Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arkham wasn't known for its hospitality. The walls were painted a terrible off-white color that was stained over the years by various fluids no one wanted to ask about. The floor titles were nice in the visiting hall but behind the swinging door, there were various cracks ranging from tiny to beyond repair. The corners of the rooms were filled with grime and mold left from decades of mopping that never quite reached the edges. The people who occupied the hospital were much the same as the place, and only those who enjoyed the macabre or were insane thought of it as homely.

Luckily, Joker was both.

The florescent lights hummed with electricity as Joker was wheeled through the hall. Joker could smell the strong disinfectant chemicals used that dried his nose and dulled his taste when they passed the last of the medical rooms. Two guards flanked the chair, which Joker found cute as they nervously grasped their guns. The guard leading the charge was Aaron Cash, an old veteran of Arkham and one of the only guards that's survived for over a decade. His hand, however, wasn't so lucky as it was replaced with a prosthetic. Something about a crocodile in the basement.

Joker giggled to himself which made the two guards jump.

He would normally have made a big scene of this. Him, being wheeled back into Arkham's loving embrace after a stint in the Gotham Hospital Joker's previously blown up. Twice. But he was feeling subdued lately.

He didn't get a chance to enjoy Batman's amorous embrace during his trip to the hospital. Everything was a terrible blur. Snippets and moments flashed in his mind of his week-long stay in Gotham General. He had two doctors fighting over how long they could keep Joker drugged to unconsciousness. Joker heard their argument which was rather rude since they were shouting over his bed.

I t was too bad Joker was so tired or else he would have shown those doctors how to have better bed side manners.

Joker also wasn't used to anything being on his bedside table other than discarded food. He could have sworn there was a get well soon card. He wished they let him keep that, but he had a feeling it was from Susan since Harley would have sent flowers. Ironically given who her wife was.

He may have gotten it wrong but there was a distinct Bat shaped shadow on his wall every night. Batman could have just come in to visit instead of lurking at the window but then again, that was more of his style. Joker wouldn't have it any other way.

Despite the visitor, Joker didn't like being in the hospital. Not just because that meant he was messed up enough to require severe medical attention. It was because he had no pull at the place. No way to pass any little love notes to Bruce. Not that he wrote any.

He barely had any time between bouts of drug induced sleep to think of what to write. They were cautious at the hospital. They kept Joker under nearly his whole stay and despite the broken ribs, kept him strapped to the bed. And handcuffed. And cuffed at his ankles. They also put a tube in him so he wouldn't have to move to go to the bathroom which was just uncalled for. Joker was a big boy. He knew how to use the toilet.

Joker giggled again, making the nurse pushing his chair jolt him in fear.

“Quiet,” Cash said, turning to eye Joker. “Don't think we forgot about your last day here. They were three good men you killed.”

Joker shrugged. His mouth was bound as well as his chest, legs, feet, and hands. Apparently, they thought he might bite or attack someone. Joker doesn't know where they ever got that silly notion.

The guards were staring at him as though he could do or say anything wrapped up like this. The pills the hospital had him on were still slowly working through his system which made his eyes droop. And hey, he looked pathetic enough they all finally decided to restart the march down the hall in unison.

Joker watched as they passed by the cells. Each inmate was locked away when Joker arrived no doubt. Many of them would love to get their hands on an injured Joker. Not that the injuries gave them much of a chance surviving an encounter with Joker, but the odds were vastly improved. When one had it out for the clown they would take whatever they could get. It was rare Joker had to be cautious in any way. Not that he would let on of course. He just may tip his hand with the more unsavory guards this stay to keep him on closer watch until his ribs fully mended. One could never be too careful in a hospital.

Joker started humming a tune to himself. A plan already forming. Arkham may be his home away from home but it required a different mindset. He had to be crazy in the nuthouse. It was a requirement to survive and helped build a reputation Joker used when on the outside. He just needed to keep his thoughts violent and lock away those softer ones for now. There would be time to explore those on his next break out. When he could try to dance with Bruce again.

Joker leaned back in the chair and relaxed. No need to rush that particular plan. He had at least a few weeks to heal. He also needed a good scrub down. Only the best for his Bruce.

They passed the end of the cell block near the back elevators that lead into the deeper parts of Arkham. They should be taking the west hall towards the back gated route where the deep tissue scanners awaited, and most likely a cavity search. But the team moved down a different hall than maximum security. Joker knew the halls of Arkham better than anyone. He kept himself from reacting as his mind worked through the possibilities.

No chance for any type of remodeling. Despite the funds going into the place, they rarely added anything more than security measures or lined their own pockets. There was an open ward in this direction but it was attached to the rec room, which Joker wouldn't typically have access to until his first week evaluation was completed. They also wouldn't leave him injured in the room. It was too much of a risk for the other patients, and all the paperwork for how Joker ended up there.

