My Favourite Game - Chapter 2
Title: My Favourite Game
Author: elvis_a
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: G through NC-17
Chapter 2/??
Summary: "There was no such thing as self-control anymore. The Joker laid the trap and Batman came running back every time, helplessly wrapped up in a game of 'catch the clown'."
Chapter 2 - Playing Rough:
"This isn't a Batcave," the Joker frowned. "I always thought you'd live in a secret underground lair. This is disappointingly... mediocre." The Batmobile pulled up to a modern cabin along a private gravel road. The cabin sat on a lake, docks overlooking calm waters. Across the lake, houses dotted the edge of the land, too far away to make out more than a blur jutting out of the landscape. Although it bore the rustic feel of the surrounding scenery, it was lavish for a vacation getaway, and the second story featured a sunroof and a wrap-around balcony, among many other modern luxuries.
"Do you honestly think I'd be foolish enough to bring you home with me? You are crazy."
"I'm not, I'm just..." he trailed off.
"This is my vacation cabin. I come fishing here in the summer. It is an uncharted, secured location and is owned under a false name. It's safe here."
"Now what kind of man owns his own secret vacation lair? Oh, right. Batman," the Joker frowned, likely at the idea of Batman lazing out on the docks, decked out in full fishing gear. Such a human thing to do.
Batman almost would have laughed, knowing what was going through the Joker's mind. He almost would have indulged in a moment of amusement, had it not been for the given circumstances. "Let's get this straight, Joker. Do you know why you're here?" there was no smile on Batman's face.
"Oh, you mean we're not honeymooning?" the Joker batted his eyelashes, feigning a look of innocence. "And here I was thinking you were going to woo me."
"You have two options and about two seconds to shut your mouth. Either you can help me, as pathetic as that truly is, or I can toss you in the lake and leave you for dead. If you're not here to work with me, you're useless to me." Batman turned to face the Joker, who had the look of a child who'd just been smacked. "What's it going to be?"
"Ouch! Harsh, Batman. Don't say things you can't take back!" the Joker stuck out his bottom lip in a pout that was comically juxtaposed against his carved smile.
"Enough of this, Joker. You're just wasting my time!" Batman growled in frustration at the Joker's inability to see reason.
"Do you remember before Batman was a marked man? Free to patrol the streets of Gotham, depended on by the people of this city?" he licked his lips. "Well, I remember. What about when you spent all those sleepless night waiting...waiting for Gotham's call but they never wanted you- who needed you then? I needed you, even when this city pushed you to the back burner. You're always waiting on these people, but who is it that waits for the Batman?" he gave a feeble laugh.
"I don't need anyone to need me," even as the words escaped his lips, he didn't believe them, but he managed to let his voice be a sign of his confidence to save face. He knew that the Joker wasn't convinced, either. That's why they were here, and they both knew it. That's why Batman relied on the Joker not only to make the people of Gotham City feel just a little less safe at night, but to keep crime on the streets to leave him coming back for more. It was a sick thought, one that made him loathe not only the Joker and everything he stood for, but himself as well. He wished he wouldn't entertain such notions, but the mask couldn't hide him from himself.
The Joker laughed, a maniacal laugh that erupted in a fit of giggles. It made Batman feel exposed, uncomfortable. The fury boiled inside him for even considering turning to the Joker for assistance. He wanted to take up his post again as the Dark Knight, but if Gotham didn't need him anymore, what could he do? He knew if he didn't keep the Joker under control it was only a matter of time before he let loose on the city again, and when he did he wanted them to call on Batman. It was selfish and foolhardy, but if he could just pull it off maybe Gotham would be that much safer.
Maybe somehow he could use the Joker to his benefit and then use this opportunity to frame him and turn him over to the police. It was only as sick as the mind games the Joker had been playing with him, so what was the harm? If he could get the Joker wrapped around his finger he could serve him the justice he deserved at last. He could make the people of Gotham need him again. This time, it was Bruce who smiled, but Batman hid it well behind his mask.
"Get out!" Batman roared, leaning across the Joker to push open the passenger side door of the Batmobile. He grabbed the clown-faced man by the neck of his coat and gave him a shove, sending the Joker toppling out of the vehicle and onto to the ground. This wasn't going to be an easy feat, but if he could pull it off without losing his own mind, he could somehow justify it.
