Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from Dark Knight or its affiliates or franchise.
-o-o-o-
"Stop holding so tight."
"Brucy, tsk tak. SAFETY. Dontcha know what that is? Bein' the prim and proper model citizen that you are."
"In my experience, Joker, safety doesn't mean- Get your hand off that!"
The bike swerved a little as the Billionaire swatted at the gloved hand, which had been making its way southward. The heat of it clutching at his zipped up leather-covered abs was uncomfortable, but was bearable in comparison to the alternative.
They had only been driving five minutes.
FIVE minutes.
And Joker was driving him *insane*.
"Joker."
"You aren't really taking this whole safety thing, er, too well Brucy boy. Eyes on the road. No, hee ahee, chit chatting."
"Which i *could* do Joker, if you'd just put your hand back-"
"Don't be so tense Brucy Mc-serious. You need to relaaaaaax."
"Joker!" Bruce swerved again, nearly running over a startled pedestrian on the sidewalk.
He shot a dark look over his shoulder.
"If you don't behave, I am *throwing* you off this bike myself." Bruce growled over the roar of the motor.
It brought such a thrill through Joker's spine, the way he was able to rile the refined man so much. Just like his Bats. It brought such a warm tickling to his cold heart. Anyone else woulda been knifed at this point. Deader than a lamppost. But not Brucy boy. He was just tooooo much fun. Joker giggled, "Ooh. Hee hee ahaw. Spoilsport..."
Wayne exhaled loudly, still alert, but at ease by about a fraction.
-o-o-o-
The motor died, Bruce hopping off the bike like it was on fire. The playboy felt so filthy after that ride, that he seriously considered burning the motorcycle until it was a liquid heap of scrap metal. He barely had time to kick the propped stand before he was a few feet away, helmet dangling on the rubber handles, swaying in the sudden movement and silence.
"Yeesh, I don't have rabies, you know." Joker cackled, swinging off the bike at his leisure, taking his helmet off in a deceptively calm way that was the complete opposite of his very nature.
The whole spectacle was setting his inner Bat on edge. What was the Agent of Chaos's angle?
"I would prefer rabies to whatever it is you have, Joker." Bruce stated in monotony, unzipping his leather to combat the heat that had flooded his body during the trip.
Joker grinned ear to ear, practically skipping to the darker-haired bachelor's side, as he tsked, "Now, now Brucy, that's not very sporting of you. What I *have*, is heh eheh, a third date with Gotham's wealthy son."
Bruce blanched, stepping back as though he would physically contract a disease from Joker's presence alone, "I don't recall-"
"You invited me on this wonderful, yet short, ride. Which *I* graciously accepted. Really, like I don't have other agendas to attend to." The green vested menace interrupted, arm sweeping grandly to indicate the crimson and silver motorcycle behind them.
Bruce snatched the offered helmet with a slight snarl, "I should've given you a thicker one. Obviously you suffered some brain damage on the way here. For one, this is NOT a date. And for another, I would have had to run you over in order to not have you come with me."
"Aw look at that. We can read each other like a book." Joker crooned, before hooking his arms behind him to cast an openly curious gaze around him, "Where are we, anyways? Not exactly a classy place for a third date."
"This is NOT a date." Bruce repeated for what felt like the millionth time. He jammed the extra helm harder than necessary back into the motor saddlebag, before looking around. He ignored the green-haired menace's placid posture and preening, to take in their destination himself. He almost keeled over at the realization.
Hell.
He was at Wayne Towers.
A meeting with Fox.
He couldn't exactly stroll into one of the most heavily surveillance strung buildings in Gotham with the city's most infamous psychopathic murderer at his heels. And Fox was one of the most brilliant, understanding and perceptive men Wayne knew, but he doubted this unforgettable entourage would slip past the older man's grey streaks without inducing a heart attack.
"Joker-"
"Yadda yadda yadda, I know, I know." Joker groused, waving his gloved hand airily, "Can't come. Don't worry your pretty little head. I'll go get some ice cream while you take care of your, er, boring little money games. Pointless, really, if you ask me."
Bruce couldn't even begin to express his relief, but merely replied with a calmer than normal retort, "No one's asking you."