They could be taking him somewhere without cameras to get back at him for killing those guards. Joker knew there was a room used for interviews this way where no cameras or audio reached. It's where the less trustworthy guards brought patients to beat them senseless. Or horny guards to have a bit of play time with a patient. Poison Ivy made her escape many times by promising guards a good time in that room. Though, Ivy was the only person having fun those times as the guards were used as potting soil when she was finished with them.

Joker counted the bumps and the tiles. They were heading towards the solitary room and not a single person looked confused at to their destination. They were all aware. Which didn't make complete sense. Cash was a straight-laced guard. Always had a stick up his ass. He didn't beat patients even those that deserved a good smack. He's often the one who stopped the abuse and got the guards fired.

It's why no inmate has killed Cash on their escapes. Cash was decent. And smart usually. They left him alone.

Joker eyes must be burning holes in the back of Cash's head because he turned to look at Joker.

“Believe it or not, you have a visitor,” Cash said. “Though, who wants to pay to see your crazy ass is beyond me.”

Joker stared harder now. There was a short list of people who would pay the money needed to get Joker wheeled to a room upon return to Arkham. The usual suspects were people with a lot of pull. Doctors who wanted to get their jollies off telling Joker how they were the one that would cure him!

They usually only lasted a few weeks at most before Joker broke them. And they usually waited for the first session unless one was just getting frisky.

The other option was the powerful. Other villains sometimes would pull Joker to the side and ask for advice. That happened on rare occasions, but it did happen. Riddler was the most common, but he wouldn't want anything to do with Joker. Not yet anyways. Riddler was still hyper focusing on Batman's identity for blackmail purposes which Joker would never assist with. After all, why spoil the fun? Then there was Oswald, who wouldn't waste a single penny, let alone the thousands this venture most likely cost, to get Joker in a room. Joker didn't have any insights into the smuggling business that Oswald would know enough about to want to speak with Joker. It wasn't Joker's fault Oswald couldn't keep up with who was running what business. Crane was also possible, but he would start with invading a therapy session instead. Previously being a doctor in the asylum helped him to blend in. Hardly anyone questioned his presence when he wasn't wearing a burlap sack over his head.

There were a few people who could pull outside the villains and Joker couldn't help but think Bruce could do it. Bruce was on the board of director for Arkham and had enough money to make the mob jealous. Or maybe it was Lex trying to get back at him? Oh, this felt slightly more like a Lex thing. No cameras and paid off guards. Joker was going to kill Superman himself if it was Lex.

They wheeled Joker down the dimly lit hallway and stopped in front of a steel door. Cash took out his ring of keys to unlock it.

They always get so angry whenever someone calls Arkham a prison. It was a place of healing, of security, is what they said. Where a patient, not prisoner, could work through their issues. But when the loud clang of a lock echoed down the halls, and two men with loaded guns ushered a bound man in a chair into a cold room with a single light bulb, it certainly feels like a prison.

The room was painted the same off white color the rest of the place sported. The light bulb seemed to swing gently from side to side even with no windows to allow a breeze to push it. The room was bare with the exception of a table bolted to the concrete flooring, and a single chair on the other side. They must have removed the second chair before bringing Joker in, and that meant planning went into this.

Joker was wheeled in quickly and was disappointed to not see his visitor already in the seat. The nurse parked Joker on the side closest to the door, leaving his back open. Joker didn't like that. The hairs raised on the back of his neck as the guards swept the barren room as though someone could have hidden something in there. Joker had a lot of pull but even he wasn't quite that good.

Joker waited for them to release the binding on his mouth, so he could voice his objection to having his back at the door or at least poke at Cash just once, but they all filed out. Joker heard the door shut behind them and their foot steps fade away.

Well. This was boring.

Joker stared at the concrete wall and repressed a shiver. The thin blanket they tossed over his lap barely held any heat in and on the trip down here, every bump slowly moved it off. Joker rubbed his knees together as well as he could to try to push the fabric higher on his legs.

He started making a game of it and almost got it over his other knee where he could jerk the material up when there was a pair of foot steps hurrying towards the room. Not running, but a fast walk.

Joker paused and waited.

The door opened behind him and whoever it was froze there for a few seconds. Then, the door closed, and Joker took a deep breath.

Kevlar. Heavy boots on concrete. Whispering flutter of a cape.

Batman.

Joker couldn’t help the contented hum that sounded in his throat, as his body immediately reacted as it always did to the proximity of his Bat. A tingle through his veins, the rush of adrenaline through every cell, an anticipation of violence, of pain, of admiration. His mind became clearer than it had been all week, attuned to the knight of the night and straining to pick up on any sounds or sensations that would clue him in on Batman’s intentions.

His Bat remained annoyingly silent by the door for several moments. Joker tried to tamp down the bit of disappointment he felt at it not being Bruce paying him a visit, though realizing full well it would have been unlikely considering how their date night had ended. But there was always much fun to be had with his Bat. Indeed, there was.

