AN: Warning: This is likely the most depraved thing I've written so far. Sorry. If you don't like blood (and oh yes, there will be blood) you won't enjoy it and there's really no way to avoid that bit of the chapter, as it's plot relevant. Just…uh…maybe try replacing 'blood' with something happy like cotton candy in your mind when you read it?

Sorry about the delay, I meant to have this up last night, but my laptop had other ideas and ate two of the pages.

Speaking of awesome points, another million to Lyndalion16, who made some beautiful fic art for both Act Like We Are Fools and Mad Friends. Her Deviant Art gallery is at http:// muezac. deviantart. com/ gallery/, just remove the spaces, check them out, and tell her how awesome she is.

Thanks for the reviews!

He sat beside the Joker, head resting on the clown's shoulder and watching out the window as the city sped by, still covered in makeup and fake blood. It didn't annoy him as much as he thought it would. Then again, after the experience back in the nurses' station, it was hard to be upset about anything. Joker didn't share his sentiments, apparently, and kept muttering under his breath about Batman and slipping standards, duty to the city and whatnot. He was beginning to think the reason they'd stayed so long had nothing to do with him, and had rather been about lingering in hopes the vigilante would appear. Well, he felt appreciated.

The Joker was still muttering to himself, Jonathan tilting his head back to watch him. It didn't look as if he were calming down anytime soon, so he sat up, turning to face him, and kissed him on the cheek. Joker paused, silent, and for a moment Jonathan thought he'd be slapped. But he only shrugged, wrapping an arm around Jonathan's shoulders. "I'll tell you one thing, kitten, today won't be a complete waste. God, can't you just imagine the look on Batman's face when he sees the security footage?"

Jonathan stiffened. "The what?" Please please please mean the killing people part. Please tell me that wasn't in view of a camera. If there is a God, please tell me that wasn't caught on tape. Shit.

"The footage?" Joker smirked. "Of the two of us in an, uh, intimate moment. What, you didn't know there was a camera there?"

There was no God. "So it's on tape?" Oh, fuck. He'd never felt such a mix of horror and humiliation before. Batman would see it, the Commissioner would see it, the entire GPD would see it, and most likely the news stations would get their hands on it as well. Fuck. "Why the hell did you do that, if you knew we were being filmed?"

"I did it because there was a camera, Jonny." If he saw Jonathan's incredulous expression, he ignored it.
"See, I'm not gonna hang around after a plan to give my boyfriend a hand job without good reason. That sorta thing can wait until we get home, you know? But then I noticed that we were on tape, and I thought, well, let's give 'em something to talk about!"

Jonathan slapped him, to no effect at all. "You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, that's my mother you're talking about. Though, actually, she kinda was horrible. I remember one day when she—" He was cut off by the rain of blows Jonathan was casting at him, whatever he'd been about to say interrupted by his partner's shouts.

"You—you idiot! Have you no sense of shame? Or at least dignity?" Well, that was a moronic question. Of course he didn't. Still, it was a stunning reminder of how absolutely unconcerned he was. "Or respect for mine? You can't just—I didn't—bastard!"

"Hey." Joker took hold of his wrists, tightening his grip when Jonathan tried to pull away. "Would you please calm down? There's nothing to be upset over."

"Nothing to—are you out of your mind?" Screw love, attraction or not, there was nothing he wanted more right now than to get his hands around the Joker's throat and strangle the life out of him. Pity he wasn't nearly strong enough to get free. "You—you and I were—there's—the news stations are going to get a hold of that tape, idiot! And while I'm sure you couldn't care less what the police force thinks of you, I'd think your massive ego wouldn't allow for you to become the laughingstock of Gotham!"

"Oh, so this is another one of your control issues, hmm?" Damn him and his ability to be so unconcerned, even when his own dignity was at stake. "You don't want anyone to see your acting as my bitch because you'd lose respect? News flash, Jonny: You didn't have a hell of a lotta respect in the first place. I mean, first you got imprisoned in your own asylum, after being poisoned with your own drug, then you got tazered, dragged around the city unconscious on horseback, lived in the sewers for a few months, got arrested, and then broke out again only to become a drug dealer, possibly the most, uh, pathetic position for a super villain ever. Seriously, do I even need to explain how ridiculous all that is?"

"Oh, shut up. At least there weren't videos of a deranged clown performing carnal acts on me circulating the city at the time."

