The Knight and The Jester (fic)
Disclaimer:I don't own any of the characters featured in this fic, it's just a bit of fun, don't sue me!
Title: The Knight and The Jester
Pairing(s): Bruce(Batman)/The Joker
Rating(s):NC-17
Warning(s):Blood, Violence, Angst, the usual Twisted stuff!
Spoiler(s): A Few Spoilers
Summary:Four orderlies escort him round the Asylum. The walls are a old off white and The Head Psychiatrist's mouth is going a thousand miles an hour about “your donation is going to help so much”.
Feels like a over eager freshmen trying to undo his first bra or slip a hand up his skirt but Bruce is going to give them the money, not for the sheer fact he'd spotted over 12 weak points in the security and he's only been here an hour.
A/N:This is dedicated to my great beta and new friend hantise00 who helped me keep going with this fic and took the time to go through it as well as talk to me Thank you so much mate! This is my first Batman fic and I can't wait to start writing more!
The same title as my Fanmix The Knight and The Jester
000
Four orderlies escort him round the Asylum. The walls are a old off white and The Head Psychiatrist's mouth is going a thousand miles an hour about “your donation is going to help so much”.
Feels like a over eager freshmen trying to undo his first bra or slip a hand up his skirt but Bruce is going to give them the money, not for the sheer fact he'd spotted over 12 weak points in the security and he's only been here an hour.
It's the shrill buzz of the high security ward door that makes him uneasy, the shimmer of nakedness that rattles his bones as he's lead down into the basement.
He can already hear the screams of the other wards die away as he enters a small room, the yellow Mercury light is uncomfortable on his eyes and the navy blue pinstripe of his Armani suit is stark against the white breeze block walls.
Through the metal detectors. An orderly in a box room lined with black and white monitors, the glass is double glazed and wire mesh criss crosses. All of them are carrying a baton and handcuffs.
The hallway is lined with thick iron doors, a few rusted round the hinges and one or two are white and new, dead bolted and eye level hatches.
“A few rules Mr.Wayne.
1. Please do not reach across the table.
2.Please if you have something to give to the Patient make sure you hand it to an orderly as it may or may not be used as a weapon.
3. If you feel threated or are uncomfortable at anytime an orderly will see you out of the room and ward.
I am slightly...mystified as to why you would want to meet him?”
It's easy enough to come up with a Bruce Wayne answer, make it snobbish and above all crass.
“I want to see where my money is going.” It's dry and even if he could be proud of himself, a disgustingly snobbish remark, but he needed that. He needed that mask, if he was going to be in a room with The Joker again he can't let Batman take hold.
The walls, like everyone has said, are seeping something dark, the building reeks of madness, sags under the pressure of it and Bruce could feel his head fog over, the jangle of keys and the screaming hinges snap him out of it like ice water.
It seems too simple. The cage a monster is kept in, it feels too flimsy and Bruce feels like he had no face for this. The doors are thick enough and Bruce could almost smell grease paint that he knows isn't there.
But he swallows, a deep breath through his nose, don't show it, don't show it is all that seems to settle in his mind as he slips past the orderly, a round belly and thinning hairline, the guy smells like his last cigarette break and Bruce can feel the man's disdain.
He wouldn't put it past him to just lock Bruce in the room and leave him for the nicotine and kicks.
The rooms white. He's got to hate that. No windows, a prison issue steel brushed toilet and a army grade cot bolted to the wall. No blanket (could hang himself or strangle one of the staff.) A screwed down table from the cafeteria and two hard plastic chairs, but Bruce has been in worse prisons.
But he's not Batman right now, so he takes a seat and waits for the other man to wake. His hair is dirty blond and wavy and looks freshly washed, white clothes and only his broad back faces Bruce.
Knees bent and elbows in, but Bruce can see The Joker is too still, too quiet and it already sets his spine ridged. Don't go cold Bruce, you can't let him see your eyes cold, he'll know.
He'd called ahead, he needed the Joker lucid, no drugs, restrained yes but no Lithium, and Bruce had enough money to buy the medical file, read it 20 times and memorize it like every piece of his armour because it was the only thing he could arm himself with.
