The moon hung in the sky like a toy hanging over a children's crib on that dreadful night. Standing on the balcony was none other than the Joker himself, and because nobody else was around, he was utterly pissed. Harley was in jail for the thousandth time, and all of his men were either dead or locked up. He grasped his neon green hair by the ends and pulled, a warm sensation running down his spine at the feeling of pain. Joker was hanging from the bitter end of his rope. He had somehow managed to slip away into the dark yet again while the Dark Knight's back was turned in the midst of the chaos and break into some poor saps home, where he now stood on the owner's balcony, clinging tightly to a bottle of booze he managed to find tucked away in a cabinet.
The bottle was probably saved for a special occasion, as now when he looked at it, the liquor seemed to be a rather expensive brand from years ago. When he thought more on it, Joker figured he was probably ruining someone else's day now, opening this bottle. A tiny bundle of joy crept into his chest, causing a tiny chuckle to force it's way out of his mouth. Quickly recovering, Joker's mouth again went stiff. Somehow managing to bite off the cap, he held the bottle high over his head and heard the glass ching against his teeth as he gulped down the hard liquor, instantly making him feel woozy. The world around him began to fade away as he stumbled backward into the home and collapsed onto the floor, still chugging at the bottle of alcohol.
No, Joker's mind retaliated, begging and pulling at his arms to lift himself upward, but when they couldn't, he simply gave in, yet unhappily. You can't sleep here. If they come home and find you…
Bat-brain had gotten away with it again. He took down Joker's plan again. Joker supposed he should be used to it by now, but he couldn't help but feel like a failure. Not only had Joker failed at keeping his "old and normal," life together, but he couldn't even beat one man in black tights in his new and evil one. This was something to be ashamed of. This was a sign. You'll never succeed. Just give in now, Joker recalled Batsy spewing at him just hours ago. Let these people go. I'll always take you down, and you know it.
Joker let Batman's voice sink down into the back of his mind, slowly waving itself in and out of his brain, as if no matter how hard Joker pushed it away, it would always come back. Bats would just say it again, and be right. He was never wrong. Joker hated that. Anger clashed around in Joker's insides, fighting to be released. As Joker downed another big gulp of liquor, he decided to let his anger out. What was the worst he could do in this state anyway?
Allowing the alcohol to fuel his strength enough to sit up, Joker opened the door to his anger. You can come out now, Joker narrated in his mind, setting the bottle aside. Joker expected to stand and kick something. To punch the wall. To break everything in this room that he could in a burst of anger, and yet still, Joker didn't do that. Joker was Joker, after all. Instead, he laughed. He chuckled. He giggled. He guffawed. He cackled. This was his anger being released. All at once, Joker hated and loved that about himself.
I never thought you were an actual psychopath, Joker recalled hearing Harvey Dent say to him once. I always thought this crazy was just for show, for the effect.
Joker tried to believe that for a good bit. He wanted to believe that maybe he wasn't crazy after all, and maybe he was normal, under the bright green hair, pale skin, and red lips.
Then Joker remembered that he wasn't normal. No matter what he did, no matter how alone or how together Joker was, he'd never be normal. Never, never ever.
"Come here," a melodic voice echoed through the halls of Joker's mind as he looked around, trying to find the voice, but quickly remembered that he was drunk. That could only mean one of two things. Either, one, Joker was hallucinating, or two, there was someone actually there and Joker's vision was just too blurred to see them. "Turn around."
Turning about himself, Joker found a blurred shadow that he guessed was the voice and pushed himself up to walk toward it. He didn't know why he trusted it, but he supposed as long as they weren't shouting hands in the air, they might as well be trustworthy.
"Hellooo there," Joker chuckled drunkenly, leaning into what felt like a warm ball, but after feeling it shift under his weight he figured it must've been the source of the voice. "Harley, sugar, is that yooouuuu?"
