A/N: Not sure if there's any Joker/Blood stories, but here's a first. I honestly wanted to write about these two. So enjoy the shounen-ai/yaoi story I've come up with. :)

Blood Dupre carefully scanned the document laid out in front of him. There were several paragraphs that outlined about a compromise on the territory he wished to claim. Of course, Blood skimmed through the words and only made a half-assed notion about the document. There were many others he had to read through and perhaps skipping through just a few wouldn't hurt. Glancing up at the gold encrusted clock, he stared at the roman numerals and the hands that were hovering over the bronze numbers. Time didn't really serve a difference in this world, rather – there were changing time periods that marked the next day, occasion, or hindrance.

With a plaintive sigh, Blood leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He wished to seek a moment of solace before reading through the invitations, paperwork, and endless amount of doctrine that lay scattered before him. Where is the March Hare? He should have been back from that pointless Carrot Festival by now. His thoughts were interrupted when a soft knock was heard. "Come in." Blood ordered, feeling the bags under his eyes as he opened them.

A faceless maid came in with a frilly checker boarded colored dress with a few splashes of red that almost match Blood's attire. It seemed that the maid felt unsure how to address the situation. "What is it? Surely, if you have something important to say to me, I suggest your spit it out now." He didn't mean to make his tone sound cruel, but insomnia didn't help him when he tried to sleep.

The maid fidgeted a bit and Blood began to grow impatient. "Don't delay; I need to manage my time wisely. Spit it out already."

The maid bowed down and hastily replied to him. "It – it seems that there is an unconscious trespasser in the Rose Garden, sir," she looked up at him and swallowed. "She doesn't seem to be injured in anyway, but – a few of us saw the Twins about to…decapitate her, so we stopped them to see who this girl might be." The faceless maid paused, looking at Blood.

The Hatter began to process what this faceless maid had said. There had been an intruder – an unconscious intruder that has trespassed into the Rose Garden? "…is there any sign that somebody could have disposed her there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in question. "Is this a practical prank from that stupid Cheshire Cat?"

The maid shook her head. "No, sir. Albeit, we were a bit unsure to continue investigating in the Garden, since, you said it was off limits. But the Twins greatly alerted our attention so we went to check," she bowed down once more. "We apologize for the intrusion – we didn't mean to break our vow, sir. But the Twins—"

"I see," he cut her off, brief and curt. "Just," he glanced down at the document he was on and glanced over at the clock. It was pointless, so he directed his gaze out the window. There was an afternoon hue to the roses below and a commotion gathered a small group outside. As he stood up – this startled the maid – he made his way over toward the window and pushed the silky ebony curtains aside to reveal the full scene. Tweedle Dee and Dum were happily jumping up and down with their axes slightly bloodied, a few servants were trying to get more information from the Twins – it was in vain – and there were two maids chattering nervously amongst each other.

"For the time being – this being the only time you'll ever defy my orders – gather a few servants and continue investigating around the Garden. And whatever you do," he walked over toward the maid, making sure she understood this one and final warning clearly, "Do not go any further when you see two sets of chairs and tables that are near longest rose bush, do you hear me?"

The maid nervously nodded her head.

Blood smiled. "Good." It was cross between nonchalance and supreme wickedness if one were to dare commit treason. He continued, outlining the basics, "Tell me everything once you've inspected this…matter. If this…intruder seems harmless, then prepare a bedroom in the east wing. If she is an enemy, make sure to inform the Bloody Twins to do away with her. Oh, and—" Blood adjusted his velvet-black top hat to suit his need. "Please prepare me some more of my favorite tea – I would highly appreciate it, Lucille." He smirked, sending her away with a blushing face and mumbling mouth.

As door closed quietly behind her, Blood turned back to the stacks that had a wooden paperweight on it. They were the important ones he needed to carefully examine for.

An Outsider has appeared. Perhaps she'll erase dear Alice from my mind.

He frowned.

Peter White, the damnable rabbit that stole his dear Alice from under his nose.

