AN: This chapter contains more weird sexual interaction. I don't know why I felt compelled to write it, but it's there, so this is a heads up.
Thanks for the reviews!
It was the singing that woke him up. Jonathan lay still for a moment, trying to place his surroundings before he opened his eyes. If Joker had brought anything else in that bag, if he was planning something worse than the bloodbath, he didn't want to give away that he was conscious. Even if it meant lying here for days.
"There's a lake of stew and whiskey too, you can paddle all around it in a big canoe, in the Big Rock Candy Mountains."
Judging from the texture below him, he was back on the bed. While that was more comforting than being in some unknown location, he wasn't fully reassured. If the Joker could turn something as ordinary as a bathtub into something horrific—much like his grandmother, he thought, repressing a shudder—God only knew what he could do to a bed. Eyes still shut, he listened, trying to pick up on any sounds that might give away what the clown was up to.
But there was only silence, apart from the Joker's voice. "In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, the jails are made of tin, and you can walk right out again as soon as you are in…"
Well, there was nothing to be learned by lying here. Bracing himself for something terrible, like finding the Joker had redecorated the apartment using severed heads or something else sick the clown would find humorous, he opened his eyes, sitting up.
The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer covered in blood, real or fake, and the makeup was gone as well. Thank God. He wasn't sure if he could have handled it, waking up coated in dried blood. The second thing he noticed was that his clothes were gone. He supposed that wasn't surprising, given that they'd been as bloody as he was, but he wasn't expecting to find himself in the Joker's Batman boxers. Incredulous, he pulled them up slightly; though Joker was obviously thin, Jonathan's hips were narrower, and the mere act of sitting up had almost tugged them off.
"I'll see you all this coming fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains!" Joker finished, holding the last note for longer than Jonathan would have thought physically possible.
"Wouldn't have figured you for a bluegrass fan," he said, hoping his tone sounded more irritated than he actually felt. Drenched in blood and exploited on tape, he still couldn't be as angry as he was confused. Joker's questions about the burn victim in Arkham had left him off balance, and almost…well, he'd never admit it to himself, but jealous. As if it wasn't enough that he had to compete with the Batman for the Joker's affections, along came this stranger? But it wouldn't be wise to let the Joker know how bewildered he was. Likely, the clown would find it good sport to keep him in the dark for as long as possible.
The Joker shrugged. "I'm not tied down to one particular style. I like songs, not genres." His makeup was off, Jonathan noticed, his angelic, youthful appearance making it hard to remain angry about his transgressions from earlier. Hard, but not impossible. His suit looked impeccable, somehow not stained from the blood.
"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, more lost than ever. Wonder what stain remover he uses. Must come from God Himself, to get that out.
"Lemme see…you fell asleep about one, so three hours."
"How did you get your clothes washed that quickly?"
"Huh?" Joker glanced down at his attire. "Oh, this. I didn't, kitten. That suit's likely destroyed forever."
"So you have more than one?" he asked, imagining a closet full of nothing but purple suits, as if out of a cartoon.
"Well, yeah. You probably wouldn't know this, since you don't fight, uh, hand-to-hand a lot, but fabric tears easy when you get physical."
He didn't respond to the dig at his fighting abilities, though the anger was starting to equal the confusion. He'd been violated so many ways today; his privacy with the tape, his security with the bloodbath, and the attempt at destroying his sanity as well. He was getting sick of it, though he couldn't think of a way to stand up for himself that wouldn't leave him slaughtered, or at least maimed.
The Joker, however, seemed to read his thoughts, as he so often appeared to. "You're angry, huh?"
"Yes." There was no point in lying, Joker could always see straight through that. "And hurt. Why is it that every time I'm starting to know where I stand, you have to do something horrible to displace everything?"
"Because I'm an agent of chaos, Jonny." His eyes glittered with amusement.
"So?" It was the response of a petulant child, but that's about how he was feeling at the moment.
