(no subject)
The smaller man simply flopped bonelessly into whatever position his limbs were moved as the knight set about removing the long metal shards from their accidental sheath. Quite a bit of the rouge and white cake had rubbed off in random place - onto metal, armor, cloth. Skin started darkening visibly where he'd been slammed against various hard surfaces and finally knocked unconscious.
As the other man finished with the last of the knives in the bottom front pockets, the criss-crossing and random spots of paler, rougher skin became a great deal more obvious at close quarters - arabesques patterned over tanner, healthier skin.
Alfred emerged from the lift at a swift stride that faltered when he saw the man lying on the floor next to Bruce.
"It's alright, he's out," Bruce tried to put him at ease, or maybe justify bringing him down to the hideout. Alfred's lips tightened, his expression going stern, and came over to them, unraveling a kit of medical supplies.
The butler turned medic carefully looked over the unconscious man. Bruce was trying to stop the bleeding from a nasty gash across the Joker's stomach, but simply holding his large hands over it wasn't going to do. Alfred handed him a wad of tissue which he quickly pressed over the wound.
"I see you two had something of a scuffle," Alfred commented nonchalantly.
"The police are after him, but I.....had a problem." Bruce lifted his cuffed arm, and the Joker's lifted along behind it. "I didn't want to bring him down here."
"I see." And that was that. Bruce didn't think he was going to get any more out of Alfred until it came time for him to say "I told you so" one more time. He hoped that time wouldn't come soon.
"Alright, let's get him on the table," Bruce said, lifting the dead weight without too much difficulty. He was getting tired quickly though, he could feel the strain on his muscles. They bandaged what they could of the Joker's knife wounds, but some of them looked pretty deep. Bruce couldn't tell if Alfred was worried or not about it. They searched for a key to the handcuffs as well, but didn't manage to find one. Eventually, Bruce sent Alfred to look for a pair of metal sheers, while he took the Joker to a small holding cell they'd created for emergencies, like this he supposed.
Joker, meanwhile, had recovered consciousness, keeping the fact to himself out of habit. Only slight upward twitches to his mouth every now and again betrayed the fact that he was awake, listening attentively and risking small glances at his surroundings beneath his lashes.
For the time being, Batman was stuck locked up in his own cell. He waited patiently for Alfred to return, so they could get these cuffs off. He'd laid the Joker out on the floor again, and was forced to sit beside him. He looked over the man carefully for possibly the first time that night, focusing on the whole rather than what gun he was holding in his hand or how deep the knives in his pockets had cut. He was a normal looking man underneath all the blood, absurd nurse's outfit, makeup, and scars. He had two arms, two legs, his skin was tan though it probably hadn't seen the sun in a while, and Bruce realized that the only way he was noticing these things now was because he wasn't awake. He was more creature than man while awake. Speaking of which, as Batman's eyes narrowed, focusing in on the Joker's face, he had the sneaking suspicion that the creature had regained consciousness at some point.
"How many people did you kill to escape tonight?" he growled lowly from the back of his throat.
A whisper of a giggle escaped from his throat. "....hee. Aren't you the observant one..." Green eyes slitting open from painted socket depths, the upward twitch of his mouth wasn't suppressed any longer. Licking his lips, his eyes rolled upwards as he seemed to count in his head. "...one-two-three...six. One away from a perfect score. Maybe we should try it again and see if I get full marks next time..." He chuckled lowly, tension lines in his face showing that he certainly felt every bruise and knife-wound... but it didn't make the slightest difference in his grin or demeanor.
That thing he did with tongue, like a nervous tick, was unsettling. Bruce wondered if how foolish the man had to be to stick an assortment of knives in nothing but cloth covered pockets, or if he simply didn't care. Every time they met, the Joker had delighted in putting himself in needless danger, usually at Batman's hands.
"Where's the key?" Bruce lifted their cuffed hands for emphasis. He didn't want to have a conversation with this man if he could help it. Alfred had been right, he didn't completely understand the Joker and it took being chained to him for that to sink in.
