A/N: I, uh, suggest being familiar with or at least having heard the Britney Spears song "Hold it Against Me"...Just saying *whistles innocently* ;)
Chapter Five: Harley's Surprise
Batman's mind was still reeling from the earth-shattering kiss, and he was caught between wanting to pretend it never happened and wanting to do it again as soon as possible; it was like a drug wearing off, only he couldn't seem to decide whether he wanted to sober up or take another hit.
"Didja hear me, Mistah J?" Harley called from the other room, "I said I got a surprise for ya!"
Harley's announcement pierced Batman's thoughts as well as his eardrums, snapping him fully back to reality. Sober it is, then.
He realized he was smiling a little at something Joker had said, and promptly forced himself to stop, putting on a poker face instead.
The goddamn Batman doesn't SMILE! his mind yelled at him absurdly, especially not at the goddamn Joker! And the goddamn Batman definitely doesn't kiss the goddamn Joker…and even if he does kiss the goddamn Joker, he definitely doesn't enjoy it, or want to do it again, EVER, goddamn it!
His thoughts raced recklessly on, gaining momentum now that a mental dam had apparently broken, unleashing certain things he had tried to repress but was now finally beginning to acknowledge—by way of denial, of course.
Batman is not attracted to men—he's as straight as a... really straight thing—and he's especially not attracted to the Joker. Batman does NOT get hard sometimes while fighting Joker, does NOT have occasional pornographic dreams about the Joker, and has definitely never had images of Joker pop up in his mind whilst assfucking some random female model in the penthouse. And Batman was most definitely NOT halfway considering throwing Harley out the window himself and fucking Joker senseless right then and there!
But after a few seconds of imagining all the things that he vehemently did not want to do, he realized that a certain appendage of his was calling bullshit and straining against the armor of the Batsuit.
Oh.
Shit.
He…did want this?
No. No, no, nonononoNO!
Dismay turned into panic as his denial kicked into overdrive and scrambled for another explanation with its dying breath. No, I don't want this, because this isn't happening—this is a dream, a nightmare, a hallucination, the seventh circle of Hell—but whatever it is, it's NOT HAPPENING.
But Batman's back was still pressed up against the wall, and Joker was still right there in his face, and he could hear Harley's excited footsteps skipping closer to the door, and the undeniable reality of the situation suddenly became claustrophobic. He couldn't deal with it anymore; he had to get out of there.
Joker had also been dazed by their liplock, although without any hetero- freak-outs or long mental rants that involved referring to oneself in the third person, and he noticed a little too late that Batsy looked ready to lose it in the un-fun way. That would be completely unacceptable—sure, Joker wanted Batsy to be a little off-guard tonight, but there's a huge difference between fashionably ripping one's jeans and carelessly shredding them to pieces—but that was a horrible metaphor, because Joker would much rather there be no pants involved at all when it came to him and Batsy.
Batman felt like he was going to start hyperventilating any second now, and he tried to calm down using one of the many meditative breathing techniques in his repertoire; it helped a little, but he still needed to get the hell out of there before he did something crazy, like acting out one of those steamy dreams he'd been trying so hard to forget about.
His eyes darted around and landed on the batarang still stuck in the wall above the headboard, where Joker had thrown it earlier. Stuck. Like Batman was stuck in this insane sextortion scheme. Not a helpful thought.
He looked towards the door, but that was no good, because Harley would be coming through it any second now, which left the half-busted window as the quickest escape.
Joker noticed Batman's eyes flicking towards the exits and muttered, "Oh no you don't." He pushed Batman back against the wall, pressing against him in an attempt to hold him there. Batman was about to throw him off when Joker brought his knee up and carefully but insistently rubbed it against Batman's groin—which normally would've had no effect whatsoever through the armor of the Batsuit, but it was impossible to ignore the delicious pressure against the preexisting hard-on Batman had been trying to will away. Batman sucked in an involuntary gasp at the sensation as Joker leaned forward and whispered, "I'm not finished with you yet."
Joker's gaze flicked down from Batman's eyes to his still-parted lips and he started to lean in again. Batman suddenly realized just how close the footsteps from the other room had gotten, and he panicked at the thought of anyone seeing him and his worst enemy like this—Batman's superpower was denial, and even after everything that had happened tonight, he could still probably manage to convince himself it had never happened if he really put his mind to it, and as for Joker, well, if Joker ever mentioned this night in a future encounter Batman could always write it off as nonsensical rambling; if someone else actually saw this, though—someone outside of their two-man universe—all hope of Batman even pretending to repress it would be lost. Batman panicked and shoved Joker back to put some distance between them, then punched him in the jaw for good measure, sending him sprawling to the floor just as Harley appeared in the doorway.
Harley had been grinning and carrying something furry, preparing to shout surprise, but the sight of Batman punching her Puddin' for no apparent reason wiped the smile right off of her face. "Mistah J!" she yelled, dropping the object and rushing to his side. "Are you okay, Puddin?"
Batman took the opportunity to try again to will away his erection while Joker and Harley were distracted. He wiped his mouth again, too, just in case there were any lingering smudges of makeup.
"Would you get off of me?" Joker demanded, pushing Harley's hands away when she tried to check him over for injuries and help him up. He got to his feet by himself, scorning her proffered assistance and muttering, "I'm fine, quit—" he trailed off and stared at her for a few seconds, then demanded, "What are you wearing?"
"Oh, do ya like it?" Harley asked, standing up straight and doing a little twirl to show off her new look. "Sexy, huh, Mistah J?"