-o-o-o-
"You seem a bit nervous." Fox peered at him through knowing gray brows, dimples deeper as he grinned that amused grin. Like Fox knew the secrets of the universe at his fingertips, all you would need to do was ask.
"That obvious, huh?" Bruce Wayne, nerves of steel, chuckled half-heartedly. The schematics in hand was all but forgotten, and he quickly handed it over so he would stop crinkling the edges.
"Would it have anything at all to do with that troubled young man in the parking lot? He seems to have taken a liking to that sweet little ride you have outside." Fox noted, with a cursory glance at the documents now in hand.
"That's quite possible..." Bruce trailed, rubbing the back of his neck to give his jittery hands something to do. It seems simply not bringing the Joker in with him was not the easy solution he had hoped for. Fox was too sharp for that.
"I just hope you know what you're doing, son. I hear even that vigilante Bat character has made some new friends. You need to be careful what crowd you associate with." Fox stated carefully, eyes focused on the pages before him. A small token Bruce was grateful for. He felt he would grow redder than a tomato in shame for having been found out.
Fox was right.
Joker was a wanted criminal. A man who didn't abide by the rules that governed normal society. If anything, he liked to jump rope with those rules just to see how the pieces would fall in the end. Perhaps the mad man was just playing with Bruce. Attempting to get on his good side to get in touch with Batman, before pulling some grand scheme.
Lives could be at stake.
"It's not exactly like I have a choice." Bruce sighed wearily, raking a hand through his gelled locks.
Fox paused to look up at Bruce, gray eyes as sharp as ever. He cleared his throat, "Son, you always have a choice."
Wayne nodded mutely, turning his gaze to the side.
"'Course... I could be wrong. Perhaps even the most unfortunate of us have the will to change. You seem to be a positive influence, perhaps just the *right* influence, that this young man might need."
That answer had Bruce's mind reeling.
It was a logical possibility his inner Bat did not want to consider.
At all.
The Joker.
Need him?
No.
"What good will that do if I go *insane* first?" Bruce countered gruffly, arms crossed.
"Well, that is quite a dilemma then, isn't it Mr. Wayne?" Fox chuckled, shuffling the papers in hand, "I can't pretend to know the answers to all of life's questions, son. *That* is something you are gonna have to discover on your own."
At Bruce's grimace, the dark-skinned man laughed again, "In the meantime, I will go ahead and add these upgrades here for you. Don't take everything so seriously, young man. Life is what you make of it. Bullshitting and otherwise."
Bruce couldn't help cracking a grin at that one, "I will keep that in mind, Lucius."
-o-o-o-
Joker sighed. Audibly.
Vanilla ice cream in hand, he took another droll lick. He was a man of simple tastes. None of those silly, long worded flavors. Mud fudge what sits or dingleberry doodads. Vanilla.
Straight.
Pure and simple.
Though he wouldn't mind if he had the option to add a side of Brucy or Bats to it-
"Excuse me, sir, I've had a recent reporting around this area from the ice cream shoppe down the road that- Holy HELL!" The Gotham Police Officer looked ready to shit his pants as he recognized the suited man leaning casually against the motorcycle.
Joker would have thought it funny, if he didn't have a previous engagement.
Namely, Brucy boy who would be coming out any moment.
"Keep it down will ya?" Joker whined, attempting to shush the officer with a finger to his scarred mouth, "You're gonna get me in trouble."
But this just made the pudgy officer raise his voice louder, if nothing else, as he dropped into a stance with his pistol whipped out, "FREEZE Joker! Put your hands up where I can see 'em!"
"Easy big fella..." Joker attempted to placate the rigid officer, reading the man's name tag in hopes it would make matters better, "Mr. Timmons, is it? There's really no need for-"
"I said HANDS UP!" Timmons declared in such a loud pitch his voice nearly squeaked.
Apparently personalization was not the way to go with this one. If anything, the officer's face completely drained of blood the moment his name rolled from those painted lips.
Joker tried and failed horribly to hide his snorted laughter at the whole scene, arms shooting up as he replied with a chortle, "Hee ahaw haw hoo, all right, fat man, they're up. Now you mind lowering your voice, or maybe watching where you're pointing that thing? It's not a donut, you know. Though it looks like you've had a dangerously large amount yourself there, pudgy."
