Team Knight- Round One- Fanfic- 'In Flight Entertainment Part One'

[newbluemoon]

Title: In Flight Entertainment (Part 1)
Author: newbluemoon
Prompt: April Fools Day's
Word Count: 15,190 (Holy shit, I don't know how that happened. Sorry!) This part is 9801 words.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After reluctantly catching a flight to business meeting in Chicago, Bruce discovers he's trapped on a plane with his worst nightmare. A no, it's not snakes.
Disclaimer: What you can take from this fic, is that I am a very disturbed young woman and that I own nothing.
Warnings: Crack, blantant abuse of DC characters,(mutual) mastrubation, slash, a few f-bombs, ridonculously long. Erm, use of British words and spellings? Oh and NSFW.
Author's notes: Okay, so this is my first ever fanfiction ever- I usually write original stories/poems- so I hope it's not too awful. I wrote this because I felt it was about time I contributed something to this wonderful fandom I adore so much. And I was getting rather worried about that lack of contributions at the moment, and I had time so I figured, what the hell? Also, it's an beta'd and rather rushed, so expect spelling/grammar/punctuation mistakes. It's pretty much a crack fic and unfortunatley, it gets rather fluffy as it progresses- I'm sorry D:, idk how it happened, but hopefully it doesn't suck like a two bit whore. Also, it's supposed to be a one-shot (even though it's divided up because it's too damn big lol), but I kind of want to continue it. Maybe in Chicago? What do you guys think?


Bruce was not happy. But it wasn't because on his way to his destination the cruel April wind and rain had targeted him just as he was getting out of his limousine and now he was sat in partially towel dried clothes on an uncomfortable plastic chair. And it wasn't because he was sat in a noisy, over- crowded airport waiting to board a public flight with 150 of Gotham's citizens to a rancidly boring company meeting in Chicago. No, in fact, when his engineers told him there was a problem with his jet's combustor, he felt quite excited that he'd experience a flight on a jumbo jet. Being the billionaire playboy that he is, he'd never experienced this mundane activity before, instead using private jets to ship him from place to place. Bruce thought this new means of travelling would be rather interesting. He liked to socialise with the people of Gotham. And not just the trust fund babies that he was so used to putting on fake airs and false smiles and conversing with, but the ordinary guy. The average Joe. The people who struggled hard just to survive and yet never turned to crime to help them. These people restored his faith in humanity. The mere fact they existed helped spur Bruce on in his role as the city's protector. They meant that crime wasn't inevitable, but that there were other ways. So, of course this wasn't the factor that put the young socialite in such a foul mood. No. His brow was furrowed and his face pulled down in a sulky expression because he was leaving his city. He didn't like it at all. He felt the nervous tingles in the pit of his stomach, like a mother leaving her new born baby for the first time. He'd left Gotham before, obviously, but ever since he had taken up the role of Batman, he very, very rarely left the city boarders and each time he did, he felt very uneasy. It didn't help that a certain psychotic mass murdering clown had (yet again) escaped from Arkham, a place which seemed incapable of holding the maniac for more than a week. He'd tried very, very hard to get out of going to the meeting or at the very least to get them to reschedule, but it was to no avail. Lucius explained, somewhat regrettably, that there was no way out of it. He positively had to go and play the arrogant, docile, rich heirefor a weekend, stuck in a room with board members and share holders and act like every inch of him didn't want to be back in Gotham, making sure everything was safe. Frustrating didn't even cut it.

Bruce sighed as he brought his hands up to rub his temples. This anxiety was giving him a very bad headache. He'd feigned aerophobia to anyone that had asked why he looked so pale, which wasn't hard considering Bruce Wayne's pretty boy appearance. It was probably expected that someone with the public exterior he had would be mollycoddled and afraid of most things. But this thought comforted Bruce. At least he'd done his job of leading a double life justice. He heard the squeaking noise of a microphone turned on and lifted his head to glance and the notices.
'Flight ZB569 to Chicago O'Hare International Airport will be departing in 10 minutes. All passengers please proceed to the security gate to board the plane'. Bruce sighed and slowly got up, obviously reluctant to start the flight process.
'Don't be nervous, sir', Bruce spun around at the voice to see a petite brunette service-woman wearing far too much makeup. 'The flight will go smoothly. You'll be at your destination in no time'. She beamed up at him and Bruce, careful not to forget his womanising reputation, shot her a flirty smile.

'I hope so. Maybe you can hold my hand?' he replied putting on his best slime-ball voice and winked. The woman blushed and giggled nervously before turning to help the other passengers. Bruce looked over to the queue at the security gate. Two young boys were shoving each other and tugging at clothes, screaming bloody murder. Behind them, a middle-aged couple were arguing none too subtlety about something trivial. Bruce made out the words 'Oven' and 'Are you sure?' followed by noises of protest from the gentleman. A group of girls were giggling and pointing towards a man with his back to them. His hair was long and flowing with soft golden curls which the herd of teens were no doubt gushing over. A baby's loud scream next stole Bruce's attention as he gazed upon the noisy crowd. Yes, he liked socialising with people, he just wished they weren't so damn boisterous when he could feel the harsh booming of a headache deep in his skull. He sighed deeply and hauled up his briefcase. This was going to be a very long, very loud flight.

***

Bruce leant back in the leather chair he'd been seated in. They'd been up in the air for about half an hour now and he still couldn't relax. Not that the chair wasn't comfy. He couldn't really tell the difference between it and the one he was accustomed to sitting on in his own jet. Of course, he was in the first class section of the plane, so the quality of the seats was rather high anyway. But the comfortableness of the seats had nothing to do with Bruce's predicament. He couldn't for the life of him stop thinking about his city. Down there. In the hands of a madman. Bruce bit his lips and squeezed his eyes shut.

