Slipping Into Entropy - Part 39 - NSFW

[razothredfire]

Joker stayed still on the table, fuming with anger. At Bruce, at the butler, at anything and everything. "If you insist on me not touching him, you should at least make certain he respects the same boundaries. If he continues to get close, run his mouth, and tempt me, I won't be able to resist teaching him a lesson or two. I can't stay away from him if he follows me."

Bruce fixed the Joker with a stunned gaze. He was angry with Alfred after everything Bruce had just done? "I think....I think we startled him." Bruce rubbed his temples as his brows knit together. "I think seeing me..... He's just as angry with me as he is with you now." It was a little surprising, to find the butler watching them around every corner. Alfred's anger felt slightly different this time though. It had an edge aimed at Bruce.

"Yes, now he thinks I've corrupted his boy into a rape fiend fueled by pedophilia," Joker spat, tugging the shirt draped over him even tighter. "He should keep his nose out of places where it isn't wanted." He'd just wanted to set the man off-balance and on-edge, not intensify his prying and make the whole situation that much more irritating. Driving the man away in horror had been his goal, not to create another self-righteous bastard trying to beat morality into him every time he turned a corner.

Bruce, who was about to get up and retrieve the Joker's clothes and help him off the table, suddenly went still. It was disturbing how the Joker could sound like a petulant teenager while at the same time making Bruce's stomach drop out by professing thinly veiled truths between them all within the same sentence. He looked down at the man while halfway between sitting and standing, trying to bite back the ridiculous urge to ask him if he minded their situation.

Catching the odd look, Joker's lip curled. "What? Don't tell me you approve of his ranting. I don't mind him saving my ass, but I'm hardly responsible for what you do. He's got no right to jump in and start a fight without any knowledge, just cooked-up suspicions..."

"No.... I.... don't like it either. I'll do what I can to get him to stop." Still it was difficult for Bruce to move. He bent and picked up the Joker's pants, lying them on the table where the crumpled man could easily grab them. Nervous tension rippled through his body as he did so. That wasn't the heart of the matter for him. The Joker's blatant words had startled him a little more than he'd expected, even more than Alfred's had. He felt ashamed at his own actions. It was only pride, resolve, stubbornness...something, that kept him from bowing his head.

"Bat, come here." When he got no response, only silence, the madman growled in frustration. "Bat. Come. Here. Now." Waiting until the man hesitantly stepped closer, Joker dug fingers into Bruce's armor, pulling him closer still. "We're going to have a little talk. But before we do that, we're going to take care of your Butler-turned-Spy. You're going to talk to him, and you are going to take me with you. You're not going to go over my head, making deals without my input, Bat. You are mine," he hissed, finally trailing off into silence again.

If everything else had been surprising Bruce left and right, this may have been the biggest of all. The Joker was speaking to him like he understood the dynamics of familial relations. If he was implying that he was going to oversee a discussion of resolving these conflicts in a mature and sensible way, Bruce may very well have to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The simple fact was that he did not think the Joker mentally, nor emotionally capable of such an attempt. His eyes said this plainly after the man had finished. "What exactly do you plan to tell him?"

"That it's none of his business, he doesn't know anything, and can go to hell if he doesn't like it," the smaller man replied cheerfully, his features not containing even a glimmer of the upbeat note in his voice. "I've had enough attempts to control me, make me into something else, or telling me off for shits and giggles. I'm not playing nice if he's allowed to do it and I'm not."

"If that's all you have to tell him, then I shouldn't have to intervene," Bruce replied, still not entirely trusting the Joker's capabilities. "I don't want either of you near each other," he added, more to himself than to the Joker. He couldn't see this ending well either way.

"You don't get a choice on this, Bat. You don't get to play the dominant, controlling sadist in everything. I'm going to get dressed, and then we're going to go upstairs and grab Jeeves for a little chat. If you don't want to participate, then I'm going without you."

"In your own deals, that's fine. But don't forget who Alfred's working for." Bruce's eyes flashed and he put a hand on the Joker's arm. "This isn't between the two of you." He let go after getting the point across. "If you want to talk to him, I'll stay out of it until things get ugly."

Joker looked positively defiant. "I'll talk to him whether you're there or not. I don't need you holding my hand. I can take care of myself." Pulling the shirt on, he ignored the sharp jolts in his abdomen when he moved as well as the blood staining the table. Moving slowly to don the rest of his clothing, he felt another wave of irrational hatred for the elderly man. "I don't care if he works for you, or what you think about him, or what he did for you when you were a weepy little orphan."

"I have no worry about you taking care of yourself," Bruce muttered. He waited for the Joker to slowly get dressed again, hoping he'd be alright. It wasn't often that he let pain get to him. Still, no amount of guilt was going to let him leave the Joker alone in the room with Alfred after what had just occurred.

Leaving the shirt unbuttoned in his hurry to vent his rage, Joker turned to glare at Bruce over his shoulder before stalking off to find Alfred in one of the other rooms in the penthouse, his interrupted meal forgotten on the edge of the table. If he felt pain as he walked, he showed no sign of it, slinking single-mindedly towards his goal with a feral grimace in place.

Bruce had a more effective way of finding the butler, and simultaneously giving him a heads up to their impending presence by simply calling him. It took series of rings for him to pick up and when he did, his tone was terse and solemn toward Bruce. He'd gone to his own room within the penthouse.

Following the sound of a voice behind closed doors, Joker snarled in victory upon locating his adversary's quarters. Turning the handle and finding it locked, he stiffened in rage before ramming his shoulder into the door, the alarming sound of impact echoing down the corridor. "Open up, Freddy. You've got company for tea today."

It opened shortly afterward, a serious looking Alfred holding it's handle from the other side and glaring daggers at the green haired man and then at Bruce who stood a few feet behind the former. "Do come in," he said icily before stepping aside.

Ignoring him, Joker waltzed into the room before sprawling out across Alfred's bed, giving the butler a regal look. "Listen, Freddy. Maybe you think you get special privilages from being present during certain formulative years, taking advantage of young minds and all that, but you don't have the first clue about either of us. Not Bat, and not me. So before you open your mouth again while Bat's forbidden me to interact with you, I'll tell you this: the next time you follow me and seek out a fight, I don't care what he's said about it. You'll get one, in spades."

