Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was silent, a quiet singularity for Gotham City's standards. Stars twinkling in the sky illuminated the tiniest of nooks and crannies,  a beauty for those who wished to find things stashed away in the blanket of darkness. With light came hope, an unforeseen opportunity. Or at least, that's what Joker was hoping this was.

If his intel was correct, this was the place. An inconspicuous door in the alley usually hidden in the shadows of the night, leading to a large room leading partially underground. According to his sources, this place was typically rented by the higher class. A room for fashion shows and the like, for those who wanted their showcase out of the public eye. An art gallery was being held here today, for those looking for a slither of cash to make their way through the week. 

Despite buzzing with excitement, the reason he was here was quite a downer. An old lackey, Thomas- he was expected to showcase his pathetic work tonight. A true disgrace considering the beauty of the night, being contrast against an utterly grotesque demonstration of what that thief deemed 'art'.

Yes, Thomas was a cocky little amigo, having the gall to steal something from The Joker and then leave. Maybe the biggest shock of it, was that he truly thought he had gotten away. Joker was quite excited, for both the prospect of an art showing and seeing the fear in those eyes. Ending this gorgeous night with a bang, he supposed, was probably the best aspect of this. Well, and the possible fight with his darling Bat.

When he knocks a gloved hand against the metal door, he waits patiently for the eye slit to slide open. When it does, the guard for the night regards him like any other guest. "Name?" 

"Jack White" He responds easily, the feeling refreshing to let go of that rasp in his voice. Instead it comes out smooth, silky, furthering his disguise and confidence in his concealing. Joker watches as the guard looks down and slightly moves away from his limited line of sight, no doubtedly checking the guest list for his name. He's fully prepared to come up with a different plan once it takes a little too long, thinking that maybe his head-henchman had forgotten his most important part of the plan. Fully prepared to murder the man on sight, his worries quell at the sound of metal unlocking.

When the door opens, the guard holds it open wide, using an almost beckoning gesture with his hand. "Welcome, Jack. I hope you enjoy the night" He speaks, and Joker makes sure to put on some extra charm as he thanks the guy. After all, anyone could be a potential ally when it came to escape plans. "Thanks, baby" Blowing a kiss his way, Joker could smirk at the obvious swoon. Leaving the guard gaping, he walks further inside to take in his surroundings. 

Considering how discreet it was, this gathering was surprisingly packed. It was hard to make out faces within the bustling crowd, but the clown makes do as he be-lines his way towards a schedule of the artists presenting tonight. Noting that Thomas was seventh in line, he could almost pout at having to wait so long. But it gave him a break to appreciate the show, and he always has loved a good performance. 

When he sits in the first row, he takes no notice of the people around him. Despite his disguise certainly portraying so, these high-class snobs simply weren't his crowd. Too cocky and full of themselves, always trying to one-up eachother in a silent competition of who was richer. No, it wasn't Joker's crowd at all.

So when the man next to him began to speak, he could have almost groaned if he didn't recognize that voice. "The gorgeous Jack White, I presume?"

Joker could laugh at the irony. Playboy Bruce Wayne obliviously flirting with the clown prince of crime? "Yes" He answers almost coyly, turning to face that charming smile. "Though, how did the famous Bruce Wayne know that? I think I'd remember being introduced to someone so handsome"

"Your name was the only one on the guest list I didn't recognize." Bruce answers, and Joker finds himself staring into baby blue eyes, almost cold with their intensity. It intrigued him, that icy-ness, as if being studied. Analysed. "A friend invited me, though I can't seem to find him anywhere."

Joker expects to be questioned about that more, fully prepared to whip up a random name he remembered to be one of the presenters, but was pleasantly surprised when Bruce continued with a different line of questioning. "You like art?"

What a strange man that Gotham City had as it's bachelor. He'd be thrown off, if not so curious. He supposed he could see the appeal of the handsome Wayne heir, those eyes a beauty in and of itself. "Oh, I love it!" Joker plays up only slightly, only entertaining the conversation to see how far it would go. "I've always been a fan of the arts, from creation to performing alike"

"You'd be happy to know I have tickets for the next showing of Gotham line. If interested, I'd love for you to join me"

Joker couldn't help the laugh that escaped. It was true comedy gold, especially if little Brucie ever found out just who he was flirting with. "Why, Bruce Wayne. If I didn't know any better, I'd say their might be an ulterior motive to that ask"

"And what if there was?" 

After that delightful conversation, Joker couldn't help but feel thrilled at each lust-woven flirt mumbled towards him as the show began to start. With some art being beautiful, and some...not so much, the stud next to him was a well-needed distraction. Until Thomas stepped on stage, and he was reminded why he had came. "Is that your friend?" Bruce asked, and Joker's shock was almost overweighed by his curiosity. "Did I give it away?"

"You started chewing on your bottom lip. Are you not happy to see him?" Ah, a little detective Brucie seemed to be! No, he wasn't happy at all to see Thomas, or 'Adam Jones', as the announcer introduced him as. But he couldn't tell Bruce that, if not for the question of why he'd came. "We didn't part on the best of terms, last time we saw eachother."

"A fight?" Bruce asked, and his incessant questions would annoy him if he didn't think it was Brucie's way of leading him towards the bedroom. "You could say that"

The Joker's curiosity was far too peaked to leave it all now. If he stepped on that stage and went through with his plan, his identity would be revealed. In some strange need to know, he didn't want that. Not with the new playmate he's decided he wants. But, well, at the same time...Thomas needed to pay.

There was a reason he was called that, Thomas. Each henchmen had a nickname that Joker would pick out, less of a friendly endearment and more so it was easier to remember them by. Thomas was named by appearance, if not looking like a kicked horse ninety percent of the time. Hair always a brown mess of matting, as if the guy had absolutely no sense of hygiene. Smelling of gasoline, for his part-time job had been an engineer. When Joker had realized his henchmen get up had involved a clown mask and a conductors hat, well the name was just a given. Thomas, the trusted tank engine. Or well had been, until he had decided to fuck Joker over and steal something very important to him.

He supposed he could change the plan. Demand answers and kill Thomas in some hidden place, then escape back into the arms of charming Wayne. Though when one of his lackies had staked out the place beforehand, the opportunity for that seemed slim. Still, Joker was a crafty man, it was part of his charm. Anything could be a playground with the right recourses and motivation, he'd figure out a plan that didn't involve an audience. The pay-out for the extra trouble seemed worth it, if only he got to see the terror on Gotham's infamous playboy's face when he knows he took The Joker to his bed. 