Batman parked the Batmobile inside the garage- locking it by security code- and met the Joker at the front of the house. "Listen good," he growled dangerously, "we're gonna lie low here for a bit, until we get this sorted out." Yeah, sorted out. That's what this was all about. He blocked out the guilt itching in the back of his mind, for now. It's not like he was teaming up with the Joker, no. He'd rather be dead. This was something far more complex, something he didn't fully understand. This was how he'd turn the tables around, to beat the Joker at his own twisted game.
"We?" the Joker perked up, bouncing on his heels excitedly. It was times like these he looked less like a psychotic killer and more like an emotionally-wounded child. It made Batman sick to his stomach.
"I'm only going to tell you this once, so listen up." He closed in on the Joker like a hawk to its prey. "I don't trust you. Whatever this is, nothing changes between us. We're still enemies."
"I want to cause chaos. You want me to cause chaos. We're on the same page, Batsy. Two sides of a coin, heh, if you will. We're practically partners in crime!"
"Enough! I am on the side of justice! And trust me, Joker, you will get yours," Batman unlocked the door to the cabin and deactivated the alarm. He flipped on the overhead lights to reveal a modern, lavishly-decorated loft with a natural feel to it- complete with oak furniture, accented with ferns, and even a waterfall. No detail was left spared, and Bruce realized now how extravagant it was for a cabin in the woods he visited once a year, now that the Joker was here, scrutinizing every corner as if it were the fanciest place he'd ever seen.
"We'll see," the Joker grinned again, making Batman hot with anger. "Fancy place for an outlaw," Joker's eyes darted around the room in suspicious reverence. Undoubtedly this was far more extravagant than wherever he was holed up when he wasn't staying in Arkham, and certainly a world of difference from the padded cell that awaited his return.
"I would tell you to make yourself comfortable, but you're not a guest. Sit," he pointed to a sofa at the room's center.
"Some host you make," Joker grumbled, but grudgingly complied.
"I'm keeping you here to keep you off the streets. Who knows what madness you'd get yourself into? We're playing by my rules, as long as you stay here. No crime, no secrets. I own you, as far as I'm concerned."
"But Batsy, what's in it for me, in this little game of yours?" a flash of excitement in his eyes revealed he was enjoying himself all too much.
"You tell me. You're the one with the sick Batman fetish."
The Joker visibly licked his scarred lips.
---------
Bruce pulled a pan of pizza out of the oven, feeling overwhelmingly aware of the Batsuit encasing him, stifling him. Sweat rippled over his body in rivulets, the kitchen thick with heat. He had never wanted to rip the suit from his body so badly, and he felt foolish now for bringing the Joker here, knowing he would be trapped as the Batman as long as they stayed here.
He served the food onto a plate, lingering for a moment. The Joker would be hungry, too. After all, he was merely human underneath the makeup and madness. He dished out a second plate. They had been here for a couple of hours already, and he had showed the Joker to his room and locked him in as securely as possible. It was late now, and had it not been for the unusual circumstances, Bruce Wayne would have been sound asleep in his room back at the penthouse.
Walking to the second floor, plate of food in hand, he knocked on the first door at the top of the stairs, a small but rather nice room with a balcony and a view. He supposed the Joker had a place to stay somewhere when he wasn't at Arkham, and yet he found it difficult to picture the Joker anywhere that didn't involve a dark alley or a rooftop. Although Bruce didn't trust him here, he would give it a night to see what happened- a decision he knew he would regret from the start in going against his better judgment.
He faltered a moment in front of the door, listening to the Joker mumble to himself, too quietly to hear what he was saying. He gave a knock.
"A visitor? Oh, who could it be?" his next words were whispered quietly, right up against the door. "I hope it's Batman."
"Do you eat?" Bruce leaned against the wall nonchalantly. "I made pizza."
"Ooh, how thoughtful of you," the Joker pulled the door open a crack, just his bright green eyes peeking through, and a sliver of his twisted smile. "You are a gentleman after all, Batman. And here I was, thinking you were a despicable host."
"I don't want to be responsible if something happens to you here." Bruce held the plate of pizza out, and Joker opened the door all the way. He was still wearing his button-down shirt- the first few buttons undone- and green vest, but removed his shoes to walk around in argyle socks. His purple coat lay folded neatly on the bed.
Joker bridged the gap between them, accepting the plate of food before setting it on the nightstand. He paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side as if trying to read Batman. He broke into a smile, "Oh, I knew you cared, Batman." Bruce chose to ignore that comment. "Wanna join me? I'll put on something nice and we'll make it a date."