As Batman finally moved, rounding to face Joker, standing beside the metal table, Joker eyed him fully, top to bottom. The Dark Knight was tense and stoic. Perhaps he was here to interrogate Joker for information. Joker quickly scanned through the previous week of events in his mind, wondering what had gotten Batman in such a tizzy to make such a special visit. It’s not as though he had done anything that bad last week, though perhaps holding the Golden Boy of Gotham (somewhat) against his will finally had Batman and Gotham’s not-so-finest ready to make him pay.

Or perhaps he wanted information on another villain. Joker did practically lose a week while knocked out in the hospital. Who knows what mayhem might have gone down in Gotham in that time. And it must have been a doozy to have Batman pulling such strings to get a private audience with the Clown Prince himself. Joker tried to quell the jealousy that arose at the thought of Batman focusing on other villains for an entire week. And he wondered what kind of information Batman thought he had, when he knew that Joker had been in the hospital.

And it was not like Joker was in any condition to take the violence that an interrogation from Batman would usually bring. Oh, but he would. Joker noticed the slight twitch to Batman’s gloved hand. He absolutely would take any wrath from his Bats. He would endure whatever pain was waiting for him and he would love it, always such meaningful love notes from his darling Batman.

Even if it would set his healing back and make it longer until Joker could break out again, could have another chance at dancing with Bruce. But Joker tried not to think about Bruce at the moment. He had his first love right in front of him, and they had some unfinished business to attend to, since the last time his body had so rudely kept him from getting a good dance in with his Dark Knight. His eyes narrowed at Batman’s white lenses, wondering what the Bat was thinking behind them. He had fuzzy memories of telling Batman about Bruce, and Batman carrying him, and then nightly bat shadows at the hospital. Maybe, oooh just maybe, his Bats was actually jealous. Maybe he was here to claim the Joker as his own. He never did get to ask Batman if he had seen the pictures of a certain date with a certain bachelor…

Joker squirmed impatiently, emitting a more angry groan at the dark statue in front of him. Finally Batman stirred to movement and took a step forward, slightly raising an arm then lowering it again.

“I’m only here to talk, Joker, not to fight you,” Batman stated firmly. Joker felt another pang of disappointment as he rolled his eyes, but then nodded at Batman. That seemed to be enough encouragement for Batman to take another step, just far enough to steadily, though not overly gently, release the binding from Joker’s mouth.

“Why hello, darling. Another reunion, and so soon! How touching, my–”

“How are you feeling?” Batman cut off Joker’s welcoming remarks. It wasn’t harsh entirely, nor particularly warm. “Are you… are you able to think clearly at the moment?”

Now that was curious. Joker took it as a clue toward an agenda of information-gathering, but he certainly wasn’t going to let even an inkling of concern from his Bat go to waste.

“Oh, you do care for me so. Don’t you, Batman?” Joker licked his dried out lips as he watched Batman settle into the chair across the table from him. Joker couldn’t help but chuckle at the dramatic flourish of the cape in order for it not to get tangled in the chair. “I’m feeling much better now that you’re here. Much better than being drugged out of my gourd in Gotham General. I’m practically fresh as a daisy, back in my second home, so cozy.” Joker inwardly cursed when his body betrayed him with a shiver at the reality of the coldness of their surroundings. “Now, if you could just be a good little bat and take off the rest of these unnecessary bindings, we could have that dance that we never got to finish the last time.”

Batman calmly laid his hands onto the steel table, though still remaining visibly tense, and repeated, “I’m here to talk. To ask you some questions.”

Joker leaned forward as much as he could in his bindings. “And what makes you think I’m going to answer any of your questions? You may have led the last dance, Bats, but that doesn’t mean you can tame me.” Joker sat back with a gleeful smirk. “That would ruin our fun.”

Joker watched the clenched jaw of Batman and pressed further into his advantage. “Oh Bats, what shall I think of this special visit of yours? First you thank me, then you save me! Watched over me all week in the hospital like a worried little wife. And now visiting little ol’ me, in this dusty ol’ Arkham. Best be careful, Batman. I may start to think you have a thing for me.” Joker laughed in delight then ended with a devilish grin at the Bat staring back at him.

“I thought it was you who had a thing for me.”

“Oh so you have been listening all these years. Of course you have, darling. And I know you know that I only speak the truth. Some people may think that it’s a joke or all for the show, but you know me better than that, don’t you? You must know that my love is true.” Joker then looked away from Batman. “And just because I may have another dance partner, that doesn’t mean–”

“Why did you save Superman?” Batman had stood up abruptly, cutting off the Joker as the chair screeched against the concrete and he leaned onto his hands on the table.

Joker flinched back instinctively and took a moment to process his words. It was just about the last thing he expected Batman to ask him.

