Fic: Betrayal at the Ballot
Title: Betrayal at the Ballot
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
Notes: This was not written to offend or provoke any silly political discussions, just cracky for my own twisted amusement. My Fellow World Citizens, I just want us to come together and celebrate hot, nasty sex in all its forms.
Summary: On the night of the 2008 United States election, the Joker makes a terrible mistake.
Bruce Wayne stood despondent in a red, white, and blue colored booth. He had been staring at a ballot for over twenty minutes and still wasn't sure if wanted to vote for his party's candidate. Unfortunately he didn't really want to vote for the other guy either.
Once again he debated going home and not voting at all. This election seemed a farce, both candidates just lying politicians. Would it make him too jaded to just walk away? A bad, apathetic citizen? Would it violate the memories of those who had died for his right to vote? Did it matter?
Bruce thought of his father. Kind, fair, always giving to the less fortunate. Ideals upon which every society should be built. If only Thomas Wayne were here now, he would be able to impart some sound advice. As if on cue, a voice popped into his head. He recalled something his father had said to him when he was just a young boy.
"Bruce, sometimes we have to make unpopular decisions in order to do what's right."
Then it hit him, a third party candidate! He could choose someone who actually stood for something and appease his voting guilt at the same time.
The playboy cast his vote, winked at the reporters clamoring for his attention outside the building, and drove away satisfied.
-------------------------------------------------
The Joker loved election years. People were highly polarized and thus even easier to fuck with than normal. He had spent the previous week planting bombs and spray painting "Joker for President" on every political sign he saw. GCN had even ran a few of his threatening tapes, for days the airways were buzzing with slogans like "Joker, why so serious 2008" and "Vote for Joker if you value your pointless existence".
In keeping with his election-themed fun, there were bombs hidden at almost every voting station in the city. When the polls closed they would go off, destroying whoever was left in the buildings and every single ballot. Gotham officials were going to sorely regret not switching to an electronic voting system.
A row of hench-clowns stood quietly against the wall while the Joker paced back and forth, twirling a detonator in his gloved hands. They had taken one of the voting stations hostage, guns were leveled at a small group of reporters and some ordinary citizens unfortunate enough to have chosen the last minute to vote. They whimpered helplessly in a corner, all eyes trained on the shuffling madman before them.
The demand had been made. Wanted or not, if Batman didn't show up before the polls closed everyone would die. The Joker was considerate enough to have chosen the building located between Union and Cross Street, not downtown as he had originally planned. There were plenty of tall buildings and side streets in this part of town, yet it was still open enough to make a quick get-away if one had fancy enough gadgets. Batman would be able to escape if the cops showed up to ruin their fun.
The Joker giggled. Batman, Batsy, Bruce Wayne. Batman who could crack his skull with lightning speed. Batman whose constant state of irritation was endless fun. Batman who never seemed to tire of bending him over and fucking him as though both their lives depended on it. Truthfully he didn't care about the election or if his plot even worked, chaos would ensue regardless. What he cared about was Batman showing up furious enough to engage in what was, by far, the best part of these little plans. The hate sex.
It had started harmlessly enough, a well-placed grind of the hips one night when the bat was punching him. He had not expected it to turn into a slathering, desperate grope session that left them both sweaty and sated. After that, Batman's sanity seemed to fracture at an accelerated rate. He broke right down to Bruce Wayne, who then splintered even further as he proved that he couldn't keep his hands off the Joker. The hate sex just got better and better.
Their nights had become a blur of pain and bliss. Broken nails and pleading sobs, wet skin and fervent hands. Batman pounding him, acquiescing to the clown's every demand of harder, harder, harder.......
He could hardly wait to play the game again. The Joker absently licked his lips as he thought of their last encounter....
"Yes, yes, yes, Brucey, let it out. You need this. Puuuuurge yourself heh heh heh."
Bruce's hands fumbled into his pants, finding him hard and leaking. Shoved against a brick wall, he could feel every inch of that muscled body touching him. Oh yes, lick his salty skin, the vain bastard wore cologne even when he went out as Batman! The weight of Bruce's gaze crushed him, Batman threatening to consume them both.
"You need this just as much, you sick freak." One firm stroke...two.....Oh God....
"Wait...Bruce..I..." Too late. The pressure started down low and radiated outward. With a shout he exploded all over those kevlar gloves, convulsing in indescribable pleasure, chanting Bruce's name over and over and over. When his trembling subsided he lifted his head with a smile.
"Heh, sorry, you just get me, um, sooooo excited."
He could have sworn Bruce almost smirked. Almost.
It was always so, so very perfect, and Bruce always cloaked himself in the most delicious shame afterwards. He wore it so plainly, the Joker could practically climax all over again. Although even that didn't turn him on as much as the sounds.
