Who's excited? I'M EXCITED! So I've got the next chapter written. I thought I'd split it... because. You get it sooner of course and I get more time to correct shit. Woooooo The next chapter... is going to be awesome. Just so you know.
XxxxxxxxxxxxX
Shattered Identities
Chapter 9
Ticking to the Rhythm of a Time Bomb
XxxxxxxxxxxxX
Bruce probed the little lump again, knelt on the ground behind the madman. He couldn't believe they actually put a tracking device in the maniac.
"We will, let's go back down stai – ." The billionaire soothed the panicking male, The Joker's eyes wild, a caged animal in his own skin.
"No!" The Joker snapped turning around, and Bruce jerked back immediately in order to avoid his nether region, standing up as quickly as possible.
"Get it out. Now!" The madman cried out, his hands curling around his back clawing at the cut, scratching up his skin, leaving raw bloody lines behind.
"Get it out of me! Get it. Fucking I'll get it out!" Bruce's hands shot forward restraining the man from scratching his own skin into a raw bloody mess. The Joker thrashed and fought against him, pulling, jerking and squirming in his hold, his eyes panicked, not even thinking to resort to anything more then trying to get away.
"We will! Just stop! Stop!" The billionaire demanded, his voice deepening again, his hold tightening, bruising. He gave the Joker a violent shake, and kept shaking him until his whole body relaxed, falling into the movement, and the madman's eyes finally focused on his face. His chest swiftly rising and falling. Bruce could see the fear in his eyes, the fear he hides, so deep beneath the insanity, fear of something more than death.
"I will. Right now! We will. But they already know you're here. There's no need to rush this! Let me do this right." Bruce tried to reason with him, but there was no reasoning with madness.
"Easy for you to say! For all we know they could have a contingency plan! Pop! Goes the Joker!" The madman snarled at him, flaring his fingers in emphasis. Then he ripped at his wrists again, searching for freedom.
"It's not going to be a bomb." Bruce stated exasperatedly, trying to reel in the madman's hands, despite the male's surprising strength. The Joker stopped abruptly his vibrant mad eyes locking on the billionaire's.
"Nazi doctor? Right?! Doesn't need to be a fucking bomb!" The Joker hissed, stepping closer to him, only a few inches shorter than the billionaire. Bruce simply stared back, unsure of what to say, the man could be right...
"Get it. Out of me." The madman whispered darkly, threateningly, his eyes narrowing. If Bruce didn't do it, he would. He would claw it out. In one mass of bloody flesh. The playboy needed to do something and do it soon.
"Fine!" Bruce caved, ripping his eyes away from the Joker for two seconds, as he thought up a plan.
"Give me twenty seconds. Twenty. That's all I'm asking. Don't touch it. Don't poke it. Don't. Scratch. At it." The billionaire asked his eyes boring into the maniac's own, glared back at him. Bruce's eyes flickered purposefully towards the scalpel on the dresser and The Joker growled, following his gaze.
"Fine. Twenty seconds. Starting now." The finally madman conceded, but Bruce was already dashing across the room. Snatching up the scalpel he ran into the bathroom, almost slipping on the wet tiles as he skidded across the floor. He ripped open a cabinet, pulling out his personal first aid kit. He opened it up, snagging a bottle of antiseptic he sterilized the scalpel over the sink, recapping it as he dashed back into the bedroom, taking a fresh towel with him.
"two, one." The Joker finished just as Bruce threw the items on the bed, snatching the madman's hand away from the cut before he could do himself any more harm. The playboy tightened his grip in annoyance, he should just knock the man out and be done with it. This was way more work then it was worth.
"On the bed." Bruce demanded, irritated that he even had to play this game with the maniac.
"No. It's been twen – ." The Joker started defiantly, but was cut short, the playboy's had shooting out to grip the man's slender neck, stepping closer to tower over him. Their faces inches apart, the man's pulse racing beneath the billionaire's fingers.
"Get on. The fucking bed." Bruce growled quietly, maneuvering the maniac around, so his back was facing the bed. He shoved the madman back almost violently with the hold on his throat. The Joker flew backwards onto the bed, all the breath leaving him in a sudden rush as he stared up at the pissed off male towering above him. The steely blue eyes darkening like a thunder storm.
"On your stomach." Bruce demanded darkly, and the Joker only stared up at him with wide eyes, unable to breathe, let alone move. Taking in the male's powerful figure, stern features, and commanding eyes.
"This isn't a game!" The playboy growled, leaning forward, forcing the Joker to lean back. He placed either hand beside the Joker's.
"I thought you wanted the chip out of you. I guess I was wrong. I should just let you rip it out." The playboy stated sardonically, his tone as dark and condescending as Batman's. The Joker had seen snippets of the man under the mask, but this, this was Batman, this was his Bats. Unmasked and bare but still as pent up and furious, powerful, as usual. The Joker pulled his feet onto the bed, laying down on face down without a word, without a single blink of his eyelids, those orbs staring transfixed onto Bruce's.
"Hold still." The billionaire demanded, placing the towel against the Joker's side. Uncapping the bottle of antiseptic again he doused the old incision, sterilizing the cut, ignoring the new welts the man had left along his own skin. He knelt down next to the bed, needing to get closer to the wound, but the madman was too far away from the edge of the mattress. Bruce stared irritably for a few seconds, debating his options. Then he placed a hand around the Joker's other side tugging the man none to gently closer to the edge, not even bothering to ask him to move. He decided it would be useless.