"No," the voice said, somewhat sternly but still with a melodic tone. Joker felt entranced by the voice and found his arms wrapped around the body that was before him. Unable to think straight, he couldn't actually tell who it was. Not by colors, not by shape, or size. It just wouldn't come to mind.
"Mmm, carry me home, dear?" Joker asked, laughing at his own drunken spurs. Just then, Joker was lifted up and carried away. Whoever it is, they're strong, Joker hummed. Strong… Joker found himself poking at lumps he supposed were muscles before his voice betrayed him and began to speak again. "Bats, babe, is that you?"
"Wh-What?" the voice stammered. Suddenly it all fell into place. It's Bat-babe! Bats, I just knew you'd save me…
"Oh, the brawn, the stone cold voice, oh I should've known it was you. You just couldn't stay away from me for too long, could you, darling?" the Joker joked. "Did you want to dance some more?"
"I'm… I'm not Batman, I'm not-" Bats stopped halfway through. "Damn, I probably should've prepared for this-"
"What on Earth are you talking about, dearie?" Joker leaned his head in the crook of Batsy's neck as he felt himself being carried away to God knows where. "I'd recognize you anywhere…"
Suddenly, the haze blocking Joker's eyes faded away. Who he found himself staring at was definitely not Batsy. Yet, at the same time, was. Joker was looking at a fine young man, one with tan skin and black hair, yet with Batsy's piercing blue eyes and strong jawline. "Hmm.. I know this face," Joker thought aloud. "Bruce Wayne, that's right!"
Then Joker cackled some more. Was this sack of crap his Batsy? This… This playboy billionaire, this gross celebrity whom Joker was currently resting in the arms of. "Oh, Bats, I thought so much better of you, it seems my standards were much too high," Joker shook his head, the gears of his brain still working out the realization that his voice had already reached, causing Joker to gasp and lean back in surprise despite his confident words. "How boring…"
"What do you mean?" Batsy turned to look at Joker as he walked. Joker supposed he should probably be concerned on where they were going, or even where they were, but instead found himself much too focused on the face behind the mask than the scenery behind him.
"You're an older Justin Bieber, and nobody wants that," Joker growled, then apparently changed his mind and let out a laugh. "I just expected so much more."
Bats grew silent, and so did Joker. He simply leaned his head back on Batsy's chest and let out a loud sigh, allowing himself to get comfy and slowly fall asleep in his arms.
When Joker awoke, he was surprised, to say the least.
He wasn't in Arkham, as he had expected.
He wasn't in Wayne Manor.
He wasn't in a Batcave of any sort.
No, Joker was at home. It wasn't a recent home, but one of his old hideouts that Batsy had since infiltrated and filled with GCPD scum. It was now empty, however, and Joker lay in the bed he remembered using those years ago. Confused and with a pounding headache, Joker sat up in the bed and looked around. Everything was the same. It was as if they had put it in a crime scene stage and then left it like so, not touching, or moving, a thing.
"Well, that wasn't a smart move, now was it?" Joker thought aloud, standing up. "What kind of moron leaves me unattended when I know his true identity? You silly, silly Bat you-"
Then Joker frowned as he held his head, still aching from his horrible hangover. He supposed Batsy wasn't that dumb. There must be some trick here. Maybe Joker would walk outside and find a squad of GCPD ready to lock him up. Maybe the exits are all locked, and this is his personal prison. Maybe…
Then Joker saw it. Looking on the small table in the corner of the dim room, he found a glass of water and a bottle of… Alka-Seltzer? Oh, very funny, Bats. Joker growled internally. Quickly Joker took the hangover remedy, despite his resentment towards it, and walked out of the room and into the long hallway, venturing toward the entrance.
"Ohhh Batsyyyyyyy?" Joker shouted in a drawn out voice, hoping to receive no response. "Did somebody stay the niiight?"
As he found the large, dim entrance hall, Joker peaked out of the front window. Not only was the window still empty, with no glass (Joker supposed that meant personal prison was out of the question), but no one was outside. No one. Did Batsy just… Leave me here?
