A bell cried out, bouncing off the walls of Arkham Asylum. Jonathan glanced over his shoulder and hid an orange TV remote in a potted plant. Quickly, he wiped his filthy hands on the curtains and jumped into the couch before anyone could see. He turned to a random page of his book and pretended to read.
Edward Nigma was the first to rush in, overjoyed to see that it was only the bookworm. He ran past the couch to search the usual places were the remote was kept. As the seconds became minutes, the Riddler became more agitated. "Where is it? Jeopardy will be on at any minute!" He huffed and turned to the doctor-turned-inmate, "Have you seen-?"
"Do I at all seem interested in television?" Crane stated as he flipped a page. "Ask Harley, you know how much she likes dramas."
The redhead nodded in agreement, recalling that she did steal it once awhile back.
Bloodless blue eyes glanced up to see an overly-cheerful girl ramble on about how donations can save the…something. Seals, wetlands, it didn't matter. The point was: celebrities were playing golf. Supposedly it was for charity.
And even that was unimportant, because Scarecrow only wanted to see one person.
His attention was broken by said clown-girl flopping down on a cushion. "Wow, lookit all the rich stiffs. Bet they nevah had a real laugh, huh?"
Crane ignored her, and there he was.
Too casually dressed for the event, Bruce Wayne dismissed any ire with a smile. His tee-shirt was snug in all the right places, and the color complemented his lightly tanned skin. The bazillionare bid his pet bimbo goodbye and stepped forward to his turn. Scarecrow found it unusual how the news focused more on who he was dated, instead of how well Wayne Enterprises is doing since his return.
"Why are we watching this trash?" Edward fumed, bordering on giving up on his quiz shows.
Harley was offended. "This ain't trash! You just don't understand quality entertainment." She upturned her nose in a snooty fashion.
A security guard rolled his eyes, everyday it was the same thing. Idly he yearned for a smoke, and cursed his missing lighter. Riddler threw an arm around his fellow intellectual and said "Well, I believe there is at least one person who will agree that-"
"Shut up, he's taking a shot!" Crane shouted, shoving Edward out of the way so he could see. It seemed to have been good, because the audience clapped and cheered.
Meanwhile in Arkham, things weren't going as well. Scarecrow's face was growing red after his outburst and Harley did nothing to contain her laughter. "It was you!" Edward exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger "And I don't think you're watching this for the golf!" The guard snickered. He suspected there was something a bit swishy about the good doctor.
"And I don't blame him! Hubba Hubba!"
Crane wanted to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment. Surely, this day could not get any worse.
It could however, get better.
In another room down the hall, a fight broke out between inmates and their guard was called to help. Taking advantage of the situation, Jonathan climbed onto the table and fished something out of his pocket.
"What on Earth are you doin'?" Harley asked in confusion.
Crane held the stolen lighter high and stretched to reach the sprinkler. "You two can stay here if you want, but I'm getting out." Even with the table, the ceiling was still painfully high. He strained the muscles in his legs and held it up by the tips of fingers. Something clicked and he never so happy to be drenched.
The blonde girl shrieked in joy at the buzz of electronic locks opening. It was only a matter of time until someone figured it out, and Crane's fair-weather friends were already gone. He tucked his glasses into his shirt and made for the door.
Right down the hall and to the left, he ran past workers on laundry duty. The weight of an industrial-size bottle of detergent was enough to shatter a window, and a leap of faith sent him plummeting to the ground.
The fall from a second-story window was enough for a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. He brushed away the dirt clinging to his damp clothes and ran to the docks. He found the modest supply ship and managed to sneak aboard.
Inside a barely-used storage room was a network of overhead pipes that would be a perfect hiding place. Jonathan climbed up the boxes and found a dark corner to sleep. The only thing left now to do was wait.
…
Bruce dismissed an interview and merely nodded at congratulations on reaching the next round of the tournament. In truth, the sport bored him and he planned to lose in the semi-finals.
Alfred greeted him as soon as he entered the car and handed him a tablet. "What's this?" The playboy asked, scrolling through pages of information.
"Just received it less than an hour ago, sir. It seems that some loon pulled the fire alarm at Arkham and they're trying to find out who."
Almost all of the prisoners were caught and returned to their cells, but a handful was still unaccounted for. Bruce stopped at the sight of a handsome doctor. "I think we found our arsonist…" He opened up a profile and began to read "Scarecrow's on the move again."
"Do you think he's reached the city yet?"
"Of course."
Night came and went with no new leads on the villain's location. Scarecrow was saner than most and that's what made him such a dangerous enemy. He could think, he could plan, and rarely acted on impulse. The doctor's profile was becoming an interesting read though.
He had gone through more psychiatrists than most, mainly because he turned his doctors into patients. Crane was well behaved, but didn't respond to any treatment. Bruce's breath hitched at the sight of his medical history.
As a child, there were multiple reported trips to the emergency room for stitches and broken bones. There were photographs of unexplained scars all over his back and shoulders, with a jagged line on his temple hidden by dark hair. The billionaire was appalled at how such blatant abuse went on unchecked for years.
Morning came early and guilt gnawed at his insides. Alfred arrived with a tray of breakfast and found his master sleeping at his desk. He set the tray down and shook him gently "Master Bruce? Are you alright?"
The brunette sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. "Why didn't anyone help him, Alfred?" He asked softly.
The butler knitted his brows in confusion. "Help who?"
"Nevermind" Bruce was more awake now and reached for a piece of toast, regretting what he said. Alfred understood in an instant "You can't blame yourself for someone else's mistakes, or the fact that he hurt others."
"I know this already." He growled.
"Then I'm repeating it. Be careful, or did you forget what happened in the Narrows?"
