Fic: Surprise BxJ
In the middle of everything, there was a messy vanity, the mirror dirty and cracked. The edges were covered in pictures and sticky notes, and the top of it had various odds and ends including tubes of makeup and bottles. All but three of the lights on the mirror had been shattered, never to be used again, and the light above was only casting off a glow of dim yellowed light. There was a small bed in the corner, which had stains of blood and sweat covering the top of the poorly padded surface. The kitchen was practically empty, only containing a few non-perishable foods and a few other necessities like various medications. The bathroom had stains of blood and paint on every surface, and the water came out as a dull rusty color. There were more paints and dyes in the cabinets, a razor or two, and an old toothbrush. Throughout the entire apartment, there were no sure signs that this could have been inhabited by the Joker. And yet it was.
But at that moment, the Joker was not the one inside. A dark figure stood in front of the vanity mirror, gazing at all of the roses, bottles and garbage. He had looked everywhere, and there was nothing that screamed ‘Psycho Killing Machine’ at him anywhere. The closet door had also been open just a crack, and he could see the plain clothes inside from across the room, and it looked as if they hadn’t been touched in years.
It had been by a stroke of luck he had even found this place, and as soon as he got word of it, he rushed over. It looked almost completely normal, if it wasn’t for the paints, the roses, or the lack of everything but pictures of Batman himself.
So Bruce Wayne stood, taking in everything around him, trying to understand this man who was so engrossed in killing and getting his attention. He nearly jumped out of his shadowy corner when he heard the door slam open, the figure in the doorway grumbling to himself quietly.
The door shut behind him, his hair wild and clothes torn and wrinkled. They, of course, weren’t even his to begin with though, since he just was ‘released’ from Arkham. He had on the bleached-white uniform, blood splatters coloring the blinding white material.
He had his back turned to the intruder, and he started rummaging through the mess, trying to look for something. Batman didn’t know how he could find anything in that mess, but then of course, to the Joker, it was most likely organized chaos.
Escaped criminal or not, the Joker seemed pretty laid back, only grumbling to himself softly as he searched. He seemed very thoughtful; his hands grazing over every item and his fingers twitching ever so slightly when one touched the wrong thing. Finally, he made a delighted noise as he picked up a small perfume bottle, holding it up to one of the dull light bulbs before scampering over to the closet.
Batman had no idea what he could be doing, as he had checked the closet, and it seemed to have only been housing dust bunnies for quite some time. But he slid into a closer shadow to watch him, and he was surprised when he saw the other man pull up part of the flooring and reach into a small compartment in the floor, pulling out some of his clothes.
Clever, indeed, and it reminded Bruce of himself in a way, with how he hid the Bat suit away when it was not in use. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Batman destroyed it, shoving it away from his thoughts. He was not like the Joker, and there was no reason for him to even think that way.
Batman looked back to the other man, noticing now that he had changed his clothes, the asylum garments thrown carelessly to the corner. He was just buttoning up his shirt, and Bruce caught a glimpse of his pale chest before he looked around once more. He couldn’t help but notice the scars, because he knew that the Joker seemed to love the pain that he caused him, but it seemed that even with the longing for pain, he was still human.
That was an alien thought for Batman, to think of the Joker as a human, not just a monster. True, he was human, it was a common fact for most living things on the planet, but was he a person? To some extent of the word, yes, he supposed that the other man was a person, but he wasn’t humane.
Batman turned his piercing gaze back to the other once he had his shirt and vest done up, his coat lying across the dirty bed. He watched the man at the mirror look himself over and slick his hair back from time to time. He noticed that the Joker’s tongue would dart across his lips more when he saw himself, probably a natural reflex to the scars for him.
The Joker’s emerald eyes darted across the top of the vanity, searching slowly and deliberately. He placed the tips of his fingers atop various items, his hands twitching slightly when he touched the wrong thing. He seemed to be trying to find something important almost, and this intrigued Bruce exceedingly.
The Joker let out a quick high pitched shriek of delight when his fingers landed on the small glass object. It seemed to be a sort of perfume bottle, the liquid coming up about half-way to the top. The Joker grinned as he sloshed the contents around for a moment, eyeing it happily.
He started humming a soft tune, setting the bottle in a relatively clear space as he skipped over to one of the many bouquets of roses, taking a plain red one into his ungloved fingers. He trotted back in front of the mirror, twirling it in his fingertips as he picked up the bottle once more. He uncapped it, and shook it softly before spraying it three times, directly on the petals.