The maniac made a small complaint as he was man handled, the rough material of the bare mattress scraping along his wounds, then he settled back in without a word. Bruce leaned over the man, getting close to the old incision, he placed the scalpel against the madman's already scored skin.
"This is going to hurt." The playboy muttered, pausing for a second, he wasn't used to cutting into people. Sure he was used to blood. Even seeing broken bones, but not delicate slices, nothing like this controlled infliction of pain.
"Oh spare me you're, heroic justice!" The Joker hissed and Bruce scowled at the man breaking through the healing wound without a second thought. He wasn't able to ignore how the man's muscles twitched under his ivory skin, tensing with the pain, despite the man's lack of acknowledgment to the sting. Blood quickly welled, running down the pale flesh, starkly reminding Bruce of the night before, the pale face, blue lips and glassy eyes all accentuated by the same crimson. Everywhere, blood everywhere. He squashed the memory down and with a little coaxing the tracking chip slid out of the Joker's skin. Bruce snatched it up quickly, afraid he'd lose it again in the streaming blood, dropping it to the bed on the other side of the madman. He quickly grabbed a gauze applying pressure against the wound. Hoping to stop some of the bleeding before he sewed it up. The maniac's shoulder blade pressed against his skin as the Joker reached back, delicately picking up the tracking device.
"Don't." Bruce warned distractedly, checking the blood flow and applying more pressure, but it didn't seem like the madman had listened to him. The Joker continued to stare at the chip like it was an insect that needed to be squashed. Destroyed and obliterated off the face of the earth.
"Joker!" The playboy hissed more sternly finally getting the maniac's attention.
"I know what you're thinking. Don't! We can use it against them." Bruce insisted, the pressure he was applying growing a little too heavy as he glared at the uncaring madman.
"I'd rather never see it again." The Joker growled, inspecting the tiny device.
"We can use it. They already know you're here. Let them keep thinking they're a step ahead of us." Bruce pressed, but the Joker ignored him yet again, parting his lips he moved the chip towards his teeth, the only viable weapon in range. The playboy growled, digging his finger into the wound, the gauze keeping him from contaminating the area. The Joker gasped and jerked in pain, his muscles spasming at the sudden shock. He let out a feral growl, slashing a clawed hand at Bruce's face, who simply dodged the attack, jerking backwards.
He released the pressure quickly, lifting the gauze he snatched up the still open bottle of antiseptic, just as the Joker snarled viciously at him, his bending as he attempted to move closer. Bruce dumped the liquid onto the wound and the Joker hissed in pain, his muscles rigid along his back, bulging against the pale abused flesh. The madman dropped the chip, digging his fingernails into the bare mattress, while he pressed his forehead against the bed. Bruce swiped the chip back tucking it into his sweat's pocket as the Joker took in deep breaths, breathing through the pain.
Slowly the madman's back started shaking, and laughter crept into the room, eventually echoing off the walls. Bruce ignored his insanity, pulling out a needle and some catgut thread to stitch the maniac's wound up. He threaded the needle while the Joker continued laughing hysterically, rolling a little on his side to clutch his abdomen which spasmed with each giggle. The playboy placed a hand on the madman's back, forcing him back onto his stomach when he twisted out of his reach. He got the needle close to the male's skin but stopped, unwilling to attempt sewing the idiot up while he was giggling like a lunatic.
"Hold still." Bruce insisted glaring at the madman who turned to him with a giant grin across his scarred face.
"You." The Joker giggled, "really are something Bats. Oh ho." The madman licked his lips, suddenly calming down, like he wanted to have a chat with Bruce.
"If I were stuck on a deserted island. You! Are what I'd bring! Fuck the mp3 player or hunting knife normal people choose. I'd! Choose you." The Joker informed the billionaire smugly before settling down into the bed again, laying his head on his crossed arms. His head remained tilted slightly, keeping Bruce in his sights.
"Because Tarzan." The Joker whispered, his eyes half lidded as he watched Bruce concentrate, ignoring the sting of the needle through his skin.
"Life is so. Beautiful. With you around. All flashing lights! And broken dreams!" Bruce let the man ramble, carefully threading the second stitch with the fish hook needle.
"That's morbid." The playboy muttered, moving to the next stitch, not really listening to the man.
"To you maybe. I think it's interesting. What fun is life! If you get everything you want?! If there's no opposition, no working for it? No people to mow down when they get in your way!" The Joker giggled at the prospect, Bruce gritted his teeth, leveling the Joker with a heated stare.
"Don't give me that look. You mow people down too, they just don't stay there. Which is entirely counter productive. I might add. I mean, you've broke bones on one of my henchmen on several different occasions. He's been in Blackgate like, fifteen times... really counter productive." The Joker complained with a yawn, his eyes closing to half mast. His chin turned to rest against his shoulder. His green irises peering eerily past his dark lashes to quietly watch Bruce work, for once ignoring that his nemesis, or obsession, didn't reply back.
