Jonathan Crane woke up with a start. He was covered in a cold sweat, and he didn't feel good. He breathed out slowly; it had only been a dream. But it was a dream about dying. He dreamt he had died. Why had it scared him? The Joker had been there. And Jonathan had left him. And…he remembered that the Joker had cried. In his dream, the Joker had actually cried. Even if the image was not real, it scared Jonathan. Shocked him to the core. Because it was an image that was wrong, almost. The Joker would never cry. Jonathan liked order. The Joker liked chaos. Usually they worked in harmony, but that was going too far. The boundaries of order were destroyed. Jonathan's stomach lurched unpleasantly. He swallowed and tried to calm himself down. He still didn't feel well. His stomach carried on knotting and twisting, and there was a sudden, horrible realisation. He was going to throw up.
Jonathan groaned and staggered to the bathroom as quickly as his tired feet would carry him. He had to stop just at the bathroom door to put a hand to his mouth and swallow a mouthful of something. He tumbled through the door and rested his chin on the lavatory seat not a second too late. He retched and shuddered as he vomited up everything that was in his stomach. It was not a pleasant sight. Tears streamed down his face as he continued to retch into the toilet bowl. Jonathan felt someone behind him, and pull his damp hair back from his face. The Joker's cool fingers felt good against Jonathan's burning forehead as he threw up even more. It was worse now, just horrible bile; his stomach was empty of food remains now. The Joker stroked his hair, tucking a few strands behind Jonathan's ears and gently massaging his forehead. "Oh Johnny, It's all right…" he whispered soothingly into Jonathan's ear.
Finally Jonathan's stomach was empty. He groaned again and wiped his mouth. He stood up, and brushed his teeth vigorously. The Joker got a flannel, rinsed it under the cold tap, and sponged Jonathan's cheeks, brushing away the salt water, and cooling him down. "Thanks," Jonathan gasped, gratefully.
The Joker just yawned and pulled Jonathan into his arms. "Let's go back to bed," he whispered, softly breathing onto Jonathan's hair, blowing it slightly. Jonathan allowed himself to be led back down the hallway and into the bedroom, where he lay back down on the bed. The Joker laid next to him, and pulled him close again. "Are you all right Johnny?"
"Yes. I'm fine now, I think. There's a bug going round, and I had a bad dream." Jonathan was slightly annoyed at how childish he sounded. The Joker laughed slightly.
"What was this Bad Dream about then Johnny?"
"Well, I dreamt I was pushed off a multi storey building, then you came and held my hand. I knew I was going to die, so I made you promise me that you would have a good life, and you cried over me, then I died. The scary part was the fact that you cried. It seemed wrong." He waited for the Joker to call him names, to laugh at him, but he simply said:
"I do have feelings you know. If you died, I would cry."
"Really?" Jonathan was intrigued. He shuffled a little closer to the Joker on the bed, and put his thin arms around him. The Joker stroked his hair again, and kissed the top of his head. Jonathan leaned up and nibbled gently on the Joker's neck, looking for his sweet spot, but too tired and achey to try very hard. He was enjoying the gentleness of his lover while it lasted; usually the Joker was quite rough, he hardly ever wanted to talk or just gently kiss Jonathan. "I love you Joker," Jonathan murmured, yawning and closing his eyes, still pressed against the Joker, resting his head on his chest. The Joker carried on stroking Jonathan's hair. "I think you can stay Johnny, I love you too." The Joker rested his chin on the top of Jonathan's head, and fell asleep too.