Then the papers went flying. The unimportant, ungrateful, time-consuming papers that were neatly stacked on the corner of his smooth, mahogany desk went flying in various directions. Blood felt rage and anger consume him. Peter White, the needy Prime Minister stole dear, sweet, delicious Alice from his grasp and swayed her with his affectionate gestures and timely heroic actions. I could have done the same, but she always pushed me away. It was always 'Peter is a gentleman' or 'Peter treated me like a human being.' "But he could never make you feel like a woman, can he?" Blood spat out bitterly, clenching his fists together. He was always in the way, ruining every moment Blood sacrificed for Alice so he could plan the perfect moment to capture her heart, and even – make Alice his.

But the punitive white rabbit had to fill holes in his plans and make excuses so Alice could escape. Putting on a gentleman façade for Alice, he allowed her to be taken from his grasp. There was nothing else he could do but watch her run away with the despicable man. Even if he were to act upon it, it would drive Alice further away from him. And he didn't want that. He just wanted to capture her heart. Her living, beating, precious heart.

And he was tired of playing their game.

He was sick of it.

Blood then sighed and pinched the bridge of his noise, agitated by the mess he created.

Even if the event occurred at least a year ago, so there was no point in dwelling in the past. Yet it hurt him – it still did from time to time. He remembered the times when Alice did return his affections and advances. He remembered when she still smiled and asked if she could borrow a book from his personal library. He allowed him to fall in love again, knowing the strong consequences that fell upon him if he took this risk. So he did. He let Alice in, comforting her, teasing her, being intimate with her, chasing her – kissing her, touching her, exploring her.

Then he stopped and faintly remembered why he let Peter White have her.

She was toxic.

She was a seducing slut.

…

But it still hurt, since she was somebody who made him feel the way he did when he was around her.

…

She was Peter White's problem now.

…

Behind that face was a slut in sheep's clothing.

"…I don't know what you see in that bitch," Black Joker snarled, his whip in his belt as they both patrolled through the quiet prison. The floor they walked on had crimson tiles and there were small lights in between the walls that separated the cells. The lighting around them was overall dim, but well enough to see the colors on their clothes without being too distorted.

Blood didn't utter a word and he walked beside the Prison Warden, gazing coolly ahead with a firm frown.

Black noticed this and abruptly stopped, grabbing Blood by the wrist and shoving him up against a nearby empty cell and gazed furiously into his lover's eyes, searching. All he saw were Blood's dark, reflective aquamarine eyes coldly regarding back his own pair of crimson ones. "Answer me, dammit!" Black shouted, feeling Blood's indifference to his demand. Then Black loosened his grip on Blood's suit, making Blood quirk an eyebrow. White Joker began to emerge, taking over his counterpart. Blood could tell – he knew them too well.

As White spoke, his words were soft, quiet even.

"Blood," there was a pause. "Hear us out. What we're trying to say is – Alice isn't the person you thought she is. We want to save you from a potentially dangerous game she's dragging you in – and I'm telling you this because I care. I care about you, Blood. If you have enough common sense to understand what I'm trying to tell you – at least give it some thought, after all—" for a brief moment, he heard both of their voices, a different, distinctive dual tone from both of the Jokers.

"I still fucking care, you bastard."

"I care about you, Blood."

…

The Joker let go of Blood's suit, fist curled tightly and a thick silence engulfed them.

"If…if you understand – just go."

Blood paused, a little unsure what to think of this.

"Joker, I—" but he was cut off sharply, by a fierce and low voice.

"LEAVE," Black Joker snarled his voice raising in volume as he whipped out his weapon and dangerously glaring into Blood's eyes. They were no longer full of sympathy and humor – only malicious and cruel intent that made Blood flinch a bit. "Leave and don't ever come back," his voice echoed harshly through the prison, making a few prisoners whimper in fear.

This was unlike the Joker, unlike Black or White.

It was like – this was a new person.

A new side.

Gray.

"The next time I see, you're a dead man, Blood," he spat out, full of vile and bitter. "You fucking disgust me, bastard."