The playboy made quick work of closing up the wound, each stitch created slowly, pulling the split skin back together. It wasn't amazing work, but the catgut would ensure the man didn't get any major scars. Which ironically he seemed to care about. Bruce pulled his eyes away from the male's pale back as he gently wiped the wound down. The billionaire gritted his teeth in irritation when he found the madman almost asleep, his breathing slowly evening out, despite the chill in the air, and the maniac's lack of clothing. Bruce's lips thinned as he poured more antiseptic onto the wound, hoping the sting would awaken the madman. It didn't, and he scowled.
"Hey." Bruce called to him in annoyance, cleaning away the antiseptic a little roughly, the Joker's body shifting a little under the pressure. He should just let the man sleep, it would be more beneficial to the detective if the maniac was out of his hair for awhile, but it pissed him off to no end that the maniac had use his drugs to stay awake. Then was simply allowed to crash when they wore off! No. If the Joker wanted to stay awake, Bruce would make sure he stayed awake.
"Hey!" The playboy shouted grabbing a fist full of the madman's damp green hair rather roughly. He pulled the maniac's head off the bed a little, and those startling green eyes slowly crept open to gaze at him tiredly, annoyance barely making it through his exhaustion.
"You wanted to stay awake. So wake up." Bruce growled out, tightening his grip on the man's hair. The Joker groaned quietly, his eyes closing against the tug.
"Whatever you say princess." The Joker whispered, pulling his fully open. Bruce tossed his head into the bed and stood up, briefly making his way to the dresser. He plucked the cream he had left there off the surface. Making his way back over, all the while under the Joker's burning stare. He knelt back down next to the bed, dipping his finger in the substance, and the Joker suddenly looked away. His fingers tightening on the bed before the playboy had even touched his skin. Bruce paused taking in the madman's tense muscles that were shifting under his skin, stretching against their confinement as his grip tightened. His jaw was tense, almost as if he was gritting his teeth. The billionaire watched him carefully as he gently smeared the cream against the man's sanitized wound. The Joker's head tilted forward, pressing his forehead into the mattress as his back vibrated once, twice, slowly building from a low chuckle into a mad dark laughter that quietly filled the room.
"What's so funny?" Bruce had to asked, placing a large bandage over the wound and sealing it to his skin.
"You. Us. The world." The Joker chuckled in amusement, "It's all so fucking hilarious!" The madman's muscles slid along his back as he propped himself up on his elbows. Bruce frowned then stood up. Making a decision he placed the cream on the bed, making his way into his walk into closet. The Joker's vivid eyes trailed after him as he came back out with a t-shirt and sweat pants. He threw the pants on the bed next to the maniac. Then stood awkwardly by the bed, gazing down at the madman, while at the same time trying not to look at that creamy expanse of skin. The Joker raised his eyebrow at him, settling back down onto crossed arms. Watching the man with a delighted smile. Bruce cleared his throat lifting the shirt in his hands up.
"Turn over." The playboy stated, the awkwardness and reluctance slipping into his voice. The Joker simply smirked at him, pressing his lips against his bicep, he gazed up at the billionaire in amusement.
"Turn. Over." Bruce snarled out, his grip crumpling the shirt as it tightened in irritation. They stared at each other for a full minute. The Joker taking in the billionaire's ruffled state, tense broad muscular shoulders, the way his forearm bulged with the act of crushing that helpless shirt in his powerful hand. The veins that peaked out of his light skin and trailed down his arm. The way his neck thickened as his muscles tensed, his lips thinned, his beautiful steely blue eyes narrowed, curtained by thick lashes. Suddenly the billionaire sighed, all that glorious muscle relaxing with that simple breath. His blue eyes turned towards the ground, closing briefly. When they looked back up they were tired, yet determined.
"Fine." Bruce stated closing the small distance between them, he ignored the Joker's raised eyebrow as he reached down. He placed his hand on the madman's shoulder, the maniac's breath ghosting against his fingers, while he slid the other underneath the male's hip. Bruce could feel the Joker's breath quicken as his hand slid under his body, just enough though. Just enough to flip the man. Bruce pulled up on the maniac easily moving the male off the bed and onto his side when the Joker consented to the movement. Bruce's palms twisted around on his skin to shove him the rest of the way onto the bed, ignoring how soft that skin was.
The madman's back crushed the pants beneath him as he giggled up at Bruce's stern face, laughing at how his eyes avoided his nether region at all cost. The billionaire leaned over the bed, his jaw tense in annoyance at how irritating this whole thing was. It was almost humiliating being forced to man handle the maniac. Bruce thought about sliding the male closer to the edge but didn't want to go through that process. Instead he tossed the shirt across the Joker's lower region, covering him up. The madman brought his hands up behind his head as he reclined backwards, revealing dirt blond hair growing subtly under his armpits. His Cheshire grin beamed up at the billionaire as said man sat on the bed next to the maniac.
Bruce stubbornly ignored the pale male, instead transferring the first aid kit to settle in front of him. The playboy grimaced at how raw and angry the madman's new bullet wound looked, blood ever so slowly weeping from the wound. The Joker only slightly winced when Bruce haphazardly dumped antiseptic over it, almost as if he was hoping to cause the madman some discomfort, yet his face remained dull and emotionless. He took a gauze and blotted the closing hole, wiping away any infection that might have started up.
Bruce concentrated on the task of cleaning the wound, not even realizing that the Joker had stopped chuckling and was now just gazing at him. Quietly watching the billionaire's intense attention on his injury. Eventually, after a few minutes, Bruce decided the wound was as good as it was going to get and placed a large gauze pad over the red blotch. He switched to the older wound, that was almost black in color, but still looked a little red around the edges. The hospital took care of it, but there was no telling how much attention the wound had received at Arkham.