"D-D-Don't tell me what to do with my weapon! Now face down on the curb! NOW!"
Joker stared at him pointedly, "Can't you see I'm trying to eat my ice cream?"
"Drop DOWN! I SAID NOW!"
This was getting ridiculous.
He just got his ice cream. It wasn't even *halfway* finished.
Joker frowned, "No."
"Get down on the ground or I *w-will* SHOOT!"
Joker's painted brow deepened. He doubted with the way the Officer was shaking that he would hit him if the Joker was standing right in front of him, much less from a few feet away as they were now.
Not that he'd care either way.
He wasn't afraid of a little pain.
"Go right ahead, tubby. I'm not finished with my ice cream." Joker dropped his arms, going right back to what he was doing earlier. Leaning against the play boy's ride as he licked his just desserts.
At his sudden movement, Timmons let off his trigger finger, the bullet blasting the pavement near the front of the bike.
At least four feet away from where the Joker stood.
Joker paused in his ice cream consumption to glance at the wild shot, then back at the frozen officer, coal lined brow raised.
"Hmmmm, I must say Timmons. Normally, I'm not impressed by marksmanship but, heh eheh... WOW. I *am* impressed."
"Shut it, Joker. That was a warning shot! Next time you won't be so lucky you f-f-fREAK!"
The clown stilled. The word sent the most unpleasant stabbing sensations through his gut. Like a swarm of piranha mutated butterflies fluttering in his insides.
A flash of images.
The dark room.
Shattered glass.
Those cold, dead eyes.
'You killed her, boy. Happy now? She's dead 'cause of you, *freak*.' The whispered voice was like a blunt fork in his ear, as real now as it had been back then.
Joker twitched, head lowered as he glared at the frozen officer through hanging green locks.
No one...
*No one*...
Called him that and walked away.
Alive.
He fingered the blade in his pant suit pocket, imagining piercing it through the useless man's skull.
The officer was petrified. Eyes glued to the lethal maniac that had suddenly emerged in the silent jester standing before him. It was like a complete transformation. If the skies could darken, they would.
The Agent of Chaos stepped forward.
Closer to his future victim.
Even the officer knew.
Then all of a sudden-
"...Joker."
Joker blinked. Shook his head once, and turned. The clouds dispersed in his head, the killing frenzy dissipating.
He turned, expecting to see someone.
But was momentarily confused when the concerned-looking Billionaire came into view.
Why did he think-
Why did that voice-
So familiar.
The clown cocked his head. Momentarily confused and mesmerized. This Brucy, what was it about him?
Bruce Wayne gathered himself, mentally kicking his inner Bats for letting that slip of tone come through. Without the Dark Knight outfit. And with Joker. RIGHT. There.
Bruce cleared his throat, clenched as it was when he had stepped out into the street, only to see his least favorite person about to approach a scared shitless cop with the dripping intent to kill. It was so clear to Bruce.
So easily readable.
The jester had been pushed to the edge. Somehow.
And a little bit of the fear he had for the safety of those around them, had returned tenfold. This was who the Joker was.
A killer.
A murderer.
A psychopath.
Yet he stopped at the mere sound of his name. From Bruce.
The playboy pushed the reason and logic of why to the back of his mind, as he did with all things that concerned the green-haired menace.
"Joker, what are you doing?" Bruce said, in his normal tones, thankfully.
It was like a switch had flipped. The bloodthirsty savageness all but evaporated, the jester playful once more.
"Uh, *minding* my own business 'til nancy boy here came along. Waving his gun around and making me drop. MY. Ice. Cream." The last two words were snarled, as the Joker shot a spiteful look back at the cop, who was still rooted to the spot.
Timmons snapped out of it long enough to shout, "Mr. Wayne! Stay back, this is the Joker!"
Bruce stepped forward, brimming with the fearless confidence that demanded respect as he replied calmly, "It's all right, Officer. Just tell me what happened."
Joker was more than a little surprised, as was the officer. This was Bruce Wayne. Billionaire playboy. The man who went through cars as fast as he went through women.