The red started to bleed out of the color of the petals, making them turn a dark midnight black color. Batman’s eyes widened slightly at this sight, and he just watched at the Joker laughed. The red color dripped down the stem, leaves, and his fingers, making him wince for a moment. He set down the blackened flower, wiping his fingers on his bed sheet.
“We're painting the roses red, we dare not stop, or waste a drop, so let the paint be spread, we're painting the roses red, we're painting the roses red…” the Joker sang to himself as he rummaged around in one of the drawers of the vanity. He hummed another verse, just to pass the time before the next. Batman found this to be quite eerie, seeing the Joker killing roses while singing a Disney song.
“Oh, painting the roses, and many a tear we shed, because we know, they'll cease to grow, in fact, they'll soon be dead, and yet we go ahead, painting the roses red!” the Joker pulled out a purple spray paint bottle, and shook it just before coating the now dead rose petals in the paint. Finishing, he held it back and admired his work, slipping the rose back into a vase on the vanity.
Batman saw him pick up the bottle once more and take a whiff of it, giggling as he exhaled. From where he hid in the shadows, Batman could make out two small words on the bottle that made his teeth clench and his body spring forward at the clown.
Fear toxin.
The Joker gave out a loud yelp of surprise when the bat suddenly knocked the bottle out of his hands, pinning him to the ground. It thankfully didn’t shatter, and it was now out of the Joker’s grasp. The man who was now below Batman glared at the other for a moment before breaking into a grin once more.
“Well now, Batsy, if you wanted to see me that bad, you could have just gotten me out of that hell-hole yourself!” he said to the other with a smile still stretching his scars. Batman growled in his face softly, tightening his grip on the other.
“What makes you think I would come here just to see you?” the gravel-eating voice rang in his ear, bringing him back to their other fond encounters.
“Well, you break into my humble abode, most likely when I was not present, snoop around my things, and then go and disrupt my art lesson!” the Joker said with an amused pout on his face. This earned him a confused glare from the bat, who looked up to the rose for a moment seeing that it was, in fact, still alive. He studied the other man for a moment, who gave him an exasperated sigh.
“I didn’t kill it, it’s my art! It means something special to me, Batsy!” Batman gave him a disbelieving stare and the Joker rolled his eyes.
“What, how many innocent people you’ve killed?” the bat growled in his face, making the Joker frown a bit, and try to shift underneath the bat’s still present weight.
“No, Batsy, not people, just one person, and I think you know him! He’s dark, and handsome, and I want him to be alllll mine!” The Joker grinned at him once more, earning a growl from the other once more when he shifted.
But other than the growl, there was no other answer from the other. The Joker pursed his lips for a moment, looking him over. “Need some more clues? Alrighty then! He is very well known, but not liked by many Gothamites, he has terrible control issues from what I know about him, and he hides away a lot of the time, only coming out when need be.”
Bruce knew who the Joker was talking about, but he didn’t want to fall into this game, even if he was curious about where the Joker was trying to go with this. So, not wanting to fall prey to him, he didn’t answer, just tightening his grip on the other and not diverting his glare.
The Joker sighed softly, deciding to give it one more go, “Alright Batty, one more set of clues! He wasn’t around forever, he was one of the main reasons I came to see the sights of Gotham, and I really want him to whisper the words, ‘Put away that green eye,’ to me if I sneak a peek at him before I kiss him!”
Batman wasn’t expecting this to come from the man, and he ended up loosening his grip for a moment, and unfortunately, that was all the time the Joker needed. He slipped his wrists out of the bat’s grasp, and he grabbed a silk scarf that was lying on the floor, quickly wrapping it behind the Bat man’s neck and crashing their lips together.
It was a harsh kiss, and the Joker bit at his lips, trying to access his mouth, but even through his surprise, Bruce didn’t let up. But the Joker quickly gained his control back once more, and used the scarf to help him flip them over so that he was then resting on top of Batman. The sudden switch was the last shock that the Joker needed Batman to have so he could delve his own tongue into Batman’s exposed mouth.
Bruce couldn’t help himself when he soon found that he was responding to the kiss. It made him quite scared for his sanity, but at that moment, he didn’t care. The Joker wasn’t letting up, and it was getting hard to breathe after a few moments.