"You know. Harley does the same thing." The Joker whispered as Bruce cleaned the older wound, licking his lips.
"But, it's different. More... Obsessed. Like, she's afraid I'll break." The madman admitted quietly, watching Bruce gently clear the bullet hole.
"And kill her?" The billionaire added sarcastically, finishing up the cleaning. There was a long silence as Bruce covered the wound in the stupid cream he had promised the madman. He refused to put it on the other one though. It was still too new.
"Maybe." The Joker muttered distractedly, far away, as he watched the playboy hold true to his promise.
"Sit up." Bruce demanded, picking up the bandaging and unwrapping the end, but the maniac remained where he was.
"I'm not playing this game. Sit. Up." The billionaire growled, his eyes boring into the Joker's own. Minutes ticked by slowly, neither of them moving.
"Fine." Bruce muttered standing up. He pivoted around, walking leisurely towards the exit of his bedroom.
"Alright! Alright!" The Joker snapped the second he knew Bruce's intentions. Sitting up as quickly as he could, one hand held out towards the playboy's retreating form. Bruce paused in his step, glancing over his shoulder at the man who had finally followed his order. He turned his head back to the door, letting a small smirk grace his lips before he crushed it, spinning back around with a blank look on his face. He crossed the small distance he had achieved and picked up the bandaging again. Peeling the end away from the rest he placed it against the pad on the man's newest wound, ignoring the irritated glare the Joker sent at him.
"You can't blame a man for trying." The Joker insisted, raising his arms to allow the billionaire to start the wrapping process. There was nothing wrong with the madman's attempts to receive the playboy's attention, his touch.
"Actually I can." Bruce muttered as he trailed the bandage around the maniac's back.
"Actually. You can't." The Joker countered him rather forcefully.
"You're Gotham's hottest male for how many years running?" The Joker scoffed, and Bruce ignored him. Leaning around the man, stringing the bandage over his bruised side.
"And hottest male. In the entire United States... How often?" The Joker's breath ghosted against the playboy's check as he switched holds on the gauze roll and the end, bringing it around the madman's side. The Joker leaned closer, letting his lips trail against Bruce's ear and the playboy held back a shiver... of disgust, he swallowed hard, ignoring the reaction.
"You really can't. Ever." The Joker insisted, his lips brushing against the billionaire's skin. Bruce held steady, squashing down the urge to jerk away from the maniac. He finally was allowed to pull back, wrapping the bandage back around to cover the starting point, making the rest of the process ten times easier. He was thankful when he could back away from the maniac, but then he had to lean back forward a few seconds later and the process repeated. Back and forth, wrapping the man up in the white bandages, each time the warm breath graced his skin. It was a slow process considering how much of the man's chest he had to cover. Every time he leaned in the Joker would lean forward, subtly breathing in his scent before he moved away again. Bruce really wanted to punch him in the nose, if nothing more than to simply wipe that smug smile off his stupid face. The billionaire was almost done when the madman quietly broke the silence between them.
"I'll never get over the way you smell." The Joker admitted softly and Bruce's lips tightened in irritation, his jaw clenching.
"Obviously." The playboy replied dryly, only a few more rounds to go and the bandage should be secure enough.
"Like, rubber. Sweat. Well oiled machines. And the... musty night air after a heavy rain. And blood. But maybe that's just from me." The Joker whispered trailing off into a light amused giggle. Bruce shook his head, taking in a deep breath. The suit could get pretty hot most nights, it was a small price to pay for protection, and he always kept his gadgets well oiled and ready to use. The last thing he needed was to have them jam in the middle of a fight. The cave. It must be the Bat Cave that gave him that last one scent. Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly, tugging the bandage tighter around the maniac.
"Well. You. Normally smell like gunpowder, cheap grease makeup, a weird mix of chemicals and... Leather. Even though you don't wear any." Bruce muttered, finally able to finish the bandaging, he picked up some scissors and cut through the end, severing it from the roll.
"Ah, ah!" The Joker tutted lifting his palms a little he wiggled his fingers as Bruce found the tape.
"It's the gloves." The madman informed him his eyes widening with his grin.
"I need new ones. Ridiculously often! They get bloodied so easily." The maniac complained and Bruce finally looked up to glare at him. The Joker just grinned back letting his arms fall when the billionaire tucked the bandage and tape into the others, securing the gauze. It was sad to say Bruce knew what he meant. His gloves needed replacing often just as often. It got to the point that they detach from the rest of his gauntlet for quick replacement on his newer suits. Bruce stood up, ignoring the connection as he walked back over to the dresser, taking his stash of medical equipment with him.
"Get dressed." The billionaire demanded as he arranged the first aid kit's items into their correct spots. The Joker sighed dramatically from behind him, but the bed moved regardless of the maniac's reluctance to join civilized society. The playboy closed the lid on the first aid kit, picking up the scalpel and cream he had placed beside it. There was a rustling of clothes behind him as Bruce walked across the room to pick up the discarded lid, the one the Joker had thrown around like useless garbage. Screwing it back on he entered the bathroom, trying to avoid the freezing puddles on the floor he quickly put the items away. When he entered the bedroom he looked up, holding back an irritated sigh and the need to pound someone's face in. Realizing the Joker wasn't where he had left him.