With his mind made up, and Thomas' awful demonstration unsheathing an awful urge to inflict hurt, Joker decides to take himself to the lil' girls room. The crowd doesn't seem to mind him literally walking through their line of sight, considering the entire audience looks bored out of their mind. It baffled him, that Thomas had the gall to not only steal from and leave the entourage the clown prince of crime held, but think he can make it in the art business too. It was such a shame, if not all the more infuriating. Sure, the kid was definitely good with his aim game, one of the best Joker has had, and was also good with a car or two. But that didn't mean the buffoon could do everything with his hands. 

When he walks inside the bathroom, he catches himself within the mirrors reflection. Taking a moment to both admire and make sure none of his disguise had slipped out of place, he takes in his appearance. For the clown prince of crime's standards, he went for a much more femme look than usual. Green hair curled and falling about his shoulders, giving his face definition rather than the usual hollow. A light skin-tone added against the skin, dark red eyeshadow with a white shimmy in the middle and corners of his eyes, complimenting his ruby lips, perfectly glossed with a cherry-flavouring. Making sure none of the make-up had flaked, he lets his gaze take in his own outfit.

The strapless dark red dress perfectly brought out the curves of his body, hugging his waist snuggly thanks to the corseted-like binds tying it up at the back. With no added padding, the chest laid flat against his body, and he smirked when he realized just what that was showing off. His nipples stood proud against the fabric, the little indents not leaving much up to the imagination. Well, no wonder Brucie couldn't resist. 

Black, laced gloves complimented the paleness of his skin, riding up to elbow length. His stockings were the same, reaching just above the knee and clipped against a red garter with the promise of something more. With his simple red pumps tying the last of the outfit together, he couldn't deny how attractive he looked. 

Seems neither could Brucie, who slid to stand next to him not a second later. "Admiring the view?" Bruce asks so cockily, and Joker indulges it by itching closer. "I put a lot of effort into my looks today, I can appreciate it" Instead of looking at himself, his eyes travel to Bruce inside the mirror's reflection. "Though I've gotta say, for the richest man in Gotham, yours is a slight let down"

"Why's that?" He asks, wrapping an arm around Joker's torso to try and stifle his surprise. Seems Brucie didn't get a lot of banter from his whores. "I saw you on TV, the other day. With Tailleur de Gotham's newest suit. Although it was black and boring, you added your own little touches. Those pretty cufflinks that met in the middle with that silver brooch, styling it to make that plain little tux look double-breasted. "

"I see someone is also a stickler for fashion" Bruce muses, and Joker only smiles as the bachelor boldly brings them chest-to-chest. Bruce had only a little bit of extra height on him, and Joker wished he had the foresight to wear his taller heels today. "Fashion is one of my biggest passions, if not for the arts. It's amazing, how just a little bit of colour, or lack-thereof, can make someone look better. More attractive..." He runs a gentle hand down the side of Bruce's waist, and watches with glee as those pupils dilate at his touch. "Clothes show personality, reflect how someone carries themself around this dreary world."

'Jack' lifts a foot, and with perfect balance begins to run the side of the heel against Bruce's calf. Only to then push his own leg between the man's own, and feigns innocence as his knee gently brushes against that growing bulge. "Wouldn't you agree?" He asks huskily, and felt a boast of pride as Bruce stumbles with his answer. "You- uh... You see the world much differently than I"

"Oh?" Joker coaxes him to continue, resuming his touches by slipping a gloved finger between the buttons of Bruce's tux, rubbing along that chest and secretly marvelling at the muscle he could feel. "Attractiveness can be about the littlest of features. From a dainty nose to a..." The clown grins, as Brucie's breath hitches the closer his finger gets to a nipple. "...a-a curvy figure. Clothes can't change the hidden beauty lied beneath"

"I assume that's what you want, then?" Joker asks, finally breaching the distance between them and leaning forward. His lips gently graze against Wayne's, and watches those pupils grow with want, need. "To take off my dress and see the beauty beneath?"

When Bruce takes the last bold move and smashes their lips together, it's a different thrill entirely than what he came here for. When their bodies grind together, and Bruce literally picks him up as if he weights nothing, it solidifies his new choice. Fuck Thomas, when this was a much more promising end to the night. He wasn't going to grant that runt another chance to steal from the clown prince of crime twice. Joker is momentarily breathless, only thinking to wrap his legs around that strong torso once placed atop the sink countertop. 

Granted that nine times out of ten he isn't disguised when doing this, but no one's ever had the brazenness to treat him like this before. It leaves him stunned, if only for a moment, mind feeling like putty as he reciprocates what's given to him. The kind of treatment he'd expect from his Bat, once that goof finally stopped denying what was obviously between them. He didn't expect to receive it from Bruce Wayne, of all people, as calloused hands began to force their way up his dress and into his thong with little resolve. A little surprised, he's about to let an explanation leave his lips at why there was no cock there, but his throat clogs up as unaffected fingers begin to explore.

It leaves him feeling rather soft, a small little whine being muffled in his throat as fingers circled around his now aching clit, lips devouring him from the inside out. His thoughts feel almost muted, mind clouding with perfect clarity as those lips part from his to nip at the skin of his neck. It's magical, the way Bruce feasts against his skin. Almost as if he's wanted this for years, and not literally meeting him an hour before. Joker mused it must be a kind of desperation taught at playboy school, before his musing is pleasantly interrupted by a harsher suck against his collarbone. 

The noise that comes out of his throat sounds like a sort of cry against the quietness of the still on-going presentation. He regrets the keen immediately, once Bruce stops.  When he rises to meet his own eyeline, Joker feels a jolt of excitement at the look in those eyes. The darkness in those blue's is surely something the tabloids would scream at, but this time it was Gotham's bogeyman ready to shout. If not just for a taste of that darkening lust hidden behind such a charming smile.

"I booked a room downstairs, we should-" Bruce starts, but Joker is already scrambling off the countertop before he can even finish the sentence. "Then let's get going, Casanova" 

It's a thrill in and of itself, the sort of chase as they make their way down the stairs. Joker's already feeling giddy as they reach the door, and has that feeling double tenfold when Bruce can't help a sneaky kiss as he opens the door. The clown doesn't care to look around, and the moment the slam of the door sounds, their kissing sloppily as they trip and tumble their way towards the bed. Just before they fall onto the sheets, Joker switches their positions, landing with a straddle of Wayne's hips.

"I have to warn you, cowboy, this ride won't be like any of those whore's you bring to your rodeo's" Joker warns, long forgotten his original plan of revealing who he was. He was far too into it now, far too horny, and by the way Bruce bucks his hips up, Joker was sure he returned the sentiment. "Of course" The playboy mumbles, trying to return to their previous ministrations but Joker's hold is strong. "I mean it, gaucho.  I don't want you holding back the reins."