This was torture. For all he knew, The Joker had already blown up a school or taken orphans hostage and there was nothing he could do about it because Batman was 37,000 feet in the air on a domestic flight to Chicago. Bruce huffed and was suddenly resisting the urge to stomp his feet. Okay, so maybe the whole 'spoilt, rich kid thing' did have a small basis in fact, but it wasn't without good reason. Bruce's face was feeling very hot and tingled. He needed to splash some water ,or something, on it so unbuckled his belt and stood up. He didn't particularly want to be recognised by the rest of the passengers, not feeling like being sociable at that second, so ducked his head down and walked swiftly down the cabin towards the restroom. As he approached the end of the room, he did not see a man stand up and move from his chair and promptly crashed into him, making a very unflattering 'oomf' noise. Bruce could see wisps of sunshine-blond curls and realised it was the man the group of squealing girls had been harassing before.

'I'm sorry, sir', Bruce said straightening himself up again. The man turned and stared Bruce right in the eye. Bruce's jaw all but hit the floor. The man's soft curls were sticking out of place and hanging partially in front of a smooth, tan face, the ends brushing against a rounded, lightly-freckled nose. His pink lips were parted in a shocked expression ,mirroring Bruce's own. Bruce's eyes went straight to smooth, unblemished cheeks. No scars. But those eyes. There was no mistaking those eyes. Two piercing emerald-green beacons stared out through the stray curls, looking directly into Bruce's dark blue ones. Bruce could easily identify the familiar hints of childlike playfulness mixed with ruthless cunning and the ever present under glow of malignancy. The two men gasped in unison.

-You.

-You.

Bruce coughed, repressing the urge to slam the man into the wall, as was his natural instinct, but remembered where they were.
'Sorry', he repeated, giving the blonde man and insincere smile, 'I wasn't looking where I was going'. The other quirked an eyebrow and his cheeks pulled up at the sides, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.
'That's alright.', he murmured. His voice was a lot lower than usual, lacking the high-pitched nasal sound. In fact, the word 'velvet' sprang to Bruce's mind, but he quickly shoved that thought away. 'But you should be more careful. You never know who you might run into'. Ah, there it was. The under current of threat that Bruce knew so well. There was no denying who this was. The Joker's eyes flickered dangerously as Bruce's eyebrows pulled into a glare, but he forced himself to smile. The Joker grinned widely displaying a set of rather perfect looking teeth and the back of Bruce's mind noticed that he must've had them whitened for some reason. Probably to blend in easier. Bruce's gaze darkened.

- What are you doing here?

The Joker's eyebrows raised in a sardonic manner.

- I could ask you the same thing.

The conversation went unheard, silent, but the slight movements and facial expressions were all the two enemies needed. They had been doing this for so long, it was almost too easy to read the other.
'It's Mr Wayne, right?' He smirked, outstretching his hand. 'Great to finally meet you'. His chest moved in a manner that it was obvious to see he was repressing an onslaught of giggles. The underlying meaning of his previous statement was easily read by Bruce, who sneered whilst reluctantly moving his hand to meet The Joker's. Grasping the other's hand sent a ripple of thrill through Bruce's body and he was almost positive he saw the shorter man shiver with the exact same feeling. He quickly withdrew his hand from the other's warm, surprisingly un-gloved , hand and once again forced a smile.'The pleasures all mine', he all but snarled the words through gritted teeth, much to the other's sheer delight. 'And what do I call you?'
'Oh, you can call me Mr J', The Joker let slip a small giggle and gave a short bow in a mocking manner. Bruce's gaze darkened again but he pulled himself upright, stepping back slightly. 'Mr J? What a copout!' he thought begrudgingly.
'I was on my way to the restroom ,Mr J.' He muttered, biting out the last part. 'So if you'll excuse me'. He gestured for The Joker to move out of his way and was quite surprised when the maniac did just that. He started to move away and approached the door when he heard his nemeis' voice call after him.

'Actually, I was about to go too. Nature calls y'know.' he giggled and slowly made his way up the cabin, his eyes glinting with menace, not moving from Bruce's. 'So, do I have to ,uh, fight you for it...Brucey?'. He was now standing right in front of Bruce, almost chest to chest and the way he practically purred Bruce's name made the billionaire shiver. Glaring eyes met amused ones as Bruce contemplated his next move. The Joker was obviously planning something- mass murdering psychopaths didn't escape mental institutions and board planes for no reason- and Bruce couldn't let him harm the passengers. He had to get the madman away from them, but where can you go when you're floating mid-air? Without thinking twice, Bruce yanked the toilet door open and shoved The Joker (who made a small yelping noise) inside, before slamming the door behind him, hoping he didn't attract all that much attention towards them.

Once inside the restroom, he instantly grabbed the lapels of The Jokers black (black?) suit and slammed him against the wall with a loud snarl. This only seemed to provoke laughter from the maniac who was smiling as though all his Christmases had come at once.
'WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?' Bruce growled, unconsciously slipping into his Batman voice. This seemed to absolutely please the blond man who laughed even louder.
'Weeeelllllll, I was minding my own business before some lunatic barged into me and then, as if that wasn't rude enough, I got forcefully pulled into a bathroom by said lunatic' The Joker managed to get out between giggles. 'Now I ask you, is that rude, or is that rude?', A fist collided with his jaw, spurring the laughter on, of course, which caused a growling noise to escape from deep within Bruce's chest.
'WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING, JOKER?!' His grip on the shorter man's collar tightened and he pressed him harder into the wall. A threat, though he was positive it wouldn't have much effect.
'Me? Nothing, Batsy. Why are you always so quick to suspect me?' he pouted mockingly for a second before his face flickered with mischief and he fluttered his eyelashes, 'Don't you truuuust me?' Bruce let out a snarl again and pulled his knee up so it collided with the Joker's abdomen. The man folded into the blow and let out a wheezing noise, silencing (most of) the snickering for a moment. Bruce pulled his fist far back, gearing up for a full on punch to the face, the kind one he saved for the big-time criminals he faced as Batman. The Joker's face screwed up as he awaited the collision but Bruce hesitated.

