•Agents of Chaos•
•(When Gods Drink to Devils)•
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
More Joki! Yes, I ship it... Don't act like you don't. ;D
Scrapped the script format, for this one and went with a more traditional writing style! XD
So, anyway, a drunk Loki - because he's, most likely depressed - and an emotionally conflicted Joker. What's not to love? ;D
Just fluffy stuff... with the odd innuendo, here and there. ;D
Hope you like, sweetums! XD
•When Gods Drink to Devils•
It had been approximately a year - an extremely eventful one, at that - since the deity met the devil.
The two souls seemed to morph into a single "unstoppable force" - as the clown deemed it - and had been near inseparable since their escape from Blackgate Prison; their relationship representing that of a rather dysfunctional Gemini.
It pleased the Joker, immensely, to know that he'd actually succeeded in verbally seducing a God; needless to say, this matter severely inflated his already-abundant ego. He'd honestly managed to "out-silver-tongue" the alleged silver-tongue! Now that, my friend, is irony. The Joker - of course - was an avid supporter of irony or any brand of humour, for that matter.
Slap-stick, however, was his personal favourite.
Upon reflection, he concluded there were a significant number of reasons why he chose Loki: they both had an acquired taste of attire, same cynical outlook regarding society's fabricated morals of self-righteousness, both of 'em had Daddy issues and - let's be honest about the God of Lies, here - he was kinda cute.
Initially, he had enjoyed the complex dynamic of their... relationship? What would you even call it?
The Joker, quite seriously - and he wasn't often one to be serious - had no idea.
Anyway, now things had... shifted, somewhat.
In the beginning, the Joker would consider Loki a source of amusement: taking delight in pressing him with painful questions, watching a God - for God's sake - squirm and writhe when the Joker's jibes touched a nerve. The clown took relentless pleasure in, casually, chiselling away at the God of Lies' frozen facade. He merely wanted to provoke him, get in his head; the guy's mind was a maelstrom of intimate demons waiting to be exploited. I mean, when a murderous clown is faced with Pandora's box, what does he wanna do?
Well, open it, obviously.
However, things had changed; the initial tension between them - the treading on egg-shells, the Joker seemed to thrive upon - had died, somewhat. Loki hadn't proved to be as easy a nut to crack, as he'd originally thought; yes, the Joker's "advances" - whatever their intentions - clearly made the God uncomfortable but he hadn't submitted to the total-crack-up-crazy-break-stuff-phase, yet.
Joker didn't like that: not... one... bit.
On the contrary, Loki had responded in a very unexpected manner: he seemed to become more attentive and... 'fluffy' towards the clown. It was plain weird. It wasn't that the Joker opposed a... physical relationship - as a matter of fact, he practically enforced it - but he was hardly a romantic.
Unfortunately, Loki was.
Loki seemed to have... domesticated him, completely demolishing all hopes of the partners-in-destructive-crime-ideal. After much contemplation, the Joker believed all the "lovey-dovey-bullshit" started when he'd returned home - after a hard day's pillaging, punching and poisoning - to find Loki had made tea and crumpets; how bloody British. The situation had transpired something like:
JOKER: Jesus, if I'd known I'd married Jeeves, I would've bought a better suit.
LOKI: You are not funny, clown. Despite your delusions toward such matters, you are not funny.
JOKER: Nice to see you, too, pumpkin pie!
LOKI: I have prepared supper, now - please - sit.
JOKER: Yes, m'am. Where's your apron, by the way?
LOKI: Would it, honestly, kill you to cease your utter dismissiveness and say, 'thank you'? Just this once?
JOKER: Hahahahaha! Sorry, Mother! I'm not even fucking hungry! Did you consider that, Cinderella? Did you? I doubt it.
LOKI: No... I didn't. I am sorry. In that case, I shall clear up and retire to bed, now. Goodnight, Mister Joker.
JOKER: Master Joker, to you. Hehehe. And aren't ya gonna eat your culinary masterpiece?
LOKI: I, also, have no appetite, at present. I made them for you, as you have been active, all day.
JOKER: Oh.
Ugh. The clown shuddered away the rancid memory. Jeez, it was like living with another Harley! (Though, thankfully, Loki was way more intelligent... and attractive.) I mean, he'd even felt... guilt. That puppy-eyed son of a bitch. The clown's companion - now, roommate - was not supposed to tame him - the King of Chaos - and mother him; smother him, more like. It was sickening and very, very frustrating.
The Joker entered their derelict apartment to find none-other-than Loki Laufeyson prostrated, lazily, across the moth-eaten couch... which was - to the Joker's unconcealed surprise - surrounded by numerous bottles of Jack Daniels'... and all of them were empty.
Loki moaned groggily into the cushions but - after processing the Joker's return - sprang upward, caught in incandescent excitement; his jade-green eyes, blazing with adoration. He catapulted from the couch, in an attempt to approach the clown... however, he promptly stumbled into the coffee table. Collecting himself, with wounded pride, he then neared the astounded Joker with a gait that wavered with drink. He stopped - inches from the clown's face (which was currently a mask of disbelief) - and gave a sultry smile:
"Darling, you've come back for meeee!"