Alfred looked quite disgusted with the Joker lying on his bed, but when it came to be his turn to reply, it was Bruce standing in the doorway who got his harshest gaze. "I'm well aware of how he's tried to keep you away from me. He's quite good at that, keeping the people whom he's involved with separated." Bruce's narrowed eyebrows drew together even further, taking on a hind of confusion in the midst of his own glare. Alfred continued, but he took a moment to calm himself. As confused and angry as he was about Bruce's current motives and infatuation, he didn't want to start throwing out accusations blindly. "I never thought I'd say it, but you were the one who looked like they needed help," he said, turning back to the Joker.

The insane man's expression grew cold. "Yes, I'm going to be dealing with that quite shortly," he snapped, shooting Bruce a fierce look that suggested he'd be getting a tongue-lashing of his own. "While your entrance was very well-timed, I won't take any insults or accusations from you. Oh, you could try," Joker agreed, watching the expressions flicker across the older man's face. "But I won't be listening to Batty about you any longer. I don't need any protection from you."

"I've said all I have to say to you." Alfred sounded weary by this point. He'd hit a brick wall and could go no further with the Joker. Anything more would be pointless. With Bruce, who still stood sentry at the door, he didn't even know where to begin. A whole new side of him was unraveling before the butler's eyes and he was helpless to stop it or even slow its progression. The very nature of these emerging traits unsettled him greatly.

"See, that's the problem. You're too British - all quiet angst and pent-up rage. You need to let it out a bit more," Joker chided, rising from his reclining position to stalk closer to Alfred, invading his personal space in an attempt to draw him out. "I'm not done with you, and I'm not going away, and I won't be ignored, Freddy. Look at me," he hissed when the butler continued to stare at Bruce, turning his head with fingertips like the man was covered in some sort of disgusting slime, his lip curled in disgust and anger... and a small shard of fear. "What, you think I turned Brucey here into a monster? Suddenly changed him from a toddler chasing butterflies into something that enjoys beating the snot outta people? You give me too much credit."

Alfred tried not to step away from the Joker. He succeeded, but the look on his face said that he'd very much like to. It sounded like the madman was genuinely invested in his answer, and that did surprise him a little. It surprised him that the Joker cared what Alfred thought about him at all. If he hadn't, he should have been perfectly happy to have the butler go on believing him to be the snake in the garden of Eden, but it didn't sound like he was happy to leave things that way at all. His eyes gave away nothing, but pressing the issue did. Alfred started slowly. "Disregarding your past...indiscretions, I think you most assuredly have tried. But if he has become so, then I cannot place the blame solely upon you."

"I have tried, but not to make him into something he isn't. You're just as blind as he is. Why do you think I stuck around to toy with him in the first place?" Insane green eyes bored into Alfred from their sunken holes, but still the man seemed to hesitate touching him. "I look into people, see, and figure out what they really are, deep down. What makes them tick, how they're going to react. Bat here already was a monster before I ever got here. All I did was provide him with a similar playmate who doesn't mind."

"Such things are the make-up inside us all." Alfred's tone softened noticeably. "But what we do with that makes us who we are." It was the same thing the Joker had been doing all along, with Coleman Reese, with the people on the boats, but he seemed to have found his real challenge, real goal in the Batman. "You are not wrong in seeing the monsters inside of people, but they aren't the sum of all our parts." When he placed a hand, somewhat awkwardly, on the Joker's shoulder, Bruce couldn't believe his eyes.

The madman visibly flinched, stepping backward quickly with his shoulders slumped, arms wrapping around himself in fear. He looked as if he was going to be violently ill. "Don't touch me," he whispered, retreating away from both Bruce and Alfred.

"You touched me," Alfred replied. It wasn't an accusation, just a point. His tone had found a certain calm to it. Bruce wasn't sure where along the lines he had managed to find it, but the turnaround was putting the Joker on edge. He watched the situation change with nervous curiosity.

"Yeah? Well, I didn't want to," Joker shot back, ignoring the childishness of his argument. "I don't want you following me around the house, watching, and you'd better not be getting any funny ideas from the book. I killed the bastard, and I won't hesitate to kill you, no matter that Bat seems to regard you as his replacement daddy." The words were spat out like a curse.

Bruce's eyes widened suddenly. They darted from the Joker's retreating form to the butler and locked on him. The Joker had been talking with Alfred about his past, about the photo album? When did this happen?

The butler remained unfazed at the outburst. He recognized the childishness for what it was, but he couldn't help the pang of anxiety that curled in his gut when the Joker finished. He wasn't fool enough to believe that just because he was interesting, nor just because the madman had an affinity for Bruce that he wouldn't jump at a chance to hurt him. "If Bruce has asked you to stay away from me, then I will leave you alone as well," he conceded finally.

"Good." Rubbing at his touched shoulder like he'd been burnt, Joker's gaze drifted over toward Bruce. "...did you have anything to say, Bat, or are you going to stand there gaping like a fool?"

Once again, Bruce searched Alfred's gaze, but he could find no answers there. The butler refused to look at him, though he responded to the Joker's question before Bruce had a chance. "I'll speak with him later."

Bruce closed his mouth, wondering what exactly the Joker had told the butler. A mix of confusion and nervousness ran through his system, but he shook his head at the Joker, letting it go.

"No, we settle this now." He pointed to Bruce accusingly. "You leave me out of the loop too often. I'm not going to be dragged through another horror just because you didn't see fit to tell me some crucial piece of information. Like, for instance, that you were going to plop me down in a location I'd forgotten for a good reason, then step back and see what happened. You're not shoving me aside, for this or anything else, Bat."

Bruce knew Alfred was furious with him, and he suspected it had a lot to do with seeing Bruce's questionable actions with the Joker as of late, but he felt like he was missing something crucial. If the Joker thought he had some secret he was about to share with the butler as soon as he was gone, then he was mistaken. So, he began where he himself had been left out of the loop. "What did you say to him, Joker?"