"What, in such a hurry to leave? Phobic of nurses? Or do I just make the overgrown Bat... that nervous?" he giggled, pulling on his cuffed arm, making the metal jingle and Bruce move back and forth. "If you can be a brave boy and come closer, I may just tell you where it is..."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to play games, and he didn't think that getting any closer was a good idea. They were plenty close enough already. Still, he inclined his head to show that he was ready to meet the challenge. "You've lost, Joker. You're going back to Arkham when this is over."
"You really think so? But it's so... boring... there. Plain white walls. No color, no fun. None of this..." he made a broad waving gesture, "...decor with character. By the way, did anyone ever tell you that where you live says quite a lot about you? I can tell you're quite the interesting..." His tongue unconsciously swiped across his lips again, making his teeth click. "...man. Tell me, Bat. Man. Is the face beneath the mask another mask? Or do you wear your face over the mask beneath? Eheh..." Seeing Batman's stern expression, he held a hurt look for a split second before bursting into laughter again. "Always so serious, so serious. It's no fun if you don't play the game..."
Bruce lashed out, pinning the Joker down on the floor. He didn't like where the Joker was going on the subject of his mask, and he didn't want the man to get the idea that he could force it off.
"You're one to talk about masks. Yours may be permanent, but you still wear it," he growled. "I'm not going to play games with you." Damnit, where was Alfred?
No less than a moment after the thought crossed his mind did the communicator in his earpiece come to life with the butler's voice. "I believe I have found a sufficient pair of wire cutters, sir. I've left them outside the door." Bruce sighed in relief, releasing the Joker from his grip and rising to the door. He had to pull the other man a little to get it open and fetch the cutters. Fortunately Alfred was smart enough not to stick around and be seen just in case the Joker were to remember Bruce Wayne's employee.
"All work and no play makes Bat a dull boy." Dragged along the floor as the hero reached outside to grab the tool, he gave a little fake pout. "Keen to get away so soon? And here I thought you cared, riding in for such a heroic rescue and being so... insistent... in that little car of yours. Or perhaps you're just one to... tease and run," he chuckled lowly, knowing the other man wouldn't even consider using the clippers for a darker purpose.
All Batman could do was glower while he worked at the links of the cuffs with one hand. Couldn't he give it a rest already? Bruce doubted the Joker was serious with all this flirting. He knew a ploy to get under his skin when he saw one, and he was loathe to admit that it was doing to him exactly what the Joker intended for it to do. He was growing increasingly agitated and uncomfortable.
"Is that all you can do, Joker? Tease me?" Bruce was irked at himself for rising to the Joker's provocation, but after all he'd gone through at the hands of this man, it was incredibly hard to focus the anger in his presence.
"Is that all you can do? Get angry?" he mimicked back in a mocking tone. "You should try unwinding a little, Bat. Haven't you heard? Laughter is good for the soul," he intoned in pseudo-seriousness. "Keep this up, and you'll be no more fun anymore; just another dark shadow mugging people in alleys. There's more fun things to life than bludgeoning people unconscious," he pointed out, vaguely gesturing to the dark bruise where he'd had his lights punched out.
"I'm not sure this city is ready for your brand of fun," Bruce replied though he cringed inside. His conscience told him that Joker was absolutely right; he did lose his temper, a lot, as far as this criminal was concerned. On the other hand, his head told him that that stab of guilt was exactly what the Joker was going for, and no matter how he liked to put it, Joker was the one going around blowing up buildings and killing people, and Batman was the one trying to stop him. It was better to focus on the larger picture than the Joker's blackening eye.
Finally the wire cutters did their work, he would have to take off the cuff itself later, but for now, he was glad to be rid of his connection to the Joker.
The insane man moved his hand back and forth, sending the detached chain swinging. "People don't know what they're missing. They build up all these... invisible walls inside their head. Worrying about what other people will think about them, say about them. Thinking that if they follow some unspoken rules and be good little boys and girls that everything in the tiny little... box of their lives will stay the same. Familiar. Controlled. Safe. They eat, sleep, and breathe these meaningless little fears, and all the good things in life just-" He gestured broadly for effect, making a little whoosh noise to accompany it. "Passes them right by. Until it kills them, of course. Eheh..."