"No thanks. I've got...things to do. Stay in here tonight. If you step foot out of this room I'll put you straight back in Arkham."
"You won't," Joker giggled. "Wanna know why?"
"Not really," Batman frowned, growing impatient, but also fixated enough to stay, fascinated by the madman so that he felt drawn to him, like watching a train wreck, though he'd never admit it to himself.
"You won't bring me back to Arkham because you need me, Batman. You need me so bad it terrifies you. You don't want to lose me Batman, because when you do- you lose. There is no Batman without Joker," he was standing very close now, unsettlingly close, and Batman could feel the Joker's breath on him, could breathe him in. He smelled surprisingly good, like expensive cologne, and in such close proximity Bruce couldn't keep himself from inhaling, taking it all in before he could stop himself.
"You like?" Joker grinned seductively. "I stole it from one of my victims, right after I killed him. He had expensive taste."
"You're disgusting," Batman grabbed the Joker by the collar of his shirt. The Joker groaned, and drops of sweat formed on his brow.
"So we're playing rough, are we? Just the way I like it," his tongue darted out to lick his mangled lips, drawing Batman's focus to them, grotesquely fascinating.
The Batsuit was suffocating him, and sweat streamed down his face, visible even on the parts not covered by his cowl. He was too stifled, too restricted. He wanted to rip the suit right off of his body, whether the Joker was there or not. Though he restrained himself, his frustration was growing, and he was ready to take it out on the Joker if he needed to.
He pulled the clown-faced man close to him, their faces mere inches apart "I. Don't. Need. You.," he spat out.
Joker leaned forward a little, resting his forehead against Batman's, still in his grasp. Bruce's blood was boiling. He could feel the Joker's body heat. He could see the makeup smeared across his skin. This was the closest they'd ever been, and for the first time Batman could see that the Joker was young, maybe even younger than himself. He could feel his pulse, and he saw the Joker's breath coming and going in short little gasps, his chest rising and falling with each one. The Joker was...excited? He was almost sure of it. He wanted to pound his face in, the disgusting freak clown.
"Then why do you want me so bad?" he laughed, but it was not the maddening shriek he normally laughed, but one much more primal. He never got a response. Still in in his death grip, Bruce raised the Joker up and tossed him to the floor with more force than he should have wasted on him. He didn't hear the Joker groan as he writhed on the ground. He didn't look back at all.
----------
That night as Bruce lay in bed, his mind was so clouded with thoughts that he couldn't sleep a wink. It wasn't that he was afraid of what the Joker was capable of doing while Bruce slept, but the growing guilt nagging in the back of his mind that he just couldn't shake. He was keeping the Joker from the authorities, not to mention hiding out with him as a fellow outlaw. How could he ever justify this? Was this how low he was willing to descend now that Batman was thought to be nothing more than a criminal?
His body broke a sweat, and his pajama pants and t-shirt clung to his muscular frame. Tossing and turning in uncomfortable frustration, he threw the bedsheets to the floor. How could he let himself lose sleep over this? Joker was the psycho, not him. And yet he found his presence to be maddening. In the few short hours they had been here together, he felt the vestiges of his sanity quickly slipping away. A digital clock on the nightstand beeped to alert him that it was 3:00 AM.
After what seemed to be hours of staring at the clock, Bruce's eyelids started to droop shut until he couldn't keep them open any longer. He was ready to let sleep overcome him at last, not content in his current situation but tired enough to let these thoughts drift somewhere to the back of his mind. That was how it all began.
"Batsy?" merely a whisper in the night, almost left unnoticed by Bruce who was drifting off to an unsettling sleep. He sat upright in the bed, his instincts kicking in so he was keen and alert.
Joker.
Protected by the cover of darkness, Bruce dared to slip out of bed and over to the door where he heard the wooden floorboards creaking from the hallway. The Joker was right outside of his door, despite being locked into his room on the other side of the hall only a couple hours ago. He was sure of it.
The Joker would be standing on the other side, mere inches away from where he leaned carefully against the door to get a better listen. He could almost hear the other man's breath, could almost feel his presence. A cold chill jolted his nerves, pumping blood through his veins and making his pulse thrum erratically. It was a serious lapse in judgement to underestimate the Joker, and many who did made it the last thing they'd ever do. This was no ordinary villain on his hands. He was dealing with an equal, in many ways- a man who was just as vigilant, unstoppable, and perhaps even more volatile than himself. He didn't fear the Joker- but he didn't understand him, and that meant whatever the Joker had to throw at him would be unpredictable and incalculable.