This felt... wrong. Seeing The Joker's scrunched up face devoid of the makeup and scars but still awaiting a harsh blow, it didn't feel right. He looked young, unblemished and (scarily) almost innocent . Bruce's fist wasn't covered in black kevlar and his body was hiding in armour. They weren't Batman and Joker here. They were just two men on a plane. He couldn't do this, it felt too weird. Bruce let out a noise which was halfway between a sigh and a grunt and lowered his fist slowly. The Joker who had been waiting patiently for the pain that never happened let one eye open to see what the hell was going on. Bruce moved away slightly and leant against the sink, scowling. The Joker let his face relax but his eyebrows knitted together, confused.

'Erm, Bats? Not that I'm not displeased about you not messing up my looovely makeup job here', he began, gesturing to where his scars should be, ' but, uh, what gives?'. Bruce sighed and brought his hands up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he mumbled something.
'What was that?' The Joker almost singsonged as he debated moving closer to the stressed bat lest his words be lost to the sound of the jet's engine. Bruce picked his head up again and tried to glare at his enemy, finding it curiously impossible when he looked like this.
'I said I can't do it. Not like this', his hands waved between the two of them, motioning towards their appearance. 'It's weird'. The Joker smiled, but then frowned and stared off to the left of Bruce. His face screwed up thoughtfully, like he was contemplating what Bruce had just said seriously. Seriously? HA! Okay, like he was deeply thinking it over, then. He clicked his mouth and pushed himself up from the wall with a soft sigh.
'I get ya, Bats, I do. This isn't...us', his tongue flicked out in that tic Bruce was all too familiar with. 'But, uh, we're still here.' He gazed at Bruce with a curious look on his face which rapidly melted into a malevolent grin. He erupted into a fit of laughter so shrill that is was absolutely impossible to mistake this man for anything other than insane, despite the fact he was disguised as an average, if not somewhat handsome, citizen. The uproarious laughter seemed to seep through Bruce's skin and igniting the fury he had only just that second tamed.

'Aaah, see? There you are!', The Joker giggled, emerald eyes twinkling with malice, 'I can see that looovely hatred in your eyes, now. The flickers of disgust and a bundle of other oh so intense negative emotions The Bat always sends my way. Yep, I can see the big bad bat just hovering below the surface...' His voice trailed off into persistent chuckles once more, 'He's still there, all right. You're just keeping him caged up. Like an animal at the zooo' His singsong voice caused Bruce's eyes to darken more than they had, further seeping into disdain for the man in front of him. But, reluctantly, he realised the Joker was right. The Bat was still there, simmering beneath the selfish exterior the public saw, and equally, the dangerous mass murdering terrorist known as 'The Joker' was also present, albeit disguised in a perfectly innocent looking package. They couldn't fight here as Batman and The Joker, but at the same time, Bruce couldn't allow them to remain in their respective alternative personae and act as strangers. To do that, to let the man carry on and do whatever it is he was planning to do would not only be absolutely stupid, but lethal and potentially fatal as well. They were trapped in a limbo. A place where they were neither Batman and The Joker nor Bruce Wayne and well, whoever the hell else the Joker was, but a dangerous mixture of the two. An unstable chemical reaction. Bruce couldn't let The Joker walk out of here, but he couldn't beat him to a bloody pulp, either.

The playboy sighed deeply and let his hand run down his face in a frustrated manner. The Joker rocked on the balls of his feet, either with excitement or boredom, Bruce couldn't exactly tell, but it was rather annoying. Just annoying enough to serve as a reminder of who was in front of him. Mind made up for the moment, Bruce sank to the floor, eyes not moving from the maniac's for one second. The afore mentioned mad man regarded him with a slightly intrigued, though somewhat amused, expression.

'Umm, so... what now, Batsykins?', he chimed, voice still not reaching his usual levels of nasal. Bruce's glare moved into a smirk.
'Now, we wait.' Joker's expression shifted into a confused one and just as he was about to ask 'Wait for what?' Bruce raised a finger to silence him, which oddly enough, he let happen without so much as a glare.' For the end of the flight, Joker.' The Joker raised his eyebrows and looked around the two of them.
'In here?', he asked, his voice low and almost sarcastic. Bruce followed where the Joker's eyes had been and grimaced. Indeed, the plane's bathroom left something to be desired, even if it was first class. And it really wasn't that big. At all. Just the thought of being trapped in here with the lunatic for another, Bruce glanced at his watch and the grimace tightened, two hours was making Bruce feel very uneasy. The entire prospect was more than a little daunting. If they managed it without ripping each other apart, that would be considered an enormous feat. There was no way this was going to be easy, but ,in the bat suit or not, protecting innocent people from the evil schemes of 'people' like the one staring at him was his duty.

'Yes...in here', he groaned. His reluctance didn't go unnoticed by his adversary who simply beamed, apparently warming to the idea that seemed to positively terrify the Bat.
'Not thinking of joining the Mile High Club, are we Bats?' he giggled with a suggestive wink. Bruce's glare darkened and he sneered at the giggling psychopath, which only served to send The Joker into another, louder fit of laughter. Bruce sighed long and hard and pinched his nose once more.
Yes, this was going to be a long, long flight.

***

Bruce stared at the hands on his watch, willing them to move faster with his eyes. Apparently, they weren't good at taking hints because they seemed to absolutely refuse to move. Fifteen minutes had passed. Fifteen long, annoying, seemingly never-ending minutes spent with a twitching madman who had too sunk to the floor and who had grown bored after just one minute and twenty two seconds. Since then, he had stopped grinning smugly at the billionaire and instead taking to fidgeting like a child. He had also taken it upon himself to babble on like no-one else could possibly have to capacity to.