"I found your book," Alfred spat sharply before the clown had a chance to respond.

Taking in Bruce's shocked look, Joker looked irritated. "The photo album you took from the... tunnels," Joker clarified. "You know, one of the things that were kept to document every little misery. I never took you for someone who'd care for that sort of stuff. Perhaps you should go back and get the rest of the books and the video and audio recordings while you're at it."

Fists clenched at Bruce's sides, the Joker's taunts getting to him all too easily. Alfred was looking at him now with an endless amount of questions running across his face. "Is this....." He trailed off when he didn't know how to finish that sentence. Is that what they went to Chicago for? Is that why Bruce took the Joker in?

"I took him to Chicago because that was all he remembered," Bruce's voice rose. "A little town in the middle of nowhere. He'd dream about it every night, and I had to know why." His gaze flickered to the Joker only briefly, otherwise, it stayed locked on Alfred. "He didn't know either. Neither of us did. There was a...an underground bunker, hidden. He found it. He went crazy down there. His...father kept him down there. There were all kinds of things. He had to leave, right away once he calmed down, and I just....just took it." His agitation wasn't lessening the more he went on. He didn't know what the Joker had said already, and the butler wasn't cluing him in. His words grew angry, unfocused. He wanted to say that he didn't know why, and that was half the truth, but only half. To have a record of being there, so that if the Joker forgot once more and didn't believe Bruce when he brought it up, because he needed some kind of validation, because he was simply curious, because.....because he didn't know where to stop when digging up his inner demons, all of the reasons he had were nothing but half truths.

What they formed as a whole, he himself did not know.

"But you didn't let me know beforehand, did you? I wanted to leave as soon as we ran into that damned waitress, but you just had to know why," Joker mimicked, meeting anger with anger. "Just a fun little vacation, and all you told me about the last bit was that I wouldn't like it. I think that was a bit understated, even for you. 'I've decided to fuck with your head by forcing you to remember what your nightmares are about' would have been better. And, of course, that came after your friends decided to nix your promise and use the radar you stuck in me as a mapping device for the police."

"I would have gone without you, if you recall. How does that stand up to murdering Rachel?" Bruce stepped into the room finally. "Or digging up my mother's grave? You think I've done you wrong? Do you? By taking you to that place not knowing what I'd find there. After everything you've done to me had been more than premeditated? You think I'm cruel? You want a playmate on your own level, then you had better learn to deal with it."

A manic, enraged light leaping into the insane man's eyes, he stepped forward as well, yellowed teeth bared in a snarl. "Those were done to teach you a lesson, before everything else happened. Lessons in survival, in how the world and people really work. Besides, I got to meet your parents, no introductions needed!" The man practically radiated malevolence and nervous energy by now, inching closer to Bruce by the minute. "Let's not forget which one of us gets his rocks off on beating up and tormenting others. My reasons are philosophical. What's your excuse?" Growling in frustration, Joker curled his fingers into the plating of Batman's suit. "You haven't even seen the level you're talking about. I played it light because I didn't want to destroy you. If I wanted to, I could."

"Your reasons are bullshit. You wanted to prove a philosophy and the only way you could do it was to force it on people, acceptance or death." Bruce cocked his head in the face of the Joker's anger, meeting it with his own and egging him on. "My reasons were mental," he sneered, poking the Joker in the side of the head as he did so. "I wanted to see what made you tick." They made quite a sight with their hands all but clawing at each other, each alive with a ferocity Alfred had rarely witnessed in his long life, a hair away from losing control. "It looks like I finally got to meet your parents, too. Wouldn't you agree?"

The last apparently made Joker snap, throwing himself at Bruce with a wordless howl of fury, too insane to even go about the attack in a logical manner. Instead of clawing at the catches in his armor to dislodge some of the kevlar plates and gain an opening, the shorter man beat and kicked and bit at him without noticing or caring that most of the blows did nothing more than bloody himself, not his opponent.

At first, Bruce fought back with a fury, stumbling backwards as the Joker flung himself into his face, finding any of Bruce's flesh that he could reach and tearing into it. Bruce's blows found sore spots around the Joker's body from injuries he'd already sustained, knowing without thinking that that would be the quickest way to inflict as much damage as possible. They grappled for a moment and then fell, the Joker on top. Bruce's armor softened his impact with the floor, but it rattled him enough to knock back some of the angry haze in his mind. Eventually he stopped hitting back and instead did his best to just hold on to the furious Joker. Alfred had moved away from them moments into the fray, giving them enough space to tear the room apart.

The crazed back continued to grapple with Bruce, panting for breath after being hit in the weakened points on his body, still screaming with fury. "You don't know, you have no idea! Privileged little bastard, you think you know? Do you want to learn? Want me to teach you what it'd be like to meet them, eh?" Struggle as he might, he couldn't manage to hurt Bruce much, nor break away from the strong arms and legs trying to hold him still. "Were you a lonely little boy, Bruce? Did you cry for your mommy and daddy? Poor snivelling rich boy..."

They twisted and grappled on the floor. Bruce lay on his back, finally getting a hold on the Joker that he could keep him in. Their breath came ragged and rushed. Tendrils of the Joker's hair hung down in Bruce's face. "Is that why you hate me so much, Joker? Is it?"

The lunatic didn't answer, staring down at Bruce, his face a study in frustration. "...I don't," he finally muttered, his head falling down to rest on Bruce's chest as he averted his gaze. His frame went limp and unresisting, letting the bigger man hold him still without any further struggle.

The only sound in the room moments later was Bruce's labored breathing. Neither he, nor the man trapped on his chest moved while Alfred watched tensely from the other side of the room. Finally, Bruce's head hit the floor. He stared up at the ceiling, willing calm into his being, and hoping, hoping the Joker was doing the same. Just minutes ago he'd been irate, and despondent now about finding coexistence with either of the other men in the room, but with that tiny, insignificant admission from the Joker, his anger fled.