When Bruce flips them back around, that darkness in his eyes is more prominent than ever. Joker has to momentarily thank himself for going with the all body paint rather than what he'd thought to be visible, as Gotham's 'good boy' practically shoves the dress to ride against his torso.  "I won't be" Is Bruce's eventual answer, before he collapses to his knees. Quicker than Joker could have planned, he gasps as Wayne begins to mouth through the thong's thin fabric, lips moving to nip and warm the length of his pussy. His cunt is soaked and sticky, leaving the thong to stick to the organ and leaves nothing to the imagination, yet Bruce teases with avoiding the visible areas.

Joker wants to chastise him. He said don't hold back, not tease, but when that mouth travels closer to his clit, all he can manage is a shaky exhale of breath. When Bruce eventually pulls down the thin fabric, the clown's legs can't help but tense in anticipation, and when a gentle kiss to his hole is placed, he thinks he's about to get what he thought the moment Bruce had dropped to his knees. But instead he stands, and Joker is faced with his first impulse to kill this man. 

The murderous urge fades, when he realizes. The clown sits himself up, to quickly help the playboy shed his clothes.  "You dyed your pubes, too?" Bruce speaks, and he's stunned back to remembering that Bruce has no idea who he was. Running with it, he replies with a smug smile. "I like to be thorough. If I dye the carpet, it's got to match the drapes" Bruce's chuckle at that warms him, but when his eyes catch sight of the scars littering olive skin, that previous curiosity surges. He's about to ask, but Bruce beats him to it as he takes off his belt to shed to the floor. "I like to herd the cattle with a few kinky things involved"

The evidence to the statement sounded a bit excessive,  but Joker couldn't care about the obvious lie as he processed those words. "Oh, I've escaped the farm, lost and running. But you'll need to try a tad harder to herd this cattle, Brucie"

A buzz of excitement runs through him when Bruce propels forward, practically gripping the dresses' corset straps in a tight hold. The clown thinks he's going to pull it looser to shed the clothing off, but is instead pushed forward. Both the grip and shock of the movement force his body to move at Wayne's will, but its perfect as it allows their sexes to slap together. Almost like his pussy wants to trap it forever, his folds hug at that thick cock hungrily, forcing a moan out of the both of them. Joker can only imagine how that weapon would fit inside. Bruce was a gifted man in most ways, it seemed.

"How do you want it?" The playboy asks in a tone that would make most women swoon, the contact rough as he suddenly rubs them both together with a brutal strength. "I can make it rough and hard" He accompanies the words with a harsh slap to the ass, and Joker's yelling moan makes Bruce all the more cocky. "Or soft and gentle" Just as suddenly, he leans forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. Joker can barely think about how his dress had even slipped down far enough, as the bud is gently rolled against that skilled tongue. With the movement, he rubs an almost soothing apology against the previous slap, and the clown can already feel the heat of bruising under that gentle touch. 

His mind practically swims, as Bruce reaches over towards the bedside table with ease. When he sits up, the item in his hand glistens against the small lamplight in the room. "Or maybe you'd prefer kinky, too?" 

Joker didn't need to be told twice. He practically scrambles to raise his hands against the bed's metal frame above them, and Bruce takes that opportunity. With a small click, he opens the handcuffs he had picked up, his wrists thrumming with a pleasure under the skin at the cool metal. When Bruce closes the seam, Joker feels far too much give. "Tighter, baby. I can take it"

For the first time in the evening, Brucie Wayne shows a small reluctance. The cuff was already tight, chafing against his skin, but Joker wanted bruises. Blood, if it was possible to make them that tight, but these didn't exactly seem like the highest-of-grade handcuffs. To coax him, he presses forward, and savours the little gasp he receives as his cunt traps that bricked-up cock again. "Don't go soft on me now, Brucie. You want to herd the cattle with excellent precision, not a passable grade"

He seemed just about ready to argue, but senses the dying battle and reaches forward to push the lock further inside. Joker's small sigh of appreciation seems to restore that confidence, though he rolls his eyes at Bruce's next words. "Green to keep going, yellow to pause, red to stop"

"I don't need a safeword, but whatever floats your boat, stud." Joker speaks, attempting to add more friction but Bruce pushes his hips back down. He'd be annoyed, if that clear display of strength wasn't sending jolts through his entire body. "I mean it, Jack."

"And I mean it, Bruce" He has to literally control himself from not snapping, ready for the main course that was being unnecessarily prolonged. "Your creativity is cute, but a girl can't wait any longer"

"I won't continue if you don't agree" Bruce speaks, and they seem caught in a sort of staring match. It's exhilarating, the thrill of who will break first, who is bluffing. Maybe the most outstanding fact of all was that this was Bruce fucking Wayne bringing this to the table. Joker could be stuck in this all day, but the thrill didn't outmatch the need to get his brains fucked.

"Green..." He mumbles, reluctantly, and wants to lash out as Bruce places an affectionate kiss against his nose as a 'thank you', but the kiss is accompanied by a thrust of the hips, and the thought dies at the contact. If he wasn't so horny, he'd probably be concerned at how easy it was to submit to Gotham's playboy, but when a third thrust rubs against his clit, he's almost ready to beg.

Wordlessly he spreads his legs open wider, and Bruce smiles at the desperation. It was charming, and certainly wasn't melting the clown prince into nothing but putty. Fuck violence, pain, whatever he'd usually get during these endeavours. The handcuffs were enough, and all he wanted was Bruce "Inside!". He gasps out, and can't help the complaint leaving his lips as Bruce pulls away, again. "What are you-?!" He begins, before silenced by a kiss against the lips. Despite the desperation, he melts into the contact. 

When Bruce holds the condom wrapper up into view, Joker realizes with a startle that it's already open. When he looks down, he laughs at the Jonny already being slid on. Just when had he done that? The kiss must have been a distraction. "You sly dog" he mumbles, taking in his first true view of that delicious cock. Bruce was well endeavoured in all ways, his thick cock standing proud and long at the attention. Definitely bigger than the average, and the clown was practically drooling for it out of both mouths. 

"Ready?" Bruce asks, Joker's heart pounding with excitement as that dick is lined up with his entrance. "Been ready all night, baby. Give me all you've got!"

It's an easy ride as Bruce slides in, setting a brutal pace right off the bat, Joker's fingers desperately curling around the frame he could reach as a way to both ground and support himself. "Fuck!" The playboy yells in the most guttural of voices, the animalistic sound only adding the the coiling heat inside of the clown's abdomen. He was already so worked up, and it was if Wayne knew all the right places to hit.

Each pull back forced those hips to slam against his ass with a loud clap, aggravating the previous slap and sending the most pleasurable of painful thrums through him. The movement was already enough to have Joker moaning, but when Bruce finds that sweet little spot, he practically unravels.