Hands clasped in his lap and he can feel his eyes sharpen, the lights are dim and as The Joker rises every muscle in Bruce's body straightens. Keep loose you fool, he'll know, he'll know, keep limber.
But The Joker takes his time. A manic giggle seems to make it past like a tick, and the file had said he suffers with involuntary audio ticks that manifest themselves into laughter. But Bruce thought it was bullshit, The Joker knows that scares, his whole line is fear but the man’s on his knees and he stretches like he has all the time in the world.
His clothes are loose, the sleeves of his shirt slide down his arms as he stretches them above his head, palms to the sky and almost satisfying crack of his spine, Bruce can feel a dark thought pool in his head, the want to hear it a little louder and deadlier but it's easy enough to push it away.
“Why....A Visi-tor for little ol' me!” He seems to trill, his smile isn't as stark, obscene with scarlet and eyes not so black but still sharp yet hollow of moral.
“ I must confesss..You are a lot more uhg...pretty than my usual company” He leers, swinging his legs and planting his feet crookedly on the cement floor, his fingers squeeze the thin mattress, his nails are clipped and clean.
The confession makes his skin crawl, he tries not to visibly swallow as tries to think of a answer.
“I try.” His voice is level, trying to make a light tone but he feels like his stomach is being torn from the inside.
“Ooo it shows, soooo are you the one to thank for getting me off those pesky medica-tions? Hmmm?” His movements aren't fluid like Bruce would have expected, more like a puppet learning to walk and talk without the strings but his fingers curl over the back of the chair and he seems to plop himself into the bucket groove.
But his eyes are sharp, the predator eyeing up a meal, haunted evergreen with flecks of poison apple acid that is made florescent in the low light. It isn't that he hadn't noticed, The Joker had no restraints. Orderlies are having a show, probably betting on whether he takes me out with his hands or finds something on me to garrote me with, sick as the patients, be quick Bruce he'll get bored.
“I wanted to see what my money is going to keep locked away.” He dead pans, tries to add an eye flicker, he needs to make The Joker think he's predictable, maybe feed the psycho's fear complex.
“Ohhh what bring Gothoms Prince down to my little cage? Hmmmm?” A fit a of giggles seems to erupt from his mouth, the twisted skin that's stretched up to his cheeks seems to crinkle and his eyes round and Bruce can practically see the light blind his sick mind.
“Oh.Oh.Oh I know Iknow....The asphyxiation during Sexxx isn't enough anymore, need to get your kicks somewhere else hmmm? I know what you rich types are like.” The squeal of laughter that crackles round the room seems to almost split Bruce's head open as well as the disgust that knots his stomach.
But Bruce keeps on his toes, a silent challenge and he just manages to not jack knife and tell the cleaned up clown how disgusting he is, tries to control the rear in his chest, tries to control his voice. Bruce has always prided himself on that.
“Because I can.” He replies with a false smirk, it's a flash of smarminess and smugness that covers the disgust and The Joker seems to reel over that.
The sharp clack of Joker's childish clapping kept jangling Bruce's nerves.
“OH HAHAHA I like you! You Know, I thought you'd be borringly upset about me gate crashing that ugh......SssHin-dig but reeeallY it was just Busssiness! And I met the most interest-ing Fell-ow” Joker seems to purr the last word, swirling it round like a fine wine. A visible shudder goes through the man’s body and Bruce feels the blood in his veins runs cold.
“We danced and I had so much fun, So Reallly I Should be thanking YOU!” The Joker shrills.
“No need.” But it's deep and it seems to crack The Joker out of his manic laughter, eyes seem to almost slit over and his palms flatten on the cool table top, but Bruce can't keep eyes from locking the gaze.
“You Know ugh....Most People Would be More careful with Their Tone.” It's smooth and dark, like sticky black fingers sliding into his belly and Bruce sees it as a sign, a sign to stand down you idiot, stand down!
It's a thrill of panic that rattles Bruce's muscles and he can practically see The Joker eat up every move, like if Bruce just gave him a little more fear The Joker will get nourishment.
“I'm not most people, as you've probably heard” That's it Bruce keep it smug, keep it fear covered over, you'll get through this. He forces the muscles in his arms to loosen and a false panic to fill his dark eyes. A finger combs through his hair.