As soon as he felt Bruce's form relax, the hands around his wrists loosening, Joker slowly moved, wrapping his body around the other with a sigh, still not looking at either man. In truth, he was trying to pretend that the butler didn't exist at this point; both the man and his relationship with Bruce made him extremely uncomfortable, if it could be put that simply. Silence and scent, however, was comforting, so he just let himself lie there and ache for a few minutes while his heart calmed and his bullet wound stopped seeping from the battering he'd just taken.

Coincidentally, Bruce was trying to pretend the very same thing, but after a few minutes on the floor imagining they were somewhere else, a subtle cough from over near the bookshelf alerted them to the butler's presence again.

"Well," Alfred began hesitantly, "now that we've got things sorted out for the time being, I ah...don't suppose you would mind if I had my room back now?"

Bruce sighed, opening his eyes to the light of reality. He picked himself up off the floor, easing the body tangled with his up with him and leaning the Joker's weight into him once he was on his feet. "Let's go," he said quietly.

Subdued after the fight, Joker let himself be led from the room, still clinging tightly and making walking more than a little awkward. After such a release of emotion and energy he felt spent, just wanting to curl up and nap somewhere for awhile. He pointedly avoided meeting the butler's gaze as they reached the doorway.

Bruce led the way to his own bedroom and eased the Joker down onto the bed once there. After the green haired man settled, he gingerly undid the rest of his suit and put it away. Long scratch marks from the Joker's nails and gashes from his teeth riddled Bruce's hands and cheek. Opening and closing his left hand was difficult, so when he went to get new wraps for the Joker's reopened wound, he cleaned and bandaged his hand as well. Words failed him when he returned to the bedside, so he simply went about his work removing the Joker's old bandage and replacing it, checking the wound over carefully as he went.

Joker was equally silent, his face expressionless as he watched Bruce's every movement. It was exceptionally strange having someone around him being that careful, that gentle, that... concerned for his well being. "...do you hate me?" The question left him before he could really think about it, mulling over what had been said in Alfred's room.

Bruce finished tying the cloth together, but he didn't move away. His hand remained where it was, now resting on the Joker's chest. "No. .....no, I don't think I do." He stared down at his own hand, blinking slowly. ".....I don't blame you either. Not for....everything." It was the truth. It was easy to despise him, because he did deserve a lot.....but not all of it. And when Bruce really took the time to look into the heart of it, he couldn't say that he did hate the Joker.

Wrapping his fingers around the hand resting on his chest, he tugged slightly, pulling Bruce down towards him. "...I don't want to hurt you. Unless you want me to." That was as close to an apology as the other man would ever get. In truth, he wasn't sorry - not that he killed Rachel, drove Harvey into madness, killed and maimed and destroyed, any of it. He'd never felt remorse for anything that he could remember, and probably never would.

Lying down next to the Joker, Bruce stretched himself out on the bed. His free arm propped his head up to look at the green haired man, trying to figure out what he was thinking. "I don't want you to hurt me. I never have." He cocked his head to the side as he continued. "The little things, I don't mind so much. And we're good at tearing each other apart. But....some things don't heal. Some things, when they're gone, when you've given them up, you can never get them back. And it's over."

Frowning, the smaller man shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean, Bat? I'm not asking you to give anything up. You're the one who made me promise to not kill anyone. You have no idea how hard that is, sometimes."

"That's why I don't like it, Joker. That's why I want you to stop." Bruce swallowed. "When you lose people like that, you can lose part of yourself along with them. .....I can't.....can't stand to see it happening all around me. I can't....stand to see other people go through that."

"Why do you care? You don't know them. It doesn't effect you. It's just one more drop in the sea." Seeing that this seemed to upset Bruce even more, Joker wound an arm around him, hoping he wouldn't leave. "I said I'd try. Isn't that enough?"

Focusing on the Joker again, Bruce unfolded his arm and laid down. "Yes. You've kept your word." Gradually, he was beginning to relax. Gazing at the Gotham skyline over the Joker's shoulder made a stirring image. Green hair, scarred skin, and tired eyes set against a backdrop of twinkling lights. Each of those lights a life that this man could have destroyed without thinking twice. Hundreds of them glittered against the night sky, surrounding him. "It doesn't seem like it most of the time, but people are connected. They don't even realize it."

"I'm connected to no one but you," Joker countered, his lip curling in disdain at the thought of being tied to any of the people he'd met on the streets, whether thug or innocent. Just endless cogs in an ever-consuming machine, just as mindlessly stuck in their roles as a piece of soulless metal.

Bruce only smiled, still watching the Joker amid the scattered lights of the city. His head settled into the pillow like that, and he didn't stop staring for a long time. Whether he felt it or not, the Joker had made an imprint on this place. The lives of everyone in Gotham would be different without him, and they would be different still if the Joker hadn't made that promise to Bruce. He'd made a similar imprint on Bruce himself.

Watching him with wary eyes, Joker gradually relaxed. "...you should smile more often." Tracing a finger over the lines and curves of the other man's face, following his progress with an intent gaze, his expression finally melted into a mix of melancholy curiosity. "...what was it like?" he asked softly, unable to truly express the envy he felt.

"To smile?" Bruce raised an eyebrow as a set of fingers flitted over it. "Oh I don't know. Not too bad. I'm not sure I'll go making a habit of it, but it felt nice."

"No," Joker whispered miserably, averting his gaze to stare intently at Bruce's shoulder. "To have a childhood."

The smile on Bruce's lips faded a little. "If it's one you were happy with, it's something you'll miss all your life if you lose it." He was quiet for a while after that, listening to his own heartbeat and feeling the Joker's next to him. "I think it's the only time in my life that I was really....happy."

"You're not happy? You lost your parents, but at least you had some. I can't even understand half the looks you and Freddy give each other, why he's such a stiff about you. You're not his."

"Happiness doesn't base itself in comparison to others'." Bruce sighed with a small laugh, running a hand over the Joker's skin. "Things were simply....never the same again. Alfred was there for me......for all that time they should have been. He had to be, and he wanted to be. For him, my parents were just as close as family. But it was....awkward. More so back then than it is now, I think."

