Author's note: Hello everyone. Please excuse the tardiness, but these last two months have drained me academically, spiritually, and emotionally. My English classes basically felt like being in a surgeon's working space with limited resources, but the worst blow came when four of my cockatiels died within days of each other. A week later, my baby of 8 years, Jake succumbed to an illness after his mate, Laurie died. He sadly became a casualty of the opportunistic bacteria that took advantage of the stress on his body which made him wither away. That was this on Sunday March 23rd at 8:03PM, and I am still a bit heartbroken but that still doesn't mean I have forgotten about you, kiddos. It's just that real life decided to hold my muse for hostage, but I got her back. Again, I do apologize for any inconvenience and I thank those who left their kind words. Believe me when I say that writing this story is like playing chess. You have to think about when to make your move ten steps ahead and see and wonder if that angle can affect another layer in the story. That's my little secret and it does me great pleasure to pass on that knowledge to you. I hope the wait was worth it for you, because I really wanted to make it an extra special one.
Disclaimer: DC owns. I don't. Don't sue
Pairing: The Dark Knight and the Clown Prince
Rating: M for mature themes: violence, language, sexual themes
Genre: Romance, psychological, drama, noir, action
Recommended readings: The Game We Play, Throwaway Card,
Unbeta'd. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. See end note.
"I'll take American lit for 200, please Alex"
CLICK
"Big money! Big money!"
CLICK
"But Edith, ye gotta keep ye voice down cuz we are incognitus!"
"OH! ARCHIE!"
CLICK
"My, my, how droll. What garbage," Joker sighed to himself as he channel surfed on the large screen set before him. The Bat computer was temporarily being used as a a TiVo device. Bruce had shown him earlier what buttons to press which would take him to settings and the menu bar, and since he didn't want
the Clown to start any mischief while he was gone, he let him have a few hours on the boom tube while his secret files were cryptically kept in a password protected file.
"Ohhhh, " Joker said to himself as he gazed up at the menu while taking a quick bite of his air popped kettle popcorn, prepared generously by Alfred, Bruce's right hand man. He had noticed that the special: Caligula: Reign of Madness would air at the same time as his favorite drama on soapnet.
"Phooey, this makes cable TV at Arkham look like preschool!" Joker grumbled and made himself comfortable. At the asylum, he was allowed no more than two hours a week of TV on account of his antics. Kiss ups like Harley or boring ones like Calendar Man got more hours in the recreation room. He never saw eye to eye on Harley and why she liked mundane things like Friends or American Idol. Those things had the affect of junk food, all fat, which were the cliché's and no substance, which was the fluff. When he wasn't in the TV room, he would doodle on his walls to keep his mind occupied. But as soon as he would leave and come back from a routine, he would find his works washed away. Devalued, defiled, and deserted. Everything he did had an undertone to it. It wasn't done for anything deeper than face value, it just was. He did it to create, to feel.
He was about to adjust the contrast of the monitor when he was suddenly distracted by the sound of screeching wheels and the shrieks of winged rodents overhead. It shook the Prince like a small quake, what the Devil….?
Just then, a sleek black vehicle zoomed into vision, snapping at the Prince's attention, making him drop his snack bowl to the ground by his feet. Bruce... already home? The Prince pondered. He was amused at the apparent speed in which the midnight black car sped into the cave like some rabid wild animal. Somebody's glad to be home, The Joker said to himself. Loud hissing and heat gave off from the vehicle which now stood dead still. There was something eerie about its sudden still fullness, like it had the life sucked out of it at the moment. Dead silence followed suit. He journeyed towards the sleek black car that was still giving off a thin mist of heat from its midnight round e vous. Joker's forest green eyes eyed it like a jack in the box because he of course, wanted the prize inside. Pale white hands attached themselves onto the black glass.
"Yoohoo," Joker crooned. "You're home early; did you miss me, darling?" Joker repeated himself again. A self satisfactory smile crept upon his face, waiting for a grumble in response but none came. That was odd, knowing his Bat he would immediately get onto the next task. He hated wasting time unless he decided, the Joker thought, to take a nap. He then peeked inside the black colored glass windows. Their mysterious and bleak hue hinted at a deeper secret that was hinted when the Joker didn't get a response as quickly as he would have liked. If Batman came home this fast, why didn't he get out already? It was not like him to waste so much precious time. He knew that. Even during their previous escapades before all this, he never hesitated to take his time.
It was so unlike him, unless something was terribly wrong. A sharp pinch was felt in the Prince's stomach and he gulped down the nervousness with more verbal activity.
