Author's Note: Jonny's getting in touch with his "Kitten" side! This is another one of my song/crackfics, partially inspired by the early-1970's hit by Tom Jones, "She's a Lady." I swear, if the managers of this site don't put Breakfast on Pluto as one of the choices in the movie/book categories soon, I'm gonna complain. Who's with me?! Oh, your temporary suspension of disbelief is also asked for in this story, as more than just a few people would notice them - but work with me, here!
Playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne sat across from his latest fling at the small square table located in the middle of the cozy seat-yourself restaurant - nothing fancy, just a little place cheap enough for the majority of Gotham's citizens, as she had requested - sipping a glass of the finest champagne (he had had it imported specially from France not two hours earlier) as he feigned the impression that he was actually listening to the green-eyed, blonde Russian bombshell's endless prattle. Making an inquiry as to the details of her personal life had been a complete mistake - when Bruce wasn't zoning out, he had so far learned that she was a very enthusiastic collector of porcelain elephant statuettes, her favorite color was turquoise ("Not teal, darlingk - turquoise") and that she owned no less than thirty-seven cats, all taken in as strays off the street and fed the finest fresh fish thrice daily by her Dominican maid - whom, she complained, understood very little English and not a word of Russian.
"Tell dem to play some, ah, older musink from your country, Bruce darlingk," the loquacious ballerina suddenly implored of him, looking up at him from beneath her long false eyelashes and batting them his way flirtatiously.
"Certainly." Bruce flashed her a tolerant smile - he would be very happy once this night was over - snapped his fingers for the waiter, and murmured soft instructions in his ear, slipping him a crisp fifty-dollar bill beneath the table. The attendant nodded quickly and hurried away. Soon the nearly-empty restaurant was filled with the mildly seductive voice of Tom Jones.
"Well she's all you'd ever want. . .She's the kind I'd like to flaunt and take to din-nuh. . ."
The timing could not have been more perfect.
The front door of the diner opened with a quiet squeak.
The Joker, wearing full female-nurse whites - including the shoes - along with a bright red-orange ladies'-hair wig, the usual purple-leather gloves and his amazing socks, lifted his head and swung around on his at-the-counter barstool expectantly.
He watched one knee-high black-leather ladies' boot with a four-inch stiletto heel click down almost boldly onto the dark wooden floor of the restaurant - this was soon joined by its mate; he allowed his crazed brown eyes to travel lustily up the rest of the jealously-inspiring figure as it, smooth chin arrogantly lifted and narrow bony hips sensually a-swingin', leisurely advanced upon him.
A lot of long, lean snowy thigh was revealed by the tight, blood-red corduroy miniskirt, just as the white, short-sleeve button-down blouse did little to conceal a pair of wiry arms. Prominently-knuckled fingers - their long filed nails painted the same shade as the skirt - curled loosely around the strap of the small black-leather purse that hung casually off the left shoulder and swayed gently by the hip. Almond-brown hair that had just enough length for it no longer to be considered "short" was slightly curled into loose ringlets, atop which was perched a black funeral-style hat shaped like a short cylinder, its six-or-so inches of wraparound brim angled downward in a slight cone-shape. Inky mascara made mysterious the blazing blue eyes that rested above the pair of high cheekbones flanking the petite nose.
". . .She's a lady. . .Oh-whoa-whoa she's a lady. . ."
Jonathan Crane smiled shyly at the Joker, and blushed, sitting sideways on the adjacent barstool so the shadows between his slightly-spread knees - while beneath the skirt - taunted the clown as Jonathan allowed his purse to slide carelessly off his shoulder and onto the floor. He looked around furtively for a moment before inquiring in a low voice, "May I borrow your lipstick? I've run out."
Joker procured the requested item from his blouse pocket and handed it to Crane while eyeing his chest's lack of. . .volume.
"Y'know, you could've worn a, uh, brassiere beneath that" - Joker's wheedling voice was muffled slightly by the white surgical mask he was wearing over his mouth and nose - "to. . .further your, uh, disguise. If that's what that" - the smacking of the clown's lips was quite audible as he licked them eagerly, his eyes roaming his lover's body again - "is supposed to be."
"Well, you said you would be dressing for the occasion, so why should I not?" Jonathan uncapped the slim tube, twisted the bottom to reveal more of the blood-red product, and pursed his lips as he regarded the shiny surface of the napkin dispenser on the counter to his right and applied a thick coat. "Besides, I did not wish to put on the air of a complete whore."
"But you are!" Admittedly, Joker had made this remark completely on impulse, as most of what he said or did was generally influenced by - but then Jonathan flashed him The Look with those frosted-over eyes of his and the clown amended hastily, "You're my whore, Jon-a-than."
