Fic: Comedy Hour
Title: Comedy Hour
Fandom: Batman Comics
Characters: Joker, Robin
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Fair use or copyright infringement? Your call.
Summary: After Batman & Robin #13, Joker and Robin spend some time together
Robin giggles and gasps, trembling as Joker clasps him to his chest. Sure, Gotham’s finest are shouting and waving guns about, but it’s nothing the kid needs to worry his little bird-y brain about. Even Gotham cops wont shoot a child hostage and Joker, well, he has plans. Places to go, people to kill and there’s party favors aplenty enough to get them out of here in Robin’s magic belt. They could do with more kick but hey, if you can’t blow up the ones you love, you use the bombs you’re with.
By the time they hit the streets, covered in soot and blood and laughing like loons, there’s a real wheeze in bird boy’s chuckles and his lips are tinged with blue. It wont do at all, this bird’s in hand and there’s no time to check the bush, but it’s still a few more blocks from the station before he shoves the kid down on the secluded stoop of a crumbling tenement. Sirens are playing his favorite tune and somewhere something is burning. It’s another beautiful nigh in Gotham and no one will bother them here.
Robin’s head lolls back against the stairs, his face as pale and toothsome as a skull. He’s a few heart beats away from passing out and Joker wonders if it's chaos enough for him, struggling for breath behind his first (and last) real smile. "Get it yet?" Joker whispers in his ear. The kid laughs in reply and the joke must be funny as hell if the tears oozing from the mask are anything to go by.
Joker gives his shoulder a pat and roots through his new belt of goodies. "Hmm, lock pick.. gas mask...oh, chewing gum!" He ditches the useless crap and pops the gum. Spearmint, blech. What’s wrong with good, old fashioned bubble gum? He sticks it on the boy’s nose and keeps digging.
"G’v mehehehe," Robin gasps, reaching weakly for the belt, his demand dissolving into giggles.
Joker shoves the boy back. "Steal your own toys. Besides," he jams the needle from the fifth pouch on the left into the bird brat’s thigh, "Uncle Jay’s got this covered."
The kid’s laugh sounds more like a moan and his smile doesn’t even start to waver. Joker digs the needle in a bit more, just in case, but it’s not working at all.
"Guess not, hu?" He pulls the needle free with a yank that leaves the brat whimpering. "Hope that wasn’t the bat shark-repellent." He examines the needle for a smiley face or shark or some other cutie mark but there’s nothing. "You boys really should label these things," he reprimands, tossing it aside. Seriously, how hard would it be? He’ll have to bring it up to Papa Bat on their next special date.
He turns up another set of needles in the seventh pouch on the right and this time it works, Robin’s grin cracking like big brother’s skull under Joker’s crowbar. The color seeps back into his cheeks with each great, sucking breath. He’s shaking like junkie, but this baby bird’s a vicious little shit. He’ll be up and biting ankles in no time.
The pint-sized gas mask barely fits over Joker’s wide grin as he sprays bat-issue knock-out gas right in Robin’s face, but it does the trick. The kid slumps almost instantly, but Joker gives it a few seconds before venturing an experimental poke. He’s pretty sure the bird brat isn’t faking, but the freaky goggle-things on the mask make it hard to tell. He reaches out, carding his fingers through Robin’s hair. His down feathers are surprisingly soft, the only soft thing about him really, and Joker tightens his grip.
"Bed time for Birds-o!," he laughs, slamming the boy’s head back against the steps. The kid’s too tuckered out to get the joke right now, but Joker knows he’ll appreciated it later. He slings the boy over his shoulder and heads for home. Robin’s just one piece in the game after all and he’s got a party to plan.
Fandom: Batman Comics
Characters: Joker, Robin
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Fair use or copyright infringement? Your call.
Summary: After Batman & Robin #13, Joker and Robin spend some time together
Robin giggles and gasps, trembling as Joker clasps him to his chest. Sure, Gotham’s finest are shouting and waving guns about, but it’s nothing the kid needs to worry his little bird-y brain about. Even Gotham cops wont shoot a child hostage and Joker, well, he has plans. Places to go, people to kill and there’s party favors aplenty enough to get them out of here in Robin’s magic belt. They could do with more kick but hey, if you can’t blow up the ones you love, you use the bombs you’re with.
By the time they hit the streets, covered in soot and blood and laughing like loons, there’s a real wheeze in bird boy’s chuckles and his lips are tinged with blue. It wont do at all, this bird’s in hand and there’s no time to check the bush, but it’s still a few more blocks from the station before he shoves the kid down on the secluded stoop of a crumbling tenement. Sirens are playing his favorite tune and somewhere something is burning. It’s another beautiful nigh in Gotham and no one will bother them here.
Robin’s head lolls back against the stairs, his face as pale and toothsome as a skull. He’s a few heart beats away from passing out and Joker wonders if it's chaos enough for him, struggling for breath behind his first (and last) real smile. "Get it yet?" Joker whispers in his ear. The kid laughs in reply and the joke must be funny as hell if the tears oozing from the mask are anything to go by.
Joker gives his shoulder a pat and roots through his new belt of goodies. "Hmm, lock pick.. gas mask...oh, chewing gum!" He ditches the useless crap and pops the gum. Spearmint, blech. What’s wrong with good, old fashioned bubble gum? He sticks it on the boy’s nose and keeps digging.
"G’v mehehehe," Robin gasps, reaching weakly for the belt, his demand dissolving into giggles.
Joker shoves the boy back. "Steal your own toys. Besides," he jams the needle from the fifth pouch on the left into the bird brat’s thigh, "Uncle Jay’s got this covered."
The kid’s laugh sounds more like a moan and his smile doesn’t even start to waver. Joker digs the needle in a bit more, just in case, but it’s not working at all.
"Guess not, hu?" He pulls the needle free with a yank that leaves the brat whimpering. "Hope that wasn’t the bat shark-repellent." He examines the needle for a smiley face or shark or some other cutie mark but there’s nothing. "You boys really should label these things," he reprimands, tossing it aside. Seriously, how hard would it be? He’ll have to bring it up to Papa Bat on their next special date.
He turns up another set of needles in the seventh pouch on the right and this time it works, Robin’s grin cracking like big brother’s skull under Joker’s crowbar. The color seeps back into his cheeks with each great, sucking breath. He’s shaking like junkie, but this baby bird’s a vicious little shit. He’ll be up and biting ankles in no time.
The pint-sized gas mask barely fits over Joker’s wide grin as he sprays bat-issue knock-out gas right in Robin’s face, but it does the trick. The kid slumps almost instantly, but Joker gives it a few seconds before venturing an experimental poke. He’s pretty sure the bird brat isn’t faking, but the freaky goggle-things on the mask make it hard to tell. He reaches out, carding his fingers through Robin’s hair. His down feathers are surprisingly soft, the only soft thing about him really, and Joker tightens his grip.
"Bed time for Birds-o!," he laughs, slamming the boy’s head back against the steps. The kid’s too tuckered out to get the joke right now, but Joker knows he’ll appreciated it later. He slings the boy over his shoulder and heads for home. Robin’s just one piece in the game after all and he’s got a party to plan.