"Bruce!!" He gasps, and said man begins to anchor against that spot with utmost precision. Their bodies moving forces his arms to follow, and he can practically feel the skin around his wrists flaking away as it tries to acclimate around the metal. The soreness is grounding, and when Bruce lays another harsh slap against the sensitive skin of his ass, he's whimpering into all the sensation. Overwhelmed but feeling hollow, so close to falling over that blinding edge but not having enough give to get there.

He suddenly regrets the handcuffs, wishing to have free-reign if only for a little extra stimuli. Rub his clit, or twist his nipples, literally anything because he was already so close. Teetering over the edge is all he can think of, his whimpering turning into pleas as Bruce purposely avoids the area he wants so badly to be touched.  "M-My clit, please, I need-!"

"Need what, Jack? Use your words" Bruce teases, the fucking asshole. Joker would kick him right now, if the consequences of that didn't involve reducing the pleasure if only for a moment. "F-Fucking touch it, you-" The insult dies in his throat, when two fingers place against the sensitive bud. He doesn't move them, Joker supposes to be even more of an upstanding prick and tease some more, but the contact is enough. 

Just the heat of those rough fingers against the sensitive skin force him over that edge he was begging for. He'd be embarrassed about the absolute debauchery leaving his lips, if it wasn't blocked out by the whitening pleasure. The whole organ twitches around that cock, and when Bruce pistons in harder, faster as he climaxes himself, the tightness sucks it in hungrily. They ride out their orgasms together, and Joker doesn't have any protests when Bruce falls next to him.

The only thing that fills the room now is their heavy breaths, and Joker revels in the aftershock. He's sure he looks like a mess, and yet Bruce barely has a hair out of place. The clown is suddenly hit with the urge to mess up those raven locks, but when the playboy turns to face him, he freezes.

If not for the uncertainty, Joker's gut falls. Did something happen? Had his disguise come off? His question is answered, when Bruce roughly swipes a finger against his cheek. When he pulls the fingers back and the tips are covered with 'Jack's' skin tone, he knows he's been had. 

The panic fades, and he can't help but grin. He's had his fun, though he sure could have gone for another round, but the temptation to ruin this man's career was pretty overwhelming. "What's wrong, Brucie?"

"You're..."

"I'm what, Bruce? Use your words" Joker mimics only minuets before, and watches as those conflicting emotions run through those baby blues. Denial, anger, bargaining and depression. It's like a show, to watch the stages of grief in such pretty icy-eyes, but when they settle, he doesn't expect the acceptance. 

The silence between them is suddenly deafening, and Joker feels restless under the gaze of what feels like scrutiny. This wasn't fun, not when things suddenly felt like a joke against him. He felt like he'd been the one played, as Bruce leans forward. He isn't sure what he was expecting, possibly to be released from the handcuffs, but it wasn't that.

Before he could even register what was happening, that smug fucking face was in between his legs. When that tongue swipes up along his cunt, he's gasping. Not sure whether to feel surprised or confused at the sudden change of events, he's melting into the bedsheets as strong hands force his thighs atop broad shoulders. The new position provides Bruce more leverage, and Joker is whimpering as his clit is sucked into that warm mouth. It was already too much, hardly enough time between this and his last orgasm leaving him far too sensitive, but the sensation adds to the pleasure.

Joker has far too many questions, almost angry that Bruce feels like he's in control here. The clown prince of crime doesn't willingly submit to rich, charming playboys like some kind of gold digger. He's supposed to be the one controlling things, but the anger simmers down when Bruce licks down to tease over his entrance.

Only to flare back up, when that fucking cretin chuckles at the little whine that left his lips.

"You-!" Joker has so many insults on the tip of the tongue. An idiot, for assuming just because he was a good fuck it didn't mean he wasn't going to be gutted after this. A cocky asshole, for assuming he could read him. He can hardly articulate any of it, when that tongue slides inside of him, only to lick back up to circle his clit.

The softness of the movement is foreign, and the clown feels horrified as he squirts at such a pathetic move on Brucie's part. He's seething with rage, when the fucker then dives back down to drink it up like a fucking water fountain. His pussy disagrees, just the view and sucking motion enough to teeter him over that edge once again.

He's gasping, riding that face with each thrum of pleasure as he comes. When Bruce comes back up, Joker is boiling with anger as his stomach flutters at the sight. Those swollen lips coated with his juices, with that smug smile now resting into something almost content. It made him feel sick, how desirable he looked.

The playboy leans forward, and is sickeningly gentle as he undoes the handcuffs binding Joker to the bed. The clowns brain practically short-circuits, when those puffy lips place the softest of kisses along the bruising. "You'll be coming to see Gotham line with me, won't you?" Bruce asks oh so matter-of-fact, and Joker wants to do anything. Punch him, kill him, kiss him. Not sit there looking like a dear in the headlights.

"Uh-huh" He practically squeaks as he nods his head, for the first time in his career feeling absolutely stunned. Bruce's smile feels saccharine, and Joker notes the tingle left upon his lips as Wayne leaves a parting kiss.

"I'll see you next week, then. Come to the manor an hour before, I'll let my butler know to expect you"

Joker feels shellshocked when he watches Bruce dress and leave. For the first time in forever, he has literally no words to rebuttal with.

It feels like a sort of defeat, when he screams into the pillow at his own genuine interest in seeing Brucie Wayne again.

Chapter Text

Being dipped in a vat of acid, it comes with its pros and cons. For example, there is always a never ending thrum of pain underneath his skin. If he focuses on it for too long, it's enough for him to want to claw the skin just to make it stop. Even with enough moisturizer, there's always a roughness to his skin that leaves it feeling ugly and patchy. But, well, it's a fear factor.

It wasn't every day you got to see a bleach white man walking down the street, with asinine green eyes to stare into your soul. He was abnormal, and therefore deemed 'scary'. A lesson humanity will never overcome, antisemitism and racism still prominent problems despite how far people believed they had came. Although humanities ignorance was one thing he stood for, Joker didn't particularly mind when it came to his own quirks, it added to his mystic.

Right now though, it felt like a con. He'd never felt so out of place, standing on the large steps of Wayne Tower. No security, no need to break in. He had been invited. Despite feeling angry, or overall unsure how to feel, the thrum of excitement was still there. He wasn't sure if it was intrigue with Bruce Wayne or just the situation altogether, maybe both.

Joker actually feels the need to take a deep breath in to calm himself, before reaching forward to knock on the door. Maybe it was the uncertainty over the whole idea, but he's been worrying since the morning. What to wear, if he should even show up. That ball in the back of his throat doubles tenfold, as the door slowly opens.