"Except they won't be circulating the city. For God's sake, do you even think about things before spazzing out over them? You can't show stuff like that on TV, Mr. Supposed Genius. Sure, they can show me being violent as hell and torturing people, but sexuality? For some ridiculous reason, that crosses a line. The most they can show is the fooling around leading up to that moment, and even if they show that, it'll be nothing worse than the last security footage, from that store. More boring, actually, because most of what we did beforehand was verbal, and the cameras aren't wired for sound. Besides, the reporters are gonna have their hands full with covering the mass death thing, bothering the police, all that."

Ah. Thank God. The fact that it wouldn't be broadcast—at least not in its entirety—lessened his anger somewhat. But only slightly, from murderous rage to severe trauma rage. "This is the media we're talking about. Fixation with tragedy or not, are you honestly trying to tell me they won't latch onto this 'villain sex' thing like piranhas?"

Joker sighed. "Kitten, you do realize you're only proving how pathetic you are by getting so worked up over this? Grow a pair, man. Shrug it off. Look, if we see any news reports that casts us as people to be mocked, we'll find the idiots behind it, and show them how dead wrong they are. Okay?"

"I'm still very angry at you."

"You know, you've really only got yourself to blame for this. Honestly, what were you expecting? You can't just say something like, 'I feel safe around you,' and think I won't do something to shatter that trust. C'mon Jonny, I've got standards to uphold."

Never had the phrase 'I love you, but I don't have to like you' been more apt. "Let me get this straight. This entire relationship you've been working to get to the point where I'm not afraid of you, and when I admit I'm not, you have to do something to undermine the connection. Do you realize that that makes no sense at all?"

"I make perfect sense." Jonathan rolled his eyes and Joker tightened his grip. "No, I mean it. I just don't make sense in a way other people get. And my main goal is and has always been to push you over the edge, remember? Something like what we just did? That's one hell of push. Or it will be, once the word gets out."

Jonathan, not trusting himself to keep from shouting, bit down on his tongue and counted backwards from one hundred. "Let go."

"Hmm…" Joker pursed his lips as if in thought. "No, I don't think I will. Not until you've forgiven me, anyway."

"You—you shameless—you conniving—you scoundrel!"

Joker broke out laughing, so hard it brought tears to his eyes. "The hell did you just call me?"

"Oh, shut up."

"Are you still mad?" Joker asked with a pout that, despite the makeup, bloodstains, and scars, managed to make him look exactly like a five year old boy.

Well, obviously. "No. So let go."

"No, I'm comfortable this way."

Jonathan began cursing in languages he hadn't even known he spoke.

"What's in the bag, anyway?" he asked irritably, as they arrived back at the apartment.

"Stuff. You'll see." He turned to face him, eyes scanning Jonathan's less than ecstatic expression, and frowned. He slid the bag from his shoulder, unknotting it, though holding it at angle that Jonathan couldn't see its contents. A balloon floated out, a bright yellow smiley face, and Joker took it by the string and handed it to Jonathan. "Here. I think you need this more than I do."

He took it, staring in disbelief. "Where did this come from?"

"A little girl in the hospital."

"You stole a little girl's balloon after you killed her?" It just figured. Any gift from the Joker that seemed sweet would have to be incredibly disturbing, in some way.

"First of all," Joker said, sitting down on the bed and shrugging off his coat. "I didn't kill her. And second of all, she gave it to me. She thought I was an actual clown."

There was no way that was true. No way in hell. There wasn't a person in Gotham who didn't know who the Joker was, at least, no one over six. Though he found himself hoping it was true, then realized he was feeling concern for some child he didn't know and cut it out. "What, the scars and the scent of blood and gunpowder didn't tip her off?"

"I think she was coming off of anesthesia or something. And she was really young. Like four. Anyway, I showed her a card trick, she gave me her balloon, I went on."

"You do card tricks?" In spite of his anger and his sureness that this was a lie, he found himself intrigued.

"Well, yeah. I'm an entertainer." He pulled a deck from a vest pocket. "Watch, this is the one I did for her." Shuffling a few times, he fanned the deck out and extended it to Jonathan. Worn as the cards were, the red back pattern still reflected the overhead light, though only slightly. "Pick any card you want. Don't let me see it."

"All right." He pulled one from the right side, holding it up. The ten of spades. "Now what?"

