Critiques - Fanfic
Title: Critiques
Author: 1bad_joke
Disclaimer: Strictly for entertainment purposes. Suing is laughable.
Prompt: Role Reversal
Pairings: Batman/Joker
Summary: "The Joker" has taken the Gotham Cineplex hostage and demands "The Batman" to attend a private screening.
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: This was written strictly last minute, and I'm sorry to say I didn't make it in time. I wanted to just throw this up there though.
Stationed atop Wayne Enterprises paced the city's Dark Knight. The weight of the suit dragged with him; cape whipping from side to side; boots stomping and kicking up gravel. The sun had fallen from the sky hours ago, and he was here to witness it. Too eager to start the night.
"Come on, come on, come on..." became his mantra for the evening. Police radio buzzed in his ear: Robbery taking place at La Salle and 31st; domestic dispute at the Walgreens down town; an underage drinking party busted.
"That's it?" he spat, once again resisting the urge to scratch at his smooth cheeks. He came to a stop at the edge and peered down, squinting to distinguish the people and shapes washed in sepia. Where were the muggers to start out with- the shoot outs- the car chases- the fun?
As if the clouds parted and someone heard his anguish, the radio waves flooded with shouts and frantic orders. Apparently Gotham's favorite mad man had taken the entire theater captive and demanded a private screening with the Batman. No confirmed deaths. Hearing this last tidbit set him over the edge. He leapt from the building -briefly forgetting he had wings to save him from the plummet- and sailed through the air, wind crashing against his face. He grinned despite his current mood; this had to be a hundred times better than sticking your head out of a squad car window racing down Main Street.
Slicing through the night air, he reveled in the acid-dripping butterfies swarming in his gut and waved with a goofy smile at the pedestrians looking up to gape. He soon became too distracted with showing off and didn't realize with gliding, your air time only lasts so long. Roof tops growing closer and closer till he remembered he didn't quite know how to land. "Fuck." He winced -pushing his arms ahead to protect his face- and skidded across the concrete; an exhaust vent helping him crash to a stop. He simply laid there for a moment, dry heaving laughs. He soon rolled onto his stomach and climbed to his feet.
"Jeez, this thing weighs a ton." He limped across the stretch of ground and eyed the gap between him and the next building. Running and jumping would probably end badly; the heavy armor hindering him from picking up the proper speed and gravity taking its toll mid-jump. He imagined it would be like Wiley Coyote bounding over a cliff's edge, running but going nowhere until he looked around and down and Buh-Bye! A whilstling fall to a drop that never ever killed him.
Screams shattered the night's calm. A woman in unappealing sweats was running down the alley below; a thug with a knife tearing after her. They rivaled with the noise transmitting to his ear. He looked back and forth between the path ahead and the thug eventually catching up to her. A small whine pushed from him as he stepped off and landed on the asphalt with a dull thud. This had to be taken care of quickly. Feeling around his utility belt, his hand brushed over a familiar hold. "Now we're talkin," he breathed and pulled the gun from it's holster.
"Someone please help me!" the woman shrieked, kicking and thrashing under the man's weight pinning her against the wall.
He held his tongue, remembering it wasn't in character to announce a clever quip before apprehending his prey. "Crime fighting is so... serious." So he took aim and fired. "What the?" A black cable shot from the barrel and snared the thug around the waist.
The other two parties froze -screaming dying in her throat- and turned their attention to him. "Batman!" she sighed with relief.
"Shit!" The thug pulled at the cord, at the same time backing from the woman to make a run for it.
Yawning, he yanked on the line and reeled the man back. The cuffs were snapped and the thug left on the sidewalk. He stored the man's face in his memory for future employment.
The woman exclaimed her highest gratitude. "Thank you!" She had to fawn over him.
"Yeah, whatever," he gruffed and made his ungracious exit.
It took twenty minutes to arrive to the cineplex -once he figured out the mechanics of the grapple gun- and another ten to scale the building under the cops' radar and break through the skylight. By the time he eased onto the floor a small army of clowns surrounded and held him at gun point. Panting, he groaned and stood his ground. Too exhausted to fight.
"Well if it isn't the Bat-man?" He turned to see the host skulking along the concession counter, twirling a knife is his gloved hand. The purple suit on that muscled form brought a weak smile to his lips.
"Joker," he replied in a forced baritone.
Red lips curled. "Boys, why don't you, uh, run along and keep our guests downstairs company."
"He isn't speaking with enough tongue," he noted in his head.
Guns withdrew and the clowns trailed down the hall, never turning their backs on the Bat. "Good boys," he murmured, dropping the knife in the trench's pocket. "So... you're here!" He stomped on the glass case of candy and held his arms out in a grandiose fashion. Smile white and perfect. "Took you long enough."
"You picked somewhere across town!" the man in the suit growled. "It's not like I had a batmobile to ride in on."
Black-circled eyes narrowed. "That's not what it's called."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. This thing weighs ridiculous. I don't know how you do it." Sweat trickled from underneath the cowl, dissolving the adhesive and fake skin curling on his cheeks. "The thing's hotter than a motherfucker. The last time I agree to your kinks..."