And Blood left without another word.

…and somewhere deep inside, he knew that he would regret the mistake he's done.

And he did.

All because of Alice.

"All because of fucking-wonderful-Alice."

All the memories of Joker and him resurfaced again in his dream. He woke up with an aching head and tired eyes – Joker was still in his thoughts. Still in his dreams – messing and stirring up old and painful feelings before and after Alice arrived. Blood rubbed his eyes and sat up in his King sized luxury before gazing blankly at the dark comforter before him. It's enough that he haunts me during the daytime, I don't want him interfering in my dreams too. Bastards. Though, he had to admit – he missed the passionate nights whenever they met up secretly in the prison. There was always a private room somewhere where the two were able to fulfill each other's desire and pleasures when they were having their "meetings." Blood smiled as he remembered how Black always liked it rough – Blood would wake up with a sore back, often filled with long scratches full of animalistic desire and need from the previous night. He would also remember how White would want him – White would tempt him with sweet whispers and longings and before they fucked – Blood knew that White always preferred he be gentle and slow. It was a bit painful, but after the slow and infuriating climax was built up – Blood would always tease the latter often before letting him come. Once they did – Blood would embrace White lovingly as before and continue the night either with another go, or receive a heated long make out session with each other.

Both of the Jokers knew that since they shared one body – they would take turns from time to time to be with Blood. Even at one point, Blood playfully questioned if he was cheating one with the other from doing this. Black couldn't careless, since the sex was good – but White somewhat cared. White mostly enjoyed talking with Blood while Black mostly cared for the amazing sex. But – they both shared Blood evenly, since, they were technically one body.

Blood closed his eyes and let out a small and weak sigh. There were some days where he wished that they still spoke to each other, but there were days when he loathed seeing them both. Nevertheless, the desire to be with Joker still came and went.

…

I still fucking care, you bastard.

Black's blatant words echoed through his mind.

I still care about you, Blood.

White's words were more endearing, sweet even.

…

Blood opened his eyes and decided to get dressed.

…

Maybe it was time to apologize to Black and White again.

Blood never got the courage to do so. He didn't feel ready yet. He didn't feel prepared at all. And besides, it was just a dream – it was just a guilty conscience eating him away. He could bear with it. He could live with it. Blood could bare the guilt and murders he's done, after all – he's a mafia man. If anything, the Jokers should be coming to him, apologizing for their outburst and actions.

...

The pen snapped in half as Blood felt his eye twitch in extreme agitation. It had been a long and miserable week since he had that dream and he could barely concentrate on his work.

The days seemed longer, and everybody else around him seemed to be irritating him at a whole new level. He even raised a hand at the Bloody Twins and they were both surprised when Blood struck one of them. With a confused and fretful twin, they both left without saying anything – they had never seen him act out of line before. Ever since Blood struck one of the twins, they seemed a bit more cautious and quiet lately. Blood couldn't tell if that was for better or worse – so he remained silent. There was just too many things going on lately in his personal life. And Elliot hasn't returned yet – where the hell was that stupid Hare? Blood rubbed his temples and called out for another maid – he needed some alcohol. He needed a break from all this madness.

A few days later, Lucille rapped on his door lightly and he called her in. She quickly informed to Blood that the Outsider had finally awaken and suggested that he go see her. With a bored wave, he dismissed her and gazed at the bronze clock above his shelf. He should get rid of it – seeing that time was pointless to keep track of.

With another signature sigh – he has been doing that lately – Blood walked over toward the door and left his study. A few maids were scurrying past him with exchanged feverish whispers. They paused to greet Blood and he acknowledged with a tip of his hat. As they scurried on, Blood winked at his reflection as he passed by the corridor mirror and continued down his path through the ornate hall. Blood felt like he should invest in some paintings from the 19th century, perhaps it'll give the hallway a more…quaint feel to it.

When Blood neared the designated destination, he could have sworn her heard a soft voice from somewhere. With his hand rested on the golden door knob – the door was a smooth and rich velvet color – Blood paused and strained his ear a bit. What on earth…?