"Bats?" Joker tapped lightly onto the glass. He did not like the sound of this somber silence. It was vacant, hollow, and dead. He didn't like those thoughts and proceeded to look for a response. This wasn't a trick, this was different and Joker did not like it one bit, but out of desperation, he tried one more time. He hated going to that dreadful place, and making a joke would mitigate it.
"Playing hide and seek, are we?" Joker said optimistically. Still, there was nothing. At this point, desperation crept onto his face as he worriedly tried looking for any light that could seep through the dark recesses of the car in hopes that it would reveal the painful secret it carried. Something was definitely wrong. The eerie silence worried him. What he once thought of as a dare to move and would tickle his funny bone was now troubling the Clown Prince. He was helpless and try as he might, he could not do much. The silence was broken when the sound of broken glass from the other side of the vehicle startled him, which made him jump in response.
The broken glass was like the sound of promising breath, he was alive, but his optimism would be short lived. When the Clown Prince made his way towards the side of where the broken glass lay, he was greeted with the sound of door breaking out of its hinges, behind it, a bruised and broken Dark Knight poured out of his shell, looking war torn and disheveled. The Dark Knight was beaten from battle and was weak. In his entire career as a criminal mastermind, Joker could not lay claim to such a grand example of scarring. He was taken aback at the damage.
"B-Batman?" Joker said. Horror was waxing in his eyes. A black glove reached up and pulled at the color of his lavender robe, pulling him closer. The Joker went down on his knees and grabbed onto Bruce's hands both as support and as consolation. What could have done such a thing? The Clown wondered in bitter anger.
"The narrows…..Quinn…Ivy," he coughed laboriously.
"Harley…?" The Joker said suspiciously. He made a mental note to feed that girl her lungs whether she had something to do with this or otherwise. That girl was always fucking up somewhere, as if killing Batman wasn't bad enough, this one sorely takes the cake.
It was not until that the detective looked up that Joker got a really good view of the damage that was done. A bruised lip, a swollen cheek and a bad eye were the tip of the ice berg. He was like a broken marionette. His body had barely any balance and he was too weak to stand on his own two feet. He then leaned on the Joker and used him as a support base.
"…medicine….third cabinet…Alfr.."
"Of course, of course," the Joker shushed reassuringly. He guided the Dark Knight to his table where his collection antidotes and scientific notations lay. It was the longest walk for the both of them, for the Joker who was 1/3 the size of his former arch adversary, barely prodded on and gently nudged the injured man in a gentle fashion. He did not want to rush him out of fear of
breaking any more bones or affecting his delicate condition. Batman's legs felt like goo as he struggled to maintain composure. He leaned down on the Joker, trying not to crush him with his weight.
The Clown Prince responded with added pressure, making them both stand up. He pressed a thin palm on the Batman's signature bat symbol, providing as a sort of support system and as a sort of reminder that he was there, helping him and reminding him that he was not going anywhere. He took to forced steps ahead only to stop again to take a breath.
The entire Joker wanted to do was sit there on the floor with him and nurse him back to health in his own way. He wanted to cradle him in his arms, to let him rest and not give him any more hell with this trip. But he knew that it could not be this way and carry on. Bruce wouldn't want it like that, not while he had that fighting chance. The Prince aided him during those last few steps before Batman took a few more steps forward and collapsed onto a nearby chair. The Caliph of Clowns watched in astonishment at the Batman's stamina. It was obvious that his muscles and insides were aching and before he dared ask, he was quickly rebutted by an order.
"Get Alfred, don't touch anything!" Batman spat. For a moment, Joker hesitated. What was he supposed to do, just sit there like nothing and let the old man do everything?
"Batman, I-"
"GO!" The Dark Knight roared. He grabbed an ice pack and pressed it deeply onto his aching skin.
The Prince turned around; a sore lump carried itself in his throat.
I just want to help. Don't you trust me?
The Clown Prince took one more look back at his Dark Knight who now settled himself onto the makeshift table, ready for any necessary and painful administrations. Why didn't he trust him? He could read a label, spoke perfect English and even created his own little potions. Was it because he didn't want that moment of intimacy broken by an intruder, even if it was someone Bruce knew?
"Joker!" Bruce demanded, voice sounding more like a roar than human.
"Um, Alfred? Alfred!" Joker called out. The door was locked shut, no doubt to prevent any more fun like what he did in the kitchen last time. Damn paranoid old git, didn't he know that the boy he raised was in serious danger? Suddenly, with a set of fresh adhesives and medical aid, a skinny old English gentleman walked in, looking confidently as he made his way towards his Master. Joker was astonished at his seeming indifference. He reminded himself that this was his job, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit disgusted with the old man's look of apathy even as he administered the first of several treatments on his Master's bruised and broken body.