The Joker finally broke himself away from the other, smiling wickedly as he did so. “You give up?” he asked him suddenly, leaving Bruce confused once more, only realizing moments later that he was asking about who the roses were for.
The Joker didn’t wait for a response though, leaning down to whisper into the spot between the spike of the cowl and his cheekbone his answer.
“They’re for every time someone mentions you or I think of you, Brucie-baby.”
But at that moment, the Joker was not the one inside. A dark figure stood in front of the vanity mirror, gazing at all of the roses, bottles and garbage. He had looked everywhere, and there was nothing that screamed ‘Psycho Killing Machine’ at him anywhere. The closet door had also been open just a crack, and he could see the plain clothes inside from across the room, and it looked as if they hadn’t been touched in years.
It had been by a stroke of luck he had even found this place, and as soon as he got word of it, he rushed over. It looked almost completely normal, if it wasn’t for the paints, the roses, or the lack of everything but pictures of Batman himself.
So Bruce Wayne stood, taking in everything around him, trying to understand this man who was so engrossed in killing and getting his attention. He nearly jumped out of his shadowy corner when he heard the door slam open, the figure in the doorway grumbling to himself quietly.
The door shut behind him, his hair wild and clothes torn and wrinkled. They, of course, weren’t even his to begin with though, since he just was ‘released’ from Arkham. He had on the bleached-white uniform, blood splatters coloring the blinding white material.
He had his back turned to the intruder, and he started rummaging through the mess, trying to look for something. Batman didn’t know how he could find anything in that mess, but then of course, to the Joker, it was most likely organized chaos.
Escaped criminal or not, the Joker seemed pretty laid back, only grumbling to himself softly as he searched. He seemed very thoughtful; his hands grazing over every item and his fingers twitching ever so slightly when one touched the wrong thing. Finally, he made a delighted noise as he picked up a small perfume bottle, holding it up to one of the dull light bulbs before scampering over to the closet.
Batman had no idea what he could be doing, as he had checked the closet, and it seemed to have only been housing dust bunnies for quite some time. But he slid into a closer shadow to watch him, and he was surprised when he saw the other man pull up part of the flooring and reach into a small compartment in the floor, pulling out some of his clothes.
Clever, indeed, and it reminded Bruce of himself in a way, with how he hid the Bat suit away when it was not in use. But as soon as that thought entered his mind, Batman destroyed it, shoving it away from his thoughts. He was not like the Joker, and there was no reason for him to even think that way.
Batman looked back to the other man, noticing now that he had changed his clothes, the asylum garments thrown carelessly to the corner. He was just buttoning up his shirt, and Bruce caught a glimpse of his pale chest before he looked around once more. He couldn’t help but notice the scars, because he knew that the Joker seemed to love the pain that he caused him, but it seemed that even with the longing for pain, he was still human.
That was an alien thought for Batman, to think of the Joker as a human, not just a monster. True, he was human, it was a common fact for most living things on the planet, but was he a person? To some extent of the word, yes, he supposed that the other man was a person, but he wasn’t humane.
Batman turned his piercing gaze back to the other once he had his shirt and vest done up, his coat lying across the dirty bed. He watched the man at the mirror look himself over and slick his hair back from time to time. He noticed that the Joker’s tongue would dart across his lips more when he saw himself, probably a natural reflex to the scars for him.
The Joker’s emerald eyes darted across the top of the vanity, searching slowly and deliberately. He placed the tips of his fingers atop various items, his hands twitching slightly when he touched the wrong thing. He seemed to be trying to find something important almost, and this intrigued Bruce exceedingly.
The Joker let out a quick high pitched shriek of delight when his fingers landed on the small glass object. It seemed to be a sort of perfume bottle, the liquid coming up about half-way to the top. The Joker grinned as he sloshed the contents around for a moment, eyeing it happily.
He started humming a soft tune, setting the bottle in a relatively clear space as he skipped over to one of the many bouquets of roses, taking a plain red one into his ungloved fingers. He trotted back in front of the mirror, twirling it in his fingertips as he picked up the bottle once more. He uncapped it, and shook it softly before spraying it three times, directly on the petals.
The red started to bleed out of the color of the petals, making them turn a dark midnight black color. Batman’s eyes widened slightly at this sight, and he just watched at the Joker laughed. The red color dripped down the stem, leaves, and his fingers, making him wince for a moment. He set down the blackened flower, wiping his fingers on his bed sheet.