Not to mention the guy was just too damn good at picking a lock.
He waited for what felt like an hour, ear pressed against the door, bracing himself for Joker to make even the slightest move so he could throw the door wide open and teach him a lesson or two about following rules. He waited, but there was no sound, no movement.
"Joker?"
Still silence. The suspense was dripping as Bruce stood in waiting.
"Joker, don't move!" he threw the door open violently, deciding suddenly to spring into attack. His eyes weren't fully adjusted to the night, and the hallway was dark and still. He felt around with his hands, his normally-astute senses failing to pick up anything at all. The hallway was empty.
Flipping on the first light switch he could get his hands on, the hallway flooded with light that stung his eyes. He looked down at his bare feet, where his gaze followed up to his pajama pants. "Shit!" he turned the light off at lightning speed. If the Joker had been in the hall, Bruce would have just revealed his identity in a moment of sheer stupidity.
"Damnit, Joker!" Bruce drove his fist into the wall in frustration. He slipped quietly back into his room, donning the Batsuit in record time. He couldn't risk being seen without it again.
The Joker was playing head games with him, and he wasn't about to stand aside and let himself get wound up in the whims of a demented clown. Bruce had made an astronomical mistake to bring the Joker here. Not only was he begging for whatever trouble the man would surely throw his way, but he was wrong to believe he could keep him in line and beat him at his own game. There was no reasoning with a madman, and even if Bruce could somehow use the Joker as a pawn against himself, he would still get burned in the end.
There was a time when Batman cared only about doing the right thing. Things had changed so drastically from the days when Gotham would call on him, and he was their Dark Knight in waiting, always prepared to serve justice to those who had it coming. Now he was an outlaw. Taking the blame for Harvey Dent's downfall was the most moral thing he'd ever done, but now he knew it wasn't about doing the right thing, but doing what would make things right. Sometimes you have to take the low road to get there, but as long as the outcome is good and the intentions are there, somehow he could justify his actions.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Bruce made his way down the hallway and toward the door at the top of the stairs where he had left the Joker hours ago. The door was shut, no light coming from within. Everything was maddeningly silent. Bruce tried the doorknob but it was locked. Extracting the key from a compartment on his utility belt, he quietly unlocked the door and let himself in.
Inside, the curtains were drawn wide open, moonlight flooding in and glistening over every surface. Bruce could see the lake just beyond the window, and everything suddenly seemed so peaceful and still. Bruce's eyes adjusted to the moonlight, and he could make out the room- the empty dresser, the bare nightstand, a big cushy armchair, and the small single bed. This room had been kept very simple and scarce, something he was thankful for now that he was utilizing it as a cell for the most dangerous man in Gotham City.
"This reminds me of that dream I always have where Batman comes in the middle of the night and ma-"
"Joker, I told you not to leave this room!" Bruce could see the Joker more clearly now. He was spread out on the bed, still done up in his shirt, vest, and purple slacks. Bruce made a mental note to bring him some pajamas. The two of them must have looked foolishly overdressed for such a casual setting- Joker in his suit and vest, and Bruce in his Batsuit.
"But I had to go potty, Batsy," the Joker pouted at him in the dark. "Besides, I wasn't planning on LEAVING! No, no, no. Could have done that hours ago. That's my ah, specialty, if you will. No, I'm not ready to leave yet. I'm having too much FUN, don't you see? That's why I shut myself back in here like a good boy."
"I don't care if you want to leave. I won't stop you. But I won't have you wandering around like this is your house. You are a prisoner, Joker. I can bring you back to Arkham right now if you're not willing to cooperate."
"Jeez, Batsy. I wasn't going to KILL you or anything. If I wanted to do that, I could have just-"
Bruce took two long strides over to the bed. "You'll be lucky if you make it out of here alive, scum!" he grabbed the Joker by the arms and threw him effortlessly off of the bed. Joker landed face-down, sliding across the carpet and hitting his head on the corner of the dresser with a crack. He made no effort to move.
"You won't kill me, Batman" Joker lifted his head up to flash Bruce a disgusting grin, as if he hadn't noticed or cared that he'd been tossed to the floor. Blood poured from a gash on his forehead, streaming over his face in rivulets. The Joker winced as the blood dripped into his mouth. He didn't spit it out, but let his head drop back to the floor.
"Don't bet on it."