"…dame…one…for…the…"

He heard a soft melodic voice singing something. Blood could only make out the faintest of words. So he listened carefully.

. . .Baa, baa black sheep,

Have you any wool?

Yes sir, yes sir,

Three bags full.

One for the master,

One for the dame,

And one for the little boy

Who lives down the lane

Baa, baa black sheep,

Have you any wool?

Yes sir, yes sir,

Three bags full . . .

It was a nursery rhyme from the time of his youth.

…but why was an Outsider singing such a song?

Blood rapped on the door softly with his knuckles and waited patiently until he heard her response. There was a muffled reply and he opened the door, revealing the outsider.

She was sitting on the queen sized bed, her hair the color of soft charcoal and eyes the hue of his own. Aquamarine. It was strange – as if he was looking into his own eyes.

The girl was thin and too Blood's disappointment, she seemed a bit young – sixteen or seventeen, no less – and wore a lacy and ruffled dress from the 19th century era. In short, she was beautiful – almost symmetrical features and a light skin tone that meant that she often stayed inside. Her posture was straight and elegant, and her dress showed some distinctive middle or upper classmen status.

He took a step toward her, and he saw her hands twitch a bit.

"…you were singing a nursery rhyme," he said quietly, gently, as he walked over toward her, not wanting to frighten her. Yet.

…and there was something strange about this Outsider. She didn't suddenly burst out into questions, or go hysterical as some foreigners had.

Did someone…speak to her about the game before?

"…why were you, if may ask?" he smiled coolly at her and reached out a hand for her to grab.

She stared up at his hand and took it carefully.

"…Blood, Blood Dupre?" she spoke, with a melodic hum.

"Yes?" he quirked an eyebrow at her. Somebody told her my name. Servants perhaps?

"Thank you – thank you for your kind hospitality," she murmured, doing a slight bow and smiling warmly at him.

"You're welcome," he returned, with an even smile. "If I could ask, how old are you?"

She was surprised and answered him back, albeit hesitant. "…sixteen, sir."

With a simple nod, he was about to ask her who told her his name until a maid came by and whispered to Blood that Jericho Bermuda has raided his mafia territory in another section of the country. With a frown, the nurse was dismissed and Blood excused himself from the foreigner's room.

"My apologies, miss…?"

"Lyda," she spoke quietly. "Lyda Allen."

He smirked. "Ah, yes. My apologies, Lyda," he tipped his hat at her and began to leave, but stopped to address her with something. "I am a busy man, so I may not be able to tend to your requests. But if there's something you need, whether it be food, necessities, or the like – feel free to ring up a maid. I'm sure she'll help you get…accosted here in Wonderland," He smiled and winked at her. "Perhaps we'll continue this, another time if I'm not too busy?"

Lyda blushed a bit and averted her eyes. "…yes."

Blood closed the door on his way out.

After that day, Blood had busied himself with paperwork and the occasional mafia disputes. He ordered a shipment of fine china to replace the old set, but his rival – Jericho Bermuda – intercepted and stirred up tension in another part of Blood's territory that he rightfully owned. With a scowl, he personally went up to that bastard, ruthlessly murdered his servants, and dangerously warned the man not to interfere with him anymore. When the other mafia boss put up a good fight, Blood overpowered him easily and purposely spared the man's life in disgust before ordering the Bloody Twins to do away with the remaining of his henchman. The Twins happily dismembered and decapitated most of the Bermuda's men and they were soon on their way. Bermuda soon stopped causing problems for the Hatter – at least, for a while.

Blood continued his menial paperwork and the bags under his eyes never seemed to leave. There was the foreigner, Joker, and his job that made him easily stressed and fretful in his sleep – I can never catch a break, can I? He sighed and took a sip from his favorite tea and picked up his pen to write again. And where is that March Hare? …he's been gone for quite a long time now. Don't tell me he got . . .

Killed? Detained? Dying under a bridge?

