I don't own Batman, blah blah, yadda yadda
They're both celebrities in their own way, which is why after the Feds take over Gotham City, one time when Batman's not quite fast enough stopping one of the Joker's rampages, they end up sharing the same cell in maximum security. That's right, one cell: It's barely big enough to hold the bunks and the toilet, let alone the two outsized personalities who are inhabiting it now.
"The stir, the brig," apparently Joker hasn't figured out yet that he doesn't have an audience for all his drama, "Alcatraz," he laments, "they've got me in fuckin' Alcatraz," which is one way anyway, to describe four concrete walls, and 23 hours a day of isolation.
"Hey, at least we're not wearing orange jumpsuits." Shorn of his street-authority, the Batman's reverted. It's Bruce Wayne's mild voice and philosophic attitude that are coming out from under the bat-hood.
"Yeah," Joker begins, "you've got a..." He turns. Is his smile suddenly bigger and goonier? Could it get any bigger and goonier than it was already? "Yeah," he says, "you've got a point. They put you in here secret identity intact, didn't they Batsy old pal?" He cackles. "What a favor they did for ...one of us."
A cat and mouse game? Well no, not when the mouse (or bat) outweighs the cat by 40 pounds. Not when he's solid, well-toned muscle, and the Joker's nothing but scrawny clownflesh. Batman's on his feet already, tensed for a fight.
"Aww, c'mon," Joker wheedles, "you know I'm gonna see sooner or later." No response? Maybe Batman growls a little. "You can't stay awake forever," the Joker tries again, "not with the catpiss they call coffee in this place anyway. First time those little peepers of yours close," he makes a swiping motion, and, "off comes the hood," he says.
Batman just growls some more.
"Pretty please with sugar on it? You can kill me afterward if ya want to." Philosophical, "of course you'll have to deal with Harley," he says, "but she's just a girl, you can take her easy. Come on, be a pal, Bat-breath," he says.
It's a classic locked-room mystery, except the mystery this time is how's he going to keep his identity secret anyway, once the federal officers come in and start their questioning? That, and how much pull does he have in Washington? And how much of it can Alfred use without giving up the secret anyway? And is there any way he can keep the Joker quiet after he takes off his hood without killing him? Because that's proved to be awfully difficult over the years.
"Okay, Joker, I'll bite," he says, "but I want something different from you in return." Sparkling-green clown eyes look his way, candy-red clown-lips turn up in a grin. "I want a press release," the Batman says, "I want you to say you're cooperating with the law" --
"No way, no fuckin' way."
-- "And I want you to do it," he finishes, "I want someone arrested because of you."
"There is no way in hell I'm ever going to do something that crazy."
"Then there's no way you'll see what's under the hood." And then they both sit there arms folded, legs stretched out on the concrete in front of them. Only the Joker is pouting now.
And he breaks of course, after a few minutes. Or he comes up with some devious way around the deal maybe.
"Naturally you're Wayne," he says when the hood's off, "of course you are, well duh, it was obvious. I knew it all along."
Bruce folds his arms.
"I knew you swing for the girly team," Joker says, "all those fiancees and never any wife? Please, how dumb do you think people are? And everyone knows about Batman and Robin."
"I'm not gay!"
"At least I've got Harley," the clown taunts him.
"You are so gay it's not even funny," Bruce says, "that's why you're saying I am. Look at you," he says, "dressed all in purple, the only way you could be more obvious is with a rainbow-flag suit." Joker lunges, but it's easy to hold him off, one hand on the scruff of his neck. "Angry little clown-boy," he comments, "denying the truth about yourself when all you want is a kiss from your rival."
The words hang in the air between them. After a while, "I kiss better than you." It's the Joker who recovers himself enough to talk first.
He's not intrigued, he's not interested at all, Bruce would swear that he wasn't. But they've only been in this cell three hours, and there's 20 hours of isolation left to go. "I'd just as soon kiss a barracuda," he tells Joker, "look at you, all those sharp teeth." His voice is softer -- Is he flirting? Is it just saying Batman-things in his Bruce-voice, is that what makes him sound like he wants this? If that's the case, why the hell does he have his hand on the Joker's shoulder? Their heads come together, those green clown-eyes are looking right into his again, and for a long time neither of them says anything at all,
And afterward they both think they got the best of the deal. There were some goons Joker wanted out of the way anyway (even though ratting them out to the cops isn't anywhere near as fun as killing them), and the Batman got a promise of silence that should last a good couple of weeks anyway. And they both think that they're the better kisser. But somehow neither wants to find the time to get together and prove it once and for all.