"Oh, dear," Alfred Pennyworth said with a hint of mild surprise. The Prince was astonished and angry at the chronic apathy displayed by the butler, but he reminded himself that this was routine. My God, what other horrors had he witnessed and by HIS hand? The Prince stood a few feet behind the old man, watching him attentively as he progressed with his work. Bruce in the meantime, proceeded to remove himself of his kevlar armor, starting with his mask, his belt, batsuit and finally, the spandex underneath to just his underwear. He was just Bruce Wayne, the human inside the Bat, and he was in dire need of aid. It wasn't until he was stripped down that Joker got a bird's eye view of what had transpired:
Scars emblazoned themselves onto Batman's skin, looking like war tattoos. Joker studied the battle scars immensely, both taken aback and admiring them, but he was mostly repulsed. He had endured so much, and by his hand, at one time. His robes were nothing more than dregs, skin that rotted off and died. These weren't scars that one could look in awe, they were fatal ones that could have taken him away in a breath's notice. Joker noted a deep cut just above the stomach. It was not exactly fresh, but it would take a long time to recover. It looked suspiciously like a claw mark, from a cat and not a reptile by the look of it. A Cat. A woman. Joker seethed with anger and did his best to look friendly for the butler, for he didn't want to be punished and get sent to the corner. That was not the only decoration, apparently.
It was a neat gash that pierced folds of skin, breaking the dermis that most likely infected the wound laced on Bruce's body for it was close to another one that was cleanly cut across his arm. A deep gash that more than likely broke skin and took out a chunk of muscle. It was a hook. What made it so painful to watch was that he remembered that cut, because he was the perpetrator. He gave birth to that design. It was a trophy of his once proud self. Now, it was just a tattered reminder of who he once was, a person he didn't want to know any more. That Joker was a monster. Bruce lay down onto the makeshift table. Alongside it was a table fit for a surgeon complete with alcohol, cotton, wet towels, and other medical adhesives required to take care of burns, cuts, and injured bones.
"Heavens sir, it is a miracle you followed my advice and to take that calcium," the butler said gently as he wiped a sharp utensil with a clean wipe.
"Shut up, Alfred," Bruce responded.
"Yes, sir," replied abruptly. "Should you decide to rest your eye, do tell me that you are not cavorting with Morpheus by telling me in Morse?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Bruce interjected. He readied himself to be prodded and wiped and turned himself over to his side. His insides ached from all the excessive force by Ivy's creations. Deep gashes pinched at his senses. At worse case, he suffered fractures that would require some time, but he was not yet sure of any broken bones yet. He was still able to walk but just barely. He couldn't be bedridden for long. People needed him. Joker needed him. He barely noted the tall, thin silhouette of the Clown Prince who stood a few feet behind his
butler. He was barely able to acknowledge him, so he only stared in the general direction. He had to keep his focus and to try not going to sleep. The Prince surveyed the damage with a caring eye.
Alongside the fresh cuts on Bruce's biceps and thigh, Joker looked on tenderly as Alfred administered the alcohol. It broke the Clown's heart to see that there was nothing he could do to quell the hurt as the salty iodine burned into the cuts. Bruce gritted his teeth direly as he sought to control the burning sensation that invaded his body.
Joker looked away in disgust, but not as the cuts, but at himself. ..and at Harley. He made a note to kill that girl and feed her head to her two pet hyenas as soon as possible. The Joker touched the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself in front of the third wheel. He hated seeing him like this, helpless as a newborn baby, and here he was just standing there wasting air and space. Perhaps, he could make himself useful.
"Is there anything, I can do?" The Prince prodded on nervously, standing adjacently from the butler. He stood looking over from Bruce's left side while the Joker looked from the edge of the table.
"I'm afraid that there is very little you can do," the butler said assertively while wiping a bloodied utensil with an apron. He did not want a repeat of the fiasco in the kitchen even if the Clown was on his best behavior. No funny business. It was not until that he turned around to clean some of the medical supplies that Joker made his move. Standing over the playboy, he brushed his hand against the soft black hair. The touch awoke Bruce from his light slumber. Deep sea blue eyes met the green ones above him.
"So, what kind of lie are you going to tell those media watchdogs when they come a callin'?" Joker crooned.
"Racing," Bruce cough. Joker shushed him.
"Is it that bad?" Joker said in a low pitched voice. It was something hearing it in that low tone, it was almost human.