"Now stick it back in." Joker waited as he did so, placing the card in the deck at random, then pushed the cards back together, tapped the top, cut the deck and shuffled. He spread the deck out on the sheets in a line, backs up.

One card, near the center of the deck, was blue.

Jonathan stared. "Where did that come from?" He must have had it up his sleeve, but I was watching his hands the whole time. When did he slip it out?

Joker looked every bit as surprised as he did. "No idea. But hey," he reached down, picking it up. "Isn't this your card?"

The ten of spades.

"I—how did you—"

"Wait, it goes on." Joker held up a hand to silence him. "Here, I'll get rid of this, and we'll do it again." He lay the blue card off to the side on the bed, face down, and held out the red deck. "Cut it, and lie the part you cut face up on the rest."

"Okay." He did, eyes focused on the clown's hands. He must have had the card up his sleeve, though Jonathan couldn't figure out how he'd known which card to have concealed. Well, he'd figure it out this time. That was the thing with tricks; the more you saw it, the more obvious it became.

"Cut it deeper, and do it again."

He did so, and the Joker fanned out the deck. "Right, now get the first face down card, and don't show it to me." He did. The five of diamonds. "Put it back in," Joker said, rearranging the cards so they were all face down. Jonathan complied, and he shuffled, spreading the cards out on the sheet as he was done. They were all red.

Jonathan blinked. "Where's the blue one?"

"Er…I dunno. Here, lemme try it again." He shuffled, spread out. All red. "Well, I'm not sure why there's not a blue one. But…" He reached over to the blue card from the first trick, lying forgotten on the pillow, and held it up. "Isn't this your card?"

The five of diamonds.

Jonathan felt his eyes grow wide. "You're a magician."

"Told you so." He repocketed the deck, standing. "If you'll excuse me, I gotta do something." He picked up the bag and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"But I wanted to take a shower." He was still drenched in fake blood and liquid latex and God knows what else.

"Gimme a minute." There was a pause. "Hey, kitten? Could you get me some matches?"

Oh, this can't be good. "You're locked in a bathroom with a bag full of balloons. What use could you possibly have for matches?"

Joker giggled from the other side of the door. "I never said the bag was full of balloons. Yours is the only one. Now go—wait, never mind, found some in my pocket."

"Joker, what are you doing in there?" He was beginning to feel very uneasy. The clown hadn't been kidding when he said he planned to ruin Jonathan's sense of security. "Joker?"

"You'll see." Another giggle.

Oh, hell. He glanced at the balloon, hovering along the ceiling, its smile seemed sinister, somehow. This can only end badly. Very badly. The minutes crawled by, and only when Jonathan felt the tension was about to tear him apart did Joker emerge, body blocking the view inside and stepping through quickly, closing the door behind him.

"Go on in."

Jonathan shivered. Something about the Joker's carefree manner, the innocuous way he said it, was even more frightening than the wait had been. It reminded him of the way his great grandmother used to act as though she was perfectly calm over something, then wait until the moment Jonathan dropped his guard to bring her cane down on him. "What did you do?"

"Go see." Joker stepped behind him, giving him a light shove toward the door. "I'll be right behind you. It'll be fine."

Jonathan took a deep breath, fighting a shudder as he opened the door and stepped through, Joker at his heels. The smell struck him before the sight, somehow warm, if scents could carry temperature, and metallic, coppery, like…

Blood. Oh, Jesus Christ. He exhaled sharply the moment his mind processed the image before him. The bathtub was filled, nearly to the brim, with blood. Dark, thick, red. And it couldn't be fake. He could tell that from the smell. Oh my God.

"So, whaddya think?" Joker asked, sounding proud of himself.

He couldn't answer for a moment, not trusting himself to keep from vomiting if he opened his mouth. He swallowed back the bile he'd felt rise in his throat, shaking all over. It was like a nightmare. "You—this—where did it—"

"We were in a hospital, kitten," he said calmly, grinning. "They've got blood around."

"Why?"

"My men aren't the most thorough in the world. A lotta the people in Gotham General could still be alive, but they'll be injured, badly, and more than likely in need of blood. That's gonna cause a blood shortage, and I wanted to help that along. What's the point in starting a massacre if half of 'em could live? It undermines the message."

