A/N: Enjoy the finale! :)

Chapter Seven: The Appropriate Response to These Situations

It might have been funny, if Harley hadn't been so enraged—the way Mistah J and Batface whipped their heads around in unison with identical, stricken, deer-in-the-headlights expressions. But any humor was cancelled out by the smell of sex in the air and the way Mistah J was perched in Batfuck's lap like he belonged there—and she'd seen that kiss just now. She'd heard that new, sickeningly intimate undertone to their banter. She'd woken up in the dark to the sound of them fucking from clear across the apartment while she fought against post-chloroform grogginess and tears and her own trembling fingers to finally pick the locks on her handcuffs and the closet door with the pin on her Officer Nasty badge. She'd heard them talking about her, mocking her, while she grabbed a lighter and a gun and quietly poured out a spare can of gasoline Mistah J had left lying around. And nothing about this situation was funny anymore.

"Harley, darling," Joker greeted, trying for cheerful but landing in apprehensive. "How long ya been standing there?"

"Long enough, you bastard." She kept the gun aimed at the two of them and started absently flicking the top of the lighter open and closed.

Very, very slowly, Batman reached for a batarang with the hand Harley couldn't see—he wasn't sure if Joker could talk his way out of this one. Joker noticed Batman's movement but thankfully didn't draw attention to it.

"Harls," Joker started, his tongue swiping at his scars.

"Save it," she snapped. "I'm through. I ain't gonna stick around to be the kid you wish you'd aborted."

Joker smirked. "You sure? Cause I've got some great dead baby jokes."

"Don't you fucking laugh at me!"

"I wasn't—no, Harley," he took a deep breath and his smile grew impossibly wider, "I am so proud of you."

The murderous expression on Harley's face slowly gave way to confusion. "What?"

"This is what I wanted—you, standing up for yourself, standing up to me."

Harley blinked and repeated, "What?"

"I mean, do you have any idea how annoying and clingy and dependent you were?"

Harley glared at him and flicked the lighter back open.

"Not helping," Batman muttered.

He concealed a batarang in his hand, but waited for now; Harley had the gun trained on them, ready to shoot at the slightest movement, and Batman wasn't eager to find out just how vulnerable to bullets this lighter armor really was. For now, he would wait and hope Joker could distract Harley and give him a chance to use the batarang.

"So all of this," Joker continued, "was your wake-up call. Well," lick, smirk, "yours and Gotham's."

"Gotham's?" Harley asked. She'd known Mistah J long enough to recognize the ask-questions-so-I-can-explain-my-evil-plan gleam in his eyes, and despite her fury, part of her still desperately craved an explanation for this madness—one that kept her at the center of Mistah J's affections instead of Batface.

"Gotham," Joker announced, "has been watching everything happening in this room, live—on every channel—for the past hour or so. Courtesy of a hacked satellite signal and a hidden camera." He waved cheerfully at the opposite wall, then smirked patiently and waited for it to sink in.

Batman paled and nearly dropped the damn batarang—the past hour, during which he'd been unmasked, and he'd fucked his archenemy and thoroughly loved it, and he'd kissed him and joked around and had drinks with him and started to maybe even trust him a tiny bit and holy fuck… just…fuck.

Harley's mouth slowly morphed from an O of surprise into a delighted grin.

"You genius," Harley breathed, tried to hold in her laughter, "you've ruined him!"

She lowered the gun now, giggling—she understood now, why Mistah J had been acting so strange, and why he'd tricked her, and it was so totally worth it: Batman was utterly finished, de-masked and debased on live television, and now he would finally be out of their lives so they could be together forever. Mistah J had won.

When Harley lowered the gun and looked away laughing, Joker finally looked back at Batman with a triumphant smirk and—oh.

He promptly froze, his smirk disappearing—the look on Batman's face was nothing short of murderous, and he was gripping that batarang like he wanted nothing more than to stab Joker in the face with it. Joker actually got chills, and giggled before he could stop himself—he really should say something; it was just that Batsy genuinely looked ready to murder him, and it was simultaneously terrifying and turning him on a little.

Batman growled, grabbed Joker's throat with one hand and hauled him to his feet; he turned so Joker's back was towards Harley, who gasped and raised the gun again. But she was too late to get a clean shot at Batman now that he was using Mistah J as a human shield.

Well, shit, Joker thought.

"You bastard," Batman seethed. "Give me one reason I shouldn't fucking castrate you."