"I don't understand." It was as simple as that. He had nothing to compare it to, nothing he'd felt or experienced that came close. Even when he'd wanted his father to stop the abuse and simply be... something else, something pleasant and unhurtful, he'd still hated the man with all the fires of hell. "...and you're not... happy right now?" His arm tightened possessively, anger and anxiety rising at the same time. He's mine, he's not leaving!

Bruce could see it in the Joker, and he didn't want to answer. "Not.....like I was then. I've lost too much. Too much of myself. I can never get back to where I was." He curled an arm around the Joker in return, needing him to see some kind of reassurance in the gesture. Those sunken eyes looked desperate, but Bruce didn't know how to tell him that it was okay.

"You're not leaving." The words were half-question, half-command, and the insane man twined himself tighter around Bruce as he spoke them, his quickening heartbeat easily felt and heard in the close space. "You're not. You promised."

"No. .....no I'm not leaving." He answered without a hint of doubt. "There's nothing that would change that, even if I did." His hand slid up to curl into the Joker's hair. "I would rather have you here, with me, than anywhere else."

Settling down after that reassurance, Joker sighed and leaned into the soft touches as Bruce stroked fingers over his back and hair. He wondered, absently, if this is what "family" was like. Or, at least, the "family" so often referred to by other people, in the media and in written works and movies.

As they laid like that, lost in their own thoughts, the sky began to lighten around them. The tiniest hints of sunlight just around the edge of the earth filtered through the sky. Bruce was glad the Joker had accepted his answer. He didn't know if he was "happy", but lying here, he felt like he was close. And for him, that was good enough.

Pondering for quite some time, listening to the heartbeat in the chest beneath him, the skinny man gathered his courage. "...Bat? I want to try again." He swallowed suddenly, shutting his eyes as his grip on Bruce tightened. "...washing." He wanted the memories out of his head, or at the very least to lose some of the power they seemed to have over him.

Bruce, nearly asleep, was surprised by the request. But it was a nice surprise. "I'd like that." He shifted into the Joker's warmth. He was slighter, but that made him easier to wind around. "We'll try it in the morning," he said while hazy ideas of the even floated pleasantly through his mind.

Joker was about to voice his protests when the other man curled around him and drew him in. Content in the warmth and with protective arms about him, he sighed and settled down for a few hours of slumber. I don't know if I'll be able to, in the morning.

It didn't take long for Bruce to fall asleep. When the Joker didn't say anything, after the exhausting day they had had, and even with the sun rising, he was out barely five minutes later.

As much as Bruce had tried to reassure him, Joker's anxiety persisted and made sleep more difficult to obtain. Sharp green eyes watched the unconscious man's features as he slept, pondering what he could do about the situation; pondering, and planning. Soon, however, even his high-strung nerves got overwhelmed by exhaustion, and he drifted off to odd dreams about butlers with torture equipment, silent marble statues covered in blood, and streets littered with dead criminals while a symbol of a bat burned in fire across the sky.

They slept well into the day, long enough that Alfred had been by Bruce's door twice with a plate of coffee and orange juice before giving up and taking it back to the kitchen for he and his crazed house guest to find. When Bruce finally stirred into wakefulness, he found warm rays of the sun shining down through the large windows on him and a slender body that had buried itself against his side.

Far from looking relaxed, Joker's pulse raced instead of having the steady, slow beat of a dreamer. His fingers twitched as they grasped phantasmal knives, washing Gotham's gutters with blood so a certain brown-haired man would smile again and stay instead of disappearing into the night, never to be found again. Each time, each murder, was perfect in its irony; the criminal made to face his own shortcomings before he was killed in a hilariously appropriate way.

Bruce stretched sluggishly and wrapped an arm around the Joker, trailing his hand over the man's back. It was then that he noticed the slight tremble through his frame. Curious, Bruce bent his head to look at the Joker and moved some of the knotted hair away from his face. His brows were knitted together, and his lips alternated between a grin and a kind of snarl. Neither looked quite happy. Bruce brushed back more hair and shifted so that he was closer to eye level. "Joker, wake up," he whispered.

Upon hearing his name the smaller man started, his hands instinctively clenching around the weapons that were suddenly no longer there. His head craned back in response to the face close to his before recognition clicked in his gaze. ...oh. Damn. "...what? Is it time to get up?" ...it's an idea to think about. Except he said he doesn't want killing...

"Yeah." Bruce thought the Joker had been dreaming his usual dreams, assuming he didn't remember once he'd woken, so he didn't bring it up. "It's time." Still he didn't move. He didn't really want to get out of bed. Occasionally the strain of days after days of his work with little sleep got to be too much and some mornings he would just crash. This felt like one of them.

"...but I don't see you getting up," Joker pointed out, a mischievous look pulling up one corner of his mouth into a lopsided smile. Ask him? No, that would be too easy, and then it wouldn't be a surprise. "Does that mean you're waiting on me to move first? Or that you just wanted me to get up...and not you?" Faking an indignant scowl, he couldn't keep his hungry grin from resurfacing, and his eyes trailed down to an unguarded set of ribs. Darting towards them, he bit the ticklish patch of flesh. Damned if I'm going to move and not you.

"Aagh!" Bruce had been about to say something about the Joker looking far too pleased with himself, until he suddenly figured out why. "What are you doing? Is this how I wake you up?" He rolled hard, catching the Joker's shoulder and taking him with so that Bruce wound up on top of him.

"No, because I'm a murdering psychopath. You aren't," Joker exclaimed happily, pleased at having made the larger man jump. "You're supposed to expect me to be treacherous and full of tricks. Not that I mind getting the jump on you," he added, arching his back to grind their hips together, teasing the hero even more. "What fun would things be without an opponent?"

Bruce moaned at the contact and let himself fall into it, rolling his hips back. "If your psychosis consisted of this instead of murder, I might have been more inclined to help you out from the start," Bruce teased back.

"Well, maybe you could wean me off one and make me more dependent on the other," the madman suggested with a chuckle, reaching up to latch clawlike fingers around Bruce's shoulders and nip softly along the line of his neck. "Don't assume you have me figured out yet, Bat."