Blood pinched the bridge of his nose and brushed off his thoughts. He knew that Elliot was strong enough to fend off any unwanted pursuers, and the man himself was clever enough not to get into any stupid situation he couldn't get out of! But…his right hand man had been away for a while – this made Blood a bit curious. A little worried, perhaps. He's probably hoarding all the carrot dishes he can before returning – that typical hare. So Blood presumed doing trivial matters after coming up with a conclusion that he liked. Typical animals.

…

"Maybe I should go check up on that foreigner again," he murmured, setting down his pen again. And he was off to see her. It had been some time since he last seen her. Actually, he had truthfully forgotten about her. Seduce her, then fuck her. I've been feeling antsy now, he thought, trying to repress his sexually urges. It bothered him that he wasn't able to have some spare time to…take care of his own needs. Maybe she will behave like a slut and beg me for it. He smirked and paused at her doorway. I wonder if she's singing.

He was about to open her door but he paused.

…

He heard two voices.

Unsure, he pressed his ear closer to the door and listened carefully.

"…sing for…Lyda," the male voice chuckled. "I know…very…voice…"

"…but…my voice…tired…" she spoke softly.

"…but.."

He heard the two laugh and he heard Lyda began to sing. Her voice was quiet but she managed to muster up a small melody.

…

Blood felt his eye twitch once he heard the male voice laugh. It was Boris.

The filthy, freeloading, Cheshire Cat was speaking to the foreigner he had caught.

…what is this?

Blood frowned and paused unsure whether or not if he should intrude on their meeting. Slut. Filthy slut. She's just like Alice – playing coy and seducing all the men with a smile.

He shook his head and began to turn the other way – foreigners were all the same, he thought. Albeit biased. After all my hospitality, you turn away to that filthy cat?

Fine. Two could play at this game.

Blood knocked softly on Lyda's door, waiting patiently for a reply.

It was already the night time period, and for once, Blood was free of his tasks and took this opportunity to punish his toy. He smirked as she called him in. Slutty foreigner – I'll treat you just like Alice.

As Lyda invited him in – he noticed that she was wearing a white dress that had a laced up V-neck. Perfect, he thought.

"Blood, what brings—"

Before she was able to finish her sentence, he swiftly pushed her down on the bed and proceeded to tie up her wrists together with his tie. "W-What . . .?"

She tried to struggle away from him but to no avail – Blood captured her and held her down, narrowing his eyes that showed lust in them.

"For tonight – you'll be my song bird."

"A-Ah, a-ah!" she panted, face flushed and her body occasionally bucking from his touch. "Nnnngh…s-stop…a-ah…"

Blood smiled and continued to fondle her small but perky breasts. He loved the reaction he received from her. He flicked his thumb over hardened nipple and teased it – making her pant and squirm from him. But he held her to where she wasn't able to move. She was his now. "Nnnngh…"

He smirked and let his other hand trail down her smooth stomach and forced her legs apart – reaching down to caress her womanhood. He slowly stroked her clitoris and earned several gasps of breaths and an arousing pant from her.

"You're such a slut," he whispered in her ear, slowly trailing kisses down her neck. "Sing for me, my sweet songbird."

And for the whole night – she sang as much as he wanted her to sing.

Her melodic and passionate voice filled his ears with a sweet delight that made him come twice.

When the next morning arrived – he straighten out his suit and kissed his songbird loving on the lips. She was tired from last night.

…

She was a slut – just like Alice.

…

Boris could have her – she's no use to me anymore.

From that day forward, Lyda eventually left the Hatter's Mansion and went stayed at the Amusement Park District. When Boris heard of the incident – he was enraged and blind-fully charged at Blood. Blood only mocked and taunted the cat, saying that that outsider was just like Alice. Boris refused to believe that and Blood eventually cease-fired, telling Boris that he was making a mistake that he had done before. Loving a filthy outsider. We're all too gullible for our own good, he thought spitefully, before taking a sip from his cup of tea. Gullible.

Blood then sighed. He would miss that cat though.

With a shake of his head and resumed doing mundane tasks.

