Joker slept for much, much longer than he usually did; chronic exhaustion took it's toll now that he was finally fully relaxed, that constant tension unwound. His body instinctively knew rest was needed to recover from the battering it had received, and it did its best to keep him asleep. Eventually, though, the smaller man began to stir.
It did little to bother Bruce, who was out and not ready to give up such a rare moment of ease in his life. His breath came softly, lips parted just barely, warm on the other man's neck. They had moved little from their positions during the night; having found such comfort, there had been no need.
His body sensing the difference before his mind caught up, green eyes slitted open and turned sideways to find an unexpected, albeit welcome, surprise. Keeping very still, Joker took the moment to observe the dark haired man curled around him, examining all the little changes now that the tension and burning anger were gone. It made a remarkable difference.
He watched for quite awhile, utterly fascinated, before being unable to help himself from touching what his eyes had traveled over. His hand drifted up, fingertips that were still stained with blood tracing a soft line from temple to the jaw line that had softened from its rigid, angry steel.
Bruce's eyes twitched back and forth underneath his lashes, the touch of another human pulling him toward consciousness. Unthinkingly he sought the heat next to him. The Joker's skin was smooth in some places, rough in others. His body was both soft and hard. They had both gone to sleep completely dressed. The buckle of his own pants dug into his lower stomach as he pressed himself closer.
Thrilled at the reaction, the gleeful, childish smile in place again, he took it as an invitation for more. Stroking back up the side of Bruce's face, he ran fingers through dark, disheveled locks of hair. He hadn't truly explored the texture before, too caught up in the moment, the pleasure and the pain. Still curious, watching every response, his gaze was suddenly caught by long, dark lashes. Again, his hand moved without thinking, fingertips gently stroking over one closed eye.
In this half waking state, Bruce couldn't figure out where he was. It wasn't a question at the forefront of his mind however; time had fallen out of context for him. He could have been waking to a decade ago, in his own bed aboveground, before he had ever learned how to fight for more than sport.
Continuing to stroke fingers along bare skin wherever impulse took him, another thought finally whispered in his ear. Turning eyes up to Bruce's face again, he placed a hand on the larger man's shoulder to pull himself up slightly, then leaned in to touch sleeping lips with his own.
After a moment, Bruce responded in kind. He welcomed the touch of the body lying wrapped with him. The other man's lips were gentle, light, pliant....unusually ridged. Bruce explored the texture, tongue darting out of his mouth to do so, something in the back of his mind sluggishly coming to life.
Purring back as his affections were returned, Joker slowly mirrored Bruce, wrapping his free arm around to stroke his hair in encouragement. Letting him have his turn, he pressed forward, determined to get his own taste. Fully awake by now, he playfully nipped at the man's lower lip, enjoying all the attention.
As their kiss grew more insistent, familiarity finally came back to Bruce. He remembered a tongue that snaked around his own like this, he remembered deep scars trailing out from red, bitten lips, he remembered the Joker, the wild criminal who had stormed into his life and taken it all to a personal level beyond one Bruce had been able to imagine. He remembered how that man had been locked in his cave, he remembered....what it had felt like to have their way with each other, to struggle for control, and finally how he had nearly bled to death. That had been last night. Bruce's eyes blinked open to find the Joker's half lidded ones staring back at him.
Watching him with unusual affection, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile on reflex - not a sneer or a grin, but a smile. Every bit of Joker's body language indicated that he was more than comfortable with the way they had awoken, relaxing into the lines of Bruce's body. Green eyes curious, his hand slid from where they had curled around dark tangles of hair, seeing if the hero would let him touch his face while fully awake.
His eyes followed the Joker's movements carefully as he stilled upon waking to a situation he could not have predicted. But there was nothing at all in the villain's demeanor that held a candle to the madman he'd grown used to. Bruce had been watching his eyes, but he couldn't miss the Joker's whole face lighting up look at him. Only madmen and those who didn't know what they were doing could become that good of an actor. The Joker honestly projected happiness, and Bruce was unsure of how to proceed.
Stilling for a moment as Bruce stared at him in utter confusion, only making him more puzzled before he remembered. ...always blind as a Bat. A determined light sparking in his eyes, he shook his head at the other man's consistent self-deception. At least I always know what I want.