Reluctant to walk out, yet knowing he'd have to eventually, Joker wriggled the unlocked door knob and took a step outside. The fresh air felt foreign against Joker's pale skin, and he found himself longing to retreat back indoors, yet his feet stayed dug into the ground, unmoving.
Joker took in the memory of this building. It was an abandoned factory with two exits. One lead to an alleyway, the one most frequently used by Joker and his crew, and also the one Joker stood in now, while the other lead to the street. The dark and empty alley showed no sign of life, and even when Joker looked up, perhaps expecting a sniper on the building across the way, perhaps expecting the big bad Bat himself, he found nothing.
He lets me know his identity, then skidaddles? He's disappointed me yet again. Joker sighed, then realization struck. And he laughed. A lot. Cackled, even. Laughed so hard he could practically feel his ribs crack against all of the pressure building on his insides, and still he laughed.
"Oh Batsy, you silly Bat you," Joker smiled, turning to find exactly what he expected in the doorway behind him. The Bat himself. "I knew you'd never leave me."
Suddenly Joker's hangover faded away as he took in the sight. Towering over Joker, Bats was dressed in his usual attire, at least by Joker's standards, the black tight costume and the Bat mask, which caused his blue eyes to stick out like a wildfire in the deep night, or at least, to Joker.
"You won't tell anyone," the Bat said in a strong voice. "We both know that."
"Oh, do we now?" Joker cackled. "I sure like the idea of spilling your secrets to the world, giving every super villain in Gotham your address and having everyone you've ever loved slaugh-"
"We do," Batsy interrupted. Joker's lips pursed together as he waited to see if the Bat had anymore to say, and when he was met with a good minute of silence, he laughed.
"What makes you think that, Batsy-boy?"
"You're too cocky. Don't you like being the only villain in the city who knows who I am?" Batman responded.
"Oh, Batsy, you really do know me!" Joker cackled. He felt his laughter explode even more when the Bat's eyes rolled, and he couldn't help but clutch his stomach, wiping a lone tear from his eye.
"Goodbye," Bats scowled, before turning on his heel to walk for the other doorway in the factory.
"Batsy, don't go!" Joker's voice let out without permission from his mind, as the clown ran back inside of the building to follow him. "Shall I get you a glass of wine?"
When Joker had realized what he said, and noticed that the Bat had stopped in his tracks, he let out a long, deranged cackle. The laughter was so overpowering that he fell to his knees. When he heard Batsy growl, his stomach nearly exploded.
Batman turned back to the Joker and stomped toward him, quickly snatching up his collar and holding him to the wall, pinning him against it.
"Bats, hold me closer," Joker crept his head to the side of Batsy's and whispered tantalizingly in his ear, before chuckling and laying his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes calmly, awaiting the punch to the face he deserved.
The clown prince of crime was surprised, to say the least, when he felt one of the Bat's strong hands slither it's way around his waist. A burst of warmth erupted down Joker's spine and he let out an involuntary moan, a light chuckle following it. Opening his eyes to peer down at Batsy as to figure out what had happened that had caused such a reaction, he saw that the cowl was off. Who he saw was Bruce Wayne, who was peering back up at him, straight-faced.
"Wha-" Joker started, but was quickly interrupted when Batsy's head quickly dove into the Joker's neck. Joker's head flung back in surprise as he felt Bruce's lips and tongue make nonstop contact with his neck, moans escaping the clown's mouth.
"I can't help myself anymore," Bruce breathed into Joker's neck, leaving Joker speechless. "I had to."
"Bats," Joker barely managed to breathe out as a burning warmth made its way through his body.
"I guess you could say," a small chuckle came from Batsy's mouth unexpectedly, and he even seemed startled by what he was saying. "I really wanted to dance."
Joker was so caught off guard by the joke that he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed. And he laughed, until he couldn't laugh anymore. The Bat laid him on the floor and they passionately did whatever their weak bodies could until they were both satisfied, laying side by side.
And they laughed.