She had traded the see-through negligee for an ultra-skimpy cop costume that looked like it had been stolen from the set of some low-budget cliché porno; it consisted of a tiny navy blue pleated skirt, a pair of black, strappy, ridiculously high heels, a police hat perched on top of her usual red and black jester's cap, and a short-sleeved blue button-up shirt with the top three buttons ignored in order to showcase her breasts, which were jammed into a lacy purple ultra push-up bra. A fake badge was pinned to the shirt, and she wore a black leather gun belt—complete with a lube-filled water pistol in the holster, a set of furry handcuffs, and an absurdly long black dildo designed to look like a nightstick.
Batman and Joker stared at her in disbelief, exchanged a brief glance, then looked back at Harley's latest fashion disaster.
"Wanna cop a feel?" Harley stage-whispered to Joker, giving him a sultry look.
Joker stared at her for a few seconds, decided not to waste his breath informing her that that pun was an insult to the intelligence of anyone over the age of six, then said, "Out of everything you could've picked—what made you think either of us would be remotely turned on by that?" he gestured at her porno-cop getup.
Privately, Batman had to agree—it was hard to think of cops as sexy when they were constantly trying to shoot and capture him. But on the bright side, his erection was gone now.
Harley's face fell. "But—but the nightstick vibrates! See?" she said, removing it from the belt and turning it on. "And it plays music!" She pressed a different button and it started playing the theme to Cops.
BAD BOYS, BAD BOYS—WHATCHA GONNA DO? WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN THEY COME FOR YOU—BAD BOYS, BAD BOYS
"Do ya know what I wanna do with this?" she asked playfully.
"I know I want to beat you to death with it," Joker snapped. "Give me that thing!" He grabbed it out of her hand and took a swing at her with it, but she back-flipped out of the way, giggling, mistakenly under the impression that he was kidding. But rather than chase her around with it like they were in some x-rated Three Stooges skit, Joker just threw the obnoxious vibrator out the window, not even bothering to switch it off first. "Was this idiocy supposed to be our surprise?" Joker demanded.
"Only part of it, Mistah J," she said, returning to his side and looking like a kicked dog eager to win back his approval, "the rest of the surprise is—" she leaned in and whispered something in Joker's ear, using her most seductive voice.
Joker rolled his eyes and said, "Well it's not a surprise now."
A slow smile spread across Harley's lips, and, unfazed, she brought a hand to her mouth in a mock Did I Say That Out Loud manner. "Oops." Surely giving Mistah J a little time to anticipate what was coming would heighten his enjoyment… at least, that's what Harley thought as she gave him her best bedroom eyes.
"And it's not even very original," Joker continued, not at all impressed. "I mean, seriously, Harley, you used to be entertaining, but lately you've been about as much fun as anal seepage."
As usual, Harley's selective hearing blocked out the insult and reinterpreted Joker's words much too literally. Her eyes went wide, and she furtively replied, "Uh, Mistah J, if you're having problems with that, I think I got some tampons you could try—" Joker stared at her in disbelief; Batman tried very hard not to choke on his suppressed laughter; Harley rambled on obliviously, "I can go get 'em if you wanna try it—"
"I don't want your fucking tampons!" Joker shouted, "It was a figure of speech!"
"Alright, alright," Harley said, holding her hands up in a pacifying gesture and stepping back towards the doorway. "Jeez, I was just tryin' to be helpful."
Joker tried for a moment to glare a hole through her, then glanced at Batman and muttered, "I don't have anal seepage."
I will NOT laugh, Batman commanded himself, mashing his lips together in a firm line and trying to keep a straight face. I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I will not la-ha ha ha ha—
Batman clamped a hand over his mouth, but a few chuckles escaped anyway. Joker watched him, and some of his irritation dissolved at the sight of the trying-not-to-laugh expression on Batsy's face. He still felt like stabbing Harley though, his plans be damned.
Harley reached down and picked up the furry object she'd dropped a minute ago, brushing off some dust and checking it for damage.
"What is that?" Batman asked after regaining his composure.
"A suicide bomb, if we're lucky," Joker muttered, crossing his arms and licking at his scars.
It looked like a faceless alien Furby; it was covered in blue fur, and was about a foot tall, although half of its height was made up of its bendable eyestalks. The other half was a fat, pear-shaped body with enormous feet and tiny little t-rex arms.
"It's an iPals…speaker… thing," Harley said. "See?" She pointed to a kangaroo-esque pouch on the thing's body, and indeed, there was an iPod Touch tucked inside. "It has speakers for eyes."
"Did you steal that from a five year old?" Batman asked.
"Of course not!" Harley snapped, sounding offended. "She was at least twelve, and a total bitch anyway. Anyway, that was like two whole days ago, I'm sure her rich daddy already bought her a new one."
Batman chose not to comment, but glowered at her disapprovingly.
Harley fiddled with the iPod for a moment, looking for the right song. When she found it, she set the…thing down on the floor by the doorway and said, "Okay—ready, Mistah J?"
"Knock yourself out."
Harley grinned, knelt down to push a button on the iPod, then quickly scampered out of the room, staying just outside the doorway.
"What is she doing?" Batman asked warily.
"You'll see," Joker said, not looking terribly excited. He sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for Batman to sit down beside him. "But if she comes back with tampons, I'm gonna bludgeon her with that fuckin' Furby."
Batman smirked and sat down on the bed by Joker. But his smirk turned into a frown as something occurred to him; Joker's obvious lack of enthusiasm for Harley's surprise and his apparent complete lack of attraction to her as anything other than a pawn in his schemes made Batman suddenly realize that his shock over the night's events had prevented him from asking the most obvious question of all—
"Why is she even here?" he muttered into Joker's ear, taking care to speak softly so Harley wouldn't overhear. It seemed clear now to Batman that Joker only had eyes for him, and it would've made a lot more sense for Harley to be guarding the kids instead of playing the third wheel.