“Why, did you really come all this way and reserve a private suite to talk about Supes?” Joker rolled his eyes. “I told you, so he could kill Lex for me. The bastard thinks he can drag me all the way to Metropolis and use me for one of his schemes. It wasn’t even clever, not any of the showmanship he said would be involved. Before I turned him down, mind you. I would never willingly work with such a cretin as Lex.”

Batman seemed to relax a bit, settling weight into his shoulders. “You could have gone after Luther yourself. It still doesn’t explain why you saved Superman. Especially in the state you were in.”

Joker narrowed his eyes, realizing it must have been Superman who told Batman about his terrible physical state at the time, after being roughed up by Lex and Mercy. Someone should keep their x-ray vision to themselves.

But before he could respond, Batman cut in with another question.

“Why didn’t you kill Croc?”

Now Joker was fully shocked, and pissed. “How the–”

“I found him with a certain switchblade in his throat, but still breathing.” Batman leaned more of his weight forward over his strong arms, his voice dragging lower. “Why didn’t you kill anyone all week after you escaped from Arkham? It’s not like the Joker to not have something prepared, to not put on a show.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, darling. Have I become boring to you?” Joker let an icy sarcasm seep into his tone. “Is the thrill gone if there aren’t bodies to clean up after my fun? I have heard that it’s important to keep things fresh in a relationship. Maybe I’m just keeping you on your toes, Bats, so our love doesn’t grow stale.”

Batman took a deep breath. Joker could tell the gears were turning behind the hollow gaze.

Batman asked thoughtfully, “Are you saying you’d be willing to keep from killing if it meant you could keep… me?”

Joker couldn’t help himself from breaking into a fit of laughter at that. Goodness, Batman was so much fun. How much he had missed their dance, their banter, how he enjoyed puzzling the Bat to the end of his wits.

“Oh Bats, you are temptation indeed!” Joker giggled some more then leaned forward with a full grin at his Batman. “What would our love be without the deadly dance? It’s what we do. It’s what you need. The challenge, the chase. How could I keep you at your best if I don’t keep you guessing?”

“You said you were tired of it.” Batman stood up straighter, his fingers grazing the top of the table. “Maybe it’s time for a new dance.”

Now that had Joker sitting back a moment. Just like Batman to throw his own words back in his face. Didn’t he know he was mostly delirious when he said that? But…

Joker’s gaze drifted to the corner of the table. There was some truth to what he had said. He was feeling tired, at least tired of their routine, or the routine that it had become. It didn’t feel like Batman was as interested in their dance as he used to be. The passion wasn’t quite the same.

Somewhat half-consciously, Joker murmured, “Or a new dance partner.” Joker looked toward the wall but his mind drifted back to warm, delightful memories, with someone else. “I may have tripped on our first waltz, but I’ve always been quick on my feet. Maybe I’ll get another chance to try again.” Joker thought about how Bruce might look when he would next break out and see him again, how he would react if Joker slipped into his limo once more.

“What do you want with Bruce Wayne?”

It figured that the greatest detective would easily follow Joker’s train of thought. He almost hated him for that, if he didn’t love him so much.

“I know you were with him last week,” Batman added accusingly.

Joker perked up. “Oh, did you see the pictures? They really got a good angle, didn’t they? That’s why you’re really here, isn’t it, Bats? Worried I’m gonna leave you for another? Give up our fun? That no one else will be able to sweep you off your feet like I can?”

“Why didn’t you hurt Bruce Wayne when you were with him? What are you planning?” Batman’s tone was calculated and cold.

“Hurt him? Now why would I want to hurt the Golden Boy of Gotham, and have a whole city chasing me through the streets, after my blood. No, no, that just won’t do. For the world’s greatest detective, you do have it quite wrong, Batman.” Joker shook his head, a gentle chastising of his darling Bat.

“Superman told me what you talked about before the explosion, at Luthor’s lab.”

“Mmm, seems that alien beefcake has looser lips than I thought.” Joker loved that extra dark tone of his Batman, clearly striking a nerve between those pointy ears. He wished he could twiddle his thumbs or cross his legs with a flourish, but settled for batting his eyelashes a few beats. “What can I say, darling?” he said, shrugging as best as he could. “You were catching fleas with a certain feline fiend, and so I decided to have a little fun of my own. I’ve been told that trying on someone new can help spice things up in a relationship.”

His eyes glazed a little as he let himself think on his Bruce for a moment. “And who would have thought that someone else could possibly catch a clown’s attention? But oh, what fun, what a time I had with my Bruce. What a beauty he is.”

He glanced up at Batman, now standing with his arms crossed. The lenses over his eyes gave little away but Joker felt like Batman was somehow staring into his soul at that moment. And instead of pride at making his Bat jealous, Joker found himself squirming under the heavy gaze. He felt a wash of guilt rise up, as if he had truly betrayed his precious Batman. And he had! He had given himself completely to Bruce, even possibly his heart.