“So you think your money keeps you Ssafe welll...I bet when I get My knives back You'll bleeed just as pretty as everyone Else and I Know The Perfect Place to Start” His eyes practically rove over Bruce's body, a compulsive lick in the puckered flesh of his mouth is almost sickening as Bruce feels his hackles rise.
He can feel it swell Like Pride and Shame and just pure rage that brushes his heart out of the way, sticky black that runs through his veins and his eyes catch everything in the dark, and the almost Oh God The Bat, The Bat, The Bat. White knuckled and trying to catch his breath but the rooms too full with sound; shattered glass laughter that Bruce feels in his sternum.
The Joker almost falls off his chair, a merry tear streaking down his cheek that Bruce wants to connect with his fist but it's what pulls him out of The Bat. The Joker's just pale and twisted.
The paints gone, the clothes are stark and white and his scars have a fragility along with every one he seems to see through the loose sleeve, some pale and Bruce can see the seeping crimson through a bandage on his left arm, that’s what he did.
“You're bleeding.” Bruce seems to say without meaning it and The Joker tappers off small giggles bubble as he pulls at the sleeve of his shirt, but his smile becomes soft and eyes glaze over with an ecstasy.
“You know how I got these? Hmmmm? The Bat-man.” He purrs, like a kid thats just found out what his dick was for and slips a finger under the bandages and Bruce can feel the bile burn(1) the back of his throat.
Because The Joker's talking about him, but Batman isn't him. He isn't the Batman, The Bat doesn't control him and Bruce can feel his mind slowly crumble.
“I bet you're....Perfect ugh...Nothing Interes-ting is there? Mr.Bruccce.Waayne. Heheheheheh!” The Joker cackles into his sleeve, the dirty sand lock falling over his eyes. His finger’s still digging under the bandage.
“I don't think I've been accused of being boring.” Bruce forces through because really his heart isn't in this, he can say he came here to make sure The Joker's locked away.
Money makes that easier to accomplish and even maybe calming his own doubts, that The Joker's just a man.
“Eeeeeverybody I know Is....wait! Wait! Wait! Not everyone I Know.” Sighing happily to himself, drawing his fingers from under his bandage, the dim light makes it look almost black, arterial and dark as he plays with the slickness between his fingers humming.
It's when he starts to smear it over his chapped lips that Bruce almost loses what little breakfast he had eaten, pressing it between the creases of his scars, the pleasured “Ahhh” before smearing the drying crimson lazily over the front of his shirt, sinister against the white.
“It's not the real Thing but the ugh....Accomodations Doesn't Allow me to Express myself but it's not at allll surprising really..You see The only one person that sees the Chaos for what It is and thats Fair! It's Just His one rule but I Know, I Know what He Could Be Without it.” The Joker's smooths his hands through his hair, pulling the strands too tight and letting a groan spill across the table, the taut line of his neck too trusting and Bruce can practically see the endorphins clash in the other man.
But Bruce feels tangled, pinned down by insights into anarchy, a mind not confined and body with crossed wires of feeling and he hates himself for asking because he already knows he's had enough.
“And that is?” His back aches and his head throbs already, the walls are poisoning and being in the room with this man almost too much like a bad acid trip.
But The Joker opens his eyes, narrowing at Bruce like he's an interruption and maybe Bruce is? Piercing eyes still glazed but clearing quickly to turn glinting, his smiles all teeth and a little less yellow.
The Joker lays his palms flat on the table and starts to stretch towards Bruce, his clipped fingers are bordering the half way mark, eyes still staring, calculating, almost trying to pierce the veil Bruce has orchestrated to even be in the same room with the other man.
“Beautiful .” He says like it's the obvious answer, like he's going to start laughing at Bruce for his stupidity, like the answers been under his nose but Bruce can't see anything beautiful about The Batman.
He's supposed to strike fear and be an unmoving symbol of justice, even inspire like he had been, not create madness, not this, not a insane man’s meaning for existing.
Think fast Bruce, think on your toes! He is though, a tight knit control that seems to keep slipping through his fingers like sand, trying to hold onto water, it's just getting too much, but he needs this.