The sounds.
Bruce never deigned to speak full words, instead expressing everything with deep moans and angry grunts. He would always groan desperately at the critical moment, following up with a small cry at every wave, every pulse of ecstasy wrung out of him.
And now that he had discovered Batsy's penchant for being bitten, the Joker was certain that tonight he would have the bat graduate to vocalizing actual sentences. Tonight they would crash together, tumble and burn like two stars ripping into the atmosphere. He could barely contain himself, not even caring if the growing bulge in his pants was hidden by the purple coat.
Right on time, Batman crashed through the skylight, entering the room a black blur surrounded by shards of glass. He pulled himself up to his full height, projecting pure intimidation.
"Let them go."
"BRUCE," the Joker warbled, "Are you here to, um, make a pledge to my campaign? I'm afraid, Brucey, it's not going very well. I seem to only want to talk about the dead issues!" He dissolved into a fit of laughter, then proceeded to launch into a mouth-foaming dissertation on the hypocrisy of modern man and the futility of democracy.
He was about three sentences into his sermon when the Joker noticed that the tone of the room had tangibly changed. The hostages were no longer mewling but sitting forward looking intensely interested, especially the reporters. His clowns were shrugging and whispering to each other. Batman was just....standing there, jaw dropped looking completely stunned.
Heh heh, maybe this erection is visible after all. Well, let 'em look! What did these sheep think? That he wasn't capable of this? That he thought this election was anything other than a total joke?
"Nothing, sweetheart? Bat's got your tongue, Bruceyyyy....OH!" The Joker slapped a hand ruefully over his scarred mouth, suddenly realizing his error.
He had just outed Batman.
The vultures descended. Cameras started flashing. With no regard for their own lives, the reporters started hurling questions at the pair.
"Do you two know each other personally?"
"Batman, is your real name Bruce?"
"What do you think about the economy? The environment?"
"Batman, who are you voting for?"
The two masked men just stared at each other. Mouth set in a grim line, Batman wore the expression of a high-school sweetheart who had just been dumped.
"Bruce, can you tell us your last name?"
That did it. Motivated by the thought of Batman being taken away from him, the Joker hurled himself at his nemesis with a speed only reserved for the truly insane. They both went flying out of the second story window and into a large, green dumpster on the street. Before Batman could recover, the Joker reached up, tugged the cover down, and pulled the key on the detonator.
The building next to them exploded, littering the street with debris. The pair popped out of the dumpster and regarded the ruined, smoking husk of an edifice next to them. Everyone inside was certainly dead, even the Joker's own henchmen. A small price to pay for the secret of Batman's identity.
Even covered in garbage Batman oozed pure rage and, perhaps, a little relief.
"Hiiiiiiii," the Joker began guiltily, "sorrrrrrrry."
He received a full force punch to the face.
"ACCIDENT! It was an accident, Brucey, baby, honest. I told you I get excited! I, ah, I just wasn't thinking!"
Bruce stalked silently towards the tumbler, the clown babbling at his heels.
"Batsy, sweets, don't be mad. Well..heh, um, be mad but don't be mad about this. It won't happen again, I'm a man of my word!"
His head was abruptly slammed into the side of the vehicle and his hands were cuffed behind his back. The bat have been getting wise to his tricks as his hands were tied again, this time with a rope as well.
"Don't even think about trying to escape, I'm taking you back to Arkham," the gravely voice seethed. Ooooo, he was pissed, the Joker could feel himself getting hard again.
The tumbler was not built for two people so he was unceremoniously wedged into the small space next to Batman. They rode for a while in awkward silence. He hadn't seen the bat this solemn since he killed what's-her-name. He seemed too hurt and angry even for hate sex. Dammit.
But THIS was why the Joker claimed to never have any plans. The idea had failed, but now he would give Batsy a few weeks before he escaped from Arkham. A few weeks to stew about this and Bruce would be pissed off and paranoid beyond measure. The hate sex would be better than ever.
So the only course of action left was to be as annoying as possible for the remainder of the ride.
"Hey, Bats, Brucey, look at me. Look, listen, I said, um, I was sorry, okay? It was a good idea though, right? I wonder if the other bombs went off! Ha ha ha....."
Bruce continued to stare straight ahead.
"C'mon, c'mon, you know I appreeeeciate you! It's the rest of the world that's twisted! Tell me you didn't take part in it, tell me you didn't waste your time voting when you could have been beating me up."
No response.
"Oh, you did, you rich asshole. Who, who, who, tell me! You voted for the corrupt one, didn't you? The guy with all the bad ideas?"
"No," Bruce spoke in his normal voice, cracking the briefest of smiles, "I wrote in Batman."