Joker sighed. "Jonathan, and look, I'm saying 'Jonathan,' so you know I'm uh…serious." He winced, as if the word pained him to say. "Try and see it from my worldview for a second, okay? Chaos is my drive, my mission. It's like my nirvana, all right? Total chaos is the ultimate achievement. So when I push you toward chaos, by undermining everything, I'm helping you out, even if you don't know it. Taking a princess and making him an angel, see?"
It was almost touching, strangely beautiful, the way he explained it. Still didn't lessen the shock and irritation from the day's exploits, though. "All right, but that doesn't make it hurt any less."
"I'm not asking you to forgive me, Jonathan. Just to understand." Joker took Jonathan's hands in his, and Jonathan noted that the Hello Kitty Band-Aids had been switched out—likely soaked through with the blood—with bandages covered by rainbows and unicorns. Fantastic.
"Fine. We're meeting each other halfway, then?"
He nodded enthusiastically, green-streaked hair swinging up and down.
Jonathan tried not to dwell on the fact that such a shaky truce wasn't likely to hold for long. "So what's your grand scheme to lure the Batman out? And what's the big deal about this mental patient?"
"Ah. So glad you asked, kitten." Joker paused, inhaling deeply as if basking in his own brilliance. "We're gonna break into Arkham and release all the inmates. But especially your neighbor. I'll need you to tape that one for me, so we can send it to all the news stations."
"But why? What's so special about him?"
Joker smirked at him, shook his head. "Honestly, scaredy cat, for a genius, you're slow. You don't recognize Harvey Dent when you see him?"
It was like the pieces of a puzzle falling into place. "You're telling me that's Harvey Dent?" His mind refused to process it. When he thought 'white knight,' he didn't think 'massively scarred mentally ill patient.'
"Well, duh." He rolled his eyes, giggling. "How many people in this city have burns perfectly on one half of their heads? Really now, he was only all over the news forever when I first showed up, and hey, wouldn't he have been the prosecutor at your trial? How did you not know him?"
"He wasn't missing half of his face at my trial, and my mind was still affected by the fear gas at the time," Jonathan protested, annoyed. "And the news reports only said that he'd been burned in an explosion, not what the injuries looked like. Come to think of it, you never mentioned that when I lived with you six months ago, either. The most you said was that the police were lying about his death. So how would I know it was him?"
Joker held up his hands. "All right, all right, no need to get all pissed about it. The point is, I'm gonna break him out, and you're gonna get the whole thing on tape, so the good people of Gotham will know their white knight is still around, and see what he's truly become. Plus, Batman's name'll be cleared once this gets out, so he won't have to hide from the cops anymore and we can play all we want."
Jonathan considered it. It sounded insane, but then, so did all of Joker's plans, and they'd all worked so far. But Harvey Dent…Jonathan didn't know much about him, having never paid attention to his speeches on the news networks and being so out of touch with reality during his trial he had no memory of Dent's prosecution at all, but he was supposed to be a perfect leader. Selfless, loving, truly wanting to make Gotham a better place. And while Jonathan was sure that was untrue, as he tended to think the worst of people, suppose it wasn't? Sure, he'd gone off the deep end and shot a few people, but there was the off chance he was responding to therapy. And if he didn't want to leave, the Joker might hang around for some time trying to convince him…long enough for the Bat to show up and take them out. "What if Dent doesn't want to leave?"
He smiled. "The beautiful thing about Harvey, is that in his current state, he can't make decisions on his own too well. Trust me, there's a fifty percent chance at least that he'll wanna break out, and even if he doesn't, we'll have proof of his existence on tape, and all the little citizens will know they've been lied to. Won't that be fun to watch the GPD try and cover their asses for? Wouldn't be surprised if it gave Commissioner Gordon a stroke, would you?"
That made him slightly uncomfortable, though he knew it shouldn't. He could care less about the Commissioner personally, but the thought processes at work in the mind of a man fighting so hard in an ultimately doomed battle were fascinating. He didn't want the man to die, almost concerned for him in a way. And, though it was buried so deeply he was hardly aware of it, after his initial humiliation at the thought of Batman seeing the sex tape, his next biggest concern had been Gordon, and he'd felt…well, he'd never had a father to disappoint, but if he did and had, he imagined it would have felt something like that. "Suppose," he said, hastily changing the subject, "that Dent does break out. What happens then? What if he's still angry and wants to fight?"