“Beautiful! He should be in here, like you.” Bruce scoffs, trying to play heat into the words and he thinks it works, but The Joker just grins wide and sadistic, like a child ripping off a fly's wings.
“OooOoO now that would be Fun...And I did suggest the Idea!” The Joker starts to giggle, it turns dirty and low, like the ideas playing out in his head.
Bruce's lips curl at their own volition, a sticky curl in his gut rises like heart burn and his head feels like it splitting in two, The Bat and the man. He can't question the difference. Not now he needs the strength, he needs to keep everything in control.
“Aaaand I'm just assu-ming that you are the one that has Harvey in here, I mean he did such great work after the fall, and who knew such a pretty face could go soooo wrong...I know what you're thinking and it's boring, I mean he could have never, never have done so much with that D.A schitck, but it was such a ugh....dissa-pointment he's down the hall doped up to the eye-balls and they don't even work you know! I mean when they go off, He starts screaming for who is it? Ra-Ra-RACHEL! HAHHAHA”
It's almost like slow motion, it's like de-ja-vu, springing forward hands gripped into the over starched fabric and the copper tang of blood close to his unmasked nose.
There's no Kevlar, no cowl between his naked rage and face, just a tailored suite and a scarred skin.
And God it's almost deafening the laughter, the shine of his poison eyes and the blood painted smile that seems to slide past.
“YOU DONT EVER TALK ABOUT HER!”It's not even his voice, it rumbles in his own gut, resonating his bones, it sounds like far way thunder or a explosion through concrete, it's not him, not Bruce the man that has The Joker's blood smeared shirt in a raging grip, it's not him.
Something dark and soothingly familiar has crawled into him, but there's no smell of the streets in his face, just blood and costic soap, but he's yanked away so freely because he just broke the rule he made for himself when he walked into this ruined place.
He's stripped his own armour and let Batman cradle him to this hateful madness that curls and it's humiliating when he's dragged towards the iron door, The Joker's laughter pressing on him like a lullaby as he leaves.
“YOU KNOW! WE SHOULD DO THISS AGAIN SOMETIME! EVEN THOUGH I KNOW YOU'RE BUSY ON A NIGHT BUT I KNOW YOU'LL MAKE TIMMMEEE FOR ME! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
The End
Title: The Knight and The Jester
Pairing(s): Bruce(Batman)/The Joker
Rating(s):NC-17
Warning(s):Blood, Violence, Angst, the usual Twisted stuff!
Spoiler(s): A Few Spoilers
Summary:Four orderlies escort him round the Asylum. The walls are a old off white and The Head Psychiatrist's mouth is going a thousand miles an hour about “your donation is going to help so much”.
Feels like a over eager freshmen trying to undo his first bra or slip a hand up his skirt but Bruce is going to give them the money, not for the sheer fact he'd spotted over 12 weak points in the security and he's only been here an hour.
A/N:This is dedicated to my great beta and new friend hantise00 who helped me keep going with this fic and took the time to go through it as well as talk to me Thank you so much mate! This is my first Batman fic and I can't wait to start writing more!
The same title as my Fanmix The Knight and The Jester
000
Four orderlies escort him round the Asylum. The walls are a old off white and The Head Psychiatrist's mouth is going a thousand miles an hour about “your donation is going to help so much”.
Feels like a over eager freshmen trying to undo his first bra or slip a hand up his skirt but Bruce is going to give them the money, not for the sheer fact he'd spotted over 12 weak points in the security and he's only been here an hour.
It's the shrill buzz of the high security ward door that makes him uneasy, the shimmer of nakedness that rattles his bones as he's lead down into the basement.
He can already hear the screams of the other wards die away as he enters a small room, the yellow Mercury light is uncomfortable on his eyes and the navy blue pinstripe of his Armani suit is stark against the white breeze block walls.
Through the metal detectors. An orderly in a box room lined with black and white monitors, the glass is double glazed and wire mesh criss crosses. All of them are carrying a baton and handcuffs.
The hallway is lined with thick iron doors, a few rusted round the hinges and one or two are white and new, dead bolted and eye level hatches.
“A few rules Mr.Wayne.
1. Please do not reach across the table.
2.Please if you have something to give to the Patient make sure you hand it to an orderly as it may or may not be used as a weapon.