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1: Cat and Mouse
Author: elvis_a
Pairing: Batman/Joker
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: G through NC-17
Chapter 2/??
Summary: "There was no such thing as self-control anymore. The Joker laid the trap and Batman came running back every time, helplessly wrapped up in a game of 'catch the clown'."
Chapter 2 - Playing Rough:
"This isn't a Batcave," the Joker frowned. "I always thought you'd live in a secret underground lair. This is disappointingly... mediocre." The Batmobile pulled up to a modern cabin along a private gravel road. The cabin sat on a lake, docks overlooking calm waters. Across the lake, houses dotted the edge of the land, too far away to make out more than a blur jutting out of the landscape. Although it bore the rustic feel of the surrounding scenery, it was lavish for a vacation getaway, and the second story featured a sunroof and a wrap-around balcony, among many other modern luxuries.
"Do you honestly think I'd be foolish enough to bring you home with me? You are crazy."
"I'm not, I'm just..." he trailed off.
"This is my vacation cabin. I come fishing here in the summer. It is an uncharted, secured location and is owned under a false name. It's safe here."
"Now what kind of man owns his own secret vacation lair? Oh, right. Batman," the Joker frowned, likely at the idea of Batman lazing out on the docks, decked out in full fishing gear. Such a human thing to do.
Batman almost would have laughed, knowing what was going through the Joker's mind. He almost would have indulged in a moment of amusement, had it not been for the given circumstances. "Let's get this straight, Joker. Do you know why you're here?" there was no smile on Batman's face.
"Oh, you mean we're not honeymooning?" the Joker batted his eyelashes, feigning a look of innocence. "And here I was thinking you were going to woo me."
"You have two options and about two seconds to shut your mouth. Either you can help me, as pathetic as that truly is, or I can toss you in the lake and leave you for dead. If you're not here to work with me, you're useless to me." Batman turned to face the Joker, who had the look of a child who'd just been smacked. "What's it going to be?"
"Ouch! Harsh, Batman. Don't say things you can't take back!" the Joker stuck out his bottom lip in a pout that was comically juxtaposed against his carved smile.
"Enough of this, Joker. You're just wasting my time!" Batman growled in frustration at the Joker's inability to see reason.
"Do you remember before Batman was a marked man? Free to patrol the streets of Gotham, depended on by the people of this city?" he licked his lips. "Well, I remember. What about when you spent all those sleepless night waiting...waiting for Gotham's call but they never wanted you- who needed you then? I needed you, even when this city pushed you to the back burner. You're always waiting on these people, but who is it that waits for the Batman?" he gave a feeble laugh.
"I don't need anyone to need me," even as the words escaped his lips, he didn't believe them, but he managed to let his voice be a sign of his confidence to save face. He knew that the Joker wasn't convinced, either. That's why they were here, and they both knew it. That's why Batman relied on the Joker not only to make the people of Gotham City feel just a little less safe at night, but to keep crime on the streets to leave him coming back for more. It was a sick thought, one that made him loathe not only the Joker and everything he stood for, but himself as well. He wished he wouldn't entertain such notions, but the mask couldn't hide him from himself.
The Joker laughed, a maniacal laugh that erupted in a fit of giggles. It made Batman feel exposed, uncomfortable. The fury boiled inside him for even considering turning to the Joker for assistance. He wanted to take up his post again as the Dark Knight, but if Gotham didn't need him anymore, what could he do? He knew if he didn't keep the Joker under control it was only a matter of time before he let loose on the city again, and when he did he wanted them to call on Batman. It was selfish and foolhardy, but if he could just pull it off maybe Gotham would be that much safer.
Maybe somehow he could use the Joker to his benefit and then use this opportunity to frame him and turn him over to the police. It was only as sick as the mind games the Joker had been playing with him, so what was the harm? If he could get the Joker wrapped around his finger he could serve him the justice he deserved at last. He could make the people of Gotham need him again. This time, it was Bruce who smiled, but Batman hid it well behind his mask.
"Get out!" Batman roared, leaning across the Joker to push open the passenger side door of the Batmobile. He grabbed the clown-faced man by the neck of his coat and gave him a shove, sending the Joker toppling out of the vehicle and onto to the ground. This wasn't going to be an easy feat, but if he could pull it off without losing his own mind, he could somehow justify it.
