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

Chapter Thirty-Five: Joker


Reluctantly, Batsy follows me up the stairs.

"Firstly," I say as we step into my new…boudoir, "at the riskof sounding, ah, full ofmyself, that fancy-schmancy suit has got to go."

"I like this suit." Batsy straightens the lapels as I look it up and down. "It's made of wool from Peru. And last time I checked, you're always full of yourself."

"Funny guy. That doesn't change the fact that it's tacky." I take out my knife (from where, you ask? Well…take a guess) and get to work. "Now don't worry, I've got plenty of clothes around. We'll find something for you."

Batsy glares at me and steps back, pulling away. "I can do this myself." He slides the tuxedo off, revealing the whitecollar satin shirt and black suspenders. "I would like to have my things in one piece when I leave."

I walk over to the radio and turn it on. Christmas carols are now a-crooning, soft as snow.

Batsy looks over at the radio, then back at me. "What brought that on?"

I shrug and place the knife on the bedside table. It's a bit…jarring, seems out of place next to the simple radio-clock, the glass of ice-cold water and the stack of classic literature. Batsy's hands are sure and quick as they unsnap the suspenders, loosen the tie…

"Y'know, Batsy…" I get myself comfortable on the bed and bounce happily, waiting for him to join me. "Mr. Giggles really missed you. Did Mr. Glum miss Mr. Giggles?"

"Don't start that again," Batsy grumbles, finally sitting beside me in just his black boxers, arms folded across his chest in that stubborn way.

I look him over, looking as, ah, forlorn as I can. "Mr. Glum isn't awake yet?" I ask, frowning. "Well, that's fine. He'll be, ah, up and about soon enough."

I gesture for Batsy to lie down on the bed. He keeps a wary eye on me as he rests his head on the pillows and waits for "the inevitable" as he calls it. Incredible, inevitable, delectable… whichever floats your boat…

"Now, I told you this was going to be a night of indulgence…" I hop off the bed and from the drawer take out my green-and-red suspenders. The ones with the little silver bells. Ho-ho-ho, indeed. "…And I mean it."

The carols keep playing.

Batsy looks at the suspenders, then at me. He doesn't need to say anything—the raised eyebrows say it all. I hum along with the carols as I manage to wrap Batsy's wrists and elbows together with a Spanish bowline knot behind his back, two pillows behind him to keep him…comfy.

His arms are now covered in an array of green and red patterns, snaking from his elbows to his wrists, contrasting the color of his flesh quite nicely. He's going to be, ah, quite the musical bat. His chest is more, ah, prominent this way, too, which is a plus…

"I've been wanting to…try this out for awhile." I settle myself back on the bed and idly run my hands through Batsy's hair. "Think it'll work, hmmm?"

Batsy still doesn't say anything—but that's to be…expected by now. If he were a talker, he wouldn't be Batsy, now would he?

My hands clench in his silky, slicked-back hair as our lips finally touch. I can feel the warmth of his body under me, his heart rate slowly picking up, his teeth grinding oh-so-endearingly. His skin breaks out into goosebumps—something that I can't help but smile at.

The carols keep playing.