3. If you feel threated or are uncomfortable at anytime an orderly will see you out of the room and ward.
I am slightly...mystified as to why you would want to meet him?”
It's easy enough to come up with a Bruce Wayne answer, make it snobbish and above all crass.
“I want to see where my money is going.” It's dry and even if he could be proud of himself, a disgustingly snobbish remark, but he needed that. He needed that mask, if he was going to be in a room with The Joker again he can't let Batman take hold.
The walls, like everyone has said, are seeping something dark, the building reeks of madness, sags under the pressure of it and Bruce could feel his head fog over, the jangle of keys and the screaming hinges snap him out of it like ice water.
It seems too simple. The cage a monster is kept in, it feels too flimsy and Bruce feels like he had no face for this. The doors are thick enough and Bruce could almost smell grease paint that he knows isn't there.
But he swallows, a deep breath through his nose, don't show it, don't show it is all that seems to settle in his mind as he slips past the orderly, a round belly and thinning hairline, the guy smells like his last cigarette break and Bruce can feel the man's disdain.
He wouldn't put it past him to just lock Bruce in the room and leave him for the nicotine and kicks.
The rooms white. He's got to hate that. No windows, a prison issue steel brushed toilet and a army grade cot bolted to the wall. No blanket (could hang himself or strangle one of the staff.) A screwed down table from the cafeteria and two hard plastic chairs, but Bruce has been in worse prisons.
But he's not Batman right now, so he takes a seat and waits for the other man to wake. His hair is dirty blond and wavy and looks freshly washed, white clothes and only his broad back faces Bruce.
Knees bent and elbows in, but Bruce can see The Joker is too still, too quiet and it already sets his spine ridged. Don't go cold Bruce, you can't let him see your eyes cold, he'll know.
He'd called ahead, he needed the Joker lucid, no drugs, restrained yes but no Lithium, and Bruce had enough money to buy the medical file, read it 20 times and memorize it like every piece of his armour because it was the only thing he could arm himself with.
Hands clasped in his lap and he can feel his eyes sharpen, the lights are dim and as The Joker rises every muscle in Bruce's body straightens. Keep loose you fool, he'll know, he'll know, keep limber.
But The Joker takes his time. A manic giggle seems to make it past like a tick, and the file had said he suffers with involuntary audio ticks that manifest themselves into laughter. But Bruce thought it was bullshit, The Joker knows that scares, his whole line is fear but the man’s on his knees and he stretches like he has all the time in the world.
His clothes are loose, the sleeves of his shirt slide down his arms as he stretches them above his head, palms to the sky and almost satisfying crack of his spine, Bruce can feel a dark thought pool in his head, the want to hear it a little louder and deadlier but it's easy enough to push it away.
“Why....A Visi-tor for little ol' me!” He seems to trill, his smile isn't as stark, obscene with scarlet and eyes not so black but still sharp yet hollow of moral.
“ I must confesss..You are a lot more uhg...pretty than my usual company” He leers, swinging his legs and planting his feet crookedly on the cement floor, his fingers squeeze the thin mattress, his nails are clipped and clean.
The confession makes his skin crawl, he tries not to visibly swallow as tries to think of a answer.
“I try.” His voice is level, trying to make a light tone but he feels like his stomach is being torn from the inside.
“Ooo it shows, soooo are you the one to thank for getting me off those pesky medica-tions? Hmmm?” His movements aren't fluid like Bruce would have expected, more like a puppet learning to walk and talk without the strings but his fingers curl over the back of the chair and he seems to plop himself into the bucket groove.
But his eyes are sharp, the predator eyeing up a meal, haunted evergreen with flecks of poison apple acid that is made florescent in the low light. It isn't that he hadn't noticed, The Joker had no restraints. Orderlies are having a show, probably betting on whether he takes me out with his hands or finds something on me to garrote me with, sick as the patients, be quick Bruce he'll get bored.
“I wanted to see what my money is going to keep locked away.” He dead pans, tries to add an eye flicker, he needs to make The Joker think he's predictable, maybe feed the psycho's fear complex.
“Ohhh what bring Gothoms Prince down to my little cage? Hmmmm?” A fit a of giggles seems to erupt from his mouth, the twisted skin that's stretched up to his cheeks seems to crinkle and his eyes round and Bruce can practically see the light blind his sick mind.