Joker looked away sharply, shrinking under Batman’s harsh gaze. Painful laughter bubbled up within him. Joker could only cackle at the cruelty of it all. “But how can I leave you, darling?” He laughed some more, a high pitch to pierce his own futility. “How can I turn away from our dance? Our tango across the rooftops? Who could possibly be a better dance partner?”

Joker cackled some more, then shook his head roughly, lost now into his battling thoughts and the sinking feeling that was returning, the one he didn’t ask for but couldn’t contain.

“But Bruce. Oh, my Bruce. He needs me. He needs me to see under the mask, to see what no one else sees.” Joker was straining violently against his bindings. “I can help him! Give him excitement and dancing. Yes, yes. He needs me!”

Joker groaned and shook his head side to side in frustration. “But Batman needs me, too! I complete him! We dance so beautifully together.” Joker’s breaths were becoming rapid and shallow. “He’s my, my Bat! How could I… how could I possibly–”

“Joker!”

Joker gasped a sharp inhale as Batman grabbed him firmly by the hair, jerking his head back and forcing his focus back on Batman. He didn’t know when the Bat had gotten close, how he had lost his senses enough not to notice. But he was fully alert now, the slight pain at his scalp helping to ground him as he stared back at the slits of Batman’s lenses.

He took deep breaths, trying to find his control again. He waited for Batman to make the next move, wanting to see what he would do, and not really knowing what to say anyway.

And as it turned out, Batman didn’t really know what to say either.

Bruce had come here for one main reason. Well, maybe a million different reasons. He had battled with himself all week, anxiously checking in on Joker’s progress in the hospital and agonizing over what to do about him. Bruce turned over everything he knew about Joker’s week out of Arkham, over and over again in his mind, every piece of new information. Maddeningly he was left with more questions than answers. And each night he witnessed Joker drugged out in the darkened hospital room, he yearned a little more for the chaotic, lively presence of Joker to return again.

He wanted him. This much he knew, that he wanted the Joker that had shown his true self in Bruce’s bed, under his hands, in his arms. But in order to really have him, to know Joker was truly his, he needed to do this one thing.

He needed to know. And it seemed like now was the time to find out.

Bruce realized he was still gripping Joker’s hair, so he quickly released his hand, looking at it briefly then dropping it to his side. He backed up a step, two steps, steadying his fingertips on the corner of the table.

“I…” Bruce took a deep breath before continuing, trying to hold his Batman tone as best as possible, against the unnerving silence he was met with. “I may have a solution to your problem, Joker.”

Then before he could lose his nerve, Bruce raised his hands toward his cowl. He paused briefly, seeing Joker’s eyes widen, at first with shock then alighting with eager anticipation. He feared how Joker would react, but he had to know. Joker deserved to know the truth, and Bruce had to finally tell him. He had to.

With a soft hiss, Bruce pressed the hidden release button for the cowl, and gently but deliberately lifted it off his head. He quickly brushed a hand through his hair then immediately locked eyes back on Joker, watching for his reaction.

Joker was stunned silent for a moment longer. Then a high squeal escaped his throat, a slight tug pulling at the corner of his mouth. Then his face grew as more of a giggle came out. Then after one dramatic inhale, the giggling bubbled over and Joker fell into hysterical laughter.

Bruce was frozen still, brutally clutching the cowl in his hand, not yet sure what to make of Joker’s laughter. Joker was straining against the bindings, would likely have been doubled-over in his laughing fit if not for the many straps holding him upright. Bruce noticed, though, that it wasn’t the same high-pitched laughing of before, the manic and menacing cackles of a Joker on edge. His laughter now was closer to what he had sounded like in Bruce’s bed, after Bruce had made him come for the first time. Joker snorted and Bruce’s eyes widened. He felt a bit of relief, deciding to set the cowl down on the table, then focusing back on the guttural sounds bubbling out of Joker.

Amid the laughs, Joker finally wheezed out, “How could I not see it?! The last piece of the puzzle!” Then he collapsed again in hearty chuckles. After a few more moments he raised up exclaiming, “Oh god, if Eddie only knew! Oh, Bats, you’ve had the best riddle of all!”

Bruce stiffened, as Joker continued to giggle to himself. He didn’t think Joker would be the type to tell others, but he felt a slight panic at the thought.

“You can’t tell anyone else. This has to be between us, Joker.” He knew he now lacked the harshness of Batman's low growl, but hoped his tone was stern enough to get across to Joker.

“Of course, of course. What would be the fun in that?” Joker said, and turned to look at Bruce again. His expression was still full of mirth and he continued between his gleeful chuckling. “What a perfect joke! I should have known. I should have known!”

Joker dropped his head while overtaken by giggles then lifted it again, green eyes twinkling over Bruce’s body.