Bruce had stopped listening after three minutes and forty eight seconds, the words bleeding into each other to form one continuous 'blahblahblahblah', like it happened on TV. Except this wasn't TV. Bruce was very much in this situation, and The Joker was very, very irritating and showed absolutely no signs of relenting his personal mission to destroy the silence. Bruce's ears focused in for a moment on what the Joker was saying.
'And that's another thing too, I have no idea at all why the dumb idiot assumed I couldn't get the pickle in there. I mean HELLOOOOOO, Earth to goon, I'm The Joker, if there's one thing I can do, it's getting vegetables into bodily orfices'. Bruce raised his eyebrows and mentally kicked himself for tuning in at that moment and to those words and was about to say something, but wisely decided against it and snapped his mouth closed.

His mind wandered to what on Earth it was that The Joker actually was planning. He was going to ask him right out until he got an answer, but he came to the conclusion the Joker would never tell him whatever dastardly deed he intended to act out. He naturally assumed there was a bomb on the plane, but somehow, it didn't sit right. That'd been done before. Several times. If there something the clown wasn't, it was unoriginal. He was a terrorist, to be sure, but Bruce was almost certain harlequin would find blowing a passenger jet up too bland for his tastes. So, if not a bomb, what then? Bruce screwed up his nose in frustration and glanced at the clown. Apparently he had let his rants die out for the time being and had begun to twiddle his thumbs rather aggressively. Abruptly, he stopped and slammed his hands down to the floor, tapping out a beat with his fingers, whilst staring intently at the mirror. Once again, as quickly as he started the action, he ceased it and removed his hands only to place them on his curled up knees as he began to hum a quiet tune. Bruce blinked aghast. Restless was something he had always associated with the Joker, but this little display was something else entirely. Bruce, for whatever reason, conjured up the mental image of an overtired toddler crossed with a puppy on acid. 'Add in a drop or two of utter insanity, sheer genius and a sprinkle of bad humour, and you have yourself a Joker' Bruce mused, allowing a small smile to play on his lips.

As he was running this amusing, yet startlingly true, image through his brain, The Joker sprang up, causing Bruce to tense, naturally preparing for an attack. The clown stalked over to the toilet and to Bruce's sheer horror, he heard the loud, unmistakable noise of a zipper.
'What are you doing?', he practically shrieked at his unpainted foe, who turned and regarded him with an incredulous look.
'What does it look like I'm doing, Guano-brains? I'm taking a leek. Apparently I drank too much water in that delightful take-off procedure', he replied with a scrunched up face and Bruce was sure he saw a small shudder. Was it possible that the fearless force of chaos and anarchy that was the Joker was afraid of flying? In spite of this possible revelation, Bruce's shocked features didn't relent one bit. This was overstepping the boundaries. It was an unwritten, unspoken rule in the world of heroics and villainy that one did not urinate in front of one's arch nemesis. It was all sorts of wrong. Apparently, The Joker missed the lesson on appropriate behaviour and etiquette when it came to toilet habits around your foe and proceed to pull his, uh, man bits out of his trousers.

'I'm right here!' Bruce protested, his voice rather high pitched but this, he realised when he heard water trickling, was unimportant to the clown, who gave a small giggle and a reply of 'So you are.'Bruce glared up at the menace, still disbelieving, though he didn't really know why he was so shocked. The Joker was hardly known for his up-keeping of propriety and was probably doing it just to get a rise out of Batman anyway. But still, taking your penis out in front of your arch foe, was just a little too weird for Bruce's liking. Unfortunately at the mention of the 'P' word Bruce's eyes flickered to that particular area of his enemy's anatomy and simultaneously he heard The Joker tisk.

'Stop sneaking peeks, Batman' he scolded over his shoulder, though his annoyance was exposed as feigned by the tell-tale giggles. Bruce blushed furiously. He most certainly was not 'sneeking peeks' and how the hell did the psychopath know he was even looking in that general direction anyway?
'This damn clown is beyond unsettling', Bruce thought but instead responded with a snarled. 'Don't flatter yourself, Joker'. The Joker smirked and after zipping back up, flushed the toilet and moved to the sink to wash his hands. The evil, psychotically-insane, mass murdering, criminal mastermind that was The Joker, washes his hands after using the toilet. Bruce should not know this piece of information, but as it happens, he did. And it was scary.

The Joker, who was grinning wider than usual upon seeing the flush on Bruce's face, didn't resume sitting on his spot on the floor, instead preferring to plonk his backside down right next to Bruce. Refusing to look at his maniacally grinning nemesis, Bruce bore his eyes into the wall opposite, however it is rather difficult to not feel uncomfortable with a grinning maniac staring at you, especially when they had decided they wanted to sit right next to you. Bruce felt as though those savagely intelligent green orbs were looking right into his very soul, into his mind. He felt a terrible tingling sensation in his head that seemed to mimic what it would feel like to have someone rummage around your brain for all the secrets it held. Paranoid? Yes, but this was the Joker- he'd be an idiot to underestimate him. Slowly, he turned his head and let his eyes fall upon the madman, who was holding in laughter with a twitching mouth which seemed to want to spread as wide as it could, and then some. His eyes sparkled like he knew something Bruce didn't- something he was just dying to divulge, but didn't want to ruin the surprise. If the clown wasn't up to something, and something sinister at that, Bruce would lick Harvey Dent's face hole.