"I have my reasons," Joker muttered back, though he looked pleased (and a little relieved) that it had finally occurred to Batsy to ask.
"Which are?"
"Not your concern."
"Joker—"
"Shhh!" he hissed, smiling a little.
"Don't start that again, I asked you a question."
"And I evaded it. Try to keep up, darling."
They both quieted when Harley blindly reached an arm back into the room and grabbed the Furby monster—she had forgotten to turn up the volume when she hit play the first time. She fixed her mistake, hoping Mistah J hadn't noticed, then hit play again and set it back on the floor.
"Now what is she—" Batman started, but he was interrupted by a sudden eruption of pop music from the iPals speaker.
Joker groaned, recognizing the song instantly—ever since the damn thing came out, Harley had been calling it Their Song and singing it to him nonstop at the most inappropriate of moments, like while he was trying to record a new video threat for Gotham, or while he was on the toilet. She'd played it and sang it to him so many times that he had the damn thing memorized against his will, and it was really getting on his last nerve.
Harley reappeared in the doorway and strutted into the room, crossing one high-heeled foot in front of the other to the beat. She sashayed to the center of the room, then stopped at the exact moment that there was a pause in the music, grabbing the police hat off her head and whipping it at Batman's face like a Frisbee. He caught it easily, and gave her a sarcastic look that silently said, really?
Harley ignored him—she didn't want him there, and she certainly wasn't going to acknowledge the bat-erloper who was intruding on her and Mistah J's special night. Sure, she'd been with plenty of other guys, but Mistah J was The One, and she'd be damned if she was going to let Batface ruin their first time together. She'd show 'em both who Mistah J really belonged with.
The beat started back up and the lyrics blasted out of the furry speaker as Harley started gyrating her hips and running her hands over herself in a manner that was probably supposed to be sexy.
HEY! OVER THERE!—the song blared, and Harley pointed to Joker—PLEASE FORGIVE ME, IF I'M COMIN' ON TOO STRONG—
If? Joker thought sarcastically; the line was accompanied by Harley licking her lips and running her fingertips up her thigh, teasingly lifting her skirt a few inches.
Batman stared—she was…stripping? Or at least she was trying to—the song was too fast for that, and her attempts to keep up with the beat ended up looking more seizure-ish than sexy.)
HATE TO STARE, BUT YOU'RE WINNING, AND THEY'RE PLAYIN' MY FAVORITE SONG!
Still dancing, Harley helpfully pointed to the creepy alien-Furby speaker, which was indeed playing it, and continued to do so, much to Joker's annoyance. Where was a hand-grenade when you really needed one?
SO COME HERE, LITTLE CLOSER—Harley danced closer to Joker, completely ignoring Batman's presence—WANNA WHISPER IN YOUR EAR—Harley dipped her face down next to Joker's, and then licked his ear.
Batman found the action inexplicably offensive, and narrowed his eyes at Harley, who was still pretending he didn't exist.
"Harley! Gross," Joker said, wiping his ear off.
She assumed he was just good-naturedly teasing her, so she smiled and kept dancing.
MAKE IT CLEAR—LITTLE QUESTION—WANNA KNOW JUST HOW YOU FEEL—
No, you really don't, Joker thought to himself, his hand aching for a knife. Or a chainsaw. Or a flamethrower—he wasn't picky.
Harley spun around, her tiny pleated skirt briefly flying up as she did, then struck a pose for the chorus, planting her legs wide apart and leaning with her weight on the left leg. She thrust her left fist straight up into the air, and mimed holding a microphone with her right, singing loudly and dramatically into it.
"IF I SAID MY HEART WAS BEATING LOUD, IF WE COULD ESCAPE THE CROWD SOMEHOW—" she glared over at Batman on the word "crowd," and at every "if" she swished her hips and used her fake-microphone hand to undo a button on her shirt. "IF I SAID I WANT YOUR BODY NOW, WOULD YOU HOLD IT AGAINST ME?" With her shirt hanging halfway open now, Harley twirled over to where Joker sat on the bed and ground her hips uncomfortably close to his face.
"'CAUSE YOU. FEEL. LIKE. PARADISE—AND I NEED A VACATION TONIGHT—" Harley did a little hula dance movement, then whirled around waving her arms in slow, dramatic arcing motions— "SO IF I SAID I WANT YOUR BODY NOW, WOULD YOU HOLD IT AGAINST ME?"
She held her own body against Joker, grinding her miniskirt-clad ass against him. Joker did not appreciate her apparent attempt to use him as toilet paper, and he promptly shoved her away.
After hearing this song against his will about a million times, Joker knew that there was approximately a seven-second pause until the next verse would start, which was more than enough time to decide that he'd had more than enough of Harley stealing the show and not even doing a very good job at it. Batsy wasn't looking too happy either—and that wouldn't do at all—so when Harley danced back towards the edge of the bed where the two arch-nemeses were perched, Joker stuck out his foot and tripped her.
She fell to the floor with a surprised yelp.
What the—? Batman thought, but he didn't get any further than that, because Joker promptly pounced on him and straddled his lap, planting his knees on the bed on either side of Batman's legs.
"What are you d—?"
Joker cut him off, singing along to the song.