Since when did he know how to command attention in such a way? The Gotham Police Officer had been quaking so hard his knees almost rattled off. But at those few reassuring words, Timmons managed to pull himself together. Almost as though the last few minutes never happened.
At the sight of the new Timmons, Joker's brows raised slightly, glancing sideways at Bruce in a new light.
Definitely more to Brucy boy than meets the eye.
"I received a panicked call from a nearby ice cream shoppe, Mr. Wayne, where the young lady working the register reported a man in a purple suit wrecking the establishment and stealing some ice cream." Timmons replied, with a hardened, wary glance at the Joker, "I didn't realize, at the time, it would be the clown."
"Not a clown." The jester snarked, making the officer jump.
"Joker." Bruce admonished, "Is this true?"
"The place needed a little bit of sprucing up-"
"Joker?"
"-I didn't really DO anything-"
"Joker."
"-too bad. I mean, what's a little bit of decorating-"
"Joker!"
The green vested jester flopped his animated arms to his side, deflated as he whined, "Whaaaaaat?"
"Did you do it?"
Joker kicked a pebble on the pavement, ignoring the officer with gun still pointed, watching his every move. He stuck hands in his pockets, shrugging up at Bruce as he mentioned quietly, "Well Brucy, there was no one *there*..."
The frown on Wayne's face made the Joker's shoulders sag under its weight.
"Did you pay for it?"
"Mr. Wayne, with all due respect, this is a waste of time asking the frea-"
"DON'T call me *THAT*!" Joker rounded at the Officer like a mad man, lunging at him. Bruce's eyes widened at the reaction.
Timmons hand was squeezing the trigger. The Joker was almost on him.
But Bruce was faster.
He kicked Timmon's feet from under him, the shot firing wildly into the air. The officer slammed bodily to the pavement. Simultaneously, Bruce tackled the enraged jester, pinning him to the ground with more effort than it would normally take.
"Easy Joker! Calm down." Bruce ordered through clenched jaw, pinning the wily man's arms behind his back, Joker thrashing face first against the harsh pavement.
"Not nice. Name calling." Joker snarled, struggling once and twice more before settling down, realizing who it was holding him down.
"Timmons! Holster your weapon!" Bruce barked as the other got up, "Joker, tell me, did you do it? Did you steal?"
"No! Of course not!" Joker exclaimed indignantly. He turned his head to glance sideways up at the unreasonably strong playboy, "I left, hee hee, the money on the counter. I didn't make too much of a mess, Brucy boy. I swear!"
"I'm sorry Mr. Wayne. It doesn't matter what this scumbag says. I gotta take him in." Timmons stated, gun pointed down and away, but not holstered.
Bruce stilled. The officer was right. Maybe Joker did it. Maybe he didn't. Either way, Joker was still a wanted criminal. Charged with several counts of arsen, homocide, robbery, and vandalism among other things. The police officer couldn't just forget he saw the jester.
Bruce's hands were tied.
Bruce wearily got to his feet, sure of the Joker's composure once more.
The purple sleeved menace sprung up the moment he got the chance, turning to gaze with blue eyes distrustingly at the officer beside them. But the next words out of Bruce's lips stunned him almost to silence.
Joker's head snapped back to the billionaire, eyes widened, "What?"
"I said, don't fight." Bruce sighed, eyes closed.
"Whaddaya mean? I didn't do it. I didn't do nothin' wrong." Joker frowned, stepping up to the drained playboy.
But Bruce stopped him with a raised palm, "I don't want to hear it, Joker. Please... I can't- this is the law we're talking about."
Joker sniffed, turning to gauge Timmons with a disarming eye, "Hah, I can take 'im."
To which the officer visibly flinched, trigger finger itchy.
"Joker." Bruce was spent. He couldn't deal with this too much more today. Yes, he knew the Joker could handle himself, against 20 men much less one. But the part of his mind that locked up everything he pondered about the Joker, every little speculation, was filled to the brim and bursting to get out.
The jester was too much.
He was a psychopath.
His path was riddled with bones and blood.
How could he ever change?
Why would he want to?