Instead, his closet door was open again, and the light was on. Bruce sighed and sat back onto the bed, listening to the Joker riffle around his large walk in closet noisily. He pulled out his phone and started pressing buttons, tracking news, not in the mood to argue with the madman about what clothes crazy should wear. Several minutes later, and a few minutes of the Joker's, new, happy humming, and the madman came out of the closet. The first thing in sight was the man's ivory hand, followed back a long while sleeve. The Joker's green hair peaked out next followed by the rest of his body, and Bruce had almost been relieved he didn't have to babysit the man. Except The Joker was only wearing a white button up shirt that was at least two sizes bigger then him, and nothing else. The first button was undone leaving the shirt's collar to hand dangerously on his shoulders. While the length of the shirt barely covered what he needed it to.
"No." Bruce stated blandly almost instantly, turning his attention back to his phone. The Joker looked down at himself slowly, then back up with wide eyes. Taking in the playboy's uninterested posture.
"What?! I look fantastic! I mean come on. Look at this!" The madman said exasperatedly, and against his better judgment, Bruce looked up again. The Joker's posture changed, shrinking in on himself to seem smaller than he really was. He pulled his hands up to his face, covering his scars. Letting the long sleeves cover his pale hands, only the ivory fingers visible. The maniac bounced his shoulder gently a few times, letting one side of the shirt slip over his cream pale skin, showing off a little of his bicep. The Joker leaned forward a little giving Bruce big innocent brilliant green eyes framed by long lashes, his hair ruffled and unkempt from doing nothing with it after he got out of the shower. Everything about the man was just begging Bruce to do the most dirty, nasty things the playboy could possibly think of to him. The billionaire would have to be a saint not to say the man was beautifully seductive at that moment.
"No." Bruce whispered, reluctantly tearing his eyes from the sight and back to his phone. He didn't want to see that, didn't want to remember that. Didn't want to know that he had been right. That without the scars the man would have been stunningly beautiful. Dead gorgeous. It made Bruce wonder who he could have been before. If the scars had really been the catalyst for everything. A dangerous silence fell over the room.
"What?!" The Joker finally snarled, finally moved, tearing his hands away from his face indignantly. Not even a second later the phone in Bruce's hand was ripped away. The playboy immediately snatched after it, only to get a fist to the side of his face. Bruce sprang up as the Joker danced away from him pain webbing through his jaw. The madman gripped the phone between his hands attempting to break it, but Bruce only bought the best and it wasn't going to cave any time soon. He quickly covered the distance between them while the madman snarled down at the device, cursing it under his breath. The playboy slapped it out of the maniac's hands, letting it fall to the floor harmlessly. He grabbed the Joker's wrist instead, twisting it behind the man's back as the maniac spat angrily at him, forcing the man to turn away from him. Nails reached around the madman's thin body to scrape along Bruce's bicep, leaving angry welts behind. Bruce immediately hitched the arm higher forcing the maniac to arch his back or risk dislocating his shoulder. The Joker stopped with a hiss of pain. The playboy moved closer to the man's body, placing his face next to the Joker's pale scarred one, leaning over his shoulder.
"That's enough." He whispered not looking at the man and the Joker growled in response, thrashing a little more despite how useless the action was.
"How about." Bruce stated darkly, unable to stop himself from noticing how clean the male smelled, the usual gunpowder and grease only a phantom scent on his skin.
"You put some pants on. And we can get going." The billionaire suggested, finally turning his head a little to look at the man's face, taking in the way those eyelashes narrowed and the scars twisted into a deeper frown.
"You. Called me. Ugly. And where would we go?" The Joker complained angrily through gritted teeth, entirely unhappy with his current trapped position.
"No. I said you needed to wear real clothes, like real people, who live real lives." Batman hissed back tightening his grip on the man's wrist.
"And I don't know, maybe to feed your skinny ass." The playboy grunted sarcastically, placing a hand on the man's shoulder, which isn't as bony as one would expect. The Joker turned his head towards the billionaire, forcing Bruce to inch back a little.
"How abou – ." The doorbell rang just as the Joker started to reply and they both fell silent for a few seconds, almost as if they had forgotten that the world still existed outside of the room.
"Put some pants on! Keep the shirt. I don't care." Bruce demanded and shoved the maniac away from him. The Joker stumbled, pulling the collar of the shirt back over his shoulder haughtily. The billionaire walked over to the com system activating the security feed, he switched to the front door again.
"What the fuck." Bruce exhaled slowly, unsure what to feel at that moment. Down on in the front entrance lay a large crooked round smiley face. The billionaire felt the Joker stop beside him to peer over his shoulder, his breath ghosting across the skin of his neck. The madman stood there for a second, both of them looking at the object in silence.
"I think I'll put some pants on now." The Joker whispered with a quiet bland tone as he stared at the com screen.
"What is that?" The billionaire tilted his head towards the madman, stopping before he touched the man.
"That. Oh nothing really." The Joker shrugged falling back from the playboy a few steps, lazily turning his attention towards the closet. Bruce watched him with suspicion as the madman stopped at the doorway to the closet. His vibrant green eyes watched as he lifted his hands up to trail sensually down the wood.