"HEY! YOU MIGHT THINK—THAT I'M CRAZY—" Joker rolled his eyes—why would anyone think that?— "BUT YOU KNOW I'M JUST YOUR TYPE—" Joker leaned in close, his face only a breath away from Batman's, and licked his own lips while roaming his hands up Batman's chest armor to his shoulders, swaying his hips in a slower rhythm deliberately incongruous with the beat—it was a horrible song to try to strip to, he didn't know what Harley had been thinking. "I MIGHT BE, LITTLE HAZY—" Joker pronounced it as the song did, mangling the word into something like heys-eye, and making sarcastic jazz hands as he did, "BUT YOU JUST CAN NOT DENY—"
Wanna bet? Batman thought. But his eyes were glued to the tantalizing man in his lap.
"THERE'S A SPARK, IN BETWEEN US, WHEN WE'RE FIGHTING ALL NIGHT LONG—" Joker started taking liberties with the insidious lyrics, rewriting them to apply to him and Batsy. "I WANT MORE," Joker's hands left Batman's shoulders and travelled lower, straight down his chest and abs, and came to rest on the topmost part of his thighs, "WANNA SEE IT," Joker flicked a quick suggestive glance down at Batman's groin before meeting his eyes again and smirking. "SO I'M ASKING YOU TONIGHT," he took a deep breath and prepared for the finale.
"IF I SAID MY HARD-ON'S THROBBING LOUD—IF WE COULD ESCAPE THE COP SOMEHOW," Joker nodded towards Harley in her budget-porn getup, who was staring incredulously at the two of them from the floor, "IF I SAID I WANT YOUR BAT-COCK NOW—WOULD YOU HOLD IT AGAINST ME?" Joker's hands crept higher up Batman's thighs towards his groin, but Batman grabbed and stilled them there awkwardly. "CAUSE YOU. FEEL. LIKE. YOU'VE GOT NINE—INCHES NEEDING ATTENTION TONIGHT!" Joker slipped his hands free and moved them back to Batman's shoulders, pressing himself closer, his chest against Batman's, and his mouth right next to where Batman's ear was hidden beneath the mask; Batman wasn't sure what to do with his hands, so he let them rest lightly on Joker's hips. Joker smiled a little and sang, "SO IF I SAID I WANT YOUR BAT-COCK NOW—WOULD YOU SHOVE IT UP IN ME?"
Joker leaned back just far enough for his half-amused stare to meet and lock with Batman's half-defiant one—the other half of each expression was lust, and there was nothing halfway about it.
The song's beat dropped and slowed into a sexier, more strip-appropriate segment, but the self-appointed stripper was frozen on the floor with a horror-struck stare fixed on her very distracted audience.
What. The. FUCK?
She tore her eyes away from the pair just long enough to grab the Furby monster and kill the music, hoping that the abrupt silence would snap them out of it and make them stop doing…whatever the hell it was that they were doing. No such luck. Harley cleared her throat with a very loud and deliberate "A- HEM!"
They ignored her and kept staring at each other like they were both pretending to have heat-vision powers, and they were having a contest to see who could set the other on fire first. Harley didn't like it one bit—she didn't understand why she was left out of this ring of fire, a virtual icicle for all the attention she was getting.
Well THIS oughtta heat things up, she thought, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt and adopting a woe-is-me southern belle voice as she cried, "Oh no! Wardrobe malfunction!" She struck a pose, trying to look sexy and disheveled, and waited for the two men to give themselves whiplash trying to catch a glimpse of her 'naughty parts'…which never happened, because the pair remained apparently oblivious to anything except each other. Of course, it was kind of impossible to really have a wardrobe malfunction while stripping, since it was just going to come off anyway—but still, Harley was insulted that they didn't even pretend to care.
"Mistah Ja-aaay!" she finally whined, taking off one of her stilettos and petulantly tossing it at him—not hard enough to do any damage, just enough to get his attention. The shoe thumped him in the back and fell harmlessly to the floor.
Joker finally broke the staring contest, rolling his eyes with an irritated sigh. He leaned forward, and for one crazy, panicked second Batman thought Joker was going to kiss him again, right there in front of Harley—but Joker only leaned his forehead against Batman's for a split-second before pulling back and twisting around so he was sideways in Batsy's lap instead of facing him. Now that he could do so without breaking his neck, Joker glared at Harley and said, "Is there a problem?"
"Why—?" she paused, near tears, as she realized that she didn't know how to end the question. Why are you ignoring me? Why are you sitting in your archenemy's lap like he's a goddamn throne or something? Why do you keep staring at Bat-brain like that? Why did you even bring him here? Why are you acting like you don't love me anymore?
But then she saw the frustrated, longsuffering look on Joker's face as he gazed at her from Batman's lap, and she realized…he was doing it…for her! He was enduring the nauseating presence of his archenemy, and even pretending to be attracted to him for her! It was a test—a test of her loyalty, her creativity, her determination, and her willingness to fight for him. Of course he was never going to just give her what she so desperately wanted—he was going to make her earn it. That was it! She just had to try harder.
"Oh, Mistah Jaaaay! I get it!" Harley squealed, and with her newfound understanding of Mistah J's motives, she grabbed the iPals thingamajig and skipped off into the other room, determined to crank it up a notch and earn his affections with an even better song and dance— figuratively and literally.
Joker turned to Batman and said, "She doesn't get it." Joker reluctantly left Batman's lap and picked up Harley's abandoned stiletto and called, "You forgot your shoe!" He hurled it through the doorway after her, and there was a squeal of pain from the other room.
"I'm okay," Harley called.
"Too bad," Joker muttered; she had actually thrown her fucking shoe at him—she was lucky to still have the use of her legs.
"You don't have to be so cruel to her," Batman said, feeling a little sorry for her despite himself. "She's obviously devoted to you, for some crazy reason."