Being under the scrutiny of The Joker's gaze was beginning to take it's toll on Bruce. The claws of paranoia were gripping at his flesh and the small bathroom seemed to be closing in on him. No longer being able to resist, he finally turned to face the clown prince.
'Now, what are you doing?' Bruce demanded, nervousness peeking through his rumbling voice. The clown tried to feign innocence but couldn't stop the guilty smirk that threatened to pull apart at the ,currently invisible, stitches on his cheeks.
'Why, what ever do you mean, Bat?', he asked in a mock, high-pitched, Southern girl's voice. A small giggle erupted from between his peach lips, which clamped shut in a feeble attempt to hold back the laughter. Bruce glared. Harder.
'You're sitting next to me. Right next to me!' he barked ,much to The Joker's delight.
'Ooooh Batsy, was that the 'Bat voice' I heard? Do it agaaaain', he practically purred making Bruce's stomach churn, half with disgust half something utterly ridiculous that he certainly did not want to process at that second, especially not in such close quarters with the clown. Bruce snarled at the leering maniac and attempted to push him away, but the clown wouldn't budge.
'Nu-uh Bats. You're the one that wants me to stay in here, for whatever reason, and that means I get to sit wherever I want. And I wanna sit next to my sweetheart', he said, batting his blond eyelashes. Bruce's lips curled up in disdain.
'Make one wrong move and I will brake your arm', he snapped, the epitome of seriousness. The clown blinked and promptly burst out laughing yet again. Rolling his eyes, Bruce rested his head against the wall behind him, contemplating why on Earth he had to come on this flight. Though he did have to admit, having The Joker up here with him made him feel slightly better about leaving Gotham- at least he knew for sure his beloved city wasn't be used as a pawn in one of the lunatics 'games'. Well, at least not at that exact moment, anyway.

As The Joker's laughter died down slightly, the two of them fell into a somewhat-awkward silence. However, Bruce was very surprised to discover that it wasn't nearly as awkward or as uncomfortable to be sitting in silence right next to his enemy as he thought it would be. Sure, it was certainly uncomfortable and he was definitely not happy about the situation, but now that he had calmed down a little, he didn't feel the paranoia to the same extent. Bruce thought that perhaps when you've been around someone for as long and as often as he'd been around The Joker, you almost get used to it. Almost. Of course, he could never become desensitised to The Joker even if he lived with him twenty four/seven (and what a horrifying though that was, too). The mad man was simply just too unpredictable. Yes, he was sitting down fairly quietly and keeping himself to himself right at that moment, but not five minutes ago he had been parading around the tiny room they had placed themselves in and decided it was perfectly okay to urinate in front of another. An adversary none the less! Bruce scrunched up his nose at the fresh memory, The Joker really was a conundrum.

While Bruce had been lost in his musings, The Joker's laughter had finally ceased all together and he regarded the dark knight with a curious expression and ,unbeknownst to Bruce, had started to move very slowly closer to the glowering knight. Bruce was still captivated by his thoughts which had once again moved onto the subject of scars. It was always about the scars in the end. What it all buckled down to. He was dying to know what caused them, who caused them. He felt a sense of foolish protectiveness swell in his chest and shook his head at the unfathomable feeling. He'd never ask the clown, of course. Even if The Joker did know what had happened to him, he'd never tell anyone ,especially not Bruce, the truth. What was the point? How the scars happened did nothing to deduct from the fact that they were very much there. Still, it didn't stop Bruce's curious mind from guessing. And it was nice to finally see a face behind the visage of anarchy The Joker wore, but at the same time Bruce was sure he'd never been so thoroughly disturbed in his entire lifetime. As long as he'd known The Joker, as many times as they'd fought and bantered, he'd never considered the clown to be... human. It somehow made everything so much worse, to know that humanity had existed in the force of nature beside him once and, like a parasite, it had eaten away at it from the inside, leaving a rotting shell of chaos with a smile too large for his face. It didn't help that The Joker was, well, rather striking underneath all of the scars and greasepaint. But at least Bruce had a face to picture when his thoughts drifted to the green, or rather blond, haired man. Not that he thought about The Joker or anything. And even if he did, it was simply morbid curiosity and nothing more.

Bruce glanced at The Joker who seemed intent on not looking at Bruce, instead looking innocently around the room. 'Too innocently', Bruce thought. He glared at the blond, but finding nothing to yell at him for, declined to speak to him. The insistent soft hum of the jet engines slowly began to have a soporific effect on the physically and mentally drained billionaire as he leant against the wall. He felt his eyes droop as his body began to relax. Glancing back up at The Joker who was still staring at the same spot, the pinnacle of good behaviour, he decided as long as he didn't fall asleep with the criminal here, resting his eyes for a moment wouldn't cause anyone any harm. And besides, no-one could resist the lull of the plane's vibrations. So, slowly, he let his eyelids meet. Big mistake.

The Joker, who must've been waiting for an opportunity to pounce like a jungle cat on a gazelle, launched himself into the Bat's lap, eliciting an 'UMMMF' noise from the larger man, who's eyes shot back open. The Joker grabbed his un-armoured arms and slammed them against the wall, his disguised ferocity and strength becoming all too apparent.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?!' Bruce boomed, and though he was slightly sick of asking this question over and over, it seemed that he'd have to keep on reciting it. Stupid clown. The Joker's gaze darkened as his grin widened, no longer the pinnacle of 'good behaviour' but something much more malevolent.
'Well Bats', he started with a giggle, 'y'see, you're the one calling all the shots right now, and I must say I find it rather quite... boring. Sooooo, I think it's time to liven things up!' A look of childish glee spread across his face and Bruce wanted nothing more than to pound it right off. With his fists. His fists!
'Get. Off. Of. Me.' he bit out through gritted teeth.
'Hmmm, nope. Sorry, can't do it.', replied the clown in his falsetto voice. 'I'd rather stay right here and cuddle'. The Bat promptly growled which made the clown squeal with delight and a lecherous smirk plastered itself across the smooth, tan skin. 'Or we could do something else, if you'd prefer', he purred, punctuating the word 'else' with a grind of his hips onto Bruce's. Bruce gasped at the most unwelcome sensation and horror seeped through his body as he realised the effect it was having on his treacherous nether-regions.