“I should have recognized those muscles. Those scars! Oh goodness, why else would a pretty boy billionaire have so many scars?!” He chuckled some more, then his face lit up again in realization. “And how else would a bat afford so many toys?!” He shook his head with more laughter. “Oh Bruce. My Batman. Talk about masks!” Joker cackled with renewed exuberance. “So many masks!”

Bruce released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding and allowed himself a bit of a grin. It seemed Joker did at least accept that Bruce was the same person as Batman. Bruce had feared that Joker’s long-time love of Batman would keep him from being willing to see Batman as anyone else. And it seemed Joker at least found it amusing so far, which he hoped was a positive indication of his feelings about the reveal – Joker learning he wasn’t in love with two different people but the same person, in different clothing.

Bruce was also glad he had insisted on a room without cameras or audio recording, completely soundproof and not even a window in the door. Of course it was under the guise that Batman needed to shake down the Joker for information to help the police department, but Bruce didn’t mind the ruse this time, considering it afforded him full privacy to finally reveal himself to Joker.

He needed to see what this was, what this could be, with Joker. And he knew the only way he could do that was to be fully honest with him. After hearing what Clark had told him, he also couldn’t help feeling guilt and pain at causing such turmoil within Joker. He didn’t know if it had anything to do with why Joker left him that night, or why he came to Wayne Tower before being picked up by Lex. But he hated that Joker might have been torn up over his split personalities, that it might have contributed to the injuries he endured the rest of the week after leaving his penthouse. Whatever the end result would be, Joker deserved to know, deserved to have the whole truth when deciding about his feelings.

And Bruce desperately wanted to know his feelings. Joker was still giggling softly and shaking his head to himself. Bruce decided to gather his courage, remembering that Joker seemed to respond best when he leaned in instead of leaning away.

So Bruce stepped forward, and kneeled down on one knee right beside Joker’s leg. He pressed one hand firmly around Joker’s forearm, bound to the chair, remembering Joker’s hypersensitive skin and not wanting to make the same mistake again. Then he reached his other hand up to press against Joker’s cheek, getting him to look at Bruce once more. He said Joker’s name, and Joker’s giggles softened into one big grin as his sparkling green eyes looked all over Bruce’s face.

“Never thought I’d meet anyone who’d compare to Batman. But I guess I didn’t since it’s the same person!” Joker let out a few chuckles at his own joke, though he kept his gaze on Bruce.

Bruce smiled softly in return, dropping his hand from Joker’s face. “I followed you all week, you know. I was always a step behind. Then you just showed up, in my limo.”

“No wonder Batman didn’t interfere during our little date, to save the pretty boy and all his party friends. Batman was already there!”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle along a bit himself. It had been quite an absurd predicament to be in, though he ended up being glad for the freedom of being just Bruce for once.

“Oh, but why not tell me then, Bats, if even just to tie me up and toss me back in here when you had the chance?” This time Joker had a clarity and earnestness in his expression that caused Bruce’s heart to stir.

“I told you why. Bruce Wayne doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

At this, Bruce watched as Joker’s gaze zeroed in on Bruce’s, his eyes narrowing. Then his pupils dilated ever so slightly and he took a deep breath. Bruce watched with heavy anticipation then as Joker’s face slowly melted, seeming to crumble with some internal burden.

“Oh Brucey, I messed up our first dance.” Joker’s voice was softer than Bruce had ever heard. “I… I’m sorry.”

Bruce actually shifted back a hair, never in his life thinking he would hear Joker apologize, even to him. After a beat, he squeezed his hand more around Joker’s arm and spoke steadily, “It’s okay. You didn’t…” He thought quickly how to put it, how to ease Joker’s concerns, especially remembering the amount of blood from their episode that night. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“No.” Joker shook his head and looked away from Bruce. He sighed. “The picture.”

“Oh.” Bruce really hadn’t been expecting that. He never would have thought Joker would have had a moment’s remorse over ruining the picture of his parents. He pulled his hand away from Joker’s arm, but stayed close. “Alfred is working on it.”

Joker turned back to Bruce, a bit of a smile on his face once more. “Oh, that Alfie is a treat. I’m sure he fixes all kinds of things for you, doesn’t he?”

Bruce half-smiled at that, because it certainly was true. And he didn’t want to dwell on the picture any longer anyway. He leaned slightly closer to Joker, this time lifting a hand to press onto Joker’s thigh, right above the binding across his lap. He relished the slight hitch it caused in Joker’s breath.

“Joker, you’re not the only one who’s been enjoying our dance. But, I also don’t want to dance in the same way anymore.” Bruce paused, trying to gather his thoughts and enough courage to ask the biggest question that had been eating at him for the past week. “I want to see you, and I know I can’t tame you. But I don’t know if I can do any of this if… if you go back to killing people.”