Want, he did, so he leaned forward again and took it.
When the Joker's mouth met Bruce's again, the force of it was renewed. Bruce felt awkward at first. He allowed the kiss, not knowing what else to do, and it was pleasant. He was still enjoyably warm, but his mind was having a hard time wrapping around waking up with the Joker in such an.....agreeable situation.
Sensing the hesitation, the corner of his mouth turned up slyly, taking it as an opportunity to bein control. Giving Bruce another moment of gentle sweetness, he bit him.
"Ah-" Bruce jerked, feeling at first betrayed, second foolish for being so, and third a lot more comfortable that he was in fact, in bed with the Joker he had been keeping and not still dreaming. He pulled back slightly, then changed his mind and pressed forward, this time actively participating.
Grinning at the reaction, Joker tried to turn them until Bruce was on his back, only to flinch and exhale sharply as the movement caused sharp pains in his chest and the smattering of stitches about his torso. His pleased look soured as he fell back to the mattress, displeased with his body's disobedience.
This roused Bruce somewhat back to reality. He let the Joker go, but didn't move away. "You shouldn't move," he said quietly. His hand moved up the Joker's stomach, feeling the bandages and finally the one with the hole in his chest. Not knowing whether the he had torn anything since the previous night, Bruce worked at the buttons of the shirt he'd given the other man, slowly pealing it away to see the bandages underneath. Some of them were spotted with red.
"You're going to have to move for me, then. If you're so insistent on me staying still." He remained motionless while Bruce checked on the wounds, but his expression was still that of a petulant child.
Taking in his tone of voice and sensing the Joker was trying to get on his nerves, Bruce decided not to ask to what specifically he was referring to. "These need to be changed," he concluded. If any more blood soaked through, the wraps would be useless. The process was going to be painful; healing tissue clung to the unsullied material and didn't like to come apart. He doubted this wasn't the kind of pain the Joker enjoyed. Maybe he didn't even care about the pain after all. Maybe the thrill came from seeing Bruce lose control. He didn't know. He suspected it was a little of both. Nevertheless, he was confident the other man could tolerate it.
"Do I get a reward when you're done?" he asked with a smirk, unable to help himself. The man was simply a pleasure to tease, his reactions always so amusing. He was disappointed that Bruce's mind had turned straight back into its shielded, serious mode of thinking; he'd had such hopes when he'd woken up and responded in a completely different manner.
Bruce couldn't help it. He'd never been an overtly expressive person, and honestly had no intention of ever becoming so. Especially with someone as....contradictory, as the Joker.
"Consider waking to see a new day your reward," he replied, sliding off the bed. He moved to the Joker's side. "Do you think you can stand?"
The playful look turning into a sharp glare, the green-haired man eased himself upright, slowly getting to his feet. "I've lived through more than you ever will, Bat. Consider that before underestimating me," he bristled, clutching one arm to his chest just over the bullet wound.
This was exactly why silence is golden.
Refusing to rise to the bait, Bruce took that arm, put his other under the Joker's shoulders, and helped him to his feet. His own weight shouldn't be horrible, but it was still pressure. He had obviously not been able to roll over easily before. "Come, there's a kit in the other room." The caves were huge, and Bruce was grateful the place was well heated. Their steps echoed as Bruce led them toward the industrial sized washroom.
Joker sulkily let himself be led until he caught sight of the place Bruce was taking him; as soon as the tiled floors caught his gaze, he dug his heels into the ground and leaned backwards, trying to stop their forward progress. "...I'm not going in there."
Bruce did a double take, eyes first on their destination, then back to the Joker, then to the room again. It wasn't lit, and it was large, but most of the caves were. The bathroom didn't look any more ominous than the rest of the space Bruce lived in. "What? Why?"
is jaw set, his back bent as he resisted Bruce's pulls towards the room's direction. His eyes were fixed on the doorway, his skin already taking on a paler, sickly tinge. "I'm not."
The change in complexion was noticeable with over half his makeup gone, and now that Bruce thought about it, this situation was slightly familiar. The Joker had freaked out horribly when Bruce had held him under the shower head in the other lair. At the time, he had assumed the Joker hated him. He wouldn't have thought to connect it with the room. "Look. I can change your bandages out here. I can bring water out here. But you've got to clean this, one way or another."