The Joker, ever the opportunist, took the gasp as an invitation and swooped down like a falcon to capture his enemies lips. If The Joker's eyes would have been open, he'd have laughed himself silly at the look on Bruce's face as his eye brows shot up so far up his forehead, they were piratically into his hairline. In a shocked stupor, Bruce did nothing to prevent The Joker's attack on his mouth, aside from blinking like a maniac and squeaking like a girl. Surprisingly, the madman's lips were warm and soft, not like the rough, dry lips of a savage he'd been expecting. In fact, on anyone else, they would have felt rather pleasant. The Joker was no professional kisser. Not by a long shot. It was clumsy and almost endearingly curious and Bruce had to wonder if he'd even had this brand of human contact before, and if he had, how long had it been? A foolish part of his brain piped up with a jealous 'And with who?', and it was this thought accompanied with a wet tongue prodding at his lips, seeking entry, that caused Bruce to beckon all of his strength and throw The Joker off him. He noticed that his breath had become laboured and ,to his absolute grief, he was hard. Painfully hard. There was no denying it. The Joker, who looked just as dazed as Bruce felt, brought his fingers up to his lips in awe and against them whispered 'Wow'. The absence of a grin was quickly righted as the infuriating smile graced the clown's features once more.

'Mmmm, that was niiiice', he snickered, 'Tell me Brucey, do I kiss better than all your playboy bunnies?'. He began to crawl gracefully back over to the fuming Batman who's entire posture now resembled the one he had held in the interrogation room, minus the kevlar. He suddenly lurched forward and grabbed The Joker by his bespoke suit jacket and sneered in his face.
'If you ever pull anything like that again, I will toss you...' The supposed 'comedian' took this opportunity to giggle out a meek 'Off?' In response, Bruce snarled at slammed The Joker against the toilet door, earning a satisfying wheeze from the clown.
'Out of the plane', he finished with a look of absolute deadly seriousness. The clown looked up at Bruce with faked puppy-dog eyes.
'Honestly, you confess your undying love to someone and they threaten to annihilate you!', his eyes took on a façade of sadness as he continued, 'Talk about a kick in the face. I ought to apologise to Harley'. Quickly tiring of The Joker's antics, and at the mention of his insufferable hench wench, who Bruce had never taken a liking to, he threw the clown to the floor and towered over him, still managing to appear menacing even without the kevlar, cape and cowl.
'Just stay there.', he barked,' Come near me again, and I will break your arms, and whatever it is your twisted mind is plotting to do will be a hell of a lot harder to complete'. The Joker almost looked like he was taking that order seriously before the familiar glint reappeared in his brilliant green eyes.
'Sure Batsy, sure,' he muttered, and Bruce could have sworn he heard a low 'Because you didn't like it at all', but decided not to comment on it, lest he encourage the maniac. And he didn't want to do that. Didn't want that one tiny little bit.

***

The silence had once again resumed, though now it had an awfully dangerous edge to it. Bruce didn't dare look away from The Joker, now understanding what a foolish, terrible mistake that had been, and the scowl on his face may as well have been crafted in Kevlar- it was not going anywhere. The Joker, for his part, has kept a small amused smile playing on his lips, and chattered on about something inane every so often, but had so far avoided the Bat's fury.

'Hey, Bats?' said the madman, head turning in the Bat's direction. Bruce groaned inwardly. Spoke too soon. He raised an eyebrow at the clown, who took this as his cue to continue.
'Y'know all that time ago, when we first started out dance? Yes, dance- don't look at me like that, Bat! Well anyway, remember when you let Harvey take the rap for you? Let him get arrested and sully his reputation? Hell, even giving me the opportunity to make him... shine.' Bruce growled lowly in his chest. He did not like this particular topic of conversation on bit.

'Well, uh, why did you do it?' The Joker asked, his tone for once lacking it's mocking edge. Bruce regarded him with an incredulous look. They had been over this, and other similar topics, many times before. Granted, they had never sat down and talked it out like adults before, though Bruce was certain this was beyond The Joker's capabilities, but then again, it seemed like all bets were off on this flight. Bruce took a deep breath. He may as well indulge the clown. It's not like it was something Bruce felt needed to be hidden, though he did feel the sinking feeling of reluctance at telling The Joker any else about himself. But, the positives outweighed the negatives; at least it would occupy the madman for a while.

'We both knew that we couldn't give into your demands', stated Bruce matter of factly, 'Harvey recognised that I could do more good for Gotham on it's rooftops than beyond bars and felt his sacrifice would be worth it for the greater good. I didn't agree at first, but I had to use the opportunity to stop you'. Bruce winced at the memory. He most certainly did not stop The Joker. He had played right into his hand.
'Bullshit!', The Joker cried suddenly, definitely not using his inside voice. Bruce looked upon the currently unpainted man with a quizzical look on his face.
'Excuse me? You asked, Joker, and that's the truth.' Bruce yelled back at The Joker who just shook his head, mirroring a disappointed parent.
'Suuuure, and Thomas Schiff is a fan-tas-tic wing man.', he drawled, 'Face it Bats, the reason you let the artist formally known as Harvey take the blame for your, ahem, extra curricular activities is because you weren't prepared to stop our tango before it had even started'. One side of the clown's face was pulled up in a victorious smirk, causing Bruce to scoff at his arrogance and absurdity.
'Now who's talking bullshit?', Bruce replied, none the less feeling a very real shiver at the bottom of his spine at the truth in the Joker's words. The Joker raised a lone brow.
'Oh, we both know it's truth, Bruce,' he said rather smugly, 'You had a taste of the 'forbidden fruit' at that delightful soiree of yours, great tomatoes by the way, and you couldn't stand the thought of not trying it again. Yes, it was bitter and left a strange after taste in your mouth, but that's the thing isn't it? The sour taste running riot in your memory? That's what pulled you in.' He began to rise to his knees, casting a shadow over the sitting-down vigilante.
'Like the claws of heroin in an addicts mind, you needed another fix of me. Another hit. Heh, literally. And that, my dear darling dark knight, is why you let Dent take the fall'. He sat back down, arms folded. Arrogant bastard.
'You're so full of yourself Joker', Bruce chided, hoping to distract The Joker from the deer caught in the headlights look he knew he had plastered on his face. The Joker simply chuckled softly, almost fondly.
'Don't play pretend, Brucey. There are no lies between us now', he licked his lips absent mindedly and leaned closer into Bruce. 'Tell me that you didn't sit up awake at night letting your mind play over our interactions. Tell me you didn't ache to know who, what I am. To know me. To understand. Tell me you didn't hate yourself for realising that maybe, just maybe, you need this. Need me. That just for a second, you knew that I gave you purpose. That you didn't spend every single second of when your unruly thoughts would move to me telling yourself you weren't hard.' Bruce felt his mouth dry out as he tried to speak with a thick tongue, but the madman cut him off. 'Then tell me again why that dumb-ass DA was hailed as MY Batman'