Oh, so that's where Batsy's other hand was—pointing that very sharp batarang at a very sensitive area. One of Joker's hands had automatically grabbed the one Batsy was currently trying to choke him with; his other hand now very carefully reached for the hand holding the batarang.

Batman narrowed his eyes in warning as Joker's hand crept towards the batarang—but Joker only rubbed Batman's gauntleted hand in a parody of a caress before repeatedly tapping his fingers against it, his eyes glancing down then back up to meet Batman's furious gaze. Ten minutes ago, Batman might've found Joker's nervous tic endearing—now, he just wanted to crush his throat like an empty soda can. After everything that bastard had spouted about completing each other and being meant to do this forever, and I've never lied to you, Batsy—and all along it was one big fucking lie designed to humiliate him in front of the entire city. And the worst part of it all was that the bastard had actually made Batman care about him—trust him almost—just to turn around and betray him. His hand tightened infinitesimally, and Joker choked out a word.

"Be..cause…"

Oh, right—he had asked the clown a question.

"What was that?" Batman growled, loosening his grip slightly.

Harley watched on in horror, biting her lip. She kept the gun aimed at them but didn't dare shoot at Batman for fear of hitting Mistah J.

"Because," Joker started to whisper, but Batman was having none of that.

"Speak up!" he ordered venomously, "your fucking audience can't hear you."

Joker's eyes flashed, and although his finger kept tapping against Batman's hand, he looked more irritated than nervous now. And that just made Batman angrier, because what fucking right did he have to be irritated? It wasn't him who had just been made a fool of with the whole city watching…Jesus, what if Alfred had been watching?

"Because you loved it and you know it," Joker snapped, much louder.

Batman growled—how dare he, when it was all a lie, all a big fucking joke.

But Joker kept talking. Of course he did—the audience was waiting after all. "You loved it when I shoved you down on that bed, and tied your wrists to the headboard, and tapped your ass like a beer keg. Didn't you?"

Joker pointedly glanced down at the word tapped, then caught Batman's eyes and raised his eyebrows.

Wait…what?

None of that had actually happened, which would be obvious to anyone who'd actually been watching…but not to Harley.

Batman's fury flickered out as he suddenly realized that he was being very, very stupid—that wasn't a nervous tic, it was Morse Code. Because every costumed hero and villain alive knew Morse Code—it was a goddamned prerequisite.

Batman mentally kicked himself, and started paying attention to the rapid tapping.

…no…ca…m…era…d…umb…a…ss…now…pl…ay…a…lo…ng…di…str…a ct…her…

Oh, you brilliant, psychotic bastard, Batman thought, repressing a sigh of relief; he quickly tapped back got it, and tried to act as homicidal as he'd felt a moment ago.

Batman growled and spun his captive around so Joker's back was pressed flush against Batman's chest. He quickly replaced his hands—one around Joker's throat, the other holding the batarang near his groin. Batman kept his eyes on Harley, who looked terrified but kept the gun pointed at him. He kept his head very close to Joker's so she wouldn't dare take a shot.

"You know what?" Batman snarled into Joker's ear, loud enough for Harley to hear every word. "You're right. I did love it." He nipped at Joker's ear. "I don't even care who saw. I loved the way you tied me up and teased until I begged you to fuck me into the mattress like a filthy whore." He felt rather than heard Joker's sharp inhale—kinky bastard was probably loving this. "In fact, I loved it so much I think I might…" he trailed the sharp edge of the batarang along the waistband of Joker's boxers "…take a souvenir."

Joker let out a nervous, breathless chuckle. "Heh, there's uh, no need for that… How about I tell you where the rest of the hostages are, you let me go with all my original parts, and we call it even?"

"Better talk fast," Batman said, trailing the batarang lower while Harley watched in horror.

"The self-storage place on 23rd and Boyle. Unit 210. Key's in the nightstand," Joker said in a rush, licking his scars.

"Harley," Batman said, nodding towards the nightstand.

"Harley!" Joker snapped when she didn't move. "Get the damn key!"

She jumped and headed for the nightstand, keeping a wary eye on Batman as she did, even though the bed was between them. She kept the gun aimed at him as she blindly opened the drawer with her other hand and felt around, looking more and more nervous when she didn't feel a key.

"Hurry up!" Joker snapped.

Harley bit her lip and finally took her eyes off Batman to look in the drawer, and that second of distraction was all Batman needed.