Batman parked the Batmobile inside the garage- locking it by security code- and met the Joker at the front of the house. "Listen good," he growled dangerously, "we're gonna lie low here for a bit, until we get this sorted out." Yeah, sorted out. That's what this was all about. He blocked out the guilt itching in the back of his mind, for now. It's not like he was teaming up with the Joker, no. He'd rather be dead. This was something far more complex, something he didn't fully understand. This was how he'd turn the tables around, to beat the Joker at his own twisted game.
"We?" the Joker perked up, bouncing on his heels excitedly. It was times like these he looked less like a psychotic killer and more like an emotionally-wounded child. It made Batman sick to his stomach.
"I'm only going to tell you this once, so listen up." He closed in on the Joker like a hawk to its prey. "I don't trust you. Whatever this is, nothing changes between us. We're still enemies."
"I want to cause chaos. You want me to cause chaos. We're on the same page, Batsy. Two sides of a coin, heh, if you will. We're practically partners in crime!"
"Enough! I am on the side of justice! And trust me, Joker, you will get yours," Batman unlocked the door to the cabin and deactivated the alarm. He flipped on the overhead lights to reveal a modern, lavishly-decorated loft with a natural feel to it- complete with oak furniture, accented with ferns, and even a waterfall. No detail was left spared, and Bruce realized now how extravagant it was for a cabin in the woods he visited once a year, now that the Joker was here, scrutinizing every corner as if it were the fanciest place he'd ever seen.
"We'll see," the Joker grinned again, making Batman hot with anger. "Fancy place for an outlaw," Joker's eyes darted around the room in suspicious reverence. Undoubtedly this was far more extravagant than wherever he was holed up when he wasn't staying in Arkham, and certainly a world of difference from the padded cell that awaited his return.
"I would tell you to make yourself comfortable, but you're not a guest. Sit," he pointed to a sofa at the room's center.
"Some host you make," Joker grumbled, but grudgingly complied.
"I'm keeping you here to keep you off the streets. Who knows what madness you'd get yourself into? We're playing by my rules, as long as you stay here. No crime, no secrets. I own you, as far as I'm concerned."
"But Batsy, what's in it for me, in this little game of yours?" a flash of excitement in his eyes revealed he was enjoying himself all too much.
"You tell me. You're the one with the sick Batman fetish."
The Joker visibly licked his scarred lips.
---------
Bruce pulled a pan of pizza out of the oven, feeling overwhelmingly aware of the Batsuit encasing him, stifling him. Sweat rippled over his body in rivulets, the kitchen thick with heat. He had never wanted to rip the suit from his body so badly, and he felt foolish now for bringing the Joker here, knowing he would be trapped as the Batman as long as they stayed here.
He served the food onto a plate, lingering for a moment. The Joker would be hungry, too. After all, he was merely human underneath the makeup and madness. He dished out a second plate. They had been here for a couple of hours already, and he had showed the Joker to his room and locked him in as securely as possible. It was late now, and had it not been for the unusual circumstances, Bruce Wayne would have been sound asleep in his room back at the penthouse.
Walking to the second floor, plate of food in hand, he knocked on the first door at the top of the stairs, a small but rather nice room with a balcony and a view. He supposed the Joker had a place to stay somewhere when he wasn't at Arkham, and yet he found it difficult to picture the Joker anywhere that didn't involve a dark alley or a rooftop. Although Bruce didn't trust him here, he would give it a night to see what happened- a decision he knew he would regret from the start in going against his better judgment.
He faltered a moment in front of the door, listening to the Joker mumble to himself, too quietly to hear what he was saying. He gave a knock.
"A visitor? Oh, who could it be?" his next words were whispered quietly, right up against the door. "I hope it's Batman."
"Do you eat?" Bruce leaned against the wall nonchalantly. "I made pizza."
"Ooh, how thoughtful of you," the Joker pulled the door open a crack, just his bright green eyes peeking through, and a sliver of his twisted smile. "You are a gentleman after all, Batman. And here I was, thinking you were a despicable host."
"I don't want to be responsible if something happens to you here." Bruce held the plate of pizza out, and Joker opened the door all the way. He was still wearing his button-down shirt- the first few buttons undone- and green vest, but removed his shoes to walk around in argyle socks. His purple coat lay folded neatly on the bed.
Joker bridged the gap between them, accepting the plate of food before setting it on the nightstand. He paused for a moment, cocking his head to the side as if trying to read Batman. He broke into a smile, "Oh, I knew you cared, Batman." Bruce chose to ignore that comment. "Wanna join me? I'll put on something nice and we'll make it a date."