“Oh.Oh.Oh I know Iknow....The asphyxiation during Sexxx isn't enough anymore, need to get your kicks somewhere else hmmm? I know what you rich types are like.” The squeal of laughter that crackles round the room seems to almost split Bruce's head open as well as the disgust that knots his stomach.
But Bruce keeps on his toes, a silent challenge and he just manages to not jack knife and tell the cleaned up clown how disgusting he is, tries to control the rear in his chest, tries to control his voice. Bruce has always prided himself on that.
“Because I can.” He replies with a false smirk, it's a flash of smarminess and smugness that covers the disgust and The Joker seems to reel over that.
The sharp clack of Joker's childish clapping kept jangling Bruce's nerves.
“OH HAHAHA I like you! You Know, I thought you'd be borringly upset about me gate crashing that ugh......SssHin-dig but reeeallY it was just Busssiness! And I met the most interest-ing Fell-ow” Joker seems to purr the last word, swirling it round like a fine wine. A visible shudder goes through the man’s body and Bruce feels the blood in his veins runs cold.
“We danced and I had so much fun, So Reallly I Should be thanking YOU!” The Joker shrills.
“No need.” But it's deep and it seems to crack The Joker out of his manic laughter, eyes seem to almost slit over and his palms flatten on the cool table top, but Bruce can't keep eyes from locking the gaze.
“You Know ugh....Most People Would be More careful with Their Tone.” It's smooth and dark, like sticky black fingers sliding into his belly and Bruce sees it as a sign, a sign to stand down you idiot, stand down!
It's a thrill of panic that rattles Bruce's muscles and he can practically see The Joker eat up every move, like if Bruce just gave him a little more fear The Joker will get nourishment.
“I'm not most people, as you've probably heard” That's it Bruce keep it smug, keep it fear covered over, you'll get through this. He forces the muscles in his arms to loosen and a false panic to fill his dark eyes. A finger combs through his hair.
“So you think your money keeps you Ssafe welll...I bet when I get My knives back You'll bleeed just as pretty as everyone Else and I Know The Perfect Place to Start” His eyes practically rove over Bruce's body, a compulsive lick in the puckered flesh of his mouth is almost sickening as Bruce feels his hackles rise.
He can feel it swell Like Pride and Shame and just pure rage that brushes his heart out of the way, sticky black that runs through his veins and his eyes catch everything in the dark, and the almost Oh God The Bat, The Bat, The Bat. White knuckled and trying to catch his breath but the rooms too full with sound; shattered glass laughter that Bruce feels in his sternum.
The Joker almost falls off his chair, a merry tear streaking down his cheek that Bruce wants to connect with his fist but it's what pulls him out of The Bat. The Joker's just pale and twisted.
The paints gone, the clothes are stark and white and his scars have a fragility along with every one he seems to see through the loose sleeve, some pale and Bruce can see the seeping crimson through a bandage on his left arm, that’s what he did.
“You're bleeding.” Bruce seems to say without meaning it and The Joker tappers off small giggles bubble as he pulls at the sleeve of his shirt, but his smile becomes soft and eyes glaze over with an ecstasy.
“You know how I got these? Hmmmm? The Bat-man.” He purrs, like a kid thats just found out what his dick was for and slips a finger under the bandages and Bruce can feel the bile burn(1) the back of his throat.
Because The Joker's talking about him, but Batman isn't him. He isn't the Batman, The Bat doesn't control him and Bruce can feel his mind slowly crumble.
“I bet you're....Perfect ugh...Nothing Interes-ting is there? Mr.Bruccce.Waayne. Heheheheheh!” The Joker cackles into his sleeve, the dirty sand lock falling over his eyes. His finger’s still digging under the bandage.
“I don't think I've been accused of being boring.” Bruce forces through because really his heart isn't in this, he can say he came here to make sure The Joker's locked away.
Money makes that easier to accomplish and even maybe calming his own doubts, that The Joker's just a man.
“Eeeeeverybody I know Is....wait! Wait! Wait! Not everyone I Know.” Sighing happily to himself, drawing his fingers from under his bandage, the dim light makes it look almost black, arterial and dark as he plays with the slickness between his fingers humming.
