Voyeurism At It's Worst Part 6/?
Title: Voyeurism At It's Worst 6/?
Author: heatherhouse
Rating: PG-13, for now
Characters/Pairings: Joker/Batman, OC
Warnings: Un'bated, Crackfic
Disclaimer: Only Desarai belongs to me, so please don't take her. The boys belongs to DC and Warner Brothers.
Verse: Movieverse
A/N: Once again the story got me. I missed it so much and I hope some of you guys still remember it or will enjoy it.
Summary: I didn't want to see Joker and Batman kissing. It just happened.
My search for said ‘maniacal counterpart’ turned up fruitless, at first.
The thing is my apartments not that big. And I’m not understating this at all. I have a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room and a bedroom. That’s it, fin, finitte, the end. I can walk through all the rooms in under a minute and have time to spare to walk down to street level from my three story apartment and look up to check the itty bitty ledge the landlord had claimed was a nice balcony when I bought the place. You could possibly find the neighbors cat there on occasion but I checked there regardless because I wouldn’t put it past the Joker to perch there like one at this point.
Still nothing, and now Wayne was looking at me strangely. At the same time I had one thought that I doubt any sane woman in Gotham would share with me. Thank god he was dressed.
And here ladies and gentlemen was where the fucking lightbulb went off.
“Miss Collins...”
I cut the vigilante off quickly with a wave of my hand.
“Shhh, I’m hunting clown.” I told him and as I walked back into my ‘empty’ bedroom.
But this time I stood in the room for about a minute without making a sound and finally heard the noise I’d been waiting for. A muffled giggle coming from my closet.
I had no idea what game he was playing but I’d already had his unfiltered madness for almost twelve hours and I wanted his boyfriend to take him away pretty soon or I’d be forcibly shoving him over the ‘balcony’.
I walked over and knocked on the door. “I know you’re in there, Joker.” I told him flatly.
His little giggle turned into a dark little chuckle. “Then come on in.’” He suggested.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, said the spider to the fly. Get out of my closet. You’re too gay for it to contain very much longer.”
“You’re a real kidder, you know that?” He said deadpan, and I took a step back from the closet, just to be sure.
“Joker, get out of my closet.” I said a bit more firmly. It was followed by a brief silence that made me uneasy as I heard him shifting and moving fabric.
“No, need Bruce here first.” He said decidedly.
It had not passed my attention that Joker had holed himself up in my closet and not the guest space where my ex had left all his stuff. The once lovely doctor I’d dated for four years who could not seem to fathom the downgrade in living circumstances I’d had to take. Not that he tried to help me or anything, unless that included helping me gain more space by the lack of his presence after I went one week without running water which forced me to bums shower time off the neighbors in exchange for cheetos and pop rocks. But whatever the Joker was wearing was never meant to grace a mans body. And I doubted he’d been kind enough to forgo a dress or mini skirt, I’d heard the rumors about his cross dressing habits.
“Fine.” I said with slight frustration and went to the bedroom door when something occurred to me and I smiled.
Opening the door as if to walk out, I saw Wayne giving me the strangest look, possibly due to my maniacal grin and closed the door again. Leaving me inside the room with the illusion of having left.
A few seconds later I felt like a god damned genius when the closet door creaked open an inch and then swung open completely to expel the now dressed Joker. Ten seconds later as I focused on what he was wearing, the grin fell.
Now yes, I am a nurse. I happen to be a pediatrics nurse, so yes I have an array of overly colorful, eyesore worthy patterned scrubs in my closet. And yes, I did blow an ungodly amount on a plain blue pair of scrubs once simply because Katherine Heigl had been modeling them in a cardboard cut out of herself in the store window.
Now, did I want to see the Joker parading around in those very scrubs? Not, not really.
But there he was, in all his machiavellian glory in my last pair of nice baby blue scrubs that cost more then his dye job. If at all possible it made him look more like a stick then his own clothes did.
I cleared my throat, trying very hard not to go for the throat and felt a sense of satisfaction in the way the psychopath froze in mid admiration of his figure in my closet door mirror.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked a little tightly, my smile just a little too wide.
His mouth opened for a second, raising his finger as if to make a very clear point as to why he was doing what he was doing. Then closed his mouth and furrowed his brow, eyes rolled to the ceiling as he thought.
It was gonna have to be a good one to save his Jack Skellington impersonation.
“...Uhhhh...”
Not even close.
Though it was amazing to see how fast he dodged a stiletto heel.
I would not blame Bruce Wayne if he thought I was as coocoo for cocoa puffs as his boyfriend when the two of us came tearing out of my bedroom. Joker at a dead run for his only possible salvation while I chased after him, armed with a fresh pair of three inch heels.
“Human shield!” He declared diving behind the vigilante. “Save me, Batsy!” And a combination of things happened in response to those words.
Which involved the goddamn Batman getting in between me and the Joker, my shrill mouse squeak as I was lifted off the ground and onto the mans shoulder where I clutched onto him for dear life like a cat introduced to it’s first flea bath. Followed by the most witheringly parental glare I’d ever seen. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one who cowered under the power of that look and either Joker was getting better at that kicked puppy expression or he just had to try harder with Wayne.
Eventually even the mad man buckled under it with a sheepish look. “Love you?” He squeaked.
Bruce just kept on glaring. “We’re leaving.” He announced.
But as surprisingly disappointed I was with a now accomplished feat I’d been trying to get done all day, my feet sorely missed terra firma and I was all for the man to put me down.
Of course, nothing puts people in that wonderfully ridiculous freeze frame pose as a knock on the door.
“If that’s the Riddler, I swear to god I’ll gift wrap you both for his spandex clad ass.” I hissed.
Unfortunately I recognized the confused voice on other side of the door. “Dezz?”