Bruce had watched and listened as transfixed as snake under a charmer's spell as The Joker went on his tirade, painting a frighteningly accurate picture of his thoughts and feelings during their first few months as enemies. He audibly gulped at The Joker's words hoping to any man-made deity that may or may not be in existence that the clown had not picked up on it. Like hell he hadn't. The Joker was practically beaming. Hook, line and ,almost, sinker.

' 'Sides', The prince began again, 'your cowl could never disguise that god-awful butt chin of Dent's.' Laughter boomed out from within the Ace of Knaves as he pictured his old pal Harvey's ugly mug inside of Batsy's face. The sound bounced off the walls and into Bruce's ears with an awesome might and was enough to snap Bruce out his awed state.
'Shut up, Joker', he bellowed, though they both knew it was futile. The laughter wasn't going to stop just yet. It was best to let it run it's course. He sighed and placed his fingers on his temples, rubbing in a slow circular motion- a nervous habit he had picked up- as he waited for the tremors of laughter that racked the smaller man's body to subside.

Adding to the already loud ruckus in Bruce's head, was a loud knock at the toilet door. Joker's laughing fit ceased mid 'heh', and they regarded each other with rounded eyes. Bruce felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Yes, it was partly to do with being caught in such a compromising situation- he was well aware of what it looked like- and partly because someone had unknowingly brought themselves closer to the mass murdering maniac beside him, but what Bruce really didn't want to acknowledge was that the sinking feeling had a basis in disappointment due to someone interrupting his time with the clown, unmasked.

'Hello', came a pleasant voice from behind the door, 'Mr Wayne, sir? Is everything okay?' Bruce quickly pulled himself up and motioned to The Joker to be quiet. He opened the door a little and through the gap saw a woman with platinum blonde hair, an orange face and a fake smile. Oh, how he was used to seeing similar faces. He forced his cheeks to pull up, hoping it looked like an easy smile.
'Yes, everything's fine', he replied in his best playboy tone,' My friend here is just feeling a little under the weather is all'. The explanation was unpromptly backed up by an over-exaggerated gagging noise coming from over Bruce's shoulder. The woman raised an unconvinced eyebrow but quickly painted her face to look the picture of concern.
'Oh dear', she gasped, 'Would you like me to fetch him a bottle of water?' Bruce shook his head with a light smile.
'No, that's quite alright, he'll be fine. He just had a little trouble with flying'. Bruce still wondered if that perhaps this excuse wasn't so far away from the truth after his display earlier. The air hostess nodded faintly before informing Bruce of her readiness to assist and moved on, no doubt planning on telling her girlfriends about Bruce Wayne's 'in-flight entertainment.' And with a man no less!

Bruce shut and harshly locked the door and turned back to the lunatic with a sigh.
'That was too close,' he breathed, more to himself than the other man. This situation was really beginning to tire him out. The Joker giggled almost girlishly.
'Ooooh, imagine if she'd caught us ten minutes ago', he laughed with a sly wink, eliciting a look of disgust on the billionaire's face. 'What a show that would have been!' Bruce bared his teeth at his enemy and growled.
'Just shut up for once in your pitiful like, would you?' he spat, more of an order than a question. The Joker brought his hand up to his mouth and pretended to zip up his lips with an invisible zipper and Bruce began to wonder if it would be unreasonable to ask Lucius to come up with such a contraption. Apparently this particular 'zip' was broken because no sooner had he finished the motion did he start laughing again.

'Oh..heh.. you really need to lighten..hahaha...up', he managed to get out through his insane laughter. 'Maybe we could go for a drink once we land. I'm teetotal myself, but I hear kerosene packs quite the punch.', The clown fell into a new wave of snickers and Bruce rolled his eyes, trying very hard not to let his bubbling anger take him over. Again. Still, he 'd just learnt that at least The Joker planned on landing, so maybe the passengers weren't in any danger. Or maybe he planned on landing without the plane. It wouldn't surprise Bruce that the clown had a parachute tucked away somewhere in case he felt the urge to blow the plane, forgive the pun, sky high. Typical clown.

'What are you planning on doing, Joker?', he blurted out before he could stop himself. This was going to get him nowhere, except maybe with the bloody corpse of a dearly departed, answer-avoiding circus reject to deal with. The Joker's eyes twinkled at the renewed game.
'Oh you know me', he chimed, 'I'm just here for shits and giggles Bats!' Though Bruce wasn't particularly surprised that he wasn't receiving an answer, he still felt the dormant pool of fury that lay inside him start to boil once again.
'Do you really expect me to believe that you dressed yourself as a civilian, went to the trouble of organising an alias and identification and boarded a plane I happened to be on just for the hell of it?' Bruce sneered- he knew he shouldn't give the clown any rise to argue, but it was just too damn tempting. The Joker, however,looked rather exasperated at Bruce.
'Do you people ever listen to me?' The Joker sighed, 'Like I told baconface, I just do things. There isn't a plan involved.' Bruce wasn't going to argue that fact, he knew from personal experience just how spontaneous the maniac could be, but none the less, something about this whole situation just didn't sit right with him. Still, he'd let it go for now. They still had over an hour left of the flight- plenty of time to find out about whatever 'punchline' The Joker would be using on the unsuspecting passengers.