One hand shoved Joker safely out of the way, and the other threw the batarang at the gun in Harley's hand, knocking it to the ground. Batman leapt across the bed towards her, pinning her to the floor and reaching for his spare set of handcuffs. He cuffed one wrist, but somehow that lighter reappeared in Harley's free hand and she quickly lit it and tossed it into the gasoline puddle in the doorway.

"Run, Mistah J!" she shouted as Batman cuffed her other hand, pulled her roughly to her feet and led her away from the flames. Luckily, Harley hadn't spilled much gasoline in the bedroom, so the flames mostly stayed in the other room…for now.

Joker rolled his eyes at Harley. "You never learn, do ya?" She stared at him, confusion turning back to rage as she realized he'd fooled her yet again. Joker calmly picked his purple trench coat up from beside the bed and put it on over his bare chest. "And you," he said, rounding on Batman. "We've really got to work on those trust issues of yours. You could've had her cuffed five minutes ago."

"Wh—"

"You believed that bullshit about a live camera feed? Really?"

Batman glared at him. "It's exactly the kind of thing you would do."

"Not to you."

Batman stared at him, and might have even come up with something profound to say back, but Harley chose that moment to crouch down and knock him to the floor with a leg sweep, then pounce on him like a rabid animal, swinging her handcuffed fists at his face.

Batman blocked her flailing arms and threw her to the ground beside him.

Joker growled under his breath and finally decided that enough was enough, and Batsy would just have to get over it. Joker stalked over and seized the chain of Harley's handcuffs, dragging her awkwardly to her feet and ignoring her snarled stream of protests and insults. He crossed the short distance to the wall and spun around, timing Harley's momentum just right—then he let go with a gleeful shout of "Officer down!" as Harley toppled out of the broken window with an aborted shriek.

Joker turned around and received a disapproving glare as Batman got to his feet.

"What? It was either the window or the, uh, crematorium," he nodded towards the doorway—flames had overtaken the main room of the apartment and spreading into the bedroom. The window was the only way out now. "Speaking of which—I had a little bit of dynamite stored across the hall, so we should probably—oof!" Batman's eyes widened and he grabbed Joker around the waist and launched both of them out the window, aiming for the roof of a parked car and trying to make sure he took the brunt of the landing himself; it was only three stories, but Joker wasn't wearing armor—he was barely wearing clothes.

Joker laughed all the way down, his trench coat flapping in the wind. He grunted at the force of the impact, but grinned and caught Batman's eye as they lay on the crumpled roof of the car. "Can we do that again?"

The sky chose that moment to explode above them; Batman automatically rolled over on top of Joker to shield him from falling bricks and glass. His ears were ringing with the explosion, and something heavy landed dangerously close to them, smashing in the car's windshield, and burning debris was raining into the street—and in the midst of it all Joker's lips found and claimed his, and Batman kissed him back, and it was chaos and it was beautiful and it was fucking perfect.

At least until…

"Batman?"

He froze, then unglued his lips from Joker's and glanced over to see a familiar—albeit thoroughly traumatized—face. Joker followed his gaze, grinned, and drawled, "Evening, Commissioner."

Gordon had just struggled to his feet from the sidewalk, where another motionless body was laying—it was Harley, either dead or unconscious. Quiet music was coming from somewhere nearby, along with a buzzing noise; after a second of detached observation, Batman realized it was just that stupid musical nightstick dildo. The music sounded much weaker, as if the fall or the nearby explosion had damaged it somehow.

Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you…

"Gordon…What are you doing here?" Batman asked, climbing off of Joker and the battered car as nonchalantly as he could manage. Joker sat up and stretched, popping his back as he did.

"Me? What's he doing here?" Gordon shouted, pointing at Joker. "What the hell?"

"It's exactly what it looked like," Joker piped up, hopping to the ground and casually leaning against the car. He made quite the picture there, wearing only his bat-signal boxers and his purple trench coat, which hung open to expose his bare chest. His makeup was smeared off in places and his hair was a train wreck, but somehow he made it look good—not that Batman was staring, or anything.

"CPR," Batman blurted to Gordon, tearing his eyes away from Joker. "That's what it looked like, and that's what it was. Because…explosion…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"Is that so?" Gordon asked, almost hysterically, eyeing the massive red and white smudges all over Batman's face. "Where are his pants?"

"They…exploded?" Batman said—because, technically, they did.

"They caught on fire first," Joker added helpfully, "but it was a really big lie."

"What?" Gordon demanded shrilly.

Joker scoffed. "No sense of humor."

"Gordon, focus," Batman snapped, after pulling himself together. "Why did you come here?" Had he perhaps found the hostages and rescued them already?