He slurred the words like an intoxicated serenade, as he flung his arms dramatically around the Joker's neck. He then flopped his dazed head upon the Joker's boney shoulder, inhaling his murky scent of gasoline and gunpowder.
'Oh, God', the Clown worried, internally, 'I did not sign up for this.'
Loki did not notice the man's silence, as he continued:
"I thought you wouldn't..." - he gave a high-pitched hiccup - "...ever, ever, ever come back."
He forced his leaden head from the man's shoulder and regarded his mask of decay with glazed eyes. He brought a slender hand, in front of the clown's face and started to ghost his deft fingers over the ragged scars.
The Joker suppressed a flinch, and continued to watch the drunk God - he still couldn't believe that Loki, of all people, was shit-faced - with complete fascination... and, perhaps, a tad of fear. He didn't like people touching his scars and he didn't like drinkers, either.
"I think they're pretty." Loki stated matter-of-factly but could not appear serious when so, obviously drunk.
The Joker gave in, slightly and smirked; the scars had been referred to as many things... but never 'pretty'. However, he gave a sarcastic response:
"Really? You find my "potentially self-inflicted mutilations"... 'pretty', pumpkin?"
Loki let slip an impish giggle, entirely akin to that of a flirtatious school-girl. He raised his index finger to the clown's powered face:
"Yes - I - do!"
He punctuated each word with a clumsy 'tap' to the Joker's nose. The Joker was... speechless; a rare event for a man of his kind. He'd never thought Mr. Butthurt of the Bookworms could be so... tactile or such a light-weight, either. It unnerved the clown, most certainly.
However, that was not to be the extent of his worries.
"Did you know..." - the God suddenly spat with exaggerated bitterness; he swayed like a mast in a storm, unable to truly balance himself - "...I hate alcohol? Had to drink it..." - he flung his lanky arms outward, dramatically - "...all the time back h-home." He gave a small wretch, as he finished his lament.
The Joker gave an ironic snort:
"Could've fooled me."
"I was being sincere!" He protested with childish annoyance, irritated at the clown was not taking him seriously, for some reason. He, then, switched his mood - again - to that of solemn mournfulness, eyes swimming with inebriated sadness:
"My brother once said I was...", he interrupted himself, as he swallowed audibly and gave a loud sniff, "...I was 'incapable of sincerity'. I can be honest, can't I? Tell me I can."
He turned to the clown, with child-like questioning carved into his features and - to the Joker's horror - his alabaster countenance wore traces of liquid that wasn't alcohol.
'Oh, God. No. No, no, no, no, no.'
The most feared super-villain in Gotham City took a sharp step back - clumsily colliding with the door, behind him - from the withered, frail form of Loki Laufeyson. Why?
"Uh... I don't do tears, honey-pie. I just— I don't— Nothing personal but what I mean is—"
The clown all-but-clawed for the door handle, as the trembling of Loki's bottom lip became ever-more-apparent. Loki's gaze was fixated on something only he could appear to visualise, eyes swimming with fresh, hot tears.
Suddenly, his head snapped up when he heard the 'click' of the door. If looks could kill... we could all say, "farewell" to the Clown Prince of Crime. Loki glared, murderously at the clown - who currently depicted the definition of, 'rabbit in the headlights' - but Loki merely sighed and fell into a heavy state of melancholy:
"Just go."
Silence.
Suddenly, there was a regurgitation of rage - words infused with pathetic, tearful breathes - as Loki found his voice (which was still slurred with drink):
"Go, clown! Leave! Leave like they always do: my father left me at infancy, Odin left me to rot in the void, my brother left me to rot in a cell and my mother—"
He froze, stunned by the painful collision his own words brought upon him. He started to shake, his scrawny form consumed with shudders. The Joker swore he could hear the guy's bones rattling.
"My mother..."
The Joker stepped away from the door, finally approaching the wreck of God. He couldn't leave the poor bastard, now... not when he knew what was coming.
And, sure enough, Loki started to cry; ugly, heaving sobs which seemed to tear his throat, mercilessly. He wept like a child, as he descended into hysteria:
"I want my mother..." - he howled like a wolf may at the moon - "...I want my m-m-mother."
The Joker dared to draw nearer to the tear-stained face, the situation seemed to familiar to him to disregard. He missed his mother, too... despite the fact he hadn't the faintest idea who she was, anymore. God, what he'd give to, at least, know her name.
Funny what the heart wants, isn't it?
He pulled Loki into a tight and sufficiently awkward embrace... What? He wasn't good with hugs, OK? Subconsciously maintaining his rigid stance, he attempt to console his companion.
"Mama. Mama. I want, mama."
The Joker couldn't conceal a giggle; it appeared Loki was immersed within a childhood memory, as he drowned in his own tears. Wow, he was wasted.
"S,o that's who you are, then." Murmured the Joker, as a form of confirmation, to himself. "You're just a little kid cryin' for his Mommy, aren't ya?"
However, Loki had clearly heard him, for he nodded his head against the Joker's garish shirt.
"C'mon, buddy." The clown sighed; he found being nice hideously tedious. He just wanted peace, now; time to think, time to plan. He needed to get Loki to sleep, somehow. He prayed to the God's that this one, in particular would conk out, soon. In a vain attempt to get the God to sleep, the clown led him to the couch.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
That's all folks! XD
Next part coming soon!