"....I never said I did." Bruce closed his eyes feeling the simultaneous pleasure of the Joker's tongue and the little twist in his gut at the Joker's last words. "Does that mean I have a chance, or no?"

Laughing at the question, Joker wriggled until he was closer to the man's ear. "Practice makes perfect," he murmured, then ran his tongue along the sensitive edge of tender cartilage. "I don't know how close you can get without being mad."

Rolling his hips again into those below him, Bruce took a moment before he answered. "I think we both know now how good of an idea it would be for me to go mad," he said softly, eyes searching out the green ones by the side of his face. It was a little more serious than the rest of his words had been, and he wanted to see how the Joker took it.

A flicker of fear answered back, and the man shifted uncomfortably beneath him. "I won't try anymore," he finally agreed, no longer certain that two monsters would revel in harmony instead of eating each other alive.

Bruce nodded slowly, glad that he understood. Over the past few days, he'd learned once again how to be afraid of himself. When this man was afraid of him too, it was even worse. Ironic that it should turn out that way, but that was the way it was now. He laid down at the Joker's side, a hand wandering through his hair, idly twisting at the curls. "I think you'd like me better this way anyhow."

That provoked another twisted smile again, the scars pulling awkwardly. "I like you each and every way, and as much as possible," he purred, running his nails down the man's back. "And if I get tired of those ways, I'll think up endless new ones." His mind wandered to his request from the night before, wondering if he still wanted to go through with it.

His words almost made Bruce laugh. Never ever would he have expected something like that to leave the Joker's mouth. Still, it was nice. Even if he found it hard to believe, he didn't want the man to take it back. He laid there stroking that gnarled green hair until he felt sleep pull at him again. "We should really get up," he said with another sigh.

"And do what, exactly?" the smaller man asked, content to simply lie there and receive attention and caresses. "Don't tell me you're going to run off and hob-nob to keep up appearances and expect me to keep house. I might not drive you mad, but your butler might be another matter."

"Not quite." Bruce pulled himself up. "First, I'd like a shower, then some breakfast, and then I'll have to go in to Wayne Enterprises. I've been gone for a while." He liked to "hob-nob" as the Joker put it, as little as he had to. He'd been seen out in Chicago, and the designer Ms. Hearn had seen him the previous evening. He wouldn't have to go out again in a while; he would however still need to keep up with the company's affairs.

Hearing the key word, Joker seemed to wilt a little, still trying to decide whether he wanted to brave soap and water again or not. He avoided it for obvious reasons as well as the odd smell and feel of things afterwards, but... it might be worth giving it a try, if only to warm, wet flesh in front of him again, able to do as he wished without fear of being touched in return. ...maybe it's better to eat afterwards. I'm not certain I could keep it down.

Catching the Joker's apprehension as Bruce climbed out of the bed, he remembered the man's late night request. "Does that sound alright with you?" he asked, rummaging through the closet for a clean set of clothes. The Joker would have to find a pair his again until they heard from Vivian.

Swallowing, Joker mulled the question over as he followed suit, grabbing whatever caught his eye from Bruce's walk-in closet. "...maybe. I don't know... how well it will work." Or if at all.

"I won't force it if you don't want to. But if you still do.....I'll do whatever you want." Bruce glanced over his shoulder after finding a set for work. The Joker was trailing behind him, only half interested in what he was looking at. "Do you mind if I ask.....what happened there?"

The increase in visible tension in the smaller man was immediate. Licking his lips, Joker seemed to look everywhere but at Bruce. "Most of everything. Easier to clean tile," he answered quickly and quietly, grabbing the last bits of clothing and scrambling backwards out of the closet and into the bedroom, putting some amount of space between them.

Bruce gave a small nod, but the Joker was gone before he could have noticed. It made sense, he supposed. He folded up the clothes in his arms and followed out into the bedroom. "I'll start, and if you want to join me, I'd like that." The other man was on the opposite side of the room, and everything about him radiated tension.

Joker didn't respond, watching Bruce leave the room out of the corner of his eye, relaxing slightly once he was left alone again. He could hear the footsteps trail down the hallway to where he knew the bathroom was and, eventually, the squeak of pipes and answering, pattering hum of water. He shut his eyes. Do I even want to try?

Soon steam was wafting down the hall. Bruce had left the door cracked in invitation. He'd set the clean pair of clothes on a rack of towels and hung one on the door. He rinsed out his hair but didn't start with the soap yet, figuring that if the Joker did muster up the courage to join him, he wouldn't like it.

It took quite a few minutes before the other man even snuck through the door, a cold draft whispering through the room before the door softly closed. Joker stood in the empty space near the sink, just watching Bruce through the warped glass paneling and listening to the hiss of water. Eventually working up enough bravery to at least try, he stripped off his clothing and drew closer to the door, sliding the panel to peer inside cautiously.

Bruce glanced over for a second before he remembered how uncomfortable it had scared the other man the last time. He averted his eyes to the tile wall and swiped the wet strands of hair off of his forehead. "What would you like me to do?" he asked quietly.

"...just stay there," the slender man murmured, slipping into the stall and closing the glass section behind him. His eyes drifted over water-slicked skin, his posture relaxing slightly when Bruce obeyed and remained motionless, letting him move once he was comfortable. After he'd reassured himself that nothing would happen without his permission he scooted closer, skin prickling with cold, eager to be closer to a source of heat.

Hearing the Joker's footsteps come up behind him, Bruce slowly leaned away from the showerhead so that the water went over his shoulder. It was warm, just barely to the point of being hot, and very relaxing. If the green haired man moved any closer, he'd be right underneath it.

Reaching out to touch him first, Joker ran fingertips over warm, water-soaked skin, stroking a hand up Bruce's side. ...I can do this... Biting his lower lip and steeling himself, he took another step and got hit with the downpour from the showerhead, ducking as his hair washed into his eyes and winding his arms around Bruce's waist. ...I can.... I can... do... this...