Joker tensed but remained silent, so Bruce pressed on. “I know what I said, and maybe that wasn’t fair. But, do you think you could stop? At least the killing. You went all week without. You made the choice not to, with Croc, with Superman. You proved me wrong. Do you think you could stop, if you have me, if you don’t need it to get my attention anymore?”

Bruce could see Joker stewing, could feel the tension of withheld rage just under the surface. He knew it was a lot to ask and that Joker wasn’t likely to take it well that someone would have the audacity to try to restrain him. And Bruce loved who the Joker was, even the unbridled chaos. He wouldn’t want to take that away from Joker entirely. It was thrilling, even more so when he felt like the only one who could focus the chaos in any particular direction.

But Bruce had also thought long over the past week, while overseeing (threatening) the diligence of the hospital staff and marveling at Joker’s healing abilities as he slowly made his way to stable functioning. He still didn’t know what it might look like, or how they could make something work. He expressly had not thought about how he was going to get the rest of his family on board. But he did conclude that of all the complexities that Joker brought with him, the one thing he could not stomach with any version of being with him in a real way was Joker continuing to end people’s lives. He knew it would be like enabling the deaths himself, and that thought made him sick.

He knew he wouldn’t get Joker to comply as Batman. But he had wanted to see what the reaction would be anyway. And now he just hoped that Joker could be persuaded, by Bruce.

Joker had averted his gaze. But he finally spoke in response. “Batman still needs me. Needs me to keep him at his best, to keep him sharp, keep him from dying.”

Bruce realized this time the depth of feeling Joker had over keeping him alive. It wasn’t just to do Batman a favor; it was so the love of his life didn’t die. So they could continue their dance.

He found himself sincerely agreeing, “Yes. Of course.”

Then Joker raised his eyes to gaze across the room, with a ponderous expression on his face. “I suppose not killing can also be a joke.”

Bruce felt his heart pick up its pace, a lightness going through his veins. “Like stealing people’s jewelry, or telling tall tales to entertain stupid party guests, or leaving a dead bomb behind with a therapy group?”

“Ha!” Joker chuckled a few times, then turned toward Bruce. “Exactly. Please tell me you’re starting to catch on to my sense of humor, darling.”

Bruce pitched his eyebrow. “Are you starting to catch on to what I don’t find funny?” Bruce took a breath and shifted his hand to the outside of Joker’s thigh, his fingertips nearing his hip. He looked deep into Joker’s green eyes. “You know me. You’ve seen me without any of my masks. You know why I have to fight to save lives. But I also know you. I’ve seen beneath the make-up. I know you can be more, more than the show, the blood.”

Joker looked at him just as seriously. “You want me to play nice. All the time. Is that right? No deaths, no blood left behind?”

“Yes.”

Joker narrowed his eyes. “And what do I get, Bruce? What do I get if I’m a good clown?”

Bruce took a breath and kept his expression fully open. “What do you want? Tell me.”

Joker looked taken aback by his words. He studied all of Bruce’s face, as if he were looking for cracks, or another mask to peel away. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he averted his gaze, his face crumbling in jagged thought. Bruce felt a pit in his stomach as Joker started breathing more heavily. Bruce’s mind flashed to their night together. He couldn’t tell if Joker was tumbling closer to the panic attack that he had witnessed at the shop, or if it was more like when he broke down after their love-making. But he watched as Joker warred with whatever was inside, Bruce only knowing that whatever emotions were being stirred were becoming too much for Joker to bear.

And he couldn’t lose Joker again to his unhinged emotions.

So he surged forward, grabbed Joker by the back of his head with both hands, and pressed his lips to Joker’s. After a moment, he shifted, pressing that much closer, and Joker responded with a moan, from deep in his throat. The sound urged Bruce on, moving his lips until he felt Joker move his as well. He felt a flame light within him at the feel of Joker’s lips against his once more, of tasting his unique taste again.

But after a few more seconds, it was Joker who pulled away slightly. He breathed into the space between them, “Yes.” Bruce furrowed his brow in confusion, and Joker continued. “Yes, I can stop. I’ll try to stop. For you.” Then he pulled back a little more to look directly into Bruce’s eyes. “Don’t you know what I want, darling?” When Bruce didn’t respond, he answered himself, “You. I want you.”

“Batman?”

“And Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t help himself from grinning. It’s what he had wanted to hear. Not just that Joker was willing to at least try to keep from killing, but that he wanted him as Bruce as much as he wanted Batman.

Bruce dropped his other leg to kneel on both knees and used his leverage to press again into Joker, clenching his fists tightly into his loose green hair. Joker moaned wantonly into the kiss and battled back with his tongue, each licking and biting into each other as if needing to memorize every taste and touch.

After several moments of impassioned kissing, they broke apart naturally, breathing heavily against each other.

Joker chuckled. “You really know how to knock the wind out of a gal.” At Bruce’s half-grin, he added, “You know, if you get these other straps undone, we could really have some fun.” He flashed Bruce a wicked grin, leaving no imagination needed as to his intentions.