"No thanks. I've got...things to do. Stay in here tonight. If you step foot out of this room I'll put you straight back in Arkham."
"You won't," Joker giggled. "Wanna know why?"
"Not really," Batman frowned, growing impatient, but also fixated enough to stay, fascinated by the madman so that he felt drawn to him, like watching a train wreck, though he'd never admit it to himself.
"You won't bring me back to Arkham because you need me, Batman. You need me so bad it terrifies you. You don't want to lose me Batman, because when you do- you lose. There is no Batman without Joker," he was standing very close now, unsettlingly close, and Batman could feel the Joker's breath on him, could breathe him in. He smelled surprisingly good, like expensive cologne, and in such close proximity Bruce couldn't keep himself from inhaling, taking it all in before he could stop himself.
"You like?" Joker grinned seductively. "I stole it from one of my victims, right after I killed him. He had expensive taste."
"You're disgusting," Batman grabbed the Joker by the collar of his shirt. The Joker groaned, and drops of sweat formed on his brow.
"So we're playing rough, are we? Just the way I like it," his tongue darted out to lick his mangled lips, drawing Batman's focus to them, grotesquely fascinating.
The Batsuit was suffocating him, and sweat streamed down his face, visible even on the parts not covered by his cowl. He was too stifled, too restricted. He wanted to rip the suit right off of his body, whether the Joker was there or not. Though he restrained himself, his frustration was growing, and he was ready to take it out on the Joker if he needed to.
He pulled the clown-faced man close to him, their faces mere inches apart "I. Don't. Need. You.," he spat out.
Joker leaned forward a little, resting his forehead against Batman's, still in his grasp. Bruce's blood was boiling. He could feel the Joker's body heat. He could see the makeup smeared across his skin. This was the closest they'd ever been, and for the first time Batman could see that the Joker was young, maybe even younger than himself. He could feel his pulse, and he saw the Joker's breath coming and going in short little gasps, his chest rising and falling with each one. The Joker was...excited? He was almost sure of it. He wanted to pound his face in, the disgusting freak clown.
"Then why do you want me so bad?" he laughed, but it was not the maddening shriek he normally laughed, but one much more primal. He never got a response. Still in in his death grip, Bruce raised the Joker up and tossed him to the floor with more force than he should have wasted on him. He didn't hear the Joker groan as he writhed on the ground. He didn't look back at all.
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That night as Bruce lay in bed, his mind was so clouded with thoughts that he couldn't sleep a wink. It wasn't that he was afraid of what the Joker was capable of doing while Bruce slept, but the growing guilt nagging in the back of his mind that he just couldn't shake. He was keeping the Joker from the authorities, not to mention hiding out with him as a fellow outlaw. How could he ever justify this? Was this how low he was willing to descend now that Batman was thought to be nothing more than a criminal?
His body broke a sweat, and his pajama pants and t-shirt clung to his muscular frame. Tossing and turning in uncomfortable frustration, he threw the bedsheets to the floor. How could he let himself lose sleep over this? Joker was the psycho, not him. And yet he found his presence to be maddening. In the few short hours they had been here together, he felt the vestiges of his sanity quickly slipping away. A digital clock on the nightstand beeped to alert him that it was 3:00 AM.
After what seemed to be hours of staring at the clock, Bruce's eyelids started to droop shut until he couldn't keep them open any longer. He was ready to let sleep overcome him at last, not content in his current situation but tired enough to let these thoughts drift somewhere to the back of his mind. That was how it all began.
"Batsy?" merely a whisper in the night, almost left unnoticed by Bruce who was drifting off to an unsettling sleep. He sat upright in the bed, his instincts kicking in so he was keen and alert.
Joker.
Protected by the cover of darkness, Bruce dared to slip out of bed and over to the door where he heard the wooden floorboards creaking from the hallway. The Joker was right outside of his door, despite being locked into his room on the other side of the hall only a couple hours ago. He was sure of it.
The Joker would be standing on the other side, mere inches away from where he leaned carefully against the door to get a better listen. He could almost hear the other man's breath, could almost feel his presence. A cold chill jolted his nerves, pumping blood through his veins and making his pulse thrum erratically. It was a serious lapse in judgement to underestimate the Joker, and many who did made it the last thing they'd ever do. This was no ordinary villain on his hands. He was dealing with an equal, in many ways- a man who was just as vigilant, unstoppable, and perhaps even more volatile than himself. He didn't fear the Joker- but he didn't understand him, and that meant whatever the Joker had to throw at him would be unpredictable and incalculable.