The Joker's laughter could be heard all the way to Arkham.
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em
Notes: This was not written to offend or provoke any silly political discussions, just cracky for my own twisted amusement. My Fellow World Citizens, I just want us to come together and celebrate hot, nasty sex in all its forms.
Summary: On the night of the 2008 United States election, the Joker makes a terrible mistake.
Bruce Wayne stood despondent in a red, white, and blue colored booth. He had been staring at a ballot for over twenty minutes and still wasn't sure if wanted to vote for his party's candidate. Unfortunately he didn't really want to vote for the other guy either.
Once again he debated going home and not voting at all. This election seemed a farce, both candidates just lying politicians. Would it make him too jaded to just walk away? A bad, apathetic citizen? Would it violate the memories of those who had died for his right to vote? Did it matter?
Bruce thought of his father. Kind, fair, always giving to the less fortunate. Ideals upon which every society should be built. If only Thomas Wayne were here now, he would be able to impart some sound advice. As if on cue, a voice popped into his head. He recalled something his father had said to him when he was just a young boy.
"Bruce, sometimes we have to make unpopular decisions in order to do what's right."
Then it hit him, a third party candidate! He could choose someone who actually stood for something and appease his voting guilt at the same time.
The playboy cast his vote, winked at the reporters clamoring for his attention outside the building, and drove away satisfied.
-------------------------------------------------
The Joker loved election years. People were highly polarized and thus even easier to fuck with than normal. He had spent the previous week planting bombs and spray painting "Joker for President" on every political sign he saw. GCN had even ran a few of his threatening tapes, for days the airways were buzzing with slogans like "Joker, why so serious 2008" and "Vote for Joker if you value your pointless existence".
In keeping with his election-themed fun, there were bombs hidden at almost every voting station in the city. When the polls closed they would go off, destroying whoever was left in the buildings and every single ballot. Gotham officials were going to sorely regret not switching to an electronic voting system.
A row of hench-clowns stood quietly against the wall while the Joker paced back and forth, twirling a detonator in his gloved hands. They had taken one of the voting stations hostage, guns were leveled at a small group of reporters and some ordinary citizens unfortunate enough to have chosen the last minute to vote. They whimpered helplessly in a corner, all eyes trained on the shuffling madman before them.
The demand had been made. Wanted or not, if Batman didn't show up before the polls closed everyone would die. The Joker was considerate enough to have chosen the building located between Union and Cross Street, not downtown as he had originally planned. There were plenty of tall buildings and side streets in this part of town, yet it was still open enough to make a quick get-away if one had fancy enough gadgets. Batman would be able to escape if the cops showed up to ruin their fun.
The Joker giggled. Batman, Batsy, Bruce Wayne. Batman who could crack his skull with lightning speed. Batman whose constant state of irritation was endless fun. Batman who never seemed to tire of bending him over and fucking him as though both their lives depended on it. Truthfully he didn't care about the election or if his plot even worked, chaos would ensue regardless. What he cared about was Batman showing up furious enough to engage in what was, by far, the best part of these little plans. The hate sex.
It had started harmlessly enough, a well-placed grind of the hips one night when the bat was punching him. He had not expected it to turn into a slathering, desperate grope session that left them both sweaty and sated. After that, Batman's sanity seemed to fracture at an accelerated rate. He broke right down to Bruce Wayne, who then splintered even further as he proved that he couldn't keep his hands off the Joker. The hate sex just got better and better.
Their nights had become a blur of pain and bliss. Broken nails and pleading sobs, wet skin and fervent hands. Batman pounding him, acquiescing to the clown's every demand of harder, harder, harder.......
He could hardly wait to play the game again. The Joker absently licked his lips as he thought of their last encounter....
"Yes, yes, yes, Brucey, let it out. You need this. Puuuuurge yourself heh heh heh."
Bruce's hands fumbled into his pants, finding him hard and leaking. Shoved against a brick wall, he could feel every inch of that muscled body touching him. Oh yes, lick his salty skin, the vain bastard wore cologne even when he went out as Batman! The weight of Bruce's gaze crushed him, Batman threatening to consume them both.
"You need this just as much, you sick freak." One firm stroke...two.....Oh God....
"Wait...Bruce..I..." Too late. The pressure started down low and radiated outward. With a shout he exploded all over those kevlar gloves, convulsing in indescribable pleasure, chanting Bruce's name over and over and over. When his trembling subsided he lifted his head with a smile.
"Heh, sorry, you just get me, um, sooooo excited."
He could have sworn Bruce almost smirked. Almost.
It was always so, so very perfect, and Bruce always cloaked himself in the most delicious shame afterwards. He wore it so plainly, the Joker could practically climax all over again. Although even that didn't turn him on as much as the sounds.