"I'll live," Bruce replied. His demeanor was seemingly in a batter place and his breathing got better.
"I can get more out of a weekly horoscope," Joker said bitterly. "Where does it hurt more?" Bruce grunted.
"My neck," he said finally. Joker surveyed the damage, but there was more than the eye could see. It was internal, so he did what he had to do.
"There…?" Joker said softly. He held Bruce's neck upright and massaged it gently. He could not imagine how much it hurt or what damage was done. He held the base of Batman's skull in his
palms. His thumbs brushed themselves across his temples. They were soft hands, very tender and they focused themselves rather professionally, like an artist. He never realized how silky they were too. Bruce relaxed himself as they did their magic.
When Alfred returned from his duty, he barely noticed the slight. As long as it kept Master Bruce out of pain, that is all that mattered to him.
"That's perfectly acceptable. Not too roughly, but just enough to keep him at bay." The butler added.
"Please, I know what I am doing," Joker huffed. He hated being told what to do. What he hated more was being told what to do by a lackey, and a third wheeler no doubt.
"I am only telling you this for the Master's own benefit," Alfred huffed lowly.
"I know Jeeves, but don't you think I don't know how to be gentle?" The Clown Prince sneered.
"Just keep him there while I administer the final shots," Alfred said administratively. Joker barely nodded in attention and kept massaging the temples of the resting Dark Knight who lay cradled in his hands.
"This will only hurt a little," Joker said softly into Bruce's ear.
"That's the biggest lie I ever heard, especially coming from you."
The Prince didn't know whether to be insulted or pleased, but he decided to keep his amusement of Bruce making quips to a minimum. He turned Bruce's head over to let the butler administer one last shot into his system. It was a cocktail of antibiotics mixed with a small dose of painkillers.
"There, we should let him rest now," Alfred said gently to the Clown Prince.
"That's okay, Alfred," Bruce interjected.
"But honestly, sir, you do need your rest," Alfred protested.
"I lost a promising lead that led me to Mad Hatter, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, do you think I can just sleep on it?" Bruce growled. A familiar dark pitch was seeping into his psyche. Not now, no. He didn't deserve it. He was just disgusted with himself that it came out that way. It was either that or the fact that he still wanted to hold onto that secret.
"If you insist," the butler said. "I shall proceed with making you a sandwich."
"No need, I have lost my appetite." Bruce said bitterly. He took a gulp from a glass of water. Joker stood between them, oblivious to the tense situation but still doing nothing.
"Indeed, sir," Alfred Pennyworth said finally. He collected his items and compiled them neatly into the first aid container before taking one last look. Miraculously, the Master was able to stand on his own two feet and stagger before gaining full control of his stride towards the large computer. Immediately, he tapped onto a few keys and began an extensive search on some leads. He was as stubborn as an ox, some would say, but he is passionate. He didn't notice the angry glare of the Clown prince who eyed him suspiciously until the doors that led up to the main hall of the Mansion were shut behind him. With folded arms, he turned towards the studious Dark Knight, watching him scribble down notes and click on links. He was so overworked, sleepless and tired, he imagined, no wonder he was so wound up. He didn't even let himself go in front of his surrogate father and yet, they way they had been communicating these past few days, would he give him that chance? Did he have the power to do it? The Prince trotted towards the Dark Knight and stopped a few feet away from him.
"Find anything interesting?" Joker yawned.
"I found a lot; I just need to predict the next moves." Bruce replied.
"Moves?" Joker replied curiously.
"Yes," Bruce said in a mildly angry tone. He did not like being distracted from work. He found it more annoying and irritating than the sound of Harley Quinn's voice.
"Okay, okay, you don't have to get so gruff, I am not stupid you know." Joker said assertively.
"I can't be casual about these sorts of things like you, Joker. I had three leads and it all blew up in my face. Do you think it would be strawberry fields after all this?"
"Fine, fine, but do stop treating me like a child, it gets so annoying!" Joker responded.
"Maybe if you'd stop it with all the questions and stop wasting my time, I will!" Bruce said gruffly, by this time, he set his pen down and stared ahead at the Joker. The Prince stood facing against him in a rival fashion with his arms across his chest, daring him to make the next move.
"So that's it, I am just a waste of time? Well, then, why don't you save us the stress and be done with it?" Joker retorted angrily.
"Be done with what?" Bruce counteracted. He hated it when Joker spoke cryptically, it usually meant something dangerous.
"What are you, pigheaded? Why don't you just be rid of me and save yourself the stress! If I bother you that much, then why don't you just save it?" The Clown Prince replied hotly. Why wasn't this man so direct with him? He did not want to have to spell things out for him when it didn't require a brain surgeon.