Joker raised an eyebrow. "Sympathizing, are we? Ohhhh, right—you know what it's like to be blindly obsessed with somebody who'll never be what you want them to be." Batman glared, silently warning him not to go any further—but of course, as always, Joker did. "What was her name?" he continued, "Ruby? Rudolph? Oh yeah, Ra—"
Batman was off the bed in an instant; he closed the distance between them and shoved Joker roughly against the wall. "You don't get to talk about her," he growled.
"Then let's talk about you," Joker said. "Despite your, uh—" he rubbed the spot on his jaw where Batman had punched him earlier, "—momentary relapse, you seem a lot more enthusiastic about our little deal than you let on at first."
Maybe so, but Batman would never admit it, and he wanted to wipe that arrogant little smirk off of Joker's face, so he growled, "I'm only here because I have to be."
"No, nononono—you don't. You don't have to do anything—we've been over this, darling. You have a choice—either spend a night of debauchery with your bestest enemy, or don't. If I choose to kill a bunch of kids because you refuse, well, that's on me, not you. That wouldn't be breaking your precious rule."
"That's bullshit and you know it."
Joker stared at him for a moment, then licked his scars and said, "You wanna know what I think?"
"Not really."
"I think that somewhere, deep inside, underneath all of that repression, you want this as much as I do…You're not here for the kids, you're here for me."
"I'm here to stop you," Batman growled.
"Oh, is that what the teenagers are calling it these days?" Joker said suggestively.
Batman ignored him. "You killed Rachel."
Joker rolled his eyes—it always came back to Rachel. Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. "Roasty, toasty Rachel," Joker giggled a little and Batman furiously raised a fist. "Nonono, wait—" Joker held up his palm, and to both their surprise, Batman did, leaving his fist hovering half-cocked in the air between them. Joker licked his scars and continued, "Alright, you're still sore about her, I can see that—but come on, Bats, did you really want to waste your life chasin' after somebody who's never gonna feel the way you want 'em to? I mean, look at Harley—it's pathetic."
Unimpressed with this line of reasoning, Batman drew his fist back again, thinking, he doesn't know shit—she was going to wait for me.
Joker saw Batman preparing to punch him and blurted, "She was gonna marry Dent."
Batman froze. What? No. "You're lying."
Joker shook his head. "I've never lied to you—I might've, uh, told the truth backwards at times, but I never lied."
Batman remained silent, and Joker's eyes flicked up to meet his stare.
It sounded like post-modern bullshit to Batman until he thought about it for a second—the Joker had given the right addresses in the interrogation room, he just switched them around—and despite knowing that Joker's lying was practically pathological to the world-at-large, Batman couldn't think of any instance when Joker had outright lied to him. It was astounding, and disturbing, and didn't bear further thought, because Batman sensed that if he looked too far beneath the surface of it, he wouldn't like whatever it meant.
"She was really going to marry him?" he finally asked.
"Yup."
"How do you kn—"
"I, uh, had a third phone on their little party-line, off-location, and it recorded their whole sappy little conversation."
Batman stared blankly at the wall above Joker's shoulder while his thoughts ran in circles—she said she would wait for me, she said she would wait, she said she would…she… betrayed me.
"And then what were you gonna do? Hmmm? Crash through the church window and growl 'I object'? Stalk them for the rest of your life? Put a burning bag of guano on their porch every night and ring the doorbell?"
Batman barely heard the Joker over the sounds of his own delusions crashing down around him—he had held Rachel on a pedestal, had believed that she was his one last chance for a normal life. But she was never mine—I never HAD any chance of having a normal life. And now he was left without even the ability to believe he could've had a normal life—he was left without Rachel, without the possibility of normality, without any end in sight to his duty as Batman—so what did that leave him with?
I'm left with…
His eyes and attention returned to the Joker.
…this.
"She was a distraction, Batsy. So the way I see it," Joker drawled, "I did you a favor."
They stared at each other in silence.
An hour ago, Batman would've knocked the Joker unconscious for daring to say that—now, he just stared at the man in front of him as he tried to piece his own thoughts back together. He lowered his fist and rested his hand on Joker's shoulder; it was an unconscious action; there was simply nowhere else for it.
After a few seconds under Batman's silent and eerily calm gaze, Joker said, "What? Is there something in my teeth?"
"Did you mean it?" Batman finally inquired, his eyes locked intently on Joker's.
"Mean what?" Joker asked uneasily; Batsy's voice had a lot less rawr than usual, and a little bit of something that stank vaguely of vulnerability—and that, coming from Batsy, was just wrong.
"You said that we would do this forever—did you mean it?"
You damned-well better mean it—you're all I have left now.
For a long moment, Joker just stared back at him.
Finally, he answered, "I've never lied to you, Bats."
Batman continued to stare at him, his mind going about a million miles an hour. It felt like a missing puzzle piece had finally clicked into place, and he started slowly nodding his head, never breaking eye contact with Joker. He could do this, if it meant that he wouldn't be alone. He was still sane enough to consider the idea of any kind of normal relationship as ludicrous, but as long as Joker would be there, to fight, to fuck, to keep his purpose from fading into irrelevancy… then Batman could do this without completely hating himself. And there were still those hostages to save, of course.
"Okay," Batman said quietly.
And that was all it took for the inches between them to disappear. The first kiss had felt like a bomb going off; the second felt more like a promise, especially since it was Batman who initiated it this time. His lips captured Joker's, but slower than before, more deliberately; his tongue sought Joker's, meeting it with forceful but tortuously slow motions. One of Batman's hands found its way into Joker's hair, the other trailed down towards the waistband of his pants; Joker's left hand gripped the back of Batman's neck to pull him closer, and the right hand migrated south to rest on Batsy's armored ass. Joker quickened the kiss, and had the presence of mind not to make any erection jokes this time. He felt Batman let his guard down a little, and took the opportunity to reverse their positions, pressing Batman against the wall instead.