He shook his head again, anger and stubbornness finally failing to conceal his fear as his stomach twisted. "No." He didn't even know why the sight, or even thought of the room with bare, colorless walls and cold stone tiles and pipes with dripping, dripping water filled him with a sort of mindless dread. Alone, alone... it was different. Alone, he could avoid going in too far, using only what he needed to before fleeing again. The thought of going in there with someone else present... "NO."
Frustrated, Bruce hauled the Joker away, set him down in a chair pulled from one of the station monitors, and leveled with him. "I don't care how you clean up, but if you don't, that shot through your lung will get infected." He spoke evenly and firmly, trying to be forceful without provoking the other man. "Now I'm going to get a new cloth, and some water, and you're going to sit here and wait for me."
Joker said nothing, waiting for Bruce to enter the bathroom in search of his supplies. As soon as he was out of sight in the bathroom, the madman fled. Having little breath to move quickly and never having had the chance to explore this lair before, he couldn't figure out where to go, where to hide. Unable to think of anything else, he returned to the bedroom in desperation, hiding in a dark corner of the closet floor, shutting himself in and pushing himself into the corner as much as he could.
From inside the bathroom, Bruce didn't hear the Joker's stumbling footsteps over the running water, but when he returned with a pale, several cloths, and new bandages, the other man was nowhere in sight. He should have known. He sighed and set the supplies down. This....would explain why the madman looked perpetually unwashed at least. He couldn't get very far in this place, Bruce was certain of it. Adding his injuries on top of that, he couldn't have gotten very far at all. Bruce glanced warily around the room, spotting nothing out of place. He then headed down the cavern, listening intently, watching carefully for movement. It didn't take him long to wind up back at the bedroom.
Joker tried to breathe as quietly as possible when he heard the footsteps come closer, the fear sinking deeper roots into his mind. The sense of the need to hide, the thought of the room, the fear at the sound of footsteps as he was trapped in a dark place... All of it made forgotten memories resurface, everything that he kept hidden from himself.
Eyes roving over the room they'd only left a few minutes ago, Bruce could think of a few places a man could hide. He entered carefully, very aware that whenever the Joker had fought him, it had always been with tooth and nail. Even if he had been different lately. Bruce refused to forget who he was keeping.
With light steps, he moved over the area, checking the bed and underneath it first. The last way he needed to go down was a knife to his ankles. Finally, he advanced on the closets.
Joker was shaking when Bruce opened the closet door, huddled in the corner clutching his head in his hands, rocking back and forth in agitation. As soon as a sliver of light inched across the floor, the hero peering inside, Joker gave him a look of raw fear, then shielded his head with his arms, screaming raggedly with lungs that didn't quite work. He broke off into a bout of coughing, his cries turning into soft, whispery exhalations of terror.
Bruce was shocked. It showed plainly on his face. Anything he had been expecting, anything at all, was not this. His body refused to forget its defensive position, but his mind whirled with the Joker's scream. He didn't know what else to do but.... "Stop!" He bent down, reaching out but not quite touching the other man, just to show that his hands were empty.
The breathy, anguished sounds kept going, the other man not even looking, his eyes shut tight against what he imagined was going to happen. He didn't want to be touched, didn't want to be dragged away; he just wanted to be left to die in the darkness in peace. No more visits.
It was really disturbing Bruce, and all he could think to do was snap the Joker out of it somehow. Finally he put his hands on the Joker, pulling his arms down and away from his face so that he couldn't hide anymore. "STOP IT," he shouted above the animalistic sounds coming from the other man. He repeated the plea several times.
The shouts scared him into falling silent, still shivering as someone trapped his arms, pulling at him. Breathing rapidly, Joker refused to open his eyes and look up. The other man would do whatever he wanted anyways; he didn't need, didn't want to watch it happen.
"Joker. Joker." No response. "Look at me," Bruce shouted in a very similar tone to that he'd heard the madman use several times. His hands held tight to the other man's arms, making sure they weren't about to lash out.
He jolted at the shout, his eyes opening, but not quite looking at Bruce; he was always just to the side, or slightly too low, or just above, avoiding looking directly into the other man's face. His expression was still as terror-stricken as before.