"I did not mean that, Joker. I meant that your childish retorts were distracting me. You are not a waste of time."
Joker huffed.
"If I am not, then why do you keep putting yourself up to these things? I only do you more harm than anything else." The Mogul of Mountebanks said in a low tone of voice. He turned around to hide the shame that was slowly creeping up on his face. "To be frank, I am surprised you haven't taken me out and shoot me like a lame dog if I cause you this much trouble."
Bruce Wayne digested the words. This was not a guilt trip for nothing; he had the answers but poor planning and distractions got in the way. It was poor planning on his part. He was careless.
"You know I won't do that," Bruce said somberly. He got closer to the Joker.
"Then why do you keep doing it? Why do keep punishing yourself with all this?" Joker prodded on.
"It's not punishment, it's….work." Bruce replied with hesitation. It was more than a job, it was a lifestyle. It was something that he had grown accustomed to despite its shortcomings and few rewards. He couldn't break out of that cycle because it was all that he knew. "Somebody has got to do it."
"So, I am just a lab rat taking part in all your experiments? I am just a test and not a person?" Joker pushed on.
"Did I say that? You don't always have to jump to that level, Joker."
"Then, let me hear you say it. Why don't you and why do you keep yourself locked away. I know you are hurting. Why don't you share with me?" Joker begged. Batman huffed. It was like talking to a three year old. There was no bargaining, either with the Joker or himself because he knew why he was bottling things up: it was because he was ashamed. He was ashamed of falling, ashamed of failing, and ashamed of being discovered. He couldn't walk away with a swish of the cape, it was all barren here. It was his sacred space. He felt that his secret space was being violated.
"I told you, already. I am not as loquacious as you are. You are not an experiment."
"Then what is it! What happened tonight?"
"Too much."
"I have all the time, I am not going anywhere." Joker shot back.
"You know the story, I don't want to have time to repeat myself over petty things!" Bruce stated angrily
"Petty? You were almost killed!"
"It happens," the playboy replied.
"You're too vague. I don't like that." Joker said in a voice laced with venom. "I don't like that one bit." The Joker placed himself in front of the Batman who towered over him like a shadow. Even without his evening wear, he still had this air of control, even if it was minimized. Perhaps it was a front for the delicate rumblings on the inside. He didn't like being left out in the cold, he had to know, every detail, every morsel. He just wanted to hear him speak to him, to communicate, to at least acknowledge him instead of ignoring him. It wasn't about finding the juicy bits like you find in those cheap women's magazines, he just wanted to talk. He wanted to hear his voice acknowledge his.
"Not one bit," Joker said bitterly.
"Don't push me on it, Joker. You're sick and-"
"STOP TRYING TO DODGE THE QUESTION! IT ISN'T ME WE ARE TALKING ABOUT!" The Prince shrieked. "IT'S YOU! I don't care what happens to me! What is done is done, but that will not let me enjoy spending the last of my days with you in vain. I know who I am and I know what I have done. I just want you…to open up to me. To trust me…." The Joker sighed heavily. The words stung the playboy because they pierced at a delicate protective layer and touched his soul. It was truth that reached the inner corridors of his mind, and for a man who based his lives on secrets, double takes, and mystery, it twisted his gut. He couldn't disappear into the shadows this time because there were none. Only the Joker was there, waiting, willing, and wanting.
"You are not going to die, I will get to the bottom of this and I will find you a cure. I would have found it sooner if I wasn't distracted."
"There you go again! You fully admit that I am just taking up space from your work! I wish you would stop lying to me and readily admit it. I'm a full grown, I can take it."
"Your immature behavior makes it next to impossible sometimes, Joker. Believe me when I say that our time together has been…. eye opening, to say the least." He began and placed a hand on his shoulder. The Prince noted the gesture but kept his attention focused on those brilliant deep set baby blues.
"I'm the immature one? You're the rude one who won't even answer a simple question! I know about your family history Bruce, I know about that little boy who lost mommy and daddy that fateful night, I know all about you and Kitty cat, oh, and let's not forget that little tryst with Daddy's little Princess. What more do you have to hide, why are you so ashamed? You think I haven't heard it all before, Bruce?"
It was both a weight being lifted off his shoulders and a sad reminder that he was cornered because he was free to open up, but did not want to. Like Swift, he had these self imposed chains. He did not want to take them off despite having every right to. It was like denying oneself air. God, what kind of sick mind is that?
"It's the only way I can cope," Bruce added.
"How? By bottling it all up? Have you seen Harv, Bruce?"