The sounds.
Bruce never deigned to speak full words, instead expressing everything with deep moans and angry grunts. He would always groan desperately at the critical moment, following up with a small cry at every wave, every pulse of ecstasy wrung out of him.
And now that he had discovered Batsy's penchant for being bitten, the Joker was certain that tonight he would have the bat graduate to vocalizing actual sentences. Tonight they would crash together, tumble and burn like two stars ripping into the atmosphere. He could barely contain himself, not even caring if the growing bulge in his pants was hidden by the purple coat.
Right on time, Batman crashed through the skylight, entering the room a black blur surrounded by shards of glass. He pulled himself up to his full height, projecting pure intimidation.
"Let them go."
"BRUCE," the Joker warbled, "Are you here to, um, make a pledge to my campaign? I'm afraid, Brucey, it's not going very well. I seem to only want to talk about the dead issues!" He dissolved into a fit of laughter, then proceeded to launch into a mouth-foaming dissertation on the hypocrisy of modern man and the futility of democracy.
He was about three sentences into his sermon when the Joker noticed that the tone of the room had tangibly changed. The hostages were no longer mewling but sitting forward looking intensely interested, especially the reporters. His clowns were shrugging and whispering to each other. Batman was just....standing there, jaw dropped looking completely stunned.
Heh heh, maybe this erection is visible after all. Well, let 'em look! What did these sheep think? That he wasn't capable of this? That he thought this election was anything other than a total joke?
"Nothing, sweetheart? Bat's got your tongue, Bruceyyyy....OH!" The Joker slapped a hand ruefully over his scarred mouth, suddenly realizing his error.
He had just outed Batman.
The vultures descended. Cameras started flashing. With no regard for their own lives, the reporters started hurling questions at the pair.
"Do you two know each other personally?"
"Batman, is your real name Bruce?"
"What do you think about the economy? The environment?"
"Batman, who are you voting for?"
The two masked men just stared at each other. Mouth set in a grim line, Batman wore the expression of a high-school sweetheart who had just been dumped.
"Bruce, can you tell us your last name?"
That did it. Motivated by the thought of Batman being taken away from him, the Joker hurled himself at his nemesis with a speed only reserved for the truly insane. They both went flying out of the second story window and into a large, green dumpster on the street. Before Batman could recover, the Joker reached up, tugged the cover down, and pulled the key on the detonator.
The building next to them exploded, littering the street with debris. The pair popped out of the dumpster and regarded the ruined, smoking husk of an edifice next to them. Everyone inside was certainly dead, even the Joker's own henchmen. A small price to pay for the secret of Batman's identity.
Even covered in garbage Batman oozed pure rage and, perhaps, a little relief.
"Hiiiiiiii," the Joker began guiltily, "sorrrrrrrry."
He received a full force punch to the face.
"ACCIDENT! It was an accident, Brucey, baby, honest. I told you I get excited! I, ah, I just wasn't thinking!"
Bruce stalked silently towards the tumbler, the clown babbling at his heels.
"Batsy, sweets, don't be mad. Well..heh, um, be mad but don't be mad about this. It won't happen again, I'm a man of my word!"
His head was abruptly slammed into the side of the vehicle and his hands were cuffed behind his back. The bat have been getting wise to his tricks as his hands were tied again, this time with a rope as well.
"Don't even think about trying to escape, I'm taking you back to Arkham," the gravely voice seethed. Ooooo, he was pissed, the Joker could feel himself getting hard again.
The tumbler was not built for two people so he was unceremoniously wedged into the small space next to Batman. They rode for a while in awkward silence. He hadn't seen the bat this solemn since he killed what's-her-name. He seemed too hurt and angry even for hate sex. Dammit.
But THIS was why the Joker claimed to never have any plans. The idea had failed, but now he would give Batsy a few weeks before he escaped from Arkham. A few weeks to stew about this and Bruce would be pissed off and paranoid beyond measure. The hate sex would be better than ever.
So the only course of action left was to be as annoying as possible for the remainder of the ride.
"Hey, Bats, Brucey, look at me. Look, listen, I said, um, I was sorry, okay? It was a good idea though, right? I wonder if the other bombs went off! Ha ha ha....."
Bruce continued to stare straight ahead.
"C'mon, c'mon, you know I appreeeeciate you! It's the rest of the world that's twisted! Tell me you didn't take part in it, tell me you didn't waste your time voting when you could have been beating me up."
No response.
"Oh, you did, you rich asshole. Who, who, who, tell me! You voted for the corrupt one, didn't you? The guy with all the bad ideas?"
"No," Bruce spoke in his normal voice, cracking the briefest of smiles, "I wrote in Batman."
The Joker's laughter could be heard all the way to Arkham.