Exhaling softly as the Joker's slick arms latched onto him, Bruce relaxed a bit. He leaned into the weight behind him and traced a hand over those locked over his stomach. Simply standing there, though it felt nice, was difficult. There wasn't much he could do to get the other man to feel at ease.

Still blind from the sheets of hair hanging in his eyes, dripping water from green dyed ends, Joker let the warmth soak into his muscles, listening to the patter of water on porcelain and skin. Removing one hand to push his hair back out of his face, he swallowed nervously. "...Bat? What do you do in here?"

Bruce gave a small snort. "You wash." He reached out and picked up a bar of soap from its holder in the wall and let the water run over it. Tendrils of suds ran over their arms, and Bruce traced the slickness over one of the Joker's, then his own, then back again.

Wrinkling his nose at the white foam and the perfumed scent it left behind, Joker squirmed and moved his arm under the water, trying to rinse the stuff off as quickly as possible. "...with things that make you smell like a chemical plant accident?" he grumbled, uncertain as to why someone would willingly rub that on themselves. Stuff to blend in is one thing. Camouflage, when it's needed. You can smell someone 30 feet away with this!

"It's not the smell that's the point," Bruce said, putting the soap back down and letting the water rise the rest of it away. "The point is to get clean." He ducked his head under the water and ran a hand over his face, enjoying the feel of it.

"......" The smaller man had nothing to say to that, watching Bruce rub at his skin under the torrent. It looked like he was enjoying himself. "...and you like this?" His mouth twisted in distaste again. "You don't have anything that doesn't smell and make your skin feel alien?"

"Hmmn, I like it," Bruce replied. He had to think a moment about the rest, but then something finally came to mind. Slowly, he slid the door of the stall aside and reached around it's corner, fumbling through the cabinet next to them. He came back carrying another bar of soap. "I've never paid it much attention before, but Alfred usually kept a few of these stocked. It's not scented. Don't ask me what the difference is though, that's all I know."

Giving it a doubtful look, his mouth downturned in an unhappy expression, his gaze flickered up to Bruce. "Are you wanting me to try it?" he asked, more than a little whine coloring the tone of his voice. Having grown up never really using such things, other than the scrubbing with a rough cloth that used to happen every so often after a period of 'fun and games', just the idea of getting soap on his skin made him feel itchy.

"If you'd like to. It might be better than the other kind." Bruce ran the bar over his chest, letting the Joker decide for himself. He washed his face and hair and then let it rinse down the drain. He didn't know about the other man, but he very much liked getting rid of the grease and sweat from the previous night.

He very much did not want to, but got the distinct feeling that Bruce wanted him to at least try it. Watching the taller man wash himself, Joker's mouth set in a thin, displeased line. Left to his own devices, he'd never even have been drenched in this much water outside of a rain shower, much less let soap touch his skin. The only time he'd ever dealt with such things was to color his hair or disguise or paint his face.

When Bruce was finished, he could see that the Joker was less than pleased. ....but at least he was growing more accustomed to having Bruce's presence there with him. That above all else, gave him hope. And an idea. He placed the bar in one of the Joker's hands. "Start with your hair, and move down from there," he said.

Moving awkwardly, obviously inexperienced in doing this, he moved the bar back and forth across his head before figuring out how to rub the bar for lather, then stick soapy hands in the tangled green mass. Joker looked like he was cringing all the while.

As the Joker was working, Bruce slowly sunk down to his knees. He trailed a hand lightly over the Joker's skin as he went in hopes of letting the other man know where he was going without surprising him. Finally that hand rested at the man's hip, and Bruce sneaked a look up at him from his spot on the floor.

Joker had paused, completely frozen and wide-eyed, his expression a mixture of confusion, lust and fear, his fingers still buried in white-sudsed hair. "...wh-what are you doing?" he asked, a shiver visibly traveling down his spine as he considered whether he should try to relax or bolt out of the shower to safety.

"Making you more comfortable," Bruce replied. "Just this. I won't do anything else." His thumb ran in a small circle over the Joker's hip, dipping inward. He hoped his position on the floor made him less threatening. He kept his other hand on the floor or at his side, trying not to touch him as much as possible.

Joker couldn't keep his eyes off of him, hesitantly continuing his washing while his gaze was locked on Bruce's kneeling form. It was odd to see someone so powerful, both physically and mentally, down in a submissive position before him. He tried not to think about it, concentrating on getting the soap out of his hair without getting it in his eyes, but his body reacted without another thought.

When the Joker relaxed, Bruce moved in. His hand dipped further inward and his tongue darted out to meet warm, wet skin that soon hardened in his hand. It felt like silk with the water running over it and he could feel the blood pulsing underneath his tongue. After a few long laps, he took the whole of it into his mouth.

His legs just about gave way, a choked cry of surprise escaping as he scrambled for a handhold. He ended up leaning his back against the cold tiled wall for support, one hand tangling itself in Bruce's wet locks while the other steadied himself on the man's shoulder.

Bruce didn't let go. He kept moving in long, slow strokes once the man had settled and found himself grinning around the thick flesh in his mouth. After one particularly long lick, he released the heat for just a moment. "Keep washing," he said with a wink and a smirk before finding the source of the Joker's satisfaction once more.

It was apparently a very difficult request with such a distraction, his hand groping for the forgotten white bar while his nails dug into Bruce's shoulder, caught with a look somewhere between pain and pleasure. "...too... much..." he finally panted out, moving the bar in haphazard swipes across his skin.

Bruce continued anyway. He could see the man above him making half-hearted attempts now and again, and if he got the Joker relaxed enough then whatever they did here was worth it. Ignoring the water continuously splashing into his eyes, he began alternating between swirling his tongue and sucking in deep, finding a steady rhythm. Not too fast, not too slow....

He finally couldn't concentrate on anything but the man on his knees and powerful sensations he kept dealing that made his whole body want to buckle and beg for mercy. Sliding down until he was on the floor himself, he ignored the water splashing onto his chest and occasionally hitting his face, too preoccupied with pulling Bruce along with him, his shoulders and head propped against the wall as he watched his lover eat him whole.