Bruce didn't want to hear any more of this. He wasn't about to get into a brainbusting conversation on human nature with a man who spoke of happiness and freedom in one breath and destroyed people's lives in another. He'd heard that motto from more than one man in his lifetime; the hardest to cope with had been Ducard. He turned his back when the madman started into a slow mantra of chuckles and walked out of the room. He made sure to close the door behind him without slamming it, and waiting for the computerized deadbolt to click into place. Once outside, he sighed deeply. He needed to talk with Alfred.
Smile melting off as soon as the man left the room, he rose to his feet, wavering only slightly as all the recent knocks in the head made the room spin. Padding carefully up to the door, he peered out of the small glass portal in the door, tilting his head in thought. More fancy toys all around, eh? Even in the doors... Holding one hand briefly to one of the deep wounds in his side, his eyes swept the room, taking stock of its contents and beginning to calculate how he could use them.
Bruce found Alfred in the alternate operations room. Greeting the old man wearily and pulling off the Batman mask, he took a look over the butler's shoulder. They were watching video feed of the Joker, standing at the door to his cell, looking out into the vast room around him. Bruce had almost forgotten he'd wired a camera into that room. This was the first time it had been occupied.
"He's got to go back to Arkham," Bruce muttered.
"Well sir, I'm afraid that might be a bit more difficult than you had originally anticipated," came the reply. Bruce caught the hardness in Alfred's tone that no one else probably would have. He looked questioningly to his butler, who did little more than nod to another monitor, broadcasting breaking news. "Batman and the Joker, seen together tonight amid the mass breakout of Arkham Asylum...." was the latest headline. "It seems the public has got the wrong idea about you, once more," was all Alfred had to say.
Bruce rubbed his hands over his face and pulled them back through his hair catching old sweat and black makeup along the way while he groaned. "Alright," he began, talking more to himself than Alfred, "Alright. We'll keep him for now, until we can figure out a way to hand him over without anything else going to hell."
Joker, meanwhile, paced the room, counting the steps, examining the way the walls fit together, running fingers over every object in the room as well as the outlines of the doorframe. It seemed like the room was tight and secure, but he knew better. Always a way, innet there? Flopping onto the bare cot set against one wall, he let one arm dangle down the shielded side, picking open the stitching to get at the springs within.
"You might want to make sure he can't do anything nefarious to that mattress in the meantime," Alfred said. To Bruce, it sounded very much like the words "I told you so". He didn't like Alfred's sense of humor when he was this run down.
He turned on a small microphone mounted above the keyboards and spoke clearly into it, "If you don't like the accommodations, I can just as easily have them removed."
His hand jolted back up to his side as a sour expression writ itself across his face. It was rather like seeing a small boy pout and grumble after being sent to his room for some offense. He began obviously rescanning and reassessing the room, startled that an intercom and some sort of high-quality video security was present in the room. Even as the thought entered his head, twisted thoughts began to form and surface, a mischievous smirk flickering and beginning to grow.
Satisfied, Bruce pulled up a chair next to Alfred, sitting down heavily and taking over some of the controls. He pulled up several more news stations, Gotham's channels as well as the world news, letting his attention flicker back to the Joker's screen occasionally. He felt tired down to his bones, but was still too uneasy about having this particular man as a captive on his property to be able to relax properly. At his side, Alfred pointedly ignored the holding cell monitor, and brought up light conversation about the upcoming election.
Eyes half-slitted, the catlike sly smirk firmly in place, one hand started wandering. Tracing along the edge of his whitened face, his fingers glided down to tease at the collar of the dress, slowly undoing the first few buttons and letting the fabric part to reveal bare skin. Giving a coy look to where he estimated the camera to be, he let his other hand run down his side, fingers catching the edge of the stained white fabric and rolling the hem between those slender digits.
Bruce was caught up in another broadcasting speculating on the Joker and Batman subject when he glanced at the other monitor like he had been doing for several minutes. This time he did a very pronounced double take. What he'd originally thought was the Joker idly fidgeting with his hands was, on closer inspection, most definitely not. One of the man's hands was hiking the absurd nurse costume up his thighs, and Bruce's detail oriented eyes noticed quite a few undone buttons at his collar. Most striking of all was the intense expression the Joker wore, directed almost exactly toward where Bruce was sitting. It stood to reason that he'd figured out where the camera was hidden, but it still caught Bruce by surprise. His hands stilled at the keyboard.