Batman didn't seem to mind the reversal. He growled a little, low in his throat, and nipped at Joker's bottom lip with his teeth.
"Mmmmm," Joker moaned, biting Batman's lip just a little bit harder in response.
Batman's hands slid to Joker's chest, and without a thought he grabbed the lapels of the trench coat, pulling it off Joker's shoulders, wanting it gone—there were too many layers between them. Joker chuckled a little, and disentangled his arms from the jacket's sleeves, letting it fall to the floor. Joker's heart was pounding like a jackhammer, and he'd bet that he could feel Batsy's doing the same, if all that pesky armor wasn't in the way.
But before either man could attempt to disrobe further, they were interrupted by something that sounded like the breathless hiccup of a very large mouse.
Batman and Joker slowly unglued their lips from each other, and after sharing an uneasy look they turned to investigate the source of the disturbing noise.
Oh, fuck.
Harley stood in the doorway, still in full porno-cop regalia, her face frozen in a comical expression of pure horror. Her eyes were bugged as wide as humanly possible, and her jaw was dropped, her mouth hanging open in what might've been a silent scream. She had a white-knuckled death grip on the eyestalk of the iPals monster, and even from across the room it was clear that she was shaking slightly, though it looked like she had forgotten how to breathe.
Mistah J was... She couldn't even make herself think the word for the atrocity she had just witnessed, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the smears of her Puddin's makeup all over Batbrain. Those smudges of red and white around Batman's mouth seemed to be laughing at her, taunting her with what she'd never had.
He's never kissed ME like that, Harley mentally whined. He's never kissed me AT ALL.
Joker watched her with amusement—irritated though he was at being interrupted yet again, this was… interesting. He felt Batman tense against him, and turned his head to find a deer-in-the-headlights expression on the Dark Knight's face...his makeup-smeared face, which Joker neglected to mention this time; he kind of liked the look of his colors on Batsy.
She saw, Batman thought irrationally, frozen to the spot, somebody saw and now it's real.
Joker rolled his eyes at the both of them, then leaned forward and gave Batman another quick yet very insistent kiss. Batman blinked, surprised, but he kissed back briefly, still disturbed by the fact that they'd been seen, but not disturbed enough to say no to the newfound pleasure of that scarred mouth—especially since there would be no denying it and no going back now. Joker pulled away and met Batman's eyes, his amused expression telling the vigilante snap out of it. Then he looked towards Harley, licking his lips to savor the taste of his bat, and giving her a pointed look that said yes, that REALLY just happened.
Joker chuckled a little, and said aloud, "Surprise!"
Harley looked even more horrified than before. She was even starting to turn a little blue, holding her breath in an attempt to fight down the vomit that was threatening to spew out Exorcist-style at the sight of her Puddin' doing…THAT…with Batface. Twice.
Joker rolled his eyes and said, "Breathe, Harley."
It took her a few tries, but after heaving a few empty gasps like a suffocating fish, she managed to suck in a breath. And another, and another and another, but the air made her want to throw up. So did the image that was now permanently seared into her brain; it kept popping up like a whack-a-mole, making her wish she had a sledgehammer so she could bash her own brains in just to make it stop—or better yet, so she could bash Batman's brains in.
She tried to speak, but all that came out was another ridiculous squeaking sound. She tried a few more times, but only managed a tiny squeak each time.
Joker glanced at Batman and muttered, "I think we broke her."
Harley was in shock. When she'd walked in on them, she'd been too horrified to even think. Or move. Or breathe. Her mind had ground to an abrupt halt, and she could do nothing but wait for it to be over. She was too traumatized to look away, but this was no mere car wreck unfolding, this was like watching a flaming jumbo jet smashing into an elementary school. Twice, because he'd done it again. He'd looked right at her and done it again.
But the look he'd given her was nothing compared to the one she saw on his face when he looked at Batman; she recognized it easily enough—it was the same one she wore whenever she looked at Mistah J. His flippancy towards her was just a flesh wound, she was used to it—but that look on his face when he looked at Batman, that was a rusty machete straight through her heart.
After an infinity of milliseconds, Harley's mind latched on to the only lifeboat available to her fast-sinking sanity—her one true delusion that she and Mistah J unconditionally belonged together, and suddenly it all made sense to her—why Joker had never slept with her or even kissed her, why he ignored her advances in favor of schemes that always boiled down to Batman, why he didn't 'just shoot him'—it wasn't killing Batman that Mistah J was obsessed with, it was Batman himself. Batman had poisoned his mind like a drug; it was an addiction that Mistah J had no control over, and even though Harley knew he undoubtedly wanted to quit and be with her forever, Batman—just by existing—would never let him. Batman's ALWAYS been the problem, she thought furiously, he's always been what makes Mistah J do all this crazy stuff…it's not Mistah J's fault… but we can never be together while Batman's around to get in the way…
She knew what she had to do.
She had to break Mistah J's addiction by removing the drug—permanently.
She should've just finished Batbrain once and for all when she'd had him dangling over a tank of piranhas—she shouldn't have let her need for Mistah J's approval override her duty to do what was best for him. He didn't realize how poisonous his obsession with Batman was, but she did, and it was up to her to save him from his own twisted addictions. He would hate her at first, but someday he would understand, and with Batman gone, Mistah J would realize how much he needed her—and then they could finally be happy together, forever.
But first, she had a certain overgrown flying rodent to exterminate.