Growing serious, Bruce took the Joker's jaw in his hand, forcing them face to face. His eyes searched out the other man's, drilling into them. "Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?" The last time he had witnessed this kind of terror come out of the other man, the Joker had assumed he was someone else. At the time, Bruce had furthered that suggestion, but now the idea was far from his mind.
Tears escaping the corners of his eyes, Bruce finally Joker to look at him, but only fear and skin-crawling madness filled his gaze. The smaller man didn't try to escape from Bruce's hold, but he didn't stop shivering, either.
"Do you....?" Bruce's question came more calmly this time though his grip remained tight. He held on like that for some time, searching for anything from the other man.
After a moment, a flicker of recognition threaded its way through his green eyes, yet the fear never lessened. Licking his lips, his expression turned desperate, his voice pleading. "...please, don't do this. Please..."
"I'm not going to hurt you." Bruce eased his hold slightly, trying to convey the message. "All I want to do is change the bandages and get you cleaned up. You have my word." He was grasping for straws, not knowing what would set the Joker off and what could snap him back to reality. "I'm not who you think I am."
"I know exactly who you are, Bat," he whispered, trying to pull away, disappear into the corner again. His brain had finally figured out who the other man was, but still couldn't get past the association; to his mind, there was only one thing that happened in that room under the pretense of 'washing'. "...don't..."
"I'm not. going. to hurt you," Bruce said again. The Joker shouldn't be afraid of him. This wasn't right. There had once been a time he'd wished the Joker would fear him more than anything, but even then he hadn't imagined it like this. His hands fell away from the Joker's personal space, and Bruce kneeled down, resting on the floor. He could wait as long as it took. Though it still wouldn't solve the problem of getting the other man cleaned up.
It took quite a bit of time, indeed. As soon as Bruce's hands fell away, Joker went straight into the corner of the closet, pressing himself into the wall, watching him with the eyes of a trapped beast. As the minutes crawled by and the other man didn't budge an inch, he began to realize with a mix of anger and despair that he wouldn't be allowed any reprieve; the Bat might not be dragging him by his hair into the other room, but he wasn't going to leave him alone, either.
The madman inched forward a couple of times only to lose his nerve, backing into the corner again. At long last he got close enough to touch, hesitating as he watched Bruce for any sudden moves. Swallowing, he moved forward those last few inches. "...if you try anything, I will fight you until you die, or I do. Do you understand?"
"You don't want to kill me, remember?" It came out as a whisper, but on the way Bruce found that light touch of irony. Almost....amusing. What a ridiculous thing to say to a man in this much inner turmoil. It was with surprise that Bruce couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up.
"...no, I don't want to," he admitted, the ghost of a smile flickering in return, though his green eyes still remained shadowed and wary. "But I won't be forced to do anything again." Watching Bruce for a few more seconds, he moved again, climbing into his lap and wrapping arms around him as his buried his face in the scent he was beginning to associate with comfort. It was as much permission as the Bat was going to get.
This surprised Bruce, who had been sure, absolutely sure, the Joker wouldn't want any kind of contact anytime soon. If their roles had been reversed, Bruce didn't know if he could do what the Joker just did. He tried to shake the surprise from his expression, and finally lifted his hands to rest on the other man's shoulders when a thought occurred to him. "Would you do it yourself?"
"...since it seems you're not going to quit until it happens, I'd... prefer that," he muttered bitterly, irritated that he had to give in at all.
"Alright."
Bruce stood, pulling the other man up with him. He took them back to the main cave where he'd set the water down, keeping both eyes on the Joker and hoping he wouldn't change his mind. He took up the sponge and cloth and rolled a chair over so that the other man didn't have to stand for this. "The bandages will be hard to take off at first. Just clean out the cuts as much as possible. If you need help putting on the new ones, I'll be right over at the desk," he said, nodding to the computer station not far away, and handed the supplies to the Joker.
Curling a lip at the water in disgust, he dropped into the chair and struggled out of his shirt, watching Bruce for any sudden moves. Letting the oversized shirt fall to the floor, he began the messy work of unsticking and peeling the bandages away. That was a lot less troublesome for him than for most people; he didn't mind physical pain or flinch away from it.
