AN: Why yes, this chapter was written while listening to Faith Hill's "This Kiss" on repeat. Yes, I know I'm messed up.

The first big kissing scene. Being asexual and thus as unskilled as a nun in the ways of romance, I'm sure this is about as cute/flirtatious as reading a textbook description of lobotomies. Sorry about that.

Thanks for the reviews!

Well, he supposed there was a lesson to be learned here, that being 'Do not, under any circumstances, bet against the Joker.' And valuable as that message was, he found it hard to focus on the moral of the story with the Joker still inches away, waiting.

"I don't suppose there's any way I can talk you out of—"

And then he was on his back, Joker pinning his wrists over his head. "Hell no. We had a deal." Still holding Crane down with one hand, the clown pulled off his glasses, throwing them to the foot of the bed. "Besides, you're absolutely hilarious when you're this flustered."

What have I done to deserve this? Technically, if he wanted to be honest with himself, this fine mess was all his fault. He wasn't in the mood for self-honesty, though. There would be plenty of time to reflect on his idiocy when he wasn't pinned to a bed. "All right, let's get this over with."

"Don't be so enthusiastic, Jonny. Mood killer much?" Joker frowned, shifting his position so that he was sitting on top of his captive. It did not help to improve Crane's mood. "God, relax, okay? I'm not gonna hurt ya."

No, just tongue-molest me. Which is probably worse. "Oh, sorry, I seem to be having a bit of trouble calming down just now. Can't imagine why." It was bad enough that this was going to happen, did they have to drag it out? He nearly told the Joker to start already, until he realized that would be encouraging this and shut up.

"Hey, look at me." A gloved hand was on his face, gently turning his head until his eyes met the Joker's. They were dark, seeming almost black with the makeup around them, wide and unblinking. "Relax, kitten. You might as well try and enjoy it."

Like hell. His mind, grateful for any distraction, cast about for a smart remark, and he had nearly opened his mouth to reply when the Joker's lips pressed against his own.

It didn't hurt.

That was a rather ridiculous observation, given that kissing wasn't supposed to hurt, but giving whom the kiss was coming from, it wasn't that absurd. Their first and second kisses had ended with Crane getting slapped and Joker nearly breaking his skull, respectively. He'd been expecting something that drew blood, at least.

This though, this was…gentle was a word he'd never expected to use in regards to anything the Joker did, but here it was. And it wasn't entirely unpleasant, much to his surprise and chagrin. That is to say, it wasn't enjoyable, exactly, but it didn't inspire disgust. The feel of the Joker's mouth pushing against his own felt…well, almost nice. Not that that stopped the sheer mindfuck going on in his head, but the sensation wasn't bad.

What is he playing at? Crane wondered, as the Joker's hands ran through his hair, once again with restraint he would not have thought the clown capable of. This didn't make sense. It wasn't the Joker's style; it wasn't nearly rough enough. He probably means to lull me into a false sense of security before he bites my tongue off, he decided, shuddering at the thought. The Joker's hands cupped his face again, holding him still.

His mouth opened slightly, as a response to the unexpected warmth of the gloves touching his skin, and the Joker took that as an invitation to open his own. Oh fuck. If there was one thing he did not want—more than what was already going on, that is—it was the Joker's tongue in his mouth. Especially given the taste, which was exactly as he'd thought it would be, a sickly-sweet, infectious flavor that he did not like at all. So this is what gingivitis tastes like. Wonderful.

Aside from the taste, though, it wasn't as awful as he'd expected. Crane had always thought French kissing to be absolutely disgusting, little more than an exchange of massive amounts of salvia. It wasn't. Not that having someone else's tongue explore his mouth was fantastic, but much like the rest of the kiss, it didn't make him want to kill himself, which was something.

He did not know how long they stayed that way, though it seemed about three minutes at least. Long enough for him to start suffocating, anyway. He'd just remembered he could still breathe through his nose when the Joker pulled away, pressing their lips together again and biting, gently, before sitting up. "You know, you're supposed to kiss back, not lie there like a dead thing."

"I believe," he said, breathless, "that the terms of the bet only covered you kissing me. I'm not obligated to retaliate."

Joker sighed, stroking his companion's face. "Fine. Though you should really loosen up." He knelt down again, his lips brushing against Crane's neck this time. The sensation made him pull away instantaneously, trying to disguise his laugh as a cough. It didn't take.

He looked up to find the Joker staring at him, head tilted in thought. Hell.

"You're ticklish?"

"No, I'm n—"

And then the Joker was on top of him, hands relentless against his ribs and mouth back on his neck. "You totally are," he said, with a giggle audible even over Crane's near scream of a laugh. If the convulsions of the body against him affected him in the slightest, he didn't show it. "Well, this is fun." His tone implied that he was thinking of all the ways to abuse this new vulnerability, which was just fantastic.

"G-get off!" Crane gasped, tears coming to his eyes.

"Kiss me back, then."

"F-fine! Just stop!"