Joker himself looked like a kicked dog, locks draped over his hanging head. Timmons approached hesitantly, grabbing the purple-sleeved arms and cuffing 'em as soon as he got the chance. But it was all too easy. Joker was like a marionette who's strings had been cut. Not energetic. Not fighting.
Not his usual self.
It clenched Batman's heart. But he stomped that inkling away as soon as it appeared.
When Timmons started dragging the Joker bodily to the cop car, that mop of green hair flopped back up, coal-rimmed eyes seeking Bruce's guilt-filled brown, "Well, it's been a blast, Brucy boy. Didn't think I'd actually go to the slammer for something, hee ahee, that I didn't even do. Hoo hoo, too funny. It's too bad our third date had to end so soon."
Bruce took in the sight of the maniac, so downtrodden yet optimistically sarcastic. He could easily take Timmons. Kill the man like a two year old would squash a bug. But he didn't.
Wouldn't.
Simply because Bruce ASKED him not to.
He was gonna regret this.
"Wait." He stopped the police officer, not missing the curious gleam in Joker's eye.
-o-o-o-
"You did WHAT?" That British voice filtered unusually loud through the phone, Wayne having to jerk the cell away for a moment, "Perhaps my hearing is more impaired that I thought, Mr. Wayne. My apologies, I thought you said you had filed for a, ahem, court order to have the *Joker* placed under your care. As in, he would be boarding in your penthouse, possibly even *living* with you, which is a truly INSANE notion, if you don't mind me saying so, sir, and-"
"Hey ROOMIE!" Joker cackled as he stepped grandly into the den room, "Gotta say I didn't realize we'd be bunking together so early in our, heh heh, re-LA-tionship, but I, ah, just *love* the new digs. Not as dreary as those warehouses, but I gotta admit, it's a *li-ttle* too high end for my tastes."
Bruce was floored.
Really.
Really amazing timing there.
He didn't know which catastrophe to stop first.
"Uhhhh..." Bruce Wayne, vigilante extraordinaire and suave playboy, was at a complete loss for words.
The phone was dead in complete and utter silence.
Joker cocked his head at Bruce's look of disbelief.
Then it exploded.
"Master Wayne have you LOST you *MARBLES*! I mean com-PLETELY this time?!" Alfred boomed in the phone.
Bruce grimaced as he held it a safe distance away from his ear.
"Who is that, pumpkin?" Joker skipped closer, curious.
"A-Alfred-" Bruce started, glaring at the jester as he hissed, "-don't call me that. We are NOT in a relationship!-" before turning back to the phone, "-Now Alfred, calm down."
"Do NOT tell me to calm down, Master Wayne. You have a psychotic clown living in your place, which you have done *without* consulting me, and I am halfway around the world-" The furious butler exclaimed on the phone.
"Alfred, now come on-"
"-you are in serious need of therapy, sir, and this is just simply in-excusable-"
"I know, I know, Alfred, now can you just please let me explain-"
"-there is absolutely NO explanation for this, Master Wayne, and I can NOT tolerate the only surviving Wayne to live in the house with a monster!"
"Alfred, he's not a-" Bruce attempted to get a word in edgewise.
"Oooh, he's mad, huh?" Joker piped in, rocking back on his heels as he watched the scene with anxious amusement.
"Shut up, Joker!" Bruce snapped at the, turning his back on the jester in hopes he could attempt to calm Alfred down in relative peace.
Joker, in the meantime, busied himself looking around. The room sure had a nice cozy feeling to it, despite it's relative largeness. A large portion of the room dipped down to a lower circular setting, a few steps separating it from the higher floor of the rest of the room. The main function of it surrounded by curved couches all facing the large fireplace carved into the wall.
The opposite end was an entire wall of plexiglass window, while a bar setting was situated on the far side of the room.
He strolled over to the glass window as he heard poor Brucy's attempts to placate the mysterious Alfred on the phone.
"Alf- no, of course not!" Along with a chorus of, "Alfred. No, everything's FINE. Would you calm d- yes I know I said that already, and no, I don't think repeating it will make it magically-"
Joker's eyes narrowed.
What if Brucy had been lying earlier? What if this Alfred really was some sort of boyfriend figure?