Not to mention the guy was just too damn good at picking a lock.
He waited for what felt like an hour, ear pressed against the door, bracing himself for Joker to make even the slightest move so he could throw the door wide open and teach him a lesson or two about following rules. He waited, but there was no sound, no movement.
"Joker?"
Still silence. The suspense was dripping as Bruce stood in waiting.
"Joker, don't move!" he threw the door open violently, deciding suddenly to spring into attack. His eyes weren't fully adjusted to the night, and the hallway was dark and still. He felt around with his hands, his normally-astute senses failing to pick up anything at all. The hallway was empty.
Flipping on the first light switch he could get his hands on, the hallway flooded with light that stung his eyes. He looked down at his bare feet, where his gaze followed up to his pajama pants. "Shit!" he turned the light off at lightning speed. If the Joker had been in the hall, Bruce would have just revealed his identity in a moment of sheer stupidity.
"Damnit, Joker!" Bruce drove his fist into the wall in frustration. He slipped quietly back into his room, donning the Batsuit in record time. He couldn't risk being seen without it again.
The Joker was playing head games with him, and he wasn't about to stand aside and let himself get wound up in the whims of a demented clown. Bruce had made an astronomical mistake to bring the Joker here. Not only was he begging for whatever trouble the man would surely throw his way, but he was wrong to believe he could keep him in line and beat him at his own game. There was no reasoning with a madman, and even if Bruce could somehow use the Joker as a pawn against himself, he would still get burned in the end.
There was a time when Batman cared only about doing the right thing. Things had changed so drastically from the days when Gotham would call on him, and he was their Dark Knight in waiting, always prepared to serve justice to those who had it coming. Now he was an outlaw. Taking the blame for Harvey Dent's downfall was the most moral thing he'd ever done, but now he knew it wasn't about doing the right thing, but doing what would make things right. Sometimes you have to take the low road to get there, but as long as the outcome is good and the intentions are there, somehow he could justify his actions.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Bruce made his way down the hallway and toward the door at the top of the stairs where he had left the Joker hours ago. The door was shut, no light coming from within. Everything was maddeningly silent. Bruce tried the doorknob but it was locked. Extracting the key from a compartment on his utility belt, he quietly unlocked the door and let himself in.
Inside, the curtains were drawn wide open, moonlight flooding in and glistening over every surface. Bruce could see the lake just beyond the window, and everything suddenly seemed so peaceful and still. Bruce's eyes adjusted to the moonlight, and he could make out the room- the empty dresser, the bare nightstand, a big cushy armchair, and the small single bed. This room had been kept very simple and scarce, something he was thankful for now that he was utilizing it as a cell for the most dangerous man in Gotham City.
"This reminds me of that dream I always have where Batman comes in the middle of the night and ma-"
"Joker, I told you not to leave this room!" Bruce could see the Joker more clearly now. He was spread out on the bed, still done up in his shirt, vest, and purple slacks. Bruce made a mental note to bring him some pajamas. The two of them must have looked foolishly overdressed for such a casual setting- Joker in his suit and vest, and Bruce in his Batsuit.
"But I had to go potty, Batsy," the Joker pouted at him in the dark. "Besides, I wasn't planning on LEAVING! No, no, no. Could have done that hours ago. That's my ah, specialty, if you will. No, I'm not ready to leave yet. I'm having too much FUN, don't you see? That's why I shut myself back in here like a good boy."
"I don't care if you want to leave. I won't stop you. But I won't have you wandering around like this is your house. You are a prisoner, Joker. I can bring you back to Arkham right now if you're not willing to cooperate."
"Jeez, Batsy. I wasn't going to KILL you or anything. If I wanted to do that, I could have just-"
Bruce took two long strides over to the bed. "You'll be lucky if you make it out of here alive, scum!" he grabbed the Joker by the arms and threw him effortlessly off of the bed. Joker landed face-down, sliding across the carpet and hitting his head on the corner of the dresser with a crack. He made no effort to move.
"You won't kill me, Batman" Joker lifted his head up to flash Bruce a disgusting grin, as if he hadn't noticed or cared that he'd been tossed to the floor. Blood poured from a gash on his forehead, streaming over his face in rivulets. The Joker winced as the blood dripped into his mouth. He didn't spit it out, but let his head drop back to the floor.
"Don't bet on it."
Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1: Cat and Mouse