When Bruce awoke in the morning, it was to momentary madness, confusion, and an odd elation he didn't care to put a name to. There was a slender pair of arms wrapped about him, fingers toying sleepily with his hair. The sound of calm, steady breathing filled the room, and for just a moment, Bruce allowed himself to forget the events of the previous night and just savor the feeling of holding and being held. How long had it been since he'd slept with someone, not sex, but truly slept with someone? Years. Perhaps the last time was even when he was a child, crawling into his parents' bed out of fear of the dark.

It wasn't that he didn't have people in his bed, he did, with an alarming frequency. Yet, he never allowed them to stay. There were no arms holding tight, no fingers in his hair, or long legs entwined with his own. Only an empty bed and a coldness in his chest he preferred to pretend wasn't there.

Reality came crashing in all too soon. There was no real intimacy in this hold after all- it was his arch nemesis in his arms, in his bed, and he was doing this all for Gotham. She was his true love, the only constant he had. This quiet peacefulness the morning held was only a ruse, another way he showed his love for her.

Gently, so as not to startle the man in his arms, Bruce forced his fingers to run through those jade curls that had taunted him so many nights, letting his fingers glide down to the criminal's cheeks, caressing with a tenderness he had worked hard to perfect. "Jack…" He murmured softly, arms tightening around the clown and easing him closer, willing away the surge of nausea that rose up in his stomach. "Jack, honey, it's morning."

A sleepy groan was the reply, a dazed and tired joker looking at him through his lashes, one hand lifting to rub at tired eyes. "Too early…" He mumbled, hand moving from his eyes to the mop of curls atop his head. "Mnnn.. Morning Brucey-babe." The clown leaned up, brushing their lips together lightly, his voice husky with his exhaustion, yet somehow satin all the same. He felt the billionaire stiffen in surprise under him for only a moment before relaxing under him, pressing back lightly into the kiss. Joker couldn't say he truly blamed the man- he imagined his scars were a feeling that needed some time to get used to, and in his sleepy state he was willing to allot that time.

Never had Bruce imagined himself kissing the Joker. Not even in his worst nightmares, and yet here he was, moving his lips slowly against the others. The clown's lips were surprisingly soft. Finally he pulled away, praying in his heart of hearts that the city knew what he sacrificed for her. "Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up. Bath and then, if you'd care, I'll take you into the city for lunch. How does that sound?" He offered, taking momentary solace in how well the criminal was behaving, even if it was somewhat unsettling. Perhaps this truly would work! "Just remember our rule."

"No killing." Joker replied obediently, sitting up with a groan and nodding. "I know, I know. I'll behave myself, cupcake. Just for you." He was surprised to find that he actually meant it too. An odd feeling had settled in the criminals stomach, even as he stretched out atop the other and yawned once more, savouring for one more second the feel of a body against his own. It wasn't his Batsy, but he could almost imagine that this was what his beloved vigilante was like under that mask of his.

Batman.

The thought was a sobering reminder of why he was doing this. Of why he did anything really. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to make the Caped Crusader see, the other was blind to his feelings. And while he adored playing their games, he'd gladly give it all up if his beloved vigilante would just notice his feelings. At least he had the Wayne boy for now. This was his last ditch effort to catch Batman's eye.

And he supposed he could certainly do worse than having a billionaire at his beckon call. Not that he didn't know the dark haired man was only doing this to protect himself and his family. It didn't matter. That tender affection, especially from someone who so likely despised him, made him feel a warmth he'd forgotten he knew. Ah, what a breath of fresh air something other than violence was!

With one last groan, Joker forced himself to his feet, fingers tugging idly at wild curls. "Alright, I'm up. Admittedly, a bath sounds pretty nice." A wicked little smile tugged at his lips, as he walked his fingers up Bruce's thighs slowly, eyes still half lidded and tired. "You going to bathe me, cupcake?"

It had taken some work, but forty minutes and one bath later, Bruce found himself staring in stunned silence. The makeup the clown so often wore had been delicately washed off by his own hands, leaving the man looking younger and far less intimidating. He'd even sat still long enough to let Bruce gingerly brush his knotted curls, jade locks back in a loose ponytail at the back of his head. It'd been a little harder for Bruce to find him a suit that would fit, but Alfred easily found one that was far too small for the heir himself.

The result was… Surprising to say the least. "You look…" Bruce trailed off as though in a daze, the only word coming to his mind was a quiet 'breathtaking', but he didn't dare say it aloud, pushing the thought from his mind. Coughing once, he cleared his throat, offering a hand. "Ready to go, princess?"

He'd never seen the joker look so human before. It was unnerving to say the least. How long had Bruce tried to separate himself from that thought, to keep the Joker no less than a monster in his head? Things were less complicated that way. Once more, he pushed those thoughts from his mind as the clown placed a delicate hand within his own. Right now, he had a job to do. His fingers curled around the other's lightly, giving a small squeeze before leading him to where Alfred and the car were waiting for them.

Alfred wore an expression of disapproval, but said nothing- he only hoped his young master knew what he was doing. Sometimes, however, he found himself angry with the whole situation. This was the boy he had raised since childhood. He wanted nothing but the best for him, and yet time and time again Bruce came back bloody and beaten, giving up everything for a city who could care less if he lived or died. It wasn't right! And this was just one more example of that. Even still, he tried to remain supportive.

"And where am I taking you and your… Guest, Master Wayne?"

Bruce quickly gave the directions to one of the nicer restaurants in town, before turning back to his date. "I thought perhaps after dinner we could go for a walk on the boardwalk… If you'd like, that is."

The dark haired man helped his new lover out of the car, ignoring the gasps and stares as he walked into the restaurant, still firmly holding his hand. He wanted to be sick. The name his father had worked so hard to build, the one Bruce had worked so hard to protect… His reputation was dirt now. Everyone would believe that he had been in cahoots with the joker all along. He didn't so much care what the press would say about his sexuality, he'd never much favoured one sex over the other. All he could do now was pray that the man at his side behaved himself and kept their agreement.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that the Joker seemed to be on even more than his best behaviour. He was incredibly polite, even to the waiter who stared at him in a mixture of shock and disgust. He didn't threaten the women who whispered in fear. No, instead, he simply focused all of his attention on Bruce, offering a smile that the billionaire almost found himself calling charming. He supposed, in this setting, he could understand why Harley had become so entranced with the man. The clown had a certain charisma that he certainly couldn't deny.

It was something he'd never gotten a glimpse of before. And how could he? Their fights were short- the Joker would run, he would chase, and it would be over usually in ten minutes. Not to mention he saw him at his worst, when people were in danger. It was hard to think of the Joker just being a man, one with interests, charisma, personality. One with a past.

And yet here they were.

And as Bruce listened to "Jack" tell stories and make light hearted jokes…

… He found a smile tugging at his lips.