Gordon looked back and forth between Batman and Joker, then shook his head and finally seemed to collect his thoughts. "I—your tank almost ran over me earlier blaring pop music; it seemed suspicious so I went back in the office, and I found out the bat-signal had lit up tonight so I checked the security footage, and saw you and him on the roof…we didn't have any audio, but judging by your body language, you looked really disturbed. I thought you were in danger so I tracked the reports of 'Batmobile' sightings and unusual explosions to here and I rushed straight over. Just got here. I heard a strange noise and by the time I realized it was just that thing—" pointing at the nightstick dildo "—Harley Quinn fell out of the sky on top of me. Then you two came crashing out, and that explosion, and, well" he spread his hands, palms up, as if to say and here we are.

"Well, I…appreciate the effort," Batman said awkwardly, "but I've got this handled."

"Oh, clearly," Gordon said, leveling Batman with a critical, suspicious look.

Joker didn't appreciate Gordon's attitude. "Hey Commish, you got any egg rolls left? I could use a couple hundred."

Gordon turned on him, furious. "That was you? They made me pay for all of that crap! Side of rice," he scoffed. Joker just smirked. "So am I taking this bastard into custody, or what?" Gordon asked, turning back to Batman.

"You can't."

Gordon's eyebrows shot up. "Why not?"

"It's…complicated…We have an arrangement."

Gordon studied Batman for a moment. "I will never believe that he's secretly one of the good guys. So have you gone dark side now, or what?"

Joker laughed. "Yeah, come on over, Batsy—we have cookies. And—other things," he added, and this time when he licked his scars it was downright obscene.

"Thought you liked me incorruptible," Batman said, an involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

"True," Joker said, eying him up and down. "Besides, cookies would ruin your figure."

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?" Gordon shrieked, likely seconds away from tearing out his own hair.

Harley saved him the trouble, leaping up from her supposed 'unconscious' state and knocking him out with the butt of the gun Joker had thrown out earlier. Her hands were still cuffed, but it didn't slow her down any. She shoved Gordon's collapsing body at Batman, who caught him on instinct and thereby lost the chance to draw a batarang; Harley aimed the gun at Batman, holding it in both hands, and said, "Don't move. And you shut the hell up," she tossed at Joker when he started to speak. The gun wavered a fraction as she seemed to consider shooting him, but ultimately she kept it aimed at Batman. Joker mimed zipping his lips and throwing away a key, with a knowing smirk on his lips and a sharp, dangerous glare leveled at Harley.

Harley's eyes flicked back to Batman. "Unit two-ten. Twenty-third and Boyle," she recited, her hateful gaze never wavering. "I'm going to kill every. Single. Kid."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "They're innocent, Quinn."

"You're not!" she screamed. "Somehow you stole him from me, and now, those kids are gonna die because of you. And before they do, they're gonna know that Batman chose to fuck their kidnapper instead of saving them…Don't either of you move," she repeated, backing away and keeping the gun on him. She backed away slowly until she reached the corner, then took off running down a different street.

Batman immediately set Gordon on the ground and made to follow her but Joker grabbed his arm, "Batsy, wait."

"Come on! We can get there first in the Tumbler."

He dragged Joker forward a few steps; Joker stumbled a little, trying to hold Batman back.

"Okay, first off—I am not your fucking sidekick. And second…"

"Second, what? We're wasting time—she's going to kill them!"

"They aren't there!"

Batman stopped trying to drag Joker down the sidewalk and turned to face him instead, silently demanding an explanation.

Joker continued, "That particular storage unit is rigged with explosives. If she tries to break into it, she's gonna need an apple stuck in her mouth afterwards." At Batsy's unamused stare he elaborated, "You know, as in roasted pig?" Still no chuckles. "Cause she's dressed like—" Joker sighed. "Never mind. Point is, the kids aren't there, so chill."

Batman looked slightly relieved at this. "But if the explosion doesn't kill her—she knows your other hideouts, right? Other storage spaces and warehouses? You saw how angry she is—she'll kill them if she finds them. You have to let them go."

Joker bit his lower lip. "Batsy—"

"Joker, please," he said, "I'm not going to break our deal! Look, there are—what, thirty seats on a school bus? Two kids to a seat? Let them go, however many there really are, and we'll call it sixty—sixty nights. Hell, you could cram three kids into a seat if you tried, we'll call it ninety nights just don't let Harley kill them!"

Joker's eyebrows skyrocketed briefly before his expression became unreadable.