"What, I can't hold my own against an unarmed, grief-wracked man? If he does break out, he gets to choose between coming with us in our glorious fight against Batman or going on his own merry way."
Well, he'd better choose the second option, Jonathan thought with a surge of jealously. He wasn't interested in playing the other woman to both a freak dressed as a bat and an ex-lawyer. "How do you know Batman will come? He hasn't shown up for any of your other stunts, not even the massive one this morning. What if he's just decided to ignore you?"
"He hasn't," Joker said fiercely, and Jonathan flinched. The clown went on, speaking rapidly and with determination, as though he needed to convince himself as he persuaded Jonathan. "The only reason he hasn't been around yet is because he hasn't got enough evidence. Thanks to his damn 'taking the blame' stunt, he can't get to the crime scenes until after the police have stomped through 'em and ruined everything, and that's the only reason he hasn't tracked us down by now. You missed it, but on the news they mentioned one car carrying bodies to the morgue departed from Gotham General with six corpses and arrived with only five. Know what that means? He's got a body, and he's testing the chemicals in it. Wouldn't be surprised if he's already got an antidote."
Oh, hooray. "We've been on the news then?"
"Yep." Joker relaxed visibly, stretching out on the bed. "Mostly they've just been sobbing over all the deaths, and how terrible it is, and recapping all our other crimes. There was talk on the sexing though, but of course they didn't show it. They did call in some bullshit pop psychologist on what such a relationship could mean mentally, and they focused it on you, mostly, probably because they've got nothing on my upbringing or history of relationships or anything."
"Lovely." As if the situation wasn't irritating enough, now he had some psych pop tart with the gall to think she could possibly understand his motivations? God, he wanted to kill someone. Or at least a good poisoning.
Joker sat up beside him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. It was surprisingly gentle, almost like a normal boyfriend. "Don't be so sad, scaredy cat. It's okay, I don't think you're only with me 'cause you were 'lacking a male authority figure growing up', and sought me out to 'fulfill your desire for a role model' or whatever the hell they were going on about."
"Sorry." But he must have still been frowning, because Joker took hold of his shoulders, gently, and lay him back on the bed.
"Want me to make it up to you?"
He nodded, a shy smile spreading across his face. It was stunning really, how far he'd come, from hating the Joker's touch mere weeks ago to letting himself be groped. He closed his eyes as the Joker slowly pushed his legs apart, placing a hand on Jonathan's thigh that moved up, slowly, into the fabric of the boxers, and then, slowly but unexpectedly, inside him.
His eyes were open at once, legs stiffening. "I—what are you—ow!"
"Shh." Joker's other hand was on his shoulder, pushing him back down, stroking his skin. "Shh shh shh. Relax, honey. It'll hurt if you're tense."
"It hurts now!" He winced, trying to relax and failing, legs shaking. "Why are you doing that?"
"Do you ever wanna lose your virginity? 'Cause if you do, you're gonna have to loosen up a little, pun intended. It may be uncomfortable as fuck now, but give it a minute, okay?"
"I'd rather not," he muttered, face flushing, trying not to wince or pull away. "My insides hurt."
"It always hurts the first time." He knelt down, touching their lips together. "It'll hurt less if you calm down."
"And I'm not a virgin." He wanted nothing more than to smother himself with the nearest pillow and die. "We've had sex, remember?"
"What, the blow job?" Joker asked, moving in him with uncharacteristic slowness. "That doesn't count."
"Of course it does! Why do you think it's called 'oral sex'?"
"Oh, technicalities." He slid a second finger inside, making Jonathan groan, eyes watering, teeth clenched.
"Ow, ow, ow."
Joker paused, glancing down at his lover, expression tinged with both concern and amusement. "Do you want me to stop?"
What was the point? They'd just end up doing this again sometime. "No, go on."
"You sure?"
"Please don't ask me that," he moaned, eyes shut.
"It feels good after a while. I swear." Joker kissed him again, this time on the forehead, and the two fell silent.