Perhaps it's time to go apologize to Joker.

Once again, Blood didn't feel ready yet. Maybe some other time.

Or maybe his pride prevented him from doing so.

Five months had passed by and the foreigner still lived among them. Blood simply shook his head and refused to go anywhere near the Amusement Park but allowed the Bloody Twins to do so. Apparently, Mary Gowland had built a new theme ride to celebrate the new resident living there now. Ace, the Knave of Hearts, went to check it out, Julius Monrey did so – he was curious this time, the theme was a clock based one – Queen Vivaldi wanted to see Lyda and so forth. It was rather empty in the Hatter's Mansion so Blood decided to take a stroll in the Rose Garden.

The blissful silence swallowed Blood into contemplating about his old relationship with Joker. He remembered the man's crimson hair and eyes – full of passion and aggression whenever he embraced the double-edged man. With another sigh – and with more to come – Blood continued walking while being clouded in his thoughts. For some reason, the conversation with Lyda replayed back into his head. It was the conversation they after he fucked her senseless. But she gave him consent to do so – there wasn't anything that was forced.

...after all, he promised to be a gentleman.

"I know this is Wonderland," she said, panting and out of breath as she lay there, vulnerable and naked in his arms. "I know that there was a girl called Alice that visited this place. She…she freed someone from this game, am I correct?"

Blood was surprised, but nodded. Lyda smiled and closed her eyes, tired. "If…if you want…I could free you from this game…I can give you a heart."

…

"…I could…capture your heart…" and she fell asleep.

…

"That sounds like a good offer," he whispered, smiling at her small frame and placing the comforter over both of them. "but I prefer my woman faithful to me."

He knew that he sounded like a hypocrite.

Blood remembered how the young woman knew so much about Wonderland and the "game". It was highly unusual, yet…strange things happen and knowledge circulates around in the other realm. All he could do was shrug and continue walking.

He stopped though.

Where am I?

There several doors of all shapes, colors, and sizes all around him. Oh…I remember.

It was the forest where the doors tempted you to open one. And if one were to think where one needed to go – it'll lead you to the place where you desire to go.

Then take me home – I've had enough of this drama for once.

He chose the smooth mahogany colored door and went inside.

Take me home.

Blood didn't go home.

He went exactly where he didn't want to go – Wonderland's Prison.

And he ran into the Prison Warden.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Black snarled, his whip ready and gun ready to use.

"I could ask the same to you," Blood smirked, changing his cane into a machine gun.

"You do realize that I'm the warden here, right dumbass?"

Blood rolled his eyes, "I know – I was being sarcastic. Something that you never caught on to fast enough, Black."

And the battle began.

And it was a strange one.

Every time a bullet or whip collided into each other – they both would reverberate a few feet away from the impact of each other's strength. They were equal now – no one was stronger than the other, and Blood had prepared exactly for this moment. Somewhere in between all the meetings and meaningless work – he sparred with the Twins or Ace whenever he felt like it. Even though it was friendly – sometimes, the match would escalate and become extremely destructive.

Eventually, Blood knew when he got stronger.

He could now evenly match the Joker's brute strength.

The match went on and on. There were snide comments and reminiscing of old memories as they fought ruthlessly against each other. Old passions were beginning to stir up and Blood felt the slash against his chest as he narrowly missed the Joker's whip.

On the other hand, Joker suffered a grazed bullet shots from Blood's aim, but was lucky enough to evade most of them.

It was a flurry of metal clangs whenever they got to close or hit the cell bars, or there were intricate dodging pattern to throw each other off.

Time seemed fruitless and pointless when it came to this.

Everything seemed like a perfectly timed jump, step, and graceful landing whenever one or the other stuck at each other. Blood drops dotted the bars and floor with more unique landings and the prisoners watched in mesmerized horror as two strong and deadly opponents dealt it out.

It was everything that one or the either had to give up on.

And it still hurt both of them.

…and they still both loved each other.

"I'm sorry," Blood said quietly, whenever it became close combat. "I never meant to hurt you like this."