"Not like that. I focus my energies on other outlets, I guess is what I am trying to say. I don't recall the last time I ever opened up myself to someone because they already knew. I never met anyone who asked with gusto as much as you did. It's…..different." Bruce said gently. He felt a little better because he admitted out loud what it really felt like.
"Different? Good kind of different or bad kind?" Joker prodded on. Bruce placed a hand on his chin to get his attention.
"Just different. It's relieving in its own way…"
"You make it sound like a urinal, but I accept," Joker said warmly. He patted the large hand on his shoulder. "I just wish you didn't bottle yourself up. Otherwise you just blow up at any small thing…"
"I'm not used to it, is all."
"Well then, we have to think of a new strategy." Joker then tiptoed and kissed the Bat on his cheek.
"All better now?" Joker purred.
"A little," Bruce replied while touching the area Joker just touched. It was a little reminder that not everything needed to have a secondary undertone, it just was. A kiss, it was a simple form of affectionate expression.
"What are you going to do now? I can't imagine that being hunched over like that for the next six hours will do you any good. Doctor Joker says so."
"No, I suppose not."
Joker then went behind the playboy to administer some massages on his upper back and neck area.
"I think a little TLC is in order, don't you agree?"
It felt heavenly, feeling Joker's crafty hands touch him in a slow, rocking manner. They made him temporarily forget about the pain that pounded at his body. The tingles replaced the aches and stings on his arms and thighs.
"Sure," the playboy responded.
"Why don't we make ourselves more comfortable?" Joker nodded and tugged the reluctant Batman towards the bed. "You don't have to do anything, I will take care of it."
Batman's walking had gotten sturdy and balanced which was great news for the Prince who excitedly pulled the playboy towards the large canopy bed on the other side of the cave where they slept. When they got there, the Prince crawled in first and sat on his legs. He gestured for the Dark Knight to join him by patting the sheets.
"Get on," he said sweetly. With that order, the detective crawled over and laid down on the bed, face up so that he could see the Joker.
"Comfy?" The Clown piped up.
"Quite, what are you doing?" Bruce inquired when he saw Joker go out of focus.
"I'm just getting some things, dearest. Your butler left these supplies and it would be a real shame to let them go to waste." Joker replied when he showed Bruce two bottles that more than likely had some cream or oil in them.
"Oh?" Bruce said with a worried glance. "What are those?"
"Acid. What does it look like?" The jester said gleefully. "Now just relax and…"
"I think I'm feeling another one." Bruce interjected quickly.
"Really? Where?" Joker queried. His hooked nose was barely gracing Bruce's face.
"On my back, lower down," Bruce groaned.
"Okey doke, then we'll start there." Joker smiled.
"You are so determined." Bruce said smiling.
"It's what I do best, dear." Joker replied as he set down the supplies on the bed and gestured for Batman to turn around, which he did. Once on his stomach, Bruce stretched himself out more to get comfortable. He felt the Joker sit on the curve of his backside and he tensed mildly at the sensation.
"Ssssshhh, just relax." Joker said gently. He began to apply some of the lotion into his hands, rubbing them thoroughly before the cream dissolved into a shimmering glimmer in his hands. He
then proceeded to rub his hands across Bruce's back. Slow, sensual strokes calmed Bruce down and he let his muscles break free from their stiffness.
"Shh, that's it. Let all that pressure go. Loosen up that suit and tie," Joker whispered as he leaned down the playboy's ear and let hot air invade it. He smiled sadistically as he did so.
"Mmmmmm," was the response Bruce could give. It felt Godsend. The aches and pains from Ivy's attack were getting minimal. Going, going….
Joker smiled at himself, he had the little bat in the palm of his hand now, literally. Don't stop. That's it. That's right.
It wasn't until he saw another scar, clean across the left shoulder blade that Joker applied the touches in a softer manner. He was gentle and slow, for each touch was as intimate as the last. He then began to apply slow steady pressure on parts of Bruce's back, thumbing.
"That feels good," Bruce replied.
It was the most rewarding phrase Joker ever heard since they were shacked up together in the cave. Finally... acceptance. He dared not to stop.
"A little lower," Bruce ordered. Joker followed suit and did as he was told. He now focused on the upper pelvic area. He pinched and prodded at a few places, getting a firm pressure each and every time.
"That tickles," the playboy said. It was music to the Joker's ears.
"I won't believe you until I get at least one HA HA," Joker added. No response. Wow.
"Since when did you become so…..crafted?" Bruce groaned. The pains were practically nonexistent at this point. It was bliss. All those worries, those secondary thoughts, they were temporarily ignored.