Well Joker knew how to take care of-
No, Joker shook his head. He couldn't think like that anymore. At least, not unless it was truly called for. He had to be on good behavior. Had to show Brucy, and Bats, that he was game.
He could behave.
Really.
It's not like Alfred would really be missing a limb or two, if he was who he thought he was with his Brucy.
Honestly, who *couldn't* function without a lung? Or their heart?
Oops.
Joker scratched his head.
The logic was flawed there somewhere.
Wayne, in the meantime was busy with his own little battle. Though his was more of a mini war with one of the Queen's retired soldiers.
"Alfred, you are as stubborn as my father." Bruce said through grit teeth.
The Brit's voice, if nothing else, wasn't as loud as it had been, "And you, sir, are just as pigheaded as he was in his glorified moments. What makes you think the Joker won't figure it out? Insane genius that he is. How long you figure it'll take 'im to put the pieces together?"
Bruce turned slightly to look back at the green-vested jester. Who was calmly standing in the middle of the room, his gaze intense as he met Bruce's gaze stare for stare.
He shivered at the meticulously quizzical look, the Joker seeming to dissect him on the spot.
"He won't..." Bruce, momentarily caught in that black-rimmed stare, wavered in both voice and conviction.
Alfred paused on the other end, "Are you quite sure of that, sir?"
Joker's brow arched, trademark grin in place as he became aware of the playboy's attention. That devouring look brought a shiver down Wayne's spine.
Clearing his throat, Bruce turned away once more, clawing free of the Joker's hold as he said more firmly, "He won't, Alfred."
It was silent on the other line for a few beats, long enough for Bruce to fear an induced heart attack.
But Alfred's somber tone drifted through, finally, "And you are quite sure you don't need me home, Master Wayne...?"
"Yes, I'm sure." Bruce replied.
It would be just one more thing to worry about.
Bruce didn't think he could take much more in that department.
Batman remained silent.
"Of course, sir. Do keep in touch."
"Will do Alfred."
"And Master Wayne? You know where I keep the handy shotgun, should you need it-"
"Yes Alfred."
"-and the spare pistols in the-"
"Yes Alfred." Bruce sighed in exasperation.
"-as well as the-"
"Yes Alfred," Bruce couldn't help smiling at the old man's overprotective streak, "Goodbye, Alfred."
"Goodbye, Sir." He could hear the return smile in the butler's dear voice.
Bruce stared at the phone as he hung up. How he still missed the old man.
"Well. That was, er, in-Ter-esting. Your old friend not know 'bout our little, ah, sleepover arrangement?" Joker twiddled his thumbs innocently.
"Temporary. Our temporary arrangement." Bruce stressed, his frown matching the Joker's own, "Just until you find your own place."
"Talk about stingy. You have ALL this room up here to yourself, and you can't make room for little old me?" Joker gestured animatedly, gloved hands pressed in shock against his vested chest.
Bruce cocked a brow at the jester's exaggerated dramatics, folding his muscled arms across his broad chest, "This is for my own sanity Joker-"
"Pffft, sanity's overrated." Joker waved his hand airily, face scrunched in disapproval of the mere notion.
"-or would you rather I strangle you to death?" Bruce finished, more stern after the Joker's lackadaisical attitude.
"Hoo hoo, *NOW* we're talkin'!" Joker hooted, slapping his knee, before approaching the billionaire gleefully.
"Joker..." Bruce warned, frowning.
"Wow, I *must* be attracted to jackasses. Hee eheh, both of you are just soooo similar." Joker noted, snorting as he came to a screeching halt.
No telling what repercussions may arise from messing up so early in the game. Joker wouldn't have imagined the old straight and narrow Brucy actually pulling *this*. Using his money and connections to have the Joker placed under his care. Any other felon with a quarter of his crimes would be swinging from a rope by now.
Musta' made a hell of an impression on the good lookin' billionaire, Joker chuckled to himself, with a wet flick of his tongue on dry, painted lips. He really did outdo himself sometimes.
"Both... of us?" Bruce questioned.
But he knew full well who the Joker meant, and with that expression on Joker's face, the criminal wasn't fooled one bit by the act.