An old man, your typical butler is stood opposite him. Despite the smile he holds, the clown notices the tension beneath the expression. Those eyes looked almost hateful, and it gives Joker a sense of normalcy he needed. "Welcome, Mister Joker. Master Wayne is hoping you will join him for dinner"

"Why thank you, Jeeves" He speaks as he walks inside, and the butler shuts the door behind them with a slam. "It's Alfred. Alfred Pennyworth" Alfred speaks curtly, and Joker's already decided that he likes the guy. He regards the man with an almost sick smile, before taking in his surroundings. Beautiful mahogany and vintage furniture pretty much decorate the place as Alfred leads them through silently,  a total contrast to the outside of the building. Joker really didn't think this would be Brucie's style, but the man seemed to surprise him more.

When they reach the dining room, he's pretty much gobsmacked. The one room being bigger than one entire safehouse, with enough chairs to feed all of Gotham. The pine table fills the room, its dark brown complimenting the oak covering of the chandelier atop. Bruce sits at the head of the table closest to the entry way. When he turns around to greet them, Joker's hit with the impression that Brucie doesn't belong here. He looks small and out-of-place in the grandness of the room, much like Joker feels.

"I'm glad you could make it" Bruce speaks with so much fucking heart, as if he means every word. The greeting is accompanied with a small kiss against the clown's hand, and Joker ignores the warmth now blossoming under his skin. 

Though he's suddenly presented with a new challenge. Their last meeting had been much different, considering he'd been taking the role of 'Jack'. Now Brucie knew, there was nothing for him to disguise. Joker decides he wants to push the boundaries of whatever this is between them. He wants to rub it in Bruce's face, for a reaction other than that smugness last time between his parted legs.

"I'm the clown prince of crime" He speaks with a smile, and feels more in control when the hand around his tenses only slightly. "I can make time for anything" 

"Master Bruce wasn't sure what you'd like to eat," Alfred cuts in rather coldly, and Joker could smile at the way Wayne shrinks in on himself. As if feeling scrutinised, as his butler, or pretty much father figure, continues with that blank tone of voice. "So for dinner tonight, I hope you are alright with Kaese Spaetzle with a side of garlic bread"

"That's fine with me" Joker appeases despite having no clue what that is, but he's sure he'd manage as long as it had no fish inside. He's about to ask, but Alfred is already turning away, and he supposes he'll have to ask later. Bruce visibly relaxes when Jeeves departs, and pulls out a chair for the clown to sit in just next to him. "What a gentleman" Joker comments as he sits, and Bruce sits himself down after.

"I'm sorry about Alfred, he wasn't particularly happy once I mentioned this too him" The playboy speaks, yet Joker notes that there's no sympathy in that tone at all. Intriguing little Wayne sits twiddling his thumbs, as if nervous. Good. He should be. "I'm not surprised. I have a reputation in this city, you know?" 

"I think all of Gotham knows" Bruce comments with a small chuckle, though it's strained. The tension was thick enough to need the sharpest of knives to cut through, but Joker manages just fine. He's not exactly a man for small talk, and right now he wants answers. "Why am I here?"

"I invited you" Bruce speaks almost as if being caught red handed, and the clown wants to slap him for that simplistic answer. "Yeah. Why?" He asks once again, savouring how awkward Gotham's playboy seemed. Like he hadn't been prepared for the question, trying to articulate a reason he hadn't yet admitted to himself. "I thought there was a connection between us"

"I bet you feel that way with anything you get to stick your dick into" Joker muses, though it doesn't make his words ring any less true. Bruce looks dumbstruck, fumbling for any semblance of an answer. "No, no. Truly I thought that..."

"What I think, Mr. Wayne" Joker cuts through when realizing Brucie was disappointing him. He wanted 'oh-so-confident' back, but at this rate he was prepared to cause some mayhem before leaving. "Is that you liked the danger. Boring little Brucie stuck with all this wealth and a big mansion with no one to share it with, an agonizingly long office job to fill his days. When the clown prince of crime comes along, it adds a little sparkle to the game. A danger you don't experience,  you're desperate for anything to spice up your life"

"I am not boring" Bruce speaks curtly, not at all defensive but matter of fact. Joker giggles at this mans confidence, truly not believing the statement at all. "Come off of it, Bruce."

"If you really believed that, then why are you here? There was nothing tying you into coming back" Wayne speaks, and it forces Joker's nerves up the roof again. This. This was the whole reason he came back. An almost familiarity in the way Bruce questions him, far too astute for someone who could truly be so plain. Maybe there was a bit more to this playboys life, and it was the exciting-anger that brought him back.

Only so many could say they have the privilege to make Joker feel. Batman, of course. Their fate was written in the stars the moment they were both born, their careers and bond moulding them into the people they were today. The only man Joker could truly relate to, with similar goals but different beliefs. Both able to take a type of violence most shed away from, yet that violence is what brought them together, their own way of making love. Each bruise or scar was a commitment to their relationship, two sides of the same coin no matter how much his Batsy liked to deny that fact.

Or Harley Quinn, once upon a time. Maybe the whole of Gotham liked to believe the clown had manipulated her, but it didn't start off that way. When he'd first met her, there'd been a push. What Joker dished out, Doctor Quinzel had given back like not many other people could. She was exciting, and it in turn made the clown feel the need to draw her closer. It was only until that bond had simmered out, and all that was left was a cold kind of hatred between them that the attraction had dissipated. That didn't mean they weren't great friends, of course. Maybe not by similarity, they both still got far too pissed at eachother for it to be that. But, well, they have life experiences that could bring together even the most unfamiliar of people.

He supposed, now, he'd have to add Brucie to that list. No one could have prepared him for that fact, it was truly unexpected. This man was the definition of what Joker despised, yet there was something about him. This handsome fucking man that portrayed the most easiest of fronts, but was truly so closed off even the clown prince of crime couldn't read him. It was mysterious, and therefore interesting. Bruce made his pulse skyrocket, managed to make even the deadest of blood cells thrum to life inside of him. His body felt electric, like Harley had made him feel during their banter. It was addictive, like his Bat's presence. 

Joker wanted more.

"Maybe you're right" The clown speaks, and watches as Bruce's eyes widen as if having not expected that. "You're intriguing, peculiar, enigmatic. Oh, and definitely a good lay. Though I suppose the last part isn't all too surprising to you"

"What's intriguing about me?" Bruce asks wearily. Almost as if feeling like he was treading on the thinning middle of a tightrope. "You're...familiar" Joker settles on, not particularly sure how to describe it. "There's something about you. Like I've met you before, or there's more than what meets the eye, I'm not sure. All I know is that...the feeling is much more than just watching the famous Bruce Wayne through a television screen"

"As far as I know, we've never met. Unless it was through another one of your convincing disguises" Bruce speaks, but the tone is...odd. Joker isn't much sure what it is. "Maybe it was a past life?" Joker adds as a possibility, though it was rhetoric. There was no way to truly know, unless it was something Bruce was keeping from him, though the playboy didn't seem sneaky enough for anything like that.

