Magnus had just gotten home they were tired. After all, work was taxing and all they wanted to do was order some takeout, relax and sleep. They dropped their jacket at the door, beside the coat hangers, running their hands over their face, letting out an exasperation. It was okay, everything was okay, now. They were home, Gotham was locked out on the other side of the door.

That was what they thought, until they heard all too familiar humming coming from the kitchen. No, no, not him. He was the last thing they needed right now.

They cautiously walked into the kitchen, wide eyed as they saw The Joker cooking away, wearing a 'comical', green 'kiss the cook' apron. It was almost like he could sense them there, turning around and grinning at them. "Ah, lambchop, there you are You've been out awfully late. I was scared that if I started cooking it would've gone cold!" He announced, before his expression twisted into an almost sadistic sort of smile instead, "Call it a chef's initiative. He turned around, going back to watching the fizzling slab of meat in the pan, jabbing at it and flipping it over with his spatula.

Ever since Harley Quinn had left him, his next attached had become Magnus; he would be insistent on their 'undeniable' chemistry, before intruding and disappearing for a while again. It was strange, and hard to understand after all, he was an unpredictable, sadistic bastard.