"Awww..." The clown face wilted, as he hopped down and stalked over. "You and I both know that's not true. You didn't even do it right anyways."
"Excuse me?" Bat ears tilted; a quirking eyebrow and a leering snarl. "Mind running that by me again?"
"It took you forever to get here for one; 2) You fall through a skylight and just stand there. My men could have easily killed you-"
"Pardon? My men."
"What were you doing just standing there?"
"Tired." He could barely lift his arms to peel off the rest. "Not everyone can be pure muscle like you, Brucey." He grinned, pulling the pinstriped waist closer. The first time "The Joker" stood a couple inches taller than his arch-nemesis. "Besides, you're a terrible me."
Bruce pulled back; a shocked expression on his painted face. "It's not like you're difficult to pull off."
A bark of laughter came from the newly excavated scarred mouth. "Please, I'm insulted my men took you for me so easily. The scars are a bit on the costumey side; the warpaint is just a bit too perfect; for fuck's sake Bruce, you ironed my shirt." He flicked at the crisp collar.
"Is that all?" He spat, crossing his arms.
"This-- what is this crap?" He pinched a lock of hair, rubbing out the green to reveal a rich brown.
Bruce smacked the glove away, scowling. "I'm not going to dye my hair green for one night."
"There's no dead bodies either." He sneered, looking around at the clean take over.
"I told you; I'm not going to kill anyone." A darkness flickered in Bruce's eyes.
The Joker sighed, clearly disappointed but it's not as if he expected any different from the man."I know... not everyone can be as perfect as me. Don't blame yourself," he said with a smirk. His hand slid up Bruce's side and cupped his face, black thumb stroking and smudging to more of his liking. "Also, what the hell is this scheme of yours about? We gonna watch Slumdog?"
"Not exactly..." A sly grin smoothed across his cherry lips. He nuzzled into the other man's touch. Seeing someone else dawning the cowl and cape was extremely odd yet exciting. "I arranged a private screening of a home movie."
"That so?"
"Yep." He popped the "p."
"What about interruptions?" His mind whirled with the diverse library of home films they kept under lock and key. The nurse in the interrogation room was his particular favorite.
"Well I made it clear the bombs at the exits were heavily monitored and set to go off if anyone came near." He rolled his eyes at the bad lie but the police bought it regardless, not taking any risks. "And I told the boys if either of them came to bother me for whatever reason, I'd jam his dick into a blender and force feed him the protein shake."
Anyone looking upon this scene would think it disturbing to see the vigilante cackling in the face of the clown. "Now that's sounds more like me!"
"Joker..." Bruce frowned, running his purple hand across the scratches and nicks on the kevlar plates. "What happened to the suit?"
He wasn't about to admit he did a face plant into a roof top just to get here, so he merely shrugged. To finally have his Brucey wearing his face wasn't as great when he was wasting it on concern and frowning. "Smile, baby. You're making me look bad. Nothing happened, alright?" He neglected to mention he had to save an "innocent" which Bruce would just gobble up. It was a humilating turn of events. "How bout we, uh, get on with the show?" He was eager to shed the dead weight and be his old, wiry self again. All this bulk was very unbecoming but bedazzling on the brunette. He grinned wickedly at Bruce, only for it to fall when the man in his arms appeared suspicious yet despondent. "What's the matter?"
"You look miserable," he grumbled like a sulking child.
"Only because this thing's a death trap. More your style."
"Ha. Ha." He answered dryly. "You know I'm not good at this stuff."
"Of course, you aren't!" The Joker chuckled and brushed aside his companion's glare. "You're trying to be like me! Don't quit your night job, huh? ... oh don't look at me like that." He trailed soft kisses up Bruce's neck -the receiving end absently tipping his head back to allow better access- and traced the jaw. Licks of white streaking his chin and lips. "Just lead the way," his best Bat-impression rumbled into Bruce's painted ear.
A laugh fell from Bruce's pursed lips. "I do not sound like that!"
"Yes, you do." Joker was relieved to drag a smile from him, but damned if he be called a liar. "You've always sounded like you've gurgled glass for the first twenty years of your life when you do that."
"Suuuuurrre..." He nodded, wiping away stray tears and smearing black.
A harsh growl tore from his throat as The Joker grabbed Bruce by the throat and threatened his breathing. "Stop. Laughing."
Bruce merely laughed more in his face, playing along with the joke.
"The Batman" only throttled him more and -gathering his strength- threw the clown to the floor. It was really something else to be the giver than the taker.
He rolled around -clutching his stomach- and surrendered to the easy amusment. When the other started to stalk towards him, ready to dance their dance, he scrambled to his feet and took off down the hall. "Come and get me, Bat!" He hollered over his shoulder with another peal of laughter. Purple tails whipping from the speed.
The real Joker watched in total awe. He hadn't expected Bruce to play along so easily. The laughing in his face bit didn't particularly sit well with him, but he had a way to deal with that like the Bat always did. With a feral grin, he chased after and hungered to take out of his frustrations as the top.