"So what about you, cowboy? What caused Gotham's good boy to invite the clown prince of crime to his boudoir?" Joker asks, and grins as Bruce pretty much deflates. Like it takes a lot out of him to confess, he mutters almost quietly. "Honestly, you were pretty spot on"

"I usually am" He muses, watching with fascination as that comment gets a small chuckle from his date. "My life, it..." Bruce starts, unsure of himself. Joker wants to be annoyed at the beginning of an obvious tirade, but...wasn't that the reason he came here? To learn more. 

"It's always been laid out for me. My parents die in crime alley, and suddenly my childhood is gone. Trauma takes hold of what should be the happiest years of my life, raised to be the conglomerate my father was, despite not feeling like it's my calling. But how can I shy away from this life given to me, when it's what my father would have wanted? What most people in Gotham envy, this wealth and what seems like an easy lifestyle. It feels selfish, to want more. I guess that...you are what I've always been looking for. Something more, something to bring back that spark that was lost within me so long ago"

Joker...didn't much expect that. This heart to heart, somehow feeling so long overdue. He hadn't expected Bruce's words to resonate with him. It wasn't like he cared, he didn't know the guy after all. But his story, he could understand. It sounding so similar to his own, from a past he couldn't recall.

"Something happened to me" Joker speaks, sounding almost uncertain despite the stern feeling to respond. "I can feel it in my bones, how the acid had fused with my blood, creating me into this man. This monster. Like the acid was meant to burn away something sore. Too overbearing to remember, so much so that it could break me. I have no memory from before I fell, this brief image of this faceless, nameless man inside of a red hood, falling to his enviable...well, not demise. Rebirth. This time, I could make myself something. A man with a name,  a man worth living." He speaks, and is surprised how easy it is to confess. No cock and bull story about an abusive dad or dead mom, just...the truth. To Bruce Wayne, no less.

"I suppose being the Joker is my spark" He adds, feeling warmth at the look Bruce is giving him. Shocked but...almost happy. Like someone could relate to him. No enigma of a Bat, or anything of the sort. Just down to earth and rich playboy Wayne.

"That seemed truthful" Bruce speaks, and suddenly Joker wants to rip his throat out. "What? Of course it was!" He bellows out, mad at him for ruining whatever this moment was. Instead, Bruce laughs, trying to cover the movement with his hand. "Sorry, sorry, it's just...look, I have to admit. I know you're usual stories you like to tell the therapists at Arkham. I just thought that...I don't know, you wouldn't be so honest"

"Wait, how do you-" Joker's about to ask, before it comes to him. A crucial detail he had forgotten in his quest to pursue little Brucie Wayne. "You're on the Arkham board. You've read my file"

Bruce looks like he wants to deny it, but can't help himself as his shoulders slump. "Yeah" He admits. "Sorry, I just wanted to know a bit about you before you came here"

"May be a breach of privacy, but it's nothing new. I admit I did quite the extensive research on yourself before tonight" 

"Oh? What did you learn?" Bruce asks in response, an almost nonchalance in his tone. Like he'd expected Joker to snoop. "Nothing of interest. Charity donations, basic information, connections and friends, all that such stuff" The clown answers. "Nothing quite as personal as what I'm assuming you've learned"

"Honestly, you're file is awfully vague. Most of it is just estimations, besides the known stuff. Like how you're allergic to fish, which surprised me. I'll admit it helped narrow down the dish for tonight." Bruce jokes, which reminded Joker of a point he had. "So what is this 'Case Spittle', anyway? I'm usually a greasy burger and fries guy, so excuse me not knowing your playboy meals prepared in your rich little tower"

"Kaese Spaetzle" Bruce corrects, and Joker could sigh as he practically mansplains the dish. A simple answer would have been appreciated. "It's essentially a German version of mac-and-cheese, topped with crispy onions and using noodles as the pasta substitute"

"Yawn!" Joker interrupts before he could begin digging into the history of said dish. Of course little Brucie Wayne would have nothing better to do with his time than read the fancy dish history bible. Not like Joker knew if that existed, but he was sure Bruce had enough money to have that custom made.  "Mac-and-cheese, got it"

"But anyway" Bruce carries on, not the least bit embarrassed or shameful of Joker's previous disinterest. "You don't have to research into me to know about me. Any questions you may have, I'm not afraid to answer them"

"I'll make you regret being so open, but who's a man to refuse? Deepest, darkest secrets? Cock size? Do you aim when you piss or sit like a baby? Ooh! Ever peed in a pool? Killed a man?" 

"Killed a man? No, never. Peed in the pool? Maybe when I was younger. I aim, unless I have a boner, in which I sit to prevent pissing up the wall" Bruce jokes, which earns a chuckle from Joker. He could certainly believe that. "Cock size? I honestly haven't measured, though I suppose you might have your estimates" 

"Ooh, easily seven inches." Joker grinned, unafraid to admit he had definitely thought about it. "Maybe a seven and a half, at a push."

"As for deepest, darkest secrets...I don't suppose I have any" Oh, now Joker was definitely intrigued. Those icy eyes swam with guilt, that lie he was trying so hard to hide worn so plainly in those honest eyes. "Now I know you're lying, Brucie Wayne. Everyone has a dark secret they wish to hide from the world"

"I'm sure you most certainly do" He tries to deflect, and Joker wants to pry him open. Make this man carve to his every whim and need, if only to break him down so he could be whispered a small little lullaby. A nursery rhyme of dark secrets hidden from the world, only seen within Gotham's shadows. The need to break a man down has never felt so overwhelming, though his musing is interrupted by a knock at the door.

Alfred stands there, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but in that room. It makes Joker grin, as Jeeves walks forward with their plates full of food. "May I present the meal for tonight, Kaese Spaetzle with a side of garlic bread and red wine" The butler speaks without an ounce of pep in his voice, and the clown notes with a giddy feeling that Bruce is still avoiding eyeline. "Thank you, Alfred"

"Ah, yes, thank you Jeeves!" He beams, and only revels in the glare he is being given by the old man. "Alfred" He reiterates, which is pointless considering all three men in the room knew that Joker most definitely remembered his name, but was purposely choosing not to use it. With that, he gracefully bolts it out of the room. Yep. Joker definitely liked him. Could see where Bruce got some of his spice from.

"Sorry, Alfred is just..." Bruce goes to apologise again, and Joker rolls his eyes as he picks up the fork next to his plate. He pokes at the food experimentally, being wafted with the pleasant smell of the food. Looked nice, smelled divine, with only one thing left to assess the food on, he shoves a large bite into his mouth. Tasted great, too.

