Bruce was exhausted. The past three weeks had taken a lot out of him, and understandably so. Between trying to learn how to take care of Damian while trying to balance out his responsibilities as Batman and as CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he was spent. Never had he imagined just how much work it would be to care for a child- hell, he took care of all of Gotham, he'd been so certain he could handle one small infant.

But every time Damian cried, Bruce's mind was filled with doubts. Even now, as he gingerly rocked the child in his arms, large fingers caressing small raven locks, humming a soft lullaby. A sigh of relief escaped him as Damian's eyes drifted shut, the child falling to sleep in the safety of his father's arms. Finally.

Rubbing at tired eyes, Bruce lay his son in his crib and padded back to his own room. Curling under his covers, the billionaire happily let sleep overtake him.

Getting inside was far too easy, but then, it always was. From the first time the Joker had jimmied one of the large manor windows open almost a year prior, he'd been surprised by the lack of security. Stifling a giggle, the emerald haired man slipped through his normal entrance, footsteps silent on the cool hardwood as he wandered the halls he was so familiar with.

His precious Batsy never knew he was there. It was a small blessing that the Joker found himself thankful for, time and time again. He doubted the bat even knew he'd figured that pesky secret identity out. That was what allowed him these visits.

The Joker did it often enough, particularly after a bad fight. He would drag himself carefully into Wayne manor, padding down the halls until he reached a familiar door and pushed it open. The clown was oh so careful not to wake his nemesis as he sat on the edge of the bed, fingers gently raking through ebony locks. His lips would brush each bandage; his head lay itself on Bruce's chest to revel in the steady heartbeat and know their game hasn't gone too far.

As though he'd ever truly want to cause real damage to his darling enemy.

Tonight was different. There had been no fight; perhaps if there had been the solid lump of anxiety that sat in the Joker's stomach would be absent. In fact he hadn't seen the vigilante in weeks. Their hadn't even been a peep of Bruce Wayne in the papers lately. It was too quiet. He was beginning to grow concerned that his beloved bat had been injured.

He'd peeked into the younger man's room, content to find Bruce sleeping soundly in his bed. Thank God. A smile tugged at his lips, genuine and relieved as he settled into the bed, fingers reaching out to stroke through those silky locks...

A sharp, shrill cry pierced the air, green eyes darting up towards the closed door as the clown forced himself to his feet with a huff, heading towards the noise. Dammit, what was that? It was going to wake Bruce up, and even at a glance, the Joker could tell the billionaire had been sleeping even less. Finally, he reached the source of the sound, pushing the door open with an irritated mutter.

Just to be faced with a small infant laying in a crib in the middle of an overdone nursery, wailing as though his life were at stake.

The man blinked first once, then again, stunned silence washing over him. Well. It seemed his Batsy had been busy. He was surprised he hadn't heard a word in the media about this little bundle yet, shaking the jealous thoughts from his head as he made his way towards the crib. It was no matter who the mother was, he decided, carefully picking the infant up and cradling him close. Obviously she wasn't around, and he could be the boy's mother just as easily!

"Now, now…" He cooed softly, one finger gently stroking chubby cheeks. "Shhh, mommys here. You have to calm, or you'll wake daddy. We don't want a grumpy Batsy, now do we, honey?" It wasn't as though he particularly liked children all that much; he'd never imagined himself a parent- but this was his darling Batman's child, and with that knowledge came a surge of possessive protectiveness. Green eyes flitted around the room, spotting the child's name in blocked letters on the wall before turning his attention to the infant, a smile growing on his lips.

"You look so much like your pretty daddy, Dami." He told him, tickling Damian's cheek with a little laugh, pleased when Damian's cries ceased, small fingers curling around the Jokers. From the soft hair on his head to those piercing blue eyes, Damian truly was the spitting image of his father. Already the clown adored him, even knowing how angry Bruce would be if he found out the man had been near his child.

It was all for Bruce, he told himself. If he could keep the tyke quiet and cared for at night, his darling would at least be able to sleep. Those dark bags around his eyes truly didn't suit him. Settling back in the rocking chair that rested near the crib, the Joker shifted the infant all the closer, humming until the boy fell asleep.

Yes, he imagined this would work quite well. This boy would be theirs, and them a family, even if Batsy never knew. Joker would know, and that was more than enough for him. He sat with the baby for what felt like hours, emerald eyes taking in every detail of the room as he continued to hum. Overdone was an understatement. He could almost imagine it as a baby batcave for all the expensive gadgets he doubted the boy needed. Stifling a laugh, the smile on his lips grew. It was so very Bruce that it was endearing. Precious even. The Joker would have loved to see his nemesis' face when he found the infant, to see him so flustered and scrambled in learning to care for him.

Pausing momentarily, the green haired man licked his lips before laying Damian back in his crib. Tomorrow he'd have to bring something special.