Stretching in a feline motion, Joker tilted his head while keeping his eyes riveted to the spot he'd guessed, exposing a length of neck and running his tongue over his lips. The message was very clear, though whether it was a challenge, invitation, or some mix between the two was unsure. Hahahah. Notice this. Ahah...
Bruce hadn't moved for some time, and when Alfred glanced over to him, wondering what had caught his attention so thoroughly, he got quite an eyeful. "Ah - oh. Oh my," was all he managed to say though it effectively knocked Bruce out of his reverie.
"Alfred," Bruce cleared his throat, "Why don't you turn in for the night. We'll finish this in the morning." He shouldn't have, but he felt like he was responsible for inflicting this scene on the older man, or had been caught doing something he shouldn't be. Alfred already knew what the Joker was like, and he had no doubt seen his share of disturbing things criminals had come up with over his long years, but Bruce felt the need to shield the other man's eyes the higher that skirt rode.
Alfred gave Bruce one of those lingering looks, but did as instructed, leaving the young billionaire to his own devices.
Chucking to himself, wondering if he'd managed to wind-up the amusingly high-strung man who fancied himself some sort of tragic hero, he rolled his shoulders, threading both hands behind his head as a sort of pillow. Despite the simplicity of the action, he still managed to arrange it to visually suggest that his hands were somehow tied in that vulnerable position. Let's see... will he be the sort to just remain a silent voyeur? Prudishly demand I stop offending his delicate senses? Another wave of quiet laughter bubbled up out of him.
Bruce's fingers lingered over the microphone's switch, but his eyes were fastened to the screen. Old familiar vexation stirred in his stomach, but he couldn't.....couldn't shake the image the Joker was able to pull off, all swaying motion and wild glee under the taunting surface his body made. He was going to tell his captive off, but.....but he could see that conversation over the microphone getting absolutely nowhere.
Hell. He stood up, pulling Batman's mask back over his head and swept out of the room. His pace was quick, and he thought about very little on the way to the Joker's cell other than to simply get the infuriating man to come to his senses, just a little bit.
Insides winding up in excitement and glee as he heard footsteps coming closer, he was barely able to choke off another laugh. Struggling to keep his eyes from the door, he continued to bet with himself as to what reaction he might have coaxed from his playmate of the moment. So volatile. It's as much fun as playing with dynamite... Hearing the bolts move back with a click, he finally wasn't able to resist. Turning his eyes to the opening door, he couldn't help but smirk.
Bruce intended to stand there and look threatening, to force the Joker to stop messing around and just...but that all went to hell the moment he came through the door. He didn't slow down, much less stop once inside. He went straight for the Joker, taking him by the throat and one of his hands, pulling it down to his side while throwing him up against the wall over his cot.
"You think you can taunt me now??" he was practically yelling, "After you kill -" he managed not to say Rachel's name aloud barely in time. "You think you can taunt me like this?" With the hand holding the Joker's at his side Batman pulled on the hem of his skirt, hiking it up to where the Joker had it earlier.
A giggle was all he got in reply. "Ooo, did I hit a nerve? Did I kill your lady love? Or maybe..." he grin deepened, that insane, manic light shimmering in his eyes. "Perhaps you're upset I ruined your boyfriend's face and pushed him over the edge, hmmm? Well, now's your chance." A flash of something darker passed through his eyes before the ever-present humor drowned it out again. "You can get your revenge... or you can finish what you started during our little getaway. Or are you just too frightened?" he teased, smirk returning as he placed one hand upon the black glove forcing his skirt up.
Bruce felt like he was caught between a rock and a very hard place. He was seeing red, but Joker's words brought inklings of awareness back into him. He made a guttural noise that bordered on a shout and slammed Joker's head into the wall. Here the Joker was, laughing and giving him options, options that brought him back to his senses. But damned if he wanted to back down. His hand squeezed around the malleable throat and he pressed his body harder into the wall. Fuck. Batman was supposed to be above this. Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, trying to gain control of himself.