"But why bring it here?" He could feel his legs giving out, the Joker catching him right before he fell. I'm going to faint. "Why do this?"

"Weeeell, remember when you said the reason you don't take baths is because you don't like water?"

Oh. My. God. He really was going to be sick, he could feel his body heaving. Only the Joker's hand, thrown over his mouth at the last moment, kept him from vomiting, out of fear he'd choke on it. He was still shaking, still nauseous, overcome with the urge to run for his life. This is sick. Unbelievably sick. There aren't words for how wrong this is.

"I tried using bubble bath," Joker said conversationally. "Didn't take, though."

"You're insane."

"Oh, pull yourself together. It's just blood. Everyone has it."

"Not everyone—" he paused, vision swimming for a second, and went on. "Bathes in it. That's wrong beyond reason."

"Since when do you have a sense of right and wrong? Look, it's donor blood, it's been tested. You can't get AIDS from it or anything."

The Joker was still holding him up, and he found there was nothing comforting about his touch anymore. Doubtless that had been his intention. Well, he'd never make the mistake of admitting something like a sense of security to him, never again. Still fighting the urge to vomit, he cast for any logical excuse to stop this from happening. "You can't bathe in blood, you idiot. It congeals."

"Thought of that." Joker knelt down, bringing Jonathan with him. "Remember when I asked if you had matches? I took some of those, uh, candley heater things they use to keep food warm from the hospital cafeteria, see? So now it won't."

He could see it, in the space between the bathtub and the floor. Damn whatever idiot designed bathtubs that weren't attached to the floor. Damn him to hell, and damn the clown with him. "This is sick."

Joker picked him up, kicked off his shoes, and stepped into the bathtub, clothes and all. "This is beautiful. Blood is life, kitten, just like that guy from Dracula was always going on about."

Renfield, he thought automatically, before the blood touched his body and he temporarily lost the ability to think. The sensation…well, there weren't words to describe it. It was terribly cold toward the surface and terribly warm lower down, and he tried shutting his eyes and pretending he was in water, but water didn't feel this way and besides, the smell was a dead giveaway. Oh God oh God oh God. It didn't help that sitting in a large amount of any kind of liquid was enough to bring back horrific childhood memories. He struggled to gain some semblance of self control, before he completely lost it and started to panic, screaming 'Please don't hold me under!' and the like.

"W-what goes on in your head," he managed, after what felt like days, "to give you ideas like t-this?"

"The Countess Elizabeth Báthory," Joker said at once. Jonathan stared up at him, realized he was still holding on tightly to the clown, as if hoping that feeling of safety would return. Disgusted with himself, he wanted to pull away, but was still too terrified and sickened to let go, clinging to the one thing he knew.

"Who?"

Joker shook his head. "And you call yourself a horror fan? Transylvanian nobility, and a serial killer. Liz was thought to have killed over six hundred people, all of them young virgins. Her, uh, belief was that bathing in the blood of the young and beautiful would restore her own youth and beauty. She believed there was power in blood." He took one hand off of Jonathan, reaching down and coming back up with a handful of blood, red dripping from between his fingers, and onto Jonathan's face.

For about the millionth time since coming into the bathroom, he fought the urge to vomit. He could taste that coppery flavor on his lips, and wiped them quickly, shaking. "She was crazy."

"Now, why does anyone with an, uh, nonstandard viewpoint get labeled as crazy? I'll admit that the whole eternal youth thing was way outta touch with reality, but the idea that blood is power? Not crazy at all." He took another handful, pouring it over Jonathan's hair like shampoo.

Jonathan could feel himself fainting, the sensation of slipping away, mentally, everything going black. He was brought to by a slap across the face, leaving a bloody handprint from the feel.

"I wasn't done explaining, Jonny."

"Sorry."

"Why do you think the gods of so many ancient civilizations demanded blood sacrifice? Because blood is powerful. Even Christians do it. The whole body and body thing? For ours is the power and the glory, amen."

"That's not how it goes."

"Whatever. Think about it. It's the most essential thing for human survival, over water and food and everything, except oxygen, maybe. It is the life force of everything on the planet that has it, and here we are, lying in it. Know what that means?"

"That you want to torture me?" He could feel it dripping through his hair, cold and miserable, feeling sickened and unnerved, and above all, exhausted. It seemed the situation was too much to hold back his fatigue.