"Just really. Really. Bad news." The maniac leaned against the frame, turning his attention to the playboy.
"If you didn't have me here, that is." The Joker informed him shifting farther into the closet. He placed his forehead against the door frame and gazed back at Bruce with playful green eyes.
"Lucky you." The madman whispered with a little chuckle, letting himself slid from the door frame and into the closet. Lazily turning his back to the billionaire as he picked through the abundance of clothing.
"That's not what I asked." Bruce called to him in frustration, getting the Joker's attention back to the topic.
"Oh riiiiight. That. That? That is a. Bomb. Beauty queen. B. O. M. Boom!" The madman giggled, throwing his arms into the air in exaggeration, dropping whatever article of clothing he had just pulled from the hanger. The white dress shirt riding a little too high for Bruce's comfort. He turned away from the maniac, starring concerned at the joyful present on his front entrance instead.
"It's uh..." The madman muttered distractedly, scoffing at something he found in the closet.
"Part of my. Contingency. Plan." The Joker finally got out, throwing some clothes over his shoulder and doing whatever he could to generally mess up the playboy's closet. Bruce paused mid thought at that revelation, his brows furrowing.
"Contingency... plan?" Bruce asked slowly turning his full attention back to the madman, who didn't even bother looking up from his closet raiding.
"Well there can't be a Gotham. Without Batman and Joker. Right?! So I figured. If you ever died..." The Joker trailed off holding up some pants to his lower region, they were easily too big for him. He threw them over his shoulder as well.
"You'd, what? Blow up the city?!" The billionaire asked incredulously, the fact that the man was half naked and there was a bomb on their doorstep completely forgotten for the moment. Did the maniac really have fucking bombs situated across Gotham?
"You make it seem so dramatic!" The Joker huffed exasperatedly, finally pulling up a pair of dark green sweat pants.
"How is that not dramatic?! You'd blow up Gotham because I got myself killed?!" Bruce questioned his loudly, closing the distance between himself and the closet. The madman glanced at him, rolling his eyes before slipping one leg into the pants.
"Noooo... I'd blow up Gotham. Because someone was. Stupid. Enough. To kill you." The Joker corrected him once his second leg was in the pants, he pulled them up. They were still too big for him.
"I mean, I've told all the big wigs about it, of course." He reached up rearranging his package in the new clothing.
"Why do you think they don't just. Kill. You! When they get their hands on you?" The Joker asked him with raised eyebrows as he tightened and tied the strings around his hips. Silence reigned through the room and Bruce's face twisted adorably in hidden confusion and not to secret anger. The maniac laughed incredulously, a smirk taking over his face.
"You... think they actually... Want! To play hero and villain with you?!" The madman shook his head in disbelief, walking towards the playboy with a smug smile on his face.
"Mobsters... Mobsters! Criminals. They don't play, they shoot! Then ask questions. And clean up the messes they make when they don't ask questions first!" The Joker laughed, stopping in front of the nightly vigilante, who was giving him the most lost look he had ever seen on the Bat. Bruce wanted to laugh right back at the Joker, but he couldn't. He had wondered so many times why they didn't, hadn't, just shot him in the face when they got the chance, had taken him by surprise. Instead pitting him against a ridiculously large group of men, or something equally as absurd. Traps or collapsing buildings, cells, or restraints.
"Oh come on. Don't look so lost!" The Joker giggled, grabbing the man's angular jaw between his fingers and giving his head a little shake.
"Don't actually tell me you thought they, like, respected you? Or something." He let his hand fall back to his side when the larger male's jaw muscle bulged in irritation but his eyes remained stone.
"Oh Batsy Baby." The Joker whispered looking down, gently straightening the hem of the man's shirt.
"Respect isn't earned by beat people up, or by trampling well thought out plans." He snapped his startling green eyes back up to meet cold steel blue ones, those mad eyes taking a darker tone.
"It's earned." The Joker whispered stepping closer to Bruce, keeping their eyes locked.
"By fear. I mean. People are scared of you. Sure! Like they fear the bogeyman under their beds!" The madman gasped sarcastically, "What if Bats gets wind of this and messes everything up?! But they aren't afraid of you. Not like they fear the creepy rapist murderer down the street. Or the war that grows ever closer to their homes. Like they fear. The rampaging fire, or the tornado crashing it's way through their lives. Destroying." The Joker hissed through gritted teeth, his ever present grin absent, until the bitter smile tugged at his scars accompanied by an equally bitter laugh.
"Hell! They still run up! And try to beat. The shit. Out of you." The Joker laughed, tapping Bruce's chest with a decisive finger, "because they'll live to see another day!" The Joker cackled and licked his lips, tilting his head and running his eyes over Bruce's well formed body, before meeting his eyes again.
"I don't have to worry about that." The Joker whispered, placing his hands against the man's chest, slowly running them up, ignoring how the shirt bunched at the action.
"People run. From the room. When I walk in! They cower in corners and wet themselves. Because they won't. See. Another. Day." The Joker gritted out, his hands running over his shoulders and up the curve of his neck. He leaned forward, his lips barely caressing the playboy's ear. Bruce wanted to shove the man away, but he was busy questioning whether the madman was the reason he wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere ages ago, a time when he was less experienced, just starting out as Batman, his legacy just seeping into the minds of his enemies. He had made mistakes back then, but the Joker had been around for awhile, and so had he. Both of them infamously known.