"Don't be sorry, Brucie" Joker speaks despite his mouth full of food, and grins at Bruce's cringe. "Compliments to the chef, although it still doesn't beat a cheesy burger from Bob's place in Miagani. Truly a delicacy"

"I'll tell Alfred you like it, then. I'm sure he'll be pleased" Bruce says to Joker's surprise, the clown asking around another big bite of the food. "You don't have chef's that cook this stuff for you?"

"No" Bruce chuckles despite Joker definitely thinking that was an appropriate conclusion. "The only help I have around here is Alfred, although I might hire some more help when I hold things such as banquets and events"

"Why? Surely it's not about the money. Don't tell me Gotham's richest man is also the biggest cheapskate" The clown jokes, bring a smile to the playboys own. It was weird, the incessant need to make this man smile and yet crumble all the same. "I suppose there isn't any need to. Besides my kids who aren't here often, I'm the only mouth to feed. Half of the rooms in this tower are hardly used, so there isn't so much to clean. Although when Alfred has the time, even those rooms he likes to keep in shape"

"Why have such a big tower though, if you don't use half of it? If you're ever thinking of selling, I could definitely use the space. Just think, hiding from the law and escaping to this giant tower. Both Batsy and Old Jimbo would be non-the-wiser!" He muses, before that image then plays in his head. With the visual, he laughs, which makes Bruce chuckle before going back to Mr. Serious.

"It would feel weird and wrong, selling the place my father worked so hard to build. Half the rooms here are empty or used as storage. I'm sure if these visits become a regular occurrence, I can have a room made here for you" Bruce says, and Joker isn't quite sure what to say to that.

 He hadn't much thought about where this was headed, more going with the flow than anything else.  It wasn't like he had any interest in being Bruce Wayne's sidepiece. As the clown prince of crime, that was far beneath him. All the same, it would be a shame to give this away if it ends up developing into something. Maybe it would end much like his and Harley's did, maybe he'd manage to reduce Bruce's psyche into nothing but tatters. Possibilities were endless, without Joker having a true goal in mind.

So thinking about having a room made for him in Bruce's tower, like being here would be a regular thing. Fights with his Bat only to end up in Bruce's little penthouse. It felt domestic, and awfully scary. Joker did not do domestic. Joker didn't marry rich little playboys and sit in giant, empty towers in a 'kiss the chef' apron like a sweet little housewife. But suppose Joker didn't necessarily whore himself around, either. Yet he was here, despite knowing what this relationship was probably based off of. Anticipating it, looking forward to it.

Sometimes he hated how complicated he could be. Just what had he gotten himself into?

"I hope you don't mind" Bruce begins once again, bringing Joker out of this thoughts. He's grateful for the change of subject, any other topic to lace his attention onto. "I ordered something for you to wear tonight"

"Oh?" The clown asks, definitely intrigued. "Only just started talking and already Brucie Wayne is trying to buy my affections."

"I wasn't sure about your wardrobe, considering your...line of work. I thought it best to be prepared" Bruce justifies. "Oh please, you just wanted to dress me in your sexy outfits"

"Possibly" He doesn't even try to hide it, which Joker can only grin at. Cocky, little Wayne was.

He supposed he'd just have to see how the night played out.

Chapter Text

Fate was a funny thing. A plan the universe decides is destined for a person, the means of how they get to a certain point fluctuating as life throws different obstacles into the course. Fate decided that Batman and The Joker were to be united forces. Fate decided they would fight, love and loathe the other until they died. Fate decided they had to break eachother, whether that be Batman breaks the clown or Joker breaks the crazy Bat. 

Joker believed so heavily in fate.  How could he not? A John Doe, a nothing in the expanse of this city, falls into a vat of acid after a series of unfortunate and out of the ordinary events, only to survive and become someone bigger and larger than ordinary life. Some would call it a fucked up miracle, but he called it life's due course. If fate planned for him to be his Batsy's adversary, he could never live up to his greatness as a John Doe. No, Fate gave him the series of events, and that faceless man followed them blindly until being birthed into something worthy. 

That was fate. 

Written in the stars since the day whenever either of them had been born, fate manipulating their lives into something mouldable until they were both ready to face the real game. The moment Joker had realized the true point of their lives, it became the centre at every move he made. Those black, silhouetted puppets that his Batsy called Gotham's citizens, a nothing in Fate's course. Only there to further both their agendas, to feed into Batman's 'heroic' superiority complex, or to further Joker's proof that nothing but their own lives meant anything. 

It was just his Batsy and him, truly fated to live this life. 

Joker's infatuation with this point,  and at this point even he could admit he was a little obsessed with the idea, was truly coming to a test now. As he laid in Bruce Wayne's bed, haphazardly swinging his legs off of the edge as he started at the ceiling and pondered the point of life. Once again, those mindless puppets meant nothing to him. Yet still, he was awaiting Brucie's return, one of those said puppets, committing each detail of his bedroom to memory as if it was worth being memorable. Was he upsetting fate, how he somehow ended up constantly returning to his Brucie's arms?

Since Gotham line, Joker had found himself here more often than not. He still wasn't sure what the dynamic between them was, still wasn't sure what he really wanted to become of it. The urge to break the man was still so strong, and yet the clown couldn't bring himself to. Didn't want to either, when there was so much at steak. There was so much to Bruce he had yet to learn, a darkness he could see so clearly hidden behind charming smiles and quips. The swirl of childhood trauma at the centrepiece of each move he makes, the way Brucie could so easily challenge him like he knows Joker. Knows more than what the clown lets him see.

It's enough to have him coming back, at least.

Joker didn't know what fate wanted. Was Bruce a part of the plan? Was fate angry at him, for getting side tracked? Of course, he wasn't going to wait for the answer. Not when he could derive the answers himself. Although his plan was being stupidly held back, by Brucie Wayne and his idiotic business meetings. 

The plan was meant to be simple. Threatening Batsy with a bomb hidden somewhere in the city, leading him on a wild goose chase only to give him the slip at the last second. Then escape into Wayne Tower and into Brucie's embrace. The latter was where the plan had halted, when he realized Bruce wasn't here. Jeeve's had begrudgedly told him to wait for Brucie inside his room, once he had realized Joker wasn't going to leave willingly. Yet the plan can resume when he stops taking his sweet ass time and gets back home, coercing his baby Brucie into the filthiest sex Joker could possibly conjure up. Little would Bruce know, one of Joker's henchmen would leave a little 'tidbit' for the Bat that the clown's at Wayne Manor. 

He could only fanaticise, briefly, about the look on Batsy's face. How fate would play out then. Would his darling Bat give into primal desire, beating up his Brucie only to finish the job on the clown himself? That was a kind of utopia Joker could only wish for in his wildest of dreams. A rather conflicting thought, one he chose to acknowledge nonetheless, was that he'd be rather...torn, at seeing his Bruce and his Bat in the same room. He'd always pick his Batsy, always, but...could he do that still, at the expense of Brucie?