He regarded The Joker, who was staring at the dripping tap above the sink, with a curious look. The disturbing juxtaposition of that smooth, handsome face, those beautiful emerald orbs and the sunshine blond hair against the facial twitches, underlying twisted intelligence and malice in his eyes made Bruce feel out of his comfort zone, though he supposed The Joker must feel the same way as he looked upon Bruce's playboy exterior. What really disturbed Bruce is how... enchanted he was by the other man's appearance. It felt like he was gazing upon something rare, something forbidden. It made him twitch in an uneasy excitement. He was beginning to accept a new found attraction of sorts for the man in front of him. The Joker had always droned on and on about the co-dependent nature of their relationship and the hidden gravitational pull between them, and Bruce had eventually accepted it in basic terms.

He understood that they stood for opposite sides. Good and evil. Or something similar anyway; he was fairly sure that he couldn't be described as wholly good and he doubted that The Joker was fully evil, but all the same, they were binary opposites. With one there couldn't be the other, and vis-versa, but that didn't mean they had some unspoken tie or destiny. Ramblings from The Joker's fractured mind did nothing to move Bruce, and he had dismissed them as mere garbage. But this new feeling made him question if maybe The Joker had simply acknowledged the attraction between them earlier. Maybe he knew that that simple, almost chaste, kiss earlier would send Bruce's senses searing. Bruce reasoned with himself that it was merely the beautified version of the madman he felt some sick pull to, due to his shenanigans with blondes in his playboy lifestyle. He told himself firmly that if the man was painted in his ghastly greasepaint, scars exposed and sporting that garish suit, there would be absolutely no way on Earth he'd find him remotely attractive. Oh, how he repeated it like a mantra in his head.

I do not like The Joker. I do not like The Joker. I do not like The Joker.

The afore mentioned psychopath had in the mean time rested his head against the wall and had closed his eyes a while ago. His breathing had shallowed and a look of contentment covered his face, obviously too having fallen prey to the engine's lull. Bruce realised with a start that The Joker was perfectly comfortable with sleeping, of all things, in Bruce's presence. No hint of distrust whatsoever. The Joker's lips twitched and he muttered in his slumber and God help him, Bruce found it... cute. He groaned at himself and whacked his head off the wall behind him. Why did this have to happen? Why did he have to take this stupid flight with this stupid clown? Why did he drag him into this tiny room? And why the fucking fuck did this awful, despicable excuse for a human being have to look so god damn adorable in his sleep.

It was as though that brief kiss had planted a seed deep within Bruce, a seed sprouting into a fledgling of immoral affection. He shook his head. No. Who was he kidding? It went back further than that. Just like The Joker had said earlier, the first time they had met at his fundraiser had felt the tinglings of excitement in his stomach. He'd attributed it to adrenaline, but in the part of his emotional core he called his heart (something known for ignoring the orders of his mind) ,he knew it was something more. Adrenaline was a phenomenon he had felt whilst jumping off of buildings, whilst training with Ra's or fighting other villains. He knew very well that what he felt when he was fighting The Riddler was a world away from what he felt when he 'danced' with The Joker.

Bruce felt the urge to cry tears of frustration, maybe of fear. He wasn't going to lie, these feelings petrified him. What kind of person felt that way towards a monster? The same monster that had attempted to burn his city to a crisp. Who had taken the personification of hope in Bruce's life, played with it, turned it inside out, destroyed it's mind and discarded it without a seconds thought. And what about her? How could he justify himself to her. When he saw her lovely face in his dreams, how could he stare into those chocolate eyes and tell her the feelings he had once held for her and her alone had unwittingly transferred themselves onto her murderer. Well, it was simply really, wasn't it? He couldn't. He was a disgusting, sick man who probably did deserve to be in Arkham like so many before had said. He hated The Joker for poisoning his mind with these polluted emotions, but mostly he hated himself for getting sucked into them.

'Pull yourself together, Bruce!', he silently scolded himself,' It's not like anything is ever going to happen. Well not again anyway. He doesn't have to know. No-one does. And who knows, once we land, maybe these... feelings will just stay up in the air.' Bruce looked back at his sleeping nemesis who's eyebrows pulled together, reacting to whatever it was he was dreaming about, and the vigilante felt an increasingly familiar lurch inside his midriff. A small whimper fought its way past the defences of Bruce's throat. A whimper? Oh, for the love of...

This was getting out of hand. He just wanted to get down on the ground so he could get the hell out of this room, alert the authorities to the clown's presence and return to Gotham to sulk in his bed chambers until the sun goes down and he could go and take his frustration out on the scourge of the city. But, unfortunately, the flight still had quite a while to go. Well, at least The Joker was unconscious, that took some of the edge off.

As if on cue, the escaped maniac began to stir, his head rolling slightly as he emitted a low, sleep hazed moan. Bruce immediately stilling, trying to remain perfectly silent lest he wake the Joker and have to deal with not only an awake ,and thus insanely annoying, but also a cranky psychopath. The criminal tossed his body in his sleep, turning it more towards Bruce and gasped sharply, his face crinkling up. Bruce pondered on just what it was that his adversary's subconscious was picturing. He was quite sure that before now, he had never seen The Joker gasp before, so it seemed reasonable that whatever it was that was haunting the clown's psyche was exceptionally startling to drive him to respond like that. Bruce literally shuddered to think. He observed as the menace's breath slowly became more laboured and his soft gasps became more frequent and evolved into quiet keening noises. His hands began to twitch as if to grab for someone or something invisible to Bruce's eye and his sleep clouded face tightened slightly. He groaned rather loudly causing Bruce to shiver- whatever was going on inside that depraved skull must be pretty intense to illicit that kind of reaction.
'BATS!', the Joker twitched as he half cried, half moaned suddenly the lone word, the noise perforating Bruce's ear drums and flowing in an electric current right down to his groins. Oh!

Oh.