"So you're welcome." The Joker whispered, his lips brushing Bruce's ear, "Peter. Pan. You can keep flying around with your. Tinkerbell. While I keep the real dangers out of Wonderland." The Joker licked his lips, pressing them against the delicious skin just beneath the man's earlobe.
"Just. For. You." He exhaled against the skin. Then his head was roughly pulled back by the hair, a hiss of pain leaving his lips. Bruce pulled the man's head back until their eyes met. Bruce's anger flaring instantly at the mention of Robin.
"Until you killed Tinkerbell." The playboy growled back at him. His grip tightening enough to pull hair out of the maniac's head. The Joker's hands slipped from Bruce's neck to grab roughly at his hips.
"Ooooh! That was cute! Say it again." The Joker exhaled, pulling Bruce's hips into his own, rubbing their barely clothed cocks against each other, sucking in a breath of pleasure at the end of his sentence as they met.
"Fuck you." Bruce snarled violently, shoving the man away from him and onto the clothes covered floor. The Joker sighed dramatically, throwing his head back in disappointment. With an indignant huff of irritation he picked up a random piece of clothing and threw it at the man.
"That kid was bad for you, and you know it!" The madman snapped back, the pair of pants falling uselessly to the floor. Bruce's fist slammed into the door frame as he took a menacing step forward.
"Your existence is bad for me." He hissed down at the maniac. Anger fueled by confusion coursing through his veins.
"You don't save anyone. You selfish bastard. You just play around like you're a puppet master and think we actually have strings!" Bruce yelled at him in frustration with another punch to the door frame. The madman's eyes narrowed.
"Most people do." The Joker whispered darkly back at him from his place on the floor. The billionaire scoffed, nodding his head sardonically a bitter smile cutting across his handsome features.
"And when they don't play along, you just cut them down. Like the puppets you think they are. I'd rather be the bogeyman in their closet then the killer down the street. Fairy tales don't ruin lives." Bruce scowled down at the madman, who suddenly scowled back. The Joker quickly scrambled to his feet, anger twisting his scarred features. He was quickly back in Bruce's personal bubble before the man could even think about stepping away from him. The Joker had one hand around his thick neck, applying only enough pressure to prove to the playboy that he was still a threat.
"If you think for a second!" The Joker hissed, giving the man a single shake, "what you do doesn't ruin someone's life you're sadly, pathetically, mistaken." The Joker snarled giving him a shake for each ending word, getting as close to Bruce's face as he could without touching it.
"What do you think happens, to those men. That. Fail! Huh? The ones that fail to take you in?! What do you think happens to their families?! Their children?! You think the Penguin or Black Mask just let them come back to work the next day?! No questions asked, no slap on the wrist?! You. Live! In a fairy tale!" The Joker screamed at him, his grip tightening against his throat. Bruce's hand snapped up to hold his wrist, ready to start an all out brawl if he needed to restrain the man.
"And one day." The Joker took in a shaky breath, "You'll notice that. And you'll wonder what to do." The Joker whispered, his hand slipping off his neck, over his collarbone and down his chest.
"Because the world doesn't work the way you want it to, Bruce... You. Just. Breathing." The madman's fingers curled into his shirt on his abdomen, tugging him down a little.
"Right now. Is hurting someone. One day. You'll understand that." The Joker exhaled his eyes softening, and Bruce gradually shook his head in pity. His hand still on the madman's wrist but not pulling him away from the grip he had on his shirt.
"I'll never see the world the way you do, the way you want me to... Think, I can." Bruce replied just as quietly and the maniac shook his head right back, with a sad smile, his palm flattening out gently across his stomach.
"You already do. You just won't admit it." The Joker whispered, his breath ghosting across the billionaire's lips.
"No." Bruce whispered back, almost stubbornly, and the Joker huffed in disappointment, pulling away from the man, straightening up the playboy's shirt again.
"We don't have time for this, Bats. That bomb doesn't have the highest count down." The Joker insisted, stalking past the man's broad body, slamming into the billionaire's side as he went.
"I'll take care of it." Bruce stated, slapping a hand against the madman's chest to stop him from getting too far. Which caused The Joker to hiss in pain, and the playboy to instantaneously jerk away from him. The Joker rubbed his bullet wound, turning his gaze back to the billionaire.
"No you won't. That bomb was designed to never be shut down in time. Not even by your pretty little head. It's a mess of complicated mathematics, and a ridiculous technical jumble of useless cables and faulty wires all, intricately, designed to create a large series of chambers that need to line up in exactly the right way. Which, by the way, also has several possible, but wrong, solutions. Which make it go Boom!" The Joker rambled off, ending with a tight smile at the playboy, patting him on the shoulder.
"You can take the back seat on this one, buddy." The madman insisted moving towards the door again and this time Bruce let him, simply following behind. He'd check this bomb out first, make sure the Joker wouldn't blow them up just for kicks.
"What does that mean?" Bruce asked, hoping that maybe he could get a better understanding of the thing before he saw it.
"It means! It's the reason. No one. Has tried to kill you. Outside of the parameters I set for them as an acceptable attempt. I mean, what fun would it be if they didn't try right?" The Joker asked, glancing back at the man, as he turned the wrong direction.