Batman stepped closer and lifted a hand to Joker's cheek, tracing the painted scars, "And, honestly, we don't even need the deal anymore…Earlier, when I said I loved what we did… that part wasn't bullshit." Joker looked away at the ground, and Batman's hand slid from Joker's cheek to his chin, tilting his face back up and forcing him to meet Batman's eyes. "Tell me where they are," he murmured.

Joker met Batman's gaze for a long moment, studying his face, before finally laughing humorlessly and saying, "Fine."

"Thank you," Batman exhaled, pulling Joker forward into his arms, but Joker had other ideas. He crashed his lips against Batman's, kissing him with everything he had, acting for all the world like a condemned man savoring his last meal.

"Calm down," Batman said, pulling back after a moment, "there's—mmph—plenty of time—mmmm—for this later."

"Somehow, I doubt it," Joker said, releasing Batman and taking a step backward.

Batman tensed, and very cautiously asked, "What did you do?"

Joker avoided his eyes.

"Tell me you didn't…are they…"

"I didn't kill them, if that's what you're getting at," he snapped.

"Joker, where are the hostages?"

"There are no hostages, okay!"

Batman blinked.

"What?"

Amazing how one word could sound so deadly.

"Well, there were, but…I let them go already—before I even turned on the batsignal…And they, uh, never really knew they were hostages in the first place."

"You…but…that video?"

Joker thought it was promising that Batsy wasn't throwing punches yet, and explained, "Those kids were from some acting camp, on a field trip. I kinda pretended to be a regular guy and paid their teacher a ridiculous amount of money for them to 'act' in my oh-so-avant-garde independent film about Gotham's, uh, celebrity criminals." He licked his scars and shrugged. "Harley drove us all to a warehouse, then I told her to fuck off, and I let the kids leave without her ever realizing it was staged."

"And…that little girl? Rachel?"

"Paid her too. That henchman—Brock or Jose or whatever the fuck his name is—he's her dad. I told her what to say ahead of time. And I think her real name was Lisa."

"But, that—what if I'd refused?"

"I knew you wouldn't."

"What. If. I. Had. Refused?"

Joker shrugged. "I could've found more kids somewhere. They're not exactly rare, ya know."

"You—you…I don't even…that…"

Joker backed up a few steps, nearly tripping over Commissioner Gordon, who was stirring back into consciousness.

"So …you… I… I just…" Batman stammered, before simultaneously finding his voice and his rage, and bellowing, "I JUST FUCKED MY ARCHENEMY TO SAVE HOSTAGES THAT WERE ALREADY FREE?"

"I know you did," Joker said, smirking a little, "I was there, it was awesome."

Gordon, upon hearing this exchange, promptly un-holstered his gun and knocked himself back out.

Batman advanced slowly and menacingly towards Joker.

Joker backed away, his hands held up in a calming gesture.

"Now, Batsy, don't be like that—remember the amazing sex? No more amazing sex if you kill me!" he called as Batman chucked a batarang at his head.

"You lying—" Batman chucked another batarang and Joker dodged it, "—manipulative—" he finally ran out of batarangs, and instead seized Harley's abandoned nightstick dildo from the ground and hurled it at Joker, "fucking psycho!"

Joker licked his scars, still backing up to stay out of pummeling distance, and said, "Now, I'll give you the manipulative psycho part, but I didn't lie."

"You lied about everything!" Batman shouted, rushing forward to finally close the distance between them and slam Joker's back up against a lamppost.

Joker winced at the impact but didn't struggle. "No, I told the truth backwards." Batman growled, but let him continue. "The deal was, we would have mindblowingly awesome sex, and I would let the hostages go free—I just happened to let them go first. Doesn't make me a liar."

Batman glared at him for a long moment, bringing both his temper and his breathing back under control with extreme difficulty. Technically, he supposed Joker had a point—not that Batman agreed with his funhouse-mirror logic, but he knew that if he tried to argue semantics Joker would just talk circles around his sanity, so he let it go for now.

He locked eyes with Joker for a moment of the loudest silence he'd ever heard.

Then, finally, he just said, "Why?"

It was the big why, and he wanted a real answer this time.

Joker studied him for a moment, then gave it to him.

"You needed a little push. This, uh, tension between us? I've felt it since our very first fight, and I think you have too—you just didn't want to, so you ignored it, buried it under your 31 flavors of denial, and hoped it would go away if you hit me hard enough."

Guilt momentarily flickered in Batman's eyes before he replied, "I only hit you when you deserved it."

