Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight. Only this plot.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Joker


I can't help feeling…giddy as I pace nervously at the front door, waiting for Batsy to show.

I was very, ah, exact in my directions, so he won't get lost, obviously. He knows Gotham.

I look at the clock—only 10. Plenty of time before I actually decide to get some shut-eye. And yes, I will sleep well tonight—no waking up in the middle of the night to clean my knives, or scribbling smiley faces on bills, or even going through my, ah, news clippings collection to make sure I didn't miss one. There's a whole box dedicated to Batsy, of course, and my hero Harvey.

Another detail of my, ah, unique sleeping habits: when I was a kid, maybe seventeen or so, I found out that the only way I could sleep well was with a purple garter around my left thigh.

Yeah.

So when Batsy comes to the door of my hideout, I'm wearing a pair of purple frilled bloomers (for lack of a…better phrase) and the garter, with a black "I Believe In Harvey Dent" t-shirt just for the hell of it.

I open the door and give Batsy my best smile. "Look who decided to drop by! C'mon in!"

"I can't believe you," Batsy says, snatching me up by the collar and slamming me against the wall, his eyes filled with rage. "Wasn't burning that place down enough?"

I sigh and pat his shaking hands, cracking my neck. "Hey, now, that was your idea. Unless, of course, you wanted me to…stop you."

"No. I wanted you to know I was serious—"

I roll my eyes. "Batsy, you're always serious."

Batsy's scowl deepens. "Do you know what abuse is?"

I can feel my lungs constrict. "Why, yes. Intimately. Which are you referring to, hmm? Substance abuse? That's 'the misuse of a substance for the sake of it's nontheraputic effects on the mind and body', if you go by the dictionary. As in junkies. Child abuse? You obviously never had that, Wayne. Domestic abuse? No? Or maybe you think date rape is more apropos?"

"You've been dragging me along by the cape, doing whatever you please." Batsy drops me, and I slide to the floor, my back against the wall.

"Oh, nononoooo," I retort, smiling. "You know full and well that this is your choice. Always. That safeword is open to you. Like I said, you complete me."

Batsy glares at me silently, fists slowly unclenching.

"And besides, this really…isn't the night for that kind of talk. Christmas Eve, y'know? The boys are off to debate which is better—Avatar or Sherlock Holmes. We have the whole night to ourselves."

Batsy snorts and steps away, adjusting his slick black dinner jacket. "Do you always have to crash my parties?"

I laugh. "Why not? It's fun! Besides, you don't like socializing with those brownnosers anyway, judging by what Schiff told me."

I take a closer look at his lapel. There's a blonde hair there…hmmmm…

"Who does this belong to, Batsy?" I pluck the hair and twirl it between my fingers, eyebrows raised. "Been a little, ah, busy tonight?"

"That must be from Jenny," Batsy replies smoothly, taking the hair away from me. "She's a very nice girl. Great sense of humor…"

"Which I have."

"…A kind heart…"

"She probably wants something from you. And by something, I mean your cash."

"Not everyone is so driven by their desires. She's also beautiful…"

"I'm not half bad either, y'know."

"…Intelligent…"

I grin. "I'm not even going to answer that one."

"How about humble?" Batsy gives me The Look I taught him, proving just how much he's learned already.

I look at him through my eyelashes. "Ummm…I'm not worthy?"

Batsy rolls his eyes. "Nice try."

I giggle. "Whaddya say we, ah, put this Jenny chick in the backseat for now, hmmm?"

Batsy puts his hands in his pockets and raises an eyebrow. "So, what are you planning then? Oh, wait. You don't plan—how could I forget."

That's what you think. I grin as I get up, brushing myself off. "Well, actually, I've got some presents for you. But we'll get to that whenever. Soooo…" I cock my head to one side. "Are you hungry?"

Batsy looks surprised. "A little."

"Oh, good. There's stuff in the kitchen. This way, Monsieur."

--

"Now," I say, as I open the fridge, watching as Batsy leans casually against the kitchen wall. "Take a seat…and close your eyes."

"This sounds familiar." Batsy sits at the round table, resting his hands on the wood. "You didn't do anything to the food, did you?"

"Of course not! It's a tried and true indulgence. Want to, ah, test it on me?"

"Actually, yes." Batsy gets up and stands beside me, looking over the selection. He spots the grapes in a bowl on the counter and plucks one, holding it out for me.

"Fine by me." I reach out with my tongue and snatch it up, balancing it carefully before tipping my head back and…letting it roll into my mouth. I bite down, enjoying the delicious sweet-sour taste. "See?"

"Yes. Well, then." Batsy sits back down, eyes half-closed, watching me.

"I see that. No peeking!"

He closes his eyes.

I silently take a large kitchen knife I've sharpened to a razor's edge and carefully slice a grape in two, exposing the moist flesh and tiny seeds. "Didn't think I'd pull something like this, did you?"

"I have to admit, you've surprised me…again."

I carry the plate over and sit beside Batsy, my bare toes wiggling on the cold tile floor. "Say 'aaah', Batsy." I spear one of the slices with the tip of the knife and hold it in front of Batsy's face. "Open wide."

Batsy sighs and sticks out his tongue—and in it goes. He chews reflectively. "Sweet…a small, bitter aftertaste…is it a Concord grape?" he asks.

"Bingo." I spear another slice. "Want more?"

"Sure," he replies, still somewhat hesitant.

Soon the grapes are done, and I go back to the fridge. I turn on the microwave and watch as Batsy stiffens with surprise at the obnoxious beeeeeeeeep's that fill the air. It doesn't take long for the next "mini-course" to be heated up.

"Any guesses?" I ask, grinning as he makes a very, ah, ungentlemanly slurping noise, the end of the slender thing smacking his nose.

"Spaghetti," he says, rubbing his nose. "Wheat."

This continues for a few more minutes, with me treating Batsy to tastes of avacado, banana, oyster (now that was a trick—it kept sliding off the fork), and finally Betty's chocolate pie. By the end, Batsy's looking hungry, and I'm ready to show him the first presents.

"That's enough for now. But keep your eyes closed, Batsy."

I take the bottles of body paint out of the fridge and place them on the table, feeling giddier than I've felt in a while.

"Okay, Batsy, my turn." I take the brush and paint a little streak of strawberry on his thumb. "Any guesses what this is?"

"…Cold."

I lick the strawberry streak off, the salt of his skin mingling with the sweetness of the paint. I watch as Batsy starts getting a little, ah, red. I get another dollop on my thumb and press it to his lips, grinning as his tongue tentatively reaches out and…

Batsy's eyes open, looking surprised. He looks down at the bottles, eyebrow raised. "…Body paint?"

"Just for you," I say as Batsy turns the bottles around, inspecting them like the detective. "Well, and me, too, since these are made with, ah, two people in mind…"

Batsy looks at me, asking a question with his eyes I knew would come up.

"I told you, Batsy…" I grin and lean closer. "Tonight's the night to…be indulgent."

"You're trying to seduce me."

Batsy's deadpan tone sends me into a fit of cackling. "Well, duh. Don't you like being seduced?"

"No."

"Nooooo?" I raise my eyebrows in mock-surprise.