It's when he starts to smear it over his chapped lips that Bruce almost loses what little breakfast he had eaten, pressing it between the creases of his scars, the pleasured “Ahhh” before smearing the drying crimson lazily over the front of his shirt, sinister against the white.
“It's not the real Thing but the ugh....Accomodations Doesn't Allow me to Express myself but it's not at allll surprising really..You see The only one person that sees the Chaos for what It is and thats Fair! It's Just His one rule but I Know, I Know what He Could Be Without it.” The Joker's smooths his hands through his hair, pulling the strands too tight and letting a groan spill across the table, the taut line of his neck too trusting and Bruce can practically see the endorphins clash in the other man.
But Bruce feels tangled, pinned down by insights into anarchy, a mind not confined and body with crossed wires of feeling and he hates himself for asking because he already knows he's had enough.
“And that is?” His back aches and his head throbs already, the walls are poisoning and being in the room with this man almost too much like a bad acid trip.
But The Joker opens his eyes, narrowing at Bruce like he's an interruption and maybe Bruce is? Piercing eyes still glazed but clearing quickly to turn glinting, his smiles all teeth and a little less yellow.
The Joker lays his palms flat on the table and starts to stretch towards Bruce, his clipped fingers are bordering the half way mark, eyes still staring, calculating, almost trying to pierce the veil Bruce has orchestrated to even be in the same room with the other man.
“Beautiful .” He says like it's the obvious answer, like he's going to start laughing at Bruce for his stupidity, like the answers been under his nose but Bruce can't see anything beautiful about The Batman.
He's supposed to strike fear and be an unmoving symbol of justice, even inspire like he had been, not create madness, not this, not a insane man’s meaning for existing.
Think fast Bruce, think on your toes! He is though, a tight knit control that seems to keep slipping through his fingers like sand, trying to hold onto water, it's just getting too much, but he needs this.
“Beautiful! He should be in here, like you.” Bruce scoffs, trying to play heat into the words and he thinks it works, but The Joker just grins wide and sadistic, like a child ripping off a fly's wings.
“OooOoO now that would be Fun...And I did suggest the Idea!” The Joker starts to giggle, it turns dirty and low, like the ideas playing out in his head.
Bruce's lips curl at their own volition, a sticky curl in his gut rises like heart burn and his head feels like it splitting in two, The Bat and the man. He can't question the difference. Not now he needs the strength, he needs to keep everything in control.
“Aaaand I'm just assu-ming that you are the one that has Harvey in here, I mean he did such great work after the fall, and who knew such a pretty face could go soooo wrong...I know what you're thinking and it's boring, I mean he could have never, never have done so much with that D.A schitck, but it was such a ugh....dissa-pointment he's down the hall doped up to the eye-balls and they don't even work you know! I mean when they go off, He starts screaming for who is it? Ra-Ra-RACHEL! HAHHAHA”
It's almost like slow motion, it's like de-ja-vu, springing forward hands gripped into the over starched fabric and the copper tang of blood close to his unmasked nose.
There's no Kevlar, no cowl between his naked rage and face, just a tailored suite and a scarred skin.
And God it's almost deafening the laughter, the shine of his poison eyes and the blood painted smile that seems to slide past.
“YOU DONT EVER TALK ABOUT HER!”It's not even his voice, it rumbles in his own gut, resonating his bones, it sounds like far way thunder or a explosion through concrete, it's not him, not Bruce the man that has The Joker's blood smeared shirt in a raging grip, it's not him.
Something dark and soothingly familiar has crawled into him, but there's no smell of the streets in his face, just blood and costic soap, but he's yanked away so freely because he just broke the rule he made for himself when he walked into this ruined place.
He's stripped his own armour and let Batman cradle him to this hateful madness that curls and it's humiliating when he's dragged towards the iron door, The Joker's laughter pressing on him like a lullaby as he leaves.
“YOU KNOW! WE SHOULD DO THISS AGAIN SOMETIME! EVEN THOUGH I KNOW YOU'RE BUSY ON A NIGHT BUT I KNOW YOU'LL MAKE TIMMMEEE FOR ME! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
The End