A/N: This ended up being… ridiculously romantic and cute, haha. I'm not sure how that happened. But I hope you like it all the same! Remember that reviews are always appreciated n.n
It's almost funny how things went down after that. The Master of Fear was no more than a small human bundle now, left to cower in the corner of the rough cold room that was his temporary holding cell, while he waited for his special sentence to be delivered by the officers of the city he terrorized just a couple days ago. No more space in his tormented mind for grandiloquent speeches or elaborated schemes, no, he was too tired for that sort of thing. Too defeated. He would recover of course, eventually. Every single member of the Rogues Gallery always did. But not right now.
It took many painstakingly long hours for the toxin coursing through his veins to get out of his system completely and for the living nightmares it brought with it to finally subside, and even then he wasn't left unscathed. Blurry visions of a shadowy figure stalking him made their way to the corner of his eyes every now and then, with a start, betraying the fact that the Demon Bat was still haunting him. And with the man behind the cowl's presumed death, who could say for sure it wasn't him in a new supernatural form, transcending the physical boundaries of existence in order to keep up with his self imposed mission to bring down crime in Gotham? God knew if he was still out there. Somehow.
Those were the things occupying his mind when the rusty lock to his cell clinked from the outside and pulled him out of his reverie, a few agitated voices could be heard too. No one ever came to see him during the past days, he had been completely isolated with the only exception being the food delivered to him three times a day without a single word emitted from the deliverer. So let's just say he was more than surprised when the heavy door opened and revealed a couple of policemen escorting a small man with huge teeth and a very high top hat. He was relentlessly complaining about something.
"Since when is protocol in this city to assault a gentleman simply taking a stroll? And what's worse, to throw him in jail right afterwards without an arguably reason!" The Mad Hatter objected once and again in his nasal attempt at an English accent, his high pitched voice didn't make things any better.
"Get in there, you freak. Thought we'd forgive and forget about your crimes just because you were let out of Arkham City? The people you cut into pieces after dressing them up?!" One of the officers said, in a spiteful voice, as he removed the Hatter's cuffs and proceeded to roughly shove him into the cell.
"That was completely unintentional. I told them to hold very still! It's not my fault they couldn't follow simple orders… Even after all the trouble I went through to make their hair look pretty." He shrugged a little, looking even a bit sullen as he did so. It was difficult to tell if he was actually being honest since his body language, voice, and facial expression said a whole lot of different things altogether. But his toothy smile and cheerful eyes gave him away nonetheless.
"A mistake you won't have the chance of making again, I assure you." The other officer said as he locked the cell back again. "Have fun you two." They were both gone a few moments later.
"This classifies as 'police brutality' for sure. Don't you think so, my spooky friend?"
The Mad Hatter turned on his heel as if he was dancing and wasted no time in approaching Scarecrow, an excited little hop adorning his stride as he went for the corner and kneeled right in front of the curled up rogue.
Jonathan turned his face towards the wall a little, blocking the hatter from his field of vision. He was in no mood for his friend's antics regardless how entertaining they proved to be sometimes.
"Don't call me that. What are you doing here, Tetch? I thought you were away since Arkham's massive break out, off to Keystone or something like that..."
"Tetch? Aww, that's so cold of you, Scarybird."
The alluded man's head whipped forward in an instant to shoot a glare, he was already becoming irritated. And Tetch only giggled behind his hands.
"Heh heh heh, relax! I was just passing by… To verify the veracity of a certain gossip that made its way into my ears."
"And what could that exactly be?"
Scarecrow's voice broke at the end of his sentence when his fellow villain went to hold his face suddenly. He couldn't back off even if he tried, he was literally against the wall already.
"I wanted to see your face." Tetch's voice turned a bit dreamy as he examined the other's face. Or what was left of it. Carefully grasping the edges of the bag-mask with curious hands, his deft fingers caressing the fabric with parsimony, trying to assimilate the idea that said mask could no longer be removed.
Johnny, on the other hand, was as still and frigid as a corpse. He was paralyzed under the smaller man's touch, even holding his breath for good measure. It seemed not even all his genius could do anything for him in that moment. What was so interesting about his face to come all the way back to Gotham? It was evident his friend was every bit as eccentric as the last time he saw him.
After a few mysteriously long seconds, he finally managed to speak his thoughts.
"What are you doing, Jervis?" He asked slowly, his voice sounding thick and strained, as if making its way through his throat was a very demanding task. Something about all this was fishy, and he was having one hell of a time in deciphering what it was. He felt unnaturally on edge too.
"Well, it's different. But I dare say it suits you." The hatter answered distractedly, seemingly unaware of the question directed at him. "Not nearly as hideous as Eddie made it sound, he said—"
Oh, Edward Nygma, the most effective source of gossip in its most obnoxious form for anyone with ties in the underworld who cared to listen. He supposed it was hardly unexpected.
"—but then again, it's not like I'm insinuating it's not scary. Of course it's scary! It's actually a bit gruesome too. Disgusting isn't too far either, but then again, hideous is probably more appropriate of a word even when it's not that hideous. Which is probably the whole point—"
Scarecrow shut him up by putting a hand flat in his face and pushing him away. He was ranting again, and that meant there was no point in listening, plus recovering the ownership of his personal space. Which was a dire need out of a sudden.