Tears of laughter and pain escaped from his eyes, but the smile remained as firmly in place as his gaze as he bored into the angry eyes behind the mask. Well aware of the fact that he couldn't breathe and would only remain conscious for a short while longer if this kept up, he kept his one hand firmly on the arm clutching the thin white skirt. Blindly reaching out with the other hand, he circled an armored waist.
Letting himself be pulled in was indistinguishable between pressing forward, painfully grinding Joker into the hard wall. He couldn't open his eyes, and he couldn't release his grip. Every single muscle in his body felt taught, and he could feel the Joker's ragged breath against his face. His mind was caught between wanting to squeeze until the man's head came off, and pulling himself back from the dangerous place this thing was taking him to. Their hips ground together almost a minute before he realized he was hard, and still he couldn't open his damned eyes. He was aware that the Joker would need air soon; his body was tightening up involuntarily underneath Batman's grip.
Vision beginning to waver and darken around the edges, he couldn't even whisper. Shivering at every sensation, the hard warmth pressing into him only made the rush of feelings more intense, an echoing wave of lust rising up in him. Chest hitching, his fingers dug into the other man's back as he pushed him forward, his other hand jerking up the arm still entangled in the edge of his skirt.
Up the Joker's leg, underneath the skirt, Bruce let his hand be led forward until he found what his rival had been leading him to. Now he opened his eyes. What guilt he'd been feeling slipped away from his focus, and little but anger boiled underneath. He pressed upward, with both the hand and his hips, stroking as he did so, but he never loosened his grip on the Joker's neck. The man's eyelids were drooping, but Bruce couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for him.
For his part, he watched his rivals eyes and unwavering expression for as long as his fading vision held. Ragged feelings of pleasure and erotic helplessness jolting through him, his lips parted to cry out only for the sound to get throttled by the hand locked around his neck. Shuddering, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went completely limp.
After a moment and a half, Bruce's hands released. The Joker slid down the wall, crumpling on the small cot below. Bruce was in a silent state of shock; his breaths were coming in as ragged as the Joker's had been only a few minutes earlier. His throat felt itchy and dry when he looked down at the limp body below as it dawned on him exactly what he'd just done. He fell down to knees immediately and held his ear over the Joker's lips to check for breath while his hands searched the other's neck for a pulse. Pulse was there, breath was barely, but it was smoothing out, becoming more regular. Bruce's heart was trying to escape his chest. It wouldn't slow down even after several full minutes of staring at the once-more-unconscious Joker.
It took a number of minutes before he stirred again, a dry cough instead of laughter rattling up from his lungs. Blinking almost sleepily, trying to get his oxygen-starved brain to work properly again, his eyes finally focused on dark form frozen in panic over him. A weak smile made the corners of his mouth twitch up. He desperately wanted to say something to the man again, pull at the unraveling threads of his being, but he couldn't get his throat to function.
The Joker's eyes zeroed in on him, and after a moment of staring back Bruce couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out of there. He didn't quite understand what he'd just done, how he'd come so close to breaking his "one rule" when nothing, nothing, before had ever taken him that close. It unnerved him more than ever. When he was sure that the Joker was in fact awake and alive, Bruce set his cool expression into place, and fled the cell.
The penthouse back at the top of Wayne Tower no longer felt like his sanctuary. Instead it felt cold and un-lived in, like he hadn't visited in months. He shed the suit in pieces, letting them drop to the floor with little care and wound up in bed in nothing but his underwear and a layer of fine, cold sweat. He was exhausted, but he knew that sleep wouldn't come easily tonight.
Joker, for his part, felt incredibly sore inside and out. The bandaged puncture wounds burned in their wrappings, beaten and bruised muscles ached all over, and his head felt like someone had just had it in a vice, but a smile still curled at the corners of his mouth. "...after all's said and done, I still win round one..." I think I'm going to enjoy the game...
A/N: Here's hoping the format isn't too confusing. -.-;; This piece is actually PLAYED/written by myself and Loony sending paragraphs back and forth, alternating between the Joker's POV (me) and Bruce's/Batman's (Loony). We then supplement characters (or adopt more as our "taken characters") as needed.
We also have artwork and a soundtrack coming. (And some Joker cosplay pics, but that's nother story...)