No longer wishing to indulge that side-tracked thought, Joker sits himself up, deciding to get himself more comfortable in the king sized bed. His fingers graze against silk sheets, reminding him of those months ago when Gotham Line had ended. 

The tickets had been for one of the box seats within the theatre. Considering Bruce's status, he had managed to get total privacy for the both of them, which at the time Joker had found very conflicting. Still very much willing to blow this man's brains out, if Brucie didn't step up his game. Then, not even ten minuets into the show, Bruce was on his knees eating Joker out like his life's mission was to please him. Maybe it was, Joker had mused, wrapping slender legs tightly around him only to pull him closer. They'd left early, in the end, and Brucie certainly left the night off with a bang. Somehow that man made even the most vanilla of sex appealing, and ever since Joker had found himself coming back to him more often than not because of it. 

Like the time after that, when Joker had ridden Bruce in the back of his limousine on the way home from the club. He manages to make the most boring of outings somehow grasp at the clown attention, each word out of his mouth something he commits to memory. 

His musings are finally interrupted by the door opening, his mood and grin brightening at the sight of Brucie. "What are you doing here, Joker?"

"Aww, That's no way to speak to me. You should always be happy when I decide to grace you with my presence" Joker frowns at Bruce's words, not liking his tone. Wayne, looking more tired than Joker had ever seen him, practically flops onto the bed. "And you are always welcome, you know that, but not on the run"

Oh. So that was the problem.

"Don't worry, Brucie. This'll be the last place anyone would look. You won't be involved in clown prince scandals, promise!" He speaks, albeit knowing he was lying. At least, if his plan comes into fruition he would be. "You're on the news, J. Threatening Gotham with another bomb. I can't have you hiding here"

Joker hated that. They may have gotten close, but Bruce wasn't going to be barking orders at him. What? Did Bruce think he could change him? Placate him with sex and sweet words and suddenly he won't be the clown prince of crime? Joker could feel the anger simmering, more so at the incessant need to defend himself. He hates it, when the need to defend outweighs the urge to cause a fight.

"It's not a real bomb" Joker settles on, watching as Bruce analyses him for any sign of a lie. "It's a decoy, hidden in the narrows. I can take you there, if you want. Show you and stop your whining"

Bruce sits there, like his only goal in life is to crack Joker open. Analysing him with those dark, blue eyes. Picking at motive, intention, swirling each hypothetical around in his mind like a life mission. It makes the clown's pulse skyrocket, if not for the obvious display of distrust then at the similarity towards his darling Bat.

Both wanted to know him. Wanted to pick and pry at every emotion, memory or desire. Wanted to carve him open and suck up the marrow in his bones, the causes that make him tick, all in a true desire to understand him. Joker isn't to be understood. The causes for half of his actions are lost even on himself, he'd given up long ago with trying to decipher them. 

Yet it was that desire. Something Joker saw within himself. Wanting to dissect his Bat and learn every single motion. All in a twisted effort to be closer to him, an obsession with getting to know another person better than oneself. Batman was Joker's life. The star of Joker's show, the one all action and reason must be based around.

So to see Bruce looking at him like that. The realization made his heart pound within his chest, made his blood thrum to life inside of him, toes curling with the unfamiliar feeling of being stunned. Much like he always felt around Bruce, unable to shed reason on that fact before. Now, it felt so clear.

Joker's infatuation with Bruce was derived for the same reason he saw within his Bat. For Bruce looked at him the same way he did. Wanting, needing, pleading and desperate to know him. Much like he always felt toward his Bat. And most recently, his Brucie. 

He understood, now. Fate's reasoning. Fate wasn't angry or upset, for Bruce was part of the plan. Someone worthy to be on par with his Batsy and his game. Joker didn't understand why, the motivations to bringing Bruce into their game or why he was so crucial. But he felt comforted all the same, at knowing this was on fate's course.

Bruce hasn't responded yet. They must have been sat in silence for quite some time. He wonders, briefly, if Brucie is having the same kind of thoughts that Joker had been. "Do you love me, Brucie?" He ends up asking, and watches the way those eyes suddenly snap back into focus. His shoulders tense, as if trying to hold the weight of the world atop of them. It's fascinating, the way Bruce reacts. Like caught in a lie, caught in a mouse trap.

Then Bruce catches wind of his own reaction, and his shoulders forcibly relax. Looking suddenly as if he wants to be anywhere but here. "Am I allowed to?" He settles on, which was possibly the last answer the clown expects.

Once again forced into a dumbfounded silence, Joker looks towards the balcony window. The stars are twinkling brightly, their shine and the moons passionate glow lighting the bedroom. There's no Bat signal out there, no sign of flying rodents or any kind of chaos in the expanse of the city. Right now, that was almost a comforting thought. Like he could say whatever he wanted in front of Bruce without it catching up to him.

Joker still didn't know what fate wanted. Yet, he decides to embrace that fact. Comforted in the knowledge that somehow, Bruce and Joker were fated to be as well as the Bat and him. 

"I love you, Brucie" He says as sincerely as he can manage, but doesn't dare turn to face the man. He can see, in the corner of his eye, that Bruce is watching him. Staring intently, waiting for answers. Waiting for more. "I doubt I love you in the same way you might love me, but I love you all the same."

Forget the original plan. Maybe fate didn't want Batsy to know of this just yet, so he'd let the course run itself. When the silence once again stretches for too long, Joker finally wills himself to turn and face him. Their eyes lock, and he can see the emotions Bruce tries so well to hide. Sadness, hope and longing. Maybe even a bit of doubt. He was sure it wasn't often he made declarations of emotion, let alone love. Unless with his Bat, in the secluded shadows of the night.

Bruce didn't need to know about that, though.

"I can't stay" Brucie Wayne says, and Joker isn't quite sure whether to be elated or disappointed at the change of conversation. The lack of reply. "I'm expected back at Wayne Enterprises. I only to came to see if you were...alright"

"You came to see if I was going to blow up the city in your boudoir, no need to lie Brucie. Don't worry, I'll go home" Joker speaks, not quite as theatrical and enthusiastic as he wanted to deliver it. He halts getting up, when Bruce grips his hand tightly. The clown turns to face him, watching him face some kind of internal battle, before he lets out a sigh and allows himself to relax. "Stay. I'd rather know you're here tonight"

'Rather than out on the streets' Joker finishes the silence at the end of that line, and yet he nods all the same. Sits himself back down, if more out of curiosity for how this would play out. "I have to leave, but we can talk more in the morning" Bruce settles on, standing up himself. 

Joker finds himself staring at the ceiling once again, thinking the interaction over in his head a thousand times over while he awaited the morning and his Brucie to arrive.