Harley's love was blind, and so was her hatred, more or less, because when she looked at Batman all she could see were those goddamn makeup smears that made her want to stick Batman's face in a vat of acid until every single microscopic trace of Mistah J was burned off of his self-righteous undeserving skin—whoa there Harls, calm down, she told herself, breathe, focus, wipe the crazy off your face…
She tried to force a smile onto her face to allay any suspicion as she took a few steps forward, using every ounce of her self-control to move slowly, casually, projecting forth the picture of innocence. But she wasn't as convincing as she thought, because what Batman and Joker saw as she lurched towards them was a woman on the edge of insanity with a murderous gleam in her eyes and her teeth bared in a grimace; one of her eyes was twitching, and she was gripping the eyestalk of the alien Furby so hard that her hand shook. She was ready to snap, and she was aimed right at Batman.
Batman saw the look in her eyes and he knew there would be no defusing this, not after what she just saw. He didn't want to hurt her, but she had murder in her eyes and a score to settle, and the chances of a peaceful resolution were less than zero.
"Let me handle this," Joker muttered to Batman, stepping in front of him to block Harley's progress. "Harley, dearest, just what do you think you're—oof!"
Forgive me, Mistah J, Harley thought as she kicked Joker right between the legs and shoved him sideways onto the bed, I'm doing this for you…for US.
If I get hit in the balls ONE more time, Joker thought, somebody's gonna die.
Batman spared a quick glance as Joker fell onto the bed looking pained and pissed off but amused nonetheless—neither of them had seen that coming.
Batman returned his attention to Harley, analyzing the situation—he had the obvious advantage of strength, but Harley was fast, and she had the reckless self-disregard born of insanity, which made her dangerous.
Harley watched Batman watching her, her eyes fixed once again on those goddamn red and white makeup smears that made her want to claw Batman's face open with her fingernails and peel his skin off until the only red and white left on his body came from his blood and his shattered fucking skull. She was going to make sure he never touched her Puddin' again.
Joker pulled himself up into a sitting position, still sore but smirking a little, wanting to watch how this played out. Harley would be trying to do as much damage as possible, while Batsy would be trying to disarm her with as little damage as possible—it would be either funny or painful to watch, but either way, Joker didn't want to miss it. All he needed was some popcorn to snack on.
Harley charged forward and raised the iPals speaker, preparing to swing it as hard as she could at Batman's head.
Batman blocked it with his forearm, and the ridiculous thing dropped to the floor; the jolt made the iPod Touch shuffle to a random song, skip half of it, and blare out something that sounded like Care Bears having sex.
Batman grabbed Harley's wrist—she landed a side kick to his ribs, but it had little effect through the armor—and Batman twisted her arm around behind her back, pinning her to the wall and keeping her in a hold that would break her arm if she struggled. Mind your surroundings—he had learned that from Ra's al Ghul; you can subdue a person by controlling just one fourth of their body—he had learned that from Chuck Norris… that, and how to slam a revolving door.
"There you go Batsy, now spank her!" Joker called through his laughter.
But Harley wasn't giving up that easily—she slammed her head backwards, bashing Batman's face as hard as she could. The mask took most of the blow, but a tiny crunch told him that something inside the mask had been damaged; he didn't have time to wonder what it was, though. He took an instinctive step backwards, keeping Harley's arm pinned but unfortunately giving her more room to maneuver. Harley made a noise somewhere between a growl and a shriek, then lifted her leg and slammed her foot backwards into Batman's knee. That hurt, even through the armor, and in response, Batman shoved her forward until her legs were trapped between the side of the bed and his own legs. One of his hands was busy keeping Harley's arm under control, and the other reached for the set of handcuffs he kept in his utility belt.
Watching from the bed, Joker started a slow, sarcastic clap—whether at Harley for failing at the lamest assassination attempt in the history of history, or at Batman for taking so long to subdue her, it was unclear.
Harley was furious. She stared at Mistah J with tears in her eyes—she had failed him. She had failed to destroy the object of his addiction, and now they would never be together… unless… maybe there was still a way she could destroy Batman in Mistah J's eyes without killing him…
Here goes everything, she thought.
Batman thought it was over with, but before he could finish cuffing her, Harley's free hand shot up, reaching blindly behind her and grasping one of the pointy ears of Batman's mask. Joker froze in mid-clap; Batman abandoned the handcuffs he was reaching for, but it was too late to stop her.
Harley gripped the ear and gave an almighty tug, yanking the mask off and triumphantly throwing it on the bed in front of Joker.
Now he'll see, Harley thought desperately, under that stupid mask, Batman's just a man, not a hero, not a symbol. He's nothing.
Harley stared anxiously at Joker, searching for any sign of approval in his eyes. With her back pinned against Batman she couldn't have looked at his face even if she wanted to, which she didn't. She didn't care. All she cared about was breaking his hold over Mistah J.
Batman stared in horror at the empty cowl lying on the bed. So did Joker.
At the same instant, their eyes flicked up to stare at each other instead.
Joker didn't want to look, but he had to. He couldn't not look. And what he saw was… surprisingly funny—Bruce Wayne, billionaire and playboy extraordinaire, with a line of black kohl under his eyes and smudges of Joker's own lipstick and greasepaint smeared all over his mouth, his hair thoroughly mussed, and a mortified expression on his face like someone had just walked in on him fucking a goat.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Joker was seeing in hindsight every little clue that he had somehow failed to put together—and had, in fact, stopped trying to put together after he'd decided long ago that it was more fun not knowing who was under the mask. In the front of his mind, however, he wasn't seeing anything except red, because—how. Fucking. DARE. She?