After a while it did start to not hurt. Whether body heat had melted away the friction or he'd simply adjusted, Jonathan wasn't sure. Either way, he didn't get to the good part, because just as he was beginning to feel what he thought might be pleasure, there was a knock on the door.
"Boss?" Knox asked, as Joker pulled his hand free, Jonathan pulling the boxers back down to cover himself. "I've got the stuff you wanted."
"All right, come on in." From inside the vest he pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer, pouring it over his hands.
"Stuff?" Jonathan asked, as Knox entered the room, shopping bags in hand.
"For tonight," Joker said, rooting through one of the bags, knife flashing as he cut off what appeared to be tags.
He blinked. "What's tonight?"
"Attack on Arkham. Hello, what have we been talking about?"
"That's tonight?" His stomach shifted uneasily. "Isn't that sort of…quickly to be coming up with plans?"
"For me?" Joker giggled. "It's downright slow. Here, try this on."
"Try what o—" he began, apprehensive, and something was dropped onto his head. He pulled it off, eyes widening at the texture he felt, and stared, perplexed, at the long, blonde wig in his hand. "What the hell is this?"
"It's our way into Arkham." The Joker took the wig from his hands, placing it back on his head, over his hair. He smiled. "You look good blond, kitten."
Realization struck him like a Batarang to the face. "No." He reached up and pulled it off. "No, no, no. I am not dressing up as a lady."
His companion snorted. "'Lady'? God, I love the way you talk. It's so uptight."
"I'm serious," he protested, over the Joker's laughter. "I don't want to look like a girl."
"Hate to break it to you, darling, but you already look like a girl. This is just enhancing what's there to start with."
"No."
Joker sighed, taking hold of his hand. "Look, you won't be the only one, all right? I'm going in drag too."
Jonathan glared, and tried tugging his hand free, to no avail. "First of all, you look nothing like a woman. And secondly, why do we have to dress in drag in the first place? Why can't we just run in there and start the massacre, like we did in the hospital? How can dressing like women possibly be to our advantage?"
"Calm down." Joker moved his hands from Jonathan's wrists to his shoulders, massaging his neck. "I don't want start slaughtering and releasing the inmates right off the bat. Much as I love chaos, there's a time and a place, and too great a chance of something keeping us from getting to Harvey. So we're gonna get to his cell before we start the rest of the crap, and no one's gonna interfere with us…" he reached into another of the bags, pulling out a white cotton dress, "'cause we'll be nurses."
"You're out of your mind," Jonathan said, eyes threatening to fall out of his head if they widened anymore.
"Trust me, okay? It'll be fine."
"Nurses don't even dress that way anymore!"
He shrugged. "Didn't stop me from getting through Gotham General like that. Really, as long as you move with a purpose and act like you know what you're doing, no one questions you."
"No." He crossed his arms, turning his head.
"What, is this dragging up all sorts of unpleasant memories about being called a faggot in school or something? Look, Jonny, I'm not gonna think any differently of you, or lose respect for you just 'cause I've seen you in tights."
He went rigid again. "I am not wearing tights."
"Uh, yeah you are, or I'm gonna be really annoyed that I shaved your legs for nothing."
"You what?" Jonathan demanded, bolting upright and staring at his legs. "When did you do that?"
"When you fell asleep in the shower. I waxed your eyebrows too. Look, you don't want all my hard work to go to waste, do you?"
I feel so violated, his thought, running a finger over his suddenly curved brows. "It's not going to work, you fool. We'd need pass keys to get in."
"Thought of that," Joker said, pulling two laminated cards from the bag holding the dresses. "I've kept a watch on Arkham, see, I know who works there and where they live. There are two nurses that, uh, won't be coming into work tonight, 'cause we'll be in their place."
"And the guards will know we aren't them!"
"I said I kept a watch, didn't I? The guard on shift for the front desk tonight, it's his third day there. He won't know us from Adam, so he won't be able to tell we're imposters. And it's not like there's a photo ID on the pass keys or anything."