"There are those," Crane said slowly as he returned his gaze to his "mirror" and snapped the cap back on the makeup container somewhat forcefully, rubbing his lips together to even out their decoration, "who deserve to be hit over the head with my purse. . .and then there is you" - he turned to smile lovingly at his man - "who would probably just enjoy it." Then his voice rose to a high falsetto laced with an Irish accent as he gave the Joker a haughty glare from beneath his (real, to the obvious jealousy of the Russian ballerina had she found out) long eyelashes and added, "And it's Kitten."
Sudden wide creases in the surgical mask revealed that the clown was indeed returning his grin, as the feminine doctor knew he would. The Joker twitched his dark brows and giggled.
"Kitten" leaned towards him - though carefully so as not to slip off the stool - teased a lock of oily green hair with his forefinger, and, cheekbones burning and eyes on the ringlet of hair, whispered shyly, "I'm wearing my thong again, Joker."
The homicidal clown swallowed hard with open desire as Jonathan turned around and tantalizingly slid his cute naughty ass up Joker's thighs and all the way back into his lap; Crane gasped and wriggled slightly with pleasure as he felt his own cock imitate Joker's dick, which had hardened erect and begun to throb at the unfortunately-through-cloth contact with Jonathan's entry point.
Trying desperately to ignore Joker's soft moan and resisting with all his might the desire to beg the Clown Prince of Crime to carry him into the bathroom so they could fuck - which really would not take much persuasion at all - Jonathan picked up a menu from the rack on the counter and opened it up, peering over its top as he surveyed their fellow diners in an impulse-inspired effort to distract himself.
- - -
Bruce Wayne snapped out of the light doze he had slowly drifted into when he registered through the haze of half-sleep that his date had ceased her chatter and had been goggling openmouthed at something over his right shoulder for the past five minutes; he turned around in his seat to see what it was.
What the FUCK?. . .
Then Bruce's eyes met Crane's.
- - -
Jonathan paled considerably, and squeaked, "Oh, serious, serious, serious!"
Joker followed his gaze, then cocked an eyebrow, eyes returning to his partner as he ripped off his surgical mask.
"It's only Wayne - if we needed to we could take him out really easily," the clown murmured soothingly. "Of course, we could always take him out anyway - just for fun." The clown giggled excitedly.
"But if before then he tells anyone. . ." Jonathan trailed off as he slowly lowered the menu to his lap while watching Wayne excuse himself and quickly leave the building, and felt his face turn white as a sheet. "We have to get out of here."
Joker handed Jonathan his purse, swept him up - the latter allowing the menu to carelessly tumble to the floor - and started for the door.
But that damned flying rodent was already hulking in the doorframe.
- - -
Fifteen minutes later.
- - -
The Crane smiled somewhat triumphantly up at the Bat from his cross-legged sitting position on the floor of the diner as the Dark Knight removed the doctor's hat; Jonathan was considerably impressed with his man for his quick and deadly skill with the knife - Joker had been able to stab Batman between the plates of his armor several times during the fight that had ensued, his switchblade flashing in an almost mesmerizing manner - and he was rather pleased with himself for the fact that he had nearly taken out the Bat's eye with his boot heel.
Jonathan sighed tiredly and laid his head on the Joker's shoulder - who also sat cross-legged on the floor to his left - as Gotham's dark protector turned away from the handcuffed men and - limping slightly, to both captive's immense satisfaction - walked over to Police Commissioner Jim Gordon, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, and handed him "Kitten's" hat.
"I can't believe it." Gordon glanced over at the two criminals, who had begun to almost tenderly make out. "Then again, maybe I can." His eyes returned to the Dark Knight, attempting to dissect the facial expressions hidden beneath the mask - and then it dawned upon him. "You knew?"
"They're Gotham City's worst psychos," Batman growled. "I almost never find one without the other at the least somewhere nearby, and tonight's events already confirmed by already-growing suspicions."
Gordon sighed wearily as he reluctantly returned to watching Joker and Crane - whose kisses were becoming deeper and more lustful with each passing moment. "Well, we have only one cell down at the station where I can keep the best possible eye on them - so they'll at least have something to occupy themselves with while serving jail time."
THE END
Okay, yeah, I know that they probably wouldn't really allow them to share a cell - but it's my story! Sorry for making Jonny look like a blood-spattered chessboard - Joker was wearing a lot of white as it was, and I wanted to give Jonny's outfit a bit of color, and red was the only thing I could think of that went with black and white. Yes, the ballerina was very jealous of Jonny's eyelashes once she found out. And, yes, we all know Joker just wants to see Jonny in a bra. Who wouldn't? That and the thong. . .oh, excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom and clean up the saliva dripping onto my shirt. Read and review, please!