Joker smirked and waved a hand dismissively. "That's what they all say…But anyway, call me impatient but I really didn't want to wait another thirty years for your repression et cetera to work itself out, so, I went all-in on this one and pushed you headfirst into what you wanted all along—and you know that, underneath whatever rage you're feeling. You can hit me and rationalize and run away all you want, but you know it's true. Look me in the eye and call me a liar—I dare you."

It was tempting; he could beat the shit out of him and go back to pretending there was nothing between them—Batman was almost pissed off enough to try it…but, damn it, he also saw Joker's point. Batman never would've acknowledged the intense chemistry between them—let alone given into it—if Joker hadn't dragged him kicking and screaming into…whatever it was that they had now. And perhaps he could use their…whatever it was… to keep Joker too occupied to do anything too unforgivable anytime soon.

Besides, the fact that a busload of children hadn't actually been locked up, terrified, in a warehouse somewhere all this time made Batman a little more inclined to be forgiving. He was still angry about the deception, oh yes, but he could keep his fists to himself for now—after all, he had found a much more rewarding way to let off steam.

Batman took one more deep, calming breath, and lifted his hand—Joker tensed, perhaps expecting a fist to the face, but the hand merely seized a handful of green hair and tilted Joker's head back.

"Not a liar," Batman conceded, leaning in to tease his lips against that spot on Joker's exposed neck that made him squirm so beautifully. "But, you know…manipulative psychos who trick me have to be punished."

Joker couldn't see Batman's devious smirk, but he felt it against his neck and heard it in Batsy's voice, and he grinned in triumphant relief—his gamble hadn't ruined everything after all. Hell, things had turned out even better than he'd hoped for.

He hooked his fingers into Batman's utility belt and pulled him closer. "Well that's, ah, only fair."

The wails of distant sirens pierced the night, slowly moving closer.

"Gonna spank me in front of the firemen?" Joker asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Actually, I was thinking we could get out of here and find somewhere private to steam up the Tumbler's windows."

"That works too," Joker said. Batman loosened his grip on Joker's hair, and Joker took the opportunity to capture Batman's lips in a hungry kiss.

Funny how only hours ago, Batsy would've knocked him out after all of this instead of greedily kissing him back. A line from something by Dickens occurred to Joker—the spirits have done it all in one night—and he found it amusingly appropriate. Except, you know, replace the spirits with the Joker. And he was pretty sure there wasn't any gay hate-sex in A Christmas Carol.

The sirens kept getting closer, and Joker finally broke away from the kiss and started purposefully striding away, thrusting his index finger in the air and shouting, "To the Batmobile!"

Batman let him go for a few steps before calling, "Other way."

Joker spun on his heel and headed the opposite direction without missing a step. Holding back a smile, Batman caught up with him, heading back towards the burning building where they'd started.

Gordon was awake again and slowly getting to his feet, but he froze when he saw the pair approaching.

Joker kept his distance, only pausing long enough to say, "Do I need to waste my breath on threats, Commissioner?"

"Don't worry," Gordon said, wearily shaking his head, "not even my therapist will hear about any of this."

"Good man," Joker said, continuing towards the alley across the street.

Batman hesitated a moment, glancing at Gordon and opening his mouth as if to explain.

Gordon waved him away. "I don't want to know. Just go."

And Batman did.

He caught up to Joker at the entrance of the alleyway, grabbed him, then spun him around and pinned him against the wall, where the two of them proceeded to make out like horny teenagers.

"Don't mind me," Gordon said to no one in particular as the pair unglued their faces and melted into the shadows, "I'm just going to go home and scrub my eyeballs with bleach and sandpaper."

Seconds later, Gordon heard the Tumbler's powerful engines roar to life before it sped away, and he realized that he really didn't want to be the only person around for questioning when those sirens got here.

He climbed into his unmarked cruiser—significantly worse for the wear after having two outlaws and a cinder block crash-land on it—and ignored the police radio, which was blatting about another explosion over on Boyle street.

He recalled something that the late Commissioner Loeb had once said, and decided that it definitely applied tonight—although, Gordon wasn't sure if there was an appropriate response to this particular situation. Nevertheless, Gordon was going to go home, have a vat of whiskey, and try to forget any of this ever happened.

And he would definitely not be explaining to his wife why he was late for dinner.

A/N: Aaaaand, that's it. Hope you all enjoyed the ride. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and/or followed this story—You guys make it all worth it.

~Kayliana