“We're painting the roses red, we dare not stop, or waste a drop, so let the paint be spread, we're painting the roses red, we're painting the roses red…” the Joker sang to himself as he rummaged around in one of the drawers of the vanity. He hummed another verse, just to pass the time before the next. Batman found this to be quite eerie, seeing the Joker killing roses while singing a Disney song.
“Oh, painting the roses, and many a tear we shed, because we know, they'll cease to grow, in fact, they'll soon be dead, and yet we go ahead, painting the roses red!” the Joker pulled out a purple spray paint bottle, and shook it just before coating the now dead rose petals in the paint. Finishing, he held it back and admired his work, slipping the rose back into a vase on the vanity.
Batman saw him pick up the bottle once more and take a whiff of it, giggling as he exhaled. From where he hid in the shadows, Batman could make out two small words on the bottle that made his teeth clench and his body spring forward at the clown.
Fear toxin.
The Joker gave out a loud yelp of surprise when the bat suddenly knocked the bottle out of his hands, pinning him to the ground. It thankfully didn’t shatter, and it was now out of the Joker’s grasp. The man who was now below Batman glared at the other for a moment before breaking into a grin once more.
“Well now, Batsy, if you wanted to see me that bad, you could have just gotten me out of that hell-hole yourself!” he said to the other with a smile still stretching his scars. Batman growled in his face softly, tightening his grip on the other.
“What makes you think I would come here just to see you?” the gravel-eating voice rang in his ear, bringing him back to their other fond encounters.
“Well, you break into my humble abode, most likely when I was not present, snoop around my things, and then go and disrupt my art lesson!” the Joker said with an amused pout on his face. This earned him a confused glare from the bat, who looked up to the rose for a moment seeing that it was, in fact, still alive. He studied the other man for a moment, who gave him an exasperated sigh.
“I didn’t kill it, it’s my art! It means something special to me, Batsy!” Batman gave him a disbelieving stare and the Joker rolled his eyes.
“What, how many innocent people you’ve killed?” the bat growled in his face, making the Joker frown a bit, and try to shift underneath the bat’s still present weight.
“No, Batsy, not people, just one person, and I think you know him! He’s dark, and handsome, and I want him to be alllll mine!” The Joker grinned at him once more, earning a growl from the other once more when he shifted.
But other than the growl, there was no other answer from the other. The Joker pursed his lips for a moment, looking him over. “Need some more clues? Alrighty then! He is very well known, but not liked by many Gothamites, he has terrible control issues from what I know about him, and he hides away a lot of the time, only coming out when need be.”
Bruce knew who the Joker was talking about, but he didn’t want to fall into this game, even if he was curious about where the Joker was trying to go with this. So, not wanting to fall prey to him, he didn’t answer, just tightening his grip on the other and not diverting his glare.
The Joker sighed softly, deciding to give it one more go, “Alright Batty, one more set of clues! He wasn’t around forever, he was one of the main reasons I came to see the sights of Gotham, and I really want him to whisper the words, ‘Put away that green eye,’ to me if I sneak a peek at him before I kiss him!”
Batman wasn’t expecting this to come from the man, and he ended up loosening his grip for a moment, and unfortunately, that was all the time the Joker needed. He slipped his wrists out of the bat’s grasp, and he grabbed a silk scarf that was lying on the floor, quickly wrapping it behind the Bat man’s neck and crashing their lips together.
It was a harsh kiss, and the Joker bit at his lips, trying to access his mouth, but even through his surprise, Bruce didn’t let up. But the Joker quickly gained his control back once more, and used the scarf to help him flip them over so that he was then resting on top of Batman. The sudden switch was the last shock that the Joker needed Batman to have so he could delve his own tongue into Batman’s exposed mouth.
Bruce couldn’t help himself when he soon found that he was responding to the kiss. It made him quite scared for his sanity, but at that moment, he didn’t care. The Joker wasn’t letting up, and it was getting hard to breathe after a few moments.
The Joker finally broke himself away from the other, smiling wickedly as he did so. “You give up?” he asked him suddenly, leaving Bruce confused once more, only realizing moments later that he was asking about who the roses were for.
The Joker didn’t wait for a response though, leaning down to whisper into the spot between the spike of the cowl and his cheekbone his answer.
“They’re for every time someone mentions you or I think of you, Brucie-baby.”