refused. He'd been bold and asked, and she hadn't rejected him.
He couldn't believe it. For the first time in his life he was about to sleep next to a girl. Not just any girl, but his beloved Alice, and the prospect thrilled and terrified him in equal amounts.

He knew he wouldn't sleep. The insomnia hardly ever allowed him more than a few hours of sleep and that only ever happened occasionally. But just being permitted to lay next to her, be close to her, and dare he even hope, hold her in his arms? Was more than enough. It meant everything to him. So much in fact, that he would refuse to sleep even if he could, because he didn't want to miss one precious minute of it.