Now Bruce was really grinning. It was as if the Joker had completely forgotten about the world around him, one that he'd been terrified of only minutes ago. He ran his free hand up the man's thigh, and over his stomach as he sped up the pace licking and sucking and bobbing his head in tandem with the thrusts of the Joker's hips.

The slighter man's soft, breathless cries were almost drowned out by the hissing water, his entire world narrowed down to a point of exquisite torment. Still watching him in fascination, he couldn't help but buck his hips in response to some of the stimuli Bruce was giving him. The increasing pace was slowly stealing away all sentient thoughts from his mind.

By the time Bruce was really starting to deepthroat him, he could have sworn the temperature in the room had risen at least ten degrees. If the water wasn't coming down on them so hard, he knew he would have been covered in sweat. The pace was increasing rapidly and as he continued, he began to intimately understand the thrill the Joker had previously gotten out of performing this act on him before. He hadn't exactly intended it this way, but the other man had all but melted on the floor at this point.

After a few moments of experiencing being completely encased, that erotic pressure continuing all the while as he felt a tongue swipe over hypersensitive skin, Joker gave a sound that was half moan, half cry and lost himself. It was all he could do to cling to Bruce, his body trying to keep him buried as his muscles contacted in electric bliss.

Bruce felt the legs around him stiffen, and saw the Joker's back arch seconds before he was rewarded for his efforts. He swallowed hard as the man sprawled out before him came, trying to draw out the moment for as long as he could. Liquid as hot as the water spilled into his mouth and whatever escaped was washed away by the spray above them. He hummed deep in his throat and lapped at the silky skin until the other man was spent.

Joker's eyes closed, and he looked for all the world like he had passed out after climax. He felt completely limp in Bruce's arms, his hands resting lightly on the bigger man's shoulders as he caught his breath. His eyes finally slitted open, filled with some indescribable light.

Bruce finally let go, but he didn't attempt to move. Instead he simply lay there, running a hand in light circles over the Joker's hip. The temperature felt like it was returning back to normal and it was wonderfully soothing. He laid his head down on the other man's thigh and breathed deeply.

The slight movement of air caused a shiver in the form under him, Joker shutting his eyes for a moment again before weakly running a hand through Bruce's damp hair, then tugging on his shoulders. "...come here." His voice was almost drowned out by the water falling around them.

Looking up at him, Bruce searched his expression to see if he'd heard that right. Apparently he had, so slowly he crawled forward so that he was side by side with the exhausted clown. He watched the Joker, but besides brushing up against him, he made no other move to hold onto the other man.

It didn't matter that Bruce was careful to avoid touching him; the smaller man rolled over and clung to him until nearly every inch of skin between them was pressed together. It had been tiring, and almost painful to his scrambled mind, but oh so worth it. He had no idea what to say to the other man; he'd never trusted another person enough for them to get that close, much less known anyone willing.

One of Bruce's large hands moved to the back of his head, the other wrapped around his shoulders to return the embrace. Relief and....pleasure, washed through the dark haired man as he breathed in the slighter man's skin. It was hard to believe that they had managed to wind up on the floor like this, with the Joker....like he was, but Bruce wasn't about to second guess it right now.

The shadows were still there in his mind, sending tension into him every time he caught a glint of light on tile or listened too closely to the sound of the water, but part of him now knew that the man twined about him wasn't the ravening beast that stalked his past and hid among the halls of his many nightmares. As many things as Bat was, he wasn't that.

Stretching along the tile, enjoying the Joker's slick skin pressed against his own, Bruce would have liked to stay there for a long time. He couldn't have been happier with the way things had turned. But eventually he knew he needed to get up. "What do you say we finish up and go find something to eat?"

"Oh, you're going to feed me now as well, hmm?" Joker teased, rubbing the back of the hero's neck. "Finally started paying attention when I complain about being starving? I was about ready to start setting traps for alleycats. Whatever you have to offer must taste better than that."

Bruce raised his head at the other man and quirked an eyebrow. "I should hope so. I plan to eat, too." He shifted some more until he finally just gave up and pulled himself into a sitting position. "And I have no taste for cats." Helping the Joker to his feet without slipping was a bit of a process, but once they were up, Bruce dunked his own head under the shower once more. He ran his hands through the other man's green hair, amazed that for likely one of the only times in his life, it was clean.

Grimacing at Bruce, he tilted his head under the water again, shaking himself off once he emerged. "Happy? I'm probably going to itch like crazy after this," he grumbled, opening the glass panel to step out of the shower, dripping all over the floor before he found where Bruce had stuck the towels.

Turning off the water and following him out of the shower, Bruce grinned at him. "I'll help you scratch." He snatched one of the towels out of the Joker's hand and began drying off. When he was finished, he began dressing, now and again watching the other man out of the corner of his eye.

It soon became apparent just what a difference it made when he was relatively clean. Joker looked less like a mongrel stray pulled out of a trash bin in some damp alley and more like... the haunting photos of the young woman from that faraway town. Scars still marred his face and body, and he bore all the masculine lines that made mistaking him for a female impossible... but his hair fell in gentle waves and curls as it dried, warm brown near the roots instead of the vile green color tainting the ends.

By the time they had finished dressing, Bruce was torn between finding himself unable to take his eyes off the man and wanting to look away. The image he made was a....very strange juxtaposition. Being clean and looking years younger.... It made it difficult not to think of the man's past. Bruce resolutely ignored it. He chose instead to focus on his expression, the glittering eyes that never quite seemed to lose that fierce set to them.

When he turned to walk towards Bruce and the day's new set of clothes, there was no mistaking him for a timid child; despite the delicate lines that his smaller frame and damp curls made, something of his bestial nature showed through his face. No matter how much he was behaving himself at a given moment or acting a different part, whatever lay at the core of him was fundamentally altered. He would forever be a wild thing.

The taller man was glad to see it. That was.....that was basically how he knew the Joker was okay. That he was himself. It brought a soft smile to Bruce's lips. "I'm hungry. Let's go."

A/N: I want to do another chat session with you guys soon. ^_^ Let me know what sort of timeframe works for you?