"If I have to say, what does that mean, one more time. I'm going to punch you." Bruce stated dryly, snatching the Joker's hand he tugged him back, flipped him around, and shoved him towards in the proper direction. The madman looked confused for a split second, before he shrugged and continued on like nothing had happened.
"It means, I let them have some fun! It also means the bomb isn't a smash and de-encrypt like the ones you normally come up against. I mean, come on. You think I'd keep using those when they are so easily disengaged?! This one and the ones like it would take Riddler at least an hour or two to solve, in which case. BOOM!" The Joker giggled, "I just laugh! At the idea of someone attempting really. And if they get it?! Well bully for them! There are twenty more where that came from! And oh. So. Little time!" The Joker laughed, pressing the button for the elevator a little too joyfully, and a few times too many.
"You have twenty of those things?" Bruce asked the doors opening immediately, since there was no one in the house to call it away.
"That I've told you about? Yeah! You know... You could just, I don't know, make sure you never. Die! And then no one has to worry about it, right?" The Joker suggested walking into the little room to lean nonchalantly against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles.
"That's not the point. What if someone uses them. Like. Now." Bruce growled out, jamming the ground level button a little too violently.
"Well... only me and Harley can arm them. So. Really. I wouldn't worry too much." The Joker muttered with a shrug and was graced with a pointed glare from the other male. The Joker shifted a little his eyes falling to the ground, a frown pulling at his scars.
"Apparently that fucking... Wannabe. Convinced Harley to set it up." The madman huffed dangerously, glowering into space. The playboy raised a questioning brow.
"I'm not going to say it." Bruce stated after a few moments of silence. The Joker simply looked up at him innocently and the playboy narrowed his eyes. The silence continued until the door pinged open. The Joker moved to exit the room but Bruce slammed a powerful foot against the door frame before he could leave. Effectively stopping his exit.
"Alright, alright. Jesus, you're so violent. I love it." The Joker giggled, shoving playfully at the man's calf. Bruce, scowled but dropped the leg, letting the man exit the elevator.
"Harley... Harley was the one that shot me." The madman admitted, walking casually down the hallway.
"Harley? Really?" Bruce asked in disbelief, keeping up with the man instead of trailing behind.
"Apparently her new Puddin' is a better man than I am. Which is funny." The Joker giggled, turning a corner, Bruce's hand immediately snatched him back after a few steps down the new hall.
"Watch the windows. We should check the security room, make sure no one is out there." The billionaire stated, peering down the hall.
"We're dead either way!" The Joker laughed pulling out of his grip and waltzing back out into the view of the window. Bruce let him walk another step, the fearful feeling gathering in his gut, before he surrendered to the instinct, retching the madman back. The world went in slow motion. The black blur passing centimeters by the Joker's face. The glass breaking into thousands of pieces, the shattering sound blasting through the hall. The maniac fell back into Bruce who wrapped his arm around his waist hauling him away from the cascading shards. The playboy pulled him close twisting his body to shelter him from the remaining glass. Bruce hissed in pain as several shards sliced into his back, the rest pattering to the floor.
"I... You didn't..." The Joker stuttered as Bruce moved them away from the window, into the safety of the darkened hall. The playboy had barely let the madman go when the Joker immediately slipped around him.
"I need to get to the security room." Bruce muttered trying to push down the sudden stinging. He hissed in pain as the madman peeled his shirt away from his back. The Joker shook his head, taking in the damage.
"I need to get to that bomb. We've wasted time. We don't have tick tocks for them to corral us around the house like sheep!" The Joker growled darkly, pulling out glass as gently as possible from Bruce's back. The billionaire moved out of his reach yanking his shirt back down.
"We don't have time for that either." The billionaire insisted, he leveled his gaze on the Joker. Wondering if he could trust him. He could get out of the house if he needed, but he'd rather not lose the mansion a second time. But if what the Joker said was true then it wasn't possible to save it by himself regardless. He didn't see much choice.
"I'll go to the security room and get rid of them. You get to the front door. Safely. When I give you the go ahead, get the bomb into the house. There's a room in the middle that should be secure enough to give up time to disarm it. We can hold out there while you get it done. If they get inside it would take them too long to reach us in time to stop you from disarming it. But... Promise me you can do this. Promise me you can disarm the bomb. Listen, we can get out... We can leave. Right now. Forget the mansion." Bruce stated grabbing onto the Joker's arm, staring into his startled eyes. The Joker slowly shook his head.
"No. I can disarm it. I've never lied to you. Not really. You know that. I can disarm it." The Joker insisted, all insanity absent from his ever mad eyes.
"There's no, I can disarm it but, in that sentence that you're leaving off?" Bruce questioned distrustfully.
"No. I promise you I can disarm it. I just need time. Time we're wasting." The Joker hissed, concern creeping into his eyes. Bruce shook his head, his eyes falling to the floor.
"What if they waited? What if we don't have as much time as we think?" Bruce asked suddenly, entirely unsure splitting up would work, if he even wanted to take the chance. The Joker shook his head soothingly.
"I can set it back. I just need to get to it." The madman promised, and the billionaire slowly nodded, glancing back at the shattered glass.
"Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes." Bruce finally decided, rushing off farther into the house, while the Joker crouched to the ground, making his way past the windows unseen.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Reviews really do make my day. I got one on Christmas that was like Best Christmas present! And I was like YES! Deck the FUCKING HALLS!