Joker leaned forward, hands folded behind his back to show no ill intent, as he whispered conspiratorially, "Why, the *Bats* of course. Really, you two are the only interesting people in all of Gotham, heck, the whole world. Other than me, of course."
Bruce leaned back at the small invasion of space, "I don't know what you'd think I and that Bat character would have in common-"
"Oh come come come come now," Joker laughed, skipping to start sauntering around the startled billionaire. The jester pursed his lips, stroking his chin as he measured the dark haired beauty with a critical eye, continuing his circling of the now tense playboy, "You're both, ah, attractive. Fit. Spoilsports. Ahhhhh, let's see, what else...?"
"He fights crime-" Bruce started to argue.
"Come now Brucy, so do you."
"Physically."
"I have a hard time believing -after you so expertly handled me too few times- that your tight bod can't handle a few, extreme, measures such as Batsy would."
"He doesn't sleep around with handfuls of gorgeous women."
"That we know of, anyway. But that's beside the point. Because neither can you. No. Not anymore, Brucy boy."
"Really?" Bruce grunted, unamused.
"Not when you both have *ME*, hee hee." Joker stopped circling to do a little twirl, ending with a short bow.
"I see the mostly non-criminal life hasn't humbled you one bit." Bruce noted dryly, crossing his arms once more.
"Mostly? Dear Brucy boy, I haven't done any bad deeds since you and I hooked up. Sinful things, yes. Deliciously, hot, and steamy things-"
"Stay on track, Joker." Bruce snapped his fingers twice, taking those scorching eyes off from devouring his solid form, and back to his stern face. He knew the Joker got sidetracked easily, but he didn't realize it was this bad.
Joker pouted, "How much longer til we can do the dirty? I've been sooo good."
"Joker! I did NOT agree to do ANYthing like that with you." Bruce stated, possibly a little louder than necessary.
"Don't gotta say nothin', hot stuff. Your body tells me ALL I need to know." Joker's grin cracked wider, another swipe of his tongue to wet his lips, demanding eyes raking the billionaire's expensively clothed form.
"Would you prefer I revers the court order? Night in the cells. Remember that." Bruce warned.
"Hoo hee, got it sergeant general!" Joker cackled, saluting the irate billionaire, "Touchy touchy. I thought you were supposed to, er, *unwind* with all those money grubby bimbos you slept with."
"Hmm." Bruce grunted, unimpressed, as he strolled over to a closet out in the hall.
He returned with sheets.
Tossing it at the Joker, Bruce informed him curtly, "There's a room across the hall from this one. That will be your sleeping quarters." Without further notice, the vigilante quickly strode out of the room, "Good night."
"What, no kiss before bed?" Joker asked, catching the tossed sheets easily.
"Do yourself a favor, don't push it." Bruce advised, before disappearing out into the hall.
"Yes sir, hee hee." Joker replied smartly. He rushed out to the hallway to see which way the retreating playboy had disappeared too. But no such luck.
Guess Brucy boy really was the tall, dark and silent type.
"And so coy, too." Joker hummed, amused, to himself.
"Well, got all the time in the world tomorrow..." Joker said in a singsong phrase, hop and skipping into his appointed room, blankets dragged on the floor in tow behind him.
Further down the hall Bruce heaved a sigh of momentary relief. He was sure the jester would have caused all sorts of mayhem rather than go willingly to his room.
Speaking of mayhem...
Bruce fingered the plastic case in his pocket. The latest surveillance footage from the ice cream shoppe. He wasn't sure whether he believed the painted man. Even though Joker's voice rang through his head, 'I'm a man of my *WORD*...'
He was in his room, moments later, elbows propped forward on knees as he sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the disc in his hands. Did the Joker really do these things? Did he have any reason to believe the insane man?
He lifted his hung head to stare at the door. Beyond which led a short maze of halls to the room that held the very jester in question.
Everybody deserved a second chance. Even someone with as checkered a past as the Joker.
Could he give Joker that chance?
Would Batman?
Heaving another weary sigh, Bruce got up. There was really only one way to find out.
He stepped toward the television, and popped the DVD in the player.
Whether he would like the results or not, he just had to see.
Just what HAD the Joker done in that random ice cream shoppe?