Instead Bruce lowered his hands to rest on Joker’s arms. And with a sigh, he pushed himself up to standing, taking a half-step away from Joker.

“I promised the staff I would only remove the mouth guard. As it is, they’ll probably be wondering soon what’s taking me so long.”

Joker put on a very effective pout. It was only due to Bruce’s many years of mental training that he was able to resist such a temptation.

“So what now, then? You’re just gonna scamper back to your fancy manor and leave me here in this putrid palace.” Joker scrunched his nose, seemingly at the reminder of Arkham’s unmistakable odors.

Bruce stepped toward him, firmly pressing a hand into Joker’s shoulder, hoping to convey his sincerity. “I don’t know exactly, but we’ll figure something out soon. Maybe I can get you out somehow without drawing attention.”

“Bruce.” Joker wiggled his fingers as much as he could, squirming a bit under the bindings, getting frustrated at his situation. “I want…” He then sighed and looked away. “I need to... remember this. Remember you. The lovely lords of Arkham have a delightful way of ruining my stay with their endless drugs and mind games. And I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and wonder if this really happened. Darling...” Joker looked back up to Bruce. “I know you don’t like violence…” Then he peered over at the cowl still on the table. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to a few loving fists from Batman. Something hard enough to remember you by.” He looked back to Bruce with a sly, questioning gaze, his eyelashes fluttering coyly.

Bruce moved his hand to the back of Joker’s head and jerked back on his hair. He leaned forward over Joker’s tilted face.

“Trust me. I’ve made sure you’ll remember.” And he closed the gap, giving one more searing kiss to Joker’s naked lips.

Bruce straightened back up and released his grasp, watching Joker narrow his gaze at him.

“Fine, darling. But don’t think you can keep me around without a little violence, Bats. We have to keep some of our dance, after all. And I do so enjoy the parting gifts you leave me with.”

Bruce thought briefly on the many scars littering Joker’s body, many from his own doing, and the regret he felt when reminded of how his rage had once ended with Joker being punched through an entire building. But he also didn’t want their dance to end, had to admit to himself the thrill he felt when fighting Joker. No one else could really compare to the physical and mental challenge posed by Joker’s cunning nature.

“We won’t stop dancing,” Bruce responded, looking down into the Joker’s eyes. “What would be the fun in that?” he added, with a slight smirk, glad to see Joker grin widely in response. He moved to the table then and gave one last meaningful look to Joker, a shy smile threatening at the side of his mouth. Then he grabbed his cowl from the table and swiftly put it back on over his head.

He stopped by Joker’s side, looking at him one last time, though now through the lenses of the suit. He noticed for the first time the blanket that was barely hanging on to Joker’s lap and quickly moved to adjust it so it was fully covering Joker’s legs, and securely tucked in by Joker’s hips.

“Oh, what am I gonna do with you, darling? Stop fussing and get out of here while you still can.”

With the tiniest huff of a laugh, Bruce finally turned away and headed for the door. As he pulled on the doorknob, he heard Joker behind him starting to giggle once more.

Joker was eventually brought to his cell, and finally unbound by Cash (while flanked by two armed security guards), and left alone behind a well-locked door. As soon as he had his freedom, he explored and familiarized himself with every inch of the new space. And to his surprise, tucked back in the deepest shadow under the bed, Joker found a treasure.

It was a pair of the most soft, plush, deliciously purple slippers he had ever feasted his eyes on. They put the threadbare pink ones currently on his feet to shame. Giggling with delight, he quickly kicked off the Arkham standard-issue slippers and sat on the bed to put the new ones on. As he slipped his foot into the first one, though, he felt something wedged inside.

Picking up the slipper to inspect more closely, he reached his other hand in and pulled out two items. One, a very familiar and beloved switchblade. Joker squealed with delight and closed his hands on the items, hugging them to his chest. His heart grew remembering how Batman said he came upon it while it was jammed in Waylon’s neck, and yet he still purposefully made it a point to return it to Joker. Joker didn’t much care if that meant Waylon was dead from bleeding out in the sewer, though he doubted Batman would have allowed such a thing. Joker shook his head at the thoughtfulness of his Bat.

He then opened his hand again and picked up the second item. A small card, with ‘Wayne Enterprises’ elegantly embossed on one side. And on the other, in scratchy handwriting, it simply said ‘No stabbing.’ Joker erupted in a fit of laughter. Only Bruce could make him feel so joyful while restricting his violent tendencies. Oh, what was he going to do with his darling Bruce, who happened to also be his Bats. Whatever it was, it was going to be a fantabulous new dance, and Joker could hardly wait to see his one, lovely, perfect dance partner again.

With more laughter, Joker gleefully donned both slippers and then laid down on the bed, kicking up his feet in the air and clutching the knife and card at his stomach as his laughter grew and grew.