He must have looked every bit as unconvinced as he felt, because the Joker leaned in, kissing him softly at the temple, then gently biting his ear. "Look, if you do this for me, I'll make it worth your while when we get back. And if you don't wanna do it willing," he paused, biting a little harder this time. "I can still make you do it."
Jonathan held in a sigh. "Fine. But I'm not going in a blonde wig. That's creepy, it's like you're trying to turn me into Harley." Harley, he thought, suddenly brightening. Harley would be at the hospital. Seeing her again, after all this time, that would almost make up for the indignity of it all. Though if she'd seen the news lately…his heart sunk, butterflies in his stomach. Oh, hell. Maybe it wouldn't be such a happy reunion after all.
Joker nodded, pulling another wig from the bag, this one with tightly wound curls the same dark shade as Jonathan's own hair. "Thought you might object to that, so I brought options. I get to be the redhead, though," he added, pulling out his own wig and sliding it on. "That's not negotiable."
Jonathan stared. The sight of Joker with flipped out, bright red hair was remarkable, to say the least. "What difference does it make?"
"It fits my personality. I'd say I'm a firecrotch at heart, wouldn't you?"
"I'm not sure Nigma and Isley would be flattered by the comparison," he muttered, thinking of Arkham's redheaded inmates as he pulled on the wig. "Is this on straight?"
"Not quite, I'll fix it for you in a second. First, though," Joker took him by the back of the head, a pencil suddenly centimeters from his eye. "Here, try not to blink?"
"What the hell is that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. If there was one person he did not want near his eyes with a pencil, it would be the Joker. He'd never heard of turning something so harmless into a weapon, but if anyone could find a way, it would be the clown.
"Eye liner. You're going as a girl, remember?" Joker asked, running the pencil around Jonathan's eye.
He fought back a shudder. "Why do I have to wear makeup?"
"'Cause you're gonna be the one doing the talking for us, should we get stopped, and you're the one the illusion's more convincing on. Sorry, but you've got more ladylike bone structure, and you're smaller. I hope you do a good girl voice."
My dignity will never survive this, he thought, as Joker dropped the pencil and picked up the mascara. Not that he had much dignity left, not anymore. "I'm not wearing bright red lipstick."
"Well, of course not. It wouldn't go well with your complexion at all, and besides, only whores wear it, myself excluded. You, kitten, are a lady."
"Ah." He tried not to blink. "I see. Thank you so much, kind sir, for protecting my modesty. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Have a boring life, that's for sure. Now hand me the blush."
AN: It had to be done. I'm sorry, but it did. Seriously, Google Image 'Breakfast on Pluto' if you haven't seen it, and just try telling me Mr. Murphy wasn't born to dress as a woman. And since he is how I picture Scarecrow (though I prefer Tim Sale's Scarecrow costume to the movie's) so is Jonathan.
Big Rock Candy Mountains is a favorite song of mine, and I found the lyrics about the jail weirdly appropriate for Arkham. Seriously, that place has the worst security ever. Also, "firecrotch" is my second favorite term ever for redheads, besides "ginger." And yes, I'm allowed to say ginger, having red hair myself. (I'm not offended when others say it, though some, like my brother, are.)
Jim Gordon is one of the ultimate father figures to me, and I imagine that each time in the comics/cartoon when a villain reformed, Gordon (and Batman as well) genuinely hoped they stayed well, regardless of their past actions. I think the villains pick up on that empathy, if only subconsciously. Not that it stops Jim and his family from being targets. Actually, that may add to it, some of the Rogues probably don't want to be pitied.
I'm not sure where the sex bit in this chapter came from, though after writing this, I noticed I've sort of weirdly paralleled their romantic relationship with the physical one; both can be pleasurable but are still tense, with unexpected developments (usually on the Joker's behalf) that tend to get interrupted or altered once things are developing a pattern. And it may be my asexual inexperience here, but I imagine such an act would be rather uncomfortable the first time, or a shock to the system at least. Whenever I read slash where the first time goes off without a hitch, it makes me question how realistic what I'm reading is.
I don't care if nurses don't dress that way anymore, it looks awesome and I applaud the Joker for going with the old school outfit in TDK.