Joker tore his eyes away from Ba—from Bruce—and turned his gaze instead on the henchwhore who had dared to de-mask his Bat. HIS Bat.
"See, Mistah J? He's just a guy in a bat suit—I'm the one who loves you. I'll always love you. So now you can stop this nonsense with Batman and we can be together forever—right, Mistah J?" Harley pleaded.
Fuck the plan, Joker thought, no goddamn reacharound.
He glared at her, his lips slowly curling up into a grin as he started to chuckle.
Harley took this as a good sign and beamed. "I knew you'd understand, Mistah J!"
Joker just laughed harder. He was still laughing when he reached back and wrenched the gleaming batarang out of the wall above the headboard. He was laughing harder still when he pressed its sharp edge against Harley's bare throat, his other hand grabbing the back of her neck to hold her still.
"You wanna know what's so funny, Harley?" he asked, his tone deadly, despite the occasional chuckle still slipping out. "I actually believed that you had potential."
After about two seconds, the terror in her eyes told him that she finally realized he was not joking this time—but something in his eyes must've signaled that he was just about to make her neck smile, because Bat-Bruce's free hand shot up and grabbed Joker's hand around the batarang, pushing it a few inches backwards, safely away from Harley's jugular.
Joker growled and looked into that face that he had never wanted to see.
"Don't," said Bruce-Bat, "Let me."
Joker blinked. WHAT? LET you? Let you WHAT? Break your rule for HER?
Bruce saw the astonished look on Joker's face and realized he'd been misunderstood.
"Let me handle this," he clarified. "Put that down," he asked, nodding towards the batarang clenched in both their hands. Both of them ignored Harley's tearful whimpering.
Bruce briefly considered threatening to not go through with their deal if Joker killed her, but he knew Joker would call his bluff because Joker knew he would never let those children die. So instead he locked eyes with Joker, silently asking for this little bit of… trust? Compromise? He wasn't sure what exactly he was asking for, other than the absence of a bloodbath.
The shock of thinking that Batsy was considering breaking his rule had dialed down Joker's homicidal rage a bit, and he thought over Bruce-Bat's request… Request. Not demand. One demands things from inferiors—requests are for equals.
Huh, Joker mused, tilting his head slightly and licking his scars, keeping his gaze locked on the familiar eyes of his other half, Batsy's finally starting to get it.
That was progress. And besides, he could always kill her later.
"Alright then," Joker said, opening his hand and letting the batarang clatter to the floor at their feet, "handle it."
Joker almost would've sworn he saw Bat-Bruce give him a microscopic half-smile.
In an impressive blur of motion, Bruce released Joker's hand and Harley's arm, and hooked his right arm around Harley's neck with his elbow underneath her chin and his arm pressing against both sides of her neck. His left hand pressed the back of her head forward into the hold.
In less than ten seconds, Harley was unconscious, but Bruce held her in place for another twenty, just to be sure. Then he let go of her neck and handcuffed her before letting her limp form sink to the floor.
"Wow. That was kinda hot," Joker said, smirking.
"What do we do with her now?" Bruce asked, ignoring the mask-less proverbial elephant in the room.
"Hmm," Joker pretended to check his pockets, "damn it, I left the wood-chipper in my other pants."
"I'm serious."
"There's a closet in the other room."
"That'll do," Bruce said.
Their eyes met again, then Bruce looked down at his empty mask still lying on the bed. Joker followed his gaze, turning and picking up the mask almost reverently.
He turned back around to face Bruce-Bat, raising the mask.
"Can I—?"
Bruce blinked, a bit surprised at the request. But Joker had obliged him by not killing Harley, so what the hell. He nodded once.
Joker stepped over Harley's unconscious body, closing the gap between himself and Bruce-Bat. He lifted the mask up over Bruce's head then began to lower it, slowly and carefully bringing it down until Bruce Wayne disappeared and all that was left was Batman.
"Better?" Batman asked.
"Much. Now, let's take out the trash—" he shot a hateful glance at Harley "—and do what we came here for, shall we?"
This time, Joker was positive he saw Batman smile.
Long-ass A/N: I know Batsy's kinda emotional-rollercoaster all over the place, but keep in mind that this experience has been one massive explosion of a mindfuck for the poor guy. And it's not over yet *winkwink* ;)
BTW, I actually have that iPals monster :) It's nowhere near as creepy as a Furby, though.
The "Hold it Against Me" mini-rewrite is all my own doing. If you want to spread it around or add to it, by all means, go for it, but give credit where it's due, please and thankya :) …Oh, and the "Care Bears having sex" is how I describe the vocalization that happens around the 2:50 minute mark in Britney Spears' "Gimme More" I was originally going to have a part 2 to Harley's stripfail adventure to that song, but I changed my mind :P (Oh, and for the sake of a stating-the-obvious disclaimer: all songs mentioned in this fic are the property of their respective owners, and I am not making any money from their use. No copyright infringement is intended, blahdy fuckin blah)
And last but definitely not least, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for reading, reviewing, alerting, faving, and otherwise supporting my work. And two great big special public THANK YOUS go out to Jean_C_Pepper for providing me with encouragement and fandom-related stuff to do to keep my brain from atrophying :) , and to my wonderful brilliant Batwife, KitCat Italica, for being the best, most supportive friend through a truly hellacious part of my life, for putting up with all of my angst, for encouraging my writing, and for her constant motivation. Thank you so much, hon, idk what I'd do without you :) *insert a million heart symbols that FF won't allow* 3333 33 3 3333 333 33 33333 333 3
Stay tuned, peeps, the best is yet to come ;) Pun most definitely intended ;D