Black was pushed up against the cell wall as Blood held a gun toward his face, threatening to pull the trigger.

Black spat out blood on the floor beside him and wiped his mouth, disgusted by Blood's declaration.

…

But Black then closed his eyes, clutching his stomach as he began to slide down on the cell bars he was leaning on.

Confused, Blood slightly lowered his gun to stare at his former friend, flame. "…what are you—"

"Shut the fuck up—" he coughed out, blood on his hands as he tried to cover his mouth. "—and just leave. You've already damaged us enough to make it this severe," he managed a weak glare up to Blood, but closed his eyes, leaning his head back. "…just leave already, bastard. White doesn't want to see you, neither do I. Just let me regenerate in peace you shitty lover."

Blood opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped.

Turning away, Blood wiped the corner of his mouth with his glove and noticed the blood stains on it. He inhaled slowly and exhaled – just why is he hesitating right now?

With a light toss, the gun in his hand quickly turned back into a cane.

Blood felt a bit nervous, sick. He shook his head and began to walk away from the bloodied man and heard his footsteps lightly echoing back into his ears.

"I still love you, you bastard." The voice echoed out, reaching his ears in a heartbeat. Blood stopped for a second, but continued walking.

"I still care about you, Blood." White's distinctive voice rang out, making him pause in his step again, but he continued walking, this time, his hand clenching tightly around his cane.

…

It was silent. Too silent.

…

Blood bit down harshly on his lip, trying to get his mind away from Joker – away from everything.

…

"I still fucking care about you, you asshole!" but this time, Blood stopped. He stopped completely.

"It's been almost two years and this is all I get from you?" his screech was almost…tearful.

Black?

"You have the fucking nerve to come back and try to kill me, but you don't have the balls to say how you really feel about us?" Blood glanced over his shoulder, seeing Black still slumped over at one of the cell walls, just glaring hatefully at him.

…

There were tears in his eyes.

…

Actual tears.

…

"All this time, did it ever occur to you that you're an absent minded asshole who's not once told you that you love me?" Black spat out, his voice ripping through the silence, almost stunning Blood. "That you love White?"

Blood only stared back. Speechless. He couldn't form a coherent thought in his head and his face was deadpanned.

Severely devoid of any emotion.

…

…

…

"…I knew it. Alice is still on your fucking mind, isn't she?" Black said quietly, his voice shaking and pathetic. "I knew it." he repeated, with no vile or condescending tone. It was flat out plain. Dull. Lifeless even.

"…you never really loved us, didn't you…" it was more of a statement.

…

…

Black sighed.

…

…

"You're wrong," Blood whispered.

"…what?"

"You're wrong, Black," Blood said again, raising his voice so the latter could hear. He swiftly walked over toward the injured man in a brisk pace and grabbed Black by the collar forcing him to look directly in Blood's eyes. Black winced and evenly stared back into the man's eyes.

And almost gasped out in surprise.

Blood's eyes were full of emotion and hidden feelings that he had repressed for so long.

And they were captivating Black. And White.

"I've always loved you," he forced a kiss over Black's lips, and the latter returned it aggressively. Blood pulled back, and tasted the metallic on his tongue. "And don't you ever forget about that," they continued kissing, exploring, dominating each other's mouths.

"You were always on my mind, never being able to rest without a day's thought without you always being there," Blood growled, kissing the crook of Black's neck. "It's always you. It's always you and White dictating my thoughts and no matter how many women I've had, they never gave me this pleasure as you can give me."

"Why's that?" Black prompted, his fingers getting entangled into Blood's hair. But he knew it too well.

"You know the very answer to that yourself." Blood smirked.

"Oh really?" Black raised an eyebrow, with an animalistic desire in his tone.

"Are you inviting me to fuck you senseless?"

"Only if you're the one doing it."

"I love you, Joker." Blood whispered, caressing his lover and embracing him into a close and intimate end to their pleasure induced night.

"Took you long enough," Joker managed out softly.

"Took you fucking long enough."