"Hmmm? Oh, well, you do see this quite often during Days of Our Lives and All My Children. But really, I did learn some…tricks from Harley," The Harlequin added.
"So, she wasn't as, for lack of a better word, disposable?" Bruce quipped.
"Hmmm? Well, she was a cute kid, but really, I just couldn't take her seriously enough. Ah, stealing other people's shticks. Indeed. What a cheap shot. She's like one of those greasy burgers at McDonald's. You just can't live off of it. Oh, sure you might enjoy it, but that is all it can offer."
"Hmmm," Bruce replied.
"I don't get that from you, you know that right?"
Bruce perked up.
"I was so dependant our chance encounters that I had to see you. I used the most extreme means to get your attention obviously." Joker sighed.
"You're not the only one with extreme issues. I let the most beautiful woman go all because of my selfish needs. How sick is that?" Bruce turned over with an eye gazing up at Joker behind him. It was another connection and another parallel.
"That's pretty sick." The jester replied back.
Then, without warning, Bruce turned over, not caring if Joker was going along for the ride. Joker balanced himself on the bed and stretched himself out to meet Bruce's gaze, eying him at an equal level. They both stared at each other for a long minute.
"What?" Joker said with a pleasurable gleam. "Don't stare, it's impolite."
"Sorry," Bruce responded. He patted the moss of green on Joker's head.
"Are you going to tell me something or are we going to be like this all night? I do get cramps, you know…."
"I'm just…thinking…" the playboy said dreamily
"About?" The Prince queried.
"Everything, life, the next board meeting, Scarecrow, you…." A thin white finger pasted itself onto Bruce's lips, silencing them.
"Don't talk about menial things like that. It's just us now." Joker reassured him.
"It's just that I can't help it. It's like a habit."
"A bad habit," Joker added. "C'mon, is there anything I can do to make it better?" Joker laid himself on top of Bruce eying him like prize prey. He was all his now, it was just them.
"I can't think of anything at the top of my head," Bruce Wayne said bashfully. His face contorted into one of childish gentility. Force of habit made him hold onto Joker's legs.
"I think I have an idea, just stay down and relax….." Joker whispered as he wiped a white hand across the other man's face. He petted him like a small animal in a cold chill.
"I've been trying to do that…" Bruce stated shyly.
"Liar, I can feel your pulse jump. Loosen up." Joker purred. He pressed himself lower to meet the Bat's gaze. A sinful smile met Bruce's bashful glance.
"What are you doing?" Joker said shyly.
"Just….thinking..." Bruce said softly. The truth was that there was more going on in his mind. He just didn't want to let it out. Privacy was his sacred haven; it's where he felt safe because he answered to no one. Now, he was sharing that space.
"Well, stop it. You have a mouth. Just share it," Joker said sweetly.
"Easy for you to say. You can't stop talking…."
"And you don't like speaking in multisyllables!" Joker interjected. "I'm not asking about what you are thinking…..just…..tell me…how you feel. If Batman doesn't feel, then Bruce Wayne does, am I right?" Joker held that face between the palms of his hands.
"Hit the nail on the head," Bruce responded. He held onto the Prince's thin thighs even more firmly.
"Just…talk to me. Forget about the Queen of Weeds. Just let yourself go…."Joker pressed on.
Joker could feel the muscles tense on the body of the man below him. He shriveled up and it frustrated him to no end. He knew that Bruce was a man of privacy, but he could tell that he had bottled himself up. This was not strong and silent, this was repressed and he sought to remedy that.
"Well, if you don't want to make amends and take the first step, I will," and on that note, the jester leaned down and pressed his lips onto the man below him. They were both suspended in disbelief. Thoughts raced in the back of Bruce's mind as he felt those tender lips pressed onto his own. Joker leaned down to press his body against his. However, he was stopped short when he felt Bruce's massive hands press onto his arms. Joker responded by adding more pressure to the kiss. A low growl emerged from him. He counteracted by pressing his knee down and by adding pressure from his hips onto Bruce's. The playboy responded to the rather aggressive move by placing a hand on Joker's thigh. Even with soft strokes, Joker wouldn't but it and he broke the kiss.
"You're not playing fair!" Joker shrieked.
"What?" Bruce answered. "If I wanted it to get to this, I would have been clear."
"You didn't seem to mind when I was on top of you!" Joker growled.
"I wasn't in the mood to be rude," Bruce counteracted.
"Yes, well, this one takes the cake. It's painfully obvious to me that you need to open up, but you won't even let me do it! What am I supposed to think when you toy with me like this?"