Bruce didn't like being torn away from his more important job to play golf with celebrities, but his butler wouldn't take 'No' for an answer.
He painted on his fakest smile and blossomed as a social butterfly as he joined the other socialites. Camera flashed and drinks were poured, yet something was amiss.
One cameraman stood out from the crowded country club. He was dressed in a dress shirt and tie, unusual for the casual event, and he wasn't even taking pictures. Pale blue eyes scanned the crowd and caught Bruce's from across the room.
It was Jonathan.
The billionaire tried not to think of when 'Scarecrow' became 'Jonathan', instead he followed chased him as the thin man moved away. Bruce knew criminals were human, but why did this one bother him so much? Maybe it was the fact that his parents were killed too, maybe because his murderer was never caught.
He found Jonathan outside and leaning against a wall, seemingly waiting for a ride. "Excuse me sir, but I can't help but feel like I know you from somewhere." The billionaire asked, unsure of what he was doing.
Scarecrow smiled and was oddly pleased to see him. "I thought Bruce Wayne knew everyone." He teased with the corner of his mouth curling into a satisfied smirk.
Such sweet, full lips, just one little kiss… Bruce was snapped back to reality at that thought, and hoped his embarrassment wasn't as obvious as he feared. He covered it up with conversation, "I think I missed one then, because I can't remember your name." Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me! Yesterday he was a dangerous criminal, today I want to know what his chapstick tastes like!
"It's Jon" He purred and took a step closer to the panicked billionaire. The last thing Bruce wanted.
"Do you need a ride?" He offered, cursing his want to be alone together. Is he flirting with me?
"Mine will be here any minute and besides…" Crane leaned in close to whisper in his ear breathlessly "I want to see you win."
Bruce's knees threatened to buckle then and there. Instead he was saved by the arrival of a black Ford with tinted windows. Seeing his ride, Crane bid him goodbye.
Before the doctor could leave, he grabbed the thin man's sleeve in a rush of desperation. Please don't go!
Jonathan was calmly surprised at being grabbed so suddenly and asked innocently "Yes, Mr. Wayne?" His face was turning red like a child who was caught doing something particularly naughty "…Uh, thanks for your support."
He gave the same smug grin again "You're welcome"
Bruce watched him get in the car and drive away, leaving him standing there like an idiot. A part of the billionaire felt awfully sad that he was gone and silently wished he would come back. His skin was burning and oversensitive, and he yearned to be alone.
He walked back inside as calmly as he could and took refuge in an unoccupied restroom. He locked the door tight and kept the lights off. Leaning over the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, but it helped little to quench the fire.
He rested his warm forehead on his arm as he tried to sooth his rapid heartbeat. Unconsciously, his other hand rubbed his stomach to loosen the growing knot before sliding downwards.
Slowly he pressed his palm to the needy heat growing between his legs. Bruce's eyes slipped closed, enjoying the touch. "Jonathan…" He moaned, the memories of photographs fuelled his desires.
He shoved the good doctor against the wall and crushed their mouths together before he could protest. A red silk tie was thrown to the floor and Bruce tore open his shirt to sink his teeth into exposed neck. The billionaire left sloppy wet kisses and raked his teeth until the white skin turned pink. Crane's gasping cries were music to his ears.
He could feel the smaller man's ribs through his white cotton shirt and gripped the crotch of his pants. Scarecrow screamed in pleasure at the none-too-gentle hand massaging his scrotum. Bruce grinned at how he was already leaking through his pants. He let go and commanded Jonathan to turn around and place his hands on the wall.
His face was flushed with arousal and he touched his glasses hesitantly, before Bruce slapped his hand away. He took off Crane's glasses and threw them into the sink. "I want to see your eyes." He growled and pulled him by the collar into another demanding kiss. He wanted to remember the taste of his mouth forever and felt guilty when he pulled away to repeat the command.
Crane did as he was told and turned around. He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the linoleum. Jonathan glanced back to smile and take in his shocked face when he leaned forward, slowly sliding his dark boxers off. Bruce licked his lips and grew even harder for the body offered to him.
He pushed his lover's shirt up to gently kiss the scars on his back. Strong hands spread Crane's cheeks and fingers teased the puckered slit hidden between. He wanted Jonathan always, not just now. He wanted to kiss the pain away, to make them whole again.
Slender hips moved in time with his fingers, and Scarecrow pleaded "Please Bruce, I can't wait any longer…"
He unzipped his shorts and spread cold soap on his aching length as makeshift lubrication. Using one hand to hold Crane's hips and another to guide him inside, he wanted this to last. The good doctor stretched to accept the throbbing organ, scraping his nails on the wallpaper as he cried out.
Bruce bit his lip at the overwhelming tightness, and pulled out halfway before pushing himself in as deep as he could. Crane threw his head back and made a high-pitched sound that could only be approval. He began to build at a rhythm that was hard and fast, and the billionaire wondered why he didn't do this sooner. He never felt this good with a woman.
He reached out and held Jonathan's hand as they made love, whispering promises between feather-light nips on swollen lips.
Crane guided his hand to his neglected erection, and told him exactly where he wanted to be touched. Bruce adored the way he bucked his hips deeper onto his awaiting shaft when he was stroked just right.
Stars flashed behind his eyes as they reached their climax together.
Bruce opened his eyes and remembered things he wished he hadn't.
He was lying on the floor with his shorts tied around his ankles, and his shirt pushed up to his nipples. His cum splattered a sticky mess all over his hands and thighs. Ragged pants grew steady and he was ashamed.
The dark knight lost control so completely, so utterly, over a criminal he needed to catch. It was dangerous to have sympathy-affection- for someone who'd rather see you dead.
He tore off a length of toilet paper and started to clean himself. And besides…
He had a tournament to win.