Another Night
by taitofan
Rated T
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman or its characters.
Author's Note: This is my first Batman fic and it's soulmate au nonsense. Of course. There's no specific canon being used here either.
If you have any CC, please share and I'll listen. Please read, review, and enjoy! Finished 12-12-16
"Fuck." That isn't a word Jonathan thinks often, let alone says aloud. It's base and crass and overused, and yet, there really isn't a better word to sum up his current predicament. "This cannot be real."
"…You didn't get us both with your fear gas, did you?"
Jonathan bites back the scathing remarks that come to mind, showing remarkable restraint by not plunging his needled gauntlet straight into Batman's eyeballs. Scratch that—Bruce Wayne's eyeballs. Honestly, he doesn't know which is the bigger shock—Bruce Wayne being Batman, or the fact that he's learned the Bat's secret identity because of the scrawling script on his wrist that tells him so. Likewise, Jonathan Crane is undoubtedly printed on the skin hidden under Batman's gloves. At least if he can't see it, he can still pretend—
Batman peels back the glove on his left hand just enough for Jonathan to see his name. Well damn. So much for that.
Some people spend the better part of their lives waiting for this moment. To kiss someone and have your soulmate mark suddenly appear—it can become an obsession. He knows; he's seen it firsthand. How many people had Edward kissed—desperate to find his soulmate, to prove they exist, to show the world he deserves this one victory—before he finally had the nerve to kiss the person he actually wanted it to be? Some people fall to despair when the one they love isn't their soulmate, and Jonathan had thought his friend would be much the same.
How fortunate, Jonathan thinks, that Edward now proudly wears the name Oswald Cobblepot on his wrist.
That doesn't change the fact that Jonathan doesn't feel a smidgen of envy for the couple. He isn't looking for love or lust or anything more than a working, beneficial relationship with someone who understands. That's why his "friends" are so few and far between, and that suits him fine. He doesn't need or want a soulmate, so the fact that one little stumble that barely brushes lips through burlap and kevlar somehow counts as a kiss utterly baffles him.
And now, here they are. Scarecrow and Batman. Soulmates.
'Fuck,' he thinks again, just for good measure.
"I've yet to release any toxins tonight, thanks to your untimely arrival," Jonathan answers once he's composed himself. He smirks behind his mask, just a little. "Why, Mr. Wayne, are you afraid? Does it scare you that your soulmate has been deemed criminally insane? That your soulmate is a murderer? Or perhaps that this means I know who you are?"
Batman is good at hiding his emotions, but he and most of the other high-profile rogues deal with him enough to see through his stoic mask. The tightening of his jaw is a clear giveaway that he's angry. Jonathan's smirk grows, and he knows that Batman—Bruce, he thinks, a dark sort of cheer pulsing through him—can tell what he's doing. After all, Batman knows more about his rogues than they do of him. But with the new knowledge on Jonathan's wrist, perhaps that will soon change.
"I'll take you back to Arkham and tell them I found you harassing Bruce Wayne. They'll think you're lying when you say otherwise. There are no witnesses. It will be your word against mine."
It's true enough, but Jonathan isn't deterred.
"But it would lay the seed of doubt. And it would certainly hurt your reputation, wouldn't it Mr. Wayne? Even if you expect anyone to believe that the Scarecrow of all people would be going around kissing random men on the streets, there's still the undeniable fact that I'm your soulmate. You simply cannot hide that." No doubt he'll still try. Maybe it's plausible on Batman's end, but not Jonathan's, and surely he understands that. The moment he returns to Arkham, all bets are off. "Tell me, Mr. Wayne, how will Gotham like it when someone like you is apparently the perfect match in the entire universe for someone such as me?"
"What do you want, Crane?"
What indeed. The better question is: what will the Bat actually give him? There's plenty he can ask for that even the threat of exposure will never actually get him. But perhaps…
"Would it not benefit you to spin the tale as such? You had the misfortune of coming across the Scarecrow, and an unfortunate misstep revealed your soulmate. Now you, such a caring, generous man, only wants to do what's best for his soulmate and Gotham at large. Surely, you'll tell the press, rehabilitation cannot be that difficult." Batman's eyes narrow; he doesn't believe for a moment that Jonathan wants to be rehabilitated. Good. He doesn't. "I'm quite capable of keeping things lowkey if given the proper… outlets."
"I'm not giving you dangerous chemicals or test subjects," Batman snaps. "Try again, Crane."
Well, it was worth a shot.
"Then I suppose we're done here, unless you can think of something better. I wonder how long it will take someone at Arkham to leak the contents of my soulmate mark to the press? Will you have something figured out by then?"
Batman grits his teeth and looks as if he wishes this is all a nightmare. By god, does it make Jonathan more than a little ecstatic to see him like this. To know that there's nothing Batman can do to stop some sort of fallout. Nothing short of…
Oh. Oh, this is good.
"Of course," he continues slowly, advancing until he is firmly in Batman's personal space, "you could end it all. Right here, at this very moment. Drop me off the roof, tell everyone I tripped. I'd be dead and the mark would scar over. You'd be free."
"I don't—"
"You don't kill. I know. We all know." Jonathan chuckles and leans in, so their faces are scant inches away. He idly wonders if properly kissing Batman will cause any sort of fear response. It will be something he'll have to keep in mind for a later date. He isn't quite done with his current line of questioning. "Would you regret it, if you did kill me? Would it eat you up inside to know you'd murdered your soulmate, and that it really was for the best? Would you miss the soulmate you never wanted, Bruce?"
"Of course." The response comes quicker than Jonathan expects, and he's almost surprised that Batman's voice is a touch thicker than normal. Fear and arousal come from similar stimuli. Jonathan never thought he'd inspire such a reaction in anyone, let alone the Bat. Maybe this isn't a complete disaster after all. "I'd regret killing anyone. Even someone like you."
Batman quickly advances, twisting Jonathan's arms so he can cuff him, mindful of the gauntlets still full of fear toxins. Jonathan lets him, not even bothering to fight back. They're clearly finished at the moment, and Jonathan knows that on some level, he's still won. The name on his wrist is proof of that.
"They'll know," he promises. "Soon."
"They will."
No more words are exchanged as Batman leads him from the roof, no doubt to the awaiting Batmobile. It is, Jonathan supposes, a nice change to be doing this conscious and not bleeding. He won't dare get used to it though. Soulmates or not, there's still a status quo, and Jonathan isn't naïve. He isn't going to change, nor will the Bat.
Perhaps the universe was laughing when it decided they were soulmates.
Perhaps Jonathan will have to laugh right back at it.