"Maybe you are moving a little too fast. Maybe you should slow down a bit…" Bruce replied lowly.
"I am tired of all these ambiguities. When you have given me an iota of maturity, you know where to find me!" Joker huffed. He lifted himself up from where he was and crawled over to one side of the bed, pulling sheets up towards him.
"Good night!" Joker hissed.
Bruce stood there, drained, embarrassed and sterile. He didn't need another person angry at him because he had enough of that by self imposing it. He watched Joker struggle to make get comfortable.
This was new ground. Even though he knew the steps, this was unfamiliar territory. He wasn't ready to jump into something like this again, because he didn't want to get hurt again. It happened with all the women in his life, did he risk it again by making a repeat offence? Was it an addiction that he couldn't break out of? Falling for people who were dangerous for him? No. It was not, in retrospect. To err is human. He had plenty of opportunities to include others into his life, moments which he didn't shy away from and was willing. They parted ways for practical reasons. Practical and emotional. That was a language he was not familiar with. Everything he did, he did it with reason. There was no spiritual component because it was too vague. He relied on strategic calculations. You could not do that in romance, and the few times he tasted that bittersweet food, he was poisoned in the end. They were not a waste of time, however, because they taught him something about himself, and even then, not everything had useful, some things did not have to be practical. Not everything needed gadgets and math to make it more useful. Some things just were.
On that note, Bruce let out a small chuckle.
Joker took note and turned his attention towards the playboy.
"What is so funny?" he said in a tone of mild bitterness.
"The irony," Bruce smiled, he looked up at the ceiling.
"Excuse me?" Joker responded. He looked coolly at Batman's direction without fully facing him.
"Nothing. I'm just laughing at myself. Just like that time at the carnival."
Joker scrunched his nose, trying to digest the words. Had he remembered that?
"And…? It took you that long to notice?"
"I guess I was too stubborn for my own good," Bruce responded. He patted the sheets that covered Joker's thigh.
"Stop it, if you want to get my attention, you don't have to do that…" Joker sighed. He rolled over to his side, hiding the anger on his face.
"I don't have to….I want to…" Bruce replied.
The Clown Prince then readjusted himself and turned around to face Bruce before lifting himself up to face Bruce. He desperately wanted to bridge that gap between the two of them.
"I don't want you to do this because I want too. Remember that. It's just, I hate mixed messages."
Bruce met him on the same level. He supported himself with his left arm and used the other to trace a finger on the clown's jaw line. He didn't want to hurt the person who had helped him grow. Never had someone made him bloom like he did. Joker had pulled him out of that bleak hole.
Words weren't needed to express what was on both their minds as Bruce pulled the clown closer to him. They were both on their knees on the mattress when they exchanged a fond embrace and shared a tender kiss.
EDIT 12/22/08: I am idiot. There was an embarrassing typo in the original post. Forgive me for my bone headedness, you guys.
Okay, Stanky McNasties, since does not allow NC-17 bits unless the are short, I am making the next chapter private. You can get the extra bit by sending me a message at slytherinshannonatgmaildotcom. You can also reach me using my LJ profile which is linked on my profile here just in case this site decides to misbehave. Please use the subject heading with phrases like 'Chapter 26 Part 2', 'OMC', 'One More Chance', or 'private chapter' so that I know you are from here. Look forward to 'meeting' you.
I don't want to make an LJ comm to host my story in its entirety and heavily moderate who 'friends' it. I borrowed this model from Dark Jester from her story. I decided to lift the embargo after some thinking. It just wasn't fair and I apologize to anyone who found it inconvenient. It's just that there have been times when I was younger I got caught looking at things when I wasn't supposed to and it's my fault for projecting my fears and mistakes onto you. This is my inner moderator talking but I also don't feel comfortable posting a twenty page long intimate scene in a public forum. Thank you for reading and I apologize for any inconvenience.
ETA: added March 28 2010. I had a reader, dreamfairy101 remind me to tell you guys that I do send the private chapter as long emails and not as documents, so don't worry. Thank you, dreamfairy for reminding me. As always, reader caution is advised. Underage readers proceed with extreme caution.
ETA 2 added July 17, 2010. Okay, I have had quite a few people do this but I do NOT, I repeat I DO NOT send the private chapter over private messages. I had a few readers request it but the emails are blocked out.. I send them as full text and not documents so don't worry about any weird viruses. I also want to extend my thanks to my readers. I may not show it but you are all very precious to me. Thank you guys! You are amazing! If you have any questions, concerns, comments, thoughts, feel free to let me know. If you want to talk about Mel Gibson, that's okay too!