He's seated at the edge of the bed. He's making a bomb.
The only light a small lamp seated next to him on the bedside table turned impromptu work bench but he seemed to have no problem seeing. His hair is faded green, pulled back, shines dully in the honey-hued light. It makes his skin glow. Bruce watches beside him, offhandedly pretending to read an income report. At the foot of the bed, Jonathan is laid out and actually reading Sartre or some other philosopher and humming something under his breath.
The Joker has been working on this bomb for hours. Bruce aches to ask him what his plan was for it but knew he'd only get a crude smile in return and he did not feel like losing his sanity tonight. The Joker is shockingly still. Bruce has never seen his energy so channeled, his body calm and precise. Perhaps it's a side-effect of him getting older, getting better. They are all getting better. It makes him aware of the criminal's age and his own and Jonathan's. The doctor was pushing thirty, he was already in his thirties. Joker? God only knew how old he was.
"Hey J?" Bruce asks, dog-earing his book.
The Joker wraps two green wires around each other with a pair of pliers and hums an absentminded, "Yes?"
"How old are you?"
Jonathan sits up, closing his book. He gives Bruce an unreadable look. The Joker also drops his tools, turning to Bruce with a look not unlike suspicion.
"Who wants to know?" The clown drawls, leaning against the headboard with his arms crossed.
And Bruce can feel the tension suddenly settle, the realization that perhaps there are certain things he doesn't get to know, at least not yet. "Well me obviously. You know how old I am. It's only fair."
And the Joker raises his eyebrows at the word "fair", licks his lips and looks between his two lovers. Then he turns back to his weapon and begins fiddling with a small burner phone.
Bruce thinks the conversation is closed.
"I don't know." The words are clipped, precise, with no room for argument. Jonathan and Bruce are immediately alert. They know him well enough to know that there is more.
The Joker places the phone down and turns back to them, crossing his legs and staring off at something they can't see. Again, his lovers are shocked by his level of control, his manic energy contained.
"I don't really remember lots of stuff, ya know? It's just all these little bits and pieces and the bits and pieces I do remember...well those aren't exactly, well, pretty."
He turns to Bruce and grabs his shirt, pulling the material with an intensity that scares no one. "But I know enough," he says and kisses his hard. Then he crawls over to Jonathan and kisses his as well. He lays between their two bodies, eyes closed, and says, "I know enough to know that this is where I was supposed to be. I know I love you both. And I know I'm probably in my mid to late twenties. Okay? Now you know as much about my age as I do." He opens his eyes and smiles radiantly. "Now can I get back to my bomb?"
But both men are staring at him in wonder and awe because this man, this sociopathic maniac with a penchant for suffering and chaos has just said that he loves them and it is the first time he's ever said anything like that.
"Bats? Johnny?" Joker asks looking between the two, who seemed to be having a conversation with just their eyes.
"Did he really say that?"
"Did you see how easily he said it?"
"And he's not running, that's good right? Do you think he'll run?"
"I don't know. Should we say something?"
"Okay you guys are really starting to freak me out," Joker says, as he turns back to the phone and mutters, "and I'm supposed to be the crazy one."
And silently, Bruce and Jonathan decide to not say anything in that moment.
No, it is much later when they have returned from battling for the city's heart, when they are exhausted and have removed makeup and armor and masks, when they have stitched each other up and popped pain killers. It's in the dead of night-almost morning, a second before Bruce turns out the light. They are a heap of battered limbs when both men reach over and touch the nearly unconscious maniac in between them, till he stirs and looks at them questioningly with his dreamy green eyes.
"We love you too."
And the lights go out for the night.
…
Please review. Will try to get more Jonathan-centered stuff in later chapters.