"If you don't like what you see, look anywhere else." He got annoyed with himself the second the words left his mouth. The remnants of the fear toxin must have messed him up more than he had thought, because every single emotion stabbing him felt incredibly out of character. It had been eons since he had felt self conscious about the way he looked, or about anything in general. But here he was all the same, asking his long time friend to look away from his face if it resulted unappealing to him, getting tangled with words, unable to shake off the sinking feeling of dejectedness in his chest, and worst of all: feeling exposed, vulnerable, open, for it. It was the closest to feeling like a gaping wound that he'd got in a long time. And it unnerved him.
"I never said I didn't like it." The Hatter managed. Even if his voice sounded a bit muffled under the other's hand. He finally held his own hand up to remove the one that was silencing him. "I just said it's hideous. Which, in this case, is a mere observation and therefore is completely unrelated to me liking it or not. I even said it suited you!"
'Standard Jervis logic.'
Scarecrow sighed and, feeling defeated, went for the corner again, trying to fit as much of his person as possible into it. That's when the hatter made up his mind and decidedly climbed the other's lap, without giving him a single moment to retaliate. He plopped down gracelessly and grabbed Scarecrow by the shoulders.
"Jon, you may not be as delicate as Alice, no one is actually. And I make them suffer for it. But when it comes to you, I… I don't mind it as much. That you're so different from her, I mean." He paused for a moment and got a contemplative look on his face, as if he was gathering his thoughts or bracing himself for some sort of big revelation.
"If it's you I could still call it perfect."
That was it. The cards had been laid out on the table. And instead of waiting for the perfectly perplexed man to calculate every single implication of the hatter's words, he chose to go with his gut and lean in for a taste of the exotic blend that his friend's mouth surely was.
The whole ordeal became very difficult to follow for Crane's foggy mind, but when Tetch's sugary flavor exploded in his mouth he snapped to attention in no time. He gave in to the enjoyment of his senses as Jervis straddled him, putting just enough weight on his lap to be both reassuring and comfortable. The readjustment of his hands around the other's slim waist came out as a natural move, which convinced the Master of Fear into allowing himself to just live the experience.
Seeing the positive reaction his boldness bought him, Jervis let go of Scarecrow's shoulders and went for his face with a soft but insistent hold. At the same time, he struggled to get as close as possible, pushing himself forward with the help of his legs until their bodies were flushed together in the very corner of the cell. Nonetheless, the Hatter's eagerness was starting to show through in an even more evident way. His hips jerked randomly every now and then, unconsciously at first, but soon enough they were fully intending to seduce the uptight doctor into action.
That's when Jonathan Crane opened the eyes he didn't realize he had closed and grabbed the Hatter by the hips, holding him in place, and calling for his attention.
"Jervis, I'll ask again. What are you doing?"
"Nothing! I just… Maybe I liked your new face more than I had initially thought." He said with a goofy grin, not regretting anything in the least.
"I don't think you want to do this here…"
"Let's go somewhere else then."
Scarecrow merely lifted a brow at his partner's seemingly unfounded resolution, that until the top hat was removed, revealing a curious looking pocket watch.
"Gotham's finest will never truly learn, heh heh. They wouldn't even know where to look for their cuffs if the Batman wasn't there to point it out for them during all these years!" He inched closer to whisper conspiringly in his friend's face. "And from what I gathered… He can't do it anymore."
"What is that, Jervis?" Crane asked, not wanting to delve any further into the Batman subject right now.
"Oh, this? Just a time bomb."
Well, would you look at that.
"And since I imagined those rude 'law enforcement officials' would take the time to strip me from my tea traveling provision well… I had to take the time too and leave them a present: a frabjously dizzying, super strong, meticulously picked, customized blend! All they need to do is take a sniff!" The girlish stream of giggles that followed reminded the doctor why he had so much patience with the likes of Jervis Tetch. He could be adorable on occasion.
"So I can assume your real objective was to break me out of here?"
The giggling ceased.
"That, and I really wanted to see you, Jon. Things are not the same without my spookiest of friends."
The usually impassive doctor couldn't help the small smile that this sweet confession evoked. So in a sudden, and rare, burst of emotion he placed his hand softly behind the hatter's head and brought him closer to his chest. Tenderly. Leaving enough space to access his neck with his tattered but warm mouth and planting something in there that was as much a bite as it was a kiss.
Alice's lover was left breathless and compliant.
A few more minutes of silent quasi love making passed, except for the hatter's shuddery whimpers that reverberated rather obscenely throughout the empty cell every time Jon grazed a sensitive spot with his teeth, until the first one finally found it in himself to speak his confusion.
"J-Jon… Didn't you say we… we wouldn't… be doing this here...?"
"Couldn't help myself. You got me distracted." He actually smirked a bit when he said this. "But you're right, it's time to go." He added, nudging the other gently, prompting him to get up and finish what he originally came to do.
It didn't take too long for Jervis to recover his clarity of mind, so when he finally went to stand it was as if a spring had gone loose in his spine, propelling him upwards without effort.
"Whatever you say, Scarybird!"
…
That is how, sheltered by the decaying walls of an abandoned basement like any other in the Narrows, or anywhere else really, and reveling in the afterglow of the most intimate encounter he's had in the longest of times, Jonathan Crane allowed his ancient fears to resurface willingly and then to be quelled by Jervis' serene embrace. Allowed them to be reduced to a flickering flame. And suddenly the frightening visages, the nightmares of bats and demon bats, the long term consequences of every single decision he's ever made, or even the expectations for the future regarding his reputation or his overall goals in life didn't matter as much as they did before. At least not for the time being.
In fact the only thing that occupied The Master of Fear's mind was that phrase that has been said many times before by no other than himself but probably was never truer than at that very moment.
'A life without fear is meaningless.' Was his last thought as he slipped into a dreamless sleep.