"No, kitten. It means that we are superior. We have enough power to take the life force of others and use it as bath water, for Christ's sake. If that's not power, I dunno what is. So enjoy it, because it's a sign that you're a force to be reckoned with, sex tapes or not."

What truly disturbed him is that, disgusted though he still was, he could see the Joker's logic. "I'm to believe this entire debacle is meant to make me feel better about that tape?"

Joker laughed. "Please. Not at all. It's about my having a good time, and your getting another little push over the edge. You oughta see yourself, scaredy cat. You're shaking. I think this is the first time I've ever seen you fully emotional, without restraint. Excepting that time with the laughing gas, but that doesn't really count, does it?"

I hate you. "Did it ever occur to you that if I go over the edge, you might not like the end result?"

"Oh, I will. It's like a rose, remember? It might be pretty before it fully opens, but the ending bloom is always the best part. Even diseased or dying roses have a sorta tragic beauty to 'em."

"Lovely." He tried glaring up at him, giving up when he realized it made blood drip into his eyes. "How comforting to hear that you'll appreciate my 'tragic beauty' when I've go completely mad and spend the rest of my life in a straitjacket, screaming through all hours of the night like the poor bastard in the cell next to mine with half his face burnt off, or the patient I had who hallucinated that she was covered in maggots and tried ripping her skin off, or—"

The Joker's hand, dripping with blood, was over his mouth. "Wait, wait, wait. Back up." His eyes had a sort of hungry shine to them, as if something Jonathan said had appealed to him greatly. "Didya just say there's a guy in Arkham with half his face all burnt?"

Hand still over his mouth, Jonathan nodded. The hand lifted instantly, and he fought the urge to gag from the blood he'd tasted.

"All right." The Joker was shaking, from excitement, he guessed, given the look on his face. "Now, think about this carefully, Jonathan, because it's important. What does he look like?"

"Get rid of this," Jonathan said, indicating the blood around them, "and I'll tell you." It was a gamble, but if he had to stay here one second longer, he really would faint, slaps or not.

For a second he thought he'd be hit, but the Joker only nodded, unstopping the drain and switching on the shower. The water was cold as ice for the first few seconds, the shock of it on top of his fear and disgust making Jonathan's heart skip a beat. "Happy now? Tell me."

"Let me see." He paused in thought, biting his still bloody lips. "I heard him more than I saw him…er…white…not sure on the age, he seemed older than me…blond hair, um—"

"What color were his eyes?"

Well, that one's easy. He wasn't about to forget the sight of that huge, lidless eyes staring at him anytime soon. "Blue."

He felt Joker shiver again. "And the burn was only on one side of his face, right? I mean, it was massive, all the way down the neck and over the scalp, but just on the one side?"

"Yes," he said, as his revulsion slowly gave way to confusion. What was so important about this mental patient? An ex-comrade of the Joker's, or what? "The left side, I think."

Joker's lips were on him, smearing blood with lipstick in one long, passionate moment, his tongue nearly going to the back of Jonathan's throat before he pulled away. "Jonathan, you little genius."

"Er…" Not that the situation hadn't gotten a hundred time better since they were getting rid of the blood and Joker was back to being affectionate, but he was confused to nearly the point of dizziness. "May I ask why this information is such good news?"

"Because," Joker said, between kisses on Jonathan's neck, ignoring the way his partner giggled and pulled away, "I just figured out exactly how we're gonna draw Batman back out, and ensure he loses his status as public enemy number two."

That added to the confusion, if anything, but between the blood and the tickling and his exhaustion, he didn't feel up to asking. He let his head fall back, Joker still biting and kissing, watching what remained of the blood mix with the water, making deep pink, swirling patterns as it circled the drain. His last thought, before falling asleep, was that he must really be losing it, because watching it like that, he could see the Joker's point about beauty.

AN: Um. Yeah. I have absolutely no idea where that came from. Usually, I have some idea, but not this time. This is what goes on inside my head, I guess. I nearly added a bit that would have made it even worse, but decided to hold that over for the next chapter.

The magic trick is one I was shown by a coworker, and my mind is still blown by it. Jonathan's reaction is my own, as were the cards he drew. Not sure why, but I have the feeling Joker would know actual magic tricks, in addition to things like his trick with a pencil. And I don't think he's adverse to killing children, just that he wasn't in the mood to do so with that particular girl.