“Fuck.”
Author: heatherhouse
Rating: PG-13, for now
Characters/Pairings: Joker/Batman, OC
Warnings: Un'bated, Crackfic
Disclaimer: Only Desarai belongs to me, so please don't take her. The boys belongs to DC and Warner Brothers.
Verse: Movieverse
A/N: Once again the story got me. I missed it so much and I hope some of you guys still remember it or will enjoy it.
Summary: I didn't want to see Joker and Batman kissing. It just happened.
My search for said ‘maniacal counterpart’ turned up fruitless, at first.
The thing is my apartments not that big. And I’m not understating this at all. I have a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room and a bedroom. That’s it, fin, finitte, the end. I can walk through all the rooms in under a minute and have time to spare to walk down to street level from my three story apartment and look up to check the itty bitty ledge the landlord had claimed was a nice balcony when I bought the place. You could possibly find the neighbors cat there on occasion but I checked there regardless because I wouldn’t put it past the Joker to perch there like one at this point.
Still nothing, and now Wayne was looking at me strangely. At the same time I had one thought that I doubt any sane woman in Gotham would share with me. Thank god he was dressed.
And here ladies and gentlemen was where the fucking lightbulb went off.
“Miss Collins...”
I cut the vigilante off quickly with a wave of my hand.
“Shhh, I’m hunting clown.” I told him and as I walked back into my ‘empty’ bedroom.
But this time I stood in the room for about a minute without making a sound and finally heard the noise I’d been waiting for. A muffled giggle coming from my closet.
I had no idea what game he was playing but I’d already had his unfiltered madness for almost twelve hours and I wanted his boyfriend to take him away pretty soon or I’d be forcibly shoving him over the ‘balcony’.
I walked over and knocked on the door. “I know you’re in there, Joker.” I told him flatly.
His little giggle turned into a dark little chuckle. “Then come on in.’” He suggested.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, said the spider to the fly. Get out of my closet. You’re too gay for it to contain very much longer.”
“You’re a real kidder, you know that?” He said deadpan, and I took a step back from the closet, just to be sure.
“Joker, get out of my closet.” I said a bit more firmly. It was followed by a brief silence that made me uneasy as I heard him shifting and moving fabric.
“No, need Bruce here first.” He said decidedly.
It had not passed my attention that Joker had holed himself up in my closet and not the guest space where my ex had left all his stuff. The once lovely doctor I’d dated for four years who could not seem to fathom the downgrade in living circumstances I’d had to take. Not that he tried to help me or anything, unless that included helping me gain more space by the lack of his presence after I went one week without running water which forced me to bums shower time off the neighbors in exchange for cheetos and pop rocks. But whatever the Joker was wearing was never meant to grace a mans body. And I doubted he’d been kind enough to forgo a dress or mini skirt, I’d heard the rumors about his cross dressing habits.
“Fine.” I said with slight frustration and went to the bedroom door when something occurred to me and I smiled.
Opening the door as if to walk out, I saw Wayne giving me the strangest look, possibly due to my maniacal grin and closed the door again. Leaving me inside the room with the illusion of having left.
A few seconds later I felt like a god damned genius when the closet door creaked open an inch and then swung open completely to expel the now dressed Joker. Ten seconds later as I focused on what he was wearing, the grin fell.
Now yes, I am a nurse. I happen to be a pediatrics nurse, so yes I have an array of overly colorful, eyesore worthy patterned scrubs in my closet. And yes, I did blow an ungodly amount on a plain blue pair of scrubs once simply because Katherine Heigl had been modeling them in a cardboard cut out of herself in the store window.
Now, did I want to see the Joker parading around in those very scrubs? Not, not really.
But there he was, in all his machiavellian glory in my last pair of nice baby blue scrubs that cost more then his dye job. If at all possible it made him look more like a stick then his own clothes did.
I cleared my throat, trying very hard not to go for the throat and felt a sense of satisfaction in the way the psychopath froze in mid admiration of his figure in my closet door mirror.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked a little tightly, my smile just a little too wide.
His mouth opened for a second, raising his finger as if to make a very clear point as to why he was doing what he was doing. Then closed his mouth and furrowed his brow, eyes rolled to the ceiling as he thought.
It was gonna have to be a good one to save his Jack Skellington impersonation.
“...Uhhhh...”
Not even close.
Though it was amazing to see how fast he dodged a stiletto heel.
I would not blame Bruce Wayne if he thought I was as coocoo for cocoa puffs as his boyfriend when the two of us came tearing out of my bedroom. Joker at a dead run for his only possible salvation while I chased after him, armed with a fresh pair of three inch heels.
“Human shield!” He declared diving behind the vigilante. “Save me, Batsy!” And a combination of things happened in response to those words.
Which involved the goddamn Batman getting in between me and the Joker, my shrill mouse squeak as I was lifted off the ground and onto the mans shoulder where I clutched onto him for dear life like a cat introduced to it’s first flea bath. Followed by the most witheringly parental glare I’d ever seen. Thankfully I wasn’t the only one who cowered under the power of that look and either Joker was getting better at that kicked puppy expression or he just had to try harder with Wayne.
Eventually even the mad man buckled under it with a sheepish look. “Love you?” He squeaked.
Bruce just kept on glaring. “We’re leaving.” He announced.
But as surprisingly disappointed I was with a now accomplished feat I’d been trying to get done all day, my feet sorely missed terra firma and I was all for the man to put me down.
Of course, nothing puts people in that wonderfully ridiculous freeze frame pose as a knock on the door.
“If that’s the Riddler, I swear to god I’ll gift wrap you both for his spandex clad ass.” I hissed.
Unfortunately I recognized the confused voice on other side of the door. “Dezz?”
“Fuck.”