(no subject)
Title: Come To Bed, For Crying Out Loud
Pairing: Riddler/Joker
Rating: PG-13
Warning + Summary: m/m kiss, slight mention of BDSM. Also, a lot of suggestive behaviour from a very naughty man trying to get his inamorato to drop his goddamn work and come to bed. If this is not your thing, run away. If you are married and would like to know how to get your husband to stop working and get his ass into the bedroom, you might learn something from reading this. Who knows.
This is also slightly AU, since I don't think they live together. But they might. You never know.
Disclaimer: Both these characters are property of DC Comics. The Riddler is the creation of Bill Finger and Dick Sprang, and the Joker of Bill Finger and Jerry Robinson. I do not own them, neither has this been written for profit. The story contains male/male romance so if this is not your cup of tea, you might want to leave now.
A/N: This was beta'd by myself so if it's poorly thought out, or if there is big gaping holes in the canon history of them both, or if they're OOC, I'm sorry. Really. If you happen to find such a hole, fish me out of it, then you are permitted to yell at me all you want.
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"GAAAH!"
The Clown Prince of Crime crumpled up another large sheet of paper with obvious frustration, adding to the ones already littering the large worktable. The surface of his table was already papered with blueprints and sketches, and a mountain of paper balls was slowly building.
He grabbed the edge of the desk and used it to push his swivel chair into a fast spin.
"Think, come on, think, you miserable noggin!" He screwed his face up in concentration, ignoring the giddiness, not seeing a mildly irritated Riddler poke his head out of the bedroom and walk over to his work area.
A pair of hands reached out to grab the chair, stopping it. Nigma turned the chair, so that the clown was facing him.
"What," the Riddler asked softly, tone slightly dangerous, "are you trying to do, exactly?"
"Trying to induce an idea. Go 'way," the Joker mumbled, slightly incoherent from disorientation.
"Why, Jack, I'm hurt," The Riddler said sardonically. "Now if you're not coming to bed, I'm going to resort to paddling you with my cane."
"Domestic abuse," the still-dizzy Joker muttered.
"Yes, and I'm sure you'll have a fine time explaining the oddly-shaped bruises to whoever you choose to complain to," Nigma waved, nonchalant, but that was admittedly a fine idea.
Joker tried to shake off the giddiness, like a dog ridding itself of water. "But Eddie," he started, trying to ingratiate himself by attempting puppy-dog eyes (at which he failed extravagantly). "I need to finish this..."
"No, you do not. And besides..." Nigma placed both hands on either side of the Joker, and leaned his head forward, black lips just barely meeting the surprised jester's ruby ones. "It's so lonely sleeping in that bed without you." He pressed forward a little, but nothing more. Joker responded happily, and whined when he pulled away.
Riddler turned, heading for the bedroom. He paused at the doorway, glancing back at a half-dazed, half-forlorn Joker still in his seat. He looked him directly in the eye, wicked smile spreading across his face.
Then he disappeared into the dimly lit room.
Joker hesitated, still in his swivel chair. He glanced at the Everest of futile attempts on his table, then back at the now-empty doorway of the bedroom. He stared back at the paper ball pile.
Then he bolted for the bedroom, maniacal grin of glee plastered on his chalk-white face.
Pairing: Riddler/Joker
Rating: PG-13
Warning + Summary: m/m kiss, slight mention of BDSM. Also, a lot of suggestive behaviour from a very naughty man trying to get his inamorato to drop his goddamn work and come to bed. If this is not your thing, run away. If you are married and would like to know how to get your husband to stop working and get his ass into the bedroom, you might learn something from reading this. Who knows.
This is also slightly AU, since I don't think they live together. But they might. You never know.
Disclaimer: Both these characters are property of DC Comics. The Riddler is the creation of Bill Finger and Dick Sprang, and the Joker of Bill Finger and Jerry Robinson. I do not own them, neither has this been written for profit. The story contains male/male romance so if this is not your cup of tea, you might want to leave now.
A/N: This was beta'd by myself so if it's poorly thought out, or if there is big gaping holes in the canon history of them both, or if they're OOC, I'm sorry. Really. If you happen to find such a hole, fish me out of it, then you are permitted to yell at me all you want.
-----------------------------------------------------
"GAAAH!"
The Clown Prince of Crime crumpled up another large sheet of paper with obvious frustration, adding to the ones already littering the large worktable. The surface of his table was already papered with blueprints and sketches, and a mountain of paper balls was slowly building.
He grabbed the edge of the desk and used it to push his swivel chair into a fast spin.
"Think, come on, think, you miserable noggin!" He screwed his face up in concentration, ignoring the giddiness, not seeing a mildly irritated Riddler poke his head out of the bedroom and walk over to his work area.
A pair of hands reached out to grab the chair, stopping it. Nigma turned the chair, so that the clown was facing him.
"What," the Riddler asked softly, tone slightly dangerous, "are you trying to do, exactly?"
"Trying to induce an idea. Go 'way," the Joker mumbled, slightly incoherent from disorientation.
"Why, Jack, I'm hurt," The Riddler said sardonically. "Now if you're not coming to bed, I'm going to resort to paddling you with my cane."
"Domestic abuse," the still-dizzy Joker muttered.
"Yes, and I'm sure you'll have a fine time explaining the oddly-shaped bruises to whoever you choose to complain to," Nigma waved, nonchalant, but that was admittedly a fine idea.
Joker tried to shake off the giddiness, like a dog ridding itself of water. "But Eddie," he started, trying to ingratiate himself by attempting puppy-dog eyes (at which he failed extravagantly). "I need to finish this..."
"No, you do not. And besides..." Nigma placed both hands on either side of the Joker, and leaned his head forward, black lips just barely meeting the surprised jester's ruby ones. "It's so lonely sleeping in that bed without you." He pressed forward a little, but nothing more. Joker responded happily, and whined when he pulled away.
Riddler turned, heading for the bedroom. He paused at the doorway, glancing back at a half-dazed, half-forlorn Joker still in his seat. He looked him directly in the eye, wicked smile spreading across his face.
Then he disappeared into the dimly lit room.
Joker hesitated, still in his swivel chair. He glanced at the Everest of futile attempts on his table, then back at the now-empty doorway of the bedroom. He stared back at the paper ball pile.
Then he bolted for the bedroom, maniacal grin of glee plastered on his chalk-white face.