Ignoring the way his skin pulled as the patches resisted being peeled away, they were discarded just as carelessly. Dunking the sponge once in the water, he swiped it over his bared skin so quickly that it did practically nothing, dropping the sponge back in the pail to reach for the new bandages.
"Do it right, or I'll dump it over your head," Bruce called from over his shoulder as he fired up the relay of monitors and began going through the news from the previous night. Lucius had been trying to contact him several more times. Alfred had stopped. Staring at the monitors with glazed eyes, Bruce wasn't sure if he was ready to contact them yet.
"What 'right'?" Joker snapped back, irritated. "I got wet, what more do you want?"
Finally Bruce turned, annoyed. "Soak the blood away. Just get clean enough so that it can heal properly." It was apparent that the Joker didn't bathe often, but there had been obvious occasions in which he had to have washed himself before. Such as going out in disguise. And attempting to destroy Wayne's company.
"And this isn't 'clean enough'?" he shot back, obviously having different thoughts on the matter. The most he had done for himself, even disguised, was to force himself to get drenched in water or scrub color in or out of his hair. Soap just smelled unnatural, and the feeling after washing down, whether to lose his face or change his hair, was equally alien.
"Just do it," Bruce threatened. Why did this have to be the most difficult part of his day? Wayne Enterprises needed to ground itself, Lucius needed to talk to him, he needed to....speak with Alfred, and there was quite obviously more wrong with the Joker than his inability to withstand a little water. It was driving Bruce mad.
Grinding his teeth at being ordered about, Joker didn't think about what he was doing; picking up the little pail of water, he chucked its contents at the man that was irritating him, resulting in a soaked Bat and dripping monitors.
Bruce was on his feet a second later, coming at the Joker and taking him down in one well placed blow. The chair slid and toppled over with his displaced weight. Bruce took hold of the his arm and hauled him back to his feet. He was dragged a short distance and then shoved toward the bathroom. "I don't want to see you again until you've got that cleaned out," Bruce snarled.
Eyes narrowing, Joker snarled back silently, refusing to enter the room. He tried to move around the bigger man, deciding he'd rather find another hidey hole in which to lick his wounds and wait.
He was caught easily. This time Bruce dragged him into the bathroom, fighting all the way, grabbed the cloth off of a rack, ran it under the faucet, held the Joker down, who was fighting tooth and nail for freedom, as best he could while laying the cloth over the largest wound in his chest. Blood and healing mucus seeped out with pressure, eased by the water. Dr. Bachman had done a good job of cleaning out his wounds while he was unconscious, and Bruce was grateful he didn't have to clean away dirt.
Irate and panicked at having been bodily forced into the room, angry, fearful sounds escaped him as he tried to fight Bruce off of him. The arm pinning his shoulder got too close and Joker turned his head, sinking teeth into the flesh.
Bruce hissed in pain. Blood seeped around the Joker's mouth and trickled down his arm. He squeezed the remaining water out of the cloth and then released, pulling back and away. On the floor, blood lightly painted on his lips, the Joker looked rabid.
Scurrying backwards, touching fingertips to water-slicked skin, Joker shivered and glared at Bruce. Licking the blood from his lips, he growled. "I told you. Do not try to force me to do what you want."
Bruce stormed out of the room. He was angry, maybe even angry at himself because he did not know how to work with the Joker on any sort of level. It was impossible. He found he no longer cared whether the Joker cleaned his wounds or not. He thought about his reasons for being so adamant about it in the first place, and wasn't so sure now if they were entirely real or not. What was he trying to do? Give into the Joker's need for him, keeping his end of their deal, or prove to himself that he could take care of a madman? Was it all for himself? To be able to say that he had at least tried?
Following more hesitantly, uncertain whether Bruce lay in wait just outside the door, Joker left the hated room. Uncertain of what to do next, he took a seat atop one of the tables, taking in the room and seeing if there was something worth tinkering with. Looking at one of the screens, he watched a little red dot moving on a screen of gridded areas. As the light approached what appeared to be a door on the blueprint, there was a creak behind him, footsteps on stone echoing through the cave.
They were light, and a little tentative. Far down the open cavern, Bruce's ears perked. He'd heard the Joker enter, but had so far ignored him. There were only two other people left alive who knew of this cave's existence.