He quit as abruptly as he'd begun, pushing his lips against Crane's again, forcing his mouth open. Hating himself almost as much as he hated the Joker, Crane did kiss back, finding his tongue brushing against the scars inside the clown's mouth. He'd always known the scars carried on to the inside, of course, but actually feeling them was unnerving. He kept it up for as long as he could manage, a minute or less, probably, before pulling away. "Satisfied?"

"For now, yeah." Joker rolled off of him, managing to keep a straight face for about five seconds before cracking up. "That was hilarious. Who ever heard of a ticklish super villain?"

"Oh, shut up." That was it; once he had the chemicals to make this laughing gas, the Joker was getting a lungful. Oh, he'd probably just brush off the effects, or even enjoy them, but that wasn't about to stop Crane.

Joker stood, walking out of the room, his laugh echoing down the hall. Crane watched until he was sure the man was out of earshot, then fell back against the bed cursing in every language he knew and several he didn't. It was bad enough that he'd been stupid enough to agree to the bet, worse that he'd had to kiss the Joker. The clown discovering one of his most idiotic vulnerabilities wasn't helping either.

But the absolute worst of it, undoubtedly, was that he wasn't completely disgusted. The kiss itself, loathe to admit it though he was, hadn't been bad, just the knowledge of who it was coming from. The idea that he hadn't been utterly repulsed, that he'd almost enjoyed it, at parts, well, that made him want to choke himself for his idiocy. That's what he wants, stupid, to trick you into thinking you feel something. It was nothing, and it absolutely was not pleasant.

He was still cursing when the Joker returned. "You're bilingual?"

"When it comes to the four letter word vocabulary, yes."

The Joker sat down beside him, the motion gently rocking the mattress. He reached a hand toward Crane and smirked when he flinched. "Hey, it's cool. I'm done for now, all right?"

"Then what are you doing?" he asked, stiff as always, and went even more rigid as he felt a warm washcloth pressed against his face.

"Cleaning off the lipstick." He scrubbed lightly, his own makeup still a smeared mess, from what Crane could see. "Bright red isn't something you pull off well, I'm sad to say."

"Oh, I'm absolutely heartbroken."

He laughed. "C'mon, what are you so mad for? Fair's fair, you're the one who agreed to the bet." He paused, tilting his head again. "Unless that's what you're pissed about. Look, everyone has stupid moments, you can't beat yourself up over 'em."

"I'm sorry, are you of all people trying to tell me about healthy coping strategies?" Great. So the homicidal maniac was a psychiatrist now.

"Hey. I happen to be a very well-adjusted individual. It's the rest of the world with the problem, not me."

"Right." Crane wondered if he actually believed the things he said, or simply made them up to mess with people. If it were the former, that would be intriguing, had it come from anyone else. As things were, he did not want to think about what an interesting study the Joker would make. He wanted to blast him with fear toxin and laugh as he screamed.

Not that he'd actually try that. Because that would be suicide. He could dream, though.

"Don't be so sad. It wasn't all bad, was it? I betcha liked it, even if you're too stuck up to say so."

"Uh-huh. Being held down by a psychotic and invaded was so delightful, I don't think." He glared with as much disgust as he could manage at the Joker. Given that he couldn't actually focus on the man without his glasses, that wasn't much.

"If you didn't enjoy it, you wouldn't be so defensive."

He sat up, taking his glasses from the edge of the bed and ramming them on, almost painfully hard. "I'm not defensive, I'm pis—"

The Joker was kissing him again, suddenly. Only for a second; he pulled away before Crane could slap him, grinning as always. "You're blushing."

"Your point?"

"My point is, you don't have to hide your feelings from me." He licked his lips. "I'm not gonna judge ya. And I'm not telling you what to do here, just suggesting: I think you'd be a lot happier if you came out of the closet."

And then he was off, before Crane could find something to throw at him, giggling all the way down the hall.

Stupid egotistical bastard. Forget self-loathing, he doubted Batman himself could anger him any more than the Joker was doing now. Thinks the whole world revolves around him. Kidnaps me and dislocates my shoulder and then has the gall to try and suggest I have a thing for him.

It was almost funny, how idiotic that notion was. Almost, but not quite. Me, attracted to him? I'd rather have open-heart surgery without anesthesia. God, like I'd ever be attracted to that disgusting waste of human flesh. Besides, how would Harley take it?

…Wait, what? What did it matter what Harley would think? It was never going to happen. Never. The entire idea was absurd to the point of stupidity. He did not have feelings for the clown, no matter how good at kissing he was. If he was, Crane reminded himself, shaking his head as if to beat the thoughts out. If. It's not like I have a lot to compare from. And it doesn't matter. Kissing ability and appearance aside—not that I think he's attractive, because I don't—he has no effect on me whatsoever. None.

He repeated it mentally, like a mantra to ward such ridiculous feeling away. No effect. No effect. Maybe, if he repeated it enough, it would start to work. It had better.

AN: I see Crane as having suppressed pretty much any romantic feelings he's had in life, as they'd just get in the way, so when he lusts/crushes, he does it hard.

As for why I felt the need to make the Master of Fear ticklish, I really don't know.